#no not bc he cross dressed. he was just Like That to young me

[saturnniidae]

Shout-out to young child me who was an autistic freak that had an incredibly poor grasp on gender while simultaneously hating men so much I couldn't accept having male favorite characters so I just convinced myself they were all masc girls 👍

[papaya-twinks]

ok so what abt a lando one where there’s an age gap and he’s always been obsessed with her and like stalkers her, does research on the guys she brings home and goes out with basically totally dark stalker vibes. But the thing is she knows she has a stalker but no idea who it is bc whenever he confronts her he is wearing his racing helmet, and they always do even more each time they meet, liek first time they met he just caressed her but then like the 3rd time fingers her and 4th fucks her. THEN SOMEWEAR IN IT PLSSS. Lando has a sex tape of them and jerks off to it and thinks ‘fuck I can’t do this anymore’ kidnaps her and now she’s kinda like his toy but sugar daddy vibes bc he treats her well. And this is all consensual bc the reader wants an adventure as her ex bf was so vanilla ( which lando knows allll abt and explains in detail to her what she used to do with him) THATS ALOT IM SRRY U DONT HAVE TO DO IT

Warnings: Five year age gap (sorry, large age gaps make me squeamish), stalker, dark fic, 18+ kidnapping, sex, smut, 18+, consensual, sex tape, fingering, abusive partner (not Lando), sugar daddy, swearing

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - I’m adding some biker!lando into this coz his F1 helmet is just cutsies but a black biker one? dark dark shit right there.

Lando had met you at an F1 race, where you’d been in the garage. Something about how darn innocent you looked with your pretty little dress, all young and…wow. And with the help of Oscar (who simply thought his teammate just had an interest in some girl), he found out about you.

Y/N Y/L/N. You were 19 years old, your favourite colour was pink, you were cute and innocent and sweet, and you loved bows and ribbons. How adorable. And so it began, Lando followed you on a burner account, and watched all your stories, pinpointing your exact location to be in Monaco.

Oh how perfect, you were in the same country as him and, conveniently, he had the whole summer break to play around with the information.

y/n

caption: spending this day alone but with a great cafe to make up for it :)

friend3: oooo, have fun 💗💗💗

-> y/n: will do, thank you x

friend2: looking chic, y/n!

friend1: enjoy yourself and try the chocolate cake 👀

user1: café can’t be as gorgeous as you are 😉

-> y/n: oh, thank you?

You had just brushed off whoever ‘user1’ was, not really paying much mind to unusual flirty message, and continued with your day at the cafe. However, you couldn’t shake the slightly unsettling feeling that you were being watched.

You’d seen this happen in movies, and you couldn’t deny that the slight tingle of adrenaline coursing through your body wasn’t enjoyable. And so you looked behind you, from your cake and your phone, your eyes locking with someone else’s.

Well, more you found yourself staring back at a helmet. A plain, slick black helmet, the person wearing it adorned in a leather black jacket and light blue jeans. You couldn’t see any features to help show you who it was, but it was kind of…interesting.

Did you confront the person? No, you’d seem desperate or stupid. So you went back to your food, and never once did it cross your mind that perhaps, user1 was your stalker. But you didn’t see the stalker anymore. And you were a little disappointed they’d moved on so quickly, but you too moved on, going on your dates, looking for love, as girls your age did.

“Jason? What the fuck?” Lando said, eyeing the new name at the bottom of your followers. He’d skimmed through them, making a note of each and every person on your Instagram list, but seeing a guy? He couldn’t deny the feeling of annoyance in his stomach.

And thankfully, he’d made note of the guy’s instagram enough to see where the date would take place. Foolish, foolish move. And once again, you were sitting at a chair opposite this man, Jason, when your eyes fell on the same, sleek black helmet once more. Holy shit. And quicker than it had come, it was gone. For fucks’ sake.

*1 month later*

You and Jason were dating now, and to say he was toxic was an understatement. “Jason, I’m just gonna go out with my friends,” you said, picking up your purse as he scowled from the sofa, still in his sleeping clothes. “Why? So you can see some guy under the guise of friends? Likely,” Jason scoffed.

He was frustrating. “I’m not seeing another guy, I’m going with my friends,” you said, repeating your words as he groaned. “For fucks’ sake, Y/N, no means no!” he yelled, his words making you flinch as you sighed and dropped your purse back down.

“Fine, if you’re gonna be a brat, fucking go!” Jason seethed, pushing you to the door. Well, at least you’d get to go. The meet up with your friends ended a few minutes later, and just as you were leaving..,the helmet. This time, you would confront him. Or her.

“Uh, hi,” you said, walking slowly towards the helmet-man. He was definitely muscular. You were standing in the middle of an alleyway, the darkness flooding round you as the helmet stared down at you from his spot. “Uh, I’m Y/N,” you said, holding your hand out for him to shake.

He didn’t shake it.

You watched as he placed a hand in your shoulder, still not having said anything, and interlocked your other hand in his. He pushed a bit of paper into your hand, your eyes on the words. A phone number. Interesting. As soon as you looked back up, he was gone.

unknown user

y/n: hello

user: Hello.

y/n: who is this?

user: you don’t need to know.

user: come to the boulevard tomorrow at 9pm. leave jason behind. tell him your seeing a friend.

Holy shit x2. The air of mystique around whoever this was…was somewhat unsettling but at the same time, it was kinda a turn on. And wait, how did he know who Jason was? Oh, he’d done his research. Nice one.

And so you did what he said, managing to wriggle out of Jason’s possessive gaze, and you found yourself, waiting where this stalker had said. And there he was, in the same jacket and the same helmet, looking back at you. And perfectly on time, as well. Either he was desperate or…well, you didn’t know.

It was dark all round you, no one around and the streets unlit in this area. You watched as he reached out a gloved hand, taking your hand in his and pulling you between the trees, the mask of the night shielding you. He had strong hands.

You didn’t truly care what he’d do next, as he sat you down, the dry earth coating the back of your dress as he pushed it up, your thighs visibly shaking. A soft gasp left your lips as he trailed his hand over your core. You hadn’t worn panties. Good.

It was almost like he was complimenting you as he gave you a small smack on your thigh, before he removed his glove, dipping his finger between your folds as you moaned, eyes wide. “Shit…” you trailed off, your eyes wide as he added another, your knot building up. Fucking weeks of faked orgasms, and this one felt real.

He didn’t say anything, simply moving his hand faster, the tan skin of his fingers curling as he rubbed at your clit with his thumb. Who was this fucking angel? A loud moan left your lips as your orgasm flooded over you, his hand moving from between your legs, the remnants of your pleasure on his hand as he wiped it down his jacket, watching you for a second, before he left.

Part 1 of his plan: complete.

And the next day, you received yet another message from the same user, your eyes lighting up. It was an address.

user: [address], 10pm. no panties either.

And you arrived at the surprisingly grand hotel, showing the receptionist the room number and she gestured the way. You paused outside the door, thoughts of everything flashing through your head. Who was this man? Was he safe? Was he dangerous? Fuck it, you just needed another orgasm.

As you walked in, you failed to notice the little camera set up on the desk behind a bottle of lotion, your eyes on the man standing in the doorway of the en-suite bathroom. You didn’t say anything, neither did he, as he walked to you, lifting your dress once more and laying you down on the bed.

With one hand, he dipped his fingers into your core, the other hand undoing his belt as he dropped his trousers, taking your hand and wrapping it round the base of his (surprisingly large) cock. You heard the small sound of a groan, not enough to identify who it was, but you pumped his slowly, his own hand toying with your core.

Still, he’d didn’t remove his helmet. You gasped as he pressed his cock against you, one hand pressing down on your throat gently, the restriction of your airways adding to the pleasure, as his other hand pressed your stomach down to stop you from arching. You whined as he tugged your jaw forwards, forcing you to look at the small bump in your stomach.

Holy shit x3.

You gasped as he started moved, your lips parting as he moved his head down, lifting the visor and pressing immediately to your neck, so you couldn’t see anything but his lips as he licked at the supple, sweet skin of your collarbone. His hips picked up pace as you moaned, his fangs nipping at your skin as he peppered kisses to your neck.

You could feel the pleasure build up in both of you as he held you down, his hand moving from your neck to massage you clit in soft, slow circles, his other hand kneading the skin of your breasts. “Shit,” you muttered as he sped up, the knot in your stomach building faster and faster as you suppressed your moans, your eyes rolling.

He pulled out before he came, spilling the liquid onto your thighs as he bit down once onto your neck, sucking the hickey under your coat and out of sight, before fixing you up. And then he pushed you out the room. Oh god.

“What the fuck?!” Jason snapped, stepping into the shower with you. “Where did you get a hickey from?” he asked, your eyes wide. You’d totally forgotten about it. “You gave it to me last time we fucked,” you said coolly, trying to play it off. “Oh…right,” Jason muttered. Wow, he was stupid.

“Fuck,” Lando gasped, his eyes rolling as he tried to keep his attention on the video of the night before, his hand desperately trying to recreate the sensation of your tight cunt, how good it had felt having your warmth clenching round him. “For fucks’ sake,” Lando muttered staring down at the menial drops of cum coating his hand.

And there was only one way he could have you all of himself. Kidnapping. But, how? You were walking down the boulevard once more, trying not to stare at the spot where you’d been fingered by the mystery man, clutching your bag as you walked down to a bakery, where you wanted to pick up your cakes.

And then, a hand on your mouth, followed by a cloth, and out you went.

……….…………………………

Your lashes fluttered open as a piercing yellow light hung over you, your eyes returning to usual as you looked round the room. You had an itch under your nose, and you reached your hand up, only to find your wrists tied together and to a radiator. What the fuck?!

And then you saw it, the pieces falling into place. A laptop placed perfectly so you could see it, with the video of the mystery man fucking you playing on. The helmet placed onto the side cabinet. A phone with ‘user1’ and the list of all your images he’d saved. What was this?

“Hello sweetheart,” a voice said, the second word dripping with almost condescending sarcasm as you looked up, your eyes locking on a pair of greenish-blue ones. He was the stalker? He was hot, though. “What are you doing, who are you?” you writhed against the ties as he scoffed.

“Fight all you want, then,” he shrugged, “I know you want this,”. You shook your head at his words, making him roll his eyes, before he bent down, untying the tie on your wrists and kneeling to your height. “Don’t wanna be here, is that what you want me to believe?” he smirked. “Then go on,” he gestured to the bedroom door.

“Run, then,”.

But you didn’t. You didn’t run. Though you knew you should, that this wasn’t right, but you didn’t move. “Exactly,” he leaned down to whisper into your ear, running his tongue over the mark he’d left, a shiver rushing up your spine. “Get on the bed, then,” he said with a little sinister smile, but you obeyed.

“On your back, lift your dress,” the man said, directing you with a firm voice as you did what he said, your back against the mattress, your hands tugging the material of your dress upwards. “Good,” he eyed your body, “think a little introduction is in need,”.

“I’m Lando,” he said, his lips brushing your ear as he removed his jeans, “you’re Y/N. I know that,” he said, pumping himself a few times before aligning with your entrance as you gasped. “I know how Jason was a dick,” he continued, “I watched you fake those orgasms,” Lando mused, “and how that cunt of a ‘boyfriend’ never once gifted his perfect little girl anything,”.

You whimpered as he took your chin in his fingers, pressing his lips to your jaw, before sliding into you, his other hand taking a little box from behind you, sliding the ring onto your index finger as he rocked his hips. “Oh, god,” you gasped as he sped up, your hands digging into his shoulders.

“I watched how that cunt couldn’t even make you cum, Y/N,” Lando smirked, “such a pretty girl and he couldn’t even make you cum,”. You whined at his words, your body bouncing a little as the lewd sounds of your skin hitting his as he slammed into you, your eyes rolling in pleasure.

“Cum for me,” he said, his teeth bared against your neck as you gasped, your whimpers filling his ears as he carried on. Oh what he fun he’d have with you.

A/N - I love this.

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

In Every Life Time

Description: In every life time, you lost him. But in this one, each part of him you lost you find once more, staring back at you with a bit of each one you loved in each life time.

Percy has had many nightmares ever since he was young, especially since coming to camp Half Blood and being claimed as a son of Poseidon.

But he never liked any other dreams like these ones.

Percy would lay in bed, drift off only to end up somewhere else. Somewhere familiar. Somewhere he liked and somewhere he wasn't in a rush to leave.

Unlike the others before, this was different, but the same all at once.

Percy sat in a field, it was dark out, but the fireflies in the air lit up the sky unlike the stars did.

And Percy was breath taken once more as he stared at the same Goddess he saw every night sitting under the same willow rree, dressed in a white and gold trimmed Greek styled dress.

This time, the Goddess didn't look very...Goddes-Like. She looked younger, the same he always sees her as, but this time she felt it. Like in this dream, she wasn't a Goddess. The very first fifteen years of her life.

Like she was normal, younger, an actual teenager relaxing under a willow tree.

A boy in similar Greek clothing held his head in her lap, smiling up at the Goddess as if she had hung the sun up herself, hung the stars and painted the sky right before him.

Percy knew that look. He saw it every time in glimpses shared between the woman and all of the ones before, every single one different but the same all at once.

He looked a bit just like every one of them.

The same nose as the wood nymph from three dreams ago he had, the same green eyes as the Olympian from six dreams ago he had, black hair like the boy who ran around with a much younger goddess he had, the first dream he had of her.

“I would like to stay here.” Percy could make out the paint words, knowing what the man would say even before he spoke.

He saw the goddess speak, and like before, saw a look of sadness in her eyes as she smoothed her hand over the man's wild and messy hair. Hair just like Percys.

“I…I would like that as well…but we can't.” The goddess said, an almost distant look in her eyes before the warrior took her hand, kissing the back of it softly with a sigh.

“Why? You always say that like you're one step ahead. Why can I not?”

“I- I do not know. But...You will find out soon enough.”

And before Percy knew it, the all too well love scene before him faded in battle cries, swords clanging together and shouts of war.

Percy was in the middle of a battlefield, Gods and Goddess's fighting side by side and some against one another, fires roaring all around, he couldn't make out many faces, the ash burning in his lungs as he coughed.

Only thing he could see were her tears. Her tears as she held a limp, and very much so, dead and familiar man in her lap, brushing her thumbs against his cheeks as she said a silent prayer, her forehead to his almost as if it could bring him back.

She didn't sob, but he could hear her almost silent whispers.

"We should have stayed under our tree. I'm so sorry, my love. Please...find me when you are ready."

And just like that, Percy woke up with the bed shaken as Tyson woke him up, dragging him out of bed, to breakfast, and along the way to Annabeth and Grover with the goat boy he called his best friend, almost tap dancing in what seemed to be joy.

“Percy! I- we got chosen!”

“...What?”

Percy didn't expect for Grover to go on a rant about how the upcoming war was brewing, like he didn't already know.

Annabeth even had to cut in as Grover ran out of breath, giving the boy a moment before he started up again.

“Olympus needs all the warriors they can get. And they chose us to find the Goddess of (Create something you like bc idk)!” Grover fanboyed.

“Who?” Percy asked, confused at his friend's behavior and having never heard of that one. He's heard of, and fought, many gods and goddesses, but he's sure that one would've stuck if he crossed that bridge.

“The Goddess of (you choose).” Annabeth re-stated. “She used to be a mortal, but was captured during a really, really bad war and since the ones who captured her were fighting the gods, they punished her with immortality until-”

Annabeth cut herself off.

“Until what?” Percy probed with a frown, not wanting anyone to withhold information from him anymore.

“Until something. Her story doesn't go on from that, the ones that took her never said where she was. Even after they were sent to the Underworld and punished, she's been missing ever since!” Grover finished, almost shaking Percy by the shoulders.

Percy finally got it.

“So- we have to find her?”

“Yeah! Just like when we found Pan- but this can't be like that. This time, she is alive!” Grover insisted.

“We don't know that.” Annabeth sighed.

“Yes, we do!” Grover wasn't living this down and wasn't letting Annabeth either. “I know it, and we are gonna find her!”

And that's how Percy was dragged along the state, searching the skies, the gardens, underground, in every mythical and every sacred place he could think of.

Until, finally, Grover has led them to a garden of lights. For a seemingly prison, Percy has to admit, it didn't look like it.

Deers laid in the grass, birds chirped to their heart's desire, animals frolicking in the grass, koi and any other fish you could name in a waterfall so clear you could see to the bottom that glowed in the light.

It almost looked real. So surreal Percy didn't expect it. Especially when he leaned a bit too close, and a fish jumped up and scared him, falling back into the lake with a groan and his butt soaked.

He heard Annabeth and Grover yelp, their feet clashing with the water as they ran down after him.

He groaned as Annabeth and Grover dragged him to stand up, he almost barely noticed as both his friends froze in the middle of helping him, and a breeze went just past him.

No, not past him. It seemed to go over his entire body, around his arms, legs, messing up his already wild and black hair, feeling it on his nose, cheeks, lips and his eyes.

“Percy…”

Percy could barely make out Grovers whisper, his friend catching Percy's attention barely.

Percy looked between Annabeth and Grover, confused before he looked to see they were staring at a willow tree. Or, more like under the Willow tree.

Percy could feel his breath taken once more like in his dreams, seeing the same girl from them looking right back at him with the same look on her face

[viennakarma]

After you

Fernando Alonso x reader

Summary: There's a life before becoming Fernando's sugar baby and there's a life after becoming his sugar baby.

