starstruckunknown-princess

[starstruckunknown-princess]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

#obviously thats where i keep my nudes

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Daffodil - Javi G. x Reader

Daffodil (Narcissus) - Unrequited love

Summary: You've fallen in love with your boss, and he's about to propose to someone who isn't you.

Pairing: Javi G. x Reader

Word Count: 871

Warnings: Angst, unrequited love, complicated relationships, mentions of abandonment, Javi is clueless until it's too late

This one is angsty, everyone! Day 22 of In Bloom kinda hurts, but I hope you like it anyway!

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Likes, Comments, Reblogs are super appreciated! ❤️

You’d dreamed of this moment for as long as you’d worked for Javi. Him down on one knee, a ring box held out to you and a broad smile on his face. 

“So? What do you think?” he asked, but you could barely hear him over the sound of blood rushing in your ears. 

Your mouth was dry, your palms sweaty. “I-I think she’ll love it, Javi.” 

Javi nodded, looking down at the ring again. “Yes, it’s very Gabriella, isn’t it? Classic, beautiful. I knew it was perfect!” 

He snapped the ring box shut and rose to his feet, “Will you get a reservation at Saint Angelo’s for this Friday? It’s her birthday, I think it’ll be the perfect opportunity to ask her to be my wife.” 

Javi’s brown eyes were sparkling as he talked about his plan to propose to Gabriella. You wore a smile so fake you were sure he would notice and say something, but what else could you do when your heart was breaking? 

“Yeah,” you choked out, but he didn’t notice. He simply nodded, thanked you, and left your office. The second he was gone, you slumped back in your chair. 

You’d been in love with Javier Gutierrez for almost as long as you’d been working for him as his Personal Assistant. He was so sweet and loyal, and sure his obsession with Nicolas Cage was a little weird but over time you came to find it endearing. When your boyfriend had dumped you and kicked you out of the apartment you shared, Javi hadn’t hesitated to offer you his pool house rent-free. 

“You’re here all the time anyway,” he’d smiled, “Might as well get rid of that long commute.” 

Gabriella had finally joined him from Mallorca, which meant you’d come face-to-face with the reality that Javi was taken. When she’d been in Spain, it had been way too easy to forget. As a big-shot producer, Javi was invited to parties and premieres and openings all the time, and you’d usually accompany him as his plus-one. Those days were over. 

And, as of Friday, they’d be gone forever. 

Oh well, you thought, not like those nights meant anything anyway. 

You knew you’d be involved in the wedding planning. The engagement party, wedding shower, bachelor/ette’s parties…could you handle that? Watching the man you were in love with marry another woman? 

On one hand, you were a professional. Falling for your boss was your own damn fault, and if it had been so easy to fall in love how hard could it be to fall out of it? Maybe all the wedding stuff would shake you out of it. 

On the other, you knew yourself. Once you’d fallen you were down forever. This crush on Javi wouldn’t go away, especially not as you waited for him to be officially off the market. From here, you couldn’t see another way to deal with this entire situation. 

You called the restaurant first and secured Javi’s reservation, requesting a special bottle of champagne and a private table. 

A few more phone calls and you had a plan. 

You just had to wait until Friday.

_________________

Friday morning started as usual — you rolled out of bed and walked to the main house to get coffee and breakfast, then upstairs to your office until Javi woke up around ten. 

He sauntered into your office as usual, sleep-rumpled and absolutely adorable. 

“Hola, querida,” he said, voice lower than usual with drowsiness. “Any good news to start the day?” 

“Contracts are rolling in for the crew on your next project, but Amy needs confirmation on audition times for next month,” you reported, “and your reservation for tonight is all set. I’ve got some errands to run today, so you’ll have to get yourself ready but I laid out some outfit options for you in your closet.” 

You got up from your chair, packing up your bag. Without warning, Javi rounded your desk and gathered you in his arms. You tensed in his hug, knowing that it wasn’t anything to read into. He only saw you as his employee, at best a friend. 

“What would I do without you, hmm?” he asked, letting you go but grabbing your hands and squeezing. 

You could only shrug. 

_____________

Gabriella said no. Javi’s footsteps were heavy as he made his way back into the house. Her life was in Mallorca, his was in LA. They loved each other, but the long distance and different life goals had made things too complicated. 

Javi sighed and scrolled through his phone, texting your number. A few seconds later, he heard the chime coming from his kitchen. He smiled at the thought of you there already, waiting for him to come home with good news. 

When he rounded the corner, you weren’t there. Your phone was propped up on the side of the fruit bowl, sitting on top of a white envelope. 

He pulled a folded few pages out of the envelope. It was your resignation letter, no forwarding address, and a personal letter thanking him for his kindness and wishing him every happiness with his future marriage. 

Javi had never felt so empty. No Gabriella, no you. How would he manage? 

#writing challenge #fanfiction #in bloom #angst #the unbearable weight of massive talent #javi g x reader #javi g x you #unrequited love #yearning

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Hemlock - Winter Soldier x Reader

Hemlock (Conium maculatum) - Meaning: Death

Summary: The Winter Soldier is deployed to take care of a seemingly normal person.

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Reader (not so much a pairing though)

Word Count: 365

Warnings: Stalking, reader is a target for WS, guns, violence (non-graphic)

Day 21 is short af...not sure how I feel about it but here goes!

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are always appreciated! ❤️

His was not to wonder why or question orders. He was only to get the job done. That’s what he told himself as he trailed you, watched your every move while you made your way home from work. 

But sometimes he couldn’t help himself. 

Why did HYDRA want you dead? Was this a personal thing? Had you broken up with someone high up, or were you the illegitimate daughter of an enemy? As far as he could tell, you were harmless. You rode the metro home from where you worked an office job in Georgetown. You packed your own lunch. You wore sensible shoes and said ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ when you ordered dinner from the Indian place on the first floor of your building. 

While he watched you eat dinner, feed your cat, and change into pajamas, he still couldn’t figure it out. You settled on your couch and turned on your tv. 

Now would be the perfect time to take the shot. He looked through the scope of his rifle and centered the crosshairs on you, trigger finger inching closer to its destination. 

But then you dashed to your apartment door and opened it, revealing a tall, broad blonde man and it made sense. 

Steve Rogers. Captain America. 

You kissed him hello, and the Winter Soldier watched as Captain America’s hands lifted you up, pressing you close to him with his grip on your ass. Then he walked you to your bedroom. The curtain was drawn, so the Winter Soldier couldn’t see what was happening. 

He didn’t see you again until the next morning when you walked the Captain to your door, kissing him over and over before letting him go. You closed the door behind him, then leaned against it with a hand to your chest. 

You looked blissfully happy. Like everything in your life was going as planned. 

Until the Winter Soldier put three bullets in your chest from across the street. After that, your mouth went slack and the light behind your eyes went out. He watched as you slumped down your door, falling to a heap on the floor. 

“Target destroyed,” he said into his earpiece. “Ready for extraction.” 

#writing challenge #fanfiction #in bloom #mcu fanfic #angst #winter soldier #the winter soldier #steve rogers #bucky barnes

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Hyacinth - Joel Miller x Reader

Hyacinth (Hyacinthus) - Meaning: Please forgive me

Summary: After hitting your car, Joel Miller takes you out on a date to apologize.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Word Count: 1921

Warnings: Fluff!, slight language, reader wears makeup and a sundress but is otherwise a blank slate, Pre/no outbreak AU, no Ellie, reader was left at the altar, dinner date conversation, making out, nicknames 'sugar' and 'darlin', Joel Miller is a warning in and of himself

I'm really happy with how this turned out! Just a fluffy first date with Joel Miller. Enjoy!

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are ALWAYS appreciated! ❤️

“Am I crazy?” you asked your best friend, Maria, while applying your mascara. 

“For what? Going on a date with the guy who smashed up your car?” Maria asked dryly, shrugging her shoulders while she watched you get ready. “Nah, I’ve done crazier shit.” 

“What if I remember him much more handsome than he is? Like the adrenaline made me think he was super hot?” you asked. 

“You can always invoke the code phrase and I’ll call you from ‘the hospital.’” Maria offered, putting ‘the hospital’ in air quotes. You smiled over at her and reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze. She smiled back at you. “Though I hope he’s not a dud. It’s about damn time you got back out there.” 

“You’re telling me,” you muttered, touching up your lipstick. You hadn’t had anything more than a hook-up since you were left at the altar two years ago, throwing yourself into work and fixing up the house you bought with your ex. 

With a final look in the mirror, you fluffed your hair and gave yourself a look of approval, then turned to Maria for final approval. 

“You look hot, babe. This guy isn’t gonna know what hit him.” 

You laughed, “Good, cuz he’s the one who hit me. Well, my car, but you know.” 

Three days ago in the grocery store parking lot, you’d been pulling into a spot when a scruffy-looking man hopped into the truck in the spot across from you, started it up, and pulled forward without looking. The front of your little sedan stood no chance against the grill of his behemoth contractor’s truck. 

He’d been incredibly embarrassed and apologetic, offering his insurance info and to pay for the damages himself. Amidst all this, you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. Brown curls with a striking hint of gray at the temples, broad, square jaw, and his eyes. Oh, you couldn’t get enough of his eyes and their dark brownness that threatened to swallow you whole. He must’ve noticed you staring because shortly after the tow truck arrived, he asked you on a date. 

“I know this ain’t the best time and, y’know if you’ve got a boyfriend or somethin’ feel free to tell me to shut up, but uh, I was wonderin’ if you’d let me buy ya dinner Friday night? As an apology.” A light blush had risen in his cheeks and he shuffled his feet like he was nervous, so you agreed to it. The smile on his face could’ve lit up the whole city. “Great, I’ll drive.” 

You’d both laughed at his joke. 

The doorbell you installed yourself rang, pulling you back to the present. Maria went downstairs and opened the door. You turned back to the mirror for one last once-over before Maria called your name. You descended into the foyer of your house and couldn’t help the smile that rose on your face. 

Joel Miller framed in your front doorway, wearing a dark green button-down and dark wash jeans would forever be seared into your memory. He looked, in a word, delectable. When he saw you, he smiled. 

“Hey,” he said. “Ready to go?” 

“Yep,” you said, but Maria cleared her throat from where she held the door open. “Oh! Joel, this is my friend Maria. Maria, this is Joel.” 

They muttered hellos and you grabbed your purse, muttering to Maria that no hospital visit was necessary. She smirked her knowing smirk and nodded, bidding you good night. 

Joel brought you to a nice Italian place, behaving like the perfect Southern Gentleman the whole time. He’d opened doors for you, pulled out your chair, and kept his hands to himself other than a hand at the small of your back to guide you to the table. You’d thought manners like this had gone the way of 8-track players and rotary phones, but you were utterly charmed by him.

While you looked over the menu, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him in the candlelight. You didn’t know he’d been doing the same since he picked you up until he cleared his throat. 

“Uh, you look really beautiful tonight,” he said. You could tell he was nervous — dark brown eyes darting all over, fingers tapping on the table.

You smiled warmly at him to try and ease his nerves, “You look really nice, too, Joel. I’ve been looking forward to this since you hit my car.” 

Your assurance seemed to calm him and he chuckled, “Me too, actually. Best accident I’ve ever been in. Well, second best.” 

“What’s the first?” you asked, curious. 

