#it’s been way to long sense I’ve last written something | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

write-it-like-disaster · 2 days ago

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I wouldn’t say that I’m old exactly, but I will say that I’m probably quite a bit older than the average tumblr user, so my fan fiction experience is a bit different.

I come from a time (“it’s been 84 years…”) when there was very little LGBTQIA+ representation in media, and the characters that were around tended to be minor, with limited background and development (I sure did love Maggie Doyle, though. Can I get an ‘amen’?). The gayest thing on TV up through my high school years was probably Will & Grace and Tara and Willow from Buffy.

Like, seriously, that was it. The L Word didn’t even come out til my second year of college. And it wasn’t until after the Clexa debacle that media eased up on the ‘bury your gays’ trope and we finally started to get lasting, fully developed queer characters.

So, what I’m saying is, is that for a very very long time queer folk especially had to create their own content, based off of subtext and lots of imagination. And even then, there wasn’t an amazing database to go to, to pull up whatever pairing for whatever show you wanted. It took some digging. I remember logging on to the AOL (dial up mind you) and somehow stumbling across a Spice Girls vampire AU fic on someone’s personal website when I was in middle school and just being COMPLETELY OBSESSED with it, scouring the internet for Buffy/Faith and Maggie Doyle fanfic, consuming everything I could find. And this made me feel normal and not so alone, because I knew there were other people out there reading this stuff too.

I wrote fanfic when I was in high school, but never even considered sharing it, too afraid I’d be found out somehow by people in real life but also because I didn’t think my writing was good enough for others to read. I couldn’t even fathom that anyone would want to read my gay little stories (though I have to say, several of them were probably better than some of the stuff I’ve written as an adult). And then I just stopped. Life got busy and fanfic just wasn’t an outlet that I had time for.

I didn’t start to consistently read or write fanfic again til a couple of years ago (so that’s a 20+ year gap, yikes) but it’s been awesome to have that sense of community and belonging again. And this time around I felt comfortable enough to actually share my work with others, it’s been so nice, especially hearing that something I wrote resonated with a reader or gave them goosebumps or just impacted them in some way. I never thought my writing would be able to do that!

So, knowing how much it can mean to an author and how much work goes into writing a fic, I always try to leave positive comments on works I read and like. I guess because I don’t take it for granted, having all these amazing stories at my fingertips, and I’m incredibly grateful.

What does fanfiction mean to you?

I'm asking this question because today I came across some ugly, mean-spirited, catty behavior towards a fic author that I haven't seen in a very, very long time, and I think it's important we discuss it as a community.

Y'all know how long I've been doing this? Fanfiction, that is.

Eighteen years.

I've posted across different platforms, on different handles, in different ways for a long, long time. More than half of my life at this point, from fourteen years old.

Fanfiction is how I personally engage with fandom the most. It's THE most important thing to me, frankly, because it is the common thread between each and every single fandom I have ever participated in.

It's self-expression to me. Folk art. Collaborative and fun. I truly hope that most people who engage in fanfiction learn what it is to beta for someone even if you don't write yourself. It can be a fantastic experience in and of itself. Being the backboard to someone else's ideas, watching as they take genuine joy out of spinning a story together to put onto the page, seeing it come to life before anyone else and feeling almost as proud as the author themselves after they finally post it.

It's ultimately why I decided to make this post far more positive and productive than the angry, grumpy, blood boiling rant that I initially was churning over in my mind after the horrible posts I saw earlier.

I'll detail them here purely for context because I think it's important to recognize toxic fandom behavior when we see it. And speak out when we stumble across it.

The first post lauded itself as an 'honest review' of a popular fanfiction in a community I am a part of. That honest review was nothing more than a pop-critique filled with a sort of catty, snarky write up that is so popular nowadays online purely to gain clout more than to act as actual, constructive criticism. It was unnecessary and acted as though the fanfiction author was a professional, New York Times Bestseller rather than someone devoting hours of their free time and effort into a hobby that is ultimately meant to be fun and pleasant.

The second post by the same person claimed that their friend had challenged them to write their own version of the premise of this fanfiction under a read more cut. It spent some time applying a thin veneer of so-called respect to the original author, but was merely nothing more than contempt really. I simply fail to see the need to ever do this while publicly attaching an author's name and work title and arrogantly parade your own work as superior to their own. Why tear down someone else?

I pushed back against them directly on this post, they took it down, but not before childishly trying to excuse their actions and claiming that 'if someone is publicly posting, then they should be able to handle vocal criticism.'

But you know what? One, what that person was doing was not constructive criticism. I think back to the beta session I had with a friend right after this incident and I think to myself, how sad must it be that this is what this person thinks is valuable criticism. That this is the way they chose to engage with the fanfiction community and thought they were in the right to do so.

Two, and perhaps even more importantly, people are accountable for the things that they post. The things that they say. It would have cost this person nothing to never make those posts in the first place. To never risk an author coming across a mean-spirited and malicious teardown of the work they put hours into and risk harming their self-esteem, mental health, or confidence in their own writing.

Because we do not know who these people are behind their handles. We do not know if they're new to writing. If they are experienced but going through a tough time. There are real people who write the content you choose to consume.

Fanfiction is a collaborative process. Writers provide the free content, and it is the reader's responsibility to know when their input would be valuable.

Is what you have to say helpful? Is it kind? Is it necessary?

If the feedback you want to provide does not hit at least two of those things, what you have to say does not matter. Period.

And I daresay that in the vast majority of cases, kindness should be considered mandatory out of the three.

In return, writers will often throw in ideas they've read out of reviews, they'll reach out to their most ardent followers for things like beta-ing or joining a discord server nowadays. There's always been a give and take in this community.

Fanfiction is a cornerstone of fandom for a reason. And it is particularly important in the queer community, going all the way back to actual physical magazines in which people mailed in their KirkxSpock fic decades ago. Over time we've experimented on the process, moved to countless different platforms, survived collapses of all sorts of communities, only to rally over and over again around each other to be able to tell the tales we wanted to see but were not getting as queer folk amongst mainstream media.

And in that time, it's been long agreed on in this space that you do not tear down another writer to build yourself up. Ever. Period. This has long been the only thing in fanfiction that has been aggressively policed, called out, and nipped in the bud when experienced members of this community come across it.

It will not be tolerated.

I shouldn't have to make this post, but I suppose this is the changing of the guard, so to speak. We have a new generation of fic writers and readers coming into the space daily and while so many of you are wonderful, creative, and welcomed members of this space that has been here long before me or anyone of my age, there are some who do not know how to act in the fanfiction community.

And it is up to us to make it clear in no uncertain terms that they will need to either get with program or be pushed out.

To become the best version of yourself as a writer requires hours of work, of posting again and again, of experimentation, of putting hints of your own life and experiences onto the page. The vast majority of us will never be published, and that's just fine for most of us. We engage in this hobby because of how joyful it can be to write something dear to our hearts, share it with the world, and be validated that others enjoyed the work that we put in.

Frankly, readers will always owe it to us to respect that process and work. To be respectful and kind when interacting with authors. Constructive criticism can be welcomed but perhaps ask if the author is open to it and do not take it personally if they are not. And if they are, then learn how to give it with the writer's best interest in mind rather than your own ego.

I don't ordinarily request reblogs to my posts, I rant into the void and it doesn't matter to me if anyone really interacts on an ordinary day lol. But today, I want to ask that people share this message out in your fandoms, because I will be tagging it in the fandoms I interacted in, both past and present. Because fanfiction is a common thread that unites so many of us, and I think this is an important reminder on how we need to be respectful and kind to one another in this space.

If you feel comfortable, I would also love to hear how fanfiction is important to you. How you got into it. Why you love to either read, write, or beta it.

This is hobby that is meant to be fun, so let's have fun.

#fanfiction #fanfic writing #fanfic readers #fanfic authors

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daydreamshenanigans · 9 months ago

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Preamble: Oh my lord I finished writing this… Umm. I’m just gonna drop this here and see if anyone is interested. Could be interesting, could be fun, who knows. Enjoy!!!

The Great Consumption

Eons ago, in the Space Between Worlds, creatures or rather, Gods, came into being. Each was formed slowly, tucked away in the vastness of the spaces between. Monsters of fire and ash, creatures of earth and wind, beings of the water and abyss, each born with a different Dominion over these aspects of the universe. These Gods inhabited this Great Expanse, living in relative, tentative peace with one another, observing the worlds that speckled their home with limited interactions with the beings of the worlds, unregulated but within reason. This peace, however, was not made to last.

No one recalls the true name of the beast responsible, but most know him as the Lord of Discontent, with Dominion over all who were unhappy with their lot in life. This God, he was unhappy with the chaotic nature of the universe, unhappy with the lack of true unity between the gods of the Spaces Between. “We need a leader,” declared the Lord to his fellow Gods, his cry echoing across the Expanse, “We need order to our realm! I wish to be leader!” Such an idea had never been proposed to the Gods, they had never needed a leader before, so why have one now. So most ignored the Lord. However the Lord instead saw this as submission.

The Lord paraded around the Expanse, demanding tribute to the King of the Gods. Many humored the Lord, not wishing to cause trouble. However, eventually, there came one who denied this so called “Kings” request. “I hold Dominion over the Embers of Revolution. I shall bow to no king,” spoke the brave god, denying the Lord of Discontent his tribute. The Lord was enraged, how dare this lowly God disrespect him in such a way. And so in an act that reshaped the Space Between Worlds forever, The Lord struck out at the God as they turned their back, slicing them down and snuffing out that light of their embers. In an act of pure blood thirst and wickedness, The Lord then brought the body of the lifeless God to its giant maw, and consumed it.

In this act of consumption, The Lord made a great discovery, the absorption of a Dominion and the power that came with it, albeit lesser than his own born Dominion. And he wanted more.

So began the first true war in the Space Between, the Great Consumption. The Lord of Discontent slaughtered and consumed all he could in the early days, consuming indiscriminately, thirsting for more and more power. Eventually, in a bid to stop the Lord, other Gods began to consume weaker Gods, hoping to gain the power to defeat this False King. One by one Gods were felled and consumed, Lesser Dominions collected on mass. Soon, pacts were forged between the weak, Dominions shared and alliances formed and the war raged on.

Slowly, five factions formed, each with their own order and leader.

There was, of course, The Lord of Discontent, who gained his following through terror and subjugation. Those who submitted early on, of course, backed this terror to the Great Expanse.

There was a God of Blazing Glory who gathered those who wished to face The Lord of Discontent to his thrall, his desire to have vengeance for the fallen God of the Embers of Revolution.

There was a God of Rumbling Earth, who raged against The Lord, wishing for the days of peace to return, her heart thundering with fury at such a disruption to the order of the Space Between.

Then there was the God of Weeping Wind, who cried in sorrow for the death of their fellow Gods, wishing to protect what remained their fellow Gods from the Great Consumption.

Finally, there was the God of the Shifting Tide. She, to, mourned the loss of her fellow Gods. However, more so, she grieved the loss of the worlds that gave the Space Between its name for they were innocent in this affair.

The war raged on many years still, till the Gods of Blazing Glory, Rumbling Earth, Weeping Wind, and Shifting Tide all came together and finally battled The Lord of Discontent head on, and after centuries of war, they slayed him. However, knowing he had power to great to be given to any of the Gods, the quartet each worked to seal the corpse of the tyrant, none wishing for his power to ever be taken by another.

To this day, the husk lays in its prison, sealed away, still waiting for the day that its power is taken.

Authors Note: Have some lore for your troubles. Enjoy this little blurb I’ve put together. Feel free to ask questions about it, I’ve likely got answers.

#relatable #oc lore #self sona #writing #my writing #original fiction #origin story #lore #neko lore #hope you like it #it’s been way to long sense I’ve last written something

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mejaemin · 20 days ago

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nonchalant - jeon wonwoo

wc: 0.9k

summary: clingy wonu /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

warnings: streamer!wonu, writer!reader, fluff, not proofread !!!

an: i can think of so many ways to make a pt.2 to this… will i? nope!

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

the letters on your laptop’s keyboard are surely to start fading any time soon, but it’s worth it. especially right now. there’s yet to be a single time where you’ve felt this much inspiration in your entire career, so you refuse to let this go to waste. your eyes flicker to the notebook sitting next to you, information on the paper translating in your mind and being typed out into coherent sentences on the document.

you’re really proud of what you’ve written so far. you had your boyfriend read your unorganized thoughts you had set out for the plot and what not, and he thinks it’s good too. once your brain felt ready to start writing the real thing, your fingers were flying. you slipped your headphones on, essentially blocking out the entire world as you worked. you started when it was still light out, and you’ve only gotten up to use the bathroom, really. it’s dark now, and although he’s not working quite as hard, you can still sense your boyfriend moving around the house, making commentary as he pre records gaming content.

he’s left you alone so far. he’s not the type to nag you too much about taking care of yourself, especially when he’s already learnt his lesson about interrupting you when you have one of these moments of inspiration. not to mention he has times like this too, even if it was for something like a long term livestream. still, he treats you how he would want to be treated in the same situation. by that he means undisturbed… with the occasional interruption, of course. he likes to have his game time but if he isn’t filming he still wants to be with you.

your phone is on do not disturb, keeping wonwoo’s obnoxious friends and their instagram reel notifications from disturbing your work, so when a message notification dings through your headphones you know who it is.

won🖤: Are you almost done yet?

won🖤: I’ve finished recording.

you: no, sorry love :( i still have some left in me.

you: just a little more, okay?

won🖤: Just a little more. I try not to be that guy, but you really should stop soon. Eat something

you reacted with 👍

setting your phone down, you crack your knuckles with a sigh. you were reaching the end of your inspiration spark, so you really wanted to rush to get whatever you could in. it’s extremely rare that this happens, and you couldn’t stress it enough. you’ve got deadlines to meet, and for this to happen to you was literally perfect. you’re basically set, and might even be able to take a day off tomorrow.

you’ve gotten back onto your groove, putting the music on high while you work. you’re typing word after word, paragraph after paragraph flawlessly. everything you’ve been mapping out for weeks is finally coming to fruition, and it’s doing so perfectly. you’re so zoned in that you don’t notice when wonwoo comes in, only taking note of his presence when the weight shifts on the bed and his head lands on your shoulder.

you pause, pulling the headphones off your head. “do you need something?” you ask, hand instinctively coming to brush through his hair.

he looks up at you, and you’re sure he doesn’t notice the way he’s pouting. it’s rare that he’d be like that voluntarily. “how far are you? you’re almost done?”

“mm, i don’t think so.. sorry. i really need to make the most of this or else i’ll never get this finished.” you kiss the top of his head, and as soon as you put your hand back towards the keyboard he grabs it.

“you’ve been sitting here all day.”

“yeah, i noticed. but i’ll do just a little more, ‘kay?” you kiss his crown and return to work.

you finish the second to last plot point you had mapped out, and now you’re just revising what you done so far. even by your own standards you’ve done enough, and since wonwoo is indirectly begging you to spend time with him (in his own way) by clinging to your side, you suppose you can stop for now. it hasn’t even been that long and you can see him looking from his phone to you every three seconds. it’s cute really, how he’s trying so hard to be nonchalant about it when he wants to spend time with you so bad. every time he wants your attention, he sort of hovers around you and stares at you until you give it to him. he’ll never say it out loud, but he’s definitely going to be obvious about it in other ways.

you shut your computer and set it on the night stand, turning towards him fully. the corners of wonwoo’s mouth twitch as he tried to hold back his smile, but you know he’s happy that he’s won.

“you’re done now? are you gonna go back to work, or are you really done?” he asks, sitting up and readjusting his glasses.

you giggle at his cuteness, kissing his cheek. “yes, nonu. you’ve got my full, undivided attention now, ‘kay?”

he’s already up before you are, rambling about how excited he is to spend the rest of the night with you, even if it’s already late. he’s walking into the kitchen to make ramen for you, talking about eating it together while watching something, and then stopping to ponder about what to do after. you trail behind him, a smile on your face. your nonchalant, black cat boyfriend who uses very few words will throw it all out the window if it means getting your attention and keeping it for a good moment.

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

#mejaemin #seventeen #svt #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #jeon wonwoo #jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo

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dixonsbrat · 2 months ago

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── .✦ 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎, 𝐈’𝐌 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐎 ┆ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ; daryl relives the tough choices that were made when he decided to leave the commonwealth.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; established relationship, takes place both in france and at the commonwealth. crying. making out. insinuated sex. just a whole lotta angst honestly.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ; 4.2k .ᐟ

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; this is the longest fic i’ve written in forever so enjoy ᡣ𐭩

"have you ever been in love?" sylvie’s question takes daryl by surprise, his attention momentarily pulled away from the road ahead of them as he turns to look at her in the passenger seat. her french accent is thick, though her words and facial expression are soft - like her.

there’s a noticeable shift in his demeanour, his heart panging in his chest as his thoughts drift toward you back home, back at the commonwealth, where an ocean now stood between you and him. there’s a sad look in his eyes, a mixture of pain and guilt and it’s clear that something deeply rooted within him had happened between the two of you.

“why do you look so sad?” sylvie observes him gently. she can sense the weight of his thoughts, the memories he’s carrying. she wants to press him on it, to further dissect the man that had fallen into their lives, but decides to wait for him to speak instead.

daryl doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixated on the open stretch of road ahead as his hands tightly grip the wheel. sylvie’s question was simple, straightforward, but for him, it was anything but. the weight of his thoughts bear down on his chest, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions he had spent months trying to bury deep down.

“s’complicated.” his voice is low and gravelly when he does finally answer, though laced with hurt as he clenches his jaw tightly.

“complicated?” sylvie repeats, her voice gentle, yet betraying her curiosity. she’s not pushing, she just wants to understand - understand why that was the word he had chosen to describe whatever it was that was clearly plaguing him.

“mhm…” he grumbles, a slight nod of his head as he refocuses on the road once more.

sylvie senses the deep hurt and longing that lies beneath his stoic exterior, “because you… still love them?”

“... sometimes love ain’t enough.” his voice is harsher than he intends, but he leaves it all the same. he could still hear whispers of your laughter ringing in his ears, and how sweet you sounded when saying his name. if he could turn back time and stop himself from ever leaving the commonwealth - from ever leaving you - he would.

his mind flashes back to the last night he had spent with you, the feeling of you in his arms, soft and close. how you looked at him with those warm eyes full of adoration, full of care, the way no one else had ever looked at him before and he wished he could have held onto that moment a little bit longer, a little bit tighter.

you’re sitting on the floor of your room, laughing, your legs stretched out alongside daryl’s as you both lean against your bed. the night had settled over the commonwealth and though exhaustion tugged at both of your minds, you didn’t want to retire for the night just yet, not when you knew it was your last night together.

“i’m still pissed at you,” you say, though there’s no real anger in your tone, just lighthearted playfulness as your eyes gleam in the soft light of the room. you had a habit of looking at him as if he were the only person in the world - which to you, he was.

he nods, huffing out a quiet laugh, “i know. i know ya are.”

his eyes fall to your body, admiring softly, the way your shirt hangs a little off your left shoulder, showing a hint of your collarbone, and his fingers slowly reach to trail down the exposed skin. you notice the way his eyes roam your body, and for a moment, the mood of playful banter shifts into something warmer, something heavier. the air feels a little more charged between you both, the feeling of wanting, not knowing when you’ll get the chance to hold and touch one another like this again.

daryl tries to ignore the way his stomach twists at the memory, the way his mind drifts back to the last time he had touched you. he knows he shouldn’t but the memories are too vivid, he can practically hear your soft gasps in his ear, hear the way you say his name, all breathy and full of love. he can’t help but let himself get carried away in the distant memories of you and the love you shared together.

you bite your lower lip a little, drawing his eyes towards your mouth, and he feels a pang in his chest at the action. you see the way his jaw tenses, how he looks at you with his steely blue eyes, and know he’s fighting against his thoughts, trying to suppress the desire that was clearly building inside of him.

you feel that familiar twist of desire in your own stomach, that familiar need for him building with every passing second. you shift towards him slightly, your leg brushing against his, “...what am i going to do without you?”

he’s struggling, holding back, but he can’t resist the way you move towards him, the way your thigh brushes against his. he brings a calloused hand up to cup your face, thumb tracing over the skin of your cheek. his eyes flicker to your lips again, his heart beating faster, the pull towards you becoming stronger. the desire to hold you, to keep you close, to never let you go, is overwhelming.

he swallows thickly, “yer gonna be fine. always are.”

there’s a pause as you shake your head, taking in a deep breath as tears dare to prick at your eyes, “not this time.”

the feeling of helplessness washes over him as he sees the emotions play across your face. his hand moved to your jaw, cupping it gently before tipping it slightly so you’re looking directly at him. your eyes are watery, pained, and it kills him to see it, to know he’s the cause of it. his thumb brushed over your cheek, wiping away a lone tear that had slipped down it.

“don’t cry,” he tries to reassure you, voice gruff and low, but somewhat softer for him.

“how can i not when you’re leaving me…” you exhale, eyes almost fully glazed over as your mind spirals with the dread of what comes in the morning.

he doesn’t know how to make you feel better, how to soothe away that fear that’s plaguing you. daryl has always had a tendency for keeping people at arms-length, to not let them get too close in case they leave, in case they get hurt. but with you it’s always been different. you’re different. you’ve seen deeper into him than anyone else ever has and despite that, you stayed.

you chose him.

your eyes flitter across his features, as though to be committing every small detail to memory. every crease, every freckle or mole, even the grey hairs that were poking through the scruff on his chin, you wanted to remember it all as though it was the last time you’d ever see him.

he can tell you’re scared, unsure, trying to memorise him, like you believe that this might be the last time you see him. he can feel the shakiness of your body, the warm tears that fall from your eyes, your soft forehead pressed against his. there was nothing more that he wanted than to be able to tell you where he was going and how long he was going to be gone, but most importantly that he would be back.

you move your hands up to rest around his neck, pulling him as close as humanly possible, your lips only grazing his before you eventually close the space between you. it’s soft and gentle, the way your lips move together, your tongues lightly dancing, but the need for one another quickly takes over. transpiring into a longing of want and need to be even closer. his hands grip your hips, holding onto you tightly like he’d never let you go.

“i love you,” you breathe the words as you try to regain your breath but all daryl can see is the mixture of love and sadness in your eyes.

it wasn’t the first time you had said it to him, or the second or third, you made sure to say it to him as much as he would allow you to, but no matter what, it always felt like the first time. he buried his head in the crook of your neck, lips grazing over the sensitive skin there as he breathes you in. he can feel the way your body trembles, the way you cling to him, afraid to let him go.

“i love you too,” he mumbles against your skin, the words barely audible, like a secret you both already knew but didn’t want to admit aloud.

“who was it not enough for — you or them?” sylvie’s question rips him from his thoughts, hitting him deep in the chest once again.

daryl exhales heavily, his fingers tensing around the steering wheel once more. “i don’t… me,” he answers honestly, his voice almost a whisper. the words hang in the air, heavy and loaded with the weight of his decision.

sylvie sees the turmoil and decides to change the topic slightly, deciding to approach the matter from a different angle, “will you tell me about them?” her voice is low and soothing, drawing him slowly out of his dark thoughts.

he wants to scream ‘no’, to shut it down immediately, knowing that the act of talking about you, even though it would be painful, felt like the only way to keep you close. he wasn’t one for sharing, for letting others inside his mind, but the idea of telling someone about you, not knowing if he’d get another opportunity to do so… it hurt more than the idea of reliving the memories he had shared with you and the impact you had made in his life.

he’s quiet for a moment, swallowing the growing lump in his throat before he opens his mouth, “she was… she was beautiful. caring. strong. stubborn, real stubborn.”

he lets out a soft chuckle at the thought of the numerous times you’d made his life a living hell over the years, yet he’d secretly loved the way you’d never take his bullshit and would always put him in his place. sylvie can’t help but admire the way he lights up as he speaks about you, the tension in his shoulders and jaw easing at her gentle prodding.

“she had this… way about her, ya know?” his voice is still gruff as he speaks, yet there’s a softness to his tone now, an undeniable fondness. “she could hit a target in the bullseye without battin’ an eye but then trip up on her own feet a few seconds later.” he continues, a hint of awe in his voice now as he describes you, like he’s talking about some mythical being. he finds himself once again getting lost in his thought of you, the corner of his mouth lifting in a sad smile.

“she knew how to make me feel…safe. usually it was my job to make others feel that way, to be the protector, but not her, she always wanted to take care of me. like she’s got this hold on me that i can’t shake, and i don’t… i don’t know if i ever will…”

“you still love her… that’s why.” sylvie points out after seeing the way he had spoken about you. it was the first time he had indulged anyone in a conversation about himself, about his life before france, about you. you were clearly important to him, otherwise he wouldn’t have let himself get so caught away in talking about you, and he can’t help but feel surprised at himself for doing so.

