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writing-in-april · 4 years ago

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Training wheels

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Years later after Spencer teaches Reader to drive even though he hates driving, Reader becomes good enough to ride a motorcycle they get him to come along on a ride.

A/N: hey heyyyy- this is my seventeenth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April! This fic is based on this request- which I decided to make smutty instead of full on smut so I could make it a bit more fluffy. Disclaimer- I know nothing about motorcycles and I can’t even drive lol so sorry for the lack of terminology. This ended up being gender neutral- I checked it over for the correct pronouns a few time but I could have missed something- please let me know if so! Feel free to give me your response by sending something to my inbox here. Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy.

Warnings: 18+- (if you are found to be violating this I will tell writers who you are), no full on smut- in the smutty/spicy category, a bit of grinding, implications about having sex in the future, In public sexual teasing (who’s fucking surprised), hints at Sub!Spencer, A few swear words

Main Masterlist Word Count: 2.0k

Spencer hated driving. He always shook whenever he couldn’t stop the racing thoughts about the dangers of moving vehicles. He knew he was a good driver, but it was easier for him to trust the metro which stayed on its tracks (most of the time). A car with no rigid path and with so many variables just made Spencer’s mind race too much.

You were the only person that could get him to get into a car, without any sort of coercion. At his job he had accepted it as a reality of his situation; there was no way that he could get around it. He agreed to teach you how to drive to your job, which happened to be where you had met him. You ran a small thrift store just walking distance from your apartment. There had been no need to drive anywhere, until you opened up another branch on the other side of town.

You had met Spencer there, he had come in at night, just before close. He shopped around for a few sweater vests and cardigans until you had told him that you needed to close. His mumbled apology had been so cute you remember it to this day.

When he noticed that you walked home in the same direction as his, he offered to keep you company. At first you thought he had done it out of guilt since he made you stay late, until you realized he liked your presence. It was not a romantic relationship (not yet at least), you both didn’t kiss or anything, but you did love to tease him.

He cared about you, and you about him, which is why he eagerly offered to teach you to drive when you mentioned that you were scared to learn with an instructor. You preferred to be taught by someone who you knew and knew was a good driver. Spencer was just that, even with jittery fingers and tapping feet.

Since then you had become a great driver, good enough that you felt confident indulging in one of your dreams. You had always wanted a motorcycle, the wind blowing in your face and the freeing quality it had, had always made you desire one. Despite Spencer’s protests about the potential for even more safety hazards than a car you still indulged your dream, confident in your skills that Spencer had laid the foundation with his excellent teaching skills even while slightly fearful.

You had taken to it like a fish to water, it had been even easier than when you had Spencer teach you. Now it was the time to show the master how the apprentice approved, though you highly doubted Spencer liked to be called a master at driving. More like a teacher, a nervous one.

It did take some convincing for him to agree to ride on your motorcycle with you.Somehow, through gentle persuasion throughout the last few months, you had done it. He had prefaced it saying that it would be the only time it would ever happen, and you made it your goal to change his opinion. You highly doubted he’d ever want to drive it, which was fair considering he couldn’t stop the thoughts of statistics about safety in his head. You hoped though, that maybe he’d like riding with you.

“Is it safe?” Was his first question as soon as he arrived at your small thrift store you owned, jittery with nerves.

“Well- hello to you too.” You sassed cocking your hip to the side while holding your helmet in the small of your waist. He blushed bashfully, then finally said hello before you assured him, “I wouldn’t be bringing you if it wasn’t safe- I wouldn’t be driving it if it wasn’t safe.”

“Ok- I trust you.” He relaxed a little, though he was obviously still nervous.

To cheer him up a little you pivoted the conversation onto a more jovial topic, “Will you wear a leather jacket?”

“Maybe next time- if you convince me to get on the death trap again.” It was rare to see Spencer tease you back, but you thoroughly enjoyed it.

Quipping back you said, “Maybe I could get you to drive it too”

“I think I’d need training wheels for that.” A snort came out of you at that; it was funny imagining Spencer riding a motorcycle with bicycle training wheels.

“That would be a sight to see.” You swung your leg on to mount the vehicle, ready to take him on a spin. You then prompted him while getting your helmet on, “Come on pretty boy, let’s do this- and get that helmet on.”

He was a little nervous just going by the shaking in his palms, but he still put the helmet on and climbed on- albeit a bit awkwardly.

He wrapped his hands around your waist snugly when you roared the motorcycle to life. Whenever you had to break he clenched tighter, maybe not enough to leave bruises, but enough that it would be implanted in your memory for a good long while. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel him.

You could tell he had slowly relaxed a little bit more even while keeping a strong grip on you as you made your looped path charted out in your head. Starting at your store and ending at your store, it was longer than maybe it should have been, considering Spencer’s grip on you had made your arousal spark to life.

You soon realized you weren’t the only one enjoying this, feeling something slightly stiff as Spencer shifted slightly at a red light. Oh, he was enjoying it. His cock confined in his pants was growing harder as the journey progressed.

“Did you have fun?” You questioned just as you pulled back into where you started, even though you already knew he did.

He squeaked out a measly, “Yeah!”

You smirked again, out of sight from his face. Biting your inner cheek in thought, you contemplated whether or not to act on it. It would be so easy to just swivel your hips and begin to grind down on his erection that had been pressing into you during the whole ride.

Fuck it, this might be one of your only chances to make a move. You tilted your hips just a smidge, leaning back just a little into him. You heard a hitch in his breath, his hands he had around you tightening back around you, pulling you in closer.

He whimpered when you sat back a little more, testing the waters just a little further. When he himself rolled his own hips once you had to ask, “Do you want me to keep going, Spencer? Do you want this?”

His helmeted head dropped into the crook of your neck, nodding into it as he began to rock into you a little. You gripped around the handles that you were still holding, all you had done was break so far. You were both in broad daylight perched on top of the vehicle. Turning your head as much as you could when you realized he hadn’t verbally responded you prompted sharply, “I need you to speak up, pretty boy. Do you want this?”

“Yes!” He gasped quickly at your prompt.

You then ground yourself back onto his bulge, rotating yourself slowly to feel the torturous friction. The fact that your bottom halves were still clothed only made it even more devastating. No one was around as it was the weekend, when you weren’t open and no one was really around. You still tried to stifle any noises you were tempted to make as his own hips started to undulate into your own.

A person could round the corner and immediately see two people grinding like teenagers onto each other. You both may have been completely closed, but it was quite obvious what you were both doing.

The extra friction you were getting was building a burning orgasm in you, the noises you had been trying to hold back were too hard to stifle. A moan came out of your mouth when Spencer moved down his hands from your waist to the outside of your hips, pulling you down on him with even more ferocity.

When his phone then began to ring you both let out a groan, your hips stopping any movement you had been making over his hard bulge. He reluctantly pulled out his ringing and buzzing ancient phone. Which you would normally find endearing that he carried around somewhat arcane technology, but your weaning arousal was wanting you to smash it on the ground.

“Hello? Hotch?” You groaned, knowing exactly what this meant. There was no way this was going to go further tonight, Hotch wasn’t calling him on the weekend just for paperwork. He was about to leave for a case.

You ripped your helmet off of your head out of frustration while he continued to talk. Grumbling while wiping the sweat that had started to accumulate, Spencer chattering away quickly at Hotch telling him he’ll be there in about ten minutes.

When he got off the phone he began to stammer in apology, this was the only time I’d ever want to cut him off, “There’s no need to apologize- go catch a bad guy.”

“Thank you- and thanks for-r the ride and- um the other thing… I’ve got to go now, I’ll uh- talk to you later.” He then awkwardly shuffled off, trying to conceal his obvious bulge even though you were the only one around to see it.

When he got into his car, you were happy he had brought it for once. You wouldn’t have let him walk all the way to his office from here, and you would have had to drive him with his bulge pressing into your ass again.

“I’m gonna need a cold shower.” You added, mumbled underneath your back as you put your helmet back on, ready to drive back to your apartment to hopefully freeze your frustration away.

—-

The next time you saw him- about a week later, a little blush immediately graced his cheeks, probably thinking about what happened last time. You kissed his cheek and felt how hot they had gotten just by being in his presence. He was here again, early this time, ready for you to open up your shop for the day.

“You’ve got to wait 30 minutes until you can buy something, I don’t open till then,” You then flashed a smirk towards him, he might die from being overheated if you kept teasing him. Still, you continued to do it, “Can’t be seen to show you any favors, pretty boy. Then everyone would want one.” As soon as the keys turned to unlock you didn’t open the door right away, instead turning back to face him. He fidgeted even more underneath your direct gaze, also averting his eyes. You let go of your hold on the keys, bit your lip and added, “Though, I think you’d be the only one I’d want to be my favorite.

He stuttered a bit at that, before changing the subject, “Um- I came here to actually thank you for last week… I had a lot of fun.”

You then cocked your head to the side in question, “Didn’t you already thank me last time?”

“Yeah.” He responded meekly, clearing his throat a few times while he collected his thoughts. “Can we finish what we started?”

You beamed, as it had been exactly what you were hoping for. You made your way back over to him, this time to pull him by the front of his shirt to press a steaming kiss to his lips. He moaned, letting your tongue run over his teeth a few times before you deepened it further. You were panting by the time you released him, but worked through the gasping breaths to answer verbally now, “Of course- come inside with me. If you won’t go on another ride with me after this while wearing a leather jacket, I’ve got a leather jacket you can wear while I ride you.”

Ask Me Anything

—-

Tag lists (fill out this form to join):

All Works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @spenxerslut @boxofsparklingmuses @katexrichardson@takeyourleap-of-faith

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99 @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat @anaagraceeberr @ashcakes1918 @reid-me-a-story @cosmic-psychickitty

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @spenxerslut @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat

Sub Spencer: @thatsonezesty13 @pastathighs @virtualpeanutartisanjudge @calm-and-doctor @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg #mgg x reader #30 fics in 30 days

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sir-crocodile-smile · 4 years ago

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Hello Smile, I saw your inbox opening and thought I'd try my chances! Could we get some headcanons for first times (e.g. first meeting, first kiss, first date...) headcanons for Sanji and Law? Thank you in advance, I hope you're having a great time. ♡

OMG MY FIRST REQUEST (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))

I will try to do these boys justice! I’m fairly new so pls bear with me!

Sanji

First Meeting

Ah, my son!! look at my beautiful boy

Sanji saw you while you were working at a stall in a market on your home island and immediately swooned

He spun like a top over to you, full heart-eyes, asking if the beautiful angel on earth before him would grace him with the knowledge of her name

He immediately follows up with introducing himself, asking if you would be so kind as to dine with him this evening

“Sure! Why not?” You giggle. And Sanji is. Shocked.

This. Never. Works. And yet here you are, smiling like the sun.

His face turns red as he stumbles over his words now, eyes still hearts but now he’s too flustered to make direct eye contact

He didn’t know it, but from this moment forward, his life would change

First Date

Your first date is that evening, as promised. Sanji prepares a delightful mix of food for you, since he isn’t sure what you like yet, and brings you on a picnic on a grassy hill

(this totally isn’t him freaking out that you actually said yes. not at all. he completely intended this 100% and is not one bit flying by the seat of his pants. he’s completely lying to himself calm)

He’s a perfect gentleman, treating this picnic blanket like the finest restaurant in the world

The food is amazing of course, and he takes mental notes on what you like, blushing so hard when you complement it that you’re worried he might pass out

He starts to relax a little and ask you about your life, get to know you some more. He’s not expecting you to be so interested in his life, his adventures with the Strawhat crew, but feels his heart come through his shirt when he sees how your face lights up with each story

The date ends, and he walks you home, bending to place a single kiss on the back of your hand before you go

First Kiss

You traded den-den mushi numbers before the Strawhats left the island. You and Sanji call each other regularly, usually when he’s cooking

He looks forward to talking with you so much. The second he hears your voice he shouts “Y/N -SWAAAAN!!! I missed your beautiful voice!!! How are you today?”

He thinks about you all the time, wondering how you are, missing your smile. The ache in his chest every time he thinks of you becomes unbearable

One night while on a call with him you sigh dreamily, “I wish I could go on adventures with you all”. He gets very quiet, asking if that’s what you really want.

As soon as he says yes, he’s out of the kitchen like a shot, begging Luffy to turn around. He bribes Luffy with promises of great food, and that you’d make a great addition to the crew. He’s so passionate, tears starting to well in his eyes, and when Luffy and the crew see how important you are to Sanji, of course they let you join!

Sanji is first off the ship when they arrive, running to you at full speed. You open your arms to him and he lifts you by your waist and spins you around, both of you laughing

When he finally calms down from the thrill of seeing you again, he sets you down and asks you quietly if this is what you truly want. The life of a pirate is dangerous, it’s unpredictable, but if you want to come with him, he swears to protect you no matter what it takes.

Your arms hug around his neck as you tell him there’s nothing you want more. Your faces are so close together, noses nearly touching. You can feel the heat coming from his blushing face. He slowly, gently leans in for a soft, tender kiss, communicating without words how much he cares for you.

And then poor Sanji goes directly into cardiac arrest lol

Omg this turned into a mini-fic. I probably spent too long on this but idc! It’s my first request, it gets to be special.

Law under the cut b/c LONG

Law

First Meeting

Law firsts spots you when he’s conducting research at a library on his route through the Grand Line. At first it’s with a little annoyance in his eyes; you’re reading one of the books he was interested in

But he’s a patient man, he can read something else while waiting for you to finish. You catch him staring at you multiple times, his intense eyes burning a hole in you

Eventually you just ask him what the hell his problem is. He smirks, and tells you not to be so jumpy. He’s just waiting for you to finish with that book

You, to his surprise, suggest he just sit next to you and read over your shoulder. He’s tall enough to. He hesitates. You playfully joke, “Come on, I don’t bite”. You don’t seem to be intimidated by him at all

You read together for a good while, both politely pausing to let the other take notes. Law hums every now and again when he reads something that catches his attention. At some point he gets so absorbed in the text that he starts to lean closer, his breath ghosting over your neck

You don’t see a single word on that page

“Shame I missed the first part...” he mutters when you both are done. You smile and offer to copy the notes you made and give them to him. His eyebrows pop up in surprise and a slow, relaxed smile begins to spread on his face

“Same time tomorrow...” he begins, flipping open the cover of the book to read your name on the check-out slip. “Y/N-ya?” Your face grows hot as you nod to him, tongue-tied.

He walks away casually, before you remember to ask for his name

First Date

You and Law are doing research together, as you usually do. He stretches, letting out a yawn

“I need coffee. You coming with me, Y/N-ya?”

Of course you do. How can you say no to this man?

He insists on paying for you both, teasing that there’s no way your pockets go as deep as his (he’s right, but heyyy)

You make casual conversation, both sipping on your coffee and enjoying the break from research. The conversation lulls, but it’s a comfortable silence as you gaze out the window of the cafe.

Something brushes your fingertips. You turn to see Law’s fingertips just barely interlaced with yours. He’s looking out the window, avoiding your eyes

In this moment, the strong, capable captain of the Heart Pirates looks timid, like your hand is a bear trap he’s reaching into against his better judgement. You gently move your hand closer to his, thumb brushing the tattoos on his fingers to soothe him

He lets out a breath he was holding in, small smile coming to his face, warmth spreading in his chest

You guys definitely argue about whether this was technically a date or not later lol

First Kiss

“You stay right here, Y/N-ya”, Law says, setting you down in a hiding spot away from the violence and commotion that broke out

You argue with him. You can fight! He knows you can. You are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, and he shouldn’t go out there alone

This is not up for discussion in Law’s opinion. He’s a cautious man to his core, but this was a little extreme

You’re already pushing past him to head into the fray with your comrades when he grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you back

You’re about to yell when his lips are on yours, stealing your thoughts and breath. He kisses you fiercely, passionately, pulling away to gasp for breath

You’re both a little stunned as he rests his forehead to yours

“I need you to be safe...” he whispers. You nod, not willing to argue with him anymore after realizing how much he cares about you

He steals one more kiss, softly this time but with so much need, before turning to join his crew in the fight

HOO BOY that was a lot!! I hope things weren’t too OOC, this is my first time writing for these lovely boys. I hope you enjoy this!!

