#fic: I tried to go on like I never knew you

[https-kittyx3]

pls pls pls could you write a poly!odypen x reader? I really loved your Telemachus story!!! :D

we will fall in love with you again

TEEHEE thank you very much, i wasnt so proud of that so i'm glad you loved it!!

also poly odypen request???!?!? YES. UESUESUEUSEUSYESUEYS i really really want more Epic requests aaahh i am obsessed with writing stuff about it. i have multiple hermes fics i started and never finished lmao

btw i swear i've seen you in the tags before, you should totally write epic the musical fics!! i'm curious about the one you said you have based on your self insert >:3

also this is kinda angsty i think? but it leads up to fluff!! i promise i won't break your heart <3

not proofread at all, excuse is in the tags lolol

lowercase intended || art cred

all throughout your life, you would have never expected what kind of relationship you'd have in your adulthood. younger you would imagine settling down with someone you fell in love with, living in a house together and spending the last of your days side by side.

the idea of having two lovers was the last thing you'd think about. it wasn't even something you knew you were capable of — loving two people at the same time? wouldn't it be unfair if you ended up loving one more than the other?

as much as that worry was understandable, it'd never end up becoming a problem; odysseus and penelope both earned your affections equally. they've both been your friends since what felt like the beginning of time - you never kept anything from each other, always made time for one another, and never had trouble speaking your minds... until things became complicated.

you tried so desperately to ignore it—the growing feelings you felt towards both of your best friends. it was anxiety inducing, especially since it was overly clear that the two were interested in each other. no matter the way it went, someone was going to be heartbroken. someone was going to be sad and the three of you could never be the same. it was agonizing to think about, to imagine the outcomes - you adore them both, to lose what you have would be your biggest regret.

ignoring your feelings seemed like the best bet for the longest time, but there was always that pang in your chest every time they'd talk about each other to you that reminded you of your own heart.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"it's endearing how awkward he gets," penelope airily chuckles as she folds strands of her hair over and over in a pattern to create a braid, "sometimes, it's like he can barely form words around me... i wonder if that means he feels the same."

you feel yourself biting the inside of your cheek, carefully braiding the other side of penelope's hair for her. it was a mindless action the two of you fell into as you chatted together. all you manage to give her is a hum, your heart growing a tad heavy once again. penelope shifts, almost as if she senses your hesitation.

"is something the matter?" she questions with concern, tying the ends of her hair together to keep the braid from coming undone. penelope's always been the one who can read your emotions — it's one of the many things that made you fall for her. she's gentle, earnest... there isn't a chance in the underworld that she'd ignore your sadness. as your friend, she's here for you. she always has been.

you gaze at her slowly, almost afraid to look her in the eye - you could break at any moment, admit everything you're feeling, and ruin all you're familiar with. you don't want that, even if it leads to an eternity of heartache.

"of course! i apologize, i'm just distracted..." you sheepishly admit, finishing the other part of her braid. you let your hands fall away and sit in the grass below, a few strands nestling between your fingers. you grip onto them, pulling blades from their roots.

penelope sighs, having heard this time and time again over the course of your friendship. it wasn't uncommon for you to dismiss her concern, just to pop up later needing to vent - she understands it, even. so, she picks at the grass with you, but instead grabbing a flower that grows in the grass beneath you both.

she leans over you, gently placing the flower's stem behind your ear with ease. penelope then places her palm against your cheek, directing your gaze towards her with a soft touch. you feel yourself flush under her eyes and touch, your cheeks warming against her palm — part of you wonders if she notices the way you react to these small touches, and if she knows how you feel underneath your veil.

"you know you can talk to me about anything," penelope whispers with softened eyes. behind that kindness lingers her own conflict, confusion, and fear - but it wasn't known to you in this moment. in hindsight, perhaps it would've been more obvious if you looked deeper. if only you had talked to her then and there, taking up that sincere offer, things would've been more simple.

instead, your lovesick-ridden mind came up with the silliest thing you could have said;

"penelope, you're so sweet i could kiss you." you speak before you're able to think about how that sounds. you mean it as a joke... mostly, but in the moment it was meant as a way to accentuate how kind she is. instead, and with the amount of passion you spoke those words, it came off as a genuine confession.

and it's clear that penelope took it that way, with how quickly her cheeks darken in red. you pull back immediately, throwing in an awkward laugh as you gently push her hand down.

"i'm kidding! you're just... so kind. i don't know what i'd do without you."

inwardly, you sigh in relief as you watch her relax. crisis averted, you think. penelope responds with a laugh — a genuine giggle, a jingle of joy — it warms your heart faster than your face.

"likewise." she speaks with a gorgeous smile.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"i just... i don't know what to say to her!" odysseus rambles on and on about penelope, occasionally asking for your thoughts on what he should do or say, all while swinging a stick at a tree as if he were fighting a massive creature. at the same time, he paces back and forth while looking up at you from where you sit on that same tree. your legs dangle from the lowest branch, hands gripping it tightly so you don't fall. it's a rather sturdy tree - an olive tree, specifically. the one where the three of you tend to spend your spare time together, though these days it's more often just two. becoming too busy is inevitable, after all.

this day was not one of those, however. penelope is to meet the two of you any minute now, though it's becoming apparent that she's been swept away by something or other - leaving you, odysseus, and the complicated feelings within.

even though you have feelings for both of them, having only one or the other around stresses you out. you're so unstable with your feelings and thoughts that you barely trusted yourself to stay quiet about them.

"what would you do?" odysseus tosses the stick to the side, plopping down against the trunk right under the branch you sit on.

"what would i do about what?" you question, not realizing that odysseus had been talking on and on as you zoned out from above. at this point in time, you were being no better than a certain goddess who was hopeless when it came to love advice. odysseus raises a brow up at you, "about... confessing your feelings?"

"oh!" you sit up straight, a panicked look on your face that is almost comical, "what feelings? i don't have any feelings for anyone!"

odysseus snorts, resting his head against the trunk, "i was talking about confessing my feelings for penelope, but... now it sounds like you might fancy someone." odysseus teases you, but it's not so clear in the moment — you feel caught, like all your thoughts had been read and exposed. your heart picks up in pace as you shift awkwardly, trying to think up any excuse to get out of this topic, before you realize that you're leaning on nothing but air.

you fail to catch yourself before you're falling backwards towards the ground, letting out a scream as you brace for impact. you're lucky you're only so far from the ground, because any further would've been death for you.

odysseus catches you swiftly, feeling lucky that he was right below you. he didn't even have to get up to snatch you from the air — all he had to do was lean forwards and pull you against his chest to cushion your fall.

and cushion, it did. your head falls against his collarbone, and your back lands right against his torso. his arms are wrapped securely around your chest, holding you up as you lean your head back to take a look at his face.

"looks like i fell for you, heheh..." what an awful joke for an awkward situation. odysseus does the same as penelope had done — he takes your joke as a poorly veiled confession, and as much as it may be, it's not something you want to admit right after he finished talking about his feelings for someone else. that 'someone else' being your mutual companion, your third member. your best friend.

ugh. what a situation to get yourself into.

odysseus' eyes are wide and cautious, but not for long as you sit yourself up with the dismissal wave of your hands, "no, no... that came out weird! i was doing a joke, but it was bad timing..!"

oddly enough, you see odysseus' face fall into a neutral expression for a faint moment, before glowing up and into a hearty laugh. similarly to penelope, again, it warms you to hear him laugh so sincerely. he finds you funny, and that brings you joy.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

despite all the signs of the mutual feelings between the three of you, it'd be a good while before things are finally shared. the next few years are spent pining after each other, battling that inner anxiety, and finally... admitting it to yourselves.

your heart is big enough for both of them, and it's something you have grown to come to terms with. all of that confusion and inner conflict subsided into an understanding, regardless of how anxiety-inducing it all still was. penelope and odysseus were simply just the most open about their feelings for each other at first. it took you a bit more time to finally open up, but once you did, you were surprised at how open the both of them were to you.

it was exciting to finally be able to express your feelings to them, to finally be able to tell them how in love with them you are without being afraid of losing them.

unbeknownst to you, it was an internal battle for the two of them as well. that feeling of loving two people at once, yet not knowing what to do about it for the fear of losing both of them.

the three of you, now together as one, share more love between you than anyone has ever seen. even athena, whose lifespan escapes the confines of time, has never witnessed such an incredible bond as yours. she's also heard endless stories about your romance from odysseus, who can't find it in him to stop talking about you and penelope — but who can blame him? he's blessed with two of the best partners he could have asked for.

even as you three grow older, take over more dire responsibilities, and marry one another, your love never wavers.

even after penelope bears a child, after the dread of a war looms ever closer, and odysseus is swept off to save the lives of many — your bond is true.

it's ever lasting.

he'll come back to his spouses and son, whether the gods want him to or not.

[loves1ckmoth]

CLINGY

Loser!Ellie x Reader

Warnings ♡: Fem!reader as always, needy/clingy ellie, Ellie cries after losing reader in the mall, reader comforts her, reader talks more than she usually does in my regular fics, she's more dominant as well, reader and ellie almost pounce on eachother, ellie helps reader put on a dress in a changing room, they kiss a couple times, petnames (my girl, els, darling)

Word Count♡: 1193

Clingy. A word Ellie heard all too often from previous partners. You’d never call her that, no, of course not. You liked her never straying from your side. But it got difficult in crowded areas. Especially on days like today.

You wanted to go out to the mall to pick up a few things. First, your favorite lipstick ran out. Then your friend texted you about an event, and then the dress you were going to wear to said event ripped when you tried it on. The nail in the coffin? Your favorite perfume ran out.

So here you were, walking around a crowded mall on a Friday afternoon. You would’ve prepared to wait, but the event was tomorrow and you needed your things now. Ellie said she’d tag along under the guise of wanting new games, but you knew it was because she didn’t want to be alone at the house.

Sadly enough for you both, everyone in their mother had decided to come as well. It must’ve been a big sale day. That only meant you’d have a better selection of things. While you were grabbing a new bottle at your perfume place, Ellie had distracted herself with some cologne. While you grabbed two bottles of your favorite, you saw a sign.

“Buy two get one free.” As if the universe had planned it all out, Ellie wandered back to your side. “Find something you like, darling?” You ask. She shrugs, but you can tell something’s caught her eye. She’s never been one for subtlety.

“Go grab it. The sign says it’ll be for free. But let me smell it first. I don’t want you smelling of something awful.” She beams and dashes off to grab it. When you sniff it, you find the smell more pleasant than most colognes. You agree and take it up the register. She taps her fingers impatiently as the woman behind the counter rings you up.

You lead her out of the store and she looks through the bag. She eyes your perfume. “Did you need two?” She asks softly. You nod in response. “I’d prefer to come back less. These last me a couple of months each. It’ll at least be half a year before we come back. Though… I did see some room sprays. Perhaps I’ll grab one if they’re discounted.”

You two walk in silence as you navigate through the crowd, trying to pinpoint which store you need to stop at is closer. You only notice her hand slipping from yours too late. By the time you’ve escaped the crowds and into the dress store, Ellie is nowhere to be seen. Your heart twinges and you’re sure she must be panicking somewhere by now.

You walk up to the store clerk and speak softly to her. “Hi, would you mind holding onto my bag? I’m here to buy a dress but I’m afraid I’ve lost my partner. I promise I’ll be right back.” The clerk nods and sets the bag behind the counter.

You leave the store and try to peer out into the crowds, your worry only growing when you don’t spot her. You tap an embarrassing amount of shoulders of girls who look like her, only to apologize when they aren’t. When you don’t find her in the crowds, you try stores. When she isn’t there, you finally check the mall bathrooms. There is where you finally find her.

The moment you walk in, you hear sniveling from a stall. You knock gently, prepared for the embarrassment if it turns out to not be her. “Ellie, are you in there?” Your voice gently rings out in the emptiness of the bathroom. A whimper sounds out from inside the stall and it slowly opens.

She sits there, eyes red and puffy and she grabs you tight. You coo softly, holding her back. “There’s my girl. I was looking all over. Stupid me, then. Should’ve checked my phone for you. Silly me, right?” Your voice is calm, and she looks you over. “Didn’t mean to let go. Shouldn’t have cried like this.”

You shake your head and kiss her lips. “You’re fine. We’ll get all this sorted, yeah?” You caress her softly and bring her out of the bathroom. You wash her face and dry her with a few paper towels before bringing her out with you. This time, you squeeze her hand extra tight so you don’t lose her.

By the time you manage to get back to the dress store, your hair is mussed up from brushing shoulders with everyone in the damn place. Ellie tries her best to fix it for you, and you giggle as she sticks her tongue out to concentrate. You nod and move her hands away from your hair, returning to what you set out here for originally.

You get your bag of perfumes back from the clerk, and Ellie checks inside to ensure you have all your belongings. Ellie is subdued slightly from her losing you earlier, but she does her best to help you pick out a new dress. You’d prefer one like the one you ripped, but when you don’t find something similar, you try to find something else you like. Ellie is attentive, doing her best to find something you’ll like.

Ellie prioritizes comfort overall, and as she looks at the dresses in the store, she realizes comfort might be harder to come by. But, she manages to find the perfect one. Appropriate for big and small events, and comfortable. She brings it over to you as you frown at an ugly feather dress covered in patterns that don’t mesh.

“You find anything good, Els?” You ask, slowly turning only for her to shove the dress in your direction and accidentally into your face. You splutter as you’re met with fabric and Ellie frantically apologizes and pulls it back. Once your face is out of the dress, you take it into your hands to study it. You smile up at Ellie. “This is nice. I assume you want me to try it on?”

She nods fervently, then shakes her head, then flushes bright red, leaving her face blotchy. “Pretty please?” The puppy face she has makes you want to tackle her and ravage her right in the middle of the store, but you hold yourself back. You have more self-control than she does.

