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cherryheairt · 2 months ago

Note

O Hello, can you write about Gwayne? I really like the way you write.

EI was thinking something like enemies to lovers. Instead of Baela, she is the one who flies over the dragon. They met at the dinner Viserys prepared before he died in the first season.

At the end of the dance Gwayne is forced to bend the knee and accept Rhaenyra as queen. Her daughter doesn't miss the opportunity to make his life hell, until he corners her in a hallway and takes her like a dragon.

hello! I love this prompt, I miss gwayne already 💔

Beckae is the name I gave MC, just to add to the immersion of a Targ-Velyron lol, pronounced Becky still. No description for the reader (mother is Rhaenyra but father is anyone made up, lets say that the reader looks a spitting image of their father to keep it neutral. fem pronouns. I couldn't include the smut at the end, just a lil steam. I'm sorry 😞, I'm terrible at writing those scenes.

noticed that Gwayne's costume included a ring on a chain, a thing typically done by people who want to keep their wedding ring on them, but not lose them. It gave the the main idea for this lol

Dance of Green and Black

When Gwayne Hightower and Beckae Velayron were forced to wed by order of Rhaenyra Targaryen, both did not bother to hide their vexation. They were married mere days after Rhaenyra won the Iron Throne, her loyal men killing Aegon ii in his state of disarray from his burns.

Now, months later, they had left their marriage uncomsumated and drier than the sandy hills of Dorne. They refused to sleep in shared marital chambers at the Red Keep, having agreed on that one thing. Gwayne reluctantly took his father's place at court, staying among the very snakes that brought him here in the first place. He cursed himself for ever responding to Alicent's letter when Aegon first took the throne. If he hadn't, he'd be living his life peacefully alone at the Old Tower.

Now, his days were spent being tormented by the spoilt Princess. She attended each council meeting, laughing snidely at every suggestion Gwayne gave his Queen, and suggesting one of her own in turn. She got away with this every time, seeing as her grandmother was the Hand of the Queen, Rhaenys, and her mother was the Queen.

Gwayne sipped on his wine, which he had taken to indulging in every council, listening to the drowl words of the nobles around him. His wife shared his boredom, apparently, twirling her own glass in her hand. Beside him, she huffed every few minutes. He resisted the urge to ask her to excuse herself if she were so bored. Suddenly, a wet 'splash' fell to his lap, dampening his breeches.

"Oops..." Fluttered the Princess, who covered her mouth in surprise. "That was an accident, I assure you." Though Gwayne could care less if it was genuine or not, he was already scooting his chair out and storming out of the council room. Shocked faces around the table landed on Beckae, who at least had the gaul to look embarrassed. Rhaenyra raised a brow at her daughter, nodding her chin toward the door shortly.

The Princess swiftly followed after her husband, not truly caring for his embarrassment but moreso glad to be given an excuse for leaving the room. If she had known putting her mother on the Iron Throne would have been so dreadfully boring, she would've taken her dragon to Pentos and lived out her days as an old maid.

Gwayne reached his private chambers first, long legs able to carry him so much faster. He took off his trousers and small clothes, left with his bottom half bare to the world. Beckae followed after him, gasping and turning around at the sight before her. Shit, she thought. Perhaps she should've waited at his doors.

"Here to empty your goblet entirely? Go ahead, I'm used to it." He sneered, rolling his eyes at her sudden bashfulness. It would not be the first time she witnessed such a thing. For modesty's sake, he slipped on a fresh pair of linens.

"I am merely here to apologize, husband. Not patronize." She mumbled, face hot.

"Hm." He stepped forward, taking her chin in his hand and forcing her to look up at him. "Where was this attitude when you were chasing after me on your dragon? I think your true colors much suit you, wife."

She grit her teeth, annoyed at his haughty behavior. "It was war. If I hadn't been on my dragon and your party happened upon me, I'd have been killed by Criston Cole without remorse."

"I wouldn't have allowed that to happen." He insisted confidently.

She snorted, "when had that man ever listened to you? He hardly heeded the usurper's orders when he was alive."

"Do you think I would have let you die, especially such a dishonorable death?" Gwayne questioned, squeezing her cheeks harder.

She grimaced, "we were not wed, then. Barely acquainted, to add."

He looked disappointed at her snarky reply. "I may not hold much affection for you, wife, but I have always shown myself to be an honorable man, have I not?" When she didn't respond, he continued. "I would say we were not acquaintances, either. Were we acquainted when I bestowed upon your head the crown of The Queen of Love and Beauty at your nameday tourney?"

"That's different. You had to name me that. It is the expectation of a tourney winner to name the celebration's main subject with that title." She said.

"I could've named someone else, even so. Was our little tryst that night meaningless?"

"You cannot use that against me, Gwayne. It is shameful enough that I allowed myself to do such a dishonest thing." She grabbed his wrist lightly, urging it away from its grip. He listened, moving it to a more gentle caresse at the base of her neck, tangled in her hair.

"I do not regret it." He said, softly. "Nor do I regret the night we spent together after the dinner with our families."

"Gwayne," she pleaded, avoiding his intense gaze. While their marriage was yet to be officially consumated, she was far from a maiden. He was to thank for that, of course. How ironic that they ended up married only after they begun to resent each other.

Gwayne resented his entrapment here. She resented his family and his actions during the war.

"What, Princess? I only speak the truth and you know it. Do you regret it?"

She remained silent, hands placed on his chest as if to ground herself.

Gwayne took that as his answer. "We do not have to live this way. We could leave—return to my home in Old Town. You can have your privacy, do whatever you please whenever you'd like. I beg you, it is torturous here for me, and I know you share that sentiment. I will not ask for heirs, I have my brother for that. You can take a lover, a paramour of your choice." He promised her, grabbing her hands and bringing them together. On his knees, he looked the proper image of a knight, kneeling like such. To beg for his Lady to do him this one favor, to release him from court.

"I do not want a lover." She said lowly. "I want for you."

His eyes widened, then his brows furrowed together in bemusement. "You have taken it upon yourself to belittle me publically every day, do you expect me to now believe that you do not resent me?" He scoffed bitterly.

The Princess looked away from him, unknowing of how to phrase her next words. "That is true, I will admit to my teasings–"

"I would hardly call them teasings." He cut in.

She glared at him, continuing. "–or torments, perhaps. No one truly enjoys court, it is both of us who are trapped her together. If I hadn't been forced to marry you, we would have both been free to live where we wished."

"Your mother is Queen, if you only ask she will provide."

"You overestimate my influence, Gwayne. She wants your advisory in council–for Gods know what–and she knows you being married to me keeps you loyal to her."

"Then I will stop being useful. I will be the worst advisor that council has ever seen." His face lit uo in a smirk, as if we were a profound genius.

"Do you not think she will see through this rouse."

"You will be my aid, dear Lady. You need only continue your extremely rude and annoying actions, only louder and more aggressive, so that they will have no choice but to kick you out from future meetings. In addition, my uselessness will send me with you out of the Keep to be rid of us both. If we hate each other in their eyes, they will not suspect that we are working together." He explains.

She carefully thinks it over. True, they would not want wither of them uselessly loitering around the Keep after they were kicked out of the council. She nodded firmly, agreeing to his plan. If all things went to shit and they were discovered to be playing a rouse, the only consequence would be a scolding. What was stopping them?

🏰

Gwayne and Beckae went through their little routine for weeks. The Princess rudely commenting on the entire council's opinions now, not just Gwayne's. Not rude enough to be kicked out immediately, but for irritated glares to be regularly shot at her. If looks could kill, Beckae would have been buried long ago. Gwayne, for his part, entirely stopped giving his opinions. If asked, he exaggeratedly thought for a long time before giving false information.

The weeks passed with many stressed advisors going through the boring meetings with many complaints to the Queen and her Hand. With Gwayne and his wife, however, they started to bond over their mischiefs. Late at night, after their duties were done, the two shared laughter and pleasent conversation over their cups.

When Rhaenyra pulled the married couple aside one morning, before the meeting started, Gwayne and Beckae felt giddy with anticipation.

"You two...I have been thinking for a while now. I think it is time you retired from court and traveled back to Old Town, to raise your children and take care of your House directly from it." The Queen avoided her true reasoning, skirting politely around the Hightower man.

They both nodded solemnly, agreeing with her choice. "We will miss the Keep, Mother. I expect next time I visit, you will perhaps be blessed with a grandchild." Beckae said, hugging her mother, who looked relieved.

Gwayne's brows raised at her words but agreed with them in front of the Queen. Soon, she left the married couple alone.

They shared a loud laugh together, holding each other at their small win. "Free at last!" The Princess cheered, earning a hearty chuckle from her husband.

"Indeed, wife. What were you saying, blessed with a grandchild? Are you so eager to be bed in your new home?" He asked teasingly.

She felt her face grow unrelentingly hot, scoffing. "I was only appeasing her." She said.

Gwayne hummed disbelievingly, nodding along. "I'm sure you were, wife."

At her gawking defenses, he only laughed and walked to his chambers to pack.

🏰

After a sickening three months on the road to Old Town, Beckae and Gwayne were more than ready to sleep on cushioned beds.

So ready, in fact, that they didn't bother to split into separate chambers. Both in Gwayne's chambers, the Princess and Gwayne relaxed in his spacious bed.

"I can not tell you how much I missed a proper bed." She sighed loudly, groaning in pleasure at the comfort. He did the same, humming his own praise.

Well into the night, the two merely talked and sipped on cups of sweet wine. In only their night shifts, Beckae could clearly spot a ring shining on his chest. She grabbed it, pulling it towards her slightly, fingerd brushing over his bare chest and earning a shiver from him. He leaned in with the ring, the chain pulling him by the neck.

"I did not notice this. I had thought you threw your wedding ring away the second you left the feast." She said softly, smiling at the sight of his matching ring.

"Of course not. I am not so cruel." He said, grabbing her own ring-adorned hand and gently placing a kiss on top of the ring. She giggled at the ticklish feeling, earning a smirk from Gwayne. He smirked, continuing to place feathery kisses up her arm, to her shoulder, then neck. The sensitive skin being so softly kissed made her shiver in turn, sighing pleasently. He paused before reaching her lips, grabbing her chin softly in his hand. Silently he asked for her approval.

Nodding, she was immediately drowned in a hot kiss, his tongue invading her mouth as she moaned. She moved her hands to his red hair, tugging at it. He moved her onto her back, hands squeezing her waist playfully. They pulled apart, lips swollen and panting.

The ring hung down to her own chest as he leaned over her. She twirled the ring in her finger, pleased at the sight of it. He was hers, and she was his. Entirely. She brought him down in a kiss again, pulling his chest to her own and adoring the heat that he brought with him.

That night, they comsumated their marriage in a way that no one could deny, every servant in the Tower being able to hear their Lord and Lady making heirs.

🏰

#gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower #gwayne x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd

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thegoldencontracts · 5 months ago

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Surprise

Summary: You're bored. What better way to pass the time than surprise-kissing your boyfriend?

Characters: Azul, Jade

Notes: Flustered Jade and Azul aghhh

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul was startled from his paperwork by the sensation of your lips brushing against his cheek. He loathed to admit the way he practically leapt up from his seat, scrambling to turn to meet your gaze.

"W-What was that?" He asked, desperately attempting to fan away the flush of his cheeks. You smirked.

"I was bored," you said. "Is that not reason enough?"

To tease him like this? Certainly not.

Azul turned away from you with a huff.

"Please refrain- refrain from such... Improper behavior, in the future," he said. That was a terrible mistake.

Your grin widened, somehow.

"Oh?" You said, tilting your head in amusement. "You don't like this?"

The ticklish feeling of your hand on his side made him squirm, but not quite as much as your words.

Azul sighed. He didn't have the time not bandwidth to cower like some child at the mere sight of your smirk. You could find someone else to indulge you.

"I'm busy, dearest," he said, meeting your gaze for a moment before turning back to his paperwork.

"You suuuuure?" You asked.

Azul merely rolled his eyes.

"Yes, yes, I'm certain," he said. A pause.

"Okay, then!" You said. "I'll leave you be!"

Azul's eyes widened. You were- leaving him be? Just like that?

Well, wasn't that- Just lovely?

He felt his leg bouncing antsily as he continued his paperwork. He concentrated, yes, got some work done-

For a grand total of five minutes. Then, he turned to you with a pout.

"Huh?" You said, playing dumb. You knew what he wanted. "Did I do something, Azul?"

Azul pouted.

"Y-You're well-aware," he said, desperately attempting to retain eye contact. You laughed.

"No, no," you said. "Tell me: do you need something?"

Azul glared at you. You just laughed, entirely undeterred.

After a few seconds, he sighed. Clearly, he'd have to be honest.

"I- don't suppose a break from my work would hurt," he said, barely able to retain his composure.

A pause. Then, the feeling of your lips against his cheek.

Again? You-

"Great!" You said, giggling at the way his cheeks flushed. "Let's go, Azul!"

He huffed.

"Insolent cretin."

You just laughed.

"Love you too, Azul."

Jade Leech

"So, the spores require careful-"

Jade was cut off from his highly informational speech by the feeling of your lips against his cheek.

So that was what you wanted. How amusing.

"Hmm?" He said, tilting his head in faux-confusion. "Did you need anything?"

You laughed.

"I was bored!" You said. "And isn't this a nice way to pass the time?"

He'd said it quite a few times already, but this really was dreadfully amusing. You really didn't know what you were getting yourself into, were you?

"Really, now?" He asked. "Well then, be careful what you wish fo-"

The sensation of your lips cut him off once more. His eyes widened for a split second as he processed what you'd just done.

Curses, he'd lost his composure once more. You just stood there, flashing him an impish grin.

"You always are so adept at catching me off-guard," he said with a laugh.

You merely shot him a deadpan look.

"Your face is red, Jade." You said. "Like, really red."

Of course you'd noticed.

"Apologies," he said. "I- forgot my sunscreen, you see, and I'm an individual who tans rather easily. I truly am embarrassed at my failure to remember to care for my skin."

