#curls blueberry bliss | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lilacs-stars · 2 months

Text

sweet like you

pairing: bridget x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is charming's sister) SUMMARY: you and your pink-haired best friend have your own ways of showing affection. but what will happen if you take things to the next level? GENRE: tooth-rotting fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining CW: nothing really, reader is down bad, thoughts of loneliness and worries she's not good enough, mouth-watering descriptions of food WC: 7k

A/N: this one was heavily based off of the five love languages! I personally think that bridget shows love by gift giving and quality time (although I am willing to hear people out on this), and reader is words of affirmation and physical touch, with maybe a dash of acts of service. hope you guys enjoy, and thank you to the anon who requested this! please give me feedback and suggestions, I’d love to know your thoughts!

You fidget nervously, skittishly glancing up at the girl in front of you.

You were so afraid to do it, to maybe ruin what you two already have.

But if you don’t, you’ll be trapped in a life overshadowed by regret, yearning for a love that will forever linger in your heart like a forgotten memory just out of reach, a devotion that has taken root in you so deep you know it is impossible to abandon or ignore.

And with that thought, you gently lean in towards her soft, pink lips.

“So? How is it?”

The pink-haired girl in front of you stands with her arms hugged to her chest, hands curled in fists that sit right below her chin. She looks at you with an anticipation so potent it's practically overflowing, rocking back and forth in a way that makes you think she’ll combust at any second. Her kind eyes are stretched wide open, staring down your every move as she eagerly awaits your answer.

You take a bite into the freshly baked fruit tart in your hand, the perfectly golden crust and masterful arrangement of strawberries, blueberries, and kiwi slices on top making it look almost too good to eat.

As soon as the flavors make contact with your tongue, you practically melt away at the sweet, delicious taste that graces your tastebuds. The pastry base is like a crisp and delightfully buttery embrace that unifies all the elements, a shell that cradles the flavors with care. The fruits on top are delectable and juicy, the natural sweetness and burst of tang adding a refreshing balance to the sugary taste of the pastry, like little fireworks on your tongue.

Your favorite part, however, is the heavenly vanilla custard filling. It’s smooth and decadent, like diving into a saccharine river of vanilla that glides across your tongue. It’s as if the very essence of pure bliss itself was captured and transformed into a rich, sweet nectar. The cool, silky filling and fresh fruits are delightful in how they contrast the warm, flaky crust, all the ingredients coming together in a harmonious composition of textures and flavors.

Your eyes, which had fluttered closed in sheer ecstasy, open again to see a Bridget that is buzzing with excitement.

Your mouth, still stuffed and chewing, manages to mumble out, “It-it’s incredible," as you cover it with your spare hand—proper etiquette being second nature to you by now—trying to get out the partially coherent words.

Bridget still looks at you with a zealous sparkle in her eyes, expression unchanged and expectant, relentlessly teetering on the balls of her feet like a hummingbird rapidly flapping its wings as it hovers by a flower. Most people would have stopped at the compliment, but you, being a near-professional taste tester from the number of Bridget’s creations that you’ve tried since you met her, have a full evaluation prepared as you swallow.

“The crust is very buttery and just the right amount of crispiness, perfectly balancing out the smooth creaminess of the custard. The fruits add a bit of tartness and a fresh, juicy taste that evens out the sweetness of the rest of the pastry, that could be a bit overwhelming otherwise. As for aesthetics”—you shift around slightly from your position on the edge of her bed, the fluffy pink comforter beneath you practically swallowing you whole—“your placement is very well-done. I would recommend adding a glaze to the fruits, both to make them glossy and to enrich the taste.”

Bridget nods her head fervently, absorbing your every word like your suggestions are an indisputable truth. “I feel like the crust is a bit soggy, too,” she adds, face wrinkled in a frown as she stares at the dessert in your hand.

You look down at your half-bitten treat—its original, untouched beauty now destroyed—in a scrutinizing consideration. “Did you wait for the crust to cool down before adding the filling?” Bridget tilts her head upwards, eyes deep in thought as she looks to the ceiling. “Hmm, now that you mention it, I don’t think I did.”

"That must be the cause." You are certainly no baker yourself, but you’ve had lots of practice critiquing Bridget’s creations to the point where you are highly knowledgeable in the theory of baking. “Still, it is unbelievably delicious.” As if hearing those words for the first time, Bridget’s face lights up, her features all but radiating a brilliant glow as she beams. She clasps her hands together, crying, “Aww, thanks!”

You can’t help but laugh a little—Bridget’s limitless joy is truly contagious. At times like this, when you're staring up at her, gaze swirled with pure adoration and awe as if she's an angel that descended from the heavens in front of your eyes, you start to think just how lucky you are. For once in your life, the strings of fate finally pulled in your favor, crossing your paths with the girl clad in a bright pink dress facing you.

Fate is often cruel to you, like an unrelenting winter wind blowing in your face and biting at your skin, like nature laughing at you as you shiver in raw misery, coldness seeping deep into your bones. A cruel trickster that seems to follow you with malevolent intentions, a vicious smirk painted on its face as it sends every misfortune barreling your way.

You might have been born a royal, a princess that has an unfathomable number of gowns stacked in her closet and an equal number of suitors lined up for her hand. But you aren’t like your brother; you don’t approach groups of strangers and introduce yourself with a wink and an alluring demeanor. He is Prince Charming, after all, which causes you to often ruminate over how accurately your parents named him.

Instead of flashing a winsome smile to every guest at a ball, or every visitor invited to your house, and strike up a conversation with them, you often seek refuge in the quiet expanse of your own room. When required to make an appearance, you prefer to loiter around in the shadows or pass by unseen, like a ghost. This has made you quite the anomaly in the royal world; everyone always whispers behind covered hands and in hushed voices, spreading rumors and wildly speculating about why the princess of such a gregarious family never makes a presence of herself publicly.

And it’s the same at school. Bridget, like your brother, will approach absolutely anyone with a smile gracing her features and kind eyes crinkled in the corners, oftentimes with a home-baked treat in hand. She has countless friends, many random people she mentions or smiles at in the hallways that you’ve never even seen before. She’s never had to worry about finding a partner in class, never avoided eye contact in a crowd of people she didn’t know, never sat watching other people’s carefree conversations with the weight of being an outsider, always looking in through the glass of isolation keeping you from them.

Which is why, to this day, in moments like these, you question whether fate has made a mistake of some sort—maybe jumbled up different karmic ties or gotten confused with names when it came time to draw people’s futures. Or, your biggest fear, is that this is all some elaborate plan, a puzzle piece in destiny’s plan to make your life as ill-fortuned as possible.

In times like this one, you peer up at Bridget and wonder, why in the world, out of her multitude of friends, did she decide to spend the most time with you? To dub you her “best friend”, if you will.

Bridget had noticed your solitary manners a long time ago—like a magnet, she’s drawn to the people who are most in need of a friend, the most ostracized of the outcasts. And so, she had patiently sat with you every day, struck up a conversation even when you gave her the shortest answers possible that were still deemed polite, and attempted to make plans with you, although you always tried to cover up your outlandish excuses with gracious thank-yous.

Over time, the girl with the bright eyes and unfaltering smile finally wore you down, until you began sitting next to her yourself, began looking forward to your idle conversations, and even sought to spend as much time with her as possible. In fact, you spend more time at her dorm than you do yours; neither of you have roommates, so the only time you go back to your room is to get into bed. Besides that, you spend every waking moment basking in Bridget’s cheery presence, so much so that half your belongings are scattered on her floor (your doing), or neatly tucked away in a drawer (her tidying up after you leave).

Your relationship grew to a point where you began to know Bridget well enough that you couldn't keep denying the way she seemed to know everyone, and on a rather personal basis as well. How she had a party or event she was invited to every weekend, or how she had an entire roster of people willing to help her at the smallest of notices anytime she needed a favor. Sure, she may not seem like the “popular” sort, which had definitely deceived you as well when you first met her, but she was definitely well-known and especially well-liked.

So you found yourself many a night sitting on her bed—as you are now—looking at the stack of pretentious letters and notes, carefully placed in ostentatious envelopes with cloyingly ornate lettering, wondering what about you made Bridget seek you out. And that’s when you first thought of it. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t actually like you.

And once that thought popped in your mind, once it was planted and dug its roots in your brain, it grew rapidly, spreading uncontrollably like a weed that was left unchecked for a bit too long. Bridget probably only talked to you in the beginning just to be nice, the intrusive, unwanted voice hissed in your mind. She didn’t really like you. And now you keep on leeching onto her, and she’s way too nice to say she finds you annoying.

Fueled by your disbelief that anyone, especially someone with as many options as Bridget, would actively want to spend their time with you, you started to believe that Bridget was only entertaining you out of required courtesy. And so, you tried spending less time with her after that, building up your walls again and shutting her out; suddenly, you didn’t approach her in the hallways anymore, were always too busy “studying” to hang out in her room, and your long rants about various, trivial topics were reduced to simple, curt responses.

But Bridget persisted, always choosing you amidst a myriad of familiar faces beckoning her over. She still wanted to make plans with you, still left you treats outside your door to taste test. And so, with a hesitant uncertainty, only brought out by your crippling fear and burning shame at the possibility of even coming close to hurting Bridget’s feelings from your cold actions, you decided that she might actually want to be with you, of her own free will.

That night, you had thanked her for being such a good friend to you. She replied as sweetly and modestly as ever (“Oh, it’s nothing! Don’t even mention it.”). When you brought up how you wouldn’t have any friends if not for her choosing to persistently break down your walls, as you are undeniably terrible at making friends, she had simply told you that your style of befriending people was to wait for them to approach you first, whilst her style was to approach them first.

She had pointed out, with a compassionate wrinkle in her brow, that with your way, at least you could be certain that whoever cared enough about you to initiate something and work towards befriending you probably had genuine intentions, which was a drawback of becoming friends with just anyone, like she did—you never who truly likes you, and who’s plotting to stab you in the back. You kept your mouth shut that night, but you really couldn’t help but think if that were true, then did that mean that the only person with genuine intentions towards you in the entire school was Bridget herself?

Fate, you decided, is certainly an interesting character.

“Maybe I should make another batch.” Bridget’s musings draw you back to the present, where she now stands with a bitten fruit tart in her hand and two unoccupied cavities in the tray she had baked them in. “I was thinking of handing these out to my History of World Magic class tomorrow, but they aren’t very good…” She frowns again as she looks down at her pastry, as if furrowing her brow and staring intensely at it can miraculously fix it, or at least give her some insight into discerning what to improve.

“Bridget.” You push up off the bed, taking a step towards her and placing a firm hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to make another batch. These ones are already great.”

Abruptly, you swoop in towards her opposite hand, stealing a bite from her already partially eaten dessert. You chew with a smile on your face as you look at Bridget’s slightly startled expression, commenting, “See? This one is just as good as the other one.”

Bridget remains frozen for a moment, her forehead still puckered, before she relents into a soft grin. “Alright, then. If you say so. I guess they are alright.”

“That’s the spirit.” You let go of her shoulder, now leisurely strolling around the room, eyeing the various objects neatly placed on her furniture. Eyes scanning over each item, your hand subconsciously reaches out, fingertips languidly brushing along her possessions as if soaking up her essence. “About History, I’m so unprepared for that test we have coming up. Ugh, who even assigns that much work? Especially since Mr. Poirier already grades so harshly. Like, last test, he marked me down because I only gave three examples of goblin strikes in the past century out of the five he taught. I mean, you can’t mark someone down if you never said how many examples to give! He’s so unfai—”

Your voice cuts off as your eyes snag on a collection of objects on Bridget's desk that weren’t there before, an assortment of various tools and materials that when combined appear to belong to a crafting set: multicolored beads, tubes of sparkly glitter, delicate metal chains, a set of pliers, and a bright pink vial of glue.

“What are these?” you ask curiously, leaning in closer with a furrowed brow as you inspect the items on the desk, trying to make out what they are, or rather, what they are going to be made into.

“Ah! It’s nothing!” Bridget squeals, rushing over and throwing a spare blanket over the desk before you can take a closer look.

You spin around to face her, a frown etched into your features. “If it’s nothing, then why are you hiding it?”

“It’s not important!”

“You know you’re only making me want to know even more.”

“It’s really nothing! Just don’t think about it.”

You lift your hand, inching it closer to the draped cloth. “I’m thinking about it,” you tease, playfully moving your arm at a gradual, yet deliberate, pace towards the desk. “Still thinking about it. I’m getting closer, closer, closer…”

Just as your fingers are about to make contact with the blanket to pull it off, Bridget lurches forward, taking your troublesome hand in hers as she leads you away, towards the other side of the room with a nervous giggle.

“Come on!” you exclaim with a huff. “What’s so bad about what you’re doing that you don’t want to show me?”

“It’s not bad!” Bridget counters. “It’s just…look, you’ll find out what it is soon. Just give me some time, okay?”

“Hmm…” you hum, glancing upwards with faux consideration. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to wait that long.” A small, cheeky grin dances on your face as you try to conceal it with a feigned pout.

Bridget shoots you a look, a small smile finally spreading across her lips. “What were we talking about again? That’s right, History of World Magic. So, what were you saying?”