“Come on, it’s got a zipper. I’ll need help putting it on.” That’s all you have to say to have her scurrying alongside you and shoving you into the dressing room. You slip out of your regular clothes and have her zip up the dress for you. You smooth it all out and look in the mirror. “Is it all good in the back, Els?”

She gulps, her eyes glancing between you and the dress. She nods slowly and twirls you around to get a better feel of the dress. “Perfect.” You smile and take it off again. “Good. We’ll get it, I’ll grab some new lipstick, and we’ll get you some new games. Alright?”

She hums an agreement this time and grips you tight as you leave.

Second post of today 😵‍💫 I managed to get a lot of writing done today ♡ Hope you all like this one!! Likes and reblogs are most appreciated ♡

[90slavenderh4ze]

dog days of falling in love - sirius black

pairing: post azkaban!sirius black x reader.

summary: if she spoils the dog, that’s hardly his problem.

warnings: none, just fluff.

a.n: set around ootp, no mentions of yn. first ever time writing a fic, hope you like it! let me know if you have any requests/ideas/suggestions.

Grimmauld Place was silent in the late afternoon, save for the occasional creak of the old house settling into itself. Most of the Order was out—on missions, running errands, living lives beyond the dark walls of Sirius Black’s prison. Even Harry had gone to Diagon Alley with the Weasleys, leaving the house emptier than usual.

Sirius hated the silence.

It left him alone with his thoughts, with memories that clawed at his ribs and pressed down on his chest like a weight he could never quite shake.

But then there was her—a bright spot in his days, a constant presence in the house. Not in an overbearing way, but in a way that made the suffocating air of Grimmauld Place a little easier to breathe.

And right now, she was sitting in the drawing room, curled up on the worn-out armchair, completely immersed in her book.

Sirius had found her like this more times than he could count, legs tucked beneath her, a faint crease of concentration between her brows. It was something he never got tired of seeing. There was something about the way she looked when she was lost in a story—so at peace, so unaware of the rest of the world—that made his chest tighten in ways he refused to examine.

And it gave him an idea.

A childish, reckless, Sirius idea.

With a smirk, he slipped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. A moment later, a large, black dog padded back inside, tail wagging lazily, dark eyes locked onto his unsuspecting target.

She didn’t notice at first, too caught up in whatever world she was lost in. That wouldn’t do.

With careful, deliberate steps, Padfoot crossed the room and flopped right onto her lap.

“Oh—!”

The book slipped from her fingers as a solid weight landed on her, all fur and warmth and very little consideration for personal space.

“Sirius!” she gasped, half-laughing, half-scolding, her hands instinctively burying themselves in his thick fur. “You absolute menace.”

Padfoot merely huffed, resting his massive head against her stomach, tail thumping against the side of the chair.

She tried to push him off—tried being the key word. “You do realize you’re not a small dog, right?”

Another huff.

She sighed, exasperated but ultimately amused. “I suppose this is your way of telling me you’re bored?”

A lazy wag of his tail.

Shaking her head, she gave up on fighting him off and instead ran her fingers through his fur. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Padfoot let out a low, contented sound that was very close to a pleased sigh. He melted under her touch, every stroke of her fingers sending a warm, lazy sort of pleasure through him.

He could’ve stayed like that forever.

But forever wasn’t an option.

He could hear the others returning, footsteps echoing through the house. He knew the moment would end soon, that reality would come crashing back in, and that he’d have to let go of whatever this was.

Still, he lingered.

She scratched behind his ears, her touch gentle, soothing. “You’re not fooling me, by the way,” she murmured, her voice warm with amusement. “You only do this when you want attention.”

He gave her his best Who, me? look, big puppy-dog eyes and all.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Ridiculous,” she muttered fondly.

And then—Merlin’s bloody beard—she leaned down, pressing the softest, most absentminded kiss to the top of his head.

Sirius Black, infamous troublemaker, ex-Marauder, Order member, and emotionally stunted mess of a man, nearly died on the spot.

The moment was over before he could fully process it.

“There,” she sighed, scratching under his chin. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

He absolutely did not get what he wanted, because what he wanted was more.

More of this. More of her.

And that terrified him.

Before he did something stupid—like shift back into his human form and kiss her properly—he let out a low, exaggerated yawn, stretched lazily, and rolled off her lap, landing on the floor with an undignified thud.

She snorted. “Graceful.”

Padfoot shook himself out, gave her one last look, and padded out of the room, tail flicking behind him.

It wasn’t until he was back in his bedroom, sitting on his bed in human form, that he let himself breathe.

His hands were still trembling slightly, his skin tingling where her fingers had been.

She kissed him.

Granted, she kissed Padfoot, but still.

His fingers brushed over his hair, right where her lips had been, and he let out a soft, breathless chuckle.

He was so bloody doomed.

[callsignswan]

Like A Lollipop 🍭

Cw: hybrid au, technical pet x owner (I go into more detail in the fic dw), pet play (basically), BDSM themes, oral (male receiving)

Lando's lips were on yours. Desperately, you clawed at his shirt, tried to get it off of his body.

"Easy," he said against your lips. His hand closed around your own and moved your hand away. A whimper left your lips, but you watched as he pulled his shirt over his head.

His chain rested against his gorgeous skin; you had to touch him. Sharp, claw like nails against his skin had him hissing, but he loved it.

"Angel," he whispered and pushed your hair behind your pointed, black ears. "Tell me what you need."

"You."

Your voice was barely above a whisper. So delicate against him, warm and pretty. A far cry from the sweet, scared, dirty thing he'd found outside of his apartment all those months ago. Legally, he was your owner. You were a fully grown woman, but you were a hybrid. If Lando wasn't your owner, you were a stray, and you didn't want to know the terrible things that happened to strays.

You and Lando didn't exactly buy into the whole hybrid and owner thing. You were more of a roommate, until you tried to kiss him. And then you went from roommate to whatever you were now.

Neither of you quite knew what you were now, but you'd never been pet and master. Friends, at some point, maybe. But then you sucked his dick for the first time.

Uselessly, you tugged at his jeans. "C'mon, take them off," you demanded.

As soon as he stood and popped the button on his jeans, your tail began to wag. Side to side, hitting the sofa cushions behind you. As always, you were getting whatever you wanted.

Immediately, you were on your knees. "Can I?" You asked, hooking your finger around the waistband of his underwear.

The way he pet your head was so condescending, you loved it.

Pulling his boxers down, you watched his cock spring free. Big and pretty, a thatch of curls at the base. You drooled like a hungry mutt as you stared at it. "Go on," he whispered, finally giving you permission.

You dove in and wrapped your lips around him. "Fuck, Baby," Lando grunted as you wrapped your fingers around his base.

You were always a drooly, sloppy mess when you sucked Lando's cock. Up and down, filling your throat. Your eyes were shut, a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

Every grunt that left his lips was music to your twitching ears. You swirled your tongue around his tip, his grip on you tightening.

When he rocked his hips gently, you knew you had him. It wouldn't be too long before he spilled into your mouth. You worked his harder, cheeks hollowed as you did deeper, longer strokes.

His cum painted the back of your throat. You swallowed what he gave to you, didn't spill a drop.

Lando was breathless as he stared down at you. "You did good, Angel," he whispered as you wiped the saliva from your mouth. "You ready for me to fuck you?"

You were positively soaked.

Hybrid requests open, my doves!

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

Your work is amazing, I love the way you interpret Simon’s personality and speech patterns in the prosthetic arm Simon fic.❤️

hello, anon! thank you so much for the kind words. i just wanted to take this opportunity to post this deleted part of prosthetic arm simon.

sfw. angst (?). highschool dropout simon. shame.

the prosthetic is finished.

it fits like a second skin. moves smooth, seamless, with no lag between thought and motion. it’s perfect. better than anything he could’ve gotten himself. better than the overpriced models he looked at years ago, wondering if he could stomach the debt just to feel normal again.

and for a moment, as he flexes his fingers, as he watches the metal articulate like flesh, he feels… proud. proud of you, of your work, of the precision in every detail. he turns his hand over, watching the way the joints move, the faint hum of technology so advanced he still doesn’t fully understand it.

but then— the thought creeps in, unbidden, unwelcome.

his throat tightens.

does this mean he doesn’t have an excuse to see you anymore?

his fingers still, mid-motion.

the past few months have been good. better than he expected. seeing you, talking to you, getting to know you beyond the surface-level interactions he usually keeps with people.

but now?

now there’s no more check-ups. no more adjustments. no more need for him to stop by so you can make small tweaks, run diagnostics, ensure everything’s running smoothly.

simon swallows, something cold curling in his chest. he tells himself he’s being ridiculous. that if he really wanted to see you, he could just— just call, just text, just ask.

but that’s not how he works.

he’s spent so long just coasting with people. staying at arm’s length, keeping interactions simple, necessary, easy to walk away from.

but you? you’re not easy to walk away from.

“you did good,” he says, and he means it. he just hopes you can’t hear everything else under it.

you don’t seem to notice his unease, too excited as you bounce on your heels, practically beaming.

“oh- i have news!”

he blinks. tries to steady himself. “yeah?"

“my thesis got picked to be presented at congress!”

it takes him a second. longer than it should. he hears the words, knows what they mean, but they feel far away, like his mind is still caught in the spiral from before.

but then he sees the way you’re looking at him, the pure joy on your face, and something inside him lurches

“shit,” he breathes. “that’s- that’s incredible.”

and it is. you deserve this. you deserve more than this.

he shows up to the congress.

he doesn’t tell you he’s coming. he doesn’t even decide until the last minute, standing in front of his closet, staring at the one half-decent button-up he owns.

but then he’s there, standing outside the venue, and he brings flowers.

he’s never done that before. never even bought flowers before, really. but he stands outside the venue, fingers tight around the cheap bouquet, feeling ridiculous and out of place.

he feels out of place.

too big, too rough, too obviously not part of the sleek, academic crowd milling around in suits and dresses. he tugs at his sleeves, shifting his weight, half-ready to just leave the flowers somewhere and go before—

then he sees you. scanning the crowd, eyes searching.

and when you spot him— you light up.

like he’s supposed to be here. like he’s not just some guy who stumbled in, unsure if he even belongs in moments like these.

you rush over, practically colliding into him, and he barely has time to react before you’re grabbing the flowers, pressing your face into them, laughing breathlessly.

“you came.”

his throat works. he clears it, rubbing the back of his neck.

“’course i did,” he mutters.

you smile.

…

he knew this was a bad idea.

he knew from the moment he walked into the restaurant, stiff in his chair, palm sweating against the napkin in his lap.

knew when you slid into the seat across from him, looking bright and effortless and so at ease, still glowing from your big presentation, still beaming about the congress.

knew when he looked down at the menu and realized he didn’t recognize half the words on it.

simon’s spent years in places like this— quiet, dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of good food and low conversation. but he’s always been alone. always sat in a corner with his back to the wall, a meal in front of him and no one expecting him to talk.

but now— now there’s you.

and you’re talking, telling him about the congress, about the people you met, the questions they asked. you sound so fucking excited, like the whole world is opening up in front of you, and simon—

simon just nods.

he doesn’t know what to say. doesn’t know how to keep up.

he’s never been smart like you. never been the type to sit in lecture halls, to write papers, to stand in front of a room full of academics and present something that matters.

he barely finished school. left home at sixteen, signed his life away at eighteen, spent more years holding a gun than a pen.

he doesn’t belong in places like this. doesn’t belong next to you.

you’re all bright ideas and ambition, the kind of person who builds things, who makes the world better.

simon’s just good at breaking it.

he shifts in his seat, hyper-aware of how he looks— broad shoulders hunched awkwardly, big hands clumsy against the silverware, a goddamn mutt at a dinner table.

he wonders if you notice. if you see it. if you realize you could do better.

your food arrives. you thank the waiter, pick up your fork—

and before you can even take a bite, it slips out.

“i-”

you pause, fork halfway to your mouth.

simon grips his napkin under the table, flexes his fingers, heart thudding heavy in his ribs.

he shouldn’t ask. should just let this be a nice dinner, let you go home, let you move on.

but—

“would you…” he swallows, throat dry, stomach tight.

he shouldn’t ask.

“would you want to go on a date with me?”

the words hit the table like lead.

silence.

he doesn’t breathe. doesn’t move. because fuck, he actually said it.

and now there’s nothing but the space between you, the quiet hum of conversation around you, the faint clink of cutlery against plates—

and you. staring at him.

he braces for rejection. tells himself it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s—

“yeah,” you say, voice light with something he can’t name. “i would.”

his stomach drops.

relief. disbelief. something dangerously close to hope.

he exhales, tension bleeding from his shoulders. nods, just once, like he’s acknowledging an order. like his hands aren’t trembling under the table.

“okay,” he mutters.

then, quieter—

“good.”

[jadegrey711]

Please I love your Wally smut

What about like giving Wally head for the first time as he watched you already before you died

And either a first time blow job or Wally fingering you for the first time (ifykyk) whatever you feel like writing moreee

Thank you for the compliment Dear Anon. Enjoy. You can check you my other Wally Clark x Reader fics on my masterlist on @jadegreywriting

As always 18+ ONLY

*Not my GIF*

Wally had watched you for the longest time. He'd love watching your meets as you would dive gracefully into the pool. As an athlete himself he was in awe of how fast you were once you hit the water. He didn't know if the Olympics were your dream but he knew you could make it if you wanted too. But that wasn't in the cards for you, instead it was a drunk driver, who pulled out of the school too fast and didn't see you as you were walking out to your car after a game.

You couldn't understand what was happening as you watched the ambulance pull away from the school, kids huddled together and crying.

Wally watched as you tried to get anyones attention. But no one could hear or see you. He was nervous as he first approached you, putting his hands up like you were a wild animal and he was trying to keep you calm.

At first you were relieved someone was talking to you, but then he broke the news. You had been hit and you were already dead when the ambulance pulled away from the school.

