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emchant3d · 7 months ago

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part 2 of runaway bride stevie! modern au, exes to lovers, transfem stevie harrington pt 1

Eddie Munson is not having a good day.

His phone died last night so his alarm didn’t go off, his bassist is sick so their gig tonight has to be canceled, and his last three Uber rides have stiffed him on a tip.

He accepts a request from some dude named Scott with a terrible comb-over in his profile picture and gives himself two seconds to bang his forehead into his steering wheel in frustration with a closed-mouth scream. Then he dials it back so he doesn’t seem absolutely fucking insane. He can see the suit he’s about to escort to some fucking meeting even though he’d rather be doing any-fucking-thing else, and he pastes a fake smile on to greet him. He’s gearing up to fall into the usual routine of this godforsaken job, but then it all goes a little sideways.

There’s movement from the corner of his eye, and then a blur of a body is slamming into poor Scott from behind, shoulder checking him and almost sending him careening onto the sidewalk. The dude pinwheels his arms like a cartoon character, suit jacket puffing up around his shoulders awkwardly, expression so baffled it makes Eddie snort despite himself.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbles, and he’s reaching for his seatbelt to see if the guy needs any help - he looks like he might break a hip if he hits the ground - but then a whirlwind of white fabric swoops into his backseat and a loud, desperate voice yells "DRIVE!" in his ear, and he sort of just thinks 'sure, why the fuck not,' and slams his foot on the gas.

The car fishtails a bit and the tires squeal as he swerves into traffic, horns honking after him, and he picks a direction at random, going way too fast for this area of town.

His heart is pounding in his chest, worst case scenarios running through his head. He’s going to get car jacked. He’s going to go to jail for being an unwitting getaway driver. But there isn’t any more yelling from the back seat, just heavy, panicked breathing, and he settles into traffic and slows down to a more normal speed before he cuts his eyes up to the rearview mirror.

Time stops.

It’s Stevie.

He can’t believe he didn’t recognize her the second he saw her, but in his defense, it's not like he was expecting to see his ex-girlfriend in a goddamn wedding dress running like she stole something today.

Pure panic wraps tight around his throat as he takes her in - is she hurt? In danger? Nothing good could have had her sprinting away from her own wedding, but it seems like she’s just shaken up.

His heart calms a bit once her tears dry and they get properly on the road.

And shit, it’s so unfair, because she's just as breathtaking as she was the day they split. She looks just as sad, too, which is certainly not how a woman like Stevie Harrington should look on her wedding day. But seeing her in a gown like that - Jesus Christ. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest. It’s like something out of a fantasy, seeing her in the exact kind of dress she used to whisper to him about wanting, the kind of dress he’d once promised to marry her in. Of course, they fell apart before he could even get a ring on her finger, but it still sends his stomach swooping to see the future they’d spoken about come to life.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he can’t help but ask, glancing over his shoulder at her.

“Yeah,” she says, voice high and a little squeaky. “Yeah, I’m totally fine. Just in my ex-boyfriend's car after I left my fiance at the altar, it’s all fine, it’s chill.”

“Okay,” he says haltingly, delicately, because Stevie Harrington is not the kind of person who says it’s chill, “it’s just that, you know, all of that sounds decidedly not chill.”

“This is so chill. It’s the chillest I’ve ever been, actually - hold on–” she says, and next thing he knows a swirl of silk is blocking his view and he sputters a bit as the train of her dress smacks him in the face, but she’s clambering gracelessly from the back seat and over the console to plop down on the passenger side with a loud huff and a cloud of perfume.

It’s different from what she used to wear. She used to smell spicy and warm, with notes of amber and cinnamon. He’d kiss the little spots in her wrists where she’d spritz it on, trace the veins beneath the tan skin with his nose to keep the scent of her with him.

Now she smells like vanilla and something floral, airy and light. Like he stepped into a bakery. It’s not bad, of course it’s not bad, but it’s…different. Not her.

Or not his version of her, anyway.

This is someone else’s Stevie now, and she smells like fucking cookies instead of home.

Instead of commenting on it, he just tells her to put on her seat belt, and she looks at him like he’s an idiot.

“And wrinkle this dress?” she says, her nose curling a little, and God she’s such a bitch and he’s missed it so much.

“I hate to break it to you,” he tells her, “but some wrinkles are not the worst damage that thing has seen today.” There are small grey splotches on the bodice where her makeup dripped as she cried earlier, and the hemline has some muddy staining from her mad dash on the sidewalk. It’s not ruined, but it’ll have to be cleaned, and a couple of wrinkles will be the easiest thing to get out of the formerly pristine fabric.

He glances over at her in time to see her run her hands over the skirt of the dress, smoothing it out over her thighs. It shifts, the leg slit parting to show her skin, teasing at the hint of a crease where her thigh and stomach meet, and Eddie rips his gaze away to stare at the road instead.

“Probably for the best, anyway,” he says, and he feels her eyes latch onto his profile.

“And why’s that?” she asks, and he smirks.

“Well, pure white? C’mon, Stevie, we both know that’s a lie.” He flashes her a wicked grin and she makes an outraged sound, but a small smile is teasing at her mouth even as her cheeks flush.

She kicks off her heels - red bottoms, because of fucking course they are - and slouches in the seat. She pushes herself up, adjusting in the pile of silk and corsetry she’s been strapped into, and he sees the absolute mountain of a rock on her hand, and manages to bite his tongue about it being the gaudiest thing he’s ever seen.

"So who was the lucky guy?" Eddie asks before he can stop himself, and the glare Stevie gives him could cut glass. “Or lucky woman. Person? Far be it from me to deny you your bisexual rights.”

He probably sounds like a jealous asshole, but he can't help it. He's the getaway driver for his one that got away on her fucking wedding day, and he feels like he deserves to ask a few questions.

His hands tighten on the steering wheel as the silence lingers, but eventually, Stevie just groans, letting her head fall back against the headrest dramatically.

"Don't laugh," she demands, and Eddie shakes his head.

"Scout's honor," he promises, and he swears a wry little grin teases at her lips.

“You were never a scout. You would have been kicked out for inciting a riot.”

“Hey, I just ensured we all earned our arson badges, okay? I did every one of those kids a favor.” Stevie scoffs, and it almost sounds fond.

Then she says, “Tommy,” and he almost swerves into oncoming traffic.

"HAGAN?" he says, louder than he means to, and her hand flies up to grab the oh-shit bar.

“Eddie, Jesus!” she says, glaring at him, and he shakes his head, focusing back on the road.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, but fucking - really? “Really?” He can’t help himself. “Tommy Hagan?”

“Yes, really, Tommy Hagan,” she says hotly, like she’s defensive, like she didn’t just leave the schmuck at the fucking altar.

“Well that explains the ring, at least.” She reaches over, smacking at his arm, which, thanks to the aforementioned ring, is probably going to bruise. “Hey, ow!” He glares at her, taking a hand off the wheel to rub his bicep. “Watch it, that thing’s a weapon.”

“Then stop sassing me about it,” she snaps, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms and her face falls into that adorable bitchy little pout he’s always fucking loved, and he looks away again.

He can’t help but glance back over at her left hand. The ring is…certainly something. Giant, square, one big diamond surrounded by other, smaller diamonds, with even more diamonds on the band. It looks heavy and cumbersome and like she’s going to smack it into every wall and door and get it caught in her hair and seriously, he’s pretty sure he’s already got a knot forming on his arm where the thing hit him.

It looks like Tommy walked into the priciest jewelry store he could find and asked for the most expensive ring they had.

It looks like a status symbol.

It doesn’t look like her.

“Apologies, highness,” he says, shaking himself free of his thoughts. It’s not fair to hold her to those standards. He hasn’t spoken to her in years. He can’t know what kind of person she is now.

But there’s still a bone-deep knowing that overtakes him at the feeling of the woman next to him. A sense of deja vu so strong it threatens to knock him over.

A different car, a different time, a different circumstance, but the same person. The same love.

He’d picked a direction at random, but as the streets become more familiar, he realizes he’s heading towards his place. It’s as good as any, he figures, and he shifts lanes, reaching to tap on his phone and shutting down his Uber account.

“You know, I almost expected you’d still be driving that beat up old van,” Stevie says suddenly, and he crows a laugh.

“Ah, Van Halen, you served me well until you almost blew up on the highway,” he says fondly. “Lost her about a year ago. It was tragic. I held a funeral.” She laughs again, shaking her head.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” she says, turning that pretty smile his way, and his heart does a somersault.

“That was a very impressive move back there, by the way,” he tells her, “that shoulder check of that old defenseless businessman?” He whistles. “Haven’t seen anybody move that quick to steal an old man’s ride before, really, it should have been documented.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” she says, but there’s a laugh in her voice, and she brings up her hands to press to her pink cheeks. He can’t help but keep digging.

“No, seriously! And sprinting like that in heels? And in that dress? What’s that thing weigh, like twenty pounds?”

“It’s a dress, not a suit of armor,” she tells him, but her smile is growing, making her eyes crinkle.

“Just saying, it was pretty metal,” he shrugs, and she snorts.

“Well, you would know,” she says, and he ignores the way his face flushes in response. She gives a little sigh, wiping below her eye and frowning at the smear of black on her fingers.

“Here,” he says, reaching across her. His arm brushes her leg as he opens the glove box and he’s so fucking normal about it. He pulls out a few fast food napkins, holding them out to her. “No makeup wipes in here, but that’ll help with the worst of it.”

“Thanks,” she says, and she flips the visor down, tapping a napkin to her tongue to wet it before wiping at the mascara tracks running down her face. “God,” she groans, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn smear, “I look like a raccoon.”

“A very cute raccoon,” he says before he can stop himself. Jesus, Munson, dial it back. “Like the raccoon that’s about to get the best trash in the bin, she doesn’t even have to ask for it.” Stop talking. “The other raccoons are just gonna give it to her, on account of how cute she is.” He’s gonna throw himself into traffic.

“Did you just call me a raccoon on my wedding day,” she asks. Fine, commit to the bit.

“You called yourself a raccoon on your wedding day. I was just agreeing with you,” he replies, keeping his eyes fixed to the road.

Her eyes are on him - he can feel her stare burning into the side of his face, and his cheeks are going pink and blotchy and God, he’s an idiot–

And then she laughs. Not her polite little contained laugh, either, no, this is that loud, wide mouthed laugh that she hates, that makes her shoulders shake and her head fall back. It’s squeaky and hearty and a little obnoxious and he’s always been so obsessed with getting her to let it out, and he can’t help the smug beaming little smile he gives at the sound.