A pink hue tinged his cheeks and he looked down at the table. “My daughter. She wasn’t planned, but she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

“You have a daughter?” 

“Yeah, is that,” he cleared his throat again, “is that an issue?”

“God, no!” you insisted, “So you’re divorced? I hope?” you joked. 

“Uhh, her mom split before we got married. Haven’t heard from her since.” He muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as the server came over and took your orders. 

When the server left, Joel wouldn’t meet your gaze. Before you got the chance to ask about his daughter he leaned forward a bit and made eye contact. “I’m sorry, I don’t do this often. I think the last date I went on was when Sarah was in preschool so it’s been a while.” 

Because you had a faulty filter, or because you wanted him to know you knew how awkward dating was you blurted, “I was left at the altar two years ago. So I haven’t dated much either.” 

“Really?” His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. 

“Yeah. We’d been together for six years, I followed him out here for his job, and then on the big day — poof! He disappeared. Two days later, he called from Florida and said he’d gotten a job offer he couldn’t refuse but he didn’t want to uproot the life I had built here,” you scoffed at the bitterness of your memory, washing it down with a sip of wine.

In the dimness of the restaurant his features softened, but you didn’t see pity in his eyes. Only understanding. 

And damn if it wasn’t exactly what you needed. 

Joel, you were coming to realize, was exactly what you needed. 

“Well he’s a goddamn moron,” Joel said. “Only spent a few hours with ya and I can tell.” 

Your heart fluttered when his big hand landed on top of yours on the table. The weight of his hand on top of yours felt incredibly intimate, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to mind. In fact, you really liked it.  

“How old is Sarah now?” you asked, not moving your hand.  

“Almost fourteen.” 

You couldn’t help your reaction — your eyebrows shot up and you tried the mental math. Joel wasn’t that much older than you, maybe mid-thirties, late thirties max, so if his daughter was a teenager he had her in his early twenties. 

“That must’ve been hard,” you said, turning your hand over under his so you were palm-to-palm and squeezing his hand gently, “Raising her on your own.” 

Joel nodded and squeezed back, “Yeah, but my brother helps out and working for myself helps too.” 

“What do you do?”

“I’m a contractor.” 

You lit up at that, mentioning all the little house projects you’d attempted and the two of you chatted about how much subway tiling a bathroom sucks until your entrees arrived. 

You kept talking as you ate, finding more and more topics as the night wore on. Joel agreed to split a tiramisu even though he “didn’t much like sweets,” which you giggled at. 

“Me neither, but tiramisu is the exception.” 

You let him have the first bite, and he nodded in pleasure. “Yeah, that’s pretty damn good.”

Once the tiramisu was gone and the server dropped the check, you did the check dance, but he insisted that tonight was about him making amends so he should pay. You conceded, but only after insisting that next time was on you. 

He’d raised an eyebrow at you, dark eyes getting somehow darker, “There’s gonna be a next time?” 

Returning his smile, you nodded, “If you’d like to. I know I would.” 

Joel finished signing the receipts and stood up, extending a large hand down for you to take. He lifted you up and your body filled with heat at his gaze. Even though you’d just eaten, he looked hungry. 

“Me too, sugar,” he said lowly, lacing his fingers between yours and leading you out to his truck. Again, he opened the door for you like a gentleman and you could feel his eyes on you as you climbed in. You watched him round the front of the truck and get into the driver’s seat, eyes fixed on his hands as he turned the key and made a show of double-checking before he backed out of the parking spot which made you laugh. 

You couldn’t help your eyes landing on him every few minutes as he drove you home, talking incessantly about his daughter. It was incredibly endearing how enamored he was with his kid, how much he admired her accomplishments and how he wished he could spend more time with her without work getting in the way. You could tell this was a man who loved deeply, was loyal to the core, and would carve his own heart out of his chest to make those he loved happy. 

You were half in love with him already, but you shoved that thought away because it was way too soon.

Joel turned down your street and pulled into your driveway, hopping out and opening your door yet again. He helped you down and you kept hold of his hand. 

“Walk you to your door?” he asked, voice husky and eyes dark. You nodded and he led you by the hand onto your porch. It was like something out of a movie. The warm night breeze wafted his spicy cologne toward you, making you lean in closer. His eyes bounced from your eyes to your lips, his own lips parted. From this close you admired each of the gray hairs blooming along his temple and in his short beard. 

“Can I kiss you, darlin’?” he asked, accent thicker than it had been. 

“Yes please,” you breathed, and he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was warm, soft yet firm, like the first bite into a perfectly ripe peach. He tasted like tiramisu and your hands wandered up to his chest. Underneath his shirt, you could feel his pulse quickening along with your own as his hands came to rest at your hips. 

You wanted more, wanted to deepen the kiss and pull his firm, broad body flush against your own — 

But then your front door opened, revealing Maria. 

“Oh! Sorry, thought I heard…”

You and Joel broke apart at your best friend’s interruption. Joel looked sheepish, burying his hands in his pockets. 

“Give us a sec,” you said to Maria, who shut the door. Years of friendship told you she was eavesdropping on the other side of the door, so you kept it brief. 

“I had a really, really great time tonight, Joel,” you said. 

He smiled down at you, brushing some hair behind your ear. “Me too. You busy tomorrow night?”

You shook your head, “Free as a bird.” 

“Good. Pick you up at seven?” 

“It’s a date.” 

#writing challenge #fanfiction #in bloom #fluff #tlou fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Anemone - Jaime Lannister x Stark!OC

Anemone (Anemone) - Meaning: Forsaken love

Summary: After ignoring her for weeks, Jaime confronts his past love, Lorelai Stark, in the hidden grottoes of Winterfell with a warning.

Pairing: Jaime Lannister x Stark!OC

Word Count: 1420

Warnings: Mentions of past sexual assault (no detail) and the day Jaime became the Kingslayer, mentions of smut and sluttiness (we don't slut shame here, we slut encourage), vague threats/warning

This may be the start to another series I wanted to write. Would y'all want to read a series following Lorelai? Let me know your thoughts.

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are SUPER appreciated! ❤️

All throughout the feast, Lorelai Stark kept trying to make eye contact with him, but he had expertly avoided her. Had their time in King’s Landing as joint hostages meant nothing to him? 

She knew that wasn’t true — that time had bonded them in irrevocable ways. They’d found comfort in one another’s arms, he would bring her books, he had apologized for standing by while the Mad King had brutally assaulted her. He brought her to the heights of pleasure night after night until the horns of House Lannister announced their arrival in the city. The rest was history. 

She’d assumed their history would’ve at least warranted a passing glance from him. Apparently not. 

When the royal retinue had arrived at the keep she’d been hopeful that Jaime would seek her out, even if it was only to make stiff pleasantries. He had danced with her once at the welcome banquet, but answered her questions monosyllabically and refused to look her in the eye. There were a few times she’d caught him looking her way in the tiltyard or at dinner but he was always quick to avert his gaze. 

Lorelai hadn’t expected him to drop to his knees and declare his undying love for her in the sight of gods and men, but she also hadn’t expected his terse coldness toward her. Some sort of acknowledgement of their shared history would’ve satisfied her — a wink, a smirk, a “hello,” even. She’d received nothing.

Too tired to do much else, she excused herself to her rooms and left the noisy feast hall.

Later that night while Drella finished brushing out her hair, Lorelai took in her reflection. The years had been kind to her, only showing a little around her eyes. She’d never thought herself a great beauty, but she had been pretty enough to entice a Myrish prince into her bed. 

And a Pentoshi merchant or two. 

And once a muscle-bound Dothraki bloodrider who spent the entire night growling at her in a language she didn’t understand. For all she knew, he had been insulting her the entire time.

Even if the years had been kind, seemingly they hadn’t been kind enough to tempt Jaime Lannister back to her. After all this time, everything they had shared meant nothing to him. And she had to accept that — she wasn’t going to throw herself at a former flame who had been ignoring her presence since his arrival. 

She dismissed Drella for the night and pulled on a dressing gown. Once the maid was gone she pulled on her darkest cloak and made her way outside. She grabbed a torch from the wall and used it to guide herself to the far side of the Great Hall, into the secret entrance that led down to the hot springs that provided warmth to the keep. 

Sometime long ago, one of her ancestors had dug out three grottoes deep underneath the keep and directed the warm waters into them. Some maesters believed they had been used as baths before tubs were readily available. Most of the denizens of Winterfell had forgotten about the grottoes, but Lorelai and Lyanna had come across them one day while exploring. 

The dark stone steps led her down, down, down into the bowels of Winterfell. Deeper even than the crypts on the other side of the keep. The movement of water could be heard as soon as she got to the bottom of the steps. Around a corner she entered the hallway that had three curved arches, two on her right and one on her left, each one leading to the private coves. 

Lorelai hooked the torch inside the arch on the left after lighting two more. She unclasped her cloak — the air was humid and warm down here. Her dressing gown soon followed. The pool on the left had always been her favorite, even though it was the smallest. She stepped onto the wooden walkway above the pool and sat down, dipping her feet into the water. 

Her loud sigh of relief echoed off the two thick stone arches that bisected the space above the pool. 

“Hello?” a voice said through the dark and she nearly leapt out of her skin. A soft glow turned the corner, the sound of boots scraping the floor coming closer and closer.

“Who goes there?” Lorelai demanded, pulling her feet out of the water and standing, cursing herself for not bringing a weapon — especially in light of Bran’s fall. She snatched her dressing gown off the wall and hastily tied it shut.

“Ser Jaime Lannister,” he said, voice echoing slightly. Lorelai poked her head out of the archway and sure enough, the golden knight of Lannister stood a few yards down the hallway. Torchlight lit him, making his golden hair glow and highlighting his features.

If the years had been kind to her, they had been downright magnanimous to Jaime. His jaw had sharpened and his body had filled out into that of a man. Any trace of boyishness she remembered was gone, replaced by features that were somehow rugged and ethereal at the same time. 

“What are you doing down here?” she asked as he sauntered closer. He hooked his torch in the hallway sconce and crossed his arms across his broad chest. 

“Looking for you, of course.” 

She exited the archway and gave him her full attention. “Nearly a month of living in the same place and you seek me out now? When we are set to journey together in two days?” 

Nothing but stolen glances. And now he’d followed her to her secret space in the dead of night.

“Yes,” he said, his words clipped and sharp. “I’ve come to warn you not to return to King’s Landing.” 

She quirked an eyebrow at him and took a step closer, the stone tiles cool against her bare feet. “Why not?” 

Jaime’s green eyes locked on hers. “Something may happen to you if you do.” 

“Are you threatening me?” A step back. 

He stepped forward, throwing his hands out toward her, “No! Not me, I would never. It’s…I worry for you, that’s all.” 

It was her turn to cross her arms, which enhanced her cleavage. “Am I supposed to believe you after how coldly you’ve been acting since you arrived?” 

Jaime’s eyes glanced at her chest, landing on her eyes again. He had the audacity to look contrite. “Keeping my distance from you is the only way I can keep you safe. If you go to King’s Landing, I cannot guarantee your safety.”

“You…you’re concerned for my safety?” She softened toward him. The truth showed in his eyes, but only those who had seen behind his mask could detect it. And she had seen behind his mask many, many times.  