#one piece #one piece imagine #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #one piece sanji #trafalgar law #law x reader #one piece law #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #I will not write sanji having a nosebleed sue me

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 4 years ago

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Can I get a little drabble about a female somebody getting a sneak peak at Thrawn training and just being entranced by it coz like... There's nothing hotter really. Also fighting like a Chiss it's probably rather fascinating.

A/N: Reminder that requests are closed. This is just me clearing out my inbox. And please REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS!!!

(Also this can totally be read as an in between little scene with the Captain x Thrawn from More Than Sufficient)

You hadn’t meant to stare.

What you had meant to do was enter Thrawn’s office and present your report. Chances were he would ask you detailed questions, ask for your opinion, and inevitably allow you to return to your duties. If you were lucky, he’d give you one of his rare smile before you left. The one that made your chest swell and your pulse race.

You would have savored the moment, as you always did whenever you and Thrawn were alone, but it would strictly be business. It rarely was anything else.

What you hadn’t expected was to see Thrawn out of uniform, battling several combat droids at once.

You had known the side door to his office lead to a personal training room, but you had never seen it used, let alone open.

However, as soon as you stepped into the corridor leading to his office, your eyes were met by a flood of white light and the sound of flesh on metal. You quickly turned the corner only to stop immediately in your tracks. The only word that came to mind was, memorizing.

Thrawn moved with a fluidity and purpose of motion you had never seen before. Not a single blow was second guess or block faltered. Even with three droids going at once, he was aware of each of their moments while never keeping his eyes off his main aggressor.

You stood agape, you eyes glued to the spectacle.

His breath came hard, but controlled. You could just make out beads of sweat beginning to permeate his brow.

One of the droid swung it’s arm directly towards Thrawn’s head.

He blocked with ease, his forearm catching the brunt of the blow. The muscles of his arm strained on impact, causing them to bulge and flex. Heat spread to your cheeks at the sight. You were suddenly very aware that this was the first time you had seen Thrawn’s arms fully exposed.

His uniform did not do him justice.

“May I help you, Captain,” Thrawn asked.

If your cheeks were warm before, they were on fire now. Your eyes darted from your commanding officer’s muscles and straight to his glowing red eyes.

He did not seem bothered by your staring. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he was enjoying your discomfort.

“I came to give my report, sir,” you said, mustering back what dignity you could manage. “But if you’re busy, I can come back later.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

He then turned back to the droid, shouting an order in a language you did not recognize. It’s meaning became clear, however, as the droid immediately powered down. He then walked to the side of the room and grabbed a towel off the rack.

He turned his back to you and the urge to stare came back in full force.

The exercise top his was wearing clung perfectly to his back, allowing you a perfect view of his muscles.

You had always known Thrawn to be an intelligent and capable warrior, but you never fully appreciated until this moment how strong he must be as well. You wanted to reach out and feel his strength for yourself.

But, before you could allow your mind to wander down this path, he reached for his uniform jacket and pulled it on.

It was probably for the best. You didn’t need any more distractions.

To your surprise, however, he did not button up the jacket to it’s proper place. He, instead, left it open, giving you just a clear a view of his chest as he did his back only moment ago.

He walked back to you and it took everything in your power to keep your eyes focused on his face.

He stop just in front of you and silently offered his hand, palm up.

You recognized the gesture for what is was and handed him the data pad.

He took it from you, but instead of scrolling through the report or even just dismissing you, he kept his gaze locked on yours.

“Did you find the exercise informative, Captain?” he asked.

“Sir?”

He nodded to one of the combat droids. “You seemed rather transfixed. I was curious about what part of the training held your interest.”

He turned his attention back to you. There was no denying it now. He was teasing you.

A part of you felt embarrassed at being caught, but another deeper part felt warm, almost hopeful. He knew you were staring, but instead of reprimanding you or pretending it didn’t happen, Thrawn came back with a well meaning jab. There was a familiarity to it you never expected. It felt good.

Still, he had come for your pride, and you did have some self-respect.

“It was very interesting,” you said, keeping your voice noticeably professional. “I have never seen anybody move like that. It’s certainly not how we were trained at the academy.”

“Certainly not,” he agreed. “The techniques I utilized are specific to the Chiss Ascendancy.”

“So all do all Chiss officers keep their training rooms open for their subordinates to see?”

“Only to those they wish to show.”

Something in his voice changed at the words. The smooth timbre of his voice became low. His eyes darkened, and you became rooted to the spot

Your mouth went dry. Your pulse quickened. But, you somehow manged to find your voice.

“And what did you want me to see?”

He paused, taking in every inch of your face. You let him, as you always did, not daring to move a muscle until he finished his examination. Finally his gaze once again came into focus.

“A different perspective,” he said.

You blinked in confusion, but Thrawn gave you no further answers. He turned his attention to the data pad you had handed him and the tension dissipated.

“Have you been able to find any further information on Fulcrum,” he asked.

“Not yet, sir” you said, surprising yourself on how easily you slipped back into your respective positions. “A number of our spies reported back, but their sightings lack consistency. I organized them as best I could, drawing note to any similarities I was able to find. I also ran them by Commander Vanto for any other patterns I might have missed, given his expertise in shipping manifestos.”

A small approving smile came to Thrawn’s lips. It had the effect of softening his features, which did nothing to help your already confused heart.

“Thank you, Captain. I’m sure your efforts will prove more than sufficient. Dismissed.”

You nodded in acknowledgement, trying to suppress the pleasant tingle in your stomach at his words before turning and walking back down the corridor.

Another smile to tuck away into your memory. Another moment to savor. Another one to question.

Maybe it was all in your head and you were reading too much into the subtext of his words. But, you could hope. There was no true harm in hoping.

#grand admiral thrawn #thrawn #thrawn x reader #grand admiral thrawn x reader #star wars #sw rebels #timothy zahn #thrawn x captain

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lupinsx · 5 years ago

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What You Do to Me

masterlist

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: Ever since the beginning of your fifth year, Draco became unpleasant towards you, and you’re determined to find out why.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Kissing, but that’s about it.

a/n — Hello, this is my first writing prompt on here. Feel free to request a one-shot in my inbox and I’ll try to get back to you as soon as possible!

——————————

"And then she had the audacity to run away! Can you believe her?"

A chorus of exaggerated gasps and responses echoed in the Slytherin common room. You gave a light chuckle at the nature of your friends as you took a sip from the bottle of butterbeer laying around before briefly glancing up at the clock.

Blaise, Pansy, Theo, Daphne, Draco, and you laid sprawled across the couches and floor of the common room. It was a usual thing for you guys to hang out there before curfew whenever an escape from studies was collectively needed. Given the intensity of a fifth year's workload, it was nearly every other day when you guys would gather together with some drinks for a couple hours. You weren't complaining, though — this is much rather preferred than working on Snape's essays.

You suddenly put down your bottle and stood up hazily while brushing down your skirt. Five pair of eyes instantaneously turned towards your way as you shot them an apologetic smile. "Sorry, but I promised my brother I'd meet up with him and his friends in the library."

It wasn't uncommon for you to receive disapproving looks whenever your brother and his Gryffindor friends were brought up. You chose to ignore it, as they never verbally expressed their dislike towards them. Until now, when Draco Malfoy decided he suddenly had something to say.

“Those Gryffindors? You could do so much better," he remarked without sparing you a glance. You scoffed at his immaturity and crossed your arms against your chest.

"I don't recall asking for your opinion, Malfoy," You said, clenching your jaw. "Besides, they make better company than you do." He smirked to himself before turning his head slightly to meet your gaze. There was a moment of hesitation before his response, in which he simply scanned your face before staring into your eyes again.

With an infuriating grin plastered on his face, he said, "Please, we know the real reason is that you want to snog Potter. Your attempts are pathetic, anyone can see that."

Your face heated up with rage and embarrassment — How dare he imply that? "Go to hell, Malfoy," you muttered just loud enough to be heard before storming out of the portrait hole.

He was never this rude throughout your time at Hogwarts. You two were the least closest within the group, as you'd normally never speak to him unless it was alongside the others, but he still remained civil with you. It was only the beginning of the school year when this had changed.

He began giving you snide comments about your closeness with the Golden Trio and you being a Weasley. Most people didn't mind that fact, as you were still a Slytherin despite all of your siblings being otherwise, but Draco never failed to insult you about it somehow during any given circumstance.

You attempted to brush your thoughts of him away once you approached the library. However, the question of why he was being like this towards you remained in your head until the end up the night, making you fall asleep with a clouded head and a heavy chest.

~~~

"Settle down, class, unless you intend on receiving a string of detentions," Professor Snape said languidly, silencing the room of Gryffindors and Slytherins. You sat next to Harry, with your brother Ron seated with Hermione behind you two. "Today, we will be brewing a particularly difficult potion in groups of two. Open up your textbook to page 394 as I put you all into pairs."

Harry gave a slight groan next to you upon hearing Professor Snape. You squeezed his hand reassuringly and offered an encouraging grin. You two would often pair up with each other, given how you have a greater talent for Potions than he does. A partner willing to lead most of it is often hard to come across when the pairs are pre-picked, to Harry's dismay.

Professor Snape began listing pairs of his piece of parchment, causing fear to erupt in the stomach's of most. You didn't pay much attention to the names being said as you pulled out your textbook. It was only until the last pairing when you hear your name being mentioned that you finally looked up.

"Y/N Weasley and Draco Malfoy."

You winced at the mention of your partner for the day. Turning your head tentatively, you glanced at Draco. He held an empty expression, void of any emotions indicating how he felt about the pairing. Upon noticing your gaze, he stood up silently to approach your desk.

"Let me know if he is being a dick to you," Harry said softly, squeezing your shoulder before leaving his seat. You notice the glares Draco gave to Harry's departing figure and rolled your eyes, gesturing him to sit down.

"Don't miss your boyfriend too much," Draco said with a scowl on his face. You raised your eyebrows in disbelief. He never quits, does he?

"I'll get the ingredients, you set up the cauldron," You muttered, not wasting any time to get up and briefly depart with him. You quietly groaned in anger once out of his earshot. Out of the twenty-something students in the class, you, unfortunately, had the luck of being with him.

While muttering some less than appropriate words to describe the platinum haired boy, you grabbed the ingredients listed in your textbook. Unicorn hair, you thought to yourself as you try to locate it along the shelves. Upon seeing it in the uppermost compartment, you sighed before placing your materials down and reaching for it.

Come down already! you thought to yourself as you stood on tiptoe with your arms extended. Still, you barely managed to brush your fingers on the bottom of the container. As you contemplated giving up and simply calling someone else to grab it, you felt a presence appear behind you.

Dangerously close behind you.

You could feel their breath tickle the lobe of your ear as they reached for the ingredient with no hassle. Their hand seemed to delicately brush over your outstretched arm on its way down, making shivers appear instantaneously.

You lowered your heel and dropped your arm by your side. Your positions lingered for a brief moment before they took a step back and you turned around. That's when your eyes met a pair of ash-gray ones boring into your own.

For a moment, the room was still, or it at least appeared to be. Nothing else was registered in your brain besides those foggy eyes in front of you. You wanted to take a picture, to capture the beautiful sight, but you knew regardless it would be implanted in your brain for life.

Suddenly, Draco diverted his eyes with a slight cough saying, "You looked like you were struggling." He then strode across the room to return to your desk, looking solely at the work in front of him. As you gathered your materials swiftly and returned to your desk as well, you failed to notice the tinge of pink appearing on his cheeks, similar to your own.

The rest of the class was spent in silence, avoiding his occasional glance and trying to ignore the harsh beating of your heart.

~~~

It was nearly a week after the Potion's incident, and you haven't come across Draco since. To be fair, you were also doing your fair share of avoiding — coming to breakfast and dinner earlier than usual and leaving when the crowd came, as well as hanging out with the Gryffindors more often than the Slytherins. But Draco hasn't been attending the get-togethers in the common room before curfew. It was almost as if he dropped off the face of the Earth.

As you turn the corner in an empty corridor with no clear direction in mind, a tall figure colliding with yours abruptly broke your trance. You fell on your butt and grimaced. Why must this happen to me, you thought in mild pain. Your eyes were too squinted to notice the hand offered in front of you.

Suddenly, the person grabbed your forearm and lifted you up onto your feet. You stumbled for a moment, gripping onto their shoulder for balance, before your eyes fell on the face of the stranger.

Fate was being real funny today.

Draco stood in front of you, making you hyper aware of lack of space between you two. You immediately retracted your hand from his shoulder, but his grip lingered on your arm for a moment before he took it off. Then, he simply scowled at you and rolled his eyes before walking away.

"Watch where you're going next time, Weasley."

You let out a dry chuckle, amazed by his duality. One minute, he'll be extremely close, staring into yours eyes softly. The next, he'll be acting like an absolute git, taking any chance to insult you.

Before he managed to get far, you grabbed the end of his tie and pulled him back so he was at eye level with you. You glared at him for a moment before speaking slowly, "What is your problem with me?"

Draco gulped tentatively, meeting your harsh stare with his striking silver eyes. After a moment of him simply taking in the appearance of your eyes, he opened his mouth to speak. "It's what you're doing to me."

You paused, your grip loosening on his tie as your expression morphed into one of confusion. "What am I doing to you?" you asked in a soft whisper. You didn't know how to react to his statement — you generally steered clear of him unless he spoke to you first. What could you have possibly done to make him hate you?

Draco pulled his tie out of your hands and stood up to his full height. He then took slow strides towards you, making you backup to maintain some space apart. Eventually, your back had hit a wall, and there was no avoiding his strong gaze when there was merely centimeters between you two. He raised his arm to the spot of the wall next to your head, partially trapping you in this position.

"You wanna know what you're doing to me?" He tilted his head very slightly, searching your face for any sign of emotion. "You're running through my head every minute of every day. You're making my heart beat rapidly and my face red at the mere sight of you. You- you're making me feel things I've never felt for someone before."

There was a slight pause in his speech when he simply gazed into your eyes, observing your reaction. Your lips parted slightly in shock, your eyes widened, your cheeks painted with crimson. He took that as an opportunity to continue, in a breathy whisper, "That's what you're doing to me."

Your outer expression displayed merely surprise, but you were jumping in glee on the inside. You have always liked Draco since the second year. You admired his confidence and pride, his sheer ambition, and admittedly, his handsome appearance. Upon hearing the revelation, it's natural that you'd feel quite joyous.

Still, you had to remind yourself of his behaviour during the past two months. Clearing your throat in an attempt to briefly mask your feelings, you said in a sarcastic tone, "That definitely excuses how you've been treating me this year."

Draco's face suddenly turned pale as his eyebrows furrowed in regret. He looked down, ashamed of himself, and dropped the arm trapping you to his side. He mumbled an apology under his breath and stepped back sadly.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you threw your arms around his neck and brought him closer to you once again. "Don't worry, I forgive you," you said, slamming your lips onto his before he could respond. His eyes widened as he stood still for a moment, but he quickly melted into your lips and brought his arms around your waist shortly after.

The kiss started off passionate, filled with the raw, unadulterated desire built up inside them over the years. He gripped your waist as if you would flee when he let go, and he kept bringing you impossibly closer to him. However, it gradually developed into a sweeter, more slower kiss as it went on. You melted into his arms, and neither wanted the moment to end.

After what felt like a century of having your lips connected, you finally pulled away, heaving a euphoric sigh. His breathing was accelerated, and your lips were red and swollen. A grin slowly stretched across his face, and a laugh other than the sarcastic ones you were used to hearing was released. An airy, untroubled one, which sounds absolutely magnificent.

The moment was suddenly disturbed by a loud bang. You and Draco abruptly pulled apart, looking at the surprise visitors. At the end of the hall, Ron, Harry, and Hermione stood shocked, and a textbook laid on the floor in front of Ron's open arms.

"You and Draco are d-dating?" said your brother with a horrified grimace painting his face.

Draco faced you with a slight smile. Grabbing your hand and giving it an affectionate squeeze, he prompted, "Only if you'd like to."