“You’re such an ass,” she says through her laugh, and Eddie can’t help but laugh with her even if it’s at his own expense, because at least she doesn’t look so goddamn sad anymore.

When they finally reach his apartment complex she’s a little more subdued, but the look on her face isn’t totally heartbreaking, and he’ll take what he can get. He comes around to the passenger side to open her door for her and helps her gather the dramatic skirt of her dress to keep it off the pavement as they head towards the stairs, and he knows he looks like an insane person as he carts a bride down the hall, but he just smiles at his nosy neighbors and lets this cement his reputation as the weird as fuck off-putting metalhead he knows they all think of him as.

He feels a little self conscious as he opens the apartment door for her, sweeping an arm dramatically to allow her to enter first. For the first time since she swept into his car, he wonders if this is a good idea. But it’s too late now – Stevie’s giving him a little smile and stepping into his home, and part of him knows this was inevitable. She may not have called him, but he was always going to come if she needed him.

He follows her inside and tries to calm the pounding of his heart, watching her take in his space, struck all over again by her beauty and the impossibility of her standing here, and silently prays he isn’t going to fuck it up all over again.

this was almost even longer, but I figure 2.5k is enough for a part 2! no tag lists, sorry, but part 3 will be here at some point. thank you to everyone who's had a kind word to say about this au these two are very near and dear to me 💕

#steddie #trans steve harrington #transfeminine steve harrington #stevie harrington #runaway bride stevie #my fic #steddie fic

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ilylovelyz · 5 months ago

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⍣ ೋ distance

˚ · . giyuu tomioka x afab!reader

: ̗̀➛ cheating, semi-public sex, getting caught, breeding, impregnation, unprotected sex, squirting, biting, forbidden love, arranged marriage, sex in a church, jealous!giyuu, this is more angst than smut

make sure to keep my distance say i love you when you're not listening and how long 'til we call this love?

the melodic chimes of a church bell rings loudly, signifying the important event taking place in the spring evening.

families are gathered, sitting down, awaiting for the bride to be to walk down the awhile. they are joyous, so excited to unite both families, especially because allowing their son to marry their own daughter meant a trade of advantages in the future.

your father waits outside the doors that separate you and your groom, awaiting for his youngest daughter to wrap her arm around his, to walk her down the aisle and give her away.

only, he stands alone.

your father awaits anxiously, occasionally glancing at his pocket watch, waiting for your arrival. minutes go by, and you don't show up. it has become clear that you are late, lightly irritating your groom.

an hour passes, and the guests begin looking for you around the church. they know you're there, after all, they did see you arrive. they all look around, wondering where the bride to be is.

but do they really want to know?

hypothetically, what if they see the dolled up bride to be getting fucked mercilessly in her pretty little expensive silk kimono by her ex-boyfriend? that will surely bring shame upon the entire family, ruin any ties they had to any potential wealth that the bride was supposed to be marrying into.

hypothetically.

it will remain a hypothetical scenario as long as you and giyuu aren't caught in such a scandalous position. the position? oh well, giyuu just seems to have your expensive silk kimono rolled up to expose the flesh of your ass, your chest flush with the harsh walls of the bathroom church as he rams his cock in and out of your poor pussy.

giyuu curses under his breath, his hand covering your mouth to prevent your shamefull moans being heard by any potential passerbys.

this is so taboo. this shouldn't even be happening, you should be walking up that aisle, marrying the man everyone thinks you should be marrying. but you aren't. instead you're getting your pussy fucked like some cheap prostitute in a church bathroom by your ex-boyfriend, whom you begged to even attend the wedding in the first place.

maybe that's why you begged him so much to come to your wedding. to fuck you so good that it has you finally growing a spine and rejecting tradition, rejecting your family from basically giving you away just for more wealth like some greedy pigs.

this is so uncharacteristic of giyuu to do in the first place. he likes to think of himself to have morals, to know better than to fuck a soon-to-be-bride. a bride who is already promised to someone else.

and yet, he still came to the wedding. he doesn't even know why. maybe for closure. maybe to be able to see you in a beautiful white silk kimono, hair braided up into a bun, just how he likes it. to see you walk down that aisle to your groom. or maybe it was because he wanted to be able to envision himself as the groom instead.

this is not right. but your family giving you away for their own lavish wants isn't right either. you were giyuu's in the first place, a happy and dedicated couple for nearly 5 years before your father decided giyuu was too low for you and shipped you off to marry another.

maybe this is right, maybe this is god's redirection to let you both know that the two of you are meant for each other.

giyuu bites onto the back of your nape, his free hand feeling up your breast underneath the layers of your kimono. it's hot. it's so hot. and yet, he can't stop—no, he won't stop.

his cock tip hits against your cervix, his nose inhaling your sweet scent. he's fucking you like an animal. like it's the last time he has with you. his touches are almost painful, his strong hands gripping wherever he can. giyuu sinks his teeth onto wherever he can, not caring if your soon-to-be husband sees them when the two of you have to consumate your marriage later tonight.

giyuu feels his jaw tightly clench at the thought, his hands forming a tight grip onto your hips, so tight it leaves red marks when he releases. consumating the marriage.

giyuu is clealry upset. pissed off even. he spent so much time with you, put in so much effort to even open himself up to you like you desperately wanted, and yet you're stolen away so easily, it's almost insulting.

oh. you feel so good around him. you've taken his sacred virginity a long time ago, and yet you still feel like a vice grip around his cock, no matter how many times he fucks you.

the two of you are startled when you hear a knock at the bathroom door. time is over.

but you both just cant stop. giyuu doesn't stop his hips from rutting into yours, and neither do you stop yourself from moaning like a whore.

this is shameful. this is taboo—and yet, giyuu finds himself on the brink of his orgasm.

"y/n," he calls out, too pussydrunk to care if the people on the other side of the door hear. "y/n, i-i'm about to–" he grunts out, leaning his head into the crook of your neck. you moan happily at his words, too fucked to give a damn about the consequences.

"give me yourrr cum giyuu" you slur out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you ride out your nth orgasm. giyuu grunts lowly in response, laying a kiss down onto the back of your neck before he's wrapping a hand around your neck and forcing his hips all the way up towards your own until he fills his cock tip pushing against your cervix so tightly it has you screaming with pleasure, squirting on his cock so deliciously.

"f-fuhck!" he yells out before he shoots his fat load into your convulsing cunt, his seed filling up your womb to the brim. you squeal happily at the feeling of your womb being filled by the right person, by your one true love.

the two of you are too drunk on sex to even notice that your groom has already unlocked the bathroom door anyways.

please repost with tags and leave a like.

#demon slayer x reader fluff #demon slayer fluff #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut #demon slayer #giyuu tomioka #kny giyuu #demon slayer giyuu #giyuu x reader #giyuu smut #tomioka giyu x reader

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sanakiras · 1 month ago

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BOUND BY BLOOD [TEASER]

PAIRING — yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

WORD COUNT — 692 [full fic is 10k+]

SYNOPSIS — in an attempt to escape your past, you join your mother when she moves in with her soon-to-be husband at the other side of the country. the only downside is that your new stepbrother causes you to sink deeper into the rabbit hole you were so desperately trying to leave behind.

TAGS — mentions of death, dark content (stepcest + incestuous undertones), explicit sexual content, mc and jeonghan are two fucked up pervs coming together to maximize their joint slay, additional tags to be added

♪ — ethel cain - family tree,, charli xcx - apple,, ruelle - monsters,, boy harsher - pain,, lana del rey - in my feelings,, unloved - danger,, twin tribes - monolith,, banks - the fall

NOTE — title is not what u think it is i promise. yes i came up with this fic after going through ethel cain’s discography can you tell. do keep in mind that this is just fictional and nothing more than a fantasy, so please (!) skip if the tags make you uncomfortable <3

despite being an adult, your mother’s authority still has a hold on you sometimes.

which is why instead of being in bed all morning like you’d planned, you’re currently in a grand church, seated on a bench in the back of the spacious hall with jeonghan next to you.

your parents were adamant on sitting near the front, but when you were walking into the hall just ten minutes ago, it was jeonghan who took you by your arm so that you and him could sit in the back together, and you’re honestly thankful for it.

with a sigh, you don’t know if you’re talking to yourself, or him. “i have no idea what i’m doing here. i’m not even catholic. pretty sure my mom isn’t, either.”

“no? not a fan of monotonous singing in a cold hall on sunday mornings?”

a scoff escapes you, followed by a sarcastic quip. “such a way with words, brother dearest.”

jeonghan shrugs, as if he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing. “maybe you should pretend to be sick next time our parents want us to tag along. i’ll have no other option but to stay home and take care of you.”

is it so wrong of him to want you all to himself?

“creative.” you mutter with a grin, simultaneously hiding the effect his words have on your body.

he only gives you that mischievous smile, looking at you from the corner of his eye, and you can’t resist the soft chuckles escaping you.

not much later, he’s sitting closer to you, using it as an excuse to whisper in your ear. “me and my dad aren’t catholic either. i’m guessing it’s just about appearances.”

“of course,” you roll your eyes, “maybe they wanna get married here and this is their way of checking it out.”

jeonghan, very selfishly, doesn’t want to think about his father and your mother getting married. he just smiles at you as a way to conceal his true feelings, and all he can think about is that he should’ve met you first, that you should’ve been his.

so he averts his gaze, attempting to focus on whatever the pastor is saying, hoping it’ll take his mind off it.

the preaching is grim and anything but welcoming. words like hell and damnation are thrown around numerous times in a speech that feels almost like it’s spoken in a foreign language, and he hates it — he hates being here.

but perhaps not as much as you do.

“we must and will all pay for our sins, one way or another—” the pastor’s voice rings through your ears. his words keep replaying in your head, and it begins to make you feel dizzy, heavy existential suffering overtaking your chest, like a loud scream being pushed down but fighting to work its way up your throat.

you have to stop thinking about it.

you have to let it go.

jeonghan takes notice of your change in body language. where you were previously hardly moving a muscle, your breathing has become irregular, chest rising and falling more visibly, and you’re digging your nails into the skin of your thigh.

what he’d do to know what’s going on in that head of yours.

he puts his hand just above your knee in an attempt to comfort you, and when you look up at him with almost disturbed eyes, all you find in his gaze is — understanding.

jeonghan doesn’t know what it is you’re hiding from him, but he figures you must’ve done something wrong in your past, if this is your reaction to the speech currently being given.

but he’s done wrong too.

his palm is still resting comfortably on your bare skin, and your shaky hand reaches out for his instinctively; it feels so right. instead of letting you put your hand on top of his, he raises it to hold yours, intertwining your fingers.

when you look at him with corners of your mouth downturned and eyes glossy, your hand clenching his like you need it as much as you need to breathe, he chooses not to give a damn whether your parents choose to get married or not.

he’ll be there for you when you need it — he’ll make you his.

this is a snippet of a fic i’m still working on so no release date yet, but if you’d like to be tagged once it’s released, leave a comment! x

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

#cw stepcest #yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x reader #svt x reader #jeonghan smut #svt smut #svthub #jeonghan fanfic #svt fic #svt imagines #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen oneshot

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feyhunter78 · 7 months ago

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Even If You Call It Love

Description: You are set to leave for Winterfell with Cregan, but Aemond doesn't want to let you go.