You notice the sudden—and rather forced—attempt to change the subject, but ultimately decide to brush it off. “Yeah, I was saying how Mr. Poirier is so unfair when it comes to grading! And his tests are always so hard. Like, seriously, he makes up test questions that he never even talked about during class. He just expects us to memorize the whole textbook or something.”

Bridget gives a small, rueful shrug. “Well, I guess he just wants us to learn the information well.” You shoot her a sharp look, one that screams "Seriously? You’re defending him?"

“Hey, I have an idea!" Bridget exclaims, eyes lighting up again. "How about tomorrow, after school, we go to the library and study for the test? With both our minds put together, we’re a lot less likely to miss something. After all, two heads are better than one. You aren’t busy or anything, right?”

You shake your head no, although it does pass your mind how Bridget must already know that you never have any plans besides the ones she makes with you. “‘Kay, study session tomorrow sounds good. Although we’re probably going to be there till midnight. I mean, seriously, who assigns one test on four different chapters?”

Just as you launch into yet another rant about your insensitive teacher whom you practically despise at this point, a deep, low horn sounds from somewhere out in the hallway, reverberating against the walls.

Both you and Bridget glance up at the clock on her wall, which is custom-made in the shape of a pink heart surrounded by a white rim, now with its glittery hands pointing at ten and twelve.

“How is it curfew already?” you groan, rolling your eyes. “Guess I have to head back to my room.” Many times, you’ve contemplated requesting to move in with Bridget, so you two can officially be roommates. After all, you practically are, with the way that people always knock on Bridget’s door first when asking for you (although that seldom happens, and the few rare times it has, it’s always been on a teacher’s behest). But every time you start to consider it, your mind plummets back into that dark place, the belief rooted deep into your consciousness whispering that you’d just burden Bridget with your inescapable presence and occupied space.

“Aw, well, I’ll see you tomorrow in class! And at the library!” Bridget says as she walks you to the door, her constant smiling shining through once again.

You both bid each other goodnight, and as you walk the familiar solitary path back to your room, the absence of Bridget’s cheerful and bright energy is achingly present. It’s as if a piece of you was stripped away, torn from your very being and leaving you numb and hollow, merely a void of fleeting emotions just out of your grasp. Like the sun disappearing during an eclipse, leaving everyone shrouded in darkness as they await its return, you feel as though your very liveliness is missing from you. You glide down the hallways soundlessly like a ghost, your body nothing more than a shell of the exuberance brought out by the girl who’s constantly emanating pure, unbridled positivity.

Despite your feelings of emptiness, a soft ray of warmth settles onto your soul as memories of the evening, and every other moment you spent in Bridget’s company, replay in your mind. You still hear her melodious laugh, still see the bright sparkle in her eyes only displayed in someone who has not yet been dulled by the merciless, unsparing nature of the world.

Even though she’s not there, you still feel as though she is, carrying a piece of her deep in your heart while you reminisce over your memories, as you always do when you’re in the quiet loneliness of your own company. Even though she’s not there, your heart races at the mere thought of her: her gaze as she listens intently to what you have to say, the way her arms wrap around your torso and how her hair tickles your neck as she gives you a tight, enthusiastic hug.

Even though she’s not there, a shadow of her presence forever lingers in your heart and mind, leaving you yearning to bask in her warm glow again.

You step into the library the next day, after the final bell dismisses you from your last lesson. The library is one of your favorite places in the entire school—aside from Bridget’s room, of course. The peaceful retreat of the rows of dusty shelves and worn, rickety tables is unmatched. The tranquility of the gentle silence that always covers the area like a blanket, the smell of weathered books holding untold quantities of knowledge soothing you with the smallest whiff. Whenever you step across that threshold, it’s like being taken into a different dimension, one with fewer heavy burdens weighing down your shoulders and more blissful ease, a feeling one only reaches when in an untroubled state of mind.

No one looks at you as you walk in, not even sparing a single glance or the slightest movement that acknowledges your arrival. Not that that’s an unusual feeling for you.

You make your way down the aisles of books to your usual table, where you and Bridget always sit, standing in a secluded corner. The book bag slung over your shoulder is weighed down with all the books and notes stuffed into it, causing your arm to ache with strain. Grimacing as the hemp strap painfully digs into your shoulder, certainly leaving a mark that you’ll discover later, you mentally hurl a few obscenities at your teacher for his absurd teaching methods that make your bag so heavy.

However, as you move towards the table, you can see that there’s already some foreign object placed on top of it. A shocked, annoyed anger sizzles inside of you, vexation pumping through your veins at the thought of someone stealing your table. Sure, it doesn’t actually belong to you, and everyone has an equal right to choose any seat they desire, but it’s still your preferred spot and any other one would feel disconcerting and out of place.

As you near, now silently directing your colorful words towards the table thief, you begin to notice that no one else is around; nor do you see any materials on the table besides the peculiar item, which appears to be a small plastic container.

You approach the box, noticing that there’s a small, fuchsia-colored note stuck to the top as you get closer. Instantly, you recognize the handwriting, the half-cursive swirls and loops paired with the little hearts topping all the i’s instead of dots engraved into your brain.

“Dear Y/N,

I’m so so sooo sorry, but someone had an emergency and I had to go help them! I feel really bad for leaving you, and I promise I’ll make it up to you!

For now, I made you some treats as an apology (and to help make studying a little more bearable). Sorry again! I hope you enjoy them!

Love always,

Bridget

You smile at the little heart drawn next to her name, a staple of her signature. Opening the lid of the container, you see that sure enough, it’s stocked with plenty of macarons, a multitude of colors and flavors beckoning at you to try them.

You sigh as you grab a chair to sit in, the small wave of relief that washes over you soon overshadowed by the returning feeling of loneliness, rekindling inside of you like a greeting from an old friend you haven’t seen in a while. You reside in its arms with a comfort brought not by the warmth of a tender hug that soothes your pain and fills the hollow void residing in you, but instead by the ease of familiarity, the peace obtained when the outcome is a cruel one, yet one you foresaw. The security granted by basking in the solace of numbing arms wrapped around you, the feeling of being all alone and undesired, unwanted, something you’ve grown all too accustomed to.

Once again, you’re given a painful reminder of how popular Bridget is, how many other friends she has. How at the end of the day, you're simply an option, a choice she chooses to make. One that she can always change in the blink of an eye.

But you know that you can’t really be disappointed or feel so rejected because of this. After all, it's not like you can expect her to not have a life outside of you—ignoring the fact that you don’t really have a life outside of her. It would be selfish of you to want her to yourself all the time, right?

Readjusting your chair closer to the table, you remind yourself that it’s nice enough of her to even remember your plans, much less take the time to stop by here and leave you a note explaining her absence, in addition to a sweet—both figuratively and literally—gift. She could have just forsaken you with no note, no warning. But then again, that’s simply not the type of person Bridget is. If she knew just how much her presence affects you, how she fills your days with a joy, a happiness so pure and unparalleled by everything and everyone else, you’re almost certain she’d never leave your side again.

To her, you’re just another friend, someone she enjoys seeing. To you, she’s your sun, the very being you revolve around and depend on to survive.

She truly is your everything.

The mouthwatering macarons eyeing you through the clear plastic invite you to take a bite, and you indulge yourself as you rip off the lid and relish in the soft crunch of the outer layers and the smooth flavors bursting within, reminding you of something akin to a dessert sandwich.

After munching on quite a few of them—you simply couldn’t help yourself, they were absolutely delicious—you begrudgingly heave your bag onto the table, pulling out the materials you so diligently packed.

You crack open your textbook to the first chapter, then your notebook to the first blank page. Ripping a sheet out from the spine, you place it down next to your notes. Every time you write something in your notebook, you copy it down on the empty page.

After all, you couldn’t let Bridget’s kindhearted nature get in the way of her good grades. Even if it did mean more grueling work on your part.

For her, you are willing to do anything. Just to see her beam at you again with those rosy lips, the sparkle in her eyes twinkling brightly at you. Reminding you that you’re the cause behind her happiness.

No matter the cost for you.

The sea of faces and bodies in front of you is slightly overwhelming, blurred flashes passing you as you struggle to find your way through the crowd. But then, your eyes snatch on a head of pink curls bouncing up and down animatedly, and instantly, you’re washed over with a wave of relief. Slipping through the cracks between the meandering crowd, you make your way over to the table Bridget is sitting at today in the Dining Hall.

“Hey,” you say gingerly, placing a hand on her shoulder to get her attention as you approach her from behind.

Bridget twists her head back, face visibly lighting up at the sight of you. “Y/N!” she exclaims, scooting over and excitedly patting the space next to her.

You take your seat, turning to face her. “Uh, so, about yesterday…”

Your plan was to thank her for the macarons and the thoughtful note, but before you get the chance, her eyes widen at your words as her face erupts in a look of deep penitence. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! Fay was trying a new spell and accidentally burned half her hair off…” Her face contorts to a look of serious shock and concern, probably reimagining the scene.

“I know that’s no excuse though! I felt so bad for bailing on you, that I stayed up all last night just to finish this…”

She turns around and bends over her seat, reaching into her bag on the floor. She grabs something, then twists back around to you, clutching the mysterious object tightly in her hand.

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands!” she instructs, vibrant with pulsating enthusiasm. A bit tentatively, you do as she says, putting your cupped palm out in front of you as you shut your eyes.

You feel a small, very solid object get placed in your hands (So not a new dessert to try, you think with only the slightest tinge of disappointment). But that all dissipates as soon as Bridget exclaims, “You can open them now!”

Your eyes flutter open, gaze pointed downwards towards your palms. Immediately, a tender surge of awe floods your heart, making its pace quicken as it beats rapidly. Your heart throbs with such a profound gratitude you worry it’s going to burst any second from how touched you feel.

You pick up the chain placed in your cupped hands, an elated smile breaking through as you take in the bracelet Bridget gave you. Decorated with numerous charms, you take the time to study all of them carefully, running your fingers over the meticulous hand-crafted details as you realize the significance of each one.

They’re not random designs chosen simply for aesthetic purposes; no, each one resembles something, either about you or your relationship with Bridget. A clear-cut gemstone of your favorite color placed next to a small depiction of your favorite animal both hang off the chain. Then there’s a metallic red apple symbolizing the one time you two went apple picking at an orchard; a little set of playing cards with the same design at the deck she used when she first taught you how to play; a small face of a gray kitten with white whiskers, resembling the one you two saved from an incredibly high and strangely twisted tree the first time you visited Wonderland.

Nevertheless, the finest of them all is the pink, glittery heart that sits right in the middle. Embellished on its surface is a fancy cursive B next to your first initial, conjoined with a small plus sign.

An everlasting symbol of your intimate bond.

Your mouth is fully agape, eyes round as saucers and eyebrows arched in a mix of nearly tangible astonishment and disbelief as you turn the bracelet around in your hands over and over, examining each charm with a sharp, precise eye. Bridget sits in quiet anticipation, holding her breath as she awaits any kind of reaction that can give her even a glimmer of an idea as to how you feel.

“Remember when you were asking me about the stuff on my desk the other day and I said I'd show you soon?” she asks, breaking the thick silence that has grown to be unbearable for her. “Well, I was working on this as a surprise for you. And, I mean, I felt so bad for leaving you yesterday that I wanted to give it to you today as a little apology.”

Your gaze finally breaks away from the bracelet, meeting Bridget’s jittery eyes. Before she can even process what’s happening, the next thing she knows you’ve lurched forward, arms wrapping so tightly around her body that she struggles to even breathe.

After she gets over the initial wave of shock, Bridget’s wide eyes melt into a compassionate smile, returning the embrace. You hug her firmly, getting lost in the moment and not letting go until you hear a little, “I can’t breathe,” paired with a soft tap on your back, drawing you out of your daze as you realize you’re practically smothering her.

“Oh! I-I’m sorry!” you exclaim, drawing back quickly and examining her figure with knitted brows, making sure she’s alright. “I just…I love it so much! It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever given me!”

Bridget gives a bubbly laugh, eyes matching her grin as she says, “Oh, it really was nothing. I mean, you’re a princess. I’m sure you’ve gotten much nicer things.”

Smiling, you don’t mention how even the most lavish of luxuries, the most exorbitant of material goods only the finest money can buy, all pale into nonexistence when compared to her gift. The thought, the care, the hours of painstaking work and dedicated moments spent carefully crafting, all for you, is simply unfathomable and impossible to match. You may be holding a small bracelet worth not even a tenth of the simplest of rings you normally get gifted by your family, but to you, it’s worth more than every mansion and diamond in the whole world.

You shake your head left and right, tears of joy brimming and threatening to spill as you lean into Bridget for yet another hug (this time making sure not to squeeze her quite so hard). You know that later, you’ll probably lie in bed and wince at your brashness in this moment, hands covering your flustered face as you toss and turn in embarrassment—but for right now, you’re too swept up in your emotions to care.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” you exclaim, pulling away once again to reach into your bag this time. Retrieving a stack of papers neatly stapled, with lines and lines of orderly notes written in meticulous handwriting, you hand them to Bridget. “I figured since you probably wouldn’t have the time to take notes for the test, I took them for you.”