"Of course. What more would I want?"

——————————

a/n — Horrifyingly enough, I almost deleted it. Thankfully I put it in a google doc. Anyways, reminder that requests are open! Thank you for reading :)

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco one shot #draco malfoy one shot #draco fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter one shot #writing #my prompts #draco x reader imagines #draco malfoy imagines

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allyreactions · 4 years ago

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2020 Kpop Comeback and Debut Review

Okay, so this year was shit, let’s not lie. But there were some pretty good comebacks and debuts this year, and I want to talk about them. These are all in my opinion, so please don’t take any offense to what I have to say. Also, if there’s any group I missed (which I’m sure I’ll miss one), please feel free to discuss some of your favorite comebacks or debut tracks in my inbox ❤

~ Admin Ally

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

I am going to break this down into sections just because it’s way too hard to sort through everything. So the categories are : favorite comebacks, favorite debuts, and favorite albums. Let’s get started!

♡ Favorite Comebacks ♡

Everglow - “LaDiDa”

For real, this comeback was everything. We got a full finally got a full chorus and Onda actually got lines!

Loona - “Why Not”, “So What”, “Voice” / “Star”

2020 was the year that turned me into an orbit. I’m so proud of Loona this year for releasing such amazing songs. They keep raising the bar, it makes me so proud to see them thriving.

Chungha - all released singles

Girl has been killing it, as usual. She’s worked so hard this year to release bop after bop. I can’t wait for the album!

Apink - “Dumhdurum”

Apink really said “we’re 2nd Gen and still going strong”

Twice - “I Can’t Stop Me”

Not their best comeback, but definitely a solid one. Also, it physically pains me not to dance along to this song.

Itzy - “Wannabe”, “Not Shy”

Itzy never disappoints with their title tracks, what can I say?

IZ*one - “Fiesta”, “Ayayaya”

“Ayayaya” was stuck in my head for weeks, plzz. It’s their best song ever released.

April - “Lalalilala”

AN UNDERRATED SONG OMG. April deserved better.

Astro - “Bad Idea”

Moonbin in a crop top, that’s all I have to say.

Dreamcatcher - “Scream”

I- this song was a masterpiece, the choreography was amazing.

Weki Meki - “Dazzle Dazzle”, “Oopsy”

Weki Meki is really finding their sound, and every release just keeps getting better.

♡ Favorite Debuts ♡

Enhyphen - “Given Taken”

Such a solid boy group debut omg. I love RnB tracks so much. It’s refreshing to hear a boy group debut with an RnB song instead of an EDM style track.

Wonho - “Open Mind”, “Losing You”

this man is perfection in everything he does. I replayed the “Open Mind” teaser so many times, I’m obsessed with the instrumental.

Weekly - “Tag Me”

I’ve missed cute girl group concepts so much omg

Natty - “Nineteen”

This was another solid debut. She’s so cute and so talented, I’m really excited to see her grow as an artist.

DPR Ian - “So Beautiful”

I am in love with Christian Yu, this man is a musical genius.

StayC - “So Bad”

The pre-chorus is beautiful and the chorus is so catchy.

♡ Favorite Albums ♡

NCT - all unit albums

You already knew NCT would be on the list. NCT keeps getting better and outdoing themselves with every release. I’m proud to be an NCTzen. I’m so proud of my babie boys 🥺

Baekhyun - “Delight”

“Candy” was literally my third top song of the year. The choreography is so much fun and every track on this mini album blew me away. Baekhyun is so talented, I’m gonna miss him when he finally enlists.

Kai - “Kai”

Again, EXO members never disappoint with their solo releases. Kai delivered the RnB, sexy realness that I needed to finish off 2020.

Ateez - “Fever”

Ateez. Never. Misses. They literally don’t have a bad song and it’s seriously annoying. Every song on this mini album hits so hard.

Han Seungwoo - “Fame”

“Sacrifice” was my top song of the year. I love the different emotions and vibes that each song has on this album, sexy, cutesy, angsty, longing, sadness.

Woodz - “Equal”

“Love Me Harder” was me second top song of the year, and Cho Seungyoun, I- you’re so talented. How? Again, another flawless album that conveys so many different emotions and vibes.

Stray Kids - “In Life”

Every track is amazing. Mr. Bang, you’ve out done yourself. There’s been some title tracks that SKZ have released in the past that I haven’t particularly been a fan of, but 2020 really made me fall back in love with their music.

Taemin - “Never Gonna Dance Again : Act 2″

Last, but certainly not least, Mr. Lee Taemin. God himself. “Heaven”? That song needs to be like 10 hours longer because I can’t get enough of it. The power this man holds is too much.

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madlymiho · 5 years ago

Note

Your inbox is open and I am here to fulfil my destiny and request a scenario for Zoro and his long term fem!s/o who has a thing for men in leather and asks him to wear it for her and get kinky and you know I am here for absolute sin 👀👅💦 (love you 💚)

Hehehe… Well, honestly, I seriously made a very dominant Zoro for this one! But you came for the absolute sin, right? 😏💚 Love you too! And I truly hope you will enjoy this nasty scenario ~

Inspiration for Zoro outfit, just here!

Words : 2990

Warning : NSFW

Zoro scenario : Leather pants (read after the cut)

“Seriously, this?” Zoro asks with his eyebrows furrowed.

He grabs the leather pants with a powerful grip, creasing the material between his strong fingers. He can’t believe he actually has to dress like this for a sort of obscur and blurry mission he definitely not understand completely. She told him several days ago that she needed his help, but he didn’t sign for a sado-masochist outfit when he said yes! She sighs and puts her book aside, standing back up on her feet while she skirts the bed and comes closer.

“Yes, this! We have a mission Zoro. You need to wear these pants,” she answers, crossing her arms around her chest while she digs her eyes in his concerned and unpleased look.

“What kind of mission requires to wear leather pants and suspenders? I don’t want to look like a clown! Ask Sanji to dress like this if you want to have a submissive around, but not me!”

She clearly fights her sudden deep need to mock him, his last sentence still echoing inside of her mind, but she manages to remain absolutely impassible, snatching the clothes out of his hands while she heavily sighs and starts to walk away.

“Fine! Let’s ask the cook to help me on this one, since mister muscles is turning into a diva!”

“Hey, stay here,” Zoro snaps, gripping her wrist before she can walk away.

She knows he tends not to appreciate when she mentions Sanji and his everlasting habit to turn himself into a docile servant for her. Zoro isn’t jealous, but when it comes to the cook… A part of him can’t help but be utterly possessive toward her. He angrily snatches the trousers and the suspenders back from her hands, and throws her a deadly stare while he walks to the bathroom, accepting his fate and this odd mission.

***

“Okay, I’m ready, now.” Zoro states while he walks back into their shared bedroom, slightly unconfident and flustered about his outfit.

She’s looking at herself through the mirror, putting some mascara on her eyelashes while she wears her favorite red and revealing dress, her face almost touching the cool surface, her gestures slow and mastered. She’s focus on her task, not wanting to soil her cheeks with some unwelcomed makeup, when Zoro makes another step in the room, visibly waiting for her reaction. Aware of her boyfriend silent request, she eventually puts down her mascara on the table, and spins on her hips so she can face him and give him a review, but what she sees at the moment is clearly unbelievable. Zoro looks like an erotic god coming out from another world. The pants are slightly too tight for him, and they shape his muscular thighs way too lustily, along with the impressive natural bulge of his arousal. His outlined abs trace a line down his belly, which end with a delicious V pointing at his manhood, perfectly enlightening his hours of hard training. The suspenders cover his nipples, suggesting to have a look on his chest too, and somehow, she can’t help but be captivated by this show. She closes her mouth, perhaps to prevent herself from drooling like a dog waiting for a pile of bones in front of the sexual beauty of her partner.

“Zoro…,” she eventually whispers, making a step forward while her fingers start to skim his arm. “You look…,”

“Like a clown, I know.” Zoro snaps again, even if he clearly sees that it doesn’t seem to be her opinion. “You like it, Name?”

He feels her hand gently coming up, tracing invisible lines of his bare torso, as she eventually looks at him in the eyes and gulps, drowning herself in his intense stare. He perfectly recognizes the look in her irises, almost desperate, as she finally smiles and takes a step backward, as if she tries her best to muffle her arousal. Yet, Zoro can’t help but feel the need to tease her.

“We should go,” she says as she clears her throat, pointing at the doorway with a motion of her head. “We’re going to be late.”

“Oh, really?” Zoro answers with a low and deep voice, that particular one which makes her shiver on her feet, even deeper inside.

She looks back at him, and Zoro understands that she’s now aware of her boyfriend’s mood, and his profound desires to spend some quality time with her before they would head to their mission. She shakes her head and smiles, somehow turning him down, but it’s not enough to stop him.

“I’m still waiting for you review,” Zoro continues, moving forward as she keeps avoiding his body, until she actually collides with the desk, and grabs its corners with a desperate gesture. “You do like it, don’t you?”

She pinches her lips together, her throat deeply dry, while she finally nods, confirming his words. Zoro smiles, her reaction directly awakening his already tickling crotch, before he catches her wrist and puts her fingers on his chest. He guides her silently, letting her digits fondling his chest, skimming his abs with slow gestures. During the whole time, she keeps looking at him in the eyes, feeling how much he desires her right now.

“Don’t play, we don’t have time…,” she tries to argue, but she immediately stops talking when he lets her fingers brush the V of his belly, bringing her at the edge of his most intimate part. “Zoro…,”

“Why are you in a hurry, suddenly? You’re always such a teaser, but now you shut your mouth and you want to run? I don’t deal well with runner, you know it…”

He knows it’s unfair to tease her like this, but he clearly doesn’t want to stop. She’s not protesting either after all, and she doesn’t even try to take her hand away from his body, so Zoro decides that she needs to learn her lesson, since she wanted so bad to have him in these leather pants. Suddenly, he presses her palm on his crotch, making her feel his erect manhood, as his other hand starts to play with the strands of her hair falling around her face, until his thumb comes up on her face and plays with her lips, putting a soft but real pressure on them. He’s up to something passionate, and she feels it. The way he devours her with his eyes is revealing, and somehow, she knows that she can’t leave this room without paying the price of wanting him in this kind of outfit.

“Open.” Zoro orders, his thumb making its way inside of her mouth. “Don’t make me wait anymore.”

From time to time, Zoro’s natural dominance explodes like a firework, especially during their steamiest sessions. He loves to control their throes of passion, and most of time, she doesn’t complain. She can’t fight his stamina, nor his erotic aura when he’s so full of desires. So without thinking, she opens her mouth, letting his thumb playing with her tongue, while he flushes his body against her. He catches her jaw with a strong hand, almost violently but without any harm, squeezing her cheeks as he smirks and looks at her rolling her wet muscle around his finger. He presses his hard arousal against her core, pushing with his thigh so she can allow him some room between her legs, their two bodies completely glued together. He digs his finger even deeper, his eyes never leaving her irises, dominating her with all his suffocating aura.

“What kind of naughty little girl are you when I’m wearing this?” Zoro purrs, lifting her head a little bit by putting more pressure on her jaw, forcing her to put herself on her tiptoes, until he removes his thumb from her mouth to roll up her dress and presses it on her panties. “Let’s find out how much you want it.”

“Zoro…,” she calls in a warm sigh, feeling the sweet pressure of his digit right on her damp underwears.

“Sssh, don’t even try to argue,” Zoro whispers, as his other digits put aside her panties to grant him a proper access to her wet core. “Mh, looks like I won my bet. I know you only wanting me in those pants to have my cock inside of you after.”

She moans, desperately, unable to control herself as he gently rubs his thumb on her clit, his other fingers playing with her entrance, teasing her intensely. Zoro is clearly in his most dominant mood, and somehow, wearing leather only increases his needs to make her beg for him. She knows it, tonight, he’s going to be even wilder than usual.

“So, Name… Do you like me outfit?” Zoro asks again, his finger terribly slow on her clit, his eyes looking for her every reaction on her face.

She moves her hips to chase her own pleasure, but he suddenly plasters his hand on them, holding her still until she eventually answers the question. He smirks, his index and middle finger brushing her entrance, drops of her wet core dripping against her thigh lazily.

“Yes…,” she eventually moans, looking at him with despair and passion. “Yes…I…I love it, Zoro…,”

He presses his thumb harder on her clit, yet, his interrogation isn’t over. He knows there’s something else, and he wants her to spit it. He wants her to admit that he didn’t really need to wear this tonight, and that she only did that because she has a thing for men in leather.

“Now be a good girl, and tell me if I really had to wear this tonight…,” Zoro smirks, one of his digit entering her as he sees her face changing into an expression full of pleasure. Yet, he doesn’t move anymore, waiting patiently. “If you tell me the truth, I swear, I’m going to take you so hard and good, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

Once again, Zoro is that erotic god she can’t handle sometimes. The way he touches her tonight is far from his usual habits ; he’s slow, he takes his time to build this poisonous tension, knowing perfectly how much she desires him. He always loves to rush things and gets started almost immediately, but for once… He controls his pace, only building a greater frustration within her so he can unleash his real power right after she would admit that she had something in mind with these clothes.

“Alright… I saw this outfit a few weeks ago and… Yes…,” She argues, feeling his finger starting to move inside of her to encourage her. “Yes, you didn’t have… But I… I like this too much, please, Zoro, stop playing with me!”

Zoro gently laughs with his deep and broken voice, as he suddenly crashes his mouth on hers, his tongue seeking for her own, while he immediately pushes another finger inside of her, his thumb circling her clit with a vivid pace. She starts to tremble under his ministrations, her hands now unbuckling his pants and pulling them slightly down, so she can release his massive arousal and touches him as well. Yet, Zoro doesn’t let her get what she wants, and before she can have a grip on his cock, he suddenly spins her hips, gripping her nape with a strong and dominant palm to hold her in her new position, as he pushes his hips forward to press them against her rear and lets his fingers continues their work on her body.

“No, no, no…,” Zoro hums in her ear, opening her core with a third digit. “You don’t touch me, silly girl. I’m the one in charge here, and you get what I give. Naughty lying girl like you should learn her lesson now.”

He lets lose his grip on her neck and immediately grabs the strap of his left suspender to take it off, expertidly rolling the leather around her wrists, as he holds her hands tied behind her back. She groans, her core now more than wet, squirting under his furious pace. She suddenly cries louder, and way before Zoro can’t stop her, he feels her swollen clit getting tensed, and her fingers being squeezed inside of her. He bites her neck while he helps her to ride her first orgasm out, still touching her, somehow proud of him to play with her like this. He gently licks her earlobe, removing his hand from her sensitive area to grab his manhood and guide the head to her entrance, not even taking the time to pull down his pants entirely. He pulls on her wrists with his other hand, and uses his feet to bring her legs closer, ordering her to squeeze her thighs together while he rubs his arousal on her excited entrance.

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget your name,” Zoro snarls, feeling her impatience, her body reacting delicious to his rubbing cock. “My girl who loves leather pants…,”

He plays with the suspenders restraining her wrists, sometimes drawing them towards him, adjusting his position as he suddenly slams his hips forward and enters her fully in one powerful motion, overwhelmed by the narrowness of her sweet slit. She gasps, her core deliciously tight and wet for him, before he moves his hips backwards, his cock entirely pulls out, before he thrusts back again. For a moment, he keeps doing this, mastering his pace but also his grip on her restrained arms, before he begins to pound harder, deeper, and faster. The slap of his leather pants starts to fill the room with lusty noises, along with their flesh colliding anytime he thrusts inside of her. She’s a real mess. She groans, and moans, and more than once, she even tries to open her legs a bit more, or to have some control on her body position, but Zoro makes sure that she can’t make a single movement, his cock buried in the depths of her sweet cave. He knows that he has enough stamina to make her sing for a long time, so gently, he releases her wrists after a moment, allowing her to grip the table before he pulls his cock out of her core, and spins her hips so she can face him. Once he has a proper vision on her messy face, Zoro kisses her sloppily, his tongue and teeth clenching with hers. He puts his hands behind her thigh and helps her sitting at the edge of the desk, shoving his cock back inside of her with a powerful thrust. She grips his one and only suspender, pulling on it to bring him even closer, her breathing erratic, as she parts her lips to catch some air. He loves her features, at the moment. Her gorgeous complexion, her swollen and redder lips, inviting him to have another kiss on them. Yet, Zoro prefers to dig his mouth in the crook of her neck, sucking harshly on her sensitive spot to leave purple and yellow marks, his hips moving fast and steadily, as his hand grabs her rear to adjust their position. He skims her body with his free fingers, until he comes up and brushes her lips, his head following his gestures, while he faces her again.