Word count: 2.7k

Tags: Smut, female reader, +18, sex (p in v), unprotected sex, established relationship, sugar baby x sugar daddy, Dom!Nando, little breath play (choking), spanking, face slap, a bit of dirty talking, degradation, overuse of pet names (bc it's spanish duh!), big age gap (reader is early 20s, in college), everything implicitly consensual, not beta read

Note: i'd like to start by saying you nando fuckers were right and these 3 fernando media (see above) changed my life forever, thank you. gentle reminder that english is not my first language (so please bear any mistake), I'm also considering taking requests for F1 drabbles and oneshots, would anyone be interested?

Find me on Twitter!

As soon as you enter the flat, you take off your overcoat and leave it behind the door. You go to your room, but you stop when you see several gift boxes laying on the floor beside the bed, which you recognize the brands, Tiffany, La Perla, Chanel, among others. But you feel exhausted from college finals and you leave the boxes behind and head straight for the bathroom.

Eight months ago, when you lived in a tiny dorm on campus, working two shifts beyond university to pay for your studies, all these brands used to be a distant luxury you would never afford on your own.

But there was a life before becoming Fernando Alonso's sugar baby; and another one after all that.

Now you have a nice, comfortable, luxurious apartment close to campus, your university is fully paid for months in advance, and you don't have to use the dorm's communal bathroom. It sometimes feels like a dream and you think you're going to wake up back in that moment much earlier.

You fill the bathtub and take off your clothes, looking in the mirror, you see two hickey marks near your breasts. Fernando was mindful not to leave marks in visible places. You step into the tub and allow yourself to be enveloped by the scented salts and bubble soap. You rub yourself slowly, pushing away all the tiredness and stress of the entire day, using the shower gel that Fernando liked on you.

After scrubbing yourself down, you step out of the shower wrapped in a fluffy robe. You dry your hair with the dryer, and head back to the bedroom.

On top of the gifts there is a note that you missed before.

“To my girl, I know you worked really hard to do well on your finals. Enjoy your gifts. See you tonight, cariño. - Fernando"

You open Tiffany’s blue box first, it's the smallest one. Contains a pair of star-shaped diamond earrings, and a silver necklace with a matching pendant. You smile when you realize that it's been eight months and he already knows your taste for clothes and accessories. The second box you open is a Coco de Mer, a lingerie brand. With two pairs of lingerie inside, both in lace, one black, with stockings and garter belt and the other red, transparent with ribbons that cross the abdomen.

Getting out of bed, you pull on the black one, adjust the stocking on the garter belt and hang the robe in the bathroom again, staring at your reflection in the mirror, barely registering the messy young misfit you were just months ago.

The other boxes mostly contain clothes and accessories. Pants, skirts, dresses, handbags, wallets and backpacks. After taking a look at everything, you take the pieces to the closet and leave them on the chair to arrange later.

Then you hear the sound of the front door opening and you know it's Fernando. You lay down on the bed and wait for him. Lying on your stomach with your butt in the air, you look at Fernando when he enters. He's not wearing his team shirt, he's just wearing a white shirt and denim pants. He stares at your body, but your eyes settle on a box in his hand, he puts the box, his phone and wallet on the bedside table. He smiles, moving closer and bending over to leave a gentle bite on your ass. His masculine scent envelops you and you feel the urge to rip his clothes off and push him on the bed, and ride his cock until the sun comes up tomorrow.

“Hi, bebé,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss your temple, “How were the exams?” he asks as he sits on the king size bed, his back against the headboard. He pats his own thigh, and you quickly crawl up, onto his lap sitting facing him. You hope he feels your underwear wet with anticipation.

“Thermodynamics was easy, but Quantum Physics, not so much,” you say, as he opens the box that you know as one of Belgian chocolates, your favorite.

“You’ve studied so hard for both, so I think you'll do well,” he says, pulling out a chocolate with almonds from the box. With his other hand, he grips your hip.

He brings the chocolate up to your mouth and you take a bite, wiggling in his lap as the chocolate melts in your mouth.

“You did so well on your test last week,” he compliments, and his gentle tone turns you on even more. You feel his fingers making way inside the lace of your panties and you hold on to his shoulders, keeping your balance and granting more access to you.

He takes another chocolate from the box and takes a bite of it as his fingers find your pussy. Fernando rubs his index and middle fingers, spreading your wetness. You melt into his arms and place your hand on the back of his neck. He gives you the second piece of chocolate at the same time as his fingers penetrate you. You're so wet, his fingers slide easily inside, massaging your pussy calmly, oh so calmly that you roll your hips into his fingers, trying to make him go faster.

“Quiet, princesa,” he commands, and you stop the hip movement. He shoves the fingers that were holding the chocolate into your mouth, and you suck hard until his fingers are clean.

His other hand, the one inside your panties, you feel keeping the maddening slow pace, completely ignoring the need for relief in your clit. You slide a hand down your belly to bring it to your clit, but he takes your hand away and cups your chin, a possessive look in his brown-almost-green eyes.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?" he asks brusquely, and you just stare at him. “Eh? Did I?”

“No,” you reply huskily, knowing he can feel you getting even wetter at his firm tone. He slaps your cheek, and your pussy throbs around his fingers, you can see in his eyes that he feels it. And he absolutely loves it.

“No, what?” he says, a smug smirk on his face.

“No, sir.” you say and he strokes the cheek he slapped. Fernando takes your chin and pulls your lips to his. He kisses you obscenely, with lips and tongue and his face inching up against yours.

“I know your week has been pretty stressful, then behave yourself so you can get your reward, okay?” he says in a gentle tone, finally picking up the speed of his fingers and pushing the palm of his hand against your swollen clit. You whimper, holding a moan in your throat and the urge to move your hips to keep pace with him and come faster, but you hold back.

Then Fernando's phone rings, interrupting the two of you. He lets the phone ring, and you groan when his other hand grips your hip tightly, squeezing your ass. The phone stops ringing, but then it rings again.

“No, Nando, please… Don't answer it, Papi” you whimper, already feeling his fingers stop stimulating you. He grabs your hips and places you to the side, back on the bed.

“So needy, bebé,” he mutters, biting softly on your chin before getting up, “I need to pick this call, babygirl. Won’t be long, yeah?” He grumbles, taking the phone from the nightstand. you watch as Fernando answers, muttering “Alonso speaking,” as he leaves the room.

Frustrated, you lie back on the mattress and stare at the ceiling, knowing he's probably going to take longer than he said he would. He always took long calls about his team, or his car, or whatever. It's almost involuntary as your hands slide down your abdomen and you rub your thighs together to get some friction. With your hands, you gently pinch your nipples through the lace of your bra, feeling a hypersensitive moan escape your lips. You slide your hands and press your clit over the wet panties, just looking for some relief while he doesn’t come back.

The need for release is stronger than you are as you slide your hand inside your panties, circling your clit with pressure, gasping.

At that moment, Fernando re-enters the room, and you quickly remove your hand. But the furious look on his face tells you he already caught you red handed. Heart racing, you watch as he clicks his tongue in a reproving gesture. He walks into the closet and returns with a pair of leather cuffs.

“I thought I made myself clear…” he murmurs, yanking hard on your wrists to get you to your feet, “You only touch yourself with my permission.”

You swallow hard when he cups your face and then slaps you across the face. You bite your bottom lip, smiling. He takes your wrists and secures them with the restraints, behind your back. Fernando slaps you again, and you feel the wetness pool in your panties.

“You love it, don't you?” He smirked with another slap. “Being treated like the slut you are. My slut. Knees on the floor,” he commands, his tone doesn't leave space for anything other than obedience.

His firm touch on the back of your neck compels you down until your knees meet the floor. You feel your mouth water as he starts struggling with his own belt, undoing the buttons on his pants just enough to pull his cock out. You immediately wet your lips and open your mouth, expecting to feel him on your tongue.

He shoves his cock into your mouth all at once, almost reaching your throat, and you have to control your gagging, eyes immediately watering.

“Open wide, babygirl” he gasps, taking control of slowly sliding into your mouth. He massages your face, as if to relax your jaw further. “Yes, just like that” he moans softly as he touches your throat.

He holds your head, keeping you still as the only movement is in  his hips, his cock fucking your mouth. As you adjust to the volume of him moving in and out of your mouth, he picks up speed and you feel saliva wetting his entire length and running down the side of your mouth, dripping to your chin.

“Want me to fuck you, huh?” he asks but doesn't release you from his cock so you're able to answer. “Want to cum, bebé?”

He doesn’t let you go, nor does he take his cock out of your mouth. So you just hum around him, the vibration of your voice making him let out a groan.

“I don't know…” He pretends to think a little, his hips stuttering. “You disobeyed me, didn't you? I don't think you've earned your reward yet.”

He pulls his cock away from your mouth, and you watch a trail of saliva break from the distance. You close your mouth, taking the opportunity to relax your jaw.

“¿Cuál es tu color? (what's your color?)” he asks, his voice going immediately tender, looking down on you.

“Verde. (green)”

“Up you go” Fernando points to the bed as he removes the belt from the cases of his pants, and you quickly get to your feet and throw yourself face down on the mattress, your arms still pinned behind you. “On all fours” He commands and you obey, the top of your head pressed into the pillow and your ass in the air.

You feel his fingers gently rub up and down on your hips, and then he finally removes your panties. Not an instant later, you feel the belt snap on your ass, stinging.

“What did you do wrong, princesa?” he asks, then hits you with the belt once again, making you shiver.

“I touched myrself without-” you cut yourself off with a mewl when you feel the crackle of the burning leather belt again, “-Without your-” Two consecutive hits make you whimper against the pillow, but you keep going, because you know that if you stop, he will start your punishment again, “-Without your permission" you complete, panting loudly. He hits you three more times and you feel like you could come with just one touch on your clit.

“Without your permission, who?” And two more cracks of the leather against your asscheeks. The frustration of wanting to come is so great that you feel your abdomen trembling.

“Without your permission, sir!” you almost scream, desperate. So thirsty for his touch you know you’re dripping with desire and ruining the sheets.

“I don't know…” He says, as if he's thinking out loud as his hands caress your buttocks, “Do you think you deserve to come?"

“Yes please! Nando please! I want it so bad, papi…” you don't feel ashamed to beg, when your body so badly needs relief, something only he can give you.

You feel him move behind you, and a second later, his cock fills you in one movement, making you scream his name into the pillow.

“Oh, always perfect for me…” He groans, pulling out only to slam back in again. His hands secure the restraint on your wrists, your hands manage to touch his forearm and you sink your nails into his skin for balance.

Your eyes roll in your head, pleasure consuming you like flames as his hips keep pounding into you, and you feel grateful for his demanding exercises routine from motorsports, because it makes his stamina last so long. You feel hypersensitive, like you can feel the friction in every molecule in your body, the pleasure in your pussy and he just keeps going, Fernando’s groaning louder by the second.

You feel when the orgasm approaches, that tingling in your body and your pussy contracting desperately. But then he stops, withdrawing his cock. You whimper in desperation, the orgasm slipping away again.

“Fernando, please! Please, I need you…” you scream as he plunges into you, so deep he takes your breath away for an instant. One of his hands grips your hips and the other travels up your spine until it closes around the back of your neck.

Then he circles his hand around your neck and pulls you up until you're on your knees, your hips pressed against his as he thrusts harder, making your tits bounce with the movement. The only thing separating his chest from your back is the grip on your wrists between your bodies.

“Please, Nando! I’m so close- can- can I cum?”

“Go on, you can cum. I want to feel it,” he orders, squeezing your throat, obstructing your breathing slightly. It’s his accented voice that pushes you off the cliff, the orgasm finally seizing you so hard you see stars in your vision, shivering as he holds you firmly up.

Your orgasm soon makes him come too, his groan in your ear as his hips push against you, slowing down as he fills you up.

When Fernando lets go of your neck, you fall limp on the bed, face first against the pillows. You feel his fingers release you from the restraints, and your arms fall to your sides. Fernando holds your wrists, massaging lightly. He kisses your shoulder softly and you smile lazily, all worn out, the way he likes you the most.

“Are you ok, princesa?” you hear him as you close your eyes.

“Yes, cariño. Never been better.” You murmur.

You keep your eyes closed as he wipes between your legs, and you feel as he rubs the soothing ointment onto your buttocks, then he uses a makeup wiper to clean your face. Fernando considers aftercare as important as sex, and you can't deny that you love the part of being lovingly pampered by him right after being fucked senseless.

Finally, he turns off the lights, pulls back the covers and lies beside you, your naked body being fully embraced by him. You get goosebumps when he nuzzles your neck, his beard tickling and making you giggle.

“I missed you a lot, mi cielo” He mutters against your skin.

“I missed you too, Nando. I loved seeing you so happy with that podium,” you say, pulling his hand up and kissing his knuckles.

“Thank you, maybe next time you should go cheer for me,” he kisses your collarbone.

“I’ll think about it, yeah?” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair, “maybe after finals.”

“I'm sure you'll get high scores on your tests, bebé” he whispers, and you feel a rush of joy at making him proud.

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (i)

grumpy!matt sturniolo x sunshine!fem oc / reader

summary : matt is a grumpy tattoo artist and y/n books him for her first tattoo.

warnings : needles and pain (not very detailed tho)

mickey speaks : i don't have any tattoos so i actually know nothing ab the procedure lmaooo just guessing but i’ll be writing multiple parts for this. also i am very much self indulging bc i headcannon y/n as poc! but obvi anyone can read there's not much exclusivity ab how i write her, i js wanted to note that for any poc readers <3.

THIS IS PART 1 BTW!!!!

“SHITTT,” you draw out the last syllable at the rumble and screech of your car engine as you continue your attempt to start it.

eventually you throw your head backwards in defeat, annoyed by the unbudging car. this is the actual worst timing. you're supposed to be at the tattoo shop (that is a 12 minute drive from your apartment complex) for an appointment in less than twenty minutes.

you truly want to scream and border on throwing a tantrum but decide it would probably be better to find a solution than complain about the agony further.

you quickly find your roommate's contact, raising your phone to your ear and pinching your eyes shut as the vibrating ring hums through your skull.

"y/n? what's up?" andrea answers confused as you had only just walked out of the door five minutes ago.

"hi drea... so i know you have your own plans right now but is there any way you can give me a ride... please?"

you hear shuffling on the line, "mmm, where to?"

౨ৎ

“thank you again for driving me,” you smile at andrea and squeeze her hand before reaching for the door.

“yes, of course. you can call me when you’re done and i’ll head over here- m’sorry i can’t stay with you.” she replies and exaggerates a frown.

"i'll be fine, i think- i hope..."

"you will be fine. just don't stress or it'll hurt more."

౨ৎ

your arms are crossed tightly over your chest as you make your way into the shop (in its form of an oversized warehouse, fixed up to look stylish and comfortable- something you’d never really seen before). the rickety jingle of a small bell kindly indicates your presence to the rest of the shop.

a few people sitting in a waiting area look up before continuing their conversations (though some continued to stare as you walk by). you see a surprising amount of people crowding in a brightly decorated lounge area, housing many arcade games and a kitchenette.

you reach the receptionist desk and are greeted by a young man dressed casually, humming along to the music playing in the background of the space.

“um, hi. i’m here for my 1:30 appointment.” you state with a smile, you’re suddenly aware of how nervous you truly are.

the brunette looks over to a desktop screen with a soft scrunch of his face, “for y/n, right? huh, that’s crazy…” he rubs his chin, “1:30 was like nine minutes ago,” he looks up at you, almost like he was questioning you; who do you think you are? and why do you think you’re important enough to be late?

as soon as your face begins to morph into fear and embarrassment his own face splits into a large smile as he laughs softly. “i’m sorry- i’m such an ass but i had to- your file said you’re new clientele so i just had to fuck around.”

“you’re sick! i was fully prepared for a fucking lecture on timeliness or something,” you let out a soft laugh.

the boy comes from around the desk holding a paper and clipboard. “yeah, sorry, i’m chris,” he reaches a hand out to which you willingly return and restate your name to him, “‘m not usually up front so you probably talked to asha over the phone when booking.”

you nod and smile at the familiar name, “yeah, she was so helpful over the phone.”

“she’s awesome, i miss her,” he touches each of his shoulders then forehead before kissing his hand and pointing to the sky.

"oh my god? i'm sorry for your loss."

his eyes squint and lips pucker in confusion, "oh, she's not fired she's just on vacation right now."

"so why'd you...?"

chris cuts you off by handing you the clipboard and grabbing a pen from a cluttered mason jar on the desk as he explains, “okay, we’re just gonna have you fill out this quick consultation form; just so you and your artist will be on the same page about things.” you nod in understanding. “keep it brief, matt’s not big on reading large bodies of text,” chris laughs.

“got it,” you smile before turning to find a chair and begin writing. you truly were relieved that chris wasn’t hard on you about being late, for a second you thought you would be lectured and have to carry the guilt of dissapointing someone into a room where you'd be paying to lie in excruciating physical pain. (damn, double homecide)

the sheet had general information to fill before the questions specifically about the tattoo you’d be getting today came.

you go back up to chris once you’re finished.

