#they think that every woman they go out with will Fall Madly In Love with them when they hear their cover of an Oasis song

[novelistparty]

there was a guitar-guy downtown today, doing covers of early 2000s songs. I got to wondering, are all guitar-guys lonely? do they ever do social things with their covers of pop songs? is their only stable career option to be in a mega-church worship band? have they ever had their guitar dreams (to impress other men) come true? were they mad when their date didn't want to fuck them after they sang an o.k. cover of Yellow by Coldplay? are they ok? just because you can strum doesn't mean you should

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (part 7)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smutty💦

Part 7 Recognition

It was time to start again. Alastor couldn't forget what his mother had wanted, even if she didn't ask it of him directly. And while he finds his comfort again in killing, Detective Brady finds a lead.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, smut, reader's thighs as ear muffs, referencing cruel racists in the early 20th century south, reference to marital violence, pussy eaten, p in v sex, no creampie BOO, bad dancing, Alastor's southern accent, Alastor's mother, gossip, murder, greed , two idiots pretending they aren't madly in love, poor family planning, lots of 1920's slang with notes for your ease」

I think I fixed the broken tag list!

....it's been over a month. Here's nearly 9000 words of our favorite idiots. I feel weird labeling this smut now as...we are...kinda past the smut point and just making sweet sweet love. lol ugh gross. thank you to everyone whose offered help, donated, and shared the word about my mom! It’s been an immense help and has made her a little emotional (in a good way) <Florida stole my moms teeth— explanation and donation link> unrelated, anyone want some RadioDust?

Minors…. Minors. My inbox counts as interacting when you’re literally in there requesting smut. I know your bio has no age but baby honey darling I can tell by your writing. 🔞 Do Not Interact 🏠🚗

A development he knew was coming even if no one else believed him. A drug addict with debts to the local crime syndicates disappearing was neither suspicious nor a mystery. Everyone was confident it was obvious Tommy was at the bottom of Lake Pontchartrain or halfway to California.

But not to him, not for Detective Brady. He had been on the beat for the better part of a year, convinced there was a connection between some of the disappearances in town.

No one wanted to hear it though, most people didn’t even care the people were missing. Only the occasional wife, concerned how she would keep a roof over her head and food in her kid’s bellies with the man of the house gone. But other than that, no tears or chest beating for the missing men and women.

Which made him confident there were countless more unreported cases. Just because no one missed them, a crime is a crime.

But, no bodies, no blood, no crime scenes… he looked like he had lost the fucking plot to his colleagues.

The city didn’t want the bad press, not to mention the fact there was no actual crime to be reported. Someone up and left down? Okay, he was a wife beater? Probably left with his mistress. The cruel den mother of the home for unwanted kids? Her assistant takes the lead and she moves onto a new town to menace. Probably running from the people angry with her.

But he finally had something. Tommy was pimping out dancers, and even laid hands on one. Surely there was a man looking for revenge for that. Can’t knock around a man’s woman and have it go unanswered.

So he tried again to find the woman whose only name he knew was a moniker. Autumn Hind.

Every time Brady came to the theater, another excuse. You left early. You were on the roof smoking—- oh, you slipped out the back. Weekends were your off days, so that was useless.

“You’re obsessed.” Detective Freeman threw an eraser he’d picked off his pencil at Brady. He had seen the man devolve slowly over the past couple months.

“Thanks.” Brady was staring at his notes.

“Not a compliment, Kenny. Shit happens, people leave town. You’re acting like a handful of no shows are some conspiracy.” Freeman came to stand behind Brady, leaning over to read his notes, “How can you even read that chicken scratch?”

He clapped the notebook shut, “Every report was a person less than liked. What are the chances they all leave town in the middle of the night, last seen in the same general area?”

Freeman patted his shoulder, “Did you just ask me why a bunch of assholes,” he stood up and made a show of stretching out tired muscles, “who liked illegal hooch* and jazz with plenty of enemies disappeared?” (*booze)

Brady slapped his desk, “There! You said it! They had enemies. But what— what if they had one enemy in common. A bar manager or — or a,” he was still looking for that link.

“Kenny, the boogeyman isn’t roaming New Orleans killing people. If the higher ups don’t care, if the families don’t care, it doesn’t matter. Let it go.”

The sleep deprived detective sunk into his wooden chair, swiveling side to side anxiously, “Tommy’s mother cares.”

“Yeah well mom’s are famously bad judges of character.” Slipping on his jacket, he shot a worried look to his partner, “Ya gonna go home? Janet’s probably a mess. You’ve been keeping late hours.”

“Nah not yet. I gotta get to the theater before this dame goes ghost on me again.”

“Yikes, still? You’ve been chasing her for a while.” He was making a slow inching walk to the door.

“It’d be easier if I had some support. I gotta do this on my own time.” A deep sigh, well past the point of hiding his frustration with his colleagues and bosses. Freeman looked over the wrinkled shirt and wilted tie, evidence of a man losing his grip.

“Welp, good luck buddy. Hope you get to the bottom of whatever this is.” He gestured at the messy desk and disheveled man, “See ya tomorrow.”

Brady waved without looking up. His eyes were staring into the black leather of his notepad. Tommy was the only recent assumed victim with any real suspicion. The woman whose husband disappeared after going to see a show? Only enemy to him was her, and she wasn’t strong enough to take him down. Deadend.

Most recent, nice young man from up north. Went out for a good time, hoping to catch a little lady for some stress relief, according to his coworkers. Never showed up at work the next day. No one had a bad word to say about the man. Making him an outlier, but still. He was young, strong, soft spoken. Not an enemy in sight but no family to worry, either. Deadend.

But Tommy. Someone cared he was gone. He was in the jazz game, the drug dens, the illegal drink business, and had a heavy hand. He was the perfect bad man, right?

He looked across his desk. Bad men. The occasional unsavory woman. Maybe it was just their time. They pissed off the wrong people.

Or the wrong person.

Someone who worked downtown, someone into dance and drink, someone with nights free to do his work. Maybe a hired gun? No, some of these people didn’t have the money for that.

Plus, one person and so many missing? That would be unheard of, it’d be some kind of record for Louisiana.

A record Brady could claim.

When he entered the theater James, the manager who replaced Tommy, noticeably rolled his eyes, getting in front of the man. “It’s real bad for business to have a cop in here all the damn time. Come on, if you’re not here for a raid then could you be a little less obvious.”

Brady looked past him, “What do you mean?”

“You’re— what is it? What can I do for you?”

“Here again for Miss Autumn. Care to give her real name yet?”

“No can do. Ain’t my business to tell. She’s finished her set, asked to head home early.” Brady turned and kicked a chair over, a large man approaching behind the manager before seeing the hip badge and backing up. “Nah we’re not doing that. We’ve told her you’ve come by but she’s a busy lady. Several gigs here and there. Enough, you’re harassing the dancers now.”

With a snap, Brady had his finger in the manager’s face, “Whatcha gonna do? Call the cops?”

“She. Isn’t. Here. What the fuck do you want? For me to tie her up and bring her to your station?”

That’d be ideal.

A month, nearly. Coming once or twice a week to try and speak to you but every time he missed you. He was going to snap if he heard one more time you were gone. Maybe everyone was in on it. Maybe you werenin the back right now laughing at him.

Brady scanned the room, “Where’s she live?”

“How the fuck would I know— please, leave.” James gestured to the doors.

He lifted his badge up, waving it at the patrons seated closest to him, “Yall know it’s still illegal to partake-,”

“Jesus! Enough!” The manager pushed him back, flashing an apologetic smile to the guests, “She moonlights Sundays at The Dime near the park on 5th, singing for a friend. That’s all I got about her life off stage. Will you fucking go?”

The detective perked up, “See, was that so hard?”

Finally, he could feel his fingers grasp the shifting shadow that was his only lead.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I never said sorry.”

You turned your head, not expecting him to say something serious. Waiting, he didn’t add explanation. Sorry? What had he done… ran out of milk? Forgot to bring in the towels before it rained last week? A quick search of your memory yielded nothing.

“For what?”

He was staring off in front of him. “For putting you in danger before. In the park. I am sincerely sorry.”

You’d somehow almost forgotten. It’d been weeks. Every bad feeling that night had brought you had been carried away by good morning kisses and gentle words before sleep. Nearly every night was spent in his bed, Alastor dropping you off at your apartment when he went downtown for work. The incident in the park was a different lifetime already.

Had he really put you in danger? Or had you rushed into the danger of his hobby to feel closer to him?

“I put myself in that situation. You didn't throw me at that guy. I don’t do a damn thing I don’t want to do. You should have learned that by now.”

Tough act for a woman who jumped up to pour some man’s coffee.

You shook your head, you had to stop equating doting on Alastor as a show of weakness. It wasn’t. Even if admitting that meant admitting you were wrong.

But he had put you in danger’s way, he knew it. “No, you wouldn’t have ever been in that situation if it wasn’t for me.”

Your laughter bounced off the car windows, “Alastor, you met me getting choked to death by a strange man. People will always make dangerous situations for women to be in. Don’t act like you’re special.” A sly smile to ease his anxious heart. “I’d rather be in danger for you than just because I’m a woman. If it’s gonna happen anyway, might as well be worth something.”

His hand slipped onto your thigh, expression softening before his own smile grew again, “Don’t lie to my face so easily. I am very special, we can all agree.”

You looked around, the two of you alone in his car on a side street, “All? You know the trunk is still empty, right?”

“Oh, is that so? You’re quite dangerous yourself, I nearly forgot why we were here.” He patted his pockets to make sure he had what he needed. “When I give you a wave, back up to me, okay? Don’t leave the car. Just drive off if-,”

You kissed his cheek, “Shut it. Not a chance. Go give em hell, baby.”

Alastor crumpled against his steering wheel momentarily, your words cutting his heart open in a most wonderful way. He could never have predicted getting kisses before beginning his dark work. What had he done to deserve this? Perhaps proof someone in hell was in full support of his actions. Straightening his back and checking his hair and glasses in the mirror, he flashed you a smile before slipping out of the car.

When Alastor said he was ready to begin killing again, you were a mix of excited and scared. Excited for normalcy to return but scared of the dangers presented there in. You’d been dodging the blue eyed detective for a while already, and moving forward meant possibly making mistakes he could grab a hold of. Not mentioning the risk of someone hurting Alastor again…but for your part in everything, you and Alastor found a compromise.

A deal had been made. You’d stay in the car and bring it to him when he was done. He had asked you flee if something went wrong but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen. Crawling into the driver’s seat, you tried to remember what he had taught you. How to get it started up, how to make it go backwards. How to make it go, in general. You’d never driven a car. Well, not until Alastor insisted on teaching you. Driving up and down the long stretch of road he lived on, Alastor white knuckling the door handle as you jerked the car forward with every failed shift. You had started on his land, but he feared for his home's safety with you behind the wheel.

Your hands slipped down the steeling wheel, big and round. Your mother would’ve had a hoot had she seen you in the driver’s seat. Clearing your throat, you leaned into the back of the car and double checked the canvas was properly secured.

Another man tonight. The few times you’d both gone out for leisure, having preferred to spend time alone at home, Alastor had gotten gossip that piqued his interest.

You remembered the way the woman’s hand touched his arm when she leaned in. “You didn’t hear it from me but it’s best to avoid French Study on Thursdays. Real piece of work slipping something in drinks and robbing people.” He reported what she had said back to you. It’d panicked you, realizing you were closer to being on Alastor’s list than you’d realized.

“No, the issue isn’t the stealin’. It’s what he does with the people with,” he had been delicate as he said it, taking another long sip of whiskey, “other things of value. And the fact this man has no need to steal. It’s ridiculous! His family has been land ownin’ and well off for generations.” Alastor was always impassioned when discussing the things he hated, even when slipping into drunkenness. His accent came through when he had too much to drink, his real accent. The accent his mother had. “You robbed men for power balance, for their assumptions you were easy to manipulate to begin with. He? Uh, Him? He’s just a piece of shit. He thinks he’s better than everyone else. And no one would report him ‘cause his family name.”

His drink spilled a little, when you had offered to clean it he just slipped the button up off. He lost his usual classy air as the bottle emptied. Which you actually liked.

The benefits of drinking on his back porch was no need to worry about decorum. Music was softly spilling from the open window behind you, Alastor’s prized record cabinet spinning the newest presses.

“It’s like there’s a little bug under my skin,” he wiggled his fingers over his sternum, “It’s gonna dig into my bones if I don’t cut it out.”

Despite your own drunkenness, you nodded and followed along, “So, ya gonna kill ‘em?”

Alastor pouted, making you snort, “I don’t want to think about that right now.” He enunciated every word clearly in his practiced and professional voice.

You’d ended the evening playfully arguing the merits of prohibition on the jazz scene and watching Alastor dance around the wrap around porch. But the conversation hadn’t ended for him.

Little hints he was still focused on it popped up over the following week. Alastor randomly asking you how it felt to be drugged, did you wake up in pain? Embarrassed? Scared? You caught him staring at the greenhouse from the window one morning, lost in thought. Before he had finally said he wanted to go out again, you understanding what that meant, you’d seen him turning a dinner knife over and over in his hand impatiently.

And now here you were. In the car beside a park late Thursday, Alastor having done some scouting while you’d finished up early at the theater.

It took hours. Which was good, it meant Alastor wasn’t rushing. He liked the stalking aspect of killing, of watching someone from across a room knowing exactly how their night would end. And as that man whose name would soon be buried with him alternated smiling and barking orders at staff, Alastor felt his stomach flutter. Like watching a slab of meat slowly turn over the fire. The crueler he was, the worse he acted, the more Alastor found his fingers tapping on the bar with anticipation. Perfect. Damn yourself more. No fake smiles or double faces, no, people like him didn’t even try to play the game others were forced into. Born with money and land already theirs, they didn’t even know the rules.

But Alastor did. Alastor mastered them at the tender age of 14. When he realized his father’s features were a shield. His mother’s lessons on manners and charm his weapons. The first time he was in mixed company, when someone leaned in and whispered a cruel “prank” he had planned for a young dark skinned woman on the other side of the room, he understood. They pulled back and smiled at him, and he managed to muster one of his own. Just smile, they’d take it to mean whatever they wanted it to mean because they thought he was of the same mindset. They assumed it. Like so many other things people would assume about him as he grew.

When he told his mother the story after getting home, she shook her head. When he had asked her what he should have done, she set down her book.

“Well, I’d love to say you should have stood up for her. But I’d also like to have my son above ground.”

He asked her why she couldn’t have both.

“Sweetheart, we don’t usually get the choice to do either, let alone both.”

He offered a solution, after a moment of thinking, “I shoulda buried him first then.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if that was how the world worked?” She returned to her book, “If God just struck em down dead as soon as they hurt people. Better yet, before.”

It would be nice. It was nice. Because Alastor couldn’t wait for God to make the world his mother mentioned. He grinned ear to ear, gloves a second skin, as the man crawled backwards in the grass like an animal cornered. His heart was pounding in his ears. Where to cut first? The gut, his family fat and soft from the money they made off the labor of others? The pale neck of a man who never spent a day outside, instead indoors drugging strangers for sport? The chest covered in a fine cotton shirt he didn’t appreciate?

He wished he had many arms, as many as he could imagine, to slash and tear in tandem.

“What do you want? Money?” the animal asked him.

Alastor shook his head no. No, he didn’t want money.

“Do you know who I am?”

Alastor nodded. “That is precisely why I am here.”

Would he beg? Cry? Bargain? Experience told him it’d be the latter.

“Alright well, if you know who I am you know you’re making a mistake. Here.” The man opened his wallet and pulled out a few greenbacks, holding them out for Alastor. Alastor’s smile softened slightly, remembering tossing you a wallet once before.

He reached down with his left hand to take the money, but instead grabbed the man’s wrist. Swiftly, quicker than the man could process, he took the knife tucked into his belt behind his vest and stabbed the man in the stomach.

Staring into his eyes, he could see his own image looking back at him. Smiling.

Alastor grabbed your face with both wrists, hands bloody and one still holding the knife, and kissed you when he’d flagged you down.

“Is this for bringing the car around without running you over?” Your eyes glanced at the knife beside your head. He apologized, tossing it into the trunk.

“No, just happy to see you.” A mischievous grin that made your knees weak, his body shimmied closer until he was pressed against you, stealing another kiss. His arms stretched out to keep from bloodying you. Your fingers slid up his cheeks to return the kiss. “Thank you, dear.”

When you returned home, to his home, that is, you took to task bringing in the laundry he’d left on the line and putting away the things still on the counters from breakfast. You couldn’t resist going to the second floor room and looking down into the greenhouse. You couldn’t see perfectly well, but you could see nonetheless. Alastor didn’t want you in the greenhouse yet when he was working. He said it was the ugliest parts, the kind that would sure give you nightmares or rob you of your appetite.

Considerate. But, it only made you more curious. Would you be sick if you saw? Would you never eat meat again?

What would you do if you didn’t have any reaction at all?

You watched Alastor leave the greenhouse and lock the door behind him, so you hopped down the stairs to meet him in the hall beside the kitchen.

He’d been sweating, shirt open to reveal a thin white undershirt, and under his arm was a canvas roll. He lifted it up, “Tools. Rinsed them off but I’d like to dry them under the electric lights.” You grabbed the aprons from the wall hooks, Alastor letting you slip it over his head and tie it for him. “Why so tight?”

“I like the way it makes your waist look.” You’d seen him wear it when making biscuits. It made his shape so clear. It reminded you of watching water drip down his sides and roll off his hips in the shower.