Part 1

“I have already had the servants pack the spices you wish the kitchen to use when we arrive, and the Glass Gardens, I will have the gardener clear out a space, you may plant whatever you wish.” Cregan says, his hand in yours as he spins you around, your new cloak—Stark gray and trimmed with fur—flares out around you as he does.

“Thank you, but I would not want to make more work for them.” You protest, smiling up at him as he pulls you into his embrace, lowering his head to brush his lips against yours.

“You are their Lady; they are and will be glad to do it.” He says, before connecting your lips, his hand moving to support your lower back as he dips you, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You cup his cheek, heart skipping a beat when he leans into your touch, his storm gray eyes closing, a blissful smile adorning his face. “If you say so, husband.”

Cregan chuckles, eyes open, staring down at you so lovingly it takes your breath away. “Once we are home, I will show you I make good on my word, wife, and if the gardener has too much work to do then I shall simply clear the space myself.”

“You would get in the dirt and do a servants’ work for me?” You ask, peals of laughter spilling past your lips at the very idea.

“There is an endless list of things I would do for you.” He breathes, his lips brushing yours with each word, punctuating his statement with featherlight promises.

“We shall test that at home then.” You jest, tangling your fingers in his hair, your lips parting instinctually for him when he deepens the kiss.

A servant knocks on Cregan’s door, shattering the moment, and he groans, the vibrations buzzing against your lips.

“Yes?” He calls, kissing the corner of your lips, then the other, then your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, until he has covered the plains of your face with chaste kisses, making you giggle.

“Lord Stark, there are servants preventing us from loading Lady y/h/n’s belongings onto the wagons.” The man calls through the door.

You bite your lip, watching as Cregan’s brows furrow. “One moment.” He says, pulling you back up onto your feet. He presses a kiss to your hand, bidding you to take a seat on the settee, then opens the door and steps outside with the man.

Their conversation is quiet at first, then increases in volume until you can hear each word as clearly as you heard Cregan whisper his affections for you, his lips pressed to your ear only two nights prior.

“I care not what the prince says, he cannot keep my betrothed’s belongings hostage.” Cregan says, his voice is a mountain, sturdy, unyielding, unable to be ignored or burrowed through.

“My Lord, she is a lady of Princess Helaena.” A new voice explains.

“Yes, and the princess has given her blessing, so that is not a shield he can hide behind.” Cregan snarls.

You purse your lips and get up from the settee, toying with Cregan’s ring around your neck. You join the two men outside, placing a hand on Cregan’s bicep. “My love, please, I will speak with him.”

Cregan takes your hand and presses it to his lips once more before turning it in his hand, with such gentleness it makes your heart stutter. “You should not have to trouble yourself with him.”

“And yet, I must.” You say, giving him a reassuring smile.

He sighs and presses his lips to your palm, then your inner wrist, nipping at the pulse point before soothing the sting with the tip of his tongue. “I will escort you there, then we shall depart to see your father and then onwards to Winterfell.”

“I cannot wait.” You say, and you mean, truly, deeply, mean it. You cannot wait to be married to Cregan, to be his wife.

“I will not call off the servants; you are not thinking straight.” Aemond says the moment you enter his solar, his arms clasped behind his back.

“Prince Aemond…” You sigh, moving further into the room, watching as he paces. This is not unlike him, he detests change, and is beyond possessive. Truly you should have seen this coming and had your things moved in the middle of the night, then perhaps you would have been able to slip from the Keep without ever facing him again.

“Aemond, please, call me by my given name, if any shall, it should be you.” He says, stopping before you, a torn expression you have never seen before on his face.

You do not wish to hurt him, you never have, but you can no longer put his feelings before yours.

“I need my things, Aemond, I cannot travel without them.” You say carefully.

“You cannot leave, I have need of you.” His voice is steady, that sense of confidence still lingering, though it is fading fast.

“Need? What need?” You ask, unable to reconcile the man before you with the man who turned you away only two days prior.

“What need? All of them, you are mine, are you not? I simply did not realize how essential you were to my day-to-day life, but I have now, so you cannot leave.”

You bring your hand to the front of your neck as Queen Alicent does, a calming gesture you believe she does not realize she does, but you have picked up, nonetheless. “Aemond, why now? We have been doing this dance for years, I am tired of it, the steps have grown listless, the music dull, the other dancers have left the floor, and I would like to leave with them.”

He reaches for you, fingers curling in the air just beside your cheek. “I have made you wait; it was cruel of me, and I see now it has driven you into the arms of another, but I would end your wait if you would stay.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you close your eyes against his mournful gaze. “You have said that many times, made many promises, how am I to know if you would keep your word?”

“I am a man of my word; how could you question that?” He says softly, his hand finally making contact with your cheek, caressing it gently.

You meet his gaze now, heart heavy, you cannot make him see what he does not wish to, but you will try. “I must question it, for if I do not, I will spend many more years here waiting for you to love me, and I cannot do that, not anymore, not when I kno—”

“That there is a wolf pup willing to chase your skirts and slide into your bed now that you have revealed how truly desperate you are for affection?” His words are harsh, but his tone is still soft, as if he does not think it an insult what he has just said.

Your brow furrows, ice creeping in your veins. “Are you insinuating that Cregan sees me as some kind of whore?”

“It is Cregan already, not Lord Stark or Lord Cregan?” Aemond slides his knuckles down your cheek, your neck, ending at your collarbone, taking care to stop at each mark Cregan has left on your skin even though they are covered with cosmetics. “I am insinuating that he is a beast, and beasts can sense weakness. He is seeking to exploit your weakness, ñuha nūmio.”

“He is not a beast, and he would not do such a thing.” You say, turning your face away from Aemond, your hands buried in your skirts.

He scoffs and picks up the signet ring—Cregan’s signet ring—that hangs from your neck on a sturdy but elegant silver chain. “Why else would he set out to charm you? My dear y/n, you bring no benefit to House Stark, and while you have many wonderful traits, you are not a highly sought after prize by any means.”

You take a step back, Cregan’s ring slipping from his hands and knocking against your breastbone. It is sobering, the cool metal, and it gives you strength. “That is your opinion, Aemond, but it is not Cregan’s.”

“Since when have you cared for any opinion but mine? What has changed, tell me who has turned you against me?” He pleads, his violet eye shining with a strange light.

“You, Aemond It was you who has turned me against you. I told you that I was not happy, and in truth I do not think I have been happy for a long time. So please, tell the servants to allow Cregan’s men to collect my things.” You beseech him, silently begging him to see sense. “I do not wish to share all my future husband’s clothes until I am able to procure more, but I will if need be. Do not make me do that, you know I hate dull colors.”

“We could be happy, I could make you happy, if only you would give me time.” He promises, taking your hands in his own, ignoring your words as he always has. His hands are cold, and you realize they do not fit yours as Cregan’s does. Your fingers do not seamlessly interlock, instead they fight each other for dominance, for room, for freedom.

You shake your head sadly. “No Aemond, it is too late…I am sorry, but you must let me go.”

His eye is rimmed red, and he shakes his head as well, silver hair falling forward like a curtain. “I cannot.”

“You must.” You whisper, squeezing his hands before sliding yours from him and taking a step towards the door. “You do not love me—”

“I do, I do, I love you, y/n.” He insists, grabbing your hands again and taking one step forwards for your backwards one.

The pain in your chest is a sharp, piercing one. This is all you have wanted for so very long, but now…it is nothing, it feels hollow, desperate, and you see Aemond as he truly is for the first time.

“No, My Prince, you do not. If you loved me, we would be wed. You would not have let anything stand in your way, I know you, I loved you, I have seen what you do when you do love someone, and you do not love me.” You tell him, giving him a tearful smile.

“And this…Lord Stark does?”

“He is marrying me.” You say, and it is the only thing that needs to be said.

Aemond releases your hands, but not before pressing a kiss to each one. “A victory for the North.”

You nod, fighting back a sob as a single tear hits your joined hands, and Aemond turns his face from you.

“You must write to me, if you have need, or…miss me.” Aemond says, clasping his arms, behind his back once more.

You turn and reach for the doorknob, “do not wait for my letters Aemond, it would not make either of us happy.”

Cregan stumbles back when you pull open the door, a sheepish smile on his face, but he is ready, with open arms, sweeping you into them and whispering how strong and brave you are.

You can feel Aemond’s eye burning into you, into Cregan.

“My Prince.” Cregan says, nodding his head towards Aemond, before he brushes the tears from your face and kisses you gently.

There is a strangled sound from inside Aemond’s solar, but Cregan’s lips on yours drowns out any sense of guilt, and you smile when he pulls away.

“Are you ready, Lady Stark?” Cregan asks, offering you his arm.

You take it and lean into him. “I am ready, Lord Stark, let us go see my father, and then home, to Winterfell.”

“Y/N—” Aemond’s voice, a broken, frantic thing, follows you, but Cregan merely pushes the door shut, and leads you away, towards your new, happier future.

TL: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshh, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool, @jennifer0305, @solkara

#meg's writing #aemond targaryen x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x y/n #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #still inspired by Good Luck Babe #my Aemond girlies this one is not gonna make you happy

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fluentmoviequoter · 4 months ago

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A Daughter Who's a Boot

The Bradfords Series Masterlist (3/?)

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!cop!reader

Summary: Tim interrupts your dinner date with Lucy with a cryptic call that leaves you concerned. Lucy stays beside you and you remind Tim that she's important to both of you (and that he cares about her, even if he won't admit it).

Warnings: mention/depiction of domestic terrorism, banter, fluff!

Word Count: 1.6k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Your phone buzzes with a text from Tim while you watch for Lucy. Tonight’s dinner date with Lucy has been planned for weeks, but Tim seemed reluctant to let you go. Whether his sudden borderline clinginess was because you’re spending time with Lucy instead of him or something more, you’re unsure. Regardless of the reason he’s texting, you promise to let him know when you’re on your way home and encourage him to enjoy his time alone. Since you married Tim, he’s grown used to you being around, but you thought he would enjoy a night to himself. It seems you were wrong.