This time, it’s Bridget’s turn to be flustered from your benevolent gesture. “You really didn’t have to!” she cries, a stunned expression painted on her face as she flips through the numerous pages of detailed notes. She peers back up to meet your gaze with a swirl of shock and delight, her gently creased eyes and the lines on her forehead displaying her inner thoughts. Bridget often wears her emotions on her sleeve, and from sharing countless hours with her, you’ve learned to interpret her facial expressions so well you can practically read her mind. And through her gaze, you can see how she’s in disbelief at the thought that, despite your hatred for the subject and assignment—which you made very well-known—you still spent twice the time you had to on it, just for her.

“Well, I guess we’re even now,” you casually add, saving Bridget from having to formulate a response—you can clearly tell she’s having difficulty putting her emotions into words.

She shakes her head ardently from side to side, her springy curls bouncing vibrantly. “No, we still lost the time we were supposed to spend together! And I did promise I’d make it up to you.”

Before you can open your mouth to tell her that she’d made it up plenty, her head swivels to the side. You follow her gaze to a wide window a few meters away, the bright rays of sun poking out through the clouds and casting golden stripes on the table in front of you.

Her head snaps back towards you, the light in her eyes burning bright as she enthusiastically suggests, “I heard the weather is really nice this weekend! How about we go on a picnic?”

“A picnic?” you repeat inquisitively. You don’t know what you were expecting, but this certainly surprised you.

“Yeah!” Bridget’s talking quickens, the glimmer in her eyes shining brighter as she continues while the vague idea solidifies in her mind. “It’ll be a lot more fun than another study session. I can make the food and you can bring the stuff! The fields just south of here are a popular spot. It’s going to be so much fun!”

She squeals as she claps her hands together. You match her smile, her enthusiasm once again infecting you. “Picnic it is, then,” you reply, grinning as she beams at your approval.

A subtle sigh slips past your lips, unnoticed by Bridget. The same way you always wish she didn’t miss how you look at her, pure adoration and devotion mirrored in your gaze, staring at her as if she created the skies and stars with her own two hands. Which she really did—at least in your universe.

A soft breeze blows against your face, tenderly caressing your cheeks as leaves rustle overhead, whispering to the wind of secrets unheard. The sky is a clear, vibrant blue, all but a few clouds lazily drifting by. Sunshine filters through the branches, casting dappled patterns of light over the checkered blanket beneath you. Birds somewhere in the treetops chatter and sing their pleasing songs, weaving a tapestry of notes that paint the horizon with harmonious brushstrokes. The grass sways gently, mirroring the serene breathing of the landscape.

Everything is tranquil, from the fluttering of butterfly wings to the laughter that sounds from pink lips, like the most melodious of music to your ears. The conversation isn’t that important to you; trivial, inconsequential topics that you really couldn’t care less for. But what truly matters is the way her eyes fill with the purest of sparkles, the way she doubles over as she giggles, the breeze brushing her captivatingly gorgeous curls out of her face.

There’s nothing in the world you would trade for this moment, this sliver in time where you are completely at peace. Where not a single care or worry can reach you, not when the only thing on your mind is how much your heart swells with pure affection, how simply perfect the girl in front of you is.

After she manages to catch her breath from laughing, Bridget meets your gaze—one that is directed at her, but isn’t really looking at her. Your eyes are distant, the unwavering smile on your speaking volumes of emotions.

“Those sandwiches were really good, weren’t they?” she asks you, referring to the special-made lunch that you two had just finished.

You nod, still grinning at her with a persistent gaze. “They were great, Bridget. Nothing that you make could ever taste anything less than delicious.”

She blushes, swatting at your arm playfully. “Hey, that’s not true!”

You laugh, sitting up from how you were previously lying on your back. Catching Bridget’s hand in midair, you reply, “Well, it is, because I don’t lie.”

“Oh? Since when?” she asks, mirth dancing on her features.

“Since always.” You feign annoyance at her accusations, your smile still shining through.

“Ah! Speaking of food, I have something special for you.”

You hum in surprise, watching as Bridget reaches over to your woven picnic basket. She shuffles closer to you, to the point where her knees almost brush against your thigh, with how she’s sitting cross-legged and you with your legs outstretched whilst leaning on one arm.

Opening the lid, her hand disappears inside for a moment before reemerging with a singular cupcake, topped with a swirly pastel pink frosting and decorated with small sprinkles in shades of white and red.

“This is a new recipe,” she explains, holding the treat out to you. “I made it with this super rare flower essence, shipped straight from Wonderland. Let’s just say I gave the batter a lick, and I think it’s my best creation yet.”

“You haven’t tried it yet?” you ask, moving to sit in a position similar to Bridget’s as you accept the dessert.

“Nope! I wanted you to have the first bite.”

Your smile only grows wider, now stretching from ear to ear, an undeniable sense of glee emanating from you. You’d normally argue with her, telling her that she really didn’t need to do something like this. But from all those failed attempts you’ve only learned that Bridget never listens, always putting you first time and time again. So, this time, you simply take a bite, nearly melting away again as the flavors hit.

The frosting has a sugary, saccharine taste, the sprinkles adding a delightfully contrasting texture to the creamy richness of the pink swirl. The cake below it is soft and moist, as if eating a fluffy cloud. The vanilla flavor is smooth, an undercurrent that balances out the sweetness. There’s a slight twinge from a distinct flavor as well, something you’ve never tasted and can’t quite put your finger on. The same way that coffee elevates the taste of chocolate, this special ingredient brings out the sweetness of the vanilla, balancing out the sugar of the frosting. Every mouthful is incredibly light and absolutely delectable, making each moment it graces your taste buds feel like an indulgent bite of heaven.

“So? How is it?” Bridget asks as your eyes swiftly open. Her anticipation lingers in the air, along with your awaited response.

But you barely hear her words, too focused on how the color of the frosting perfectly matches her delicate, roseate lips. They’re so gentle, yet lush, almost forming the most endearing of pouts.

Eyes darting from her eyes, to her lips, back up to her wide, doe eyes again, you throw caution to the wind and spring forward. Your hands move in front of you, supporting your weight as you lean in.

Your lips make contact with her velvety ones, which are even smoother than you imagined. A stolen kiss, lasting but a moment, yet enwrapped by the tender caress of your mouth, the purest of affections seeping in as you hold her lips between yours, then draw back for the briefest pause.

Eyes locked with her wide, expressive ones as you linger a mere inch away from her face, you respond to her earlier question.

“Delicious and incredibly sweet. Just like you.”

end x

read more of my works here!

taglist: @4ng3l-ch1ld @astrynyx @0strawberrysorbet0 @ljaylmaoo @maggiecc @elltheawkward @eretsupremacy89 @dreamerofasgard @mabs04

just leave a comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

272 notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 22 days

Text

John Price/female reader The Ocean Anthology

It’s a hollow knock that pulls you from sleep.

The Ranger is standing on the slanted slats of your front porch, Aly in his arms, cradled to his chest. Her too long legs hang over in a heap, face sweet and soft, spun in the silken bliss of sleep.

“John.” His name is a croak, a splinter of confusion on your tongue. It’s four in the morning.

“Sorry to wake you,” he shifts his daughter’s weight, and you shake your head wordlessly, “there’s a problem, up at the forestry camp. Normally Mari would…” his mouth twitches, trailing off, sequencing into a helpless, silent request.

“Of course.” Frigid air spills around his shoulders, curling into your living room, and you press the door firm after him, turning to where he lowers Aly onto the couch, broad palm sweeping over forehead and tucking her in her blanket, plus yours.

“She’ll be no trouble.” He murmurs, shoulders rolled back.

“Sure, yeah. It’s fine.” You whisper, following his lead to the door, standing in his shadow.

“I’ll be back, before it’s time for her to start school. And she can handle herself for breakfast.” Rough hands cradle your elbows, cracked callouses and torn skin snagging on the flimsy cotton of your long sleeve t shirt.

Aly truly is, no trouble. Once she's up, rubs the crystal sleep from her eyes and orients, she hops off your couch and into the kitchen where you're at the table with a hot mug.

"Breakfast?" Hopeful eyes glance at your pantry. "Got stuff to make pancakes in there?" You laugh.

"You want pancakes?" She shifts her weight, bashful.

"Dad doesn't let me have them much."

"Alrighty. Let's make some pancakes then."

You manage a too tall stack of fluffy pancakes before there's a knock at your front door. Aly, like any child, wanted chocolate chips in hers, but she settled for blueberry, and just as she's about to have her first bite, cold wind whips through the house like a lash.

"Hi." Fuck. Is he going to be mad you made his kid pancakes? He evaluates the table, sweeping gaze traveling from Aly back to you, leisurely rolling up from your toes.

You ignore the clench in your stomach.

"Those look good."

"Oh, uh... you want-"

"Blueberry?" At this, Aly's fork freezes, eyes darting from her plate to her father before turning back to breakfast.

"Y-yeah. Didn't have chocolate chips, and plain pancakes are kind of boring." His mouth twitches, sloping to one side with a furrow of his brow, chord of sadness striking his irises. There one second, then gone. A warm breeze of the cusp of summer’s end, something you can’t quite catch. You think he’s going to ignore you, the moment suspended in the void of your kitchen, batter caked bowl and whisk shuffled haphazardly towards the sink, splatters of it on the tile. He hums.

“Good choice.” The flannel is nearly too small for him, clinging to his shoulder, the breadth of his body, thick forearms stretching the buttons where the cuffs are rolled up to the elbows. You're tongue-tied in the passing silence, before he puts you out of your misery. "You've got something," a thumb to the corner of his own mouth, rubbing against something that isn't there, as you stand, lost in a moment of desiderium that slams into you with full force, "here."

He licks his thumb, then he reaches.

He rubs your skin, instead. The corner of your lips. Pasty batter splattered and dried, now gone beneath his circling touch. It's... fatherly, in passing. A short glimpse into the moment would convince you he's being kind, helpful, but the way his venetus gaze lingers on your lips, and rolls up to your eyes... it's more than patriarchal. It's heated, and dark, flashes of secrets and songs you've never heard.

"T-thank you."

"Will you go out today?"

"Oh, uh... yeah I had hoped to."

"In the kayak?" You nod. His lips twitch.

"I'll take you, in the boat." The words he gave you the first time you looked for the Orcas ring in your ears.

"I thought I had to earn it?" A sliver of possession gleams in his eyes.

"You will."

#john price x reader #captain john price #john price #peaches writes #the ocean anthology

173 notes · View notes

treedaddymcpuffpuff · 4 months

Text

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen

TW: nsfw, angst

You wake up to the smell of bacon, coffee, and something sweet in the skillet.

Usually such a thing would mean you are dreaming, and you need to wake your ass up before you’re late for work. But you roll over to look into your tiny kitchen, finding a sight fit for Playgirl Magazine before your disbelieving eyes.

Dear Penthouse, I can’t believe this actually happened to me…

Detective Tom Ludlow is in your kitchen, making pancakes…in nothing but a towel around his trim waist. His dark hair is combed back, still wet from the shower. His broad shoulders are something to write home about–Kansas farm boys had nothing on this beautiful specimen of masculinity.

Had the night before even been real?

As though he senses your return to consciousness–or maybe the weight of your gawker’s stare upon him–he turns to look at you. “Morning, beautiful.”

You blink with surprise, because he is talking to you.

“Hi,” you greet, clever as ever, and goddammit but are you blushing?

“Whacha looking at?” he teases, spatula in hand. The very picture of domestic bliss. God help you, but in that moment you were 300 percent ready to put a ring on this man.

“Just…the most best thing I’ve ever seen,” you admit, knowing you’ll kick yourself for it later.

However, the smile he pays you, smug yet somehow gentle–it fries your brain entirely.

“Likewise, sweetheart.” He crosses the short space with a few long strides to press his lips to yours. “You like pancakes with blueberries?”

You’d bought the ingredients–and promptly stuck them in the cupboards–for just such a purpose, thinking that someday, when you had time, and weren’t bone fucking tired from working 12 hour shifts days in a row, you’d make a point to treat yourself.

Funny, how that never happened, until Tom Ludlow came around.

Here you are, getting emotional about blueberry fucking pancakes.

“Yes,” is the only answer you can muster, and he kisses you so sweetly that it curls your toes.

His soft smile down at you will be the death of you. “Sleep well?”

“Like a well-fucked rock,” you tell him, winning a bark of masculine laughter.

“Likewise, beautiful. Definitely likewise.” He vacates the couch to flip his pancake. You continue to stare, still dumbfounded.

“Tom?” you ask, still struggling to wake up.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Did last night…actually happen?”

“Sure did. Don’t you remember driving to Vegas? We got the best Elvis in the building.”

You blink stupidly for a few moments, before registering his absolutely shit-eating grin.

“Very funny. And the joke would be on you, if you married me on a drunken lark.”

“Why?” he asks, seemingly amused by your discomfort.

“I told you. I’m a fucking mess.”

“Far as I can tell? You’re fucking perfect, and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.”

You’re not really sure why this pithy little compliment brings tears to your eyes, your lip quivering. Only a beat later does he notice, and he rushes over again.

“Hey, hey, no crying, baby, I’m sorry. What’s wrong? I was just joking.”

You swipe at your eyes with the heels of your hands, embarrassed. “You’re just..so sweet, and I actually fucking believe you, when you say this shit, ok?”