He beamed, “I’m listening. What exactly do you like about my waist?” Sharp brows raised as that friendly tongue peeked out at you.

“Hush.” You cooed.

You stood on the long side of the table, him at the short, and took turns wiping the tools dry and checking the other’s work.

As he grabbed each one he would tell you what he used it for. Holding up the garden shears and explaining the point along the blade that had the strongest force. The advantage of curved pruning blades when used on a human body. His eyes were gleaming as he spoke, looking so lovingly at each item like it was a loyal pet.

He finally noticed you were grinning and chuckling softly, so he dropped his smile for dramatic effect, “What? What’s so funny?”

Shaking your head, you set down the next item for him to inspect, “Nothing. You’re just so cute when you’re talking about your passions. Your face lights up from the inside out.”

His breath hitched, smile actually lost as he processed every syllable. Your turn now to notice him staring as you looked up from your work. You recognized that look though, the wide eyes and serious lips. The air of the kitchen felt like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm rolled in.

Alastor set the tools back onto the canvas one by one and carried them to the counter. Before returning he picked up a small knife and set it near the edge of the table.

“Come here.” He nodded his head to space in front of him. The way he said it, that tone, made your heart begin to skip beats.

You slid between him and the table, Alastor lifting you up with a startling ease and setting you onto cool wood. Kicking your legs a little, you set nervous hands onto your lap. You wanted to touch him. To pull him by the apron straps into you.

“How do you always say the right things?” He closed the distance between you, one hand on your neck while his mouth came to your ear. “The things I didn’t know I wanted to hear?”

Swimming. Your mind was swimming. “Why is your idea of right the same as my idea of the truth?” You could feel the grin. Sighing into your ear, down your neck, his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you off the table enough to press your core into his clothed erection. Even through his pants and the apron, you could feel him clearly. When did he get so hard? You always wondered in those moments if it was the topic of discussion. Or the knives. Or your need. Biting your lip wasn’t a thought out action, but Alastor loved to see it. Rolling his hips into you in response.

“Wanna go upstairs?” you asked.

He shook his head, slipping off his glasses.

“Oh no, don’t even wanna see me?” You teased, but firm hands held you tighter to him in response.

“I won’t be letting you get far enough away from me for that to be a problem.”

When he leaned down and his lips so very gently pressed into yours, you could feel it. That missing something from before. It was in the air, it was rolling off of his body and dampening your senses. A desire, a drive that you felt that first time you had sex with him in that apartment above the theater. A motivation that was lacking last time in his bed.

His eyes were staring down into yours, waiting for your response. Eagerly you replied by chasing his mouth with yours. A chain of kisses as you tried to ever remember enjoying kissing another person as much as him.

Not a single soul. Why did it feel like this was all you ever needed? Eyes closed and lips on lips, hands in his hair, it felt like you’d been holding your breath all of your life. His body on yours was a gasp of air.

For Alastor, he couldn’t even think of breathing when around you. Let alone when your mouth was on him. Every time you touched him all he could think about was the word ‘affection’.

So when your tongue swiped up his lips, he moaned as he opened for you. Not because he was new to kissing someone with so much lust. He’d grown accustomed to the things you did to him. No, because you were a fever that had taken hold of him and your kiss the medicine that soothed his delirium.

He wondered, was that why people called it ‘love sick’?

“You really like me, don’t you?” He asked, nose sliding up your jaw.

An opportunity presented to you. A chance to spill over the edges.

You pushed it away, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer.

“Something like that, yeah.”

His hands pressed flat against the table to balance the deep roll of his hips against you. One of your own fell behind you to keep from falling backwards, the other flung over his shoulder. When you moaned into his cheek he captured the sound with his mouth and slipped his tongue back into you.

You liked him. He’d known people to love and not like their partner an ounce, but the way you appreciated his quirks made his heart sing in its brittle cage. You never ceased to see him. The issue with always putting on a show is people tend to be disappointed when the actors become human again. But you never met his persona. He was knife wielding, bloodlusting Alastor from the first word. So when he was himself, you recognized him clearly. Because he was all you ever knew.

And you liked him

You appreciated him.

He dared to think maybe he could inspire more from you. A thought that made him twitch below the belt.

Closer. He needed you closer. He needed you so near to him that he’d never forget the feeling of being wanted. It’d be imprinted on his chest and his arms and his lips.

Impatient hands slipping up your sides, along your neck, down your chest. His greedy mouth suddenly understanding the same greed he once marveled at in your own kisses. Hot tongue sliding over yours, delving deeper into you with every return.

When his hands seemed to come to an agreement, they yanked you forward again. You’d fall off ass-first if he pulled you any further.

You watched with only slight horror has he grabbed the small knife and hiked up your dress in tandem. A gulp, worried the other shoe had finally dropped on a too-good situation.

“Are you particularly attached to these panties?” His eyes were looking up and over his glasses.

“No?” Did you really need panties, you wondered. Ever? Girdles we’re falling out of fashion perhaps you’d all be naked again soon enough. Maybe you two could start another Eden. A pomegranate’s juice the new red staining his skin.

Not even a tremble, his hands lifted each side and sliced them free.

“Oh?” You didn’t have a real question in mind when he tucked the panties into his back pocket. Just a need to express you saw it and didn’t understand it.

Alastor took your hand and pressed it against his hardened length, eyes locked onto yours with a sharpness to them. But when your hand took hold of him and squeezed, everything softened in his features. Funny how where one area grew stiff another melted.

He rolled his eyes closed as you finally undid his belt and pants. A struggle you didn’t see, Alastor trying to keep from pouncing on you like a horny virgin. He didn’t want to rut into you, he didn’t need the pleasure. He needed something he couldn’t see or explain. He just knew you held it behind your teeth.

When your skin pressed into his and you both moaned together he was sure you were the same. One person, split into insufficient parts. Finally lined up flush in place.

When you circled your hips against his aching cock, he wondered what you were chasing after. Was it the pleasure? He’d give it to you in spades.

He was on his knees with his face between your legs before you could close your thighs in surprise.

You needed both hands now to keep from falling back onto the table. “Alastor,” a whine.

He knew better than to talk with his mouth full, so he let two fingers work their way into you with shallow thrusts. Easing you open for him.

“Yes?” His eyes didn’t leave his fingers, glistening under the kitchen light. You hadn't thought much ahead past his name, once his fingers were in you and curling up to find your spongy and soft bundle of nerves your mind had gone empty.

“We can just fuck, if you’re horny.” You watched him watching himself.

“Where’s the fun in that?” His mouth returned to your mound, broad tongue forming a point and finding your clit.

A lazy moving tongue would be frustrating if not for his fingers punishing your g-spot. Consistency was key, and his hand was focused and skilled.

Suddenly you remembered the piano in the sitting room. That’s where you knew that movement from. That clearly practiced muscle memory.

Alastor felt confident everywhere but rarely did he feel comfortable. When your thighs came together and squeezed him at the ears, he felt positively cozy. Would you be so kind as to be his ear muffs come winter? He’d have to remember to ask when his mouth was free. How many cold nights he could now rest assured he would have warmth just a little dive of his head away.

Lowering his mouth, nose buried in your muff, he wriggled his tongue in with his fingers. Not enough, rarely was anything enough any more. He stilled his hand and prodded at your sensitive walls with that intrusive tongue, relishing the little movements you made in response. Taking his digits out entirely, he buried his wet muscle as deeply as he could reach.

The huffs of exhales you were making triggered a moan from him that you felt through your skin. His enjoyment was tripling your pleasure.

Goosebumps ran up your arms at the combine sensations of his moaning and prodding.

When his lips and tongue returned to their uneven teasing of your clit, three fingers now swiping past your inner spot with every thrust, your hands came to his head. Fingers slipping through his hair and gripping every time your body shook. Encouragement, the more you tugged the surer he was he was doing the right things.

And oh, he was. You said the right things but Alastor always seemed to act on them. Your senses lodged themselves between the even stroking of your g-spot and the unpredictable movements of his tongue. One kept the pressure rising as your orgasm climbed, the other pushed you along jolt by jolt.

Curious thing. That night in the park he didn’t have much reaction to your enjoyment, but he found himself not fully softening in his lap as he continued. Normally, unless still physically stimulated or the rare time you stirred something in him, he wasn’t very… battle ready.

But the feeling of you pulling him in by the head, fingers in his hair and thighs at his cheeks; this was different than the others. He was sure now it wasn’t just physical pleasure you wanted. His pride said it was more.

Dozens of times before— he truly was a rake in some aspects, though admittedly it was all in the pursuit of avoiding “sex”, as defined by most, not chasing it — he helped a date find release with his tongue. But it never did anything for him. They moaned and said his name and screamed. Which was lovely. Who doesn’t enjoy recognition?

When you said his name, it was heavier. It was material, it had mass and as its gravity began its pull he found his mind circling that sound. He was pleasing his darling, not placating. And it made him react in that unusually crass way.

He felt like an apex predator when killing, tearing open animals made for him to hunt. But you made him feel baser. Prey in your gentle bite.

As your orgasm mounted, you began tugging at his hair to pull him off. You didn’t need him to stop, but everything was suddenly too sensitive. It was alarming to feel your body rocking from overstimulation. A strident cry filled the kitchen as your back arched off the table. He didn’t let up, despite how much you thrashed under his mouth. Rolling pleasure, muscles electrified and shaking beyond your control.

You patted his head harshly, “Good, I’m good. Alas—tor! Fuck!”

Ah, he loved when you swore. It punctuated your otherwise preternatural aura with a touch of humanity.

He stood and leaned over your now reclining body. Your pussy still clenching and legs shaking as he admired his work. You admired his shape in his apron, his broad shoulders and sharp eyes. Caught between your legs like a lion in a mouse trap; he acted like he had no way free of you. His grin widened and he made a display out of licking each finger clean. Eyes never leaving yours.

You knew many men to squawk at going down on a woman. To balk at wearing an apron. To grimace at the suggestion of cooking a meal while their lady took a nice bath or enjoyed a coffee. Alastor seemed to not think twice about any of it. How nice it would be. To have a partner beside you, to not be the woman in the often referenced “behind every great man is a great woman.”

“Alastor, I want you.” You pulled him down by the neck and stole a kiss. When he began to stroke himself fully back to life you pressed that hand to his chest. “Not like that. Though I’m not declining the offer.”

His eyes saw something in yours. “Sweetheart, you have me. There is no part of me that isn’t possessed by you. I know we keep things relatively… tightlipped for safety but I’m your fella and you’re my gal.” His nose touched yours. “But if you want more, I’ll become more. I’ll break myself apart and make myself better.”

Your heart sank. Sitting up to command a little authority, a feat given you were sitting panty-less on a kitchen table, “Don’t you dare. I’ll always meet you where you are, got it? Don’t go… groping around in the darkness for me; trying to find what I need. I’ll always come to you. Because you’re more than enough as you are.”

A little cough to clear his tightening throat, “I’ve not had a day of darkness since you arrived.” A kiss to your forehead before a soft thumbpad wiped at the corner of your eye. “Did I make you sad?”

You wanted to say it. But not now, not like this. You didn’t want Alastor to connect love and sex. To think one was necessary for the other.

While you were coming to learn how lovely it was to pair the two together, it was a fact they were wholly independent things. And you couldn’t allow him to think they were a set.

“You’ve made me too happy. It’s absolutely terrifying.”

But Alastor had found your expressions of acceptance always tumbled the circle of Love to overlap with that of Sex. It was only in that mixed space did he find desire in pleasure.

A wicked smirk, “Let me pile on my affections and drown out your fears.” His hips rolled into you again, a surprising eagerness returned to his lap. “Can I continue?”

With a nod and a smile, “But not another word of change, buster.” You leaned back on your hand for support. Alastor was happy to return to your heat, lining up and sinking into you. An embrace like no other, one he found particularly earnest when with you.

Close. Finally. You began where he ended, a natural extension of who he was and who he could be. The things he could have. A relieved sigh he didn’t try to hide before he began moving, a moment when his tension could melt. You were both an unseasonably warm autumn day and the cool comforting shade of an unfamiliar tree. Both the heat and the relief.

He watched your body rock against the table, even fully dressed you managed to look more scandalous than any show he’d seen downtown. He was grateful he didn’t seek this comfort often in others, the way his mind melted made him feel vulnerable. He couldn’t think straight. And then you began to make those lovely little groans, high pitched and needy, and he was sure his soul was errant.

As his thrusts deepened, cock no longer kissing your cervix but ramming into you with good intentions, you dropped back as you lost the battle against his hips.

Alastor’s arms slid up our waist and pulled your arms towards him, “Too far, I can’t see your face.”

Your arms were slung over his shoulders as your back curved for him, “You don’t need to see my face.”

“Tsk, wrong.”

Your new favorite place was right in front of him, wherever his line of sight was you wanted to be in it. Nose to nose, heads tilting to recapture soft lips and softer moans.

Until the softness left, Alastor’s skin slapping against yours as he dragged those lovely sounds from you. He watched your eyes roll closed, mouth open as you moaned with the safety of the seclusion of a country home. A thought bubbled up, inspired by you.

“I want the neighbors to hear you.” That smile half cocked across his upsettingly handsome face. His hand slipped between you both to repeat the motions he learned before. Hard and fast, no choice but to raise your voice.

Your head fell back, clit still sensitive, “You don’t have neighbors!” A new moan hitting the walls.

“I do— just a few miles down the road, dear.” His mouth latched onto your neck but he didn’t suck like he wanted, he couldn’t bite. Your skin was your job, your body not his to mark. Suddenly he remembered, “Do you still have that make up? For your bruises?”

You couldn’t understand why he would bring that up while balls deep in you but you nodded.

“Would it work on your neck?” He nipped lightly.

It clicked, “Absolutely.”

You felt like a teenager again. When his tongue swiped over your soft flesh before he began to suck on the skin there you could feel the heat rising off your chest. You could feel him everywhere, and with the knowledge he wanted to hear you, you tossed your shame out of the kitchen window and relaxed into the pleasure.

As he moved up your neck he left little marks behind. There was no sense left you didn’t occupy. He could smell the soap and sweat of your skin, taste your cunt still on his tongue, your sights and sounds a decadence he couldn’t get used to. And the feeling of you… velvety walls, a feeling finer than silk as he slipped in and out of you. So incredibly hot on his most sensitive areas, pulling him back in with admirable strength.

He felt his orgasm ratcheting up but tried to hold back. He wanted more time to experience your ecstasy, to wallow in your openness. Even pressed skin to skin now wouldn’t satisfy that deep desire for this unique level of intimacy. So he wanted to enjoy it for as long as he had it.

But, he knew he should prepare. “I don’t want to dirty your dress.” A lust heavy voice penetrating the nap of your neck. He’d made a risky release before at your urging, something he often thought about when work got quiet. But he knew he needed to think clearer now.

“Then don’t.” A terrible reply but you wanted all of him, every drop of his hunger for you. “Keep the mess in me.”

“My dear,” he slowed his hips, autopilot keeping them moving at all, “I don’t think now is the time for,” you tightened around him to trip him up, which worked spectacularly. Alastor had take several seconds before continuing, “talks on family planning.”

A pang of nausea and fear, small and sharp in your abdomen. It wasn’t that you weren’t aware of biology, just that Alastor brought out your baser animal instincts, too. And before, when he came buried as deeply as he could reach, it felt like you’d actually completed some ritual. Bears hibernated, birds migrated, Alastor came in you.

You’d never let a man do that before Alastor. “I just want to… accept everything you are willing to give me.”

He bit his bottom lip to redirect some attention away from his now throbbing member, “And when you’re sure on me, I’ll always provide.”

A pout that he kissed, you accepted the terms. An argument could be made you were already very sure, but you were well aware how naive that sounded when you’d known each other for so little time. Had a coworker told you she’d met a guy and within three months was ready for… the consequences, you’d have laughed and asked if she was drunk or just stupid.

Alastor wanted to provide. But he knew you’d be the one with the raw end of the deal, he couldn’t risk coercing a decision in the heat of the moment. If your mind was half was addled as his with pleasure then you were in no state for big decisions.

Life changing decisions.

Decisions that filled empty homes.

Fuck, why wasn’t he a less considerate man?

When his kiss deepened, so did his ministrations. He was fully sheathed and so unwilling to draw back more than a couple inches you wondered if he had changed his mind. It felt like a man not wanting to stray too far from home. One hand on the small of your back, his other other on the back of your neck. When he pulled out he pressed his tongue further, only stopping the kiss when he came onto the little space of table between your thighs. Soft and swollen lips parted as his breaths ran ragged. A smile spread across your face as you watched his eyes open, witnessing a pleasured blow out of his pupils.

When he grabbed a kitchen towel and cleaned the table, you chuckled at his grimace. “See? My way is cleaner.”

He didn’t reply at first, taking the cloth and hovering over the sink before tossing it into his trash. “Only in the short term. We can finish up tomorrow with the tools?”

Your legs kicked again, not ready to slide off, “Mm, it’ll be easier in the daylight.”

“Instead,” he zipped his pants but removed the belt and set it on the counter, “Let’s get zozzled* and sway around the sitting room? Crash where we land.” (*drunk)

“I’ll pour if you get the music on.”

He turned to leave but paused, “No, I’ll handle the drinks. You always have too heavy of a hand.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining last time…”

“I’m not sure I remembered I was at home and not at a drum* last time…,” He uncorked the label-less whiskey, grabbing two glasses with one hand. “Didn’t wanna insult the pretty waitress.” (*speakeasy)

Fair. You weren’t much for drinking and always underestimated the strength of illegal hooch. Some were weak and some could kill you. But fancy Alastor had connections with the kind of people no one dared to risk harm to, so he always had the most trustworthy goods.

