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tkwrites · 3 months

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Back to You - Matthew Tkachuk x Jessie (ofc)

gif from @drysaladandketchup

Title: Back To You

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Matthew Tkachuck x Jessie (ofc)

Warnings: Swearing, lots of flirting. Slow burn. Smut at the end: fingering (f receiving), oral (f and m receiving).

Summary: Jessie and Matthew meet at a New Years Eve party and form an instant connection. When a fire rips them apart, can fate bring them back together?

Word Count: 12,700

Comments: This is my entry for @wyattjohnston‘s winter fic exchange written for @luvsherleafs

This is by far the longest piece I’ve written for Tumblr. I had a really clear vision of where I wanted it to go, and I eventually got it there. In the end, I’m so proud of how it turned out. I hope you enjoy, and would love to know what you think.

Many, many thanks to Mari @eyesthatroll and Bre @fallinallincurls for looking this over and assuring me it wasn’t garbage when I was in the trenches of writing.

Me and you We were a strange situation And kissing you Felt like Christmas Vacation An exciting place to escape Sometimes I wish that I could've stayed Cause you were my favorite Holiday -Christmas Vacation by LØLØ

Back to You

Matthew couldn't tear his eyes away from her and knew he wasn't the only one.

With dark hair cascading down her back in a long, shiny waterfall, big eyes and a plump little mouth that looked just made for kissing, she was the kind of classic girl next door people wrote into movies and books for the hero to find his way back to.

He especially liked what she was wearing. Bare legs weren’t really something he would advise at two hours to January in Ottawa, but at least it wasn’t a mini skirt like most women were tugging at constantly. Her shorts had a gold stripe on the sides that caught the flashing lights, as if they might have once been extravagant tuxedo pants tailored explicitly to show off her curvy legs. Her dark shirt had flecks of something metallic in the fabric - a wrapped and tied number like he’d never seen before.

Laughter was all over her face as she danced with the people around her. Slamming her foot (clad in gold oxfords) down with the beat before circling her hips in time with the music.

“Do you need a towel, man?”

“What?” Matthew asked, pulling his eyes away to look at his brother.

“I asked if you needed a towel,” Brady repeated, failing to keep the teasing smile off his face, “for the drool.”

Matthew flipped him off, and Brady laughed.

“Go talk to her,” he encouraged, pushing Matthew off the bar stool. “I’m sick of watching you sit here and stare at her. Go do something about it.”

He hesitated. It hadn't been that long since he’d broken up with Heidi.

“Go,” Brady repeated, shoving him across the walkway onto the dance floor. “Move on.”

Although he wasn't sure if he was ready to meet someone new, Matthew knew Brady was right. He’d be kicking himself come morning if he let a woman this good looking go without at least shooting his shot.

As he weaved through the crowd of dancers, his competitive drive growled in his chest, pleased. He’d be damned if he let someone else get to her first.

“Your admirer is coming this way,” Roger said, nodding to someone over Jessie’s shoulder.

She glanced over. A tallish guy with curly hair was walking right at her, a determined intensity all over his handsome face. Her gaze swung back to Roge, eyes wide.

“Just letting you know so you can prepare,” he said with a wink. “I told you those shorts would bring all the boys.”

Although she'd made them for the occasion, she didn't think they would pull the amount of attention they were getting. Her clothes often garnered a lot of lingering glances, though they usually came from other women.

Someone tapped on her shoulder and she turned.

The same guy was standing in front of her. He was much taller up close, had light eyes, and his hair looked like it might be blonde. It was hard to tell under the dim dancefloor lights.

He flashed her a charismatic smile. The gap between his front teeth only added to his charm.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, leaning in and yelling to be heard over the music.

Jessie wasn’t generally the type to accept drinks from random strangers, but this guy was hot, had nice style, and of all the dudes that had stared at her that evening, was the first one to do something about it.

“Sure,” she yelled back.

“Wanna go to the bar?”

After she nodded and they started walking through the mass of dancers, she glanced over her shoulder. Roge lifted his phone out of his pocket and shook it at her. His flashlight turned on.

She sent him a text about going to the bar and his flashlight, made sure the ringer was turned on, and slipped her phone back into her shorts pocket. Another good thing about making her own clothes: she could make the pockets as big as she needed.

Matthew couldn’t keep the smug smile off his face at the glares and disappointed looks that followed them to the bar.

“What'll you have?” the bartender asked as they came to a stop in the corner of the club. It was a bit quieter.