“ain’t that simple,” he responds, the sharpness returning to his voice as his walls go up once more because he knows that he can’t deny the truth. he did still love you, of course he did, that was never in question. but he also can’t ignore the complex factors that had torn the two of you apart, or that it was entirely his fault.

sylvie pauses for a moment, before saying, “perhaps, but perhaps it also shouldn’t have to be so hard.”

daryl lets out a bitter scoff, his jaw clenching tighter and he turns his attention back to the road ahead. he doesn’t respond to her this time, his mind preoccupied with the tangled mess of his emotions. he knows that things should be simple. hell, they had been simple at one point. but life wasn’t a fairytale, especially in the world you now lived in and it was his job to keep you safe, whether you liked it or not.

you watch as daryl pulls his backpack tighter around his shoulders and continues walking as if you hadn’t said a word, as if you hadn’t just told him you wanted to go with him, wherever it was that he may end up. “i said i want to come with you,” you repeat louder now, your words echoing back to you as your heart thrums so loudly in your chest that you were sure it was going to explode.

daryl stills at your voice now, his shoulders tensing at your words. he had heard you the first time but hoped that you would drop it after seeing him continue on his way, but, of course, things could never be that simple. he can practically feel the desperation in your voice, the pleading tone making his heart ache, but he stubbornly resists the urge to turn around and look at you.

“...no.” he responds without any hesitation, any trepidation, his voice firm as he allows no room for you to argue.

“no?” your voice is a soft murmur as you move to stand in front of him. your gaze full of confusion and hurt, your heart still racing in your chest. “what do you mean ‘no’?”

his blue eyes finally meet yours, the usual warm depth within them now cold and guarded. he stands there, jaw clenched, looking down at you with a mixture of stoicism and stubbornness as he fights off the urge to reach out and smooth away the hurt he sees in your eyes.

“i mean ‘no’,” he repeats, his mind set. “ya ain’t comin’ with me.”

your heart sinks for the second time, the pain and confusion swirling inside you like a storm. you swallow hard, your eyes stinging with the onset of tears once more. “that’s it? just ‘no’? you’re not even going to consider it?”

“there ain’t nothin’ to consider,” his jaw clenched once more and he sighs heavily, as if the question pained him just as much as it did you. he brushes a hand through his hair, tucking it behind his ear as he bites down on his lower lip. “i can’t have ya gettin’ hurt.” his voice is quieter this time.

you stand there frozen as you watch daryl continue on to where his motorcycle was parked by the front gates, unable to comprehend the way in which he was acting. as if you hadn’t just spent the entire night making yourself sick over whether or not you wanted to go with him or stay behind at the commonwealth, all while he was sound asleep beside you.

daryl’s heart is heavy as he walks away from you, every step feeling like he was dragging anvils behind him, but he forces himself to remain stern, to stay strong in his decision. he was doing this for you. he had to.

you follow behind him, watching as he swings himself onto the bike and settles into the leather seat, “i know how to handle myself, daryl – you of all people know that.”

“that ain’t the point,” he snaps back.

“then what is the point?” you throw your arms up and let them fall back to your sides, your emotions beginning to get the better of you once again, but daryl wasn’t having any of it. “daryl, please… i want to come with you,” your voice cracks and you take a deep breath in trying to keep yourself in check but only failing.

the sound of your voice cracking breaks him, the pain in your words physically stabbing at his heart. but he couldn’t back down now, not after already making up his mind. he’d never be able to live with himself if something were to happen to you and all because he agreed to let you go with him. he had already almost lost you a handful of times, he didn’t know how much luck he had left and he sure as hell wasn’t ready to find out.

he looks away from you, avoiding your eyes and shakes his head, “no.”

you reach forward to place your hands on top of his as they lay on the handlebars of the motorcycle, “i can’t… i can’t be away from you. not again. not even if that means giving up our home and everything else we were building here. i want to be with you… please.” you take in a shaky breath as silent tears begin to roll down your cheeks.

daryl’s hands clench beneath yours, the gesture betraying his internal struggle. he can feel the weight of your words, the weight of your pain and your love for him. his heart aches, conflicting with the resolute part of him that was telling him to just start the motorcycle and ride off before he eventually gave in.

he lets out a heavy sigh, his expression conflicted and pained as he finally turns to look back up at you. seeing the tears streaming down your face breaks something in him.

“i’m… i’m doin’ this for your own good,” he says, the words sounding hollow even to his ears.

you shake your head, clamping your teeth down on your bottom lip in an attempt to stop the sobs that were clawing their way up your throat, but there’s no use, “that’s bullshit.”

he flinches at your words, his defences crumbling under the weight of your accusation. he knows you know him too well, that you can see through his excuses and facades. he takes in your tear-stricken face, the sight like a dagger to his heart. he can see the desperation in your eyes, and it’s tearing him apart.

his own eyes start to sting, his nose burning with the beginnings of tears. he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. no words could explain how he was feeling in that moment, the conflicting thoughts and emotions raging within his mind and his heart.

he can’t take it anymore, the sight of you crying, the weight of his own guilt, the pain of his decision. he lets go of the handlebars, his hands coming up to cup your face, his fingers wiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks. he looks deep into your eyes, torn between loving you and trying to protect you.

he presses a kiss to your forehead. it’s soft and gentle, full of worry, but painful. he just wanted to do the right thing by you. he didn’t want you out there with him, he needed you here. he needed you safe. you would be safe with the others, and he knew carol would look after you.

he holds the kiss against your forehead a moment longer, his eyes squeezed shut as he tries to memorise the feel of your skin against his lips. when he pulls away, his eyes slowly open, looking at you with a thousand words left unsaid. he wants so desperately to just hold you, to keep you safe in his arms forever. but he can’t.

“so that’s it then?” you ask, your voice so small through your tears.

“m’sorry…” is all he manages, the words tasting like poison, but his mind and heart refuse to budge. “i just… i have to do this alone.”

“you really expect me to just go about my days knowing that you’re out there all alone? constantly worrying if you’re okay, or if you’re even alive?” your throat was burning with emotion, your eyes stinging as you try to maintain it. the thought alone of something happening to daryl was making you feel sick.

each of your words feels like a knife to his heart and he feels like a fool for being the one to cause you this much pain. he wants to tell you that he’ll be fine, that he’s strong and can keep himself safe… but the truth of the matter was, he had no idea what was going to happen the second he stepped outside the gates of the commonwealth, or if he would be okay. he was all too well aware of the fact that the thought of leaving you behind was as terrifying to him as it was to you.

“i’ll be fine,” he says anyway, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your cheeks. he wanted to give you some sort of reassurance, no matter how small or how little he actually believed it. he just needed you to understand that this was something he needed to do and that he knew how to look after himself well enough, but you see right through him.

“we both know you can’t promise that,” you whisper as you pull out of his touch. “not really.”

daryl can feel the distance between the two of you growing already with each second that passes, his heart aching and his head pounding all at once. your words only add to the guilt and the pain that he’s already feeling, knowing that he can’t give you the real reassurance you need. he swallows hard, trying to keep his own emotions in check.

deep down he knows he can’t promise something, that at that moment, he wasn’t even sure of himself. he could see the questions, the realisation, the hurt swirling in your eyes as you stared up at him, silently pleading for him to contradict you, to tell you that it wasn’t true.

“i can try,” is all he can muster and your heart feels like it’s going to collapse in on itself. you knew daryl better than anyone, better than he knew himself, and you knew he was being sincere, but that didn’t stop the doubts and insecurities you had about him leaving. nothing would ever make you feel better about it.

“please…” he suddenly grabs your hands again, holding them tight in his own, not wanting to lose the feeling of your touch, of your skin against his. he could already feel it slipping away – feel you slipping away – and the distance growing further between the two of you. “please… just… trust me,” he practically pleads, his voice soft and his gaze filled with helplessness.

you look down at your hands wrapped in daryl’s, the touch feeling so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. it just serves as a painful reminder that he really was leaving. your own features are shaky as all you can do is accept his words with a nod, another tear rolling down your cheek as you press your forehead to his.

his eyes flutter shut as you rest your head against his, each tear that you shed causing the ache in his chest to grow even more. he can feel the resignation in your gestures, the way you submit to his decision, even if deep down you didn’t agree with it.

he savoured the feelings of you against him, eyes closed, his hands holding onto yours as if he were clutching on to the last shred of you that he had. he wanted to keep you here, in this bubble, forever if he could. and in that moment, he swears to himself that no matter how long he’s gone for, or how far away he ends up, he was going to come back for you, no matter how hard or how much time it took.

and he was going to keep that promise.

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riovidalupdates · 3 months ago

Text

LAST GIRL STANDING - i.

part ii.

“I’m not asking you to stay. I’m asking if this was ever real?” - Wanda Maximoff

“The issue with time is that it’s endless, yet, there’s never enough. How does it fit with us?” - Rio Vidal

“You were never a priority, but you became one that I can’t lose now.” - Agatha Harkness

pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader, agatha harkness x fem!reader, and rio vidal x fem!reader

summary: you’ve come to learn that you can love more than one person—because you love them in different ways. the problem: they love you in one way. so, who are you in love with and who gets hurt?

warnings: cursing, angst, intimate moments but not sex, and other stuff that i'll add as time goes on.

notes: this one has been in my drafts for a long time. i did a little bit of revision and editing, but i am busy and i do want to get this story going. as it goes on I will be more efficient with the editing. it is also a college au so there is no witches or anything like that, but other works will be! enjoy! chapters will be longer and the writing will get better. It’s been awhile since I’ve actually written a story, but I’ve been working on so many other projects and I had this all planned out before I got my new job.

word count: 1.4k

・❥・

There was never a time where you ever thought you’d be losing your sanity. Months ago, you only ever known the beauty of peace, having full control over your thoughts and emotions with no consequences. Where does the chaos abruptly begin, how does it begin, and why does it begin?

Because fuck all that, why do you have to be involved in a mess that you didn’t ask for?

You stared out of your dorm window, tracing the movement of students below as they hurried between classes. The campus was alive with energy—laughter, chatter, and the constant shuffle of feet on the worn pathways—but it all felt distant to you, like watching life happen through a glass pane. From the outside, you seemed well-adjusted. A few close friends, decent grades, a knack for blending in at social events. But lately, you had begun to feel a quiet, persistent void growing inside, one that friendship, academic success, and even casual flings couldn’t quite fill.

It wasn't that you were lonely in the traditional sense. In fact, you had friends—great friends who provided the utmost support in all that you do. Natasha Romanoff from work, Kate Bishop from short-film club, Steve Rogers from gym (he was also Natasha’s boyfriend), Tony Stark who crashed into your car the first day of move-in (he paid for all damages after you punched him), and Wanda Maximoff, your best friend. Wanda had been by your side for years, a constant source of home. There was so much to your overall relationship with her that it couldn’t be replicated with the others or anyone. Even if you were to try.

But no matter how much you spent time with Wanda, she found her footing in rather quick. And while you don’t want to assume things are going well for her, you could at least tell she was happiest when she was in the arms of her obnoxious, academically skilled boyfriend, Vision. Vision who is ahead of the IT program, the captain of the golf team, and somehow Tony’s coworker at Stark’s Industries (who cares about some intellectual freak? Not you).

Anyway, it felt like there was something missing, some deeper connection you couldn’t quite grasp. Sometimes, you’d feel yourself pulling back in conversations, faking a smile here and there when noticing yourself drifting out of sync.

You sigh as you turned away from the window, grabbing your backpack, and slinging it over your shoulder. Another day of classes to get to, papers to turn in, and your typical routine to follow. It all felt so automatic, like living on autopilot.

Perhaps there was something you weren’t doing. Maybe you were actively doing something to avoid fulfilling that aspect of void?

Your phone buzzed on the desk—Wanda.

“Dinner tonight?” She asks once you pick up. “And I swear if you say no, I am going to drive to your class and drag you out myself.”

You considered telling her no for a moment but it’s Wanda and because of that you say, “Sure. Just don’t barge in like last time. Felt like I got in trouble with my mother…” Despite your growing sense of detachment, you couldn’t bring herself to decline. You’ve been avoiding her like the plague. She’s your best friend and has asked to hang out for the last month or so only for you to be nowhere. Questions were beginning to rise, and you weren’t ready to answer any of them.

Her laughter echoed through and you kind of forget that you were falling into a hole of emptiness. “Look, I gotta go, I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah. See you, dekta.”

Dekta. It was always that.

As you made your way across campus, weaving through the throngs of students, you felt a heaviness settle in your chest. Classes, work, clubs, and repeat. How was it that you could be surrounded by people, involved in their lives, and still feel like an outsider looking in?

You loved your friends, or at least you thought you did, but lately, even that felt like a lie you told yourself. You enjoyed your courses. So what if you have to stay up until 2am for shoots and editing, you wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t enjoy it. Actually, you were late to register, and this was kind of a last minute decision. And you were president for the short film club, but you kind of are guessing why you’re doing this all because you hate people.

The reality is, it’s to avoid facing the deeper truth: that connection, the real kind, the kind that made you feel alive and seen. Not just from relationships, courses, and social life.

Was this what your life was going to be? Always on the fringes, never fully connecting? You wanted more but didn’t know how to get it. Maybe you didn’t even know what “more” really was.

You were good at pretending everything was fine, good at putting on a show of contentment. But deep down, you knew you were waiting for something—or someone—to break through that glass pane that kept you at arm’s length from everyone around.

But until then, you’d keep going, navigating your college life as best as you could, feeling more like an observer than a participant.

・❥・

You sat across from Wanda at your usual spot in the campus dining hall, picking at her salad as Wanda animatedly recounted the latest drama involving her boyfriend, Vision. You nodded along, making the appropriate sounds of sympathy and surprise, but part of you couldn't help but tune out the problem.

“I swear, sometimes he just doesn’t listen,” Wanda continued, exasperation creeping into her voice. “Last night I..." She sighed, looking down at her food. "I told him I needed space and time to collect my thoughts about where this is going, but he kept calling and texting, so we could talk it out..."

You forced yourself back into the conversation. “Sounds like he’s not respecting your boundaries,” you offered, glancing up at Wanda. You couldn’t help the slight resentment that crept in whenever Vision came up. There was always an unspoken tension in your friendship, one that emerged whenever Wanda talked about her boyfriend.

You didn’t know exactly why you disliked him—maybe it was his arrogant demeanor, or the way he always seemed to treat Wanda as an accessory rather than an equal. She would often vent about the small ways in which he let her down, like forgetting their date plans or brushing off her opinions, but then she would always follow it up with some form of an excuse that he cares. You would just nod along, hiding the skepticism behind a supportive smile.

"Tell me about it,” Wanda huffed, shaking her head. “It's a flaw of his and when the time is right, we'll discuss it and how we can better ourselves. Enough about me though, how about you? Anything exciting that requires you to get out of that hermit crab shell of yours? Maybe with...that TA? Angus, right?"

You snickered but also couldn’t help but notice how Wanda seemed to skirt around anything serious about her relationship with Vision (what a prick). There was a glint of something—maybe uncertainty, maybe resignation—in her eyes when she spoke about him. You wondered if Wanda was just as skilled at pretending everything was fine as you were. It made you feel a little less alone, knowing you weren’t the only one hiding something.

Yet, despite your doubts about the boyfriend, you never voiced your concerns outright. The last thing you wanted was to come across as jealous or possessive. Deep down, you wondered if there was a part of you that simply didn’t want to share Wanda—a feeling you quickly buried before it could grow into something more troubling.

Your face flushed at the mention of Agatha, and you quickly took a sip of water to hide the embarrassment. “Her name is Agnes,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes for effect. So, maybe you kind of lied. Only because you didn't want Wanda to track and stalk the girl. "And she's just intriguing..."

"Intriguing, huh?” Wanda teased. “You should talk to her more. Or, you know, talk to her at all.”

“Very funny,” You shot back. “It’s not that simple.”

But maybe it was. Maybe if you could muster up the courage to actually talk to Agatha, you’d feel less like you were floating aimlessly and more like you were taking control of your own life. You could already hear Wanda’s voice in your head, encouraging you to just go for it, to not overthink it, to take a chance.

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #wanda maximoff #rio vidal #wandavision #witches #wanda maximoff x reader #rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x reader

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jessmaybank · 2 years ago

Text

Right here - Rafe Cameron

Based on the song Right here by Chase Atlantic

Outer banks x chase atlantic masterlist

Navigation

Pairing(s): Rafe Cameron x fem! Reader

Word count: 7.4k

Summary: in which a secret friends with benefits relationship gets messy.

Warnings: drug use (weed), swearing, SMUT, fingering, unprotected sex, choking, nipple play, oral (f receiving).

AN: lots of mutual pining, teasing, jealousy & angst. friends to lovers. This is easily my fave thing I’ve ever written. Flashbacks are in italics, enjoy!

I'm so far from the line, yeah

I'm too deep in my mind, yeah

If she calls, I'll be right there

That's three calls in a night, yeah

“Hey” she says quietly, phone pressed to her ear as she answers his call in the middle of the night, something she still hadn’t quite grown accustomed too yet. her voice sounded so delicate and sweet, it made Rafe’s head rush.

This was the third call she had received from him this week, and it always ended the same. Each time she would tell herself that it was the last, but here she was, tangled within her lilac sheets, unable to let the call go to voicemail. She always seemed to bend her rules when it came to him.

“Hey. Did I wake you up?” He asks, voice tainted with something that sounded like concern, but she wasn’t quite sure. Rafe wasn’t exactly known for his ability to emphasise with others. Rather, his actions were always driven by his own selfish wants and needs, and he was extremely stubborn. That was was something which she learnt the day their arrangement started.

“Rafe, I swear to god, move. I shotgunned the couch” she said, arms crossed as her lips move into a small pout, her doe eyes hard to miss.

Rafe thought the expression was nothing less than adorable, observing the way her eyebrows were furrowed slightly to be more convincing, hoping to get some sympathy out of him. But despite the frown on her face, he knew she was biting back a smile. She liked being teased just as much as he liked teasing her.

The corners of his mouth upturned into an amused grin, something which should of annoyed her further, but it didn’t. Instead, she had to bite her tongue to stop herself from matching his expression.

They were at toppers house, in the midst of a party which had just began to die down, the crowds of young adults sprawled around the large living room getting smaller by the minute. She had no intention of going home anytime soon, and neither did he.

“Not anymore, angel” he says, manspreading on the couch to get comfortable, but also just as a way to tease her further. But once again, the familiar nickname he picked for her, and only her, made it near impossible for her to be mad at him.

They had been friends for a long time now, so in theory she should have been used to it, but she just wasn’t. Every time the word left his cherry red lips, she felt like a giddy teenager again.

She sighs in defeat, tugging on one of the loose threads of his hoodie which he gave her, one of the many endearing gestures which made all the constant teasing seemingly tolerable.

“Stop being greedy and just sit next to me” he says, patting the empty space next to him. His shiny gold rings that decorated his fingers were a stark contrast to the dim light which began to engulf the room as it grew later into the night, and she began to wonder how one mans hands could be so attractive.

Maybe she was being greedy for wanting the whole couch to herself, but she was not about to be criticised by Rafe Cameron himself. He was quite literally the epitome of greed, even if she failed to recognise that sometimes, her delusion towards him a symbol of her naive nature.

She pretended to hesitate before sitting down on the couch next to him, the smell of her sweet perfume invading his senses, throwing him off track. She was the only person who could make his nonchalant nature falter so easy, and the feeling was so unfamiliar to him he almost felt uneasy whenever she was near.

Every time Topper threw a party, she had an end-of-night tradition. She would sprawl across the expensive couch with a blanket, smoke the pre-rolled joint she would bring with her every time, and slowly become one which the couch, her body melting into the white leather. Luckily, Toppers parents were gone for the week this time, so she had permission to smoke inside.

She turned her body, leaning her back against the armrest of the couch, before draping her legs over Rafe’s lap. They weren’t exactly used to such affections at this stage in their relationship, but she was a bit tipsy, and she certainly wasn’t going to let him stop her from getting comfy.

Her squeaky clean converse dug into his thigh a little, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he sent her a glare, and he prayed he put on a good enough of a show to convince her it was real.

“What? I warned you” she said, shifting slightly to retrieve the blanket which was hung on the back of the couch, throwing it over them both.

Rafe placed his hands under the blanket and rested them on her legs, just below her knees, the evening breeze coming through the windows seemingly prevalent. He was a bit cold in his t-shirt, but he would never dare to ask for his hoodie back. He noted how warm she felt as his fingers brushed the bare skin of her legs, and suddenly he wanted to bury his head between them.

She dug her dainty hands into the pocket of his hoodie, retrieving a slightly crumpled joint and a dodgy lighter. Her manicured pink nails made her hands look so fragile, and Rafe couldn’t fathom how one girls hands could be so fucking cute.

She lights the joint, the flame lighting up her face in an orange tint, the warm hue painted over her features a perfect picture to him. He watched as she inhaled and exhaled again and again, and it dawned on him then that he could watch her do anything, and he would never get bored.

“Sharing is caring, angel” he says, placing his hand out in front of her. She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t suppress the small grin which graced her lips, her sweetness practically radiating off her as she passed him the joint, captivated in the way he inhaled before blowing a thick cloud of smoke into the living room, blurring their vision slightly.

Weed always made Rafe a little more touchy than usual. When he’s sober, his anxiety is always apparent in his tensed muscles or his clenched jaw, or the way he always runs his hands through his hair when he’s stressed out. But as soon as marijuana was flowing through him, his mind relaxed, and so did his body.

he’s pretty dazed by the time he passes the joint back. He digs his hands under the blanket once again, running the tips of his fingers innocently across her thighs, relishing in her smooth skin. but the feeling it caused her was anything but innocent.

“Do you mind?” She says, her voice betraying her as it came out shaky. He turned his head, and when she saw the mischievous glint which lay behind his bloodshot eyes, she knew she was in trouble.

He had to poke the inside of his cheek with his tongue to suppress a grin. He thought her flustered state was completely endearing, and he loved knowing the effect he had on her. “Am I distracting you, angel?”

“No” yes.

She hoped she was convincing, but he could see right through her, mostly as he observed the way she drew in a sharp breath as his hands travelled further and further up her leg, her skin tingling at his touch.

“You see, I don’t believe you” he smirks, shifting towards her, his hand stopping right at the hem of her denim mini skirt, fingers dipping under the material ever so slightly, as if he was daring himself to go even further.

“Rafe” she whispers. fuck. His name had never sounded so pretty until it came out of her mouth.

She took another hit of the joint, trying to distract herself from his dirty little games. But the higher she got, the more she melted into his touch.

She sent him a half-hearted pleading look, one which should of convinced him to back away, but unfortunately for her, he could read her like his favourite book, and the way her legs squirmed on top of him, parting ever so slightly, gave him all the confirmation he needed.

His fingers dipped under her skirt, the cold metal of his rings grazing the top of her thigh, cooling down her burning skin. She looked around, making sure no one was paying attention, and relaxed a little when she noticed everyone left was either passed out or too engrossed in conversation to notice either of them.

His lips parted as he made contact with her clothed pussy, coming to the realisation her lace underwear was soaked. His shorts tightened as his cock grew rock hard, and he prayed she couldn’t feel it under her legs, but of course she could.

Her legs squirmed once again as he started toying with her clothed clit, her calf’s rubbing right against his cock, and he swore she was hell-bent on torturing him.

Her eyes fluttered shut as his hand dove into her underwear, running his fingers up her folds, almost groaning as he felt her arousal. The heavy pants coming from her glossy lips were drowned out by the music which played from toppers speaker, and suddenly Rafe wished the room was silent.

The joint fell from her fingers and onto the blanket as he inserted two fingers inside of her, the pit of her stomach heating up as pleasure flows through her, sinking her body further into the couch.

He retrieved the joint with his free hand before it burnt a hole in the blanket, taking a hit before putting the roach into the ash tray next to him. She was shocked at how nonchalant he looked, pretending as if his fingers weren’t inside of her as they sat in a room with all of their friends, at risk of being caught at any moment.

He began to pump his fingers in and out of her, in awe of the way she struggled to keep her eyes open, the bloodshot whites in her eyes making her look even more fucked out. He draped his free arm on the back of the couch as he continued to finger fuck her with his other, and when their eyes met, electricity shot down her spine, entranced by his blown out pupils.

she lifted the blanket to cover her mouth as moans threatened to spill out of her, her legs now spread for him underneath the soft material. He didn’t care that they weren’t alone, he didn’t like the fact she wanted to hide her face from him.

He shakes his head slightly, tutting as he brings his free arm down, pulling the blanket from her face before cupping her jaw. “Let me see you” he said, his voice steady. And as she bit her lip to suppress a whimper, pussy clenching around his fingers, he knew he was in trouble.