Good music, great whiskey, and even better company. You thanked him for being safe while working, he praised your ability to learn new skills so quickly. After a few drinks he pushed the coffee table against the wall and you drunkenly swayed around the room to something playing smooth and low. As much as you enjoyed your conversations, having your head tucked under his chin as neither of you said a word somehow filled in the little cracks of your heart more so than any talk. For him too. No tension after sex, no stress of how long he’d get to breathe before the next instance of prodding to do it again. He could smile and close his eyes and feel the room swing and sway in total safety.

A safety neither of you knew was being threatened from afar.

When you woke, Alastor was gone. A note on the table letting you know he’d run out to grab some things for breakfast. Telling you to relax and recover.

You put the furniture back, bringing the glasses to the kitchen and his belt to the bedroom.

Coffee and a slow perusal of his home. Intimate details you tried to not stare at when he was there. The rare photo of his mother, a woman you didn’t speak about, a conversation you didn’t need to have, but someone you knew existed fondly still in his life. A silent thank you to her.

No photos of a man to give thanks to you so you turned to the little curios and mementos. 

Little seashells and sand dollars, a small gator’s skull. Books, about anatomy and history. Novels about crime and love and mystery. Ticket stubs for films he’d seen. Little bits of his mother scattered in. A woman’s necklace. A chatelaine* with all of the accessories and tools. (*wikipedia page)

When you felt you’d spied enough, you crawled into his side of the bed and inhaled as deeply as you could. His pillow smelled like him. You let yourself sleep off the hangover surrounded by pieces of Alastor.

Pieces you couldn’t contain. Pieces left around town as a dick* hunted for his personal monster. (*a detective, but also, a dick, fuck this dude?)

Beth, or Betty as you called her, the friend you often sang for, was cleaning up from the previous night when Brady walked in. She tried to tell him they were closed, but he took a seat at the counter anyway.

“I’m looking for a singer named Autumn. She been around lately?”

She paused, knowing the name was tied to your work. This man didn’t know you. “Whose asking?”

“The city of New Orleans”, he set his badge on the counter top.

“Is she in some kinda trouble?”

“She the kinda dame to get into trouble?”

Beth laughed, “She doesn’t try to but men, liquor, and jazz tend to make it happen. She’s okay, right?”

He took a deep sigh, trying to blink away the exhaustion and remember he needed to be someone strangers trusted. Being honest hadn’t been working and being rough barely got him a lead. “Well I was hoping you’d know. Found out someone roughed her up a bit ago and just wanting to make sure she’s okay. But I don’t have her legal name, no address, nothing to track her down.”

Shaking her head, she leaned onto the counter, “What? Some egg* forget it’s just a show?” Brady shrugged. “I can’t say. She hasn’t been by in a couple weeks.” (*man)

He asked why. Feeling the deadend approaching.

“She was just doing me a favor. Once she got a guy she didn’t have much time.”

Fighting the urge to slam his fists against the wood and sling his notebook across the bar, Brady took slow breaths. Jaw clenched as he grabbed his pencil, “That is wonderful news. Hopefully a fit guy who can… keep her safe.”

Beth laughed a little, “I don’t know about that. He’s kind of a daisy*, but real kind.” (*a non-masculine man)

“Could I get a name? Or her address? Wanna follow up. See for myself that she’s doing well.”

She tapped the bar with two fingers and winked, “Ah no can do. Flatfoot* or not, I don’t tell men where to find sleeping ladies. But her fella is in radio though. I recognized his voice right away. Popular too, really ritzy air about him.” (*cop, detective)

As he left, he slapped the notebook against his palm over and over. When he stopped to take a second to congratulate himself something caught his eye. Across the street was a park he knew well. Following the block and turning, he could see the white and green awning of the cafe he’d seen you at before.

Had he been there? He hadn’t questioned why you were alone on such a nice day. But maybe you weren’t. Maybe you’d been playing him from the start.

Enough games.

When you took the stage that evening, a Friday show with a promising crowd, you felt like solid gold. Alastor would be there to pick you up in a few hours, you had every need met. And now you had the adoration of strangers to pump up your chest.

Until you passed your come-hither eyes over the crowd and a striking ocean blue pair knocked the wind out of you.

James was standing behind Brady, mouthing an apology. You missed a beat in your routine but forced your smile back. It took a second, to slide back into the actress you were when away from Alastor. Every time it got harder and harder to fall back into that role but you managed. His eyes never left your face, and you thanked God your heaving chest could be seen as fatigue and not the sheer panic that had taken ahold of your body.

When you were on the other side of the curtain you considered rushing out the side door, into the alley and down the street. But you couldn’t. You’d successfully brushed him off for so long but now that he had seen you, had made it clear he was there for you, you couldn’t flee. Innocent people don’t hide from cops.

Feet dragging, you saw some of the dancers standing around the dressing room door. “He’s out of his gourd if he thinks I’m changing with him in there.” One said loud enough to ensure Brady heard. When you entered the room he was sitting at your make up table, legs spread and your shoes in his hands.

“There she is!” standing, he extended the shoes to you, “Don’t stare like a deer in the lights. I’m sure you knew I was coming. Slip these on, we’re going for a ride.” He gave them a shake, “You can call your mac* from the station and let him know you’ll be late.” (*man)

˖  ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei ,  @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog  , @poinappel l , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima a , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf ,  , @fizzled-phoenix ,  @phobophobular  , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo    , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk   , @bontensbabygirl 

[gooddaysmeanwritingdays]

Hopelessly in Love with You

Pairings: Steven Grant x gn!Reader, Marc Spector x gn!Reader, Jake Lockley x gn!Reader Summary: Even after all these decades you’re still head over heels in love with your husbands. And sometimes you can’t help but say it out loud. Warnings: Absolutely none. Just fluff—so much fluff! Word Count: 2805 word count A/N: I saw a facebook post about a woman saying that even after like a decade, she still got butterflies and stuff when she was around her husband, and so that’s what prompted this. 

This is technically in my Falling For Them series, but can be read separately. This was just something I wrote at 4 in the morning because I could. It was originally just Steven, but then I found it again 18 months later and decided to add more. So here it is

“I am in love with you.” 

Your husband looked up, his beautiful brown eyes blinking owlishly behind his glasses. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but when you’d looked up at him across the room, it was like all the air had rushed from your lungs.

Steven blinked again, his smile a little bewildered and soft as he said, “Well, that’s good, love. What with us being married and all.” 

It was a Wednesday afternoon and you were both doing your own thing. It wasn’t a particularly spectacular Wednesday afternoon—it wasn’t your anniversary or anyone’s birthday. You were spread out across the floor working on your novel and Steven was at his desk going over his notes for the new museum exhibit. 

But when you’d looked up to ask him about—hell, you couldn’t even remember what—you were hit with such a powerful wave of ‘Oh gods I am so in love with you’ that you could barely breathe. 

It had been thirty-two years since you’d said “I do” and you were still so much in love with him. And some days it would just hit you like that. Like a cannonball to the face that you were in love with these men, and they loved you back. It was the giddiest feeling in the world. 

You stood up, stepping over the papers that had seemingly exploded around you, and headed to Steven. His arms were already open to you as you scrambled awkwardly into his lap. It wasn’t nearly as easy as it had been in your twenties, but it made him chuckle slightly and you got there eventually. 

“No. You don’t understand,” you whispered solemnly, cupping his cheeks in your palms. “I am madly in love with you.” 

His face burst into a beautiful smile as his arms came around your waist. “I am madly in love with you too,” he whispered, leaning up to kiss you. 

Kissing Steven was like fireworks and slow dancing. The decades since you’d met hadn’t diminished the fire his touch sent racing through you. Every brush of his lips against yours had your heart racing and your soul singing. You tipped his head back to deepen the kiss, suddenly desperate for more, and his moan sent shivers through you. Your hands slipped into his hair and his slipped under your shirt. 

Gods, I could do this all day. 

You pulled back a fraction, just enough to rest your forehead on his as you both caught your breath. 

“If that was your proof, love, I may need some more evidence,” he teased. His thumbs drew circles on the skin under your shirt. 

You grinned, closing your eyes at his touch and he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your lips. He lit a fire along your skin as he grazed his lips along your jaw to your pulse point. 

“Thirty-two years and you still make me feel like every kiss is our first kiss,” you whispered as he traced circles into your skin with reverential tenderness. You pulled one of his hands from your waist to over your heart where you could both feel it pounding away. “You make my heart race every time you look at me.” You brought his hand up to cup your cheek. “I feel like my face is going to break with how much I smile just thinking about you.” You move his hand to our stomach. “And I still get butterflies every time I wake up next to you in the morning.” 

Steven looked up at you like you were his reason for living. He looked at you like you’d taken all the air from his lungs and were filling them with pure oxygen. 

You leaned forward to trace his lips with yours. “Kissing you is like I’m learning to breathe all over again.” You couldn’t help your smile as you pulled back slightly. “It’s like I’m back at the start, falling for you all over again. And it is as easy as it was back then.” 

There was a shine to his eyes and he held you close as you placed soft kisses along the backs of his eyelids. 

“Except it’s better,” he said when he could finally speak. “It’s so much better than the beginning.” He cupped your cheek with a holy reverence like he still couldn’t believe you were real. “I don’t have to pretend like I don’t want to spend every second of my life kissing you. I don’t have to live with my imagination of what a future with you would be like.” His kiss was so unbearably soft you wanted to stay there forever. “I get to wake up every morning knowing you’re beside me. I get to tell you every day how much I love you. I get to be your husband.” 

Even after all these years the word still made butterflies erupt in your soul, and you could tell in the way his heart fluttered underneath your hand that it was the same for him. 

“Falling in love with you for the first time was breathtaking, but being married to you—it’s a dream come true.” 

You just had to kiss him again for that. 

You pulled back and settled into his arms, content to never move again. Steven shifted you slightly so he was comfortable and returned to his work on the exhibit. 

But eventually, your body made its complaints known and you had to move. You weren’t a spring chicken anymore and as delightful as it was to sit on your husband’s lap all day, you needed to move to a comfier spot for that to work. You tugged him after you, determined not to do anymore work, and headed to the couch. Today was officially now a cuddle day.

“Also, it’s been thirty-two years, four months and seventeen days.” He shrugged when your eyebrows shot up. “Jake���s been counting.” 

“Well,” you leaned in for another kiss. “Here’s to another twenty-two years, four months, seventeen days. And forever.” 

“Forever,” Steven breathed, wrapping you in his arms.

~~~

He looked so soft in the mornings. Like he’d never worried about anything in his life. 

You’d both been awake for a few hours now, but it was Saturday and you didn’t need to get out of bed at all if you didn’t want to. And lying next to your husband, you never wanted to move again. 

“You’re staring,” Marc murmured, eyes still closed.  

You reached out to trace his nose, softly following the path to his cheeks, his jaw, his eyelids. He kissed the tip of your finger when it passed his lips, and you died at the cuteness. 

“I can’t help it,” you said, biting your lip at how damn cute he was. “I am so in love with you.”

Under your finger his lips curled into that gorgeous smile you adored so dearly. “I love you too, baby.” 

You huffed out an exasperated sigh and shuffled closer. “No,” you said like he was being deliberately obtuse. You rolled both of you so you were on top of him, straddling him. Marc snorted, still grinning as his hands came up to hold you in place. He didn’t open his eyes. “I am in love with you.” 

“Ah.” He nodded like he finally understood. You poked him in the chest and he pressed his lips together to keep back a laugh. “Of course. My mistake.” 

He still hadn’t opened his eyes and you knew he was doing it just to be stubborn, so you leaned forward to kiss his eyelids. When that didn’t work, you pressed a line of soft kisses down his nose, mouth, chin, along his jaw and to his ear—right where you knew he was ticklish. 

He huffed a laugh and finally opened his eyes. “What are you doing?” he asked, his eyes crinkling in the corners. 

Your heart fluttered. Gods, you loved those eye crinkles. Your boys hadn’t had them when you’d met them. They hadn’t had much to laugh about back then, but over the years their laugh lines had deepened. And boy did you adore them. They were a sign of your darlings growing as people, and letting themselves be comfortable again. 

They were no longer ‘Moon Knight’ anymore, and it was mornings like these that were a reminder of that. They were all yours. You didn’t have to worry about losing them, nor did they ever have to worry about you getting hurt because of them. 

You were safe. All of you. 

And it was because of that safety your darlings could have laugh lines and lazy Saturday mornings with you. 

It was like Steven had said. Falling in love with them had been amazing, but being married was a million times better. You wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world. 

You shrugged helplessly, almost too overcome for words. “I really am just so in love with you.” 

Marc melted at that. His grin softened into an adoring smile, and his hands came up to cradle your face. His thumb traced your cheek and you melted into his touch. The look in his eyes reminded you of the day he said “I do”, and of that night, and every day since. 

“I am absolutely in love with you too.” He pulled you closer to brush his lips against yours. “Every day I think I can’t possibly be more in love with you. But then the sun rises and I can’t breathe with how much more I love you.” 

You started at the unexpected poetry from your normally close-lipped husband. It wasn’t the first time he’d blown you away with his words, but just like always, you never expected it. You buried your face in his neck, cheeks aflame and heart racing. “You are impossible!” 

His laugh rumbled through his chest as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tighter against him. “I learnt from the best,” he agreed, planting an adoring kiss on the side of your head. 

~~~

Jake was pouting. Every time you’d look over at him, he’d poke his bottom lip out and turn away, arms crossed. And every time you asked him what was wrong he’d just pout harder. He’d been like this all day and you were starting to wonder if this was a prank. Or if maybe you really had upset him. 

So finally you cornered him in the bathroom when he was hunched over cleaning out the cupboards. You stood in front of the door and raised an eyebrow at his back. He couldn’t escape now. 

He stood slowly, eyeing you and his blocked escape before he eyed the window too. But when he looked back at your narrowed eyes he knew he was pushing his luck so he just pouted. Again. With those damn puppy dog eyes. 

Gods, he’s killing me. And he knew it too. He knew what that look did to you. He’d seen you cave to Steven with it enough that he knew it was your weakness. All your darlings knew how to use it on you, but Jake wasn’t getting away with it today. 

“I don’t think so.” You took a step closer. “You’ve been pouting at me all day.” You closed the door. “And every time I ask you what’s wrong, you pout even more.” You stalked towards him until his back was against the wall and you were toe-to-toe. “So tell me. What. Is. Wrong?” 

Jake looked away, his chin tipped up so he was staring at the ceiling and resolutely avoiding your eyes. 

“Jake Lockley,” you warned. 

Your patience was wearing thin. You’d already ruled out this being a joke or a prank, and now you were left with him being upset over something you’d done. And it was exactly like Jake to avoid an issue upsetting him until it went away. If Marc or Steven were upset, all hell broke loose, but Jake? No, he’d let that simmer until he had an ulcer. 

And even after all these years, that was something you hadn’t helped him work through entirely. Hence today’s issue. 

You raised an eyebrow when he still hadn’t said anything. 

“You haven’t said it to me,” he finally muttered, pouting harder. 

You reached out to put your fingers to his chin, tilting his face back down to yours. “Haven’t said what, baby?” 

He avoided your eyes so you stepped even closer so you were all he could see, and finally he blurted, “You haven’t said you’re in love with me.” 

You frowned a little. “What do you mean? I say it all the time.” 

And you did. Every chance you could you’d tell your boys how much you loved them. You’d both gone through points in your lives where you thought no one loved you, so all four of you had made it a point to say it every chance you could. 

Hell, you had even instituted a system where three taps meant ‘I love you’ so you could all say it whenever you felt it, all without saying it. 

But Jake was shaking his head, pouting even harder as he forced himself to look away. “No, not like that. Not like you said to Steven and Marc. Not like that.” 

Oh. He was talking about yesterday with Marc and last week with Steven, where you’d been so in love with your husbands you couldn’t help but tell them. 

Oh, baby. Your other hand came up to cup his face, ducking your head so he could look at you and your heart skipped at the emotion in his eyes. 

He was jealous. 

You bit your lip to keep from grinning at how cute he looked. You hadn’t seen it before because you’d been focused on other things, but when Jake pouted…

Gods, you loved that look. You wanted to make him pout like that all the time. Maybe you could get him to look like that next time you were in bed. Make him beg a little…

You shivered at the delight that brought, and his eyes lit up a little at the movement. 

Stop it. Now’s not the time. 

You reached up to cup his cheeks and you knew there would never be a moment in your life where you weren’t in love with this gorgeous man. “Falling in love with you was inevitable,” you whispered, echoing the words of your vow all those years ago. “There has never been a moment where I haven’t been absolutely head over heels in love with you, Jake Lockley.” 

“Yeah?” He gave you a small smile, and you knew he was lapping up your words, just like he did every time. 

It had broken your heart when you’d learned that of all of them, Jake had been loved the least. That not once in his life had anyone told him that they loved him. From then on you’d made it your mission to tell him so often that he would never doubt his worth ever again. 

“Yeah, baby.” A smile escaped your lips and your eyes creased with how much you adored him. “Sometimes it just hits me how much I love you. Before I met you I didn’t realise I could love someone this much, and then I fell in love with you and—” you shrugged helplessly. “I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you.” 

Jake’s smile bloomed into a grin that had his eyes crinkling and his cheeks blushing. “Good.” 