He blinks, but god bless, it only takes him a moment to assess, and act. He presses his soft lips to yours, then his forehead to your forehead, as though he can will you to accept his declarations through osmosis. “Believe it,” he tells you. “It’s true…well. Not the Elvis bit. We can do that next weekend if you want.”

You know he’s joking…but it still doesn’t fail to utterly melt your insides. This man who manhandled and harrassed you has turned out to be the biggest fucking softy, and you just might lose your shit.

You’ve already cried in front of him too many times, though, so you play it off and act like what he’s saying is no big deal. “Really? I think I’d rather have Michael Jackson instead.”

You wonder if he misses being married. If he fucked his wife like he’d fucked you last night…you can’t fathom stepping out on him. But then you also know, that sometimes cops can also be married to their jobs. It could make for a difficult threesome. You imagine going without him, while he was working an intense case, would be absolute hell.

Tom snorts. “Whatever floats my lady’s boat,” he answers, flipping another pancake onto the stack. He ports them to the table with a flourish. “Come eat, sweet girl. You gotta work today?”

“Later. Unfortunately.”

He sticks his full lip out in a pout that should be illegal on a grown ass man. “Then eat quickly, because I’m not done with you yet.” he informs you with a wicked smirk that causes a brand new flood between your already sticky thighs.

He turns, that broad, tapered back on full display, to finish plating breakfast, and you can’t not watch the tight muscle in his butt shift in the thin towel. You get this sudden strange urge to sink your teeth into him and latch on, and wonder if ancient cavewomen bit their partners to lay claims. Because that’s what Tom Ludlow works on—the part of your spongy brain that developed before speech and theory—the part that wants to bite and howl.

Evolution is a bitch.

Oh no, he can cook. And cook good. The pancakes he sets in front of you, drizzled with honey and topped with fresh blueberries, taste like a fluffy heaven in your mouth. Even the coffee is splendid, done up blonde and sugary just the way you prefer. “Tom, damn,” you compliment between mouthfuls. “You went out to get blueberries?” It’s selfish, but the thought of him leaving you alone even to run out and grab something for you makes your insides twist uncomfortably.

“Oh, no, I borrowed some from your neighbor.”

Of course at that moment you have an entire mouthful of coffee that you almost spray on his bare, beautiful chest. “What?!”

He adopts a bemused smile. “Very nice lady.”

“Please tell me you had more than just a towel on?”

“Less, actually.”

He bursts into laughter and the astonished look on your face.

“I’m gonna kick your ass, Ludlow.”

“She asked me something really interesting.” He wipes a little honey off your top lip and sucks it into his mouth, making you dumb enough to forget you’re annoyed. “She asked me if I’m the nightmare?”

“I have no idea what she’s talking about.”

“You are a terrible little liar, you know that? I can see your tell from a mile away.”

“Oh, what is it?” You smirk, shove a bite of pancake into your mouth.

“You’re lucky I’m hungry,” he threatens, playful and promising, sending a thrill through your chest.

You grab a glob of honey on your finger and kitten lick it off, almost bold enough to make direct eye contact with him for more than five seconds while you’re doing it. “Or what?”

He pops up from his seat, and your first instinct is run. Run away. You make it two steps before he has you grabbed around the waist and is dragging you back to his place at the table.

Your squeals of nervous laughter crescendo into a moan when he pulls you down onto his big cock. It surprises you as much as it did last night, how well he fills and stretches you. Not a piece of your fluttery hole unpunished by his silky, maddening pressure. You immediately grind, eager for that pressure to shift and rub and build you, but he stills you with a mitt on your waist.

Then his big hands bunch in the ruffled fabric of your sundress, which somehow you never managed to remove amidst both of your eagerness to get to other parts of you instead. Slowly he draws it up over your head, tossing it away somewhere across the room. Before you can even begin to think about feeling self conscious he makes a low sound of appreciation behind you, running his hands down your curves.

“So fucking beautiful. I just wanna stay inside this pretty little pussy all day,” he tells you, smoothing his wet tongue across your shoulder. You arch into him, and he nips your skin for the retaliation. “Feel her throb while I tell you what I wanna do to her. Jesus, you’re soaked.”

You try to squeeze your thighs together for precious friction on your clit, but he tugs them back open, chuckling at the pathetic attempt. “You wanna fuck yourself, baby?”

“Yes. Fu-uhck.”

“Want me to pet that pretty clit while you ride me?” He kisses up your neck, into your hairline, tugs your ear between his teeth and you see white fire.

“Yes, Tom. Yes. Please.”

“Then eat your breakfast.”

It’s impossible to focus on the delicious food anymore. The chunks of stuff getting forked into your mouth are no match for the small taste of him. It isn’t long before he’s done with silverware and hand feeding you, making you lick and suck his sticky fingers clean.

“Atta girl. Keeping me all warm and cozy.” His mouth traces circles on your upper back that make you twitch and gasp while his heavy pointer and index finger rest on your tongue, sweet and salty-pleasure and pain-the desire to move trumping all of it.

When his fingers trail up your side and land on your nipple, rolling and pinching, you clench your thighs shut again. He grunts at you, although you think it was meant to be a sound of disapproval before you clenched deliberately on his cock.

“You want to cum?”

“Yessss.”

“Then open your legs back up.”

You obey with a groan of frustration, widening your hips so that the tantalizing pressure is off your throbbing clit. That means all you can focus on is having him inside you, and that would be great if he would just fucking thrust.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He grabs your hips to hold you in place. “You’re busy.”

“Could be important,” you say.

“More important than this?” He grinds up, into your cervix, into all the sensitive soaked walls of your cunt, and the answer to his question is no. Absolutely not. There is nothing more important than him or his cock.

“Tom,” you hiss.

He sighs. “Alright. I’ll get it. Get dressed.”

How empty you feel, when you slide off of his cock as you stand on trembling legs. He halts your progress by gripping your hips, pressing his mouth to the curve of your buttocks. You forget about the door, and everything else, turning in his arms so that he can bury his face in your cleavage. “These beautiful–” He kisses one breast cupped in his hand, “Naughty,” a kiss for the other, just beside your nipple, the tease, “titties are in so much trouble.” He sucks on your perked nipple with a pop, making you cry out.

Knock knock knock.

“Someone’s fucking determined,” he grumbles against your skin.

Reluctantly you manage to pull away from him, and you remember this state of the art technology in your door called a peephole. Naked as a jaybird, you peer through the tiny lens–and gasp at the sight on the other side.

This clearly interests Tom, his head canting at an angle in question. You shake your head, just knowing a perfect storm is brewing. “It’s no one. Ignore it,” you say quietly, hoping they don’t hear you on the other side, praying they have the sense to go away. You try to distract Tom again with kisses and by trying to pull him towards the bedroom, but dammit this man is solid as a fucking tree when he doesn’t want to move.

“Who is it?” he asks with a lifted brow.

Knock knock. “Y/n? I know you’re home.”

Goddammit.

What can only be described as a wicked grin spreads over Tom’s handsome features. “Oh. Let’s say hello, shall we?”

#tom ludlow x reader #keanuverse fic #keanuverse

76 notes · View notes

tlou-reid · 6 months

Note

hello! happy birthday! can i get a blueberry lemonade + luke alvez pls, thank you!!

blueberry lemonade: “i like it when you say my name like that.”

smut below the cut 18+ MDNI

you could feel luke curling his fingers across your clothes core, collecting the wetness that had accrued in the fabric. “god damn, princesa,” luke mewled, very much talking to himself. his fingers moved slow, deliberately teasing you. he’d been doing that all night; moving slow to get you worked up.

his left hand was placed gently on your left thigh as he sat in between your legs on the bed. the bruises on your neck from his sucks and bites were coming to fruition, making you the canvas of the most beautiful painting luke had ever seen. the purple and blue hues were darkening, making his dick jump every time he moved his eyes from your soaked cunt to your teary eyes.

this was a welcome home gift. one luke had gotten for himself after being away on two back-to-back cases. you weren’t expecting to be used like this, but there were no complaints coming from you.

aside from the fact that he needed to start moving faster. you’d been stripped down to just your pink panties for almost half an hour now, while he was still clad in a flannel and jeans. he’d touched you and teased your entire body, not leaving an inch of you untouched.

“lukeee,” you wailed, finally deciding to speak up for yourself and try to get him to do what you want, instead of the other way around. despite your loud whine and the way you thrashed your body around, luke did nothing but drag another finger along your slit and smirk down at you.

“i like it when you say my name like that,” he murmurs, bending down to press a kiss to your thigh, just above where his calloused hand was resting. “please,” you literally cried, the tears you’d been holding back finally falling, “please luke, please.”

you couldn’t see it from where your eyes were pinched shut from frustration, but luke’s eyes softened at your pleas, his dominant demeanor finally cracking. “i’m sorry, baby,” he cooed, shifting to lay between your legs. he moved slowly, not wanting to shake the bed too much. “i’m sorry,” he repeated, littering your thighs with small kisses. the rough of his beard felt heavenly against your hot skin.

“let me make it up to you,” he mumbled, almost inaudibly, as he hooked his fingers in your waistband and gently pushed your panties down your legs. “let me eat this pretty pussy so my cariño can cum,” luke says, leaning in licking a broad stripe between your legs.

the moan let out was pornographic, ricocheting off the walls of the room. luke’s hips bucked into the bed at the sound, searching for some kind of friction.

the almost of hour of luke’s teasing touches paid off as he licked into your cunt, holding your hips tightly against the bed. the room was hot, burning your skin and making you sweat. but the toe curling feeling of your orgasm was icy cold, a relief you’d been searching for since he got home. it didn’t take long for you to reach pure bliss on his tongue, tugging him even closer by his hair, not wanting the earth shattering feeling to end.

“fuck, baby,” luke says, wiping his mouth with his arm as you push him away, entirely too overstimulated to let him keep going. “you didn’t even need my fingers that time,” he compliments, kissing his way back up your body. “ready for my dick now, pretty girl?” he questions and you nod immediately, making him chuckle and press a kiss to the side of your temple.

#😅😅😅#this was fun to write #luke alvez x y/n #luke alvez fic #luke alvez x you #luke alvez fanfiction #luke alvez blurb #luke alvez smut #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez imagine #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x you #criminal minds blurb #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #slumber party!

94 notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 2 years

Note

ok i love dealer remus but i am jamie’s girl all the way so what about reader being dealer!james’ fave customer and he always takes extra care w them and goes above and beyond for them🫶🏼

(ps i absolutely adore everything you write and i hope you are having a wonderful day/night and you deserve the world)

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

"That's a lot of weed." You raise your eyebrows, glancing down at the canvas tote bag that James brings to the door.

He laughs, long and deep in his chest, "No, lovely, 's not all weed. It's in there, 'promise. I just had some other stuff I was looking to pawn."

Digging in the bag rewards you with a glittery pink lighter, something you guarantee James didn't just have on hand, and a tupperware of blueberry muffins.

"I didn't order these," You eye him cautiously, "You oversaturate them, Potter, they're too strong."

"No! No, they're not- uh, they're not edibles," He runs a hand through his curls, "They're just muffins."

"You just had 9 muffins lying around?" You cock your hip out, and James's eyes follow your shift in movement.

"Christ, can't a man have muffins in his own home without getting interrogated?" He huffs, "If you're an undercover cop, tell me now, so I can take back the weed."

"James," You glance down at the final item in the bag, "Why is your sweater in here?"

"'Cause it's yours," He leans against the doorframe, "Remember? You left it at my place last movie night."

"This isn't mine," You laugh, you lent it to me so I gave it back."

"Yeah, but I told you to keep it," He pushes your hand away where you're trying to hand it back to him, "Just- promise me you'll wear it when you smoke?"

Your brows furrow, "Why?"

Because James wants you to associate his smell with the feeling of being high. He wants to trigger that weightless, blissful feeling of weed whenever he brushes up against your side, or tilts his freshly-shampooed head towards you with a bounce of his curls. He supposes he's conditioning you into loving him, because he's not sure it'll naturally occur.

"No reason," He cocks his head to the side, sending you a sweet grin, "Enjoy the muffins, darling."

926 notes · View notes

joeyalohadream · 2 months

Text

last line tag

rules: post the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like)

Thanks for the tag @moghraidhs !

Bucky sucks on Gale’s tongue, pulling the lingering taste of sweetness from the blueberry pastries he’d consumed earlier into his own mouth. So lost in the sensations, in the pure bliss enveloping him at having Gale this close, he’s caught off guard when Gale suddenly flips him over. His breath leaves him as he’s pressed into the mattress with Gale now astride his hips, grinning down at him. “I think I’ve created a monster,” Bucky grins back, hands coming up to his favorite spot, curling around Gale’s waist to hold him steady.

Tagging: @hogans-heroes , @ranger-elizabeth and @middlingmay but as always, no pressure!

#tag game #clegan wip

19 notes · View notes

sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 1 year

Note

Precarious Agreements Ransom and blueberry

OH, I haven't gotten to write for Ransom and Kitten in AGES. Thanks Carly for giving them this little moment to work out a slight disagreement.

TW- Launguage, Fingering, Spitting and Oral. This is an 18+ Only Blog

Precarious Agreement Masterlist

"I fucking hate you." You hissed from between your clenched teeth, your fingers twisting into thick dark locks of hair and a muffled chuckle came from somewhere between your thighs.