“cool, follow me we’ll set you up with matt.” he leads the way and your nerves are suddenly back as it's feeling more and more real with each step. you pacify your thoughts by looking around at the many images and messages written in sharpie along the walls of the hallway. there's also plenty of hanging shelves around with vintage trinkets and succulents that compliment the space around.

chris reaches a curtain and dips his head past as if he were checking for something before giving you a chance to see. you notice the small "Matt" embroidered on the black curtain. chris then opens it wide enough for the both of you to walk into the surprisingly large space.

(who you can only assume to be) matt sits comfortably in a wheeled desk chair, legs spread. his elbow rests on the arm of the chair and he holds his head up with two of his fingers, as his middle finger grazes his irritated mouth with a stern look on his face while he scrolls on his phone.

he doesn’t move his position when he looks up at the two of you.

“alright! matt this is y/n,” chris motions between you two. matt hums, placing his phone on the desk and placing his hand out expectantly for the clipboard. chris goes to hand it to him and whispers, “fix your face, jackass,” then turning around to leave you some reassuring words, “good luck y/n, the tat’s gonna look amazing.”

but chris doesn’t see matt exaggerating a large, sarcastic smile from behind him in defense of chris’ words (he immediately drops it though). something that would make you at least giggle if you weren’t so nervous.

“thanks,” your voice is a little hoarse as you haven’t used it in some time. matt watches the boy leave before looking over to you. he rolls the chair closer, reading over your short (as requested) responses.

“you can sit down.” he forms it almost as a question like are you going to sit down or do i have to direct you to do everything?

you sit on the black cushioned bench, lined with a disposable white cloth and begin to fidget with your fingernails as matt goes over your paperwork quietly.

“''kay, so you’re getting a small hello kitty on your lower hip?” he summarizes while checking and signing a few lines on a paper.

“yeah, um, i told asha over the phone that way you could have it sketched already- she told me that’s best and saves time for the both of us.”

his response is a slowed nod and a breathy, “yep,” as he rolls over to his desk and places the clipboard on the surface before opening a drawer and digging through it.

you gaze around the room and wonder if he decorated the space himself or if he wasn’t the type to be bothered enough to add personal things to his work area. almost all the posters are of music artists or tattoos, the most personal things you see are a small picture frame on his desk and a pokémon plushie sat on a chair in the corner of the room. all of which just pose more questions in your working brain.

you notice him switching to a different swivel chair that is lower to the ground and bringing himself (as well as a moving table with already prepared supplies) closer to you.

you’re nervous again. even after your roommate and older brother have both given you advice on first tattoos and the pain expected you’re still finding yourself scared of what to expect. your ear piercings would have nothing on this.

“first tattoo?” matt clarifies, as if he could read your mind. you nod and go to speak but stop when he gestures for you to lay back on the cushion.

you’re sure that he only was searching for a quick confirmation from you and is not too interested in your life or what brings you here but you’ve found that talking relieves your own stress and you absolutely cannot just lay there and only speak when spoken to.

“yeah, i guess m’nervous. i just hope i don’t, like, die from pain or hate the outcome or curse myself in a couple years for the placement- but it's not that i'm doubting that it'd be cute. younger me would be screaming at the fact that i'm even here..." you pause just for a second. "but then again i'm not sure how much forty year old me will appreciate it. so i guess i just don’t know. you know?”

you lean yourself up to get a look at matt, only to realize he has airpods in and simply has not been listening or interested in you (just as you expected). he’s moving his head the smallest amount to the beat as he works on his sketch.

he notices your movement though and takes a headphone out of his ear, “are you okay?” is all he asks.

a pretty broad question. and an anxiety inducing question to ask a girl who's been questioning her decisions as much as you have. you hope you’re okay. will you still be okay when this (mostly) permanent decision is etched into your skin forever? is he okay? will he give you any sense of encouragement or comfort during this process? are tattoo artists typically like this or are you just considered especially needy clientele?

“yeah, i just was- like, curious, i guess.” you mumble a little and internally hate that you feel so insecure in this situation. so out of control.

“was just adjusting my sketch to be a smaller. nothing crazy happening over here.” he shrugs. “you can go ahead and pull your shirt up, though. i’m just gonna clean the area and prep before inking.” he explains to you very straight and to the point.

you fall back into place and obey, inching your shirt up further to expose your lower stomach. you drape your arms over your face to gain composure as you hear matt rip some packaging.

the coolness of the cleaning pad sends your stomach butterflies and you try to not think too hard about the fact that matt’s hands will be on your lower stomach and hip for a good length of time.

eventually matt speaks to you again, “i’m starting so if you’re feeling the need to get the fuck out you gotta do it now or for forever hold your peace.”

you smile a little at his dry joke but when you turn your head to see him fully serious you blink, “no, i’ll be fine. thanks though.”

he just nods his head and goes to put his airpods back in before you’re interrupting again, “wait. whatcha listening to?”

he’s suprised by the question. his clients rarely get too involved in what he’s doing. mostly because he does a great fucking job no matter how few words he may utter over an entire session. there's a mutual understanding there that he's never had to speak up about to anyone. other artists use a strong bond or charisma to secure returning customers but matt finds there’s nothing better to display than his pure talent and passion for his craft. that’s how he keeps clients. they ask and he will always deliver; and that’s how he particularly likes it. no questions and minimal conversation.

the sound of the tattoo gun begins and just for your sake he decides to answer the question without malice, “just some frank ocean instrumental tracks." he places his hands back onto your skin, "don’t start moving.”

you pinch your eyes shut and squeeze your forearms as soon as the initial pain takes over. it’s a feeling you can only describe as a needle poking into you a trillion times at once. which is literally what's happening to you.

you’re not oblivious to matt’s disengagement with your attempts at conversation but you need him to continue to speak to you or else you’ll think too much about the needle actively puncturing you. “oh yeah? i’ve never listened to him before…”

“surprising. he’s pretty big.” matt mumbles slightly, focusing on his work far more than his slight interest in your knowledge of frank ocean.

“mhm. i’ve been meaning to give him a listen. could you share?”

matt’s eyes just move to look up at your face as he tries not to beg you to just be quiet and let him do this so that you both can leave within an hour. “i’m good on that.” he returns to tattooing.

“huh? you can’t share music?”

“i would prefer not to but-” he doesn’t even know why he’s continuing to fuel this anymore.

“what if i add a pretty,” you pause to wince a little as the needle moves lower, “pretty please?”

“i’m almost done,” he mumbles the lie.

“matt?”

he pauses for only a second to glance over to you. he’s met with a face scrunched in pain with an attempted smile that he thinks makes you look more like a doped up hippie than the cute effect you were going for. you plead after his glance, “pretty please?”

he rolls his eyes and sets his tattoo gun down, reluctantly swiveling over to his desk. before you even realize what exactly he’s doing there’s a airy beat of drums and piano playing from a small speaker in the room.

once he's back over to you he can tell you’re smiling even though your face is mostly covered by your arms. “thank you, i needed a distraction or something.”

he mumbles an “mhm” and returns to his work.

౨ৎ

there was generally no talking after that. only a few moments you observed (due to your need to cling on to literally anything going on besides the pinching at your lower side) that were any indication of matt's quiet presence. you noticed when matt would softly hum the lyrics to the instrumentals over the speaker and when you began to tap your fingers out of boredom and nerves, to which he simply placed his hand over them to force them flat while muttering a small “stop.”

when matt was completely finished he asked you if he could take a picture to add to his instagram and you agreed eagerly. he then added a strip of tattoo film over a layer of protective ointment. after he helped you to fully stand he explained how to care for it and how important cleaning is because “that shit will get gunky as fuck.” and you told him that you promise to do everything he said. he also gave you a detailed list on a card for you to follow just in case you forget.

you glance down at your tattoo one last time before you begin to leave the room you’d just spent a lengthy hour of your life in. you assume matt doesn’t want much else from you until he calls your name from his desk. you turn and see him still looking at his phone before glancing up, “uh, what’s your insta handle, so i can tag you in this?”

you don’t know why you’re surprised but you are.

you agree to exchange handles with him before deciding to compliment him once more, “my tattoo is perfect, by the way. i love it so much, thank you.” you want to tell him that you hope you didn’t annoy him too much but you don’t know if that will annoy him more. so you take his nod and hint of a smile as his way of showing appreciation, keeping your own smile bright to mask the crushing feeling of someone seeming so indifferent towards you.

after walking past the curtain and through the trinket-filled hallway you’re back to the main area of the warehouse. you see a different collection of people gathered playing pool and some more huddled on a couch looking at a girl’s phone in awe. chris is busy talking with what seems to be a close friend when you walk up to the reception desk.

when his eyes find your bright expression he’s bouncing back with energy, “hey! i’m assuming it went well?" he asks.

"very well. glad it's over though, i can't lie." you laugh while taking your debit card from your purse.

"yeah, definitely not the best feeling. especially when matt's ugly face is that close to you." chris jokes and takes your card to cash you out.

you laugh along with him but assure him that matt's looks weren't an issue. he raises his eyebrows and has a growing smirk that travels to his eyes when he gives you your card back. you try not the blush at the implication, "i didn't mean it like that."

"right," he nods and chuckles softly, "well hopefully you'll be back for another eventually?" he hands you a receipt.

"i mean how could i not with such a sweet receptionist asking me? i'm sure you get everyone to come back," you joke.

chris shrugs with a cocky grin, "somethin' like that."

౨ৎ

"oh my god it's fucking adorable, what?!" andrea exclaims with a spoonful of frozen yogurt still in her mouth.

she initally begged to see it as soon as she picked you up but you dramatically told her you had just experienced the worst pain of your life and you'd need a sweet treat if you were planning to not sleep the rest of the day away. so she just rolled her eyes and demanded you show her once you both arrive at your favorite frozen yogurt shop (conveniently down the street from your apartment complex).

"i knowww," you respond and quickly pull the lower part of your shirt down with a smile, taking a seat across from drea.

"how'd it go, though? i'm curious. i've only been to warehouse 79 like once, and it was for an event."

"it was good, they were all generally kind and my guy did exactly what i wanted. i'm pretty happy."

"'my guy,' oh okayy?" she takes a bite and smirks.

"not what i meant! i should have just said matt. like, the guy who did my tattoo-"

"mhmm."

"stop.” you smirk, “i mean he was not ugly by any means but he seemed to not care to get to know me at all. which is fine, he's not paid to care about me. but i doubt i'll ever see him again." you shrug taking another bite of frozen yogurt.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

[powerfultenderness]

A Good Boy

Summary: A very drunk König ends up at your door. Paring: König/F!Reader Rated: Mature Word count: 988 A/N: [Neighbor!König.] A little free write fluff before I get back to requests.

For @crisped-jello I know this isn't quite what you asked, so consider this a companion piece (bc I do like the request you sent! but König got drunk first!)

You heard the voices first, two men, before someone started to rattle your doorknob. It wasn’t an alarming situation for one reason only, you’d recognized one of the voices. 

You quickly turned off the TV so you could hear the muffled voices better.

“Are you sure this is the right key?” Of course this was followed by someone trying to jam a key in the door. 

The response, from the man that you were familiar with, was unintelligible. You chuckled under your breath and got up to answer the door. It was quite late, just past 2 a.m., and you were about to go to sleep (after one more episode!) so it was a surprise to hear your neighbor returning home at this hour. Well, him drinking with his friends made sense on why he didn’t show up around dinner like he usually did.

You opened the door and the young man in front of you nearly stumbled inside. The little surprised squeak you let out as he accidentally invaded your personal space was cut short as he was quickly shoved aside by the much bigger man.

“König!” 

Heat rushed to your face as he held you tight to his chest. Really tight. The side of your face was squished into his chest as he wrapped his arms around the back of your head and your shoulders. König’s scent enveloped you, a mixture of his soap and what you’ve come to know as the smell of gun oil and a touch of sulfur, all under an almost overwhelming smell of alcohol. Geez. How much did it take to get him this drunk? 

“I missed you, darling.” His words were slurred and he swayed on his feet as he hugged you.

“You saw me this morning.” You pried his hands off of you and put some breathing space between you, “why don’t you sit down.” 

He stumbled a bit, thankfully the young man that had been helping him caught one of his arms and kept a hold on him until he plopped down on your couch.

“Thanks,” you sighed and looked at the man. He was dressed similarly to König, with a black tee and green cargo pants, so you assumed he worked with him.

“Sorry it’s so late, ma’am. I didn’t know he lived with his girlfriend.”

Your face went hot again, “oh! We’re not. I mean, uhh. He lives across the hall.” 

A look of panic crossed his face, “ aw shit! Sorry! He said this was his flat! I can get him across-”

“No, no! It’s ok! He can sleep it off here.” 

“It was my job to-” 

That was apparently as long as König could go without your attention, as he reached for your hips and attempted to pull you to him. Perhaps only because of how drunk he was, you were fast enough to avoid falling by turning around to face him and snatching up his hands. “Hey, you know the rule. Only good boys get to touch.” 

You were mostly joking, but that line had worked wonders on reminding him to keep his hands to himself before. Judging by the way he always found a way to touch you, whether it was as overt as a hug or as subtle as his knee bumping yours, you figured he was a bit touch starved. With his inhibitions lowered, you can only imagine how handsy he’d be. You honestly didn’t mind his touches, but you wanted to at least let his friend (co-worker?) leave first.

König whined and reached for you again, though he stopped himself from actually touching you and let his hands hang in the air. Grabby hands. This giant, grown man was making grabby hands at you. 

The young man next to you glanced at you, mindful to keep his movements subtle, both confused and amused at the situation. 

“Recruit!” König suddenly yelled, voice booming in a way that made you jump and the man next to you stand at attention. “Tell her!” 

“Sir?”

Ah, so this guy was some kind of subordi-

“Tell her I have been a good boy!” 

You slapped a hand over your mouth to stop from laughing. The young man next to you, hands still at his sides, didn’t, but from the way he was biting his lip, it was hard for him to stop himself from laughing too.

Still seated, but no less imposing, König glared at the younger man and growled out his command again. “Tell her.” 

The recruit cleared his throat and looked at you. “Uh, yes. The colonel has been, uh, a, a good boy.” 

It was at that point that you could no longer contain your laughter and you chuckled into the hand you had covering your mouth. 

If the recruit finally broke and laughed too, you didn’t hear it, neither you nor König paying any more attention to him. 

“See! Now come here!” He reached for your hands and tried to pull you onto his lap. 

You managed to resist, still giggling, but ended up standing between his knees. “Alright. What do you want?”

He sat up straight, leaning up towards you, with wide eyes. “To eat your pussy.” 

“König!” You gasped, now acutely aware of the awkward cough you heard behind you, and pulled one hand out of his grasp and lightly pushed him back. 

He chuckled as he dropped back against the couch, though he never looked away from you.

You sighed and turned back to the still nameless younger man next to you and shook your head. “I’ve got it from here, you can go home now.” 

“Good night, sir. Ma’am.” 

After locking up, you looked at König. “How about we cuddle instead?” 

He nodded, “yes. Cuddle is good.” 

You made sure to set some painkillers and a glass of water on the coffee table before laying down with König on the couch, his arms tight around you. 

[Neighbor König Masterlist]

Neighbor König taglist (blurbs): Please let me know if you wish to be added or removed.

@warrior-of-justice  @cumikering @ihateuguys @rand0m--fangirl @keiva1000 @dtftheavengers @takeyour-pants-off @aeeliy @milenko115 @sodonuthideout @onegami @nadiauddincrafts @nadiauddincrafts @grizzersmamma @flooftoof

[imasoftieforbarb]

hey there! you kinda have seen me already by freaking out about Floyd he’s actually is what I wanted to request!

if it’s possible, could you write a little fic on how reader could be when they (pronouns are your opinion) found out about floyd being captured? OR HEAR ME OUT PLS—

reader is Floyd‘s partner (girlfriend/boyfriend, again your opinion) BUT was captured WITH him, bc all the time I was watching the movie I imagined them being with Floyd since young and bc of cliché drama I love *cries*

again it’s your option on doing it or not !!

I LOVE THIS IDEA! Okokokokok

You were childhood best friends- and when he joined the band? You became their manager!

You wanted to support him and you didn’t want to interrupt the whole boys only band so you went with next best thing!

After the failed show you try to keep everyone from leaving

JD tells you to move, and shoves you out the way when you try to block the door

Clay just shakes his head and leaves

Spruce lays a hand on your shoulder and whispers “look after them for me”

At first Floyd tries to leave without you- after giving Branch his vest, he asks you to look after him

You nodded- but the minute he was out of sight you started crying

“What are you waiting for girl? Go get him!”

Grandma tells you she’ll be fine looking after branch on her own so you run off after Floyd

“FLOYD! FLOYD WAIT!” You shouted, seeing his figure turn around, his eyes widening when he saw you running towards him.

“Y/n? What are you doing? I thought you were gonna look after Branch”- he started to say before he saw your tears

“Im not gonna watch the boy I have loves since who knows when walk out the door without him knowing how I feel” you panted taking his hand in yours and meeting his eyes shyly “we could be so good together, we can make this last forever!”

Floyd blinked a few times before laughing slightly “wow! I never thought that you’d like me- I mean I’m not the heart throb or the fun one”

You interrupted “I don’t like them! I like you! A lot”

“I like you a lot too-you sure you wanna come with me?”