“A mojito, please” she said, before gathering her hair into a fist behind her and running her hand down the length of it.

Momentarily distracted by her actions and the flash of dark red, the bartender had to ask him again what he wanted.

“Beer would be great,” he said, flashing a bright smile, “whatever light you recommend.” Glancing back at the girl, he ran a hand through his hair to make sure it wasn’t doing something stupid, and said, “I'm Matthew, by the way. “

“Jessie. Are you from around here?”

“No, but my brother lives here. You?”

“My family is from here, but I'm usually in the states.” she said, watching the bartender muddle the mint in her drink. He didn’t seem to be doing anything funny with it.

“Yeah? Which one?”

“New York. Well, technically New Jersey, but I study in New York.”

“What do you study?” Matthew asked, lifting his beer bottle to his lips.

“Fashion.”

“I should have guessed,” he said.

“You should have?”

“Yeah. You have great style.”

The smile that spread over her face made him want to kiss her.

“What do you do, Matthew?” she asked, as she brought the black straw in her drink to her mouth. She caught it between her tongue and teeth before her lips wrapped around it.

His train of thought ran off the rails with visions of her mouth wrapping around other things.

Thankfully, autopilot kicked in and saved him from looking like a total creep, “I play hockey.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “I'm based in Florida.”

“Why the hell are you in Ottawa for New Years,” she asked, aghast, “when you could be somewhere warm?”

“We played here yesterday, so my family are all staying with my brother. Why are you here?”

“My dad grew up here, and wanted us to experience the joys of the frozen tundra at Christmastime,” she said with a long sweep of her hand, as if gesturing to the whole country.

He laughed again, and held her eye contact. It was so intense, she was the one to break it.

“Anyway,” she flipped her free hand, “what do you do for fun?”

“I honestly don’t have that much free time, but I always enjoy a good libation,” he said, holding up his bottle.

A wide smile spread over his face when she clinked her glass against it as she said, “amen.”

“And I like to hang out with people and I play a lot of other sports.”

“I will never understand why athletes always want to play other sports. It’s not like I sew upholstery when I’m not making clothes.”

He laughed, loud and genuine, and Jessie felt her heart flutter a little.

“It can be hard to turn off the competitive drive, so it helps to have somewhere to channel it. So did you make these clothes?” he asked, nodding at her outfit.

“Yeah. I found this gold fabric,” her fingers ran down the stripe on her left hip, “and fell in love with the idea of tuxedo shorts for New Years. I play around with a lot of menswear styles.”

“I like them,” he said. If he, by some miracle, got nominated for another award, maybe he would get a gold striped tux made.

“We have to wear suits to all of our games, so I’m always looking for something new and interesting,” he said.

The conversation lulled for a moment, and he continued, “what do you do for fun?”

“I also enjoy a good libation,” she clinked her glass against his again, “and I like to play tennis and I love movies.”

The rest of the night was spent in that little corner of the bar, talking and laughing - Matthew was funny. Quick with a movie quote and a sarcastic comment in her ear. She told him about coming to the club with her cousins, only one of whom she really knew, and he told her about coming with his family. A younger, married brother, and a sister still in college.

He refreshed their drinks and marveled at finding a woman who could keep up with his banter, genuinely laughed at his jokes and seemed interested in him as a person rather than as Matthew Tkachuk.

They talked about hockey, she knew some as her dad was Canadian, but not a lot, then about fashion.

She admitted one of the reasons she’d said yes to his drink had been his pants.

“Listen, more American men need to understand how many more girls they’d get if they just wore the right pants!”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Your pants are fitted properly so I can see your ass and your thighs, and it makes you about a thousand times more attractive.”

A cocky smile spread over his face, “Oh, yeah?” he asked, leaning into her space.

She gulped, “yeah. If more men wore pants like yours, they wouldn’t be single.”

He stayed in her space, and her eyes darted to his lips. He licked them, just to see what she would do at the flash of his tongue.

Her eyes darted back to his and her cheeks pinked. He smiled.

The music changed to a slower, more house-style song he recognised. Jessie bumped her shoulders to the beat.

“Do you want to dance?” Matthew asked.

“Sure.”

They moved to the floor, and he watched, entranced as she swung her hips in rhythm.

When she turned around, pressing flush against him, his right hand immediately grasped her hip, as if that might provide some kind of grounding from the fluttering feeling in his chest.

