#I did FOUR PROMPTS IN A ROW

[fankayart]

It’s all just a game, and I’m winning.

#I did FOUR PROMPTS IN A ROW #KEY SHATTER VIRIS AND GAME #I am very much cheating this system but I don’t care #I’ve been really busy 😭 #antisepticeye #happy birthday antisepticeye #antisepticeye fanart #septic egos #jse egos #jacksepticeye egos #jacksepticeye fan art #the septics #septic art #septic boys #jacksepticeye

[nikatyler]

New Year, New Rooms: Game Time

#idk a living room of a gamer or something like that? #i didn't wanna do another gamer setup because i did like four at this point lol #the room that's coming tomorrow was originally for this prompt #but then i figured it's better for tomorrow's prompt #and yeah. two gamer setups in a row? idk. they are very fun to create tho #ts4 #sims 4 #the sims 4 #sims #simblr #ts4 dollhouse

[reiderwriter]

Unhappy Holidays

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're unlucky enough to run into Spencer Reid at holiday celebrations four years in a row. In the New Year, you're resolving to rid him from your mind forever, but you never were one to stick to resolutions 👻🦃🎄🎆

Warnings: SMUT 18+ minors dni, enemies to lovers, low-key work rivals, semi-public sex, car sex, hate sex, fingering, thigh riding, creampie, unprotected sex (no condoms but contraceptive mentioned), slight spoilers for s4 of Criminal Minds (but not really).

Prompt Request: #50"You're so fucking obsessed with me.” #82"Really? Because your pussy is saying something different, sweetheart.” #93"Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

A/N: This is my first submission for @imagining-in-the-margins November/December Office Party writing challenge! I'm sorry I've been so busy recently, but the holiday season really does take a lot of effort to get through at work lmao. Hopefully, I'll be able to post more over my vacation! For now, enjoy some very unserious smut~♡ (as if I write any other kind).

Here's a link to my masterlist, where you can find all my work!~☆

Working with the FBI was no walk in the park, which, from your desk at the opposite corner of the bullpen, Spencer Reid sure made it look like.

Working on adjacent teams for the last three years had become gradually infuriating. You were forever in the man's orbit, stuck dealing with the other women on your team sat giggling about him and his many stupid haircuts, and wondering just how far you'd fallen to have to stare at his stupid face 5 days a week.

If you were unlucky. His team did happen to be out on cases a lot more, whereas yours handled correspondence and consulting cases, a cushy and safe job.

It annoyed you to no end that you had multiple field-based qualifications, extensive fire arms training and were top of your class at the academy only to be relegated yo desk duty whilst boy wonder with his doctorates was allowed to trip over his own feet catching actual killers.

Other people wondered where your dislike of the man sprang from, and you could only let out a disgruntled squeak and tell them your horror stories.

A few months into your job, your been fresh faced and bushy tailed or however that saying goes, and overly eager to take any assignment that came your way. Even if the assignment was baby-sitting an injured Doctor Spencer Reid. He'd been shot whilst out on a case whilst trying to talk down an unsub, and you'd jumped at the chance to get to know him.

He was an office legend, of course, though those days it was more for his characteristic lack of social graces rather than the beauty he'd grown into. You'd been so eager to get to pick his brains, find out how he'd managed to score the position on the BAU at such an early age.

Reality had hit you square in the face when he'd spent a week ignoring you, making you run around like a headless chicken searching for hard copies of documents the FBI had digitised a millennia ago, and hadn't so much as spared you a glance.

The straw that broke the camel's back came as you were running back to him triumphant with a document he'd requested eight hours before and had let yourself into Penelope Garcia’s office quietly, only to hear him bad mouthing you.

“She makes me uncomfortable. I've had her out searching for useless files all day because I don't know what to do with her.”

“She's trying to help, Spencer, it's her job right now, cut her some slack.”

“Her job is currently getting in the way of mine. I even tried writing my own doctor's note so I could get rid of her, but Hotch wouldn't allow it.”

You'd dropped the file loudly on the table, watched the two spin around with horrified looks and turned silently and left the room.

He hadn't once tried to find you after that, and you let your apprenticeship under Doctor Reid quietly fizzle out as you got back to your regular work.

Your resentment still burned though.

Each time you'd been caught in the same elevator with him, you'd ignored him to an almost insane degree, enjoying the way he squirmed and tried to make small talk.

You'd been in contact with JJ and his Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner as well, through cases you'd recommended, but always maintained your cold shoulder.

The one place you could not ignore him, however, was a Penelope Garcia party.

After you'd slammed the file down on her desk, Penelope had guiltily sent you a gift basket filled with sweet treats and books, and had hounded you for a week to make sure your feelings weren't too damaged by her friend's stupidity.

You actually liked her, and found at least one silver lining to the storm that was Spencer Reid ripping through your life.

In the three years since the “incident,” you'd found yourself at three parties where Penelope in all of her heartwarming ways had tried her best to force a reconciliation between the two of you, to disastrous results.

The first was a Halloween party, and you'd been incredibly proud of your Princess Laia costume when you'd arrived. Only until you'd gone to the kitchen to top up your drink to hear Spencer Reid boring some guest or the other about how Star Trek was more advanced, and had a richer plot line.

Penelope had stepped into the kitchen just as he'd caught a glimpse of your (rather skimpy) outfit - yes, you'd chosen swimsuit Laia, yes, you were going to own it - and had immediately jumped into introductions, as if you weren't already intimately acquainted.

“Spencer! This is Y/N! She loves Halloween, too, she makes all of her costumes. You guys should talk.” She'd led the other guest away and left you there with Spencer as you'd awkwardly looked upon his own costume.

“Are you the Tenth Doctor?” You asked begrudgingly, noting his pin-striped suit and the shorter hairstyle he'd chosen.

“Are you a fan? I prefer the original show run more than the current stuff, but David Tennant has really been doing a wonderful-”

“I'm sorry, let me stop you there. I don't watch Doctor Who. I guess I prefer something with a… How should I say, richer plot?”

He'd snapped his mouth shut and didn't have chance to open it again before you turned dramatically and walked away from him.

The second party you'd been cornered into was just over a year later.

Having been stuck in the office over Halloween, Penelope was determined to get in one last celebration before Christmas steam-rolled every other holiday, and thus you'd been invited to her single-people-only-friendsgiving-potluck, and you'd found yourself having to navigate knocking on her door with a casserole dish in your hands.

Luckily a large hand had appeared from behind you and knocked on the door for you. Unfortunately, the sudden shock from the silent appearance of a man right behind you startled you so much that the dish fell straight from your hands anyway.

Penelope opened her door upon hearing the crash and you whirled on your would-be attacker.

It was Spencer again, eyes round in shock, hand still curled into a fist.

You took a calming breath as you gathered yourself, trying not to bite his head off. You wanted to scream and shout and rip his head out but you didn't, instead letting the fury drip into your voice as you finally opened your eyes again.

“That dish took me four fucking hours to make.” You huffed in anger once more as Penelope guided you into the apartment and poured you a glass of wine before you moved back to the entry hall to clean it up again.

Needless to say he didn't care to converse with you after that.

A few small parties in between had been blissfully Spencer-less and you'd lulled yourself into a false sense of security. That's when you accepted the Christmas party invitation.

As one of the unlucky few members of the FBI who had to stay out over christmas in case of some emergency or the other, you'd been grounded in Virginia, unable to travel home for the holidays. So Penelope Garcia's singles-only-Christmas-fun-time-Party was your last ditch effort to spend the holidays actually resting and eating good food.

Learning from last time, Penelope reassured you that there was no potluck, that she had prepared all the food herself, and all you'd need were a bottle of wine and a willingness to party.

You'd taken those recommendations as law and had immediately let yourself into a glass of mulled wine as you arrived, and - noticing that the party was Reid-free - had allowed it to raise your Christmas spirits slightly more than you usually would.

By hour two of the event, you were full of yuletide joy and swaying freely along to the tune of Silent Night.

Spencer’s late entrance really would have gone unnoticed by you had you not bumped face first into his chest as you spun yourself around in your dance, his hands quickly falling to your hips to steady you.

The few moments it took you to gather yourself were about as long as you needed to realised that he'd caught you in his arms underneath the mistletoe. And with your mind fogged by mulled-whatever-it-was-Penelope-mixed-into-that-punch, the part of your brain that objected to the very existence of Spencer Reid went silent, and the incredibly tiny and somewhat damaged part of your brain that instead saw him as attractive started shouting loud instructions.

Before your common sense could return, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss the very warm, very close man holding you upright.

“Mistletoe,” you muttered as you clawed his arms off of you and took yourself straight to Penelope's bathroom to throw up.

So yes, your acquaintance with Spencer Reid had never been good, and you were perfectly fine with resenting him from afar, privately.

With three years of bad experiences under your belt, you weren't excited at completing your yearly tradition of horrendous interaction. Which is perhaps why you immediately and loudly protested Penelope’s New Years Eve party invitation.

“Y/N, it's a party. What's the worst that can happen?” She pleaded as she followed you down the corridors of the office building.

“I could see Spencer Reid. I could be forced to converse with Spencer Reid. I could get absolutely wasted and kiss Spencer Reid. There, three options, please accept my resignation from partying.”

“Y/N we both know you don't drink anymore, so at least one of those is unlikely to happen. And Spencer might not even come, he has tickets for an indie theatre from 6pm onwards, they're playing some Russian movie from the 60s that's like 4 hours long or something. So u retire yourself and tell me you'll come?” She had to take three or four steps for each of your own, not that you were so different in height but because you were practically marching in order to avoid the topic.

But you finally stopped and let out a sigh as you turned back to Penelope who stopped just before she ran into you.

“You're sure he won't be there?”

“I'm sure he RSVP’d no.”

“Fine. But I'm not drinking and I will still be expecting the Penelope Garcia virgin punch experience.”

“Bring the party poppers and you have a deal.”

“Done.”

–X–

Over the week since you'd accepted the invitation, you'd made peace with it. For the most part, you did love a Penelope Garcia production. There was something wonderful about your friend and her ability to brighten anyone's mood, an ability that was only heightened at holidays. She was like a glittered goddess gaining power when worshippers used her altar, except the altar was her house and the worship was a range of hallmark-induced holidays.

You arrived at the party at 10pm, and though that was the start time you'd been given, you weren't surprised to see a full house of Penelope’s team mates already in attendance. Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss sat spread across the sofa in the living room area, and you noticed a few techie friends also grabbing drinks and chatting.

“Y/N, I'm so glad you're here! You remember everyone on the team, right?” She pulled you into a hug and then sat you down in the middle of the group, waiting for you to mingle and become comfortable before she ran off to more hostess duties.

“Of course, nice to see you guys.” You grabbed your promised punch and sat back comfortably, striking up a conversation with Emily about how bleak the dating scene had been recently.

“It seems like all the men around me are jackasses,” Emily muttered and you giggled along.

“I'm wounded,” Morgan shot back, a hand pressed to his chest in faux pain.

“Good. You're like a lion out there in the clubs stalking gazelles, it's like watching a nature documentary when you're out there.”

You almost snorted your entire drink up your nose as Emily finished, needing to compose yourself for a second.

“I guess the men on our team aren't great with romance,” JJ laughed and took a swing. “Hotch and Rossi have four divorces between them, and Derek here is a lost cause.”

“Our only hope is young Spencer. May he grow into a respectful young gentleman and break out curse,” Emily toasted.

“Oh that ship has sailed,” your laugh this time was bitter, your mood immediately growing sour with even the smallest mention of Spencer Reid.

“Ah, Penelope mentioned you had a problem with our boy wonder. Care to share?”

You opened your mouth to give your standard non-answer and move the conversation along, but you were interrupted.

“Yes, Y/N, care to share? I am slightly curious about that as well.” You turned around and there he was, and your stomach turned in disgust.

Just one time, just one party. You'd been having fun, and here he was to ruin it.

“What are you doing here?” you gaped up at him, unsurprised to see him still decked out in sweater vest and slacks even in his down time.

“I was invited.”

“You declined, Penelope said you had movie tickets.”

“Ticket, singular. And it was cancelled so here I am. What's your problem with me, Y/N?” His jaw clenched and he grabbed the back of your chair and leaned down. It was supposed to be intimidating, but you rolled your eyes. When he looked that attractive, veins in his arms popping out of the sleeves he'd pulled up, you couldn't see him as intimidating. His arms were distracting yes, but God that was nothing compared to his thighs. His pants were tight, and you thanked whatever Clueless tailor had sewn them, because you now allowed yourself a momentary lapse to enjoy the appearance of his lower body.

You tried to shake the thought of his attractiveness from your mind, reminding yourself where you were and in what company.

“I don't think I need to answer that. I think I'll enjoy holding it over your head instead,” you said, standing up and beginning to gather your things.

“Wait, Y/N, where are you going? New Year isn't for another 30 minutes.” Penelope scrambled over and grabbed your hand, pleading with you to stay.

“I'm sorry Pen, but there's just this very annoying bug buzzing around me, and I think I need to get away from it.” You said your goodbyes and excused yourself from the party, happy to have walked away relatively undamaged.

Fate had other plans, and as you stepped out of the apartment building ready to walk yourself home, a hand caught yours from behind as a voice chased you.

“Y/N, wait. I'll go. You go back inside.”

“And return with my tail tucked between my legs after making a grand exit? I'll pass, thanks boy genius.” You shook yourself from his grasp and made to walk away again, but he quickly matched your pace and stepped into your path, cutting you off.

“I can't let you walk home. It's like 40° out here, and your coat is more style than substance.”

“Get into a car with a stranger? I'm sure you of all people know how stupid that sounds.” You stuck a finger out and poked his chest, but he grabbed your hand and held it in place as he spat out his next words.

“I'm not a stranger, I'm the man you're obsessed with, Y/N. Big difference.” You laughed, mostly in shock at his indignance, but he stared at your face as serious as could be.

“Me? Obsessed with you? I'm not the one who followed a woman they're barely acquainted with out of a party filled with all of my friends. Sounds like you're projecting, Spencer.”

“Am I?” He questioned, stepping closer and grabbing your hip as he continued his questioning. “I wasn't the one who was sat there talking about me with all of my colleagues.”

“Well, I wasn't the one who turned up to a party I'd declined an invitation to.”

He was imperceptibly close now, hand gripping your hip so tight you wondered if it'd leave you with a mark.

“I certainly was not the one who initiated a kiss last year, Y/N. You need to face the facts, you're so fucking obsessed with me.” If his hands had you feeling dizzy, his words were completely knocking the sense out of you. Suddenly you returned to the person you'd been under that Mistletoe, and everything from his closeness to the rough edge to his voice begged you to do it once again.

“Go fuck yourself,” was about all the words you could manage as he finally let his lips fall down and crush into your own.

You should've pushed him away, but instead your traitorous body wanted to prove his point, opening up for him faster than you'd opened up to anyone else before.

His tongue flicked against your lips and you gladly let him explore your mouth, opening up to tangle your tongue with his.

He tasted sweet, like the punch Penelope had handed you earlier, only now you wondered if someone had accidentally laced it with how free you were being with your affections.

He resurfaced for air, but you didn't care if there was nothing in your lungs at all if it meant that his lips would engage your own in battle once again.

“Look how much you want me,” he smirked. “Look how needy you are after a single kiss, chasing my lips like that.”

“You and your big fucking mouth. I wish you'd shut up once in a while.”

“I'll make it my new year’s resolution.” His lips joined your own again, and you clashed hard, exploring as much as you could muster as he pulled you in the direction of his car.

“I'm not driving… home… with you,” you growled between kisses, trying not to put your teeth to his neck and bite down hard. You're not sure if that impulse was a murderous one or a kinky one.

“I'm not putting you in the front seat, Y/N, I'm putting you in the back. You should be familiar with the idea.”

Heat sparked between your legs, and you allowed yourself to be manhandled into the beat-up trash heap of a car.

He'd not taken his hands off you as he got you in, pushing himself in first and then pulling you by the hand that you'd unconsciously gripped hard. You immediately straddled his hips, skirt naturally riding up in the process. He noticed and looked curiously down at you, growling as you pressed your lips against his neck and grabbed you instead by the hair gathered in a ponytail at the back of your head.

“See, you're obsessed with me. Just admit it.” Without breaking eye contact, he dug his fingers into the material of your tights and pulled in opposite directions, leaving your underwear exposed to his wandering eyes.

“I'm not obsessed with you,” your voice needed conviction to land, but it came out as a lusty whisper, especially as he slipped his fingers inside your underwear and finally touched your aching cunt.

“Really? Because your pussy is saying something else, Princess.” He found your clit faster than you'd ever expected, rubbing slow circles into your skin as you began rocking your hips back and forth.

It was becoming hard to disagree with him, with each flick of wrist growing the heat between your legs. You attacked his neck again, hands practically ripping at his top buttons so you could muffle the sounds of your arousal against his neck, collarbone, chest, any stretch of that pale skin available to you.

He forced your hips to a stop with one hand as he slipped a single digit inside of your hole, gathering your arousal as he set a steady pace, thumb keeping your bundle of nerves occupied.

“Listen, Y/N, can you hear that?”

“I can't h-hear anything.” You had to grind your teeth together to get the words out with minimal interruptions of moans bursting from the pit of your stomach.

He leaned in close to your ear, nuzzling your neck and placing chaste kisses up towards your ear, finally pulling away just enough to whisper a single word in your ear.

“Liar.”

His hand stilled and pulled off you quickly and your eyes broke open, hands unconsciously fitting into his shirt as if you were worried he was going to leave you there like this, on the edge of pleasure but still so far away.

“Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

“Jackass. You've only been here for like 20 minutes.”

“You can climb right out of this car if you want to, Y/N.” He tried to keep his tone light, but the death grip he had on your thighs, the very obvious tent pitched in his pants and the way his eyes couldn't go five seconds without undressing you told you you had more power in this interaction than he wanted to give you.

There was no way either of you were letting the other go unused tonight.

You relaxed your grip on his shirt and shifted your weight to one of his thighs. Lithe he may be, but lowering yourself down there was an unexpected strength there. He watched on curiously as you rocked experimentally against him. Back and forth you rocked, trying desperately to keep up his momentum or tempt him to help you out again.

It was time to let your voice back out, and you did, moaning without a care as you hummed his leg like a bitch in heat.

“You're enjoying this lot, huh, Y/N,” he muttered, and you watched as his hand worked his pants zip open, removing one of the barriers in the way between the two of you, as he began palming himself.

“What's that saying? Anything you can do, I can do better?” He growled at that response but didn't stop you. Instead he bought a hand down on your ass as you moved, so hard you jolted at the sudden pain. Your eyes shot open as your hips stilled, but you felt warmth grow between your legs.

“Yes, you definitely enjoyed that. Should I do that again, or do you think we should hurry this up and go back up for the countdown?”

You hesitated only a second before you pushed his hand off his lap, shifting your hips further towards his knees before letting your hand reach for where his had just been.

You didn't let yourself think about how big he was as you pulled his cock free, didn't let yourself wonder how he measured up against anyone you'd been with before. You didn't let yourself waste time thinking about how various office rumours were true, and definitely not a second was wasted feeling jealous about how those rumours were spread in the first place.

Instead you simply slammed your lips back against his, mouth opening to let your tongue engage his as you lifted your hips with his help and lowered yourself down on him.

You didn't have to rid yourself of sinful thoughts after that as he purged every single brain cell from your head, filling you so contently that there was simply no space for anything but him.