You nodded and he grinned, intertwining your fingers and starting to walk away from the pod together, hand in hand as you talked about the future

Ok now- I’m gonna mix ideas here

Let’s say when he got captured you were still with him but not present at the time

So when you got back to the pod you and your long term boyfriend had made to see it wrecked with big foot prints leading away from it

You immediately assumed he’d been eaten by a Burgan

Absolutely heartbroken you fixed the pod back up on your own and fell into a grieving depression

Everywhere you looked you saw memories of him

And then far into the future one day- you get a letter

Supposedly from your dead boyfriend!

You- despite thinking that he was dead- were desperate to see him again, and if that lead to your death then so be it!

You got in your catterbug van called Chloe and head straight for the ‘mount rageous’ that the letter had specified

Once you got to the place this “Velvet and Veneer” we’re singing at you snuck in and noticed the dressing room door open a smidge

You peaked in slightly and felt your eyes water

There he was- Floyd was alive! You couldn’t believe it- you took a few steps back to grasp what you were seeing before a bumping into something.

You looked up and Veneer looked down at you before snatching you up and laughing slightly

“Wow! Another troll? I wonder which one you are? Either way- more talent for us I suppose!” Veneer muttered before entering the dressing room

Floyd looked up from his crossed legs as one of his captors Veneer walked into the room with something in his hand

He had been thinking of you- he always thought about you- between the torture of having his talent drained he dreamed of being back in your shared pod- in your arms

He startled from his thoughts as another diamond perfume bottle was slammed down onto the counter next to him, and felt his heart drop and eyes water when he noticed who was in it

Floyd waited for veneer to leave the room- probably to go get velvet to tell her the good news of having another troll to drain before standing up and pressing his hands to the wall of his prison

“Y-Y/n? Is- is that you?”

You nodded, already crying your eyes out just from looking at him

“What are you doing here? You shouldn’t have come- they’re gonna drain you-“

He stopped when he noticed your tears streaming down your face and had a déjà-vu moment of when you first told him you liked him

“I thought you were dead”

You whispered, dropping to your knees-

“There’s no way I would pass up a way to see you- I love you!” You pressed your hands against the diamond as well and he felt his eyes well with tears

“I love you too-“

Velvet came storming into the room and cackled when she saw your face fill with fear

“Oh- you are gonna be mine!” She said grasping the bottle and starting to walk back out

“NO!” Floyd shouted “not her, drain me first-“

Velvet sneered slightly

“Seeing as you’ve said that- no, I’m gonna drain her, veneer can have you. I want a newer talent”

She left the dressing room and the door slammed shut on Floyd- his tears finally falling

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

AAAAAA- should I do a part 2 taking place during the family harmony at the end of the movie? Let me know what you think!

[leiawritesstories]

Stunning

Rowaelin Month 2024, Day 7: All Dressed Up @rowaelinscourt

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: flirting, swearing, rich people talk, badly concealed horniness, NSFW content, a few fun little hidden jokes teehee

A/N: hi hello this is technically for tomorrow BUT it's getting posted now because i'm taking the LSAT tomorrow and i'm going to be way too mentally exhausted to function, yayyyyy 😃 also, i might disappear for a little while after the exam, bc i also just started my senior year of college and it's a bit busier than i thought lol. anyway.....enjoy!!! at your own discretion please :)

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

If the club was fancy, its VIP lounge was a study in luxury. A pair of black-suited bouncers flanked the door, their dark-shaded eyes constantly scanning the club, scrutinizing each and every person who approached the lounge doors. Rowan handed over the thick square of embossed ivory paper from his tux jacket pocket and nodded amiably at the bouncers as they checked his invitation and waved him in. Conspicuous as he’d felt before, when he was walking through the club in a custom three-piece designer tux, he felt positively unremarkable among the sea of haute couture that thronged the VIP lounge, all of them centered around a tall, elegant woman in a fitted sheath dress of molten gold with a slit that crept dangerously high up her right leg. Her head tipped an inch sideways with the echo of her laughter, and she rested one graceful hand on the forearm of the handsome man she was talking to, crimson-tipped fingernails contrasting sharply with his black jacket. 

Aelin Galathynius. 

The only daughter of perhaps the most influential voices in Terrasen’s political scene, Aelin filled the spotlight like she was born to it. Which she was. She’d been appearing in front of press cameras and journalists practically since her birth because Evalin Ashryver, the first female secretary of state, had wanted to show the world that a woman could have both a successful high-profile career and a family. Furthermore, her father was Rhoe Galathynius, the deputy prime minister, and he had personally taught his only daughter how to handle the press. 

At twenty-nine, Aelin was one of the most recognizable faces in Terrasen, though that was mostly due to her success as a former professional volleyball player and current coach, as well as an incredibly generous philanthropist, rather than her parents’ collective renown. Rowan had known Aelin since high school, had harbored a crush for her practically as long, and since he was also a retired athlete and the head of a foundation that supported talented young athletes whose families couldn’t afford their sports, he often crossed paths with Aelin at events like this one. 

She was chatting with Dorian Havilliard, the oldest son of Prime Minister Havilliard and a childhood friend of hers, when Rowan strolled over and nodded cordially at the dark-haired man. “Good to see you again, Havilliard. Do you mind?” 

“Not at all!” Dorian air-kissed Aelin’s cheeks. “Whitethorn, good to see you as well. I’ll have my assistant reach out to yours to schedule a proper meeting, yes?” He had recently indicated his interest in sponsoring one of Rowan’s foundation events. 

“Sounds perfect.” Rowan shook Dorian’s hand and pretended not to notice as the other man stage-whispered “he’s so hot” to Aelin before he left the two of them alone. 

“Rowan.” Aelin’s crimson lips curled into a smile. “What brings you here? I thought you usually avoided these little parties like the plague.” 

“I try,” he said dryly. “Unfortunately, there are several key donors here, and my VP practically threatened to strangle me if I didn’t show up and have a drink with them.” 

She chuckled and took a delicate sip of the champagne in her hand. “I wasn’t aware I was one of your key donors, Rowan.” 

“Maybe I’m using you as a human shield,” he teased. 

“I’m afraid I’m more of a spear than a shield,” she said with a wink. “That means I’ll charge at your big scary donors with you if you can work up the balls to ask.” 

“Can you blame me for hesitating?” He swiped a glass of champagne from a passing server’s tray and locked his gaze onto Aelin as he took a deep sip. “You look stunning in that dress, Aelin, and I’m afraid that’s all anyone will see.” 

“Ah, stop it.” She swatted his arm. “I’ll get their attention, and you’ll capture it like you always do with your cute little big-old-shy-guy smile and blush.” His cheeks heated, and she grinned. “There, you see? One of your usual protests that you ‘don’t do as much as you want to do’ and you’ll have those donors eating from the palm of your hand.” 

“I’d like to eat you from the palm of my hand,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “You’re sure?” 

“Of course.” She set down her champagne and looped her arm through his. She lowered her voice to a throaty whisper. “And if you want to eat, Whitethorn, all you have to do is ask.” 

His pants tightened. He swallowed thickly, forced himself to think about the donors in order to control his traitorous body, and covertly poked Aelin in the ribs. “Quite a naughty thing to say, Aelin.” 

She winked lazily at him. “We’re at a club, Rowan. Certain things happen at clubs.” 

“Such a brazen woman.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear, and his lips just barely brushed her neck. “What kind of things are you thinking about, hmm?” 

“Schmoozing with donors, for one.” She laughed softly at his disgruntled expression and brushed a megawatt smile across her face as they approached one of the couples who were frequent donors to his foundation. “Connall, Sorscha, delighted to see you here!” 

Connall had been one of Rowan’s teammates, and he’d retired a year before Rowan so he could spend more time with his wife, Sorscha, and their family. “Surprised you made it, old man,” he joked as he clasped hands with Rowan and affectionately thumped him on the back. 

“Trust me, we both are,” Rowan deadpanned. “Sorscha, you look lovely as always. How are the little ones?” 

“Growing up too damn fast,” Connall sighed. 

Sorscha nodded in agreement. “Lyla started walking the other day; I turned around for five seconds and she made it into the other room. I almost had a heart attack.” She laughed. “And Gray has been obsessed with taking care of the garden, except that he doesn’t know the difference between the weeds and the herbs.” 

“Little guy brought his mama a fistful of ‘bad weeds’ that were actually dill,” Connall added, snickering. “Oh, and James is doing fantastic at the football camp.” 

Rowan smiled. “That’s amazing! How is it having him stay with you?” One of the projects he was trying to start involved pro athletes having orphans and foster kids stay with them when they participated in training camps for their sports. 

“We love it.” Con grinned down at his wife. “He’s still a little shy with the kids and he basically lives out of his duffle bag, but he’s a lot more talkative now.” 

“He seems more at ease,” Sorscha said. “It could be that he’s made friends at the camp, or that my son pretty much idolizes him because he’s a big boy who plays sports, but I think he’s also just more… comfortable.” 

“That’s almost exactly what we were hoping would happen.” Rowan squeezed Aelin’s hand, and she beamed up at him. “Good. Well, I hope this helps convince the board.” 

Con thumped Rowan’s shoulder. “We’re in your corner, man. I’d be happy to tell the board about our success if you need.” 

“I just might take you up on that.” Rowan shook Con’s hand and accepted Sorscha’s hug. “Thank you so much.” 

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Aelin teased as they walked away, heading for another donor that Rowan had spotted. “You’re a natural—just get them talking about how much they want to help these kids or how much they love what they’re already doing, and they’ll give you their support.” 

His hand slid to her lower back, guiding her through the throngs of people. “Wish I had half as much confidence as you have, Ae.” 

“Stop that,” she chided. “Rowan, your foundation is hugely successful because of you. That much is evident, and I’ll keep trying to convince you of that until you accept it.” 

“I know a few ways you could convince me,” he murmured, half to himself. 

Her smile melted into lazy dangerousness, and sparks kindled behind her stunning turquoise eyes. “Do you, now?” 

His hand curled possessively around her hip. “I do.” Heat raced through her blood at the weight of his touch. “Dance with me.” 

“Of course.” 

They stepped into the swirl of couples dancing in the middle of the lounge, and Aelin gasped quietly when Rowan pulled her so close that she was almost flush against him, wrapping one arm around her waist with his hand on her hip and lacing his free hand with hers. So close she could feel the thrum of his heartbeat, she draped her free arm around his neck, fingers toying with the collar of his pressed black shirt. The song changed, shifting to a deep, pounding bass and sultry vocals, and her body moved in near-perfect tandem with his as he led her through the dance. 

“All that hockey training certainly gave you good moves, Ro,” she teased, flicking her gaze up to his through her lashes. 

He smirked languidly and rotated his hips in a borderline lustful circle. “And all your volleyball training probably gave you strong legs.” He tipped his head down and purred his next words into her ear. “But how long until they start shaking?” 

“Dream on, hockey boy,” she whispered, even as desire uncoiled between her legs at the sinful rasp of his voice. 

“Every night.” Her breath caught at the admission in those words, and when he brushed a thumb across her lips, she leaned into the touch. Her nod was confirmation enough, and he replaced his thumb with his lips, kissing her softly at first and then deeper, slower, the stroke of his tongue almost too slow for the heat pounding in her blood. 

In a hazy blur, they were in the club’s bathroom, Aelin sucking in a sharp breath as Rowan yanked her dress up around her waist and planted her bare ass on the marble countertop. He chuckled, a low dark gravelly rasp that curled up her spine like smoke, as his eyes traced down her body and discovered her lack of underwear. “Dangerous move, darling,” he murmured, attaching his lips to her neck and pressing his calloused thumb directly onto her clit. “No panties? Anyone could see you, Aelin.” 

“Anyone—ahh, Rowan!—isn’t going to see,” she panted, her words broken up with gasps and hitched breaths. “Just…fuck, just you.” 

“That’s what I like to hear.” Free hand reaching down the front of her dress to tease her hardened nipples, he thrust three fingers into her, reveling in her broken moan and the way her eyes scrunched shut in pain-edged bliss. “Hold still for me, pretty girl.” Wordlessly, she nodded, bracing her hands on the countertop to stabilize herself. He smirked and kissed her hard, swallowing her moans, and pumped his fingers roughly, bringing her to her first orgasm of the night within a few minutes. He worked her through the high, teasing her sensitive clit just enough to make her whimper when he withdrew his glistening fingers and licked them clean, gaze locked on her the whole time. 

“Please, Ro.” She whispered his name, her plea a raspy breath. “Need you to fill me up.” 

“Good girl.” He pushed his trousers and boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free, and her eyes went wide and dark as she stared at his size. 

“Th-that…” Her mouth went dry. “That’s not going to fit.” 

He brushed his thumb over her kiss-swollen lips. “It will, pretty girl. Trust me, it will.” He pushed one of her dress straps off her shoulder and palmed her breast. “Your pretty pussy took my fingers so well, Ae, getting all ready for my dick.” 

Her breath escaped in a shuddering groan. “How is it so hot when you say filthy things like that?” 

“Because you’re my dirty little good girl.” He smirked and tilted her chin up to brush a bare feather of a kiss over her smudged lipstick. “Can you stay quiet for me?” She nodded, and he kissed her as he dipped his fingers into her cunt again, working her in long slow strokes. When she wrapped her hand around his wrist and whispered that she was ready, he lined his cock up and pushed into her slowly, savoring the tight grip of her pussy around his dick and the muffled whimpers she made as she struggled to stay quiet while accommodating the size of his velvet steel schlong. 

“Rowan,” she choked out, near desperate. “Please!” 

“Good fucking girl,” he groaned, and he rocked into the cradle of her hips, thrusting with increasing force. Gripping her waist, he pinned her to the counter and fucked her hard, and she buried her face in his shoulder to muffle the uncontrollable moans that tore from her throat. The soap dish clattered to the floor, and he just kicked it underneath the sink and thrust harder, hurtling them both towards climax. Aelin tipped her head back and rasped out his name as she came, ecstasy written all over her features, and he groaned her name as he came inside of her. As their bodies stilled, he gently pulled out, smirking at the sight of his rowillymilk dripping down her legs. 

She trailed a finger between her thighs and lifted it to her lips, licking their cum off and humming softly in pleasure. “Delicious.” 

He growled and pulled his pants back up and lifted her off the counter, stopping to fix her dress before he laced his fingers with hers and led her out of the bathroom and back through the flashing strobe lights of the lounge and out a side door. “Your place or mine?” 

“Mine.” She flicked a heated glance at him from under her darkened lashes. “Got a few toys I like to use in my bedroom.” 

“Get in the car.” Rowan pulled the passenger door of a sleek black SUV open with more force than strictly necessary, the muscled lines of his body tense, the gleam of his eyes predatory. Aelin touched the smudged lipstick at the corner of her mouth, wiping it away as she slid gracefully into the car. He closed the door and went around to the driver’s side, and she sucked in a half-surprised, half-aroused gasp when he accelerated down the dark, empty city streets with a hand splayed on her thigh. Heat pulsed between her legs, radiating outward from the warm, firm weight of his palm atop her leg. 

She at least had enough of her wits to direct him towards her townhouse. “Turn left here,” she directed, guiding him down the familiar path to her home. “First right, then second right.” He navigated the turns with expert precision, and it was only minutes before he’d pulled into the single parking space marked out in front of her property. 

A sudden, thick silence blanketed the vehicle, and Aelin had the urge to caress Rowan’s face when she caught sight of the faint uncertainty nearly buried in his fiery gaze. So she did, gently tracing her fingertips across his cheekbones. “Welcome to my home, Ro.” She winked lazily. “Want me to show you my bedroom?” 

His lingering hesitation melted into molten, commanding desire. “That’s my good girl.” The praise flowed over her like sunlight. “Can you get out of the car, Ae, or do you need to be carried?” 

“Someone has a high opinion of himself.” She clicked her tongue and smoothly climbed out of the car. He prowled around from the driver’s side, banded one thickly muscled arm around her waist, and pressed her back against the door. 

“Still so naughty,” he murmured. “What should we do about that, hmm?” 

“Why don’t you come inside and show me?” she whispered right back. 

He kissed her, and it would have been sweet if not for the cum sticking to her thighs. “Good girl.” Hand in her hand, he followed her into her townhouse, locked the front door behind them, and waited all of twenty seconds for her to drop her small purse before he hauled her over his shoulder and stormed up the stairs. She managed to point him towards her bedroom door, and he set her onto her bed with uncharacteristic gentleness. 

And tore her dress down the middle. 

She was halfway through an outraged gasp when he yanked her hips to the edge of the mattress, dropped to his knees, and licked her dripping pussy. Her outrage kindled into lust, and she plunged her fingers into his hair, shoving him closer as his tongue drew harsh patterns on her needy clit. Through the incoherent, garbled whimpers and moans streaming from her throat, she managed to reach sideways and grab her wand vibrator from her bedside table and switch the toy on before tracing the buzzing tip around her stiff, aching nipples. 

“What,” Rowan growled, “do you think you’re doing, hmm?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just took the vibrator from her and replaced his tongue with the toy, teasing her cunt with too-light touches and biting kisses, ignoring her breasts altogether. “Did I say you could touch yourself, Ae?” 

“N–no, sir,” she whispered. Calling him sir had been impulsive, but it felt so right. 