“Of course I am. I’ve never stopped caring for you,” he said, closing the distance between them and brushing a swath of her hair over her shoulder. He let his fingers linger on the exposed skin of her collarbone and his other arm snaked around her waist. He pulled her closer and Lorelai felt warm all over. “Please, Lorelai, stay here, far away from the Red Keep.”

Her hand drifted to his chest, palm searching for his beating heart underneath his hot skin, just like she used to. Memories of their time together flashed in her mind’s eye. She looked up at him from under her lashes, heat flooding between her legs. “I survived there before, I can do it again.” 

Their breaths mingled, adding to the humidity of the space around them. His voice low, he murmured, “It’s an entirely different game this time, Lore.” 

“Then you’ll have to tell me the rules.” She shifted her weight to the balls of her feet and pushed herself up, seeking his lips. 

Jaime all but shoved her away. The sudden distance between them left her cold. He averted his eyes from her and shifted his weight between his feet. “I…I can’t.” 

Humiliation rose in her chest and she clenched her fists. “Then I’ll figure it out on my own. Leave now, Ser Jaime.”

Much to her chagrin, he did. Without a word, he lifted his torch out of the sconce and she listened to the sound of his boots against the floor until they faded entirely. 

Lorelai entered the underground pool and slipped into the warm water, nightdress and all, sinking until every part of her was underwater, including her head. Only there did she feel comfortable screaming out her frustration.

#writing challenge #fanfiction #in bloom #game of thrones fic #got fic #jaime lannister x oc #jaime lannister fic #jaime lannister fanfic #jaime lannister #angst

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Cornflower - Poe Dameron x Reader

Cornflower (Centaurea cyanus) - Meaning: Hope in love

Summary: Your feelings for Poe come to a head after a night of drinking.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 856

Warnings: Angst/Fluff, Alcohol use/slight drunkenness, reader has feminine qualities (wears makeup and a dress) but is otherwise not physically described, use of nicknames (sweetheart, sweetness, starshine), confession of feelings, kissing

Day 18 is for Fluffy endings! Slight angst but ends with fluff.

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are ALWAYS appreciated! ❤️

“Maker above, Dameron, what will it take for you to ask me out already?” 

The cantina was mostly empty by now, and your body was buzzing with the alcohol you’d consumed. You’d gotten all dressed up, styled your hair — kriff, you’d even worn makeup in the hopes that after months and months of flirting Poe Dameron would finally ask you out. Dropping hint after hint that night had frayed your nerves and now that it was just the two of you left in the booth, you had snapped. 

Poe’s face looked like you had slapped him, perfect lips parted before setting into a firm line. He scooted back a bit, putting distance between you for the first time all night. 

He sighed, long and hard and your stomach clenched. 

“Look, sweetheart—” he started. 

“Oh, no,” you interrupted, gut falling into your shoes. “Did I misread this? All the flirting, the touches, the lingering glances — it’s all been in my head, right?” 

“No!” Poe said as your panic spiked and you looked around you, ready to bolt. “No, sweetness, it’s not all in your head.”

He put his big hands on your shoulders to keep you from running away. The haze of booze made his grip feel heavier than it actually was, the warmth radiating from his hands was insanely comforting. 

“But I…I can’t right now,” he said, tone laced with regret. 

You tilted your head at him in confusion. “Can’t what, Poe?” 

His dark eyes met yours, brow furrowing to convey the seriousness of his position, “Look, my job right now is to hop in an X-wing and blow things up and in case you hadn’t noticed, it’s not the safest of occupations.” 

You nodded gravely, knowing how many good pilots hadn’t come back. 

“So I can’t get into a relationship right now,” he said, trailing his hand down your arm and taking your hand in his. “Because I can’t be the reason someone like you falls apart in case I don’t make it back.” 

Your heart broke for him then. Suddenly, the string of one-night stands and broken hearts left in his wake made sense. All you wanted to do was wrap him in your arms and assure him that you could handle it, you wouldn’t fall apart if he didn’t come back from a mission. 

But that would be a lie. Even with him as a friend, you knew you wouldn’t recover if Poe died in the line of duty. Of course, you knew it was a risk every time he got in his X-wing but that was just a fact of life in the Resistance. You had something bigger you were fighting for. Everyone on base was prepared to die for it. 

What would it take for Poe to live for it? 

With his hand over yours on the table, his thumb absently tracing your knuckles and slowly driving you insane, you couldn’t take it anymore. 

You ripped your hand from under his and slid out of the booth, making a mad dash for the door. You didn’t slow down until you were back in your room, and that’s when you let the tears fall. The alcohol in your system wouldn’t allow for you to put this into any kind of perspective tonight, you knew that, so you resolved to just let yourself cry it out and go to bed. 

Stripping off your dress and getting into your pajamas was a herculean task, but you managed it. Just as you crawled into bed, you heard a knock at your door. 

“Sweetheart?” Poe’s muffled voice came from the other side. “Please let me in.” 

You sighed and shuffled over, punching in the door code to see Poe on the other side, looking like he’d aged ten years in the last fifteen minutes. He came in when you stepped aside. 

“I’m stupid, okay?” he declared, whipping around to face you when you closed the door and leaned against it. “What I said back there, it…I’m just…”

“Scared?” you supplied. He nodded, adam’s apple bobbing when he swallowed. You giggled at his response. “Poe Dameron, hero of the Resistance, ace pilot and bane of the First Order is afraid of little old me?” 

Maybe you were still a little drunk. 

But Poe’s incredulous laugh was worth it. You smiled at each other, moving toward each other like there was some gravitational pull between you. 

“Yeah, starshine,” he said lowly, “I’m terrified of you.”

His hands landed on your waist and yours sought out the warmth of his broad chest, neither of you looking away from the other. You didn’t stop, leaning up on your toes as he leaned down. Your lips met in the middle, and fireworks exploded behind your eyes. Heat flooded you when he deepened the kiss, his strong hand resting on the side of your neck and his thumb tracing along your jaw. 

When the two of you came up for air, he rested his forehead against yours. Breaths mingling, he asked. 

“Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?” he breathed out and you couldn’t resist teasing him. 

“I’ll think about it.”

#writing challenge #fanfiction #in bloom #fluff #slight angst #star wars fic #fem reader #poe dameron x reader #poe x reader #poe x you #poe dameron x you #poe dameron #poe dameron fic

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Forget-me-not - Eddie Munson x Reader

Forget-me-not (Myosotis) - Meaning: Don't forget me, remembrance

Summary: Reader visits Eddie's grave. Little does she know what awaits her there.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 958

Warnings: Drug use (reader smokes weed), ANGST (with a happy-ish ending), dead!Eddie, Reader was part of ST4 events, cemetery setting, Vampire!Eddie, blood

Day 17 is another angsty one but I think it ends on a positive note. I love Eddie, and I fully believe the Cas storyline is what we'll see in season 5 cuz there's no freakin way I will just forget about this sweet metalhead, you hear me Duffers??

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You held your breath for as long as you could, feeling the smoke invade your lungs before sputtering it loose. The smoke filled the inside of your shitty beater car. You knew you’d reek of it for the rest of the day but you didn’t care. 

You hadn’t cared about much for the last few months. Not since Eddie died. 

Taking another hit, you glanced over at your passenger seat. A bundle of fresh cut flowers — white daisies, the flowers Eddie had brought you on your first date because he heard they were your favorite. A pang of sadness hit you right in the gut, like a punch and you blew out the smoke, feeling the calming effect of the weed. 

You’d only been here a few times since the funeral. It was difficult to bring yourself here, to stand where his uncle had buried an empty coffin and pretend Eddie was down there instead of stuck in the hellish landscape that was the Upside-Down. 

God, everything was so fucked up. 

The whole town was convinced he was a bloodthirsty maniac who deserved what he got. Only you, Wayne, and Hellfire club knew him for what he’d been. A sweet, brave, incredible guy who lived in his imagination because reality was difficult. 

He’d called you ‘princess’ and ‘love’ and drove you to and from school every day in his van, holding your hand the whole way there. He planted kisses on your cheeks when you passed in the halls and wrote you little love notes that he snuck between the pages of your notebook or textbooks so you’d find them later. 

He’d been so gentle when he took your virginity (after having listened to your long-winded feminist rant about how virginity was a “bullshit patriarchal concept”). Every touch and sigh and moan etched on your memory forever. Afterward, he cleaned you up and wrapped you in his lanky arms and told you he loved you for the first time, his big doe eyes shining in the dim light of his room. 

You’d been so incredibly, irrevocably in love with him. And he was gone. 

If you didn’t get out of the car now, you never would, so you stubbed out your blunt and grabbed the flowers and got out. The cemetery was quiet, despite being next to a busy highway. It was early evening, the sun hanging low in the sky and casting everything in an orange glow. Walking through the rows and rows of headstones until you found the familiar name. 

‘Edward Munson’

‘Now at Peace’

Except that wasn’t the truth. His body was rotting in another dimension, probably torn to shreds and completely unrecognizable by now. 

“Hey, love,” you said to the chunk of granite. “I brought daisies.” You crouched, laying the bouquet in front of the headstone before plucking out a few longer blades of grass that threatened to obscure his name. 

You sat down in front of it, not really sure what to do. Talk to him? Cry? Another long feminist rant about how you hated the idea of marriage but how you would’ve married him in a heartbeat? 

Because you would’ve. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” you said, absentmindedly picking at the grass around you. “I should’ve gone with you and Dustin. I could have dragged you back so at least you’d be here and not there. If I’d been there, you’d be home. Or maybe you…” you trailed off with a long sigh. “It’s no use living in the past, is it? Except that’s where you are, it’s the only place you are right now and I can’t — how do I keep going on without you? I just want to hear you laugh again, Eddie. Feel your arms around me one more time…” 

Tears spilled down your cheeks. The gaping wound in your chest reopened and you doubled over, letting yourself sob. You cried until the sun disappeared, at some point laying down on your side in the fetal position. 

At some point you must’ve fallen asleep, because you woke up sometime later to a brush against your cheek. Your eyes fluttered open and you shivered in the chilly night air as you sat up, looking around. You had the strange feeling you weren’t alone. 

The sound of leaves rustling behind you made you turn, and you choked on your gasp. 

Sitting on top of his own headstone, looking a little worse for wear but still beautiful, was Eddie. His clothes were torn, but free of blood. His curls were frizzing out under his bandana, and his rings glinted in the moonlight. 

He looked up at you from under his brow and smiled wickedly, “Hello, princess.” 

You scrambled toward him, a fresh wave of tears falling down your cheeks. Eddie met you in the middle, kneeling in front of his headstone and welcoming you into his embrace which you dove into, clutching his leather jacket and burying your face in his neck. 

“Shh, princess, I’m here,” he muttered soothingly. Placing kisses from your cheek down to your neck, you barely registered a pinching pain from his teeth. He groaned. “Ohh, you taste so good. Missed you so much, so sweet for me…”

You sniffled and pulled back from him to look him in the eyes — his big brown eyes that you swore you could drown in — but your gaze was drawn down to his chin, covered in something that made it dark. With a shaking hand, you reached up and traced his lower lip, gathering some of the substance. 

Blood.

You looked back at Eddie, who was still holding you and gazing down at you like he always had. Full of love, hope, all-encompassing joy. 

And then he smiled, revealing two long, razor-sharp fangs.