You only knew cause currently his tongue was swirling patterns against your clit in a mind-numbing way while his thick fingers stretched your pussy, fingertips deeper than you could ever finger yourself. You knew you were making a mess, the occasional harsh drag of his tongue would gather up before spitting back on your clit.

"You say that every time." Ransom finally lifted his head, his thumb replacing his tongue against your sensitive nerve. "And every time it's 'Fuck me Ransom, I love you Ransom, eat me out again Ransom." He mimicked, a sweep of his tongue over his drenched lips while you glared at him, feeling your pending orgasm rushing towards the finish line.

"I do not." You lied, cause you felt your thoughts shorting out, you just wanted that snap, that bliss where your soul left your body and entered a whole other existence.

"Come on Kitten." He crooned as he used his shoulders to push your legs up, kneeling with your legs thrown up in the air by his head, your toes curling and your back now arching off the mattress as if on command. "Just forgive me already and cum all over my fat fingers in you so I can fuck you stupid."

"Ran. I gotta-"

"Let me have it Kitten." He growled, pushing your legs back further till they were pressing against you with his forearm while his other hand continued to finger your drenched pussy faster, the squelching almost obscene now with how we you were. He spit again, mixing with your slick and drizzling down your swollen lips. "Just be my good slut tonight."

You should deny him this, after the way he pissed you off. But you were weak with him, always have been and soon you were doing just as he wanted, sobbing out his name while you came, your hands racing over your head to hold onto the headboard while your body arched again, the rush making you see sparks and blinding you for a second.

Ransom smirked at you, slowing his fingers enough to help ease you through till the end. Your body going lax and panting while he was gentle in his touches to your over-sensitive body. Kisses flowed up the center till he latched on a perked nipple, teasing it till you moaned and grabbed his face to finish pulling him up. Your mouth found him, your tongue slipping along his in a passionate slow way while moaning against him.

Still panting, you glared up at him after that kiss. "This doesn't let you off the hook you know, just because you went down on me tonight."

Ransom cocked his head, his hair falling forward over his forehead and a cold grin promised that he had more up his sleeve for you tonight. "We will see Kitten, I bet you are purring for me by the end of the night." Your look made him roll his eyes. "Yeah, Yeah, I will apologize to your sister for telling her she's a nosy cunt who needs to mind her own business."

"Hugh."

His gaze went from cool and cocky to pissed off as his hand came down on your ass. "Say that one more time Kitten and your ass is mine." He dared you and your mouth curled triumphantly, mouthing it slowly.

"Hugh, eat shit."

He pulled back and grabbed your hip to flip you suddenly, growling while you laughed, knowing you got under his skin. Repercussions be damned.

#amber answers #precarious agreements #ransom x kitten #ask game #send a color and get a drabble #this one got away from me but i was on a roll #so i went with it #love these two fuckers so much

56 notes · View notes

annbott · 4 months

Text

Fell’s Backstory (See “I’m Writing My Story Anyway” for who she is please-)

Part One

Memories. They’re slippery if you don’t know how to properly hold on to them. Some memories stay regardless of whether you were holding them or not. Regardless of whether you wanted them or not. You can try to forget, and perhaps even succeed for a blissful while, but they’re like the rash that keeps coming back, each time more painful than the last. At least that’s how it was for me. That’s how it’s always been and how it will forever be.

It’s the same dream from when I was four years old. This was the dream I had the day I lost my mother. I was standing in a field of camellias, her favorite kind of flower. I took a deep, shuddering breath, and began carefully navigating through the field of camellias, each step a whispered promise not to disturb the delicate blooms my mother once cherished. I look up, and my gaze is instinctively drawn to a figure atop a small hill nearby. She is draped in a mesmerizing green dress, its loose fabric swaying with the rhythm of the gentle summer breeze. Her presence adds an ethereal charm to the already enchanting scene, as if she were a natural extension of the blossoming landscape surrounding us. She was exactly as I remembered her. The epitome of elegance and beauty.

My careful treading shifted to one of careless urgency, causing a storm of emotions to swirl within me, each one a bittersweet echo of the mother I lost yet hold in memory. There is pain, a lingering ache that never ceases, a reminder of the love that still binds us across the chasm of time. Longing pulls at my soul, drawing me towards the figure atop the hill, my feet seeming to know exactly where to step. Grief, heavy and profound, felt like ruthless and relentless waves. And anger, a flickering flame in the recesses of my soul, flares at the injustice of a fate that stole her from me before I could fully understand the depth of her presence. Anger is dangerous. And powerful. Don’t ever let it consume you. I thought desperately, fighting to extinguish the flame just beginning to burn from my left eye, when I heard her speak.

“Fell,”

I froze, staring at my mother, completely dumbfounded. Had she ever called me anything other than Regan? And her voice didn’t sound right. It sounded more like-

“Fell!”

This time she raised her voice, sounding annoyed, an uncharacteristic tone for her to have. I squinted at her, wondering if I looked as confused as I felt. Her grey eyes flicked over to mine, and I was horrified at the lack of emotion in them. It wasn’t until she yelled that I woke up.

“Fell! Wake up!” _________________________________________

My head shot up from my pillow and I, still confused and panicked from my dream, turned toward the source of the yell, my hand curled into a fist and thrusted into the stomach of the girl before I could stop myself. She stumbled back in surprise, eyes wide, letting out a howl of pain, and I felt an immediate stab of shame. “Ann! I’m sorry! I didn’t know it was you!” I cried, throwing the covers off of myself and crouching down to be level with Ann, her arms crossed tightly over her abdomen, her unkempt hair covering half of her face. What almost made this worse was that rather than looking like she was in pain, which she clearly was, she wore an expression of pure outrage. “I would have appreciated it if Blueberry mentioned that the first thing you do when you wake up is punch the shit out of someone.” She mumbled through gritted teeth. I only shook my head at that, gently separating her arms from her stomach and straightening her. I allowed my flame to heal whatever damage I might have caused, hoping it would at least ease Ann’s annoyance. It appeared to work. She relaxed as the gentle flame worked its magic. Ann sounded like she was saying something, but it was hard to tell. I was thinking about my dream. Why did it pop up again after twenty two years? Perhaps my mother wanted to tell me something? I tried to dig through my memories, looking for an event that could have triggered the dream to come up again. “Uh, Fell? Are you listening to me?” I was abruptly brought back to reality when Ann tugged at the sleeve of my worn T-shirt. “I apologize, what happened?” I asked, offering her a soft smile to show I was listening. Ann arched her brow. She knew something was up. Which meant she wasn’t going to drop it. Lovely. “What was it you wanted to say?” I prompted. “I was just saying that Blueberry has food ready, and you know that she doesn’t let anyone eat until everyone is there,” Ann added, “Which is problematic for two people in particular.” Well, then that means she won’t have time to interrogate, I thought, feeling slightly relieved. I flicked my hand slightly, and the flame went out. Ann, understanding the silent signal, left the room to make her way downstairs. But I didn’t follow her immediately. Instead, I opened one of the drawers from a small storage chest and plucked one of the photos of my mother and I, just months before she died. I brought my hand up to the orange and red checkered scarf around my neck, a habit that I couldn’t seem to break whenever I looked at these photos. I stared at the photo for a few moments more before making my way downstairs, the bickering already beginning. And I was unsure of whether today would be easy or not..

To be continued!

Wow! That was a bit different for me! But I think it was a fun experience, as I’m used to writing through Ann’s perspective (I probably wouldn’t say writing though. It was always roleplaying. (；ω；) ] I hope you liked it, I’ve been really interested for a long time as to what Fell’s backstory is, and now that I know, I hope you’ll be just as interested! Thanks for sticking though with me! I’ll have part 2 soon, I promise-

#fanfic #writing #story writing #story #short story #fantasy #oc #part 1 #first story

6 notes · View notes

theredwritingwitch · 1 year

Text

Soulmate Fic- Tune Your Soulwaves

Pairing: Tim Rockford x reader

Soulmate AU: Soulmates can tune a radio to the sound of their soulmate, can then communicate to each other through the airwaves.

Words: 1.4

Warnings: language, fluff!!!

Note: Little soulmate fic in honor of Pedro’s birthday!

______________________________________________________________

He braced his forehead against the steering wheel of his car. He could hear the chatter of police officers standing in front of the mansion’s doors beyond the yellow crime scene tape. He had walked the grounds and halls of the mansion many times over now, felt the broken glass as well as the soft loose petals of flowers crunch under the weight of his shoes. Droplets of fresh rain fogged his glasses, Tim didn’t care.

Notes were scattered about next to him in the passenger seat of his car. Open manila folders, black and white photos of suspects, and receipts for cooking ingredients scattered and fell off the seat to the floor. Tim looked down at the evidence he had compiled, unbothered to pick the notes back up and reorganize himself. Not tonight anyways. The bright lights of the cop cars glared down on him through the windows. Small droplets of rain slowly dribbled down the windows as more droplets spat down from the clouds above to the puddles below.

The night was only beginning and the detective was already done with the day. His brain was pounding through his temples just as his eyes seemed to tire themselves out with constant stain. Tim had leafed through multiple books, delicately handled piles and piles of knives, and dug his hands into some viscously scrumptious blueberry pie. But even after long hours of going over taped meetings and footage, he had nothing but boards of bottomless theories and trash cans full of shitty take out food.

The moon looked down on the poor detective as his long held breath huffed out of him. His case was far out of his grasp yet he still had a long night left of work to get done. But for a minute Tim wanted nothing to do with the case. Tim closed his eyes for peace just as a small tune of jazz music sang out on the car’s speakers. He opened his eyes and shifted his head from the wheel to the sound. Maybe he could get lucky tonight. Just a little bit of luck?

Resting his cheek to the steering wheel, Tim stretched his arm to the tuning knob. He listened carefully as the knob tuned in and out of the static between channels. The detective heard strumming of guitars, blurry static, salsa, loud static, sports chatter, mumbled static, and gospel.

“Come on baby, are you out there tonight?”

More mumbling chatter and static rang threw his car before he stumbled on the familiar hum. His fingers twitched as he reversed his roll and tuned back and forth till the humming became crystal clear.

“There you are,” Tim smiled as he sat up and scooted over to the radio, raising the volume so he could fill the space with something pleasant. “Always where I last left you.”

“Where else would I be?” your voice chimed out of the speakers and into Tim’s ears.

“I imagine you would be sitting in front of a fire, curled up with a book.”

“That sounds rather wonderful right now,” you murmured to him.

Tim smiled at the warmth of your voice, “If not that, then maybe at this late hour you're in bed, listening and waiting for some music to carry you off to sleep.”

“Staying up listening to the sound of your voice sounds more blissful.”

“You’re a sweetheart, have I told you that?”

“You’ve mentioned it once or twice,” you laughed as your voice went in and out of the radio. “So another late night huh?”

“As always. Same with you?”

“As always,” you mimicked him with a dry chuckle.

“So back to our guessing game?”

“Of course!” Tim laughed at your excitement. He had been guessing your occupation for some time, trying to narrow down who you were and where you were.

“Let me think then,” Tim put his car in gear and drove away from the crime scene. “You’re definitely not in any sort of government related work. But you are on the clock right now.”

“That is correct, detective. We both work the late shift apparently.” You couldn’t help but mock him a little.

Tim paused and with an elated smile he replied back, “That’s correct honey!”

“What’s correct?”

“I’m a—” the static returned to the radio drowning out Tim’s words and your own. Tim kept one hand on the wheel as he continued to drive down the dark roads, while his other hand re-tuned the radio.

“Did I get it right?” Your voice strained through the returning static. “You’re actually a—” jazz music and soon news chatter sounded through the radio. Tim refused to let up though as he continued to search the airwaves. Every so often, for a mere second or two, he would catch a glimpse of your voice through the radio. Excitement could easily be heard in your voice but the static returned every time Tim felt he was close.

“Come on baby, you can do it.” Tim begged for you through the persevering static. After many minutes of driving through rain and surfing through static, Tim’s hand began to cramp as your voice was lost in the airwaves. He slapped the top of the dashboard with a low yet agitated “damn” that took up the only noise in the car as Tim turned the radio off. He would just have to try again later tonight or even tomorrow.

After driving into an empty parking space in front of his favorite take-out restaurant, Tim rubbed his hands through his hair and over his eyes. Exiting his car and slowly dragging his steps into the restaurant, Tim was greeted with the sound of static playing on the radio. It sounded like someone else was having a hard time tuning their signals as well.

Tim called out to the server in the kitchen. He had been to the restaurant many times before, but always picked his orders up to go, never sticking around. Tonight he just wanted a little bit of company though.

You jumped back from tuning the radio and rushed to the counter quickly writing down his order before returning to the kitchen and back with his drink. You were jittery and bouncing about the place. Apparently you were in a better mood than him, which was obvious as he plopped down into his seat.

“Rough night?” you asked. There was a familiarity in your voice that made Tim pause and give you a good look up and down before he answered.

“Oh just some broken reception issues with the radio, you know.”

You agreed with a nod “Happened to me today too.”

“Really, you don’t look so sad about it,” Tim’s voice quizzed you.

“Nope actually, I figured out something pretty important about my soulmate today.”