You locked up on top of him, clawing at his shoulders as you whimpered at the stretched, falling so he was balls deep inside you. You wanted to move, to use him for your pleasure, but your walls tightened every time you even thought about it as he stroked your hair through it all.

It had been some time since you'd last had a sexual partner, and you needed the few minutes to overcome the first uncomfortable bliss of it all.

“That good?” he whispered, but the harsh tone of earlier was gone, replaced only by unsure humour to break the silence.

“Been a while.” He nodded, kissing you again to distraction as he shifted your positions.

Cradling your neck and securing your legs comfortably around him, he lowered you against the backseat, pulling out slightly as you adjusted to the new angle.

“Better?” You nodded quickly, because it was. There was no more pressure on your legs, and despite the cramped space in the car, you had enough space to lie almost flat.

“Yes… thank you.” Just as his cutting tone had escaped him, you also heard your own tone softening, the sigh of contentment slipping past your lips almost sweet. Almost.

“Are you going to fuck me now, or what?”

He let out a shocked laugh, but lent down to shut you up with a kiss nonetheless. Bracing himself against the car door, his hips softly rocked into you, pace increasing until you were back to the edge of cumming, nails pressed hard into his skin until you were sure he was going to complain.

He didn't though, but kept up his thrusts, until your vision suddenly darkened and stars exploded in them, rolled back in your head as they were.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, where should I…?” He panicked, but you wrapped your legs around him, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down to swallow his moan as he shot his load inside of you.

“Birth control.” You whispered when you finally let him go, gasping for air. “Contraceptive pill. No need to get the car dirty.”

He collapsed on top of you then, forehead resting against your own as you both caught your breaths.

The moment was silent, and you found the synchronicity of your breaths almost calming. Eventually you had to break apart, and he helped you up to a sitting position, but didn't break eye contact as fell back into his lap.

His hands stroked your back, dipping to your ass at times, but he didn't talk. Neither of you did.

The eye contact between the two of you was possibly the most pleasant conversation you'd ever had.

“I'm sorry.” He blurted, just as fireworks erupted into the night sky. Your heart shook, and you weren't sure of it was the shock of the sound, or the way the rainbow of lights illuminated his sincere expression.

“You don't have to apologise for cumming in me, Spencer.”

“Not that. Before. The casserole and the mistletoe, and the Halloween costume.”

“Wow. Um, okay. Apology accepted, I guess, though I'm not entirely sure why you're apologising now.”

He took a deep breath just as another set of fireworks went up.

“I pulled you under the mistletoe. It was Penelope’s idea, she knew how stupid I was being around you and sent me over. I saw it and took the chance.”

“Fuck. Why?”

“Because I was pretty useless at being chivalrous the year before.”

You climbed off his lap in a scramble and sat on the seat beside him, mind racing, trying to figure out where the hell he was going with this.

He turned to you, trying to keep your attention as he stumbled over the words.

“You couldn't knock on the door, so I wanted to help you, but I didn't think I'd scare you so much you'd drop it.”

“You didn't scare me it was a momentary lapse in my observational skills.”

“You shrieked,” a smile threatened to pull his lips up, they twitched as you flushed red.

“And Halloween?” You looked at him again now, trying to figure out what the hell was going on between the two of you.

“You refused to look at me for a year after we stopped working together,” he shrugged quickly running a hand through his hair and expelling a breath. “I don’t really know how to talk to women.”

“You just know how to piss them off?”

“Morgan says it comes naturally.”

“Yeah, well, Morgan is very wise.”

A brief silence stretched between you, or as silent as a night full of cracks, pops, whizzes and bangs could be.

“I don't get it. You tried your best to get rid of me when I was there to help you. I wanted to impress you, and you kept sending me on meaningless errands, and now you're saying what? You wanted my attention?” There was a quiet anger to your voice, but you were surprised to find it diminished and tired.

“I wanted you gone because you were distracting me, Y/N, not because I hated you.”

“Well, what's the difference, Doctor Reid? Please indulge me.” You huffed a little but kept your eyes on him, trying not to seem too desperate for his answer.

“I have an IQ of 187. Emily says when I'm around a pretty girl it's more like 52,” he fidgeted with his pants, forcing the words out.

“You're a pretty girl. We had a case to work and all I could think about was how to get you to like me. Hotch chewed me out like three separate times for being absent minded.”

He was looking anywhere but you, trying his best not to appear like a fool but you were locked onto him.

“Oh my god you're an idiot.”

“When you're around, yes.”

“And that means I'm equally stupid.”

“No, you just jump to conclusions and hold grudges. There wasn't anything really that stupid about your actions, though it could be suggested that not thoroughly thinking through the wording of the conversation you overheard-”

You cut him off with a kiss, pulling him down again mlby his tie.

“Oh my god, shut up,” you whispered as you broke apart.

“Does that mean we can do this again? Because I'd like to do this again?”

“Stop talking, start kissing jackass.”

He finally didn't argue with that, pulling you back into him as you sat under the stars in his car welcoming the new year.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #criminal minds smut #cm writing challenge

[ravengards-rogue]

the evening stretch | warm-up series.

ft. the prompts, nsfw / "dinner" / arthur morgan.

✧ tags : afab!reader + fem!reader outdoors sex, oral (f!recieving), reader is an outlaw, established relationship, desperate arthur morgan, 18+

✧ wc : 2.7k

✧ a/n : hello! this is part of a little warm-up series i do on my other blog where i pick three prompts and try to come up with something. i normally do them in a rut. im working on a commission and im super stuck so.

this actually landed on javier four times in a row but im being kind and sparing a friend so. here's mr. morgan.

✧ synopsis : arthur thinks the place between your legs would suit him quite nicely.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

Honest to God, Arthur's never been like this before.

He ain't all that pious to start, so perhaps the sentiment doesn't stretch as far as he would like it too. But it's true, all the same - that in all the lives he's lived, he's never experienced this much bone-deep desire for another human being.

Which is outright ridiculous, since right now you're just making supper. Dinner, you always clarify with that yankee accent. You're going to have dinner together, 'cause Arthur needs to eat. He works hard, according to you.

It's not much, but you're a better cook than Pearson. Even if that's not saying a whole lot. And you're insistent on making the man eat, always on his case about how it's hardly enough for a man his size.

Arthur can chalk it up to being that you love him, as you have told him foolishly many times. He's sure you're not gonna be happy with him in a minute since again - all you're doing is making dinner.

It's just... something. Something about you today. Dammit, he doesn't understand it neither. You've got a job together, and you and Arthur play convincing husband and wife since you practically are anyway. Arthur's been watching you today closely. You lie pretty. Smile with all your teeth, clever with a careful finesse and an honest knack for debauchery and indecency.

You love calling yourself an awful woman. Joking about dying an unweddable spinster given your crudity.

But Arthur likes it in you. Of you. Likes it so much he's done nothing but readjust his pants watching you squirm your way out of every difficult situation and sling the revolver on your hip like a tried-and-true gunslinger.

You're a fine woman to him. A fine one.

The fire crackles as you place a pot over the little flame of the faux stove. You've made a real dinner somehow - with some vegetables and creeping thyme and carefully butchery of meat. It smells good and you seem proud of it, stirring the thing with the sharp end of your knife. Careful not to scrape the pot.

Arthur watches the light glow orange on your face, carefully observing the way it shines on you. You don't look up at all when you speak.

"Gonna stare a hole into me, Morgan."

He feels something warm crawl up his cheeks. He scratches his beard instinctively, tucking his hat over his eyes.

"'m sorry," He says, unsure of how to cover for himself. "Been thinking about some things."

"Don't hurt yourself," You reply, sardonic and dry. Arthur adores you. He laughs to himself and feels warmed by the pleasant smile that seems to give you.

"I'll try. Ain't much used to thinking,"

"Penny for your thoughts, then Mr. Morgan." You reply, carefully moving the pot around so nothing burns. "Might help you clear your mind if you get some of it off your chest."

He's backed himself into a wall. Goddamn him and his big mouth. He hesitates, taking it off this time. Fidgety.

"Yanno, there ain't a lot women like you. Not that I've met at least."

You give him a look. Your lips pressed into a flat line, unimpressed by him.

"Is that so?"

He laughs to himself. "It is indeed. You're a real piece of work. 'Specially going around batting your lashes, making yourself out to be a housewife."

"Aw what, did you like seeing me all doe eyed?" You smile to yourself, teasing but not entirely insincere. "If it helps, since you're the fake husband, I'm only half-acting."

That makes him grin. Though you say it with confidence, the sincerity it makes you flush.

"It ain't that," Arthur says again, looking at your face for the second time in a few minutes. "Just that you're a fine woman to be around. What do they call it...resourceful. That's what I'm thinking of."

"Who taught you such a big word, Morgan?"

"Trelawny, I'd guess."

You laugh, loud and beautiful and Arthur smiles. You look at him from across the fire. "Well, I'm glad you like my company, Mr. Morgan."

"I do more than like it," He hums, offering a reprieve. He nods at you carefully, head tilted. "Come 'ere,"

Your eyes widen at him, but you don't deny him of what he's asking. For that he is awfully grateful. You're more than capable and much less than needy. There's victory in your deliberate desire for him, Arthur thinks. You want him enough to let him chase you.

You come sit by Arthur. You're a little awkward with him still but he don't mind. It adds to whatever he feels for you, sugar-sweet affection and all. You sit on your knees and Arthur turns his head looking at you.

Beautiful. Beautiful thing you are, really. He has a hard time finding the words to tell you.

He reaches up, hand cupping your face. You lean into the touch, palm resting on calloused hand. He adores you.

"And quit with the Mister Morgan nonsense. Drives me crazy."

"Arthur," You say, slow and deliberate. "You know you're looking at me like you wanna eat me."

'"Read my mind, then."

"Arthur," You repeat, scandalized. He would smile if he wasn't so serious. "We're supposed to be eatin' dinner. You got into a whole spat with them Leymone Riders just today. You need to recover,"

His smile widens.

"Lettin' me go down on ya will heal me just fine,"

You look at him exasperated. Arthur leans into your neck, placing chaste kisses down the line of your jaw. He kisses you just there - underneath your earlobe, knows it drives you crazy.

"Lay down, sugar. Help a poor, injured man heal."

You pull away from him with faux exasperation, fond smiling breaking your face.

"You can be such a dog some times, do you know that?"

"I'm afraid I do,"

You give him another unimpressed look, but you listen anyways. Arthur moves so you can lay down on the bedroll - his bedroll. He takes off his coat just before you lay your head, playing it underneath you to get you more comfortable.

"Dinner's gonna burn," You tell him, almost reflexively. He laughs as he looks at you, your hands folded over your stomach and flat. He laughs at you.

"Burn? You feeling warm?"

"Arthur!"

And he laughs again, catching your boot in his hand as you go to kick his chest lightly. He sets it back down as he stares at you. You're quite the sight. Adoration bubbles up into his throat, blooms out into a hum. The sound of crickets and owls and all sorts of night wanderers sound - but none are distracting enough to pry his gaze away.

"You're looking too much," You say, your voice a half tremble. He nods.

"Got too," Arthur hums, leaning forward into your space. You always smell good to him, some cross between soft earth, and sweet liquor and clothes left in the sun. Skin and salt and sweet. "Who knows how long I'll be around."

He presses his lips to yours gentle and you kiss him - but only once before pulling away. Your eyes suddenly serious, warm palm on his cheek.

"Don't say something so morbid. If you go, I go,"

"Sweetheart—"

"No buts." You affirm, pressing your thumb to his lip all serious. Your eyes meet and for a moment - just one minute, all he wants to do is stop time from moving. From stealing him from you in life at all. Even a few seconds, intolerable. "Don't feel to good to hear, does it? So don't say it."

"Alright, alright," He huffs, laughing against your neck. He kisses it again, right against your pulse - quickening under his teeth as he bites and scrapes. He mulls over how much he wants you, and how little time there is to do everything. "Jus' lemme...I dunno."

Now you're cheeky, smiling up at him. Lord above, you do something so terrible to him. "Now that's just not true, baby."

He laughs deep and raspy. It's not true, because he knows exactly what he's after.

Arthur lets his hands plane over your clothed body. He doesn't bother with the ritual of undressing you entirely - since the act doesn't deserve the intimacy. You do, maybe - but Arthur's head feels too foggy to do anything civilized. He has to settle for letting his hands grip the fabric of your skirt and push it until it bunches around your waist.

There's no real delicacy in it, save for the way your breath hitches as Arthur gives himself better access. He moves to lay on his stomach between your thighs. He wishes it were brighter to give him better view. He's seen it plenty but looking at your pretty pussy alone gets him harder than steel.

His hands go underneath every layer of fabric to undo the little tie of your undergarments. You squirm when Arthur takes them off, but you don't pull away.

It's pretty. Even with the dim light of just the moon and fire to let Arthur see it. What entices him mostly though is the scent, after a long day of riding out alone - there's something about the way you smell - sweat and all that makes the back of his mouth ache with want. Makes his teeth hurt just dreaming about it.

He doesn't let his animalistic urges take him yet. He knows you need the build up. His hand is soft as he grips onto your waist. He pulls your legs further apart and lets his lips brush the inside of your thigh. Starts at your knee and works his way up, his mouth burning hot - open kisses. You giggle at the sensation of his beard, but it's tamped down with lust Arthur knows like the back of his hand.

Slow, deliberate, sinful. He knows the way you liked to be touched so exactly, but the pace is set more by his desperation. It grows ten sizes listening to you sigh and huff, feeling your hands come down to touch his hair and play with it.

"Arthur," Your voice calls. Pleading. Wanting him. You're so good at making Arthur loose his composure with so little. It's hard to tease you as your voice clips off into a whine. "Arthur,"

"I've got you," He says, assured. He means it as much as he means anything he's ever said. He ain't a decent man, but this much he can say full ways. "I've got you, sugar. Ease up. Let me take care of you,"

And so you again, breathless - boneless and eager. You let Arthur into your space, and something about that. Something about you. His heart races, blood pumping through his body. It pulses in his ears, head swimming with nothing but praise for you.

You're a fine woman. You're a good girl. The best he knows.

Arthur can feel the way your clit pulses with want before he ever puts his mouth on you. Makes him chuckle, gloved hand resting on your navel. He uses his thumb to pull it back, before using both hands to spread you open. Then, in an act less then gentlemanly, spits on it hard. He watches it land, lewd as it drips between your fold. He laughs to himself.

Another pitchy call of his name and Arthur decides he's had enough fun to get him through the evening.

He kisses your clit first, thinks it's only gentlemanly. When your hips buck up trying to chase the feeling of his mouth - he laughs. His hands dig into your hips. You're soft, skin dimpling from just how tight he holds onto you.

When he finally gets what he wants, his own body lurches forward from want. He nearly slumps into the ground - half-way between relieved and utterly addicted. It's a sense of euphoria unmatched by the finest liquor or cigars money can be.

The taste of you fills his mouth as Arthur eats.

Arthur is not used to playing predator. Not interested in the act of devouring. You often compare him to some sort of herbivore. But there's something too hungry, too visceral, too primal for him to be anything but a coyote. A teethed thing, all screwed up from hunger.

He lets his tongue slip against the seam of your cunt, all the arousal collecting in his mouth. His senses flood with something heady, sweet but bitter and he groans shamelessly as a result. Spoiled by the taste and utterly debauched.

"Oh, god - Arthur, you're—"

Arthur is pleased by the way your words are cut off by your own moan. He slides his tongue back up, wet muscle firm as it lays flat against your clit. There's a slight twitch like it's asking for more attention.

Arthur is all to eager vtoo provide, closing his lips around the twitching bundle of nerves. He knows what you like. Learned over time just the amount of pressure he needs to suck with and the speed he needs to draw his tongue over your clit to get you right at the very edge of your orgasm.

He teases you to that pace. Slow increases in either or, until it's just at that perfect medium. Once he hits that spot, you always moan so pretty.

You shudder, your body lurching up as your hands get tighter in his hair. "Aah, fuck. Ngh, Arthur. Don't do this t'me."

You begging him not too makes him want to do it more. If Arthur were any less aroused, he would. But his brain can barely think up enough to stamina to do that. His own cock is strained against his work pants - hips instinctively rutting into the bedroll just beneath him. Silently seeking friction all while hoping he doesn't get enough to distract him.

It'd be a damn shame, he thinks - letting anything pull him from the taste of your pussy. From the smell of it, from the sight of it, from the feeling of you. Sticky, pulsing strings of arousal coating his tongue and turning all his thoughts to dust.

His cock throbs again as you rut against his mouth. Arthur pins you in place.

"Please," You say. A magic word he ain't much stronger than. "Please make me cum,"

You really are a good girl, the way you know exactly what makes him tick. Arthur moans into your cunt as he sucks and licks and eats. He'd die over it, and he does not mean it lightly. It's the only thing in the world he wants to do in the moment. He laser focuses on finding that sweet spot again.

And he knows he does when you start whimpering. Squirming and holding onto his soft brown locks and pleading for something you don't know about. He can feel how wet your getting - dripping along down his beard and face. Thick strings of your arousal stick and slide down his neck.

He's never been a messy eater, but you've been disproving many of his prior understandings of himself. He supposes it's only natural.

"Oh, baby," You say, not even his name. Arthur knows it's a warning that you're gonna cum. All he can do is encourage you. He hums into your soft, wet cunt and you groan again. "Fuck, Arthur. I'm gonna cum."

Arthur knows better. He doesn't do a thing but keep going. Lets you move and thrash and pull away but keeps you firm in his place and eats your pussy until you can barely think.

He knows the knot is untying before you do because of how much you squirm. When you cum, you cum hard. Your back arches up into a picture perfect curve, toes curling and hands tugging at his roots for purchase.

He can feel every pulse of desire as you finally do let go. You cry out, loud enough to startle any nearby critters. Your fingers grip tight at the base of his hair as the orgasm washes over you. It's just as magnetic as it was the first time.

He's sure that will always be true.

When Arthur pulls away from your pulsing, wet core - he can feel just how much of his lower face is sticky. He's sure you also know, if the way you laugh is anything to go by.

And he's not long to follow after. Not even a few seconds and he can feel something in pants tighten - a mess of white staining the front of the denim in an onset of lust damn near shameful. Is he a teenager again? Lord above.

Breathlessly, you look down at him after you've ridden your high out.

Pulling up Arthur by the collar, you look at him slowly and frown. You look impassioned and a little frustrated.

You kiss him tender after you've come too. Once, then twice, then a another time with your hand still drawn into a fist. Arthur grabs it closed, opening your palms before kissing the palm of your hands until you're no longer mad.

"Hate how good you are at that," You admit, a little drunk of the euphoria of all of it. "Make me feel so crazy."

Arthur beams at you unapologetic.

"It's good to be that with me, sweetheart." Arthur says, kissing the corner of your mouth. "Now how about you go and give me one more?"

You laugh breathlessly but don't go to stop him at all.

"Insatiable man."

"Only for you, my girl."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 smut #rogues love letters #zero.arthur #this is OUTRAGEOUS. I WAS WARMING UP??? #i need to sleep its nearly 8. jesus christ.