#writing challenge #fanfiction #in bloom #angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson #vampire!eddie munson

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Magnolia - Din Djarin x Reader

Magnolia (Magnolia) - Meaning: Dignity, perseverance

Summary: Din is blackmailed by Peli into going to the doctor for the first time since he took his Creed. The doctor is not what he expected.

Pairing: Din x Reader (3rd person POV)

Word Count: 2386

Warnings: 3rd person POV, Peli being a bit of a bully, no Grogu, probably inaccurate Star Wars medical practices, Din being mysterious, tattooed!Din, needles/hyposprays, brief helmetless!Din but not in front of reader, awkward!Din warming up to someone, slight touch-starved!Din if you squint

Day 16 is the longest so far! This was supposed to be the first chapter of a series featuring Din and a doctor love interest, but I think it works here too. Also, today is my anniversary with my partner, so I'm dedicating this to him! 13 years together, 9 married. Holy shit, where does time go?

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“I don’t wanna hear it, Mando!” the older woman exclaimed, “Doc, you here? Sit down, would ya? You’re makin’ me nervous. Doc?” 

A modulated voice said something she couldn’t make out as she made her way out of the exam room to the waiting area. Peli was facing her, hands of her hips, but her attention immediately went to she silver-clad form of a man sitting on a chair in her waiting room. His head was covered with a shiny helmet, his gloved hands resting on his thighs, and even though she couldn’t read his expression on his face she could see the tension in his form. 

“Good, you’re here,” Peli said to her, “My friend Mando here,” she jerked her thumb over her shoulder to the man, “has just informed me that he hasn’t been to a doctor since he was a child, and in his line of work that seems really stupid so I dragged him here, you got time for an exam?” 

“Of course,” she said, “but I feel it needs to be said that I don’t usually perform exams on unwilling patients…over the age of 8, that is.” She smirked. And the Mandalorian’s helmet tilted as if in disbelief. He rose to his feet, his full height and breadth unfolding to take up much more space than she’d initially thought. 

“Fine,” the modulated voice said, ”Let’s get this over with.” 

Peli’s smirk read of something deeper than concern for her beskar-clad friend, but she didn’t have time to parse it for meaning as the Mandalorian made his way toward where she stood in the doorway between the exam room and the waiting room. She stepped aside and held out an arm to usher him into the small room. 

“Thanks, Doc,” Peli said, “Send him back my way when you’re done, I’ve got his ship.” 

“Will do,” she replied, now understanding more about how Peli was able to manhandle such a large, broad person into her clinic.

The bell above the front door jingled as Peli left, leaving her alone with the Mandalorian. She would’ve been more uncomfortable if it weren’t for the numerous sharp instruments within her reach, as well as the hidden blaster strapped under the exam table. 

One couldn’t be too careful on Tatooine. 

The Mandalorian was looking around the small room, possibly assessing for threats until she cleared her throat, getting to work mode. 

“So I think we can just run a few tests and do a quick workup, nothing invasive. That should placate Peli, at least.” 

“Okay,” he said through the modulator, standing stiffly in the middle of the room as she busied herself with grabbing a holopad and passing it over to him.

“Fill this out,” she said quickly, busying herself with grabbing supplies for a blood draw and a retinal scan. 

“Um,” the voice said from behind her and she paused, turning toward her patient, “I, uh, I don’t know my birth date.” 

“That’s okay, just an approximate age is fine.” She went about her business, prepping a few vaccines and a bacta hypospray just in case while his gloved fingers tap-tapped on the holopad. When she was finished, she turned and leaned back against the counter and watched him as he finished. 

It didn’t take a doctor to note the obvious power of the Mandalorian’s body, half-bent over the holopad on the exam table. She scanned his posture, the way he held himself as he tapped with his right hand and noted a few things she wanted to mention. With how well-muscled he had to be under the heavy beskar, she figured he had a physically demanding job, and it was then she remembered Peli mentioning a bounty hunter friend of hers. 

He was silent as he finished and passed her the holopad. Under the ‘Name’ field he’d put simply, ‘Mando’ and she couldn’t help the smile that rose on her face. As a race, Mandalorians were notoriously secretive. 

Scanning the rest of the info sheet, she saw he mentioned back pain and bad knees as places of concern. Other than that, she didn’t see anything glaringly off. 

“Okay, this all looks about right for your estimated age, but I still want to take some blood and update your vaccinations,” she glanced at him from under her lashes and he grunted in what she assumed was assent. “Can you take your, um,” she gestured to the armor adorning his thick arms, not knowing what they were called, “arm pieces off? I’ll need to get in your veins there.” 

The Mandalorian hesitated, going eerily still. If she wasn’t mistaken, she thought she heard a sharp intake of breath through the modulator. Tension rose within the room, but she was well-trained so she turned her back to him to offer a little privacy and used the moment to sanitize her hands and pull on a pair of exam gloves, pleasantly satisfied when she heard the clanking of armor being shed and the heavy pieces being carefully placed on the table.

She turned back around and watched him rolling up the sleeves of his flight suit, exposing his  muscular arms up to his biceps and she had to remind herself that she was a professional — salivating over a patient was unethical. With a deep breath she went back into Doctor mode, assessing his arms for easy-to-access veins. 

A hiss sounded from him when she palpated his inner elbow and she looked up at his blank t-shaped visor. 

“Did that hurt?” she asked. 

The helmet shook, “Cold hands.” 

She smiled, “Sorry, should’ve warned you. Kind of ironic isn’t it?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Considering it’s hotter than a Mustafarian volcano outside,” she explained, pressing further and finding a juicy vein. “Little pinch,” she said, using the prepped needle to pierce his golden-brown skin. If she wasn’t mistaken, she glimpsed the bottom edge of a tattoo hiding under his rolled-up sleeve. 

When the vial was full, she pulled the needle out and took some of the prepared bacta gel across the small hole in Mando’s skin, then put a small bandage over it. “That can come off in half an hour. Let me get this sample going so I can get your results before you leave, then we can do the retinal scan.” 

She moved toward the far side of the room toward her lab equipment, but a large hand on her wrist stopped her. 

“Retinal scan?” Mando asked, helmet tilted in concern. 

“Yeah, it’s really quick. Just to make sure your brain function is normal, no big deal,” she explained with a shrug. With how still he once again was, she guessed it was not, in fact, not a big deal to him. 

From what little she knew of Mandalorian culture, their armor and weapons were sacred to them but he’d already taken off his arm pieces. Maybe something about the helmet was different? 

“I…my Creed, uh, I can’t remove my helmet,” he said haltingly, removing his hand from her wrist. 

It was her turn to tilt her head in confusion, “What, like ever? How do you shower?” 

“I can take it off, but not in front of other living beings. If I did, I couldn’t put it back on.” 

“Oh,” she breathed. She nibbled on her lower lip as she tried to think of a solution. She didn’t want to let him leave without the scan but at the same time she couldn’t ask him to break his Creed for a fifteen-second scan. 

“Ah! Okay,” she exclaimed as an idea came to her. She grabbed the scanner off of its charger and put it on the exam table in front of him. “I’ll step out, you remove your helmet and run the scan yourself. It’s easy,” she said, sensing his hesitation, “Push this button here and hold the scanner in front of your eyes until it double beeps, about fifteen seconds, then you put your helmet back on and I’ll come back. Think that’ll work?” she asked, looking up at his visor hopefully. 

After a few seconds, he replied “Yeah. That’ll work.” 

Her smile widened and she nodded, “Let me get your blood tests going and then I’ll step out.” 

Din’s POV 

This was the exact reason he hadn’t been to a doctor since taking the Creed. Every Mandalorian covert had their own stash of medical supplies and were trained in first aid, so it never seemed important. He’d been cursing himself for mentioning his back pain to Peli until stepping into the Doctor’s office. 

The fact that she was holding his ship pretty much hostage until he went to the Doctor was only part of what got him here. 

To her credit, the Doctor had been respectful and considerate so far — her solution to his issue with the brain scan was simple, but spoke volumes to her character. Having only known her for a few minutes he could tell she was trustworthy, even though something in her eyes spoke of some hidden truths. 

Not wanting to keep her waiting in the other room for long, he double checked his surroundings before removing his helmet, pushing the button on the scanner that she’d shown him, and waiting for the ‘beep-beep’ to signal it had finished. 

He replaced his helmet and called her back into the room. She swept back in and smiled at him. 

“That didn’t hurt too much, did it?” she asked in a joking tone that made him smirk. She was cheeky, this doctor. 

“Virtually painless,” he said. 

“Good, wouldn’t want to completely scare you off,” she joked again but his breath caught in his throat. She placed the scanner on its charging port and looked at the screen in front of her, assessing the results with a furrow in her brow. 

Din took a moment to finally look at her. He’d already noticed how pretty she was, hair drawn back and up off her neck to combat the heat of the Tatooine suns. Her eyes were sharp and intelligent, and every time she’d looked his way he felt like she could see through the beskar he wore. Unknowingly, she’d already locked eyes with him a few times despite his helmet. While she looked over his results, she absentmindedly played with a necklace — some sort of pendant on a long silver chain — he didn’t see any more jewelry. 

“Well, your brain looks normal. No irregularities or past concussions showing up, but I guess that’s what the helmet is for,” she said, glancing his way. He nodded.”You mentioned some back pain, which is normal for your age, but I can take a look and maybe get you some pain supplements.” 

He nodded again and swept his cape aside, gathering it over one shoulder and exposing his jetpack. 

“Well,” she said with a chuckle, “that’ll do it.” She grabbed a different scanner while he took off his jetpack. His entire spine straightened as he felt her fingers ghost along his lower back. 

“May I?” she asked, and he swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry. 

“Yes.”

She gently lifted the back of his flight shirt, the coldness of her fingers raising goosebumps along his arms. The scanner she held chirped, and she dropped his shirt back into place. 

“Just what I thought,” she said as he pulled the jetpack back on. “Looks like it’s muscular, not spinal, so I’ll throw some anti-inflammatory salve, and if you’d like, some pain supplement. A mild one,” she added.

“Thank you,” he said. 

She crossed to a cabinet, bending down to open it and Din averted his gaze. From inside she extracted a small tin and a glass jar, cursing when she found it empty. 

“Kriffing hell,” she muttered, “Sorry, looks like I’m out of the pain supplement. Outer Rim supply lines suck.” 

“That’s okay,” he offered, but she was insistent. 

“I feel bad now, getting your hopes up like that. I have something stronger but I figured with being a bounty hunter you’d want to keep your wits about you.” 

“I appreciate that. The salve will do fine for now.” 

“I mean, if you ever find yourself in a trading outpost or on Arvala-7, you could get some for yourself. I’ll write down the name.” She busied herself with that for a moment before another mechanical buzzing caught her attention. 

“Ah, your blood results!” Fluttering past, she slipped the piece of flimsi into his gloved hand. He caught a whiff of her scent — night-blooming flowers and citrus, with a tinge of sweat.

She pursed her lips, and Din wanted to reach over and pull the bottom one loose with his thumb. All her touches had awakened something in him that he usually kept locked away. “Hmm…looks like you’re a little low on Potassium and a few different vitamins, but no major illnesses or viruses, which is good. No malignant bacteria hiding in your bloodstream either, no parasites…damn, that beskar keeps everything out, doesn’t it?” 