A smile crept on Tim’s face, even if he was having a rough go at meeting his soulmate, he was happy someone else was finding theirs. “What’s that?”

“My man is a detective! Can you believe it? A real Private Investigator!” You broke out into a large bright toothed smile, “Too bad he seems a bit bad at it though, otherwise he would have found me already.”

Tim couldn’t help himself as he leaned back and laughed. “Honey, maybe his detective skills are better than you think, or maybe he just has some dumb luck every once in a while.” He certainly couldn’t believe his own dumb luck at the moment.

You looked at the handsome man questionably, “Suppose so? That could be a possibility. We all can have some dumb luck every now and again. Maybe even you could get lucky.”

“I think I have,” Tim whispered to himself as he watched you set his food and check down.

“Do you suppose you give out discounts for officers or maybe even detectives,” Tim slowly pushed his badge forward on the counter, watching you stop in your tracks and gasp up at him.

Your hands traced over the badge before saying “I think something could be arranged, maybe a meal or two could be on the house.” Your bright smile returned to your face as you looked into his charming chocolate eyes.

Tim smiled back at you as he leaned forward, placing his hands over yours, “You’re a sweetheart, have I told you that?”

“You’ve mentioned it once or twice,” you murmured as your detective’s lips brushed and then settled down onto yours just as a swinging jazz song came on the radio from the kitchen.

#Tim Rockford #merge mansion #soulmateau #Pedro Pascal

73 notes · View notes

lovinterstellar · 1 year

Note

do u know any products that are good for hair growth and also thickens hair? It's so hard to find something..

hii i'm not sure what your hair type is so I'm going to list some products for different hair types ♡

TYPE 1-2 (straight-wavy)

homeade hair mask- egg, banana, avocado, honey, and any hair oil (rosemary is a great choice)

essynaturals hair oil

jojoba oil

the mane choice hair oil

Viviscal oil

castor oil

Olaplex bonding treatment

rosemary oil

TYPE 3-4 (curly-coily)

curls blueberry bliss hair oil

mielle hair oil

the mane choice hair oil

camille rose oil

carols daughter hair oil

rice water hair spray

hair growth oil

homeade hair mask- egg, banana, avocado, honey, and rosemary oil

EXTRA TIPS (ANY HAIR TYPE)

use one of these scalp massagers while you wash your hair

rinse hair with cold water after conditioner

only use conditioner on ends of hair not your scalp

supplements work great!

get frequent trims

try not to use heat on your hair, if you do like to occasionally, use heat protectant

don't wash your hair everyday

#girlblogging #girl blogger #girlblog #pinklipgloss777 #my asks #hair tips #hair growth

21 notes · View notes

mcufan72 · 1 year

Text

Cold winter days, a lonely woman on a bench, a stranger in the park...

An Encounter in Winter ❄️

Loki and female reader

Chapter 14

Chapter 13

18+/adult themes/talking/flirting/slow burn/fluff/angst/smut

Warnings: fluff and smut, unprotected sex, soft!dom/sub vibes, mentions of slight breeding kink, insecurities, unexpected reactions and incidents

"I'm so happy we saw The Northern Lights, I didn't expect that anymore, honestly. And I wanted so much for you to see them… mmmhhhmm oh yes, Lo…don't stop doing that", you moaned with pleasure and Loki chuckled lightly.

"Me neither, but it was beautiful and absolutely magical…like you, Snowflake."

Loki massaged your shoulders and your nape with a firm but sensitive touch, his thumbs digging deep into the tensed parts of your muscles.

"Nooo, I'm not magical… but your hands are…a bit harder, baby…please…"

"Uhhh… be careful what you're begging for, my Lady, there's still so much tension inside of you", he groaned seductively and pecked a soft kiss to your nape.

You sat between his spread thighs, your body caged by his forbidden long and muscular legs. You two enjoyed the warm bubble bath Loki had prepared for you and the bathroom was filled with the calming aroma of the lavender bath foam.

After Loki's enjoyable massage, you leaned back against his firm wet chest, curled your hand around his neck and pulled his head down to you to kiss him gently, your fingers caressing his nape. He put his arms around your middle and hugged you tightly. You two enjoyed this proximity and the skin-to-skin feeling to its fullest. Nothing felt better. This wasn't sexual, it was about closeness and trust, tenderness and genuine feelings.

"Isn't the water too warm for you?" you asked him concerned while you were building a foam mountain in front of you.

"For your Blueberry definitely yes, for your Lo not", he said relaxed.

He loved to sit in the tub with you like this. He always needed you close to him and the feeling of your body leaning against his was what he craved. You were his greatest bliss.

Your head rested comfortably in the crook of his neck and his wet skin against yours felt so calming and soft. Your fingers were poking into the foam mountain in front of you while Loki's nose traced over your temple and his lips pressed soft kisses to your cheekbone, cheek, and jaw. You tilted your head a bit to give him further access to your neck and closed your eyes, soaking up this moment of special intimacy.

"I have a little surprise for you, Lo", you said, opening your eyes again.

"A surprise?" He murmured between soft kisses against your dampened skin.

What could it be? Had you already made the life-changing decision? It would definitely surprise him. Until now you haven't said yes or no. But he definitely wanted you to take your time and not make a rash decision.

"Mmh mmh", you loosened yourself from his embrace and slid to the other side of the bathtub, turning around and facing him now. You let yourself slide down a bit deeper into the water and rested your head on the rim of the bathtub, smiling at him.

"We will fly to London!", and you let your foot slowly slide up his stomach up to his chest, your toes playing with his wet chest hair.

With your big toe you traced over his chest and caressed his nipples. You could do this for hours. This god was your drug.

"London? I thought we had to return directly to New York."

"Nope, I got two days more approved by Tony and Bruce so I thought we could visit London before our day-to-day life has us back. I hope you like my surprise and look forward to it as much as I do."

"There's no place in this world or another where I wouldn't like to be with you, my love…and you should stop doing thissss…", and he grabbed your ankle and kissed and licked the sole of your foot and sucked your toes.

"No no no no, Looo…it's tickling…stop, please stop", you giggled.

In a swift move, he pulled you by your ankle towards him between his widening legs, your thighs over his, your calves wrapping around his waist. He captured your lips and gave you a passionate kiss, his tongue playing with yours. He never failed to make you shiver.

"Did I already tell you how much I enjoyed the time with you here, at this wonderful, peaceful place and how much I love you?"

"Nooo, you didn't, my pretty god… but tell me, are you looking forward to our prolonged vacay? Or do you already have enough of me and… want to go back on missions soon?" You asked him, insecurity consuming you.

You never failed to make him feel warm and tingly whenever you told him he was pretty. How could you doubt his deep affection for you? He would follow you anywhere. You were his and you were perfect.

"Are you serious? As if I could ever have enough of you. Of course, I look forward to visiting London with you, my love. It's another homecoming for you, hm?"

"Yeah, but please, Lo don't think my reasons are selfish. I just want to show you all the places of Midgard I love the most and I want to make good memories together with you there …before you take me to the stars one day and show me your favorite places."

"You're not selfish, Snowflake. I want to see everything you like and love, I want to know everything about you, London will be a perfect addition to our book of new stories", he murmured and kissed your lips softly. You held him by his broad shoulders and rested your forehead against his. This man, your man, was just perfect.

"Fine, that makes me truly happy, Lo… thank you", you answered quietly and pecked a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

"We should leave the bath now, the water is getting cold and the skin on my fingers is already quite shrivelled", you laughed and Loki agreed.

"Yesss, I should get my Queen out of the water quickly before she dissolves completely", he joked and you hit his shoulder playfully.

"You're outrageous, baby, but I love you, I love you so much", you chuckled and loosened yourself from him after kissing him one more time.

You two left the tub, dried each other with big fluffy towels and laid down in bed, cuddling naked under the blanket. It didn't take long until you both fell asleep in each other's arms.

It was on your last afternoon in Norway when Mrs Andersson came to visit you. You stood on the terrace in front of the winter garden and you were watching Loki on the jetty, trying to catch a fish. Again and again, he renewed the bait on his rod and cast it out in a high bow. On Asgard he never had to do this, fish was always served to him prepared and ready-cooked. But he had fun fishing here and of course, he wanted to impress you as well. He wanted to show you that he was able to take care of you and feed you.

You knew he wasn't an overly spoiled prince and neither an expert in fishing but you were definitely impressed. His ambition to take care of the dinner was truly cute. You knew he would do everything for you and he was so sweet in his desperate attempts to catch a fish for you. But the fishes weren't in the mood to do him the favour of getting caught by him so you were laughing when you called over to your lover.

"Blueberry, shouldn't we go out tonight for dinner? I know a nice fish restaurant here", you mocked him playfully.

"If you keep shouting that loud, we might have to do this! You're expelling the fishes, Snowflake. I'll catch one, just wait and be patient … and don't you dare mock me, darling, otherwise…"

"You'll punish me, my Blueberry-god?" A smirk curved your lips.

Loki turned around to look at you and pushed the sunglasses up into his hair, his red eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

"It seems…you're just waiting for it. Am I right, Snowflake? But you have to beg your god harder!" You could clearly see the seductive smile on his face.

"You just have to try harder, Blueberry… to catch a fish… but of course, I'll take your punishment too, Sir."

"Be careful what you wish for, pet", and he turned towards the water again.

You grinned smugly and bit your lower lip lightly at the imagination of how Loki would punish you, grabbing you firmly by your waist and fucking you roughly against the wall until you would cry his name and beg him for mercy and salvation…

At just this moment Mrs Andersson walked around the corner of the house and entered the terrace. You saw her in the corner of your eyes and turned towards her.

"Oh, hello Mrs Andersson, what a lovely surprise. Nice to see you. Please take a seat", and you offered her one of the chairs standing on the terrace.

"How are you doing?"

"Hello Mrs. Laufeyson, I'm doing good, min jente (my girl). I'm so sorry for being intrusive. I knocked at the front door but you didn't hear me. Thank you for your offer but I just wanted to bring you this cake, and she passed you a self-made apple pie.

"It's your last day here and I thought it would be a nice farewell gift. I hope you like apple pie?" She asked kindly.

"This is so nice of you, thanks Mrs Andersson… and yesss we love apple pie", you answered her thankfully.

Inwardly you laughed lightly because she addressed you again as Mrs Laufeyson… and you loved being addressed as Loki's wife.

"Did you enjoy your holiday here? I hope you two felt comfortable in my house and you had a nice time here."

"We had a wonderful, relaxing time here, indeed. It's such a calming and peaceful place. We felt so comfortable and carefree here."

"Oh, yes I know exactly what you mean, min jente. It was the same here for my husband and me when we were young", she said knowingly and winked at you.

"My husband bought this house and the beach for us and it had always been our piece of paradise and an oasis of silence and togetherness. Since my husband passed away it's too big for me alone and we don't have children. That's why I modernized it and it's rented now as a vacation home. I'm glad that you liked it here and had a happy time here."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs Andersson." You felt sad for her. She must feel so alone. You thought about Loki…you didn't want Loki to be alone and live without you …and you put the pie down on one of the chairs.

"Don't be, he's just gone ahead over the rainbow bridge and is waiting for me in Valhalla and one day we'll be together again." She smiled brightly at you, totally convinced that it must be exactly like this.

"Valhalla…", you whispered thoughtfully.

"Don't mind me, min jente, it's just an old Norse myth and I love this imagination. I see your husband is trying to catch a fish… there are not many fish in the bay here", she smiled.

"Yes, he tries but with limited success but he has fun doing it, that's what counts", you said smilingly.

"Ahhm…Mrs Andersson…", you addressed her hastily when you got aware that she wanted to greet Loki and had already turned towards the jetty.

"Yes, dear?" She turned her head to gaze at you.

"Could you please wait here for a moment?"

"Of course!", she smiled at you with friendly eyes.

You looked thankfully at her and you went over to Loki. Has she already seen your lover's natural form? Today he was fully dressed in a tight-fitting long-sleeved t-shirt and sweatpants so maybe she hadn't seen his natural state and he had the chance to transform into the appearance he felt more comfortable in among strangers. You wanted to warn him. You two weren't prepared to see anyone here and you didn't want him to be seen in his natural form without knowing it and without being aware that you had a guest. As his girlfriend, it was your duty to protect him as much as he always protected you. You wanted him to always feel safe with you.

Loki felt you walking towards him and he also felt your little nervousness. But why were you nervous? Before you could even say a word he turned around to show you the fish he had just caught right before you had reached him.

"Look Snowflake, I was—", and he turned around to you.

"Blueberry, we—"

Loki saw Mrs Andersson standing right at the end of the jetty on the terrace, looking in his direction and waving at him. He felt how anxiety choked his throat. Forgotten was the fish, which slipped out of his hands and back into the water.

Because of his reaction and the way he stood stiff as a poker in front of you, you knew that he had already seen Mrs Andersson. Time stood still for a moment and you needed to react because Loki couldn't.

"Lo, please…don't panic now, okay? Come, come with me, trust me everything is fine, okay? I'm here. I won't leave you alone. Come, darling", you said quietly and smiled reassuringly at him.

You took his hand into yours and walked together with him to Mrs Andersson.