"Right," you said. "Totally believe you."

"Good."

"So," you said. "You won't mind if I do it again?"

Jade cursed himself. You'd called his bluff. Why hadn't he anticipated this? Really, he should've prepared himself!

"I'll take that as a 'no', then," you said, pressing yet another kiss, this time dangerously close to his lips.

W-What was that? Why exactly were you being so affectionate all of a sudden?

The fluttering sound of a phone camera instantly snapped Jade back to his senses.

"Heh, sorry," you said, not looking too apologetic. Jade grinned. You'd just gone a step too far.

"Oh?" He said, holding your hand with a smirk. "You've just collected blackmail of me?"

You gulped.

"How rude," he continued, bringing his own lips up to yours. Unlike you, he had no hesitation in going in for a proper kiss. So you were shy in your own ways. How amusing.

And as you stood there, dazed, he brought up his own phone to your face, taking a picture.

"W-Wha-?"

"Well then," he said- more cooed. "I do believe that makes us even."

#Azul Ashengrotto #Jade Leech #twst #twst fanfic #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech x reader #azul ashengrotto x you #jade leech x you #disney twisted wonderland #fluff #fanfiction

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zonigiri · 2 years ago

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𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎'𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓

pairing: gojo x f!reader

summary: inspired by this post by @gojoest and tags/addition by @kagelun. i have nothing to say for myself (sorry)

wc: 1.2k

cw: fluff, gojo being gojo & divider credits to @saradika!

a/n: wrote the outline for this fic in my 20mins break at work and finished it mostly on bus rides to and from work. felt like i needed that to be mentioned somewhere

"I hate when you do that," Gojo whined from his place on the bed, lying with his limbs spread out. He had a habit of making the queen sized bed look like a single whenever he was even partially horizontal on it.

"Do what?" you ask absentmindedly, in the middle of putting your clothes back on.

"That."

"Toru we've been over this, I'm not moving in with you. Living with you would drive me actually insane."

You're facing away but you can feel his pout deepen. You hear the tell tale sounds of the bed squeaking and you know the menace you call your boyfriend, is making his way over to you with an impassioned defense. He might as well have flashcards with him and sometimes you wonder how if he wasn't a man-child with such ridiculous hills to die on, or the strongest sorcerer in this world, in an alternate universe he would've made a decent lawyer.

"That's not what I was talking about but now that you've brought it up, I can think of at least 5 reasons why-"

"Gojo," you turn to face him with a pointed stare. He withers under your gaze and your use of his formal name and you go back trying to get the clasps of your bra to get to stick to the intended hooks, instead of the one above or the one below. After a few moments of fiddling, you give up fighting a losing battle.

"Can you do my clasps?"

You look over your shoulder at Gojo, glance at your hands and look back at him expectantly. He shifts to stand behind you, fingers gentle and unsure as you feel them on your back. You let go of the straps in your hand and wait patiently.

"This is what I meant, you know."

You tilt your head to the side a little and because over months Gojo has learned to read your little gestures like a book, he knows that despite your silence that's a sign for him to continue. Not that he ever needed one anyway.

"Why do you need to wear when you have all the support you need right here?"

Gojo cups your breasts with his large hands. You lightly smack his hands with yours but all that makes him do is give them a little squeeze.

"Look at how much better I am at this! I can hold them exactly the way you want them to!"

Like a child at a science fair demonstrating his beloved project, Gojo proceeds to squeeze your breasts closer together along with his words. You let out a sigh and a little shake of your head, and you decide to humour him to try and beat him at his game.

"...plus my hands are so much warmer! And they're definitely more comfortable than some of these godawful ones."

He glares dirtily at your open lingerie drawer.

"That's not what you called them when I wore them for you last Friday."

"You're not playing fair," he mumbles into your neck.

You give it some time, basking momentarily in the warmth of Gojo's body so close to yours, before you place your hands over the ones covering your breasts and kiss his fingertips.

"Toru, I'm going to miss my bus, will you please do my clasps?"

"Hai," he says in a drained monotone like a school child being asked to do something dreadfully boring.

Satoru keeps his word this time and you hear the little click of the hooks attaching in place. Tugging your bra to make yourself comfortable, you turn around in his arms to place a sweet kiss on Gojo's lips, "Thank you baby."

Leaving him standing, you walk over to pick up your jumper and you quickly slip into it. While pulling up your jeans you noticed Gojo's attention had shifted and he was now inspecting the contents of your drawer. Picking up the straps of cloth and lace and trying to figure them out with the face of someone trying to solve a nuclear equation with utmost concentration.

You don't have to wait for long to know what he's thinking, you hardly do. Gojo never shies away from voicing his opinions. All of them, no matter how inane or inappropriate.

"You know, I think I'd be better at designing these."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah! I mean you keep saying the wire hurts and…" you hear bits and pieces of what he says , his voice full of robust conviction while you finish getting ready. In the meantime, Gojo appears to have taken a serious interest in the construction of female lingerie. You didn't have the heart to explain the intricacies of women's fashion and how since ages, pain and discomfort was woven into the very fabric and principle. Not right now anyway, while you were already running late for a bus with a temperamental schedule and a history of not following it. You looked into the mirror for a last quick check to make sure everything was in place and you walked over to your boyfriend, still somewhat lost in thought. You took his face between your hands, squished him gently and kissed him after letting go.

"Bye baby, love you!"

As always Gojo's lips stay on yours for a little longer, even after you pull away. Ending kisses is not something Gojo excels at, especially not when they're with you. He pulls away reluctantly and with that, you're gone. The door behind you shuts with a little click and Gojo's left to his own devices for the day.

Later that night you're cuddled in bed with him, his limbs wrapped around you like a blanket, the only way he knows how. Gojo's voice pipes up in the dark, "You know, I think I've figured out how to make it work."

"Hm?"

"How to make the bras work without hurting. I even came up with designs, I think you'd like them."

There's silence, but he knows you're awake and you're listening. He knows the rhythm of the way your chest rises and falls when you're asleep in his arms.

"I even came up with the name of the company."

You shuffle a little in his hold to turn to face him. Even when lying down, his face is a whole head above yours.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Gojo's secret."

It takes a while for it to sink in and then your laughter rings out in the dead of the night. A genuine, hearty outburst at his very earnest response. It gets you an offended, "Hey! It's a good name! I mean I might run into copyright issues but I…" and Gojo pulls you closer to him in efforts to get you to listen to him seriously but you don't hear the rest of it very clearly over the sound of your own laugh. With every next word that comes out of his mouth you collapse into a fresh fit of giggles and Gojo complains that you're not listening to his flawless 7-step-plan to take over the whole industry that he spent all day thinking up. Pouty that you're not taking him seriously, despite the fact that you almost never do, Gojo untangles you (gently) from his grasp and turns around to face the other way.

" 'm not talking to you."

You're used to his antics by now so you turn to spoon him, throwing your leg over his with abandon and slipping your hand over his chest. You hear a little "hmph" uttered under his breath without any real malice but all it does is make you squeeze him a little tighter (lovingly).

"Goodnight Toru, love you."

You press a kiss to his shoulder and shuffle in closer to him to make yourself comfortable to go to sleep. The next morning when you wake up, and you wake up earlier than Gojo does, you realize the two of you are in exactly the opposite position from when you went to bed. You're curled up against Gojo, back to his chest, and one of his hands has somehow made its way through the night to loosely cup your left breast in his large hand.

#gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x yn #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x fluff #gojo satoru x yn #gojo satoru fluff #t.writes #jjk x yn #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year ago

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SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON) - CHAPTER ONE: CLOSURE

“IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME, AND SEEING THE SHAPE OF YOUR NAME STILL SPELLS OUT PAIN.”

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: strong language, angst, alcohol consumption, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.1K+

☆ A/N: this will make a whole lot more sense if you've already read the one shot that this entire series is based upon! and thank you to @fracturedarkness and @munson-blurbs for beta-reading <3

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

It had taken nearly two hours, and even as the aerial platform is finally lowered from scaling the side of the building, there are still remnants of the graffiti paint scattered across the crumbling brick.

You’d watched the workers scrub at the rusted shades for ages, ignoring the new emails beginning to pile up in your inbox on the screen, only to be left completely dissatisfied. You hadn’t really thought the graffiti was ugly so to speak – it was just there. It was blatant and something that demanded to be seen, a stain on that stretch of wall that made up your desk’s entire viewpoint each and every day. And it wasn’t ugly, but it wasn’t pretty.

You’d even been a little excited when you saw the cleaning crew. A little hopeful.

But the hope had been wasted, as it always was, as you watch the crew give up the battle and the paint win the war. Go figure. Another day and another stain that can’t be erased.

“You know, I’ve heard of dreadfully boring people watching paint dry, but never seen someone look so enticed by paint being removed.”

You look up quickly from where your dead stare had zeroed in, a chipping splash of vibrant scarlet that hardly stood out against tired and faded red-turned-pink bricks, to face your coworker.

“Ha-ha,” you deadpan, spinning your office chair so your entire body now faced her, “Have you ever considered a career change, Romina? Maybe you’re better off a comedian rather than an event planner.”

Romina, your coworker, only smiles brightly at the monotone joke. She holds a mug of coffee in her hand as she rests her hip against the edge of your desk, lips pursed as she takes a slow sip from her steaming cup. The sharp, bitter scent of the coffee wafts across the space before she lowers the mug right onto your desk – completely disregarding the coaster available.

Sure to leave behind a stain; a ring of light brown on your pristine desk. You can’t help but cringe.

“Apparently they sent out an email about that new secretive project,” Romina continues on without addressing your sarcasm, “Said whoever’s got the account has been notified.”

“Awesome.”

“I didn’t get an email.”

“I’m sorry?”

Romina sighs, realizing you weren’t going to take the bait. “Have you received an email?”

You shrug in a silent succession of, probably not.

Your pessimism keeps your hand from reaching out and wiggling your mouse as an attempt to wake your desktop computer back up. You highly doubt you were the one to be elected for this new project that had the entire office buzzing. You’d only been working here for a little over a year, hardly earning any attention with the small weddings and local business grand openings you had taken on during that time.

And that was fine.

You were fine flying under the radar for the time being. It’s not that you weren’t good at your job — you were excellent at it, even — but whatever this top secret project was was the farthest thing from your expertise.

You didn’t do secretive projects. You did simple. You did small. The exact opposite of what you’d heard about this elusive opportunity.

“Have you even checked?” Romina presses, leaning down and tapping your space bar herself, making the screen come to life before you could protest, “C’mon, babe! Aren’t you at least a little bit curious?”

Another honest shrug. “Truthfully? Not at all.”

She makes no move to grab her coffee cup as she pushes herself off your desk, standing over the screen now with intent and focus. All you can really think about is that damn faded ring that’s going to be left behind.

You really wish she would have used the coaster.

The login screen stops her in her mission, making her take a step back and wave you forward, pointing excitedly at your keyboard, “You know, I heard it might have something to do with a very popular band. One rumored to be dropping an album soon. Possibly the album release party. Doesn’t that sound dreamy?”

Your stomach drops.

Romina is all wistful sighs and dreamy eyes as she says it, still pushing that keyboard closer to you as she looks out the window you had been before her arrival. It’s clear she’s looking right past that stained wall. She probably doesn’t even notice the evidence of graffiti that was left behind. The marks are lost on her eyes; but she hadn’t spent hours waiting for it to all be cleaned away, to be fair. No, it’s clear the only thing on her mind is this popular band.

And you know which band it is. It’s not just the prospect of a larger project that has kept you out of this rumor mill — it’s the prospect of the client.

Everyone knew you didn’t care for the band. Or at least, you said you didn’t care for the band.

Nearly a year ago, several coworkers had invited you to a sold out show. They had an extra ticket, and had so kindly extended it to you. A flag of friendship billowing in the wind, outstretched to you in such a welcoming manner. And you’d shot them down — you’d lied, and you’d said you had plans before you’d spent the entire night throwing your own personal pity party.

“I don’t think I’d be the first choice for an album release party, Ro,” you murmur as you finally tug your chair in closer to your desk. You ignore the knots forming in your stomach, that heavy weight that presses into your chest. There was no way you’d be assigned the project. You’d simply log in, show Romina, and then maybe she’d leave you alone, “I usually just take on weddings. That’s my forte. Not arranging open bars and booking rooftops for some shitty band.”

Romina scoffs, “Some shitty band? I know you don’t like them, but Corroded Coffin is not just some shitty band.”

Corroded Coffin. The weight makes your ribs creak, makes your lungs ache.

You swear she’ll notice the way you freeze in your typing. The mere mention of them, of him, curls around your body and easily triggers your fight or flight response.

Well, fight or flight or freeze. A new option, a new and drifting cold, has made itself clear as ice keeps your knuckles from continuing to type in your password.

It’s funny. You used to fight for them, then you’d flown as far away from him as your pathetic diner wages could get you. Clearly, only moving across a city you once thought to be so vast wasn’t far enough. You could move across oceans, and something in your gut tells you his ghost would only be a few steps behind.

“You know, I still don’t get your issue with them, by the way. Are you just not big on rock music?” she asks, and you can imagine his offense and correction that it was metal, not just rock, “I get it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I don’t know. Just seems a little personal, the way you avoid them like the plague.”

It is personal.

Your vendetta is so, so very personal when it comes to Corroded Coffin.

When it comes to Eddie Munson.

His name echoing in your mind finally has your fingertips slamming keys again, suddenly eager to bring up your email and prove Romina wrong. To get her as far from your desk as possible and end this conversation before you can spiral.

“I’ve never been a fan of that type of music,” you lie through your teeth. You had been. You had been their goddamn number one fan once upon a time.

Your work email can’t load fast enough when she continues on, “I’d argue they have at least one song for everyone. You just gotta give them a chance.”

No, the voice in your head screams. I do not need to give them a chance. I gave him a chance, and he blew it.

“I’m sure there is,” you grit out, those knots in your stomach wound so tightly they might just snap, “But not for me.”