“No, I can’t seem to sleep” she says, voice quiet through the phone, but he heard her clearly.

“I’ve been thinking about you today. Can you come over?” he says, and her eyes shut in defeat.

He would always do this, call her up and sweet talk her into coming over so they could fuck. Rafe never gave any of his feelings away, living up to his fuck boy reputation, and so everytime she would leave his house, thinking she was nothing but a warm body to him, she swore to herself she would never let him pull at her heartstrings like that again.

But just like him, her lack of self control betrayed her every time.

She takes a while to respond, and Rafe had to question if he managed to fuck everything up in a 2 minute phone call.

“I’ll be there in 10” she says, her voice sweet like honey, and finally he felt like he could breathe again.

Well girl, what do you think about

Staying right here in bed?

I didn't hear a word you said

I wasn't that high, I swear

Her eyes drifted open at around 8am, the morning sun making her wince as she tries to focus her vision, shifting uncomfortably in the bed. Her movements come to a halt as she feels the weight of someone pressed up behind her, arm draped over her waist and head buried behind her neck.

Her eyes widen slightly as she turns so she’s almost on her back, observing how at peace Rafe looked as he was cuddled up to her, his chest rising and falling every few seconds, the sounds of his breathing relaxing her somewhat.

She must of passed out before she had the chance to leave last night, which happened sometimes whenever they were together super late. Sometimes, by the time Rafe was done with her, she would actually struggle to move, exhaustion overtaking her limp body.

But this was the first time they woke up like this. Usually, she would stick to her side of the bed, and he would stick to hers, abiding by Rafe’s stupid rule of no cuddling, as if it would somehow cure his growing infatuation for her.

He was not a relationship person, and that was something she definitely learnt the hard way. Growing up in the household that be did, Rafe had always struggled with letting people in. His father had made it impossible for him to trust, and whenever he got close, he would bolt, too scared to let himself feel anything.

For some reason, he just couldn’t bring himself to let go of her. So instead, he made a bunch of stupid rules, in the hopes that it would stop him falling too deep.

Peering up at him with tired eyes, she came to the realisation that she would let him do anything to her as long as it meant he was this close. She would let him walk all over her, whatever way he wanted, if it meant she could stay in bed, like this, with him, just for a little longer.

She almost jumped out of her skin as Rose called for Rafe from downstairs, and the moment she could see his eyes battling to open beneath his eyelids, she turned back around, pretending to be asleep.

he shifted behind her as his eyes fluttered open, adjusting to his surroundings. He mentally cursed his lack of self control as he observed the position he was in, but surprisingly, he didn’t move.

Instead, he ran his fingers through a lock of her hair, the sweet smell of her strawberry shampoo making him second guess every single decision he’s ever made. He trailed his fingers all the way down to the curves of her bare hips, before planting a sweet kiss on the back of her head. It took everything in her to remain still, to suppress a bright smile, but she did, ignoring the shiver that ran down her spine at his sweet affections.

Rose called for him again, and he rolled his eyes, but he still just couldn’t bring himself to move. He trailed his eyes to last nights hickeys that were littered across her neck and shoulder, and he realised then that maybe, just maybe, he would bend his rules, if it meant he could stay in bed, like this, with her, just for a little longer.

It's happening again

Well, I don't give a fuck about your friends

I'm right here

Oh, baby, take a look around

I'm the only one that hasn't walked out

I'm right here

His eyes spotted her as soon as she entered his house, seemingly uninterested in the party around him. She looked good, too good, as he observed her appearance. Her summer dress painted her figure in the most delectable way, and her glossy lips looked so succulent he had to hold himself back from kissing her when she sat down next to him.

“You look happy” she says, sarcasm dripping off her tongue as she speaks. The amusing look on her face subsided as she noticed the way he licked his red lips, his blue orbs filled with something she couldn’t place.

She lent back, still facing him, almost touching his arm that was draped over the back of the couch, his fingers close to her shoulder. It took everything in him not to run his fingers along her soft skin, a deep craving to trail his fingers over the freckles littered on her shoulder, and he had to question wether he was starting to go insane.

“You didn’t answer yesterday” he says, taking a swig of his bottle of whiskey, a usual favourite for him.

Is that why he looked so glum? It couldn’t be, it’s Rafe we’re talking about here. So then why did he look so doleful? She was burning to know, but she knew better than to pry when it came to him. So, she tried to comfort him in the only way she knew he would let him.

“Can I make it up to you?” She says sweetly, and that caught his attention instantly, head turning to face her. Her doe eyes were glistening with desire, her organs pumping with adrenaline, and she swore she saw his features soften.

Her sinful thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the shoulder, and she caught the way that Rafe’s jaw clenched at something behind her before she turned around, revealing some touron she met at party a couple weeks ago. If she was being honest, she didn’t even remember his name, but she didn’t have the heart to be rude.

And just like that, she was ripped away from him, the missing warmth from her beside him making his insides twist in the worst way possible as he watched her disappear into the crowd, muscles tensing as he paid attention to how her hands were intertwined with his. Is that why she didn’t answer yesterday? Was she with him? His blood ran cold at the thought, his face contorting with disappointment as he ran a hand through his hair, taking an extra big sip of his whiskey.

He then focused his dull gaze on the empty seat beside him, and before he knew it, time started to slow.

They both sat naked in his living room, her heart racing as she straddled him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck. The sweetness of her cherry lip gloss drowned his tongue as he hummed into her mouth, her insides tingling at the sweet sound as their lips moved together in a passionate kiss.

She realised then that she loved every single sound he made. Even if it was a rude remark, which wasn’t exactly uncommon with Rafe, at least it was something. At least she got to hear him.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you” he mumbled into her mouth, fingers entwined in her messy hair. His voice was low and quiet, but the words pierced through her heart as if he shouted it at the top of his lungs.

She noticed that he would only say nice things to her when they were fucking, and although she didn’t complain in the moment, she always felt uneasy afterwards, his empty words lingering in her mind.

“Yeah?” God. Her voice sounded so weak and fragile, she wished she could just lay on the floor and let the ground swallow her hole. Maybe then, her conflicting thoughts would finally subside.

But Fuck, he loved when she was nervous because of him. Her shaky voice made his lips curl up into a smirk, pushing her hips down in line with his cock, watching her lidded eyes as she pushed herself down onto him, stretching her out and taking him whole.

“Your so fucking beautiful, angel” he moaned, not being able to stop his thoughts whilst he was inside her. In fact, he never could. Whenever they had sex, he would just speak his mind freely, not being able to hold back.

Her moans were full of sin as she began to bounce on his cock, digging her pink nails into his shoulders and throwing her head back in pleasure. He took the opportunity to wrap a hand round her neck, squeezing just the right amount, making sure he didn’t hurt her too much. He brought his other hand up to play with her nipple, pinching on the sensitive skin, and she jerked on top of him, making him smirk.

“Fucking addictive” he mumbles, letting go of her neck and gripping her hair instead, pulling her head forward to look him right in the eyes.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean” she says, clawing her nails down his bare chest, leaving little red marks to replace the old faded ones.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her up and pushing her against the couch, her back sinking into the soft material. “Oh, I mean it”

Her eyes screw shut as he pounds into her, her breathing increasingly unorganised as his nails dug into her hips. His forehead glistened with a thin layer of sweat, his hair sticking to it, and he had to bite back a smile as he saw how fucked out she was beneath him, her cheeks stained with a faint redness.

“I hate you” she says, a sincere look on her face. And if he didn’t feel her pussy clenching around him in that moment, he might of believed her.

“Earth to Rafe” Topper says, waving his hand in front of his face, and he snapped back to reality.

“Jesus man, what’s gotten into you”

He shrugs in response, an unamused look on his face. “You playing?” Topper asks, turning his head towards the circle of people sat in the middle of the room. Rafe follows toppers line of vision, and his jaw clenches. Usually, he doesn’t indulge in party games, but as soon as he saw her sat in the circle, he was making his way over.

She sat with her best friend, Tara, laughing and giggling as she sips on her vodka soda. He sat down opposite her, their eyes meeting, and suddenly it was like they were the only two people in the room.

“Rafe looks good tonight, doesn’t he” Tara says, a small smile painting her features, snapping her out of her daze. No one knew about their arrangement, and so she didn’t really have a right to be mad, but she couldn’t deny the way her heart sank at her friends words.

“I guess” she says, doing her best to mask her jealousy with a bored look, but it didn’t really work.

The games started off innocent, a few harmless truths and dares, but as always, it turned sexual very quickly. Topper was always the one to blame for that.

“Okay, this round is 7 minutes in heaven. You know the rules, if the bottle lands on you, you have to spend 7 minutes locked in a room with whoever it lands on next. No backing out” Kelce says, and her heart began to beat a little faster.

Kelce lent forward, gripping the glass beer bottle and giving it a spin. Rafe looked across at her, observing how her eyes were glued to the bottle as it span, and he hoped to god he wasn’t going to have to watch her go into a room with somebody else.

His thoughts were interrupted as their eyes connected, and confusion filled him as he took notice of her wide eyes. He looked down, and when he realised the bottle was pointed at him, it was like all the colour drained from his face.

People began to cheer around them, topper leaning over to pat his back, but she couldn’t do anything but sit, completely frozen. Kelce then span the bottle again, and her heart sank to her feet as it landed on Tara.

Tara giggled as she stood up, smoothing out her dress with her hands, but Rafe didn’t move, clearly hesitant. He tried to ignore the alcohol induced encouragement from everyone around them, and she had a sliver of hope that maybe he wouldn’t do it.

But when she saw him stand up and begin to lead her best friend into one of the downstairs bedrooms, it was like a dagger straight through the heart. She sat there for a minute or two, in her own world as she pinched herself, over and over again, to stop the tears which threatened to spill out of her.

She made her way outside, pushing through the back doors of the house and into the empty garden, the evening breeze giving her goosebumps. She knew she only had herself to blame, he told her what it was from the start and she didn’t listen, but that didn’t make the pain any easier.

She sat down on the stairs of the outside decking, arms crossed as she rubs her arms, trying to warm herself up. She heard some commotion from inside, and turned her head to see through the glass doors.

Everyone cheered as Rafe and Tara made their way out into the living room, and she struggled to breathe as she observed the way Tara pulled her dress down and fixed her hair, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what went on.

Rafe’s heart sank as he returned, scanning around the room to find she was no where to be seen. His gaze landed on her figure outside, and he didn’t hesitate to make his way to her, ignoring the confused looks from Topper and Kelce as he walked straight passed them.

She didn’t have to guess who it was as she heard the door open, and she shot up, walking towards the pool, not wanting to speak to him just yet.

“Where are you running off to?” He says, a quizzical look on his face as he follows her down the garden, shoving his arms in his pockets.

“My best friend, Rafe, really?” She says, sass laced within her voice as she runs a hand through her hair, halting her movements as she stands right in front of the pool, the moonlight reflecting in the water ever so slightly.

“Nothing happened” he replied, and although he knew she would never believe it, he was telling the truth.

Yes, it’s true, Rafe may be known for having a wandering eye, but as Tara sat on the bed, trying her best to seduce him, he just knew no one could ever compare to her.

“Bullshit”

She scoffs at him, her features contorting with anger as she stares at the water ahead, knowing the second she looks at him, she would give in. “I know that we’re just friends” she starts, ignoring the despair in the pit of her stomach as she cringes at her own words.

“But friends don’t disrespect each other. And believe it or not Rafe, fucking my friends falls under that category” she shouts, her voice raised as she now turns to face him.

“I don’t give a fuck about your friends, okay. I’m right here with you, am I not?” He replies back, his frustration evident in his tone.

He wished she believed him. He wished she knew that sometimes, he couldn’t even sleep at night, too wound up in thinking about how soft her hair was, or how cute she looked in the mornings when they would wake up together, and she was wearing nothing but his t-shirt.

“Yeah, after you had your fun” she mumbles quietly, but he heard it. Something in his mind clicked, and he wasn’t sure why it took him so long, but he finally figured out what was going on.

The corners of lips turned upwards into a shit eating grin, and she swore she had never been so close to punching him.

He takes a step forward, their shoes touching, and brings a finger to her chin, pushing her head up to look him straight in the eyes.

“Your jealous” he says teasingly, his features a picture of pure joy.

“Your insufferable” she says, rolling her eyes, trying her best to be rude even though he was right. But all he could concentrate on was the fact she didn’t even deny it.

Her poker face disappears as he moves her hair off her shoulders, bringing his head down to plant harsh kisses along her neck, biting the sweet spot in the way he knew she liked it.

“Admit it” he mumbles into her neck, his hot breath making her insides tingle.

She debated it for a second, before she decided she had a better idea.

She palmed his cock through his shorts, trying not to get distracted by him as he lifted his head up, mouth agape, his darkened eyes illustrating that he wanted to devour her mercilessly.

And when she knew he was fully distracted, she pushed him into the pool.

Rafe emerged from the rippling water, his wet hair clinging to her forehead, and she couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“I wish I could say I’m sorry” she giggles, bending down and crouching to get a better look at him, ignoring the glare that painted his features.

His glare didn’t stay for long, too caught up in how cute her laugh was. The cogs in his brain turned as his eyebrows furrowed into a thoughtful look, and before she could react, he was tugging on her arms and pulling her into the pool with him.

“Fuck you!” She shouts, almost chocking on the water as she laughs, making sure to splash him in the face.

“All you have to do is ask, angel” he smirks, trailing his eyes down to her breasts, rejoicing in the way her hardened nipples were poking through her dress, like they were begging to be touched.

He swims towards her, skin glistening with water droplets, and she just couldn’t help but stare at him in absolute awe.

He dipped his head down, brushing his lips against hers, lingering there for a moment as he grabs her thighs, wrapping them around his waist and pushing her back against the pool wall. Her hands clung to his wet hair, and as she registered just how heavy her breathing was, she knew she was too far gone.

“Someone’s ganna see” she whispers, unable to concentrate when he’s touching her like this.

“Let them” he says, his voice hoarse. He brought his hand up to cup her flushed cheek, before their lips connected in a sweet kiss.

One draw at a time, yeah

One more, you'll be fine, yeah

And I swear she was right there

The blue glow and the night wear

“Tell me how you want it, angel” he mumbles into her collar bone, trailing sloppy kisses all the way down from her breasts to her stomach.

He had turned up to her house in the middle of the day, not even bothering to phone her. It was rare that they spent time together during daylight hours, but she wasn’t exactly complaining. And as always, it had taken him all of 5 minutes until he had her striped down to her underwear, her black lingerie set making his head rush.

“Slow” is all she says, and he’s a bit taken back, lifting himself up so their face to face again. Rafe was an experienced man, but never has he once had slow sex. She lifted her head into the krook of his neck, planting sweet kisses along his skin and up to his jawline, occasionally biting, but not enough to actually hurt him. He came to the conclusion then that as long as she kept kissing him like that, he would try anything for her.

He hooked his fingers in her underwear, pulling them down her legs and revealing her drenched pussy. It didn’t matter how many times Rafe saw her naked, each time still felt like the first.

He buried his head between her legs and kissed her throbbing clit, before lapping his tongue teasingly over the bundle of nerves, small whimpers leaving her mouth at the sensation. She dug her manicured nails into her sheets, and she could feel him smirk against her pussy.

“You like that?” He asks lowly, even though he already knew the answer. She nodded her head, screwing her eyes shut as his licks got harsher, but remained slow.

He placed one hand on her stomach as he ate her out, looking up at her blissful state, and as she moaned his name, he felt like he had died and gone to heaven.

He pulled away, climbing up her body to meet her face once again, pulling on her bottom lip with his teeth as he lined himself up with her entrance, pushing his cock into her painfully slowly. The pit in her stomach grew heavier and heavier as he stretched her out, and he practically groaned into her mouth.

He started fucking her with slow but harsh strokes, gazing deeply into her eyes, and it dawned on him then that this felt like more than just sex. He trailed his thumb along her bottom lip before pushing it into her mouth, watching as she sucked on it with lidded eyes, and as she looked up at him, she realised that his blue orbs had some green in them.

What he didn’t know, was that when he knocked on her door earlier that day, and she peered at him through her window, she decided that this had to be the last time they fucked. The jealousy and sadness that he brought on her was turning her into someone that she didn’t recognise, and she knew she had to stop before it was too late, before he had broke her completely.

She savoured every minute as he thrusted into her, digging her nails down his back, leaving little red marks. He replaced his thumb with his lips, tongue diving down her throat as she hummed into his mouth, their kiss sloppy as they were both moaning messes.

He buried his head in her neck, biting her shoulder gently as his eyes screwed shut, overwhelmed at how good this felt even though it wasn’t what he was used to.

The feeling was so bittersweet as she let a single tear roll down her red cheeks, tangling her hands in his hair, only now realising that she had fallen in love with Rafe Cameron, and now she was going to have to heal.

Girl, I've been taking it slow

You know I've been taking it slow

You're sitting alone, why are you sitting alone?

Baby, just pick up your phone, oh

'Cause I've been rolling all damn night, whoa

She took a sip of her champagne as she walked through the beautiful flower garden, mentally praising Toppers parents for choosing to get married in such a picturesque place.

Her hair was plaited into two, with daisy flowers weaved into her hair, sticking to the floral theme of the wedding, and her lilac silk dress was accompanied with matching heels.

She walked to the end of the establishment, making sure no one else was around, before retrieving a crumpled up joint and a lighter from her purse, wasting no time in lighting it, staring at all the luscious plants around her as her body started to relax.

She’s interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat, and she almost gave herself whiplash with how fast she turned around.

“Jesus! Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to creep up on people?” She asks, eyes slightly wide as she takes a look at the man in front of her. He stood in a black suit, which she could tell was expensive, and a glass of whiskey sat in his ring clad hand, the condensation from the glass rolling down his fingers.

“Says the one getting stoned at a wedding” he says, smirking as he gestures to the lit joint in her hand.

“Hm, touché. But its the only way I’m going to be able to get through Toppers mums speech. I love Top with all my heart, but that woman is the devil” she says, taking a drag of her joint, watching as some of the loose embers fall onto the floor.

He laughs then, a real laugh, which for some reason melted her insides, and her cherry red lips turned upwards into a bright smile.

All Rafe could think about was how someone as beautiful as her could exist, and he didn’t even know about it. He made a mental note to punch Topper later for not introducing her to him.

“You like daisies?” He asks, and confusion fills her features for a second before she realised he’s talking about her hair.

“Uh, yeah. They were my mum’s favourite” she said, a certain dullness laying behind her eyes. His hands grew clammy as he put two and two together, but he didn’t say anything, not wanting to intrude on the personal life of a complete stranger.

“I like it. You kind of look like an angel” he says, and he clears his throat as he realised what he just said, his forwardness even shocking himself.

Her smile never wavered as he spoke, features lighting up at his kind words, and suddenly she needed to know who on earth this man was.

“I’m Y/N” she says, leaning her arm out to shake his, her dainty arms no match for his muscular ones.

“Rafe” he responds, mirroring her actions, and as soon as his skin touched hers, she had a feeling he was here to stay.

She sat alone in the island club, watching her phone light up as his contact came onto the slightly cracked screen, the small vibrations of her ringtone filling the room. Her head fell into her hands as she sighed, doing everything she could to go against her urges to answer the call.

She had been ignoring him for a few days, trying to detach herself, but every time he called, she got closer and closer to caving. Everything she did was for him, and now, everything she was doing was because of him, and it was so painful.

Rafe was at toppers with the boys, sipping on his whiskey as he held his phone up to his ear, listening to his ringer as the call went to voicemail for the third time that night.

“Fuck” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair as he shifted on the couch, the same couch where he had his first sinful encounter with her.

“Who are you calling?” Kelce says, eyes squinting with suspicion as he looks at Rafe, registering his stressed out state.

“No one” he replies, and it was impossible to miss the look that Kelce and Topper gave each other.

“Rafe, you might think you were being sneaky, but we know you’ve been seeing Y/N for months now. You guys are kinda obvious” Topper says, eyebrows raised as he confesses to his best friend, a small smile on his face.

“Plus, I saw you guys fucking in the pool the other night” Kelce says, and Rafe’s eyes widen.

“Shit” he says, not really sure what to say. For the first time in his life, he was stumped.

“You really like her, huh?” Topper says, always able to know what his best friend was thinking.

Rafe hesitated before nodding his head, taking another sip of his whiskey, rejoicing in the way it warmed his insides and numbed his pain.

“She won’t return my calls” he says, his mind a spiralling mess. He was trying to rack his brain to figure out what he had done wrong, but the more he thought about it the more confused he got.

“you have to make a gesture, something to show you care. Girls eat that shit up man” Topper said, patting Rafe on the back, Kelce nodding along with him. And as he was racking his brain for ideas, one thing did spring to mind.

Oh, baby, take a look around

I’m the only one that hasn’t walked out

I'm right here

She scanned the perimeter as she stepped onto the boat, the salty smell of the ocean wafting through the mid-day air. She spotted topper at the bar almost immediately, making some sort of cocktail concoction, and she couldn’t help but giggle as she walked up to him.

“Your late” Topper says as he spots her, the sound of the blender making it hard for her to hear, but she did.

“Fashionably late” she corrects him, gesturing to her matching bikini, lifting her sunglasses off of her eyes and resting them on her head, her hair cascading off her shoulders elegantly.

“Why am I here anyway? Frozen Margarita’s don’t really seem like much of an emergency” she says, eyebrows raised as an amused look paints her features.

“Oh but it is. I need you to test my recipe” he says, and as much as she wanted to be annoyed for dragging her out here for no reason, a margarita did sound good.

“Can you go get me some more lime juice from downstairs?” he says, and she nodded her head in response, placing her purse down on the bar before heading for the stairs.

The heels of her wedges clicked as she walked down the wooden stairs, heading straight to the downstairs bar. She flicked through the cupboards as she tried to find the desired lime juice, before her eyes landed on a glass vase which sat in the middle of the bar.

She drew in a sharp breath as she gazed at the bouquet of fresh daisies, accompanied by a card with her name on it, and her eyebrows furrowed. She brought her hand up to stroke the fragile petals, and the memory of her mother plagued her mind.

“What the-“

“They were your mother’s favourite” a male voice says, and she didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. “I remembered”

He pulled on her heartstrings as he stood in the doorway, a baseball cap sitting backwards lazily on his head, and a crooked smile on his ruby red lips that she could never get tired of, no matter how hard she tried. She couldn’t believe he remembered such a small detail like that, and she began to think maybe her prejudice towards him was all wrong.

“Rafe” she says quietly, clearly in shock, her doe eyes wide as he makes his way to her, and holy shit, he never really could get over how his name rolled off her tongue so sweetly.

“What are you doing?”

“What I’ve wanted to do since the day we met” he said, and she couldn’t bring herself to do anything but stare at him in awe as goosebumps formed along her tanned skin, melting into his touch as he brought a hand up to her cheek, stroking the skin with his thumb before cupping her cheek in his hand.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick. I’m sorry I made all these stupid rules for us, like no cuddling, or keeping us a secret, because the truth is, every time your near, it takes every ounce of my self restraint not to touch you, or not to tell you that every inch of me belongs to you” he says, wrapping one hand around her waist, pressing her body against his, and she prayed he couldn’t feel how fast hear heart was beating right now.

“I only did those things because I was scared of actually letting someone in” he says, finally letting himself breathe as he paused. “Scared of having to admit that I love you, angel”

She grinned like a cheshire cat as he finished his sentence, admiring the way his cheeks blushed with a faint redness as he poured his heart out, and she swung her arms around his neck tightly, never wanting to let go.

“I love you too” she says, before reaching up on her tiptoes and claiming his lips in a gentle kiss.

“You know i would do anything for you, right?” She whispers against his lips, practically breathing the same air as him, and just like that, his signature smirk was back.

“Well in that case, how about you start with taking this flimsy thing off” he says, pulling on the straps of her bikini top, a small giggle leaving her glossy lips as she playfully hit his arm.

“Gross. Please don’t” Topper says, and they both jumped out of their skin as they spotted him in the doorway, arm leant against the wooden frame with a smug look on his face.

“Jesus! How long have you been standing there?”