She glanced his way, but kept on talking, “I’m still going to recommend a few vaccines, and a bit of a diet change. Let me guess, you mostly survive on ration packs?” 

He nodded, “I do.” 

“I’m going to suggest eating some more fruits in general, that’ll help with the vitamin deficiencies and the potassium. Ration packs are pretty nutritious, but with your lifestyle you burn through certain things quicker than others, so it’s best to supplement the packs. Just a few more hypos and you’ll be all set to go back to Peli with a clean bill of health. Any other questions or concerns?” 

Part of him wanted to ask if she was busy later that night, especially when they locked eyes under his helmet. His mouth went dry, and all he could manage was a shake of his head. 

He cleared his throat, “No, no. Thank you, Doctor.” 

“You are very welcome, Mando,” she said, handing him a small bag with papers and the salve inside. 

“Din,” he offered before he could think about it.

“Hmm?”

He cleared his throat again, “My name is Din.”

Her smile was radiant and Din felt a flutter in his chest. “Nice to meet you, Din. Whenever you need me, I’m here.” 

He reached out and shook her proffered hand. “I’ll be sure to take you up on that, Doc.”

#writing challenge #fanfiction #in bloom #fluff #star wars fic #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fic #din djarin x oc

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Clematis - Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Clematis (Clematis) - Meaning: Ingenuity, cleverness

Summary: Anthony's lover comes up with a way to see him after the ball.

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Word Count: 1504

Warnings: SMUT, probably poorly written cunnilingus (F receiving), reader has female anatomy, Regency era gender politics, Anthony loves giving head

Day 15 and not sure how I feel about this one. Getting it in under the wire, it's almost midnight where I'm at. I just want a man to come in through my window and eat my 😼 okay???

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If this was how Anthony Bridgerton kissed, you couldn’t imagine how else he could make you feel. His lips were firm against yours, but gentle, coaxing, his large hands tracing down your neck and along the line of your decollete which made your breath hitch. 

Part of the intoxication was the danger of the situation — you were the daughter of an Earl, a respectable lady of the Ton, and if you were discovered with Anthony Bridgerton’s hands and lips all over you, you would be ruined. 

You broke the kiss, needing an influx of air or you would surely faint. Anthony rested his forehead against yours. 

“I need you,” you breathed out, “Anthony, I need you.” 

He ran a delicate finger down your chest, “Not here, dearest.” 

“Then where? When?” You couldn’t help the whine that escaped you as you pressed your pliant body against his firm one. 

He sighed, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “If only I could whisk you away from here without drawing suspicion.” 

An idea came to mind — it was risky, but if he agreed you could continue feeling like you were on fire, and oh, how you wanted to burn. 

“Come to my home, tonight,” you whispered, gasping a little as his lips pressed against your neck, licking over your jeweled necklace. “There’s a trellis just under my window, you can climb right up.” 

“You wish for me to defile you in your own bedroom?” Anthony growled against your neck, “Naughty girl.” 

He agreed to the plan nonetheless, and you straightened yourself before heading back to your parents, claiming a headache and asking for the carriage. 

“But dear, you haven’t danced with Lord Hollingsworth yet!” your Mama declared, having selected the oh-so-boring yet oh-so-available man as your best hope for marriage at the beginning of the season. 

“Now, now Cecelia,” your Papa chimed in, “if the girl is unwell we shan’t force her to dance. I’ll call the carriage, dears, you two gather your things and say your goodbyes.” He nodded at you and ducked away, eager to get home as usual. 

From across the ballroom, you caught Anthony’s eye and nodded slightly. He winked, sending the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. He was to give you ninety minutes to make sure your parents were asleep, then scale your trellis like a hero in a romantic novel. 

Immediately upon your return home, you excused yourself upstairs. Your maid helped you undress, but you dismissed her quickly, claiming you could handle taking the pins out of your hair on your own. Over the next hour, you listened as your father retired to his study and your mother to her bedroom. 

Once you were sure your parents were in for the night, you placed a candle in your window — his signal that the coast was clear. Unable to remain still, you started pacing your room. Would he show up or leave you twisting in the wind like this? 

Only a few minutes of pacing later a knock came from your window. You dashed over, unlatching it and moving the candle for Anthony to pull himself up. He did so athletically, like letting a tiger into your bedroom. When he was inside, you closed the window and he was on you in a heartbeat, hot kisses along the back of your neck while his hands slid around your waist. 

Your hand came up to grip the back of his head, your fingers lacing through his silken hair. You pressed back against him, turning your head to meet his lips with your own. He tasted like whiskey and sin. He spun you around in his grasp and tugged you close to him by your hips. 

You gasped as you felt his cock pressing into your lower tummy — he was large. For a moment you hesitated, wondering how something so large would fit inside you, but Anthony’s insistent grip on your hips turned into him grabbing handfuls of your nightgown and pulling the cool silk up, up, up. 

“You came,” you gasped breathlessly.

“You didn’t think I would? Tsk, tsk,” he joked, clicking his tongue at you. “My dear, now that I’ve had a taste, I cannot get enough.” 

He emphasized his point by kissing your lips once again, licking his tongue into your mouth. You responded with a soft moan, which only seemed to spur him on. 

Before you knew what was happening, Anthony had tossed you back onto your bed and was  crawling over you, bringing the hem of your nightgown with him. Your breath hitched as you felt his warm, large fingers tracing trails of fire up your legs, teasing your wetness through your undergarments. 

“May I taste you,” he asked, and you moaned your response which prompted him to stop his fingers only an inch from where you needed him most. Opening your eyes, you looked down at him and whined. He rose to meet your lips with his. “I need you to remain quiet, otherwise I will stop. And we don’t want that, sweet one, do we?” 

Anything. Anything he wanted as long as he kept touching you. When he saw you nod, he hooked a finger beneath your gusset and ripped it, baring your wetness to him. With eyes dark as obsidian in the light of the single candle burning, he gazed up at you with such heat as you had never known. 

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, then licked a long stripe into you, sending a lightning bolt up your spine. His lips curled around your clit and you shuddered. A moan threatened to slip past your lips but you clamped your hand over your mouth to stop it. The noise was caught in your throat, fluttering like a canary in a cage. 

Anthony hummed a, “good girl,” against you, making you clench around nothing. 

You moved your hands, making an effort to keep your tone low, “More, please!”

You felt him smirk against you before he redoubled his efforts, this time breaching your entrance with a thick finger. Moaning at the intrusion, Anthony took this as an invitation to add another finger, stretching you deliciously. 

You were close, so close, his fingers pumping and hitting a spot within you that you couldn’t reach, his tongue flicking against your clit. Each movement made the knot in your lower tummy tighten, threatening to snap at any moment. 

“Anthony, please,” you whined, unable to control your volume.

He slowed his fingers and removed his mouth from you. “Quiet,” he hissed, “Or do you wish for your parents to find me here?” 

Unconsciously, you clenched around his fingers. The danger of being caught added something you couldn’t name to the situation. Anthony smiled. “Mmm, does my sweet want to get caught?” He teased, and you clenched again, “I think she does. Such a wanton little strumpet, tempting me into a dark corner to kiss me, then inviting me to her bedchambers in the middle of the night, and squeezing my fingers at the thought of someone coming in…”

His words, said in his tantalizing baritone, were pushing you closer and closer to the edge. If only he would put his mouth to better use and—

As if reading your mind, his lips landed back on your clit and his fingers picked up their pace once more, again finding the spot within you that made you see stars with every pass. 

You clamped your hands over your mouth again and moaned his name, which only spurred him on. He drove into you, his tongue and lips reciting an ode against you, dedicating it to you and your pleasure. Having the entire focus of this season’s most eligible bachelor was intoxicating to say the least — and inevitably what pushed you straight into your climax. 

You writhed against him, held in place by his strong forearm as he worked you through your orgasm, the aftershocks lasting much longer than they normally did. Anthony remained between your legs and cleaned up every drop of your release before withdrawing. 

The clock in the hall chimed thrice. Anthony joined you when you reached for him, kissing you deeply and letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You let your hand drift to the front of his trousers, palming his length until he guided your wrist away. 

“As much as I wish for it, I have an early appointment and must be on my way.” 

You pouted up at him, but he placed a sweet kiss to your forehead before slipping off the end of your bed with a promise to see you again soon. 

You watched as he made his way back down the trellis. When he got to the bottom, he blew you a kiss before disappearing into the dark Mayfair night.

The early appointment Anthony had, you would find out later, was to meet with your father. He asked for your hand that afternoon. And, knowing what awaited you in your marital bed, you happily said yes.

#writing challenge #in bloom #fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fic #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x reader #smut #bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton smut

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Sweet Pea - Steve Rogers x Reader

Sweet Pea (Lathyrus odoratus) - Meaning: Thank you for a lovely time, farewell

Summary: While on the run, Steve comes to reader for comfort. What starts as a series of one night stands turns into so much more.

Pairing: Nomad!Steve x Reader

Word Count: 955

Warnings: Allusions to smut, Steve leaving notes and being sweet, domestic fluff, dirty notes and drawings, the Blip, angst, Steve freaking out

Day 14 brings us some fluffy angst with our favorite Nomad!

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, comments, and reblogs are SUPER appreciated! ❤️

You kept the notes squirreled away in a small box in the back of your sock drawer. Steve always left one, using whatever scrap of paper was nearby. After the first few notes you’d taken to keeping post-its and a pen on your nightstand, which he used from then on to leave you his sweet farewells. 

The first few notes were stiff, formal, things like ‘Thank you for a lovely time, Sincerely Yours, Steve’ or ‘I truly appreciate you, Best, Steve’ like he was thanking you for picking up his dry cleaning rather than letting him fuck you into next week. 

At the beginning of your relationship, he’d only come by your safe house after dark and would leave almost right after you passed out. The more times he visited, the more comfortable he got and the longer he would linger. Sometimes you’d wake up in the wee hours with him spooning you, snoring adorably, but he’d always be gone by morning, a note left for you stuck to your coffee maker, a full pot already made. 

He was sweet like that. 

‘Thanks for last night. You’re incredible. <3 Steve’

‘I’ll miss you, but I won’t be gone long. <3 Steve’

‘See you soon, beautiful. <3 Steve’ 

The little doodled heart next to his name made your heart stutter. 

His visits became more frequent, from once every few months to once a month to every other week or so. More often than not, you woke up next to him. The first time that happened you’d shaken him awake, afraid he was late to something or needed to go. He’d smiled his classically handsome smile and simply folded you back into his arms. 

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he said, voice still thick with sleep. “I don’t have to be anywhere for a while yet.” 

A while yet turned out to be two full days with Steve. At first, you weren’t sure about his presence in your house, thinking he’d be bored out of his mind, but he found some home projects you’d been neglecting and did as much as he could in the time he had. The domesticity of it all was a new kind of intimacy that neither of you were familiar with, so there were some awkward moments trying to figure out each other's routines and particularities. But once that initial adjustment period was over, everything felt…natural.

You feared this would be the end of his sweet little notes, but instead of the end the notes started popping up everywhere. Sometimes it was a flirtatious note, sometimes a quick drawing of something silly or pornographic or a reference to something he now understood thanks to your pop culture tutelage. 

‘I love your tits in that top ;)’

‘Meet me upstairs when you’re done in the garden’

‘I definitely didn't use the last of the milk, it was a ghost. Who ya gonna call?’ 