Never for me.

They don’t know. No one in your life now knew about your past, about your ex, about the truth between you and Corroded Coffin.

They didn’t know that you’d been their first fan, standing in that stuffy garage at the Emerson’s residency through the scalding Hawkins’ summers. They didn’t know how you’d spent every Tuesday and Thursday night occupying a stool at the Hideout that had all but your name engraved into it. They didn’t know the way you’d packed up your entire life, the way you’d only moved to this cursed concrete jungle to see all of their wildest dreams come true. They were unaware that Corroded Coffin had nearly turned down the tour that triggered their breakout for you. All because their leading rockstar hadn’t wanted to leave you behind.

Funny how life works out.

Romina is unaware of your discomfort as she leans down over your shoulder to peer at the list of new emails you’d received this morning, “Oh, oh! That one! Click that one!”

Her long, blood-red stiletto nail taps at the screen excitedly, pointing out an email from your boss with an eye catching subject line.

Meeting at Noon — New Project Assignment.

“Holy shit!” Ro exclaims, getting ahead of herself before you’ve even clicked on the email. You can’t click on it. You’re petrified. “Oh, holy shit! You definitely got the project! Are you fucking kidding me?”

For a moment, you’re silent, staring at the screen in buzzing shock. It rings in your ears and it blurs the edges of your vision, the weight of the possibility finally causing the first snap within your chest.

No. No, no, no.

You don’t want this project. Not the rumored client, and certainly not the attention that it has attracted from all your peers. No.

“We don’t even know if it’s going to be what everyone says it will be,” you choke out, white knuckling your mouse. Romina can’t see your face — she can’t see the year of practiced indifference crumbling so easily, “It- It probably won’t be Corroded Coffin, Ro. It can’t be. They wouldn’t assign me something so huge. Th-They probably just have another wedding for me. Maybe another bakery opening up in town — I think I heard about one on Third Street-“

Ro’s hands come down on your shoulders, giving what should be a reassuring squeeze, but it only smothers you during your breathless rant.

“Babe,” she emphasizes, “This is a good thing.”

It’s not. It’s really, really not.

But you don’t know if the project is what everyone has been murmuring about. You don’t know for sure that the email has anything to do with it. The contents of what your boss had written to you have little to no specifics; nothing more than a request to come to her office at noon to properly discuss the details of this assignment. So you convince yourself it’ll be fine, that it really is just about that bakery opening up on third street. You convince yourself to shake away any thoughts of chestnut curls and honey brown eyes. You convince yourself to untense your shoulders and smile up at your coworker, faking enough enthusiasm to satiate her until she’s walking away from your desk giddily, taking her coffee cup with her.

Your eyes avert to the expected coffee mark that had formed a perfect ring on your stark white desk.

Stained. What a pesky thing to become.

—

“I’m not going out tonight,” you repeat yourself for the millionth time over the line, pinching the phone between your shoulder and ear as you opened your fridge to dig around for whatever leftovers you might be able to salvage into a dinner for the night, “I don’t feel well.”

“But we need to hear about the new project!” Ro’s chirp comes over the line. You can hear the buzzing of a bar in the background. Glasses clinking, strangers chatting. Hell, you could probably pinpoint the song playing lowly if you focused hard enough.

You weren’t focusing on the call, though. It was the last thing you wanted to offer up your dwindling attention to, desperate to get off the line and resume your very exciting night of cold pasta with a side of whatever sitcom was running old episodes on the television.

The phone nearly slips from your half assed attempt to keep it against your cheek as you sigh, “It went fine. I already told you guys it did. Nothing exciting, okay? It was the bakery on Third that’s opening up, just like I thought it would be.”

A lie.

The meeting went anything but fine. Your boss, Lydia, has just been plain secretive. And normally, that wouldn’t bother you, but it meant your worst fears were coming true.

The bakery on third wouldn’t have needed such secrecy, and they sure as Hell wouldn’t have insisted on you signing an NDA prior to even meeting and discussing the event you’d be planning.

“It’s all just precautions,” Lydia had insisted as she slid that damn paperwork over to you, “Just to protect the client. They’re a bigger name than we’re used to dealing with. If you sign, we’ll have a proper meeting with them tomorrow and dig into all the nitty gritty.”

“You phrase it like I have a choice,” you had muttered before picking up the pen.

You knew you didn’t. And Lydia’s smile had confirmed it.

Romina continues on with more convincing, but you’ve stopped listening. There’s not a single thing she could really say now that your mind was made up — you were staying in tonight.

“Ro,” you finally snatch the phone back up into your hand, straightening out as you pick out a random tupperware that you think holds chicken parm from that fancy lunch date you’d gone on over the weekend, “I’m not coming out. I’m sorry.”

Complete silence on her end. You worry for a moment that you had been too harsh.

“Okay,” she finally gives up.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” the word continues to echo back and forth between you two, “That’s fine. I’ll just have to bother you about it tomorrow. At work. Where you can’t use bullshit excuses to escape me.”

You consider snapping back about how you absolutely still could, until you consider the fact that you have a real excuse, “Good luck with that. I have a very real meeting with… with a client.”

You don’t even know the name of the client, technically. You can only guess.

You still hope you’re wrong.

“Right,” she laughs over the line, “See you tomorrow, babe.”

“See you tomorrow,” you repeat back, staring at your now closed fridge before you’re relieved by the sound of a dial tone, signaling that she’s finally hung up.

What you should do now is plate the leftovers, arrange yourself on your sofa, and numb your mind with The Office reruns. What you should do is leave well enough alone and continue in your delusion.

You don’t.

It starts innocently; you do transfer the cold chicken parm onto a plate and you do curl up on your sofa before flicking on the television. You do set the channel to the reruns. You do – and you swear you do it all with the best intentions.

But then your mind wanders.

As you stare straight ahead at the television, you’re not processing a single image that flashes across the screen. Your thoughts are a bit preoccupied with different images, movies and snippets from a point in your life that now feels like a lifetime ago. Conspicuous dimples making an appearance from across the room at a joke you had made, unkempt curls flying recklessly in the driver’s seat beside you on late night drives with the windows down, wild eyes shining like sunlight through a whiskey bottle as he catches your gaze from a stage much smaller than what he must be used to now.

Everything from before. Before the not-fight, before the fame, before the move. Images of when Eddie had been yours and only yours, not yet a precious gem to have to share with the world.

“Are you busy tonight?”

Your locker had been slammed shut by a hand that didn’t belong to you, knuckles adorned with familiar rings and distinct callouses along the fingertips.

“Hello to you, too, Eddie,” you smiled as you clutched one of the unnecessarily heavy textbooks to your chest, turning to face the boy who stood impatiently at your side. He was all jitters, rocking on his heels and nearly incapable of standing still as his body buzzed with excitement.

It rolled off him in waves, contagious as he leaned into you, “Yes, yes. Hello, sweetheart. How was your day?” you opened your mouth to answer him, but Eddie comically steamrolled right on, hands waving erratically, “Good? Good! Excellent! Now, are you busy tonight?”

“I was planning to study for O’Donnel’s test-“

“So you don’t have plans!” he exclaimed, throwing an arm around your shoulders as one of the annoying warning bells chimed. He may have been in an interruptive mood, but he knew you hated being late to class — less about being anal about punctuality, and more about the stares you’d practically burn under from the attention of other students when you’d barge in on the teacher mid-sentence, “Perfect. Absolutely perfect. In that case, I have fantastic news!”

You allowed him to guide you amongst the bustling student bodies, only gaining a few stares from fellow peers, “You do, do you?”

He nodded before he reached out and snatched that heavy textbook out of your arms, “Here, let me carry that for you, darling.”

“Darling?” your nose scrunched, “Oh, no. You’re trying to sweeten me up. What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

Liar. The crack in his voice would have given him away if his hyperactive energy hadn’t already done so.

“Oh, really? Then what’s your fantastic news, rockstar?”

His grin that broke at your nickname for him could have destroyed the Earth you walked on just as easily as it could have mended it. Something groundbreaking, something to churn the dirt and raise the dead. Something made of pure sunshine and static happiness. But the only thing that cracked was your chest as it tried to contain the residual joy it felt for him in that moment.

“Well…” he trailed off, leaving just enough room for a suspenseful pause that could have suffocated the room without that damn grin on his face, “Let’s just say you’re looking at the frontman of the Hideout’s newest Thursday night entertainment.”

You took a moment to catch on, Eddie keeping you pressed closely to his side as the two of you stopped outside of your next class.

“Thursday nights?” you questioned, brain working overtime to piece together what he’d just said, “Wait, I thought you guys only played Tuesda-“

When you had processed what he had meant, all that animated elation that had been consuming him became shared. Every jitter in his bones became your own, your own lips speedily spreading into a proud smile to challenge his own.

“Oh, holy shit,” you gasped, “You guys got the gig.”

One more bounce of his heels, curls quivering with the movement as his arms fell from you and the two of you faced one another.

“We got the gig.”

“You got the gig!”

People had been staring more obviously at the sudden rise in volume from you, but you hadn’t cared. Because in that moment, all you focused on was the eager boy in front of you, and the way your broken chest mended from the same grin that had burst it wide open, only for it to swell with inexplicable pride.

“We got the fuckin’ gig!” he shouted right back, laughter slipping from between his lips that started to echo your own.

You were the one bouncing then, hands instinctively reaching out to press on his shoulders in gentle slapping motions, unable to contain or conventionally express this pounding excitement.

“You got the fuckin’ gig!” you were just parroting each other now, but you were just as delirious as he was as that final bell signaling you were late rang out. That certain embarrassment you were sure to have to face had become a distant memory.

Eddie had wanted this for a while. He’d been bugging the owner of the bar on the edge of town about Corroded Coffin earning a second night of residency for months, only taking the repeated rejections as encouragement to ramp up his convincing charm. You’d seriously doubted it would work, but had never voiced the concern aloud to Eddie. You’d always figured that the worst that could have happened would be another no, fuck off, kid. But the best that could have happened had been this — he would be told yes and secure his band two weekly performances at the Hideout rather than just the single one they played before.

You didn’t know it then, but it was the first step down the path that would lead to inevitable heartbreak.

“I haven’t even told the guys yet,” Eddie admitted once the two of you calmed down to the best of your abilities, “I… Uh, I wanted to tell them after school today. Was wondering if you might, I don’t know, maybe- do you wanna be there when I do?”

And that made sense. Eddie inviting you made sense when you attended every single band practice in Gareth’s garage as religiously as he did. When you knew every word to their whole three original songs even better than him at times.

He wanted you there. You were important to him, to the band, and he wanted you there.

“I- Is that even a question?” you stared at him in disbelief, “Of course I wanna be there, you fuckin’ idiot. I can’t believe you told me before you told them, honestly.”

His demeanor softened, the ghost of his exuberance still stubbornly lingering. But your eyes were on him, glowing with such high regard that it was impossible to not let it creep beneath his skin and trigger a blush across the bridge of his nose. All that love, all that pride. So genuine it could have made him cry.

“Of course I told you first,” he whispered in a finally empty hallway, “You’re always the first person I tell any good news to, sweetheart.”

When had you stopped being the first person he shared his forthcomings with?

Probably the day you had decided to leave him, leave the entire life you two had built together, under the guise of best intentions.

The TV continues to play as you stare at the wall, mind and heart alike locked up with nostalgia. The plate of leftovers has long since been sat down on the coffee table.

You hadn’t let yourself reminisce like this since the very first night you had spent in your apartment. That first night, you’d allowed yourself to wallow. You had sat on this very same sofa, the entire apartment pitch black as you weren’t brave enough to turn on a single light and face yourself, and told yourself that any and all tears or regrets had to be purged that night. A funeral for all that you had lost, a single night to mourn all that you had left behind.

Clearly, one night was never enough to let go of years of memories – of love.

You don’t shut off the TV as you impulsively grab your phone, not thinking the action through before you do the one thing you had forbidden yourself from over the last few years; you’re going to Google search Eddie Munson. You’d created the rule as a make-believe step in the right direction. You told yourself if you didn’t google him, if you didn’t track down his every move after you’d left behind the damage done, then you could move on easier.

From the first headline, you realize that it might have never been about moving on.

FINAL NAIL IN THE COFFIN? HAS EDDIE MUNSON, LEAD SINGER OF CORRODED COFFIN, FINALLY GONE TOO FAR?

EDDIE MUNSON — ARRESTED AGAIN?

HOTEL COMES FORWARD ABOUT DAMAGES DONE BY ROWDY ROCKSTAR EDDIE MUNSON

HOW TO BURY A CAREER: A DETAILED TIMELINE OF CORRODED COFFIN’S EDDIE MUNSON’S DOWNFALL

“EDDIE MUNSON GAVE ME A CONCUSSION” - VICTIMS OF THE ROCKSTAR’S CLUB TANTRUM COME FORWARD.

Each headline sends your head reeling, eyes widening impossibly without even clicking on the stories.

The boy you had known wouldn’t have done half of the things these accusations stated. Violence, trashing hotel rooms, public temper tantrums taken too far — it doesn’t feel as though you’re reading about someone you once knew, someone you once loved. The man in these paparazzi photos is a stranger, completely unrecognizable with his red eyes and middle fingers held high.

A particular photo catches your attention. He’s standing outside what you assume is a club, in handcuffs. His hands are locked behind his back, an officer not far behind and his face bathed in glows of blue and red lights flashing from a car half blocking the camera’s view of him, and he’s grinning with dead eyes squinted to the sky. It almost looks as if he’s midlaugh — as if the entire scene was funny to him.

The one time he’d nearly been caught while pedaling drugs for Reefer Rick back home in Hawkins when you’d still known him, he had nearly burst into tears. Had panicked as he scrambled to shove everything, even just the weed, into every possible hiding place within his van. He hadn’t laughed in the officer’s face; he had been petrified, face transforming to that of a terrified little boy as you had told him to calm down and play it cool.

You should stop scrolling. But you can’t.