It wasn’t like this had never happened - girls grinding up on him. It happened quite a lot, actually. Sometimes without any kind of consent. But this? Jessie? He couldn't get enough. She was pretty and they had the kind of instant chemistry you couldn't fake.

He found himself thinking about her beyond that night. A first since Heidi.

For her part, Jessie couldn't stand not touching him any longer. The chemistry between them was so palpable, she was surprised other club goers weren’t getting caught in it. Feeling him move against her made desire rumble to life in her belly, growling to be released.

They danced that way for - Matthew lost track of how many songs. She felt amazing pressed up against him. He was so in tune with how they moved together, the dancing felt like foreplay.

When the countdown to midnight began, she turned to face him. They were still so close - she could feel his body heat seeping through his clothing and into hers, see the way his button down was just starting to cling to his skin.

Matthew looked down at her, not hiding any of his interest. She looked back with so much hope and lust in her eyes, his stomach twisted.

“Three, two, one!” the crowd cheered.

He leaned down, then paused, “okay?”

Rising onto her toes, she closed the gap between them in answer.

All of their flirting was leading up to this moment, and Jessie wasn’t disappointed at all. It was as if everything around them faded into soft focus and the din of the crowd melted away. It was better than she could have imagined. His tongue brushed along hers, and heat flooded her stomach.

Matthew angled closer when her fingers slid into his hair. His hand splayed over her lower back. He wished he didn’t have this beer bottle so he could have both hands on her.

It went on and on for what felt like ages - a promise of things to come.

Someone cat called from nearby, and Jessie broke away, pursing her lips to hide how flustered she felt. At least he was as breathless as she was, his chest expanding to the confines of his shirt with every inhale.

They stared at each other for a moment longer, not quite engaged with the crowd, which was growing increasingly restless with the New Year in full swing.

She was debating between kissing him again, or asking if he wanted to leave all together when the lights went out, plunging them into total darkness.

The suddenness of it made her laugh. She thought it must be some kind of prank until all at once, a mono tone alarm started to scream. Lights began to strobe - harsh, bright flashes that instantly made spots appear in her vision.

The word “fire” was popping up in the crowd.

Just as he was starting to register what was happening, murky water cascaded from the ceiling.

The club was dissolving into chaos. Matthew snapped out of his reverie, and looked around for Taryn.

“I have to find my sister,” he told her.

As Jessie's face was illuminated by the flashing lights, she looked stricken and worried.

“I’ll call you, though!” he promised.

“But -” she watched him run off, knowing she hadn't given him her number. She didn't even know his last name.

“Jessie!” Roger yelled from somewhere to her left. Her eyes roved for him, and landed when he shouted again, waving his cell phone flashlight in his own face.

She ran to him, and they followed the swarming crowd outside.

To her complete surprise, smoke was pouring out of the building and the fire department was pulling up. She had been certain someone had pulled the alarm as a prank.

“Fuck it’s cold out here,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself, as if that would do any good. Her coat was inside, a pair of wool tights tucked in one of the pockets. She'd planned to put them on in the bathroom before they left.

“We should call it,” Lacey said. “Catch the next train. If we hurry we won't have to wait for another one.”

“But my coat’s in there,” Jessie complained. She hadn't made it, but she may as well have, she’d altered it so much. It was the best thing in her wardrobe.

“We’ll come back tomorrow,” Roger assured, “but Lacey’s right, we should get out of here. We’re soaked and it’s below freezing.”

It wasn't just the coat. She didn’t want to lose Matthew. She hoped she might run into him in the parking lot, but had yet to see him.

Roger and Lacey were right. Her wet clothing was already starting to freeze - stiffening and biting into her skin. Glancing around the crowd once more, she hoped she might see him, but there were too many people moving in too many different directions.

As Roger pulled her away, she hoped against hope the universe would bring them back together. It had been so long since she'd felt a spark like she had with him.

“Who was that girl you were kissing at midnight?” Taryn asked, her tone suggestive as she waggled her eyebrows at her oldest brother.

“Her name is Jessie,” he said, looking around for Brady. He finally spotted him with Emma and some of the Sens guys across the parking lot.

“Seemed pretty serious.”

Matthew rolled his eyes. “We got on, that’s all.”

“I’ve seen you look like that before, and that was not just getting on with someone,” Taryn argued. “I hope you got her number.”

“I did,” he assured, then stopped dead in their pursuit through the crowd.

Taryn ran into his back. “Matthew!” she complained.