He swore filthily and shoved his pants off, letting his massive meat pole spring free. “That’s correct. Now be a good girl and put your hands above your head.” The vibrator skimmed her throbbing pussy and dipped farther back, circling the rim of her ass, and her fists curled into the pillows above her head as words failed her. He seemed pleased with her obedience, because he kept the toy there as he returned his mouth to her cunt and devoured her, tongue spearing into her and teeth scraping her most sensitive parts. It couldn’t have been more than two minutes before stars exploded across her vision as she came so hard she shook with the force of it. 

He turned off the vibrator, threw it across the floor, stripped out of the rest of his clothes, and hauled her up the bed, kissing and nipping up her body as he went. “Don’t hold back,” she breathed, the words shaky from the last waves of her orgasm but no less confident. 

“Scream for me, pretty girl,” was all he said in response, and he flipped them over and pulled her down onto his cock. She was so wet that her cunt slid down effortlessly, and he didn’t give her any time to adjust before he lifted her hips up and down, helping her ride his dick at a frenetic pace. “Fuck, Aelin!” 

“Fuck, Rowan!” she screamed in tandem, head falling back in bliss. He sat up, deepening the angle, and fucked her relentlessly, until she was a mess of broken cries of his name. 

“Come with me,” he ordered, and he pinched her clit sharply. She screamed his name to the gods as she shattered, and he came with her, burying himself deep. He rocked his hips gently as she shook, working her through every last second of the drawn-out orgasm, milking his own pleasure. As she calmed and rolled off of him, sprawled onto her stomach, he ran his fingers through her hair, smoothing the mussed strands. “So fuckin’ good, Fireheart.” 