Another photo, one that makes your chest echo with another hollow pang. It was clearly taken without him realizing it, the quality atrocious as the camera had attempted to focus in on him through a balcony sliding door of what must be a hotel. But despite the terrible blur, you can clearly pick out the details that were meant to be exposed.

A speckle of white coating the ring of his nostril. Made even more obvious by that midday sun shining in on him.

It was clearly the middle of the afternoon, and Eddie had clearly been caught snorting cocaine.

It’s a bit much. You haven’t even scrolled far enough to catch sight of all the pap photos of him with different women, or the photos of him clearly inebriated at major events that had been meant to celebrate him and the band’s success. You lock your phone, you set it down on the table with the screen facing down. You hardly recognize him.

The reality is you had never googled Eddie for the same reason most won’t look at the corpse of loved one’s at open casket funerals – you wanted to remember him when things had been good. You had wanted to convince yourself that you still knew him, some version of him, and that he hadn’t become a total stranger.

But, really, you’d known the moment you had walked out of that once shared apartment that you had lost the privilege of knowing him. Of loving him. The moment he had stopped telling you that he loved you, you had known something between the two of you had died. Losing Eddie hadn’t been a sudden thing — it had been a long, painful, torturous process. When all that love and all that promise had died, it hadn’t gone down without a fight. He had smothered it, but you had provided the extinguisher. You had pushed him to chase after his dreams, and you should have never been surprised when he did exactly that.

You should have never been surprised that one day, the space you’d claimed residency in in Eddie’s heart would become nothing more than an annoying prick to him. A thorn in his side, sharp and threatening all that he had worked so hard to achieve.

So you’d left. You’d left, told yourself it was for the best, and exited with more love for the memory of a man than the tangible person on the other end of that terribly lonely dial tone – on the rare occasions he did call.

You didn’t know him. It’s a truth you should have long since swallowed, but hadn’t. Not yet. Not in the last two years.

Your appetite is gone as you stand from the couch and grab the leftovers, only pausing on your way to the kitchen to scrape the waste off into the trash can. What a waste. As you put away the plate into the sink, not bothering to wash or even rinse away the crumbs, you immediately grab one of your few wine glasses and set it on the counter. Drinking wasn’t the wisest idea, but your body has begun to move on autopilot. And it seems convinced that feeling the buzz from alcohol would be better than the feeling of nothing at all.

You didn’t know him anymore. And the space you’d still let him occupy in your memories, whether you’d wanted to admit it or not, was now hollow.

You turn your back on the glass, still numb and still reeling as you open the fridge and pull out a half empty bottle of merlot, cork half peeking out the top of the bottle. You can see that stained bottom half, almost half hidden in a weak attempt to preserve the wine inside. Maroon. Deep, deep maroon bleeds up and feathers at the edges of that cork as you pull it out fairly aggressively, carelessly tossing it onto the white countertop and not watching it bounce as you pour yourself a drink.

In your hollow staring off into the distance, you don’t realize you’ve missed the glass in your pouring until the chilled liquid splashes at your knuckles – until it’s too late. You panic, grabbing at paper towels and rinsing off your hand in the same breath, but it’s clear that it’s a useless battle in cleaning up the mess you’ve made.

The damage is already done. As you soak up the wine and swipe away, a pink-tinged blotch is still left behind.

Stained. What a pesky thing to become.

ghost's taglist: @emmaisgonnacry @figmentofquinn @bebe07011 @barbedwirebats @ayooooo0 @neverlearnedcivility @munson-enthusiast @digwhatudug @wow-cam @daddysmodifiedprincess2 @cancankiki @gothmingguk @nix-rose @thesesuggestedblognamesbegreat @chevelle724 @madaboutjoe @take-everything-you-can @josephquinnsfreckles @conquerwhatliesahead92

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain

#maroon #my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #lowkey terrified to post this oh god #oh well

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 1 year ago

Text

Take What You Give

Pairing: Nightcrawler x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: fingering, hella dirty talk, pet names, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, DP kinda- it's with his tail so there's that, praise praise praise, unprotected p in v, creampie, kinda cockwarming also- I think that's everything lol

Genre: smut with the tiniest bits of fluff

Summary: after a dreadfully boring date you know the perfect way to unwind

A/N: Someone on tiktok called Nightcrawler community dick and this idea popped into my head because of it lmaoo

***

You're bored. You're on a date with the least interesting person you've ever met in your life and oh GOD you are bored. You feel bad, he's cute and seems like a nice person but none of your conversations have been stimulating this whole time. You're trying to give a real and honest chance before you quit on this and leave. Although you'll admit you're already making plans for after this date so maybe you've checked out at this point. When he starts telling a story about a nightmarish party his college roommates held years ago you practically leap from your chair.

"Sorry to interrupt, I need to use the restroom." You tell him. You don't wait for him to respond before you rush off to find the bathroom. You allow yourself five minutes to come up with a plan ultimately setting a timer before heading back to your table. "Sorry about that. Please, continue." You say with a smile.

"All good?" He asks.

"Yes. Thank you." You say and he continues his story. Twelve minutes later, the alarm on your phone goes off. "Hang on let me just- sorry I have to take this." You mutter angling your phone away from his view as you fake a phone call. "Hello? ... No I'm out, why is everything okay? ... what?! ... Do you need me to come and get you? ... don't be silly of course I'll come. I'm on my way, alright? ... See you soon. Hang in there." You pace out your responses to your imaginary call. "Dillan I'm so sorry my friend is- in a bit of trouble and really needs my help. I hate to bail but it can't wait." You grimace as convincingly as you can.

"Is everything alright? Do you need-"

"I'm alright. We'll take care of it. I just have to go now, but tonight has been fun. I'll call you!" You say standing up. You will not be calling him.

"Yeah I had a great time. I hope things with your friend turn out fine." He says standing with you. You leave the restaurant with one more muttered goodbye and roll your eyes once you're down the block. Time to solidify your plans for the rest of your evening. You dial the number you haven't used in some time- a few months you think but no matter.

"Liebling." His voice is a little breathless when he answers.

"Hi Kurt." You say.

"It's been a while." You can hear the smile in Kurt's voice.

"I'm a busy woman Wagner and you have quite the schedule yourself. Are you engaged for the evening?"

"I can make myself unengaged."

"Don't trouble yourself Kurt."

"For you my dear it's never trouble. When do you want to see me?"

"Whenever you can unengage yourself and get here is fine. I'm not in any particular rush." You tell him.

"I'll see you in an hour. Ish. Be ready."

"Already am." You say suggestively before hanging up the phone. You catch the beginning of what, knowing Kurt, was probably a swear and you chuckle to yourself as you make your way home.

At home, you take off your makeup and the dress you wore and change into some pretty lacy lingerie. Kurt is quite fond of your collection, he says taking them off feels like unwrapping a present he's been dying to receive for months. He's quite dramatic, but you don't see him often so it's easy to enjoy giving him that little treat when you call on him. It's not yet an hour later when he materializes in your bedroom where you're reading leisurely.

"Hello darling." He smiles.

"You're early." You match the grin on his face.

"I said 'ish' plus I hate to keep you waiting." He shrugs.

"Always so sweet to me." You hum marking your place in your book and placing it on the nightstand beside you.

"Do you work tomorrow?" Kurt asks.

"No."

"Good." He says and then he's over you, holding himself up with one hand while his other cups your face. "You smell of cologne."

"Bad date." You mutter tugging him down to connect his lips to yours. The kiss doesn't last long, you feel him smile against your lips before pulling away.

"Happy to help you forget about it darling but you should call on me more often if you're feeling lonely."

"If you're worried I'm replacing you Kurt don't be. You'll always be my favorite." You wink at him pulling him in for another kiss. This one he doesn't break, his tongue slipping into your mouth, dominating the kiss quickly. His hands are up your sides nails slightly dragging against your skin enough to send shivers through you. You back away from him enough to tug his shirt over his head, sliding your fingers down his patterned chest.

"I'll always be your favorite hm?" He smirks kissing down your neck.

"Of course my shadow jumper." You whimper when his mouth focuses on a spot against your throat, one of your hands sliding into his hair.

"You know you're my favorite don't you liebling?" He hums into your skin.

"Never had a doubt." You giggle.

"Good girl." His lips trail further, kissing the swell of your best just over the edge of your bra. "I think this might be my favorite set on you too by the way." He says sitting back and pulling you with him so he can unhook the lacy number.

"You say that every time you're here Kurt." You remind him.

"Every time I'm here you unlock a new type of perfection." He winks dipping his head to wrap his lips around one of your nipples as he lays you back against your pillows.

"You're such a flatterer." You say jokingly but a moan punctuates the sentence as Kurt's teasing tongue against your chest tugs at something deep within you. Your back arches towards him your fingers burying themselves in his hair again. Kurt's tail slides up your leg, making you squirm even more and he uses the extra appendage to pull your panties down your body. That tail wraps around one of your ankles, keeping your legs spread for the hand that slides down your abdomen. When his fingers reach the apex of your thighs you're breathing hitches before he's even touched you.

"Always so ready for me, pretty girl." Kurt chuckles. He plunges two fingers into you quickly, curling them in just the right way to have you grinding against his hand. His fingers pump in and out of you with deliberate thrusts, stretching you for him. "Heaven help me, you're absolutely soaking." Kurt hisses, your juices flowing over his hand.

"Fuck babe- I'm close." You pant out, arching into his hand as you chase your end.

"That's it liebling, let go for me." Kurt coaxes softly before leaning forward to take your clit between his lips. He sucks harshly on the bundle of nerves and the sudden stimulation sends you over the edge with a whine. He works you through it with gentle licks and slow pumps of his fingers, watching the way your face shifts between the stages of your pleasure. When you let out a long albeit shaky breath he pulls away, knowing that loud unsteady release of air means you're back in your body. "Oh how I love making you do that." He says pressing a kiss to your lips before placing his sticky fingers into his mouth. The groan he lets out at your taste flooding his tongue is pornographic. There's no other way to describe it, and a fresh wave of arousal washes over you at the sound. You watch him clean his fingers with a darkened look that he relishes in. That carnal desire in your eyes focused solely on him, he'll never get tired of it. When the essence of you no longer coats his digits he pulls them out with a satisfying pop.

"Skipping your usual protocol today?" You ask with a teasing smile. You'd have no qualms if he did but Nightcrawler is one of those makes you cum a dozen times for his own enjoyment types who has never passed up the opportunity to eat you out before fucking you.

"And allow the sweetest nectar to go to waste? Don't insult me." He scoffs shifting himself to lie between your legs. He wastes no time pulling you towards his waiting mouth and allowing his tongue to dive into your center. Your fingers are in his ink-colored hair moments later, desperate to ground yourself as he devours you like his final meal.

His tongue thrusts in and out of you, slurping the juices that spill from you, moaning as your arousal washes over every inch of his mouth. The sounds from him reverberate against your skin only furthering your madness as Kurt takes you apart one lick, one slurp, one suck at a time. When your legs begin to shake, he brings his hands up to hold your thighs still, digging his fingers into the flesh there as he feasts. Your first orgasm on his tongue meets you with a loud moan and barely contained thrashing that does nothing to slow Kurt. You jerk against his still seeking mouth, but his hold on your thighs simply tightens as he continues his onslaught.

"God! Kurt- please!" You cry out though you're not sure if you're asking him to stop or continue. As if it matters, Kurt will go until he's satisfied which with him could literally be hours. With Kurt there's no such thing as too much, he can go and go and go shattering you into a million pieces just to put you back together so he can do it all over again. And you let him. You relish in the bite of overstimulation that soon melts away to pure pleasure again as his tongue forces another orgasm from you. This one takes you by surprise as you pull at the strands between your fingers, your body convulsing harshly.

Kurt's eyes meet yours and he winks at you as he pulls you tighter against his mouth. His tongue focusing now on your too sensitive clit. You writhe against him, caught between escaping and searching for more as you squeal from his ministrations. When a scream Kurt would describe as piercing falls from your lips and your third orgasm coats his tongue he finally gives you a break, working you through your release before sitting up.

"When I asked if we were skipping your protocol it wasn't a challenge." You eventually huff at him, once your chest stops heaving so hard you thought you'd never get enough air in your lungs.

"Tapping out already? I've given you much more in one go before. Perhaps I should be checking on you more often liebling." Kurt smirks as he wipes his face.

"Tapping out? Before you've even fucked me? It's like you don't know me at all anymore sweet one." You tease back.

"That's my girl." Kurt chuckles shucking his pants off before sinking into you. Between your breathless moan and the feeling of your walls pulsing around him Kurt can't help but groan when he bottoms out. He holds still for a moment allowing both you and him to adjust to your heat swallowing his length. With a deep breath, his hips rock back, almost all the way, and then he thrusts into you so harshly that he shifts you on the bed. He settles his hands on your hips then and sets a brutal rhythm, his hips snapping against yours relentlessly.

"Holy- fuck." You grit out, tossing your head back against the bed. Kurt always fills you to the point where it's almost too much, you can feel him everywhere somehow but oh how you love it. Your nails scrape down Kurt's back as you cling to him while he fucks you ruthlessly.

"So good. You feel so good liebling." He huffs out between his thrusts.

"So do you, god- you fuck me so well. Fill me so nicely."

"I know I do pretty one, this pussy loves taking my dick. Does it so well each time. Isn't that right baby?"

"Yeah- yes- love it so much." You whimper when Kurt's tail slips between your bodies and finds your clit. The extra appendage is as dexterous as his fingers and the swollen bundle of nerves reacts to it the same way, luring you to another orgasm that has you shuddering in Kurt's arms. His tail continues to poke around near where you and Kurt are joined, his hips not slowing even with his tail in the mix. It's something he's done before, not often- but it seems tonight he's pulling out all the stops. The tip of his tail is gathering your wetness, covering itself to prepare for entering you at the other end. Kurt lifts your hips further into him, holding you high enough for his tail to get under you and slowly prod your ass.