Oh, baby take a look around

I'm the only one that hasn't walked out

I'm right here

#obx #outer banks #drew starkey #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #Rafe Cameron fwb #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe x y/n #rafe x female!mc

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tkaulitzlvr · 1 year ago

Note

hii I absolutely adore ur writing and I was wondering if maybe you could write something where like tom attempts to do no nut November but fails and it ends with smut??? Thank youuu💗

CAN’T RESIST - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: wierdly, tom is determined to get through the entire month of november with zero sex, having failed within the first few days for the past five years you have been together. you have other ideas, focused on getting him to crack, becoming desperate yourself.

content: smut

a/n: omg i loveeee this idea thanku sm for the request!! the way u sent this at like the start of november and i’m only just posting it i’m so sorry - i’ve had like the first paragraph written for a couple weeks😭also tom would def fail nnn on november 1st at 00:01am he is not lasting a second…

“oh my god.” tom pants, pulling out of me and climbing off of my limp frame, rolling to lay beside me, his chest heaving up and down as beads of sweat line the soft skin. “don’t know how i’m gonna last a whole month without this schatz.”

his confession doesn’t come as a surprise, in fact it is the exact opposite. tom is the horniest person i have ever met, and usually, he can’t go a day without sex - whether it be something rushed and desperate in public, or a long night of raw passion between the sheets, he can’t live without sex, which is why i am so surprised that he is attempting to go through with this whole ‘no nut november’ bullshit. he won’t last a second, and deep down i think he knows that too. though after the hours that he has spent inside of me, deciding to use the entirety of today - october 31st, the day before he had to give up his uncontrollable desires - fucking me just about anywhere he could, stating that it will ‘make up for the lost time’ and ‘make it a little easier for him’, i don’t see how he could even have the energy to do anything remotely sexual for the next month, his body spent and exhausted as it collapses beside me.

“i can’t believe you’re actually doing this.” a small giggle leaves my lips amidst the shaky breaths, hands pulling the sheets upward and over my naked body before snuggling into his frame, wrapping my arm loosely across his chest. “you know that you won’t even last a day, right?”

“this means no sex for you too you know.” his eyebrow raises, eyes tiredly meeting mine with a hint of mischief, thinking that he has caught me out, though he doesn’t realise that i can handle my needs in other ways, it is him that is totally restricted.

“i don’t need your help to cum baby. cute of you to assume i do.” i smirk, kissing his cheek lazily before rolling out of bed, grabbing my panties from the soft carpet, sensing his eyes burning into me from behind. i pay no attention, flashing him a teasing smile as a reminder that i have won, slowly walking into the bathroom to freshen up, his own steps soon following.

“the fuck do you mean you don’t need my help? i can still help you cum, i just can’t fuck you, which don’t get me wrong is the worst part, but nothing says that i can’t touch you. you know i’ll go insane if i can’t even do that.” he already sounds frustrated, a small smile tugging along my lips at the realisation that he really won’t last two seconds, his desperation embarrassingly clear despite the challenge not even starting yet.

“we’ll see. you just focus on getting yourself through this dumb challenge of yours baby.” i chuckle, that same knowing grin on my face once i palm him through his boxers, his mouth falling open at the sensation. though it doesn’t last long, my hand pulling away firmly to adjust the straps of my bra as i put it back on, leaving tom shocked as i walk away, the realisation that i don’t intend to make this easy for him soon becoming real.

and i stick to my plans - set on making this the most painful month of his life, certain that he will never consider doing this challenge again.

if only he knew what he was getting himself into.

“baby?” my voice sounds throughout the quiet house, loud enough for tom to pick up on it from downstairs. i smile to myself, turning to the mirror and adjusting the strap of the bra that i had bought earlier on, whilst tom had been at practice. the black lace - a colour which tom had never been able to control himself when ever i wore it - tightly cupped my breasts, pushing them upward and highlighting my cleavage in the most tempting way possible. small silver jewels line the lace of my thongs, matching perfectly with my upper half, leaving little to the imagination - though far too much that tom wouldn’t be able to touch, a task which would seem impossible the second he laid his eyes on mine.

“yeah?”

“can you come here for a second?” my question is nothing short of innocent, calm with a slight hint of mischief, though it is clearly not enough for him to pick up on as he shouts a quick ‘sure’, the rhythmic sound of his feet trudging up the stairs signalling that he is close, and clearly not expecting anything like this. but it has been two days- fourty eight hours of no sex, no touching, not even an implicit complaint of needing anything sexual from tom. he has been strangely okay with not fucking me, a task which any other time, would be next to impossible. and i feel it - i feel the difference in his actions. he is restricted, almost holding back just in case his impulses get the better of him. but right now, his mind has no choice, my own doing the thinking for him as he is walking blindly into my carefully calculated trap.

“is everything okay-” his calm question is soon cut off by the short curses that spill from his lips when his eyes make contact with my body, not bothering to hide the way they rake down my figure, drinking in the prominent cleavage, moving downward to my curves, finally landing on the slightly transparent panties.

“jesus christ schatz you’re gonna fucking kill me.” he mutters, walking toward me and attacking his hands to my waist, the pads of his fingers tracing the bare skin of my stomach, one slipping teasingly into my panties. his lips are inches away from my own, about to lean in and seal them in a heated kiss, though i pull away, leaving him dumbfounded.

“you like?” i ask innocently, doing a quick twirl as his eyes quickly glue to my ass, soon looking upward once i face him once again. he is in some sort of trance, mouth hanging open slightly, eyes dark and lustful, though the most noticeable difference is the tent that has formed through his sweatpants, a tinge of satisfaction in my veins at the realisation that my plan has worked. despite this, i keep the naive act up, acting as if i do not notice his change in demeanour. “i bought it from victoria’s secret today. it was on sale, and this was the last one in my size. what do you think?”

“you know what i think.” he states frustratedly, his hands doing the talking as they trail down to my ass, giving the bare flesh a rough squeeze, his lips ghosting over my own. “you’re so sexy schatz, so beautiful.”

his lips attach to my own, an indisputable hunger evident as he kisses me, his free hand latching onto the loose curls that fall to my upper waist, running through them harshly. he groans lowly into my mouth, pressing his hips against my own, silently drawing my attention to the hardness between his thighs.

“look what you’re doing to me baby.” he breathes out, seeming a little angry that i have managed to get to him so easily. though he doesn’t kiss me again, instead he holds back, pressing his forehead against mine whilst his hands continue to rest on my lower back, bringing our bodies closer together. “fuck you’re making this so hard…you know that?”

“you gonna give up already?” my voice is seductive, a torturous mix of sympathetic and lustful, lips moving to rest just below his ear, kissing the skin as his eyes flutter shut, a loud sigh leaving his parted mouth, the grip on my waist simultaneously becoming tighter when my kisses speed up. “if you want me…i’m right here.”

“jesus fucking christ.” he trails off, his eyes now squeezing shut as my lips work against his neck, his mind visibly contemplating on whether he should give in. i am right in front of him, my body a blank canvas, willing to give myself up, to allow myself to be used as he pleases, in exchange for the pathetic remainder of his pride - the two days that he has gone without me going down the drain if he decides to act on the desire that is so clearly eating him up.

his visible indecisiveness isn’t enough for me. i need him to give up, to no longer care about holding back anymore, my hand moving underneath his sweatpants as i run my fingers along his length through his boxers, a loud groan leaving his lips in response. he doesn’t object, instead he seems to lean into my touch, confirmation of his defeat on the tip of his tongue, just about to be uttered, my eyes wide open as i wait for him to finally say it.

a loud buzzing sound resonating from his pocket soon takes his attention, totally destroying the moment as i remove my hand from his pants, his eyes shooting open as he takes his phone, the source of the noise, eyes slightly widening once he sees the who is calling, their name lighting up the screen. bill.

“i have to take this baby. you look beautiful by the way, and, nice try.” he says, shooting me a wink and placing a quick kiss on my lips before adjusting himself, clearing his throat and disappearing out of the room. pretty fucking convenient.

i groan in frustration, collapsing backward onto the bed, completely infuriated at the fact that he was so close to letting go, knowing that right now he could be inside of me if it weren’t for that phone call - quickly realising that this is going to be much harder than i had thought.

my eyes make direct contact with the fresh towel folded neatly on the bathroom counter, scrambling quickly to hide it in the cupboard below as i step out of the shower, hands twisting the tap as the fast flow of water soon stops. i smile to myself when i hear the faint sound of a guitar from our bedroom, signalling that tom is in there, this key to my plan. nine days - nine whole days and he hadn’t cracked, not even close to wanting to fuck, the quick make out sessions and ability to still touch me as he pleases seeming to be sufficient. and whilst his mouth and fingers feel good, i need more, desperate to feel him inside of me, willing to go to any lengths to make him crack.

my fingers rake hurriedly through my freshly washed hair in an attempt to make it look somewhat neater, whilst my body remains completely naked, dripping with water. i take one final look at myself through the fogged up mirror, certain that my plan will work this time, figuring that if it doesn’t, then literally nothing else will.

i open the door that leads directly into our bedroom, acting totally nonchalant and squeezing any last droplets of water from my hair. i walk over to the closet, pretending to scan the shelves for towels, knowing that there aren’t any in here, my entire body on display for him. the gentle strumming of the guitar soon comes to a stop, signalling that i have gotten tom’s attention almost immediately, as i had expected.

“baby have you seen the towels? i can’t find any fresh ones anywhere.” i sigh obliviously, eyes finally landing on his own, only his are fixed on my figure, clearly not paying attention to a word that i am saying. his lips are parted, eyes shifting downward as they slowly take in each inch of skin, nothing at all left to his imagination which, despite his silence, clearly offers him no thoughts deemed holy.

“hm?” he mutters, moving his guitar from where it had been resting in his lap and setting it beside him on the bed. he gets up quickly, walking toward me, the awestruck expression plastered on his face now replaced with one unable to be mistaken for anything else besides pure lust. and when his hands find my waist, running up and down it softly, tongue dipping in and out of his mouth to play with the piercing there whilst his lips are curved into a smirk, i know that i have him right where i want him.

“i said do you know where the towels are. i can’t find any and i need to get dry.” his eyes look everywhere but my face, the only thing i get in response being a subtle nod. instead, his hands move upward, cupping my breasts, whilst his head finally tilts, eyes tearing away from where his hands now roam, lips nearing closer and closer, until they roughly collide with my own.

and i waste no time kissing back, silently thanking his almost non-existent willpower, channelling my pent up sexual frustration into the kiss as my lips mould with his, sighing loudly when his teeth sink into the plush of my bottom lip. he presses himself against me, the tent in his jeans more obvious than ever, one that he won’t be able to ignore as easily as he had done last time - one that i know he has to fix, meaning that this time, he won’t leave me totally desperate. his tongue slips into my mouth when i moan slightly, the kiss more messier than before, totally unrecognisable to the soft ones we had shared up until this moment, because this time, they show that he wants this just as badly as i do.

“jump.” he mutters almost inaudibly against my lips, soon reconnecting them once he breathes in shakily, his hands grabbing the flesh under my thighs once i hoist myself upward, wrapping them around his waist. he guides us toward the bed, using the steady hold he has on my hips to grind me against his, the sensation making it harder for him to kiss back, soon reminding me that this is the first sexual contact he has had in over a week. my back collides harshly with the soft sheets as he climbs above me, reconnecting our lips and slowly spreading my legs apart. he hurriedly scrambles to take his shirt off, throwing the material carelessly across the room, revealing his bare torso.

my hands run down the skin, trailing the muscle of his abs, watching how his eyes fall shut as i move lower and lower, stopping just above the waistband of his jeans. his eyes open when i hesitate, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. he quickly places his hand on top of mine, now guiding my movements as he forces my fingers to slip below the denim, moving below the cotton of his boxers.

“what about your challenge?” i ask, just before my fingers make contact with his dick, eyes widening when he groans in frustration, rolling his eyes at my question.

“fuck the challenge.” he mumbles, forcing my hand to wrap around his dick, his head falling backward the second that the pads of my fingers trace his length, soon running up and down at a slow pace.

“oh jesus christ.” he whispers, eyes half-lidded as he fights to keep them open, desperate to watch my movements, no matter how lethargic they are. because though i have gotten what i wanted, managing to divert his attention from the ridiculous challenge onto me, i want him to be in control, opposed to me doing all the work. and somehow, he seems to read my mind, removing my hand from underneath his pants despite the unmistakable satisfaction etched upon his face. his movements are fast as he removes his jeans, boxers soon following in a messy heap of clothing on the floor.

being naked already works in my favour, allowing tom to line his tip at my entrance, hand pumping his dick lazily a few times before slowly sliding in. as he does so, the tip slips in and out of my folds ever so slightly as i whine in frustration, the stimulation not enough as it reminds me of everything that i have within arms reach, tom holding back only agitating me even more. he picks up on my impatience, my anger buying him time to savour this moment, to tease me just a little more, having me under his mercy just as i had him last time i had gotten close to making him surrender. and i am not willing to have him ripped away again, to be taunted beyond belief, instead willing to beg for him.

“stop playing around and just fuck me.” i sigh through pathetic moans, hands reaching to his neck, pulling it downward so our foreheads our inches apart. and surprisingly, he puts me out of my misery, slowly sliding into me in one smooth snap of his hips. my mouth falls open, a high-pitched moan leaving it when he bottoms out, his tip brushing against my g-spot perfectly, hands raking down his back.

and though my nails dig into the skin with enough force to draw blood, he uses the pain to build up the speed of his thrusts, teeth gritting together as he winces lowly, somewhat used to the feeling, knowing that his pace warranted the strength of my fingers dragging down his back. despite the stinging pain, he maintains a soft smirk, knowing that the soft red marks are nothing more than evidence of the pleasure that only he can provide me with. desperate to feel him just a little closer, my legs hook around his waist, drawing him even deeper inside me, so deep that i swear i can feel him in my stomach.

“you knew what you were doing.” he breathes out between soft groans, so quiet they are almost inaudible. “knew that i’d give in, didn’t you?”

whilst he can speak somewhat coherently, i had lost that ability the second his dick had entered me, any sound that i make an embarrassing mix of moans and whines - nowhere near a properly understandable sentence. though tom wants more, using one hand to grab hold of my cheeks firmly, though not enough to hurt me, forcing my eyes to make contact with his own, prompting me to answer his question.

“mhm…” i manage to mumble, eyes rolling to the back of my head when his tip repeatedly hits the soft spot inside of me, soft curses now pouring from tom’s lips as i clench around him, knowing the reaction that such movements usually encourage out of him, recognising that this time is no different.

“fuck- it’s worth it though schatz. you feel so good, taking me so well.” his words of encouragement are all i need to attach my lips to his neck, placing messy, open-mouthed kisses to the soft skin, noticing the way his lips part, quiet and almost restricted moans escaping them. it isn’t enough for me, feeling somewhat frustrated that he holds back, wanting nothing more for him to cry out in pleasure as i already am, craving for him to mirror my own ecstasy.

“i wanna hear you…” i whine quietly, clenching around him as he curses once again before mumbling a low ‘okay baby’, his lips falling open as rough moans now sound from the back of his throat, getting louder when he drills into me at a certain angle, far deeper than he has ever been before.

and when that familiar knot begins to build within my stomach, i don’t need to ask tom if he is close to, his dick beginning to twitch faintly inside of me. his teeth sink into his bottom lip, thrusts becoming slow and deep, no longer rough and fast as they had been moments ago. now i can really feel him, every inch of his dick slowly pushing inside of me, stopping for a second when he bottoms out, soft grunts leaving his lips as quiet moans escape my own, feeling him closer than i ever had before.

“gonna cum baby. do it with me, yeah?” he whispers, head dipping downward to place messy kisses across my face, starting at my forehead, trailing downward to my nose and cheeks, before ending at my lips, capturing them in yet another rough kiss, nothing like the slow and deep movements of his hips as he continues to push in and out of me.

when his lips falter, no longer able to kiss me with such force as they had when they had initiated it, i know that he can’t hold on anymore, his head tilting backward as a loud moan escapes his mouth, followed with hot spurts of cum that coat my walls, his hips rocking back and forth tiredly as he releases. the pressure of his own climax soon triggers my own, his name spilling from my lips over and over again, high off the feeling of his dick as it continues to thrust into me, fucking his seed deeper, riding both our highs.

his hold on my waist becomes softer, slight red marks in place of his fingers, our breathing loud and heavy as it envelops the room, thick with the smell of sex. he pulls out of me, sighing loudly as a mix of our juices seeps out, his hands lazily grabbing some tissue to wipe it away.

tiredly, he moves upward, his body collapsing on top of me, lips pecking my own a few times. my own arms wrap around his back, fingers tracing the skin softly in an attempt to ease the stinging pain my nails had left whilst his own hands run along my trembling frame, lips pressing sweet kisses into my hair.

“you okay?” his voice is hoarse as he speaks, attempting to appear as unbothered as possible, though i can tell he is totally worn out. i manage a quick ‘mhm’, lips turning to kiss just above his shoulder, noticing him smile weakly against me.

“are you upset about the challenge?” i ask tiredly, eyes on the verge of closing, ears barely picking up the soft chuckle that leaves his lips, his fingers squeezing the flesh of my hips as he kisses me softly, shaking his head.

“fuck the challenge.” he stretches out, bringing my body closer to his. “sex is just too good, plus it’s hard when my girlfriend walks around naked in front of me, what kind of guy ignores that shit? i don’t care if someone paid me, i’d never pass up on a chance like that. especially when you look this good.”

“you’re so romantic.” i scoff sarcastically, shaking my head at his impulsiveness, feeling him smile against me, his head lifting up to look into my eyes.

“what, i’m not allowed to say you’re beautiful?” he smirks, hands trailing my body once again, eyes visibly lighting up with that same look i had seen just minutes ago, knowing exactly what it means. “i mean, i could show you that you’re beautiful instead, if you want me to…”

though the grin on his face says otherwise, i know that he is serious about it, his actions proving so if my instincts weren’t enough. his hands trail upward knowingly, fingers running across my breasts as his lips makes content with them, placing harsh kisses onto the skin, his teeth digging in every few seconds. my head falls backward, back arching to allow him better access, silently accepting his proposal. he stops momentarily, looking into my eyes.

“we’ve got nine days of lost time to make up for schatz. i think now seems like a good time to start, don’t you?”

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tomkaulitz #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz x reader #kaulitz twins #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz fluff #kaulitz #tom kaulitz angst #bill kaulitz

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sc0tters · 1 year ago

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Fool For You | Vince Dunn

summary: when Vince sees you with another guy he can’t sit by when you get too close.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v, oral (fem receiving), choking, swearing.

word count: 2.38k

authors note: I have never written for Vince until now, so I don’t know if any of this made sense… I like this man though so I hope you guys can sit through reading this.

You and Vince went around in circles.

One month you couldn’t stand the boy and the next you were practically living in his bed.

It was a cycle that your friends couldn’t stand as they watched your heart remain in the hands of the man who didn’t know how to deal with it.

They had brought you out to a bar after rumours of Vince having a new girl in his life came out “I want you to meet someone!” Heidi called out motioning to a guy who had been staring at you for the last fifteen minutes.

He seemed much quieter than what you would go for “hey.” You smiled swirling your drink in your hand.

Tonight you were meant to be saying goodbye to Vince for good as you moved on to someone new “I’m y/n!” You introduced yourself over the sound of blaring music in the speakers.

From across the bar sat on a seat alone Vince was pissed. Watching you smile as the boy you were with leaned down to whisper something into your ear. That little dress you wore was something that the hockey player hated on you.

Not because it barely went over your ass but because Vince didn’t like other guys getting to see you looking the way you did in that dress.

Vince fixed his bow tie as he waited for you to come out of your bathroom “we’re gonna be late!” He groaned looking up from his watch “should I wear these or those?” You asked holding up two different sets of high heels.

The hockey player felt his jaw tense staring at your body from head to toe “you aren’t wearing that.” Vince shook his head getting up from your bed “what’s wrong with this?” You frowned thinking that you looked cute.

It wasn’t often that you got the chance to get all dressed up and you really liked the dress “look I’m not going if you’re going to wear that.” He raised his hands not wanting to argue “give me a sec.” You sighed dropping both pairs of heels as you turned back to your bathroom.

Vince couldn’t help it as that night went through his mind watching you laugh at whatever stupid thing that guy said “are you even listening to me?” The girl who sat next to him scoffed seeing where his eyes had gone.

She was the one who had been rumoured to be his new love connection “you are totally unbelievable,” she added getting off of the chair next to him as she made her way to find someone new.

The hockey player remained sat in his seat until the boy leaned forward to kiss your lips. Vince swore he saw red as he practically took two long strides before he got to your side “hey-” the boy in front of you groaned as he was pulled away from you.

Before they could have a conversation where you could tell Vince to fuck off he instead landed a blow to the boys cheek sending him back tumbling “Vince!” Your eyes went wide as you sent him a harsh glare “c’mon.” The hockey player grumbled wrapping his hand around your arm as he pulled you off of your seat and in the direction of the door.

The humid Seattle September air hit your face “where are we going?” You asked furrowing your eyebrows “get in,” Vince opened the passenger door to his black G-Wagon.

You feet remained stuck to the sidewalk “I’ve only had one beer and I know that you’ve only had one drink.” That was true, despite being at the bar for an hour you had been nursing the same drink all night.

The mental coin toss went on in your head as you contemplated putting up a fight “listen baby, you look so fucking good right now that I just want to get my head between your thighs.” Vince’s words sent shivers down your spine “but I can’t do that if you’re going to be difficult.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw causing you to practically jump into his car.

It shouldn’t have been this easy for him to get you where he wanted it but you were always going to have to try harder to not fall into his hands like putty “what about her?” Your voice was soft as he slammed his car door behind him.

Vince sighed as he turned to face you “she doesn’t matter.” He mumbled hooking his fingers under your jaw “yeah she does.” You nodded letting your lips form a frown.

The hockey player rubbed his calloused thumb against your cheek “you are the one in my car baby.” Vince’s words made your hand land on top of his as you nodded.

That moment felt foreign as his eyes stared into yours “wanted you all to myself,” his confession made you smile “really?” The boy nodded as he kissed your lips.

His over hand went to your leg tracing up your skirt “Vince,” you whimpered pulling your lips from his “what do you say we go back to mine?” The hockey player smiled as you nodded.

The drive back to his was quiet, you looked out at the road for the most part silently hating how wet your panties grew at the thought of what Vince was going to do to you “penny for your thoughts princess?” He asked watching you turn around to him with nothing more than a nod “you were a fucking idiot tonight.” You spat sending Vince a glare.

It made him laugh “‘m fucking crazy about you baby.” He confessed pulling into his garage before his car came to a stop.

Your palms grew sweaty as the boy came around to your side to let him open your door for you “shouldn’t even let you get what you want with the way you acted tonight.” Vince ran his fingers through your hair “thinking you are could find someone better than me?” His words continued as your body pressed up against the side of his car.

A whimper left your lips “why don’t you go be a good girl and go sit upstairs for me?” His hand tapped at your thigh as you nodded listening to his instructions as you made your way upstairs.

You removed your shoes reaching behind your back to undo the zipper “keep on disappointing me today baby.” Vince clicked his tongue as he leaned against the frame of his door “sorry Vincey,” you apologised letting your head drop.

Vince smiled as he walked over to you “don’t be,” he forced your head up to look at him “gives me an excuse to fucking rip this dress up now.” Before you could attempt to protest the sound of fabric ripping made you gasp.

You were surprised at how little effort it took from the boy to rip a straight line down the back of the dress “fucking hell baby.” Vince groaned seeing your matching lingerie that was hidden between by the fabric of your dress.

The boy smiled running his fingers over the straps of your bra “you’re so fucking beautiful.” He cooed pressing a kiss on your shoulder “all mine too.” The hockey player added smirking as you looked at his reflection in the mirror.

Vince pushed you onto his bed watching as your body bounced on the comforter “you know that if I was with him he would already be fucking me?” You blinked repeatedly not enjoying the way your body basked in his sight.

Naturally one of your talents was to piss Vince off as you pressed at his buttons “that mouth is forever going to get you in trouble.” He sighed letting his knees fall between your legs “such a pretty baby.” Vince mumbled pecking your lips.

His mouth nipped at your jaw pressing soft marks against your bone. He moved on the journey down to your core sucking at the valley of your breasts, before he moved to your stomach “fuck Vince.” You cried seeing his eyes staring right back up at yours.

Vince smiled as he was faced with your clothed core “let’s get these off baby?” The hockey player asked hooking his fingers in your waistband.

The thong drove down your legs before he threw it across the room “been waiting to see this all fucking day.” Vince let out a grunt as he placed a kiss on your clit.

The sensitive nub sent shivers up your body “Jesus Vince,” you gasped locking your fingers in his hair as his tongue licked up your slit “just me baby.” The hockey player laughed driving his tongue into your core as it lay flat “don’t stop!” You begged as his lips wrapped around your clit making sure to focus most of its attention there as his fingers curled into your cunt.

It was hot has the boy seemed like he was working for his harder than he had worked for his Stanley Cup win. Vince watched as you drove your hips into his face “you’re so hot.” You blurted out making him smirk as your hands dragged through his hair giving it the occasional tug when the pleasure grew too much for you.

Vince felt his cock grow hard as it throbbed against his boxers “I know baby, I know.” He used his free hand to lightly slap your clit repeatedly “shit Vince!” You gasped screwing your eyes shut as your pussy clenched around his fingers.