Before you could react, he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted up into the air. You shrieked, laughing, and clutched his shoulders to keep from falling. Even as old age crept into the bones of your darlings, they still surprised you with how much they could still do. 

He spun you around before setting you back on your feet, your back against the wall. He leaned in, trapping you against him as he curled a hand against your cheek. His nose brushed against yours and he was grinning so hard you knew his cheeks were aching. Just like yours. 

You arched into him, biting your lip as his thumb traced your cheekbone. 

“Tell me again,” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours in just the way he knew drove you crazy. 

Your heart pounded, and you wanted to bury your face into his chest to hide the blush burning across your cheeks, but you knew nothing but the truth would save you. So, you took a handful of his shirt and pulled him even closer. Then, with a brush of your lips against his, you said, “I am madly, deeply, inevitably and hopelessly in love with you, Jake Lockley.” 

He snickered. “Gross,” like he wasn’t entirely head over heels for you too, and pulled you in for a searing kiss. “But me too.”  

A/N: Reblogs, comments and likes give me the dopamine to keep writing, so if you liked this oneshot,

Let me know what you think 💖

And if you want more like this, follow me here or on AO3 (or both)

[boldlyvoid]

Falling For You.

[REQUEST] spencer reid x BAU!reader but they're in a secret relationship, and basically she gets him to watch all these romcoms, so when he makes a reference to something like Notting Hill or You've Got Mail and then the whole secret is blown.

warnings: mentions of lila archer, spoilers for 90s/2000s rom-coms, co-workers to lovers, love confessions, implied smut, secret relationships.

word count: 2.4k

It was no secret that the newest team member had a thing for romantic comedies. From the little jokes she made with Penelope to the quote from Pretty Woman on her travel mug, she was a walking Rom-Com reference.

Hotch understood some of the references, JJ would talk her ear off about her favourites, and even Emily and Derek would jokingly re-enact that scene from When Harry Met Sally every time they had a team lunch. It was only Spencer who didn’t get the jokes, and after having to explain them all to him 1 too many times, she finally invited him over to watch some. 

The first one they watched together was Can’t Buy Me Love. Patrick Dempsey, a loveable nerd has been saving up all summer to buy the telescope of his dreams when the girl next door accidentally ruins her mom's favourite dress and needs to buy a replacement… he ends up buying it for her on the condition that she pretends to date him so his Senior Year can be his best year yet. Spencer likes the movie overall, he wishes someone in his high school took enough pity on him to make him popular. But his favourite scene is when they go to the abandoned airplane graveyard and watch the stars in his homemade telescope. 

“I can make one of those,” Spencer whispers to her. 

“Really?” 

He nods, “It would be pretty easy… maybe we could go star gazing someday too?” He asks, biting the bullet and making this movie date the first of many dates they’d go on. 

—

The next movie they watch is Never Been Kissed. Drew Barrymore is a nerdy reporter who goes undercover at a high school and gets to relive her teen years while falling in love for the first time. Spencer likes this one because he can relate, he never had his first kiss until well into his 20s… and she was an actress, too. When he explains that to Y/N she can’t believe it, but he has the magazine photos of them saying goodbye after the case to prove it. 

“Have you kissed many people since then?” She asks, wishing he’d move a little closer to her and steal one. 

He nods, “a few.” 

“anyone good?” 

He shakes his head, “no, I’m saving the best kiss for last.” 

She looks puzzled? “What?” 

“My best kiss will be from the girl I end up marrying,” he gives her a smile and moves his hand over to hold hers. 

“Oh,” she bites back a smile and looks down at their interlocked fingers. “Have you at least met her yet?” 

“I think so…” 

“Well, then shouldn’t you kiss her to find out if she’s the right one?” She teases, leaning into his space even more. 

“I suppose you’re right,” he teases, he cups her face with his free hand and rubs his thumb over her cheek, “are you sure you’re okay with this?” 

She nods and leans in all the way this time. Effectively pressing their lips together. And even for a first kiss, it sure does feel different. It feels like her last first kiss ever. 

—

Keeping it a secret at work is hard when all they want to do is stare at each other with googly-eyes, they’ve fallen head over heels for each other and not told a single soul. No one knows about their movie dates or their real dates either. No one knows they’ve spent a whole night kissing or that they really, really, don’t mind sharing the hotel room with the two queen beds. And they definitely don’t know that they only slept in the one. Together. The whole week they were away. 

After the case ends, they head back to her apartment for their mandated 48 hours off with the pan to watch as many movies as they can. 

The third movie they watch is You’ve Got Mail. 

“Rival bookstore owners hate each other in real life, yet on the internet manage to fall madly in love with one another. Based on an older movie called The Shop Around The Corner, it’s a beloved story brought to life once again by the one and only Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.” 

She explains every movie like this before they put it on. He’s honestly only watching them because he loves listening to her talk about them. 

“You see, they both have partners in real life but they email each other every day, as friends… but you know what it's like in movies like these,” she smirks. “Best friends who have a lot in common find it easy to fall in love.” 

“That they do,” he agrees. 

He raises his arm over the back of the couch and she sits back, leaning into his side just as his hand lands on her shoulder. They snuggle up close, she hits play and he watches with glee, not knowing this was going to become his favourite movie by the time it’s over. 

His favourite line is when two cars honk at each other and their drivers get out to argue, followed by Meg Ryan saying “Don’t you love New York in the fall?” Which is something Tom Hanks says to her in an email earlier that morning.

He loves the way the old man recalls a woman of his past and called her “enchanting” because what a wonderful thing to say about a woman.

He giggles when Tom Hanks tosses aside Pride and Prejudice cause he just doesn’t get it the way Meg's character does. But ultimately, he picks it back up because he wants to get to know her through her reading history. 

“I sympathize with Frank,” Spencer whispers as he brings out a typewriter when they have a perfectly good computer at her house. 

“I know,” she laughs. “I love the tablets at work, I can’t believe you still have Penny paint the files out for you.” 

You are a lone reed standing tall, waving boldly in the curet sands of commerce. Frank compliments Kathleen, or at least he tries to. 

Spencer giggles again. “I remember what it was like being a lone Reid,” he whispers before pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

She gets all flustered, so madly in love with him that she wants to scream it from the rooftops but it feels way too soon. They’re only 3 movies into their relationship. Maybe at 10, she’ll tell him. Till then, she looks over at him and steals a real kiss. 

Kathleen is so passionate about her books in the same way that Y/N loves her movies. Spencer sees so many similarities between them that it’s really no wonder that Tom Hanks’ character falls in love with her. Passionate, kind, beautiful women will always have a place in Spencer's heart. 

Their 4th movie is another Meg Ryan classic; When Harry Met Sally, and now Spencer understands why Derek pretends to have an orgasm when he eats a good salad… 

Their 5th movie is Notting Hill and Y/N can tell he doesn’t like it very much because unlike William Tucker, the actress who kissed Spencer never talked to him again after that. 

Their 6th movie, however, is Pretty Woman. And while they shared a bed all through the last case, they’ve never really slept together. So watching a movie all about sex and falling in love really didn’t help the frustration they were both feelings. By the time the movie ended, it was almost midnight and they should’ve been getting ready for bed. 

She gets up and heads to her room, expecting him to follow but he just stands in her doorway, watching with a bit of anxiety in his gut. 

“So…” Spencer asks. “What happens after he climbs up and rescues her?” 

She stills, her heart fills with love and she quickly makes his way to him. She cups his face in her hands, staring up at him. “She rescues him right back.” 

“Indeed you have,” he leans in and presses a quick kiss to her lips. “You know what all these movies have in common?” 

“What?” She has no idea where he’s going with this.

“They all fell in love pretty quickly, I mean just look at Vivian and Edward, it took them less than a week,” he explains. “So I don’t feel too crazy when I say… I love you, Y/N. I love you so very much.” 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she whispers between kisses. 

They kiss and kiss and he walks with her, leading her toward the bed where they fall in and make love for the first time. It's hot and close and emotional. It's slow and steady and perfect. It’s everything both of them have dreamed of when they finally met the one. 

— 

On their second day off they watch How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, 13 Going On 30, 50 First Dates, A Walk to Remember, 10 Things I Hate About You, and The Holiday. They would’ve gotten to more if they weren’t so wrapped up in one another. By the time they go back to work, they’ve gotten through half of her list of favourite movies. 

He’s not sure if it’s luck or coincidence or what… but their next case happens to be in New York. 

When they land, they get into their Bureau-issued SUVs and weave in and out of traffic on their way to the scene. They’re honked at multiple times and Spencer just smirks to himself. It’s not until they get out and they’re honked at once again, with some guy yelling at them to get out of his way, that Spencer turns to her and says. “Don’t you love New York in the fall?” 

She giggles and shoves him, “Shut up.” 

“It’s not the fall?” JJ remarks, not knowing why he’d say such a thing or why she’d react like that. 

“Hey, isn’t that…” Emily thinks it over for a second. “That’s a line from you’ve got mail!” 

“How would Spencer know that movie?” JJ laughs it off. 

Spencer turns to beat red with embarrassment. “I’ve seen it…” 

“You’ve seen you’ve got mail?” Derek even rides him for this slip-up. “And when do you have time to watch rom-coms?” 

“I’ve seen the original,” he lies. “It’s based on The Shop Around The Corner. My mom liked it before she got sick.” 

“Okay,” they drop it there. 

Thankfully. 

And by the time the case ends, 3 days have passed, the unsub has been booked into Jail at 9am and they’re free to go home. If they want to. Derek suggests they all go out for breakfast, and Hotch says he rather go home and sleep. JJ wants to go shopping and Emily’s right there with her. 

Spencer on the other hand, he opens his phone and sends Y/N a message. 

“There’s a place in Riverside Park at 91st street where the path curves and there’s a garden. I’ll be waiting there for you.” 

She digs her phone out of her pocket seconds later and smiles, a small sigh leaves her as her shoulders slump. She’s so in love with him it's unreal. 

“What about you, Y/N?” Emily asks her. “Do you want to come with us?” 

“No… no, I have a friend in town I want to meet up with.” 

“Looks like it’s just me and you for breakfast, pretty boy,” Derek teased, wrapping his arm around Spencer. 

He shakes his head, “Actually, I was thinking about going on a little sightseeing adventure, you know I only come to new york for work.” 

“Fine then,” Derek drops it and he, Emily and JJ watch as Spencer and Y/N head off, out of the precinct and in different directions. “I bet you ten bucks they’re meeting up.” 

“Hold on,” JJ says as she calls up Penelope. “Hey, yeah, can you tell me where Spencer and Y/N’s GPS pings in 20 minutes?” 

“I can… why?” Penny asks nervously. 

“No reason. Just a hunch.” 

When Penelope eventually calls her back all she has to say is Riverside Park at 91st Street and they know. 

—

Y/N gets there first, she’s never seen this place in person before. The flowers are even more vibrant than in the movie. There are bees dancing around every other flower, couples walking around hand in hand, people on dog walks and moms with their strollers. It’s just an average early morning in New York. 

And then she sees him. He comes rounding the corner, he’s carrying a bouquet of flowers wrapped in newspaper… at least she thinks they’re flowers. 

What they don’t notice is their friends on the other side of the garden, watching them get closer and closer until they’re chest to chest. He wraps his free hand around her waist, she cups his face in her own hands, and she stares up at him like he hung the stars just for her.  

“I wanted it to be you,” Spencer whispers what was originally Meg Ryan's line. “I wanted it to be you so badly.” 

“You sure did save the best for last,” she knows exactly what he means. 

Just as they lean in to kiss, as his lips meet hers, they hear it. Someone is playing “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” just for them. They smile into the kiss, shocked that their life is playing out like a perfectly written movie and then they see them.

It’s their own friends who played it. They’re clapping in the distance, “Woo!!” Emily cheers.

“We knew this would happen!” Derek throws in for good measure. 

They can’t help but laugh, Spencer pulls her in for another kiss, a longer, more hearty kiss. He loves her and he wants everyone to know. 

When she pulls back, she looks as though she could cry, so he extends the bouquet to her. It’s a bunch of yellow, newly sharpened number 2 pencils tied up with string. 

“Don’t you love New York in the fall?” 

“Not as much as I love you,” she says as she takes them, gladly. “Not even close.” 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @babybisexual @marsmunson86

[merchen-aeravellae]

Under your balcony

Warnings: suicide, arranged marriage, manipulation, stalking, use of poisons

The beautiful city of Valvevia hides more than great museums and palaces that people can admire during the day, it also hides desperate monsters that hide at night without anyone observing them.

°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●

Desperate Romantic Yandere who is supposed to hate you, after all, both families have been enemies for centuries and it doesn't seem like that situation will change anytime soon.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who couldn't help but have a crush on you since you two were teenagers, always looking for an opportunity to be close to you or to be noticed.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who already has all his friends annoyed, he only talks about you day, afternoon and night, and even when he sleeps, you are the only thing on his mind.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who infiltrates your family's parties just to see you up close, but he is careful that the rest of your family does not notice his presence, he would not like you to see him while he fights with a relative yours.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who can't help but feel bitter and at times angry, if only the two families were not in disputes and fights all the time, he would have already asked for your hand in marriage a long time ago.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who thinks you might be interested in him too, in his mind there is no other man who loves you as much as he loves you and that should be one of the reasons why he is the one for you.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who is oblivious to the fact that you also hate his family, including him, that you would rather jump off a bridge or stick a sword in your heart than date him voluntarily.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who sneaks into your house every night to be able to watch you under your balcony wishing he could watch you before going to sleep.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who once tried to recite a poem to you under your balcony and having the moon as a witness, described the eternal love that he felt for you and that he wanted nothing more than to be by your side for all eternity.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who ended up running if he didn't want to end up with a pot on his head, in his hideout he could hear you yelling curses and threats, but that didn't make him fall in love less, quite the opposite.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who can also be very manipulative and unstable, and that side of him came out when he found out that your family were planning to marry you to the son of a marquis, his room became a mess after hearing the news.

Desperate Romantic Yandere thought of a thousand ideas to avoid that marriage, but nothing seemed good enough.

Desperate Romantic Yandere had an idea when one of the many nights of visiting you under your balcony, he dazzled a young woman who was walking near where he was.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who recognized the young lady, it was your younger cousin who he had only heard very little about her and who at that moment he had decided to use her as a pawn to get to his lover, you.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who began to court her in secret, filling her with "love" and gifts, reciting poems about a future together and pouring out all a passionate love poems that are really for you, refuses to write poems for another person that is not you.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who can't help but laugh maliciously, in less than 3 weeks he made this woman fall at his feet begging for more of his love, every day he was closer to reaching the last facet of his plan.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who convinces her that everyone wants to separate them when in fact no one but them knows about their "relationship" and that they should go to more extreme measures to avoid being separated, he tells her that they should commit double suicide.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who advised her to write a letter describing how she had fallen madly in love with a member of the enemy family excluding his name, he would not risk them discovering his plan, much less you and that they had decided of their own free will to end their lives so as not to have to live another day without each other.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who gives her the white widow poison, a poison so deadly that the person dies in minutes without a cure to reverse the effect, convinces her that after her, he will also take the poison a lie and while he watches her die, thinks about who will be the poor soul of his own family who will take the role of the unfortunate lover.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who chooses his older cousin, if he disappeared, Desperate Romantic Yandere would be the next on the list to be the successor to take the title of duke, that would give him more advantage in being able to be with you.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who watches with joyful eyes as the city of Valvevia goes into a state of panic when they discover the tragedy of the ill-fated lovers, the two families involved are devastated and have no time to continue their quarrel as they are so busy mourning their dead.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who convinces his family that they should make a peace deal with the other family, but not just any deal, but a marriage deal and convinces them that you and he would be the best option, if the family wants to protest he reminds them about the recent tragedy and how they could avoid a similar event in the future.

Desperate Romantic Yandere that his plan was a complete success when he discovered that your marriage with the maques had been canceled and that your family had accepted the marriage proposal that his family had sent in a letter while explaining the advantages of a union of the two families.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who is so ecstatic to see you walk down the aisle of the church towards him, daydreaming about what married life would be like and that he finally had everything he deserved. Instead, you were dying inside, first you had lost your darling little cousin and now you've been forced to marry the worst man you've ever known, and you were convinced that somehow he had planned all of this.

Desperate Romantic Yandere "to be with you is my dream, everything I long for and desire, it is my need and my reason for being"

[footprintsinthesxnd]

hey girly! Idk if your requests are open but we neeeeeed something for bucky from mota. maybe something like enemies to lovers with a war nurse? thxxxx

A Second Chance

Thank you so much for your request anon. I’m so sorry it took so long. I feel that I may not have the skill set to write John Egan as well as other writers but I’m hoping that I can do him justice. Also two posts this weekend because why not.

John Egan was insufferable. Y/n had decided that from the moment she’d first met him, with his cocky smile, his stupid moustache, his bright eyes and… no he was just insufferable. She’d never met a man so full of himself that he gave his best friend the same nickname, and yet Gale Cleven seemed like the sweetest man on earth.

“You’re staring again,” Rosie chuckled, looking up from his battered book ‘Of Mice and Men’ with a cheeky smile.

“Yes with utter disgust, I mean look at him,” Y/n pointed, watching as Rosie glanced over at the Major who was currently leaning against the bar, flirting with the poor barmaid who seemed besotted with him. “He’d flirt with anything that moved.” 

“Including you apparently,” Rosie chuckled, “Just admit that you aren’t a tiny bit jealous. I just want to hear you admit it.”

Y/n glared daggers at the pilot who was using his book to shield his smiling face. She lurched forward trying to smack him but he shoved the book at her.