You were in denial for a long while, and Wally watched as you would just sit on the curb for hours, watching as everyone pulled away from the parking lot. Watching as the flowers that were laid down on your school parking spot, slowly rotted and blew away.

Wally would spend those days, sitting right next to you, and he waited. Waited until you were ready to talk, and when you finally did, you felt the damn break loose. You told Wally everything you were feeling, how sad you were, how angry you were at how unfair this all was. You told him about your life that he didn't get to see outside of school. How much you loved to read, how going to the lake every summer felt like a recharge for the rest of the year, when you first knew you loved swimming.

And in kind Wally told you about his life, what kind of music he listened to, how he wanted to travel when he got out of highschool and that he wasn't a big reader when he was alive; which made you chuckle.

After that day, you and Wally felt inseparable, being with him felt like the sun. Warm and comforting, he always made you laugh and you did the same to him; surprising him with how funny you were, he didn't know that about you.

You still like going to Group; Mr. Martin was a bit creepy and you always had issues with authority figures. But Wally liked coming to the group so you sat there and participated here and there. You never shared anything personal with the group, well anything that was real. You saved that for your time with Wally.

Which often felt like this one, where you would go into the pool and do laps, or float on the surface of the water, while Wally watched on the edge of the pool. He loved watching you do flip turns, amazed at how fast you were, how fast you could cut through the water.

You came up from under the water and smiled at Wally, who was floating in the pool next to you, watching as you would flip and do handstands in the shallow end of the water. When you came up again, you saw Wally had made his way over to the steps of the pool, he sat there and watched you. His smile was contagious as he watched you.

"What are you looking at, Clark?" You asked, flicking water towards him.

"I think it's some kind of pool nymph." He teased.

"A pool nymph?" You chuckled.

"Yeah, and she's mesmerizing."

"Mesmerizing huh?" You asked, as you swam closer to him.

"Oh yeah. Just one of the many adjectives I'd use to describe her."

"Oh? And what are these other adjectives that you'd use? I know you're not a big reader, so this will be fun to see how many you actually know."

"Hey! I think my vocabulary has increased immensely since I met you."

"Thank goodness for that! I don't think I could handle you saying "Rad" for the rest of eternity."

"As if, "Cool beans" is any better!" He huffed before flicking his fingers in the water, splashing you in the face. 

"Hey!" You scowled, grabbing his bare thighs and bringing your face close to his, but stopped inches in front of his face.

Wally tilted his head, his brown eyes holding yours. "Hey what?" He smiled. His eyes moved to your lips.

"I-" You stuttered, feeling your cheeks heat as you remembered where your hands were. “I don’t actually remember what I was going to say.” You chuckled, before leaning in and gave Wally a quick kiss on the lips, intending to give him a quick kiss and then swim away. But Wally had other ideas on the matter, before you could turn your body away he grabbed your hips and placed you so you were sitting on his lap. His large hands wrapped themselves around your waist bringing you back in for another kiss. 

“I wasn’t done telling you about the beautiful pool nymph I saw.” He smiled against your lips.

This wasn’t the first time you and Wally kissed, not by a long shot, there were so many times where the two of you would sneak off when Wally was supposed to be in Group, kissing in the locker room. Sometimes you two would get really hot and heavy, but before anything could happen there was always something that had you two breaking apart. Whether it was Charley or Rhonda catching you two in the heat of the moment or someone else barging in, sometimes it was really hard to get a moment alone with your hot boyfriend in your own afterlife. 

But, you had a feeling that this time would be different. 

You let out a small little moan as you felt Wally’s tongue dance with yours. His large hands roaming down to your backside and giving you a little squeeze. You pulled away from the kiss, earning a groan from Wally. “You didn’t finish describing this pool nymph to me.” You grinned. 

“Well I told you that she was mesmerizing and beautiful. I would dare say graceful as well.” 

“Graceful huh?” You smiled leaning in to brush a kiss to the edge of Wally’s soft lips, before pressing another one to his jawline earning a low moan from him. You made sure to pocket that reaction for that spot in particular for later. 

“Y-Yeah graceful.”

“What else Wally?” You teased, sucking on that spot at his jawline, before moving down to his neck, placing a soft kiss to his carotid, before sucking on the spot where his pulse point would be. You chuckled as you heard Wally stutter, losing his words and losing them fast as you sucked and kissed your way down his neck. 

“Breathtaking.” He moaned out.

As you kissed Wally, making sure to pay attention to the other side of his neck like you did the first, you could feel him grow hard underneath you. “What else Wally?”

“Baby. Please.” 

“Please what Wally?”

“Stop torturing me.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just listening to all the ways that you’re describing this beautiful pool nymph.” you mumbled against his skin, taking your tongue and dipping it into his collarbone, before taking that golden chain necklace into your mouth and sucking on the pendant there. 

You looked up at Wally’s face and smiled. He looked so tense, his hands were gripping noticeably harder on your ass as he looked down at you. 

“Unless you want me to stop?” You asked, placing a quick kiss to the center of his chest. “Do you want me to stop Wally?” You asked and placed another kiss on his chest. 

“No.” He ground out. 

You gave him a wolfish smile. “I didn’t think so.” You purred, leaning your head back down so you can trace your tongue around his nipples. Wally leaned back, letting out a low groan. 

“You’re so sweet to me Wally.” You said softly against his skin as you traced your tongue down his stomach, and dipped in his belly button, earning another deep moan from Wally. You looked back up to him, your body now on the step just below him, your hands poised on top of the waistband of his boxers. “Can I be sweet to you?” You asked him innocently. 

Wally’s eyes went wide. “Baby.” He said his voice came out breathy before he let out a small cough to clear his throat. “Baby, are you sure?” He asked his hand coming out to brush a small piece of hair out of your face. 

“Yes Wally. I want to do this for you.” 

Wally let out a breath that seemed to be a mix of desperation and relief. His hands were reaching for the waistband of his boxers and you took that as your sign that he wanted this as bad as you did. You helped him pull his boxers off and let them float off in the pool, before leaning back down to Wally. Running your tongue down the soft “V” on each side of his hips, earning a low whimper from Wally. 

You looked up at Wally, as you ran your hands up and down his thighs, while taking in how hard he was for you and you smiled up at him. “All this for me?” you teased. 

“Yeah baby.” He said breathily. “Only for you.” 

You were in control in this situation but you grew wet at Wally’s words, surprising yourself at how just those simple words of admiration had you growing slick in between your legs. “Only for me huh?” You said reaching for him, giving his cock a slow pump with your hand, earning a stuttering lift of Wally’s hips for you. 

You smirked, biting your lip. “So sensitive.” Leaning down to run your tongue around the head of his cock. Wally let out a low moan, as you took him deeper into your mouth letting your tongue trace around the head of his cock, and relaxing as he slid deeper for a moment before having your hand join the efforts of your mouth. 

“I love it when you make those little moans, Wally.” You whispered, before continuing to pump his cock with your hand as you took him back into your mouth. 

You didn’t have a lot of experience doing this, but you were an avid reader and Wally seemed to love it when your tongue did this particular motion. You smiled to yourself as you felt Wally’s hands find their way into your wet hair, gathering the wet strands in a messy clump and fisting it in his hand. You felt Wally’s hips jerk every now and again as he fought the urge to pump his hips and thrust his cock deeper into your hot little mouth. 

You hummed in satisfaction against his cock, and that seemed to have Wally taking a ragged breath. 

“Baby.” He breathed. “I’m really trying here.” 

You hummed again, the vibrations seeming to send Wally closer to the edge. You popped your mouth off of his cock and looked up at him, taking in the tensed way he pulled his eyebrows together and how he bit down on his bottom lip, making it a darker pink. 

“Trying to do what?” You asked innocently, as you rested your head against his strong thigh, your hand still pumping his cock. 

“Trying to not, fuck your mouth.” He breathed out. “I know you haven’t really done this before and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You hummed again, he really was the sweetest boy you’d ever met. You’d never thought you actually like sucking dick, but with Wally, as he whined and moaned above you, letting you bring him closer and closer to orgasm. You didn’t think you could actually get enough of this, of him being this vulnerable for you, you felt drunk off of the way his puppy eyes looked down at you, awestruck. 

“Wally.” You said breathily. “I have your cock in my mouth and I am so fucking wet for you right now. And if I’m uncomfortable, I’ll just give you a little nip.” You chuckled and leaned back down and licked up the shaft of his cock before taking his head back into your mouth. 

His hands, delved deeper into your hair, and his hold felt a little tighter, as he bucked his hips to your mouth still holding back, but not as much as he was before. 

“Oh baby.” He moaned. “God you look so pretty like this. Your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock. I wish I could take a picture of you right now.” 

You moaned, at his words, feeling yourself grow wetter between your legs, and started to pump him faster, your mouth and hand working in time together to bring Wally closer to release. 

“God damn it, baby.” Wally groaned, his hips increasing their speed, just enough that you started to feel water in your eyes, but you didn’t want to stop not when Wally was so close. 

“Fuck, baby. I’m not going to last much longer if you keep that up.” 

That was your cue, you squeezed Wally’s cock harder with your hand before sucking him down again and felt him come inside your mouth. You pulled away, unable to fully swallow Wally’s release, and continued to pump him through his orgasm. You watched his hips shake as he finished coming, Wally’s moans were audible enough for anyone who was walking past the double doors of the indoor pool could definitely hear him. 

You dropped your hand away from him and looked up at the totally ruined expression on Wally’s face. His hair that was usually so well kept, was sticking up in places he ran his hands through and some of it still stuck to his forehead from when he was swimming with you. 

“Such a good and sweet boy.” You smiled, pulling yourself up by his thighs and giving him a kiss. Wally seemed to preen at the compliment and deepened the kiss; tasting himself on your lips, earning a low satisfied moan from the both of you. 

[clockwayswrites]

Annalise&Tim, Magenta, Solstice, wood fire @roanawayspoons

Annalise is an OC from my fic City Pigeons Bleed Green who showed up briefly. This is an AU where she came to Bruce right away and lived. Uh, sorry that Tim is only dubiously present... but this got in my head.

“Hello, Bruce,” Annalise called from the sitting room that she favored. It was a slightly smaller one than the family room that the would gather in, but she always said that she liked how cozy and warm it was. The Manor, as old as it was, did tend to have a chill to it that would linger in the colder months.

Bruce generally dealt with the permanent cold by wearing warm, turtleneck sweaters and Dick simply never seemed to get cold. Helena liked to steal Bruce’s sweaters, for all that they came pooled around her feet. Annalise, though, seemed to struggle with getting warm with her poor circulation. (Bruce also harbored a fear that the complications around Helena’s birth had caused permanent harm to Annalise, such as the constant fatigue that she seemed to suffer.)

The warm, golden light of the fire spilled out of the half open door to the room and it felt like coming home to step into it. He leaned against the door frame with a smile “Hello, Lise.”

“Alright day at work?” she asked as she stuck her needle in the cross-stitch that she she had been working on.

There was a fifty-fifty chance that it contained a cuss that would make Alfred tsk at her.

“Mm, holiday bonuses went out today, so everyone was in a good mood.”

“Oh, I imagine,” she said with a smile.

The kid—more a pile of blankets and flash of black hair than anything else—who was asleep against her leg shifted. She carded her delicately painted nails through their hair.

“Is one of our sick?”

Annalise hummed in confirmation. “Poor thing was chilled to the bone.”

“That—”

“B! You’re home!” Dick called.

Bruce barely had time to swing around and catch him as he flung himself over the edge of the stare rail and at Bruce’s chest. At sixteen Dick was big enough to make Bruce have to brace himself to catch him. One of these days, Bruce knew he was going to get hurt doing this (but that would hardly stop him, not when his oldest still wanted hugs).

“Hey chum,” Bruce said as he swung Dick around and into the room and set him down. Not Dick who was sick then, which would save the manor a lot of whining. “How was your last day of school?”

“Super boring. We didn’t even do anything! I don’t know why we had to go!” Dick said in a rush.

“He also got, and ate, several candy canes,” Annalise added with a little smile.

“Also that,” Dick agreed.

Bruce tried not to laugh. “Well then it wasn’t all bad, was it. Did you save one for your sister?”

“I did, but she got even more than me! Not that she ate all of them, she’s saving them,” Dick said, like it was the most ridiculous thing that he had ever heard.

“Well, if she’s not feeling we—”

“Daddy!”

Bruce swung just in time to catch his daughter, who of course had also taken to flinging herself at him ever since Dick had started training her in gymnastics this year. The catch was a little fumbled as Bruce spun back to the room and whoever it was that was sleeping on the couch.

“Who—”

“Timothy Drake from next door,” his wife explained softly and with a little smile on her face that Bruce knew spelled trouble for him. Her fingers were still carding through the child’s hair. “Did you know that he’s all alone over in that monstrosity of a house? Poor baby walked over here, in the cold, completely drenched because a pipe had burst in the kitchen. It burst because the heat had gone out and his parents wouldn’t answer his calls about needing their approval for a new furnace. In December. He wanted to know if we had a wrench so that he could shut the water main off.”

Purposefully, Bruce relaxed his hold on Helena so that he didn’t squeeze her too hard at hearing all that. “I see.”

“Yes,” Annalise said. “So I brought him inside, made sure he got warm, and then we had some tea and cookies. I don’t intend to send him back to that house.”

“Of course not, it’s freezing.”

“Ever.”

“…I’ll call our lawyers up then.”

[lynn-writes-things]

a god’s obsession

aizen x reader

TW: TOXIC!!!!!!!, nsfw, possessive behavior, sacrilegious/sacrilege, god kink, fingering, penetration, cheating, slapping, choking, biting, hair pulling, a little bit of blood is mentioned?, rough sex, bruises, degradation, dirty talk, brat behavior?, slight dacryphilia, Aizen might be obsessed with you, corruption, mating press, petnames used condescendingly

WC: 2.8k

notes: I haven’t written a full length fic in like several years, please be kind and excuse any mistakes in pacing 😭

He fucks his subordinates a lot.