The drawing he did of you pegging a suspiciously Steve-shaped Deadpool was probably your favorite. That one got taped to the fridge. 

While he was on the run, you were more than happy to provide him a safe place. His touchstone when he needed a reminder that he was still a human being. A place where he could fully shed the fugitive mantle and act like a normal person. 

He gets the call from Nat while he’s rehanging drywall in your upstairs bathroom. They needed him to get to Edinburgh, some weird readings were coming through whatever scanners she had. You were at the grocery store, so he grabbed the post-its from his side of the bed and wrote a note. 

‘Got a call from Nat, gotta go save the world again <3 Love you, Steve’

He stuck it where he’d be sure you’d find it, on the fridge, next to the naughty drawing that you loved, and made sure to lock the door when he left. 

A few days later, the truck he’d commandeered screeched to a halt in your driveway. His heart pounded in his chest as he thudded up the porch steps and threw his shoulder into your front door, busting it open — he’d fix it later, he had to know. 

He called your name and ran from room to room, searching for you desperately. Half the world was gone, and he couldn’t waste another second without knowing if you were one of them. 

He’d already lost Bucky. He couldn’t lose you too. 

Up in your bedroom he found his answer. On the bed, spread all over his side of it, were all the notes he’d written you. On your side, nothing but a hint of dust. His legs went numb, but they managed to bring him to the end of the bed before he collapsed, gripping the duvet and some of his wayward notes. 

Steve couldn’t hold back anymore, so he let the tears fall pitifully — first Bucky, then Wanda, Sam, T’Challa, so, so many others. And now, you were gone too. The one person who could have possibly helped him hold together what was left, had already done that once before after his schism with Stark. He’d come to you shattered and slowly, carefully, you’d glued him back together. 

“Steve?” your quiet voice asked. At first, he didn’t move, convinced he was hearing things until he felt your small hand on his shoulder. 

He turned, your name falling from his lips like a sacred prayer before he wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his wet face in your stomach. More tears fell, but these were from relief. 

“You’re alive,” he chanted, voice muffled by your tummy. You shushed him gently, running your fingers through his hair. 

“I’m here, Steve,” you promised, “I’ll always be here.”

#writing challenge #fanfiction #in bloom #mcu fanfic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #the blip #nomad!steve x reader #nomad!steve x you #fluff #angst

[starstruckunknown-princess]

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Honeysuckle - Roy Kent x Reader

Honeysuckle (Lonicera) - Meaning: Devotion, affection

Summary: Reader is sick, Roy takes care of them.

Pairing: Roy Kent x Reader

Word Count: 646

Warnings: Language, Reader has a nasty cold, workaholicism, Roy tough loves the reader, Roy being adorably attentive and protective.

Here's a quicky for Day 13! I may have written this cuz I've been fighting a sinus infection and want this hairy foul-mouthed bastard to take care of me cuz I know he'd be amazing at it.

In Bloom Masterlist

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“No fuckin’ way, love,” Roy declared, snatching your work phone from your hand despite your protest. You’d managed to sneak it up to your bedroom without him noticing. Or, at least, you thought you had. 

“Roy, come on, I need to—” you said before another wave of hacking coughs overtook your airway, making it impossible to continue. 

“No, you’re not fuckin’ workin’ when you’re fuckin’ sick. Taxes your immune system too much, so no I won’t be giving your fuckin’ phone back,” he explained, tucking your work phone in his back pocket and well out of your reach. “But I will give you your iPad, which I disconnected from your work shit.” 

“You do know my work shit directly affects you, right?” you asked through a smile. You ran the Richmond AFC account for KBPR, which was a pretty hands-on assignment. 

“And Keely told you they would handle it while you’re out,” Roy reminded. You were loath to take a sick day, let alone two in a row, but Keely had insisted over FaceTime that everything would be handled while you got better. She and Roy had practically bullied you back into bed this morning. 

You groaned, leaning back into your pillows. “Fine. I won’t work today. I’ll just sit around and watch daytime telly like a lazy, boring lump and have no purpose.” 

“Oi!” Roy’s sharp tone almost made you startle. Bewildered, you looked at him and saw his brows were drawn down, the firm line of his mouth and tightness in his jaw all suggested his frustration. “That’s enough outta you. You are not only the hardest working person I know, you’re also fine as all hell and fuckin’ deserve to have a few days off, especially when you’ve basically become a mucus factory and can’t even breathe through your fuckin’ nose, alright?” 

This was the tone he used when players were being too hard on themselves. The tone he used whenever he was trying to boost someone’s confidence. His tough love tone. Yeah, it was tough, but it was fueled by his love for you so you took his words to heart. 

“Okay, okay,” you cajoled and he nodded sharply, disappearing from the room only to return moments later with a tray — where did he get a tray? You were sure you didn’t own one — full of things. He put it on the empty spot on your bed where he usually slept. 

“Alright, ya got your iPad, tv zapper, tissues, meds, that cinnamon tea you like, a little pot of honey, some cough drops, some chocolates, that trashy romance novel you’ve been reading, and I put your mug warmer on your nightstand in case the tea gets cold. I gotta go run training, but I’ll be back in a few hours to check on ya. If you need anything in the meantime, text me, yeah?” 

“Yeah, Roy, I will,” you promised. 

“I mean anything, more tea, whatever. Don’t lift a fuckin’ finger, I’ll send Will over to — ya know what, I’ll just have him come over now in case—” He looked down at his phone, starting to text, but you put your hand on his forearm to stop him. Your heart swelled with love for this man, and you couldn’t help but beam at him. 

“Roy, you don’t need to send Will to babysit. I’ll be okay until you get back.” 

“You sure, love?” he asked, looking at you like he wanted to secure you in bubble wrap. 

You coughed, then stretched a little. “Yeah, I’ll probably just go back to sleep.” 

Roy nodded, “Good. Get your rest.” His phone chimed. “I gotta go, Beard wants to meet early about Man City’s defensive line.”

“Right, you go, I’ll stay here and nap.” 

Roy bent over and placed a tender kiss on your forehead. “Love you.” 

You beamed up at him, “Love you more.” 

#writing challenge #fanfiction #in bloom #fluff #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfiction #roy kent x reader #roy kent x you #sick fic #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent

[starstruckunknown-princess]

You should totally do more characterXreader fics!!

I'll be posting one characterXreader fic a day until the end of April!

In the meantime, check out my Masterlist! The Fluffcember list has a lot of different characters and the In Bloom list is all my April fics so far.

Enjoy!

#fanfiction #game of thrones fic #got fic #star wars fic #triple frontier fic #mcu fanfic

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Snapdragon - Bruce Wayne x Reader

Snapdragon (Antirrhinum) - Meaning: Presumption, deception

Summary: Reader thinks her boyfriend, Bruce Wayne, is cheating on her. Bruce tries to figure out how to tell her about his nighttime activities.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Word Count: 1864

Warnings: Suspected infidelity, angst, discussion of insecurities, a little bit of gaslighting/misdirection from Bruce, Alfred is a sassy bitch, Bruce is a mopey bastard, cliffhanger ending

Day 12 takes a sharp turn back into angst! I wrote this with the Christian Bale Batman and Michael Caine Alfred in mind, but use any Batman/Alfred you fancy. Also, sorry for the cliffhanger.

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are incredibly appreciated! ❤️

Bruce was cheating on you, you knew it. He hadn’t spent the night at your place in weeks, was texting you back at odd hours at night, and whenever you did manage to pin him down for a date he seemed disengaged, preoccupied, like he would rather be elsewhere. 

Dating Gotham’s Prince was difficult enough as it was, press following you everywhere and your face showing up in supermarket tabloids — you were just a regular person, you didn’t come from money or rub elbows with Gotham’s social elite, you had a regular boring desk job to pay the bills. 

You met Bruce by accident one day when you were on your way into work. You weren’t paying attention and almost walked into oncoming traffic, but Bruce had caught your arm just as you stepped off the curb, spilling your coffee. You’d turned, ready to give him such a tongue-lashing, but a motorcyclist zipped by at an ungodly speed right where you’d been about to step. Bruce then offered to replace your coffee and escort you to the office (“For your own safety,” he’d insisted with a  devilish smirk that you couldn’t say no to). 

You’d been dating ever since, almost a year now, which surprised most of the press. Numerous gossip sites were speculating about how you’d managed to keep Bruce’s interest for that long, but you’d learned to tune all their shit out. 

The insecurity you felt now stemmed from Bruce’s own behavior, not the latest expulsion of bile from the gossipmongers online. You’d texted Bruce to meet you at your place after work, only receiving a thumbs-up emoji back. 

You weren’t worth a real response. You weren’t worth his honesty. You weren’t worth him.

Shaking that insidious voice out of your head, you decided you needed a drink. In the middle of pouring yourself a glass of wine (box wine, another reminder of the insurmountable differences between you and Bruce) a knock sounded at the door. 

Looking through the peep hole, you saw a large bouquet of flowers held in front of a tired-looking Bruce. You opened the door and let him in, accepting the flowers and a kiss on the cheek. 

“Hello, gorgeous,” Bruce said, lingering near your cheek and stepping closer, putting his hands on your hips and pulling you closer to him. You tensed in his grasp, and he immediately let go, lifting your chin with a finger so you had to look him in the eye. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” 

Looking into his baby blues was a little too much to handle, so you simply nodded and moved away from him. 

“Yeah, just gonna get these in water,” you said, lifting the bouquet slightly. Fishing the one vase you owned out of the cupboard, you filled it at the sink. Bruce followed your movements, hands in his pants pockets while he watched. 

“I’ve only got a few minutes, unfortunately, but I was hoping you were free this Friday for a proper date,” he offered, smiling in his charming way. You only hummed your response, focusing on rearranging the flowers so they looked nice in the vase.

You had a speech prepared, known exactly what you wanted to say to him to get him to confess that he was cheating. Now that he was here, however, your well-formulated hypothesis was harder and harder to grasp. Like smoke, it dissipated the more you tried to catch it. 

“You sure everything’s okay? You seem tense,” Bruce observed. That was your cue, and you knew you had to take it before he got any closer. Once he had his hands on you, every rational thought would flee and you’d be at his mercy. 

“Are you cheating on me?” you asked, fighting to keep your composure. You’d never been good at confrontation, so you figured the best way to handle this was firm, direct, like ripping off a band-aid. You tried to put on a confident air even though your insides were practically liquifying with nerves. 

Bruce sighed, “We talked about this, you can’t believe anything you read on those sites. They’re just in it for the clicks-”

“I’m not-! I didn’t get it off the internet, it’s just…you’ve been distant lately, and I can’t think of any explanation other than you found someone more…in your league,” you explained, wrapping your arms around you in an effort to comfort yourself. The insecurities you felt earlier were slipping into your words, despite your best efforts to shove them aside.

Bruce softened, took a step toward where you were standing in your kitchen. When you didn’t flinch away, he laid his hands on your shoulders. “Babe, you are in my league. Hell, you’re way above my league, and I don’t care what anyone else thinks.” 

“I don’t either,” you said, “but this isn’t coming from an external source, it’s what I’ve noticed when it’s just the two of us. You seem distracted, like you don’t want to be in the moment with me. And it’s a rare occurrence that you text me back before midnight, if at all.” 