[maeumi-jng]

language of love

pairing: enhypen x gn!reader

synopsis: the language of love... so simple yet so profound. especially when you can't muster the courage to tell that special someone. or the subtle ways enha shows they like you.

warnings: fluff, skinship, swearing, mention of a nosebleed, unclear topic of insecurities about looks with riki, kinda cringe but everyone's so flirty (esp, hee, jay, and hoon 🤭), proof read-ish as usual

library: enhypen bookshelf

author's note: this was supposed to take one day but took four because i kept getting called into work shifts that i don't normally do 😭🤧 so i may or may not have gotten a bit lost on the way, bare with me please ♡︎

heeseung

heeseung is someone who likes to spend time with you, quality time if you will. but he's always in internal conflict about it. he loves being with you but when he's with you, he doesn't know how to act. you make him feel like jelly. as if he'd melt by being with you. and the amount of time he'd spend with you made the lines between friends and something more quite blurry.

but the time he likes to spent with you isn't on anything normal or something that occurs everyday like grocery shopping, having lunch together, or watching a movie with you. while of course, he enjoyed those things, heeseung like to make the smallest things that seemed insignificant and unimportant to life heart fluttering.

take for example, the one time you had decided to sit down at a bench in the park with your group of friends. heeseung was next to you when you found a newspaper that had been left behind with an unfinished crossword puzzle.

you weren't really a crossword puzzle type of person but you had a pen in your bag and you figured why not?

the puzzle was ocean themed which lost you even more. but you persevered only to become stuck on the very last word. it was across, intertwining with the 1st word, and seven letters long. the prompt? 'what is a community of organisms that live on or near a 'benthic zone'?'

yup. beyond you.

heeseung, who was talking to sunghoon, noticed your struggle by the pout of your lips, wondering eyes, occasional sighs and the tapping of your pen against your chin. a small smile crept onto his face when you turned to him and asked, "hee, i'm stuck. how do you do this? help me... please?"

who was he to deny such a cute request?

suddenly, he leaned towards you, taking your pen out of your hand. you blinked blankly at the close proximity between the two of you. you could feel the warmth radiate off of him. awkwardly, you rubbed the nape of your neck while heeseung glided the pen across the seven boxes. you couldn't tell what he was writing, eyes focused on the side of his face. he looked beautiful from the side too.

you chewed on your lip, watching him pull back and retract his hand. "you're done?" you asked, bewildered he had figured it out without searching it up.

heeseung hummed, eyes trailing over your face. "nope," he said, "i don't know the answer." he shrugged.

"huh?" you raised a brow, now peering over to the once empty row of squares. you're brows furrowed, trying to read the letters. but once you did, your eyes widened at the seven filled boxes.

URSOQT♡︎

"i–" you turned your head to heeseung to ask him what he meant as a wave of heat taking over your face. but he was already looking at you.

any voice you had had suddenly died down. you pressed your lips together, unable to form any words.

heeseung smiled softly, heart entirely overwhelmed by your reaction. he sighed, breathing in the fresh air before looking over to sunghoon. "don't you just love crosswords?"

sunghoon blinked. "what? hyung, i'm talking about basketball right now. crosswords? what are you on?"

heeseung pursed his lips, turning back to you. "i love crosswords."

see? crosswords... insignificant and not life changing. but ever since that day, you had never gone a second without your heart fluttering when you thought about it.

see? significant and life changing. 🤗

jongseong

jay hated having glasses.

or he hated having poor eyesight which made him have glasses.

whatever... it didn't matter. he just hated his glasses. they were a nuisance, always hurting the bridge of his nose and actually rendering him unable to see the face.

to make matters worse, riki and jake loved to tease him about how bad his eyesight actually was by trying them on. it was only a few seconds into wearing them that riki was complaining about sore eyes and the shock of his suddenly blurry vision had finally registered in jake's brain once he wore them. so jay avoided giving people his glasses to try on.

but when it came to you... it was hard to say no.

jay was in his local cafe, just reading his book, determined to get through it even though his brain was telling him to take an afternoon nap. also because he was meeting you soon and he was more determined to stay awake for that.

he had come early because he didn't want to keep you waiting, even for a second. but he had become so engrossed in his book, jay didn't even realise you had finally arrived.

"peekaboo. guess who? " suddenly, as jay was reading, your hands hovered over his glasses, covering his vision.

a smile automatically came to his face while jay rested his book down on the table. "is it the most prettiest girl in the universe?"

your eyes widened at his words, pulling your hands quickly back to you. your cheeks flushed while you cleared your throat, taking a seat next to him.

jay watched you try to dismiss his words but you didn't know what to say. and call it a bit odd, but jay loved it.

you blinked at his face, tilting your head, making jay raise a brow. suddenly it was his turn to be nervous when you leaned in and took his glasses gently off of his face. he could feel your hot breath from this close proximity. oh how he wished he could close in just a few more centimetres.

"can i try these on?" you queried.

jay slowly nodded, watching you first look through the lenses. you squinted at the wave of blurriness. "christ," you mumbled, trying to blink it away. "jay, you really can't see," you teased before gliding the frames onto your face.

jay needed to look away, taking anything as a distraction because he wasn't sure if he could handle seeing you wear his glasses.

you scrunched your nose at the heavy weight. you tapped jay's shoulder, trying to get his attention. "jay, look! i can't even see anything with these on."

jay internally cursed, slowly moving his head back to it's original position. he paused at the sight.

the thing was, jay already found you extremely adorable. there was just so much to like about you. the look on your face when you tried to be mad or when you needed to concentrate. or when you meet up and both realise you were wearing matching clothing. or whenever you saw stray kittens and puppies when it rained and you would sacrifice your umbrella just so they could have some shade and keep warm.

in the nicest way possible, you were terrible for his heart.

but watching you wear his glasses... it was so simple and stupid but it made his heart flip a million times more. you looked good in his things. a fact of the universe.

jay smiled softly, observing you take them off once your head started to throb.

"it's okay. they look better on you anyways," you told him, leaning in again to carefully put them back on his face.

jay's heart was now slamming against his chest. in his vision, he could see you use your index finger to nestle the glasses onto his nose bridge. "there," you said, "handsome as ever."

jay blinked, trying to calm his racing heart with subtle deep breaths.

he needed to confess... soon.

jaeyun

you know how quality time is a love language? well, it's a language that jake knows off by heart ever since he met you.

unlike heeseung, he wasn't entirely fixated on the small things. he liked doing the daily things with you like your morning hot chocolate run, going shopping with you, having a fixed lunch (date) everyday... it guaranteed him his daily dose of you and vice versa.

even if you were doing nothing, jake liked to hang out. just watching tiktoks on your phone or tv shows together, trying a new recipe you found, or even going on a picnic was enough for jake (and you).

take now for example. you were hanging out in the library for god's sake. you had an assignment to finish (mostly because you had pushed it so far that you had almost entirely forgotten it). despite you telling jake that it was literally going to take you hours because it took you thirty minutes to half-ass an introduction, he was all like, "it's fine. i have nothing to do any way."

like ??? what do you mean you have nothing to do? you could think of twenty things that were better than this. and that was just off the top of your head.

you'd like to think that you were getting a lot done, considering a few hours had passed and it seemed like there were a lot of words on your screen.

however, reality is not that kind.

instead, you had only written 600 words of your 2000 word essay and mostly focused on the fact that jake was spending him time... by staring at you.

"jake... i can't focus if you keep looking at me. i told you to go do something else more fun," you uttered, not peeling your eyes away from the screen.

"but this is fun. for your information, i find the fact that you find me more interesting than your essay really fun," jake smiled, leaning on his arm while he sat across you.

you blinked blankly at your screen. what were you writing again? "well now... now you're just twisting my words," you mumbled, feeling a wave of warmth scatter across the back of your neck.

suddenly a ding echoed from your phone making the both of you jump. you quickly ushered your phone to yourself, forgetting to silent your phone when you had entered. your eyes flickered over the notification and upon registering it, your face dropped.

jake raised a brow. "who is it?"

"it's my mum, shit i forgot," you sighed. "i have to go run errands for her. sorry, jake. at least you can find something fun to do now. see you!"

jake watched you quickly pack your stuff up, suddenly processing that you were leaving with out him.

you were just heading out of the library, standing up from your table when you felt a tug on your wrist. your eyes fell to your hand and then up to jake. you peered with a curious gaze.

"wait for me," jake told you, jacket half shrugged on. he sighed at your confused expression. "i'm coming with you, obviously."

"jake, seriously, it's fine," you laughed softly as he struggled to gather his things.

jake turned to you, sporting the uttermost serious expression you had ever seen on his face. "you don't get it... i cancel my other plans to spend time with you. sweetheart, there is literally nothing else i'd rather do than be with you."

oh.

your eyes widened. the endearment... the obviousness of it all...

you gave a small sigh, shaking your head slightly before letting a warm smile sprawl onto your face. "well come on then."

jake grinned, taking his bag off of the chair next to him. "this is gonna be great! especially because i haven't seen your mum in ages."

you raised a brow as you both walked together. "jake, you literally saw her three days ago."

"my point exactly."

sunghoon

to be honest, sunghoon doesn't necessarily exhibit the fact he likes you. because he doesn't really know how to. he preferred to keep his feelings at bay, more than content with being friends with you instead of ruining your relationship. and maybe... just maybe his feelings for you would go away.

but that preference was short lived when sunghoon realised he couldn't really control himself around you any longer. he'd find himself caring about all the small things.

every time he talked to you and he caught your smile when you were happily talking about the things you loved, sunghoon had to force himself to turn his head away and hide his own smile.

one time you hit your nose and dramatically made a big deal about it. it was amusing until sunghoon actually saw blood and the panic cross your eyes. now sunghoon naturally covered all the sharp and blunt corners and objects that you could possibly hurt yourself with when you were both walking together while making sure you walked on the inside of the road rather than near the cars or poles.

his friends even noticed. especially when he'd laugh at a tiktok you were showing him but they showed the exact one to him days before and sunghoon didn't even utter a word.

in summary: sunghoon liked you way too much.

and it was getting harder to contain his feelings.

"sunghoon-ah?" you called out, looking at your phone.

sunghoon, who was laying next to you on a picnic blanket, discreetly looking at you the entire time and revelling in the idyllic nature, hummed in response.

"what do you think about this guy for me?"

sunghoon squinted as you showed him your phone. a small huff of amusement fell from his lips. "why? does he have a crush on you or something?" he joked, briefly glancing at the phone, not even hiding his uninterest.

you rolled your eyes, taking your phone back. leave it up to sunghoon to take things so half-heartedly. "no... it's just that my friend is trying to set me up with someone–"

suddenly the phone was taken out of your hands. now fully attentive, sunghoon eyed the photo on your phone. he furrowed his brows, making you question him. "sunghoon?"

he sucked his teeth and tilted his head, pondering. "but don't i look better than this guy?"

you blinked rapidly, at a lost for words. sunghoon wasn't ever this straightforward with you. nor did he flirt subtly. in all the time you had known him, you had known him to be a sweet and caring person underneath all that evasiveness (all of which you'd come to really like, not that you'd ever tell him). but he'd never voice these things to you...

you broke out into a small smile with a quiet hum. "i guess you are better looking," you shrugged with feigned nonchalance, averting your eyes to anywhere else in the park.

sunghoon looked at your flushed state and smiled to himself. he nodded, mostly to himself, as he returned your phone. "yeah," he agreed with red ears, "i'm a lot better looking."

seonwoo

when seonwoo realised he liked you, at first he did nothing about it. what was he even going to do? tell you? ha! what a joke!

but after encountering several other people asking him for your number or socials, seonwoo realised he needed to up his game. make it more obvious. like really obvious.

so the first thing he did? he confessed.

you being you, you thought he was playing a joke on you. because why on earth would the kim seonwoo like you? this was the real world not la-la-la land.

seonwoo could barely register that fact that you thought he was joking. so he made it his mission to bring it up as often as he could. but not so much that you'd get fed up.

like you had just begun watching a drama that had finished a few weeks ago and seonwoo had decided to join you. you were so obsessed with it that you kept bringing it up when you could. one day, you were telling him about a part you saw when he briefly fell asleep and he says casually, “i know.”

and you’re like ??? “seonwoo, you fell asleep. what do you mean you know?”

he’d look at you and say, “i already watched all of it.”

you blinked blankly. “i– w-what? then why would you watch it again? isn’t that like a waste of time?”

“because you wanted to and because i like you. do i need any other reason?”

ohhhhhh

or on any random day, seonwoo would walk into your room and smile widely while holding up two matching items. "look what i got!”

you’d look up and press your lips together. “more matching keychains? not that i'm complaining but seonwoo.. i have like twenty of these because of you. the whole point of keychains is to actually use them not swap them out every other day.”

seonwoo would pout. “b-but each one shows how much i like you.”

you blankly look at him before slamming your head into your pillows, hiding your flushed cheeks. "ugh, seonwoo, why are you like this?" you grumbled, fighting between the urge to cringe or crumble.

seonwoo would be attaching the new keychains he brought to your already packed bag. "because i'm amazing," he'd say, "and because i like you."

your last straw was picked when you were trying to do something a simple as show him a video you found on your phone during your absentminded scrolling. "seonwoo, watch this."

seonwoo leaned in next to you, eyes momentarily on the phone before resting on you for most of the video.

you were grinning at the video of cute puppies before realising seonwoo was looking at you instead. "i– are you watching?" you queried, suddenly feeling self conscious all of a sudden

"hmm?" seonwoo blinked, moving his eyes back to the screen. "oh... yeah."

"seonwoo," you whined. "you need to stop that."

"stop what? looking at you. but that's like normal," seonwoo raised a brow.

"no, stop looking at me like that."

"like what?" seonwoo egged on. "like my entire world is in front of me?"

you sucked in a sharp breath, giving him a pointed look.

seonwoo held your gaze, responding earnestly. "does it make you feel uncomfortable? if it does... i'll stop. it'll be hard but i'll do it."

you chewed your bottom lip, spotting the dismay in his boba eyes. "no. it's okay. i like it."

a surge of relief wavered throughout you when a wide smile appeared back onto his face. "good," sunoo beamed, "i'm glad."

jungwon

jungwon was as direct as some get. if he had something to say, he'd say it. this persona, however, did not apply to two things: when someone asked him if he liked the food he was eating when he didn't or when it came to you.

jungwon didn't really know how it happened but he seemed to lose all senses and all the ability to speak when he was around you. that's when he realised he liked you.

every time you were with each other, a majority of it was in this comforting silence with the occasional side conversation. but if you minded, you didn't say anything. you seemed to enjoy the peace that always stemmed when you two were together.

that was one of those things that made jungwon find it difficult to communicate his feelings with you. with every passing day, he'd return home with something else he liked about you.

one day you were hanging out with your friend group. the sun was setting, it was warm out despite the slight breeze. jungwon was talking to his friend on his right when he realised he hadn't heard your voice in a while. he turned to you, only to find you resting your eyes, absorbing the peaceful atmosphere while your hair danced with the wind. that day, jungwon went home realising he really liked seeing you at peace.

another day, jungwon found out that you were really good at remembering the small things and how attached you got to them. he was in your room for the first time and you went to grab some water. his eyes skimmed the room, stopping on the shelf that was littered with some of the most random items: old movie tickets, beads, coins, and even a heart-shaped pebble.

you came back into the room, settling the cups of water down on your desk. "what are you looking at? ah, you found the shelf."

jungwon curiously turned to you, eyes still stuck on the shelf. "what is all of this?" his voice barely above a whisper.

"memories," you murmured softly. you walked next to him, gingerly picking the pebble off of the wood and showed it to jungwon. "you don't remember this one?"

jungwon raised a brow, trying to scavenge his brain for this pebble. after a lot of nothingness, it struck him! "oh my god, this is not the same rock we saw at beach last year, is it?" you had both found it hiding in the sand after you trailed away from the others.

"ding ding! a point for yang jungwon!" you confirmed, a small smile teetering on your face.

jungwon looked at you wordlessly. he didn't know what to say. if he thought about it, a lot of that shelf had him on it. the movie tickets, the coins he found on the road, the teddy bear he brought you for your birthday... you had kept everything.

after that day, jungwon knew he needed to make things a tad bit more obvious. at least in his perspective. so he showed you in a way that didn't have him talking too much: acts of service.

jungwon knew you ordered your coffee every morning so he'd bring it with him every time you met. he always kept a hoodie for you because you always got cold easily. always call you when you were on the bus or getting a ride to make sure you reached home safely. opening stubborn packs of food when you couldn't. always having medicine on hand when you felt unwell.

jungwon would basically drop everything for you. and he'd think he was doing it sooo discreetly but you noticed, embarrassing him when you pointed it out.

"you're just so thoughtful, so i wanted to show you that i also think about you too.. like a lot."

(future) boyfriend goals indeed. 🤭

riki

similar to seonwoo, in an strange way, riki was direct. strange because this only occurred when he had a point to prove. call it what you want... youth or the journey of maturity, but if he wanted to let you know something, he'd say it. in summary: for you, an attention seek.

while riki was competitive, he never really competed with a person one-on-one. it was rather a battle of what he could do rather than him by himself. like he'd rather find out he's better by acing them in a basketball match or something.

yet, when both of you were hanging out with your friends in a pet cafe to relieve some stress, riki found himself competing with the worker who had been staring at you ever since you took a step into the place.

how was riki going to resolve this you ask? (or win, in this case?)

by trying to get as many pets around him as he could. see, riki knew you cherished animals. any time you were near one, you'd always have to stop to look, talk, and ensure they were safe. riki found it endearing. so if all the animals in the cafe loved him and not the the guy who literally works there, then not only has he won over the animals and the worker, but most importantly, he's won your heart (vicariously through animals, of course).

the only problem? as mentioned, the guy worked there. and while the one shiba inu in the cafe seemed to adore riki, the rest were in the hands of the freaking worker! and right beside him was you.

riki whisper-yelled your name, capturing your attention. "look at this!"

you turned to find the same young shiba inu, the one you had been fawning over the moment you saw him, sleeping in riki's lap. your eyes softened at the sight of them together. cuteness with cuteness... just your luck. you reached for the phone in the pocket of your jacket.

riki paused briefly, realising you had snapped a sneaky photo of him and the puppy. discreetly, his eyes took a moment to savour the awkward realisation on the worker's face. a small smug grin made it's way onto his face. he was on your camera roll. he won.

but this type of stuff was tame in comparison to what riki pulled the other day.

you were at his house, waiting for him to get ready so you could watch a new movie in the cinema. riki was hopping out, trying to put his sock on when he saw you intently staring at your phone.

a sudden flick to your forehead got your attention.

"ow!" you exclaimed, rubbing your head. "riki, what the hell?"

riki bit back his smile when he saw you pout. "what are you looking at so much that you can't look at me?"

you rolled your eyes, removing your hand from your forehead. "first of all, you're the one taking forever. second of all... it's not really anything, it's just a pretty person. see? don't you think they're like really pretty?" you sucked in a sharp breath, waiting for an answer.

riki furrowed his brows, trying to put his shoes on at the door as you showed him your screen. he eyed the photo before looking back up at you and back at the phone. "you're prettier," he said nonchalantly.

you blinked blankly, slowly raising your phone back to your chest. you were suddenly desperately fighting a wave of fluster from drowning you. you pressed your lips, letting a small huff of amusement slip past your lips. "i don't think that's what other people would say."

riki finished tying his shoelaces, standing up straight. he sighed, taking the phone out of your hands, closing it and putting it into the pocket of your hoodies as he stepped closer to you. his hands moved to hold your cheeks while his brown eyes held yours intently. "it doesn't matter what they think. i think you're prettier. that's all that matters."

your mouth fell open, cheeks warm at his sudden touch. it was as if all the words you had ever learned or read had flown right from your brain and dispersed into the air.

removing his hands from your face, riki grasped your hand tightly. "now come on! we're really going to be late if you keep standing like a gaping fish!"