It’s not like he tries very hard to safeguard that little secret - that he’s screwing most of the girls who follow him behind your back. In a way, you feel pity for them, because they don’t know that he still slinks back into the bed you share after each encounter with one of the little girls that he doesn’t even deem worthy of learning their names - but you’ve been the only “woman” in his life, as he puts it, since you first met him forever ago, back when you both were subordinates to Captain Hirako in squad five.

At first, you resented him for the fact that he was a serial cheater. But, to be fair, you had known fully well what you were getting into when you agreed to marry the man, back in the Soul Society. You knew him - the real him - even back then. Because once you had made the mistake of gaining his trust, there was no going back. He told you everything, never hiding a single detail of his master plan from you. By then, it was already too late for you to even consider leaving him - he’d kill you, you knew it - and nobody would believe you about your claims of his evil deeds anyways, because once he was promoted to Captain, nothing could touch him. He knew it, and so did you, so you let him corrupt you instead. It was an easier task than you’d like to admit.

So now, after growing too tired of his adultery, you decided that you’d even the playing field, but you took it further than he had. He’d sleep around with Arrancars that he considered nothing more than canon fodder, ones who weren’t impressive in the slightest, who could never really join his ranks - but who had a pretty face. But you? Well, you fucked Grimmjow. You fucked him a lot, actually. Any time Aizen pissed you off, or you caught him reeking of another girl’s perfume, you’d seek out the Espada and drag him off somewhere to take out your frustrations.

Needless to say, it infuriated your husband when you came to bed with bite marks on your shoulder and blooming bruises on your thighs and on your hips. He gripped your chin hard enough to hurt, the look in his eyes something you had seen countless times, though never directed at you before, cold and sinister. “Who?” He demanded through clenched teeth.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You had the nerve to snark back with a smirk. The hand on your chin had wrapped around your neck before you had a chance to register it, and he had you pinned to the bed, glaring at you with a fire in his beautiful golden eyes that would’ve surely put the fear of God in anybody else, but only stoked a very different kind of fire within you.

“Yes, my dear, I would in fact very much like to know who is sleeping with my wife.” He growled, low and menacing.

“Well, considering every other woman in Los Noches is sleeping with my husband, I’d consider us even. Wouldn’t you say that’s fair, my love?”

He smirks, a cruel and evil look that only serves to further excite you. “I’ve told you, darling, those aren’t women. They’re merely insects to me, little playthings. Nothing more. You, on the other hand, are quite the woman indeed..”

“If that’s the case then, sweetheart, I believe I’ll keep my little plaything as well.” Your coy smile enrages him, his grip on your neck tightens.

“Only one?”

“For now.”

“Tell me who it is.”

“One of your Espada.” The way you say it so proudly, the sweetness in your tone like a deceptively delicious venom. “I’ll let you guess which.” He doesn’t have to. He knows.

Setting his jaw, you catch the barely perceptible twitch of his right eye as he sneers. “Grimmjow..” His voice is a low growl, you know that you’re in danger, but you like it that way.

“Ohhh, look at that - we have a winner! You know, Sosuke my dear, it’s no fun if you guess right on the first—“ His hand collides with your cheek, leaving a stinging pain in its wake from the force of the slap. Turning to face him once more, you blink at him, your expression down right incredulous, as his is simmering with rage.

“You little whore..” His voice is a warning in itself, yet so very addictive. “Fucking someone like him? I had no idea my own wife was so pathetic.”

“How very rich of you to call me a whore. Do you forget your own sins so easily?” The venom in your voice is the sweetest of poisons, Aizen wishes he could drown in it. He’d give a reply about how he has every right to anything that he wants, as his God-like status demands of him, but at this point in his life, he cannot bring himself to place you below him in such a way. If he’s God, then you are the Goddess he defaults to; you rule beside him, but he would carry out your will with all of the power he possesses - he would destroy the entire world with himself in it if you wished him to. You don’t know that Aizen is truly capable of feeling love, but you once thought Sosuke was. You aren’t entirely sure if you are either at this point - but you do believe that you are as close as he could ever get. He hates it. So do you sometimes.

Instead of speaking, he crashes his lips against yours, hungry and possessive, like he’s trying to claim you all over again. He will remind you of your place - of who you belong to - the only way that he knows how, by absolutely ruining you. He’s more civilized than to rip your clothing off of you, instead he very slowly frees you from your confines, each touch as possessive as it is teasing, like he’s branding you with nothing but his bare hands. Unlike Grimmjow, Aizen knows your body like the back of his hand - knows exactly where to touch, and how to touch, to make you fall apart over, and over, and over again. First, on his fingers, the rough pads of such deft fingers curling into your core, he knows exactly where to hit to make you cry out, and he knows that he’s hit his mark when that telltale gasp leaves your lips - breathless and eager for more, like always, and he’ll give you exactly what you want. His thumb presses lightly to your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves with pinpointed circles, varying the pressure he applies so that you can’t quite get used to how he touches you, but the way that your body responds to each touch tells him that he’s doing a good job.

“Did he touch you like this? Tell me, darling, did his fingers feel better than mine?” The man above you asks, his voice low and daring. All you can do is shake your head, a soft “No, sir,” leaving your lips, and he rewards your answer with a sinister smirk and an increase in the ministrations that you’re sure will make you lose your mind before too much longer. But he won’t keep you waiting long, not tonight - no, in fact, he wants to set a new record for how many times he can make you come undone for him tonight, he will unravel you thread by thread until you’ve completely lost yourself in his silken sheets. Then, like an expert seamster, he will put you back together again, only to thoroughly destroy you once more. Once, twice, three times he sends you over the edge with his skilled hands, until the majority of his forearm is covered in the sweet nectar that he considers sacred. All the more reason he’s enraged that you would dare to give it to another, much less someone he considers to be so far below himself.

His stamina is parallel to none, and you can’t tell if that’s a blessing or a curse right now, as each girthy inch of his cock enters you so slowly that it nearly drives you mad, the smirk on his lips is sinister and smug, his eyes just a touch feral. “Tell me, my love, did he feel as good as me?”

You’d sass him if you didn’t fear for your safety if you pissed him off any further tonight. “No, sir - nobody could ever feel as good as y-you..” Your voice hitches as he bottoms out with a low growl at the way that your warm walls engulf him so nicely. He leans over you, with your legs wrapped snugly around his toned waist, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “You flatter me, dear.. Though, none of my playthings could ever hold a candle to you, either..” It makes you question why he has such an affinity for them, then. You don’t ask - can’t ask - as his hips begin to grind against yours, slowly at first, because he knows the way his trimmed hairs grinding against your already overly-sensitive clit, coupled with his cock buried deep inside of you, drives you absolutely insane. He relishes in the way you writhe beneath him, trapped under him so you cannot get away, not like you would try anyways. He doesn’t care, he won’t take the chance. He’ll keep that pace for only a little. His discipline is usually something that he takes great pride in, but right now he only cares about proving a point, and that becomes obvious as he pulls back until only the tip is left inside, and slams back in with a force that reminds you all too well that this man is, in fact, the most powerful being in this entire realm - perhaps even in all three realms. He sets a steady pace, fast and rough but easily sustainable for him, and his hand once again wraps around your throat, squeezing at the sides until your vision starts to blur, and all you can see is that evil, reverent look in his golden eyes as he sends you over the edge of bliss for a fourth time tonight. A dangerous growl reverberates in his chest from the way you try so very hard to cry out in ecstasy, but are only able to just barely squeak out his name instead.

“Such a good girl you are.. It’s easy to forget what a cheap whore you are as well,” He sneers, his pace becoming more ruthless, expression colder. “Running off and fucking one of my men? You dared to let that overgrown house cat leave such filthy marks on your perfect skin?” You’ve never heard him so angry before. It should not be this hot. His fingers find the bruises Grimmjow left behind, pressing into them harshly, glaring daggers at the bite mark left on your shoulder.

“I’m s-sorry..!” All you can do is gasp, his pace is too punishing to even consider taking a much needed deep breath of air, not with how he has your thighs pressed to your chest - he’s always had a preference for having you in a mating press.

An incredulous scoff leaves his lips, the look in his eyes growing progressively more feral as he speaks.

“You’re sorry?” He echos, laughing bitterly. “I’ll show you sorry - my precious, little, slut..” Each word is punctuated by a thrust, he slows his pace just enough for you to catch your breath, just for a minute, because he can’t have you passing out, not this time. No, you won’t learn if you pass out. Once you’ve had what he deems sufficient oxygen, he bends your thighs further back, your lower back lifting up with them, but he effortlessly holds you in place as if the weight is nothing to him (it’s not), his hips falling back into that brutal pace that’s sending you into orbit. Blunt nails dig into the flesh of your thighs, threatening to break the skin that the man above you had only just called perfect moments before - but if Grimmjow left marks on you, then it's only fitting that your husband leaves more, right?

“Sosuke, I—“ For a second time tonight, your voice is cut off by a slap across your face, this time slightly harder. He doesn’t want to actually hurt you, he’d never dare use any more strength than this on you - you’re still his most precious treasure, after all.

“You will speak only when spoken to.” He demands, one arm wrapped around your leg to keep it over his shoulder, meanwhile the hand that had just slapped you moves to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling a bit harder than he means to, glowering down at you. You’re close again, and he knows it, he knows every sign your body gives, no matter how subtle it may be. A cruel smirk once again graces his full lips. “As a matter of fact.. Apologize to me. And I expect you to do it properly this time.”

The brutal pace of his thrusts slows to allow you to speak, though these slower ones are no less intense.

“I-I’m sorry, my love, I—“ He yanks your hair once more, the smirk dropping from his face almost immediately, eyes narrowing with a warning that you dare not ignore. “Please forgive me, my lord.. I’ve sinned, I- I’ve done something terrible, and I’m so- so very sorry..!” The words tumble out of your lips, and for just a moment, you feel like a child apologizing to a priest in a confessional booth. This might be just as cramped as one of those small booths, just as suffocating - in both instances, you’re still hoping that your words might reach the contemplative ear of a God, only yours is the beautiful man above you, and he is far more vengeful. “I’m sorry, Lord Aizen, I’m sorry!” Your words rise in pitch as you approach yet another little death. The God-like man above you smirks once more, you can tell that he’s pleased.

“Pray for your forgiveness, and I may just look past your insolence.”

“Please grant me mercy, my lord.. I’m so very sorry, please— please forgive me for my sins..!” A rich groan leaves his lips as a tear runs down your cheek, his own release nearing from hearing your desperate prayers, from feeling the way that your walls threaten to squeeze the life out of him, because you love it just as much as he does. His hand leaves your hair, his touch is surprisingly gentle, almost tender, as he wipes away the tear from your cheek.

“You’re forgiven, my delightful little whore,” He practically purrs, his pace speeding up once more - although not nearly as punishing as it had been. “Now, cum for me. I want you to scream my name, make sure everyone hears you..” And you do. Oh God, you do - your hands finding purchase on his strong shoulders, nails digging in hard enough to worry the skin, but it only provokes Aizen to go even harder, only pushes him that much closer to his own release. Sounds of your desperate cries of his name echos off of the walls, and you’re certain others can hear, not that you can be bothered to care at this given moment. Aizen follows you over the edge soon after, a deep groan and a heated husk of your name leaving his lips as teeth find your neck, biting hard enough that he can taste a hint of your blood, but you don’t dare stop him, not when it feels this good.

Slowly, he stills on top of you, lets himself lean over you as he balances on his forearms, letting your legs carefully fall to your sides as his eyes take in your beautifully ruined expression. Once again, his hand comes to your cheek to brush away a few more tears that had fallen in your throes of pleasure. His eyes are softer now, his smile almost gentle, and for just the most fleeting of seconds, he looks like the man that you fell in love with again - he looks like your Sosuke. But you know that he’s not. He never really was. It doesn’t stop you from reaching up, your own trembling hand touching his cheek, thumb gingerly stroking over the peak of his cheekbone.

“You look especially beautiful like this, you know?” His voice is softer now, too. “Such a pretty little thing.. I didn’t hurt you too badly, did I?”

“No.. Not too badly..” You answer, still a good bit out of it. But that’s okay. He leans down, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“You did well, my love. Now, let me get you cleaned up.”

[osarina]

I am very curious to know what the rest of the ADA crew think of pm reader especially atsushi considering how he looks up to dazai and kyouka did her and pm reader ever meet or hear of each other in the mafia ?

PFFF DUFHASUDFSH THEY DON'T LIKE OUR GIRL I FEAR </333 actually unfortunately i cannot delve into atsushi's feelings about her because there's actually going to be a fic about it that ive been slowly chipping away at. but as for the rest:

yosano - she does not hate her, she feels quite a it guilty about how things went down back when they were both with mori, but pmreader despises her LOL i ahve a whole post dedicated to her and yosano if you want me to find it

kunikida - highly detest each other. kunikida after the events of cannibalism, and pmreader after the events of dazai's 23rd bday

tanizaki - hates her, possibly more than kunikida because during the events of cannibalism, she sent her subordinate to hold naomi and haruno hostage until dazai agreed to set up the meeting between her and kunikida

kenji - does not hate anyone LOL i would actually love to have them meet at some point

ranpo - doesn't detest her the same way kunikida does, also isn't necessarily fond of her because of how she tried to convince kunikida to kill fukuzawa. i think he would tolerate her if anything, admires her wits - i dont think they would ever be friends, but they'd probably have the most cordial relationship of all of the ada (aka, she exploits his sweet tooth by bringing him fancy chocolates and candies from abroad LOLLL)

kyouka - she never knew pmreader while she was in the mafia, she HEARD of her ofc because she was an executive, but pmreader was abroad for the majority of the time kyouka was with the mafia. is not fond of her in the present for some reasons i cannot get into (has to do with the atsushi centric fic)

fukuzawa - actually feels similarly to yosano because he'd met her a few times when she was a kid and with mori. he feels like if hed done something different, he maybe would've been able to get both of them out from under mori's thumb. so honestly whenever she's brought up, fukuzawa is quite solemn

[dreaming-marchling]

Snippet Saturday - Bobby Paternity Fic

Tagged by @eowon - thank you!