Bruce’s hands stroked down your arms, warming your skin. He leaned down into your eye line. “I’m sorry for that. I didn’t know you were feeling that way, I’ll be better about being present with you, I promise. There’s just been a lot going on at work and it’s been…busy, I’ve been busy, you know?” 

You nodded, “I know.” 

“But,” he said, unhooking your hands from where they’d been holding your elbows, “Now that I know, we can fix it. I’m gonna do better. Thank you for telling me.” 

You let him unfold your arms and bring them up around his shoulders, resting them there and bringing his hands to your lower back. He kept his grasp loose until, against your better judgment, you tightened your arms and pulled him into a hug. He returned your embrace, planting a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

When he held you like this it was easy, too easy, to forget your stupid insecurities and let yourself trust him. In his embrace, every imperfection you nitpicked about yourself ceased to exist. He was a safe space — well, until recently. 

Bruce said your name quietly to get your attention. You looked up at him. 

“I love you,” he said, the look on his face betraying the heartbreaking truth of his statement. 

You pushed up on your toes and kissed his lips quickly — any slower and you’d completely melt into him. 

“I love you too, Bruce.” 

________

Later that night…

Bruce was well and truly fucked. He’d known it was only a matter of time before you noticed his odd behavior, the late hours, the preoccupation and distractibility. Fuck! 

He and Alfred had rules, dammit, and he should’ve followed them. 

No more than five dates or two months, whichever comes first. 

They’re never allowed to roam the house unsupervised. 

Most importantly, keep feelings out of it. Sex and companionship, nothing more and nothing less. 

But it was different with you. You’d…surprised him, which he didn’t think was possible anymore. You were funny and gorgeous — not his usual type, but still enchanting — and a little spiky, which only intrigued him more. For the first time, Bruce wanted to get to know someone on a deeper level. Maybe it was age, or he was finally ready to admit he wasn’t an island, or maybe he was just sick of the endless line of vapid, waifish model-types he usually dated, but whatever the reason you came into his life at exactly the right time and you were…perfect. 

What was the old saying, nothing good can stay? The truth of that statement weighed on him as he pulled off the suit, tossing the pieces haphazardly all over the cave, leaving a trail to where he eventually settled in his computer chair. 

“Y’know, sir, while kevlar is good at stopping bullets it does rather badly when left unattended on a damp cave floor,” Alfred scolded gently, bending to pick up the pieces of Batman. Bruce only grunted at his butler, pulling up the dossier he’d been preparing on the Joker. The last few weeks it looked like the psychopath had reemerged, which is why he’d been so preoccupied. Gotham barely survived the last scrape with that psychopath, so Batman had been doggedly hunting him after the sun went down. 

“Did you stop by her place, then?” Alfred asked, referring to you. “She seemed rather insistent on it.”

Bruce paused, then sighed and turned to face Alfred. “She thinks I’m cheating on her.” 

“Not exactly an incorrect assumption,” Alfred joked. Bruce flashed him a glare, but the butler didn’t notice. “Well, we knew this was coming didn’t we? Once you started breaking the rules for her, it was only a matter of time.” 

Bruce internally groaned, not wanting to admit Alfred was right. “I just wish I knew what to do. She’s the first person in a long time that I’ve actually wanted to have around. Present company excluded, of course.” 

“Of course, sir,” Alfred said. “You’ve arrived at a crossroads, if you don’t mind me saying. You either tell her, or you don’t.” 

“How do I know if I should tell her?” 

“That answer lies in how much you trust her to keep your secret.” 

“And how do I know that I won’t lose her even if I tell her?” Bruce asked, voicing his biggest fear. Painting a target on your back as well as his, and then being shoved out of your life. 

Alfred laid a comforting hand on Bruce’s shoulder, like he always did when sharing a hard life lesson. “You don’t, Master Wayne.” 

The hand left his shoulder and Bruce turned back around, each man now going about their usual business. A few quick incident reports later Bruce made his way upstairs to his bedroom, hoping with how tired his body was that sleep would claim him quickly. 

No such luck.

Instead, he tossed and turned, going over every possible outcome of the inevitable conversation.

Option 1: He tells you about Batman, you accept it, and the two of you make it work. This, of course, was the ideal scenario so he knew that wouldn’t be the outcome. Nothing in his life worked out ideally. 

Option 2: He tells you about Batman, you freak out and break up with him, and you become a huge liability. Giving you that knowledge would be like handing you a grenade with the pin pulled out — if you held onto it, you were both safe, but if you let go…Kaboom. And how long could you hold onto a secret that big, that dangerous?

The last option was that he doesn’t tell you, you continue to assume he’s cheating on you, and you break up with him eventually. He loses you, but you remain unaware and therefore safe — from his enemies, from prosecution, from whatever else came from being Batman's girlfriend. 

Around three in the morning Bruce’s mind was made up, his next steps planned, and resolve steely, but he waited until half-past five (a more normal wake-up time) to text you. 

‘Dinner at my place tonight. We need to talk.’ 

#writing challenge #fanfiction #in bloom #angst angst baby #angst #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne fic #batman x reader #batman x you #alfred pennyworth #batman fic #batman fanfic

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Zinnia - Jess Mariano x Reader

Zinnia (Zinnia) - Everlasting friendship, sentimentality

Summary: Jess is back in Stars Hollow and meets the reader for coffee. It's like he never left.

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Reader

Word Count: 1573

Warnings: Post-YiTL, nicknames "killer" and "trouble", Rory had a daughter, slight Logan-bashing, unrequited feelings, long-term friendships, small town adorableness, fluff

Day 11 is incredibly fluffy, so I hope you've got something to wash it down! May I suggest a cup of coffee? Or several?

In Bloom Masterlist

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While you and Jess hadn’t always been the best at keeping track of each other, you knew whenever the two of you got together you would pick up right where you left off, like no time at all had passed. 

You waited at Weston’s Bakery, nibbling on your danish and sipping your coffee when the bell above the door rang. You turned and smiled at Jess, who skipped past the line to meet you for a hug. 

“Hey, killer,” he said, squeezing extra tight for a second and making you laugh. 

“Hey, trouble,” you responded, squeezing back. The two of you leaned back, taking one another in. Even though it had only been a few months since you last saw him, he’d gotten a haircut and grown out his stubble into a delectable beard. His dark eyes sparkled at you and you felt a blush rise in your cheeks. 

“I’m gonna get coffee, you want anything?” he said, shucking off his coat and putting his laptop bag on the floor. 

“A refill would be great,” you said, handing him your empty mug. He hooked it around his finger and nodded. While he walked away, you couldn’t help but watch how the fabric of his shirt shifted over his incredible torso. 

He got in line and caught you staring, making you stare down at the remains of your danish. The door bell rang again and a little blonde girl ran in, followed shortly by her mother, Rory Gilmore. 

The little girl clocked you sitting nearby and ran over, arms outstretched. “Book Lady!” 

“Hey, Emily,” you said, accepting the girl’s hug. Since she was a baby, Rory had brought Emily in for your weekly storytime, and usually a few times a week. You’d even babysat on the rare occasion that Lorelai and Luke couldn’t. “How are you?” 

Emily’s bright blue eyes lit up and she started talking about her school and what fun books she was reading. It didn’t escape your notice that Rory and Jess were engaged in their own conversation, which made your breath catch unconsciously. 

As Jess’s only Stars Hollow High friend, you had witnessed his relationship with the brilliant Gilmore girl firsthand. You’d also been harboring your own crush on the rebellious Jess at the time, but he never seemed to notice. In college you’d moved on, had a few relationships, one even getting engagement-level-serious. 

But old habits die hard, which you saw in how Jess and Rory interacted with each other. He said something that made her laugh and put a graceful hand on his arm. Your crush on Jess had never truly abated and if the tight feeling in your throat was any indication it was coming back full-force.

“Miss Book Lady? Did you hear me?” Emily asked and you turned your attention back to the girl. 

“Sorry, Emily, what did you say?” 

“I asked if you had any books on mummies! Mommy and Gramma and I watched the Mummy movie last night even though Papa Luke said it was too scary for me and now I wanna know more!” 

You couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “I do have books on mummies, tell your mom to bring you by this week sometime and I’ll show you.” 

“Thank you!” Emily said, dashing back to her mom. Jess had ordered and was heading back toward you with two steaming mugs, one he placed in front of you before snatching your danish and taking a large bite out of it. 

“Hey! That’s mine!”

“I’ll get you another one,” he said with a devious smirk, brushing the crumbs off his fingers. “So how’ve you been?” 

“Good! The book store is keeping me busy. I did get a reprimand from Taylor last month when I put up a display of true crime books.” 

“Really? ”

“Yeah, he said I shouldn’t be encouraging the people of Stars Hollow to read about upsetting crimes lest they start committing them here.” 

“Sounds like Taylor,” Jess smiled, taking a sip of his coffee. You opened your mouth to continue, but Emily’s voice and the bell ringing interrupted you. 

“Bye Book Lady!” she shouted across the bakery, waving wildly as Rory tried to usher her out. You waved back. 

“Emily seems fond of you,” Jess said. 

You nodded, “Well with how often she and Rory are at the store it was kind of inevitable.” You took a large sip of coffee. “Anything…happen, there? With you two?” 

Jess’s head dropped between his shoulders momentarily before he met your eyes from under his brow. “There might’ve been a thing, but that was…years ago. A quick relapse before Emily came along.”

“Since then?”

“Nah, not since then. I think we both realized our time had passed. And then she told me she was a few months pregnant and it was Logan’s, which was the final nail in the coffin.” 

You hummed in agreement. You’d only met Logan a few times when he’d accomapnied Emily and Rory to story time, but he left a bad taste in your mouth. He was too slick, like everything just rolled off his back. Partnered with his air of superiority and the way he called your shop “little” and “charming” in a condescending tone, you could understand why Jess wanted no part in that situation. 

“How about you?” he asked, leaning back in his chair with an air of faux-casualness. 

“You mean have I ever hooked up with Rory? Far as I know, she’s straight, so no.” You joked, making Jess laugh. 

“Not what I meant, but thanks for the visual. I meant do you have anyone special? Boyfriend, girlfriend, et cetera?” 

“Not since Joe Mangianello got that restraining order.”

“So that’s a no?” 

“Why the sudden interest in my love life or, more accurately, lack thereof?” 

“I’ve got some news.” 

“News that could impact my lack of love life?” You gasped theatrically, “Is Joe rescinding the restraining order?” 

“I’m moving back to Stars Hollow.” 

“Really?” You were delighted, to say the least. The idea of having Jess around all the time made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. 

“Yeah, my mom and TJ could use the extra help now that Doula is a teenager and the jewelery store is taking off. So I used my last book advance to put a down payment on that little house over on Elm.” 

This time, your gasp was quieter and much more genuine. 

The little house on Elm was one that you’d always wanted. A small English-style cottage with large windows and stone accents on the exterior, along with a well-tended flower garden in the front yard. The inside was warm, an original working fireplace in the living room and original dark wood built-ins. You’d gotten to see the inside a few times when Mrs. Becker had invited you for tea, but she didn’t want to leave the house while she was still mobile so your hopes of one day buying it were dashed. 

“I didn’t even know that house was on the market! What about Mrs. Becker?” You asked. 