"Gonna stuff you proper tonight." Kurt mutters before his tail breeches you. Your gasping whine at the sudden intrusion only fuels Kurt more. His tail quickly matches his hips in rhythm filling you in both holes, clouding your mind. You're a mess of moans and whines as Kurt has his way with you. He pulls one or two more orgasms from you before he's spilling into you with a roar. He doesn't even bother pulling out before lays beside you and pulls you tightly against him. He kisses your forehead softly and whispers something in German that you don't know the meaning of. It's fine he'll be here a while. With Kurt it's never one and done. He'll pull more orgasms from you until you've completely lost count, until all you know is his name and the pleasure he's giving you, until the world has been flipped on its axis and you along with it. It happens every time and that's exactly why you call him when you do.

***

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #nightcrawler #nightcrawler fanfiction #nightcrawler smut #nightcrawler x reader #kurt wagner #kurt wagner x reader #other marvel characters

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enyearns · 1 year ago

Text

Bakugou Katsuki: All the Lovers in the Night

in which bakugou keeps you company (even though you never asked for it)

✧ genre: fluff ✧ cw: some swearing! (sorry! my hands are tied, bakugou is a swearer!); also a brief mention of sex (the characters don't do anything remotely promiscuous, it's just mentioned) ✧ wc: 2.1k

song for this read: Sunsetz by Cigarettes After Sex

a/n: i think, sometimes, we all deserve a tame bakugou. and, i believe that bakugou really can simmer down when he's with you. it's no wonder why you feel safe with him. (i am an avid fan of this kind of bakugou. very avid fan).

You usually fall asleep easily. Really, you could sleep just about anywhere, even if it were on some rocky surface, or even if people were yelling all around you; you would just need five minutes before you’ll completely clock off the world.

But tonight was one of the nights where your mind was needlessly bustling with thoughts. Your body was extremely exhausted, and your mind was at the brink of sanity, yet your spirit couldn’t commit to sleep. You were, frustratingly, tossing and turning in bed, chasing sleep that eluded you.

You were beginning to feel suffocated and dreadfully alone in your room, so you wrapped your fluffy blanket around your shoulders and grabbed two books, taking off downstairs to the common area. Here it was dark and (unsurprisingly) empty; all the lights had been long turned off and there was no chatter in any corner of the dormitory, but still you felt like you had space to breathe again.

As you made your way quietly to the couch, you felt comfort in seeing the traces of your classmates scattered around. The cake that Sato had baked (which was beautifully spongy and amazingly sweet) was on the countertop, only a few slices left since you and the other girls had graciously helped yourself to some. On the tables were someone’s textbooks. It was probably Sero and Kirishima’s — you saw the two studying (and chatting loudly) together earlier.

Honestly, it were the little things that made you feel safe again.

You curled up on the couch, turning on the lamp by the edge, and for a few minutes you had deliberated on which book to read.

On one hand, you could continue reading Crime and Punishment, a fantastic Dostoevsky classic, or you could finish off Olivie Blake’s Alone With You in The Ether. In the end, you decided to put the psychological crime novel aside and opted for the young adult fiction. Where you’re at in C&P right now is boring, what with the chapter centered around the insufferable Katerina Ivanovna. And, to be quite frank, where you’re at mentally isn’t capable of reading through Ivanovna’s self-wallowing dialogue at the moment.

You don’t know how much time has passed, but you were pretty invested in the book, reading each line with a curious focus. You were now laying on your stomach, nose buried deep into the book as you kicked your feet and blushed and giggled to yourself. You were so immersed that you didn’t even notice that someone had come around.

In fact, you didn’t notice until you felt a dip on the couch, making you look up curiously. Your eyes locked with a pair of strikingly crimson orbs, which were weary and slightly hazy.

Bakugou looked extremely tired, wearing just a black tank that showed off his biceps, and some plaid pyjama pants. He was holding onto a half-empty glass. “What you reading, nerd?”

You smiled remembering the scene that you’re on, but your cheeks also simultaneously burned. Hopefully Bakugou would not be able to make that out right now, since the lamp only dimly lit the space. “It’s nothing.”

He raised his brow, but he was too tired to pry, concluding the end of their quiet chatter (if this even counts as one). Bakugou made no move to leave. He was just sitting there and staring off into the distance, not saying a word. You, still lying on your stomach facing the boy, would sometimes look up to see what he’s doing, but you were met with the same listless and unreadable expression on his face. He was so uncharacteristically quiet that you were convinced that he was asleep with his eyes wide open.

But you didn’t urge him to go back to his room to rest, nor did you ask why he was up in the first place. You didn’t want to prompt him to suddenly go away (knowing how easily his mood fluctuates). You enjoyed his company, and, as selfish as it was, you would hate it if he left.

He eventually stood up (abruptly, to say the least), leaving just as quietly as he arrived. Before you could even let the disappointment stir within you, he came back again having refilled his cup. He had brought you a glass too.

You gratefully took a few sips and placed the glass cup on the coffee table, mumbling a thank you, to which he just grunted.

Instead of lying back down on your stomach, you took a risk (Bakugou is a flight risk, honestly) and rested your head on the boy’s lap. You could feel him stiffen under you, and when you looked at him curiously, it was only a moment later before he allowed himself to relax again.

You smiled to yourself, only slightly, and began to read again.

“So something’s botherin’ you.”

You lifted your eyes to look at him again. He was looking at you, his eyes still swirling with fatigue, but his brows were creased in concern. “I don’t want to trouble you.”

His frown only deepened. “Too late, ‘cause shit’s already troublin’ me.” You didn’t respond; you don’t really want to get into it right now. He quickly sensed that you weren’t going to tell him anything, so he just let out a soft sigh. “Still haven’t told me what you’re reading.”

You showed him the cover of your book, and he tilted his head to read the title. “‘Alone With You in the Ether’? Sounds corny as shit.”

You furrowed your brows and pouted unhappily, making the boy avert his gaze elsewhere, fighting back the pink that was crawling up his neck. You're cute. “It’s romantic, but it’s also cynical, and the characters are just so miserable…” your lips curved into a smile. “They’re so cute together.”

“You’re just not right in the head.”

“Hey!”

“So then? If you like it, it must be good. Read me a passage, the one you’re at right now, read it.”

You opened your book once more. The book, you were holding it up over your face, was obstructing his view of you, so he looked back ahead. He was ready to listen, in fact, he was listening for something, but he could only feel you fidgeting on his lap. Moments passed with you trying to start, but growing shy and stopping, again and again. Finally having had enough, he looked down at you, quirking his brows for a second time upon seeing you hide your face behind the pages.

“I– I can’t read it…”

Bakugou clicked his tongue and grabbed the book from you, skimming through the two open pages. He felt his body grow hot reading the words, albeit in a blur. It didn’t click for him immediately what you were reading, but it was definitely a… a you know what passage.

And you got your damn head in his lap right now!!

“I-in my defense, okay, you caught me at a bad time! This is the only one– ugh! Olivie Blake writes it so romantically anyway, so what does it even matter!!” You were flustered beyond repair, and your friend being so obviously at a loss for words wasn’t making you feel any better. So you made a move to lift yourself off him, but Bakugou held your shoulder down. Instead, he reached over you and grabbed your blanket, placing it over your body.

“You’re gonna catch a damn cold. You’re always getting cold too, what are you doing not using your damn blanket properly? You wanna get sick? It’s like you wanna get sick!”

Seeing the boy trying to literally cover up for you, his neck, ears and face coated in a furious blush, it made you want to laugh. If you didn’t know any better, you wouldn’t have realised that he was just trying to divert his attention, trying to keep the flow going. You smiled up at him, thankful, and continued to read.

From then on, neither of you exchange another word. He was tired, and he’s never usually up at this hour. He only woke up from his sleep because he suddenly needed to pee, and then he suddenly really needed a drink. It felt like the Sahara Desert in his damned throat. But then he saw you. You looked happy reading, but you were up at this hour, and he knows that that’s usually a tell that you were distressed.

He felt the sleep starting to overcome him again. He was absentmindedly running his hand through your soft hair (he doesn’t even know when he started doing this), and his arm was propped up on the couch in a relaxed manner.

Other than you sometimes squealing or gasping (he found it endearing, extremely endearing), it was completely silent. Before he knew it, he fell asleep in that same position, his hand still entangled between your locks.

You were also feeling calm and relaxed, especially under Bakugou’s surprisingly soft touch. Just being in his presence, you felt healed again. It was weird; in the past, you never thought that he would have this effect on you, but here you are now, quickly falling asleep because of his presence, even though sleep was hard to catch for the past few hours.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Bakugou was the first to wake. When he lifted his head (slowly), he immediately registered a dull ache in his neck. He was blinking his eyes, gradually getting used to the morning light that now filled the common area.

He looked around precariously. The TV was on. Sitting somewhere else on the couch, some distance away, were Tokoyami and Mineta. There were also some of his classmates having breakfast in the kitchen. It’s probably somewhere between 7 or 8 right now.

When he looked back down and saw that you were still sleeping, he felt his muscles relax again. You had curled up into him sometime in the night, your fingers loosely holding onto his shirt.

It might be the fact that he’s too sleepy right now to fight back the smile muscles, but he couldn’t help the upward turn of his lips as he gazed at you with the fondest of fond expressions. He gently brushed your hair away, admiring your pretty, resting face.

But of course, the moment’s too good to last. Too good when the other extras are around, at least.

“HE’S AWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!!!!!!!!!”

An irk mark appeared on Bakugou’s forehead just hearing the grapehead’s irritating screech.

“HOW DARE YOU, BAKUGOU, HAVE A MIDNIGHT RENDEZVOUS WITH (Y/N)?! HOW DARE YOU DEFILE THE SACRED BODY OF (Y/N)!!!”

“Shut the fuck up, I didn’t do nothin’.”

“BAKUGOU’S AWAKE??” Pinky immediately came to the scene of the crime with a sly, sly, sly smirk on her face. She is too damn energetic for this hour, and Bakugou just pinched the bridge of his nose (which, now he realises slightly carries the scent of your shampoo). “WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN YOU TWO????! TELL ME, TELL ME!!!”

“The nerd was reading some stupid novel.”

The others were also curious about the situation and started to crowd around the couch. They did (more or less) wake up to Bakugou and you sleeping together on the couch. How could they NOT be nosy, curious, and most of all, invested??

All this attention just irritated the ash blonde though. “Everyone shut up, she’s still sleeping!”

Mina cooed. “Awww, he cares so much for (y/n)!”

“I FOR ONE BE–”

“Shut the fuck up before I make you all shut the fuck up!!” he growled, lifting his hand menacingly. Sparks were coming out of his hand. It did work on scaring most of them, but Mina and Mineta were much too nosy to be threatened away.

The two were about to continue teasing Bakugou, but he felt you slightly stir, and this made his eyes widen in panic. He brought his hand back down to gently pat your head, all while glaring menacingly at Pinky and Grapehead, and oh, would you look at that, the rest of the Bakusquad were here too, looking at him with the same stupid ooh-la-laa expressions on their stupid faces.

One more word and I’ll kill you.

“The affectionate petting is really undercutting your tone bro.” (Kirishima was the only one brave enough to point this out).

“I fuckin’ know! Now scram, the nerd’s still sleepin’ so quit botherin’ us!!”

They eventually cleared because they adore you enough. Mina made a big deal out of it though, booing and showing him not one, but two thumbs down. Sero joined in, doing a i’m watching you gesture with his fingers.

Unluckily (or luckily…?) for Bakugou though, he was stuck in that same position for the next hour. Honestly, he could care less. All that mattered was that you were resting up and feeling safe, because it’s what you deserve.

He’ll deal with the achy muscles some other time (and maybe he’ll just make you pay for it).

en's chitter-chatter: thanks so much if you made it this far! writing really does get my mind off things, so if this had helped anyone get their minds off things too, that would make me really happy! >//< also, i just want to share the books i've mentioned so far!

Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoevsky) is a russian classic. it's a really good read on destitution, poverty, and the degradation of morality/sanity that the main character (Raskolnikov) experiences in the face of it.

Alone With You in the Ether (Olivie Blake) is a young adult fiction about the unconventional romance between Aldo, a PhD student fascinated by time, and Regan, a counterfeit artist. it's a really short read, and the way the words and dialogue flows is poetic. i really do recommend it! in fact, i can't recommend it enough! ^0^

finally, i'm not sure if anyone caught this, but All the Lovers in the Night is a novel by Mieko Kawakami! it's a japanese contemporary that follows the life of a lonely Fuyuko Irie, who has no one, and quietly grapples with the sudden realisation that she is, in fact, not okay with the absence of human company.

final note: i have a little Uncle!Aizawa thing in my drafts, but (to be truthfully) it stems from a bigger private piece that i’ve got going on. writing about Uncle Aizawa has been very enjoyable; it’s cute and personally makes me smile. i do want to post it, but my aizawa in my universe has a bit of an extra backstory. the family of the main character (aizawa’s niece) is well fleshed out, but i feel that aizawa’s character and backstory would be too OOC to be standalone fics ^^’’ anyways… if you guys are A-OK with a slightly different take on aizawa, i would be more than happy to share it!

until then, that’s all for now! please take care, stay hydrated, and remember to eat well <3

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ma1dita · 1 year ago

Text

this will be our year

this was a request! find it here

words: 2.5k

summary: james does his best to plan reader's birthday! it's not as easy as you think

warnings: james is a leader not a planner, fluff!! bestfriend!james returns mwahaha

a/n: so sorry for this being literally two weeks after your birthday anon! life was kicking my ass but i hope you enjoy! writing many characters is something im trying to learn to make more organic

(posted and edited too many times to count 11/6/23)

—

There are a few things in life that James likes to think he’s very good at: making plans, pulling pranks, playing quidditch, and doing absolutely anything he can to make you smile. At first, he would laugh it off when his friends would say you two had something special. He is a gentleman, after all. James is the type of friend any of the girls would trust with a secret, or the one to borrow hair potion from when you’re in a pinch.