The restaurant door opens again while you place your phone back in your bag. You look up quickly and wave to Lucy, whose smile grows as she rushes to your table.

“I ordered your favorite drink,” you say as she sits across the table.

“Thanks, Mom!” she replies, still smiling.

“Someone is going to think you’re serious and have some intense judgements about me,” you scold playfully.

“How was your day?” Lucy asks, ignoring your faux protest.

“It was pretty good. I’m more interested in how yours was.”

“Busy, but fine. I’ve been counting down the seconds to this dinner, though.”

“We should do it more often.”

“Like your husband would allow that,” Lucy scoffs. “He’s so jealous of me and how much time we spend together.”

You roll your eyes but don’t argue. Tim cares about Lucy just as much as you do, but he has a very different way of showing it. Lucy knows that, but she enjoys teasing him and trying to get under his skin. After the waiter approaches and takes your order, he turns to Lucy. Your phone lights up in your bag, and you politely excuse yourself before you look down to check it. There’s a missed call from Tim that went to voicemail less than a minute ago.

“Tim?” Lucy guesses as the waiter leaves.

“Yeah,” you say, furrowing your brows. “He knows we’re busy.”

Your phone rings again, and this time you answer it immediately.

“Tim?” you ask as the call connects.

“I need you to come home. Now,” Tim says before your phone beeps.

You pull the phone away from your ear, and when a text comes through from Angela, you know Tim is serious.

“I have to go, Lucy. I’m so sorry,” you explain as you gather your things.

“I’m coming with you,” Lucy offers.

“No, Luce-“

“You’re rattled, and now I’m worried too. So, I’m coming with you.”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

You leave some cash on the table for your waiter and tell the hostess there’s an emergency as you rush past the greeting stand. Your mind races with what could be this urgent, but you resolve to remain calm and composed as you race to get home.

Lucy walks into your home behind you and nearly runs into you when you stop suddenly. She peeks over your shoulder and sees a map covering your dining table. Tim and Angela are leaning over it, marking seemingly random locations with bright red dots.

Tim looks up, and when he sees Lucy, he tells you, “I told you to come home, not Lucy.”

Lucy opens her mouth to apologize, but you speak before she can.

“Tim, you said to get home and then hung up on me. You should know that she wouldn’t let me leave alone after that. She’s worried, too, so either we both stay, or we both go,” you respond.

Angela gives Tim a that’s your wife look before he sighs and steps toward you. When Tim lifts his arms, you willingly move toward him and let him wrap you in a hug. He apologizes against your shoulder as he rubs a warm hand along your spine.

“So,” you begin as you step out of the hug. “What was the cryptic call about?”

“Interesting question,” Angela muses. “We have enough reason to believe someone is planning a huge attack on downtown LA. Like, they want to level it huge. But we don’t actually have enough evidence to get the FBI involved or do anything about it.”

“Not yet,” Tim adds, glancing at you.

“Of course,” you agree without being asked. “Tell me what to do.”

“Us,” Lucy corrects, stepping to your side. “Tell us what to do.”

“The locations marked in red have the most foot traffic, we think those would be easy targets because no one would be able to see anything,” Tim explains.

“But that doesn’t take into account rooftops, abandoned buildings, flight paths, anything that wouldn’t rely on a diversion,” you deduce.

“Right,” Angela agrees. “But we have a notebook in evidence with some details. Techs are trying to piece it together but they’re not making any progress.”

“Do you have pictures of the notes?” Lucy asks.

“Of course we do, boot. We’re not incompetent, just behind,” Tim answers as he passes a tablet to Lucy.

“Thanks, Dad,” she replies as she scrolls through the pictures.

“Hey, Angela,” you call, ignoring Lucy and Tim bickering behind you. “Can you pass me that stool?”

She nods and brings a stool from your kitchen island to your side. You position it beside the table before you climb to stand atop it.

“Don’t-“ Tim begins, but you’re already up. He sighs as he walks past Lucy and places a hand on the back of your thigh to keep you steady.

You rise to your tiptoes, aware of Tim’s hand pressing against your leg to reassure himself just as much as you, and snap a picture of the map from above. Tim takes your hand as you jump down and examine the angle you photographed.

“Am I seeing things or do the red marks spell something?” you ask, passing your phone to Angela.

You squeeze Tim’s hand, which is still wrapped around yours.

“I can see two letters,” Angela cheers. “D, something, T.”

“A dot,” Lucy fills in, zooming in on a scanned page from the notebook. “It’s marked on a map, looks like 100 Main Street… is that a real address?”

“It’s not a dot, it’s DOT!” you exclaim. “Department of Transportation, D-O-T. Caltrans has a headquarters on South Main, downtown.”

“It wasn’t going to start multi-target,” Tim realizes.

“If they can hit Caltrans, they can take out more than downtown, they can take out all of Los Angeles,” Angela adds.

“I thought traffic was bad now,” you murmur as you join Lucy’s side to view the mastermind’s notes.

“I’m going to alert Caltrans, LADOT, DHS, and anyone else I can get in touch with,” Angela says as she picks up her phone. “Thank you so much for your help. Sorry, I ruined dinner.”

“Tim ruined dinner,” Lucy corrects.

“I’m okay with shifting the blame to him. I’ll see all of you at work.”

“Bye, Ange,” you call after her. You tilt your head to look at Tim while Lucy continues scrolling through evidence pictures.

“What?” Tim asks.

“Seriously?!” you ask incredulously. “You scared me. Calling twice in a row, telling me to get home, and then hanging up on me is not okay.”

Tim nods, seeing just how upset you still are. All because he worried you. The last time you were stressed because of someone close to you was when Lucy accidentally lured a former convict to her apartment. Now, it’s completely Tim’s fault that you feel this way, and he knows he could have gone about it differently. Tim pulls you into his arms and apologizes again before promising never to worry you like that again. It’s not necessarily a promise he can keep, but you know he’ll try. You nod against his chest and wrap your arms tighter around his waist.

“Hey, maybe I’m worried about you too, Dad,” Lucy interrupts. “Can I get in on the hug?”

“No,” Tim answers shortly. “But thank you for coming.”

“No problem.” Lucy smiles at you and says, “Goodnight, Mom. Call if you need a break from him.”

“Goodnight, Lucy. Thanks for everything,” you reply. You release Tim to hug Lucy before she leaves.

When she returns the hug, Lucy whispers, “Is Tim a good hugger?”

“No,” you lie quietly. “He’s the worst.”

“I knew it.”

Lucy leaves, and when your front door closes behind her, you turn to Tim, but he shakes his head and steps back.

“If I’m such a bad hugger, you can live without another one,” he says.

“We may fight all the time, but you need me, Bradford,” you reply.

Tim stares into your eyes before he pulls you roughly into his arms and kisses your forehead.

“Hey, since you interrupted my dinner with Lucy, I’m crashing your breakfast with her next week,” you threaten lightly.

“I’m ditching her,” Tim replies. “Breakfast with you sounds a whole lot better.”

“She’s our daughter, Tim, you’re gonna have to learn to get along with her eventually.”

Tim pulls back and cups your face before he explains, “She’s a boot, not a daughter. Keep that straight.”

“Sure,” you agree. “Just remember that next time she’s in danger and you call me panicking.”

Tim releases you and steps back dramatically as he accuses, “Traitor. Kojo, let’s go somewhere we’re appreciated.”

Hearing his name, Kojo trots into the room with you and sits beside your feet. He looks up at you and wiggles happily as you reach down to pet him.

“You’re outnumbered, Bradford,” you remind Tim. “And you love us.”

Tim returns to your side and distracts you from Kojo as he kisses you. “I do love you,” he says against your lips. “Remember that.”

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #fem!reader #hanna writes✯#tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford x you #the rookie x reader #the rookie abc #the Bradfords🩶🚓

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azzo0 · 7 months ago

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Someone She Used to Know

Summary: Katsuki meets his ex girlfriend after six years.

Warnings: Katsuki's drunk, throwing up, angsty.

Song: Ghost Town- by Benson Boone

wc: 1k

It's been six years since she broke up with Katsuki. He doesn't hate her for it. She did herself justice by breaking up with him. He wasn't there for her. Every day was a day of broken promises where he vowed to come home early, spend time with her, take her on a date, and cuddle on the couch, but he rarely fulfilled his broken promises, getting caught up in hero work instead. He doesn't hate her. He never can. It was his fault he was more focused on work instead.

She was the first and last person he fell in love with.

Six years later, he's sitting in a pub. He gets dragged out by Eijiro and Denki here every weekend, but some days, he prefers coming here alone. The clicking of heels catches his attention, and he glances up from the glass he's been staring at for the past couple of minutes, watching droplets of water race down the glass. It's a woman dressed in a beautiful black minidress with sequins like stars. His eyes move up to the woman's face, and he almost spills his drink.

It's her, his ex.

His hands grow sweaty, and he sets the drink on the table in case he drops the glass. He's still as a cat, his breath caught in his throat, heart hammering in his chest. He can feel his shirt clinging to his chest. He hasn't heard a word from her in six years. No texts, no calls, no meeting each other accidentally, so seeing her in the flesh made him dizzy. He couldn't tell if it was the drink or if it was just her. He remembers feeling the same way when he first met her in a cafe. She used to work there at the time, and he'd buy coffee every day from that very cafe despite not being a fan of coffee. Here he was, several years later, feeling the same way. He'd convinced himself that he was over it. Maybe he was not. Maybe that's why he drank like a sad old man by himself every week. Maybe his heart still yearned for her.

She's beautiful, he reminds himself. She's always been beautiful, but did he ever make her feel beautiful? Did he make her feel loved? Could he still make her feel loved? His schedule wasn't the same as it used to be before, given that crime rates had dropped significantly over the past few years, but there wasn't any point now, was there? It was too late.

He wonders if he should go up to her, watching her check the time on her phone. She shook her head when the waiter asked her if she'd like something, giving him a smile. She tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, tapping a finger on the table. He catches the glint of a beautiful emerald ring on her ring finger, and he understands. She's waiting for her fiancé.

He picks up the glass and downs his drink in one big sip. It makes his throat burn. He doesn't care. He gets his glass refilled again. Her fiancé arrives a few minutes later. A tall and handsome man with kind eyes and a warm smile. He watches her eyes light up at the sight of him. Once upon a time, he was the one making her eyes light up like that. She gets up and plants a quick peck on his lips. The man sits across from her, taking her hand, thumb brushing over the ring.

Katsuki thinks of how that could've been him if he wasn't so obsessed with his work back then. If he didn't come home late, after she was deep asleep, cuddling a pillow because he wasn't there and leaving in the early hours of the morning so his side of the bed was cold by the time she woke up. He thinks of how he could have been the one she dressed up so pretty for. How he could've been the one asking her to marry him.