She turned onto her side and grinned, linking her fingers with his. “Happy anniversary, my love. Should we do that again next year?”

~~~

TAGS:

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[cinnamoodles]

the language of flowers — part two, irises

warnings: more angst than part one which is great, also reader throwing stuff bc she’s a badass, and in character Anthony which is honestly more of a red flag than ooc Anthony but you love him anyway you nasty :)

word count: 1.4k (wow I impress myself sometimes)

author’s note: we love this part bc reader stands up for herself and Anthony is one major daddy issues boy.

read the other parts! — part one, daises | part three, peonies

i don’t consent for my work to be reposted or copied, translated, or transferred to any other platform, or this one, in part or whole.

--------- . . . ---------

ii. 1804, iridaceae versicolor. irises, trust

Anthony paced the length of this study—which wasn’t all too large, but stress relieving nonetheless. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, a tempestuous mix of newfound worry and lingering doubts. Today marked one year, one year without his father, one year his mother was cast into a depressive state, one year since he had taken on the mantle of viscount, and become the father figure that his youngest siblings did not have.

It had been far too long since he had last spoken to you—days? Weeks? He had never gone so long without even seeing your face, and that was a stretch. He’d spent his last few months mourning, brooding, and perhaps being a tad overbearing on himself, but he had to, for the sake of his family’s honour, it’s prestige. 

There’s a sharp knock on his door, it’s most likely Colin or Daphne, who are frequent in irritating him. He makes no effort to open the door, and with a practiced gesture, he dips his quill into the inkwell, resuming his task of poring over the estate's financial matters. How often had his father sat here, absorbed in these very same calculations? A pang of longing pierces through him at the thought, his heart echoing the emptiness his father's absence had left behind.

Another knock.

It must be Colin, his eyes sparkling, attempting to irritate him once again. “I’ve got a job,” he snaps, “and I suggest you get one as well, one that does not involve vexing me at every given minute.”

The door creaks open, candlelight flickering over the stacks of leather bound tomes and haphazardly organized scrolls, casting lanky shadows over his face, playing upon the strong angles, highlighting the lines of exhaustion that marred his usually composed countenance. His normally impeccable attire was slightly disheveled, as if he had been running his hands through his hair in frustration, and his ink-stained fingers spoke of long hours spent in diligent work. He wasn’t in a position to meet anyone, much less usher yet another one of his young siblings out of his room.

“Oh, I vex you? Is that why you've been evading me like the plague?” Your presence was like a sudden burst of sunlight piercing through the storm clouds—startling, yet warmly welcomed. The quill slipped from his fingers as his eyes widened in surprise, locking onto your face, a vision that brought back a flood of memories and feelings he had attempted to suppress.

Your stormy eyes burned through his deep brown ones, and you crossed your hands across your chest. Your soft hair was tucked behind your ear, and your eyes were wide, as if staring directly into Anthony’s soul, and for just a moment, he allowed himself to become lost, to dream, and to gaze into them as if he was merely a boy again, holding you in his arms.

“Say something, Anthony! I’ve not seen you in weeks, properly, and you’ve barely held a conversation with anyone other than your butler, and frankly, I—” 

Anthony quickly wrapped you in a hug, burying his face in your shoulder, your cotton dress soft to the touch. He mumbles. “I missed you.” He can feel you stiffen, but soon gently relax into his arms.

“That is why I came,” you smile, and pull away, holding him at an arm’s distance. “Oh, and my brother is getting married. I wanted to invite you personally to the wedding.” Your oldest brother, twenty eight years of age, was getting married, Anthony recalled. He was, of course, to be the next Duke when your father inevitably passed.

Anthony rubbed his eyes. “My sisters will come, of course, but I may not be able to.” Your invitation was tempting, and the prospect of seeing you again filled Anthony with a mix of excitement and trepidation. He hadn't realized just how much he had missed you until this moment, when you walked in the door. But his responsibilities as the viscount weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he feared that leaving the estate at this crucial time might jeopardize his mother’s already precarious emotional situation.

"I wish I could attend, truly," Anthony replied with a hint of regret in his voice. "But with the estate's financial matters in such disarray, I can't afford to be away for long. I must attend to my duties here."

You frowned slightly, concern glazed across your soft, delicate features. "Anthony, you can't carry the burden of the entire estate on your own. There must be someone who can assist you, even for a short time."

"I've considered that," Anthony admitted, his mind aching from the internal struggle. "But finding someone trustworthy, capable, and knowledgeable enough to handle the estate's affairs is not an easy task. I fear leaving things in someone else's hands might cause more harm than good.”

You crossed your arms, frustration evident in your expression. "Anthony, you can't keep shutting yourself off from the world. Your family's honor and prestige won't matter if you run yourself into the ground!"

He takes a step back, feeling defensive under your stern gaze. "I am taking care of things. I'm doing what I need to do to ensure the estate's survival, which is all that matters to me, at this point in time."

"Are you?" you snap, your voice tinged with disappointment that Anthony could see etched in your face. "You've barely spoken to anyone, including me, for weeks. You're burying yourself in work, and for what? To prove some sort of point? That you’re fit to be the man of the house?"

"I don't have a choice," Anthony replied tersely. "As the viscount, it's my duty to oversee everything. And after losing my father, I can't afford to let anything else slip through my fingers."

"You can't live in the past, Anthony," you urged, taking a step closer to him. "Your father's gone, and while it's natural to mourn, you can't let grief consume you. Of course, you have responsibility—"

His jaw clenched, and he shot back, "Responsibility? What would you know of responsibility? You don't understand the weight of responsibility on my shoulders. I can't just leave everything behind and go gallivanting off to weddings, like an immature child."

Pain flashed across your face, but Anthony was much too in his head to take a look at his surroundings. He continued, as if possessed by some spirit. “You’ve never had to work a day in your life. You’re spoiled, and the only thing your family has ever thought of doing for you is getting you married.” He spit. “So why don’t you worry about your responsibilities, and I’ll worry about mine.”

A single tear fell from your eye, and in that moment, Anthony wished he could take it all back, swallow the poison he had thrown at you so mercilessly. “I…” you bite your lip, and he wanted to take you in his arms, comfort you, and hold you.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out. “I’m sorry for whatever sin I’ve done to have you treat me like this.” You quickly wipe your tears and rush to the door. Anthony wanted to stop you, to scream about how he didn’t mean any of the words he said.

You quickly turn around, revealing a bouquet of irises, the specific ones Anthony had commented on the last time he visited your estate. He could barely remember when. “By the way, I bought you flowers. I thought they’d cheer you up,” you retort, before throwing the delicately tied bunch of flowers straight to his head, hitting his nose.

The door slammed, and Anthony was once again left alone, only this time, he’d have done anything to bring you back. Slowly, the petals of the irises cascaded down onto the ground, fracturing the flowers, and Anthony noticed a small piece of paper.

The Guide for Flora for Debutantes: In the quaint world of botany, the charming iris blooms have long been regarded as symbolic emissaries of trust and faithfulness. Like an ancient scroll unraveling before our very eyes, the iris, with its alluring hues and delicate petals, unravels the story of steadfast devotion and allegiance. Just as an honest man's handshake vouches for his sincerity, the iris bestows its trust upon those who approach with an open heart and gentle touch, and a receiving of this gentle bloom from either gender discloses that the gifter trusts you with their whole heart. Its regal demeanor, reminiscent of a gallant knight in armor, instills in us the assurance that this flower is a beacon of loyalty and constancy.

Trust. You had trusted him, and what had he done with that? He’d tossed it away, and your gift had broken. Anthony wasn’t usually one for symbolism, but these broken irises were pretty damn apparent.

[peterparkersnose]

Christmas Vibes

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: nostalgia, age gap, horrible attempt to capture joel’s accent (fuck), just christmas fluff :)

a/n this kicks off my joel stories in preperation for tlou show on hbo max starting jan 15! enjoy and have a happy holidays. please tell me you understand the vibe aspect (triangle, purple, thursday, the number 4, blueberry pie) bc if not i am just really undiagnosed. 

summary Joel tries to make Christmas special for Y/N once again

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read time: 4 mins 59 seconds

“It’s snowing,” you sighed, looking at your reflection in your window. The street lamp lights outside were plagued with the falling snow.

“Never liked winter,” Joel shuttered, taking off his jeans. You heard his belt clank as it hit the hamper. “Really? Not even Christmas?” you asked, playing with a strand of your hair with your gaze still locked outside.

“Sarah always loved it. I liked seeing her happy so I tolerated it.” Joel sighed. You could see the reflection of his flannel pajama pants in the window. You were touched that he mentioned Sarah. He rarely did. Even if you slept in the same room with that eerie photo of the two of them together staring at you, you never dared pushing the subject.

“What did she like?” you asked, testing the waters. “Hmm,” Joel thought. “When she was real young she loved Santa. Her grandpa would come around every year dressed up as ‘em. I’ll never forget her face every year when he would come.”

You nodded, not sure what to say. “I miss Christmas.” you sighed, sitting down next to Joel in the bed. “How many did you get? Before…”

“12.” you sighed. “My mom would always go out and cut us down a tree. I sometimes think about the smell of a real tree. It’s much different when the tree is in the woods versus your living room. I miss it. Every time it gets cold like this, my memories come back and it makes me hate this damned broken world even more.” you sighed, laying down on your back and staring at the ceiling.

“We always had fake trees,” Joel commented, flicking off the lamp. He was unsure on how to respond to you, so he tried to take your mind off the bitterness of the memories.

“You give fake tree vibes.” you told Joel, reaching for his hand in the sheets. “How can one give fake tree vibes?” “You just do.” “Explain?” he asked, grabbing your hand tightly “There’s no explanation. Just like how Maria gives off former yoga teacher vibes,”

He stopped and thought for a moment. “Well I’ll be damned, she really do.” “Told ya.” “Go to sleep,” he sighed. “She most definitely had a pixie cut when the world wasn’t shit,” you added.

“Where does your mind come up with these things?” Joel chuckled. “Ellie and I had a very intense conversation about it on patrol a few days ago. Just like how Tommy gives off cinnamon raisin bread vibes.”

“Stop that,” Joel insisted, shuffling in bed. “It’s too accurate. Freakin’ me out.”

“Maybe she has a dragonfly tattoo too. Somewhere special where only Tommy knows. Very yoga teacher-ish.”

“Go to bed Y/N.” Joel huffed, slamming his eyes shut.

Joel didn’t even know why he was doing this. He didn’t even like Christmas when the world was still normal.

But he liked you sure of a hell lot more than he hated Christmas.

His back ached as he dragged the tree through the gates of Jackson. He had picked out the greenest tree he could find and cut it down. The horse would have been useless with a close to 120 pound tree (he estimated).

“Need some help?” Tommy chuckled, arms crossed amused watching his brother lug in a tree. “S’pose I could,” he hissed at him, dragging the stem of the tree against the dirt ground. “All this for a woman?” Tommy asked, lifting the muddy end of the tree. “Your tellin’ me you wouldn’t do this for Maria?” “Maria wouldn’t want it,” “Well if she did?”

Tommy paused for a second to think. “Hell no,”

The tree barely fit in the door to your house. Joel cringed at all the needles he was going to have to pick up after this.

“Got her in?” Tommy asked, entering the house with the end of the tree still in his grips.

Tommy saw the makeshift tree holder and set the tree in the metal hole. Joel propped it up, holding the tree up for Tommy to bolt the tree to the metal plate.

The two of them now out of breathe took a step back to see the enormous tree.

“I think you may have underestimated the size of your house, big brother.” Tommy said, patting Joel on the back.

Joel’s eyes were glued to the top of the tree pressed against the ceiling and jutting outward.

His arms were crossed with one hand rubbing his brow. “She’s gonna hate it,” he muttered. “I think it’s rather cute. Quirky if you ask me. She likes that shit, don’t she?” Tommy re assured his brother.

“Should I cut it?” Joel asked. “Nah. You went out and did the dirty work. If she doesn’t appreciate it, she doesn’t deserve it. I always got a lighter if you need it.” he suggested.

Joel swept the needles up from the ground in preparation of your return. You had spent the day distracted by Ellie. The kids were having a winter festival down in the square and you two were volunteering.

Joel most definitely owed Ellie one after this.

He found the red and green blankets from storage and placed them on the couch. Holiday decorations were rare to find (minus halloween) and he was trying his best.

He was in the middle of fluffing the pillows when he heard the old door creek open.

A sudden gasp came from you as your hand clasped over your mouth. “What is this?” you asked, a smile widening on your face.

“I know it ain’t perfect, I didn’t measure right but it’s…”

“Joel, it’s perfect.” you insisted, wrapping your hands around the man who was cowering in embarrassment. “It’s too tall, the tree ain’t right.”

“Shh,” you shushed him, wrapping an arm around his rib cage. “I love it,” you muffled into his chest.

“Oh!” you said, suddenly realizing what you had done that day.

You and Ellie had made strings of snowflakes all day with the kids.

The white paper cut outs strung perfectly around the tree.

“Careful there,” Joel said, balancing you as you stood on your tippy toes to reach the top. “Ready?” he asked.

“Ready for-”

Joel hoisted you up by your waist erupting a squeal from you. “Joel!” you laughed, squirming in his reach.

“String…‘em,” he demanded with his raspy voice, struggling holding you in his grip. As you strung the paper around the branches, needles dropped down. Specifically on Joel.

“What are you doing?” you asked after hearing the noise of Joel spitting. “Them damn needles- in my face.” he grunted, finally letting you down.

A tiny laugh came from you as you faced him once again. “What’s so funny?” he asked. You carefully plucked the stray needles out of his bushy eyebrows, making sure they didn’t fall in his eyes. “All better now,” you smiled, kissing him on the cheek.

“I’m surprised your not covered in sap,” you commented, sitting down on your comfy couch in Joel’s arms. You handed him his cup of coffee. “Showered ‘for you got home,”

“What if I wanted you covered in sap?” you asked, staring up at the tree. “What?” Joel asked, confused. “So I could have washed it off of ya.”

Joel sucked his teeth. “It’s a damn shame,” he sighed, taking a sip of his coffee.

“And you brought this in all by yourself?” you asked, grabbing Joel’s bicep. “Mhm,” he lied, taking Tommy’s credit. “My strong man,” you said, folding closer into his body.

“Thank you, Joel.” you sighed, remembering the previous night. “It’s just like old times.” “Well, I’m glad you like it,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

“It gives off Christmas vibes,” Joel said, very proud of himself. “Yes Joel, sure. It gives Christmas vibes.” You chuckled, enamored at his attempt to understand your humor.

“Just like how Ellie gives off the vibe that she can only wear red socks on a Friday.”

“Stop that shit already,”

“And how when the world wasn’t like this, Tommy probably had shit credit.”

“He did,” Joel laughed. “Stop it now, your still freaking me out.”

“You brought it up!”

“Yeah, because it was funny when I did it.”

“Yes Joel. Hilarious.”

-

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry

[thejujvtsupost]

Can you plz do a geto surguru x sorcerer reader story maybe a bit angst like from him leaving and the reader heartbroken but doesn't care and joins him cuz she loves him, something of that sort? I'm not picky I just wish for my of geto surguru 😭🥺

He Left You // From Afar

Hiiii anon I’ve got a drabble for you! I struggle with Geto angst of any kind especially from his defection era because he really just needs a hug and some counseling but I did my best 💗

Notes: F!reader, angst, reader is a sorcerer, established relationship, light stalking, comfort??, don’t be like them they’re both a little crazy making wild choices, Geto doesn’t start a cult- he just leaves the jujutsu world behind, We live in a river in Egypt bc none of that is canon forgive me.🥴

Geto leaves overnight and thus leaves you behind. You were suffering too, you were depressed too, and he had the audacity to leave you and Gojo- his supposed best friend- behind. You hated him for it.

For months you were bitter from the abandonment and his defection. No news of his whereabouts, zero contact. He left you.

Geto couldn’t stay. He couldn’t watch his friends be exploited and killed too young. Just like Haibara, sent out alone on a mission he had no business being involved in.

He couldn’t stay but he couldn’t completely leave either. Unbeknownst to you, he was hiding but never too far.

Of course he couldn’t leave you behind truly. You held his heart, and after two months, he cracked and started looking after you.

From afar. Far enough that you wouldn’t pick up on his energy, far enough that you wouldn’t be reminded of his abandonment.

It hurt to stay away but he made his bed to lie in. That’s what he told himself every time he was tempted to reach out to you or Satoru. He let your graduation pass by and soon your lives were moving forward without him.

But you… eighteen months after he left- he returned.

He returned to your apartment and waited for you to come home from the stupid date he spotted you on. You were wearing that little red dress he loved so much on you to meet with some other man.

Fine, he would admit that he was jealous. Leaving meant he couldn’t keep you. But you were still his. Still his doll, his love.

And his love was unlocking her door while bidding her date farewell. At least he was a gentleman.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” This was the first time in eighteen months you laid eyes on him. You were furious.

“How did you even- what. No. Get out. Now.” Your voice was already cracking.

God he missed you so badly, the fire in your eyes was captivating even if he was on the receiving end. “You’re dating?”

“Are you stalking me or something? That’s not your business, you left me. You left me and I was alone- not even a breakup text-” the tears started flowing freely, your heart couldn’t take it.

“I’ve been checking on you every so often, wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Do I fucking look okay to you?” You left him standing in the living room, a man wasn’t going to prevent you from being comfortable in your own apartment.

“Gorgeous actually.” He followed you, only waiting outside your bedroom door so you could change. He at least had the civility to not cross your boundaries. You hated that you were blushing so easily.

Once into your comfortable clothes, you slam the door open and cross the hall into your bathroom to remove your makeup before it could stain your face further.

Of course he followed you, taking a moment to lean against the door frame and admire you closer than he had in over a year.

Then his arms were snaking around your waist from behind. “But you should know you’re always gorgeous.” He continued his thought from a few minutes prior. He knew he couldn’t sway you with a few compliments but that wasn’t going to stop him from telling the truth.

You were paralyzed and unable to meet his gaze in the mirror, you could easily push him away and you didn’t want to. You hated that he still felt like home.

You hated that you turned around and were relaxing into his embrace, spiraling down into sobs when he held you tighter against him and rubbed his hand down your back in a soothing manner. “I hate you so much. You can’t pop in and out of my life Suguru, I won’t let you break me again. I can’t handle it.”

“I want you to come with me, doll. I didn’t want to leave you behind but I couldn’t stay there- I just couldn’t.” He started choking up, “I’ve been off the grid in a cabin, come with me? Please?”

Could you actually just leave like he did? Your friends, job, entire life? All to be with Suguru?

“I won’t cut all contact.”

“You don’t have to, phones exist.”

“And I’m not giving up Netflix or the internet.”

“I live in a cabin, not the wilderness doll.” This wasn’t a laughing matter but he couldn’t help but be fond of your stubbornness. “I have power and internet.”

Could you really leave everything behind?

Yeah. Yeah, you could.

Thinking of making a request? Check my bio to see if they’re open! <3

[fortenik]

MONSTER ACTORS AU HEADCANONS PT 2

Since a lot of people liked the last post abt actor au here’s the second part of it.

Tenma and Johan have opposed clothing style irl in difference of their clothes during the show; Johan is most likely to use shirts, jeans and t-shirts while Tenma is more likely to use suits and turtleneck sweaters. Like, during an interview, Johan admitted that turtleneck sweaters were uncomfortable because of the hot weather.

Epsilon and Johan are the same person (actor)

Rung (the Vietnamese Doctor) and Tenma are siblings irl

The cross dressing scenes in Prague where mostly performed by Nina’s actress but Johan’s actor was willing to dress as Nina too and he did once or twice mostly the scenes with Suk lmao

The actors ages:

Tenma- 31

Nina and Johan- 25

Eva- 30

Grimmer- 39

Lunge- 50

Rung (the Vietnamese Dr): 26 but she looks really young

Dieter - 11

Suk- 29

Lotte- 26 / Karl- 25

Martin- 36

Tenma would be a Giorgio Armani model

Nina took a lot of clothing from the set because she literally ADORES all the dresses she wore.

Eva is actually redhead but she dyed her hair (I took this idea bc Idk where I read, Eva was supposed to be redhead and I personally love the idea)

Tenma and Johan read together all of the Tenjoh fanfics. Johan is the one actually enjoying and wheezing and Tenma is all uncomfortable and shocked, he’d be like “why would they write that?”

In the other hand Tenma would read the Guriten fanfics and he’d be like so flustered but he’d enjoy it. (He’s the strongest Guriten shipper)

Of course the filming would be placed in Germany and Czech Republic and some moments are placed in France and Poland.

Lunge and Roberto get along really well out of the set, like they’re hanging out and joking around.

Tenma followed a very rigorous and restrictive diet to loose weight to represent the depression more realistically. And of course he grew his hair. Plus, before starting the filming, he didn’t want to grew his hair because he thought he wouldn’t look good, but through the series he discovered he actually loved it long and by the end of the series he stayed with his hair long (and the final scene where he has short hair again he was using a wig)

By the end, Lunge bought a beer for Grimmer (just like they couldn’t do in the series) (coping mechanism)

Grimmer came out as gay and a few months later Tenma came out as bisexual and the whole fandom started to make conjetures because they saw them together a lot of times.

I loved making these, pls tell me if you want me to keep working on this AU and If you have more hcs don’t be shy and share them 🤭

[sallownights]

dress

word count: 2.1k

CW: fluff, making out?,

pairings: sebastian x reader, ominis x poppy

A/N: i like taylor swift. so, yeah, this is based on the song dress. from reputation. bc sebastian is so reputation. my girlfriend had to proofread this😐😐😐

it was getting warmer with the fast approach of summer. while o.w.l.s we’re coming up, the students still spent time outside the castle, enjoying the warm weather.

imelda, poppy, and y/n all decided to take a trip to hogsmeade after their classes on friday.

“professor howin had me stay after for a few minutes, wanted me to help feed some puffskeins." poppy runs to catch up with her friends outside of tomes and scrolls. y/n smiles and says,

"that's alright! i just figured you might’ve been with highwing.” imelda rolls her eyes,

“i swear, you love that bloody bird more than ominis,”

“i- i mean, no, highwing is great, but ominis and i are just friends-“

“sure you are, sweeting. aren’t you supposed to hang out with him tomorrow?”

“well, yes, but it’s not- i’m not-“ poppy stammers.

“okay! let’s go!” y/n grabs her friends hands and starts dragging them to gladrags.

“i don’t want to go dress shopping, y/n,” imelda groans.