He was too busy digging his phone out of his pocket to apologize or move out of the way. Thankfully, it wasn’t ruined. As he opened his recent contacts, though, he found his fear confirmed.

Taryn pushed on his back, “Matthew, move! I wanna get inside.”

The older brother in him took control, wrapping his arm around Taryn's shoulder to lead them to Brady and finally into the car to go home.

As they settled into the SUV, heat blasting to melt the ice that had formed in their hair and on their cheeks, Emma punched Matthew in the arm. “That was some New Year's kiss, Matty.”

The disappointment of reality bit into him, and he snapped, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Whoa,” Brady said in warning.

Matthew leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. The possibility of her was still buzzing on his skin.

The future was being ripped out of his grasp. How could so much hope be dashed so quickly? So completely? He'd been making plans in his head. Immediately, where they were going to spend the night if she was willing. Beyond that, how he would see her whenever he was in New York, and beyond that? Hopefully something that ended up with them together.

“Oh no,” Taryn whispered, her hands coming up to cover her mouth. “You didn’t get her number did you?”

He shook his head.

“Oh, Matthew,” Taryn said, laying a hand on his back, “I’m sorry.”

The rest of the night, he lay in Brady’s guest bedroom, Taryn in the bed next to his, and tried to relax. It wasn’t working. He could still feel the phantom of her grinding up against him, and if he thought about it too much, he got hard.

Opening Instagram, he typed “Jessie” into the search. There were pages and pages of results. He scrolled through, hoping he might see her face. When the photos started to blur together, he clicked off the app.

Feeling hopeless, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Jessie’s face was etched on the inside of his eyelids. He saw her smiling, heard her laugh ringing in his ears, felt her lips so perfectly fitted between his own. They should have been tangled up in bed together. The actuality of his loneliness was a slap in the face every time he turned over.

It was after four when he finally fell asleep.

He woke sometime around 10am when Taryn sat by his feet.

“Mom wants to know why you’re still in bed,” she said when he sat up, rubbing his hands over his face. “I told her you were hungover.”

“Thanks,” he said dryly.

“Listen, I heard you last night.”

His hands dropped and he gave her a suspicious look. “And what did you hear last night?”

She took a deep breath. “I heard you crying.”

A groan fell out of his mouth as his head tipped back. He didn’t even try to deny it. It hadn’t lasted long, the crying, but he hadn’t been able to stop it for a few minutes. He was sure Taryn heard his sniffling.

“Is this about that girl?”

“Listen, Taryn, I don’t want to -”

She cut in, “Matthew, I saw the way you looked after you kissed her. It’s the same way Brady looks at Emma.”

Shit. He was in deeper than he thought. And they hadn’t even slept together yet. He didn’t even know her last name. If he knew her last name, he’d be able to find her.

Letting his hands fall in his lap, he slouched over, and let the reality of what happened wash over him again. He would get over it eventually, but now? It felt too close to push aside.

Taryn’s hand came to rest on his knee, “I was thinking, what if she left something at the club? I mean, people must have left coats and things with the fire alarm. We could at least try. See if you can leave your number for her, or something.”

A spark of hope flickered to life in his chest. “Yeah, that’s a really good idea.”

Jessie wasn’t too surprised to see the tent in front of the club when they pulled up. The post on their Instagram page said they would be available for people to pick up their belongings all day. Two women were sitting there, bundled up to the hilt. As she got closer, she saw the propane heaters. At least that was something.

“How can we help you, darlin?”

“Yeah, I was here last night, and I hoped I could get my coat that I left with the coat check?”

One of the women stood, “what does it look like?”

“It’s a black wool trench, and it has sort of wavy lapels,” she demonstrated on herself. “There’s a pair of gray wool tights in the left pocket.”

She walked over to a rack behind their table.

The Club had seen better days, that was for sure. Some of the glass had been blown out from the heat, and there were charred bricks on the front from where the flames had licked out the windows.

“Is it condemned?”

“No, but it’ll take us a while to remodel, especially with the winter,” the other woman said, giving her a smile.

“Did they find out what caused it?”

“Not yet, but we’re pretty sure it was some faulty wiring.”

“Here we go. Is this it?” The other woman, the one with pink hair, turned the coat around.

Jessie smiled, relieved, “Yes.”

As she reached for the coat, she debated about the next part. What was the harm really? She knew she would be kicking herself all the way home if she didn’t.

“I know this is a little strange, but I met someone last night, but we were separated before we could exchange numbers, and I wondered if he’d come by?”