© maeumi-jng | do not copy, post (repost is fine!) or translate anywhere else! thank you ♡︎ requests here!

#maeumi-jng #maeumi jng’s library — enhypen bookshelf ♡︎ #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #jungwon x reader #enhypen reactions #heeseung x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #jay x reader #riki x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen headcannons

[steddieas-shegoes]

even on my worst days

for @steddiemicrofic's october prompt 'suck' (the first of many) rated: T (probably the only one not mature or explicit) wc: 480 cw: discussion of depression tags: a bad day, hurt/comfort, getting together

👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻

This day sucked.

He still had four hours left before he could be alone.

And two of those hours would be spent in therapy.

Because he was depressed.

According to the fancy doctor that was on call for the Hawkins crew, Steve had always been depressed, but now needed to learn to cope with the trauma he faced on top of that.

Or whatever.

His day started with his alarm clock not going off, making him late to work on the one day that Keith opened with him. After he got chewed out for 20 minutes about being responsible, he realized he forgot his lunch at home, and a dull headache was already starting behind his eyes.

Two customers in a row called him an idiot for not having the movie they wanted, followed by a kid knocking over their entire horror movie display because he got "scared."

By the time he cleaned up, his head was pounding, his stomach was growling, and Keith was yelling at him about Brent never showing up on time for his shift, as if that was Steve's problem.

Steve didn't get along with Brent, but he'd never been happier to see him when he did show up for his shift, replacing Keith.

"Steve?"

Steve's eyes focused back on...

"Eddie? What are you doing here?"

Eddie looked around, making sure they were alone at the counter before leaning in to answer.

"It's therapy day. Brought you a cookie."

Steve could kiss him.

He wanted to kiss him.

So far, the only thing about this day that didn't suck was Eddie standing in front of him holding a cookie like he did before all of his therapy appointments.

Instead of kissing him, Steve started crying.

"Shit, Stevie-" Eddie pulled him around the edge of the counter and against his chest. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Sorry. Just a shitty day. Probably making yours worse by crying about it."

"Nope, not at all. Kind of happy to be holding you, actually."

That was just unfair. Eddie was always just being way too nice and Steve didn't deserve it.

"You want me to stay with you until therapy?" Eddie whispered against his ear, sending a shiver down Steve's back.

"You don't have to-"

"I asked if you wanted me to."

Steve pulled back, but Eddie's arms remained around him.

"Will it help the day suck less if I stay?" he asked again.

Steve nodded.

And this time, instead of crying, Steve leaned back in and pecked him on the lips.

It was quick, it had to be since there was a customer still floating between aisles, and Brent was supposed to be back from his break any minute.

But it was something.

Eddie smiled at him, his eyes softening, losing the concern almost entirely.

It looked like his day might turn around, especially if he gets to keep kissing Eddie.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficoctober

[fictionalwh0ree]

saw your post, is this an ok request..?

Dean W. x reader she fell first but he fell harder? where she kicks his ass in a game of pool, and she doesnt give her number, for one of the first times he gives her HIS #. sam makes a comment but dean threatens him or something.

one game- dean winchester

summary: when one of your regulars dies mysteriously, two boys come in and help solve his case, but not without a beer at your bar every evening. when the case is finally solved, one of the boys challenges you to a game of pool in exchange for a drink.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: none

owning a bar in a small town was pretty uneventful. you enjoyed your job, enjoyed how you were a part of your community. most evenings you’d watch the same regulars come and go, some who came from work, some who were just out with friends. you’d grown up there and had taken over your fathers place when he passed, meaning you were very well acquainted with everyone. besides a couple passer byers that brought something different into town, every day was very similar. you enjoyed the routine, thinking your life would be that way forever.

until one of your very loyal regulars, gary, mysteriously dies. the county police refused to disclose his cause of death. you thought it was ridiculous, i mean, the guy had known you since you were five. he was your family and you his. you were angered by it and figured it must’ve been something brutal if they didn’t want to share it with you.

a couple days later, your suspicion was confirmed when two fbi agents came into town. one was tall, brunette and more reserved. the other was slightly shorter with green eyes and a huge ego. the two boys came in every night for four nights straight, and between their questions, the green eyed man, dean, would throw in a little flirty comment. the taller boy, sam, would turn his head away or roll his eyes every time, a very similar reaction to yours. you got hit on here and there, but usually it was by way older men. you had to admit, it being someone around your age was a nice change. you thought he was cute, but didn’t bother with anything, knowing they’d be out of town soon.

two other people had died in the period of time that sam and dean were there, but you could tell they were getting close. the sheriff had come in a night ago and had talked to you about how the two boys were helping get justice for the victims. he said he wouldn’t have been able to do it on his own, not a chance.

on the fourth night, the sheriff called. he let you know that the case had been solved and that everything had been handled. again, he kept all details confidential, but thought you would benefit from knowing that the townspeople were safe again. later that night, sam and dean walked in. dean had a fairly fresh gash on his cheekbone, but that didn’t take away from the air of accomplishment around them.

“the usual?” you said as they took their seats.

sam nodded and you poured two cold beers for them. you set them down in front with some peanuts.

“thanks sweetheart,” dean said, prompting a smile from you as you fought back a slight blush

“drinks are on the house for you guys tonight,” you said.

“what for?” sam said.

“sheriff told me what you did for him, for gary,” you replied, “thank you.”

“just doing our job,” sam replied with a smile.

you left them on their own for a little while until sam got up to use the washroom. dean called you over, an empty beer glass in front of him.

“refill?” you asked as you walked over.

“no. actually, i was wondering if i could interest you in a round of pool,” the boy said.

“i’m on the clock, dean,” you said as you leaned over the counter.

“come on, sweetheart,” he cooed, “i’ve seen you busting your ass back there four nights in a row.”

“that’s kind of what comes with owning a bar,” you said.

“you know what else comes with owning a bar?” he said with a smirk as you cocked your eyebrow up.

“doing what you want in it,” he finished, causing you to laugh out loud.

“and if i do that who’s gonna keep everyone’s drinks full?” you asked playfully.

“listen, if you’re not up to the challenge, just say so,” dean said jokingly.

you thought for a second before coming to a decision.

“fine,” you said, throwing your dish rag onto the counter.

“tommy, man the bar for ten minutes and i’ll give you a free beer,” you said to one of your regulars as you walked out from behind.

you met dean at one of the three pool tables.

“ten minutes huh?” dean said.

“that’s all the time i need to kick your ass,” you said as you grabbed the pool cues.

“don’t know about that one sweetheart,” dean laughed as he set up the pool balls.

you handed him a pool stick once everything was set up, but before it began, dean said something.

“if i win, you let me buy you a drink.”

you turned your head and bit your lip to hold back a smile.

“okay, and if i win, what do i get?” you asked.

“the best night of your life,” dean winked with a smile.

your cheeks were on fire and you turned away again with a laugh.

“how about you just pay for all your drinks instead?” you said.

“alright, deal,” he replied, reaching his hand out for you to shake.

you took it and shook it firmly before starting the match. it started off tight, but within five minutes you had three balls left, not including the eight ball. dean had five. you leaned over the pool table, looking up at dean with a smirk before hitting the ball. you got one in the hole and moved to the other side, leaning over again, this time with dean behind you. his eyes traced your figure and he couldn’t help but stare a little as you hit your shot, getting yet another ball in the hole. you hit your next shot from the same side of the table, but missed the hole. instead, you had it set up for a shot that would knock both your last ball and the eight ball in in one.

“your turn,” you said, turning around with an innocent smile.

dean snapped out of his daze and gave you a sheepish smile before continuing. dean hit one in and moved to the next. however, he missed his next shot by a centimetre before backing away from the table for you. you got in position and hit the white ball, your plan executed perfectly. first the red ball went in, then the eight ball. you jumped up and cheered, looking at dean with a large smile.

“how did you do that?” dean asked, astonished.

“this was my dads bar, dean, you know this. i’ve been playing pool since i was like six,” you said as you walked back to the bar.

he took his seat next to sam as you circled back around.

“listen, i know i lost or whatever, but i’d still like to buy you a drink,” dean said as you filled up his beer again.

“okay,” you agreed with a smile.

dean shot sam a look and he took the hint, saying he was gonna go talk to one of the people they had worked with on the case. as you went to make yourself a drink, sam stopped to say one last thing to dean.

“dude, she totally kicked your ass,” he laughed.

“shut up or i’m leaving you here,” dean said causing sam’s smile to widen.

you came back with a drink in hand and spent almost an hour talking to him, serving a bit in between, but found that you liked him a lot more than you thought you would.

when dean realized how late it was, he asked you for the bill. you handed it to him, the only thing listed being the drink he bought you. he looked at you questioningly.

“i thought-“ he started.

“screw the deal. you bought me a drink even though i absolutely destroyed you,” you joked, “plus, you guys deserve it. seriously.”

“thanks,” dean said as he handed you the money.

you took it to the register as dean wrote his number on the back of the bill.

“i only live a couple towns over, give me a call,” dean said with a wink as he walked out.

you folded up the paper and put it in your pocket as the boys left. once they were out, sam gave dean a look.

“dude, you gave her your number,” sam said in disbelief.

“i just need a rematch.”

#dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester

[shadowbriar]

James Potter - Don’t Buy Me Flowers

Pairing : (F/M) || James Potter x Reader  Word Count : 3k Warning : None I believe. Prompts : "I’d marry you right this instant.” Prompt request is still open. You can find the link to the prompt list here. Notes : Mixed this prompt request with the song Don’t Buy Me Flowers by Lolo Zouaï. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

James' eyes were glued on her. An unconscious smile decorating his face, cheeks slightly pink from admiration. She was sitting a few rows in front of him, giving him the safe distance to steal glances yet now have grown to rather resent the space between them. 

Don’t ask him what happened cause he wouldn’t be able to piece the words together. She’s always been in his classes, after all. All James knew is that he couldn’t peel his eyes off of her now. As if she’s stunned him with a love charm or had spiked his morning drink with a love potion. He wouldn’t be complaining either way if such a scenario really did occur.

“Mr. Potter.” Professor McGonagall called for Merlin knows how many times. The only thing snapping him off of his daydream was a nudge from Sirius. James looked up, meeting the Head of Gryffindor’s eyes with a sheepish smile “Would you please tell the class exactly what I have explained for the last twenty minutes?”

James cleared his throat, being caught red handed now for not paying any attention, “I- Something about transfiguration?”

“Indeed.” Professor McGonagall said with a displeased tone “Perhaps if you would keep your eyes up front instead of gazing at your own peer, you could elaborate more than ‘something about transfiguration’.”

The whole class giggled, including her.

James, who was embarrassed of the stunt he pulled, now feels rather proud to have put a smile on her face. He grins as he steals a glance at her, hoping he doesn’t look as chaotic as the state of his heart at the moment. If only she knew she was the peer McGonagall was talking about.

The class continues with James who still couldn’t avert his gaze away from her. He watches her, mentally taking notes on the way she would tilt her head to the left when she’s trying to understand McGonagall’s words, or the way she taps her quill exactly three times on the inkwell before starting to write her notes, or the way she would mumble the words as she write on the parchment paper. Everything she does seems to be the most mesmerising thing James could ever witness.

Some time during the lesson, she turned to her shoulder for a brief moment. Their eyes met and she showed the slightest hint of smile before turning back to face McGonagall, afraid to put the boy in more trouble should she be caught. She didn’t know it then but those 7 seconds would serve as the blessings for his dreams to come. His heart swells, cheeks warm from the sudden rise of temperature around him.

“You might want to cover your face there, mate.” Sirius whispered “You’re looking as red as our house crest.”

“Shut up, Pads.”

—-

James huffed as he lifted the pot of Venomous Tentacula. A prank went wrong at the Greenhouses and just to his luck, or lack thereof, James was the only one caught of the four Marauders, earning him the punishment of cleaning up the mess and moving the plants from one Greenhouse to another. With every bead of sweat forming on his forehead, the vexation he has for his best friends only grows deeper. James couldn’t wait to get back to his dorm and hex each one of them.

Yet all the anger he feels evaporates to thin air as someone enters the greenhouse.

“Merlin!” She yelped, not expecting to meet someone “You scared me.”

James gulped, completely not believing his eyes. Perhaps the lack of food in his stomach has made him hallucinate. He’s been there working his arse since the sky was still bright, after all. There’s no way she would be here in the Greenhouse, especially at these late hours.

“Earth to Potter?” She says again, snapping her fingers “What are you doing here? Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Yeah, right. I’m good.” He says fast, trying to compose himself as he dusts the dirt from his hands “Detention.”

She nods, “I see.”

“What are you doing here?” He asks this time, noticing a bouquet of flowers on her hands “Couldn’t be detention, I’m sure.”

“No, not detention.” She says with a smile, walking to the back of the Greenhouse to get an empty pot and some soil “I wanted to repot these flowers. Would be a pity to let them die.”

“But aren’t they already dead?” He asks with a raised eyebrow “I mean they’re cut from the stems, it’s only a matter of time till the petals dry and fall.”

“Well that’s why we’ve got wands, isn’t it Potter?”

James feels his cheeks heat up as he sees her smile. This is the most interaction they’ve had all year and exactly what did he dream last night to have such an opportunity to come? He could hardly remember the wrath he held to his friends nor the ache in his muscles after all these hours in the Greenhouse. A minute with her would do to charm his mood back to its default sunshine mode.

“A little bit of water and let’s hope these sweetness can survive.”

“What did you do?” He asks as he watches her water the pot now “With your wand and everything.”

“Some simple spell to help it grow its roots. They don’t always work so they would need extra care for the next few days.” She explains, eyes still glued on the newly planted flowers “I truly appreciate it when people would give me flowers, but I’d be lying if it doesn’t stress the living out of me.”

“You get plenty of flowers?”

“No, not plenty.” She answers with a smile “I’m not as lucky as Evans.”

James turns red. Just perfect. The girl he’s madly in love with now just has to know about his past failed attempts for his past crush. Well of course she knew, the whole castle knew just how big of a fool he was last year to have chased for the redhead’s attention. If only he could turn back time and slap his own self to sense.

“Well, I better get going now.” She says as she walks herself outside, smiling “I’ll see you around, Potter.”

—-

James waited in the Greenhouse with a smile plastered on his face. The plan was in motion. A whole week has passed and she hasn’t realised that he was the culprit responsible for placing a bouquet on her dorm every single morning.

It all started when the urge to kill the flowers she planted that night brewed inside his heart. The said plant was thriving in its pot, colours of its petals were vibrant and the leaves were the greenest he’s ever seen in a plant. Part of him was impressed at her skills for reviving it, but a bigger part of him hoped that she wasn’t as proficient because then she had no reason to come to the Greenhouse.

And that means no 10 minute lovely chats at night.

He wanted to ruin the innocent plant, rip its leaves or simply knock it off of the table but he couldn’t bear imagining the sad and disappointed look on her face when she finds out her plant has been messed with. Would she be able to forgive him if she knew he was the one responsible for such a catastrophe? No, he couldn’t take that much of a risk, not with the limited interaction they have just yet. He wouldn’t want to gamble their delicate relationship, his heart wouldn’t be able to survive if she ended up hating him.

So he decided to take the lighter way, to give her just a light stress that would hopefully turn into a blissful exchange for the both of them. He knew that she could revive the flowers, there’s really nothing to lose to his scheme. One of these days he hoped that he could make her fall for him, make her see that he’s not that bad of a lad to date.

“Evening.” She greets, breaking his train of thought as she enters the Greenhouse “You’re still here.”

“Yeah,” James answers shyly, lifting the pot of Screechsnap he was holding “Still moving these pots from one place to another.”

“I never knew the Professor was one to hold grudges.” She says as she walks to the other side of the Greenhouse “Most of the time students would only get a three day detention, a week at top. Yet you’re still here after, what, two weeks?”

James’ cheeks were warm. Truth be told his detention has ended days ago but he can’t really tell her that now, can he? Where else would they have their pleasant exchange if not here at the Greenhouse?

“Here to pot another flower?” He asks instead, trying to divert the discussion “You’ve been getting a handful of them lately.”

She looks down to the bouquet of flowers in her hands, smiling lightly, “Yeah, I wonder who they’re from. The sender never left any note so there’s no telling who my secret admirer is.”

“Is that so?” He says, faking an intrigued expression “So you have no idea who it is?”

She shrugs as she puts the flowers to the pot, starting her spell, “I have some possible names.”

“Names?” James raised his brows “How many possible lads are there?”

“What, you think you’re the only one with quite a fanclub?” She teases, smiling at him with such mischief “You’re not the only beautiful person in this castle, Potter.”

The boy went quiet. He knew that his face was red. He tried to calm himself, tone down the fast beating of his heart but what exactly can he do when she just complimented him? She did say that he’s one of the beautiful people in the castle. How does she not expect him to have his stomach flipped in giddiness?

“I have to say, though,” She continues “I wish that this person would just come forward or maybe give me a note on their flowers. Trying to revive them stresses me out. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I fail.”

“Come on, you’ve successfully revived each one of them. Surely the bliss of getting flowers overcomes the stress of reviving them.”

She shrugs, “Perhaps.”

He watches as she tends her flowers, watering each of them as she hums to some song. James could feel his heart swells tenfold, threatening to explode in bliss. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact of how blind he had been to only just noticed her. Merlin knows just how much he regrets not getting to know her sooner. Imagine the much time he could've saved had he known her since first year. They would have already been married by now.

James had never tried to impress anyone as much as he’s tried with her. He even checked out the thickest herbology book from the library, just so he could find a topic to talk with her. Though when the time comes, it only further proves his limited knowledge of such a topic as she keeps on correcting his faulty trivias. At least he made her laugh. A win is a win, he reckons.

“Did you know,” James began to speak, making her look up and face him with a smile “That Niffler’s Fancy was once used in replacement to coins due to its gleaming copper-like leaves?”

She shakes her head, “No, I didn’t know that.”

“Well, now you know.”

“Is that information credible?” She asks with a giggle, placing the watering can down “Because last time you told me Belladonna was used by ancient wizards to help with stomach problems when in fact, the plant is poisonous for human consumption.”

James smiles sheepishly, “That one was a mere human error, this one was real. I read it earlier in one of Remus’ books and even wrote it down on my palms, see?”

She walks closer to him, taking his hand and reading the writings on his palm. James had never felt such intense sensation than when their skin met in contact. She was oblivious to the frivolity he was in, as always, which in a way is a good thing because he wouldn’t want to weird her out with his heavy feelings for her. James has always been known to be a very expressive person when it comes to his feelings and oftentimes it only causes discomfort to the other party. He’s never been good at hiding his emotions, he was born to love proud and aloud, James Potter.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give this one trivia the benefit of the doubt.”

James nods, agreeing with her.

“You know, since you’re so full of herbology knowledge,” She says teasingly “Why don’t you come and help me tutor the second years this weekend? I’m sure those kids would flip to know that James Potter is not only skilled at the quidditch field but that he also has a charming wit.”

James had to bite his lip hard to suppress himself from combusting. The compliments she’s throwing at him tonight, though served in a casual and probably meant nothing for her, was making him fly through the clouds. Couldn’t she tell that he’s going mad?