I don't deserve her, Katsuki reminds himself. She deserves someone who puts her first, someone who's far kinder and loving than he is. Someone who isn't him.

He's lost count of how many drinks he's had at this point. He doesn't remember when he got up. He doesn't know when he got into the parking lot. He's throwing up into a trash can. He feels a hand on his shoulder while he's still vomiting. He glances back to see her watching him with concerned eyes. Her fiancé stands behind her, equally concerned.

"Are you alright?" she asks. Her voice reminds him of a flower garden. Soothing and calm.

"Yeah," he manages to croak. Her eyes dart around, looking for his car. He's in no state to drive himself.

"Would you like me to call Mina or Eijiro?" she asks.

"No," he slurs. He's drunk, but he's sure her fiancé raises his eyebrows questioningly.

"Do you know him, love?" he asks, surprised she knows the number two hero.

"Oh, I used to know him," she replies casually, scrolling through the contacts on her phone.

I used to know him.

He tries not to stumble as he watches her talk to one of his friends on the phone. He wants to tell her he's glad she's found the one for her. He's glad she's happy. The words never leave his throat.

When she was done talking on the phone, she glanced at him with a worried smile, "Would you like us to stay with you in the meantime?"

He wishes she weren't so kind to him. He wishes she'd give him an ugly stare and tell him he looked pathetic, but she's always been like this. Too kind for her own good. He shakes his head in response. She hums and locks her arm with her fiancé, telling him it was nice meeting him with a goodbye. No see you around. Just goodbye.

He sits in his car, the back of his hand over his eyes as he waits for one of his friends to pick him up, her words echoing in his head. Oh, I used to know him. She did not say something like 'ex' or a 'friend'. He was just a stranger to her. A someone she used to know.

Nothing more.

#katsuki bakugo #bakugo #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo angst #bakugou angst #mha x reader #azzo writes

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r0ttenhearts · 1 year ago

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it isn’t you (wasted on you II)

idol scaramouche! x reader

warnings: angst, no comfort

part I

how many months has it been since you’ve seen him? 5 or maybe 6? you believed time apart would heal the aching in your heart he had left you with but there it was. that aching dullness squeezing at your heart as you watched him.

you thought you were ready for this. ready to put an end to it once and for all. you did leave without a word, not so much as a goodbye between you both. but this was a different type of pain.

you watched as he danced on the stage with his friends, honey-like voice perfectly executing the lyrics to their latest song. he was still without a doubt perfect, a perfect idol as he always wanted to be.

it tasted bitter in your tongue as you watched him from the crowd. this was the life he had chosen. the life he had chosen over you. that smile didn’t seem to hide any guilt or sadness, it was pure as ever.

it made that feeling itch in the core of your body. knowing he was happier without you, happier doing something he had chosen over you.

a scoff left your pink lips, eyes trained on his figure. that wide smile on his face seemed to falter for a second and you could have sworn he met your gaze.

he started stumbling over his part of the lyrics. his choreography becoming bumpy, knocking into kazuha as he missed a step.

he wasn’t reacting like this after seeing you, was he? there’s no way he still held any sort of feelings towards you. right?

scaramouche’s face suddenly crossed with worry, his eyes widening as he ran backstage. the rest of the 4nemo group stood there awkwardly, looking back to where scaramouche had disappeared to.

“give us one moment, you guys.” kazuha spoke softly into his mic before taking it off, handing it to heizou as he ran after scaramouche.

you didn’t get to see the vulnerability on scaramouche’s face when kazuha found him. he was slumped over, his indigo hair covering his face, shoulders shaking with what seemed to be sobs. “what happened out there?” kazuha gently asked, putting a hand on scaramouche’s shoulder.

“(y/n)‘s here. i can’t face her.” he whispered, tears dripping onto his lap. kazuha’s eyes widened in realization. the very reason for scaramouche’s decline was because of the girl he once thought he would marry. he still remembered how different scaramouche became after the breakup. before, he was still snarky but he made time to hangout with the members just as friends. but after.. he’d show up to practice earlier than everyone and leave the second it ended, no longer bothering to attend any after practice activities.

kazuha called over a stage member, whispering something in their ear that scaramouche couldn’t hear. a tender smile graced kazuha’s lips as he patted scaramouche on the shoulder. “i think it’s time scara. it’s been long enough.”

“i agree.” your voice came from behind kazuha. scaramouche’s head whipped up from his fixed position as he looked at you. you looked as beautiful as the day he left you. and that hurt. were you happier than ever without him? was someone else giving you the things he was lacking in the last few months of your relationship?

kazuha left you two there, an awkward silence enveloped you both. it had been so long since you’d seen one another. it felt unnatural to be in each others gazes.

“i guess, i’ll start.” you said calmly, pulling up a chair and sitting in front of scaramouche. he was so so quiet. you never thought he’d react in such a way towards you but, life had it’s surprises.

you yanked on a familiar cord that hung around your neck, gently placing it in scaramouche’s palm. a silver ring dangled from the cord in his grip. a promise ring he had given you both as teens, yours in the form of a necklace, and his in an earring that he still wore.

you dug into your jacket pocket, pulling out a familiar black box. you placed the box in his hand, squeezing it gently with a sad smile.

“i figure you should have these back, seeing as there is no longer an us.” you spoke softly.

scaramouche shook his head harshly. this was the last of your relationship that was proof of what once was. what could have been. if you had these things then it never could have died. but now it was in his hands. it can’t be over. it can’t be over with you.

“no, (y/n). please. i want you to have these things. so you can remember me, remember us.” he pleaded, his dark eyes shining with what seemed to be a warning of tears.

“there is no us anymore, scara. i wouldn’t want you to waste these things with someone you don’t even talk to anymore.”

“don’t say that (y/n). please. we can try again, i’ll be better this time. i swear it. i’ll make time for you, we can do more things together. there’s so much we didn’t get to do.”

a warm hand rested on scaramouche’s cheek, caressing it gently. you swore you hated him but seeing him like this, so vulnerable, reminded you of a when he was a child. still crying out for his mothers attention, finding solace in your arms on warm summer nights.

“you know we can’t do that. i only wish for your happiness now.”

your hand slowly left his cheek, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he watched you walk to the door that led to the exits of the venue.

“(y/n)..! please.”

“goodbye, scaramouche.”

part III

taglist: @seternic @onmywaytoteyvat @ayameei @randomnl @xyvsstuff @scaramoucheswifeee @heykaiiz @keju-fhw @grxmgrxy @lxkeeeee

#genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin x reader angst #wanderer x reader #wanderer angst #scaramouche #scara angst #scara x y/n #scara x reader #scaramouche angst #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader #genshin scara #scaramouche x you #scara x you #scaramouche x reader angst

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anakinstwinklebunny · 3 months ago

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SWEETHEART!ANAKIN HEADCANONS 2

TW: at some point it contains mentions of small sexual content (like breast kissing), so if you're feeling uncomfortable with it, please do not read

Author's note: you wanted it so I deliver it kindly to your notifications or whatever. It's long just for people who asked for even more sweetheart!ani - link

Maul - Manny Montana

Cal - Cameron Monaghan

Shmi - Pernilla August

Sweetheart!Anakin who, after founding out that your ex boyfriend cheated on you multiple times, drove to him with baseball bat for aggressive negotiations. It was the only and the last time he'd use force to hurt someone. Even if it felt good to make him regret even daring himself to think about other woman when he had you, Anakin felt guilty, dirty. And in that moment he promised himself to never do that again

Sweetheart!Anakin who tried to do everything to cheer you up after the break-up

Sweetheart!Anakin who obviously asked you out to prom and that moment started a relationship between you two

Sweetheart!Anakin who often took you out on small dates where you just drove around the neighborhood or around the city. Ending the day with watching the stars on his car

Sweetheart!Anakin who, as a teenager, fully acknowledged that you are the one he wants to spend the rest of the life with, so from that time he saved money for an engagement ring;

"I want to marry y/n," he proclaimed with a sense of pride, looking earnestly at his mother.

She glanced at him with a tender smile. "Ani, you're only fifteen," she responded softly, her eyes filled with both affection and concern.

He puffed out his chest and squared his shoulders, a gesture of youthful determination. "But I’ll be sixteen soon," he insisted with unwavering resolve.

His mother’s smile broadened, and she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before turning back to the sink to wash her hands. The kitchen, filled with the comforting aroma of evening cooking, seemed to embrace their conversation.

"And sixteen is a very mature age." he continued, his voice following her as he leaned against the counter. "I’m quite mature for my age. I have more responsibilities than most boys my age," he added, his tone a blend of earnestness and pride as he studied the gleam of the kitchen’s fixtures.

"I know you do, baby"

He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze fixed intently on her. "Then why don’t you believe me when I say I want to marry y/n?" he asked, a hint of a pout tugging at his lips.

"I didn’t say I don’t believe you," she replied gently, focusing on cutting a carrot. "I said you're too young to get married, and I’m sure y/n’s mother feels the same way."

He slumped against the counter with dramatic flair, crossing his arms and frowning deeply. "That’s not fair," he muttered under his breath.

"Why isn’t it fair?"

"Because why should I wait in the first place?" he insisted, his tone resolute. He watched her slice the carrot, his thoughts consumed by y/n. "She’s the best person I know, and she’s so beautiful," he added with a heavy sigh, his heart and mind wholly set on her.

His mother’s lips curved into a tender smile as she walked over to kiss the top of his head before opening the fridge to gather ingredients for dinner.

He leaned against her for a moment, peering into the fridge and surveying the array of food. "She smiles in the most enchanting way," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "And her eyes are perfect, like the sky on a clear day." He could have gone on endlessly about her, but this was just the tip of the iceberg in expressing his love. "She deserves the best, and I want to give that to her."

After small pause, he continued, "She’s so smart and kind, always ready to help others. Yet, I don’t think she fully realizes how amazing she is. She has this incredible sense of humor that catches me off guard and makes me laugh so hard..." He glanced at his mother, searching for her reaction. "I promise I’d take good care of her," he added quietly.

"I know you would," she replied softly.

He studied her intently, determined to win this argument. “Then why can’t I marry her?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Ani,” she sighed, her tone gentle. “We’ve discussed this before. You’re too young.”

He pouted but continued to watch his mother prepare the meal. He was stubborn, but he understood when she was resolute. “So when will you let me marry her? When I’m eighteen?”

“It’s not just about age,” she explained softly. “It’s about being truly certain that she’s the one you want to spend your life with. Marriage is a serious commitment, Ani. I wouldn’t want you to marry young and later regret it. I want you to be absolutely sure, when you’re an adult.”