“I’m not sure. We’ve seen quite a few people today.”

“His name was Matthew, and he had curly hair, light eyes, and he was tall.”

They looked at each other, each shaking their head. “I don’t think we’ve seen anyone like that today.”

She wasn’t sure what she would have done if they had.

“Do you want to leave a note for him, or something?”

She chewed on her lip, petting the smoke soaked coat draped over her arm. If he happened to come by, it might work. But what if he didn’t? Or what if some other guy with curly hair came by, and they gave him her note?

She shouldn’t have even asked. It was fruitless. What did she expect? That he would just walk out of the building: here I am!

“No,” she said, defeated. “I was just hoping.”

“Well, love has a way of coming back when you least expect it.”

It felt like such a throw-away thing to say. “Yeah, I hope so,” Jessie said, turning back to her parents' car, parked in the lot.

Matthew walked up to the women sitting in front of the club. He knew he was used to the Florida warmth by now, and just despised the cold on principle, but sitting out here? In this? They were nuts.

“Hi, honey,” the older, motherly looking one greeted, “did you leave something here last night?”

Yeah, my future, he thought.

“No, I was hoping,” he reached up to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, I met someone here last night and I was -”

“Are you Matthew?” the other woman interrupted.

His eyes shot to hers. “Yeah,” he said, breathless with anticipation.

“Oh no,” the women looked at each other. One had her hand over her mouth.

“Someone was just here looking for you.”

Hope started hammering in his chest.

“Pretty little thing, lovely red hair.”

“Yeah,” his heart was running so fast he felt like he might be sick.

“I’m so sorry honey, we asked her if she wanted to leave a note or something, but she decided not to.”

Now he really was going to throw up.

They had been so close. So close to meeting again. Why hadn’t she left a note? Why didn’t he just get her number last night?

Because he’d planned on asking her for it in the morning.

“Well, thanks anyway,” he said, hand falling limply at his side.

“Good luck. I hope she finds her way back to you.”

“Thanks,” he said, turning back to the car. Taryn was watching with rapt anticipation. He shook his head and her expression fell.

**Nine Months Later**

For the first time since moving, the bright Florida sunshine didn't make Jessie smile as she got out of bed. That September morning, she woke up to an anxious fluttering in her chest, trying to tell herself it was going to be a day like any other. She would go to the shop and sew that new sculptural blazer for the window. She'd help Raul with his clients and do the same things she’d been doing every other work day for the past three months.

It didn’t matter that some of the Florida professional hockey team were coming in for suits for the new season. She’d already checked, and there wasn’t a Matthew on the books.

Even if he did show up, he had probably moved on. It was just her romantic streak that kept him alive in her memory.

After a few miserable, sulky hours on New Year's Day, Roger had finally suggested she look him up.

“I don’t know his last name, Roge.”

“Didn’t you say he plays hockey in Florida?” he’d asked, pulling out his phone. He found a roster for her to look through - all men in blue, none of them Matthew. There wasn’t even a Matthew on the team.

“I think it’s hopeless,” she said.

“Hold on, there’s another one.”

“Another what?”

“Another team.”

“Here, I think this is him?” he turned the phone around and Matthew was staring at her, a smug little smile on his face.

Her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were blue. And his hair was a dark blonde, with almost a gingery tone to it.

“Matthew Tkachuk?” she asked, trying to pronounce all the letters. It came out a bit of a garbled mess.

“Look him up on Insta.”

So she had. She found him easily. He was verified with over 150 thousand followers.

She messaged him, hoping.

Hey this is Jessie from last night before the fire stole our thunder.

He’d never even seen her message. She had checked every day for a while, then every couple of weeks until she'd all but forgotten about it, moving on with her life.

Pulling out her phone now, she scrolled down to the thread. The date was still staring at her, no read notifications in sight.

Matthew wasn't even all that great. That’s what she told herself every time she went on another failed date with some guy so boring she wanted to just drop off the chair and fall asleep on the bar floor. If she let herself believe he really was as charming and interested and built just for her as he’d seemed, she would never go on another set up or app date again. It had been the alcohol and the rush of the new year that had painted him in such rosy light. It was likely he was just another boring dude like all the rest.

The pink lace she put on under her clothes before going to work was for her, and she wasn’t hoping anyone would get to see it.

She absorbed herself with structuring the new women’s blazer all morning until the appointment at 2.