“Sure, of course!” He answered cheerfully, nodding eagerly like a puppy “I’ll see you then.”

—-

Watching her with heart eyes, James wasn't sure what his hands were doing to the Mandrakes. Honestly he couldn't care less. In fact, he hoped to ruin them somehow and receive another detention. Anything just so he could spend more time with her. Well not precisely with her, seeing that their interaction is still as limited as ever, but close enough to study her. That much would suffice for his throbbing heart for the moment.

"You're going to have yourself killed if you continue picking their leaves like that." She commented with a giggle "If the Professor knew you're harming their precious plants, they'll have your head."

James grins, amused, "Will you tell them that I'm the culprit?"

"Maybe."

She walks past him with a teasing smile, a pot of Fluxweed plant on her hands. James could catch a sniff of her perfume, something he always craved to smell each morning when he woke up. His eyes were trained on her, not even trying to make it subtle as he grins even wider whenever she catches him staring. She would only shake her head, biting in the smile that’s threatening to decorate her face. James could only hope that he’s not making her uncomfortable with his apparent affection. 

He should have known that going to help her tutor the second years would only be the death of him. There would be no way out of these feelings for the years to come, he’s sure of it. Watching her patiently explain and help the kids to take care of the plants only made him fall deeper into her magnetism. He couldn’t help but to think of how wonderful of a mother she would be.

The mother of his children, he hopes.

James blushes at the thought. How could he imagine having a family with her when he hasn’t even gathered the gut to ask her out? Compared to his previous attempts with Lily, James has been much more quieted down. He figured that one of the reasons he failed on his last endeavours was because of his strong and blatant ventures. Sirius says that girls like her would prefer boys who are more discreet, who would approach in the most gentle and soft way that made her heart flutter. And who best would understand girls, and boys, if not Sirius?

“You’ve been awfully quiet.” She remarks, staring at him with an apologetic smile “I’m sorry if the tutoring bores you.”

He gazes back at her eyes, feeling drowned in the alluring force that made him blurt out his mind, "I’d marry you right this instant.”

She blinks, looking baffled at his sudden confession.

“I- I mean-”

“We are only seventeen, you silly!” She giggles, playfully pushing on his arm “Besides, we can’t get married. Even if I wanted to.”

James frowns, the slight heartbreak evident on his face, “Why not?”

“Because of my secret admirer.” She answers with a teasing smile “Unless you’re that boy that has been sneaking into my dorm each morning to give me flowers, I don’t think it would be fair for us to get married.”

His expression changed to a sheepish one, biting the grin on his face, “How long have you known?”

“Since the third flower. You think I wouldn’t notice the cut plants at the back of the Greenhouse?” She replies with a smile “Also the Professor told me your detention was over weeks ago. You really had no reason to stick around at night unless you had other intention than to move pots around.”

“I wanted to buy you flowers, truly.” He confesses, feeling embarrassed about the lack of effort “But getting to Hogsmeade daily was quite a bit of a task.”

“No, please don’t buy me flowers.” She says fast “They’ll only give me headaches.”

James nods, smiling as he walks closer to her and places his hands around her waist.

He studies her face, finally getting the opportunity to see her up close. Godric, just how beautiful can someone be? Everything about her just bewitched him completely. For once he finally could see that the heart eyes he had been throwing at her was not one sided. She too is drowned in the pool of admiration for him.

“So are you going to kiss me, or-”

James didn’t let her finish, pulling her for a sweet kiss. The moment their lips met, he could physically hear the wedding bells ring in his ears. He’s finally met her, the one he would spend the rest of his life with. And thank Merlin that they met at such a young age because this means that they could spend more time together, just the two of them.

“I hope you know how to cure headaches,” James says as they break the kiss “Because there wouldn’t be a day where I wouldn’t shower you with flowers from now on.”

#james potter #james potter imagine #james potter oneshot #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fluff #james potter scenario #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter x oc #james potter prompt

[starryeyedjanai]

no better time than now

kinktober prompt: edgeplay | steddie + gareth | explicit

read on ao3

When Gareth sees he has a snapchat video from Steve as he's walking out of his office to go to an all staff meeting, he doesn't think anything of it.

Why would he?

Steve's not the one who routinely sends him lewd or sometimes nude pictures of himself.

That would be Eddie - the menace who somehow conned Gareth into joining his harem of men.

That's a bit dramatic, but he thinks having a minimum of four paramours he's fucking is kind of excessive. But he digresses.

Steve is definitely the tamer one of the two, but that's not to say he isn't into all the same stuff as Eddie. Gareth sometimes joins in on their little romance, fucking himself on Steve's cock while Eddie looks on and tells him how fast to go. Or sometimes Eddie fucks Steve as Steve is sucking Gareth's dick, both of their eyes on him.

So he knows how Steve is separate from Eddie and he knows how they are together.

The point is, Steve sending him a video during the work day is usually some story about something Eddie did, so he doesn't think twice about opening it as he's walking down the hall, earbuds plugged into his phone already from a previous call, but not in his ears, the wires bunched up in his hand.

Gareth's face flushes red so fast his head spins and he immediately turns on his heel and walks directly back to his office, closing the door behind him.

Because he's looking at a video of Steve's mouth wrapped around Eddie's cock, his eyes all hazy with pleasure as he looks at the camera.

He presses a hand down on his cock, as if that'll stop it from getting hard as he watches the series of videos of Steve sucking Eddie off.

The last video ends with Steve pulling off Eddie's cock, a line of spit lingering between his mouth and the tip of Eddie's dick.

Gareth stands there with his back to the door, his hand pressing on his dick, wondering what he did in a past life to deserve this.

In the middle of a work day???????? he puts in the chat, waiting for a response.

His phone pings several times in a row as the next set of videos comes in.

He closes his eyes and debates just leaving his phone here in his office and walking to his meeting. It's what he should do.

He should leave and go to the meeting.

But the temptation is too strong. He opens his eyes and presses the purple square because he has no self control and he's already a little half-hard.

The video starts with the front facing camera on Eddie and he's saying something so Gareth quickly shoves his earbuds in his ears as he turns the volume up, walking over to his chair to sit down.

"Sorry, Gare. Steve has been so impatient this afternoon. We're working on his patience and he needs an audience for all his good work. Jeff and Grant got these too, so at least you're not alone," Eddie says, a twinkle in his eyes.

The sound of sucking in the background makes Gareth's jaw clench.

The camera flips around onto Steve, laying on his stomach on their bed, one hand on Eddie's dick, stroking it gently, as he sucks one of Eddie's balls into his mouth. His eyes are closed and he looks so fucking content slobbering all over Eddie's balls.

The video ends and Gareth feels lightheaded.

He opens up his text thread with Grant and Jeff and texts them if you plan on getting anything productive done today, do not open the snapchat videos from Steve.

From Jeff, he gets the message: too late 😔

Grant says thanks for the heads up. we can all watch it together on my phone later if you want?

Gareth texts them back: I am definitely taking you up on that Freak. And: Jeff, I cannot believe you saw it and let me open it at work.

It JUST happened. I'm also compromised here is Jeff's reply.

He's about to send something back when a slurry of pings and notifications tell him that Eddie's sent them more videos. Because it's obviously not Steve sending these videos. He's going to kill that man one day.

He opens up Slack and messages his boss that he's suddenly not feeling well and has to miss the meeting. The thumbs up on his message he receives is more than enough, so he gets up and locks his door.

He sits back down and opens up the snapchat video and the camera is still on Steve, who's back to sucking Eddie down his throat. With the noises in his ear - the loud slurps, Eddie's soft moans - it feels like he's there, almost. Like he's in the room with them, watching as Steve's gentle mouth on his cock pulls noises from Eddie's throat.

Eddie reaches down with the hand not holding the phone and taps Steve's hand on his hip. Steve pulls his mouth off him with a loud pop.

"What's the lesson here today, sweetheart?" Eddie asks.

Steve lets out a sigh and says, "That I can't always have your come when I want it."

Gareth has to clench his hand, his nails digging into the palm of his hand, so that he doesn't groan out loud at that.

"You're impatient," Eddie's voice says. "It's so much better when you work for it, right honey?"

Steve isn't glaring up at the camera like Gareth would be if Eddie used that condescending tone of voice with him - he's looking up reverently, even though Gareth can tell he's a little frustrated.

He types in the chat How long has it been? because Steve getting frustrated is a sign that it's probably been going on for far longer than Gareth would have the patience for.

The next video, Eddie tells Steve, "Gareth wants to know how long it's been."

Steve looks up and drags his mouth off Eddie's cock. He says, "It's been hours," with a whine.

Eddie laughs behind the camera. "It's been one hour tops."

Has Steve come? he asks them after the video ends.

"No, he hasn't come yet either. He's being so good today," Eddie says, stroking a hand through Steve's hair as he sucks hard on his dick, hollowing his cheeks. "He's just been between my legs, sucking me until I say stop and then biting me when he gets frustrated."

Eddie's voice is so fucking fond as he says that, laughing and petting Steve's hair.

Gareth can see the bite marks. Eddie's thighs are littered in red and purple marks from Steve's mouth on him.

"You wanna show him how nicely you ask for-" Eddie starts to ask and the video cuts off.

Gareth reaches down to adjust his dick in his pants.

The next video starts with Steve saying, "Can I bite you please?" with his mouth hovering above Eddie's thigh.

"Why do you wanna bite me?" Eddie asks.

"Because this is hard!" he says, annoyance seeping into his voice.

"It is hard, baby," Eddie says with a laugh, using his hand to tap tap tap his hard cock against Steve's cheek.

Steve pouts up at the camera.

Jesus fucking christ. They're ridiculous.

But Gareth is sweating, and his dick is straining against his slacks.

He can't jerk off at work.

He can't jerk off at work, right?

Everyone, the entire staff, is at the meeting in the conference room on the first floor, so it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to whip his cock out here and jerk off to this, would it?

There's the off chance that someone might leave the meeting to go to the bathroom, but would they venture up to the third floor for a bathroom break? He doesn't think so.

He weighs the options in his head as he waits for the next set of videos to come.

The worst scenario is that someone might hear him, but he's really good at being quiet - years of sharing a wall with the living room of his house and then years of sneaking off to the bathroom to jerk off in college with just the door separating him and his roommate has taught him how to be near silent when he comes.

He thinks he could do it.

He could watch and listen to what's probably the end of Eddie and Steve's "lesson" and jerk himself off slowly, like he's a part of it too, like the lesson in patience is for him too.

Fuck, that's probably part of the reason why Eddie sent it to him. He's also too impatient sometimes, and Eddie makes sure to punish him for it.

The next set of videos comes through and he unzips his pants, decision made, and gets his cock out. He grabs the box of tissues on his desk and slides it closer.

Eddie's hand is in Steve's hair as Steve sucks a mark into his thigh, biting and pulling the blood under his skin to the surface. Steve pulls back and presses a kiss to the new mark.

"Good boy. You wanna get on your knees and show your boys how good you are for me, not coming this entire time?"

Steve eagerly nods and pulls himself up between Eddie's legs, tucking his knees under him. His cock is hard and red and dripping.

He strokes it slowly, angling it up so Gareth can see the cock ring around the base of his cock.

Gareth thinks he needs one of those right about now. He strokes his cock as he watches Steve stroking himself, spreading the precome down his cock until his cock is shining with it.

He probably isn't going to last very long despite just starting, between the need that's coursing through his veins and the fact that he's doing this in his fucking office.

Steve shudders as he speeds up a little, the slide slick as he humps up into his hand a little. He fists his cock for another few moments before pulling his hand away. He's breathing heavily as his cock twitches and more precome drips from the tip.

Gareth's cock twitches in sympathy.

He gets back on his stomach between Eddie's thighs and Eddie says, "Open your mouth sweetheart."

Steve opens his mouth and Eddie's cock thrusts inside. The choking noise as he hits the back of Steve's throat is so loud, but the video cuts off a second later.

This is torture, seeing these little snippets and not having the real thing. He loves watching them together. He never really knew he was into voyeurism until meeting them. He didn't know he was into a lot of things before he met them actually.

And being so far away from them, seeing these videos that end abruptly, having them talking and moaning in his ears- it's not enough. He wishes he was with them right now - between them, watching them, anything.

He sets his phone on his desk and leans forward in his chair so he can see it and so that when he comes, he won't get any of it on his clothes. The chair mat beneath him is much easier to clean than his pants if he accidentally gets any on it.

Eddie's thrusting comes to a stop as Gareth opens the next video a minute later.

"You've been so good. Do you think you deserve it now?" Eddie asks and Steve nods slowly, pulling back to nuzzle into the crease of his hip. "I think so too. Go ahead, sweetheart."

Fuck. Gareth starts stroking himself faster, tightening his fist around the head of his cock on every stroke.

Steve sticks his tongue out and licks a stripe up Eddie's cock before sucking the head into his mouth. He uses his right hand to stroke Eddie's cock fast and tight, licking around the head, tonguing the frenulum.

"Fuck, Stevie," Eddie says, his voice strained. He thrusts up into his grip, and into the warmth of Steve's mouth.

Gareth grips himself tighter, knowing Eddie's going to come soon.

Steve takes his hand off Eddie cock and opens his mouth wider, relaxing his jaw as Eddie thrusts up into his mouth roughly again.

Gareth can hear the way Eddie's cock fucks into Steve's throat. Eddie's guttural moans are loud in his ear as he chases his orgasm in Steve's mouth.

Gareth speeds up his hand in time with Eddie's thrusts, his breathing getting heavier. He almost can't bite back the groan that forms in his throat when the video cuts off. His phone pings almost immediately with more videos, so he doesn't even have to slow his hand down before he's seeing them again.

Eddie continues to use Steve's throat like a fleshlight and Gareth's balls draw up as he watches on.

Eddie moans loudly as he comes, the first spurt probably going directly down Steve's throat. He pulls back and jerks himself through it, his come pulsing out over Steve's tongue, on his lips, on his chin.

Gareth shudders, looking at Steve's face, and he comes hard as Steve's tongue darts out to lap at the head of Eddie's cock, digging into the slit like he wants more. Another glob of come spurts out onto his tongue.

Gareth cups the head of his cock in one hand as he comes, stroking himself through it silently. He pants through it as the video ends, shivers running through him.

He leans forward and puts his head on his desk as he comes down.

He can't believe he just did that.

He picks up his phone and sends them a snapchat of his hand still coated in come, the text across the screen reading I hope you're fucking happy.

He cleans himself up, but still feels so dirty afterwards.

He's lucky he only has another couple hours of work and no more meetings today. There's no way he could sit in front of any of his coworkers and look them in the eye knowing that a wad of tissues coated in his come is sitting in his trash can, buried between random flyers.

He's also lucky his boss thinks he's sick, because that means she's probably not going to be beating down his door after the meeting ends. He opens the window in his office to air it out

He gets a snap back from Eddie a couple minutes later, a picture this time.

It's Steve, on his back, come streaked up his chest, coating his chest hair. He looks so fucking blissed out, his cheeks red as he smiles at the camera. Gareth's heart pangs in his chest. He can't wait to see them later.

There's no text on the screen, but he knows they'll probably make fun of him for jerking off at work later. Or at least Eddie will. He's such a menace.

He opens up his text thread with just Jeff and sends Do you wanna get Steve and Eddie back tomorrow for making us horny at work?

I thought you'd never ask is Jeff's immediate reply.

#janai.doc #steddie #steddie/gareth #stranger things #gareth stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie x gareth #steve x eddie #st fic #st ficlet #steddireth #steddareth #what is their ship name

[bg-brainrot]

Day 5 of winter fluff with Astarion for the BG3 Holiday Challenge!

Prompt: Delicacies

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Premise: You receive a lovely gift of seasonal delicacies from Alfira, a thanks for helping her set up her new school and being her favorite source of musical inspiration. When you realize that Astarion can’t partake, you find an alternative.

Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Holidays, post-canon, tw: blood

Word count: ~1.1k

Disclaimer: Google told me sugar can take as little as 10 min to enter your bloodstream, so that’s what I’m rolling with.

“What’s this?” As you arrive home, you find a package on your front steps. A small note is tied to it with a delicate purple ribbon. Taking a moment to read the attached note, your face lights up with joy. “Ooo, I need to share this with Astarion!”

You find your vampiric love in front of his favorite spot of the house– the fireplace. Considering how cold it is outside, you’re unsurprised to find him laid before it, like a lounging feline. “Astarion,” you call, checking to see if he’s awake.

He looks up at you hazily, shaking off what seems to be a heat-induced stupor. “Mmm, yes my love? Welcome home.”

“Astarion,” you say again, “Look at what Alfira sent us!”

The man finally sits up, eyes focusing on the package in your hands. “Alfira?” he asks, not fully processing your words yet.

“She sent us this thank you gift,” you say, handing Astarion the box as you move to take off your coat. “You should read her note.”

He pulls the piece of parchment free from the ribbon and reads it aloud, “To my favorite inspirational couple. Thank you for everything, and may the– ugh, she’s too saccharine for my liking.”

“Oh?” you ask, taking a seat next to Astarion on the floor. “I quite liked it. ‘May the ballad of your love continue forevermore.’”

“I may have to ensure that that song she’s writing about us never sees the light of day…” the vampire says in a low tone, though you know the threat has no genuine animosity to it.

You do still give him a good elbow and take the box back from him. “If you’re not going to appreciate that poor, innocent bard’s gift, I will.”

Astarion gives a ‘tsk’, but smiles at you all the same. “Very well, let’s see what she’s sent us.”

With deft fingers, you undo the box’s wrapping, slicing open the ribbon in a single twist. You can feel Astarion’s chuckle as he leans forward to rest his head on your shoulder. “What’s so funny?”

“Just admiring how easily you dispatch your foes, whether they be brain or box,” he answers, and you catch his appreciative smirk out of the corner of your eye.

You give an inelegant snort at his words before tapping his head with your own. “You should see what I can do to vampires.”

"Oh darling, I know full well how easily you dispatch me."

You’re certain he can feel the heat come over your face and neck, but you ignore his words as you open the box in your lap. “Huh,” is the only word that escapes your mouth when you look at its contents.

“Are those chocolates?” Astarion asks, looking down at the box with distaste. In it lay four rows of artisanal chocolates, each a distinct, beautifully tempered delicacy. “She knows I’m a vampire, doesn’t she?"

“Absolutely, she kept asking me for words that rhyme with sanguine,” you say, looking down at the box of sweets in confusion.

Astarion opens his mouth, as if to offer a rhyme, only to close it a second later. “What does rhyme with sanguine?”

“Hells if I know, I’m not a bard,” you answer with a shrug. Astarion grumbles at the sudden movement and leans further into your shoulder with a huff. “Why did she send us something you can’t eat?”

That’s when you spot another note from Alfira, in much more casual lettering, on the inside of the box. ‘I wasn’t sure what I could get for Astarion. I don’t know how his kind work exactly, but I know he calls you his’– the next word is written in a smaller, slightly shakier hand– ‘treat.’ The note continues normally after that. ‘So I hope it’s something you can have together.’

You laugh at how innocent she manages to be, even in writing. “She’s adorable.”

The man next to you takes offense to this, burying his face in your neck now. “Excuse me,” he murmurs into your skin. “You dare.” He places a kiss on your neck. “Say that.” A kiss on your jaw. “With your adorable.” Another kiss on your ear. “Lover right here?”