“No, no, not the moustache again,” he shielded his hand over his mouth, eyes wide as he glared at her. She may have accidentally pulled his moustache once when they were arguing about the same Major and Rosie’s moustache had taken the hit.

“You know that was an accident.”

“Yes, but it’s never grown the same since,” he protested, stroking his facial hair thoughtfully. “You’re always moaning about Major Egan's moustache, I thought mine was a goner.”

Y/n sighed dramatically, slouching in her chair. She wondered if she should tell Rosie the real reason why she held such a grudge towards John Egan. That, however, would involve her confessing that she was madly in love with John.

Rosie’s eyes remained trained on his book and Y/n fought the urge to interrupt him again. Instead, she remained silent, thinking back to that night in June when the air in London had been close and hot, sticking to the sweat on her skin, the pale evening light casting shadows over the hotel room, the white sheets soft and comfortable, his embrace loving, his words kind and… all completely false.

Y/n hadn’t believed in love at first sight but seeing John Egan in his uniform, smirking at her across the crowded pub, something inside her had changed. He’d been effortlessly charming and she was eating out of his palm before the night was through.

John Egan had promised to visit her, promised he’d write, but several months passed and no letters came Y/n gave up, putting John behind her. That was until she had to report to Thorpe Abbott RAF base and ran into a particular Major.

John, however, seemed oblivious to their previous encounter, barely sending her a smile as he strolled passed with several other pilots by his side. From that day forward Y/n held a grudge against John Egan.

“Here we go…” Rosie mumbled under his breath, but before Y/n could ask what he meant a low hum came from behind her.

“Evening Rosie, Y/n,” John nodded to both of them, Gale Cleven by his side doing the same.

“Majors,” Rosie greeted them, placing his book down on the table.

“Major Cleven,” Y/n greeted Gale, her eyes avoiding the other Major. Gale glanced quizzically between the pair, before looking to Rosie for answers, but he only shrugged.

“Have I done something to offend you, Darling?” John smirked at her, leaning across the table, his moustache twitching at the corners. He had the same cocky air about him that he always wore but the added nickname just added fuel to the fire that was already burning.

Y/n snorted, “Do not think your presence has such an effect on me, Major. I’m afraid not every woman falls at your feet.”

Gale let a low whistle slip from his lips, but John just grinned, “Alright, I see someone’s a little jealous, didn’t realise I had an admirer.”

Y/n stood swiftly from her chair, rounding the table and jabbing her finger into John’s chest, “I am not jealous and why would I be? Why would I lower my standards to such an arrogant, self-centered man.” She removed her finger from his chest, turning on her heels and exiting the pub as fast as her legs would allow her.

Gale looked between Rosie and John, “Will someone please explain what just happened?”

Rosie shrugged, picking up his book and fumbling through the pages until he found his spot. John chuckled, “I think I may have offended her in some way, though I know not how.”

“You really think you offended her, huh?” Gale replied sarcastically, avoiding his friend's light shove with an amused laugh.

John truly did wonder what he’d done so wrong to offend her. He’d only known her a few months when she turned up on base dressed in her dress blues declaring she was newly assigned to Thorpe Abbott infirmary. He greeted her with a smile and she glared at him in response. From that day forward it had been an all-out war between the two of them.

Y/n had just finished tidying up the examination room when there was a light tap at the door, she called out ‘enter’, her back still turned to whoever it was.

“This is quite a nice place you’ve got here, Darling,” John declared, leaning against the doorframe, smiling devilishly.

Y/n sighed, instantly on the defensive, “What do you want, Major,” she emphasised his rank disdainfully, rolling her eyes as she continued to pack up the crate of dressings.

John hummed behind her, moving around the room until he was in front of her once more, “So…” he paused, craning his neck to try and catch her eye. “How are you finding life on base?”

That’s it, John, a nice simple question. She can’t get too offended by that, right?

Y/n all but tutted, shaking her head, “Life would be just fine, except a certain Major keeps ruining my day.” She shoved passed him, carrying the crate out of the room and down the corridor, her heels clicking against the tiled floor followed by a larger heavier footfall.

“Hey Darling, wait up. I hadn’t finished talking to you,” John protested, moving swiftly in front of her and stopping her movements.

“What?” She snapped this time, her patience wearing thin and the long list of jobs she had still playing on her mind.

John sighed, rubbing his hand down his face, “I just want to know what I did. I’ve barely said two words to you since you got here and somehow I’ve offended you. Whatever I’ve done I’m sorry, okay?” He didn’t mean to sound so exasperated but he wasn’t sure what more he could say.

Y/n watched him, her face faltering ever so slightly before the stoic expression returned. “The fact that you don’t remember makes all of this worse. I didn’t realise our night was so awful you pushed it from your mind. So much for ‘I’ll keep in touch’,” she spat, pushing the crate into him and moving on passed without a backward glance. She’d said her piece, he could do with that what he will.

John sat on the wing of Mugwump, his legs swinging in mid-air as he took a long swig from his hit flask. His mind still reeling from the afternoon's events as the guilt ate away at him.

He’d fished the letter out from his belongings, tracing over the return address. He should have realised her name was familiar, but then again he should have written her back.

John was still trying to piece together how he hadn’t realised it was her, but with the amount they’d both consumed he was surprised Y/n even remembered him. That still didn’t help clear his conscience.

“Bucky, you up there,” Gale called, glancing around the plane until he noticed the pair of legs hanging from the wing. “What are you doing?”

“I messed up Gale,” John mumbled, taking another drink. He was always impressed by how much whiskey his hot flask could hold and he was starting to feel a nice warm sensation as it flowed around his body.

“What have you done?” Gale asked, hoisting himself up the ladder and onto the wing beside John. He offered Gale his hit flask but the other pilot shook his head, waiting for his friend’s explanation.

“Do you remember that night I had in London a few months ago? When I said I met this amazing woman and we had a wonderful night together, she wanted me to write to her and she wrote me a letter and I never replied,” John rambled, his tongue becoming looser as the alcohol flowed. “Well, that’s Y/n, the nurse on base. It’s the same woman, Gale.”

Gale nodded, processing his friend's confession, “Well at least now we know why she’s so angry at you all the time, you were a total ass.”

John rolled his eyes glaring at Gale, “Thanks Buck, that’s really helpful.” Groaning, John pushed himself up, balancing precariously on Mugwump’s wing. “I’ve gotta make it up to her, Buck. Women like grand gestures, don't they?”

Buck shuffled further away from the edge of the wing before standing, grasping his friend's hands, “I don’t think she wants a grand gesture, Bucky. I think she just wants you to apologise.”

Passing back and forth down the infirmary corridor, John found himself fighting the urge to make a run for it. He could easily head down the corridor and back out onto the hardstand before anyone noticed he was there in the first place.

Movement from within the infirmary caught his eye. He watched curiously as Y/n moved along the beds, sitting down beside a wounded airman, his head clad in bandages, covering the burns he’d sustained on the last mission. She was speaking quietly to him, too quietly for John to hear, but he saw the young man instantly relax in her presence. She was a good nurse and John had taken her kindness for granted. He had to make things right.

He wrapped his knuckles against the door, waiting for the mumbled reply, before pushing it open. Y/n was smoothing down some fresh bedding, tucking the sheets tightly into the bed.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he interrupted, watching as her movements still and her whole body stiffened. He hated that he had this effect on her.

“What can I do for you, Major?” Her voice was plain, emotionless and her eyes seemed hollow, as though she stared right through him.

John felt his palms sweating as he spoke, “I need to talk to you, to apologise for my behaviour.” Y/n seemed uninterested in what he had to say, continuing with the task at hand, but John wasn’t about to give up on her again.

“My behaviour has been unacceptable and I know that I can probably never make it up to you but I want to try. I was not in my best form the night that we met, I was drunk and uncaring and I’m sorry I never wrote back. I intended to but I just never did, and I have no excuse, I’m just sorry I never did. You’re a great girl and any man would be lucky to have you write to them, I only wish that I hadn’t messed things up.”

John had never outed his heart out before, he’d never even revealed this kind of vulnerability to Gale, so he was a little shocked. Had he said too much? Would she hate him even more now?

Y/n had stopped her movements, still bent over the bed, her hand clutching the sheet. John watched her shoulders sag, and a long, drawn-out sigh slipped from her lips.

“It’s okay, John,” she murmured, defeat evident in her appearance. “I knew the kind of man you were when we met, I was just excited that a man such as yourself wanted to give someone like me any kind of attention.

She stood up, a few tears trickling down her cheeks, “You know the worst thing was I really did think you’d write back. That’s what hurt the most. Then when I got my orders to move to Thorpe Abbott I thought maybe we had a chance, but you didn’t even recognise me and I knew I never stood a chance.”

The pair stood in silence, the clock on the wall ticking louder than ever as time passed. John spoke up first, unable to stand the tension any longer.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n, for all of it. I understand now why you hate me so much, and I wouldn’t blame you. Is there any way I can make it up to you? Any way at all?”

Y/n’s forehead creased as she thought, her nose wrinkling as it had the same night they’d met when he’d asked her about her family. He could see it now, all the small details that he’d appreciated when he met her, if only he’d taken the time to study her when she came to base he’d have known.

Y/n shook her head, “What’s done is done. Let’s just move on and forget about it all.” She turned away, returning to the bed she’d been making, but John grabbed her arm.

“I don’t want to forget it, any of it. That night with you was one of the best nights of my life. I was free from judgment when I was with you. You never once called me Major or treated me like I was better than you, you treated me like a normal person,” John admitted, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “And I’d really like another shot if you’d let me.”

“Alright,” Y/n replied, “But if you break my heart again, Major then I won’t be so forgiving.”

John chuckled, saluting her, “Anything you say, Ma’am.”

Y/n rolled her eyes turning back to her job, but John spun her back around to face him, “I have some leave coming up to go to London. What do you say to come with me?”

Y/n smiled softly, “I’d love to, but I don’t know whether I can get the leave.”

“All sorted, it’s already been approved.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, “Well that’s pretty cocky of you, Major. What were you planning on doing if I said no?”

John grinned, “I would have just asked Buck to come with me, although he’s not nearly as beautiful and I don’t think I’d want to share a bed with him, he snores you know.”

Y/n laughed, moving her arms so they rested behind his neck, fumbling with the soft hair at the base of his neck. “Alright Major, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

John grinned, cupping her cheek softly in his palm, he pressed his lips down to her, his moustache tickling her lips but that was the least of her concerns. His hands moved to her hips, resting firmly and pulling her closer. He smiled into the kiss, it felt so right, bringing back all the memories from London all those months ago. He wished he’d written her back now, he could have been kissing her all this time, but at least he could make up for lost time now and he intended to.

Tags: @georgieluz @docroesmorphine @major-mads @violetdaze25 @bcofl0ve @precious-little-scoundrel @blurredcolour @artlover8992 @b00ks1ut @xxluckystrike @hockeyboysarehot @groovin2beats @kmc1989 @ginabaker1666 @hesbuckcompton-baby @blueberry-ovaries

[loaksky]

— 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴

the lowdown — the one where you’re madly in love but ao’nung doesn’t want a thing to do with you. 

the who — ao’nung x fem metkayina!reader 

the word count — 2.1k

the tags & warnings — language, angst, ao’nung is an asshole when his friends are around, all around shitshow lol, unrequited love

the notes — based on this request! was really excited to write more for ao’nung ! this probably won’t have a part 2 because i like the idea of leaving the ending open, so it’s up to you guys if ao’nung and reader end up together aheh. 

masterlist

You should’ve known better. Should’ve known better than to love harder than your fragile heart could take. Because now you’re hurting far more than you prepared for and the object of your affections is the cause of it all. 

Ao’nung had a way of brushing you off, of putting as much distance as he could between the two of you. And you’d run regardless, cross as much of that stretch if it meant a chance at capturing his heart. You were shameless, persistent, sweet on the boy who wouldn’t even bat an eye at you. 

Because at one point he had, when you two were little warriors growing into yourselves. But you can’t trace when things had soured, couldn’t understand why your heart grew fonder while your friendship fizzled like dissolving seafoam. 

“Look what I found,” you’d coo excitedly during excursions you’d tag along to, remnants of a scrounged shell thrust triumphantly in the air. 

You all hadn’t become teenagers yet, teetering over the fine line of figuring out what was blossoming in your heart. 

His friends couldn’t be bothered to hide their laughter, jostling the leader’s son as you swam nearer to close the fragment in his palm. It was like you were giving him pieces of yourself, happily, willingly.

It took you too long, his friends would argue, to realize that he was letting the fractals fall to the seabed once you turned your attention to something else, to anything bigger and better to signify the beating of your heart to him. 

When you had successfully completed your rite, had crawled from under your parents’ worried thumb, had started to become a woman, you pressed further. 

“Wanna go for a swim?” you’d ask him right after eclipse and the waters would glow something fierce. Almost as if the ocean was cheering you on. 

“Nope.” The answer’s always spoken without second thought, scoff following shortly after. 

And you’d hear him from your family’s marui, splashing and laughing with his friends late into the evening, a dull ache in your chest at being rebuffed so easily when all you wanted was to be seen by him. 

And it’d been like that for a while, chasing chasing chasing like you had the stamina of every little thing to grace the face of the moon, but he was always so out of reach. 

“He’ll come around,” the elder who’d taken you under her wing had said one evening when the cracks were becoming too much. 

“Hope so,” you whispered, watching as the stars twinkled something fierce against swathes of blue.

The final fissure was humiliating, made your cheeks burn unbearably. 

As a young woman, ready to spend forever, you’d gathered what was left of your courage. Had taken the plunge, and with your heart in your hands, you told him. 

“Since we were kids,” you say shakily. “It’s always been you.” 

Frankly, you catch him off guard. He didn’t think you had it in you, didn’t think you’d be able to get over your little crush and finally say something, but here you both are, standing a little ways from where his friends are watching with razor sharp eyes and pricked ears. 

Ao’nung doesn’t know what to say, watching as you fumble with something in your little bag. 

You continue, his silence making way for bubbling words. 

“You’re the only person I could ever see myself–” 

The laugh he scoffs out sends his friends tittering in the distance and the first crack is deadly. 

“Be realistic,” he says flatly. 

You try to mask the hurt that eclipses your features, a semblance of hope dancing in your chest that maybe he’d tell you he’s playing a cruel joke. That of course he sees you, of course he’d be with you. That after all these years of you chasing him, wanting him, loving him, he’d learned to do the same. 

“Did you really–” He can barely contain his amusement. “Did you really think I’d reciprocate?” 

“I- I mean–” you suck in a deep breath, throat thick with tears as you fiddle with the tie you’d made for his hair, corded with fragments of buffed shells and sanded beads. 

His eyes flit to your fidgeting and a protest dies on your tongue when he snatches it from your grasp and turns the dinky little thing over in his wide palms. 

“What’s this?” he asks. 

Fuck, you’re beyond embarrassed, breaths stuttering as the corner of your mouth twitches into a frown. 

You didn’t think Ao’nung could be this heartless. Thought that he’d be curt, quick when it came to turning you down, but this feels like an eternity and you want to disintegrate. 

“This supposed to be for me?” he snorts, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger like he can’t stand to hold it. 

“Yeah,” you whisper brokenly, after a moment of silence. “Made it for you.” 

“Yeah, no thanks,” he chuffs, and you’re scrambling to catch it before it hits the sand. 

You look up at him from where you kneel, eyes blurring as he stares down at you in contempt, like he can’t stomach the thought of you being in love with him. 

“You’d offer nothing to this village,” he says spitefully. “To any man. Don’t be ridiculous.” 

He leaves you there, kicking up sand as he rejoins his howling circle of friends. 

How pathetic, you hear them whisper. The olo’eyktan’s son, really? 

When you’re alone, when you hear them splashing through the waters like they hadn’t just shattered your heart, you shred the tie.

“You are unkind, Ao’nung,” Tsireya tells him a few eclipses later. 

His eyes swing from his catch, eyebrows furrowed. 

“What are you on about?” he asks flatly. 

“________,” she says simply, like he should know his atrocity. 

And maybe he does. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about that night since. He’d barely given you a second thought all these years, but when he and his friends had returned the way they left you, he’d seen the tattered remains of the ocean weeds nearby. Seen the beads and shells from the tie scattered among the loam. They’d been smeared red. 

Had he been too harsh? Been too unforgiving under the gaze of his expectant friends? You’d always been easy to pick and prod, so soft and unrelenting in the way you pursued him. But that night, something had shifted. He’d felt it so, didn’t realize that others did too. 

After a moment too long in his head, all he manages is a shrug. 

“How would mother and father feel?” she asks, obviously far more annoyed with how flippant he is about the situation. 

“Why would they care?” he bites. “She’s a nobody.” 

The look his sister gives him makes his heart stutter and his stomach twist. 

“She is kind,” Tsireya says softly. “She is compassionate, skilled, strong. Her lack of status means nothing to mother and father if she is capable of leading with heart.” 

When he is silent, she continues. 

“You let your friends cloud your judgment,” she says. “You know better than anyone what’s right.” 

His throat bobs. 

“Apologize, Ao’nung,” she says fiercely. 

Ao’nung’s never had to search for you. You’d always been there, even when you were on the perimeter, waiting. But now it’s like you’re a mere thought that refuses to solidify. 

“Have you–” He scratches the back of his head. “Have you seen ________?” 

The elder you spent much of your time training under merely blinks at him. Tells him that she hasn’t seen much of you lately and he simply nods, bowing his head before taking his leave. 