“Good girl,” Zoro growls, taking her with sharp and powerful thrusts. “I want you to come for me again,” he slides his thumb against her lips, her tongue already licking the tip of his nail. “Suck it, and you’ll have it.”

Immediately, she opens her mouth to let her tongue plays with Zoro’s thumb, while he growls harder, his pace becoming slightly erratic and uncontrollable. He digs his fingernails in her rear, his thumb deepening in her mouth, until he pulls it out and presses it between her spreaded legs, right on her swollen and already soiled nub. She rolls an arm around his neck as he starts to massage her down there, her mouth begging for a kiss. He’s more than willing to offer her, and when he begins to kiss her again, he increases his pace with both of his thumb and his hips, creating waves of shivers on her body, while she arches her back even more, moaning hard inside his mouth. He smirks, feeling deeply powerful at this particular moment, circling her nub until she eventually bursts into a deep growl, her inner walls squeezing his cock, as she reaches the Seventh Heaven for the second time. He parts his lips, looking at her blushed features and her lusty stare, pulling his cock out, his orgasm coming. He strokes himself a few times before he loads on her belly, covering her skin but also her dress with his seed, growling like a dangerous beast, catching his breath back when he’s finally done.

“You really had to destroy my dress…,” she angrily whispers, her fingers caressing his sweating chest.

Zoro doesn’t even try to hide his content, catching her wrist to put a kiss on the red marks caused by the leather. He knows he has been slightly harsher than usual, but he’s far from apologizing. He leaves a few kisses on her arm, coming up until he pulls on her neck skin with his teeth.

“I’ll buy you another one,” Zoro comments, his lips coming up to brush hers with slow and tender gestures.

“You don’t have any money, loser…,” she pouts, looking at him in the eyes, yet somehow amused by the way he teases her.

“I just need to sell these leather pants, and I’ll have some,” Zoro smirks, looking at her eyes suddenly looking down and watching at his pants and his exposed arousal. “What?”

“Mmh.”

Zoro raises an eyebrow, and she finally lets loose a long and fake sigh, shaking her head.

“Don’t sell them, okay…,”

Zoro laughs softly with his usual deep and broken voice, slamming his palm on her rear, his fingers digging in her soft skin as he comes closer.

“Oh, I won’t.”

#one piece headcanons #one piece scenario #one piece scenarios #roronoa zoro #zoro one piece #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece imagines #one piece headers #one piece hcs #lemon #not suitable #leather #leather kink #lipstickandbarbedwire

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wndmxmffs · 5 years ago

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Corpse Bride

For the spoopy selebration!

Pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.7K+

Warning: paranormal stuff; the reader is basically dating a breathing corpse lmao

A/N: heyy! so, finally i’m back and in time to post my first piece for the spoopy selebration! hope you will enjoy reading this one, i had a lotta fun writing it even though it might be rushed which i’m sorry for :((( got so dark at the end oml

It was a long, cold and lonely night. The fog had just started settling again and you tried to speed up a little to get home as soon as possible. You didn’t necessarily live in the safest part of the city and you weren’t planning to get attacked on your way home through the not so well-lit streets- your quarter wasn’t the richest one either.

As you speeded up and turned the corner, you saw a slightly dirty white dress flowing around the figure of a redheaded woman in the wind. Your heart skipped a beat and you almost let out a scream before placing your hand on your chest with a racing heart. You looked into her glassy eyes and started to feel uncomfortable but still approached the woman. You weren’t sure if it was the clever thing to do, but she seemed lost and alone, and you didn’t want her to get into trouble.

You crossed the street, looking both ways before stopping a few inches away from the stranger who slowly turned her head to you. You could clearly see her mouth moving but all you heard were incomprehensible whispers. You shook your head and stepped a little closer, asking her to repeat what she had just said.

“I’ve locked myself out,” she repeated a bit more loudly. You nodded and looked around on the street. You could see a group of young boys turning the corner and you felt a sudden sense of anxiety in your stomach as they looked at you with raised eyebrows- before continuing their chatter and laughter down the road. You let out a small sigh and turned back to the stranger woman who seemed lost and – even though she tried to hide it – scared. The light breeze flew some of her red hair in her face and she was quite slow to react- she put it back behind her left ear like she was already dying. You had no idea why, but you felt even colder around her and something off about the beautiful stranger that spent shivers down your spine. However, you simply ignored the bad feeling in your gut and told her to feel free to spend the night at yours- your apartment was only a few feet away. It was obvious that she didn’t have any back-up keys and you couldn’t let her wander around the cold street throughout the night.

Once the old and spooky elevator in your block of flats arrived at your floor, the redheaded woman looked around a bit shy and her eyes wide open.

“I know it doesn’t seem very welcoming but I hope you’ll like my flat a bit more,” you said smiling at her, letting her inside and dropping your keys on the shelf right next to your front door. You led the oddly beautiful stranger around your apartment before sitting down for a tea with her, getting to know each other. You found out that her name was Natasha Romanoff, former Russian spy but that was all in the past. You listened to her talking about herself in her low voice and watched as she was getting more and more comfortable opening up to you.

And from that night on, you kept seeing each other, all the while Natasha grew quite fond of you and you knew that you felt so much more than attraction to this woman. Yes, it was so much more- you felt like you were in love for the first time in a long while. And you had never felt something quite like this before. Natasha was more than a simple human being- she radiated a particular kind of mystery that you weren’t able to solve and that was what made you feel such a strong attraction towards her. Natasha was everything you had ever dreamt of.

When you first started going out, it was a bit awkward and hard to find the right topics, but eventually, you started getting to know each other even more. However, Natasha still acted weird every time you were walking around the town- like she had been sent here from another planet or simply another century. And little did you know that was the truth.

At first, you didn’t have any suspicions. You simply thought they were silly thoughts and chased them away as quickly as you could. But, over time, your anxiety started taking over. You knew that something was up, that something wasn’t right. Natasha had never actually told anything important about her life besides her work and his favourite things. She always looked sad and pale, and her choice of clothes didn’t help the situation either. She either stayed quiet all day or spoke at such a low voice that you could barely hear her. At first, you thought she was simply ill, maybe had caught a cold but after months, you knew that something else was the reason.

At first, you didn’t even give a second thought to these odd things about your girlfriend. Everyone has their quirks, right? But there was a single week that managed to change your mind and led you to believe you were simply crazy. There was no other explanation for everything that had happened.

It all started on a cold night. You were bundled up in your blanket and were sleeping peacefully when you reached out to cuddle your girlfriend, half-asleep. When your hand landed on the cold surface of your bed. You furrowed your eyebrows and pushed yourself up on the bed, looking around with your eyes slightly open. You scratched the back of your head while getting out of bed and headed towards the door to look for your girlfriend. You had already reached for the handle on the door when you heard a loud scream in the kitchen. You froze for a moment, then quickly opened the door and rushed out, already looking for the closest weapon when you saw Natasha standing by the window all alone, looking at the full moon. You looked at her with wrinkles on your forehead and touched her shoulder gently, causing her to let out a small whimper and look at you with eyes wide open.

“I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just heard a scream and…” But you couldn’t finish because Natasha simply turned towards the corridor and went back to bed without saying a single word. Later, you remembered that her feet didn’t make any sound while walking on the parquet, even though they were creaking all the time you walked on them.

The next day, Natasha told you that she had some stuff to do downtown and you had a hard time letting her go. You were sitting on the top of your kitchen table with your girlfriend between your legs and her lips intertwined with yours. You couldn’t help but giggle when she gently caressed your back, saying that she needed to leave. You looked sadly and still desperately at her as she stepped out the front door, finally wearing something from this century. She even seemed less pale and much happier than those days and you were convinced that the events from the night before were simply a part of an awful nightmare. However, as you went to the bathroom to wash your hands before making lunch and looked in the mirror, you could see her standing behind you and you let out a cry before quickly turning around. You couldn’t see anything but your old furniture- Natasha was long gone. Your stomach was jumping up and down and you needed to sit down to take a moment before going back to the kitchen. You buried your face deep in your palms but all you could see was Natasha’s pale face and glassy eyes staring at you in the mirror. You knew you needed to get out of your flat, so you grabbed everything you needed and reached for the handle- which didn’t even move. You tried to push it down, pull it up but it was steady and stubborn. It didn’t even let out a squeak as you kept trying and you simply couldn’t believe all this was real. You hysterically started looking for you keys and you even dropped them before trying to push it into the lock. However, it didn’t fit. You had no idea what had happened- all you knew was that you needed to get out. You felt warm tears rolling down your cheeks as you looked around, trying to find a way out and the moment you turned towards your living room, you saw Natasha again- she was dressed in her white Victorian gown, much like a bride’s dress back then. Your girlfriend looked at you from under her eyelashes and her lips slowly formed a terrible smile on her face. You started screaming at the top of your lungs and banged on the door multiple times, hoping someone would hear you- only then you remembered that you had only two neighbours- one of them was at work and the other one was a deaf lady.

You saw Natasha slowly approaching you with that smile of a psychopath on her face and you were sure it was the end. However, you didn’t give it up so quickly. You grabbed the vase from the bookcase and threw it at the beast you had called your girlfriend not so long ago. She hissed and pressed her hand on her forehead while you had time to escape- the door suddenly opened up and you ran as fast as you could down the stairs and out the front door of your apartment. You weren’t stupid, you knew it was not the end, so you had to cross the street as fast as you could while also avoiding getting in the way of an approaching vehicle.

You were already on the other side of the road when you saw the woman dressed in the white gown looking at you while laughing, spending shivers down your spine. You were ready to continue running but a loud crash and an otherworldly scream made you stop. You turned around to see blood flowing out of Natasha’s head and a panicking driver getting out to see the damage, or, in your opinion, the blessing, he had caused.

Suddenly, you could feel the anxiety and the odd coldness you had been constantly experiencing for months leave your body and you knew that she was actually dead this time. You were safe now.

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#spoopy selebration #spoopy season #halloween #gay halloween #mcu halloween #mcu #mcu one shot #mcu imagine #mcu headcanon #mcu blurb #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff one-shot #natasha romanoff angst #tw: gore #natasha romanoff reader insert

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hgamesfan · 5 years ago

Text

Unmasked ~ Sixteen

Written by: ~ M ~

Prompt #88

Rating: E (Explicit) This fic will contain consensual sexual content; mild language; discussions of injuries, illness, and amputations in a historical setting; discussions of miscarriage; discussions of minor character suicide; references to non consensual sexual situations.

My thanks to the moderators of @everlarkficexchange for always running an entertaining event, and for playing along with a little fun and mystery. Also my thanks to @hgamesfan and everyone else who has offered up their inbox for submissions. Please enjoy the sixteenth chapter of this adventure. Previous installments can be found here. Regards,

~ M ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~ Chapter 16 ~~

After my talk with my father, I am strangely full of nerves. I manage a bath and change of dress, although given the uproar the house is in, Mary is not available to help me dress, and so I wear an older dress, something simple and loose that does not require a corset. I wrap a light shawl about my shoulders, feeling oddly bare without the undergarment, and spend a few moments in the study, attending to tasks left neglected while Peeta and I were caught in the stables. In truth, the tasks could wait until tomorrow, but I am not certain I wish to be near anyone right now, my head awhirl with so many thoughts and the enormity of the events of today. The tasks do not take long, however, and I then return to my parents’ rooms in time for yet another uproar.

“Really, Kent. We can have dinner brought up to you,” my mother insists.

“Darling, you know I respect your opinion as a healer but this is too much,” my father argues, hobbling from his room with the aid of a cane, garbed in a dressing robe and slippers. “I have been bedridden for months and will continue to be so no longer. It is a simple trip down the stairs and then dinner. Nothing to it.”

“Perhaps some assistance the first trip down the stairs,” I suggest then.

“Pish, child. Will my own daughter now dictate my actions? I am not an invalid any more. Step aside.”

“Kent–”

“Cease your fussing.”

My mother purses her lips and retracts her hands from my father. My throat constricts. I have no memories of my father speaking to my mother or to me thus. With such…anger and annoyance. No memories of them fighting so openly, nor of him scolding me. It is not like him at all.

He approaches the stairs and, for one breathless moment, sways precariously. Gasps fill the air and then Peeta’s there, grasping my father by the elbow to steady him. Father glares at Peeta.

“It changes the balance.”

“Twas not a leg,” my father argues and Peeta nods.

“Do you hold your arms stationary when you walk then?” My father ponders this for a moment and then shrugs.

“I suppose not,” he concedes.

“It takes time to adjust. Which hand do you write with?”

“The right,” my father says.

“That is most fortunate. You’ll not need to relearn writing. Other tasks may require some adjustment, but no matter, they are still possible,” Peeta says as he takes one step, exceptionally slow. “It took me at least three months to learn to walk properly again. Learning again how to ride a horse turned out to be easier, once I could manage to get in the damn saddle. And stairs…well that is a more recent accomplishment.”

“You did not sleep on the ground floor… on a sofa, for months, did you?”

“No, but there are other ways besides walking to ascend and descend the stairs…have you watched a toddler learning to take them? The way they sit and use their arms more than their legs?” At this, my father actually laughs.

“Apologies. I mean no offense,” he says.

“Of course not. Small victories are in truth not such small accomplishments with a missing limb.”

Peeta continues talking as they descend, one step at a time with Peeta supporting my father. Peeta tells another story of the first time he tried to ride a horse after his amputation and my mother clutches at her throat with one hand and my arm with the other as we follow their sedate pace. A concerned footman moves to assist, but Peeta waves the man off as Father laughs again at the image Peeta paints of himself relearning how to walk and how to mount a horse with his tone humorous rather than piteous.

“Then I found Cicero and that changed everything,” Peeta explains, prompting my father of course to ask about Cicero.

Absorbed in their talk as it shifts to horseflesh and how Peeta and Joe trained Cicero, my father and my husband safely reach the landing. My father is intrigued, I can tell, at this idea of training a horse to bow to assist in mounting. Father is short a hand and will need to learn how to mount one handed or make similar adjustments.

He wheezes and pauses at the foot of the stairs, reaches out for Peeta to steady himself.

“I do not recall there being so many stairs in this house,” Father says.

“You should try them with a wooden leg sometime.” My father stares at Peeta for a moment and then chuckles. The sound is wondrous and then he nods, seeming to reach some sort of conclusion.

“Perhaps some assistance into the dining room,” he says. “At least until I am more recovered.”

Two footmen hurry forward and I hear Peeta whisper, “Small victories, Mr. Everdeen,” then he leaves my father in their care. Beside me, my mother releases a heavy breath and my heart begins to beat normally again. We reach the first floor and my mother lets go of me to grasp Peeta’s face. She pulls him down to kiss his cheek and then hurries after my father.

Peeta offers his arm to me and I stare at him rather than take it. I stare until his cheeks turn pink and he lowers his proffered arm. Then I finally ask what I need to know. “Why would he listen to you and not his wife nor his daughter?”

“How often do you use two hands for a task? Eating? Bathing? Dressing? Reading a book? Working in the fields?” My cheeks burn as I begin to understand what Peeta means. “There is no aspect of his life that will be left untouched by this and that is a difficult thing to accept, especially when one has no knowledge of the amputation until much later. You, your sister, your mother, the servants, even Madge, have all known him as an active and independent man. Now he requires assistance or time to relearn simple tasks. He will want to do these things on his own, to prove to himself and to everyone in his life that he is no less of a man.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” His eyes flash in the dim lighting of the hall and I see in them the challenge. The dare to deny that what he says is true. “If you do not believe me, then hold your left hand in your lap tonight for the entire meal. See how well you can slice your meats and wield a knife one handed.”