His pecks leave your skin heated, and you’re tempted to give into his loving attention. However the chocolates look delectable and Alfira’s suggestion is calling to you. “Would that adorable lover listen to me for a moment?”

His lips stop on your shoulder, and he looks at you through his lashes. “You have five seconds.”

It takes you a bit over five seconds, but you explain to Astarion your plan: you taste the chocolate, he tastes your blood. You rinse and repeat until, ideally, you’re both in a sugar-induced coma.

After placing another kiss on your neck, near where he typically bites, the vampire agrees. “Your blood does taste particularly heavenly after a few glasses of wine. I imagine this could be even more… exquisite.” He all but growls the last word, as if he can already taste your sweet blood on his tongue.

You shiver under his breath and grab your first chocolate: a circular truffle, decorated with a pink drizzle. “Let’s try it then.”

This chocolate is a dark chocolate raspberry truffle, incredibly decadent and delicious. You describe it to Astarion as you chew, in case it might make tasting your blood all the more satisfying. After enough time has passed to allow the chocolate’s sugar to enter your bloodstream, he gives you a gentle squeeze with his arms and bites into your neck.

You can feel his soft hum on your skin as he savors it, and he pulls away a second later. “So?” you ask. “How was it?”

Astarion licks his lips to capture any remaining traces of blood and gives you a pleased grin. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are bright with bliss. “Mmm, I think Alfira was onto something. That was divine. I don’t think your blood’s ever been so… rich.”

There’s something about his demeanor, his expression, his compliment, that make you feel especially proud. “Should we try another?”

“Yes, my love. I would like that quite a bit,” he says, laying back on your shoulder while you pick out your next chocolate.

It’s only as you’re chewing your third sweet, a warm apple cider flavor, that you realize why you’re so proud: for the very first time since you’ve known Astarion, you’re able to share a piece of your mortality with him. Flavors may not be the same to him anymore, he may not get the chewy nougat or melting caramel, but it’s something– at the very least you can share this.

The smiles you share that night are warm, the flavors sensational, and the love so very sweet.

You’ll have to send Alfira your own thank you gift later.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #rogue + rogue #astarion x reader #bg3holidayfluffle23

[lostmyremembrall]

📖

love the way you write the prompts <3 may i request prompt 18 ??

📖𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐭

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐻𝑢𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑟, 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝐵𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝐺𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑝𝑦 𝐴𝑠𝑠 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝐽𝑜𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 1𝐾 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡! Now closed

A/N: Oh my god. I am SO sorry it took this long to get to yours. Please forgive me, and I hope you'll still enjoy this.

You surprise Tom with a cat

Tom’s eyes widened at the sight that awaited him. Four tiny paws. A ball of brown fur. Large two ears. The tiny creature stared up at him, and bared its teeth as it meowed. Tom couldn’t help but jerk his head backwards 

“There he is!”

The enthusiastic voice of Abraxas greeted him when the resident Dark Lord peeked his head in through the doors of the Room of Requirement. His cautious eyes flickered around the room, reminiscent of an uneasy salamander that dared to poke its head out from underneath a rock to survey his surroundings.

“Let’s get this over with,” Tom sighed as he walked towards them, completely ignoring the birthday decorations that you, Abraxas, and Canopus had spent hours putting up.

“Of course. We won’t dare take up your valuable time any more than necessary,” Canopus responded somewhat sarcastically, approaching Tom and reaching up to put the cone hat that read ‘Birthday Boy’ on top of the disgruntled man’s head, knowing full well that he detested it. You might as well say that, for Canopus, seeing Tom in this humiliating hat was the only redeeming aspect of hosting this birthday party. 

“You never fail to make my day, Canopus,” Tom murmured quietly, his eyes coldly narrowing on the black-haired Slytherin. You had to admit, despite the comically small ‘Birthday Boy’ hat perched atop the Dark Lord, his seething glare was still enough to send a shiver down your spine.

  “Well, it’s tradition,” Canopus shrugged with a smug smirk on his lips, a brave reaction worthy of praise from a Gryffindor. You had no idea what it was that Canopus had: courage, stupidity, or simply a warped sense of fear. But, whatever it was, you couldn’t help but pity and admire it at the same time.

“So... Presents,” Abraxas clapped his hands excitedly, contently watching as the group sat around the sofas.

“Here, Tom. Happy birthday,” Abraxas beamed at Tom as he passed the wrapped package that was clearly a book from its size and shape.

Tom did not respond and tore open the paper wrapping.

“Oh. Actually… this is quite helpful,” Tom showed the book cover to you and Canopus; the title read ‘Dictatorship 101: A Beginner's Guide to Regime Change by Khalilah D Smith’. “Thank you, Abraxas. For the thoughtful gift,” Tom even managed a slight curl of his lips.

The blond looked quite pleased with himself, turning his nose slightly up in the air with a proud smile.

“Pshhh, as if our great Tom needs any instructions on becoming a dictator,” Canopus rolled his eyes. 

“I, on the other hand, got the only thing Tom needs on his destined path to greatness: Time,” Canopus added an exaggerated flourish to his hands that gestured to the box on the coffee table, ignoring the clear annoyance that flashed across Abraxas’ elegant features.

“You should know, Canopus,” Tom raised a brow as he opened the box. “Your words bring nothing but anxiety to my already troubled mind.”

You peeked in over Tom’s shoulder to find what exactly he meant by ‘time’, as Canopus dramtically worded. To your surprise, it was packets of energy drink powder.

“Ohh… nooo, Canopus…” you murmured quietly, recalling the Dark Lord’s sensitivity to caffeine. The last time he tried one cup of coffee, he stayed up for four nights in a row. “What on earth made you think this was a good idea?”

“Shush shush,” Canopus silenced your words of terror, not even giving you a glance. “Tom, remember the coffee that you had? Imagine that, but double that.”

Tom’s eyes widened in amusement as he glanced at it. “By that logic, I could conquer the wizarding world twice as fast.”

“Exactly my point!” Canopus’ eyes glimmered wildly. “You don’t trust us with a thing. And you’re right to do so. Imagine how much you could get done if you could do everything yourself.”

Tom hummed, nodding along. “You know what, Canopus? For the first time in my life, you did not disappoint.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “You two are just enabling his unhealthy obsession with power!” You grabbed Tom’s shoulders, and he slightly wobbled from left to right as your seething eyes captured Abraxas and Canopus. “What Tom needs is stability. Emotional support.”

The wincing was visible on Tom’s face as you said the word ‘emotional support’, but before he had any opportunity to protest, you presented him with a medium-sized box. Tom was bewildered by the way the box seemed to shake on its own. But still, carefully, he opened the box.

“Oh,” Tom seemed lost for words. “Oh. This is… rather… unexpected.”

“Unexpected? What is it-” but Canopus did not need to finish his question, as a small tabby kitten poked his head out of the box and pressed his paws against Tom’s eyes. 

Tom grew silent.

“You thought giving Tom a cat was a good idea?” Canopus turned his disbelieving eyes to you. “And here you were, telling me gifting energy drinks was irresponsible.”

You scowled at your friend, not noticing the kitten that had begun climbing Tom’s uniform like it was his life mission. “Well, I, as his friend who actually know him, happen to think that an emotionally volatile person like Tom needs a support animal.”

“Emotionally volatile?” Tom repeated to himself quietly, doubting his ears over the words that came from this supposed friend of his. At that moment, Tom was trying to ignore the kitten on his shoulder, who was pressing his paws against his cheek.

You had to admit, Tom was showing a surprising level of patience towards the kitten, a bitter realisation following closely behind that, perhaps, Tom tolerated the kitten more than any of his human friends. The tabby cat began to incessantly meow by Tom’s right ear, demanding his attention.

Abraxas was watching all of this with intrigued amusement in his pale eyes. “Well… let’s just hope that the cat will survive to see adulthood.”

You found the meowing rather adorable, but it was clear that Tom’s patience was quickly wearing thin. Even for kittens, the Dark Lord had his limits, it seemed. “Look, I only speak snake,” Tom barked, turning his head to the right, speaking directly to the kitten with frustration evident in his voice. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

The kitten only responded by pressing his paws on Tom’s lips, perhaps for the first and the last time the Dark Lord was silenced. Either from rage or being overwhelmed by the kitten’s cuteness, Tom’s cheeks turned a bright red. For the sake of the kitten, you hoped it was the latter.

“Oh hey,” Canopus’ eyes widened at the kitten’s bold move. “What do you know? He might just live to see adulthood.”

Tom growled as the kitten began his climb up Mt. Tom again. “How wonderful,” he murmured darkly, his displeased eyes following the kitten’s tail that swung back and forth in front of his face as he made his way up his head. The kitten was now wrestling with the ‘Birthday Boy’ hat, fighting for his spot on top of his head.

“Not so intimidating anymore, are you Tom?” Canopus snickered as his eyes flickered

between the Dark Lord and the cat that had settled comfortably on top of his head.

Tom’s vehement glare from behind the swinging tail was quite the sight to behold. At that moment, for whatever came over its small brain, the kitten leapt off of Tom’s head and landed on Canopus’ face.

“Agh! What’s happening?!” Canopus tried to pull off the kitten while its claws dug into his face. “Get it off me!”

“Yes. Yes!” Tom’s dark chuckle echoed in the Room of Requirement, while Abraxas watched the scene in terror, his hands elegantly covering his gaping mouth. 

You could confidently say, that for the rest of your life, you would never forget the cheerful eyes of Tom when he turned to you and said, “You were right, dear. Emotional support was exactly what I needed.”

A/N: Ended up writing as a sequel of sorts to 𝒟𝒶𝓇𝓀 ℒℴ𝓇𝒹 ℴ𝓃 𝒞𝒶𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒾𝓃ℯ. Not my best writing, but hope you still enjoyed it!

#harry potter #tom riddle #tom riddle jr #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle fanfiction #tmr #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x you #tom riddle headcanon #tom riddle headcanons #tom riddle fic #tom riddle funny #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle humor #harry potter fanfiction #tom riddle au #tom riddle fluff #1k celebration #1k milestone #1k followers #1K follower event #1k event #1k follower celebration

[darkworkcourier]

i have a request: after realizing the reader has a crush on him ghost teases her, at first just by gazes, later by words and touched and eventually makes her come by rubbing her trough her panties

so i'm working on a follow-up to this fic where ladybird gets railed in a hotel (like she deserves), but this prompt inspired me to get her into the mile high club. this is shorter than what i'm used to writing, but i hope you like it! :D

contains: through-the-panties fingering, quickies in the bathroom discussion of public sex, and price being way too into nature documentaries.

---

The 141 is flying coach, and—in a word—it sucks.

There's a reason, like always. You're all assigned to carefully monitor a red-eye flight from Boston Logan Airport to London Gatwick on trusted intelligence regarding a potentially dangerous agent onboard. You've read the file (now six going on seven times, nearly beating out how many times you've read the in-flight magazine and the safety card), knowing that this agent—known informally and hilariously as Red Sox—is Kastovian. She's posed as a Bostonian businesswoman for months now, and your instructions are to confirm her role in a recent cybersecurity incident at an international bank. With any luck, you'll get the evidence and have her arrested the moment she gets off the plane.

Until then, you're stuck in the middle seat of the middle aisle in a 787, fighting with a granola bar that refuses to open, half-watching whatever godawful action movie Soap's entertained by on his in-flight screen. He's enjoying himself, though, feeding himself a package of peanuts with the gusto of a man eating caviar.

At least someone's having fun.

Gaz and Price are four rows ahead of you, and Gaz has the luck to have a window seat. You've walked by them twice as you've gone to the lavatory out of sheer boredom. It's all sunshine, roses, Netflix, and podcasts up there, apparently. Sure, they have eyes on Red Sox, but apparently it's much more important for Price to finish his nature documentary ("Jesus Christ, have you seen how much a whale shits? Nature's incredible!") before you all do your jobs.

Ghost is the luckiest, you think. He's in business class, with leg room and hot towels and a seat that isn't actively trying to fold him up like he's in a mousetrap. He's also closest to Red Sox, quietly muttering through the comms whenever she gets up or gets something from one of the flight attendants. He sounds bored as hell, though.

"She's getting a— bloody fucking hell, who gets decaf coffee on a red eye?" Ghost grumbles through your headset. His voice is low, sending tingles through your body and making you wish he was next to you instead of Soap—currently guffawing in every sense of the word at something in his stupid movie.

You hear Gaz snort. "Who gets decaf, period? Gross."

There's a brief pause before you hear Price's awestruck voice. "Did you fucking know that killer whales can chomp a penguin in half? What the actual fuck? Why do we keep these little bastards in zoos?"

"The penguins or the orcas?" Gaz asks, even though he's sitting right next to Price and probably looking at his phone screen. Then, he confirms he is when he utters a disgusted, "Oh, nasty. Why are they showin' that on a documentary?"

At the same time, Soap slaps his knee like a grandpa, nudging you in the ribs with his elbow before snickering and gesturing to his screen where a man is yelling at... you think it's a goat. No way to know what that has to do with exploding cars or paragliding.

You lean back in your seat and groan, rubbing your eyes. "Ghost, please tell me you're having a semi-productive night," you say.

"If by 'productive', you mean carefully analyzing dinner choices and how many copies of 'Tatler' this woman brought with her, then sure," he responds dryly.

"Beef or chicken?"

"Fish," he says.

"Oh, she's definitely a spy," Gaz says. "Decaf and fish. There's something wrong with her."

That's the sum total of your work so far. You briefly glance at the time on the screen in front of you—you still have four and a half hours.

For lack of anything better to do, and abandoning your fight against the granola bar, you turn your focus back to the main object of your thoughts for the past few months. It's not easy to think of Ghost while you're crammed in a tiny seat and sandwiched in between Soap and a snoring British businessman, but you let your mind wander a little bit in Ghost's direction.

Since your crush came to light, he's opened up to you, allowing you to get close enough until you felt tidally locked to him. He's shown you Simon Riley, Manchester born and bred, with a love of bourbon, vinyls, and old camping equipment that he collects the same way people gather stamps or glassware. He's revealed all sorts of quirks and tells, drawing you in further, yet keeping just enough distance for the sake of professionalism.

But for days before this flight, Ghost's teased you relentlessly, in ways you never expected from him—glancing touches on your shoulders and back as he passes you in the hallway, pressing his thigh against yours when you do manage to sit next to him at a meeting, fingers brushing against yours when you pass something to him or vice versa. And he knows what he's doing, because Ghost never moves without intent. Every stray touch lights up your nerves like fairy lights, and he is completely aware of it.

Touches like that might not seem relentless, but in the gap between them are his words—again, carefully chosen. The man's got a way with double meanings and innuendos, all woven into his normal speech so well that no one seems to notice. He'll lock into eye contact with you, then say things to Price, Gaz, or Soap about erecting defenses or pointing the finger of suspicion. Bastard knows exactly what he's about. He knows it's been driving you crazy for weeks.

Those thoughts start to get something stirring in you, which is frankly a terrible thing to have happen on an airplane. Apparently, all your bad thoughts are mile-high ones, and before you start rubbing your legs together like a cricket for Soap to notice, you excuse yourself to the lavatory again.

Squeezing by Soap and his godforsaken tendency to manspread, you catch him grinning at you as he takes one of his AirPods out. "Goin' somewhere exciting, Ladybird?" he asks.

"Yeah," you say, gesturing to one of the emergency doors. "Thought I'd test one of those slides out."

"Oooh, fun," Soap says, all cheeky. His brows go up, and you feel what he's going to say before he says it. "Thought you'd be payin' a visit to a businessman up front. He seems lonely up there."

God, you wish.

You stand in the aisle beside Soap for a second, willing your legs to wake up and ignoring the wash of pins and needles through your skin. "Nah, I think he likes being by himself," you say. "Obviously he's not chomping at the bit to watch nature documentaries or visit with us."

"No," Soap agrees, tucking a hand behind his head and grinning up at you. "But I dinnae think he'd say no to you visiting him." At that, he wiggles his brows suggestively, then breaks into a wide smile that has you rolling your eyes.

"Yeah, no, I'm leaving now," you tell him, turning on heel to limp your way to the lavatory on a very wobbly-feeling right leg. You can hear Soap laughing at your back, and you think you hear the words 'mile high club'—better to ignore it.

The lavatory's full when you get there, so you lean against the wall and wait, arms crossed over your chest, fighting back a yawn. The plane wiggles with a little turbulence. Someone coughs nearby. Someone else turns off their overhead light.

Then the lavatory door opens and— yeah, that's Ghost looking down at you.

He's dressed in a disarmingly casual way. He's ditched the balaclava in favor of a black disposable mask and a beanie pulled down low. You're both pleased and distressed that you recognize his hoodie (one that you've stolen before to dart between his room and yours and briefly considered stealing for good), although the jeans are new.

In turn, he looks over you, a faint flicker of something in his eyes that makes a familiar, raw heat already start to form in your gut.

"Ladybird," he says with a nod.

"Ghost," you reply.

It feels like an old cowboy movie standoff, except there's less than a foot of room in between the two of you. Someone has to move—preferably him, because you kind of do need to use the lavatory now. There's a stretch of tension, of an invisible band being pulled before—

Ghost suddenly looks left, then right, and then his hand is on your wrist, tugging you back into the lavatory and closing the door behind you before you can even comprehend what's happened. As soon as the lock clicks into place, the overhead light blinks on, filling the tiny, tiny space with watery white light.

It smells like Clorox wipes and diapers, which is not conducive to anything sexy until Ghost is practically pressed up against you, an arm wrapped around your waist. In another too-quick movement, his mask is pulled down beneath his chin, and then his lips are on yours.

The kiss is hungry. His tongue finds yours immediately, and in between deep kisses, he catches your bottom lip between his teeth. It's ravenous—starving. His free hand goes up to your jaw, cupping your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye.

He kisses you like you haven't seen or touched each other in months. Like he's not the one keeping a perfectly professional distance, maintaining the hierarchy of command while torturing you with words and touches. Suddenly, the hand on your waist moves and goes up under your t-shirt, up and up over your stomach to your bra, fingers brushing over one rapidly-stiffening nipple while you moan quietly against his mouth.

For fuck's sake, Soap was right about the mile high club. You wouldn't be surprised if he texted Ghost the suggestion.

Ghost tilts his head back enough to talk, although you feel every syllable against your lips. "Wanna touch you," he mutters, half-lidded eyes flickering up to meet yours.

"Do it," you whisper back. The urgency is there, knowing you only have a short amount of time and the smallest bit of elbow room to work with.

The hand on your breast descends quickly, and with it, your body feels like it goes into an uncontrolled downward spin, dizzy with the thought of what you're doing. Ghost's hand slips under the band of your—

"Pajama pants? Really?"

You glare up at him, although all the heat is redirected southward. "They're comfy, and it's a long flight," you retort.

He breathes out a laugh that fans over your cheek before he kisses you again, just as his fingers go down and rub against your cunt through the thin cotton of your panties. It makes you gasp against him, even at a slight, barely-there touch. But his touch transmutes into something stronger and more insistent, rubbing your slit, the fabric helping to build friction.

"Oh, fuck," you whisper, staggering a little and leaning on his shoulder for support. You feel him press a finger against your clit, setting off a charge that darts lightning-quick up your spine. One of your hands claps over your mouth to stifle a moan.

Ghost laughs, a low rumble that seems to vibrate right through you, matching frequencies with the electricity currently pulsing through your whole damn nervous system.