It frustrates him, makes him want to scrap this entire endeavor, but his sister’s words are etched into his mind and the bits and pieces of the tie you’d made him weighs heavy in a small pouch tied around the band of his loincloth. 

He stumbles upon you purely by accident, near the edge of the reef. You’re all alone, a ball of weeds near as you weave quietly. It’s his chance, he realizes, just the two of you with no prying eyes and no pricked ears. 

You nearly jump out of your skin when his fingers close over your shoulder. 

Your expression softens and hardens in a matter of moments, standing so quickly you accidentally kick sand up into Ao’nung’s face. He splutters as he reaches blindly for you. 

“Wait, wait,” he pleads. “Don’t go–” 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you hiss, lip trembling as you grab your materials quickly.

He shouldn’t be stunned. Shouldn’t be surprised that you’re upset, but he can’t help it. Not when you’ve been nothing but sweet to him, when all you’ve wanted was to be seen by him. 

He murmurs your name quietly, blinking quickly as he knuckles away the particulates in his eyes. 

“I don’t want to see you again, Ao’nung,” you hiss.

The words pierce him, brands him like hot iron when he sees clearly enough to make out the hurt painted all over your face. 

He’s after you in his next breath. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes quickly. “I- I-” 

You deflect his reaching hands, shaking your head vehemently when he moves to take another step towards you. 

“I have loved you since before I even knew what love was,” you choke, unable to get a handle on all the emotions swarming beneath the surface. “All I have ever wanted was to love you and be loved by you, but all I receive in return is humiliation. Hurt.” 

You wipe the tears away angrily and Ao’nung is frozen as he watches you unravel, bears witness to every sentiment that you’ve kept a tight grip on. 

“So, no, Ao’nung, I’m sorry,” you spit, face aching as you shudder through your declaration. “I wish I could go back and tell myself that I was being fucking stupid for wanting you.” 

He flinches and you take one last look at him, like you’re committing him to an infalliable memory. 

Time lapses, no matter how long he yearns for it not to. 

Nights bleed into days, into weeks, into months, and you aren’t letting up. The taste of his own medicine is bitter, deserved, when he seeks you out at every turn and all you do is widen the gap. 

His agony is silent, consuming as he watches you grow from afar, sees what a wonderful woman you’ve become. Not that you hadn’t been before, but now he beholds you in all your glory and he is gutted. 

You are every bit the definition of incredible, makes something visceral claw at him every passing moment both near and far. Because you’re healing, moving past such an awful suffering being bound to Ao’nung by what was once your desperate heart. 

“This is your own doing,” Tsireya tells him one night, when the sting burns especially so. 

He can’t help but watch you across the fire, the way you smile at one of your friends gently. Can’t even bring himself to retort something snarky to his younger sister. 

Your eyes meet his from across the way, smile leaving your lips when you find his gaze already on you, and his heart sinks. 

Your parents have arranged your union with someone else, he hears. 

“Pity the poor soul,” one of his friends scoff when the whispers finally reach his circle. “Forever with her sounds like–” 

Ao’nung doesn’t know why, but it feels so right with his fist coated in his friend’s blood. Something like sick satisfaction curling through his veins when he clutches his nose in horror and asks what the fuck is wrong with him. 

He knows he doesn’t deserve it, your time, but he’s mapped the course to your family’s marui well enough and he’s rushing down the woven path. 

Your suitor looks happy, triumphant, as he stands before you and your family. 

It should be me, is the only thought that crosses his brain as he sees the way you shift in stance, the smile not quite reaching your eyes. And you clock him before he can draw nearer, eyes glazing over with tears before you let out a deep sigh. 

“Ao’nung,” your parents greet cordially, clearly unaware of the chaos brewing between the two of you the past few months. 

“Don’t be rude, Maite, say hello,” your mother prods after a moment of awkward silence. 

You bite the inside of your lip, toes curling as you give Ao’nung a curt nod. 

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” your father asks, turning all of the attention over to the olo’eyktan’s son. 

It’s his last shot at the two of you, at being able to make you his. His friends weren’t forever, but you were. 

His shoulders square and he steels his nerves, eyes never leaving yours as he speaks. 

“I’ve–” He takes a shuddering breath. “I’ve come to ask for her hand.” 

neng © 2023

taglist; @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @neteyamo , @fanboyluvr , @mazemymirror , @theycallmesia , @girlpostingsposts, @athenachu , @hiya-itsamber , @morks-watermelon , @sanfransolomitatm , @lovedbychoi

[pepexpablito]

okay going based off my previous request smth with a famous reader x hector

like maybe and athlete or like an actress(spider woman actress?)

and just like them having to shoot a promotional video with liek say nike and the bts gets released and everyone is talking bout how hector and reader cant stop giving each other heart eyes :)

It started when hector's manager sent you a DM saying, " hello Ms. y/ln, we wanted to contact you regarding a photoshoot with hector and Nike.", which led you to be in your current situation sitting in a hotel room waiting for hector to finish his game of FIFA so you both could attend the photoshoot. after almost 30 minutes he stood up and put on his coat walking out leaving you behind and not speaking a word to you, "you know the least you can do I talk to me" you say following close behind him "and why would I talk to someone as boring and annoying as you" hector says his head snapping back to look at you, you just start walking faster now leaving him behind while also trying to hide the tears in your eyes. during the photo shoot though hector was staring at you the whole time and blushing HARD after the photo shoot hector had invited the whole team to a bar with drinks on him, and who would say no to free drinks, while there hector was just sitting across from you in the VIP section staring and looking madly in love.

(1 week later)

fans and even haters were shipping you and hector even your only families then during another Nike shoot with hector he was staring and blushing again but you still ignored it and continued, then again he invited the whole team to the bar when you walked in the door you started to dance with everybody until hector walked up to you and said he was to drunk to drive and needed a ride home.in the car hector is just staring at you while you sit across from him "you look really pretty" he whispers drunk "what was that?" you reply not being able to hear him, "you look really pretty right now" he whispers again, "speak up if you want me to understand you" you say getting annoyed, " you look really pretty right now" he says and you can finally understand him "oh... um thank you" you say. when you both get to the hotel you have to practically carry him to the room were then you lay him down on the bed helping him get into his pajamas, " I just love you soooooo much" hector say, " I... I love you to" you say softly , "will you cuddle me... please" hector says looking at you with puppy eyes "sure" you say laying down behind him spooning him until you couldn't keep your eyes open any longer and ended up falling asleep.

(3 months later)

It started again at a coffee shop near camp nou you and hector were seen sharing a table and laughing together but it wasn't until hector was seen with the bracelet you rarely took off that the fans started to get suspicious of the two, then you posted a photo wearing a barca jersey a few days later but didn't show the back, and the fans started going crazy asking all sorts of questions like " whose name is on the back!" and " are you and hector dating!?" .About a month later, there were pictures every where at this point of hector and you, you and hector's mom, hector and you're brother, aswell as hector being seen in the back of a photo from one of you're family events and you're reflection taking a photo of hector's mom and some of her friends, at this point fans were begging for them to announce that they are official up to the point that hector posted a picture of you and himself kissing on the beach and dedicated a winning goal to you.

(I'm thinking about starting a series for hector or Gavi but i don't know what it would be about so if you have any ideas feel free to share💕)

( SEND ANY REQUESTS FOR ANY BARCA PLAYER!!! 💗💗💗)

[hello-nichya-here]

Do you think there's some misogyny in the way George writes Sansa? Pretty much every other chapter there's a character telling her she's stupid for having her head filled with songs and romantic ideals, she's constantly getting assaulted and beaten as a consequence of having loved Joffrey, she gets punished for rejecting Sandor and Tyrion by being stuck with Littlefinger and having to act his daughter/lover, and even in chapters that have nothing to do with her it seems like the story is mocking her (i.e. Jon saying that women like Val, Ygritte and Arya are much better than damsels in a tower)

Absolutely not.

"Pretty much every other chapter there's a character telling her she's stupid for having her head filled with songs and romantic ideals"

Yes. There are a ton of characters in a book series called A SONG of Ice and Fire that think there's no truth to be found in songs. I think the title of the books alone spells it out for us that they're wrong - even more so when we look at the characters that mock Sansa for her optimism/romanticism:

1 - Cersei Lannister. A misogynistic, narcisistic, delusional woman that is causing her own downfall because, while people fear her or are at least interested on her family's wealth, no one actually admires her. She's also a hypocrite for making fun of Sansa's dreams, since she herself has always dreamed of being queen AND fully believes that her twin is the other half of her soul and they are fated to die together.

2 - Littlefinger, a manipulative, delusional creep that actively tries to isolate Sansa and make her think he's her only hope AND is as much of a hypocrite as Cersei, since the whole reason he's so obessed with Sansa (and her mom) is because he very much believes he is the hero of an epic romance and is actively trying to force Sansa into being the maiden he is rewarded with at the end of the tale.

3 - Sandor Clegane, the Beast to Sansa's Beauty, aka the guy that is transformed by her compassion and falls madly in love with her, aka George R.R. Martin's favorite story EVER. An idealist that tried REALLY hard to kill his inner romantic because he'a afraid of being hurt, yet is constantly being Sansa's disgraced knight, full on asks/threatens her to sing him a love song about a fool-turned-knight, and cries when Sansa sings to him about mercy changing a man's heart and saving him.

These interactions don't happen to prove how foolish Sansa is. They happen to show us why she'll survive while they won't (unless they change their ways, like Sandor did)

"She's constantly getting assaulted and beaten as a consequence of having loved Joffrey"

All the Starks go through horrible shit, and some died, as a consequence of not knowing how to play the Game Of Thrones. Sansa's past feelings for Joffrey are not demonized, though she is criticized for letting them blind her to some red flags.

All of her siblings are basically trapped in nightmare versions of something they wanted. Instead of just being allowed to be a skilled swordmaster to bond with her brothers, Arya is now fighting for her life every other chapter and being trained to be an assassin, and obviously getting traumatized as fuck in the process.

Jon is offered the chance to be legitimized as a Stark, but only after his entire family (allegedly) dies. Not to mention, when he first goes to the wall, he is called out for thinking of himself as better than his brothers of the watch, and then forced to reconsider if Free Folk don't have a VERY good reason to not want to submit to the watch/king.

Sansa is not being singled-out by the narrative as the one having her dreams turned into nightmares, or to need to be taught a lesson, and like I said, Martin toys with romance tropes between her and Sandor constantly, including through the lenses of his favorite story ever.

"She gets punished for rejecting Sandor and Tyrion by being stuck with Littlefinger and having to act his daughter/lover"

Sansa rejected Sandor's offer to be her knight in shining armor because he barged into her room in the middle of a PTSD episode, drunk as hell, and held a knife to her throat. This rejection leads to Sandor finding Arya, which eventually leads to him getting Westeros's equivalent of therapy and rehab, meaning that if they were to meet again (which is likely) he'd actually be fit to be Sansa's protector like he wanted to.

Sansa refused to sleep with Tyrion, despite him being her husband, because he belongs to the family that murdered hers. The books also show how, despite having tons of qualities, Tyrion can also be selfish, entitled, violent, and capable of both rape and murder. Not exactly a saint, even when compared to Littlefinger.

And while Petyr Baelish is absolute scum, not to be trusted, and VERY creepy, the whole point of him taking Sansa as his daughter is so he can teach her how to play the Game of Thrones, to make her go from pawn to player - which will inevitably lead to his downfall and Sansa's return to Winterfell. There's a reason George was FURIOUS the show replaced that with just making Sansa be abused by Ramsay and then say she's only strong and smart after BECAUSE of said abuse. That was pure misogyny and "fuck you for having hope and wanting love, you stupid girl, learn your place"

"Even in chapters that have nothing to do with her it seems like the story is mocking her (i.e. Jon saying that women like Val, Ygritte and Arya are much better than damsels in a tower)"

Not a single character in the story is a fully unbiased narrator. Jon was an outcast due to being a bastard, so naturally he bonds more with "unfeminine", wild, warrior-type women because they're also seen as deviating from the norm - not to mention, Sansa wasn't exactly kind to him, so naturally he develops some aversion to the more typically "feminine" women that remind him of her.

Just like Sansa's prejucide against bastards and unlady-like women is meant to reflect poorly on her instead of on her siblings , Jon's opinions on what kind of woman is "better" says nothing about Sansa's worth.

Again, if you want to see actual misogyny, watch the show since the writers went from having Arya say things like "the woman is important too" and genuinely have nothing against Sansa to being an arrogant "not like other girls" kind of character that says most girls are idiots, without a shred of self-awareness.

[mayabooowrites]

I'm not her//D.M

Summary: Astoria realizes her relationship with Draco is falling apart

Astoria never admitted it but when Draco and y/n became friends she was jealous she felt less than her

Y/n was everything she could never be, funny, charming, extremely beautiful, smart and well everyone loves her she walks down the halls and everyone greets her. Y/n may be a Slytherin but everyone from every house loves her. And Astoria bet every guy in school probably crushed on her, so she was always self conscious about Draco being around her

Especially after the longer they spent together Astoria saw how Draco looked at y/n when she was around or passed by. Draco would pretend he didn't care when Astoria would question it

"She's my friend Astoria of course I notice her when she's around." Draco would say each time and Astoria didn't believe that Draco didn't have some sort of non platonic feelings for y/n, and she just wished Draco would admit it instead of playing the she's just a friend card all the time!

And maybe her jealously has gotten the best of her and she's been rude to y/n on occasions, which immediately Draco would get so defensive of her and even leave with y/n leaving Astoria all alone

"Honestly Astoria what's your problem? Y/n has been nothing but nice to you she's my best friend and as my girlfriend you shouldn't be so stuck up and bitchy around her it's getting on my nerves, I can have female friends get over it." Draco had said to Astoria right before he leaves with his arm around y/n, leaving Astoria feeling cold and even more jealous then she did before

And since then Astoria hasn't been nicer which just makes Draco drift further away and makes her more mean, the more Draco's drifts towards y/n even before all this she just got meaner and meaner, her relationship was falling apart in front of her eyes and she couldn't do anything to stop it

But now lately Draco even started comparing Astoria to y/n saying stuff like y/n could never do this Astoria why would you

She's not y/n and she wished he would see that she is Astoria greengrass and just because he's madly in love with y/n now but still with her doesn't mean he can compare her to y/n

And today in her dorm she had enough, she had hopped for a peaceful cuddling session with Draco to maybe fix it all, but he had to do something to compare her to y/n and she had enough

"Draco I am not her, I'm never going to act like her or be her because I'm not her and if you love her so much why don't you just break my heart finally instead of pulling me around acting like you do!" Astoria says shocking Draco so much he got out of her bed, and hitch she had the feeling would be the last time he ever was in it

"What? I don't—" but at that moment Draco couldn't even say he doesn't love y/n because he does

"Say it then say you don't love y/n, you cant can you?" Astoria says and Draco closed his mouth and just sat there "Your a real arse you know that right? You spend more time with another woman then your girlfriend and get upset at your girlfriend for feeling jealous, you compare her to that woman and still have the audacity to say you love me I don't think you do, you fell out of love a long time ago and I've just been too stupidly in love with you to let you go." Astoria says everything she has wanted to say he eats breakfast with y/n, holds her more spends so much time with her she guessed he was cheating, but they were always in public so that wasn't the case

Draco's voice went dry he couldn't speak until he finally said something

"Yeah and your right I do love her." Draco says looking at Astoria not with the same loving eyes no those are y/ns now

She wished he said I don't I do love you or I love you more but no he loves y/n

"Well then I guess we know what's left to do." Astoria says and Draco nods

"I am sorry if I hurt you but I needed to do that to figure out who I truly was in love with." Draco says and Astoria was so hurt by that who he truly was in love with

Draco sighs and leaves with a goodbye Astoria I hope someone in the future can make you happy

After that day In two days y/n and Draco were together happier then ever

Astoria could never be y/n and she was all Draco wanted in his life to make him happy, all he needed was y/n by his side as his and he was the nicest person ever, he wasn't rude anymore he wouldn't use unkind words towards muggleborns and half bloods anymore, in two days he changed into the man she wish he could have been for her

No Astoria wasn't her but sometimes she wish she was

[wordslikesilver]

Really mentally ill thinking about this scenario. Main character, die hard domme type of woman who’s madly in love with her wife and enjoys her sweetly and lovingly the way anyone ought to. The plot stresses and exacerbates her worst insecurities and fears until she’s vulnerable and collapse under pressure. The villain makes their checkmate move, actual mind control or brainwashing or some form of corruption to take the main heroine into their evil cohort, the final stroke that would seal them victory. MC looks broken and shadow eyed. Empty. Frozen in their moment of true despair, now taken advantage of to be used as a blunt instrument. The most powerful person you know, now shattered and twisted into something that doesn’t feel anymore. It doesn’t hear you anymore. All strength falters, when pushed to the absolute for long enough.

Leading up to this, again and again, we see our main character vow to her wife “I will always come back to you” and we see it as simply a promise to stay safe, to come back alive, etc… and the wife learns of what’s happened to the main character. She listens calmly as the ill news is delivered. She knows what to do.

The climactic moment, the villain is going to win, puppeting the main character, using her power to clear any obstacle before them, all her allies captured, restrained, incapacitated or killed and then—

“Stop,” her wife says, no louder than you’d speak to someone across the table. She’s finally arrived at the battlefield. It’s been so long since she saw her wife. A stirring like no other, begins within the caged mind of the main character. All this time, every time her allies tried to reach her, she barely breathed harder, lying face up in the dark liquid prison of her mind. Face down beneath a mountain of magic, torture and restructured neural pathways carved in by nanobots in her blood and the collar around her neck. Nothing was ever supposed to break her free. She was supposed to be gone. Not even the memory of her wife was allowed to her.