When you both stood finally in front of her, Loki wasn't able to look at her, not even with his sunglasses on. He just waited for the scream of the old lady. He just hoped she wouldn't faint because of his blue skin, the marks and his red eyes, he would keep hidden behind the sunglasses. He held his head down and you felt how his grip on your hand tightened painfully. You nearly teared up because he stood there like a scalded little boy who had stolen the freshly baked cake. Mrs Andersson was speechless but fascinated and she felt the tension in the air and the insecurity of the handsome man in front of her.

"Hello Mr.Laufeyson, I just brought you some apple pie to sweeten up your last day here. May I say that I've never seen such a good-looking man like you? Please forgive an old woman saying this to you but you're truly beautiful."

You smiled brightly. You knew it, Mrs Andersson liked you two right from the beginning and her reaction was pure gold. She had no idea how meaningful her reaction towards Loki's appearance was for him.

"You…are not afraid of me? I mean… I look different, and frightening", Loki whispered meekly.

"Oh Mr. Laufeyson, you're not frightening me. I'm living in a country full of myths and legends and it's not that I had never heard about the Norse gods and frost giants before…but I've never seen one until now…so a childhood dream comes true. I wish my husband could see us standing here together on the terrace he had built himself." She giggled like a happy little girl.

"So I'm not the monster your parents told you about at night?"

"No, Mr Laufeyson, my mother told me quite a different story where Jotuns and Asgardians weren't enemies. And don't worry, I won't tell anyone about our secret. You two are safe with me and this here…", she made a wide gesture with her arm towards the house and the bay, "...will always be a safe place for you."

Your eyes teared up and you hugged her spontaneously.

"Thank you, thank you so much, Mrs Andersson. You've no idea what this means to us."

"It's alright, min jente, it's alright. That's the least I can do for you and I hope you're going to come back here one day", she said softly and patted your back gently.

"We'll definitely come back. Thank you, Mrs Andersson. You truly have a heart and you are one of the nicest and most undaunted persons I've ever met." Loki said.

He tried to hold back a tear from falling. He never expected this reaction towards his natural appearance from someone who wasn't you or his brother. Now he knew you were right, not everyone was afraid of him. Maybe he wasn't that disgusting and frightening to others.

You broke the embrace with Mrs Andersson and took the apple pie from the chair, where you had placed it.

"I just take the pie to the kitchen and make some tea. And please stay, Mrs Andersson, be our guest. I'm back in a minute." You smiled at her and Loki and vanished towards the kitchen.

"So you know who and what I am?" Loki asked her, astonished.

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, now I'm sure to know who you are. There was something special about you two right from the beginning, a special aura. I just couldn't define what it was."

"But how? I mean…"

"Your name gave it away. When I got to know you I thought it was just a coincidence …and now I know it's not. And I feel honoured to have met you," and she bowed her head respectfully.

"Please no, Mrs Andersson, please don't do that… please just treat me as a friend, if you feel comfortable to see a friend in me. But thank you for showing your respect and politeness towards me and my … girlfriend."

"I always forget that you're not married", she laughed. "You and her are a wonderful couple. She's utterly in love with you!"

"I know. And I love her, she's my each and everything. I love her more than my life. I'll never let her go. She's my goddess."

"She will never leave you, believe me, I can feel it."

"Yes, I hope so. By the way, may I ask you something, Mrs Andersson?"...

While you made tea and cut the apple pie into small pieces you saw Loki and Mrs Andersson intensively talking to each other. You were happy for him that Mrs Andersson acted so relaxed around him. This place here was truly magical and you wished that Loki and you could come back here one day and enjoy the peace and calmness of this place again. You put the teapot, cups and cake on a tray and returned to Mrs Andersson and Loki, who had changed in his æsir form again.

"Thank you Mrs Andersson…for everything," Loki said cryptically.

"My pleasure, Mr Laufeyson… oh the tea is coming," she said when she saw you coming out of the house, walking towards them.

You put the tray onto the table and poured the tea into the cups. After you three had drunk the tea and eaten some cake, Mrs Andersson said goodbye.

"I wish you a safe journey home and please, come back whenever you want, I'd like to have you here in my house again. You're always welcome here."

"We'll definitely come back, Mrs Andersson", and you hugged her again.

"Keep him, min jente. He truly loves you!" Mrs Andersson whispered to your ear. You nodded knowingly at her and a bright smile curved your lips.

"Take good care of yourself and thanks again, Mrs. Andersson", Loki said and shook her hand and gave an implied kiss to the back of her hand.

"I'd love to hear from you soon, Mr Laufeyson and the next time you're here you can try again to catch a fish for your girlfriend."

You all laughed heartily and you two waved at Mrs Andersson when she left. Loki wrapped an arm around your middle and pulled you closer to his side.

"What were you two talking about, Lo? You seemed to have an intense conversation."

"Nothing special, Snowflake. We talked about … Norse myths and stuff. She's an adorable old lady. I like her."

"Yeah, she's wonderful. She reminds me of my mum. Do you believe me now that my Blueberry isn't frightening for everyone?"

"I do, my love. Thank you for supporting me and…mpffhh... "

You crushed your lips onto his and gave him a devouring kiss. Sometimes you just loved to make him shut up like this. Norns, how much you loved this man.

He didn't know why but your kiss made his cock twitch with desire. He would never be able to resist you and your wonderful touches and kisses. You've already started teasing him when he tried fishing. He knew you did it on purpose, he felt your urgent desire for him since you've woken up this morning.

"Sleep with me, Lo baby. I need you buried in me", you murmured against his lips. Loki pressed his bulge against your crotch, slowly grinding into your clothed heat.

"As my Queen wishes!", and he lifted you up.

Norns, how much he loved you, his beautiful woman. You wrapped your legs around his waist, curled your arms around his neck and he carried you to the bedroom. You two got hurriedly rid of your clothes and you kissed him impatiently, forcing your tongue into his mouth. Adoring your impatience and rankness, he laid you down on the mattress, never breaking the kiss and towering above you. He cupped your breasts, tenderly squeezing them and rubbing his thumbs over your sensitive nipples.

"No foreplay, Sir… just fuck me, please."

"So desperate for me, aren't you?"

"Shut up, Lo, and fuck me!"

You didn't know why you were so desperate for him today. Maybe you were ovulating or developing a breeding fetish… anyway you needed him desperately.

"You little whore, want to get fucked like a slut, don't you?" he murmured darkly into your ear.

His hard length was throbbing with excitement. You rocked yourself against his heated cock, inviting him to slide finally inside you. You both gasped audibly when he did. Loki started to slam into you. He latched his mouth to your neck and licked and sucked your soft, hot skin harshly. Your whimpers turned to a yelp and you felt the first waves of an orgasm rising. The sweet pain of his assault on your neck and the slamming sounds of his flesh onto yours were your undoing.

You opened your legs wider for him so he could bury himself inside you to the root. Your hands roamed and scratched over his back, his hard muscles tensing and bulging with every deep thrust of his hips. Your hands grabbed his buttocks and you pressed him relentlessly against you. You needed him closer and thrusting you harder and your fingers dug deeper into his ass cheeks.

"Lokiiii…I'm close, please, cum inside of me…please…fill me, my God …fill meee", you whimpered, writhing and groaning underneath him.

"Norns, Snowflake don't squeeze me that much…I can't…hold back…dammit I won't last any longer…if you keep doing this…," and a deep growl escaped his throat.

Your scent, your sweat, your velvet skin on his, your erect nipples rubbing over his chest, and your hand cupping his ass made him lose his mind. He loved when you did this. It gave him the feeling of being wanted. He wanted to explode inside of you, he wanted to fill you up with his seed and watch how it drips out of you when he would pull his cock out of your well fucked cunt. He felt how you convulsed around him and he knew you were close.

"Cum for me, now… you're all mine, pet, all mine," he groaned to your ear and he felt your walls clenching. He pulled back his cock until just the tip remained inside of you and stopped for a few seconds.

"You make me feel so good, my love,"

"Sir, I need to cum…"

He slammed into you again, rocking his hips firmly against yours, his pubic hair rubbing over your throbbing clit.

"That's it, cum for me princess…my goddess…cum for me right now…", and Loki exploded deep inside of you, flooding you with all of his hot cum.

You held him so utterly close to you when you gave in to your orgasm and relaxed into the warm waves of satisfaction. You both panted and sighed heavily, never loosening your grip on each other. Since your bonding it always felt so intense, so satisfying. After you both came down from your highs, Loki pulled slowly out of you and rolled to the side. You gazed at him when he left the bed and you felt his seed dripping slowly out of you.

"Where are you and your sexy ass going my King?" you whined. You didn't want to be alone.

"To the bathroom, my Queen. I'm back soon," and he kissed your forehead.

While he was quickly cleaning himself and preparing a warm washcloth for you, you stretched out on the bed, hands above your head and with eyes closed, and savoured the aftermath of your hot lovemaking. You still felt his touches and kisses on your skin. You felt him coming back to you and when he began to gently clean you, you opened your eyes again.

"Can I have some more aftercare, Sir?", you asked him softly.

"Of course, my Lady, I just wanted to clean you up first and I didn't want to use magic tonight. You know I would never deny holding you in my arms after making love to you", he murmured and crawled back into the bed again. He pulled you immediately into his embrace and held you close to him. You curled your arm around his waist and tangled your legs with his. You buried your nose into the crook of his neck and inhaled his scent.

"I don't want to leave this place, Lo. I wish we could stay here." You played with some tendrils of his soft hair and sighed.

"I know, Snowflake. I don't want to go either." His fingers traced up and down your arm and he pressed a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

"And we still have two more days in London and I can't wait to be there with you."

"Yes, you're right, Lo. But this place here was something special."

You kissed his pecs gently and snuggled deeper into his body.

"I'm hungry, baby."

"Then we should eat something, my love. Do you want to go out? To the fish restaurant?"

"Let us stay here, baby. We have some leftovers and we could also eat the rest of the delicious apple pie. What do you think?"

"Sounds like a good plan, my Queen. Come, let's get some food", and you two jumped out of the bed and prepared the kitchen table with all the leftovers, the pie and some wine and water.

You enjoyed one last time sitting naked at the kitchen table and feeding each other. Once back in the compound's kitchen, you wouldn't be able to be that carefree and shameless. Maybe you could be, but you neither wanted to cause a scandal nor be responsible for several heart attacks of your housemates. You two already knew how much you would miss this kind of togetherness and the atmosphere of serenity and lightness.

You had to leave early the next morning. Your packed suitcases were already in the car and you two stood on the jetty for one last time.

"Goodbye Norway, thank you for being so good to me", Loki whispered and tears welled up in your eyes. He looked at you and took your hand in his. "And thank you, my love, for bringing me here. I had the best time of my life here with you, I never felt so free", and he kissed you passionately.

"I feel the same, Lo and you made our vacation here perfect! We come back here, right?"

"We will come back here, I promise, Snowflake!"

He hugged you tightly and then you walked arm in arm with teary eyes to the car, to drive back to Oslo. You had to be right in time at the airport to get your flight to London.

Two days exploring an amazing city like London weren't enough. You two also had some struggles adjusting to the huzzle and buzzle of a big city again after all the time in the silence and loneliness of Norway. But sooner or later you had to because New York was so much bigger and louder and in less than one day you would be on your final way back home.

You had already done some shopping in Oxford Street, visited Covent Garden, had a snack at Borough Market, spent time at the Tower of London, walked over the Tower Bridge across the River Thames and you also looked at the changing of the Guards on Buckingham Palace. Loki commented on the parade and how small this little Palace was in comparison with the Golden Palace of Asgard. He made you laugh with his lengthy explanations but he was so adorable while talking about it.

You two decided to let the day come to a cosy end. To return to your beloved tradition, you wanted to take a stroll in one of London's famous parks and you decided to go to Regent's Park. Instead of sitting in a cafe afterwards, you went to a pastry shop to get some cupcakes. You wanted to make a picnic and eat them later while sitting on a park bench.

You two stood in front of the counter which was full of the nicest, craziest and most mouth-watering waffle sandwiches, churros and milkshakes you had ever seen. You were grateful that there was a line of other customers because you definitely needed some more time to decide on what you wanted to order.

"I really miss our cafe in New York but this here…", you said enthusiastically, "...is beyond belief…I need to go on a diet when we're back home!"

"Don't you dare say this, my love? You're perfect. Say it again and I'll feed you with all the cakes this town is willing to sell me", and he gave you a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Okay, okay I'm already quiet", you laughed. "I can't believe that we'll be on our flight back home to New York tomorrow."

"Me neither, Snowflake but unfortunately we have to."

You giggled and joked and talked until it was your turn to make your order. The person who was standing with his back towards you annoyed you a bit because she or he took a long time to get ready to leave until you could go a step forward to make your order. Loki paid the bill and you two were ready to leave the pastry shop. Suddenly, on your way out, someone bumped sideways into you and hastily left the store, a little child by the hand.

"Heyyy, excuse me? Can't you just look where you're going", you called after the person. "Jerk…some people are incredibly ruthless, aren't they?" you said annoyed and Loki shrugged his shoulders.

"It happens, my love, don't be angry. Are you hurt, darling?" he asked, concerned.

"No, I'm fine, Lo!"

"You should have a look at your handbag. Maybe it was a pickpocket", one of the other customers said.

"Oh no, please not, it happened to me several years ago", and you began to examine your handbag and checked if anything was stolen.