Before you knew it you were given a rude awakening when Vince retracted his fingers from your core as he smiled seeing you try to protest “you really think you could act like that all night and then get away with it?” The hockey player let out a laugh as he shook his head “want to finally be a good girl and listen to me?” Vince sat up straight as he ran his hands down your thighs.

You whimpered nodding your head repeatedly “please Vince.” You knew your were getting your way when he pulled his shirt over his head.

Within seconds a messy pile of clothes formed serving as a contrast from his clean wooden floor “don’t know how much I missed you.” Vince’s words were soft as he ran his painfully hard cock over your clit “gor a weird way of showing it.” You mumbled sending him a glare “you’re lucky that I need you.” The hockey player let out a grunt as his cock slid into your cunt.

You needed little to no time to adjust to his size, which was good because he wasn’t going to give you it “fuck Vince.” Your head dug into the mattress as he brought your legs up to your sides “not so mouthy now?” Vince smirked picking up the pace of his thrusts as the new angle caused his cock to slide deeper into your pussy.

Your hips tried to ride his in an attempt to help relieve the pressure between your legs “you really think he could have done this for you?” The hockey player scoffed growing annoyed as he thought back to how that guy from the bar ran his fingers across your neck “could have had you gasping for air like this?” Vince let his hand wrap around your throat as he let his calloused fingers squeeze the sides.

Vince smiled to himself as you nodded moaning when his cold chain landed on your chin “only you V.” Your eyelids grew heavy with your brain only focusing on your cunt clenching around his cock “all yours.” Those words made an animalistic switch go off in his head.

The sound of skin slapping suddenly erupted in the room as your cries of pleasure became a mere background noise to it “shit Vince.” You groaned bringing your hands to cup his as you wanted to kiss his lips.

His tongue dragged along your lower lip “my pretty little girl.” Vince cooed as your soaked cunt squelched each time his throbbing cock drove further deeper into it.

Your head pushed back when your breath went shaky “feeling good?” The hockey player smirked as he saw how swollen your lips had become.

It was needy as you whined “so fucking good.” His hand from your throat went to your clit “let the world hear who makes you feel like this.” Vince always liked hearing you scream especially when it was in your apartment where your neighbour was forced to listen through the wall that stood between your bedrooms.

But his bedroom always made him feel differently as it seemed that his walls soaked in your sounds to then speak of the story later “don’t stop Vince.” You begged as the sensations between his cock and his fingers suddenly started to become too much for you.

As your eyes screwed shut you couldn’t help it when your brain went back to how this always ends, you leave in the morning and to your friends annoyance their same lecture then has to be delivered “beg for it baby.” Vince ordered drawing your attention away from your thoughts.

You huffed your chest out “please Vince,” you cried out “only get like this for you.” Your statement was true as no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t get rid of him.

How his fingers felt on your skin “fuck I’m coming.” As Vince shot his hot ropes of release into your cunt it caused your orgasm to come over you as the boy made sure to fuck you through it.

Both sets of breaths were heavy “did so good princess.” Vince kissed your lips as his cock slid out of your pussy making your body shudder.

The hockey player watched in amusement as his come oozed out of your cunt “fuck!” You almost jumped when the boys fingers scooped up the release and shoved it back into your pussy “had to make sure none went to waste.” Vince shrugged sending you a grin before he came to lay next to you.

Your fucked out state was enough to make him hard all over again “you were stupid tonight.” Your tone was serious as you knew you had to talk about what he had done “for you I’m a fucking idiot.”

#vince Dunn smut #Vince dunn #hockey smut #nhl smut #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #imagines #oneshots #amber writes fics

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americasass91 · 1 year ago

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Use Me

Hello there! I know I’ve been M.I.A. for awhile. And literally haven’t written anything in like 8 months. I’ve been going through a shit ton. (Divorce, job change, all kinds of fun stuff) And I really lost my spark to write. And then the Fnaf movie came out. And seeing Josh Hutcherson on screen again lit a fire inside of me! That boy was my original crush (long before Evans). Peeta Mellark will forever have a piece of my heart. That being said, here’s a little something starring Mike Schmidt! I know, I know. It’s not a Chris Evans character? What’s wrong with me? Josh is fucking pretty. That’s what’s wrong with me. Like, I have a problem. Don’t get me wrong, I still think Chris is pretty and hope the best for him. But…he’s not been my muse lately. I said a long time ago that I wanted Josh to fuck me like a screen door in a hurricane. And it apparently still holds true today! So, I hope you enjoy it even though this is not a part of your regularly scheduled programming! Also, this takes place after the events of FNAF. Also, Also. Not sure if the people on my Taglist for Chris’ characters want to be tagged in Josh’s. If so, just let me know!

*DISCLAIMER*, If you’re under 18, this is nothing for you to be reading. Go away.

Words: 3.3k

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut, p in v smut, oral(f rec), unprotected sex, language, Mike being good, um I think that’s it

💙💙💙💙💙

“Listen Y/N, I’m gonna need you to stay and work the next shift.”

You turn around and look at your manager as if she had suddenly grown 3 heads. “Excuse me? I don’t think I heard you right. It sounded like you said you needed me to stay and work the next 8 hour shift.”

She rolls her eyes as she goes back to charting the current patient she’s working on. “You know that’s exactly what I said. Look, I have no other options. Hannah called off.”

“Again? This is like the third day in a row! How is that fair exactly?” You put your patient’s paperwork down and cross your arms over your chest as you stare at her expectantly.

She doesn’t even bother looking at you as she answers. “I don’t know what to tell you Y/N. She says she’s sick. I can’t have her come in if she’s sick.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “If by sick you mean hungover! She literally posted on Instagram last night about her night out on the town!”

She glances over at you. “There’s no way to prove if that was from last night or if it's older. Now just get back to work and I’ll let you have an hour and a half break instead of an hour.”

Now you’re pissed. “Yeah, see, that's not going to work for me. I’ve already been here for 16 hours because Kim was late. I’m not working Hannah’s whole ass shift. I have plans. I finally get to see my boyfriend after weeks because our schedules weren’t lining up. I’m not staying.”

“You really don’t have a choice. I wasn’t really asking you, I was telling you. There’s no one else to cover.”

Tears started welling up in your eyes out of frustration, exhaustion, and the possibility of not being able to see Mike again. “There’s a bunch of other people that can cover! What about you? You’ve only been here 8 hours. It would make more sense for you to stay.”

She turns in her chair to look at you now. “Y/N, I have actual plans. My husband has a work party. And the rest of us have husbands and children to attend to. Not just ‘hanging out with my boyfriend.’

Now you’re seeing red. “So what you’re saying is because I’m the only nurse on this floor not married, I get the shitty end of the deal and have to cover when other people call off?”

“No. If you had legit plans then I’d be more sympathetic. But you haven’t even been with this boy that long. You don’t need to spend every free moment with him.”

“I’m sorry but who do you think you are? My mother? Because I’m a grown ass woman. And if I want to hang with my boyfriend on my time off then I’m going to! I don’t really need your approval for it. I’m not staying.”

You grab your Stanley and start heading towards the locker room to grab your stuff.

“Y/N! If you don’t stay, then you can forget about this job.”

You turn around just before reaching the end of the hallway. “Well, then I guess you’re going to have to stick around and cover Hannah’s shift. Stick it up your ass, Jan. I quit.”

You don’t even stay to hear what she has to say. You quickly run to your locker and grab all of your stuff out before you start to cry. You can’t believe you just quit. And it’s not just because of your boyfriend. You haven’t been treated right since the first week you started. This was just the last straw. You just hope Mike won’t be disappointed in you.

💙💙💙💙💙

After a quick shower and outfit change at home, you reluctantly find yourself pulling into Mike’s driveway and getting out of the car. You haven’t gotten to see him in about 3 weeks and you know you look like shit from not only your long ass shift but also because you cried on the way over.

You head to the front door and open it up. He always leaves the door unlocked when he knows you’re coming over, and get hit with the aroma of pasta. Mike’s cooking you dinner. That makes you want to start crying all over again. He’s the sweetest.

“Babe? Is that you?” You hear him call from the back of the house. He quickly comes towards the front and sees you. His smile falters when he sees the state you’re in. “Babe, are you okay? What happened?” He quickly wraps you up in a hug.

You try your best to keep it together but a few tears fall. “I quit today.”

He pulls out of the hug but keeps his arms around you. “You did? Babe, that’s fantastic!” He pulls you back in for another hug and picks you up to twirl you around.

Your mood instantly lifts and you can’t help but laugh. “It is?”

He sets you down and pulls you in for a quick kiss. “Of course it is! That place was treating you like shit! And Jan was a bitch! What finally made you do it?”

He lets go of all but your hand and leads you into the kitchen so he can continue making spaghetti. He sets you down at the table and pours you a nice big glass of wine he bought just for tonight. “I want to hear all about it.”

He goes back to the stove and continues making dinner while you rehash the last 16 hours.

He turns around with the sauce spoon in his hand and his other on his hip. “Hannah called off again? Jesus, how does she still have a job? Didn’t she do this to you last year during Christmas?”

Oh, shit. You had forgotten about that. She did do this last year! You had plans to fly home and see your family for the holidays when Hannah unexpectedly came down with ‘the flu’. Jan had called and needed you to work since nobody else could cover. You felt like since you were still new at the time that you couldn’t say no. Now you’re getting pissy all over again.

“Oh my god! You’re right! Maybe the bitch has some vendetta out against me. I’ve never done anything to her though! I’ve been nothing but nice!”

Just then your phone dings, alerting you of a text. You quickly check it. It’s from Hannah.

I can’t believe you threw a tantrum and quit just because I wasn’t feeling my best and couldn’t come in. Wow. All so you can hang out with your piece of shit delinquent boyfriend. You sure have your priorities straight.

“Fucking cunt!” You yell as you throw your phone across the table. Then immediately you slap your hands over your mouth just as Mike turns around to see what you’re yelling about.

“What’s wrong? Who was it?”

You remove your hands from your mouth. “Mike, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to curse that loud. I hope Abby didn’t hear me.”

He waves you off. “Babe, she’s not even here. She got invited to a sleepover at Natalie’s house. We’re alone. You’re good.”

You sigh in relief. “Thank god! I don’t want any of my bad habits to rub off on her.”

Mike just chuckles and turns back to the sauce. “If she turns out anything like you, I’d be entirely okay with that.”

You can’t help but feel a blush creep up your neck. He was always saying sweet stuff like that. You get up and hug him from behind and press a kiss to the back of his neck. “You’re too sweet.”

He turns around in your arms and grabs your face and gives you a proper, toe-curling kiss. “I mean it.”

After a few more shared kisses, Mike finishes up dinner and fixes you both a plate and a glass of wine for himself. As you’re sitting there twirling your spaghetti around your fork, you can’t help but think about Hannah’s text again. And then all of the little snide remarks she’s ever made to you come flooding back.

“Babe?”

You snap out of your thoughts and Mike comes back into focus. “Yeah?”

He puts his fork down. “I asked if there was something wrong with the spaghetti? You’ve hardly touched it.”

You look down at your plate and realize you’ve just been twirling it around your fork. “No, it’s fine. Just thinking about what Hannah said and how much it pisses me off. I’m sorry, I’m not meaning to ruin our time together.”

He smiles and grabs both of your plates and gets up and places them on the counter. He comes back over and holds his hand out to you. “Come on.”

You grab his hand with no hesitation and let him pull you out of your chair and let him lead you to his bedroom.

He turns around to face you right before you get to his bed. “First of all, you could never ruin our time together. I love getting to spend time with you no matter what. Second of all, it sounds like you need to let out some anger and need a distraction.”

You can’t help but feel all tingly at the smirk he’s giving you. “What did you have in mind?”

He backs up a little and sits on the bed and looks up at you. “Use me, Y/N.”

You shake your head. “What? What do you mean?”

He reaches out to grab your hands to pull you towards him. “I mean use me. Use me to distract yourself and to take your anger out on. I’ll be a good boy and do whatever you need.”

That almost had your knees buckling. “Oh.” He lifts your shirt up and starts pressing kisses along your stomach while running his hands from your back to your hips and down to your ass. You’ve never been in this position before. Sure, you guys have only been together for like 5 months but anytime you’ve ever been intimate, he’s been the one who’s taken charge.

He pulls back and looks up at you. “Use me, baby. I got you. Tell me what you need.”

You decide to run with it and take control and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “I wanna sit on your face.”

He lets out a little whimper as he moves back on the bed. “Fuck, baby. Please sit on my face. I want you to suffocate me.”

He lays back and patiently waits for you to remove your pants and panties. You hesitantly climb up on the bed. You’ve never done this before with anyone but have always wanted to try it. You climb up until you’re straddling his waist and lean down to kiss him.

He returns the kiss enthusiastically and grinds you down onto him so you can feel how hard he already is for you. It makes you let out a small moan into his mouth. The making out only lasts for a few more minutes before you pull away and start climbing up until you’re hovering right above his mouth.

Before you fully lower yourself onto him you grab his hair and yank so that he has to look at you. He lets out another beautiful whimper. “I’m going to ride your face until I can’t think of anything else but your tongue. You’re going to be good and make me cum as many times as I want, right?”

He nods instantly. “Yes, I promise I’ll be good for you.”

“Good boy.” You tell him, which makes his eyes roll to the back of his head. Hmm. Who knew he had a praise kink?

You let go of his hair and grab onto the headboard with both hands before you slowly lower yourself onto his waiting mouth.

He immediately grips your thighs and pulls you even harder on him and starts eating you out like a man starved. “Oh, fuck!” You throw your head back and start grinding on his tongue. He gives you a few more licks before he sucks your clit into his mouth and starts lapping his tongue back and forth against it. “Oh, god. Fuck, Mike! You’re so fucking good at that.”

Your praise has him moaning and whimpering into your pussy, heightening the experience that much more. He moves his right hand towards your ass and gives it a nice squeeze before moving towards your pussy and immediately inserting two fingers. It makes you start grinding faster, feeling yourself already close to the edge.

He starts pumping his fingers in time with your grinding, pushing you even closer to the edge. You can’t believe how quickly he got you there.

“Mike, please! Gonna cum! Make me cum.”

He pumps his fingers even faster and lightly bites down on your clit, knowing it’ll make you fall over the edge.

You scream his name out and grind on him until it’s too much and you lift yourself away from his mouth. To which he whimpers out, “where’s that pussy going? I wasn’t done yet.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Jesus. I almost passed out from how hard I came. Give me a minute.”

“So I did good?” He looks up at you with big eyes and his chin glistening with your juices.

You pat his hair. “You did so good, baby. Made me feel so good.”

He smiles and wraps his arms around your thighs and presses soft kisses to the inside of them. You close your eyes and take a minute to enjoy that before you look behind you and see his erection pressing painfully against his jeans. You need that inside of you. Right now.

You remove yourself from his face and he lets out a little whine. “Don’t worry. I’m not done. Need your cock, baby.”

You’ve never seen him undo his belt and slide his jeans down that quickly before. It almost makes you chuckle. “Eager, are we?”

He nods as he pushes his jeans down far enough that his cock springs free and hits your ass. “Need to feel you around me, babe. Please.”

You lean down and pull him into a kiss which he returns generously. You can taste yourself on his tongue. He grabs his cock and hits it against your ass, signaling that he’s ready for you to slide onto him. You take the hint and lift up and back until he catches at your entrance. He’s the first one to break the kiss as you slowly slide down onto him. The little whimpers he lets out as you sit flush against his thighs is music to your ears.

You decide to tease him and just stay resting there for a minute while looking down at him. He has his eyes clenched shut and a death grip on your hips. He opens his eyes after a few moments and looks up at you. He reaches his right hand up and places it on your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. “Go ahead and use me babe. Take what you need from me.”

You slowly start moving your hips back and forth, never really lifting them up and down. The friction against your clit is so delicious. You place both hands on his chest and start moving your hips a little faster. “Oh, fuck baby. You feel so good. You’re so deep.”

“Yeah? Am I making my girl feel good?”

You smirk down at him. “Oh, yeah. You’re being so good for me.”

He lets out another whimper as he grabs you by the back of your head and pulls you in for a heated kiss. This one sloppy and desperate. His hand that’s still on your hip starts moving you a little harder against him. He pulls away from your mouth and kisses his way up your neck towards your ear. “Come on babe. Cum on my cock. I can feel you clenching around me. Cum for me so I can be good and cum for you.”

This time you’re the one letting out a whimper. “Yeah? Want me to be your good boy and cum for you? Fill you up?”

“Please.” You whine out, moving your hips even faster than before. You can feel your orgasm coming like a freight train. There’s no stopping it.

“Oh yeah. I can feel it. You’re gonna cum for me. Do it. Make a mess on me babe. Please, I need it.”

“Yeah? You need me to cum for you? Need to feel me cum? Oh, god Mike. I’m almost there. Please don’t stop.”

He continues helping you grind your hips against his. You’re almost there. Just a little something…..

“I love you, Y/N. So fucking much.”

That did it. You’re pitched off the edge and silently scream out. The edges of your vision going white. You can vaguely hear Mike whimpering out your name as he does as promised and fills you up. You slow your hips down until you can’t move them anymore and slump down against him with your face tucking into the crook of his neck. He wraps his arms around you and rubs his hands up and down your back.

You both stay like that until your heartbeats return to normal. You lift up your head just until you can see him, almost nose to nose. He’s the first to speak. “So, did I do good for you?”

You let out a chuckle. “You were so good, baby.” You can feel him twitch inside of you at the praise. “But, we need to talk about what you said.”

Mike scrunches his brows for a few minutes before his eyes go wide and he realizes what he said. “Shit, I did not mean to say that.”

You can’t help the disappointment that crosses your face. “Oh, well that’s okay. It was in the heat of the moment.”

He quickly wraps his arms tighter around you. “No! That’s not what I meant. Shit. I one hundred percent meant it. I just wanted to make it special when I told you. Not in the middle of an orgasm. You deserve better than that.”

You smile and press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I appreciate the thought. But I really don’t need anything special. I already have you.”

His smile lights up his entire face. “I love you, Y/N.”

This time you press a kiss to his lips. “I love you, too Mike. Like, a lot.”

“I bet not as much as I love you.”

Just as you’re about to retort, Mike’s cell starts vibrating, causing you to jolt with fright since his phone is still in his pocket which your leg is pressed up against.

“Jesus Christ.”

You quickly get up so that he can grab his phone. “Hello?”

You go into the bathroom to clean up. You come back in with a wet cloth to clean Mike up. He just hangs up as you come in the room. “Everything okay?”

He smiles in thanks as you hand him the cloth. He goes about cleaning himself up. “Yeah. That was Natalie’s mom. Apparently Abby has decided she doesn’t wanna stay the night so I have to go get her.” He stands and pulls his jeans back up and smooths his shirt out. “Sorry we won’t be alone anymore.”

You pull him in for a quick kiss. “Nothing to apologize for. I love you Mike. And that means loving all of you. Which includes Abby. Whom you know I just adore. Go get her and we’ll have a movie night or something.”

He shakes his head and pulls you in for another kiss. “I still don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You just smile in return. “After the past year you’ve been through, you deserve to be happy.”

He chuckles as he heads out the door. “Ain’t that the damn truth!”

#mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson smut #fnaf #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #fnaf x y/n #fnaf x reader #michael schmidt #five nights at freddy's

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marshmellin · 3 days ago

Text

What’s the Elvish Word for “Fine”?

Rated I for (angry) Idiots in Love: 5.8K words, Thranduil x unnamed/undescribed mortal woman, 2nd person POV, no use of y/n Rated mature for language only, "arranged marriage" in a political sense with consent between willing adults, they’re big mad but is it anger or just being stupid?

No beta, we die like Thranduil's first wife who is not mentioned

You rounded the corner and stopped suddenly. Thranduil was sitting on Carasta’s desk. Sitting was the wrong term. Lounging. “Hello, wife.” He was in dark, silvery robes without his crown, his long legs propped up against a chair. With a far-too-broad smile on his face. Something stupid was happening.

If you enjoy this, check out ✨The Director's Cut✨ masterlist with quick links to all my TROP/LOTR content and AO3 profile.

“It is infuriating that you keep putting up this long –” – slam – “ – infuriating – ” – slam – “ – show – ” – slam —. “I can not want you in the way you want me.” Cold blue eyes stared at you, waiting for the outburst, the anger he so desperately wanted to bloom across your face.

When Thranduil started to feel something – anything – stirring in his chest, he started a fight. You noticed the two of you fought often. More so now than at the beginning of your not-quite-a-marriage two years ago. You did not think it a coincidence, but what the hell did you know?

You’d thought you’d entered a partnership with someone civil.

Nodding almost imperceptibly, you kept your face still. “And what, exactly, makes you think I want you, Thranduil?” You let just a little sarcasm creep in.

He narrowed his cold eyes, evaluating you.

The issue was, however: You did want him.

In the last two years, you had come to want him very much, though you admit you are unsure how it started given his general demeanor.

Well, that’s a lie. He’s an elf. And he is particularly attractive for an elf, at that. His face alone gives his behavior a pass for the first three, maybe four encounters.

But this behavior was not one of his better looks and you’d have no issue turning this version of the Elvenking down for the rest of your very mortal life.

White hot fury flashed across his face. “You know what I mean. Constantly, you show it. And I can not — will not — respond the way you want!”

You leaned back in your chair. “I do not know what you mean, Thranduil” you said firmly, shaking your head exaggeratedly. “What is it that I show you?” --You weren’t showing him sex or physical affection, certainly so – “What is it that you claim to see from me that you can not respond to, Thranduil?”

The more you said his name, the angrier he would get, which is why you kept doing it. Thranduil all but snaked his way to gripping the desk across from you, leaning over your papers. Curtains of snow-white hair hanging between you as he glared down at you. Not exactly giving you "the high ground” so to speak, but the fact that he came this close to you meant he was already on his back foot.

“You…are….constantly…HERE. You ask after me, you bring me food, you manage to interrupt me during every letter I’ve written in the last four weeks. You bring me books you think I might like, you leave me letters about your work. I do not know how to respond to you. I have been alone in these chambers for centuries and yet you are HERE. I do not want this and I do not want you. And I do not know why you continue to make this arrangement so difficult by pretending.”

You blinked at that, tilting your head. Slowly. You were giving him time to suss it out on his own.

But his rage was icy, bathed in wine from dinner, and he didn’t seem to know how to do math in the cold.

You set the quill down and steepled your fingers, elbows resting on the desk as you looked up at him looming above you.

Fine.

“Everything you have just ‘accused’ me of is what spouses do, Thranduil. Husbands and wives. Partners. Bluntly, you bought yourself a wife, ThranduilI, through an even exchange: you have a skilled negotiator and queen, my uncle’s people have food and protection.”

Muscles in his jaw worked and he opened his mouth, “That is not–”

You held up a hand, cutting him off. “Ah-aht, no, Thranduil. No. You said what you wanted to say both tonight and many other nights. And now you will let me do the same.”

The look on his face didn’t change, but his mouth snapped shut.

It might do him some good to shut up for a moment, even if it gave you heartburn to demand it.

“It weighs on my heart that someone asking after your wellbeing startles you so,” you said steadily, fingers tapping against the desk as if making an observation that it was raining outside – but the truth of it stung you.

It did hurt that he was so…that he thought someone making sure he ate was…

It was heartbreaking.

But, it was becoming increasingly clear, his heart was not yours to mend.

You sighed again. At this point you were sighing more often than breathing. “Thank you for this final, clear message that you take no pleasure in our” — marriage? Partnership? It had never been one — “contract. I will make my thoughts equally as plain: I have one job in Greenwood. It is to be your wife and queen. And in truth, it’s a shitty job, but I’m going to do it as best as I can, Thranduil. I agree, our quarters are not ideal and I will leave for another part of the palace within the week.”

Thranduil held your gaze. You cocked an eyebrow. You thought you saw another muscle in his jaw twitch, but you weren’t sure.

When he finally spoke, his tone was softer, which you had not expected. “I do not want to…put on a show….”

Your eyebrows shot up at that. You were done being lectured. “You purchased a fucking show, Thranduil. Now you are angry when it’s performed for you? Fine. That is your choice, and I am happy to stop acting like this is a working partnership.” You snorted and broke eye contact, reaching down to pick up your quill.

Head down, squinting at the parchment, you did your best to dismiss him. It had taken you an extraordinary amount of effort to say all of this to him, for several reasons, and you could not look him in the eye any longer.

Firstly, fuck him for coming in to your study, knocking books around and talking too loudly after you both just sat through an entrant for Arda’s Most Boring Banquet award and smiled as his queen was supposed to. King Amdír’s son Amroth wasn’t exactly the best conversationalist and yet, converse you had with the obnoxious Silvan.