And her wife, her darling, gentle, mild mannered and sweet hearted wife, she walks up and places naught but hand on her darling’s cheek as she whispers, “Please come back to me.”

And while the main character is silent and still, despite all the cursing and orders given by the villain to cut this insolent woman down, within her mind, within the prison she is left to rot in, her eyes have snapped open. There’s been this. Aching. In her chest. It’s been so numb and so hard to truly feel it, but the feeling never truly left. Oh how she’s missed her wife. She moves to the source of this warmth, through all the chains and mires and mountains and magic and machines and nails and pain in her mind, all the bindings and control and corruption falling away as if they quite literally weren’t there. Like, useless to the point of could they have ever stopped her? Because her heart is full once again. The memory restored. The hole mended. The aching ceased and serenity returned. The control is broken with a touch and a whisper.

I’m slamming my head on the desk, I’m too hopeless of a romantic to ever look at a character being mind controlled against their will and think they can’t be brought back by the one they love. More than that, I’m too much of a romantic to ever think it would need more than a touch and the scent of the person they love to break the spell. A whisper. A soft request. I am brought back by love. Tenderness will make my knees buckle every single time. I am an aromantic’s most insufferable individual to ever experience, like girl, you couldn’t bring her back with your tears and crying out to her, holding her in your arms, begging her to stop this? Skill issue. She smelled cinnamon on the wind and remembered all our previous lifetimes together, running just to find me.

[n3kk1tty]

" Hawkins held so many bad things and memories you just had to run away so you could actually live your life before It was cut short. In your new home you expect the paranormal not to find you but what happens when four vampires fall madly in love with you. "

(Y/n) - Your Name. (E/C) - Your Eye Color

Stranger Things ( Reader ) x Poly! Lost Boys

Fic requested by @whatchamacallthis

As soon as you graduated you hit the road running. Just as far as you could go, as far as you could get away from the cursed town. The last few years of your highschool life in Hawkins had been filled with other worldly phenomena, blood, and the loss of one of your closest friends. All you got for your troubles was your life, a gnarly scar, and enough trauma to last you a couple lifetimes . You had gotten your huge four clawed scar from taking a hit from the demogorgon for good old Steve Harrington. Even though at the time the dude was another one of those school bully dick heads you knew Nancy cared about him and you didn't even think before you took a slash to the back like a champ.

It haunts your nightmares that fucking monster, but you knew it was dead. It has to stay dead. That thing took a sawed off shotgun to the face and you riddled it with bullets till Nancy had to stop you as you cried and screamed. Your childhood friend Barb was dead. Your friend was never coming back and that scar just burned that truth into your brain every single day you breathed. You'd never spend another night with her using face paint to paint sunflowers on her arms or telling her about how Munson got you to paint him miniatures for his hell fire club. You, Nancy, and Barb could never go back to that time in the past but you tracked on. That cursed night you were lucky to be wearing the heavy duty leather jacket your dad gifted you, the doctors said if it wasn't for the thick padded jacket the slashes would have done life threatening damage to your back and you would have died or been crippled for the rest of your life. Sometimes you wish it had but I mean I guess there was some kind of luck watching over you.

Oh your poor lovely father though. It had only ever been you and him since your supposed mother dropped you off at your father's gun shop and shooting range not but six hours after you were discharged from the hospital as a baby. Your dad never talked about her and you never cared to ask but the woman was a real piece of work. He said he didn't even know she was pregnant but the tests proved you were his so he built his life around you. Growing up with a gun shooting, alcohol drinking, motorcycle riding mean son of a bitch for a father meant most of Hawkins thought your dad would have been tough on you. He was notorious for being a town hard ass like Hopper but the day he picked you up was the day he raised you with the kindness of a gentle giant. It broke his heart to see the wounds on your back as you fought blood loss in the hospital.

The man sobbed like a baby as he didn't know if you'd come out alive. He didn’t even understand what had happened to you and your friends wouldn't say anything. Needless to say he almost killed Johnathan and Steve as they stood in the hallway of the hospital as you fought for your life that night. It was worse though when you came out broken something fierce. When you first woke up all you did was cry and scream like the heavens had wronged you. You wailed until you couldn't no more as you screamed that it had to be dead and that you should have been there to save Barb. Nancy could only calm you down by holding you as you to cried into each others arms until your shirts were soaked and nothing but whimpers came out. You never once blamed your friend or anyone else but that monster for what happened but you wished so much that you had been there that night or had taken her place. While Barb was being killed you were at a Hellfire DND game and it hurt you ever day to know.

You eventually started healing, moving on in your friend's name but you were still facing troubles. Your scar became something you didn't want anyone to ever see and it took you ages to repair your jacket. You remember how long it took you to repair it. Nights spent cleaning and cutting new leather for the scratches before you finally decided this was gonna be your permanent battle jacket. Something Barb would have loved to see you in. You had used one of Barbs red flannels to fix the slashes as you tried healing your pain. This way your friend could live on with you. You’d give everything to swap places with her and give your amazing friend your life but the more you cried and screamed and begged the more you knew Barb would have been sad to see you like this.

Then you got into tattoos to help with your trauma and eventually it became your passion of sorts. You were on the track to a normalish life but before you knew it Hawkins was under attack again. All your old wounds turn to anger and an urge to protect your friends like you'd give your life every time you walked out the door. While you grew distant from your friend Eddie and the hell fire club because they couldn't understand what you went through Nancy and Steve grew even closer to you. It led you to once again blindly charging into battle armed with your sawed off shotgun and other weapons strapped to you. You crawled through hell and back, you knew they closed the portal to the upside down but just like the feeling that told you Barb was gone the same feeling told you this cycle wasn't gonna end that night.

When you graduated your dad gifted you a truck with a RV attached to it. He told you to get the fuck outta dodge. That he didn't want you charging into trouble no more after he discovered the truth. He knew that you'd die for your friends if they asked but all he wanted was for you to actually live before dying. That next week you were gone in the wind with your motorcycle and things in the back. Having said your goodbyes and making sure they knew you were a call away you ran to find some sense of calm. That's how you ended up in Santa Carla, the most unconventional choice you could have made but something called you here. It had just enough life and charm for you to enjoy but none of the other worldly danger like you had in Hawkins. Maybe more populated cities would be safer, you thought. 

You had spent some time in Santa Carla truly finding your place amoung the weird, blooming into the person you always wanted to be but felt too restricted to  in your small town. Piercings, tattoos, and punk rock T-shirts is all you paraded in down the boardwalk to the tattoo shop your dad's old biker friend owned. The man took you in allowing you to park your home on wheels on his land with all the hookups you'd need for free as long as you worked in his shop. You'd spend most the time running the counter or getting or giving tattoos and not a paranormal on sight. It was bliss. That was until one night a fight broke out outside the shop and like your nature in the past you didn't hesitate to come outside barreling to break it up. You remember slipping on your brass knuckles from your pocket and running outside charging as the others followed. 

Needless to say to have a bunch of punk rocker tattoo artists come barreling out a shop to break up a all out brawl between these bikers and surfer Nazis was a hell of a way to meet your future boyfriends. Pulling a curly haired dude out the onslaught shoving him into the shop before socking an aggressor left quite the impression on the boys. They remember hiding in the back as security came and the whole  store covered for them. When you came to the back they were hooked on sight. You stood before them rocking a killer leather jacket with this cool claw mark design on the back. Your hair messily tied in a bun with snake bite piercings and tattoos covering you sporadically. 

From that day on you didn't know a moment of peace again as these four men tried desperately to pick you up. They always came to the shop to see you. Even Marko begged for you to give him a tattoo and of course he got one where you'd have to be touching him constantly on the chest. The curly blonde flirted the whole time telling you how good you looked or how he'd let you use his body for practice any day. They would sit in the lobby hanging out shooting the shit going through your art books you brought for hours to the point the shop owner gave up trying to shoe them off. They became a permanent staple in your new life and every time they asked for a date you turned them down. It didn't matter you were playing hard to get it's not like when you went home from your shifts they didn't follow behind you or stalk outside your trailer ever night.

They were obsessed with you and wanted you. They wanted to comfort you on the nights you wailed and cried your eyes out, you would always end those nights with calling back home. Eddie didn't know why you left so suddenly or what happened to you so you couldn't lean on him for support. He hated how close you got to Steve Harrington after your attack but Eddie, Nancy, and Steve would always call you no matter what. Sometimes you'd get a call from Johnathan but it wasn't consistent. Tonight though you were having such a hassle with your trauma worried something was gonna happen to your friends as visions plagued your brain that you called out from work entirely. You sat at the secluded beach by your trailer. Sawed off shotgun by your side unloaded with rounds carelessly tossed in the sand you sat by the water in a bikini as you kept just your legs in the cold water.

You had made a fire and sat with a picture of Barb next to you as your scar sat exposed for the world to see. You couldn't go to the beach during the day or when anyone else was around. It's the same reason you kept turning down the boys even though you wanted nothing more to run into their arms. It was your scar. Your trauma. Your demons. You were too afraid something was gonna come back. All it took was some fucker opening that portal again and everyone you loved could be in danger. You knew though, everyone knew, even though you ran away from Hawkins all it took was a call and you'd be speeding down to the nearest airport and sprinting home to protect everyone. It was just the person you were.

You cried talking to Barb telling her you had been doing good and how you wished you could have at least brought her body back. You wanted nothing more than to bring her home one last time like the good old days. This time she wouldn't be cautiously riding on the back of your beat up motorcycle in the middle of the night as you took her home from a party but you'd make sure to bring her back one last time. Healing was hard, it was even tougher alone but you isolated everyone just for their safety. The first the boys noticed when they pulled up that night when you called out was the stereo and fire in the distance. When they got closer there was their new love interest so weak and small crying next to a picture and a shotgun. Anyone seeing this would have been exactly like David who damn near tore down the sand to stop you from what he thought you were gonna do.

Then the boys froze in place and were shocked running from your right shoulder to left lower back was this gnarly almost beastly looking scar. Matching almost one for one the design on your jacket. It looked like something huge had attacked you and with how you'd been known to cry about your friend and screaming in nightmares about killing the thing it's like puzzle pieces clicking into place. Something had attacked you and had killed your friend. Something had damaged you in a way the boys had been known to do to others. David couldn't stop himself before he was calling to you trying to get the gun away from you. When the boys words startled you it was like lighting and practiced motion took over. You loaded the gun quickly before pointing it straight at them, caulking it ready.

“ Hey! Yo freeze, we come in peace. “Marko says, jumping back. You pause before running to hide your scar tears welling in your eyes mumbling you were sorry and you knew it was hideous before Dwayne grabs your jacket. “ Your breathe taking (Y/n) if you want to cover it you can but I think it makes you look so strong and beautiful. “ Paul gently touched your arms trying to take the gun from you as you unarm and unload it. “ It's okay you don't have to be alone. “ Paul rubbed circles on your shoulders as you fell apart against David's body that night. You told them everything. You told them you liked them but was terrified your past would come back to hurt the ones you love. They held you as you told them the unbelievable life you had lived in your home town of Hawkins Indiana. You told them about the beast that took so much from you and the thing threatening your peace every day. You thought they wouldn't believe you and would think your were crazy but all the boys did was mumble praise against your skin promising you'd never be harmed again.

After that you started dating the four bikers. They were chaotic but they loved you dearly. It didn't take you long to figure out their secret though. I mean you can only dodge so many day time date nights with out someone from back home making a vampire joke and well Hawkins taught you anything was possible. At first you tried avoiding them when you figured it out. You didn't want any part in any more crazy but having your boyfriends show up to your job confused and then you ditching work till they are banging on your front door. Let's just say David was not pleased to have the door swing open and his beloved girlfriend pointing a sawed off shotgun to his face.

You shot it in the air to prove you meant business. “ I know your vampires boys. I don't know if this will kill you but sure turned the demogorgon into ground beef. So y'all and your fucked up game is over. “ Lots of flowers, jewelry, chocolates and apologies and explanations later you took your boyfriends back into your heart. I mean at least you could reason with them and you had worse problems to worry about in Hawkins so truly while it was fucked up they were the lesser of two evils. “ Just knock the people out then eat from them. Try leaving them alive and if you're gonna kill people be it bad people please. I don't have the energy to fight you and I ain't got nowhere safe to go. Plus I know you'll chase me wherever I do run so what's the point fighting my love for you fanged idiots” You and the boys were laying in your trailer's bed one day when David popped the question. “ Join us (Y/n) and you'll be stronger than ever. You can protect everyone with the powers vampirism gives you. We won't ever have to worry about time, sickness, or danger taking you from us. We love you too much, to let you go. Please be ours till the sun gives out”

You sit up in the bed throwing a pillow at David. “ Way to ruin the moment dude that's like asking me to marry you goof and what a bad proposal.“ Marko sat up cuddling into your side. “ What you don't love us enough to be ours forever. “ “Maybe we should have gotten rings “ Dwayne smiles. You shake your head at them. “ We haven't been together for a few years yet. Nor have you met my father or friends. So no weird vampiric wedding bells yet.” Paul jumps up to blocking you from leaving the room. “ Hey you said yet! So does that mean you will some day. “ You laugh scooping his face up as you put a slow lazy kiss to the man's face. “ Maybe after you actually meet the other people in my life who I care about and ask my dad to marry me. Though if you really want me to follow you to the ends of the earth you'll have to be prepared for when I probably go running off into the hordes of hell again. “

Dwayne and David look at you as you say that statement. “ Your thinking of putting yourself in danger again. “ You freeze in Paul's arms as you think back to your nightmares. They were like visions of Hawkins under attack again and Barb calling you home. What was worse was seeing Eddie standing dead before you wailing for you to save him. You try to clear your head before David can see but it's to late. Vampires are pulling you into a pile kissing you gently and whispering praise. A tangle of limbs and heart beats; kisses and fangs. It was like you couldn't think when all four boys worshiped every inch of you, chasing away the pain of the past before tears could fall from your ( E/C) eyes. You felt so unbelievably loved and pampered every night by them it made it hard to remember you were sleeping with monsters.

To others they were beasts feasting on carnage while to you they guarded you like loyal guard dogs. Vicious and aggressive to others while kind and caring to you. As you slipped back into consciousness from your blissful sleep the boys cradled you in their arms. “ We will follow you through hellfire.” Dwayne whispered as he kissed your neck. “ We will kill anything that harms you. “ Marko said as he placed a kiss on your thighs. “ We will love you no matter your past or your future. “ Paul said, kissing a trail up your arm. Finally David placed a kiss to your cheek as a tear fell from your eye, joy filling your heart. “ Our hearts, bodies, and souls belong to you (Y/n). If our princess of the dark decides to charge into hell we will make sure she will rule all the damned. “

The next day you and your lovers were on your way to Hawkins in a moment's notice. Your vampires would always treat your worries and intuition as truthful gospel as they knew you'd never lie as long as you breathed. If you were set on chasing what was coming to Hawkins that was plaguing you with nightmares, your four lovers of the night were going to make sure to follow you. After this battle was over they were sure to follow through with making you their queen of the damned and you promised to cherish them for your future eternal lives. Not before you could produce them heirs though of course as what was the point of having vampiric lovers if you couldn't have your own vampiric family someday? Soon Hawkins world would be rocked by the creatures heading straight for it again. This time though you had the damned on your side.

This was written based off a request in my ask box. I hope people can enjoy it even if it is a one shot fic.

[totallyunidentified]

HAPPY PROPHECY PEOPLE

Ok ok I know sad prophecies bad so I talked with the force voices and they gave me this

It’s kinda shit but idk

Spoilers for episode 10/11

So it’s the end of the season. Omega and the force kids have escaped with Emeri and Scorch and Tech has been revealed. He’s broken and hurt but obviously he has his family to help him.

Pabu…isn’t an option. The empire is there. They have been there. They know that that’s where the batch would return to. And the fact that Omega, Scorch and Emeri killed Hemcock makes them want to stay as far from the empire as possible.

They finally settle down. They get a farm on whatever planet it is that Cut and Suu ran away to. Or whatever planet they were originally going to in season one.

Hunter and Omega share a house. The other three brothers have their own. Each with their own room. They end up in the same room each night though. Comforting each other through the nightmares.

Tech works as a mechanic. He gets to spend all his time working on machines and he loves it. Phee decides to live with him and they build their own house. They spend their time inventing things and fixing the communities little whozits and whatzits together. Phee is there when Tech has nightmares about his reprogramming and time as CX-2.They never marry but are partners for life. Phee calls him Brown Eyes everyday and he calls her Pirate or on special occasions “Darling”

Obviously Tech figures out how to reverse their advanced aging. Hunter gets to grow old and watch Omega grow up.

Crosshair and Wrecker share their house for a long time until Crosshair gets fed up and becomes a bounty hunter. He only takes the big jobs that pay a lot so he only leaves for a month and then is back for a while. He never finds anyone to settle down with but is content with being Omegas older (younger) brother. Eventually he takes her on one of his hunts and Hunter just about disowns him.

Now Wrecker. Lovable sweet Wrecker. He meets the owner of the only restaurant in town. And falls madly and hopelessly in love with them. They cook, they are sweet, they love Wrecker and he loves them. He moves into their apartment over the restaurant and they get married have 3 kids together who all love their Aunt Omega.

Now Omega and Hunter.