He loves to join in the gossip and crash your sleepovers when the boys are being ‘dreadfully boring’ (his words, not yours). He holds your bag when you walk to class (only yours, he’ll push Marlene’s books to the ground and run off laughing), bribes Peter with an extra helping of bacon to move his butt out of ‘your seat’ (whichever one was to the right of him) at breakfast, and definitely writes to his mom asking about what to get you for your birthday (and how much he’s been wanting to ask you out for almost about three years now).

Right... James is a great friend, so when you get all excited about your birthday, gushing about how you want to celebrate this year, he takes one look at the excitement on your face and hatches the perfect plan. Or so he thinks.

“I just can’t wait to celebrate with you guys, and not have to worry about exams, or projects, or boys, or curfew…” you muse, laying across Mary and Remus’s laps as everyone’s gathered in the common room. Sirius, and Peter are chasing each other with throw pillows while Dorcas and Lily share headphones on the other sofa. James beelines towards you, crawling across the open space.

“Boys? What boys have been worrying you, dove?” he says snidely, sneaking towards the space near your belly, looking up at your relaxed figure.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Mary giggles, and Remus huffs back laughter as he pats your head. James peers up at you as you smile knowingly.

“It’s a secret.” you smile, reaching out to poke his chin.

“You keep secrets from me now? From your most good-looking, bestest friend ever that plans the coolest awesomest birthday parties for you?”

Well, he did have a point. Ever since he accidentally flung you into the Black Lake third year in a prank meant for Snape, he’s almost always waited on you hand and foot. He had to, for your immediate response to laugh and flip him into the lake ‘qualified’ you as a Marauder (plus he thought you were really pretty—he swore he stopped crushing on Lily the next day.) And every birthday since has been bigger and better. Fourth year was the movie marathon out on the quidditch pitch; Fifth year was the picnic out next to Black Lake, and now you couldn’t wait to see what he has planned.

You look at the boy thoughtfully, smiling down at him and he swears it’s his favorite sight in the world.

“You don’t always have to know everything, Prongs…”

He chases after your hand with his mouth, trying to chomp one of your fingers. Idiot.

“Of course I do, or else no birthday party for you!” he jokes, and you giggle at the notion. He wouldn’t dare. He loves to celebrate you. Maybe this will be the year he asks you out… Is that cheesy? Or lame? James sighs, fussing with a string on his sweater, suddenly silent amongst the chaos of his lively friends. He’s got a lot of work to do.

—

The next week was filled with James’ hasty preparations and all of your friends were put up to the task of making his vision come together. Remus and Peter would get the booze, Mary and Alice would bake the sweet treats, Sirius and Lily were working on decorations, and Marlene and Dorcas were busy enchanting a record player to amplify through the party space James would get ready in the Room of Requirement. He’s been a little high-strung, overcalculating his endless to-do list to impress you.

All of them have been so…busy, and it was a bit lonely. You thought they might plan something with you, or for you, but you haven’t seen much of them in the past few days. Every bump in the corridor or spotting in the common room was a flurry of hushed whispers and giggles at jokes that flew over your head. Even dinner with them has been oddly silent, like watching a film but not being able to penetrate the scene that unfolds.

Peering down at the map one day after class, you see your friends’ names flitting around the map, all of them hanging out together, but not with you. That is, until a big hand nabs the parchment from your grasp.

“Hey!” “Sorry doll, need it for something important.” Sirius grins, pulling Lily along as they walk off briskly.

“Do you guys want to study later?” You call out after them, and they keep on walking, hands in their cloaks. Weird.

Many more of your requests have been denied. It’s a fickle thing, to suddenly feel unwanted in your group of friends. As a Marauder, you’ve earned your place there. But if Remus and Peter didn’t want to sneak out for a midnight snack, and Alice and Mary went shopping already, without you… Marlene and Dorcas were nowhere to be found.

That means you only had your favorite person to badger… James. You drag him into a broom closet after Muggle Studies one day, crossing your arms and looking up at him with frustration.

“Jeez, love, you’re stronger than you look!” He says sheepishly, hands landing on your waist.

“What are you all up to? Where have you been?” The pout on your face makes his knees weak, and it’d be so easy to just tell you….

No…He thinks, hardening his resolve as his thumb reaches out to smooth the crease in your forehead.

“Prongs,” you whine, poking his chest. The dim yellow lightbulb swings overhead, almost clobbering him in the skull.

“Why, you miss me that much?” He grins, prodding at your cheek. It’s cramped in here enough, and he hunches over your frame, unable to stop his smile at the look on your face.

“Yeah. I miss all of my friends. I sound like Moaning Myrtle whining after you lot! I wanna be involved in whatever you all are doing…” Delicate hands pull at the drawstrings of his hoodie and he feels like his chest tightens too.

“Hey, we haven’t forgotten you, so don’t worry, pretty girl. Your birthday’s coming up, right? You excited for that?” James’ thumb rubs at your cheek and he really wonders if, in any other instance, this could be platonic. Surely, you must like him too, right? Everything he does is to make you smile. He feels like he’s in a one-man show trying to embellish himself for your attention, and he’s waiting for the applause. Your hand grabs his as you lean into his touch.

“Got anything special planned?” You ask teasingly, and James can feel the warmth of your smile in his palm.

“For you? Of course.” He squeezes your cheek and you rip away from him, laughing. As you walk out of the closet, your shoulders bump as he wraps an arm around you.

“Don’t worry too much, dove. It’ll all work out,” he says, glad that you’re smiling again. “Wouldn’t let you have a terrible birthday. Never in a million years.”

“Exactly. What type of best friend would you be?” You smirk, walking off to your next class.

The thing is, he hopes you won’t be best friends by the end of it though. James huffs as he puts his hands in his pockets, walking in the opposite direction. This will be the year…. And it’s unsure if it’s a promise to himself or to you.

—

Of course, it wouldn’t be a Marauder plan of action without some mayhem. James had taken it upon himself to organize his big list of to-dos, assign jobs, and make sure everything was set up for your birthday. The Room of Requirement was decked out in enchanted sparklers, a huge cake was adorned by a spotlight in the corner of the room, and all your friends were there to celebrate you. Mary’s putting the final touches on the gift pile before she looks to Sirius and Peter, who are horsing around the room running through the balloons.

“Something’s missing,” she remarks, and the others scamper around to figure out what it is. Lily double checks the sound system for your favorite songs, Marlene makes sure the drinks are flowing and at the table set up in the back. Dorcas whacks Peter and Sirius to stop popping the balloons, and Remus, the smart one, turns on his heel to stomp towards James, who is looking like he could implode from stress at any given moment.

“Prongs…” Remus muses, unsure if he should laugh, or wring his neck.

“What did I forget?” he says sheepishly, looking down at his watch. A balloon pops.

“Did you invite the birthday girl?” Oh shit.

“HAH—Moony, you’re not supposed to be the funny one here, of course I….” his eyes fall down to his scroll of to-dos, looking at the only thing unmarked on his list.

• Get her to come to the best birthday celebration ever.

“I forgot to tell her, didn’t I…”

Right. James might’ve glossed over that one. His nervous laughter shrivels at the sight of his friends’ faces of disbelief as they bombard him with questions and profanities and so, he bolts out of there, trying to find you on the map.

—

Surprisingly, James finds you in the kitchen, sitting infront of a lone cupcake and the house elves singing you the worst rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ there ever was to magical folk. What should be his plan of action? Acting nonchalant, or owning up to his flub? All of his thoughts go out the window when he sees your despondent sigh at the lit candle, thinking your friends have forgotten his absolute favorite day of the entire year.

“Pretty girl, why are you so sad?” he says, rushing to meet you at the table. You’re pulling at your sleeves and looking at the cupcake in disappointment.

“Did you all forget about me?” you ask, bottom lip trembling at the notion. James shakes his head rapidly, so much so that his glasses are skewed as he looks at you.

“How could we forget the best birthday girl?”

“I’m the only birthday girl, and I haven’t seen any of you today. You didn’t even eat dinner with me,” you pout. Your huff of a sigh blows out the sad little candle, and it almost makes you want to crumple up in embarrassment. Your finger reaches out to sample some of the icing, and you bring it to your mouth, James following the movement with his eyes.

“I’m sorry dove. I might’ve messed up for this one,” he mutters, hating to see you upset.

“If you forgot to plan anything, it’s okay…. You’re not obligated to.” Your head falls to the slope of your shoulder, looking bashful at the idea of being celebrated. But James hasn’t gone all this way to see you unhappy.

“That’s the funny thing about it, erm…. I need you to come with me.” He pulls at your arm, but you won’t budge. How mortifying to conceptualize how you feel in this moment, feeling smaller than ever. A birthday is just a day, after all. Maybe they can make it up to you tomorrow.

“I dunno Prongs, I think I should just go to bed and wake up with a better attitude, yeah? It’s really oka–HEY!” James lifts you out of your chair and throws you over his shoulder, securing you to him before he bolts out of the kitchens. Your vision is blurred and all you can see is the massive muscles rippling down his back as he runs. His bum is quite nice too.

“James Potter, what in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing? Put me down this instant or I’ll hex you into next week!” You screech, before he puts a silencing charm on you to not alert Filch of your antics. You reach out to hit his buttock as he exclaims, “Ow! Cheeky…. I promise you’ll like this, dove. You really thought we’d forget your birthday?”

There comes a point when he paces back and forth in front of the same stretch of wall and you think he’s insane, talking to himself and turning in circles. After the third lap, he sets you down, your arms crossed and quite stern at the trip he’s taken you on. James smooths your hair down before he looks you in the eyes, standing a bit closer than a friend would, but Godric is he excited to show you his work.

“Ahem. Do you really think I’d forget your big day, pretty girl? It’s my favorite day of the year!” He smiles and you shake your head with a smile. He nudges the door open to reveal all your friends, yelling “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Still inaudible, your mouth is gaping wide in shock, silent laughter escaping your mouth. Marlene and Dorcas carry the cake over to you before they sing in all sorts of tunes, none of them on key and possibly worse than the house elves. The light of the candles caresses the warmth in your cheeks as you look at your friends in wonder. You mumble something like a ‘thank you’ but they can’t comprehend it until Remus undoes the charm, whacking James across the head.

—

Later, James sneaks behind you, throwing an arm around your waist, whispering ‘Happy birthday’ for the millionth time, but he’ll never get tired of telling you how much he cares.

“Are you happy, birthday girl?” he smiles, and you get on your tiptoes to give him a kiss that lands on the corner of his mouth. The applause is back, thundering in his ears before he realizes it’s the sound of his heart when you’re near.

Yeah, this will be the year everything changes. His plans are racking up into a list in his brain as you gaze at him all starry-eyed and smiley. Your friends are all looking at you knowingly, and he can’t wait to get to work, for there is just so much to do.

—

“In case you foolishly forget: I am never not thinking of you.” - Virginia Woolf

taglist: @jsjcue

love me some tunes! i listened to this while writing: this will be our year by lowland hum

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#marauders era #marauders x reader #james potter x reader

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mllersjoel · 10 months ago

Text

good old fashioned lover boy

Pairing: Regency!Wyll Ravengard x gn!reader

Summary: It's dreadfully boring at this ball, especially when Lord Gortash won't stop talking to you. Lord Ravengard steps in, and just maybe, this night can be saved.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: why does no one write for my bb boy. i love him. have some regency au (writing comms r open btw!)

It’s your second year as an eligible member of society, and you are bored out of your mind. Your guardian has dragged you to yet another ball, with dancing and schmoozing that you would rather die than be doing. Thankfully, you’ve managed to avoid just about everyone who wants to sign your dance card with a glare or pretending to choke so hard tears well up in your eyes. You came here because your best friend, Astarion, promised to accompany you this time and fill up your dance card with his name only, but that plan swiftly fell out the window as he laid eyes on a pretty half-elf.

You could see him check out of the conversation, eyes flitting to them then back at yours.

“Just go, Astarion,” you sigh, shoving him playfully.

His eyes blink back to yours, trying and failing to pretend like he wasn’t ogling another person. “I have no idea what you’re on about, darling.”

“I can handle myself and it’s pathetic watching you try to concentrate on me. Go.”

Astarion smiles broadly, kissing your cheeks. “Have I ever told you you’re the light of my life?”

You snort. “Just when you want something.”

He shrugs, taking your hand and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. “If you need me, just shout.”

He leaves, and you’re barely able to let out a breath before another man (greasy, looking like he needs two decades of sleep) takes his place. Without asking, he signs his name on your dance card. “Enver Gortash, Lord of this estate. Care to dance with me?”

You are pulled to the dance floor before you can even answer and you desperately try to come up with an excuse. “I—I can’t dance right now,” you protest, attempting to extricate yourself from his grasp without seeming rude, “I’m waiting for someone.” He ignores you, laughing.

“Don’t play coy,” he says, assuming a waltz position. The music begins, and you have no choice but to dance with him. You catch Astarion’s eye and watch him square his shoulders, ready to pull you out of there as you minutely shake your head at him.

‘Don’t make a scene,’ you mouth.

The entire time you dance with Lord Gortash, he drones on and on about his estate, how he fought for his wealth (although it was an open secret that he participated in less than savory business practices), and how immodestly he thinks women are dressed now. The song feels like its going on forever, then, blissfully, the music stops. There is a slight bustle as everyone switches partners, looking at who’s next on your dance card. Lord Gortash takes your hand, and with a predatory grin realises you have no one else on your dance card. As he takes your pencil, eager to write his name again, a hand grips his wrist and stops him.

You look up and see a beautiful man, dark skinned, hair braided closely to his head and a slight stubble covering his cheeks. He has a deep brown, almost black eye, while the other seemed pale and translucent. His smile is charming and bright, without a hint of sleaziness the other man seemed to carry in bucket loads. “I’m terribly sorry to cut in,” he says, the dulcet tones of his voice sending a slight shiver down your spine, “but I believe it’s my turn to have the pleasure of their company.”

Lord Gortash scoffs, brandishing your dance card towards the handsome man. “Your name isn’t on there. Mine is. Get lost, Ravengard.”