And you were feeling quite unappreciated at this moment, considering you’d also negotiated an agreement for open trade of leather goods from Amroth’s father during the dinner. While Thranduil drank — a reminder that he is, at least, two glasses in — and muttered every time you stood near him at a respectful distance.

Secondly, this was the only time you had ever thought about your relationship with Thranduil as a contract that he did not seem to understand.

You knew what was being exchanged. The elven-ness of it all had been jarring at first, yes, but you knew from a young age you would enter a political marriage and you had been raised for one. Binding your family and your people to the largest local realm ruled by a nearly-immortal being was a solid strategy to ensure your great, great, great-grandchildren would be protected and fed -- and it was the equivalent of a 10-year contract to someone like Thranduil. You had no qualms about this, and you entered the agreement with him with open eyes, as equals.

Yet, you had not probed deeply into his understanding of it until today. Of what partnership meant to him. In any way.

Leaving behind a book he may find interesting? About a topic, if you recalled correctly — and you know you did — he discussed during dinner once and noted he wished to understand better.

That was too much after two years of knowing each other? Of knowing each other in any capacity? Even just as a member of his court, much less his wife?

If so, he had a very weak understanding of any kind of partnership, marriage or otherwise, and you truly had expected more from him.

Thirdly, you did not want to leave his chambers or stop asking how he was or stop bringing him books he may like or leaving notes about your day. As irritable and obnoxious and, honestly, unpleasant as Thranduil could be….

You found him endearing in those milliseconds he allowed himself to feel anything but anger. All together, he was many negative things, yes. But he was also protective of his family and his people, wise in how he negotiated relationships with neighboring kingdoms and the High Elves. He was well-read and, when he allowed himself to show it, he had this wonderful wit and charm that was…well, he was charming.

You had been charmed.

And over the last two years of this arrangement, you learned you wanted to be his wife in more than just contractual terms. You think you’ve fallen in love with him. And you know you want him to want you in return.

But.

He just said plainly that he did not want that. That he did not want you.

And if this is where you were, then this is where you were. Your options were limited, your contract signed, and your choices made.

You had not expected to find love here. Confirming it was absent didn’t change a damn thing, and at this point it did not sting. Your job was to negotiate contracts on behalf of Thranduil Oropherion, the Elvenking and to attend events as his Queen.

That was it.

Leaving him books or being pleasant was not part of the contract you signed.

Your thoughts drifted aimlessly, landing on the question of how you would like your new chambers laid out — since a large takeaway from this conversation was that spending time in the same room — palace — realm — continent — with you angered him.

The conjoined study layout here was not ideal. Thranduil had a tendency to shout profanities at his correspondence before replying in a more civil manner. You had grown accustomed to it — even smiling on occasion when he invented new ways to swear at Thorin or Celeborn — but perhaps it was best to avoid that distraction now that you were....

Well, if Thranduil is not near me, it doesn’t matter if the rooms are conjoined or not.

With a small sigh, you noted that request with an asterisk to return to later.

You were halfway through the next line when you realized he had. not. moved. At all. Not even an inch. He was still staring at the top of your head as you wrote, long hair falling into the space between you.

Why? This conversation, much like your illusions of ever having a civil working relationship, was over.

You set the quill aside gently as you looked up to meet his eyes. "Yes, Thranduil?"

“So, that is what it was, then?”

Furrowing your brow, you shook your head in confusion. “I don’t ... wait, what?” Your gaze met his. All the ice in his eyes had melted, but the rest of him moved stiffly as he leaned back, letting go of the desk.

“Fine.”

He spun on his heel, hair flaring around him, and walked out.

“Fine!” you shouted after him, half rising from the desk to make sure it carried to the next room.

You weren’t sure why you were shouting at him, but you’d make sure you’d be the one to shout last.

The next morning, you asked a courier to take your note to Thranduil requesting new chambers on the far side of the Halls. 'Note' was a generous term: it was a list of items for him to approve, signed with the first initial of your name.

Warm, it was not.

But the courier said he had been instructed “not to deliver messages to King Thranduil at this time, my lady. His majesty requests your presence in the throne room.”

You arched an eyebrow at that.

“Very well, thank you for letting me know.” You waved your hand to dismiss the courier.

“Ah,” he said softly, shifting uncomfortably.

Thranduil. Are you familiar with an old saying from the lowlands? Bite my ass? If not, then it is unlikely you’re familiar with that phrase’s cousin, Go fuck yourself. I am happy to teach you both.

“Your majesty, I would be honored to, um, guard you as you travel to the throne room,” he ended weakly, because guarding a queen while she walked in her own halls was a ridiculous thing to suggest.

Thranduil was doing something very stupid. You weren’t sure what, exactly, but you could sense it.

“I appreciate the offer, Lieutenant, but I am not going to the throne room today.” Thranduil had, at least, taught you a few tricks for leadership. Or, more accurately, intimidation.

The young ellon looked very torn, as if repeating hierarchy structures in his head and continually arriving at the conclusion that Thranduil was at the top. “Your maj—“

“You’re dismissed, Lieutenant.” Yes, the Elvenking was at the top of all of those hierarchies, but you rested just beneath him.

…Well…

The guard left.

So you used this opportunity to take the scroll he would not deliver to Thranduil, and went to look for Carasta, Thranduil’s private secretary. Walking from your section of your chambers through Thranduil’s, your goal was getting to Carsasta’s work table on the far side of the suite. You would provide him with the list of your requests. If Thranduil didn’t want to accept your request from Carasta, that was fine. You would find the nearest builder and take the walls down yourself, but you were not spending one more minute sharing your chambers with Thranduil than either of you wished to.

You rounded the corner and stopped suddenly. Thranduil was sitting on Carasta’s desk. Sitting was the wrong term. Lounging.

“Hello, wife.”

He was in dark, silvery robes without his crown, his long legs propped up against a chair. With a far-too-broad smile on his face.

Something stupid was happening.

“King Thranduil,” you said, inclining your head.

“Melethnín,” he said softly, his eyes going wide. “What brings you here? I hoped you would join me in the main hall.”

My love? You cocked an eyebrow. “I am simply leaving a note for Carasta regarding my chambers,” you said evenly, reaching around Thranduil’s long form to place the scroll on Carasta’s desk. You didn’t even want to guess how he made it from the throne room to Carasta’s desk that fast.

Was he even in the throne room or did he know you’d ignore him?

“Ah, I am eager to read this,” Thranduil said happily, picking up the scroll and opening it.

It took everything in you not to snatch it from him. Even though he had been the original recipient.

Icy eyes skimming your notes, he tsked loudly. “Ah, melethnín, this is not sufficient. Not at all! I would not have you move so far from our shared quarters. Mmm, no, we shall draft a new plan together. It is only right for a queen to have a full suite for her study and work, verinya.”

My love. My wife.

So, something very stupid.

You sighed. “Thranduil. I am moving my chambers to the other side of the Halls.”

He shook his head, his face the picture of innocence as he rolled up the scroll and hid it away in his robes — where, you didn’t know, because his robes were almost skintight. “I do not want you to leave our chambers.”

“I’ll write another request, king.”

“I’ll intercept it, queen.”

“Thranduil.”

“Melethnín.”

A long pause.

“You asked me to leave you alone.”

He shook his head firmly. “No, I said you were always here.”

“You shouted that you wanted space.”

He cocked his head, arrogance on his face, as silver hair cascaded over his shoulder. “I did not. I acknowledge I raised my voice in a very unrefined way, for which I do truly apologize. But I did not demand space apart from you. And on either account, I find I have changed my mind, verinya.”

My wife.

“You will find I have not, veronya.” You spun on your heel and walked out.

You heard him raise his voice mockingly, calling, “I haven’t interrupted your day, have I, my love?” at your back as you left.

“No. You’re fine,” you gritted out loudly as you stomped out.

“Fine,” came the muted reply from three rooms away.

Two months later, and Thranduil had not stopped yet, though his tone had grown less mocking, at least.

He came to you for every meal — and he managed to carry on many thoughtful conversations despite the one-word replies you often gave. He brought you books — frustratingly, the titles were interesting, and he had clearly listened to you at some point to pick them out. He came to ask you questions while you wrote letters and arranged new trade agreements — his comments were obnoxiously helpful and pertinent.

Thranduil seemed to think that acting pleasant toward you was a punishment of some kind.

And it was, because it felt like a perverse game. He was showing you what you could have if you…if he….

Well, you weren’t sure what. Something you could not have? He had been very clear. And, you knew, he could be very petty.

Thranduil also seemed to be playing more than one game, particularly by calling you every pet name devised by Elves or Men — and you think you caught a Dwarven term of endearment or two in there as well, so clearly he was not aware of the origins of the term or he never would have uttered it in his halls.

And yet you did not know why he continued this game for so long. But you suspected the other shoe would drop at some point.

It was the second time that evening he had scooted his chair closer to yours, the two of you practically sharing a desk.

“May I suggest you add another clause here — we can’t be held responsible for orc raids. Transfer of ownership occurs when the wine leaves our barges, even if within our borders. I have spoken with Celeborn on this point already, and told him it was not up for discussion.” He tapped a long finger on the side of your paper and looked down, eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Don’t let him go around us, melethnín.”

He kept breaking your heart with this game, and you were done.

“Thranduil, stop.”

The smile slipped from his face. “Ah. Of course. I’ll leave you to it,” he murmured gently, turning back to his side of the desk.

When did we pick sides of the same desk?

You sighed and stood, creating some distance between the two of you.

You were done. It was done now.

“You have made your point. I understand. You think it’s suffocating. That I am suffocating. I understand. I understood this two months ago when you told me that you would remain married to me — unwillingly — if I left you alone. And I have moved to limit our interactions since then. I understand what you want.“

You held back a scream, but did not manage to stop a snarl from escaping somewhere deep in your chest. “I will never send you a book ever again, on my oath to Varda and Manwë, I will never speak to you outside a royal function ever again. Please, just stop.”

Thranduil stood as well, rising fluidly and pausing to gently place his chair under his half of the — under the desk. He was, well, patient as he turned to face you, a surprising softness in his eyes.

“I changed my—“

“— yes, Thranduil, you changed your damn mind about the damn rooms. I heard you. I have not changed mine. I am not asking you to alter our marriage contract here, okay, this is a small thing. I want to move to my own study — per your request — and I cannot understand why you have fixated on this so strongly.”

He did not want you to leave this space. Yet he did not want you to stay in this space.

No option was good enough for him.

You crossed your arms. You had seen him be petulant before but two months? You finally met his gaze and it was exactly what you were expecting. Anger blossoming across his face, that one small muscle in his cheek that always twitched.

“Contract.”

“Fine. Contract.” You threw your hands up in frustration and started rummaging through the desk. “If you want to read the damn thing to ensure I’m following it, I’ll tell you right now there are exactly zero requirements around—”

“Carasta’s files are much more organized,” Thranduil said icily.

You looked up, letting the papers in your hands scatter to the desktop. “Marry Carasta then, goddamnit. I don’t care.” You were so tired it came out as a flat statement.

Taking a deep breath, Thranduil seemed to try again, looking for patience in himself you had never seen him find.

“I don’t want to be married to Carasta,” he said simply, managing to keep his voice steady. “I want to understand.”

You furrowed your brow even more. He wasn’t making sense.

“You aren’t making sense.”

A small growl escaped him. “What is it that you want? You…I didn’t understand what you meant by…” he huffed and managed to do so haughtily. “Was it a show or not?”

“Was what a show?” You looked around the room, as if expecting to spot the audience, and let your hands drop to your legs in a clapping sound. “The only person complicating this is you. I have stopped reaching out, as you have asked. Why are you fighting—“

“So it was.” He spun on his heel again.

Oh, I think the fuck not. You were absolutely not doing this for another two months. You were a patient woman but you had limits. Honestly, one limit. And you had reached it.

You snatched at his arm, grabbing a layer of his cape, which allowed him to walk several more feet before feeling any resistance.

“Stop. Oh, for fuck’s sake, just stop.”

“I am stopping,” he replied through gritted teeth, hair swinging as he jerked his head to look at you. “I am done.”

You imagined you heard the sound of the other shoe dropping on a marble floor somewhere far away.

You both stood still for a long moment, your hand holding the edge of his cape like an awkward flag between the two of you. His eyes were still white flame, staring into the distance, not meeting yours. The set of his shoulders and the jut of his chin said he wanted to argue again.

That he was feeling something.

Why? Done with what?

“What are you done with?”

Thranduil shrugged your hand off his cape and swept it dramatically behind him. “This. Because you...I thought you did not and then I thought you did, and now it is clear my first impression was correct and you do not. I have approached this incorrectly twice now. I will not attempt it a third. You have been clear.”

You cocked your head at him. The two of you hadn’t used a meaningful noun in quite some time during this argument. You knew that was the type of risk that had to be corrected immediately.

No one was ever on the same page the first time.

But you had a suspicion.

“Define ‘this,’” you all but whispered.

“Absolutely not. I am done speaking of it. I will not allow you to mock me.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I’m not mocking you, I’m asking you a question. We have strayed so far from the start of this conversation that I fear we are saying the same thing and don’t know it.”

He glared at you. “That can’t—“

“Why has your behavior been so different the last two months?”

Thranduil shifted almost uncomfortably, but managed to keep venom in his tone. “You indicated this is the behavior of those who are partners.” A small pause, his voice turning sullen. “Of husbands and wives.”

It took all your focus not to move a single muscle in your face. “You indicated several times that you did not care for me to be your partner or your wife.”

“Yes,” he hissed, “But I changed my mind because I thought I had misunderstood before, and I do not know how to show that to you properly now.”

Thranduil started pacing, his long legs turning the study into two, maybe three steps at most before he spun again. His robes barely fit the space.

No. This— No. You felt a laugh somewhere deep in your chest, but you forced it down in case he misunderstood.

Which you both seemed to be doing often lately.

“Tell me, specifically, what you are trying to show me,” you asked cautiously.

This was not a time for miscommunication. You would stay here the rest of your mortal life if needed, but you would walk out of this room knowing what the fuck he meant.

Because you thought you already knew.

He shook his head, silver hair glinting in the firelight.

“Thranduil.”

He was still shaking his head, glaring at the hearth, nearly shaking in anger. But he hadn’t left or slammed any doors, which was a good sign.

One of the first things you had learned about negotiating, years ago when you first followed your uncle to his council meetings as a child, was that the party who named an honest, earnest number first was on their back foot. Yes, it was possible to put out an offer first and still make more from it than expected or hoped for — and sometimes, offering first was both a wise and generous way to proceed — but generally speaking, it took extraordinary skill or luck to argue for more after naming the first number.

So generally speaking, the party who moved first was not in the strong position.

Generally speaking.

But, you had an extraordinary amount of skill — that’s why you were in this room. At the same time, you hadn’t felt particularly lucky lately, but…you would still name a number first.

Fine.

“Melethnín.”

That got him to turn with inhuman speed, his face a mask of rage. “I said do not mock me.” His icy eyes locked with yours.

“I am not mocking you.”

His brow furrowed. “Then why,” he said quickly, crossing the study in two large steps to loom over you, “did you call me that?”

“Why,” you challenged back, “have you called me that for the past two months?”

Thranduil's pale eyes had not yet left your face, inches away now, searching you for any hint that you were lying or mocking him. His gaze did not waver and he finally leaned back, satisfied. “You do not know what it means. You are mocking me.”

A harsh chuckle at that. “I know exactly what it means and I am not mocking you.” You put a hand on your hip at the implied insult that you, the goddamn Queen of the Silvan Elves of the Greenwood, wife of the Elvenking, did not know the most basic endearment your people use to address their spouses and children. “Well, correction, now I am mocking you….you’re questioning my understanding of vocabulary? Well, how good is your Khuzdul, again, Thranduil? Zigil’ûl is a Dwarven term of endearment; I’m surprised you deigned to use it.”

He hadn’t noticed “silver stream” was not in Quenya? Even with the accents?

His eyes softened, but still anger flashed across his face as he stared down at you. “You have not answered why you are using an elven term of endearment to refer to me right now.”

You thought about pushing back. But something very fragile in his eyes made you pause. It felt like a risk but…you were willing to name a second number.

Fine.

A sigh. “I used this Sindarin term because it’s how I refer to you in my head.”

Thranduil cocked his head, looking at you curiously now, some of his rage fading. “How good is —“

“— I am fluent in Sindarin. We speak it fifty percent of the time we are together instead of Westron. Stop it, Thranduil.”

He did stop at that, at least for a moment, as thoughts started churning in his head. His pale eyes flicked around the room, looking at everything but you.

A surprising sign of vulnerability from a king who would lock eyes with Manwë himself and never blink, if given the chance. If able to take that chance by force.

“No.” Thranduil shook his head again, still refusing to meet your gaze, speaking to your bookshelf. “No, I will not stop until I understand. You said I had purchased a performance and that you would stop performing it. You just looked for the contract to show me what you were required to do as my wife.”

A pause as he turned his head toward you, but stayed facing the other direction — ready to run.

“But, if your past behavior was a performance, then…I do not understand why you would call me melethnín in the privacy of your own mind, especially now,” he ended with a noise between a sigh and an irritated groan, still not meeting your eyes.

You saw the issue now. He thought you showed care for him in the last two years because it was what was expected of you.

A performance.

Not because you actually gave a damn about him as a partner or as a husband.

And then, you pulled back from him. Because he asked you to. Because he did not understand that caring about him was something you genuinely wanted to do. Enjoyed doing. Thranduil had not wanted to be part of a show because he….

He thought you were being cruel to him. As you thought he had been to you for the last two months.

He was that wrong for two years?

You looked up to meet his gaze. Thranduil hesitated, seeming to have the same revelation, but finding himself much less confident in the outcome. “So, please explain it. Why would you call me your love today?” he asked again, his voice so soft you barely heard him.

Naming the third number in a row was too large of a request to concede, even for him. Even now that you understood. You needed an assurance of some kind first.

“A counter-question, first. Have the last two months been a performance on your part, Thranduil?” Some vulnerability entered your tone, too, though you wished it had not. “I will not allow you to mock me, either.”

A pause. “The first two days were, yes.”

You raised an eyebrow at that, but he met your gaze unflinchingly. “And then I found I…I preferred it. I enjoyed being closer to you and hearing your thoughts. And I noticed the quality of your contracts improved.”

You crossed your arms. “Mmhmm,” you grunted at that.

Thranduil cocked his head, his eyes soft now, his tone surprisingly sweet and earnest. “So if you’ll forgive those first few days, melethnín, then no, I have not been false to you once in these past months.” A brief hesitation. “Was it…Before. How you showed that you cared for me. Was that an act for you?”

You paused, considering carefully. “For the last two months, any modicum of patience I’ve shown in your presence has been an act. But no, nothing before the night…we last fought,” you ended simply.

“Oh.” A faint blush rose to his cheeks.

You both stood there, staring dumbly at each other.

Thranduil dipped his head in embarrassment. “It is rare, but I find even I need time to learn.”

You nodded slowly. He was telling you that he had misunderstood. Maybe he was telling you he loved you. But he remained frustratingly vague.

You were struggling between the urge to kiss him or punch him. You tried to calculate your odds at both and concluded you’d need to do it in a specific order for it to work. Kiss first, then punch.

A knee to the groin was the only way he won’t see it coming until it’s too late. But you also had a growing interest in that area…

No matter what you chose, you weren’t going to be fast enough. Maybe while he slept.

“So, to summarize,” you started slowly. And then your mouth shut gently. You opened it a few more times to speak but nothing came out, so you stood there with your hand on your hip, moving your mouth like a fish.

The politician and jackass in Thranduil got there first. “To summarize, you have been in love with me since the day we met, and over the last two months I’ve learned that there are certain merits to being the recipient of that love.”

You felt your eyebrows shoot to your hairline, and your mouth did open at that.

The arrogance.

“The arrogance. Absolutely not. Revise it.”

A small smile played at the corners of his mouth but he remained silent. This was him teasing you. You’d enjoy it thoroughly in any other context. “No, you do not get to be this way with me after all of that, Thranduil…”

The smirk grew as he leaned closer to you. “I will no longer answer to that name when you use it. You’ll have to try another, melethnín.”

Fine.

“Heconna.” Bastard.

He raised an eyebrow at that one. “Fluent, indeed. But I have time and I can wait for you to find the correct term.”

“Pellopë.” Jackass.

The smirk never left his face. “Yes, we’ve established that you know and use words in both Sindarin and Quenya that most Eldar would blush to hear. I’m sure this vocabulary is useful when you swear at local merchants and drink in their bars — a very queenly activity.”

He was still teasing you. He finally had come close enough to snake his hands low around your hips, craning down at you, nothing but a blend of absolute mischief and arrogance in his pale eyes. “Mmm, I’m happy to give you a hint, wife.”

This was the most surprising day you had experienced since coming to Greenwood. And you were going to use it to your advantage as much as you could.

Too many things were still unspoken.

You shook your head and pulled back — gently, you still wanted him badly and your resolve was weakening the more he leaned into you. Gods, he smelled good. “Absolutely not. Not until you revise it.”

He sighed, his long fingers splayed across your lower back as he nudged you closer to his chest in return. “To summarize: Your caring behavior toward me was never an act or obligation on your part, and neither was mine. We seem to," he hesitated a beat, "Love each other, though we are quite ineffectual at speaking plainly with each other.”

Thranduil reached out to tuck back a strand of your hair, his finger gently tracing the rounded shell of your ear as you fought to repress a shiver. “With this new understanding in mind, our marriage no longer needs to remain contractual alone, if you wish to become closer. As I do.” His fingers brushed against your face, trailing down your neck softly to trace your collarbone. His other hand kept you close against him. “Is this revision more to your liking, melethnín?”

You frowned, hands coming to rest on his chest. “Yes. But you owe me an apology for more than the last two months.”

“Yes,” he agreed softly, his forehead coming to rest against yours. “Would you like me to begin reciting my long list of sins now? Or would you prefer we kissed instead? I have a rather clear preference, but,” he shrugged over-casually. “I will make time for both.”

You hesitated. “Both.”

“Fine, verinya,” he murmured, gently tilting your head up towards his.

“Fine, veronya,” you whispered back against his lips.

// AN: I'd have to leave you on a cliffhanger, so:

Túra in Quenya means "big, or great," which would capture "fine!" well enough.

Dail in Sindarin means "lovely," which I imagine can be sarcastic af coming from Thranduil, the petty bastard.

The difference in these two languages, for purpose of these idiots in love, is snobbery. Quenya is high-brow, Sindarin is what all normal people speak. He says he loves her in common tongue but calls her wife as high-brow as possible to be a jackass. Mission accomplished, Thran-daddy.

// If you enjoyed this, check out ✨The Director's Cut✨ masterlist with quick links to all my TROP/LOTR content and AO3 profile.

#thranduil oropherion #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #the elvenking #mirkwood #thranduil #thranduil x reader #thrandaddy #star and stone

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doodle-pops · 12 days ago

Text

The First Snowfall

Elrond x fem!reader

Request: Hello, Mina! Wish and hope that you're doing good and fine right now! 😊 I'm really overjoy that you openning request! Sooooooo, would I request Elrond and reader NSFW sexy time after celebrating winter festival please? It could be kinky smut or fluffy smut, and headcanons or a fic ; please choose these which you are seeing fit, proper, and willingness. 😁 Thank you so much in advance! Have a super great weekend 🥰🧡 – @septimaseverina

A/N: This is by far the softest smut I’ve probably written out of all the smut I’ve done. It was such a huge difference, in a nice way, to write something so gentle and soft.

Warnings: smut, fem!reader, soft sex, bondage, soft dom!Elrond, cunnilingus, fingering

Words: 3.6k

Synopsis: They say that every year during the first snowfall, something magical happens. And with Elrond’s hectic schedule, ensuring that everything was in place for the winter festivities, you were planning for his ‘personal’ magical snowfall.

The fire crackled softly in Elrond’s chambers, casting a warm glow that danced along the walls and ceiling, illuminating the faint shimmer of frost on the windows. The first snowfall of the year had blanketed Rivendell, and though the world outside was muted and cold, the air inside the room was bustling with anticipation, thick enough to make your breath hitch every so often. However, it wasn’t only the anticipation and the coldness of the atmosphere doing such a splendid job. It was preferably the artistic skills your body was adorned in for the last twenty minutes.

You sat perched in the middle of the bed, your legs neatly tucked beneath you, the soft silk ribbons biting gently into your skin. The crimson fabric wrapped delicately around your curves, clinging in all the right places to highlight your beauty and the right places to look, barely covering anything of great importance. The ribbon was straining against your chest with every heave you took as the seconds ticked by, stretching against the swells of your breasts, pushing them together in a tantalising display. The peaks of your hardened nipples pressing visibly against the smooth fabric. Below, the ribbons were wrapped expertly around your thighs, teasingly close to your pussy where the dampness had already soaked and stained a huge portion of the ribbon.