"Been wantin' to do this all week," he mutters into your ear as his index finger slides over your clit.

Your voice fights to catch a foothold in your throat, hoisting itself up into your mouth in a strain. "I-in an airplane lavatory?" you manage, although the joke is lost on another moan that you have to hide in the fabric of his hoodie.

He hums this time, and it's almost thoughtful. "Sure," he says. His fingers slide back, pressing the soaked fabric of your panties against your opening in the most teasing way. You're tempted to just pull everything down and let him take you over the tiny stainless steel sink. But he goes on, "Back at base. Kitchen, office, common area. Don't really care."

Holy fuck, the idea of Ghost taking you in any of those places sends another little shock through your system and turns that inner coil tighter. You shudder, gasping as he rubs his fingers back and forth. You cling onto him, fingers in a vise grip on his hoodie, face tucked against his shoulder as he draws your climax up to the surface quicker than you've ever felt it rise.

"Wait until we get to London," he says, his voice low and hot in your ear. "I know at least five places where I can fuck you in view of a whole damn street an' no one will know we're there."

That promise alone and all the mental images it conjures are enough to send you right over the edge, burying your cry in fleece and shuddering against his hand as you rock your hips against him. You hear him whispering encouragements to you, to use him to get off, to come for him. You do, using all that friction and that sense of taboo of what you're doing now as a springboard for your pleasure. It's not the hardest you've come (and Ghost certainly has the honor of achieving that), but it's the fastest—almost embarrassingly quick. You hit the heights, the upper ceiling of your personal atmosphere, and try to catch your breath as you fall back into an oxygen-rich level.

Ghost draws his hand back while you lean on him for support as your legs threaten to give out entirely. You hear and feel him laugh again, and then he's pressing a rolled-up piece of toilet paper into your hand.

"Kind of soaked there, love," he says, and it's all fondness—maybe a little bit of pride.

"Who's fault is that?" you say, your voice hoarse and tired. Still, you make use of the paper, reaching in to wipe up at least some of the dampness. And—well, fuck, you're going to have to sit with that for another four hours. Gross.

Ghost presses a kiss to your temple, and you lean into it instinctively.

"I'll make it up to you in London," he promises.

You have a better idea.

---

You squeeze past Soap again, inwardly groaning as you sit down and feel dampness between your legs. It's three hours and forty-eight minutes until Gatwick. Three hours and forty-eight minutes of sitting in wet panties while trying to apprehend a criminal on a 787. Nevermind that your orgasm sent enough endorphins through your system to maybe get a good nap in.

Then, beside you, Soap laughs. You feel a tug on your sleeve, and look over to see him grinning at you.

"Nice hoodie," he says. "Is it new?"

You smile and nestle yourself into the fabric, still warm from Ghost's skin. "Sort of," you reply.

#cod: mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #soap as a wingman part 2! #idk what ladybird's whole deal is yet but i do love her #there's like a vague plot from another fic i'm working on that i just used as mini-exposition #mostly i just wanted a reason for all of them to be on an airplane

[beomgyucoded]

Academic Rival!Taehyun x Reader

Prompt: "You've never kissed anyone?" "No" "Do you want to change that?"

Word Count: 3154

Warnings: suggestive themes, some curse words

Part Four of The First Kiss Series

*a/n: it's their senior year so all the characters here are 18

Another day, another argument. Multiple arguments. He couldn't let you rest easy in a single class you shared.

His name was Kang Taehyun, and he was the bane of your existence.

Or so you thought.

Since you met in middle school, he was determined to put you in your place and keep you there.

Initially, it would light a fire within you, and you would give him the desired reaction. You also found it gratifying to witness his reaction when you revealed your scores, always matching or even surpassing his once in a while. Though as you got older, you both found it tiring to keep up such a serious, childish rivalry. Now in high school, you two still competed, but it was no longer a priority to beat him.

You never hated him, as much as your friends and classmates would like to think otherwise. He definitely had a way of getting under your skin, but you couldn't deny the thrill of competing with him. It seemed like he enjoyed it just as much as you did.

The one thing that really got to you though, was how attractive he was. It was unfair that one person could possess such a combination of beauty, intelligence, and athleticism. If he ever found out about the way you think of him, he would never let you forget it. You might even be tempted to punch him, although it probably wouldn't faze him one bit.

It was finals week this week, and the whole school seemed to hold their breath when you and Taehyun would cross paths. Some eager to witness whatever the two of you would argue about, others rolling their eyes knowing that you would tie for first place yet again. You stood in the hallway, fiddling with your hair and fixing your outfit in the small mirror on your locker door. As you adjusted the collar of your shirt, you caught a glimpse of Taehyun approaching in the reflection. His strides were confident, his expression impassive. You braced yourself for another round of verbal sparring, mentally preparing your counterarguments to whatever he might throw at you today.

"I hope you're ready to lose the debate in english today," you quipped, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

Taehyun scoffed, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Don't be so sure of yourself," he retorted, leaning against the lockers beside yours.

"I'll have you know that I've been practicing my persuasive techniques. You won't stand a chance."

You rolled your eyes, refusing to let his taunts get to you.

"We'll see about that," you replied, your voice laced with confidence.

As the two of you engaged in your usual banter, exchanging witty remarks and challenging each other's abilities, the bell rang and some of your classmates lingered. Your classmates had come to expect this daily spectacle between you and Taehyun, always eager for some entertainment amidst the stress of finals week.

Ignoring the spectators, you and Taehyun made your way to the classroom, still trading playful jabs. It was an unspoken agreement between the two of you that no matter how intense your rivalry may seem to outsiders, it never crossed the boundaries of personal attacks. Deep down, you both had a level of respect for one another's abilities and intelligence.

As you entered the classroom, your teacher, Mr. Park, stood at the front, a fond smile on his face.

"Ah, my favorite academic rivals," he said, chuckling.

"Today's debate topic is quite interesting, and I believe it'll put your skills to the test."

Taehyun and you exchanged a quick glance, already knowing you'd be put on opposing sides. At this point, it was a given that even your teachers wanted a front row seat to whatever was happening between you. They knew putting you on the same side would be no fun.

You two have worked together before, and to everyone's surprise, you worked well together. You complimented each other and knew what the other was thinking before it was even said out loud.

As the debate began, you and Taehyun fell into your familiar dynamic, arguing fiercely yet eloquently. The classroom buzzed with anticipation as you presented your points, countering each other's arguments with clever rebuttals. It was intense, each word spoken with conviction and passion. The rest of the class watched with bated breath, captivated by the intellectual battle unfolding before them. It was clear that the two of you were evenly matched, pushing each other to excel further. It ended with your side winning, your closing argument leaving everyone stunned.

Mr. Park congratulated both of you on an outstanding performance, praising your eloquence and critical thinking skills. As the applause filled the classroom, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. You glanced over at Taehyun, who was wearing a small smirk, his eyes sparkling with admiration and competitiveness.

That was your last class of the day, and you had promised to accompany your friend to play rehearsals after school. She was on Taehyun's side during the debate, and like everyone else she sat back and watched.

You gathered your books and made your way out of the classroom, feeling a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration after the intense debate. As you walked through the hallway, your friend caught up with you, her eyes wide with excitement.

"Wow, that was amazing!" she exclaimed.

"You and Taehyun were on fire today. It got kinda hot in there, I'm pretty sure everyone felt that tension between you."

You laughed, brushing off her comment.

"Oh please, it's just friendly competition. We're used to it by now."

You and your friend continued to walk down the hallway, eventually arriving at the auditorium where you sat on stage waiting for the rest of the cast to show up.

"Maybe for you," your friend said, raising an eyebrow.

"But something tells me there's more to it than that. I mean, come on, the way you two go at each other's throats sometimes... there's tension and then there's tension, you know?"

You scoffed, trying to hide the blush that threatened to creep onto your cheeks.

"You know I'm right, you're both smart and insanely hot, why not date and then take over the world?"

You couldn't help but let out a chuckle, shaking your head at your friend's wild suggestion.

"Oh please, you're just fantasizing. Taehyun and I are better off as rivals. It keeps things interesting," you said, pulling out your water bottle.

"Okay, if you don't want to date him, then fuck him. Relieve some of that tension."

You spluttered, choking on your water. You couldn't believe what your friend had just suggested.

"Are you out of your mind?" you exclaimed, finally regaining control over your breathing.

Your friend laughed mischievously, thoroughly enjoying your flustered reaction.

"I'm just saying, the sexual tension between you two could power a small city. Why waste it?" she teased.

"You're ridiculous," you replied, rolling your eyes at your friend's persistent teasing.

"Fine, just kiss him then," she continued, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"A nice, passionate kiss to release some of that tension. It'll be like fireworks exploding!"

You groaned, feeling your face grow hotter by the second.

"Seriously? You're relentless."

Your friend just grinned, clearly enjoying herself.

"Why are you so against it? It's cause I'm right, isn't it?"

"You're impossible," you muttered, trying to hide your growing embarrassment.

"It's not that I'm against it," you said, your voice filled with resignation.

"I just... I've never kissed anyone before," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your friend's mischievous grin faded, replaced by a look of surprise and understanding. She reached out and gently squeezed your hand, offering comfort in her touch.

"Hey, it's okay," she reassured you softly.

"There's nothing wrong with being inexperienced. Everyone starts somewhere."

You let out a sigh, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as you confided in your friend.

"I know, but he can't know that. He'll use it against me or something like that."

Your friend nodded sympathetically.

"My lips are sealed, don't worry."

You smiled gratefully at your friend, appreciating her loyalty and understanding. The conversation shifted, and you both began discussing the upcoming play and the rehearsals that awaited. As the rest of the cast trickled into the auditorium, you focused on waiting for your friend to get into character and channel her energy into the performance.

The following day was relatively uneventful, with most of your time spent writing final exams. During lunch, you opted to go to the library and focus on preparing for your upcoming chemistry final next period. As you sat alone at a small table in the quiet corner of the library, your mind wandered back to the conversation you had with your friend yesterday. You couldn't help but replay her words in your head, the teasing suggestions and the underlying truth. You immediately dismissed the idea of "fucking him" as she put it. But the notion of kissing Taehyun, just to release some of the undeniable tension between you two, lingered in your mind.

As if on cue, Taehyun walked into the library and took the seat right next to you. You pretended not to notice his arrival, keeping your eyes focused on the book in front of you.

"Studying for the chemistry final?" he asked, sounding as if he was mocking you.

You glanced up at him, a sarcastic smile playing on your lips.

"Impressive, Taehyun. You have such an astute eye, just like Sherlock Holmes. Yes, I am studying for the chemistry final. Is there something wrong with that?"

Taehyun leaned back in his chair, studying you with a playful glint in his eyes.

"Oh, not at all," he replied, his voice laced with amusement.

"But I must say, it's a shame to see you wasting your time studying when there are much more interesting things we could be doing," he added, leaning in closer to you.

You raised an eyebrow at his suggestive remark, trying not to let his proximity affect you.

"What are you implying," you mumbled, eyes glued to your textbook refusing to meet his.

"What am I implying?" Taehyun repeated, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I'm just messing with you, you should see your face," he chuckled, pulling away from you.

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment wash over you.

"Maybe you should be the one studying right now. We both know I'm better than you in chemistry," you countered, pretending his words didn't bother you.

Taehyun's voice dropped to a teasing whisper.

"You know," he said, smirking mischievously, "for someone who seems to be so confident, there's something I find hard to believe about you."

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to give him the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of you.

"And what's that?" you challenged, pretending to be uninterested.

"That you've never kissed anyone," he said with a sly smile, as if he had just uncovered your biggest secret.

You felt your heart skip a beat, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. How could he possibly know about that? You narrowed your eyes at him, searching for any sign that he was bluffing. But the twinkle in his eyes told you otherwise.

"Who told you that?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Taehyun chuckled softly, leaning even closer until his lips were dangerously close to your ear.

"Oh, I have my ways of finding out things," he whispered, his warm breath making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

His "ways" being that he was backstage yesterday, helping a friend with the props for the play.

You swallowed hard, your mind racing to come up with a response.

Taehyun leaned back, an amused grin still playing on his lips.

"Judging by your silence, I'm guessing it's true."

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" you said, your voice small but laced with irritation.

Taehyun shrugged, his eyes flickering with a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

"Just answer me, you've never kissed anyone?"

You took a deep breath, summoning your courage before replying.

"No."

The admission hung in the air, and you braced yourself for Taehyun's reaction.

"Well," he drawled, leaning even closer until his face was inches away from yours.

"Do you want to change that?"

Your heart raced as Taehyun's words echoed in your ears.

You stared into his eyes, the tension between the two of you palpable.

"Stop fucking with me," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

But Taehyun didn't break eye contact; instead, he sat up straight in his chair.

"I'm not fucking with you," he said gently, his voice devoid of any teasing undertones.

"I'm serious."

The library suddenly felt suffocating, the weight of the moment bearing down on you. Then in that moment, instinct took over. Ignoring the rational voice inside your head, you leaned in slowly, closing the distance between you. Your lips brushed against Taehyun's with the softest of touches that sent an electric shock through your entire body. The tension in the room shifted, and the air crackled with anticipation.

Taehyun's eyes widened in surprise as he realized you were actually kissing him. It was a kiss filled with curiosity, a mingling of lips that spoke of unspoken desires and uncharted territory. Taehyun's hands found their way to your waist, attempting to pull you closer, but the arms on the chairs were in the way.

You both laughed softly as you tried to adjust your positions, awkwardly maneuvering around the obstacles.

"Get up," Taehyun whispered, his voice filled with urgency and a newfound hunger.

You nodded and complied, getting up from the chair and his hands found their way to your hips. He lifted you to sit on the table and stood between your legs, his hands gripping your waist tightly.

"Better," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire.

You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the intensity of the moment overwhelming yet exhilarating. His lips crashed onto yours again with a sense of urgency. Your mind went blank as Taehyun's kiss deepened, his tongue gently sweeping against your bottom lip. You parted your lips, allowing him access as the kiss turned more passionate, igniting a fire within you that you never knew existed. Unsure of what to do with your hands, you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you. He groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping your waist tighter as the kiss grew more intense.

The sound of hushed whispers and stifled laughter reached your ears, reminding you that you were still in the library. You pulled away from the kiss, breathless and flushed, looking nervously around the room.

"Shit," you muttered as you saw people whispering to each other and texting with a sense of urgency.

Taehyun's eyes were still locked on yours, his expression holding both satisfaction and hunger.

"It looks like we've gotten carried away, forgot we were in public," he said softly, a playful grin spreading across his face.

"You knew exactly what you were doing," you replied, your voice holding a sense of accusation and amusement.

Taehyun leaned in, his lips dangerously close to your ear once again.

"Well, maybe I had an inkling," he whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

"But it seems like you enjoyed it too."

You couldn't deny the truth in his words. As much as you tried to play it cool, your heart was still racing, your lips tingling from the electrifying kiss. You had enjoyed it more than you cared to admit. You glanced around the library, realizing that the attention was not going to fade anytime soon. There were whispers and pointed stares from the other patrons who had witnessed your impulsive moment that could've escalated even further.

Without another word, you grabbed Taehyun's hand and led him out of the library, the eyes of the other patrons following you as you made your escape.

"Where are we going?" Taehyun asked, his hand tightening around yours.

"Anywhere but here," you replied.

"I don't think I can handle any more judgmental stares."

You walked briskly through the empty hallways, still holding Taehyun's hand tightly. Finally, you found an empty classroom and pulled Taehyun inside. The door closed behind you with a soft click, shutting out the prying eyes and judgmental whispers.

"Everyone is probably going to know about this by the time the period ends," you murmured, leaning against the closed door for support.

Taehyun stepped closer to you, his gaze filled with a mischievous glint.

"Let them talk. I'm not ashamed of what just happened."

His fingers grazed the side of your face, sending shivers down your spine.

"I'm tired of hiding how I feel about you."

You were taken aback by his confession, but you didn't show it. Instead you stepped closer to him, closing the distance between you further. Taehyun's breath hitched as you traced a finger along his jawline, your touch feather-light yet electrifying.

"I feel the same way," you finally whispered, your voice barely audible.

He closed the remaining distance between you, his lips finding yours once again in another searing kiss. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth with a fervor you couldn't resist. The bell rang, and you pulled away from him breathlessly.

"You're already getting good at this kissing thing," he whispered, a playful smirk on his lips.

"You of all people should know that I'm a fast learner," you winked, the heat still lingering between you.

A knock on the classroom door interrupted your moment and you both looked at each other. Taehyun moved to open the door, revealing your friend standing there with a knowing smirk.

"What is this I'm hearing?" she asked, raising an eyebrow showing you her phone.

You rolled your eyes and laughed, trying to compose yourself.

"Nothing, we were just having a... private study session," you replied with a smirk.

Taehyun chuckled beside you, playing along with the excuse.

"Yeah, we were studying some... anatomy," he added.

"Well, next time try to be a little more discreet," your friend advised, unable to hide her amusement.

You both nodded, exchanging a knowing glance as your friend left the classroom, closing the door behind her. Alone once again, you turned back to Taehyun, unable to hide the smile on your face.

"You know," you began, playfully poking his chest, "we really should study anatomy sometime. Might come in handy."

Taehyun raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

"Oh, I'm more than willing to explore every inch of your anatomy," he replied, his voice laced with suggestion.

You let out a laugh before swatting his arm lightly.

"That's not what I meant!”

a/n: this ended up being a lot more than just a kiss oops, I had fun writing this one though.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#✎˖ᝰbeomgyucoded✧˖° #kang taehyun #kang taehyun x reader #kang taehyun imagines #kang taehyun fluff #taehyun fluff #txt drabbles #txt fluff #txt suggestive #taehyun #taehyun imagines #⇢ ˗ˏˋ taehyun 🐿️ ࿐ྂ

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Head in the clouds (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: My take on Modern reader meets Daemon Targaryen. Here we have the meeting.

Chapter warnings: Canon character death. Kidnapping. Mature language.

A/N: I’m so excited to share this story with you. I had so much fun building it. This series will be updated every sunday.

Next part here

Beneath the covers, there is a girl. Brown haired, dark eyed. A smile that could light up the whole room. Etched into your memory, carved a place inside your heart. Forever living there.

“Does it not bother you?” You had asked her. “Being nothing more than a wife?”

“Am I a wife?” Her laugh was sharp. Strong. She didn't cover her mouth with her hand like other women did. She was so sure of herself, tiny things didn't bother her. There was no time to worry if her teeth were perfect or if it was unladylike to cackle in laughter.

Alive. So alive it hurt.

Two girls. Curled mirroring each other in the bed. Sharing secrets, and giggling. But never touching. It was not allowed, you see.

This was how women loved. Raw, all electrified wires and emotions. Bared. Never taught to fear each other.

A naked, creamy shoulder. A mole, right above her sternum. Heart beating fast.

Shining. In a sunny field, rushing after a stag, spear in hand. Predator, never prey. Vibrant with color. Rich browns and earth tones. The sun hitting the left side of her face just right.

The memory is etched in your eyelids. The girl, laughing. Dancing along to an imaginary song. A field full of golden flowers. Her voice in your thoughts.

Now gone.

Rhea had passed, or so the other serving girls had told you. Runestone was going to her husband. After four years, the man was finally back from war.

The apron you were wearing was clean, and so were you, despite your face being puffy from too much. Rhea had been your only friend. The only other person in the castle that had been able to read.