The man—Ravengard—nods, taking a step back. He seems as if he’s about to leave, and your heart sinks at the prospect of another dance with this man when he leans back in, pointing near the back. “Oh, before I go, I fear I spy Lady Karlach on her way. She mentioned something about—what was it now?—getting even?”

You see Gortash’s face turn white as he whips his head around, trying to spot someone. Without sparing you a second glance, he practically runs out of the ballroom, tripping on his own feet as he’s nearly sent sprawling. You hide your laugh behind your hand, catching the eye of Ravengard. “Thank you,” you say, adjusting your clothes, “he just wouldn’t stop talking.”

“You seemed like you were in need of saving,” he says, taking your hand and planting a feather-light kiss on the back of it. “Lord Wyll Ravengard, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You give your name back which he tests immediately, smiling at the way it sounds. He gestures to your dance card, his hand still holding yours. “May I?”

You nod, delighted that this night seemed to be turning around. He writes his name in neat, precise cursive, finishing just as the band begins to play the notes of the next song. His hand is warm as it envelops yours, large, course fingers wrapping around your glove, leading you to the middle of the dance floor.

A slow dance begins to play, and suddenly you are swept up in his movements. He dances easily, leading you as if it was second nature.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” you say, matching his movements easily.

He smiles bashfully, looking down for a second. “Ah, I’ve been away.”

“And how do you like being back?”

He twirls you, catching you easily when you return back into his arms. “I like it a lot better now.”

As you waltz with him, you catch Astarion’s eye once more. He mouths, ‘Good?’

You nod and smile, glad when he gives you a thumbs up of approval. ‘He’s sexy,’ Astarion tells you, and you accidentally snort, looking away when Lord Ravengard raises an amused brow at you. “Too clichéd?”

“No, not at all!” You scramble, trying to school your face into a neutral expression. Every time you looked at his face, however, you started giggling again. Lord Ravengard laughed along with you, still not missing a step and barely even wincing when you inevitably stepped on his toes. “My friend is being stupid, that’s all.”

“Well,” Lord Ravengard starts, stepping closer than what was deemed proper, “if it’s not my horribly cheesy sayings, may I say that you look more stunning than the goddess Aphrodite herself?”

You gasp in jest, smiling. “Careful, my lord, your hubris may see you cursed.”

The song ends, yet he remains still, holding you. “A small price to pay to adequately compliment your beauty.”

Your heart stutters as he steps back, bowing as you hesitantly remember to do the same. “May I see you again?” You ask, hoping your forward nature doesn’t put him off like so many other men.

He smiles broadly, genuine. “I would love that.”

#ari speaks #wyll ravengard #wyll bg3 #wyll ravengard x reader #wyll x reader #i love him sm....#regency au #ari writes

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yuri-is-online · 1 year ago

Note

idk if ur into more soft + toxic jadeyuu but if u aren't just ignore this plz 🙏😭 and sorry in advance this got out of hand (cw: jade purposely poisoning yuu, mentions of jade purposefully playing with yuu's feelings)

anyway, ur 'jade poisoning yuu' idea gave me thoouuuughhts and ive just been imaging jade who only ever saw yuu as like a pawn at first cuz he wanted someone to play with for a while-- and jade being jade constantly makes mushroom dishes but imagine his surprise when they actually accept his meal and eat it happily.

people usually find his mushroom obsession annoying and offputting so he's suprised but OBVIOUSLY his first thought to this yuu eating his dishes is 'now i finally have someone to test all these poisonous mushrooms on!! ^^' but his heart skips a beat when he thinks of them. jade merely brushes it off as his excitement of shrooms

so the next time he makes a mushroom dish for yuu, the mushroom is poisonous and they suffer the effects of it. he's not even trying to hide what he did and he's actually more curious to see how they'd react.

but they accept his invitation to eat dinner again for some reason??? and his heart does another weird fluttery thing when they say yes but jade takes the opportunity anyway and poisons yuu again

this continues for a while and anyone would think that jade would've gotten bored of them by now, but he's... hanging out with them even more? and taking them on even more dates that don't include mushrooms, poisonous or not?

and honestly, even jade himself is surprised because there isn't a coherent reason to why he's doing these things with them. sometimes (before all this happened) he'd hold their hand and give a kiss or 2 just to see their disappointment when he didn't act lovey-dovey the very next day>> but he's been doing these romantic actions every day as their "poison mushroom dates" increased.

he still smiles when he kisses yuu but it's a different kind of smile. his heart is fluttering more and more often, his cheeks are turning pink when they hold his hand and he's feeling all kinds of things he's never felt before.

he lays in his bed one night thinking about yuu and he realizes he's fallen in love. he never expected this to happen but he smiles and giggles and tells his mushrooms all about his newfound revelation.

now whenever mushroom dates happen (which are sometimes still poisonous ofc), he feeds them to yuu with his own hand.

You must be dreadfully lonely. That's the only reason Jade can think of for why you let him do this. Perhaps you truly think yourself to be alien, that the fleeting touches he grazes you with are all you deserve. Not that he will tell you otherwise, he's far too interested in finding out where your line lies.

But he finds his instead.

If I ever say no to more soft + toxic jadeyuu assume that is not me. they/them used for yuu, same CW from above, i don't think this is borderline anymore it's full yandere

It was supposed to be another test of your limits, a slight apology for paying some attention to a visiting student he'd previously only shown to you. Just one kiss to the back of their hand to seal a completely unnecessary deal, and you had refused to seek him out for a whole week. He was proud of you, truly he was, but not remorseful in his addition to this particular dish. Jade watches you roll the pasta around in your mouth and wince as you try to speak. The numbness spreads from your tongue to the back of your throat and you make no noise-

But eat the rest of the plate, not even rolling your eyes once. You cannot speak, but you still smile when he asks if the food his good. And for some reason now his words were stuck.

"You're a good cook, we should do this again sometime." You hoarsely say as he nods quickly, staring down at your cleaned plate. A wicked, giddy smile overwhelms him, he has a dedicated test subject now; oh how delightful you have proved to be, not at all as boring as he had first thought. ~~~~ The second attempt he has you make together and he wonders what it is laced more with, toxins or his joy at your strange willingness to let him drag you around. Up the mountains you had gone together to fetch a pail of mushrooms, and when you fell down after consuming the crown he found himself jumping after, your now flimsy body cradled in his arms.

"Oh dear, I think I added a bit too much." He has to look the very image of a devil, and though you don't really have the ability to escape anyway he still finds himself holding you quite close to his chest. "Do give me chance to make it up to you? This Saturday perhaps?"

"There's an unbirthday party that afternoon." You sound almost as disappointed as he feels angered. "Perhaps we could do Friday?"

Oh of course you could, he does hope you have your apologies prepared for Riddle; if you intend to return after this then you cannot be upset when you are much too sick to attend. Or perhaps he should try to control the dose and accompany you? The thought of you among the roses in a stylish outfit is doing odd things to his chest. ~~~~ "I don't know what it is you want but please stop." Azul is the only one who would ever be brave enough to scold him like this. "I never liked watching you tease the prefect, but since they were willing to work at a lesser rate I endured it but this is just painful."

"Oya, I take offense to that." Jade "sniffles" because truly he does not know what to do. Who would have thought a simple request for some time off would- well never mind of course it would spark a debate. But he hadn't listed the prefect at all in his note, just that his club would be going camping over the weekend and he was intending to be unavailable. Just because he has been addicted to your presence as of late does not mean anything. Sure, he has not poisoned you in a while (you almost seem disappointed, what a truly tempting little-) "I assure you everything I have done is with the prefect's consent." Has he truly been spending so much time with you that it is obvious you will be tagging along? And why does the idle thought that this could invite danger cause such a painful feeling- fear could it be fear that he is feeling? Over you?

Azul massages his temples as he lets out a truly painful sigh. "That's sort of the problem, have you even thought about what that means?" Jade increases the volume of his sobs. "Of course you haven't look, I will approve your request but please for the love of the sea do not do anything actionable?"

"I have no idea what you could possibly be implying." His cries magically dissipating as he happily goes to his room to look through his closet and prepare. ~~~~ Jade dreams of Yuu that night. He dreams of the plush of your lips and thighs, of the comforting grip of your hand as he walks down the hallway or along a trail, his mind is tortured with images of what he pictures your sleeping face to be like.

He awakes with the realization that he will soon know. Azul was right he had not thought about what any of this meant, of his actions, of yours. And if he must own the truth he still does not know what yours mean, and that scares him even if he laughs loud enough for Floyd to throw a pillow at his head.

"I love them." He whispers to the terrariums on his wall. "I love them." He vows to the mushrooms in his garden and the moon somewhere up in the sky over the seas. How unpredictable, how beautiful, how very much like him to not tell you why he insists on feeding you himself on your trip, or rests your head in his lap the next time you sleep off the poison. There is a process to these things, he thinks anyway, and Jade has been impolite enough to skip several steps. Perhaps, he idly thinks as he traces the size of your finger, you will let him skip several more? After all, there is so very much you deserve, and he is surprisingly willing to give.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #jade leech x y/n #jade leech x yuu #yandere twisted wonderland #i probably should have just published this when you sent it to me but you made me so happy i just #needed to add to it i am so sorry #<3 asks

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vicsnook · 11 months ago

Text

Tis the Damn Season | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

word count: 1318

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, 18+

notes: Hey y’all! I know its been a while, I’ve been dealing with a huge writers block but had this little idea while on the plane. Please forgive any errors, I didn’t read it back before posting it. Happy Holidays!

With your dad sick this Christmas it’s not surprising your mom would asked you to come home. So here you were, pulling into the familiar driveway taking notice of the Bronco parked in your neighbors yard, one you knew all too well.

A note taped to the refrigerator reminded you your parents would be back from the hospital tomorrow. Maybe a drink could make the night better you thought but the liquor cabinet was of course empty and the town doesn’t sell alcohol on Sundays. So that’s how you ended up walking through the doors of the only bar in town.

“Is that who I think it is?” Bradley Bradshaw hollered from behind the bar as you made your way to him. His hair was definitely a little longer and he sported the mustache he joked about growing all through high school. The years had been if anything, very kind to him.

“Hey Rooster, I didn’t know you worked here.” You said, taking a seat across from him, truth is if you’d known, you would’ve never come here. “I’m just helping Ronnie out ‘til my leave is over. Want your usual?” He asked, offering you a half-smile while his dark brown eyes burned into yours. “Sur- Sure,” you managed to stammer out. Memories of the last time you were here flooding back in as you watched him prepare your drink.

“So, you here for long?” He asked between customers and while you know he’s just trying to not make things awkward, you can’t help the knot forming in your throat. “Just for the week.”

“Bradley! Over here honey! More shots!” shouted a blonde from the other side of the bar before he could reply and you sighed gratefully for the distraction. Setting down the cash for your tab and booking it out the bar while he went to her table.

Your hands were shaky as you pried open the car handle and tried to start the car. This was a bad idea you muttered to yourself over as you turned the key. The radio announced a snowstorm tonight and as if on cue your mother called to say they wouldn’t be able to come home ‘til the roads cleared.

—

Waking up freezing in your childhood bedroom was definitely not great. Power had gone out due to the storm and you had no wood for the fireplace. Dreadfully, you made your way to your neighbors to see if they had any to spare. Regretting not putting on another jacket and better shoes. You eyed the bronco that was almost fully covered by snow while waiting on someone to open the door.

“Y/N?” Murmured a confused looking Bradley. You wondered how he could be shirtless and just in sweats in this cold weather.

“Hey, sorry to bother, power’s out and we have no wood for the fireplace.” You said through your chattering teeth. “Let’s talk inside,” he replied, ushering you inside the candle lit living room.

The room looked just as it did 3 years ago when you broke off your engagement to Bradley. He was dead set on joining the Navy and refused to hear yours and Carole’s pleas to not follow in his fathers footsteps. “Mom doesn’t have any extra wood. You can stay, though, not sure when power will be back.” Said Bradley as he came back from the back porch where Maverick stocked wood for Carole every winter.

“Thank you, so how’s everything?” You said, taking a seat on the couch. Silently praying the power would come back on. “Great, just working all the time. I graduated from Top Gun a few months ago.” His eyes bore deep into your as he mentioned Top Gun. You’d had nightmares about him being in the Academy since Carole told you.

“Oh um, that's great. I’m sure your dad would be really proud.” You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. Bradley’s face reddened with what you could only assume was anger.

“Don’t you dare say that Y/N, not after you and mom tried to use what happened to him to change my mind.” He hissed, sending shivers down your spine. Bradley was never quick to anger unless his dad was brought up. “I’m -I’m so sorry Bradley, I didn’t mean to upset you. I should go.” You stammered, getting up and rushing for the front door.

“Wait,” He grabbed hold of your hand before you made it into the foyer, Spinning you around and onto his chest. Being this close to him again had your heart nearly beating out of your chest. “I’m sorry, I know you didn’t mean any harm. It’s just Mav tried to pull my papers and I almost didn’t even get to go to the Academy.” He muttered, you could smell the mint in his breath from how close his face was to yours. He placed a lock of your hair behind your ear, making the words catch in your throat. “I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

Those brown eyes that you’ve missed for 3 years now were staring intently into yours, waiting for an answer. Before you knew it, you were pulling his face down to yours and kissing the warmest lips you’ve ever known.

Your hands explored his unclothed torso as the kiss intensified and he pulled off your jacket. “I’ve missed you too,” you whispered in between kisses.

He pulled your pajama shirt off and slowly guided you back into the living room. Setting you down carefully on the couch. Your hands tugged his sweatpants down and you were grateful for his lack of underwear. Taking his hard cock into your hands and pumping it. “S-Slow down honey,” he moaned into your ear. He pulled your pajama shirt off as you shimmied off your pants. “Red? Merry Christmas to me.” He muttered, pulling down your red panties that you had a hunch you would not get to keep.

“I need you,” You moaned in his ear as he toyed with your clit. He slid the head of his cock between your folds, slowly pushing it in. You threw your head back in pleasure, no one else felt as good as him.