The first part of this that I shared is here

---

Maddie looked like she had been through war.

It wasn’t his fault, Bobby knew that, but he still felt responsible for this entire thing exploding when Maddie had an injured brother and a baby that was due to arrive in just a couple of months.

“Am I okay?” Maddie repeated with a shaky laugh, “I don’t know. It’s amazing how fast I can fall right back into it.”

“Into what?” Hen asked as gently as she could.

They didn’t want to interrogate Maddie, especially after she had just had a clearly difficult talk with her parents. Bobby wasn’t really sure if there was any way around it though. This was happening whether any of them were ready for it or not.

“Sit, sit…” Chim said, ushering Maddie over to the nearest seat.

Maddie sat. She shut her eyes and exhaled slow and steady.

Then she opened her eyes and looked straight at Bobby.

“Mom wouldn’t talk about it. She just keeps insisting that Dad is Evan’s father.” Maddie told him, sorry for reasons Bobby wasn’t sure of yet, “She was practically hysterical about it, even for her.”

Even for her.

Maddie didn’t stop to explain that, she just kept talking, “But Dad says that she only tried once.”

Only once. Only Bobby.

“If she’s telling her husband the truth.” Eddie said. He looked apologetically at Bobby, “Spare him, too ashamed, whatever. She might have been lying.”

She might have been.

How did Evan find him?

“I hate myself,” Hen said to the general group before she locked in on Bobby, “Condom?”

That he didn’t remember made him feel that little bit worse about all of this. Irresponsible. Maggie – Margaret – was probably the only woman in his life who he had slept with and then never seen again otherwise he would be panicking right now about other children out there.

“It was my college friend’s wedding weekend.” Bobby said, as if that made him being drunk better. As if they didn’t know. “I was drunk. I remember going up to her room with her and not much after.”

Athena’s hand went impossibly tighter around his.

Maddie let out a teary breath, “That makes it worse. Mom doesn’t drink like ever.”

Though he would never ask, Bobby had to wonder what had made her pick him. Was it that he had been drunk? He didn’t look much like her husband, so it couldn’t have been that beyond picking a white man. Had she just gone with any man that showed interest? He had looked healthy enough that she was reasonably sure he didn’t have any horrible family history of disease?

It was probably that he had been drunk.

---

(@ambernotember, @asmuchasidliketo, @rainbow-nerdss, @cathcer1984, @actualalligator, @inell, @daffi-990, @thunderstormoffawesomeness, @harmonic-intervention, @big-urchin-energy, @fyrehose, @princessfbi, @devirnis because you asked to be tagged and/or reblogged the first part - just let me know if you don't want to be tagged again and I wont!)

[hl-obsessed]

fic rec: january-february | links to the original manip

💎✨ The Green Room by @jasthelarrie

(M, 112k) “For the last time, go away! This is fucking harassment, you know that? I’m well within my rights to call the cops.” Louis wished he could have hidden the tremor in his voice. He knew that it was thick with emotion. He was frustrated, angry, and beyond devastated.

“Uh…”

That was definitely not his ex's voice. Louis froze. Who had he just sworn at?

AKA

Louis has just been through a bad break-up and accidentally verbally assaults unsuspecting flower delivery man Harry.

scent holding me ransom by @the-larry-way

(E, 1,8k) Louis is obsessed with the scent of an omega he's never seen. Harry knows his dirty secret.

✨ all the sins you didn't have by @twopoppies

(E, 99k) It’s 1880, and premier danseur Harry Styles is running out of time. At twenty-five, he’s fast becoming too old for the lecherous benefactors who frequent The Paris Opera Ballet’s infamous backstage, and the only way to ensure he isn’t left penniless or rotting away in a brothel is to secure a permanent patron.

Enter Lord Louis Tomlinson: wealthy, young, handsome. And, unfortunately, a notorious rake. Harry strikes him and his gigantic ego off the list immediately… At least until they realize they have a common set of enemies and a common goal: revenge.

Though their ruse starts smoothly enough, the decadent freedom of Belle Époque Paris gives way to the rigid social rules of aristocratic Victorian London. Can a relationship that started as a calculated deception withstand the harsh realities of societal expectations and family duty to become a love more honest and profound than either has ever known?

✨ Things I Want, Things I Need by @canonlarry

(E, 14k) Most people don't find out whether they're an alpha, beta, or omega until somewhere around their eighteenth year, which means Louis finds out he's an omega long before his best friend and sometimes lover Harry will get a clue. Zayn is the loyal alpha friend who takes care of Louis during his heats. Liam is Zayn's beta mate, Niall tries to keep the peace, and Harry just wants to know what he is already.

✨ To find home (is wherever you are) by CrOminona

(E, 46k) Harry will wake up tomorrow and life will go on as always. They will go out with their friends, they will catch up and have fun. And then one day too soon Louis will pack his bag again, will find a flight to wherever he hasn’t seen yet and he will leave the city.

Harry will stay behind, waiting for the texts he barely receives sometimes, some of them sent at weird hours because of time zones. Days will become weeks, life will carry on in London with little to tell and a lot to do. And one day Harry will stop counting the hours that has passed since he last saw him and just expect Louis to appear whenever he pleases. Could be three weeks. Two months. One and a half. They never know, but Louis always comes back.

Go With It by embro

(NR, 4,4k) Prompt: "You thought I was someone else and started making out with me in a club and you're really hot so I just kinda went with it and now we're heading back to your place and I don't know how to break it to you"

don't let it break your (arm) by @the-larry-way

(G, 816) Louis seems to have forgotten his husband thanks to the wonders of anesthesia. Doesn't mean he's forgotten his attraction though.

Tattoos and Temptations by

(E, 67k) “Love,” he drawled, the word dripping with sinful allure, “I’ve got tattoos that are older than you,” he murmured, his voice a rough whisper, his breath warm against Harry’s lips.

Harry tilted his head, a teasing smirk of his own tugging at his mouth despite the rapid beat of his heart. “What can I say, I like experienced men.”

Louis chuckled low in his throat, a sound that sent heat rushing through Harry’s veins. “Cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” he murmured, his hand sliding up Harry’s back to tangle in his curls. He tugged lightly, just enough to tip Harry’s head back and expose more of his neck.

“You’re the one winding me up.”

don't call me baby by @vintageumbroshirt

(G, 2k) A short and cliché roommates AU inspired by To Be So Lonely, where they’re both oblivious to each other’s feelings and Harry gets sad and jealous over nothing. It works out in the end.

The Only One (when it's said and done) by @londonfoginacup

(T, 6,1k) Louis Tomlinson, alpha, twenty nine years old, is head of the Tomlinson pack.

He's unbonded, and happily so. A trip to the neighbouring Arthur pack certainly isn't going to change that.

Sweet Baby by @jishlerfics

(E, 5,3k) “Haz,” he said, “do you like being held down?”

Taking a shaky breath, Harry finally looked Louis in the eyes. “I think so.”

💎✨ And That Was That by @lightwoodsmagic

(E, 22k) “Okay. When Zayn and I were working on the set yesterday, Liam dropped by and mentioned he had a date. I asked Zayn about it, and he said that they’re ah - poly?”

Harry blinked.

“Oh yeah, I knew that. Li mentioned it when we were playing tennis once.” He ran his hand through Louis’ hair, smiling softly when he nuzzled into the touch. “Is that what’s making you act strange? Because it seems like something that works for them, and I —.”

“Zayn has feelings for me.” A deep breath, and then blue eyes locked on green. “He said he needs distance because he has to get over them.”

Harry hadn’t realised his hand had fallen from Louis’ face until his fingers were being tangled and gripped tightly.

Or, Zayn and Liam have been polyamorous for years, but Harry and Louis are monogamous. When Zayn meets Louis and starts to fall for him, it opens them all up for something they've never experienced before.

.💐💐💐

(okay so i didn't read much and these are some amazing fics that i mostly barely remember reading 🙄 seems like i have to do reread of them all 🙈🙈🙈)

.💐💐💐

all my fic recs

[deluforlulu]

Soon You'll Get Better

Summary: Luigi comforts you during a hospital visit to have an iron infusion

Word count: 2,206 words

Pure fluff and perhaps the sappiest fic I've ever written.

It had been a few weeks now since your anemia diagnosis. The signs were all there and your boyfriend, Luigi, had been the first to show any notice. Your fair skin was paler than normal and mysterious bruises started to appear on your body. When the two of you went to the gym to work out, you had to cut your exercises short due to you feeling short of breath and as if your heart was going to pound out of your chest. Every activity in general though seemed to take a lot out of you. Not even caffeine helped. You just wanted to sleep. 

After much encouragement from Luigi, you gave in and decided to go to your doctor for some blood tests. To your shock, it turned out that you only had a ferritin of five! Your doctor had even commented that he didn’t know how you were leading a normal life with such a low ferritin level. Almost immediately after the anemia diagnosis, your doctor had put in an order for you to get an iron infusion. Iron pills weren’t an option at this point. It would take several months for your levels to go up if you were to go that route. The doctor wanted immediate results and so did you.

It was a Sunday when Luigi drove you up to the hospital for the infusion. He had the heater on to keep the car toasty enough for your comfort and some music softly playing on the radio. You could feel him sneaking some concerned glances at you as you gazed out the window, observing the people and buildings that you passed by on the drive there. “You okay baby?” he asked, bringing you out of your thoughts. You turned and tried to give him the best smile that you could to reassure him. “Yeah, Lu. Why?” you asked. “I don’t know. You’ve been quiet most of the ride here. So, I just wanted to check.” he replied before taking your hand, wrapping his fingers around it gently.

 A genuine smile came onto your face this time as you felt his fingers delicately caressing your palm. “Yeah, I’m okay. I just don’t know what to expect I guess” you replied as you intertwined your fingers with his. “It’ll be okay. You’re in good hands, you know? The doctors won’t let anything happen to you and neither will I.” he responded before looking right at you, giving you that usual ethereal smile of his. 

Your heart warmed at just the sight and you remembered again just how much you loved this man. “I love you” you told him softly. You hoped he knew it too. Guilt had washed over you lately as you had worried that he thought you were taking him for granted. You had a tendency to push others away when you were going through something as trying as this and you had found yourself doing it with Luigi. He never seemed phased by it though and only pushed his way in to be there for you. He had taught you what it was like to be truly loved. “I love you too, y/n” he replied, kissing the top of your hand while you were at a stop light.

A heavy exhale slipped from your mouth after he had parked the car in the hospital parking lot. The medical anxiety that you have had for over a month washed over you while you viewed the large, gray building. “Lu, I don’t wanna do this. I-I can’t.” you declared, your voice cracking. You made the mistake of going online a few days before the infusion, discovering that it was possible to have an allergic reaction. Even anaphylaxis. You wished you never did as the possibility had been sitting in the back of your mind ever since then. Luigi turned to face you in the car, putting his strong hand on your cheek to get you to focus into the void of his honey brown eyes. “Y/n, yes you can. I know you can. Look how much you’ve been through already. This is just 45 minutes of your day then we can go. Also…” he drifted off. 

Your eyes followed his movements as you watched him reach over the driver’s seat, grabbing a bag. “I brought this for you. I put a coloring book in here and some colored pencils. I also brought a blanket and sweater in here in case you get cold. See? You’ll have a distraction now.” he explained. Your eyes widened in surprise at the sweet gesture, not knowing what to say at first. “When did you do this?” you asked him. “When you were in the shower before we left” he replied, giving you another charming smile. You giggled, leaning him to kiss his lips. “This is so cute babe” you said, looking down to see his UPenn sweater sitting at the top of the bag. He leaned in this time and captured your lips in another kiss, savoring the moment for a while. “You got this y/n. I know it. Now let’s go.” he told you.

After making it up to the 5th floor of the hospital, Luigi and you were escorted from the waiting room and into a small, white room with a curtain. He sat right beside you in a nearby chair while the nurses moved swiftly to check your vitals and insert the IV into your arm. Although you tried your hardest to remain composed, your vitals showed quite the opposite with a raised heart rate and blood pressure. The nurses were also struggling to place an IV as you appeared so nervous that your veins kept spasming.They left temporarily after removing the previous IV to get some new equipment, leaving you with Luigi. He has his fingers wrapped around your arm that you had laid out on the arm of the chair, tracing random patterns along it. 

The action soothed you, but you were starting to feel a little nauseous just now. It was no wonder though. You had not had anything to eat since you woke up. Just then, a nurse had opened the curtain, prepared to try another IV on the opposite arm with the new equipment that she had required. To your luck, this one managed to be successful. Finally, the two of you were in silence, minus the faint hums of the infusion monitor. Your arm felt stiff from all of the tape wound around to secure the needle inside it. Luigi leaned forward, resting his toned arms on his knees as he reached out, caressing your leg. “How are you feeling baby? Anything I can do?” he asked. 

You groaned softly. “Nauseous” you replied, looking down with your eyes closed as you tried to center yourself. Your boyfriend’s broad shoulders stiffened as he straightened his stance. “From the infusion?’ he asked you. “I don’t think so. I just..I didn’t eat anything before we left for the hospital” you confess. Luigi’s thick eyebrows furrowed as he carefully cupped your chin and tilted your head up, looking at you with worry. “Y/n, you need to eat. Your body needs the fuel” he spoke. “Yeah, I know. I just felt stressed for the infusion and was not very hungry.” You sheepishly responded even though you knew he was not actually scolding you. He playfully made a tsking noise and reached into the bag he prepared, bringing out a snack pack of peanut butter and crackers. “And this is exactly why I brought these. I know you well, don’t I?” he smirked, causing your cheeks to become a tint of pink as you smiled. “Yeah yeah” you replied, feigning annoyance with your tone.