Matthew wasn’t entirely certain why he’d agreed to go with Benny that afternoon. He already had a suit guy in St. Louis. He didn’t need another one. But Sam was persuasive, a few other guys were going, and Matthew was always looking for something new. When you have to wear the same item of clothing over and over again, might as well make it something interesting.

Walking into the little shop, he could see why Sam liked it. There were racks and racks of interesting fabrics. Subtle and bold patterns and solid colors he never would have considered for a suit before.

As the other guys got to browsing, Matthew wandered over to the wall of photos. In every one, a short, dark haired man was posing with various people in beautiful suits. Sam was up there as were Barky and Bob. He didn’t know they came here too. Apparently, this was the place to be.

Something rustled in the back, and he turned. Nothing was there, but a glass cabinet that housed a display of cufflinks.

“Matthew?”

His head shot up.

A pretty young woman who wasn't in any of the photos was standing in the doorway behind the display case, holding up the heavy velvet curtain. He could see a row of sewing machines under her arm. She had on a blue skirt and a green blouse. A fabric flower was attached to her wrist, a porcupine of pins sticking out of it.

His breath locked in his chest. She was here. In Florida. She was in front of him. The girl from the New Years Eve party he couldn’t quite convince himself to let go of for half a season and the whole summer.

Her hair was shorter than it had been - ending at her collar bone - and a dark auburn red. He supposed it had probably always been that color. She had creamy pale skin with a dusting of freckles across her nose, and shit, had her eyes always been that green?

He’d never seen her out of that harsh club lighting, he realized. Of course she would be prettier in the daylight.

The murmuring behind him hushed into silence, and his mind went completely blank, as if he’d never had a thought in his life.

“Hey,” he heard himself say. The shock of seeing her was so intense, he couldn’t remember her name. He’d just been thinking about her last week after another failed third date.

Sam shot him a questioning look.

He was in shock. He was overwhelmed. He was… he was… he was acting like an idiot.

His heart thundered in his ears. She was looking at him like she was trying to figure out if he remembered who she was.

“Jessie,” she said hesitantly, pointing to her chest. “From New Years?”

Didn’t he remember? His face was branded into her memory. The dream of him - of them - roared to life in her chest unbidden. Her body reacted instantly, as if no time had passed.

Right. Jessie, Jessie, Jessie, he thought.

Cool. He needed to play this cool. “Oh, hey,” he said. “How’ve you been?”

As soon as it was out of his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Hope fell right off her face. He saw the moment it happened, and it sliced through him like a knife to the gut.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

She wasn’t some old acquaintance he hadn’t seen in a while. She was the girl he kept coming back to. The one he thought about after failed dates or that relationship that started at the beginning of the summer only to fizzle out six weeks later. She was his, it might have been, girl.

The man walked in then, forcing her into the shop. “Ah, I see you have met Jessica. She just graduated from FIT in New York,” he bragged, “and is helping us expand into womens suiting. She’s also a marvelous tailor, so she’ll be helping with the suits as well. Jessica, these are the clients I was telling you about. From the ice hockey team. Good clients. They like interesting things.”

She painted a smile on her face that almost looked convincing. “I can’t wait to help.”

“You,” Raul said, “I don't know you.”

“Matthew,” he said, holding a hand out to the older Italian man. “Sam said you make the best suits on the eastern seaboard.”

Raul pulled out the leather bound book that served as his ledger, and flipped to the section Jessie had been looking at that morning, simply marked, Hockey.

“Last name?” he asked.

He spelled it out, then pronounced it, “Tkachuk. The T is silent.”

Raul nodded, noting the silent letter next to his name.

“Jessica and I will take your measurements,” he said, gesturing him over to the plinth near the mirrors surrounded by dark wood.

Jessie picked up a notebook and followed Raul. Matthew had definitely recognised her, he’d been shocked by her appearance, even. Then he treated her like…like a one night stand or an acquaintance he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to reunite with. It hurt more than it should have to have the things she was telling herself come true.

She had hoped Raul would let her help the other clients, but luck seemed to be against her. At least he hadn’t handed her the tape. She didn’t know what she would have done if her hands brushed against Matthew’s body. She already felt on edge just being in the same room as him.

“Very important to get the thigh measurement with these hockey players,” Raul was saying as he threaded a measuring tape around Matthews upper thigh. “Big legs.”

“It’s from all the skating,” Matthew said, almost out of habit.

Jessie was doing a very good job of not looking at him. She had a little notebook in her hands and she kept her eyes trained on it as she wrote down every body part and corresponding number Raul called out. Upper thigh, lower thigh, calf, hip to knee, knee to ankle. Matthew had been measured like this before, so he just stood still and let the man do his work.