The Common Tongue had a striking similarity to English. There were few books, and you had struggled to read them at first. You soon realized that the Common Tongue was not a different language, but Middle English. It made sense. People in the Middle Ages didn’t know they were living in the Middle Ages.

You had met Rhea when she realized one of the serving girls was spending her time in the library. It was not forbidden, but unusual. No one had thought to forbid it. The ratio of literacy among the common folk was low, or better yet, nonexistent.

Her dexterous hands. Aim that always rang true. Her hair, cascading down her back, perfect and smooth.

It had lightened your burdens, this friendship with her. Since arriving in the Middle Ages, the feeling of alienation had been too much to handle. And being the Lady’s favorite meant that your time spent at the kitchens was more and more scarce.

Rhea and you had turned into something more than friends, by the end of it. Two lonely, unsatisfied women. One left behind by a husband that had spent years at war. Another out of time.

A pointless war, she had said. She had an interest in politics, your Rhea. They called it a manly pursuit. She called it doing whatever she pleased.

Your lips, tracing her temple, her cheekbones, and a whispered word, muttered back. “Sister.” You couldn’t call it anything but.

Afternoons, spent using each other’s lap as pillows. Every memory since meeting her, tinted in gold. How you regretted never speaking words of love more often, when you found out about her death. An odd one, when she had been such a strong rider and hunter…

A sudden flurry of movement started in the front of the room. Your contemplation was not allowed any longer. The rows of servants in front of you were all bending their knee, prompting you to do the same. Finally, your new lord was here.

The man made others wait for him. You had been gathered in the courtyard for hours, under an unusually bright sun. The air was warm. A golden, beautiful summer day to say goodbye to a beautiful, golden woman.

Your dress clung to your skin, the garment heavy and restricting. Despite being made of soft cotton, you still felt hot and sweaty. You missed shorts and miniskirts. Fucking purity culture.

Fuck the Middle Ages, too. For they had taken Rhea. It had not been cruel enough, to make her suffer scorn and ridicule from her husband, they had to take her too. She would have prospered in a modern world.

Some nights, searching for a solution, you thought of taking her back with you,

The row of servants in front of you lowered. You bent your knee, keeping your eyes lowered. It was about time. Your hips and legs were starting to get sore. Hopefully, you would be overlooked.

Rhea’s husband would surely want to replace some servants in favor of his most trusted people. He was an important man, or so you had gathered. She avoided mentioning him, often unhappy.

A Prince. He should have given her the world. He had arrived too late.

The servants kept quiet, organized in neat little rows. You waited for the command to rise, but none came.

Instead, an angry voice, and the unmistakable sound of boots stomping on rock.

“Bring forth the girl!”

A brave guard stepped forward. You heard his armor cling and clang, and you shivered. You hated the sound of metal scratching against metal. It did something funny to your teeth.

You kept your eyes trained on the floor. You were not supposed to look nobles in the eye, in these times. Rhea had taught you that, and all you knew about manners here.

“Which girl, my Prince?” The guard asked. You didn’t recognize his voice. Rhea kept a scarce household. She hadn’t like the fuzz her husband always brought.

Most of the guards she had were outside the castle, and they didn't mix with the servants. They were bastards or second sons of minor houses, who thought themselves too above you. Rhea didn't care enough about them to worry about it.

“The one she cared about.” The man answered, and you shrank down on yourself. Your uneasiness was turning into fear. Who else could he be referring to, but you?

The servants started muttering among themselves. None dared answer Rhea’s husband. They all knew he was referring to you, but were hesitant on betraying you.

“Well?” He asked, tapping his foot against the floor.

A beat of silence. You kept your eyes down. Finally, the guard spoke. His voice was shaky.

“She is one of the kitchen maids. The ones in white aprons.”

The boots stomped against the rock once more. Rhea’s husband was on the move, prowling between the rows of servants.

A girl shrieked. You dared not lift your eyes, frozen into the spot.

“Milord… I…” That voice, you knew. It was Mina, one of the girls who worked with you in the kitchens. You peeked out of the corner of your eye, catching the silhouette of a man, grasping a girl roughly by the arm. His back was to you, but by the hard set of his shoulders and the sword hanging at his belt, you could tell he meant business.

Tears started gathering in your eyes. You were afraid. Whatever this man wanted with you, it was not good.

“No, I don’t think so.” He let go of her arm, roughly pushing her away. You quickly looked down, but it was too late. The man was already approaching you.

You saw his boots first. Dark and well polished, unlike those of any guard. You keep your eyes on them. Despite your best attempts, you were starting to shake. Were you not so terrified, you would have thought his voice familiar.

“I am certain I have found my prize.” The man lifted your chin with a finger. You looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “Ah. I have. Care to tell me why my wife has left you all she had?”

Your lower lip wobbled. You tried forming words, but none came up. Because the man who was looking at you was a Target version of Matt Smith. Which meant…

“You killed her.” You whispered. Your heart was beating so hard you were afraid he could hear it pounding against your rib cage. You brushed your sweaty palms on the skirt of your dress, trying to dry them.

This was not the Middle Ages, not at all. This was Westeros, a fictional world not meant to exist. And if this was Rhea’s husband, then it meant Rhea, your Rhea, was the wife of Daemon Targaryen. You remembered little about him. But what had struck in your mind about him was that he had killed his wife.

There had been a golden girl, once. And a fool looked at her and thought her bronze.

You should have noticed sooner. You had always found it odd, that Rhea’s priest wore a seven pointed star instead of a cross. She had not been very religious. Other than her, you neverspoke to others about matters deeper than how to cut the potatoes. You had rationalized it as being another symbol of Christianity. After all, they had used a fish as a symbol, once.

Your voice was not low enough for him not to hear, unfortunately. Daemon’s eyes widened. Then, he grabbed at your face, roughly.

“What did you say?”

You glared. The hold he had on you was too painful for you to even whisper a word. You pushed at him, trying to get him off you, but his grip was strong. He laughed, amused.

“My, aren’t you a willful thing?” Daemon pushed you towards a guard. “Seize her and place her in my chambers. We have a lot to talk about.”

The guard, the same one that had said you were a kitchen maid, caught you.

“My Prince, if what you say is true and your wife left Runestone to her….”

Had she? Brilliant, crazy woman. Passing over her husband's claim. You weren't sure you wanted the responsibility of being a Lady, but you weren't about to complain. The position would provide you with comforts unlike any other.

“That's utter madness, and you know it.” Daemon took you from the guard's arms, roughly holding you by the shoulders. You started to struggle immediately. “A serving girl cannot inherit.”

“But a bastard can.” Another guard pitched in, stepping forward. His hand was at his belt, ready to draw a sword. Mutters broke out among the crowd, the servants on the verge of a riot. “The Lady called her sister.”

“Well, then. If you don't act against your Lady…” Daemon took a pair of manacles from the guard's belt and grabbed at your wrists. “I will.”

You screamed and kicked, trying to get back to the safety of the crowd. If the guards thought you were their Lady, you were not going to complain. Not if it meant this psychopath let go of you. You still remember one of the last scenes of the season. The decapitation of the guy who called Rhaenyra a whore.

“Let go of me, you asshole!” You pushed at Daemon, and he cursed in a language you didn’t understand. Valyrian. Old, or High, or whatever the name of what Targaryens spoke. He cuffed one of your wrists, then the other. You screamed louder.

The guards moved, as if to step in. They had taken your resistance as an order. Those men had been ready once, to defend Rhea. Willing to kill for their Lady. Now, they were willing to kill for you.

Daemon could sense it too. The air was charged, a fight about to break out. One he wouldn’t win. Not against that many guards. Not against the servants, who looked ready to raise in arms for one of their own. He had to do something drastic.

He took his sword out and pulled you towards him by the cuffs. Your back hit his chest, hard enough for it to hurt. Your wrists, trapped between you and him, ached. But Daemon seemed to pay no mind to the pain. He raised the sword in front of you, keeping the guards away.

The guards exchanged looks. One gestured at the others. Daemon placed the tip of the sword at your neck. You blinked back tears.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t do that. One wrong move, and your Lady dies.” His voice was calm, too calm. You remembered the battle at the Stepstones, and whimpered.

The guards stepped forward anyway. Daemon dug the blade deeper into your throat, until you felt it pierce skin. You raised your hand, palm extended in front of you. The universal halt gesture.

“Good girl.” Daemon pulled the blade slightly back. Then, in a raised voice. “Caraxes!”

A deafening roar shook the courtyard. A big shadow made the servants cower in fear, and duck for cover. You looked up and right in front of your eyes, there was a dragon.

It was a gigantic, red beast, that looked much like a reptile. It felt surreal to watch, as the man holding you hostage ordered it to land and stand guard. You didn't oppose resistance when he started to tug you towards the inside of Runestone.

“Come, Lady Cuffs.”

No one moved to help you. Daemon Tragaryen had played his trump card. He might not own Runestone, he might not be the King. But he had a dragon.

“You and I have much to speak about.” He said, as he locked the door to Rhea’s chambers behind him. Daemon pushed you to the bed, making you bounce on the mattress.

“I have nothing to say to you!” You screamed, as you scrambled back. Your back hit the pillows. They still smelt like Rhea. It made you want to cry. You wished you could roll around in her scent, disappear beneath her covers.

“I happen to disagree.” Daemon sat down at the edge of the bed. You tried to kick at him, but his hand caught your foot before it could make contact. His grip on you was punishing. It felt as if he wanted to crush the delicate bones there.

“I have nothing to say to a killer.”

“I would like to know how you found out, Lady Cuffs.” A bit more pressure on your ankle, enough to be sure that they would bruise. It doesn’t have the intended effect. You are too blinded by his admission to be able to worry about your pain. You are angrier now. Did he have the nerve to admit it to your face?

You want him to hurt. To feel the same fear that's suffocating you, that forms a knot in your throat and doesn't let you breathe. The same fear Rhea must have felt, helpless, as he killed her. Monster. Monster. God awful monster.

“You killed her. You killed her, but know what? It doesn't matter because you are going to die!” And you are not thinking, of course. You just want to see him suffer. The consequences of what you are saying don’t cross your mind, at all.

“Oh?” Daemon looks amused. To him, your threats are empty. He is so privileged and self-assured, he probably thinks it’s like a giant getting threatened by an ant. It annoys you more because you are being serious.

Even if she was a supporting character in a fictional world, to you, Rhea had been a friend. More. And it had felt real, what you had lived with her so far. Were it not for Daemon’s arrival, you would have still thought you were in the Middle Ages and not Westeros. This has been your life for the past two years. She had been yours. And he had taken it all away.

“I googled it! I remember. Your nephew, the one with the eye patch. You die fighting him. And I hope it hurts, plummeting to your death from…”

It fills you with satisfaction, speaking those words. But he is not taking you seriously. You want, no, need, to twist the knife deeper.

“My nephew?” Daemon echoes, mouth agape at your outburst. Still, the smirk doesn’t leave. He seems amused by what he believes to be the ramblings of a madwoman.

“Aegon, Aemond what’s his name! You are going to die, and it’s all pointless, but you will rot in that lake.”

“Oh?” Daemon arches an eyebrow, on the verge of laughing. You glare.

“And you will marry that little girl! The one who is the daughter of Corlys… Something! And she dies too, and it will be her dragon that kills you!”

It's that, what makes his face change. From amusement, to disbelief. Daemon steps forward, hand cupping your cheek. His thumb taps at your bottom lip, twice.

“So you are a dreamer. A pretty one, for a Royce.” His thumb caresses your mouth as if you are nothing more than cattle, ready for his inspection. When he tries prying open your mouth, you bite him. And not in a sexy, playful way. In a hurtful way. Daemon takes his thumb away, and winces, before continuing. “I had told no one of my intentions with Lady Laena.”

Your heart sinks. A dreamer. A fancy way of saying witch, you guessed. Or seer. His expression is greedy, enough so you know what he will say next.

“This will please my brother, for we can keep the Vale and gain a dreamer. You will no longer be a bastard, girl. Rejoice.”

“What?” The change of topic confuses you. You are not a bastard because such a thing didn’t exist in your time. Rhea apparently put you in her will, and that means something to these people. But will or not, Westeros is a feudal society. Big thing about feudalism? There are no rags-to-riches stories because there is no social class mobility.

“You will be my wife, of course. It’s as your sister wished.” At that, you kick at him with your other foot, hard. The nerve. The nerve to threaten you so. After he killed Rhea. No way you are marrying him.

You curse all those times you read those spicy romance novels. The ones with the mafia boyfriends, like 365 DNI or those Wattpad stories you used to read. Or the ones where the girl is sold into an arranged marriage. As the protagonist of one, you are starting to feel like it's not very fun.

Absurd, where the mind might go to protect herself. From the memories, and the pain. Rhea. Dead, by his hand. While your mind whirls and jokes around.

“You are insane and I hate you!” It's not very creative. But your entire world has shifted in a matter of hours. You deserve a freak-out. “I will never be your wife, you monster!” You kick at him some more, but he catches both of your ankles and drags you through the bed and towards him.

“Oh, Lady Cuffs. You flatter me.”

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x y/n #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen smut #divine intuition series #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen

[g1rld1ary]

masterlist 🦢🎀 𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ 🎀🦢

anthony lockwood ✩

➻ sharing's caring

you meet lockwood at arif's and bond over your love of scones

➻ come home with me

your bus breaks down in the middle of the night and lockwood might just be your knight in shining armour

➻ bloody genius

after a long night of researching cases with lockwood, you do something you don't quite mean to

➻ jealousy jealousy (part two)

you and lockwood bond when your his favourite waitress at arif's. maybe all that's needed to prompt a confession is good old-fashioned jealousy

➻ secret admirer

you've got a secret admirer ahead of valentine's day who seems intent on spoiling you

➻ to build a home

you're the only employee at lockwood & co who doesn't live at portland row, but maybe you should

➻ just blurry

lockwood rambles a lot when he's drunk and you fall victim to it

➻ what once was

you and lockwood hate each other -- you have since you were young. but when your teams have to work together, deeper feelings come to light

remus lupin ✩

➻ kiss me on the dance floor

you and remus keep meeting in the bathroom at parties whilst holding your friend's hair back

sirius black ✩

➻ tell me when you're sober

sirius calls you drunk at a house party and confesses something he probably shouldn't

james potter ✩

➻ 5 people james potter didn't mean to kiss (and one he did)

title says it all -- james potter is a very affectionate person

luke castellan ✩

➻ you never disappointed me

part two part three part four

10 things i hate about you!AU, luke gets paid to take you out so beckendorf can have his chance with silena

➻ unlucky

when clarisse can't drive you to your exam anymore, luke steps in as a favour and happens to be able to help your anxiety

luke patterson ✩

➻ new release

you find out luke is your neighbour only after blasting his new album all day, but he doesn't seem to mind

➻ sick days

you're not feeling well, but luke is here to look after you

#giasfics˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ #giatalks✩ #lockwood and co #the marauders #pjo #anthony lockwood #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #luke castellan #jatp #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson

[louloulemons-posts]

congratulations on 1k!!! could u do prompt 30 adopting a pet for eddie munson?? 🖤🖤

thank you for the request 🫶🏻

1k celebration prompts list

30 : ‘adopting a pet together’

W/Eddie Munson

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

you and eddie had been living together for a while now, you apartment had become home very quickly for the both of you.

everyday life together was something you easy jumped into, not having any bumps in the road - it just worked.

but sometimes it got lonely, you’d be out at work and eddie would be alone, or vice versa. and then there were times where you’d lay together and thing - wouldn’t it be great to have a dog lay with us too.

so you had decided on it, to go to the shelter, it was christmas time and you knew a lot of dogs needed a home, especially now.

walking hand in hand to the shelter, you smiled up at eddie as he opened the door for you, letting you duck under his arm.

“hi, how can i help you?” a woman smiled from behind the counter.

you returned the greeting with a smile, “we were hoping to have a look at your dogs.”

“you’re planning to adopt?”

“mhm, we are,” eddie nodded.

“great, have you got any ideas in mind. age, temperament, breed?”

“we were wondering if we can see the dogs you’ve had here the longest?” you said.

a grin broke into the woman’s face, “that’s very kind of you, i know who to take you too.”

leading you through a door you saw a few rows of kennels, yapping and barking coming from inside.

you and eddie chuckled seeing a small boy and his parents playing with a young labrador pup.

“she’s just down here.”

“how longs she been here?” eddie asked.

“around four months, we’re actually getting to the point where a staff member will have to take her or, the other option.”

you frowned, “poor baby.”

“is there a reason people won’t take her?” eddie asked.

“well, yes. it’s the way she looks more than anything. speaking on which, this is echo.”

looking in the kennel your heart melted, there sat a golden brown pit bull. a long scar of an old gash across her nose.

the woman nodded towards her, “people see that and think she must be vicious. we rescued her from some not very nice people.”

you nodded, and eddie spoke up, “could we meet her?”

“of course.” the kennel was unlocked and you and eddie went inside, being quiet not to startled her.

“hi pretty girl,” you cooed, offering your hand for her to sniff. she did so, tail wagging like a helicopter, eddie followed your actions, the pup had a smile like expression.

the pair of you sat down near the dog, allowing her to come over to you. she did so with ease.

“how old is she?” you asked, giving echo a fuss.

“we’ve estimated around 3 years old, she’s neutered and has had all her vaccines. she’s probably not the best for a home with another dog, just because of past experience

“she struggles being cooped up with them for long periods of time - she’s okay outdoors, it’s just when she feels trapped.”

“that’s okay, she’d been our first dog,” eddie said.

you smiled, echo basically climbing into your lap, head resting on your shoulder, having a good sniff at eddie.

“oh eds,” you said, wrapping your arms around her.

“she’s perfect right?”

“she really is.”

“would it be possible for us to adopt her?” eddie asked, the woman couldn’t stop beaming.

“of course, we have a lead and harness for you to take for her. leaflets for care at the front, i’ll need you to fill out some paperwork.”

you nodded egarly, the lady called over another member of staff, “could you please get echo ready to go home?”

the smile they gave each other was contagious, “of course i can, i’m so glad someone’s finally giving her a chance. come on sweet girl let’s get you ready.”

echo let out a sweet bark, allowing you and eddie to get up, whining slightly when you exited her kennel.

“we’ll see you soon sweetheart,” eddie comforted, giving her a pat on the head.

“if you follow me back to the desk,” the woman said, leading the way back through the kennels.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

the paperwork had been filled out and you’d grabbed so many leaflets so you could head to the store.

now you were just waiting for your girl, and with a small bark you knew she was on her way.

her tail was wagging like crazy her body was in a deep purple harness with matching lead.

you’d learned she was well trained too, didn’t bite, chew things she shouldn’t, potty trained, knew basic commands.

with a pull and bark she ran towards you, “hi pretty girl,” you smiled, kissing her snout, “you ready to go home?”

she was so excited , her whole body wiggling happily.

“i think that’s a yes babe,” eddie laughed.

“well let’s get our girl home.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

and that’s how your evenings went, lay in between eddies legs on the sofa, echo’s head lay on your stomach.

your hand lazily rubbing her back, eddie doing the same, your other hands linking.

this was the life.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #joe quinn #stranger things imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson fluff #eddie stranger things #joe quinn imagine #eddie x y/n #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson blurb #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn #joesph quinn imagine #joesph quinn #strsnger things #blurb imagine #louloulemons #1k follower celebration