“I may have asked Taylor to let me know if that house ever went on sale in exchange for a donation to the Stars Hollow Historical Society. Mrs. Becker is moving into a senior community, so Taylor called me last week.” Jess confessed, his cheeks pinkening a bit. 

“But, why would you want that house? You’re a freewheeling Philly literati type, not the settle-down-buy-a-house-in-a-small-town type.” You were confused by him buying a house in the town he claimed to hate, the town he left twice. 

Your confusion only deepened when Jess reached across the table and took your hand in his, stroking his thumb along the ridge of your knuckles. His touch felt electric and yet, safe all at the same time. He ducked his head a little to catch your eyes with his. 

“Remember when we would sneak out at night? Every time we passed that house you said it was the one you always wanted.” 

“So you bought it out from under me? Scoundrel!” you accused jokingly, and he squeezed your fingers in his. 

“No, but the last few years I started thinking about the people I could really count on, you know, the ones I knew would always be in my life and other than Luke and my family, the only person who came to mind was…you.” 

His gaze was so earnest, so open and honest that it made your heart stutter in your chest. What was he saying? 

“And since you and Luke and Liz, TJ, and Doula all live here, I figured it was time to come back. I can write from anywhere, and I’m sure Luke could use some help around the diner if I need the cash.” 

“But, Jess-” 

“And I think it’s about time I show the girl who would sneak out of her house with me in the middle of the night on a school night how I feel about her.” 

“How you…what?” Your head was spinning. After all these years, had you both finally come full circle? 

“I, uh, I want to give us a try. If that’s what you want, too, of course,” Jess said lowly, to not attract too much attention in the busy bakery. 

You had to bite your lower lip to keep from beaming like a complete fool. Turning your wrist, you laced your fingers between Jess’s. 

“Yeah, Jess, I’d really like that.” 

#writing challenge #fanfiction #in bloom #fluff #gilmore girls #gilmore girls fanfiction #rory gilmore #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano #jess mariano x you

[starstruckunknown-princess]

I had the exact same thought when starting Fallout…

Apparently, the key to a good video game show adaption is having a girl dad tragically lose their daughter and spiral into a ruthless post-apocalypse murdering machine.

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Peony - Steven Grant x Reader

Peony (Paeonia) - Shame, bashfulness

Summary: A slight comedy of errors forces reader and Steven to admit and act on some spicy feelings.

Pairing: Steven Grant x F!Reader

Word Count: 1790

Warnings: Reader is AFAB/Female presenting/has breasts, Steven being adorably embarrassed and awkward, use of "tits", male masturbation (non-explicitly described), excessive euphemisms for masturbation, discussions of masturbation, lots of kissing, making out

Day 10 coming in with some more spice! I love the Moon Boys and thought I'd give Steven a chance to ramble his way into our hearts.

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are always appreciated! ❤️

You were scrambling to clean your flat as you waited for Steven — he was coming over to watch ‘The Mummy’ which, surprisingly, he had never seen. After your shift, you’d come home with the full intention of cleaning but had fallen asleep on your couch instead, only having woken up five minutes ago when he called to ask what you liked on your pizza. Your heart fluttered at his thoughtfulness as you gathered all the dirty clothes on your bedroom floor and chucked them into the closet. You’d gotten rid of the lingering trash on your coffee table, taken care of the dishes in the sink, and spot-cleaned your bathroom. 

Nothing like the panic-induced cleaning of a woman whose work-friend-turned-crush is on his way over. 

Looking down at your outfit, you realized you were still in your work attire — pencil skirt and fancy-ish blouse, both now wrinkled from your nap. You stripped off your blouse and bra and were halfway off with your skirt when you heard something ‘slap’ against the floor behind you. 

Without thinking, you spun around and saw Steven in the doorway, mouth agape and a pizza box at his feet. It happened so fast — you seeing him, his eyes glancing at your bare tits, back to your face, and his hasty retreat with a steady stream of ‘I’m sorrys” falling out of his mouth. 

“Wait, Steven!” you shouted after him, grabbing your discarded blouse and trying to chase after him, but he was already gone. You sighed heavily against the door to your flat, tapping your forehead against it.

Part of you was horrified — Steven had just seen you half-naked and not in the sexy way — while the other part of you was excited. Steven had seen you half-naked! Perhaps now he would make a move or, barring that, let you know he liked you as much as you liked him.

But that’s not what happened. The next day you saw him at work, you waved but he grabbed the phone, fumbling it and pretending to be in the middle of a call. 

When you were on your break, you headed toward the gift shop but just as you got there, you caught sight of Steven dashing around the corner with a box full of stuffed Basts. 

By the time your shift was over, you’d had enough. You strode up to the gift shop counter, trapping him behind it. He had the temerity to look scared of you, so you softened your approach and spoke quietly so none of the people milling about would hear you.

“Look, Steven, you saw my tits, big whoop,” you said, “I’m not mad at you or anything, there’s no need to avoid me. We’re still friends, yeah?” 

He ran a hand through his thick curls and sighed. “‘M sorry, course we’re still friends. I just…I wasn’t expecting…those when I walked in.” He gestured to your chest and you laughed.

You playfully punched him in the shoulder, “Well, I hope you learned a lesson about knocking next time. And, hey, thanks for the pizza.” 

He laughed and the tension between you evaporated. It had always been like that with Steven - easy going, honest, like nothing was too complicated that you couldn’t laugh your way out of. 

“You still haven’t seen The Mummy and we need to remedy that as soon as possible,” you said semi-seriously. 

“Tell ya what,” he said, “Why don’t you come to mine tonight and we’ll watch it. You bring the pizza this time.” 

“It’s a da- plan.” You stopped yourself before you could say ‘date.’ 

_____

In your excitement for the evening’s activities, you ended up being about ten minutes early to Steven’s flat. He’d texted you his front door code and said he’d leave his door open since you’d be coming with your hands full. Half-jokingly, you knocked softly on the door before letting yourself in. 

Steven’s flat was unlike yours in that it was one big room divided by his overstuffed bookshelves and piles of even more books. The only room with a door was the bathroom, and that was little more than a curtain. You were surprised you didn’t immediately see him, but you heard a grunt coming from the bedroom area. 

You put the pizza on the kitchen table then made your way toward the noise. 

When you got closer, you saw Steven was facing away from you on the far side of his bed. He looked to be stroking something in his lap—oh. 

Oh.

You didn’t manage to silence your gasp when you realized what he was doing, and he jumped up in shock, yanking his gray sweatpants up so you didn’t see anything. 

“Shit!” 

“Oh, God, sorry!” you said, covering your eyes. In your haste to turn away, you managed to smack your elbow into the corner of one of his bookshelves. Pain shot down your forearm because of course you’d managed to hit your funny bone. You gripped it, hissing at the pain with your eyes closed and tripping over one of the book piles and ending up splayed out on the floor.

Steven cried your name and dashed over, helping you sit up and checking you for injuries. He helped you stand up, making sure you were steady before taking a step back. 

“I didn’t see anything,” you insisted, crouching down to help him pick up the books you knocked over. 

“You don’t have to-” 

“I knocked, I swear!” 

“Please, don’t worry-” 

“I’m so sorry, Steven,” you said, looking up from the small stack of books you’d balanced on your knees. His brow was furrowed, cheeks red with embarrassment. 

“No, love, I’m sorry. I knew you were on your way but I couldn’t help myself. Not like it’s an ongoing issue, like compulsive or anything, but I couldn’t help but remember yesterday and, well,” he paused, gesturing toward your chest again, “and I didn’t want to greet you at the door with a raging hard-on so I thought I’d just, y’know, take care of it real quick but then you walked in and now I’m…rambling. Here, I’ll take those.” 

He reached for the books you were holding and you handed them off. He set them on a different stack a few steps away and rubbed the back of his head, facing away from you again. 

“Wait,” you said, brain finally catching up with what he was saying, “You…you were thinking about me? While you were…shining your statue?”

Steven let out a bark of nervous laughter, “Shining my statue?”

“Yeah, you know, shining the statue, flogging the dolphin, spanking the monkey, playing with the one-eyed snake, having a me-some.” 

You both burst out laughing at that. When you calmed down, he was shaking his head in disbelief while he fiddled with the too-long sleeves of his jumper. 

“So um, I brought pizza,” you said, motioning to the kitchen table, “if you still want to watch the movie. But if you’d rather I go, I totally get it.” 

“No!” he blurted, one hand reaching out to catch you even though you hadn’t moved an inch. “Let’s watch the movie, yeah?”

The two of you moved in sync, gathering plates and the pizza before settling on his bed, his laptop between you as he queued up the movie. You ate in companionable silence until Evie was bargaining for Rick’s life in the prison when Steven hit the spacebar and paused it. 

You turned to him to find him already looking at you. The look in his eyes was sheepish, as if he didn’t want to say something but knew he had to. Your nerves kicked in — was all of this a bigger deal than you thought? Had he been stewing on it? Your instinct was to diffuse tension with humor but, as you’d been told by more than one ex, sometimes it felt like you didn’t take things seriously as you should. 

“What’s up?” you asked. 

“I, uh, I didn’t answer your question.” 

You tilted your head, confused. “What question?” 

“About thinking about you while I, uh, wank.” 

“Oh,” 

“Cuz I do. Think about you. Not that I see you as just a sexual object, I think you’re absolutely brilliant but you’re also dead sexy and after what happened at yours it’s like I, I can’t get you out of my head so I thought avoiding you would make it go away but that just made my massive crush on you way worse-” 

He wasn’t just rambling, he was rambling about how much he liked you — how he stroked himself to the thought of you and thought you were brilliant and hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you. But the most important part was that he had a crush on you, too. 

You cut him off with a kiss, having heard more than enough.

Gentle at first, allowing him plenty of room to pull away if he wanted, but he pressed his lips against yours instead. One of his hands wrapped around the back of your neck, the other sliding around your waist. 

You brushed your tongue against his lower lip and he opened for you, licking into your mouth in a way that made you clench around nothing. Fuck — you had caught him fucking his fist to the thought of you half-naked. That thought plus his hand wandering under the hem of your t-shirt had you incredibly wet, almost dripping. 

Eventually, you came up for air. Steven looked gorgeous, lips slightly swollen from kissing and his blissed-out expression. You wondered what he looked like as he came, a smile forming on your face as you realized you would find out if you kept going. 

“Whatcha smilin’ about?” he asked, running a hand over your hair and letting it rest on your cheek. You turned your head and kissed his palm as an answer, then moved to the sensitive skin of his wrist. 

“You,” you replied simply. 

“C’mere,” he said, his hand on your hips pulling you over so you were straddling his lap. He sat up and kissed you again, hungrier this time, his hands roaming freely along your back, over your breasts, along your arms. His lips left yours and he kissed along your jaw, down your neck. Heat spread from every point of contact, leaving you wanting more but not without a little teasing first. 

“Steven,” you whined, “what about the movie?” 

“Sod the fucking movie,” he growled against your neck, one hand reaching over to slam his laptop shut and coming back to rest on your ass, pulling you against him. 

“Gonna show you what I’ve wanted to do to ya since we met,” he promised, and you bit your lip to keep from beaming at him.

#writing challenge #fanfiction #moon knight #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfic #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant #steven grant smut #mcu fanfic #marc spector #jake lockley #moon knight system