You were sure that it might snap should another minute or two pass and he had not shown up at the rate you were leaking. Shifting slightly, a shiver ran down your spine at the gentle contact of the ribbon brushing against your outer lips like a feathered touch. The silky material brushed and rubbed against your skin in a way that sent a pulse of ecstasy straight to your core. You couldn’t help but glance towards the doors every few seconds, heart fluttering at the thought of him walking in to find you like this. Within his responsibilities as Lord of Rivendell, you knew it had been long and taxing for the winter festivities. But tonight, this night, you intended to give him something more than a reprieve. Something just as magical as the first snowfall. Hence, why you had left him a simple note on the study desk, written in your finest calligraphy.

“Your final gift awaits you in your chambers. Come unwrap it when you are ready.”

The moments stretched out endlessly, your senses heightened as you listened for any sign of his approach. Every distant footstep, every faint creak seemed louder in the silence, setting your heart racing. The fire flickered over your bare skin, painting you in shades of gold and crimson. Would he be surprised? Would he laugh? Or would his usual calm, composed demeanour melt into something far more unabashed?

As you took a few more deep breaths to centre your mind and prepare for what was about to unfold tonight, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. They echoed softly down the hall, each step brisk but calculated, increasing your anticipation and leading to a fresh flow of your juices soaking the ribbon further. You sat a little straighter, the bow nestled on your thigh tugged against your skin.

The door quietly opened, and there he was, framed in the doorway. Elrond’s eyes were locked onto yours immediately, his expression was a perfect balance of curiosity and warmth. He was still dressed in his formal attire, his dark robes draped elegantly over his broad shoulders, though his hair was slightly tousled from the long day. His gaze moved slowly, deliberately travelling from your face down to the crimson ribbons wrapped around your body. His eyes darkened slightly as they took in every detail—the way the silk clung to your breasts, the delicate bow that rested on your thigh, and the glistening evidence of your arousal visible against the inner of your thighs.

For a moment, the room was utterly silent, save for the crackling of the fire. Then, his lips curved into a small, knowing smile, one that sent a rush of heat to your cheeks and your core alike. He wasn’t helping with the ribbon staying intact.

“So,” he smoothly intrigued, “this is the special gift I was promised?”

You smiled feeling your cheeks ready to pop from the heat and pressure of maintaining a composed expression. Steady your gaze, you met his eyes head-on. “Happy First Snowfall, my lord,” you purred. “I thought you deserved something…personal. Something only you could unwrap.”

Stepping further into the room, he shut the door behind him with a soft click. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, as though he was savouring every moment of this revelation. His eyes never left yours as he approached, the sheer hunger in his gaze making you squirm against the ribbons as you pressed your thighs together to calm the growing ache. When he reached the foot of the bed, he paused, looking down at you with an expression that was equal parts amusement, admiration and barely restrained desire.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” he murmured while his fingers reached out to trail along the edge of one of the ribbons wrapping your arm. The gentle brush of his touch prompted goosebumps to rise, and he chuckled softly, clearly pleased with your reaction. “I’ve received many gifts over the years, but none quite so…unique.”

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as his hand moved to the bow on your thigh, his fingers ghosting over the delicate silk. “I wanted to make this snowfall magical for you,” you whispered, “You’ve been so busy, so focused on everyone else’s happiness. Tonight is for you, so you’ll have to unwrap me carefully.”

His expression softened, though his eyes never left yours as he knelt on the bed. “Carefully, you say?” Elrond’s voice was tender as he leaned closer, with painstaking care, his fingers tugged at the bow on your thigh, unravelling the ribbon with a patience that was both maddening and intoxicating. The way the silk slid against your skin as he pulled it free left you trembling and leaning into his touch for more. “If I am to unwrap this gift properly, it will require my full attention.”

His words prompted another flow of your juices, this time, with the absence of the bow and the ribbon, it was more pronounced to Elrond’s eyes as they were fixated on the sight. He gave a soft hum, his approval evident in the way his hands slid up your thighs until he stopped at the junction of your thigh and hip. His thumb rubbed the area teasingly, watching as the slickness grew and coated your thighs aggressively. He knew the moment he parted your legs—the sight would be unlike any other.

“Beautiful,” he murmured and leaned down to kiss the junction of your leg thigh, smiling against the natural jump of your nerves. He moved slowly, unwrapping you piece by piece, his hands warm and steady as they worked. Each ribbon came undone and revealed more of your body under the glow of the fire. The silk slid away from your breasts, and your nipples, already hardened from anticipation, were met with the cool air and the heat of Elrond’s hungry gaze. He paused for a moment, his eyes lingering on the curve of your chest before he leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive peak with a kiss that made you gasp.

If only your wrists were not still bound, you would cradle him right there as his tongue flicked over the bud, his mouth warm and persistent. “Elrond,” you sighed and pushed your chest outwards for him to continue. He didn’t reply, his actions were speaking louder than his words as he continued his exploration, his hands roaming over your now-unbound body with reverent care as he pushed you to lie against the bed.

With your wrists still bound and between your bodies, while his mouth continued its ministrations, you clawed at his clothes, pulling him closer, and your legs unfolded to wrap around his waist. He seemed to be in no hurry to untie your wrists when he pulled away from your spit-slicked nipples, glancing down at your hands that tugged at his attire. A smirk formed on his lips as he recognised the desperation to have his skin against yours—you despised the sensation of clothes against your naked skin.

“You are exquisite. Far too exquisite to be hurried,” he darkly whispered as his hands pulled away from your thighs to unfasten his robes. When his robes fell away, revealing the lean, tones from beneath, you instinctively licked your lips and reached out to run your fingers down his taunt stomach, loving the way he clenched under your touch.

Chuckling at his reaction, he wasted no time swooping down to lock lips with you for the first time tonight. As he settled between your legs and hooked your thighs around his waist, you gasped at the contact of his hardened cock against your wet folds, which allowed him to slip his tongue past your lips to deepen the kiss. His hands reached up to brace beside your head, fingers curling into the pillows as he breathed in your air from the intensity of the kiss. You could feel the tension in his shoulders slowly melting as the kiss progressed.

Yet, he didn’t stop there. Breaking the kiss, his mouth trailed lower, kissing and nipping at your skin. Starting from your jaw, his mouth worked all the way down your neck, shoulders and collarbone, till he was littering them in a line down your navel. Your fingers curled into his gossamer strands as he dipped lower, your stomach flipping, until he pressed the first kiss atop your mound. It was here when he adjusted himself between your legs, throwing them over his shoulders as he made himself comfortable to deliver the first swipe of his tongue.

“You’re already so wet,” he groaned as he took his time running his tongue through your folds. “And I’ve barely done anything.”

“Ah—” Your voice was cut off by the second swipe of his tongue through your folds from top to bottom as he collected all your arousal on his tongue, humming and moaning at how good you tasted. He took his time exploring you, his tongue dipping into your entrance as it curled and plunged itself deeper into your wet, slick heat. The lewd sounds of his mouth moving against your pussy mixed with your heavy panting as your back arched off the bed and your hips grounded into his face. He seemed to have no issue at all as you took your pleasure, glad to retract his tongue and flick it over your clit, eliciting a cry of his name.

Grinning against you, his tongue swirled around your nub, flicking and giving it small tugs with his mouth as he sucked it between his lips and released it with a small pop. His right hand left your skin to join his mouth, sliding two fingers into your heat and curling them against your sweet spot as he gently thrust them in and out. There wasn’t any need for him to rush the moment, not when you appeared so beautifully spread out like this, moaning his name.

He took his time circling his tongue around your clit while his fingers curled and plunge in and out your pussy, enjoying the way your walls clenched around him as though you were giving him tiny kisses. The desire to keep him within your walls was grave as you consistently kept sucking him further in. Even your thighs were doing a fine job at squeezing his head, keeping him in place, though, he remained unbothered, accustomed to the squeeze.

“E-Elrond…please,” you whined as you shifted your hips against his face, your fingers digging into his scalp as you tugged his hair.

“Patience, meleth–nîn,” he whispered against your folds as he pulled back, his fingers still pumping at his preferred, sluggishly pace, and looked up at your drunken state. Placing a kiss on your inner thigh, his mouth returned to your clit while he kept his eyes on you. The way your back arched and your nipples hardened, or how your head tossed backwards, and your jaw slackened at certain pressures. Sometimes if he gave a particularly harsh suck or rubbed his fingers against your sweet spot, your thighs would squeeze his head and your toes would curl, his name turning into raspy pleas.

However, even he couldn’t take the wait any longer, your cries and pleas for him becoming unbearable as his cock ached and leaked.

At the sudden removal of his fingers from your pussy, you whined but were quickly silenced by Elrond’s mouth descending on yours. The taste of your arousal on his tongue as he slipped it past your lips to draw out every sweet sound you always made for him. While his tongue coaxed you to relax, his fingers unbound the ribbon around your wrists, groaning when your nails latched onto his back and headed lower to run his cock through your folds. His head teasingly pressed against your entrance, the pressure creating an undeniable ache that refused to go away. As he pushed forward, he slipped through your folds, his head catching on your clit and rubbing against the already sensitive nub, leading you to moan into the kiss.

“S-stop teasing me, Elrond.” You pouted, pressing your heel into his lower back to inch him closer while your nails curled into his shoulders. “I was nice to give a present without any games.”

“The first snowfall is meant to be savoured, meleth–nîn.” He grinned against your lips, locking eyes with your pouty ones and nudging his nose against yours.

And to savour it, he did. When he stopped his teasing, the intrusion of his head pushing past your walls caused you to go silent in his arms. There wasn’t a word or sound slipping from your mouth as he slid the rest of his cock in, slowly enjoying the way your walls hugged him like a blanket. The gentle stretch wasn’t overwhelming, nor was his weight. It was just right. And when he finally bottomed out, all the way to the hilt, the silence was disrupted by a loud groan from you.

“You feel so good every time,” Elrond groaned, resting his forehead against yours while your body shivered under him. The coolness of your skin against the warmth of his half-human and elven nature was a soothing touch that sent ripples across both your skins. Your nipples hardened and pressed against his chest as he displaced more weight atop you, pressing you into the bed.

Gripping onto him for dear life, your sighs were turned into breathless pleads. “Elrond…please move,” you breathed against his lips, and he obeyed.

The first snap of his hips was gentle, earning a soft moan from you both as he set the pace for the night. As gentle and tender as his thrusts were, each one plunged his cock into the depths of your walls, prompting your juices to abundantly overflow and spill onto his cock, creating a smooth, frictionless slide of his cock. Each thrust reverberated sweetly throughout the room followed by the sound of a wet kiss and moaning as you and Elrond were locked in a heated kiss.

Your nails were raking down his back, doing everything to pull him closer as your bodies danced against one another. You felt his hands slide off your thighs and upwards to grip your arms and pin them beside your head. Easily, his finger intertwined with yours as he pulled his head back, breaking the kiss to look into your hazy eyes. You were gripping him tightly, both your hands and your pussy, clenching around him with each thrust he sent your way. He moved with a rhythm that was both gentle and relentless that left you breathless.

The fluttering of your eyes with each roll of his hips, or the slight pause he would display while grinding the tip of his cock against your sweet spot, earning him a loud groan. He was enjoying the tiny kisses that coated his cock as he pushed himself deeper, missing and relishing in the sensation of your walls massaging him and bringing that special warmth needed during such cold times.

When he sent a particularly harsh thrust your way before slowing down to grind, your jaw slackened, and eyes shut as soft whimpers fluttered out. “Does it feel good, meleth?” he purred, repeatedly grounding his hips and enjoying the fluttering of your walls around him. “Look at how well you’re taking me…as always.”

At his words, your pussy clenched tightly around his cock, milking him as he pushed deeper with each thrust. Your pussy throbbed, overwhelmed by the sensation of his ministrations, the constant friction sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, making your back arch against his chest. Your nipples rolled deliciously against his toned, sweaty pectorals, sliding smoothly against his skin. In return, Elrond’s groans and moans echoed sweetly in your ear as he chased his own orgasm at the sensation of yours approaching.

Every sound he made, caused your pussy to flutter, another gush of slick oozing out around his cock, soaking his length. Elrond groaned at the feeling, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, as he chased the sensation of the tight walls gripping him.

“I missed…this,” you panted as you leaned into him for a kiss, breathing into his mouth. “I missed how g-good you feel in me…ngh.” Smiling into the kiss, your voice broke into high-pitched moans as his cock pushed further into your pussy, relentlessly.

One of his hands released yours and wedged between your bodies to rub your clit erratically. Your body shivered under his touch, arching into him, searching for more. “Always good to me, aren’t you, meleth?” he breathed heavily against your lips, head dipping to run kisses along your jaw and down your neck to meet the junction. “You’re always there for me. So perfect.”

His movements became more intense at the sensation of your walls tightening around him, his fingers applying more pressure to your clit. “Look at me,” he continued and raised his head to your level, nudging his nose against yours. “I want to see you when you fall apart for me. Let me see how beautiful you look.”

You couldn’t resist his command. He spoke with such reverence and tenderness; you couldn’t deny his sweet calls.

Meeting his gaze, your breath hitched at the sight of how dark his eyes had become as they bore into yours with adoration and hunger. Being under his gaze placed your entire body on fire as he continued to push you over the edge. The urge to shut your eyes and throw your head backwards was tempting—his gaze was full of passion, too much to handle in the tender moment. Yet, you tried to meet him head-on with your lips parted, eyes hazy and breathless gasps as your orgasm built. He was working you over the edge.

“E-Elrond…close. I’m c-close,” you struggled, digging your hand into his biceps and clinging to him as your impending walls were prepared to topple over. “E-Elrond…”

“I know, meleth. And I want you to cum for me,” he hummed lowly with hunger. “Let me feel you. Let go for me.”

That was the final straw that held your dams together as you released a desperate cry, your body tensed, your pussy clamping down around his cock as your orgasm, crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your back arched, eyes rolling into your head, your toes curling as your warmth soaked his cock. Elrond groaned at the sensation, releasing a visible shudder as his cock twitched inside you as he was unable to hold out any longer and spilt his warm cum into your pussy as deeply as he could. The warmth spreading through your body left you trembling and gasping for breath. Slowing his thrusts to ride out both your highs and pushing his cum deeper, as he guided you through the waves of your pleasure.

Your body was slump against the bed, the sheet sticking to your sweaty skin, as a blissful smile crossed your features. There was a gentle weight being displaced atop you for a moment as Elrond slumped against your body. His arms cradled your sides, after releasing your hand, fingers running up and down your waist as he calmed his erratic heartbeat. At the moment, your fingers laced through his hair, scratching against his scalp, which urged him to melt under your actions.

“You’re so good to me, meleth–nîn,” he sweetly whispered and pressed a kiss to your heart. Looking up, his eyes had softened, the gentle shades of brown returning, as he flashed you a warm smile. “I love you.”

Returning the same level of affection within your smile, you craned your neck to kiss his sweaty forehead, brushing his dark brown strands out of his face. “And I love you too, Elrond. It’s what you deserve.”

“You make the first snowfall enjoyable and worthwhile. Thank you.” He smiled against your chest, his fingers continued tracing patterns along your waist as the fire crackled softly in the hearth. For once, he could forget about the world and enjoy the comfort the festive season brought.

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emmasbrain · 8 months ago

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Miscommunication (the fun kind) Part 2

This is part 2, trust when I say it makes very little sense without part 1.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Synopsis: You meet him for your date, but it’s cut a little short.

Warnings: None I can think of other than cringe writing.

A/N: This took ages man, I don’t know what happened but I just felt a block so many apologies for taking so long.

As you click the little green button, you feel unnecessarily nervous. “Hello.”

“Hi.” He replies, and the smile that graces your lips can be heard from the other end of the phone.

“Doc. I’m glad you called.” You try to play it cool, but you know he can sense your excitement anyway.

“I’m glad you asked me to. Look, I’m on my way to a case right now, but I was thinking that when I get back we could do something? Go for dinner, maybe?” He sounds as nervous as you feel, and your heart spikes a little.

“Dinner sounds great. Have you thought of a place?” You do a little spin in the living room of your small apartment and you hear chatter in the background of the call.

“There’s this little restaurant that I normally get takeout from. I know them pretty well so they’ll keep me a table on short notice. They’ve got everything so statistically there’s bound to be something you like.” The way he speaks reaches a spot in your brain, fast and passionate, even about the most mundane things.

“I know I’m gonna like it because you do, and I trust your taste.” You bite your lip, wondering if that was too much.

“You should, I’m very particular.” His voice betrays the fact that he’s grinning, and you match his expression.

“I like particular. Particular is good.” Your voice has dropped a little subconsciously, and he’s about to reply when you hear the familiar voice of Agent Hotchner alerting Spencer that they need him.

“I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you when I’m home?” You almost sigh in contentment at just the sound of him, but you snap out of it quickly to reply.

“I’ll be waiting patiently, Doc. I’ll see you.” You hang up, and stand in the middle of your living room for what seems like an hour but truly is only a few minutes. Why are you so attracted to this guy you only met a few nights ago?

But you feel as though you know him, from the way Penelope has talked about him, from the time you spent together. You feel as though you know them all.

—

You just sent in the final draft of your latest article. This one had been an absolute nightmare, being asked to write a piece on climate change. Your editors loved you for your fresh takes, but after so long there was no angle on climate change that hadn’t already been written. They seem fairly happy with it, but you can’t help the nagging feeling of wishing you could have done the proposed piece on how tourism is ruining the economy like you had wanted.

Through the annoyance of knowing you could have done better, you still feel slightly more at ease knowing the article is finished and out of your hands, and that you can relax and drink your fourth mug of coffee for the day. It’s eleven am.

But as you stand to stretch your achy muscles and make some fresh coffee, your phone rings. You know who it is before you even pick up, but make sure to check anyway just in case.

‘Spencer’ flashes on your screen, and you immediately sit down on your sofa, hitting the answer button and taking a readying breath.

“Hey Doc.” Your voice is unintentionally airy, but he doesn’t seem to notice - or he pretends not to - as he replies.

“Hey. I got back from work late last night, but I didn’t wanna call in case you were asleep. I was just wondering what you had planned for tonight?” The grogginess in his voice is evident, and it raises a question before you can even think about answering his.

“Spencer, how long ago did you wake up?” The simple question makes him go quiet for a moment before he speaks.

“I woke up just before I called you.” He sounds nervous to admit it, like he’s embarrassed to be caught thinking of you so soon into his day.

“Must have been thinking about me in your sleep then. And to answer your question, I’m free tonight.” You can’t hide the tinge of satisfaction knowing he thought about you maybe as often as you thought about him.

The small breath he sucks in doesn’t pass by you. You may not be a behavioural analyst but you are a damn good journalist, and you know what that little breath means. It says “you caught me”. Was he really thinking of you in his slumber? You note it down in the back of your head to try and slip out of him later.

“Would you like to go for dinner to that restaurant tonight?” He seems to have composed himself as he asks his question, and you try not to sound too enthusiastic as you eagerly say yes. “Okay, great- that’s great! I’ll pick you up at six… I don’t drive.” The defeat in his voice makes you laugh.

“How about I pick you up?” You suggest, calming his nerves. “You can tell me where to go.” Truthfully, you had already planned to drive him. Penelope told you once how he doesn’t drive, and you called her two days ago to reconfirm. This information, however, is not something you feel the need to tell him, because it seems a little obsessive - but you were just thinking logically of course - and you don’t want to weird him out quite so early.

He seems to be okay with the idea, and you’re thankful that he doesn’t take it as a blow to his ego like most men would. The call ends after a few short pleasantries - that are actually pleasant - and you immediately get to work.

You throw open the doors of your wardrobe and go straight to the dresses, very slowly narrowing it down to two options. A flowy red dress that you almost go with, and a simple black silk dress that ends just below your knees.

This one is for special occasions, and you deemed this a pretty special occasion. As you rummage through your box of shoes and stack of earrings trying desperately to find earrings and heels in the same colour, you come across a pair of purple strapped heels that you know you have drop earrings in a similar shade to. You just can’t find them.

Suddenly you notice that it’s 12:30 and your brain short circuits. Your entire room is thrown upside down and inside out until you find the earrings you’re looking for, and then neatly arranged back to its original state, all within thirty minutes. Now you have your little purple dewdrops and your outfit is complete, but you have four and a half hours until you need to leave and you know you’ll need it, albeit mostly to panic.

Four hours passes and you’ve showered, shaved, styled your hair and put on some light makeup. Your nail polish is just dry and you have your dress on, so you buckle your heels and stand. Twenty five minutes before you can leave. That’s not bad. You just have to wait twenty five minutes… But what if traffic is bad? You should probably leave fifteen minutes early for that, right? And if you think about it, the time between leaving your house and getting to the car wasn’t considered in the time it would take you to get there, and if you drag it out that’s a good five minutes. So really you only need to leave in five minutes. But what’s the point of waiting five minutes really? You should just leave now. Good idea.

As you park at his apartment building you realise you may have been a little over eager. The drive was ten minutes shorter than expected, so you’re around thirty minutes early. Which is embarrassing, so to speak. But you decide to head up early, a gut feeling telling you that it’ll be beneficial.

As you knock, he immediately opens the door and then a sheepish look comes over his face. “I saw you get out of your car.” He nervously rubs his hand on the back of his neck and it makes you smile. Then you take in his attire. He looks similar to when you met him in the bar, although he’s wearing white converse to match a white shirt underneath his brown suit. He’s also sporting a watch, and - most importantly - glasses. Damn those fucking glasses.

You realise you haven’t responded and are now intensely looking at his eyes, and he looks a little uncomfortable.

“Shit- sorry. I was just looking at you- I mean you look good- Great! You look great. You look… pretty. I like your glasses, do you wear them often?” Although you can feel yourself rambling into oblivion, you somehow can’t stop the flood of words that come out of your mouth.

His mouth opens for a moment as though he might speak, and then it shuts again. He stands aside to let you come in. “I never let you in.” He comments, sounding apologetic.

You shake your head in reassurance. “That’s alright, I wasn’t sure if you would even be ready since I’m so early. I never meant to be, I just kind of over thought it and now I’m here.” You wring your fingers together. Spencer noticed that you do it as a nervous habit when you met in the bar.

“I was ready an hour ago, I’ve just been reading while I waited for you. You can sit.” He motions to his sofa, and you sit next to the armrest so that you can turn and lean your back against it to face him sitting a little away from you. “You look beautiful. You remind me of a painting called ‘Madame X’, you probably know it. You could almost be a modernised retelling. Did you know that the painting caused an extreme public discourse as people thought the artist, John Singer Sargent, made the woman look deathly pale and scandalously unclothed.” He says all this with a little grin, and you can’t help but grin along with him.

The decision to tease him comes before you can truly think about it. “You think I look deathly pale and scandalously unclothed, Doc?” As the words come out of your mouth, he pales slightly.

“No, of course not! You remind me more of the principle. The woman was so beautiful she was renowned for her looks. Painters had all but begged her to do a portrait before, but she declined until she found Sargent. But even then, the people of Paris thought the painting didn’t do her beauty justice. Despite this, the painting became famous and beloved for hundreds of years around the world, and to this day is still considered a work of true historical art. A timeless beauty. That’s how I think you look.” His passion for little things shines through again, and your mouth is left slightly agape from his words.

“That was…” You can’t even think.

“A lot, I know. I tend to ramble a lot. I don’t really notice that I’m bothering people until it’s too late.” He rubs the back of his neck again, and the thought of people being bothered by him sends multiple emotions running down your spine.

You reach over and grab his hand with one of yours, the other going to touch his face. “I was going to say, that was awfully considerate of you. Never assume that you’re bothering me. Talk quite literally as much as you please, I want to know what you want to say… If we weren’t on our first date I’d readily teach you exactly how much I enjoy when you talk, but that can be saved for another time, maybe.” Your voice drops nearer the end, and he picks up on it as he sucks in a breath and nods vigorously.

“Definitely- I mean yes, sure. I will keep that in mind.” He’s still nodding as you smile at him, a proper smile.

“You’re pretty when you get flustered. You get all red, from the tops of your cheeks all the way down your neck.” You silently wonder if it goes further. You wish you could check. The hand on his face trails down his neck as you speak, emphasising what you mean.

He gets redder. How can he get redder? “Pretty. You’ve used that word on me twice now.” The comment seems to be more of an observation than a question, but you answer it as though it is one.

“I think you’re pretty. Handsome is a word I dislike. It reminds me of Ken, like Barbie and Ken. You’re not a doll, you’re a man, who just so happens to be pretty. I could call you beautiful instead, I’d say that adjective very accurately describes you too. Gorgeous, if that’s something you prefer.” You relent as the redness gets impossibly worse, and it makes you feel a little guilty. “Sorry, Doc, I just like seeing you flustered. I’ll call you handsome or something more masculine if you’re more comfortable with that.” You give him a little smile and pull your hand from his face.