Luigi walked over to the chair he was in and moved it so that he was sitting in front of you now, taking a cracker out of the plastic baggie to feed you. You slightly leaned forward, taking a bite out of the cracker he was holding. You giggled after a moment from how endearing the act of Luigi feeding you was. “Lulu, you don’t have to feed me. I have hands” you teased him. You reached to take the cracker from him and froze when the infusion monitor made a loud beeping noise. 

A nurse came in shortly after the beeping started and pushed a few buttons on the monitor to halt the beeping. “All better now. The monitor can be a little sensitive to movement. So, just be careful” she politely told you before leaving the room. Luigi turned back to you, giving you a satisfied look. “Looks like I got my wish. I’m gonna have to feed you.” he stated. You jokingly rolled your eyes, but complied and sat there comfortably while he fed you the peanut butter and crackers. 

Once you felt satiated enough, Luigi tucked away the plastic bag.”Need anything else baby? Water? Are you warm enough?” he asked. You smiled with your eyes half lidded shut from exhaustion, heart fluttering.You looked at him admiringly, running a hand through his thick, dark curls. “You’re such a golden retriever” you teased him. He tilted his head to the side and grinned. “Golden retriever?.. What?..” he asked you, perplexed. “Yeah, you know. Golden retriever energy. Loyal, attentive, positive. It’s a good thing” you assured him and leaned in, tenderly kissing him. He returned the kiss, smiling against your lips. “Mm, you know me. I just like taking care of you” he explained between kisses. 

After the infusion was over, you felt silly for being so worried. Overall, you felt fine minus an ache in both of your legs. According to the hospital staff though, that was to be expected. Once you arrived at the apartment Luigi and you shared, that was when the true fatigue had consumed you. Your legs felt like jelly while you changed out of your day clothes and switched into a silky tank top and matching pair of shorts you wear to bed. A soft moan escaped your lips once you closed your eyes and felt the blankets of the bed consume you like a cloud.

Your eyes flitted open after about an hour of sleep and you looked up, seeing Luigi walking into the room. He smiled as soon as he saw that you were awake. He was in a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt that he frequently wore to bed. You could tell that he must have gotten out of the shower from how his wet hair was clinging to his neck in heavy, glistening strands. “Hey princess” he greeted as he towered over you. "Mm, come to bed baby” you responded with a hand around his wrist, eyes barely open.

A lazy smile spread across your face when you felt the weight of the bed shift as he got into bed with you, scooping you up into his side. You fit into him perfectly like a missing piece. His skin was still warm from the shower and he smelled like the familiar zest of his cologne. His heartbeat steadily thumped beneath you as he landed a kiss to your forehead. “Mm..Can we stay like this forever?” you muffled against his chest. A genuine laugh reverberated off his chest at your question. “Sounds good to me..and do what?” he asked, amused. You shrugged as another smile teased at your laps. “I don’t care. Whatever. As long as it’s me and you and we don’t leave this bed” you declared, earning another laugh from him. “I could get used to that real fast” he purred.

You lifted your head and saw that he was starting to fall asleep. He looked so peaceful with his eyes closed and lips pursed together. His long lashes fanned out finely against his cheeks. “Lu?” you whispered. “Hmm?” he asked, opening one eye to look at you. “I just wanted to say thank you.. Like not just for today, but everything. You take care of me better than anyone else ever has” you answered, pressing a kiss into the nape of his neck. He smiled down at you, running a hand through your hair. “What brought this on?” he asked. “I don’t know. I worry you think I take it for granted cause I can push you away when I’m stressed out. I hope you know that I don’t and that I’m always here for you too.” you emphasized. He cradled the back of your head and leaned in, kissing you deeply. 

“Y/n, I know. You’re silly. Don’t worry. I don’t ask for anything in return either. I just want you to be happy and to know that I love you. That’s all I care about.” he assured you. “I love you too” you returned, giving him another passionate kiss. With those words, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence. The world outside faded out as you drifted into a deep slumber with Luigi, his arm snaked around your waist and holding you against him. Life could be hard and throw some of its toughest battles at you. As long as you had each other though, nothing could truly break you.

[tomriddlehyperfixataion]

Haunted- Tom Riddle "x" Reader-oneshot

Summary; Tom uses the basilisk to make his first Horcrux-except something else latches onto his diary, and then-to himself.

warnings; murder, death, vengeful sprit behavior, blood, horror images. meh 2nd half plot.

i like the first half of this fic better then the 2nd,but i ran out of ideas halfway through and just went through the story. i wanted this to be more of a...haunted horror fic? but also funny because ghost fucking with Tom??? idk enjoy?

=

When Tom made his first Horcrux, the diary-using the basilisk to kill a girl who’d been crying in the girls bathroom. It wasn’t that Myrtle girl like Tom planned-it was some random girl, wearing a Slytherin tie-but that didn’t matter, Tom successfully got away with it and all he needed to do was formally split his soul to put into his diary.

Except he couldn’t, when he tried, it was like something was already inside it-like something had already put its soul into his diary.

He was confused-his diary was from a muggle supply shop-how could it have a soul in it already??

Tom huffed to himself, glaring down at his diary. It was a secondhand diary anyway, stupid muggle things-stupid lack of funds. He placed his soul back inside him, nearly throwing up at the feeling. He cleaned himself of the pitch-black potion and put it away for later use-glaring at his diary again.

He picked it up, flipping through it to look at his past entries.

He found the pages about the night he killed the girl-only to find them scribbled over, in writing he never put.

WHY?

That was the only word that was scribbled over his entries in scratchy writing, Tom frowned, snapping his diary closed, feeling slightly uneasy.

Then he tossed his book away, keeping it hidden beneath his bed until he could find use for it again.

The next day, he spotted a girl staring at him from far away, others not really paying attention to her, and…her eyes were odd. They were black with a tiny white dot staring at him-black tears going down her face. His brow furrowed, staring back at her. “what are you staring at?” his follower Nott asked, looking to where Tom was staring.

But saw nothing.

He said as such and Tom swallowed, blinking and the girl was gone. It seemed he had a ghost on his hands, the girl he’d murdered with the basilisk, instead of being a roaming ghost-she’d attached to him, to his diary.

He wasn’t scared, no, he was never scared-not since he was young. But he was frustrated. Frustrated at another set back, frustrated this girl was clinging to him-preventing him from making his first Horcrux.

So he found an easy exorcism spell-preformed it on his diary. It seemed to work, as the scribbled words on the pages disappeared. He got out the pitch-black potion again, took out his soul-and was about to put it in his diary when two deathly pale ghostly hands gripped his wrists, coming from behind him-phasing through his shoulders.

He was yanked back-he let out a yelp as he hit the floor of the chamber of secrets, his head starting to pound as heat built in his nose. He couldn’t move his arms, instead they moved against his will-putting his soul back inside him forcefully.

He tore his eyes opened-breath catching as he saw the girl, black tears dripping down onto his face-staining it-her beady white dot eyes staring down at him. Wide. Unblinking.

Angry.

Tom swallowed hard, releasing his grip on his soul-and the girls ghostly painful grip faded too. She’d once more prevented him from making his horcrux-except this time, instead of possessing his diary-she’d physically stopped him. She’d attached her soul to his.

She knew he killed her, she’d seen him before she died-saw him order the basilisk to murder her. She was angry, confused, vengeful.

And Tom knew then and there that he’d never be rid of her.

-

Rosier noticed Tom wasn’t doing to well these days, especially after summer ended, and everyone returned for their next/final year. Tom was head boy now, but he was distracted, looking at things that others couldn’t see, sometimes speaking to something that wasn’t there. His followers grew concerned, seeing the dark circles growing under Tom’s eye, the way his hair became less-tamed as weeks went on.

“Tom-my lord-are you alright?” Nott asked Tom-who sat quietly at the library table they were studying at. Tom remained quiet, his eyes locked onto his essay, others unaware of the invasive presence hovering just behind him.

It was the girl, her name was, or had been, (y/n).  She didn’t speak to Tom, not once, only staring at him. She didn’t glare, she didn’t sneer, she only stared. Blank and angry.

Her black tears that dripped down her face had long stained his uniform and skin-but no one else could see them. He couldn’t wash them out, couldn’t charm anything clean-the stains would remain, always there, like acid on his clothes and skin-burning him with every new drop.

He felt like he was losing his mind.

She made him lose sleep. Nightmares of death plaguing him every night, of being killed by the basilisk, dying alone in a ditch, killed by a muggle serial killer, left alone in a forest to starve, hit by a car and left to bleed to death, unable to move as a train sped towards him.

Each nightmare-all of his very worst fear-left him bolting up at night, screaming-tears streaming down his face, only to be met with the blank angry stare of (y/n), making him jolt back-sometimes falling out of his bed, sometimes smacking against his headboard.

They’d stare at each other, for what felt like hours. She blended into the darkness of his room-sometimes only her eyes visible. “Leave me alone!” Tom screamed, it had been months after she’d begun to haunt him. “Just-go away! Why are you still here?!”

She got into his face, her mouth opening-blood-black and putrid-dripped out, staining her chin, teeth, his shirt as it splattered on him. He felt like puking, turning his face away as an inhuman pain filled scream came from her, making his ears ring and nausea fill his throat.

“Stop!” Tom screamed-covering his ears, clenching his eyes shut. “Stop stop! I’m sorry-I’m sorry! You weren’t the one I meant to kill! It was meant to be someone else-just stop!”

The non-apology, without any true remorse, meant nothing to (y/n). for the rest of the night she kept hovering over him, her face only inches away, her black blood dripping onto his face.

He didn’t get any more sleep that night.

-

During winter break of his 7th year, he went back to London-took a train to Little Hangleton, and met his uncle. A putrid man, a vile thing that was deformed from years of incestual breeding. He could only imagine that if his mother hadn’t bred with his father, Tom Riddle, the thing in front of him would’ve been his dad.

It was a disgusting thought, and Tom could only feel slightly grateful for a muggle man being his father, since he gave Tom his dashing looks. He stole his uncle's wand and the gaunt ring, aiming to make the ring his first Horcrux now that his diary had been prevented from being made one by (y/n).

She was still there, hovering behind him, following him everywhere, staring silently. She followed him to his fathers, his family manor. It was old and decaying, the rich muggle family clearly not carrying enough to put money into repairing it. Tom had heard as he traveled through the town about the Riddle family-cruel uncaring people, who were the ‘lords’ of the town, who didn’t help anyone in need and kept all their money to themselves, dreadfully paying the taxes due.

Such a waste. If he had such money-if he had been able to grow in a manor like this-he would’ve kept it in a state of beauty, not allowing the family to horde it pitifully.

He confronted his family, his grandparents and father. They were frightened, especially his father-who quickly assumed Tom was the bastard son of the witch who had raped him years back. Tom could understand such fear-and as his father spat insults at him, bred by the fear-he understood why his father didn’t stay. He never knew why his parents had gotten together, only sort’ve knowing his mother was abandoned by his father, thus abandoning Tom when he was still unborn.

He hadn’t known the lengths his mother had gone, and while he still felt angry, he understood. Who would stay with someone who had raped them? Possibly under a love spell for so long.

Still, Tom wanted his father, his muggle ties, dead. He raised his uncles wand only for a cold ghostly grip to wrap around his wrist, forcing his hand down. He glared at (y/n), who stared right back-preventing him from murdering his father, who was quick to run.

“Let me go-let me go! He needs to die!” Tom screamed, feeling terribly frustrated, feral with anger-he blasted her with a spell he’d discovered a few months back-one that worked on ghosts.

She flew back, hitting a chair that tumbled over-Tom didn’t care. He raced after his father, eyes wide and gleaming green under the light of the death curse. He caught up to his father, and drew his wand. “AVADA KADAVRA.” Tom bellowed, and his father dropped dead.

He did the same to his grandparents.

He breathed heavily, eyes wide as he stood over their bodies, their faces still with death and fear, the thrill of it all thumping in his chest. He almost waited for their ghosts to appear-but muggles couldn’t be ghosts, especially not when killed by the killing curse, for it destroyed the soul with it.

He looked up, seeing (y/n), staring at him again, black tears dripping off her chin to stain the very old ruined carpet. “Oh, shut it. I had a bloody reason for them. They deserved it.” Tom hissed at (y/n), turning on his heel to leave the bodies of his muggle family on the floor to rot. He found the safe-it had all the money. He pocketed it and left the house, returning his uncle's wand to him-it would be too easy to frame him.

He got on the train and returned to London. He felt giddy with it all-he knew he’d get away with it, just like he got away with (y/n)’s death as well, he ever got a bloody reward for catching her murder. He’d framed Hagrid but whatever, the half-breed didn’t belong at Hogwarts anyway, especially with his habit of bringing dark creatures into the school full of children.

(y/n) sat, or well, hovered on the seat across from him. Her uniform, stained with her black tears, seemed to melt into the shadows of the train seat. For the first time in a while, he looked at her-really looked at her. She still looked the same as she did when she died. 16.

He’d grown. In a few days he’d be 17.

He’d taken her life and now it was bound to his. “Why do you keep following me? Surely you’d rather pass on, haunt someone else?” Tom muttered, spinning the Gaunt ring that was now on his finger-he wanted her gone-he knew if she was around he wouldn’t be able to split his soul into the ring-she’d stop him. Just like she stopped him every other time he tried to make his diary a horcrux.

“Why?” Tom heard her rasp, audibly for the very first time. He looked up at her, she was close now-face only inches from him. “Why?” she asked again, her voice croaky with a death rattle, unnerving and making him queasy.