And the trouble is, Peeta is right. I cannot imagine the amount of pride my father will need to swallow tonight in asking assistance to cut his food, like a child. We could rage about the unfairness of it all, but my father is a man of strong constitution and of strong convictions. He always has been and I know that while the road may not be smooth, I have hope he will travel it successfully. Perhaps with some help.

I loop my arm through Peeta’s then, my fingers curling around his bicep. Angry with myself for not understanding my father’s psyche, yet grateful for how steady Peeta is now, for how quickly he responded upstairs to prevent another disaster. I only wish I had thought to act sooner. I would have thought that concern might be easier to accept from a daughter than a stranger, but then again, perhaps not. Peeta has never known my father until today. Perhaps this is another role tailor made for my husband. Doctor Aurelius has said repeatedly that Peeta’s experience would be invaluable in helping my father adjust. Tonight’s scene must be precisely what the doctor referred to.

“I shall talk to Mrs. Chilton tonight about perhaps adding more stews, dishes eaten more with spoon or just a fork, and tender meats, to the menu for the upcoming weeks. Fish is easily sliced with just a fork is it not?” I say quietly as we enter the dining room. Madge and Prim are already here.

“Yes. Yes it is.”

Dinner is a strange, informal affair. There is father in his dressing robe and slippers, myself in my faded walking dress and shawl. The other ladies of my family have been so absorbed in the excitement over Father’s recovery that none bothered to change from their day dresses. Of our party, Peeta is the only one both freshly washed and formally garbed for a usual dinner.

For months now, our seating arrangement has been fluid and shifting, although Peeta would usually sit beside me. With father back at the head of the table, Primrose has seated herself in her old position, leaving the seat to father’s immediate left open for me. Peeta sees me seated in my old chair, between father and Prim, and moves around to the other side of the table, to sit in between my mother and Madge. I shift in the chair, for some reason unsettled. At least I am not the only one. Peeta appears suddenly ill at ease.

Mother, however, appears to have recovered from our fright on the stairs. She glows brighter than the candles. I have not seen her so happy in months. Primrose is full of stories and news, and thankfully she mentions Rory Hawthorne, which shifts Father’s focus of concern from my romantic interests to hers, as well as to the matter of inheritance.

Otherwise the mood is light as Madge and Primrose swap stories across the table of recent months mingled with those of a more distant past, with stories of our youth, ones that my father laughs at. He even refrains from commenting at his much different meal – a bowl of broth, another of tender cooked apples, and a crust of bread. I am relieved to see him accepting the doctor’s orders at least and the dishes tonight for him do not require a knife.

The stories, however, only seem to push Peeta further into his state of quietude.

My hand in my lap grasps tightly to the folds of my skirt as I eat, blowing gently on my vegetables to cool them before consuming, watching my husband across the table as he withdraws further into himself and wondering if our path together will ever be straightforward.

There is no denying the joy I feel at Father’s revival. His laughter and loving presence have been sorely missed. Several hours ago, I would have given anything to bring him back to us. Now that he has, I wonder if the cost will be what little gains Peeta and I have made in our relationship. Yet, I cannot see why that should be.

“The Doctor says I am not to ride for at least a week, until I gain my strength back a little, but I cannot stay confined to bed. Tomorrow, Katniss, we shall take a cart and you can drive me about the estate. Show me what you have been up to.”

“Are you certain that is wise, Kent?” Mother asks, worry plain in her voice. I should have Peeta speak to her as well and perhaps help explain Father’s mental state.

“I think it necessary. I’ve been abed for months. It is high time I cease being so lazy. Katniss, what say you?”

“Of course, Papa,” I agree immediately, before I realise that the invitation did not include Peeta, and what my father proposes is something that Peeta and I have taken to doing together since…well since my father could not.

I briefly catch Peeta watching me before his eyes return to Madge and he speaks quietly to her, answering whatever question it was that she asked him. I did not hear and I am not sure that I care. There is a sudden tightness in my chest and a sense that he is somehow slipping away from me, just as we had begun to truly understand one another.

The dinner is excellent, and most are in high spirits as we adjourn to the drawing room. My father is ensconced on a settee, my mother fussing over him while he pretends to be annoyed by her attentions. His quick swings between accepting and rejecting help will be difficult to deal with, but we will manage, I tell myself. We must.

Prim sits at the piano and my father asks me to sing. I cannot turn down such an entreaty, and soon become engrossed in the music.

It is after the third song we perform, as my father applauds with enthusiasm, that I realise our audience is short one person. I hadn’t even noticed Peeta slip away. Wherever did he go? When did he leave? Does he find my singing deplorable? I have been told that my voice is quite pleasant, beautiful even.

I am not given a chance to investigate, however as that is when my mother yawns, insisting that she is much too tired for further amusements. I hurry from the room as soon as I see that Father is willing to accept assistance from one of the footmen in escorting my mother to their rooms.

My mother’s protests follow me, but I hear my father’s calm voice halting her objections. “Let her go, dear. They are still sorting through what it all means.”

I shake my head, confused at what exactly my father is referring to. My feet carry me from one room to the next until I find Peeta in the study, bent over the desk and sorting through a stack of parchment.

“Is my singing voice so dreadful to you?” I ask and he startles.

“Katniss!” His hands scurry to order his papers. “I did not hear you enter.”

“Hunter’s tread and soft slippers,” I say as he finally holds the stack behind his back where I cannot see them, not quickly enough, however. I spot the edges of what is clearly one of Peeta’s drawings. “What are you doing in here?”

“Your voice is beautiful,” he says then, finally meeting my eyes and holding my gaze for the first time since we entered the dining room. “The first day I heard you sing…even in your sadness your voice was mesmerising. I think even the birds outside cease their song to listen to yours.”

“That is a pretty piece of flattery,” I say, my cheeks warming as I maneuver to trap him against the desk. “But it does not answer my questions, husband.”

“I did not wish to intrude further on a family evening,” he says. My feet halt as I recall something he once said to me in our bed at night.

I am used to being unwanted.

“I came in here to clean out my mess, make the drawer available again and–”

“And what? Strike your presence from our lives?” Such a question would normally come forth with venom in my voice, but I think I begin to understand my husband and what motivates him, perhaps even the direction of several of his thoughts.

“I am aware that I am no longer necessary to you, Katniss. The only reason you sought a marriage was in case your father should die, and now he is thankfully recovered.”

“Not entirely. You could help him, as doctor Aurelius said.”

“And I will. I shall also endeavor to not cause problems for you. As it turns out, you needn’t have married anyone at all.”

“Tis a little late for regrets and second thoughts now, don’t you think?”

“Yes, well. I told you we should have stopped,” he says. “You should be with your family now, Katniss. Tis a joyful thing, your father returning to you.”

And that for some reason, triggers my anger. The idea that I could celebrate even as Peeta withdraws from me, the thought that perhaps he now regrets what transpired between us in the stables when I cannot, that implications in his words that Peeta is somehow not a part of my family. I reach around him and snatch a handful of papers before he can respond. Several of them are torn from both our grips and flutter to the floor. Peeta makes a sound of protest and grasps at me, but I am too quick and move out several steps out of his reach.

“Are these for the plant book?” I ask. “Why would you hide them?”

“They’re not for the plant book,” Peeta says and his words halt my feet. I watch as he carefully bends to retrieve the rest from the floor.

“Then…what are they?” He sighs heavily and I hold them close to my chest. “May I see them?”

“You may as well,” he mutters and waves a dismissive hand at me. I scowl but glance down at the one on top of the stack.

My heart stops.

Only for a moment as I stare at the drawing in my hand and flip to the next and then it roars back to life.

Me. They’re drawings of me. All of them. Here I am smiling, lounging in the garden, head tipped up to absorb the warm rays of the sun. There I am riding Sagittaria with a serious mein and then with laughter on my lips. Perched in a tree with a book and my skirts draped towards the ground. Another of me with head bent and eyes half closed, lost in contemplation. In my nightgown, feet curled up beneath me in my chair as I gaze into the fire, a glass in my hands. Pouring tea with a scowl on my face. Playing happily with Maysilee. Walking and sharing secrets with Madge. Several studies of eyes and braids and even my hands holding a bow. At least two dozen sketches, all exquisitely drawn with ragged edges on their left side. Torn from a book, I realise.

I am too stunned to speak at first. My upset and jealousy – yes I will admit now that I was hurt and jealous that Peeta seemed to use everyone and everything in his life as a model for his art except for me — is now proven so very wrong and ill founded.

“Why…why would you hide these?” The words stick to my throat like stale bread.

“Things were uncertain enough between us. I did not wish to make you uncomfortable with my obsessive scribbles,” he says, finally catching me as I have not been able to move since looking at the first drawing of me. He reaches for the papers in my hands and I hold them to my chest, out of his reach.

“Why do you draw me like this?”

“Like what?” he asks, and I can hear the frustration in his voice.

“As though you find me beautiful! Or hold me dear to you!”

He laughs then, although there is little humour in it. “Are you mocking me?”

“I think you mock me, sir. All your pretty words about my singing and the things you said to me in the stables today…yet you would hide these from me? Give up on our marriage?”

“I am not giving up on our marriage!”

“But you are withdrawing from it. Are you not? That is what this is about, lessening your presence in our lives.”

“It’s clear that other than assisting your father adjust, I am no longer needed here, and that will only be a temporary requirement. He will get better, and soon. Therefore –”

“You are needed! I need you!”

Peeta is finally silent then. As am I, as the truth of the words manifests in my chest. I have come to rely on him in so many ways I can scarcely take stock of them, not just in helping to care for my father. Our lives have become…entwined. He remains silent as I hand the drawings back to him.

“You made me beautiful,” I accuse again. “I am scarred and you have made me beautiful.”

“I did not. I draw you as I see you. You are already beautiful. Scars could never change that.”

“Then perhaps you need spectacles,” I say as he shuffles the papers together and sets them on top of the desk.

“I assure you, my eyesight is perfect.”

“Really? Such a claim to make when you are blind to what is right in front of you. Circumstances have changed since our betrothal.”

“Yes, I am aware,” he says with frustration and a hand in his hair.

“Therefore I think it time we re-examine the terms of our alliance.”

“Of course, madame. As you wish,” he says, with a slight incline of his head. All business and aloof, perfunctory.

“Grant me patience! You are insufferably noble sometimes.” I grasp his hand and drag him from the room. Up the stairs as he questions what I am doing. I do not stop, nor do I answer him until we are in our chambers.

Mary stands, wide eyed, from a seat by the fire. “Mrs. Mellark, I–”

“Your services are not needed tonight, Mary. Enjoy the evening,” I say, uncaring what sort of servants’ gossip my actions will unleash. She curtsies and races from the room with one astonished look over her shoulder at me. I shut the door in her wake and lock it. There will be no interruptions tonight.

All of my bravado vanishes when I face Peeta.

Despite the fact that we consummated our marriage in the stables today – oh good heavens! I consummated my marriage in a bed of horse food. Father Crane was quite right in calling me a tart when I was fifteen and still running around in breeches. Now my transgressions have taken on a new form and my cheeks burn as Peeta stands there and waits. Clears his throat and watches me expectantly.

“Now what, madame?”

His insolent smirk gives me a conduit for my frustrations and I stand tall, lifting my chin to deliver my next words.

“Now you take me to bed.”

I am left reeling by my own words. That is not at all what I meant to say! and Peeta’s lifted eyebrows reveal that it is not what he expected to hear me say.

“It’s a little early for that. What will the servants say?” I scowl at this, at the knowing look in his eyes that tells me he has determined my dislike for being the topic of gossip in the kitchens.

“I have had a most trying day. How do you know I am not seconds away from hysteria and need to take to my bed?”

“I rather doubt that, Katniss. As you have told me repeatedly, you are not so fragile. Try again.”

“I need a reason to take my husband to bed?”

“I’m not certain that it is a good idea, given–”

“Of course it is. You take me to bed, removing my corset this time. Don’t think I didn’t notice you neglected to remove my clothing this afternoon–”

“I was concerned with being discovered. I thought it wise to leave you somewhat dressed in case we needed to respond with haste.”

“Yes, well that is a fine excuse, but I have locked the door and we are husband and wife. What we will do in our bed is quite expected.”

“Quite expected,” he says and takes a few hesitant steps towards me. He gazes down at me with fire in his blue eyes. “How very…responsible of you, madame. You are playing pious again, hiding behind duty. Or is that what you truly want? The way you were today in the stable, and last night, was that all an act to convince me to consummate this sham of a marriage? To perform my duty to you?”

“No,” I deny, unable to tear my eyes away from his mouth, nor my mind from the memory of what extraordinary things that mouth has done to me, even as my heart aches at his words. “And our marriage is no sham!”

“Then what happens tomorrow morning? What am I to you then? A nuisance?”

“You are my husband, my partner, my…” I gasp out and lift my eyes to his. He seems a little stunned. I fill the silence with words I cannot seem to stop. “I expect you to wake beside me tomorrow and perhaps kiss me before we dress, then break the fast with me. I expect you to plan adventures with Maysilee while we eat and to be there for her as you have been. She has come to love and rely on you and I will not see you break her heart. I wish to work more on our book, as we were…distracted today and did not accomplish much on it.” As I speak, my words gain strength and conviction. “I want you to ride with me, and my father tomorrow, to help me show him how we have cared for our home and to see to any pressing needs. You are expected at dinner and then in whatever family amusements claim the evening. And after all of that, I expect you in this room, in that bed,” I fling my hand towards it now, “With me, where you will sleep beside me unless we choose to not sleep. And I most certainly expect flowers and a drawing from you. You promised them, and I took you for a man of your word, Peeta Mellark, a man with a sense of honor that is unmatched.”

I turn away then, unable to face the possibility that I have read this entirely wrong and just made a fool of myself. He grasps my arm and turns me back to face him. “Our home?”

“Yes, you obstinate bastard. Our home,” I say, although there is no bite in my words, because I can see in his eyes that those two words are precisely what he needs to hear.

Our home. And it has become so, hasn’t it. Just as I can no longer imagine Everdeen without Madge and Maysilee, Peeta too has planted himself firmly into this place. Without him…I do not even want to consider it.

But at the moment, I can see that his fears need assuaging. I see in his eyes the flickering remains of a child whose world was upended first with death then with a simple game played with the wrong boy. But wrong to whom? I see the pain of a boy on the cusp of manhood abandoned by the only person left whom he’d known to love him unconditionally, abandoned for a supposed chance at a better life in the dubious care of those who would spend years making him feel unwelcome, unwanted, inferior, even as they saw him educated and dressed in fine clothes. And I see the ghost of a man who was sent away to the military when his presence could no longer be tolerated, with the expectation that he would not return. The shadows of the man who survived anyways and was then forced to relearn how to walk through a world that did not wish to see him for two reasons rather than one, and most especially I see the man who was coerced into marriage with his brother’s discarded fiancé. I understand fully the sting of that last one. I felt it myself the day we signed our engagement contract.

I can see in his eyes the reflections of a man who was required to be content with the leavings and table scraps, yet has somehow found it in his heart to create a life – a good life – here with me out of what could have easily been a misery. But Peeta has needed to act in this manner nearly his entire life, as a matter of survival, learning when his welcome had run thin and it was time to move on to another sphere or change his purpose to those around him.

No longer. His welcome has not run out here yet and I intend for it to never run out. We shall take the table scraps given us and make a feast.

I slide my hands up his chest then, up to his neck as I press my body to his. “I want you to be here tomorrow, Peeta, and the day after that, and the day after that one, just as you have been. You promised to love, honor, comfort, and cherish me, until death do us part, husband, and I will hold you to those vows. Are those terms agreeable to you?”

“I suppose those will work,” he says, his hands resting on my back, a light touch as he lowers his head towards mine. “You are not disappointed? Now that you are truly and needlessly stuck with the crippled, bastard son?”

“I know exactly who I married, and I am not disappointed at all,” I whisper right before he kisses me. I savour the touch of his lips to mine just for a moment before I allow myself to sink into his embrace, into the depth of feeling and sensation.