He huffed, knowing her arguments were difficult to counter. Though he was only sixteen, he couldn’t imagine his life without y/n.

“Yeah, yeah, but still,” he muttered, frowning as he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.

Sweetheart!Anakin who at the age of 20 bought an engagement ring from the money he saved. It was a radiantly shining five stone round brilliant diamond. White gold with two diamond stones at each shoulder and the biggest one in the middle. It perfectly reflected the light; so flawless, so luminous. He was grinning like crazy at the thought of possibly slipping it on your finger;

(here's link if you're interested in what it looks like: ʕ⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴥ⁠ꈍ⁠ʔ)

“Just promise you’ll wear something special tonight, okay?” he said into his phone, his anxiety evident.

“Ani, I’m not deaf,” your voice came through the phone with a hint of exasperation. “I’ve heard you.”

“I know, I know,” he said, still holding the ring close to eye it from different angles. “I just want you to look extra stunning tonight.”

“You always say I look beautiful in anything I wear,” you replied.

“Because you do look absolutely gorgeous in everything,” he said quickly. “But I want tonight to be special. I want you to look drop-dead gorgeous.” He added, stopping at an old bench. His stomach churned with nerves that refused to let go.

He could almost envision your smile through the phone. “Then I’ll wear something drop-dead gorgeous just to make you fall to your knees” you teased.

His heart skipped a beat at your words. He already knew you'd make him fall to his knees tonight, especially with what he plans to do. You could hear his chuckle through the phone. But it was a bit different, as if excitement and anxiety surged within him. “I have no doubts about it,” he replied, leaning back against the bench and taking a deep breath to steady his racing heart.

He had to admit he was terrified, but not of your answer. His fear was that he might mess up, say something awkward, or forget to ask you properly. For millions times, or even more, he imagined this situation. From being just a teenager, to this day he thought what he'll say, how he'll say it and where it's be. It was almost overwhelming, he had never felt so much adrenaline and squeezing his insides stress in his whole life. He took a few more deep breaths and a sip of wine, trying to remind himself that this was the most significant moment of his life and everything will go perfectly

His gaze shifted to the entrance of the restaurant, and he nearly choked on his wine. You were smiling at the waitress who checked your name before letting you in. He was utterly stunned. You were wearing a crimson red dress that clung to your curves perfectly, driving him crazy with your beauty.

For a moment, it felt as if his heart had stopped, and he could hardly breathe. Time seemed to stand still, his mouth going dry as he took in your appearance. You looked... simply perfect. Gorgeous. Breathtaking. His mind struggled to comprehend how you could look so incredible, and the realization that you were dressed like that just for him made his throat even drier.

The dress was a mermaid cut, hugging your hips beautifully. It was adorned with small, shiny gemstones that made it shimmer even more, accentuating your cleavage in a way that made his breath catch. He was certain he was on the verge of a heart attack as he watched you approach their table after making an eye contact. The way the dress clung to your figure was driving him to distraction, so he bit his lip and took a deep breath, struggling to calm his racing heart. He mentally cursed himself for staring at your cleavage, though he couldn’t seem to look away. Everything about you was mesmerizing, and his heart continued to race. He knew his hands would be shaking if he had to hold them up right now. As you drew nearer, all he could do was smile, feeling the knots in his stomach as he stood to help her into her seat. After you were seated, he pushed the chair back and sat down again, unable to tear his eyes away from you. The breathlessness returned as he took in every detail of your appearance, from your slightly messy bun to your full, raspberry lips. “You look...” he began, pausing as he searched for the right words. Gorgeous was the first word that came to mind, but it felt inadequate compared to the way you looked. He let out a small, breathy chuckle. “perfect,” he said, his mouth going dry once more at the sight of his beautiful girl “Thank you, you look very nice as well,” you replied warmly. He took a deep breath, attempting to regain his composure. How was he supposed to concentrate when you looked so stunning in a dress that revealed so much? He was afraid that being too distracted might cause him to mess up this important moment. He managed a small smile and nodded slightly. “Are you hungry?” he asked with a light chuckle, picking up his menu to review it again. “Oh gosh, yes,” you said with a sigh, immediately reaching for your own menu. He struggled to hold back a smile as he reviewed the menu, trying to focus on the food. At this point, all he could concentrate on was you. You were more than just beautiful; you were beyond words. Terms like gorgeous, stunning, and magnificent seemed inadequate. You embodied perfection in that moment, leaving him utterly mesmerized. Your presence rendered him speechless, a feeling that was not new but was intensified every time he saw you in a something new

As they enjoyed their meal, you broke the silence. “What’s going on today? You’re all dressed up, my mom was unusually excited and insistently walked after me to make me wear a dress.. Is there some special occasion? Did I forget something?” your cheeks flushed deeply in what came an embarrassed and slight shame “You didn’t forget anything,” he grinned to himself. He knew your mother was aware of the proposal since he made sure to first ask your parents for approval. “Can’t I just take the beautiful woman I love out to dinner?” you only blushed deeply, feeling extremely exposed to him. But not only from the revealing dress you've never wore before but also spiritually, as if your whole being was revealed to his loving eyes “Stop looking at me like that,”

“Like what?” he feigned innocence, though he knew exactly what you meant “Like I’m about to vanish if you close your eyes,” he chuckled again, “well, you’re so stunning, sometimes I feel like you’re not real” he leaned back in his chair with a smile.

Sweetheart!Anakin who proposed to you after asking your parents for approval/blessing;

He held you close as you strolled down the street, his jacket draped over your shoulders not only to keep you warm but also to offer a bit more coverage for your stunning dress. You looked breathtakingly beautiful. He glanced at you again, unable to suppress the broad, foolish grin spreading across his face. He felt a surge of readiness—he was poised to ask the question that would forever alter your lives.

"Do you remember our first date?" he asked, his voice tinged with anticipation.

your lips curled into a teasing smile "Are you referring to the one in kindergarten or the one in high school?"

He chuckled, rolling his eyes with affectionate exasperation, though the recollections made him smile. "You could say both," he replied, slowing your pace to take in your face properly.

"Well, I loved both," your smile turning warm and genuine. "You were adorable as a six-year-old."

"Were?"

"Now you're handsome and cute" your eyes dancing with affection.

He could only smile, almost feeling his face muscles giving up from too much pressure and stretching. However, he ignored the slight pain to guide you to a quieter, more secluded stretch of the street. The area was dimly lit, and while a few pedestrians were scattered about, no one was in your immediate vicinity.

"Do you remember when we had our fake engagement?" he murmured with a nostalgic glint in his eyes.

you laughed softly "Of course. Although the ring pop you gave me was devoured a long time ago."

"Maybe this one will last a bit longer," he said with a nervous edge in his tone, his thumb lightly brushing your knuckles.

you started to chuckle unexpectedly. "What do you—"

Before you could finish your question, he sank to one knee, his eyes locked with yours, a profound sincerity in his gaze. He released your hand to retrieve the small black box from his pocket.

He opened it slowly, revealing the ring he had chosen earlier that day. As he held it up, his gaze fell back to yours. In that moment, he realized that no amount of carefully crafted words could capture what he felt. What mattered was the truth of his emotions. He didn't need a grand speech; he just needed to be sincere.

"I... I don’t have a fancy speech prepared for this," he murmured, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

He took another deep breath, his fingers tightening around the box.

"But what I do have is the truth," he continued, his voice breaking slightly. He didn't mind his emotions showing; he didn't care that he was overwhelmed. You were standing before him, the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and that was all that mattered.

"The truth is, I am absolutely and completely in love with you," he said, his gaze steady despite the lump forming in his throat. "Every part of me—my heart, my soul—everything belongs to you." He swallowed hard again, struggling to keep his composure.

"You are the first thought I have each morning and the last one at night. Just your presence brings me more joy than I can express..I-i can't imagine a day without you, or my life without you. You are everything to me...And I want to spend the rest of my life with you," he continued, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "To love you, to share each day and night with you, to hold you close, to watch you grow, and to see you shine even brighter than you already do." He took a shaky breath, his resolve firm despite his emotions.

“So, I asked for your parents' blessing, and they gave it to me. But the only approval I need is yours,” He offered you a reassuring smile, drawing another deep breath to steady his pounding heart and quell the sudden surge of anxiety.

He lifted the ring higher, holding it out to you with a hopeful gaze. “I love you more than I ever thought was humanely possible. So will you… will you do me honour a-and-- marry me?”

Well, that was unexpected. All the words he just said, brought an expression full of surprise and emotion. Never in your life, you experienced such love from a person. It was.. overwhelming to say the least. But maybe it's normal? Since we, people, were created to give and receive love? So when you finally meet someone so commitment to what God gave us, it feels so right and pure?

He held his breath, his mind racing through a thousand thoughts. For a few agonizing seconds, silence hung between them, heightening his anxiety. “You’re supposed to say something,” he mumbled, suddenly feeling self-conscious and vulnerable.

You chuckled softly, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Oh gosh... I—yes.”

"Yeah?" He grinned

“Of course!” you confirmed with a beaming smile. As he rose from his knee, he quickly slipped a shining ring onto your finger and pulled you into a tight embrace, lifting you off the ground with joy.

He held you close, just spinning you around in his arms, laughter spilling from both of your lips while great happiness enveloped him. His smile stretched wider than he ever thought possible. When he finally set you down, he gently cupped your face in his hands and kissed you deeply, pouring all his love into the moment.

Pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, he let out a soft, breathy chuckle. “I love you so much,” he said, his voice trembling slightly with emotion. He still could hardly believe it—you had said yes. You wanted to marry him.

“Are you crying?” you asked with a giggle

“Maybe,” he admitted quietly, wiping the shear tear with his hand

Sweetheart!Anakin who cried during the wedding;

As the wedding drew nearer, Anakin's nerves began to get the best of him.

"No, Ani, that’s not quite right," Shmi chided softly, her tone gentle yet firm.

He sighed deeply, staring at the tie in his hands with frustration. After twenty minutes of futile effort, the tie remained stubbornly askew. “Why is this so difficult?” he muttered in exasperation.

Shmi stepped in, gently nudging his hands aside to take over. “Come on, you’re just nervous.”

He sighed deeply, glancing down at her with a mixture of nerves and excitement swirling in his stomach. Today was monumental, perhaps the most significant day of his life. He was about to marry the person he cherished more than anything in the universe, and the nerves were unmistakable. His mother was right. As always.

“Is it that obvious?” he asked, his voice tinged with apprehension.

the chuckle followed her words. “Yes.”

He managed a smile, though it came out a bit forced. He reached up to run his nervous fingers through his hair, but his mother’s gentle slap on his hand stopped him in his tracks. “Stop messing with your hair.”