“It wasn’t meant to be you,” Tom admitted, looking down at his ring. “it was meant to be that crying Ravenclaw girl, Mortie or something, I planned for her to be the death I needed to make a horcrux, I didn’t know you were in there.” (y/n) just kept staring at him.

That wasn’t the why she wanted.

So Tom told her.  About his fear of death-which she must’ve already knew due to the nightmares of death she always gave him, about how he found out how to cheat death, with horcruxes. How killing someone was one of the steps to make one.

He waited for her to leave after that, to fade away or something. But she didn’t. she stayed. She kept haunting him.

Fearing death was not a good reason to murder someone. To take life away was the ultimate sin, and (y/n) was going to make sure he died. She would make sure he never became immortal.

-

She didn’t even let him make the potion this time, she shattered the jar he kept it in at school-preventing him from using it. Then she kept ruining his second potion attempt, shoving him, scaring him, screaming in his face; The potion kept blowing up in his face or became unusable because her distractions ruined it.

Another Horcrux object went unused. The ring now just a reminder of what felt like his only accomplishment; killing his muggle family and framing his uncle. He was the only heir to Slytherin now, even if he had a ghost that refused to let him rest.

She kept haunting him through the rest of the school year-his followers thought he was going mad, glaring at something that wasn’t there, or even yelling at something, her, that they couldn’t see.

He never told anyone of (y/n) haunting him, not wanting to seem pathetic-after all he was the upcoming dark lord. He was the one who would cheat death, he was the one who was going to rule the world one day. A silly ghost girl would not defeat him.

-

He was laughing, painfully and manically-Slytherin’s locket tight in his grip-shaking and dripping with blood as he stood. He’d done it. He’d made a Horcrux-after 10 years of discovering the power of the dark magic-he’d made one.

He snickered as he looked over at (y/n), who was stuck in a small summoning circle-made to keep her trapped so she couldn’t stop him this time. “oooh don’t look so sad darling,” Tom snickered, his eyes wide as he stumbled to his feet, walking over to (y/n)-staring down at her with a wide toothy grin. “isn't this what you wanted? To torment me forever? Now you can! Till the end of time.” Tom laughed, chuckling as he stumbled away, collapsing onto the bed of the inn room he’d rented, the body of a muggle sex worker on the floor-her expression white with fear, blood soaking into the wood.

(y/n) stared, anger rising.

She would make sure he died.

-

(y/n) was filled with glee-watching his spell backfire on a fucking baby. A baby killed him-it was poetic justice! But she didn’t fade away-she watched as his soul fled, a piece of it latching onto the poor baby in the crib-crying his little heart out.

Stupid horcruxes.

This baby, little Harry Potter, was the one from the prophecy-foretold to destroy Voldemort as he called himself now. (y/n) latched onto the soul piece within him.

She would make sure this boy survived to kill Voldemort. She would protect him, watch him grow, keep him safe.

Voldemort would die, she’d make sure of it.

…

Harry liked his friend. She was his imaginary friend of course, a curious girl wearing a curious outfit, with funny eyes. She protected him, from Dudley, from his uncle and aunt. She could make things move around him-scaring away his uncle, sometimes she appeared to them-especially Dudley; screaming in the boys face, black tears and all.

Harry loved her, she was maybe the closest thing he had to a mom, but she seemed to prefer if he thought of her as his sister or something. For many years he assumed she was some sort of imaginary friend that-somehow-could interact with the world around him.

When he got to Hogwarts, and she followed him-he learned what she really was. A ghost. She’d been there on the night his parents were murdered, she told him as such. “I was attached to Voldemort-he murdered me when we were both 16, I was, am, angry about it, so I latched onto his soul-following him, haunting him. I vowed to make sure he’d die, you somehow were able to do it, at least mostly. He’ll be back one day, and I’m going to make sure it’s him who dies, not you.” (y/n) told him one night, after he’d settled into Hogwarts.

Harry smiled, closing his eyes as her ghostly hand brushed over his head. “Thanks (y/n),” he murmured, falling asleep as (y/n) smiled back at him.

“You’re welcome Harry, sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

She stayed with him for three more years-helping him in his fourth year-when he’d been forced to go through the tri-wizard tournament. “I cant believe they’d make you go through it!” (y/n) ranted as Harry got ready for the first task-going against a dragon. “I mean-you’re only fourteen-they updated the age rule for a bloody reason!”

Harry was quiet, his hand shaking as he clipped together the front of his sport robes. (y/n) saw as such and sighed, moving to hover in front of Harry. “it’ll be okay kid, you’re smart-you’ve practiced the summoning charm for your broom, and you’re a wicked flyer. If you can catch a snitch with your mouth, you can get a fake egg.” (y/n) said and Harry smiled weakly.

He managed to complete the first task, and the second. The third was the worst, because it ended with him in a graveyard with Cedric, and his scar beginning to hurt.

“Harry-go now!” (y/n) yelled, having followed him through every task, her eyes going over towards a grave that went into the ground, Harry was trying to tell Cedric they should go but Wormtail killed Cedric and pinned Harry to the Riddle family tombstone statue-the statue of death holding Harry tight.

“It’s him,” (y/n) growled, her visage becoming terrifying to Harry for the first time as black tears actively poured from her eyes, her white glowing eyes becoming thin dots as Voldemort was reborn.

The reborn dark wizard didn’t even get a moment-(y/n) appeared before him-letting out a high-pitched scream that shook both Harry and Voldemort's heads. “No! I thought you were gone!” Voldemort yelled back, swinging at the vengeful ghost but she caught his arm-bearing her teeth at him-Wormtail couldn’t see her-only seeing his master swinging and yelling at something that wasn’t there.

“YOU WILL DIE!” (y/n) screeched at Voldemort, her hand grabbing at his throat, forcing him away from Harry. “I’LL MAKE SURE OF IT!” Voldemort snarled back-falling to the ground with the vengeful ghost atop him-deep scratches appearing on his face with no origin-at least to Wormtail.

Harry used this as a chance to slip out of the grip of the statue, toppling over himself before finding his wand and getting to Cedric-summoning the Triwizard cup and portkeying back to Hogwarts.

(y/n) didn’t come back with him, once more haunting Voldemort.

He hated it, the last 13 years spent as a wraith had been almost blissful without the spirit of his first victim  haunting him, he had fitfully assumed she had moved on-assuming he died. He was stupid to think that, she knew of his Horcruxes, he had made them in front of her after all.

“Would you just go away?” Voldemort hissed at (y/n) who glared back, more like an annoying pest instead of a vengeful silent spirit. “No.” (y/n) hissed back, following him through the Malfoy manor. Voldemort sneered at her and she tripped him-right in front of Lucius.

“My lord?” Lucius squeaked out in fear as Voldemort got back on his feet, Nagini and Lucius staring at him in…mostly concern. “I’m fine.” Voldemort hissed, glaring at (y/n) who was floating behind Lucius, snickering. “ignore what just happened. It didn’t happen.” Voldemort said, pointing his finger at Lucius who nodded, quickly leaving the corridor.

“Stop humiliating me in front of my followers,” Voldemort demanded, Lucius hearing him talk to…nothing just before he was out of earshot. “No. It’s funny. You deserve it.” (y/n) sneered, snickering as Voldemort sent the torture curse at her, it went right through her, hitting the wall behind her and marking the wallpaper. “Really?” she drawled, following him again as he let out a frustrated huff and continued on his way through the halls.

“You. are a pest.” Voldemort hissed at her, going into his room-allowing Nagini to slither in before closing the door, attempting to do so in (y/n)’s face but she just phased through.

“Do you want me to be worse? How about the nightmares again, or keeping you up all night, or making you seem insane to all your little friends? Huh?” (y/n) said with an intense stare and wild grin, getting in Voldemort’s face. He glared at her, flinching at the feeling of her acid tears dripping on his face again, a feeling he never got used to-even after 50+ years of it.

“Move on. I wont die. Not this time-Harry Potter will die by my hand, and you’ll watch.” Voldemort hissed and (y/n)’s wild grin turned to a near-feral snarl, grabbing his face-filling his mind with horrific death scenarios, torturing him with his worst fear once again.

“Release me!” Voldemort roared, attempting to shake (y/n) off-but she did not let go. She’d never let go. “No. I will hold onto you, I will make you suffer through the rest of your days, I will make you regret this path. I will make sure you die.” (y/n) said, glaring down at Voldemort, refusing to release his mind.

-

She continued to make Voldemort look pathetic in front of his followers, humiliating him as well. Tripping him, making him slam his face into his food, flinging his robes up over his head, only sneering back at him with every rage filled scream he aimed at her. She was ruining his image, they all thought their master was going insane-unaware of the vengeful ghost that haunted him, a spirit only Voldemort, Nagini, and Harry could see.

Voldemort attempted to exorcise her or banish her from him many times-but she held strong, clinging to his soul to torture him like a persistent parasite, haunting him at every moment, once more haunting his nightmares-making him relive his death again and again, along with filling his nightmares about a second death-no horcruxes to save him, and Harry Potter killing him.

He was going utterly insane. He was losing sleep again, unable to focus-his plans becoming sloppy. He needed (y/n) gone, but he knew he couldn’t force her to leave, she was going to be haunting him until he died.

So, as he laid on the grounds of Hogwarts, his Horcruxes destroyed and his life draining-she stood over him, staring blankly again, black tears dripping onto his face. she knelt over him, tilting her head ever so slightly, then grinning, black blood staining her teeth. “Die.”

-end-

[traincat]

what's the unreleased uncanny avengers fic 👀 (I love when you do fic that's set at a very specific point in canon, I'm always dying for more of that in comics fandom)

So I have four different Uncanny Avengers fic in this folder, and upon investigation two of these I finished and posted:

Echoes, which takes place immediately post Uncanny Avengers #12, which is the end of its Hanktron plot.

He was having a time.

Keep the Fire Burning, which takes place after Uncanny Avengers #20, where the Red Skull mindcontrolled Johnny and Peter reacted. Strongly.

[Sunset Boulevard voice] We had comics, then.

The other two are also in the Uncanny Avengers #19-22 time frame, because there was just a lot going on. Under the cut! Johnny having a Bad Time, Generally.

Uncanny Avengers #19 fixit fic, based on the fact that the Red Skull makes Johnny hallucinate his family's return and then imagine himself burning them alive. We have fun here. This one was intended to be a get together, but then I think Uncanny Avengers #20 came out and I was like well I have other things to focus on.

***

“It’s that farkakteh team you’re on, running around, getting abducted by psychic Red Skull,” Peter said, pacing the floor in front of Johnny, waving his hands about. “Back in my day we settled for the regular model and we were happy about it.”

Johnny didn’t say anything. Peter sighed, stopping in front of him and dropping his hands to his sides.

“Torch,” he said. “Talk to me.”

Johnny shook his head, the briefest of motions. Peter dropped into the chair across from him, leaning forward a little, until their knees were almost brushing.

"Don't touch me."

It was the only Peter could get him to say, ever since he’d insisted they cut out on the clean-up. He’d swung them both to his apartments in the Baxter Building, Johnny silent and unresisting, clinging to Peter’s shoulders. Peter almost missed that – at least that was contact. Now Johnny sat on the sofa with his head in his hands and his shoulders all hunched up and said "don't touch me" every time Peter so much as thought about reaching out.

It was horrible. All Peter wanted to do was hold him.

“Johnny,” he said, his voice coaxing. He wanted to fix it – wanted to take Johnny out, somewhere high up. Wanted to wrap Johnny up in blankets and keep him indoors. All his attempts at affection always felt so clumsy where Johnny was involved, like it was never what Johnny really needed.

“Don’t touch me,” Johnny repeated.

“C’mon,” Peter said, aware his tone is getting a little tetchy. He knew wasn’t the world’s most patient man at the best of times, and besides, words were cheap, easy, a dime a dozen where he was concerned. He’d always communicated best with Johnny through touch. How could he help if Johnny wouldn’t let him smooth a hand over his back or throw an arm around his shoulders?

Johnny had never shied away from touch before, not once in the fifteen years Peter had known him.

“What’s a little mind control between friends, huh?” Peter joked, inching a little closer, on the edge of his own seat so he could sway a little into Johnny’s space. “We’ve been here before.”

Johnny shook his head slowly. Peter dipped his head, but he couldn’t see his expression. He sighed, restless.

“Hey, buddy, you gotta talk to me here. You’re scaring me a little…” he said, dropping a hand to Johnny’s knee.

He yanked it back before he could make real contact, spider-sense buzzing like he just tried to touch a hot stove. Johnny was blazing -- it wasn’t noticeable, except for a sheer scant inch from his body.

Peter had never really marveled over his control before. “Johnny?”

“You can’t,” Johnny said, voice hitching, “touch me, okay, Peter?”

“Johnny,” Peter said, gentling his voice again. He got up and moved to Johnny’s couch instead, leaving enough space between them that he couldn’t feel the heat Johnny’s putting out. “Hot stuff – literally. What’s going on?”

All he wanted to do was put his arms around Johnny, and Johnny wouldn’t let him.

Johnny just breathed for a few long moments, ragged. Peter had already tried to ply him with water, with coffee, with that one bottle of very old-looking scotch someone else must have put in his kitchen. Johnny didn’t seem to want anything.

“Pretty boy,” Peter cajoled, the old nickname that never failed to get him a pleased smile. “What’s so different about this time?”

“My family came back,” Johnny said, and Peter’s whole being lurched.

“What?” he said. It wasn’t possible – if the Fantastic Four were back, he’d know, surely. And if the Fantastic Four were back, why would Johnny be curled in on himself like this, hiding out on Peter’s couch?

“My family came back,” Johnny repeated, voice a little steadier. He pulled his hands away from his face – his fingers trembled – and slid them through his hair. His eyes were red. He was white as a sheet. “And I lost all control of my powers, and I burned them to death. My family.”