“So, Jessie, right?” Josh asked, leaning onto one of the mirrors, nearby where she was standing, not quite in Matthew’s peripheral vision.

She hummed in agreement. Raul was still calling out numbers to her, and she couldn’t divide her focus that well.

“What brought you all the way down to Florida from New York?”

Matthew clenched his jaw to keep from telling Josh off. As much as he wanted it, he didn’t have any claim over Jessie.

“Um,” she said, still jotting numbers. She spared a glance at him. He had long, unruly, dark hair, dark eyes, and a goofy smile. She smiled back, “can you give me just a minute to finish up here?” she asked, pointing at Matthew’s stomach with the cap of her pen.

Josh blushed, “yeah, of course.”

She went back to her notebook, face impassive once more.

Josh stayed where he was.

“So Chucky, what do you think about the schedule this year?”

Matthew shrugged, then snapped himself back into place at Rauls reprimand. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Jessie gagged internally. hoping that wasn’t really his nickname. Chucky was either a possessed doll, or a possessed rat mascot, neither of which she liked to think about for very long.

They continued to talk about something with their team. When she and Raul finished, she handed the notebook off to him, which he would transcribe into the ledger. He still didn’t trust her to do it the way he liked.

Matthew didn’t move off the plinth, but she turned to the other man, “sorry, what was your question?”

She sounded so polite, so formal. Sure, they’d only met that one night, but she hadn’t been guarded like this at that club in Ottawa. He supposed that was probably his fault. God, why was he such an idiot?

“I wondered what brought you to Florida. It’s a long way from New York.”

“Oh, the heat,” she said. “I was so tired of the north-east cold.”

“And you know Raul…”

“He and one of my mentors are great friends, and he got us in touch. I have some family down here, and wanted to live somewhere warm for a change. Raul wanted to expand into some womenswear, and tailoring happens to be one of my specialties.” She said it without much emotion. Just stating the facts. “We met, I made him and myself a suit to audition, and here we are.”

Matthew opened his mouth to say something about how he was glad she was here, but she walked away before he could force the words out.

Josh gave him a look that said something like, women, right?

Matthew walked away before he said something stupid.

“While I update the rest of your measurements, Jessica can help you with fabrics. She’s excellent with color. Jessica, why don’t you get the samples and help them pick out what they need.”

She nodded, went into the back and came out with five big binders. She set them on the table, and flipped some of them open.

She helped Reino pick out a dark teal, a blue and a few subtle plaids before moving on to someone else.

Matthew was the last at the table.

“What are you looking for?” she asked, trying to keep her voice and demeanor level. No need to let him know how her heart still pounded just looking at him when it was so obvious he didn’t care about her.

“I'm always looking for something interesting,” he said. “What would you suggest?”

Her eyes darted up to his face. His eyes were so blue - much more intense in person. He had the kind of eyes poets say hold summer skies and glacial lakes. It was the first time she really saw them, and they took her breath away.

“Well,” she forced herself back to work, “you could pull off almost anything with your coloring. How adventurous are you?”

“I’m willing to try anything once,” he said, trying to sound flirtatious. It just came off desperate.

She chewed on the inside of her lip. “How many suits are you looking for?”

“Eight,” he said.

He didn’t need eight suits. But if it kept him at this table for longer, he would buy as many as she would sell him.

“All for here?”

“For here?”

“To be worn here, in Florida? The others have mentioned needing some for travel.”

“Oh, I’ll need three or four for travel, three at least for the cold.”

They talked through colors. She opened a binder she hadn’t given anyone else. None of the other guys were as handsome, or seemed as adventurous with their style as Matthew.

“If you’re brave enough, I think this lilac would look really good on you,” she said, pulling the pastel fabric sample off the board and holding it up. He was more bronze than he had been when they’d met, but it would still look good when his summer tan faded.

“Okay,” he said. He trusted her style. He’d never worn lilac, but if she thought it would look good, he’d give it a shot.

Jessie got the feeling he was just agreeing with her to get this whole thing over with. Still, she couldn’t help pulling the best fabrics for him, even an expensive light blue linen blend that would make him look like Brad Pitt in Santorini. He didn't balk when she mentioned the price. He didn't even seem to notice.

“Chucky, how did you know Jessie?” Bennet said as they walked down the block to the public parking they’d all met at.