“well, i do. my favorite one is starting to fray on the shoulder, so i figured it’s time to buy a new one.” y/n starts looking over the few dresses they were selling. she sees a pastel pink sundress with slightly puffy sleeves. she runs her hands over it, the linen fabric feeling smooth against her hands until it goes down to a built in under bust corset.

she calls over augustus hill, asking if she could try it on. she goes behind a changing screen. when she emerges, showing her friends, poppy gasps and imelda crosses her arms.

“you look beautiful! that color suits you so well!” poppy rushes over to you, taking your hands in hers.

“you look decent.”

“it’s surprisingly comfortable. do you-“ y/n sighs. “do you think sebastian would like it?”

“oh y/n, i don’t see how he couldn’t love it! you look stunning! i would be at a loss for words if i were him.”

“i thought you said you two were just ‘best friends’. if i remember correctly you’ve said that for the past six months.” imelda raises and eyebrow at y/n. y/n’s mouth parts and closes, clearly trying to think of what to say.

did she like sebastian? yeah, of course. more than she could fathom. y/n groans. was she ready to admit that? to her friends, sure. to him? never. y/n sighs.

“well, maybe i don’t want him as a best friend and maybe as something more.” poppy claps her hands together excitedly and hugs y/n. y/n sheepishly returns the hug, a slight blush breaking out on her face.

“are you going to tell him?” imelda says, clearly not wanting to praise the young witch for her confession.

“maybe,” y/n shrugs. ‘absolutely not’ she thinks. “him and i are supposed to hangout tomorrow since poppy is stealing ominis from us.” poppy hits y/n arm playfully.

“you should tell him then! weren’t you supposed to study by the lake? you can have a picnic or something. it would be so romantic.” poppy sighs dreamily.

“okay, enough of this, i’m going to pay and we can go to honeydukes to get whatever you guys want.” imelda raises her eyebrows in a ‘you’re not off the hook’ way. y/n gets changed back into her school uniform.

after a trip to honeydukes and a short walk back to the castle. the imelda and y/n say their goodbyes to poppy who makes her way to the hufflepuff common room and they make their way to the slytherin common room.

walking down the steps to where the room opens up, imelda quickly darts off to her room wanting to rest so she could go off flying tomorrow. sebastian is sitting on a couch in front of the fireplace, presumably studying.

y/n walks over to where sebastian is sitting and plops down on a chair next to him, dropping her bag onto the floor. she leans her head back and closes her eyes, too tired from walking and her explaining to poppy and imelda that she is most certainly not in love.

“well, hello to you too.” sebastian says in a low tone, not looking up from his book.

y/n cracks one of her eyes open and sits up properly.

“hello sebastian, how was your day?”

sebastian smiles and closes the book, placing it on the table in front of him.

“quite well, if i must say. beat leander in crossed wands, again. don’t know why he believes he can win against me.”

“has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly humble?” y/n sarcastically asks.

“yes, loads of times.” sebastian smirks.

“i do believe they may have been dishonest.” sebastian chuckles lowly at her comment.

they sit there in silence for a moment. y/n bringing her knees to her chest and resting her head on her knees, thinking about the boy in front of her. he’d been there for her since she came to hogwarts. while yes, he did expect some things from her, he never gave her the feeling of she has to be something or someone with him. she can just… exist. she almost hated him for it. how safe he made her feel. how carefree she was when he was around. how she blushes every time a flirty comment gets shot her way, followed by a wink. she found herself to be blushing, even now.

sebastian however, didn’t take his eyes off her. he watched as her eyes became blank for a moment. concern etched on his face as y/n stands up, picking up her bag.

“i should be off to bed, don’t want to be tired for tomorrow.” she starts to walk towards her dormitory before she feels a light grip on her wrist. she turns around to see sebastian slightly worried.

“are you alright?” he says, bringing his hand to hers, slowly moving his thumb across her knuckles.

“yes, i think i might just be… tired?" she lied. she was never good at lying to him. truthfully, she was exhausted. mentally, physically, emotionally.

sebastian gave her a soft smile before removing his hand from hers.

“well, sweet dreams then, darling.” he winks at her, causing her cheeks to become a lovely shade of pink.

“goodnight, sebastian.” y/n turns and walks to her room. closing the door, she’s met with imelda’s snoring.

“oh this is going to be a long night.” y/n whispers to herself.

———

the next morning was fairly uneventful, despite imelda waking everyone up in her dorm with her looking for her quidditch goggles.

around noon, y/n walks into the common room in her new sundress and sees ominis on his way out.

“ominis, wait!” y/n runs up to ominis.

“hello, y/n,” he smiles. “what can i help you with?” y/n hands him a book.

“please give this to pop, i forgot to give it back to her yesterday.” ominis takes the book from y/n and tucks it away into his bag.

“i’m sure she’ll be glad to have this back. she wanted to read some of it to me today, i believe.” y/n’s eyes widen slightly.

“you two have fun! i’m going to go study with sebastian.” y/n practically runs out of the common room. her bag full of textbooks. she makes her way past students in the viaduct courtyard and rushes towards the lake.

when y/n arrives she sees sebastian sitting on a blanket with pumpkin juice next to him. she smiles thinking about how his freckles paint his face so perfectly.

“hey,” she says quietly, almost to not disturb him. she sets her bag down and lowering herself down to the blanket.

“hi,” he takes a moment to look at her and while she’s pulling a textbook out of her bag, sebastian takes his hand and holds her arm to get a better look at what she’s wearing. “is that a new dress?” he looks back into her eyes after practically scanning her body.

“oh, uh, yes. i got it yesterday.” y/n can feel heat rising to her cheeks and looks down.

sebastian takes his hand and cups y/n’s chin, making her gaze turn to him.

“you look lovely.” he smiles and drops his hand to find hers. y/n blushes deeper and they stay there a moment, looking into each others eyes. y/n feels as if sebastian can hear her thoughts, or even hear her heart pounding.

“we should, uhm, study.” y/n breaks her gaze first and removes her hand from his. she lays down on her stomach to start going over some transfiguration notes.

“right.” sebastian says, attempting to not sound disappointed from the loss of contact.

after a few hours of studying and the conversation eventually becoming off topic, they lay next to each other talking about the way the clouds look.

“that one looks like a niffler.” y/n points to an abstract looking cloud.

“i swear, you and sweeting are the only witches who like nifflers.” sebastian chuckles. y/n puts her hand down and looks over at sebastian before facing the sky again.

“what do you think pop and ominis are doing right now?” y/n asks sebastian.

“probably snogging.” y/n lightly hits chest with the back of her hand and he grunts softly.

“i don’t think i’m wrong, they clearly really like each other.” y/n thinks for a moment. remembering the smile ominis had before she ran out of the common room.

“i suppose you’re right, but i think she’s just reading him a book.” y/n looks at sebastian again and turns her body to face him. sebastian follows suit, his hands tucked under his head.

“you look really beautiful.” he whispers.

“oh, stop.” y/n goes to turn onto her back when sebastian places a hand on her waist to keep her looking at him.

“i’m serious, you look really really beautiful.” his eyes searched hers as that familiar heat rises to her face.

“sallow, you are the biggest flirt i’ve ever met.”

“just with you.” he winks and tightens the grip on y/n’s waist slightly.

y/n could hear imelda’s voice in her head calling her a coward and just tell him how she feels. then she swears she hears poppy is telling her how much sebastian likes her and to just go for it.

y/n looks down at sebastian’s lips then back to his eyes. his eyes, hazel and stunning. y/n smiles to herself.

“what’re you thinking about?” sebastian’s voice breaks her thoughts. y/n let’s out a shaky breath.

“you.”

“what about me?” sebastian’s eyebrows furrow for a second.

“just, how unfairly handsome and charming you are.”

“yeah?”

“i regret saying anything.” y/n sits up quickly, causing sebastian to sit up too. he takes his hand and places it carefully on y/n’s cheek. his eyes search y/n’s eyes again. looking for some kind of agreement.

“oh, for merlin’s sake-“ y/n brings her hands up to sebastian collar and crashes her lips against his. he’s taken aback for a moment before he melts into the kiss moving his hand to her hair and other around y/n’s waist. he swipes his tongue against her bottom lip gaining access and exploring her mouth with his tongue.

they pull apart after what seems like hours, breathless and faces a little red.

“i, uhm,” y/n starts, “i like you, seb.”

“i can tell,” y/n rolls her eyes when sebastian continues, “i like you too. i think i started liking you ten minutes after i met you.”

y/n giggles and leans in to give sebastian another kiss. this one, less passionate but so tender.

“so, what now?” y/n says giggling. as sebastian wraps his other hand around her waist.

“how do you mean?” sebastian says kissing y/n’s jawline.

“like, what are we?” sebastian sits up again, moving a stray hair out of y/n’s face.

“oh, here, ominis made me practice with him,” sebastian takes y/n’s hands and clears his throat, “y/n, my love, my dearest, would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

“sebastian, my darling, my beloved, it would be my pleasure.” y/n giggles again and sebastian takes y/n’s face into his hands kisses y/n once more before looking out on the sunset. they sit in silence, holding hands, watching the sunset over the black lake. the golden light casting a glow over the new, happy couple.

“they’re for sure snogging.” y/n states.

“oh, absolutely” sebastian chuckles.

[lucajayms]

once again, i apologize for the rant

helloo, if youre still taking requests, fem reader who is the drummer (fuck b*b) who has been dating gerard since bullets (i love bullets gerard so much) and theyre doing the im not ok video and she is dressed as one of the cheerleaders and has the same uniform as the guys but with skirt. and gerard keeps making jokes about how unfair is that she is only one wearing a skirt and being cheerleader, everyone laughs and he acts like its no big deal but reader knows he feels truly a little bit sad because of it but she doesn't say anything because she want him to be the one to talk about it first. then like 18 years pass 😭 and reader and gerard are at a thrift store and gee sees THE cheerleader outfit and is really interested by it but tries to play it cool but reader convinces them to buy it and get it modified to wear on stage. then gerard puts it on for the first time and reader is just happy that he is so happy bc they have been wanting to be a cheerleader for almost 20 years 😭

take your time, feel free to ignore this, cubicles was soooo good thanks for reading my batshit crazy rants <3

You Should Have Raised A Baby Girl...

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gerard way x reader she/her used use of y/n

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masterlist

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warnings: mentions of drug use, drug tests, consensual ass grabbing

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funfact Gee wore the cheerleader dress on my bday 🤭 (8/24/22)

-

I cross my arms, the sting of doubt twisting inside me, and take a deep breath. "Are you fucking high?" I spit, each word coated in anger and disappointment. I know it hurts to ask, especially now, when he’s been clawing his way through every withdrawal, trying his hardest to get clean. But his hands are shaking, and his eyes, hidden beneath that curtain of greasy hair, seem lost and unfocused.

"What?" His voice wavers, but he manages to snap back, "No! I'm not!" He pushes his hair out of his face, and his eyes—those eyes I used to know so well—look up, wide and offended.

I narrow my gaze, searching his expression, his stance, anything that might give me the truth. His defenses are up, but that doesn't reassure me. "I don't care. I’m drug testing you."

He scoffs and flails his arms in exasperation. "Fine! Go ahead. I have nothing to hide." There’s defiance in his tone, but the fear flickers beneath it, plain as day.

I grab a test kit from my bag, ignoring the questions in his eyes. He looks at me, searching for privacy. I shake my head, a hollow ache stirring inside me as my thoughts drift back to Helena—how young she was, just seventeen, when her own addiction took root. They always find a way to make it negative, but sometimes that reassurance just isn’t enough. Bracing myself, I mutter, "What? It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before. I know how addicts work, Gerard. I've seen people fake a drug test."

He groans but doesn’t argue, reluctantly turning to the test. As he fills the cup, I give him enough space for dignity but keep my gaze steady, just long enough to confirm he's not faking. When he finishes, we settle into a tense silence, the minutes dragging painfully as we wait for the results. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, gnawing on my lip. My stomach twists, dreading that I might be right—and hoping, desperately, that I’m wrong.

The test finally beeps, and I look down, half-expecting the worst. But it’s clear: negative. For everything.

"See?" he snaps, grabbing the result before storming out of the bathroom. "Fucking told you."

I follow him out, the frustration spilling over. "Well, what did you expect, Gerard? Huh?"

He whirls around, his jaw clenched, eyes blazing. "I expected you to believe me, (Y/N)! Just once, without pulling out some test like I'm some… some criminal!"

His words hit me, and a wave of guilt washes over me, but I steady myself, my voice softer. "I just… I had to be sure, Gerard. You don’t get it. Watching you… wondering if you’re slipping again… it kills me."

He stops, his shoulders slumping, and suddenly he looks tired, worn down to his bones. "You think I don’t know that? Every damn day, I’m fighting myself. I’m fighting for you, for Mikey, for everyone. I’m trying, (Y/N). I’m really trying."

I reach out, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know you are. And I’m proud of you. More than you’ll ever know." My voice softens further, a crack showing. "But I can’t be too careful, Gerard. I can't watch you spiral again. Not after… not after Helena."

At her name, his face shifts, and the anger in his eyes softens. He knows what Helena’s been through, what addiction stole from her, from all of us.

He looks away, sighing, and rubs a hand over his face. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “For making you doubt me. But… I’m not going anywhere, (Y/N). Not this time. I swear.”

I nod, swallowing back tears. "I believe you," I say, and it’s the truth. “And I’m with you. Every step.”

We stand there in silence, something heavy and real hanging between us. I take his hand and give it a squeeze, feeling his fingers grip mine back, and for a moment, the fear eases—just enough to remember that maybe, this time, we’ll both make it through.

And he kept his word for the next few days. The jitters continued but it was fine because he was quitting cold turkey. That's a very difficult thing to do and I have no idea how he's gone this far.. I almost feel bad with every accusation that comes out of my mouth. I want to be wrong, and so far each time I have been.

The shoot for I'm Not Okay (I Promise) was set for tomorrow—our first real music video, with an actual budget. Sure, we had those two videos from the last record, but those were put together on scraps and prayers. This time, though? Reprise was footing the bill. They let us do whatever we wanted with it, so we went for prep school misfits, us being the outcasts, too clueless to catch the hints but somehow breaking through, brainwashing the place with our song. It was the coolest idea we’d had yet.

And it wasn’t just the video. Next week, we were kicking off the Taste of Chaos tour, our first tour for Revenge. The whole thing was surreal. I could see it in Gerard, the way he fidgeted with his sleeves, or spaced out a little too long whenever he thought no one was looking. He’d never done a show sober before, not a real one, and that fear was clawing at him. We all knew it. But no one dared to say it.

That night, we piled into a late-night diner, the five of us crammed into a booth, splitting greasy fries and cheap coffee. Gerard was uncharacteristically quiet, his fingers tapping anxiously against his mug. I nudged him gently, trying to pull him out of his head.

"You ready for tomorrow?" I asked, forcing a smile.

He chuckled softly, but his eyes were distant. I knew something was bothering him, he just didn't want to say it. “Yeah, I mean… it’s exciting. Just… a lot, you know? First real video. Then the tour…”

Mikey shot him a reassuring look from across the table. “You got this, Gee. We all do. This is what we wanted, right?”

Gerard nodded, taking a shaky sip of his coffee. "Yeah. I know. Just… new territory."

I leaned closer, giving him a nudge with my shoulder. “We’re right here. You’re not doing this alone. Just think about the video, okay? Tomorrow, we’re gonna be a bunch of misfit weirdos, and I think we’ve all had enough practice for that.”

That got a real laugh out of him, and I caught the hint of relief in his eyes. Maybe he was still scared, but he was here. He was trying.

That night in the hotel room, I sat in front of the mirror, straightener in hand, trying to make tomorrow’s prep a little easier. I’d get half my hair done tonight so the crew wouldn’t have to wrestle with it in the morning. But as I worked on one of the bottom layers, my gaze kept drifting back to Gerard. He was lying on the bed in his matching pajamas—Batman this time—eyes glued to the TV. I could tell something was eating at him. There was this distant look in his eyes, like he was somewhere far away.

“What’s the matter, baby?” I asked, running the straightener over a strand, watching him through the mirror. He shrugged, not looking away from whatever was flickering on the screen. “Come on, I know there’s something. Talk to me, Gee.”

He shifted a little, lips parting like he was about to say something. “Do you… do you know if…” He trailed off, shaking his head like he’d thought better of it.

I set the straightener down, turning to face him fully. “Do I know if what, babe?”

He hesitated, biting his lip. Finally, he sighed. “Do you know what your costume’s gonna be like tomorrow?”

My brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Like… are you gonna be in a skirt or are you matching us?” His voice was soft, hesitant, like he didn’t want to give away the reason he was asking.

I moved to the edge of the bed, leaning over to rub his shin through the silly Batman pajama pants. “I’m gonna be wearing a skirt, yeah. They wanted me to stand out a little more.”

He nodded, looking down, and there was that far-off look again. I could tell he was wrestling with something. “Why do you ask?”

He squirmed a bit, his fingers fidgeting with the blanket, before finally looking at me with those big, uncertain eyes. “I… I’ve always wanted to wear a skirt, you know? Just… not in a joke way. I don’t know, I just… I’ve thought about it a lot, but I’ve always been too scared to actually… you know, do it.”

The confession hung between us, delicate and vulnerable. He looked at me, waiting, as if expecting me to laugh or brush it off. But I didn’t. I just moved closer, so our knees touched, and I took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Gee,” I murmured, “you’d look amazing in a skirt. Seriously.”

He let out a shaky breath, almost like a laugh. “I just… I don’t want anyone to think I’m… I don’t know. I don’t want people to make fun of me or think it’s, like, a stunt. I just… sometimes, I feel like I’d be more… me.”

I felt my heart squeeze. “I get that. And you know what? Fuck anyone who doesn’t get it. If it’s something you want to do, then do it. I’ll be right there with you.”

He smiled, shy but grateful, and his hand tightened around mine. “You… you really think it’d be okay?”

“More than okay,” I replied, leaning in to nudge him with my shoulder. “If you want to, we can even get you a skirt for the shoot. Who says you have to look like everyone else?”

He let out a soft laugh, glancing down. “Maybe… maybe one day.”

I smiled, knowing he’d take that step when he was ready, and I’d be right there, cheering him on every step of the way.

The day of the shoot, Gerard was unusually handsy—not that I minded, of course. But he was everywhere, catching me in quiet corners, his hands sneaking under the hem of my skirt, fingers tracing my hips, or pulling me close when he thought no one was looking. He’d wrap his arms around my waist from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder, a soft hum of contentment escaping him.

Something had changed overnight. The confession he’d made, that weight he’d carried, seemed lighter now. His energy felt freer, brighter, almost playful. This was the side of Gerard that only surfaced when he was truly at ease—no stage persona, no walls. Just him, vulnerable and electric, taking on the world with this new spark.

At one point, we were waiting between scenes, tucked away in the back hallway of the school they’d rented out for the video. I leaned against a row of lockers, tapping my fingers against the cool metal. He leaned into me, one hand braced on the locker behind me, his other resting on my hip, pulling me close. He gave me a mischievous grin, his eyes alight with something that hadn’t been there for a long time.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low, just for me, “I can’t believe I waited so long to tell you that. Last night… I just… it felt like I could breathe again.”

I smiled, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “You deserve to feel that way, Gee. No matter what anyone else thinks. I’m glad you told me.”

He pressed his forehead to mine, his hand tightening on my hip. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, (Y/N),” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Good thing you don’t have to find out,” I murmured back, brushing my lips against his.

Just then, we heard someone clear their throat. Frank was grinning at us from down the hall, arms crossed. “Lovebirds, we’re on in five. Hate to break up this Notebook moment.”

Gerard rolled his eyes, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he reluctantly stepped back, adjusting his tie. But he didn’t let go of my hand, holding it tight as we walked to the set together, like he needed that anchor.

The shoot went on, the hours blurring by in a whirlwind of takes and costume adjustments. Gerard, with his newfound confidence, gave it everything, his voice raw and defiant, his eyes holding that steady fire. When he wasn’t on camera, he’d throw glances my way, little secret smiles just for me, like we were sharing a world no one else could touch.

2022

Nashville was as sticky and humid as ever, clinging to us like a second skin. Gerard and I strolled hand-in-hand down the bustling streets, taking advantage of a rare day off to just be together. He’d wanted to go out, despite the heat, saying something about “soaking in the vibes” of the city. Since Taste of Chaos—his first tour clean—he’d grown into himself in ways I could never have anticipated but always admired.

The experiments with theatrics and costume had only gotten bolder: The Black Parade uniforms, the neon punk style of Danger Days, and each tour adding something new, a more vivid version of who he was. As his confidence grew, so did his willingness to play with his identity, his style, and especially his look. He’d always talk to me first, hesitantly at first, but now with a quiet confidence. We’d have long talks about gender, how he felt, and where he fit. He told me he felt somewhere in between, not fully masculine, not quite feminine, and finally, he’d started exploring what that meant.

His pronouns had become he/they—a subtle but important shift that he let me in on first. He’d whispered it to me one night, his face half-hidden by the pillow, unsure of how it’d sound out loud. I remember how his shoulders relaxed when I just squeezed his hand and said, “Then that’s who you are. And that’s who I love.”

Today, I could see how far he’d come. He wore a pair of black jeans, a loose-fitting yellow plaid shirt with his favorite green jacket. His hair was in that perfect, unkempt mess that suited him so well, falling into his face in a way that made me want to brush it back for him. He caught me looking and grinned, that mischievous spark in his eye.

“You’re staring,” he teased, voice low, hand squeezing mine.

“Can’t help it,” I replied, leaning closer. “My husband’s hot. And he knows it.”

He blushed, looking away with a smile that was all shyness and pride. “Lucky me. Got a hot wife who puts up with all my crazy ideas.”

“Oh, like the Black Parade costumes?” I teased, nudging him. “Or was it the neon hair phase?”

He laughed, that warm, unguarded laugh that I loved. “Hey, those were good ideas!”

I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close. “Every single one,” I murmured, brushing a kiss to his cheek. “You know, I love that you’re trying all this stuff out. The costumes, the makeup, everything… it’s all you, Gee.”

He sighed, leaning into me, his face softening. “I just… I spent so long thinking I had to be a certain way. But when I’m like this—when I’m just… me—it’s like, finally, I can breathe.”

“And I love you for it,” I whispered. “Every part of you.”

He looked at me, eyes bright. “Thanks for… always being okay with me. You don’t know how much it means.”

I kissed him, my hands on his face, brushing my thumb over the liner just a little. “It means the world to me to see you happy. I fell in love with the real you, Gee. And you're perfect just the way you are."