He huffed lightly but relented, knowing it was pointless to argue. He wanted everything to be flawless, and he knew his hair was part of that. Taking a deep breath, he tried to steady his pounding heart and quell the fluttering in his stomach. “There’s going to be so many people,” he murmured.

“Does it bother you?” she asked gently.

He shifted uncomfortably, averting his gaze as he pondered the question. The prospect of so many people was daunting, but the real unease came from something deeper. It wasn’t the crowd that unsettled him; it was the sheer magnitude of the commitment he was about to make. He struggled to articulate his thoughts. “I just…” he began, but the words eluded him. It was the concept of marriage itself that churned his insides with anxious energy. “No, I suppose I’ll manage. But… can she?”

“Don’t overthink it, Ani. Everything will be okay.”

He exhaled slowly, taking a deep breath to steady himself. His mother was right—it was just nerves and anxious energy. Feeling nervous before a wedding was normal, wasn’t it? He shouldn’t let his mind spiral. It would all work out in the end. At least, that was what he hoped. He glanced out the window, realizing that they would be heading to the ceremony soon.

His mother pressed a soft kiss to his forehead before leaving him with his friends.

After gazing out the window, he leaned against the wall, glancing at the clock to see the moments ticking away. The anticipation of seeing you in your wedding dress was almost overwhelming. It wasn’t as if he’d never seen you dressed up before, but today was different. Today, you would be in a wedding gown that would make you even more breathtaking than usual. He was sure of it. The thought alone sent a shiver of excitement through him, making his heart race and a smile tug at his lips.

“Take a shot, Skywalker,” Maul called out, already on his third drink. "You'll feel much better"

He rolled his eyes, though he understood his friend’s need for a drink. The situation was enough to make anyone want to take the edge off. He accepted the shot glass, downing the contents in one quick motion before handing it back. The warmth of the alcohol began to ease his nerves. “Just don’t get so plastered you end up embarrassing me out there.”

“I’ll make sure to record how you're crying when y/n walks down the aisle" cal teased

Anakin shot him a sharp look, but the other guys just chuckled. “Shut up. I won’t be crying,” he insisted, crossing his arms with a hint of stubbornness.

As you stepped into view, his heart skipped a beat. Watching you walk down the aisle felt like witnessing something out of a dream—no, a fantasy. You were beyond beautiful; you were ethereal, an angel descended from the heavens. Your long dress trailed gracefully behind you, and the delicate veil covering your face only enhanced your allure. As you drew closer, his breath caught in his throat, and his eyes began to well up with tears. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from you, completely captivated by the sight of you.

Maul leaned in and whispered, "You are crying."

He quickly wiped away the tear that had escaped, grumbling a soft “shut up” in response, though there was no real bite to his words. His eyes were locked on you, unable to look anywhere else. Every fiber of his being ached to pull you into his arms, to hold you close. But he knew he had to wait, just a little longer, until the ceremony was over. The anticipation was almost unbearable, but seeing you—seeing his future with you—made the wait worth every second.

Sweetheart!Anakin who cried during his speech;

Anakin takes a shaky breath, his voice already thick with emotion as he starts to speak, tears glistening in his eyes.

"I—I’m not sure where to start. I’ve thought about this moment so many times, and now that it’s here, it’s just…overwhelming..." he chuckled through already building tears "When I look at you, I can’t believe how lucky I am. Lucky doesn’t even begin to cover it. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but whatever it was, I’d do it a million times over if it meant I could stand here with you today..We’ve known each other our whole lives. From the time we were kids, you’ve been there. You’ve been my best friend, my confidant, my partner in crime. You’ve been the person who’s seen me at my worst and somehow still loved me. You’ve been my light, my beautiful star in the night sky, guiding me through every dark moment..There were times when I felt lost, like I didn’t know where I was going or what I was doing, but you—you—were always there, like a steady hand pulling me through. You’ve filled my life with so much love, so much joy, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to find the words to tell you how much you mean to me."

Anakin paused to wipe away a tear that escaped down his cheek, his voice trembling as he continues reading the written words on the paper.

You make me want to be a better man every single day. When I look at you, I see everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I could ever need. You’re my heart, my home, and I’m so damn lucky that I get to call you my wife..And as your husband, I promise you this: I will love you with everything I have. I will protect you, support you, and cherish you, no matter what life throws our way. I will be your rock when you need strength, your shoulder when you need to cry, and your biggest fan when you reach for your dreams. I will stand by you, through every high and every low, and I will never stop trying to make you as happy as you’ve made me..I’ll be the one who wakes up early just to watch the sunrise with you, and the one who stays up late, talking about our dreams until the stars fade away. I promise to laugh with you until our sides hurt, to hold you close when the world feels too big, and to never stop reminding you how incredibly beautiful you are—inside and out. I promise to be your shelter, your adventure, and your comfort all rolled into one. To love you fiercely and gently, with every beat of my heart. And I’ll make sure that every day, I give you a reason to smile, to feel cherished, and to know just how deeply you are loved..You are my everything, my shining star in the night sky and I promise that I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you’ve made me. I love you more than words could ever say, and I can’t wait to spend forever with you."

Sweetheart!Anakin who, for your honeymoon, took you to different planets

Sweetheart!Anakin who doesn't really care if you're shaved (down there) or not shaved. He always says that for him it's not gross (since you thought it'd be for him) and if any man thinks that way, he's an idiot. For Anakin having sex with you is not only a very pleasurable activity but a deep, spiritual connection between a husband and a wife. And, he loves you. He saw the worse of you, and the best, and he loves every single version of you. So, if you haven't shaved (and you're still up for some love making), he really doesn't care about some hair to go through

Sweetheart!Anakin who is highly considerate, always thinking of ways to make you feel special and appreciated. He remembers little details and surprises you with his thoughtfulness every day.

Sweetheart!Anakin whose physical touch is a big part of your relationship. He often holds your hand, brushes your hair out of your face, and gives you warm hugs that make you feel safe and cherished.

Sweetheart!Anakin who is your rock during tough times. His calming presence and unwavering support help you navigate challenges, and he always knows how to make you smile, even on your worst days

Sweetheart!Anakin who loves taking you on little adventures, whether it’s a spontaneous road trip, a hike in nature, or simply exploring a new part of town

Sweetheart!Anakin who has a soft spot for animals and usually brings home strays or injured creatures to take care for, of course to your surprise and unknown

Sweetheart!Anakin who is the type of partner who not only encourages you to pursue your hobbies/dreams but also actively participates or helps in any way he can, whether it’s by acquiring rare materials for your craft or simply being your biggest cheerleader.

Sweetheart!Anakin who enjoys dancing with you, whether it’s a slow, intimate dance in the living room or a fun, upbeat dance at a party. He doesn't even need music, he'd just swing and hum the song, twirling you around

Sweetheart!Anakin who has a special way of waking you up in the mornings (mostly on the weekends or free days from work). He either does it by quietly whispering sweet words, gently playing with your hair, or even bringing you breakfast in bed with your favorite morning drink.

Sweetheart!Anakin who knowing your love for stargazing. He once spent an entire evening mapping out the constellations visible from your favorite spot. He even named a star after you, the one that always appeared above your house at night. The one that was slightly bigger than others, that shined more than every other. He didn't really care if this star was already named by astrologers, for him it only had one name - yours. As a symbol of how you light up his life every day

Sweetheart!Anakin who sometimes leaves you coded messages or puzzles to solve, leading to hidden surprises or secret dates. And often refuses to help you;

"Ani… please…" you whined softly, taking slow, tentative steps toward Anakin, who was casually leaning against a tree, his hands buried in his pockets, with that familiar smug smirk playing on his lips. "Just one hint."

"No can do, Rapunzel," he teased, shaking his head slightly. "I can't make it too easy for you."

"Please… Is there any way I can convince you to change your mind?" Your voice was sweet, almost pleading, as you inched closer, hoping to sway him.

He smirked at your words, struggling to keep his laughter in check as he watched you use that soft, pleading tone of yours. It was hard not to be swayed by how endearing you were.

"Nope. You’re going to have to try a lot harder, sunshine."

You stepped closer so your lips would brush tenderly against his jawline. Each kiss was a sweet, teasing caress, making it even harder for him to maintain his composure. He felt the familiar warmth of your soft, plush lips, and he closed his eyes, savoring the sensation. His hands instinctively moved to your waist

"….yeah, still not working. Not at all."

"Please… I love you so much." Your lips traveled to his neck, each kiss a gentle whisper of affection that made his resolve waver further.

He tilted his head to the side, giving you better access as his eyes fluttered shut. His grip moves down to your hips, and he murmured your name in a low, hushed tone, his mind starting to drift and blur with the sweet distraction. "You know, you’re quite the menace."

"Now that’s not the hint," you teased softly, your lips brushing his neck.

"Mm… You’re incredibly lucky I’m so head over heels for you," a smile tugging at the corners of his lips

With a final, tender embrace, he pulled you against him. He hesitated for a moment, but the look in your eyes made it clear that he was utterly defeated by your charm.

"Alright, alright… It’s behind the tree."

Your face lit up with a triumphant smile as you planted a quick, grateful kiss on his cheek. You then stepped back, eagerly heading towards the tree

Sweetheart!Anakin who's experiencing your changing hormones during your period. Sometimes you'd just say things he'd find funny, desperately trying to not break in laughter for your sake, but again, he's very patient with you. Since for him, there are times when he'll treat you like a queen you are but there are times when you need to be treated like a little girl

Sweetheart!Anakin who LOVES cuddling to you. He could do it for the whole day, just stuck to your body with no care in the world;

Anakin clung to your side, his arms and legs wrapped around you like a giant koala bear. His face was nuzzled into the curve of your bare neck. He was undeniably, hopelessly, and utterly clingy.

“You don’t want to go to sleep?” you asked softly, your voice a tender murmur as your fingers played gently with his curls, tugging them just enough to send shivers down his spine.

He sighed, the sensation of your touch stirring something deep within him. Burying his face further into the crook of your neck, he inhaled your sweet, addicting scent, mumbling against your skin, “No… wanna stay like this.”

He shook his head slightly, his legs tangling with yours beneath the covers. Tightening his embrace, he pressed himself closer, as if trying to fuse you into one with him. The feeling of your body against his—soft, warm, and familiar—was something he could never get enough of. With a lazy, contented sigh, he trailed his fingers slowly over your bare skin “You’re so warm.”

You giggled softly "Thank you, though are you sure it’s me and not just the duvet?"