There is no rush this time, no frustration or doubt. No fear of being discovered nor interrupted. We both know where this kiss will end and yet neither of us are in a hurry to arrive there. He kisses me as though he has the rest of our lives to do so and yet it awakens a towering need inside me.

I search through fabric until I find the ends of his cravat and slowly untie it. Peeta lifts his head, ending one kiss and resting his forehead on mine as I pull the length of silk free and leave it on the floor.

“The poor valet,” he says with a rueful shake of his head. I laugh and guide his hands to the sash tied about my waist. He understands and grasps one end, pulling until the knot falls apart. We take slow steps towards the bed, leaving a trail of clothing across the bedroom floor as we undress one another. My skin tingles. Alive with the touches of air and Peeta’s skin on mine. Alive in the way one feels after a good, deep yawn, and yet I am not the slightest bit sleepy, despite my eyes drooping. They do so with want. We peel off layer after layer until we are down to my chemise and stockings, his trousers and shirt as we come to stand right beside the bed.

He kisses me again, a language more profound than words, in some ways, his hands gently holding my jaw. We reaffirm territory already explored. The taste of him sparks recognition and comfort as well as desire now. The trailing of my fingers down his neck, down over soft linen shirt, down to his waist, gives rise to such goose flesh and need. His eyes never leave mine as I gather fabric in my hands and lift. Up and up and over his head until I must stand on my toes and then can reach no further. Peeta takes over then, discarding his shirt and standing motionless for me to examine him.

I allow my eyes to roam over the expanse of skin now bared to me, uncertain where to even begin touching him. I step back slightly and take him in – the broad shoulders and chords of muscle on his arms, the burn scars extending down from his face to cover one side of his neck and splay over his left shoulder, like a handprint forever etched onto his skin in flames, the touch of violence and war leaving its visible marks on him. A curved line over his ribs that looks like it was perhaps caused by a knife. The scattered dark blonde hairs on his chest that tighten into a line pointing down, down to his trousers where I cannot see the end but am eager to find it.

“Are you simply going to stare all night, wife?” he asks, and while there is teasing in his tone, there is also a slight thread of uncertainty. I lift my palms and set them on his pectorals, breaking the thread of uncertainty and casting it aside.

He is so warm and solid, like a stone kept in fire to heat and soothe in the coldest of winters. His breathing lifts his chest and my hands in unison, and with a quick glance at his eyes to ensure that I am not overstepping, I run my hands over him, learning the shape and the feel of him beneath my palms. Up to his shoulders then down his arms to his wrists where my fingers tickle slightly before venturing back up to his shoulders.

I trace the outline of fire branded into his skin, watching my fingers as they skim over ridges and crests. We are both of us marked by flames. A pair of beasts forged in fire and branded as unwanted. A scarred should have been a spinster woman, and a crippled bastard man. I can feel tears in my eyes as I think on the pain I endured and how such pain exists in his past as well, perhaps tenfold with his leg. I flatten my palm over the scars and lift my gaze to his.

Without a word spoken between us, I somehow know that we understand one another in ways few others can. So I continue learning his body. My palm skimming over heated flesh, curving over the scar on his ribs, meandering down to his abdomen.

As in the stable, certain muscles of his flinch and contract, but he remains planted where he stands and allows my exploration. I step forward and slide my hands around his waist to his back, finding that expanse to be much the same. Warm, solid, responsive to my touches. I cannot look at him as a curiosity takes hold and I press my mouth to his skin, just at the edge of one scar. He sighs and finally moves, lifting one hand to my hair. He plucks pins from my tresses as I kiss him. They fall discarded to the floor with each caress of my lips over him until my hair hangs loose down my back.

Peeta buries one hand there, cradling my head gently as I explore with my lips as I did with my hands. He lifts his other hand to caress over my shoulder, to move aside my chemise and mirror the touches over my own scars. When my lips reach the barrier of his trousers, though, his hand tightens in my hair and he brings me up to stand before him again.

“Now your turn,” he whispers with a smile so beguiling, I can forgive the interruption of my exploration. Especially when he first joins our mouths in a heated kiss that soon has me clawing at his chest and his neck, bending my body to bring myself as close to him as possible. I feel the hard proof of his arousal against my belly so that when he grabs fistfuls of my chemise, I eagerly lift my arms for him to remove it, shivering only slightly as the removal of the fabric, warmed from its hours spent so close to my body, leaves me slightly chilled and standing before him in naught but my stockings.

Peeta takes my hands in his then and lifts my arms out to my sides, his eyes taking their turn in roaming over me, their blue depths lit with an unmistakable flame of desire. I cannot hold such an intense gaze and drop my eyes, only to see the effect I already know our kisses and touches have had on him in the tenting of his trousers.

I look away then, focusing on the candle set beside our bed as he steps closer. Then his lips brush over my skin, on my shoulder. Higher until he reaches scars. I hear a soft sigh, ripe with longing and wonder if I am responsible for such a sound or if he is.

“Katniss,” he murmurs, his fingers scarcely touching me as he caresses over my body. He traces round my navel, down to tease dark curls, then back up to circle nipples, with such reverence that I am tormented, burning and yearning yet not ready to move on from how this feels.

“Draw me like this?” I gasp and he laughs, the sound light yet somehow tortured.

“Not now?”

“No, of course not,” I say. Then something occurs to me as I cling to his shoulders and my knees quake with the kisses he paints over my neck, the way his fingers barely seem to connect with my skin as he traces over shoulder blades then down my spine to my hips, arcing over swells and curves, teasing hidden places. “Would I have to pose for you?”

“Not unless you wish to, my love. You are now etched permanently in my memory. I do not think I will ever forget the way you appear right this moment.”

“Oh,” I say, more in response to his kisses than to his words. They leave me aquiver in a most delicious manner.

“I would have to hide that drawing in a very secure place, for I do not wish to share you in this state with anyone else.”

“Nor I you,” I murmur. His lips gift me with sweet, indulgent kisses, sensual licks and suction that makes my eyes roll back in my head and my knees weaken to the point that they buckle and he has to hold me upright. “Oh God my thoughts were quite right about you that day we met.”

I have to step out of his embrace and sit on the bed, moving to the center, away from him before my brain is turned completely to slush and my skin burned away to ash.

“Oh?” he asks, a smile playing about his lips.

“You have a sinner’s touch,” I say and he laughs, his cheeks turning pink.

“You make it sound like I am a rake.”

“Well, it is twice now that you have gotten me into bed and failed to remove my corset…”

“You weren’t wearing one tonight,” he says, his voice dark and delicious. “And we weren’t in bed earlier.”

“Details,” I say with a flippant wave of my hand and then wait for him to proceed. He does not at first, and I decide to give him some encouragement.

“Go on then,” I motion towards his lower half and bite my lip.

He shakes his head, smiling slightly as he begins to unfasten his trousers while my teeth bite deeper. My pulse spikes once or twice in anticipation. I’ve never seen all of him, not even this afternoon in the stables, my skirts and our bodies blocking my line of sight. His eyes stay on mine, perhaps searching for doubt or regret, but he will not find any, for I feel none.

He turns and pushes the garments down. I am gifted with a brief view of taut buttocks and narrow hips before he sits to finish removing his clothes and his false leg. Then I am given the chance to truly admire his back and shoulders and the strength so readily apparent in them. I’ve already experienced that strength, plucked from the mud with such ease, like a dandelion after it has gone to seed.

Bracing one hand on the bed, he turns to face me, halting on his knee and the truncated end of his left leg and spreading his hands to his sides for my examination, one eyebrow quirked and his head cocked in question.

I am leisurely in my perusal of him, his thick thighs of which I am already somewhat familiar, the thin trail of hair that I can now see fully, leading all the way down to a thatch of more cradling the source of my curiosity and many a maid’s anxieties. Yet I can no longer feel anxious, now that I already know how it feels to be joined with Peeta and that he will take care with me. It is a good thing too, otherwise I might be concerned that he would not fit. I am fortunate to already know that he fits quite well. There is, however, one detail that inflames my cheeks and teases my desire to new heights.

“Are you blushing, husband?”

I refer to the pink shade of his engorged flesh, so striking set against the rest of his fair skin. He glances down and blushes in truth, his cheeks and neck turning a matching, ruddy color.

“I suppose in a way I am. Not out of embarrassment, though, I assure you madame.”

“Hmmm, I should think not,” I tease and rise to my knees, crawling upright on them towards him until I can feel the warmth of his skin radiating onto mine. I glance down then and reach out to watch my own motions as I touch him. Peeta sucks in a sharp breath and rests his hands on my elbows in a light touch. “I am not hurting you, am I?”

“No,” he says through a strained laugh. “Though I may expire from this.”

“Is it not acceptable for a wife to touch and discover what pleases her husband? You did for me,” I whisper and he sways but does not stop me. I marvel at the heat of him, the weight in my palm and the contrast of softness and rigidity.

“It is perfectly acceptable.”

“Am I doing this wrong then?”

“God no,” he says with such vehemence. “Your touch is… so pure.” If I were not already blushing, that would turn me bright red. Then something terrible occurs to me. A brief image of another woman touching my husband thus. A woman who knows how to please him where I am only just beginning to learn, and perhaps the purity of my touch is not a compliment.

“Have you been married before?” I ask, my grip tightening in reflex as the cursed words leave my mouth. I never thought to ask before now. Peeta groans and sets his hands over mine. He leans towards me and begins kissing my ear.

“No, Katniss. I have never been married before, and before you ask again, I have lain with two others before you. One was due to the stupid impetuousness of youth, the other lasted only one night and happened because I was feeling sorry for myself, certain that I would die alone a crippled soldier. They were both well over a year ago, nearly five years ago in the case of the first.”

“Oh,” I say, a strange lightness lifting my spirits as our eyes meet, my hands still full of him. “Did you remove their corsets at least?”

He laughs then, full and hearty. “I honestly do not recall enough of either encounter to remember such details. I was not in a fair state of mind… to be frank, I was drunk.”

“A tactful answer. Will you forget me then and blame the wine?” I say and he glances down at where I have him in hand. My eyes follow his for a second before meeting his blues once more.

“I am not exactly in a position to anger you and limp away unscathed, madame.” I blush furiously at that, but there is something in his eyes that makes me feel bold and empowered, rather than chastened or cowed. Somehow I know, Peeta is enjoying both our banter and our touches as much as I. He leans forward and brushes his lips over mine. “And I am completely, blissfully aware of everything we have done today. It will not be easily forgotten.” His words flow through me, intoxicating like wine, and warm. Mollified, I am able to tease him further.

“Are you not going to ask me how many men I have lain with?” A smile curves his lips and mine mirror the action. I tilt my head and shoulders in what I hope is a coy expression.

“God do I love your spirit,” he whispers as he cups my jaw in his palms again and kisses me. “How many men have you lain with before me, Katniss?”

“None, and I shall thank you to never ask me such an insulting question again, husband,” I say with false superiority and no bite to my words. I could not summon any if I wanted to. My lips are consumed with kissing him and my hands with touching him, learning him. In between kisses, he whispers to me. He whispers words of guidance and promises. Such delicious promises that make me eager to hand the reins back to him, but not before I am completely familiar with his body.

It is not long before his breathing turns ragged and his eyes hazy. His head tips back and he bites into his lip. The sight of him thus makes me think of what he did with his mouth in the stables. Surely there must be an equivalent act for me to perform for him. I kiss the hollow of his throat and am working up the courage to try loving him with my mouth when his hands drop to mine and pry my touch away from him.

“Stop. You have to stop.”

“Why do I?” I ask, confused and hurt.

“Because if you do not, I will spill all over your hands and the sheets.”

“Oh,” I say and let go of him. Then I was doing well, I think with a small thrill of pride.

I’ve no chance to ask him though, as his kisses have turned insistent. Passionate and deep as he shifts us both so that our naked bodies press together. I moan into his mouth, the sound undignified and desperate, but I cannot control the way his heat feels, engulfing me in a sensual embrace like nothing I have experienced before. The intimacy of flesh to flesh unparalleled in my memory as I cling to him and match his kisses as best I can, with every ounce of fervor I feel for him.

I know a moment of unsease as he lays me on my back and covers me, but then his mouth and his hands touch everywhere. I relax beneath his almost reverent kisses and yet I am strung tight as a bow, ready to spring. His hands precede his lips, and soon I am quivering on the sheets. Desperate so much so that when his hand curves around my hip, down to cup one thigh, I open my legs without question for him to settle between them.

His mouth returns to mine then and something slender slides inside me. “Oh mercy. Katniss,” he groans to the space between my parted lips then kisses me again, rough and fast before lifting his head to gaze down at me. “You overwhelm me.”

I cling to his arms as he touches me and finds hidden patches inside me that make me shudder and moan and beg. I can no longer draw a decent breath and plead with him, gasping his name and writhing against his hand, a sinful tart drawn to his touch.

“I wish to be inside you when you climax,” he whispers then bites gently on my ear. I give a breathless agreement and wonder to myself if he will be able to last. My only experience thus far is the stable, when he finished before and without me. Granted there was the way he kissed me to completion before that—

His fingers find the small patch of need his tongue worshipped in the stables and I cry out, the sound sharp and loud in our room. His mouth covers mine and our breaths make ragged music in the night as I plant me feet on the bed and let my hips move freely, seeking and aching for those rolling waves of release.

My muffled sounds crescendo against his tongue as I draw tighter and closer. My fingers rake bars of delight into his skin. I cannot get close enough and then he rolls on the bed, taking me with him so that I am sitting on his stomach, straddling him. My body aches, denied the pleasure it so desires, right on the cusp.

“What are we doing?” I ask, uncertain of his plans. I have no scullery tales, no whispers of maids nor cooks, nor even Madge to place what is happening as he pushes my hips up and back so that I hover over his erection.

“You are going to ride me,” he says and I sputter at that.

“What like a horse?”

“With a few noticeable differences but yes. Very much like a horse,” he says with a laugh and a cheeky smile. “More like bareback riding. And do not try to convince me that you’ve never ridden a horse bareback, you hoyden. I shan’t believe you if you try.” His words carry no insult, and so I take none, only desire and wonder. His hand caresses up my thigh then, back to my sex where he resumes what he was doing just seconds ago until I am mindless in my arousal and unable to hold still. “Yes, like that my pearl. Open for me.”

I vaguely feel him again, sliding past my entrance as his fingers leave me. A growing fullness and his low, elongated moan until my hips are flush with his and I am dizzy with the need to move, although I do not know how until Peeta rests his hands on my hips and guides me in a slow circle over him. I make an incoherent sound. My fingers dig into his chest and my head rolls back, hair brushing my back and his thighs. I find a rhythm and surrender to it, riding after the spreading pleasure that warms me throughout.

“Wait! Wait!” Peeta gasps and grasps my hips, holding me still on top of him. Frustrated, I growl and stare down at him, annoyed with the interruption, since there’s no good reason for it.

“What about…” he swallows before finishing his question. “…what about children?”

I glance around the room and growl again. “There are none here.”

“No,” he says with a slight laugh and a shake of his head. “No I meant the possibility.” He flattens his hand on my belly and I stare down at it. His fair skin almost pale against my darker tone. “Of… our children.”

My eyes meet his again as it registers, what he’s asking. “You want to discuss this now?”

“Admittedly my timing is poor.” His eyes drop to where we are joined and he makes a small whimpering noise as I shift my weight on him. “And I realise that I am also late raising this issue. Given what transpired this afternoon, but there are precautions we should take if you do not want children yet or at all…” he trails off as I laugh. I laugh and rest one elbow on his chest, leaning down onto my hand.

“Yes, I know. My mother is a healer after all. There was a tea she would give to women who did not wish more children. She tracked cycles on calendars to advise them on when to abstain.”

“I see,” he says. “So then you’ve had some of this tea recently?”

We remain motionless, joined together, prepared to copulate as I consider his questions. In an instant, I live a thousand moments with him by my side. Birthdays and holidays, every season and every harvest. A parcel of children in a motley mixture of our features crawling across the rug, clamoring for his attention, climbing into my lap for kisses and cuddles. Peals of potential laughter and the echoes of future joy bring tears to my eyes, an unbearable overflowing in my breast. If it feels this way to merely consider children, what would it feel like to carry them? To nurse them and raise them? To bestow all of this love I now feel surging through me upon them?