Peter worked his jaw for a minute, speechless. Johnny finally looked at him, eyes all damp. Peter couldn’t stop staring at the dark gold sweep of his lashes, his wet cheeks.

“That’s what the Red Skull made me see, anyway,” he said with a watery, fake smile. It was like a bucket of ice water down Peter’s back. The arm of his chair gave way under his fist, viciously, and Johnny almost jumped.

He reigned his own anger in for Johnny’s sake, buried it deep down where he kept every other injustice he couldn’t do anything about, all the unfair things. He breathed out, slow.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Johnny, still wide-eyed at Peter’s outburst, said, “I know.”

“It wasn’t real,” Peter pressed on, inching closer. His hand hovered above Johnny’s knee, but still there was that blazing heat. It hurt, that Johnny wouldn’t let him hold him. “It didn’t really happen.”

“I know,” Johnny repeated, miserably. Peter hadn’t thought his heart could break for him anymore than it already had.

“It’s not your fault,” Peter said, desperate to take Johnny’s hand in his own. Johnny would never forgive him if he burned himself on him. Peter would never forgive himself if he didn’t try. “It wasn’t real, Johnny.”

(...)

“Hey,” Peter said, inching closer. He can stand the heat, at least for a few minutes. “Lower the thermostat.”

“What?” Johnny said, looking up at him.

Peter made a loose hand motion, rolling his wrist. “An expression, Torch. Johnny, hot stuff – turn it down.”

Johnny shook his head, stubborn. He was tired, Peter could see that now. He needed rest, food – and he wasn’t letting himself have anything, because of something that had never even happened.

Peter knew that feeling.

“I promise you,” Peter said, “you want to turn down the body heat for this one. Johnny, trust me. You trust me, don’t you?”

After a second, Johnny nodded.

It wasn’t how he had wanted to do this. He’d wanted to wait, to do it right – take Johnny out someplace nice, someplace romantic. Let him catch on little by little. He’d wanted to kiss Johnny for the first time with the skyline at their backs, underneath the stars.

On his couch with all the blinds drawn and Johnny so miserable Peter felt like crying too was what it was going to have to be, though. Peter couldn’t think of anything else.

“You’re either going to love this, or I’ve been reading everything wrong,” Peter said, softly. He touched his fingertips beneath Johnny’s chin to hold him steady. “In which case you’re going to have the time of your life laughing at me.”

Johnny’s soft inhale was all the go-ahead Peter needed. The first brush of their lips was quick, testing – Johnny’s lips were soft and full. Peter wondered if he tasted slightly ashen all the time, or only after he’d spent most of the day flamed on. Maybe only when he was sad.

“Peter,” Johnny said, sliding one hand along Peter’s neck. His eyes were closed.

“Yeah?” Peter teased a little, lips just brushing Johnny’s.

“I’m not laughing,” Johnny said.

“Well,” Peter said. He hummed and kissed the highest point of Johnny’s cheek, nosed at him softly. “I guess I need to try harder.”

Johnny nodded, tilting his head. Peter kissed him again, and again, and again, until Johnny’s mouth opened under his and Peter was licking into it and Johnny was making soft little sounds that had nothing to do with being sad at all.

“Is this okay?” Peter asked when they broke apart. Johnny was breathing hard, looking a little dazed. Peter reached up very carefully to brush his hair back.

***

And the Uncanny Avengers post-#21-22 fic, which was established relationship:

Johnny was in his bed again, on his side facing away from the door. Peter sighed fondly, shoulder meeting the doorframe as he leaned in it for a long moment, tracing the way the moonlight illuminated Johnny’s form.

He hit the light and Johnny groaned, dragging a pillow over his head.

“You’re not naked,” he said, climbing onto the bed and palming Johnny’s hip, right over the yellow patch. “<i>Before</i> we got together, I got you naked.”

“You didn’t get me anything,” Johnny mumbled, voice thick. “I got myself naked and you screamed.”

“I didn’t scream, I yelled,” Peter corrected, rubbing little circles, stroking his way down Johnny’s thigh and back up again. He counted out the panels on the yellow patches, walking his fingers up and down. “It was extremely masculine and not a pitch only dogs could hear at all.”

Johnny snorted, grip on the pillow loosening. Peter gave him another moment before he rolled him over, bracing himself over him on one hand.

“Hey, hon,” he said, tracing the dried tear tracks on Johnny’s cheeks. His eyes were still a little red. “Rough day at the office?”

Johnny snorted, reaching up to fidget with Peter’s collar. “Something like that.”

“But everything’s peachy-keen now?” Peter asked. “All Red Skulls safely off the streets?”

Johnny nodded, face pensive. (...)

“The fist bump?” Peter said, sounding amused. “Really?”

“I was trying to play it cool,” Johnny said. “Casual, you know.”

“I have never,” Peter said, kissing Johnny once, twice, three times, “ever bumped your fist before. Not one time.”

"Liar."

[ar-agon]

TikTok

So branching out some more on writing but I got inspo for a fic and I thought I'd give in a try- Ar

Summary: Inspired by @alnilaem post about TikToker reader and grumpy-looking Simon Riley. Reader is described using fem pronouns.

Length: 1276

You gained a following on TikTok due to making easy meals and baking cakes. You also always wore dresses and hand-made embroidered aprons while making your videos, giving all your videos a warm, homey vibe. It was what some of your viewers called your aesthetic, a lovely housewife. You didn’t mind it too much, given you were a stay-at-home wife. Your husband Simon worked construction, and that brought in enough to pay for everything, and the little you got from your videos helped cushion whatever else you wanted. Simon never showed up in your videos, either letting you have reign of the kitchen or him being at work while you filmed. 

You decided for today’s video to hop on the “pack my husband’s lunch with me” trend. So you began the video as you always do, “Hey, everyone, I am doing something new today. So, we are going to be packing my husband’s lunch today.” You smile at the camera as you start making Simon two roast beef sandwiches. “He's not very picky when it comes to food, but he certainly doesn’t like anything super fancy for lunch,” you say as you continue to pack his lunch. You hum to yourself as you make the sandwiches, placing them in a plastic bag. You then grab a small container and fill it with grapes, placing it in the bag as well. You then grab a small thermos and fill it with coffee, placing it in the bag as well. You then grab a small bag of chips and place it in the bag, sealing it up. You then grab a small notebook and pen and write a small note, placing it in the bag as well. “And there it is, my husband’s lunch.” The camera pans over the lunchbox before the video ends. 

You posted the video without watching it fully. If you had, you would have noticed Simon in the background. You knew your husband looked mean all huge and muscular. He was also wearing one of his work shirts that was covered in paint splatter. You had tried your hardest to get most of it out when you washed them, but you never truly succeeded. Simon was handsome but always had a resting mad face. So, when you looked at the comments and noticed a bunch of people asking you if you were okay, you knew that your rough-looking husband had made an appearance. 

“Close your fist with your thumb inside if you're not safe,” You read one of the comments out loud to Simon as you cuddled on the couch, watching movies.

“What?” he asked.

“My comments from my packing your lunch video. They’re filled with people asking me if I’m okay.”

Simon snorts and laughs, pulling you closer. "You should know by now that people are always worried about you. But I'm sure they're just seeing my face and getting confused." Simon was a large man, always wearing paint covered clothes and always looking grumpy, even if he was in a good mood.

“Maybe I should do a video about you?” you ask as she scrolls through more and more worried comments. “Just because you’re bigger than me and look mean doesn’t mean I’m in any danger.”

“I don’t know you might be,” Simon laughs as he pinches your side.

“Si, I’m serious,” you squeak softly as you push his hand away, “they think you’re forcing me to stay home.”

Simon looks at you in shock, then rolls his eyes jokingly and lets out a fake gasp. “But what else can a brute like myself do except keep a tiny and very beautiful wife at home?” He asks in mock shock, and he pinches you again softly, knowing how ticklish you really were when you let your guard down.

“Stop it,” you giggle, pushing his hand away again, “you’re not helping your case right now.”

“Maybe I don’t want to,” he states as he kisses your cheek, “fine, make the video if you must, but I doubt it will change much.”

“Blink twice in the next video if you need help. This is getting ridiculous.”

"Sure whatever you say dear," Simon teases, before grabbing your chin and making you pay attention to him. "But please know that I love you and wouldn't make you do anything you didn't want to," he added a gentle, teasing smirk growing before pulling you on to his lap. 

“I know, Si,” you sigh softly, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Mrs. Riley,” he grinned before pulling you into a kiss. 

The next day, you decided to make the video while making one of Simon’s favorite cakes.

  The video starts with you standing in your kitchen, dressed up in one of your many dresses with a hand embroidered apron on. You smile at the camera, looking pretty in your quaint kitchen as you begin to speak. "Hey, everybody! It's me again," you greeted your phone camera, "today I'm making a special cake for my husband. It's one of his favorite, so I thought I'd share it with you."

Simon is seen sitting across the kitchen counter, reading a novel and occasionally glancing up.

“He likes them very rich, so we are making a dark chocolate with caramel filling and white chocolate flakes on top,” you state as you begin to prepare that batter. “So, I also wanted to address the very nice and worried comments about me. My husband may look mean, but I can assure you all that he is just a big ol’ teddy bear.”

You started to stir the batter together. “He doesn’t keep me at home, I like making videos and baking for all of you. So, I have made it my full-time job. I used to work in an office, but now that there are so many of you who enjoy watching me bake and cook, well, I am really grateful for all of you.”

Simon watched with amusement as you made cakes and defended him from strangers on the internet who were convinced he was keeping his wife chained to a stove.  He chuckled and then added a remark. 

"You always said you hated that job anyway,” Simon said, finally pulling his gaze away from his book to glance in your direction. You had always loved being a homemaker, but back in you office days, there was definitely no shortage of complaints.

“I did but thanks to you guys,” you said addressing the audience in the video, “I can finally do something that I love.” You pause the video so you could cut to when the cake was baked and cool before decorating.

“Do you think that will go over well? That they’ll believe me?” you place the cake batter into the oven.

Simon closes his book and gets up from his seat, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around you. "They better believe us," he mutters into your ear, "don't want people thinking that I abuse my poor wife." He gently kisses your neck before letting you out of his grip. 

“I’m sure some will still think so but I’m just glad to have you around, Mr. Riley,” you tell him.

“As am I my little housewife,” he says pulling you close.

You finish the cake and the video before posting it to you viewers to see. There's a couple of worried comments, but most of the comments range from "Aw, that's adorable," to "See? Told you guys he wasn't such a brute."

Simon leans over your shoulder, looking at the comments. "Told you they would believe us," he says with a teasing smirk.

“I know,” you smile.

[adddddiiii]

Hi there! Hope all is well. I love your grayson fanfiction. I read you autistic fic...and I was wondering if you could write one on dyslexia. I have it and it was I struggled as a child and one of the reasons i got bullied in school. Hope you have a great day. Thank you!

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Author's Note: thanks for requesting!

Contents: Grayson Hawthorne x dyslexic!reader

You had spent most of your life fighting against the words on the page.

Letters flipped, sentences blurred, and no matter how hard you tried, reading had never come easily to you. It was something you learned to work around, a challenge you met with determination, but the struggle had always been there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for someone to notice.

And, unfortunately, people always noticed.

Teachers with exasperated sighs. Peers who turned whispered jokes into outright cruelty. The kind of bullying that made you dread classroom reading assignments, that made your stomach churn whenever someone handed you a textbook and expected you to just read it.

You had learned to hide it well, to adapt, to overcompensate. And it had worked. Mostly.

Then you met Grayson Hawthorne.

Grayson, with his perfectly organized notes and mind like a steel trap, who read faster than anyone you’d ever met. Who could scan through entire legal documents in minutes and recall every single clause. Who made it all look so effortless.

And now, as you sat across from him in the library, staring at the open file between you, you wondered if maybe this had been a mistake.

“You’re quiet,” he noted, watching you over the rim of his coffee cup. “That’s not like you.”

You forced a smirk. “Maybe I just don’t feel like destroying you in an argument today.”

Grayson hummed, unconvinced. “Or maybe,” he said, tapping the page with his pen, “you haven’t actually read the documents yet.”

Your stomach clenched.

Of course he noticed. He always noticed.

You exhaled through your nose, pretending to stretch as you tilted your head toward the file. “I’m getting to it.”

Grayson’s gaze lingered for a second too long before he leaned back, crossing his arms. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

The words hit harder than they should have.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His lips pressed together, and for a moment, you thought he’d let it go. But Grayson Hawthorne was relentless.

“You avoid reading out loud,” he said carefully, like he was laying out evidence in a case. “You never skim through texts the way I do. You don’t write down notes in real-time — you listen, then summarize in your own words later.” He paused. “You memorize everything instead of reading it.”

Your pulse was in your throat. “Grayson-”

“You have dyslexia.”

It wasn’t a question. Your breath hitched, and you hated how exposed you felt.

For years, you had kept this part of yourself hidden, terrified that if people really knew, they would see you the way your classmates once had. As less. As stupid. As not enough.

But Grayson’s expression didn’t hold pity.

He just looked at you like it didn't matter. Like he understood.

You let out a slow breath and your fingers tightened around the edge of your notebook. “Yeah,” you admitted, voice quieter than you wanted it to be. “I do.”

Grayson nodded once, like he had already known, like he had just been waiting for you to say it.

And then, without hesitation, he slid the file toward himself. “Okay.”

You blinked. “Okay?”

He picked up his pen, flipping to a fresh page in his notebook. “You take notes the way you always do. I’ll read to you.”

Your throat tightened. “Grayson, you don’t have to-"

“I know I don’t have to,” he interrupted, leveling you with that infuriatingly steady gaze. “But I want to.”

It was so simple. So casual. Like it wasn’t a big deal.

Like your dyslexia weren’t a big deal.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I won’t let you make this a habit.”

Grayson smirked. “We’ll see about that.”