"Did you notice anything?" Loki wondered.

"No, I just had the feeling that this person tried to be close to us, maybe eavesdropping on us while we waited in the line…yes…it was the person who got served before us. And I remember a tattoo on the back of their hand. It covered the hand completely…but I couldn't see the face because of the cap that the jerk was wearing," you were still rummaging in your purse.

"Hmmm are you sure, Snowflake?"

"No, I'm not…it just felt weird…but I'm sure about the tattoo. Hmmm, no, nothing's missing. Wallet, phone, passport… everything is there. Forget it, he or she was just a rude person. Come, Lo, let's go to the park and eat these delicacies."

"What exactly do you mean, Snowflake? Want me to eat these…or you," he murmured seductively to your ear and with your elbow you gave him a hard poke in the ribs and smiled at him.

"Uurrgghh…do want to break my bones, Snowflake?", Loki jokingly questioned.

"As if I could seriously hurt you…You just can't stop it, can you?"

"Stop doing what, my love?" He asked, his signature smirk curving his lips.

"Stopping teasing and seducing me, Lo!" You pouted playfully.

"How am I supposed to stop it, Snowflake? I just can't stop loving you."

You laughed and kissed his lips softly and as the smitten man he was, his hand grabbed yours and with your fingers intertwined, you walked to Regent's Park. After enjoying the tasty treats you sat on the bench, Loki's arm tightly wrapped around your shoulder, your body leaning against him. The bench you were sitting on was surrounded by yellow roses and their scent was delightful.

You were watching the people and the scenery when you saw a little girl, maybe four or five years old, standing on the meadow, looking around as if she was searching for something or someone. She was all alone so you checked the surroundings but you couldn't see anyone to whom the little girl belonged. You stood up from the bench and walked over to her and bowed down to her to meet her eye level.

"Hey little girl. Do you miss your mum or dad? May I help you find them? My name is y/n. Would you like to tell me what your name is?" you addressed her calmly and quietly. You didn't want to scare her. She gave you no answer and stayed quiet.

"Oh, I see…you're not allowed to talk to strangers and you're absolutely right. I wouldn't do it either if I were you. Should we just wait here with you for your mum or your dad? I'm sure they're already looking for you."

The little girl still didn't answer and showed no reaction. She just stared at you and you couldn't say if she was afraid or curious. Loki stood next to you. He knew that his height might be frightening for the little girl so he went into a squat, knelt on one knee and placed his hands on his thighs.

"Hi, you. Nice to meet you. I'm Loki. Don't be afraid, we will find your parents", he said softly and he gave the girl a friendly smile.

The little girl stared intensely at him as if she was waiting for him to do something exciting. And he did. He thought it might be a good thing to distract her a little bit until her parents would hopefully appear. He turned one of his palms upwards and conjured a small firework, a shimmer of green surrounding his hand. A little smile appeared on her face, barely to see. He let the colours of the fireworks change just to entertain her. It made you smile too, he was really sweet with her. You were still concerned that nobody seemed to look for her. But you two wouldn't leave her alone. If nobody would come you had to call the police. After mere minutes the little girl looked over Loki's shoulder. He was still kneeling in front of her and just conjured further fireworks on his palm. All of a sudden she ran away, storming into the arms of a person, who was obviously looking for her. You were glad that she had found her parents again but you furrowed your eyebrows and looked astonished at the person who was awaiting the little girl with open arms.

"What is it, Snowflake?" Loki stood up from the meadow and looked in the same direction as you.

"I'm sure it's the same person who ran into me in the pastry shop."

"Really?"

"Yeah, look at the hand…and the cap."

Loki did and he saw it too. On the hand was a big tattoo.

"Do you know that person? I mean, you lived here", Loki asked you curiously.

"No, not to my knowledge, no…but I don't believe in coincidences and I just wonder why we saw this person twice at two different places here today."

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚🤔💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

Taglist:

@lokisprettygirl @anukulee @stupidthoughtsinwriting @obscureenigmatic @wheredafandomat @fictive-sl0th @lokixryss @smolvenger @lovingchoices14 @huntress-artemiss

#loki #loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x reader fluff #loki laufeyson #loki x reader fic #loki x reader angst #loki x reader smut #jotun loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki x female reader angst

51 notes · View notes

doyelikehaggis · 2 years

Text

Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Bamenzo | Bonnie Bennett x Damon Salvatore x Enzo St. John (The Vampire Diaries)

Requested by @blairwaldcrf

The eager rays of sun slip in through the cracks in the blinds and curtains, spilling out in fractions of orange all across the room like a beehive. A light autumn breeze slips in through the open kitchen window and pulls the smell of fresh pancakes through the cabin. There's a symphony of mirth in the laughter that fills every shadowed crevice and corner, accompanied by the plucking of guitar strings and a rustling newspaper.

How completely strange it must appear to those on the outside. The three of them up at the crack of dawn, chasing the sun as though it'll never rise again simply to sit around the kitchen table and eat breakfast together. A snapshot of pure domestic bliss.

It strikes Bonnie. She pauses with her pen hovering over her crossword to look over at Enzo, sitting haphazardly on a chair with a foot angled on another one as he strums his strings to some vaguely familiar tune. He stops and rolls his eyes when Damon teases him for messing up a chord, and suddenly they're bickering again with the most joyful of smiles. They wouldn't rather be anywhere else.

Damon cuts their "argument" short as he begins dishing out pancakes onto the plate in the middle of the table. Rising steam reflects in the sun's rays, curling and reaching for the ceiling. The room fills with the delicious smell of strawberries and blueberries.

She smiles and moves to grab a pancake or two when the word she was looking for finally jumps into her head. She hurries to scrawl each letter into the little boxes, then sits back to stare at the completed crossword proudly. Contented.

89 notes · View notes

dmeadwwes · 2 years

Text

“Father, forgive me. I know that I have gone astray, ‘Cause when I saw my reflection, it was a stranger beneath my face.”

did you hear that [ DORCAS MEADOWES ] will be attending the Black Ball during the coming weekend? They recently arrived in London for the social season and we will be excited to see if they make a splash this year. I heard that they are currently working as an [ CURSEBREAKER ] and that they have been quite successful. They always reminded me of [ A LIFETIME OF EXPECTATIONS SHOULDERED ALONE, THE BLISS OF COMPLETE SOLITUDE, CHAMPAGNE FLUTES AND GUILT CREEPING IN AT NIGHT ] and I heard that they can be [ ADAPTABLE + DILIGENT ] but also [ RUTHLESS + SECRETIVE ]. Rumor has it that they are [ WORKING AGAINST ] Tom Riddle, but you know that you can’t believe everything you hear. As far as I know, they are a model member of pureblood society.

tl;dr: if she likes you, she’ll die for you. if she hates you, you might as well have been burned out of existence already.

basics

full name. dorcas adara fawley meadowes. nicknames. doe, dork, dory, cas, cassie. do not use any of these if you want to keep your fingers unless your name is regulus or she’s decided you’re her friend. age. twenty four. birthday. november 18th, 1960. gender & pronouns. non-binary (demigirl? questioning) & she/they. blood status. halfblood claimed pureblood, ward of her grandmother, florentina fawley. sexual orientation. bisexual / queer. occupation. cursebreaker with the ministry of magic, department of gringott’s liaison. relationship status. single, though probably betrothed to a second son of a well respected pureblood family (hey, dorcas may not be respected, but her grandmother is). moral alignment. chaotic neutral? chaotic good? take your pick. affiliation. regulus black the orpheus society, slash anybody who is working against tom riddle. birthplace. guianan moist forests, guyana. spoken languages. english, guyanese creole, portuguese, french, spanish, latin.

appearance

faceclaim. maisie richardson-sellers. height. 5ft 5 1/2in. weight. 55kg. eye colour. brown. hair colour. black / dark brown. hair style. wears her natural hair sometimes, though she mostly has her hair straightened and then curled, as her grandmother prefers her hair to be. she also wears her hair braided, much to her grandmother’s dislike, though she tempers this by using fawley family colour - blue, white and silver - within her braids (yes, she knows those are also ravenclaw colours, but sacred 28 blood trumps house). scars / distinguishing features. dorcas has no tattoos. they have triple ear piercings, and no real distinguishing scars. she has a birthmark vaguely the shape of a flower on her left leg. clothing style. dorcas tends to slip into muggle or more comfortable styles. their outfits are mostly chosen for practical usage, as she works as a curse breaker and the work is more arduous and physical than, say, work done at the ministry. she does wear robes a lot, though, and tends to wear blue and green when the situation calls for the more formal outfits.

magical

school. hogwarts. house. slytherin. extracurriculars. charms club, potions club, ancient runes club, slug club. wand. yew (reported to endow its possessor with the power of life and death, with a particularly dark and fearsome reputation in spheres of duelling and curses), dragon heartstring (the wand core with the most magical power, easiest to turn to the dark arts, prone to being somewhat temperamental), 10in, considered brittle, excellent for duelling & considered to be an incredibly dangerous combination by ollivander, especially so considering the core was taken from a female hungarian horntail. boggart. it used to be her grandmother using the cruciatus curse on her, though now it’s death himself. although, they’re less afraid of actually dying and more the aftermath concerning people she cares about. amortentia. ginger, orange roses, water lilies, blueberries, freshly baked bread, peppermint, wand polish, spice cake, & roasted plum. mirror of erised. a world in which tom riddle is dead and she’s free.

familial

hometown. dorset, england. parents. alexandra fawley (deceased) & amadeus meadowes (deceased). guardian. florentina fawley. pets. owl named apollo, and a cat named artemis. extras. she was born in a tent during a curse breaking operation that her father had been sent on - her mother, then engaged to him, had fled to be with him when she gave birth to their child. that same operation ended up costing both alexandra and amadeus their lives - leaving their daughter in the hands of amadeus’s best friend and partner. when he returned home, dorcas was taken by her grandparents, florentina and perseus fawley, and he was imprisoned briefly while they questioned him. she was raised predominantly by her grandparents, who, rather quickly, covered up the fact that the meadowes in question was not a pureblood from the relatively unknown meadows line from guyana, but a muggleborn, and that they were unmarried. though this saved her from being looked down upon by most members of the sacred 28, it did not save her from their judgement and the implicit fact that she would never be betrothed to marry any heir to any great house, though, technically, she would inherit one of her own. to most who grew up around her, this was sort of considered a death sentence, but to dorcas, it granted her that extra piece of freedom. her grandfather, a staunch tom riddle supporter and wizengamot member, died when she was 15. his seat in the wizengamot was taken up by her grandmother - who, according to her, has many, many more years to live before she dies (enough time, she expects, to truly mold dorcas into the perfect heir - or to give the seat to whomever dorcas chooses to marry). she is the youngest member of the fawley family, now extinct in the male line. she is set to inherit the majority of shares in puddlemere united upon the death of her grandmother, florentina, as her only living fawley relative (she inherited it from her husband when he passed away). she found out about her true parentage when she was 13. she never met her dad’s family, and she’s ashamed of the fact that she knows her grandfather had them killed so she couldn’t go looking. she’s all but sworn herself to serve tom riddle in order to have revenge. it doesn’t hurt that regulus is there, either, one of the few people dorcas would consider herself loyal to, as a friend. her grandmother isn’t happy about her occupation, but she reluctantly accepted it on riddle’s word. she would be an asset, to him, as he is not blind, despite not being allseeing.

personality

positives. adaptable, diligent, protective, observant, resourceful. negative. ruthless, secretive, paranoid, closed off, cold. likes. sweet wines, sleeping in her own bed, solving complex runic riddles, the fawley family libraries, the bronze sparks from her wand whenever she picks it up, the feeling of the sun on her skin, lounging around with her friends after fancy dinners, ice cream, the burn of firewhiskey, watching quidditch. dislikes. bitter drinks, all purebloods who can’t acknowledge their own inherent privilege, being forced to wear dresses, gullibility, tea when the milk is put in first, pumpkin juice, blood under her nails (an occasional occupational habit), being stuck in st mungo’s, having to only work part time, eating food made by people she doesn’t know. fears. losing her mind, the orpheus society failing (or, worse, being found out), birds of prey. strengths. charms, dark arts, transfiguration (of everything other than herself), duelling, lying. weaknesses. concealment spells, being open emotionally (she’s too closed off for it), bee allergy, not great at herbology, not great at dancing. astrological sign. scorpio. myers brigg type. intj (the architect).

wanted connections

one. her betrothed! purebloods or sacred 28 second sons/daughters apply here! two. the trusted few that she counts as actual friends (1/3 taken); open to making one of these her betrothed or maybe a fwb situation. three. her sole confidant (who knows everything, whoever applies must be against riddle or be heading down that path). four. childhood ‘friends’ (mainly purebloods, mainly sacred 28). five. people she’d secretly see at hogwarts (muggleborns can apply) as friends or otherwise. six. the secret girlfriend that got her tortured for the entirety of the summer of her sixth year that she broke things off with abruptly. seven. other members of the orpheus society. eight. people that simply dislike her. nine. distant pure cousins that she puts up with. ten. people who work with her! whether they like her or dislike her! or have no idea what to think as she has a reputation of being a cold, ruthless bitch!

#intro.

8 notes · View notes