He wouldn’t say it out loud but he wishes you would keep it there. He grasps your other hand tightly in his, and he shakes his head. “I don’t mind. You can call me whatever you feel like… You’re wearing purple. Purple is my favourite colour.” He looks away for a moment, and it warms your heart.

“Purple suits you, as a favourite colour I mean. Mine is green.” Your voice holds a gentleness in it that comes with caring for someone. It’s baffling. You’ve known him days. A week at most. You shouldn’t feel so… warm around him.

“Green makes sense. I think purple looks best on you though, which is definitely coming from a place of bias.” This makes you laugh, small and breathy, but he smiles at the sound.

You don’t realise how much time has passed until you hear a buzzing noise, and you both realise it’s a phone ringing. It’s coming from the other room so you assume it’s Spencer’s and he quickly gets up to answer. You can’t hear much from the wall between you, but when he comes back through looking thoroughly disappointed, you can tell it’s a work call. “Serial killers don’t stop for first dates sadly.” You remark, and he looks a little surprised.

“How did you know?” He questions, coming closer to you and you stand up to face him.

“I may not be a behavioural analyst, but I can tell what that face means. It means ‘I’m so sorry but I have to go stop murders’.” You smile to try and reassure him, but you can see the cogs whirring in his brain.

He seems to be thinking too many thoughts to process, but suddenly he dips down and kisses you. It’s short, but it’s soft, and you have a look of surprise on your face as he pulls away. “I wish we had gotten to go on our date, but I really wish that this doesn’t stop us from going on another one.” He looks at you in anticipation, and you melt.

“I wouldn’t pass it up for the world, Doc. Why don’t you go get ready and I’ll drive you there. We can plan the next one in the car.” You kiss his cheek and go to sit back down, and he shuffles away to his bedroom with a stupid smile tugging at his lips.

A/N: So… thoughts on part 3 with newly established relationship reid x reader ? Equally, thoughts on me adding smut somewhere along the line?

#criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #fem!reader

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crazybiscuit · 3 months ago

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A Daughter of Eve

Pairing: Incubus!Fyodor Dostoevsky x Nun!Reader Summary: You've caught the eye of a powerful demon. Let's see how devoted to God you really are... Warnings: MDNI, smut, inappropriate use of religion, demons, vaginal sex, dubious consent, implied somnophilia, semi public sex, corruption, loss of virginity, biting, blood, a little rough Word Count: 1978 Credits: @saradika thank you for the dividers! Translations: добыча (n) - prey; Бог (n) - God; Ангел (n) - angel; Родная (n) - darling A/N: I am not religious, so hopefully this isn’t too inaccurate (not that it really matters). Also, I'm not trying to be disrespectful. I just figured religion and demons would make sense for Fyodor. Also, I don't speak Russian but I tried my best to find the proper translations.

You didn’t even know when it all started. The sense of being watched as you did your prayers that you couldn't ignore. The feeling of a ghostly presence touching you innocently during the morning mass, reminding you that you weren’t alone. You couldn’t even get a decent night’s rest. And the dreams…

They haunt you every night and day. The dreams were always foggy. The sensation of someone, or something, feasting on your cunt as you lay there unconscious, moaning softly. Your mind only processed pleasure and you would always wake up soaked in your own arousal, breathless from your orgasm. It made you feel disgusting and miserable. However... Each night you laid in your bed, you couldn’t help but wait impatiently for those dreams.

The guilt of your actions and thoughts eventually led you to seek out help from one of the priests. It was late at night, and all of the other nuns had returned to their rooms to sleep, but you needed to repent. You quickly stepped into the confessional booth and you were relieved when you saw the silhouette of the priest on the other side. You kneeled and crossed yourself.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been two weeks since my last confession, and I accuse myself of the following sins,” You took a sharp breath before speaking up, “I’ve been having lustful thoughts and dreams, Father, and I’ve done nothing to try and stop it. I've... I’ve even pleasured myself to the thoughts.”

The priest stayed quiet for a few seconds before he spoke, his Russian accent sounding strangely familiar but also foreign, “How long has this been going on for…?”

“About two weeks, Father… This is my first time telling anyone.”

“And why is that?”

“I didn’t seek help because, ultimately, I think a part of me enjoys it… I can’t even focus on my duties without thinking about those dreams-”

The sound of the priest’s cold chuckle made a chill run down your spine. “You really can’t get me out of your head? How cute.”

His tone was condescending and you finally made eye contact with his piercing purple eyes. You didn’t even have the time to question how the man appeared next to you so quickly before he pinned you to the wall of the booth.

You yelped, shock written over your expression now that you could see him clearly. The man had long black hair, topped with curled horns. His vibrant eyes glared at you and his lips pulled into a smirk sensing your fear. His pale hands touched your cheek, his sharp nails grazing it slightly.

“What are you?” you asked with a shaky voice but you had a pretty good idea of who he might be.

“I don’t think I told you you could speak, Y/N," he growled. His frigid fingers trailed down to your throat and he wrapped them around it. He slowly began to tighten his grip, causing you to gasp for breaths.

Your fingers desperately grasped his thin wrist as you struggled to get oxygen into your lungs. Fyodor dug his claws into your throat, a few small red droplets escaping from the small cuts, "I've been studying you for about a year now..."

The demon loosened his grip, his nails softly grazing their way down to your collar, tugging on your nightgown. You screw your eyes shut in a panic, grasping at your silver rosary, "Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio, contra nequitiam et insidias diaboli esto praesidium-"

"That won't work, добыча," his sharp purple gaze analyzed your body language before ripping the silver crucifix from your hands, the beads falling to the ground as the string snapped.

You felt your eyes tearing up, panic setting in as you attempted to move away from the devil in front of you, "Imperet illi Deus, supplices deprecamur-"

Unfortunately for you, the confession booths were only so big. Your back hit the wooden wall and you cried out for your God.

"My curiosity eventually got the best of me a few weeks ago and I decided to try an experiment. You see, I have identified you as the most dedicated little lamb and I began to wonder: 'How quickly can I corrupt one of Бог's faithful little play thing?'"

You didn't stop reciting your prayer to Saint Michael, tears streaming down your face. You heard the demon shuffling and your eyes snapped open in a frenzy. Nothing could've prepared you for the sight of Fyodor on his knees before you.

"It took me a long time to finally decide what approach to take when it comes to tempting you," his accent grew thicker as he took your ankle in his hands, "One of my top contenders was driving you to gut all of your sisters at the abbey."

"God won't allow it-," your chest tightened with uneasiness and you began struggling against his grasp. This was obviously the wrong choice and the dark haired monster simply pulled your leg closer to him, causing you to slide down the wall slightly.

He then proceeded to lift your leg over his shoulder, your nightgown bushing up around your thighs. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight. You now understood exactly what Milton was trying to express when he described Lucifer as irresistible because the sight of Fyodor on his knees in front of you was enough to make you feel faint.

"But I figured this would be much more entertaining," the devil smirked, leaning forward to seemingly kiss your thigh. Your mind fought with you to stay focused on your prayer and your teachings. God will save us. But any semblance of a rational thought escaped your mind when you felt a sharp pain in your thigh.

You cried out, feeling the blood rush to the site where Fyodor bit you. The demon doesn't pull away, eager to taste the metallic and salty liquid, holding you tight as you struggle against his grasp.

Your sobs echoed through the church but Fyodor didn't seem to care. The priests were decommissioned one might say and the demon was quite exhilarated at the prospect of one of your sisters walking in on the two of you in the house of the Lord.

"Get off-," your shouts fell on deaf ears as he trails his mouth further up your thighs. The warm liquid (a stark contrast to the man's cold skin) running down your thigh filling the small booth with the sharp smell of iron.

Your body betrayed you as a small gasp fell from your lips. His mouth left open mouth kisses until he reached your bare core and your mouth fell open in silent pleasure. Your attempts to push him away had died down, your hands, which had been shoving his horns to create space between the two of you, now rested helplessly in his hair.

Your moans and gasp filled the small wooden room, back arching away from the wall as Fyodor's sharp tongue explored the depth of your cunt.

The devil appeared to be pleased with your response, feeling your legs beginning to tremble, and he pulled away with a mocking smirk. Your disappointment was visible as he stands but you refused to vocalize it. Instead, you began mumbling a prayer of repentance, which filled the purple-eyed demon with annoyance.

He grabbed your wrist, dragging you out of the confessional booth, ignoring your limp as blood continued to drip down your leg, staining your white nightgown crimson. The altar statues and stained glass figures looked down upon you and a deep sense of shame filled your heart.

Fyodor forced you to lay on one of the pews in the front row. You took a sharp inhale, not pushing him away as he began removing your nightgown, revealing your bare skin.

The sound of your breathing filled your ears as he pushed his robes aside and revealed his member. Worry flooded your mind once more as you realized your vow to God was at risk, "Please... Let me go..."

However, the devil rejoiced in your torment as he climbed on top of you and aligned himself with your entrance, "But where's the fun in that, Ангел?"

His purple glare pierced you as he looked down on you with a cold and calculating gaze and you cried out as he suddenly entered you, back arching and fingers clinging onto his stolen uniform. His thrusts were relentless and punishing, not caring that this was your first time.

Your cries soon turned to whines and moans as he maintained a steady rhythm. Your face contorted with pleasure, eyes squeezing shut, "Keep your eyes open, Ангел. I want you to see the Saints as I ruin you,"

You attempted to shake your head but he grabbed your cheeks, nails digging into your skin painfully, forcing you to open your eyes and look up at him. The scene above you was strangely ethereal as the horrifyingly beautiful man looked down on you, his head surrounded with the colorful stained glass as he carefully reached down, brushing his thumb against your lower lip, and you felt your walls clamp down around his cock.

"I think you have still not completely forsaken your god," he whispered, leaning closer to you, lips brushing against your pulse as he stopped thrusting.

You audibly whimpered as he pulled out of you and sat down on the pew. You sat up, confused by why he stopped. You hesitated slightly, using your arms to cover your chest in a pathetic attempt to regain some dignity, "Father...?"

"If you want more, you'll have to work for it and give yourself up to me," he said with a cocky grin, his hair slightly disheveled from our prior activities. You couldn't deny your body craved for more but your pride did prevent you from eagerly sitting on his lap.

It took you a few minutes to finally give into your instincts and you hesitantly sank onto his lap, whining at the stretch inside you. Without thinking, you suddenly kissed the demon, a tugging sensation nagging you in the back of your mind.

Fyodor kept a careful eye on you as you kissed him, amused to finally see you submit. He closed his eyes, deepening the kiss as you tried your best to start riding him.

The devil nipped your tongue in the fiery kiss, causing you to bleed slightly, and he gently sucked on it. You moaned against his lips as his hands drifted to your hips to help you speed up the pace.

Your hands grabbed onto his hair, tugging at his roots as you continued to kiss him feverishly. Your boobs bounced, matching the rhythm Fyodor set and you felt the sensation you had grown far too familiar with overtake you as you moaned.

Your body shuddered as you came, walls clenching around Fyodor's dick tightly. For the first time of the night, you also saw his expression falter for a split second as he shut his purple eyes and let out a sharp exhale before cumming deep into your womb.

Despite reaching your peaks, Fyodor didn't stop to thrust up into you, almost as if he were trying to make sure his load stayed inside of you. Your whines began to fill his ears as you complained about overstimulation and, in the most shocking turn of events, the demon listened to you, pulling out.

You struggled to catch your breath, still leaning against the cold inhumane creature overwhelmed. Fyodor looked down at you and pondered for a few seconds.

Just as you prepared yourself to stand and get dressed, Fyodor's hand moved to your chin and made you look up to him.

"You can call me Fyodor," he said, purple eyes piercing through yours, "Your soul and body now belong to me forever, Родная."

#fyodor dostoevsky x reader #fyodor x reader #fyodor x you #demon!fyodor #nun!reader #smut #halloween fic #october #october fic #bsd #bungou stray dogs

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r0ttenhearts · 1 year ago

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cold greetings

cheater! scaramouche x reader

sypnosis: after taking scaramouche back from a nasty breakup-situationship he isn’t the same

warnings: cheating, angst, mean scara

“scara?” your voice almost trembled, seeing him standing on your doorstep. his cheeks and nose were reddened from the cold but a sorrowed look graced his features. he looked as if he had been crying, dark streaks down his cheeks as his cold hand gripped onto the hand you held against the door.

“(y/n)..” he whispered, gaze onto the snowy white carpet of snow on your steps. the lingering resentment held awkwardly in the air. it was almost like an unspoken promise.

the anger and resentment you still held for him kept you guarded. his tears wouldn’t sway you. not this time.

“i just, i wanna talk to you. you don’t have to say anything but i have to say this to you, or i’m afraid i’ll never get a chance to again.” he spoke softly, almost tenderly. it was as if the cruelty he had hurled towards you not too long ago never happened.

“okay. talk, but then you’re out.” you hesitantly stood aside and let his shaking figure inside. it almost felt nostalgic to see him sitting at your kitchen table again. the pink on his cheeks and the thick scarf around his neck did nothing to hide the feeling you got seeing him like this, once again.

taking a seat in front of him, you noticed the way he wouldn’t meet your gaze. his focus on his fingernails, lap, the salt shaker, anything but you.

he let out a heavy sigh before looking up at you. his eye bags seemed darker than they were the last time you saw him.

“i know i have no excuse to be here. i shouldn’t be, i know that. i hate how we ended things (y/n). it’s been you and i for years, and i miss you. i miss having you around, i miss seeing your face and hearing your voice.” a shake exhale left his lips as he sat there. guilt written all across his face. “i shouldn’t have left you that way (y/n). not when you needed me the most.” he whispered the last part, knowing how much he had hurt you.

how much he had fucked up.

memories of that night flashed back to your mind. his anger, that glare he held as he tormented you with the details of the new girl that occupied his mind. his loud laughs at your feeble attempt to show him that you didn’t need him.

it still hurt, even now. you shook your head, feeling that familiar pain again. “i can’t just forgive you scara. that was really fucked up.”

“i know (y/n), and i’m sorry. i really am. it’s just.. i’ve been thinking about it more with the holiday’s coming up. i don’t want to start a year without you in my life.”

you bit your lip back at that. your sense of nostalgia was something that kept you with him for as long as you did. you yearned for the comfort of the past, begged for it. it was the one thing that felt safe, memories.

with some reluctance, you let him back into your life. he seemed different. he was more willing to do activities with you, things he had refused to do once before. some of his belongings had found a place in your home. it felt good to be around him. almost as if you two were young again, discovering the deeper parts of your relationship together as foolish teens.

but.. if it felt so good why was he so distant now? you paused, standing in the doorway of his bedroom. it was dark except for the bright game on his monitor illuminating a corner of his room, headset on his ears as he clicked away. not paying you any mind.

“hey, scara? you said tonight we could watch—“

“i do not care (y/n). let me play my damn game, won’t you? i have more important things to do than watch something i don’t care about because of your whining.”

oh. oh. without another word you slipped away, quietly leaving his apartment. if he wanted to be alone so bad he could have his alone time. to hell with him! you thought to yourself. you wouldn’t spill any tears, not this time.

you went to bed alone that night. hugging yourself and wondering why he had to repeat history, once again. you had lost count of how many times this had happened before. he would always come crawling back to you once his life fell apart, using your weakness for the bittersweet past you’d longed for.

sighing, you rolled over on your side. you wouldn’t bother him anymore, not with how things were going. you were done with him. done!

you tensed at the feeling of cold hands around your waist, warm breath hitting the nape of your neck as your bed dipped slightly behind you. “i’m sorry (y/n).. that was a dick move.”

you scoffed, shrugging his hand off of your shoulder as best as you could. “i’m tired of this scara.” you said quietly. “i’m tired of you doing this to me. it’s been years, and you never stay the same.” you say with a sigh.

scaramouche muttered apologies as he kissed along your neck. his cold hands finding a place on your stomach now as he caressed you. “i’m sorry (y/n). i’ll be better.”

a small smile flashed across your face once he turned you onto your back, leaning down to meet your lips. the kiss felt warm, unlike the cold indifferent kisses you would press against his chapped lips.

he spent the night in your bed, holding you and reminding you of the promise you had made to each other as kids. “i will always stick with you, despite who i meet along the way.”

you woke up groggy the next day, reaching out to the space next to you only to find it empty. with a yawn you made your way to your bedroom door, opening it but pausing once you heard scaramouche’s voice. he was talking to someone, but who?

“yeah i know babe. i’ll be over by tonight. i’m just busy with work stuff, you know how it is. don’t let childe come. alright bye, see you later. i love you.”

you didn’t think as you walked up to him, grabbing his phone out of his hand and slamming it onto the table next to him. “what the fuck? are you fucking serious?”

“what (y/n)? she’s just a friend. don’t get so bitchy.”

you scoffed, shoving him back as hard as you could. your hands trembled with anger. he had betrayed you again. you stupidly believed he had learned.

“fuck you. i’m done, done with this game. get the fuck out and never come back.” he didn’t say a word as he went back into your room, grabbing his jacket and leaving you there. alone.

you didn’t cry, not at first. you were too angry to cry, all you wanted to do was scream. it seemed so good while it lasted. you believed it was the last time, the last time of being apart and being no contact for months until things would fall apart for him. the way it always did.

it took months to rebuild your life without him. he hadnt reached out, not once. but inbetween drinks with kazuha you would hear about him. his new relationship, how nice his new girlfriend was. it made the drinks taste more bitter as you’d gulp them down.

once it was june you’d find yourself with kazuha on most days. your shared laughs throughout the night turned into interlocked fingers on the sheets of your bed. it was the first time in a long time that you felt good about having a relationship with someone. like a new phase of your life had begun.

a knock on your door one stormy night brought all of this to a halt. you half expected to see kazuha there as you swung open the door. “kazu- oh.” your smile fell seeing who it was. it wasn’t your white haired lover, but your ex situationship from what seemed to be forever ago. the rain slid down his dark hair as his hand went to touch yours, but you retracted it just as fast. it was just like that day in december.

“can we talk, (y/n)?”

taglist: @whorerificstuff @sakiimeo @astrolomona @dearsumire @saeism @shoheartluv @0kauy @lelemnh @aqualesha @msdevilis @linkookie197 @berriiov @xiaonscaraswife @foxlover1144 @reblog-crazily @samarill

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

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cluelessteam · 4 months ago

Text

Whispers Through Time: {~Shadows of Suspicion~}

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Word Count: 1383

Tag List: @snowtargaryen

Chapter 6 --- Chapter 7

The tension in King’s Landing was mounting.

You could feel the shift in the air every time you walked through the castle’s halls. Eyes lingered on you for just a moment too long, hushed whispers followed your movements, and the weight of suspicion grew heavier with each passing day. The silent game of intrigue you had started was becoming more dangerous than you ever anticipated.

Daemon’s words haunted you. Secrets don’t stay hidden forever, Y/N.

He had known. Or at least, suspected. And Rhaenyra—there was no doubt in your mind that she had already started connecting the dots. The princess had become colder in your presence, her once friendly demeanor replaced by something much more calculating.

You had managed to keep your secrets for this long, but how much longer could you maintain the facade?

You sat in the dim light of your chambers, a piece of parchment laid before you. The next warning was written carefully, the ink still drying as you watched the words you had

crafted to change the course of history. Each note you left was like a ripple in the timeline, spreading outward and impacting events in ways you could never fully control.

The next message was vital—one that would steer Rhaenyra’s decisions in a crucial way, altering the fragile balance of power.

But this time, you hesitated.

The previous close encounters with both Rhaenyra and Daemon had shaken you more than you cared to admit. Your heart still pounded at the memory of Daemon’s smirk, his quiet threat, and Rhaenyra’s piercing gaze as she subtly questioned your every move. One wrong step, and it could all come crashing down.

Yet you couldn’t stop. Too much was at stake now. You had already planted the seeds, and now they had to be watered. Carefully, delicately, you folded the note, preparing to deliver it when the time was right.

You hadn’t seen Daemon in the last few days, and part of you had hoped that perhaps his interest had waned. But when you least expected it, he made his presence known.

It was late in the evening when you found yourself outside in the garden courtyard, seeking solace in the cool night air. The stars above twinkled faintly, and the quiet hum of the distant city offered a rare sense of peace.

“Out enjoying the evening, are we?” a familiar voice drawled from behind you.

Your pulse quickened, but you forced yourself to remain calm as you turned to see Daemon standing just a few paces away, his usual smirk plastered across his face.

“I needed some air,” you replied evenly, your heart racing despite your calm tone.

Daemon stepped closer, his hands casually resting at his sides, though you could feel the tension radiating from him. He studied you for a long moment, his gaze sharp and probing.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice low and dangerously smooth, “about you.”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “About me, my lord?”

Daemon took another step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re quite the enigma, aren’t you? Appearing out of nowhere, earning the favor of the princess, slipping through the cracks like a shadow.”

Your mind raced, searching for a response that would divert his attention without raising further suspicion. “I serve the realm, as any loyal subject should,” you said carefully, avoiding his direct challenge.

His smirk deepened. “Do you, though?”

Before you could reply, Daemon leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Everyone here has a role to play. I wonder—what’s yours?”

You forced yourself to hold his gaze, even though every instinct screamed at you to run. Daemon was no fool. He was testing you, pushing your limits to see how far he could go before you broke.

But you couldn’t break. Not now.

“I am but a healer, my lord,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. “Nothing more.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, you thought he might press further. But then, just as quickly as the tension had risen, it dissipated. He straightened, his smirk returning to its usual playful expression.

“We’ll see,” he said cryptically before turning and walking away, leaving you standing there in the dark garden, your heart still racing from the encounter.

You had passed his test this time, but how much longer could you keep this up?

The following morning, the air in the castle was buzzing with anticipation. A high-ranking visitor had arrived at court, though the details were being kept under wraps. You could hear the servants whispering about it in the corridors, speculating on who it could be and what their business might entail.

You knew better than to ask questions openly, but your curiosity burned all the same. The arrival of someone important always shifted the balance of power in subtle ways, and you couldn’t afford to be caught off guard.

As the day wore on, you noticed the increased activity within the Red Keep. Servants rushed about, preparing for what you assumed would be a private meeting between the royal family and their guest. It was clear that whatever business was being conducted, it was meant to stay behind closed doors.

But then, by sheer chance, you overheard a conversation between two courtiers that set your mind spinning.

“It is him, isn’t it?” one of the courtiers whispered, glancing around nervously.

The other nodded, lowering their voice. “Yes. The Prince of Dorne.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The Prince of Dorne? Here?

You couldn’t help but feel a spark of intrigue. The presence of Dorne in King’s Landing meant there were discussions of alliances—or, worse yet, potential conflict. This was information that could change everything if used wisely.

And it was information that Rhaenyra needed to know. But how?

The weight of the folded parchment felt heavier in your hands than ever before as you made your way through the shadowy corridors of the Red Keep. You had to be even more careful now, knowing that Daemon’s eyes were on you and Rhaenyra’s suspicions had grown.

The Prince of Dorne’s arrival was significant. You couldn’t ignore it. But you also couldn’t deliver the note in the usual place—not after your recent encounters. You needed to be smarter, more careful.

You made your way to the hidden alcove in a part of the Keep that was seldom used. The old stone walls loomed around you, the only sound the soft echo of your footsteps. You checked your surroundings carefully, ensuring that no one had followed you.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting in the silence, you slipped the folded note into the small crevice in the stone. It was a new hiding spot—one you had discovered by chance—but it was discreet enough that only someone who knew where to look would ever find it.

You took a deep breath, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease slightly. The warning was delivered. Now, all you could do was wait and hope that it reached the right hands.

But as you turned to leave, a flicker of movement in the shadows caught your eye.

You froze, your heart leaping into your throat.

Someone had been watching you.

You could feel the blood drain from your face as you stood there, paralyzed with fear. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still as you tried to process what had just happened. Someone had been following you. But who?

Had Daemon sent someone to spy on you? Had Rhaenyra finally figured out that you were the one leaving the notes?

Your mind raced, but there was no time to think. You had to move—now.

Without looking back, you quickly made your way down the corridor, your footsteps soft but swift. You couldn’t let them catch you. You couldn’t let them know that you had seen them. Whoever it was, they had been careful, staying in the shadows, watching from a distance. But their presence had been undeniable.

You didn’t stop until you reached the safety of your chambers, your heart still pounding in your chest. Whoever was following you knew something—and that knowledge could be your undoing.

You were running out of time. The game of shadows and secrets had just become much more dangerous.

#house of the dragon #rhaenyra x daemon #rhaenyra x reader #daemon x reader #rhaenyra x reader x daemon #daemon x reader x rhaenyra #daemyra x reader #hotd x reader #Whispers Through Time

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