Gerard beamed as we wandered the streets of Nashville, our fingers intertwined, stopping to browse comic book stores, jewelry shops, and cozy little cafes that seemed to breathe with southern charm. We’d talk about the places we passed, imagining lives where we’d just hop from one coffee shop to another, taking days off together like this every week.

Then we stumbled upon the cutest thrift store, tucked away on a side street, with a neon sign that read Second Chances buzzing in the window.

“Ooh, Gee, maybe they’ll have one of the records!” I said, tugging him toward the door before he could even protest.

He laughed, letting me pull him in. “You really think someone just dropped an original Three Cheers here? In Nashville?”

“You never know!” I shot back with a grin. We’d been on a hunt lately to collect originals of our own records in any format—CDs, cassettes, vinyl. Thrift stores like these were sometimes goldmines for rare music finds, so every visit held a little thrill.

After scouring the music section and turning up empty-handed, we wandered over to the clothing racks, half just for the fun of it, flipping through sequined tops, vintage jeans, and concert tees that probably had a whole lifetime of memories. That’s when Gerard froze, his eyes locking onto something that made him tilt his head curiously.

It was a green cheerleading dress, faded but charming, with a big white W stitched onto the chest. The dress looked around his size—maybe a little snug, but close enough. He reached out to brush his fingers over the fabric, his eyes thoughtful.

I could practically see the gears turning in his head. “You want to try it on, don’t you?” I asked, a knowing smile tugging at my lips.

He looked at me, almost sheepishly, but nodded. “Yeah. You think they’d mind?”

“Oh, definitely not. They’ll love it.” I grabbed his hand and dragged him to the fitting rooms, slipping the dress over to him before closing the door. “Go on. Let’s see it.”

A few moments later, he opened the door, stepping out with a nervous little smile. The dress fit a bit awkwardly, the hem resting higher than it was probably meant to, and the waist a little too tight—but somehow, it still suited him perfectly. His hair spilled over his shoulders, framing his face, and the way he looked at himself in the mirror had me grinning ear to ear.

“Well?” he asked, tugging at the skirt to straighten it. “Does it look too weird?”

I stepped up behind him, resting my chin on his shoulder and looking at him in the mirror. “Not at all,” I murmured. “I mean, sure, it’s a little tight here and there. But I can make it fit. Just give me a few minutes with my sewing kit, and it’ll be perfect by tomorrow night.”

He turned, his eyes lighting up with a mix of excitement and relief. “Really? You think I could… wear it on stage?”

“Absolutely,” I said, wrapping my arms around his waist. “You’ve wanted to try something new, right? This is your chance. And you’ll look amazing up there, Gee.”

His smile grew, that sparkle in his eye I’d come to love. “You really think I can pull this off?”

I leaned in, brushing a kiss against his cheek. “You already do.”

We left the thrift store with the green dress carefully folded in a bag, along with a few vintage band tees Gerard had picked out on impulse. The whole walk back to the hotel, he kept glancing over at me, his excitement bubbling just below the surface. I knew he was nervous about tomorrow, about showing up on stage in something that finally felt like him, but he couldn’t hide the spark in his eyes.

As soon as we got back, I laid the dress out on the bed and pulled out my sewing kit, ready to get to work. Gerard sat beside me, practically vibrating with excitement, as I took measurements, talking through each adjustment I’d make. Every now and then, he’d crack a joke or mumble some self-deprecating comment about his body that I’d instantly counter, reminding him how perfect he was.

When I had the dress pinned and knew what I needed to do, he gave my shoulder a squeeze and ducked into the bathroom to shave his legs. I laughed when he popped his head out, cheeks flushed, talking about how he hadn’t done this since he was a teenager, experimenting with styles and pushing every boundary he could.

“I’m committed,” he said, grinning as he disappeared back into the bathroom.

As I sat on the bed, working the fabric to fit his frame, I felt an overwhelming swell of love. This was so much more than a costume. I knew he was taking a huge leap here, stepping into an identity he’d been tiptoeing around for years. The stitching felt sacred, like I was helping create something that would show the world the Gerard only I got to see: soft, unapologetic, playful, and so beautifully himself.

He left to find knee-high socks and sneakers, and by the time he returned, I had finished the dress, smoothing it out over the bed. He came in holding up a pair of bright white socks and some simple canvas sneakers, his eyes shining as he looked from the dress to me.

“You’re… already done?” he asked, a mix of awe and nerves in his voice.

“All done and ready for you,” I said, patting the bed. “Now go try it on. Let’s see the star of the show.”

He hesitated just a moment, then took the dress with an appreciative nod and disappeared into the bathroom. My heart pounded as I waited, imagining how he’d look and hoping it would feel as perfect for him as it did for me.

When he finally stepped out, I was floored. The green fabric hugged him in all the right places, and the socks added that playful touch he loved. But it was his face that struck me the most—the way he looked at himself, tentatively touching the W on his chest, then glancing up at me, almost shyly.

“Well?” he asked, giving a small, nervous laugh as he did a quick turn, tugging at the skirt. “I don’t know if it’s… too much?”

I couldn’t stop smiling, my heart so full I thought it might burst. “Gee, you look… you look absolutely stunning." I hold my hands out, gesturing for him to come over to me. "My pretty husband."

He laughed, his voice catching just slightly. “You really think so? I’m not… I mean, I’m no model or anything.”

Once he got over to me, I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close. “You don’t have to be. You’re you, baby. That’s all anyone needs to see, and that’s what they’re gonna see. This is everything I’ve ever dreamed for you—to just be yourself. This is all you.”

He wrapped his arms around me, holding on tight. His voice was soft, almost a whisper. “You make it sound so easy. I never thought I’d have the courage to do this… but here I am, with you, feeling like maybe I could take on the world.”

I pressed a kiss to his forehead, lingering there as I took in every part of this moment. “You don’t need me to make you brave,” I whispered against his skin. “You’ve had it in you all along. I’m just lucky to be here, watching you become everything you’re meant to be.”

His eyes were glassy, and he leaned his forehead against mine, his voice choked with emotion. “I'm so fucking grateful for you. You're someone who makes me feel like I don’t have to hide anymore.”

All I did was smile at him. Words cannot describe how proud I am of him.

That night, he had the best stage presence in the 21 years of his career, and I mean that. I definitely didn't. I was so distracted, but I managed to keep on beat. I could have done better behind the kit, but how can I when I have my beautiful husband directly in front of me. Especially when someone gave him that stupid flame thrower. Where did he get a fucking flame thrower?

The rest of the tour he had a few more feminine outfits: the teacher, the flight attendant he called it, the tourist, the cat, and a few other. And he pulled off every single one.

All I could do was smile at him. There aren’t words for how proud I felt, how proud I still feel.

That night, Gerard had the best stage presence I’d ever seen in his 21 years of performing—and I mean that. It was magnetic. Every move, every word, he owned the stage. Me? I was a mess. My focus kept drifting, too distracted by the way he lit up in front of the crowd. I kept the beat, but honestly? I could’ve done better. How could I not be distracted when my beautiful husband was standing there, owning his truth, directly in front of me?

And then there was that goddamn flamethrower. Seriously, where the hell did he get a flamethrower? I could barely keep my eyes off him, but I swear, that thing almost distracted me more than he did.

The rest of the tour was a parade of outfits, each one more Gerard than the last. The teacher look, the “flight attendant,” as he called it, the tourist, the cat—oh god, the cat—and a few others that I never even saw coming. He wore every single one with such confidence, with a kind of ease that made it clear he was finally, fully, himself. Every time he stepped on stage in those outfits, he wasn’t just performing; he was living—and the crowd felt it, too.

I just couldn’t get enough of it. Every single night, he blew me away.

4685 words

thank you for reading, my loves!

[wheresmymilliondollarman]

heyyyy🫶🫶 for something quick, do you have any hc of certain AUs for warner? also good luck with prom dress shopping!!💗💗

-🪷

omg hi 🪷!! thank u for the luck i need it cus im sewing some of it and im still a beginner LOLL

for au’s i do have a few that have crossed my mind recently, im sure i can do more that this if i put my mind to it

so i had this idea i scrapped before i even wrote the ferrars! reader hcs and basically its a tangled inspired au (ik super ironic bc kenji is the one tangled obsessed)

reader was hidden away at a young age because of her powers and the restablishment uses them to control the word (like how they utilized emmaline basically) so you live in this secluded tower away from sector 45

so aaron is finds you accidentally when he’s on a mission and he gets separated from his soldiers for a bit and sees the tower

then he climbs up and scares you so you hit him with a pan (LOL) and then you explain that you lived there forever but leave out your gift

aaron reintroduces you to the world and secretly keeps you at the base to hide you from his father (once he learns about what you can do)

then for your birthday he takes you to a festival thing but then your both caught by aarons dad

the rest isnt that planned out but rough synopsis of my idea

and then i often think more abt aaron and reader in present times like

imagine reader and aaron going to the met gala (aaron is ur stylist no one tell me otherwise)

or just any red carpet event, you both tend to match

paparazzi pics of you both

being rumored to break up every week or “cheating” scandals

you both arent really into social media but both def have a pinterest / instagram / maybe twitter

your instagram feed is just pictures of aaron, places, and friends and occasionally yourself

aaron’s feed is literally only pictures of you. he posts like once or twice a month. but his stories are active because he likes to post his outfits or yours.

if you post on any media platform aaron is ALWAYS the first to like & comment no matter what

people constantly asking aaron if he can fight (he always responds he can)

kenji’s the type to make u both participate in tiktoks or prank u with current trends

also you have a group chat with juliette, kenji, nazeera, and adam (he was added by accident but then stayed there)

aaron sends you random pictures of things that reminds him of you. anytime your not tigether he’s going to message you a bunch.

sugar daddy! aaron warner is literally the dream. this one is set in modern era

you are a college student struggling financially, and if you dont get money for tuition you can go to school/will be kicked out. your parents kicked you out for following your own dream, so you have no one to turn to

aaron is a ceo, happens to find you at your job as a barista. he immediately thinks tour the most beautiful person ever and wants to know you. so he shows up almost everyday to the place even though its out of his way to work.

you two get to know each other a bit and you let your financial situation slip out, so aaron offers you money, but you decline and such.

you think thats it, but then you later get an email to let you know your tuition is covered.

you feel bad and offer aaron anything to let ypu repay him in some way, so he bargains that you let him take you to places and basically date him.

so that starts your arrangement.

buys you quite literally anything — even if you dont say you want it. if you glance at it in a store, you’ll see it on your bed the next day.

you even get to move into his apartment because he hates the idea of you in those ugly small dorms, and i’ll be easier for you both to see each other. (he’s clingy)

you go with him at any event, he literally never went to any before he started seeing you now he wants to take you everywhere in pretty dresses

even when your officially dating he won’t stop buying you things, if anything it doubles.

this ones dark so TW but with the the hype of the scream movies going around it got me imagining ghostface! aaron warner working with ghost face! kenji (i imagine this set in the 90s type era bc 1st scream is so iconic)

in this au aaron’s abusive childhood enabled him to have psychopathic tendencies so he starts off with random killings then later gets into the ghostface thing after wanting to get revenge on juliette for cheating on him with adam.

aaron enlists kenji because kenji’s the one that figure out it was him, but he’s doesn’t want him to turn aaron in, he wants to help. but kenji is kind of easy to manipulate so aaron is the master mind.

aaron makes the calls and kenji does most of the killing.

aaron and you are already dating when the killings start happening

you were originally meant to be killed bc you’re bffs with juliette but then aaron fell in love with you so now he protects you (#couplegoals)

if anyone messes with you or a guy gets too close with you, they’re gone. if a person is involved with you then aaron is likely to kill, especially if he already doesn’t like them

adam is the first to go (LMAOO), then its brendan, ian, nazeera (queen was a fighter im sorry

your so oblivious to it all and very scared that ghostface going after you next. and aaron thinks that’s so cute. so much that he calls your house as ghostface just so you can call him all scared and run into his arms for protection.

and if you somehow figure it out he’s just going to kidnap you and lock you somewhere you can’t escape and leave him <3 (i’m insane for wanting that)

[lime-sketches114]

Welp...FF7 Rebirth came out and ummm....I have this ship with an OC called Raven and I put her with Sephiroth...Ravenroth??? Idk

I'm debating on what prompt to do them with but we'll see with the actual story. This may also tie into a painting I did~

(they also have a kid named Mercury, he's a sweetie and I made Sephiroth a sister named Seri...yay) (Mercury is not in this story but Seri is!)

Without further adoooo let's get started.

May I Have This Dance?

Rating/Warning: minimal stuff but also AWWWWW

★★★★★

Ever since I can remember, I've always been by his side. Sephiroth. The Golden Child of SOLDIER. Ever since we were young we'd be teamed up together. He was there when my father died in that freak accident. There i remained in SOLDIER. Even as a First Class rank I didn't care much for the formalities or the perks of being this popular. I always thought myself a medic and only that.

Genesis or Angeal will always tease us as teenagers. Teasing about dating, who would win in a fight, best aim, you name it. As the years passed by, I found myself trying to answer why. It had been years since Genesis and Angeal disappeared and I still hear their voices egging me on. I had things, priorities, to attend to, especially one that was his very sister, Seri.

"Raven!!! What do you mean you're not coming to the company ball?! Everyone will be there!" Seri whined as I checked her vitals on the screen and took some tests.

"I told you Seri, I have my duties to the hospital and you. Sephiroth will have a conniption, you know he doesn't dance anyways" I replied.

"well I'm going with Zack! He invited me in Aerith's place because of her circumstances! She insisted!" She fussed as she crossed her arms.

"Oh are you? Then I guess I have no choice~" I rolled my eyes playfully as I gave her medicine and a change of clothes from her closet and helped her put them on.

"Yay! Dress shopping!!!" Seri squealed. I helped her onto her wheelchair and we walked to the elevator to get to the bottom floor.

We walked along the streets of Midgar to a dress shop nearby. I was never really into girly stuff even as a kid. The only girly thing I wear is earrings bc my face still says masculine. I guess looking more like my father was half of a good thing. I'm glad I developed nicely up top and got ass for days. My dad would try and get me to wear hair berets or make up to make me look more feminine but I was a part of SOLDIER. I couldn't/it would run or snag in the field.

Seri and I walked through all the clothing racks. Seri picked out a few dresses her size. She kept on pointing to other dresses that might look good on me but none were speaking to me. Seri started scanning the whole store. I know those eyes too well, just like her brother's, always on target and ready to pounce. Then she grabbed a dark colored dress and snuck it under her picks, thinking she was sneaky. I only caught a glimpse of the color but not the style. I was worried but not in a scared way.

As we made our way to the changing rooms, she picked out a cute pink dress because she told me Aerith liked pink and wanted to respect her favorite color. Seri really has grown fond of both Zack and Aerith these past few years. I've never seen her this excited unless it was Sephiroth coming home to take her to a fancy dinner and toy shopping. She's 7 years younger than him yet they're both a spitting image of each other. They definitely are siblings.

I remember the day my father showed us her, so small and frail. It was devastating to see her health decline when she reached 10 years. My dad did so much for her, even as he got up in age, he was like a father to her. His death put a toll on all of us, I stayed with Shinra because I had nowhere else to go. That's when I became on call for SOLDIER and mostly full time at the Hospital. I made a promise to my dad and myself.

Seri showed off her dresses and then from underneath she revealed the dress she swiped for me. It was a long sleek slender gown with a slit up the leg that stops at the thigh and has one strap. It was a dark blue with shimmers.

"oh no...that's no me..." I deflected.

"Come on Raven just try it on! You never wear dresses so how can you know?!" Seri pouts and shoved the dress and shoved me into the changing room, "imma go find ya shoes! Be right back!" With those parting words she wheeled herself away and I was alone. In the changing room. With a floor to ceiling mirror...

I placed the dress over me to get a feel then I started to undress from my uniform into this dress. Once it was on I saw myself. My figure helped but I had muscle. Was that sexy? Appealing? I even posed with my leg out the slit.

"Raven! I'm back with shoes!" Seri snapped me out my thoughts and shoved the shoe box under the door. I looked inside. They were black high heels...

"You sure about this Seri?" I called out.

"trust me!!!" Seri giggled.

I gulped and tried on the shoes. I looked at myself again and was amazed. Everything...matched me... Was Seri some kind of fashion genius? Maybe those fashion magazines around the hospital didn't help.

"come on out I wanna seeeeee!!!" Seri whined and scooted her wheelchair back.

I opened the door and revealed myself. The look on Seri's face said it all. She looked like she saw an angel.

"you look...amazing!!!!" She took a picture with her phone. "Sephi will FLIP when he sees you in this dress!!!"

"you think so?" I blushed.

"I know so! And with your silver earrings to match him it'll be perfect!!! Zack is already matching me with a pink tie already. He is not scared of pink!" Seri laughed.

I smiled, "then I'll get this dress. And maybe a necklace for both of us"

I quickly got unchanged and went to go pick out some necklaces. I got matching silver bang necklaces for us. I paid for the shopping spree and we headed on home to the apartment. Only god knows what will happen tonight...

---------------

The ballroom of the venue was packed with higher ups and other important people. I adjusted my dress. My hair and make up fixed up to match my dress. I touched my necklace and took a deep breath and walked into the venue. Seri already left earlier with Sephiroth for the venue. She was adamant Sephiroth doesn't see me get dressed in my pretty gown. My heels clicked along the floor as my presence started to turn heads and unwanted whispers. Why am I so nervous?

Then I saw Seri and Zack talking it up in the SOLDIER section of the venue with our names on the tables on the outside of the dancefloor.

"well look who decided to show up!!" Zack chuckled, "you look pretty good in a dress and is that a clutch?!"

"yes Zack...and you look stunning in that suit. Really brings out your eyes" I teased. Zack's cheeks turned pink. "And your cheeks~"

Seri chuckled, "he at least has some good dance moves."

"Seri where is your brother?" I asked.

"over there next to the corporates and higher ups. He's been sipping champagne for an hour with them..." She pointed.

I rolled my eyes and walked over to them. The drunken fools started whistling at my appearance. I deflected their looks and focused on Sephiroth.

"Look who finally decided to wear make up after so long" Sephiroth commented as he left the drunken old men to come to me.

"you don't look half bad yourself" I adjusted his blue tie. I knew Seri would make him match me.

"Shall we go out to the balcony? Away from these fools and noise?" He suggested. I gladly accepted and we walked outside.

"I'm so used to the sound of the battlefield and hospital. Yet I always get nervous around other people." I chuckled. "At least Seri and Zack are having a great time."

Sephiroth chuckled and held Raven close, "who says we can't have our own fun out here? May I have this dance?"

I blushed and smiled, "you may" he soon pulled me in and we began slow dancing on the balcony to the muffled music of the ballroom. The moon shines full and bright above us.

We swayed back and forth and he spun me a few times. I knew he wasn't much for dancing but he learned to cheer me up when we were teenagers. He knew my father loved to dance with me. Even Genesis and Angeal got on the bandwagon. They were all my best friends. Well now I only have Sephiroth. Ever since we were young we were glued to the hip, even in battle we had each other's backs.

My heart started pounding faster at the thought of feelings for Sephiroth. Are we allowed? I'm not in SOLDIER anymore by default but I work with Seri now so it might be?

"you're making that face again~" Sephiroth spoke softly and snapped me out of my thoughts.

"what face?"

"the cute face you make when you're deep in thought or worried." Sephiroth smirked. Cute? Cute?!

"oh...sorry..." I chuckled embarrassingly.

"don't be sorry, I like it, besides you're beautiful tonight. Seri picked out a nice dress" he placed a hand on my hip, trailing his fingers against my exposed back, "and don't worry about the muscles, I like that about you, you're not dainty or fragile like Seri. Strong and stubborn."

I wrapped my arms around his neck, "you think so?"

"I know so" Sephiroth placed his other hand on my hip, leaning in closer to where we're almost nose to nose.

"I'm glad you said that, because I like a man who can keep me on my toes and always had my back for the past 25+ years" I stared into his eyes as the moonlight hit them.

"then I'll hold you to it for the rest of our lives. You've done too much to just be rewarded once" he leaned in closer.

"it's a promise" I closed the gap and kissed him. We held each other. He lifted me a bit to get one last jab at the toes statement. His chapped lips were soft and his hair was like silk. He even put it up for once in a low pony with a small braid.

We separated with a few good breaths between us. Was dad always right that I might end up with Sephiroth? I don't care, if it is true, I know where my heart lies tonight. It's definitely with him. Soon we were surprised to see Seri and Zack. Seri looked like she was about to lose it at the fact we finally kissed. Zack was dumbfounded that Sephiroth knew how to be romantic.

"I did it! I knew you guys would come out here! And you kissed!!!!" Seri squeaked out giggles and stumbled to her brother and I.

Sephiroth held her steady, "I guess your constant nagging about me staring and smiling paid off, little sister."

Seri smiled, "it's only a matter of time till I hear wedding bells! I wanna be the maid of honor! Can we invite Aerith?! Cloud?!"

"Slow down Hyperactive Kitten, it'll be way down the line for that possibility. What if we just eloped?" I chuckled.

"don't care! I still get wedding bells!" Seri smiled as Sephiroth twirled her around in his arm. She brought him so much joy. I don't remember a day where he tried to visit her and play with her, even being a muse for her paintings. She loved him just as much.

"maybe once I retire, we'll see about that" Sephiroth smiled.

Zack gasped, "you're leaving me all alone no fair! It'll just be me and Cloud!" He pouted playfully.

I laughed at his expression and we had a fun night for the rest of the evening. My feet were sore and tired from dancing. At the apartment I helped Seri get ready for bed and hung her cute dress up for her to look at in her room. I made my way to the other bedroom and got undressed into pajama shorts and a tank top. I wiped off all my make up.

Sephiroth was just in sweatpants as he looked at me with soft eyes. I walked to him and gave him another kiss. Memories of sharing a tent or a bed together on trips, even into older age, came into my mind. Entangling our bodies together to stay warm. Him placing his head on mine. Even in uniform it was comfy. Like we were two sides of one coin. We laid down in the large bed, embracing each other, with me laying my head on his chest. Listening to his strong heart. His strong arm wrapped around my figure. My olivey complexion is a clear difference from his pale skin.

"Goodnight Sephiroth" I yawned softly.

"Goodnight Raven...I love you" He smiled.

"I love you too"