Hunter gets his normal life as a father. He gets to grow old. Something he never thought would happen. He gets to watch his daughter grow up from a little kid on Kamino to a young woman blossoming in a beautiful galaxy. He gets a farm where he can hide in the hayloft when his senses get overwhelmed. He like Crosshair doesn’t think he’ll ever find a life partner. Until he meets the female owner of the farm closest to them. It’s on site, but they grow to respect each other and agree to disagree. It’s later on that they finally realize they like each other and get married. Hunter already has grey hairs but neither care. Both are content to finish growing old together. Hunter raises Omega in a steady home without the fear of her being taken ever again.

Omega gets to grow up. Without fear. Without looking over her shoulder. She helps Hunter on the farm and is in her mid 20s when he marries his beloved. She realizes that she misses her life exploring and seeing the stars. She joins Crosshair on some of his bounty trips but decides her time is spent better elsewhere. She doesn’t like the idea of having to take people without their consent. Even if they are bad. She falls in love with, to her brothers absolute horror a pirate Liberator of ancient wonders as she likes to call them. They travel the galaxy together seeing every planet that Omega never imagined. She always comes back with samples for Tech, treasures for Phee, exotic food for Wrecker, random packs of toothpicks for Crosshair, and stories for Hunter to be told around the campfire.

Every-time she comes home it’s a celebration. Wrecker and his partner bring food and their children, Tech and Phee bring the latest invention for everyone to play with, Crosshair doesn’t bring anything other than himself, Hunter and his wife set up a bonfire together joking and teasing each other about the correct way to stack the wood. The families all come together and sit around the campfire. Swapping stories as the Batch recall their time during the clone wars. Before everything that happened. Before they almost lost what they all held so dear. Family together, now and always.

[sinligh]

I’m my mother’s favorite child; I’m full of sacrifices.

Hers and mine, and so many women before us Substituting security and affection with systematized delusions.

I'm falling down the rabbit hole, not because of curiosity, nor distraction. But because of something akin to reality call.

All the rage that belonged to my ancestors before me, spilt ink that I spend my days crying over

And i wonder if I’m the one dragging it along with me, or is it the emotion that keeps weighing me down.

I was raised to be paranoid mother said that will protect me when she’s not around..

Now, I’m just my mother’s child and I only know how to define versions of myself through her.

Always free, never enough.

A mother lullaby can blend into her child's bones, my mother used to lull me to sleep by humming

"I love you madly, enough to embrace you in my eyes and see the world through you as I cover you with my eyelids"

I’m my mother’s daughter, a wound that refuses to heal.

I poke at it every time I question how can i convince someone who spends days and nights writing and rewriting my future that i grew up to be blind to all that is prewritten ?

That l'm building a pathway for a little life In the shadows of dreams that are out of my reach

That silk sutures hold my organs in place and lies dressed in white sew me dreams that my brain didn't dare to conjure.

That i learned to dilute the amount of love I have for everyone in my life. I don't understand the whys and hows of it but I know that I'm at the stage of life where I don't love without guarding myself.

And I refuse to be punished for feeling anymore, even if it meant I'II only ever know rage.

Meaningless and absolute.

I lose my details as i go. Leaving tracks of my soul behind me.

I shed pieces that i don't know how to define, like a snake does its skin. The only difference is that a lot of my potential lay there underneath it.

I think i overlooked discipline in my journey to search for wildness and inspiration,

and it seems like the only consistent in my life is my desire to change.

I know empathy the way I know my father. Should be present; but isn't. And I'll never be my mother, doesn't matter how much of herself she sees in me.

•••

•Quotes:Elana Dykewomon/ Chelsea g. summers/Azra.T/Robert Goolrick/hayan charara/Hannah Green/Sylvia Plath/ Fariha Róisín

•original context: Sinligh

•Art reference:

1. Winged Goddesses. Psyche II - Nudes & Butterflies By Carsten Witte. 2.Winged Goddesses. Psyche Il - Nudes & Butterflies By Carsten Witte. 3.Winged Goddesses. Psyche Il - Nudes & Butterflies By Carsten Witte. 4. 2. Metamorphosis 2 by Giovanni Gestel. 5. My Crisis are Blessing by Andrea Galad. 6. Papillon |I" or "Woman in Wings", by Louis Icart. 7.Art by Will Kim. 8. Art by James Jean.

[writtenbymisunderstoodnerds]

You didn't actually think I would miss this, did you? (Tobin Heath x Reader)

Just a short little fic for Tobin's birthday. Not really edited so mind any mistakes. Hope you enjoy!

Between work getting busy and studying, life has been busy lately so writing has unfortunately been put on the back burner so fics might take longer than usual. My final essay is due in less than 2 weeks so hopefully I'll have more time to write after that!

Words: 1.4k

Y/n: Nobody on earth can make me feel the way you do. Everyday I wake up you continue to amaze me in every way possible. Your kindness, empathy and compassion are what make you the most amazing woman I've ever known. Please never stop being the beautiful, confident and sexiest person that I am madly in love with. Everyday I am blessed to have you by my side. I hope today is filled with love, friendship, surprises and fun. Thank you for going through life with me. Happy birthday my love. I love you today and always.

Toby: Thank you baby. There's no one I'd rather go through life with than you. I love you so much.

Toby: I wish you were here with me today... I miss you

Y/n: I miss you too Toby. We'll see each other soon. I'm sure you'll have an amazing day regardless. I wanted to have this text ready for you to wake up to, but I got busy :(

Toby: It's okay, facetime later?

Y/n: Wouldn't miss it. I have to go, but I'll message you a bit later. I love you

It was Tobin's birthday today. We had been together for 7 years and this was the first birthday that we would be apart for. Since we started dating, we had always made sure to be with each other on our birthdays. This year though, I was playing in Europe meaning I couldn't be there this year. Well that's what she thought anyway. I was out for a couple of weeks with an injury and coach had agreed that I could return to the states as long as I kept up with physio. 

Tobin's birthday happened to fall in the middle of a national team camp. One that I couldn't attend due to being injured. I knew they would be planning something so I had reached out to Ali to let her know I was surprising Tobin. I trusted her to not let it slip and she was able to keep me updated on their plans so I could surprise her. I didn't want to miss her whole birthday, instead I had found a flight that would get me there in time to surprise her at lunch. 

I got through security as quickly as possible. Knowing I was so close to seeing Tobin again was making me impatient. This was probably the longest we had gone without seeing each other. I hated it, but playing internationally had always been a dream of mine. They had organized lunch in the meal room at the hotel seeing as there were so many of them. I quickly dropped my stuff in Tobin's hotel room and cleaned myself up a bit before heading down to the meal room. 

Ali had organized a game of guess the person. Tobin was blindfolded and had to guess who was in front of her based on the feel of their hands and face. The girls smiled widely when they saw me, somehow managing to not completely freak out. I watched Tobin go through a few more of them. There was a wide smile on her face, the corners of her eyes no doubt crinkling. I knew pretty much all of Tobin's expressions at this point, even without properly seeing them. It made me happy knowing that even though she was missing me, she was still able to have fun and be genuinely happy. 

After a few minutes, I stepped up to Tobin, placing her hand on my arm first then my face. I knew there was a high chance that once she felt either of my hands she would know it was me. Besides the years of almost constant hand holding, I had a scar on one of my hands that was very noticeable.

I lent into her touch, enjoying the feeling after almost six months away from her. That must have been a give away, because her hand froze briefly before moving to my eyebrow that also had a scar then my left hand. She ripped the blindfold off, eyes wide as she stared at me in shock. 

"Y/n!" Tobin pretty much squealed, jumping up, arms wrapping around me as she jumped up, legs around my waist, "You're here, you're actually here."

"You didn't seriously think I would miss your birthday did you?"

Tobin kissed me hard, filled with passion and love. I knew the team were watching, fake gags coming from them, but I did care as I cupped the back of her head, not letting her move until we were both out of breath. Tobin watched me for a few seconds before speaking, "I love you so much. How long do I have you for?"

Reluctantly, I put her down, feeling my knee starting ache, "A couple of weeks. Pretty much until I'm ready to join practice again as long as I keep up with physio here."

Since there weren't any real plans for after lunch, Tobin and I snuck off to the room. We didn't do anything other than cuddle and make out a little bit. I was exhausted from my flight, all I wanted to do was hold her after months apart. When Tobin eventually had to go to the bathroom, I got the piece of paper and ring box from my bag. I quickly hid the ring box as Tobin came back into the room. I still wasn't sure if I was going to propose right now with just the two of us or do something with the team later. I wanted to have it with me for when I decided the time was right.

"I got you something."

"You didn't have to, just being here is enough."

"Shush and take it. I think you're going to like this."

I handed her a piece of paper. She read over it slowly before jumping on me, peppering kisses across my face, "You're coming back?!? We get to play together again?"

"I'm coming back. I still have to be there for a couple more months though. I love playing for arsenal, it's been a great experience, but it's not worth how much I miss you." 

A few tears fell down her cheeks as she kissed me slowly before a smile stretched across her face, interrupting the kiss. Her smile was one of my favourite sights so I wasn't mad about it, "You are amazing, I love you Y/n."

"I love you Toby." 

Once again I found myself watching her. Taking in her smile, the way her eyes crinkled, the dimples I was obsessed with, her beautiful eyes that I could look at forever and the short hair that drove me crazy. It was my first time seeing it in person, I had ran my fingers through it countless times already and was currently resisting the urge to do it again. I loved her more than I thought it was possible to love another person. She was the person I craved, the first person I thought of when I woke up or before I went to sleep, the first person I wanted to tell when anything happened. She was the person I wanted by my side for the rest of my life. 

"I meant what I said in my text."

"Which part?"

"All of it. Even after 7 years, you still make my heart race, butterflies and sparks to explode at even the slightest touch. No one has even made me feel the way you do and no one else ever will. I thank everything in this world that you chose me, that I get to be with you and love you every day. You are the only person I want by myside through everything life throws our way. The good, bad, funny, messy, whatever it is, it will be okay because I have you. I am so madly in love with you Tobin Powell Heath, I want to do life with you for as long as you'll have me. Will you marry me?"

Tobin launched forward before I could even get the ring box. She hugged me tightly, tears landing against my neck, "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. I love you so fucking much Y/n."

My own tears fell, the happiness bubbling over as I chuckled, "Can I get the ring now?"

"You got me a ring?"

I reached under the pillow for the ring box, opening it for Tobin to see. It was just a simple rose gold band, it fit who she was and the type of style she liked. She grinned widely as I easily slipped it onto her finger, "Of course I did. I've been planning to do this for months now. Only the best for my girl or should I say fiancé?"

"God I can't wait to marry you Y/n."

[shesmypoem]

CLIMB INSIDE ME

Olivia Benson x F!Reader

(Season one Benson, reader is and will always be 21+)

A/N: My first story in a little so please be gentle loves…

Summary: After a long night at work, Olivia and Y/N indulge in some shower sex.

Word Count:

1.5k (sorry <3)

Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI, fingering (Olivia receiving), dominant reader, choking…I think that’s all, enjoy loves!

You always enjoyed late night showers. Nothing or no one could bother you, you weren’t in a rush to do or go anywhere. You could simply just be. Soft ambient music filled the bathroom, as you close your eyes and allow the steady stream of cold water to hit your face. You’re muscles were sore so the cold water was a delightful mix with the music.

You breathe in the damp air, placing your hands on the wall in front of you drawing yourself further under the stream. You close your eyes barely being able to hear the music now, but it was still refreshing nonetheless.

Knock, knock.

Olivia hadn’t been home yet, or for the past two days for that matter. You missed her, the want of being engulfed by her kisses and sweet murmurs grew thicker every day that passed. You never thought you were capable of loving or being loved. The fear of being vulnerable with someone, always kept you at bay. But here you were, madly in love with a woman who is madly in love with you. The fear never leaves , but when looking in the face of Olivia Benson, it fades and when she smiles, oh, when she smiles it damn near disappears.

Being able to open up to her has been the most beautiful thing you’ve ever experienced. And being loved by her entirely is indescribable.

Again, Knock, Knock. “Y/N,”

You were so lost in your thoughts you hadn’t realized that the knocking wasn’t in your mind. You step from under the water sticking your head out of the shower, “Its open,” you call back to her.

The door clips open and in steps Olivia, wrapped in her robe, with her hair clipped back. She was tired, yet she still look so damn beautiful.

“Wanna join?” You ask warmly switching the water to hot.

She nods as she unties her robe, it slips off her body and pools at her feet, she steps into the shower and for a moment you both are just admiring each other silently. You watch as her chest rises and falls, and she watches as the droplets of water kiss your skin. You move from under the water offering it to her.

She steps under it, both of you still not saying anything, you think about breaking the silence but she’s tired and you don’t want her to use her last little bit of energy to engage in a conversation with you. “Can you wash my hair?” Her voice just above a whisper and if you hadn’t been holding your breath you’re sure you would have missed it.

“Yes. I’d love to.” You grab the shampoo bottle and squeeze just enough in your hand to coat her hair. Her body shivers when the coldness from the shampoo touches her scalp. You being to thread it into her hair, trying not to be too aggressive like you are with your own.

“Is this okay?”

She hums in approval.

“Good. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too,” your nails scrap against her scalp and she shivers. Her breath gets caught In her throat.

You take notice of it, smiling to yourself as you do it again and this time a noise escapes her throat. “Do you like that?” You murmur.

She doesn’t answer, but you know she liked it. You finish washing her hair and she turns her back to the water to rinse, slightly leaning her head back, she closes her eyes and you rake yours over her body. You watch some of the droplets drip down her breast, stomach and in between her legs. You’re jealous of them, they’re closer to her than you have been in the last two days.

Though her eyes are close she can feel yours boring into her body. “Do you mind?” She smiles.

“What? I’m just admiring you, There’s nothing else to pay attention to in here.”

She opens her eyes, and drags them down your form, boring them into you as you were just doing to her. You become nervous underneath her gaze, you let out a chuckle and nod your head. “Ah, I understand what you’re doing. Point made.”

She returns the chuckle, and turns her back towards you to let the water beat on her face. You step closer behind her and wrap your arms around her back, your palms against her stomach. “Rough case?” She leans her head against your shoulder placing her hands on top of yours.

“Yes.” she whispers.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She shakes her head, normally she’d talk about her cases, but some of them were too hard for her to talk about. So you never pressed her for details, if she told you she told you and if she didn’t, she didn’t and you respected that.

“Okay.” You nod at her response and place a warm kiss to her neck.

She turns her head to look up at you, “Kiss me, please,”

It takes you no time to do as your asked. You start off slow but she deepens it within seconds, “I want you to touch me.” she says against your lips. You look at her for a second, “You sure?”

Instead of saying anything she begins kissing you again, you untangle your hands from hers and slide them up her stomach to her breast. You take one into each hand, her nipples become hard immediately under your touch. You squeeze them and move your thumb to each nipple. You run your thumb over them a few times before pinching them and she moans.

“Tell me where you want me to touch you, sweetheart.” You say.

Your mouth travels down her neck, you scrape your teeth against the soft flesh. She takes her bottom lip in between her teeth as she grabs one of your hands from her breast and drags it down her stomach and in between her legs, “right here, please”.

Your hand brushes against her folds, coating your fingers In her wetness you smile against her ear, “Oh, sweetheart.” You say, your voice dark and thick.

“Please,” she says.

Your fingers run over her folds achingly slow, “one more time for me.”

“Please, Y/N. I need you.”

And with that you apply pressure to her clit, as you kiss behind her ear, Your other hand finds her exposed neck and you squeeze ever so slightly. “Do you like that?”

You whisper.

“Oh, Y/N, Yes.” Olivia says breathlessly.

You add more pressure and her breath hitches. “Please, fuck me.”

You don’t have the heart to tease her and make her beg again, so you slip a finger inside of her.

It’s you who moans this time, she’s so warm against your finger. Her wetness makes it easy for your finger to slip in and out. “Another one please.” you slip another one in with no question, pressing deep inside of her, you find her spot. That spot that makes her groan every time your digits press against it. You squeeze your hand around her throat a tad bit harder. “Tap my hand if it gets too tight, Okay?” She just nods but you need words so you slow down and she whines.

“I need you to use your words. Tap my hand if it gets too, Okay?” You repeat.

“Okay, Please go faster.” She groans.

You start your speed back up and she hums in satisfaction.

She adjusted to your two fingers quickly and as you begin to hit that spot again, “Another.” She moans, “Are you sure?” You ask her. She nods and you do as you’re told. You feel her trying to adjust to the three fingers and she slowly does. As they begin to slip in and out easily again you go faster.

Your heart is pounding in your cheats and you’re sure she can feel against her back. Her moans fill the bathroom and you can start to feel your own wetness drip down your legs.

Her walls start to tighten around your fingers,”Harder, Y/N” she moans out and though your hand is beginning to tire you pump them faster and harder against hitting her spot over and over again, you tighten the hand around her throat and her eyes roll back. You kiss up her neck, sucking at just the right pressure. Her body begins to twitch against yours. She gasps “I gonna…”

“I know, sweetheart. Let go, it’s okay.” And with those words her pussy tightens and she lets go. She comes around your fingers.

Her head lays on your shoulder, you both say nothing, you just breathe. Your fingers slip out of her and she watches as you bring your fingers to your mouth. You keep eye contact with her as you swirl your tongue around each digit. She bits her lip and after you finish she kisses you. A moan escapes her mouth as she tastes herself against your lips and tongue. You break the kiss and lean your forehead against hers.

“Thank you, Y/N.” She says softly.

“My pleasure.” You reply.

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!