Exquisite. That is how it would feel.

For years I had never considered my own desires where children were concerned. Romance and marriage and family seemed such an unlikely possibility after the fire. Who would want a family with an unbiddable, scarred and surly hoyden? But as Peeta gazes up at me, his eyes shining in emotion, and I think on those sheets upon sheets of his hand forever capturing me on paper as someone beautiful and intriguing, I know. He would. I ask him despite this growing certainty, if only to hear him say it.

“Do you wish to have children, Peeta?”

“Perhaps some day. If you wish to,” he whispers but his hand caressing my belly, the rasps of longing in his voice, and the feel of him throbbing inside me speaks volumes. He is too wonderful with Maysilee. If there were anyone in this world that I would wish to have children with, it would be Peeta.

My body hums with the need to move, to love him and relieve his body if it’s seed, to accept him into my womb. I can feel a content smile curling over my lips then and the widening of his eyes as I lean forward and kiss him, our chests brushing together as I feel heavy with want, with need.

“Then there is no need for precautions tonight or any other night, husband.” To prove it to him, I begin to move again. His hold on my hips loosens, though he does not fully release me, only loosens his hold enough that I may once more move freely. I am glad of his touch, the flex of his fingers on me and the additional connection keeping me grounded to him.

“Take what you want, my love. See what feels best for you.” His whispered words barely register as he cedes control to me and I move my hips, my entire body over him as I test first one movement then another. Some create a slow, melting pleasure. Others cause bright bursts of it that are nearly unbearable in their strength. Still others coil as pressure low inside me. I recognize those feelings and follow them, bracing my hands on his chest and shoulders as I feel the need to move with more urgency and strength.

“What about you?” I ask at one point and he smiles at me.

“Your pleasure pleases me.”

Through it all, Peeta’s eyes remain fixed on me – on my eyes or my body as I move over him – but even when I look away for a moment to close my eyes and focus on the feel of him stroking inside me, against me, or of his hands spreading loving touches over my body, whenever I open my eyes, his are there to meet me again. And I can see in his gaze, the way he looks at me now, that his drawings are no lie at all. Moving over him thus, I feel exactly as he depicts me – beautiful, powerful, desirable, spirited.

We are unguarded in expression and I cry out for him to not stop when he takes one breast in his mouth, the heat and suction unleashing a torrent of mirror sensations as it builds and builds until I think that I can stand no more.

Then he rises up slightly, setting one hand behind him as he joins me in movement, bodies gyrating together. He caresses over my back, down to my buttocks where he flattens his palm on me and pushes me to ride him harder. His soft words and groans spur me on and I chase the rapture until it bursts inside me, an explosion of sensation.

I know that I scream. I know that I lose control of my limbs and my hips as I continue to move erratically. I know that Peeta grasps my hips with both hands, his hips rising up into me and his hands controlling my motions in bouncing on him in a handful of rapid pulses until he shouts into my neck.

As we lay there after, both of us heaving to gain control of our lungs, his fingers trace over me. The touch is gentle and sensuous, through the coat of perspiration dotting my skin and the gooseflesh arisen from his touch and the cooling of the air breathing over my naked skin. When I am able to look up at him, he is smiling. I shift to kiss his jaw and curl my body closer to his, although I am not certain it is physically possible. His lips press a kiss to my forehead and he begins to run his fingers through my hair.

“Satisfied?” He whispers to me.

“Not until you put my pictures back in your sketchbook where they belong,” I say, barely getting the words out before a yawn takes over.

“I will do that tomorrow then.”

“Now I am satisfied, husband,” I murmur and he chuckles softly. His fingers still comb gently through my hair as I fall asleep.

To be continued…look for chapter seventeen on the blog of @katnissdoesnotfollowback

#unmasked #m #everlarkficexchange #prompt 88 #everlark fic exchange #spring 2019 edition #so excited #but I have no time to read it today!#but I wasn’t going to keep it from you!#thank you m!#submission

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thisiskatsblog · 5 years ago

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Hey! I found your blog and that ask about how you've been like a veteran Larrie was beautiful. Even this: 'I just get sad when I see people's faith shaken so easily, not AT them for having doubts but because this is the environment bred by years of being told that the thing you see in front of your face isn't there. The gas-lighting is real.' That made me feel like sobbing. I try so hard to have faith and be strong for them, for the two boys I love more than anything in the world, because their

part 2: love truly completes mylife, and while I try so hard not to let some disgusting antis comments get tome, they inevitably do. I’m a new writer, and I just found a blog xxxxxxxxxxand I saw this: ‘I’m not one for violence, but I do believe that you should beencouraged to punch a) Nazis and b) Larries’, as well as this whole nasty,repulsive rant she went on about why she hates Larries. The world is so fuckedup and I hate that such horrible people exist. I hate how low I feelafter

part 3: reading such vilecomments. Even though Larry is my whole world and I literally don’t care aboutany other couple, it’s so fucking hard to be strong in such a toxicenvironment. Sometimes I just feel like breaking down and sobbing because it’sso fucking draining and painful and it all just hurts so much. Sorry forflooding your inbox, I just feel so depressed about all this. I know we’re inthe majority, I know we’ve held our heads fucking high through it all, but it’sagonising.

—————–

Dear sweet anon,

First thingsfirst: imagine me giving you a big, warm and long hug (unless you’re uncomfortablewith hugs, in which case imagine me bringing you a cup of tea or something elseyou like). I know how draining it can be – didn’t leave the fandom for a yearfor no reason – but there are ways to make all this more enjoyable.

Withoutwanting to tell you what to do, I do want to share a few things that have mademy experience 10x more enjoyable this time round.

1stthing that worked for me: curating my social media experience carefully. Firsttime round, for the longest time, I wouldn’t block or unfollow any blogs anddeliberately followed some antis to stay up to date – all out of a misguidedsense of “I shouldn’t ignore any information”. But anti opinions are notinformation, and not all perspectives are equal. All evidence needs to be evaluated,in context of the last ten years. If this consistently points to a relationship– it’s okay for you to stop looking at blogs that discount the evidence for Louis’and Harry’s relationship. Keeping an open mind, okay, but publicityrelationships are a thing, and it’s perfectly okay to filter them out. It’s even more important to protect yourselfagainst hate speech

Which bringsme to the 2nd thing that worked for me: never to hesitate to block someonewho compares you to a nazi and says you deserve to be punched. That’s bullyingand online violence and it deserves no more than one second of your attention.The time it needs to report and block them. End of story. I was stupid enoughnot to do that in this case, I actually went and looked, curious to find out what thejustification of this comparison was, which led me to some seriously logicallyflawed theories of Larries being antisemitic conspiracy theorists which… lostme another hour of my day and brought me no useful insights whatsoever. If youneed whole pages to connect Larries to antisemitism based on the bad logic, on denial of evidence, and on denial that closeting of celebrities just HAPPENS,like ALL the fucking time - that’s really just not WANTING to see it.

A 3rdthing that has worked for me is not letting “Larry (be) mywhole world”. I hope you were exaggerating it a littlebit - but I can related somewhat. Theirdynamics certainly became a source of positive energy in my life back in 2013when I was in dire need of one, but as I had few other sources and this RainbowDirection thing gradually started taking up more space in my life and became adirect target of the gaslighting and bullying tactics, it almost destroyed me.When your only source of positive is this, and you cannot/or refuse to avoidthe negativity, it becomes a toxic relationship for you. I always took socialmedia detox weeks over the summer holidays, but last year, I extracted myselffrom all of this for over a year because the negatives started outweighing thepositives. This allowed me to build more other sources of positivity into mylife and that has made all the difference in coming back. Taking a step back can really helpyou see perspective. Interestinglywhen I came back, I realized I had remembered most of the bad stuff, and I hadforgotten so much of the good stuff. I amhaving loads more fun now. And I am also much more careful about what I allow to affect me. You can choose to see the glass half full or half empty. I chose to be an optimist, and allow myself not to have to doubt everything all the time.

Fourththings that has worked for me: self care. I am who I am, so every once in a while,I do still get shitty anons, or I get caught up in an argument with someone whodraws the blood from under my nails, or I find out that someone I like that hasme blocked for some reason that likely has very little to do with what Iactually think or said. That’s shitty. But there’s good antidotes for it. I’vecreated a few resources for my own self care. When, this past year, shittystuff happened, I devoted myself to creating lists of things that make me happyin this fandom. For me that will be updating the Rainbow Direction press articleslist, or history page, or going through this list of tribute videos. I am justnow thinking of a post that I have been planning to make collecting allcomments from people reminiscing about the early RD days after Harry’s tour endedlast year. Go back over the Harry-Louis treatise, immerse yourself in FreddieIsMyQueen’schannel, scroll through the pride and rainbow tags, there is so much that youcan do to remind you of the good stuff in this fandom. There is really loads ofit.

Thatdoesn’t mean I don’t sometimes feel like breaking down and sobbing. When Iimagine going to Louis’ concert and watching him sing Too Young, or Walls, Ibreak down and sob and desperately want to be hugged. And that’s frustratingabout being in an online, virtual community, there is no one to give you thathug. That’s when I know I need to call one of my friends in real life andinvite them for a cosy evening on the couch. Actual real human contact, gettingmy daily hugs in, has been so so important for me. But self care also workshere: in the past when there wasn’t anyone, a long walk outside, a warm bath, ora visit to the sauna or the gym have also worked for me. Being physical,instead of all this virtual mindblowing and mindnumbing shit.

Wow,this wasn’t supposed to get so long. But I can relate. And I’m hugging you fromfar away, if that’s your thing.

All thelove, anon!

#gaslighting #bullying #shady shit #self care #Anonymous #ask

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spockandawe · 6 years ago

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Windblade!

WINDBLADE! My girl!!!

First impression: Well, it was Dark Cybertron, so mostly I was confused and trying to slog on through the uneven art and writing without losing my momentum. My first impression was probably something like noooOOOoooOOO not MORE characters :c

Impression now: Oh my god, I love her. She kind of breaks type in terms of my faves, where a lot of times I gravitate to the characters who are carrying massive damage and/or anger, and she’s… pretty well adjusted! I love how determined she is, how smart she is, how compassionate she is, how good-natured and friendly she is. I love that she’s one of the characters who was calculating enough to be like ‘starscream’s a hazard, but i don’t want to overthrow him, i’d rather support him and stabilize the planet as much as i can’. I love how well she shoulders new and heavier responsibilities, and that she doesn’t really want power, but when she has the ability to help people by leading, she wants to help as much as she can. And despite all that good nature, she’s got a temper and an attitude, and she’s totally unwilling to let people walk all over her.

Favorite moment: Ooooh. I know I picked this as one of my favorite moments for Starscream, but seriously, when she’s trapped in her own head with Vigilem and Starscream comes to visit and gets trapped too, and she protects him and kicks Vigilem out of the driver’s seat. She’s just so fucking determined, and not just that, but determined to do the right thing. There’s something that’s really hard to articulate about this, but… she knows what Starscream is like, but still doesn’t hesitate to protect him. Even when Starscream is blackmailing her, she’s really bad at being blackmailed. Even without Chromia making her move, I don’t think that would have stuck long. Windblade really has a strong grasp of her own personal standards of right and wrong, and I think that moment where she jumps in and grabs Starscream’s spark and forges him a new body really embodies all the best things about her.

Idea for a story: Well, the easy answer would be the same vigilem mind meld fic I talked about for Starscream :P But let’s have a little variety! I am dying to get to the starbladejack fic where Megatron comes to visit Cybertron. It won’t just be Megatron, it’ll be the LL officers all at once, and they’ll have genuinely innocent intentions. But I still want to put Windblade in a room with Megatron and Starscream. I want it so badly I’m going to scream. I want Windblade to (not literally) stand up and say that yes, Starscream is a jackass, but he’s my jackass, and I’m not comfortable with what’s happening here. I want her willing to throw down with Megatron, even though he’s old, experienced, and ruthless, and has unimaginable amounts of blood on his hands, and where by Cybertronian standards, she’s an untried baby. I need this fic, if only I could get unstuck on the last few things I need to write before beginning it XD

Unpopular opinion: Starblade? I’m sticking with that one :B It’s so baffling to me that people are getting all purity culture over this ship when this canon is full of characters who have tried to kill each other loads of times, and have frequently mutilated each other in all sorts of interesting ways, but this is the ship that people get stuck on. I mean, Megatron came this close to killing Rodimus in phase one, but that’s still popular. He came that close to killing OP too, but megop is stlil a standard. I think starblade is a tricky balance, but it has so much potential to bring out the best in both of them. If they’re written together to a stable place, it has the potential to be a Starscream with all his abrasiveness and sharp edges intact, but where he’s better at pulling up before trying to hurt (/kill) people he cares about. And it showcases the part of her I love where she’s tenacious as hell and takes no shit, and she doesn’t dissolve into bland shapeless personality-what-personality characterization that sometimes happens to women in a cast of majority men.

Favorite relationship: Man, you’d think that at this point I’d be better about remembering what the next question in this list is :P Anyways, yeah. Starscream. For him I picked starbladejack because choosing starblade vs starjack was impossible, but for her, it’s more directly starscream. With an optional side serving of other ships, like starbladejack and starbladebee, or even adding vigilem to the mix. I’m very open to all the possibilities. But the starblade dynamic is what keeps me most invested in all those things. Pitchrom is just a delight when it’s done nicely, and they’re such a perfect matched pitch pair that I can ship them around as a unit without having to think too hard about it.

Favorite headcanon: This one is so tricky :P I’d say that vigilem didn’t die in taao, because the spark ‘burns away things that are false’, but I’m also saving that for the vigilem ask in my inbox. How about that Windblade is very young, even by Camien standards, and especially by Cybertronian standards. She’s still an adult, and is well-trained, well-educated, and very intelligent, but when a Cybertronian learns how young she is it’s super disconcerting because they’re not used to young people and oh god who let this baby out without supervision she’s going to be killed– It’s frustrating to her in some ways and hilarious in others, and also distresses her on a deeper level because the lack of Cybertronian babies is a whole other problem and people from their homeworld shouldn’t be in a position where they see her as alarmingly young.

#spock replies #windblade #starblade #ask memes/#transformers #auro-bot

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mybeautifuldecay · 6 years ago

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Private Tutor. Chapter Thirteen; The Smile Was A Little Forced, But It Lasted.

These chapters are getting finished and posted later and later but hopefully it’s for the best. I basically slept all day today and only woke up as the sun set (which considering it’s summer, is pretty late).

Credit, as always, goes to the wonderful @gotham-ruaidh for being my reason for fic in the first place and to @suhailauniverse for being wise and helping me to understand the basic principles of university educations and many other things that make her way smarter than me <3 thanks Suh, you rock.

As always, I don’t have an active AO3 account: so sorry all who find it easier over there...but I'm going to mash together a master list in the next couple of days.

Happy Thursday, all.

Pacing the length of her bedroom, the carpet swished beneath Claire’s feet as she glanced at herself in the vanity - trying to work off the nerves that sat heavy in her belly.

Dr Abernathy had emailed her back only twenty-four hours after she’d sent him the request and she’d spend double that time trying to pluck up the courage to open it. She couldn’t face the prospect of him declining her, but nor did she know how she’d feel if he’d responded positively.

Frank had been decidedly absent for the last few days, staying with his student no doubt but Claire didn’t have any energy to dwell on that.

“Come on, Beauchamp.” She sighed, twisting her hands into fists as she referred to herself using her maiden name; something she hadn’t done in years. Opening the lid of her laptop she loaded up her email account, her fingers typing in the password so fast that she had to repeat the process three times before she finally got the combination right.

Sitting unobtrusively in her inbox, the message flashed up as unread the second it loaded, the bright blue bold font making Claire’s stomach topple. The subject line held a few words but it didn’t give her any clue as to what lay beyond. Clicking quickly on the link, she finally opened it and her eyes caught a date almost immediately.