He groaned in mock frustration, shaking his head and nuzzling his face into your chest, a bit more insistently this time. “You,” he mumbled, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot on your cleavage. His hands continued their lazy, loving exploration of your skin, each touch lingering as if he were committing every inch of your to memory. “It’s you. Your body. Your skin. You’re warm.”

His nose traced the line of her collarbone, a soft, contented noise escaped him, somewhere between a hum and a sigh, as he buried his face against the curve of your breast. The warmth of your body, so close and so inviting, was almost overwhelming in the best possible way. “You give me butterflies, you know?” he murmured, his voice a little breathless before he added with a quiet, reverent sigh, “Or forget butterflies… I feel the whole zoo when I’m with you.”

He breathed you in as if he could never get enough. “I love you so much,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “God, you have no idea.” The warmth in his chest only grew stronger, a mix of love and longing that made him leave a trail of tender kisses along your full breasts “I’m gonna miss you…”

you smiled softly, brushing a hand through his hair although you held back a small moan “But I’m not going anywhere.”

With a playful, exaggerated sigh, he placed his chin on your chest, enough to look at you. A slight pout forming on his lips. “But I’m gonna fall asleep, and I’ll miss you in my dreams… I just love you that much… wildly, insanely… infinitely…”

Sweetheart!Anakin who isn't the type to ask you for nudes, since he prefers when you send him the photos of your smile

Sweetheart!Anakin who won your (and his) family's kids love. Whenever your families interact, the children are just rushing to Anakin so he'd play with them, draw something for them or say something funny

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @fuckmyskywalker @slutforfinnickodair

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

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entitled-fangirl · 8 months ago

Text

His betrothed. (P3)

Barty Crouch Jr. x reader

Summary: the two expand on their love while the Black brothers try to get used to it.

A/N: so sorry for the long wait! Trust me, there's more for these two!

Masterlist <3

Part 1 and Part 4

...................................................

Barty started to show up at the Black house unannounced during the rest of the winter break for a few reasons: to check on his soon-to-be bride, spend time with Regulus, and try to win over the twin's parents.

And luckily, it seemed to be working for him.

Of course, Regulus would never complain about hanging with the his best friend. Nor would he complain about said best friend caring for his sister so much.

"How is she doing?" Barty asked out of the blue.

"Oh," Regulus thought, "Um, I mean… she's okay. I wouldn't say great but, she's okay."

Barty nods, "Thought so. She in her room?"

Regulus nods, "She should be."

Barty smiles and stands, quickly leaving Regulus' room to journey towards Y/N's.

He knocked lightly, hearing rustling sounds and finally the sound of the door being unlocked.

He slowly opened the door.

Y/N was sitting cross-legged on her bed, looking down at her fingers as she picked at them anxiously.

He quickly crossed the room to her and sat on the foot of her bed, giving her enough room to not feel suffocated, but close enough to be near. "Everything alright, love?"

She sighed and sniffled lightly, "'M fine."

He leaned forward and gently lifted her head up by her chin. Her eyes met his. They were red, and tear streaks stained her face. He felt his heart drop at the sight.

His thumb lightly caressed her cheek, "How do I fix this?"

She leans out of his grip, her voice soft, "Fix what?"

"What's happened?"

She looks away from him, "Just Mum. Like I said Barty, 'm fine."

He reaches forward again and places his hand on her leg. "Y/N. How can you know to trust me if you won't take the chance?"

She scoffs, "I don't take chances."

He smiles, "I know that."

A silence falls over them for a while as they stare at each other lovingly.

"Why do you want to marry me so badly?" She finally asked.

He shrugs, "You're enchanting. Everything you do just makes me want to figure you out all the more."

She laughs, "I've heard Sirius say that to girls before. Sounds like rubbish to me."

Barty smirks and leans back, "Alright. You want the truth, love? I love the way you see the world. You see… happiness where there's darkness. You see… good in people. In things. In life. But, it's not that just that. It's that you don't know you do that. You naturally love life. It's part of who you are." He stands up and runs a hand through his hair, "And think me mad but I'd like to have some of you to myself… To have… just… a bit of your happiness. And hope that maybe… just maybe… you could see good in me, too."

She's speechless as she stares up at him. How was she to respond to that?

He takes a deep breath, "You're like sunshine, love. You… you walk into a room and it lights up. Only a fool would deny that about you. I've seen the way some of them look at you. They want to ruin you. And perhaps I will somehow along the way… but I'll try anything. Anything. To preserve some of that sunlight. As long as I can. If you'll let me."

She wipes her cheek lightly as she sniffles. Her eyes now holding their usual glow, "Barty?"

He looks up immediately, "Yes?"

She smiles, "I can't wait to marry you."

He lets out a breath. It feels like he's been punched in his gut the way his heart shifted. "I… I uh, I was gonna wait but… since I have it…"

He sits back on the bed and retrieves a box from his pocket.

A ring box.

He smiles as he opens it, "I know this is strange and… I'll give you a real proposal, I promise. But for today… maybe this will work."

The ring is gorgeous. The diamond practically glows along with its white gold band.

"Barty…" she finally says, "How… this is beautiful…"

"What do you think, love?"

…

"Merlin!" James cried.

Sirius held his sister's hand in his own with a vicious grip, glaring at the diamond in the ring that he could practically see his own reflection in.

Remus remained quiet with his jaw practically on the floor.

Peter's eyes shifted nervously to each of them in the Common room.

"I… I know this isn't what you wanted, Siri, but…" she started.

He held his other hand up to silence her, "It's not my favorite idea. But… I was wrong to take my anger out on you over it. After all, it's not your decision. It's not like YOU want to marry him."

She caught James' line of vision, clenching her jaw as their eyes met.

"No." James reasoned. "No… absolutely not."

"He asked me. And I said yes."

All four immediately stood from their spots on the various chairs and couches in the common room. Their voices all loudly proclaimed their thoughts, the sounds overlapping each other.

She involuntarily took a step back at the harsh tones of the boys.

Even Peter was voicing his opinion for once, as small and squeaky as it came.

Remus noticed the way her eyes glazed over, and he finally snapped out of it. "Hey."

No one payed attention.

"HEY!" He finally yelled.

The other boys froze, staring at the scar-ridden boy.

"Let her speak. Merlin. We're acting like animals."

James smirked, "I mean technically-"

"Shut up, James." Remus snapped.

Sirius' jaw clenched harshly. His words came out of his mouth through his teeth, "Fine. We'll hear her out."

Remus pushed them down back into their seats, "Alright, dove. When you're ready."

She took a deep breath.

"I know you don't like him because of… of… well, he's honestly quite lovely. He said the most wonderful things to me. He… He told me he loves me."

"Oh, please," James scoffed. "How could Bartimus Crouch Jr. possibly love you?"

She gasped lightly. "I… what… what do you mean?"

"What do I-" He stood, angrily walking to her. He grabbed her wrist harshly and yanked her sleeve up, revealing the fresh dark mark on her forearm, "If he loved you, he'd have never let this FILTH get into your skin."

"James… he… he didn't…"

"No, dove." He persisted, "He will never love you. Anyone with this mark on them… is filled with nothing but hate. When I become an auror, the first thing I'll do is rid the world of this shit-"

"FUCK OFF!" She finally roared.

His lips drew into a thin line initially. She never raised her voice like that. He then smirked and let his voice relax, "You know, I'm just trying to help you. Don't be such a bitch-"

Sirius immediately stood, shoving James harshly, "You watch your motherfucking mouth, Prongs."

James stumbled, thrown off by the sudden shove, "Bloody hell, Pads. I thought you were fucking angry about this, too."

Remus stood next, "Let's all just settle down for a minute."

Sirius' head jerked towards Remus, "Watch it."

Remus nodded and sat back down.

"I am angry," Sirius continued, "But I won't stand by while my best friend insults her like this. I don't want your fucking input on this, James. I thought you were my brother. But you're not family, not for this."

It felt like a dagger went through James' heart, but he wouldn't let Sirius know that, "Fine."

And he stormed up the stairs to their room.

Sirius sighed and turned back to Y/N, "I'm sorry. I've been a foolish brother. Perhaps Regulus is right about all of this."

Peter spoke up, "But I thought you said-"

"-The only thing that matters," Remus said, "Is that she chooses who she marries. Is that not what you told us, Pads?"

Sirius sighed, "Yeah. I said that."

"Well, he asked her. And she said yes." Remus pointed out.

Sirius sighed again, "I know, I know. You're always right, Rem." He steps up to his little sister, pushing hair behind her ear. "I just want you to be happy."

She smiles, "I am happy."

He nodded, "Alright. Then I'm doing my job."

…

The next morning, Y/N practically ran to the dungeons. She had agreed to meet Barty there so they could walk to class together.

He was already there, smiling as she approached.

"Good morning, love. You look beautiful."

She smiled, "You're a charmer."

He shrugged, "Only to pretty girls with dimwit brothers."

"…what?"

He sighed, "Your brother is just being a fool again."

She tilted her head, "How did you find out about my fight with Sirius?"

"Sirius?" He laughed, "No. Regulus. Regulus is being a dimwit."

"Oh," she giggled, "'suppose that's fair. What's he done now?"

"Nothing. He and I just got into a fight. Nothing serious. Shall we?" He asked.

She nodded, taking his arm as always.

…

"Y/N, listen. I gotta talk to you." Regulus pleaded at the Gryffindor table of the Great Hall.

She turned to look at him over her shoulder, "Reg? What?"

He bent down to whisper in her ear. "It's… um… something happened this afternoon. After lunch."

Remus, who sat next to her, turned to look at him as well, "What?"

"It's about Barty. Listen… this isn't easy to hear, dear sister…"

She turned in her seat to face him fully, "Where is he?"

"Well, I suspect in the library. That's where I saw him last."

She immediately bolted up and ran out of the room.

Regulus' face lost color, "Y/N!"

Sirius stood, "What's happened?"

Regulus leaned to him and whispered in his ear.

Sirius froze, "Oh, fuck."

…

Y/N ran as quickly as her legs would take her to the library.

She quickly walked past every aisle, desperate to find him.

Her feet stopped at the sight she saw.

Barty seemed to have his tongue down Andromeda Black's throat in a heated snogging session.

Y/N let out a gasp.

Barty pulled away immediately. He held a regretful look in his eyes, but his body didn't pull away, "Y/N?"

Andromeda smiled, "Oh. Hey, Y/N."

Y/N's eyes held tears as she covered her mouth to hold back a sob, "Barty… you…"

He sighed, "I what?"

Y/N let the sob go at his harsh tone, "I shouldn't have said yes to you. S…Sirius was right."

And she ran before another word could be said.

........................................................

A/N: NOT THE CLIFFHANGER! I'M SO SORRY!

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