Your nails dug into his back as he picked up the pace and kissed your neck. Leaving a trail of hickeys that you’d definitely have to cover up tomorrow. “You feel so good baby,” he moaned, playing with your clit and increasing the pace of his thrusts.

Feeling your orgasm getting closer you grabbed on to his biceps, trying to help increase his pace. He knew so well what you wanted as he thrusted harder and faster into you now. You moved his thumb from your clit and took over, trying to reach that high you desperately needed. “Cum for me babygirl,” He whispered, watching as you came undone under him. Your legs trembling as his thrusts became sloppier and his release followed soon after inside you.

Bradley stood up once he had caught his breath, offering you a hand to help you clean up. His cum running down your legs as you hurried behind him in the candle lit house. He ran a bath and climbed in, motioning for you to get in with him.

He kissed your back as he scrubbed you gently with the sponge. You loved the comfortable silence that had fallen between you both as he finished scrubbing you. Regret was starting to seep into your mind about leaving him, knowing the heart you broke was your own.

“I miss you Y/N, I know I can’t ask you to wait and you can’t ask me to stay but can we at least have this week?” He asked quietly, your heart aching at his request. “Of course,” you whispered back in response, knowing how hard it’d be at the end of the week to leave the warmest bed you’d ever known.

taglist: @harperdoodle , @weirdothatwritess , @rosiahills22

#top gun fandom #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader

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literaila · 4 months ago

Note

Hey you! <3 I’ve been wanting to send an ask but sending them even in anon gives me anxiety. I’m sorry that I finally got the courage to at possibly the worst moment but Idk when the next time will be.

Idk if it’s just me but that one ending comedy short when Gojo and his students were freaking out about Megumi being seen with a girl, I liked the goofiness of it but mostly hated how they portrayed Satoru as creep. Idk if that was in the manga but whoever green-lit that, wtf 😬 that’s just me. I was just hoping you could rewrite it including reader from TF and however she would react. I can imagine Satoru trying to ruin it but oc is holding him back. Or whatever you can come up with, I’m not creative as you lmao. Sorry if this is too long.

Hoping for a speedy recovery ❤️‍🩹

(PLEASE never fear me and my inbox we are very open and bored constantly. send me a hate anon even!!! i will be inevitably entertained!!)

so i thought about it for… couple hours. and honestly—i can’t see the scenario really playing out if reader were there because she would want to go with megumi wherever he wandered off to… unlike satoru and nobara who are discouraged by the heat

but…

you’re not watching anything, really.

if you’re standing ten feet away from yuji and megumi while they look at some kiosks with ridiculous accessories and good luck charms—the sorts of things that megumi would never buy (you know because anytime satoru picks him out something of the sort you find it in tsumiki’s room a few days later)—then it’s just because you’re browsing.

you are not trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. it’s just that, well, yuji talks a little loud and you’re a naturally curious person.

it’s nothing much.

and you’re definitely not leaning a little bit closer to them every time megumi responds, not trying to hide a grin when you pick up on the conversation that’s going on. you’re shopping. there’s no ulterior motive here.

(but if there were… who could blame you, really? is it so wrong to care about your sons friendship? about the one person he’s acted slightly… reckless towards? your sensible, nonchalant son? the same one who you’ve caught smiling around fives times now?)

still, when satoru sneaks up behind you—resting his head on your shoulder in a split second—you jump a little.

okay. maybe you’ve gotten a bit distracted.

“what are you doing?”

you flinch away from his breath on your ear, your heart picking up almost involuntarily. it’s ridiculous that your body has the urge to shiver, even after a decade of this kind of interruption.

“satoru,” you say, breathing out. you look over to him, where he’s grinning by your side. “i thought you were too exhausted to come.”

“i was. but i caught a scent of some manju nearby.”

you roll your eyes. “of course.”

satoru’s hand sneaks around your waist, his eyes twinkling behind his sunglasses the whole time. you allow it, because you’re stupid, and lean against him.

“and i wanted to check on my wife, of course. make sure she wasn’t wasting away without me.”

“it was mostly the manju though, right?”

he kisses your head, rubbing his nose against your temple. “you’re so cute. have i ever told you that?”

you just roll your eyes again. but don’t bother to push him away—even though it’s dreadfully hot outside and you might die of heatstroke.

at least it’d be a happy death… and satoru’s more likely to share his sweets with you this way.

he hums. “are you going to answer my question?”

“i’m shopping,” you pointedly look away. damn it. he’s distracting you.

megumi and yuji are a couple of stalls away now, and you have to pick up your pace a little bit, so you can catch up to the boys.

satoru laughs. “huh. that’s weird.”

“i don’t know what you’re implying.”

“i could’ve sworn you were attempting to spy on megumi and yuji.”

you give him a glare. and then attempt to pinch the arm clutched to your side, but satoru takes your hand before you get the chance. “i don’t spy, satoru.”

“clearly.”

“did you leave nobara behind? you’re supposed to be watching all of the first years.”

“you think kugisaki is the one i need to keep my eye on?”

you look forward to where megumi and yuji have stalled—the latter placing some ridiculous sunglasses on your usually prickly son. “okay, fair.”

satoru grins at you again.

the two of you share a knowing glance, looking at the boys. there have been many late night discussions about this very subject. many lectures about satoru keeping the very boundaries you’re breaking currently.

but who can blame you? honestly.

“what’d you hear?” he whispers in your ear, already in on this agenda.

your smile is mischievous, and you just open your mouth when there’s another body on your left side, arms already crossed.

“are we watching itadori and fushiguro try to flirt again?” nobara asks.

#have i mentioned that i like itafushi #gojo x reader #a typical family #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #ngl i still think that clip is funny #cause it’s actually so canon satoru i might die #idk if i’ve explained this clearly #but reader is IN on satoru’s schemes #she’s plotted most of them #she likes to play innocent but she’s the mastermind behind their team

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onlybeeewrites · 1 year ago

Note

If you decide to write for Bridgerton, can you write something for Benedict? Maybe like friends to lovers or something x

The Muse

Requested: By anon

Warnings: nothing just pining

Painting: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!reader

Request: If you decide to write for Bridgerton, can you write something for Benedict? Maybe friends to lovers or something

Authors Note: I beg for forgiveness that it has taken me so long to get to this. I had insane writers block, then university hit like a truck and had to put writing on hold. But I have returned and I loved this request. I am currently rewatching Brigderton after watching Queen Charlotte so I hope this to your liking. So sorry again, love <3

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You had grow up beside the Bridgerton Household your entire life—to the estate beside theirs at least. Your father’s had been quite good friends, and as your parents began with their families the relationship between the two had grown. This has allowed you to have direct access to the household since you could even remember. Your were at the young age of four and twenty, just a few years older than the eldest Bridgerton daughter, but still a few years younger than the second eldest Bridgerton who also just so happened to be your closest companion.

You remembered the first time you had met the boy, or at least remembered meeting him. You were but about six years of age, and Benedict was ten. Your mother had dragged you over to the house as she more often did to have tea with the Viscountess Bridgerton as they did more often than not. It was in their tea room where you were interacting with Colin when Benedict had come in rather excitedly to show his mother a drawing he had made. You could remember her cooing her second eldest son, praising his rather interesting art piece. Curiously you had glanced over, interested with all the paint colors and such. Benedict had noticed your curiosity and offered for you to have a closer look. From then on whenever you had come over you had eagerly awaited to see what Benedict had created next.

This little routine continued as you all got older. Of course after the passing of their Father, there was more comfort and reassurance whenever you had visited. Though, even in a time of such great sorrow, Benedict had portrayed that emotion within his paintings and drawings. You had been the one to support him and aid him in any such way possible.

As time continued, the two of your had grown closer. Of course you had grown closer with all the Bridgerton siblings, Benedict was the one you were closest with. The one you could also scope out at balls if you needed to escape another dreadfully boring dance partner, or an attempted suitor that was twice your age. Of course your father was there to ensure nothing of the sort would occur, but there would be times where Benedict was simply closer and much better at conversation.

Often Lady Whistledown commented on the you both, sometimes a bit too often. There would be whispers about you both, how often you dance with each other at balls or are seen giggling a bit tipsy with each other in the corners. Most of the time it had not bother you—when you were younger at least. Though as you blossomed and grew into yourself, you also were able to recognize your feelings. You believed it was around ten and six when you had realized you were doomed. That you had fallen completely in love with Benedict. It was not something you liked to think about nor dwell on for too long. Why would he, a Bridgerton, a most handsome, talented, funny, charming man like himself even think about courting you?

It was not that you felt like you were unattractive in some sort of way, you were rather pretty. But it was the fact that you were best friends with Benedict that caused you to think this way. There was a chance of him not returning those feelings. There was a chance that he would laugh in your face assuming it was a joke. There was a chance of him scoffing in your face and cutting you and your friendship off completely.

There was no chance that you would even consider taking that risk—no matter how often Daphne or hell, even Elouise would reassure you that he had returned those feelings to you.

Though one afternoon, you sat with him in the Bridgerton’s drawing room. You had been having some tea that Rose had gotten for you while Benedict drew. He drew with his charcoaled that made his long fingers turning an odd shade of black within his drawing pad. You had always admired the way he looked to serious when he drew. His eyebrows furrowed, causing wrinkles to cover his forehead. He also had this habit of tilting his head; you assumed it was to get a different angle on whatever his latest creations was. But your most favorite thing was when he would be stuck on something. Maybe it was because he could not draw it correctly, or the art was not coming out the way he wanted it to. But once he figures it out, or it comes out the way that he had wanted and the ways his eyes lit up with pride and eureka was your absolute favorite.

“what is it you are drawing today?” You asked, lifting the fragile porcelain to your lips as you take a small sip of the warm tea. Your eyes flicker from your cup to the Bridgerton across from you. And just in time too because was already looking at you. His body tensed slightly before he attempted to play it off.

“Nothing you must worry your head about,” he said in a teasing tone, as he most often did. But he was just trying to play it off when in reality it was you. He was drawing you, in your beautiful soft green dress, your hair done up into a neat braid to keep from your beautiful face. You looked stunning and he wanted to capture it like he had done many time before.

It was always you that he drew, especially when you plagued his thoughts in the late. Hours. Oh if you only knew that you were his muse. The very figure and image of you filled pages and pages of his work. Two of the things he loves most wrapped into one. But what if you were to find out? You would never return and that would break his heart. He was so in love with you it ached to not be able to hold you, kiss you when he wanted. He felt this especially at balls and suitors would come up to your constantly, it made his blood boil. But he had hoped he kept it well hidden. Well, enough to keep it from you. His family on the other hand seemed to know or notice it for quite sometime. According to his mother, both of your mother’s knew of it. Everyone seem to know. Everyone but you.

Too busy in his thoughts, he did not feel the dip in the sofa until it was too late. You had seated yourself right next to him with a small huff as you tried to peak at this new creation before he was able to hide it. But he managed, which caused you to pout slightly. Of those lips…he wanted nothing more to cup your face and kiss you right then and there.

“Benedict. You always show me your drawings,” you had insisted, which just caused the other to shake his head.

“Nonsense. There are plenty of work that you have not seen. Besides it is no good anyways, there is no point in showing it off if it is no good.” He said, giving his best friend a look. This only made you want to see more. “you always saw your work is no good and it is always beautiful. Let me see, please?” You pleaded as you took hold of a part of his drawing pad. There was some back and forth, some ‘no’s’ and ‘oh please’ as you both struggled to take proper hold of the pad.

Eventually his hands slipped and lost its grip on the pad, landing it right into your smaller grasp. “ha! I have got it now. Now, let us see what you have been working so hard on,” you tease before looking at the drawing Benedict had been working so hard on. It was a lady, a rather beautiful one. But the longer you looked, the more you realized that this lady in the charcoal had the same features as you. the same face shape, body type, hair—even the little scar that was right on the bridge of your nose that you had gotten as a child. And you face began to redden as you slowly looked towards Benedict. “Are…is this of me?” You ask in wonder, amazement and without a single sound of disgust or hated—this reassures Benedict a bit more at least.

He nods and before he could utter another word, you flip through pages; more drawings of you. “You make me look beautiful..” you say in wonder and this causes Benedict to furrow his eyebrows once more but not in concentration but confusion.

“Because you are beautiful. I draw what I see and what I see from you is…” he stopped himself from speaking another word, too afraid to come across as too forward. He took a breath, figuring now is a better time than ever. The Bridgerton boy took the drawing pad from your hands and placed it next to him before giving you his full attention. Your face is covered with blush, flustered from this whole thing.

“I suppose now I must explain myself before it comes across strangely. But I do draw you. More times than not because you plague my every waking moment, you have since we were children. You have captured my heart from years and you have refused to return it to me. My dearest friend…..my feelings for you grow into one where I want you by my side forever, not just in my drawings. You are my muse for everything I do and I cannot bear it being another nor you being with anyone else..” he said, “So I suppose-“

You cut him off by leaning forward and giving him a kiss. Your soft ones pressed against his own. It was bold and improper. But his words were moving and your heart would not stop its fluttering. So you had kissed him, hoping no one would see. The kiss was everything you both had imagined it would be like and more.

So once you had pulled away to his surprised but smug reaction, you simply nodded, “Of course, it would be delighted to court you, my dearest. I have been waiting so long for this moment.” You say, still almost not believing that your love was also your best friend.

“I suppose we both were a bit too blind and afraid to admit it, hm?” He chuckled, taking your hands in his, getting a bit of the charcoal onto your hands. You giggle and nod,

“Yes I suppose so. But I also would love to see these other drawings of me that you have mentioned,” you teased him, now making it his turn to blush as he realized what he had admitted.

“Perhaps another time…?” He asked hopefully and you grin mischievously, almost impishly.

“Or perhaps we can give you something else to draw,” you said suggestively continuing to tease him about such thing.

“Oh I quite like the sound of that,” Benedict grinned as he pulled you in for another quick kiss. Perhaps it was a good thing you had seen the drawings after all.

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