‘Dear Claire, I’m so glad you finally plucked up the courage to get into contact with me…’ the first line read, making Claire’s heart skip. Letting her eyes drift over the nice opening, she read the paragraph further down, the one that contained the date, her palms sitting face down on the desk either side of the computer to hold her steady. As soon as she’d processed the information she needed she grabbed for her phone and quickly pressed ‘call’ on Jamie’s number. It only rang out a couple of times before she heard him pick up and greet her.

“He’s asked me to come to the hospital to meet him, Jamie,” she babbled resuming her pacing as she spoke, “he said it wasn’t an interview so much as a discussion about my options. What do I do?”

“Sassenach,” Jamie soothed, his voice calm and quiet as he tried to talk Claire down, “ye reply in the positive, aye? Go and meet him. He’s a busy man, even though he said it wasna an interview he wouldna invite you up there if he meant to waste yers and his time. I suspect, as it’s so late in the year, he might have an alternative solution for September but there’s no point in him taking ye to meet the course heads if he doesna ken what yer plans are. But I canna say for sure.”

“Christ.” Claire exclaimed, flopping onto the bed as she let Jamie’s words sink in. “I’ve wanted this for so long and now I might finally be able to do it I’m actively petrified.”

“Then that’s a good sign, lass. Anything that makes ye that worrit is something worth fighting for.”

Claire smiled down the phone at his words. Jamie was right. She’d been numb for so long that any emotion, even one that had her pulse racing and her nerves shot, was not something to be ignored.

“True.” She said watching carefully as the thin fibres of her faux-fur rug slid between her toes. “Now what on earth am I supposed to wear to meet a chief surgeon!?”

“Bloodied scrubs?” Jamie joked, unable to contain it.

“I don’t-” Claire began before laughing down the phone. “Helpful, Fraser,” she quipped, “thank you.”

“I’m really pleased that Jamie made you contact me.” Joe (he’d been clear that there were to be no formalities and Claire had been forced to leave the ‘doctor’ title at the door when she’d entered his small office) said with a rather large smile on his face as he pulled a chair out for her. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but we’ve actually met before. When your husband first arrived at the university you were both at a benefit. I only recalled it after you’d left the lecture theatre the other day.”

“So you knew I wasn’t enrolled at the university then?” Claire replied quietly, feeling downcast that she’d even attempted to pull off the rouse.

“Ah, don’t worry about that, Claire. I wasn't worried either way.” He said kindly, his American accent sounding more pronounced as he signed off a few papers that lay harmlessly in front of him. “Like I said before, I met you when you were with professor Randall.” The way he said Frank’s name made her ears prick. It wasn’t truly unpleasant but there was a minor hint of enmity behind his tone. “And to see you in that talk, with animation and life appearing behind your eyes as you listened cautiously, making sure you only made a comment when you were certain you’d gotten the gist of the conversation. It was...enlightening. Then,” he continued, pouring a cup of tea for each of them from a pot that was already on his desk, “when I finally remembered where I’d seen you previously; well, then it felt all the more impressive.”

“I’m sure I wasn’t much as to be remembered, Joe,” she said, half on the way to calling him doctor before she recalled their earlier accord, “the last time I tried to make any comments at one of those things I got some incredible side-eye from Frank.”

Joe scoffed, a half laugh, half sneer as he tried to contain his own loathing for such events and the specific characters that often frequented them. “But, hopefully, your days of being left in the shadows are over Claire.” He returned, making her sit up straighter in her chair. “If some of those intriguing notions you brought to the fore at the seminar are anything to go by, I don’t doubt that you could be an incredible doctor, should you want that, of course?” He left the question hanging in the air, giving Claire an opportunity to speak.

“Is that what you do then? Up at the university, Joe. Vet the current cohort?” She spoke without really thinking but as soon as the words were out of her mouth her cheeks flamed red and she snapped her lips shut. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“No, no, Claire,” Joe chuckled, a sly look in his eye, “don’t be sorry. You’re completely correct. Though not infallible,” he declared with some humour, “I have a keen eye and the tutors like to get my opinion on those they harbour some concern over. It’s a double win, really. The professors get my *valuable*,” he said winking conspiratively, “assessment and the students get at least one amusing lecture a year.”

“Can you tell who’ll pass and fail then?” She said jokingly. “Should I be worried that you know my fate already?”

“Oh, if only. I’d be out of here like a shot if that were the case, selling my talents and securing the rights to my own television series. It’s usually just a feeling. I have a degree in psychology as well as my PHd and my MD, I wasn’t too invested in some of the theories, of course, but the human psyche is an interesting thing and when applied to med students, you can really sort the strong from the weak. Some will surprise you, there’s always at least one that does, and others will do just as I’ve predicted.”

“And you think I’m worth the punt?” Claire interjected her voice steady, confident and resolute as she spoke.

“I don’t think,” he returned, his eyes holding hers as he placed his hands on the desk either side of the two full teacups, “I know, Claire.”

“What’s the dropout rate looking like for this intake?” She said getting straight to the point. If there was to be any chance of her enrolling in September she knew it would hinge on some of the new and current students leaving the course.

“Don’t worry about that for now. I just need to know how serious you are about pursuing this.”

“I want it. Desperately. Not at the detriment of someone else,” she said, realising how her words might have sounded, “but studying with Jamie has made me see how much I need to do something rather than nothing.”

“I get the feeling this is a calling for you, Claire, something that is burned deep into your DNA, and I’m willing to put my neck on the line in order to help you achieve that, just as Mr Fraser has done. That being said, and I’m certain you know this already, you’ve been out of education for a while. Even with the knowledge you’ve gained from Jamie’s teaching, it would be hard to convince any medical course to take you on without some proof that you haven’t completely forgotten all of your A Level sciences. So what if we discuss a foundation course for September and see how that goes?”

“I think that’s perfect.” Claire nodded, her eyes alight with joy as Joe reached out his hand and she took it in acceptance. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I won’t let you down.”

Skipping out of the hospital, Claire tried to slow her steps and appear as normal as possible but inside her heart was fluttering like mad, the satisfaction of having added an ally (and a powerful one at that) making her vibrate from head to toe. There was only one person she needed to tell now and she had no clue where he might be.

Turning onto the main road she headed for the university, her mind too focused on finding Jamie to worry about seeing Frank or any of his colleagues. But luck was on her side for the moment and as she searched through the medical department, she didn’t see anyone who might recognise her.

But nor could she find Jamie.

Taking a small map of Glasgow from a stack by the university tourist shop, she noted where The Mitchell was in relation to where she was and began the short walk across the campus towards the city centre. She’d left the house this morning without her phone and had no means to call Jamie and find out his whereabouts but she didn’t think he’d be at home at this point in the day.

She walked through Kelvingrove, pushing her hair back off her face as she skirted by the gallery (staying out of the way of the dog walkers, pushchairs and cyclists) Joe’s words whirling around her head as the sun shone high in the sky. As the glorious architecture appeared, the swish of the cars driving along the dual carriageway echoing behind the large building, Claire rushed up the steps - waving at Ellen and Geillis as they stood chatting at the front desk.

“Jamie?” She whispered, popping her head about the bookcases as she sought him out. “Jamie, are you here?”

The rest of the library was deserted so she didn’t feel too bad about calling out for him.

Just as she was about to turn, Claire caught sight of a hunched figure to the side of the larger stacks - his red hair sticking up as he turned the page of the aged book.

“Jamie…” Claire sighed, sliding into the chair next to him and glancing across at him from the corner of her eye. He barely looked up, but he did smile a little as she nudged her knee against his. “I’m sorry. You’ve been nothing but good to me and I’ve hidden from you these last few weeks.”

“I canna say it didn’t hurt my feelings, sassenach,” he said, closing his book and placing it at his feet, “but I ken why ye did it. How did yer meeting go?’ He asked, changing the subject.

“It was just as you said. He suggested a foundation year and I said yes.”

His smile was a little forced, but it lasted. “See,” he murmured, “I kent ye could do it. I’m so proud of you.”

“It’s down to you, Jamie.” She said, moisture building in her eyes at his declaration. “I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for you.”

“Ach, ye would. Yer too smart to wither away. Sooner or later you would have gathered the courage to follow yer dreams, I truly believe that. I just helped fate along a little, aye?”

“Fuck fate…” Claire snorted, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand before letting her arm drop, her palm resting gently over the back of Jamie’s hand. Buoyed by the contact she took one deep breath and closed her eyes. “I’m falling in love with you, Jamie Fraser, and that has nothing to do with fate. Neither does me applying for this course. It’s you. All of it. It’s all down to you.”

#gotham's writing workshop #Private Tutor AU #Jamie X Claire #featuring: joe abernathy #Outlander #fanfiction

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crimsonrevolt · 6 years ago

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Congratulations Carlos you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Andromeda Tonks!

↳ please refer to our character checklist

We were so pleased and excited to see your application in our inbox and we are thrilled to be able to welcome both you and your Andromeda into the roleplay. It was clear from both your questionnaire answers and the lovely para sample that you did that you have a strong vision of her and brought her to life. You showed the ties that she still has to her family - even in the way that she acts - despite her decision and the conflict that she still feels over it The feistiness and determination that you showed so well will undoubtedly be great to see on the dash and we’re excited to see what you will do with her!

application beneath the cut

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

I go by Carlos, 25, and I prefer she/her and I am currently leaving in Hawaii – I just moved here so I think the timezone is The Hawaii–Aleutian Time Zone.

ACTIVITY

Probably 7-8 to be honest if not more. I am studying for the bar and have a job but I am on at last once a day.

TRIGGERS

None tbh. But if I do remember any I will send you guys a message.

HOW DID YOU FIND US?

Via a recommendation.

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?

Lol I would say Hermione because I was in love with her when I was little. I know – everyone tends to be because of how smart she is and brave but as I have grown I have realized I truly do admire and identify with Luna the most. That was because she had such a wild imagination and didn’t let logic get her stuck in her ways so that she was able to believe in the impossible. She never apologized for being unique and she never thought of herself os strange or odd but just unique which I have come to realize is the truth about every single of us. Not to mention that she was the most legit Ravenclaw <3

ANYTHING ELSE?

None at all.

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER

Andromeda Tonks

FACE CLAIM

Jenna Louise Coleman

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

I choose Andromeda because I love how she came from a family that believed in something so strongly but she was able to make up her mind when it came to right and wrong and was able to stick with it. She didn’t give blind loyalty and stood up for what she thought was right though it ended up costing her both of her sisters and her family. I don’t think that she turned her back on her family but rather on their beliefs and I don’t believe that it was all because of Edward, I think that Edward gave her the confidence and the push that she needed – the bravery that she had always had by giving her a solid ground to land on. I believe that she always knew that she didn’t have the same beliefs or common mindsets and I am sure that she would battle with her parents and family members during dinners and perhaps an afternoon talk and push her best to get her family to see her perspective and respect it but always ended up knowing deep down that the day when she would have to turn her back was drawing closer every day.

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

Andromeda/Chemistry & Andromeda/Edward. She is heterosexual. She/Her. Andromeda looks at love as two independent people that enter into an unspoken contract to be there for each other – be each others teammate in life and love them unconditionally as well as respect them. She really believed in that when she left her family and even the moments that it creeps in that she feels like she did wrong because at the end of the day what kind of person turns against their family and not feel an ache? She doesn’t regret her decision and if she had to do it all over again it would be the same but that doesn’t erase the pain that comes from having to turn your back on people that raised you and you love not to mention seeing her sisters – especially her younger one – every other day and not being able to talk to them like before.

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

( X ) & ( X )

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it:

“The spell for someone to stop asking idiotic questions? Imagine how much time we would’ve saved just now.” She replied without hesitation. Even though the question did not make it on the top ten stupid questions that she had ever been asked throughout her life there was still the need to not let an opportunity to sass the interviewer up. It had actually been a question she herself had thought about every now and then and the best she had come up with was a spell that open people’s mind to other opinions and perspective, but even that felt wrong to a degree.

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you:

“Edward – and my motorcycle. I know I could probably just conjure one with my want – but vintage is something that one can’t just replicate. Food would be taken care of – I am sure that if cave man were successful that I will be just fine.”

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make?

“Ones involving food – cause you know eating next is the most important decision to make,” Andromeda scarastically responded knowing full well that the real answer was any decisions relating to her family, especially the lastest of turning her back on them. Of course it didn’t take any idiot to realize that – any idiot that knew who she was and what she had done and anyone else didn’t need to know.

♔ What is one thing you would never want to be said about you?

“You act like I care what anyone says about me – but I suppose if this was some important interview in which I was forced to give an reasonable answer to then it would have to be that I lacked the courage and conviction to do the right thing – that I let my personal feelings get in the way – some sentimental thing like that.”

REACTION TO LAST EVENT DROP

The plot drop was amazing! I believe that Andromeda would do her best to push for the two groups to be brought together and get them to see that they’re stronger if they both get on the same track and work together than just scrambling around like headless chickens. Maybe she would’ve tried going to the engagement party to see her younger sister, since I imagine it had been a while since she had seen her.

WRITING SAMPLE

It was 3 am. No one was up. To everyone else a drop of a pin would wake him or her up but not to Andromeda. Not at all. Her thoughts were louder than London on its busiest day. The idea of going back to sleep was quickly discarded, she knew too well that was not an option. Once upon a time she had heard that was the time people that were not at peace with themselves woke up. In another place and time, she had once read that it was the exact time that evil was at its strongest. These were all muggle ideas and thoughts and even though Andromeda didn’t believe in them completely she couldn’t deny them either. Her dreams always managed to wake her up at the same exact time over and over. The dreams had gotten better throughout time. Actually, that was a lie. She had gotten better at handling them due to her fear of always waking up Edward. So there she was again laying in bed and staring at the ceiling above her. Playing over her latest dream in her head again. A dream that she didn’t need any interpretation for. None of her dreams did, most of them just had her standing in front of the graves of her sisters. Of feeling the unbearable ache of losing them and knowing that their last words had not been words of kindness.

Though all the years before should have prepared her for the destruction that had taken place it hadn’t. Logically she had done the right thing. Deep down the brunette knew that she would not have been able to live with herself if she hadn’t taken the choice she had and yet to a degree she was inconsolable. The look on Narcissa’s face when it became evident that Andromeda was turning her back on them was permanently ingrained in her head. How her actions had come across to her baby sister as a betrayal when it hadn’t been like that. Andromeda could not support her families belief but that did not mean that she didn’t love or care for them. She had turned her back on the pureblood thought of mind, not on her sisters, but it became evident all too soon that technicalities did not matter. Not to her family. It would have been easier on Andromeda’s spirit if by refusing to follow the certain beliefs of her family meant all emotional ties were erased, but it was not that simple. Though perhaps it was not as complicated as she was making it out to be. Narcissa’s disowning her was perhaps the one that cut the deepest. She had enjoyed a special bond with her younger sister. Both of them had leaned on each other, though Narcissa was a loyal to the pureblood ideology the reasons why they were close outnumbered that philosophy. Or so Andromeda had hoped so – and if she was completely honest she was still hoping. It was why she still reached out to her sister. Why Narcissa was the only person she allowed to insult her and why Andromeda kept going back trying to get her to see her reasons. To see that even though the rest of her family might never accept her or acknowledge her that Narcissa did not have to do that to her; that there was another option.

Tilting her head on her pillow her brown hues laid Edward’s perfect silhouette lying beside her. He was the reminder that what she had done was something that was inevitable. If it hadn’t happened then it would’ve happened later. Edward had just managed to push her to face reality sooner than she had wanted to. The love that she held for him had made her stop running from herself. There was a peace of mind that overcame her – it was the unexplainable effect that he had on her. He made her braver than she had ever thought possible. Questioning whether she did the right thing was perhaps just a new norm that she was going to have to get used to. Even though she knew she did, the ache of the loss that came with it was a feeling demanded to be felt. Though Andromeda never held the conviction that emotions made individuals weak this feeling was one that she would have to control on her own. After all 3 am were not a sign that she was not at peace with herself or that it was the timeframe that another force won, 3 am was just Andromeda fighting her own demons and making peace with what was.

#accepted app

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