“A party,” he said, trying to sound non-committal.

People got into their cars, but before Matthew could leave, Benny came up to his driver's window. “You wanna tell us what’s going on?”

“You’re never this quiet,” Reino said from his place on Benny’s left.

Matthew sighed and got out of the car. This was going to take a while. Sam had always been a bit of a brother to him and he knew he wouldn’t let him go without an explanation.

“Jessie and I met last New Years Eve,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the hood of his car.

“Okay, and what did you do? Hookup and never call her again?”

“No!” He sounded too defensive, even to his own ears.

Reino raised an eyebrow, “so what happened?”

His hands raked into his hair so he didn't have to look at them as he told the story. “We met at this club in Ottawa, and we had this amazing connection. I've never felt anything like it before. Like, boom: Instant chemistry.” It felt even worse to say it out loud.

Both guys just waited.

“But the club caught fire.”

“Wait, what?” Benny asked. “Really?”

“I know, man,” Matthew said, throwing his hands up, “and I thought I had her number, so I left her to find Taryn, but I didn’t, and I couldn't find her after. I didn’t think I was ever going to see her again, and then, all of a sudden she was here,” he gestured in the direction of the shop, “and I just…”

“Fucked it?” Benny asked.

“Yeah.”

“So go back and talk to her,” Reino said, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

He scoffed. “What would I say? ‘Hey, sorry I completely forgot your name and treated you like our connection didn't matter, but I actually haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for the past nine months?’”

“Better than not saying anything,” Benny said.

Matthew shook his head, “I can’t go back in there.”

“Why not?”

“You didn’t see her face. There’s no way she wants to talk to me.”

A few weeks later, Jessie was piecing Matthew’s jacket from the blue linen in the back of the shop. The fabric was so light and delicate, she couldn’t even have music going while working with it. One wrong move and there would be pulled threads all over the place. She knew Raul would disapprove, but she gave herself twice the seam allowance to make sure she could finish the inside raw edges. Otherwise the fabric would start to pull apart - eventually, quite literally, fraying at the seams.

“Uh, hello?” someone asked.

She jumped and dropped the scissors. She let them clatter to the floor with a curse. She’d been so focused on the task at hand, she hadn’t heard the bell ring.

“One second,” she called, before securing her pattern with an extra pin, picking up the scissors and coming out to the sales floor.

“Hi, sorry about that. I got kind of in the zone. What can I do for you?”

It was one of the hockey guys. The one with strawberry hair. She couldn’t help but glance around him to see if he’d brought anyone with him.

She shouldn’t even be looking for Matthew, especially considering he'd ignored all of her phone calls about his suiting. All the same, seeing him again had awoken her longing in a way she couldn’t quite tamp down.

“Raul said I had some suits he wanted me to try on,” he said.

She asked his name, then went to the back to retrieve the garment bag. She remembered this one. She’d convinced him an oxblood red wouldn’t look too harsh with his coloring, and she was hoping he would like the results.

Giving him a pair of pants, she left him in the changing room while she cut extra threads on the inside of the jacket.

Immediately, she could see the pants were a smidge too loose. They talked about his preferred fit, and he avoided looking at her as she pinned the inner thigh. All men reacted this way, but to Jessie, this was all about the garment. As far as she was concerned, he was a mannequin under these clothes.

Finally, the questions that had been ruminating in her mind got the best of her. “So, did Matthew get traded or something?”

“Chucky?” he asked, surprised.

“I guess so.”

“No,” he was laughing as he said it, “he has seven more years on his contract.”

“Oh.”

“Why?”

“I’ve just called him a few times about measurements, or fittings, and he’s never called back or come in.”

“Really? He told me he was here yesterday.”

Of course he was coming in on her day off. Why had she even told him that in the message?

She stood up, and moved onto the jacket after asking him if he ever planned to wear it with a sweater. He wasn’t sure. Or if she should shorten the sleeves. He liked them a little longer.

“Chucky told us what happened in Ottawa,” he said.

Jessie felt her shoulders tense, but kept working. “Yeah?” she asked, not daring to look up. All this still felt too close to the surface, and she didn’t want this man she barely knew to know how much it had hurt when Matthew brushed her aside.

“Yeah, he said he looked for you after the fire.”

“I tried to stay, but my cousins and I were soaking wet and it was below freezing so we had to catch the train.”

“He said he went back the next day and you’d been there, but didn’t leave a note.”

That made Jessie gasp. Audibly. She blushed and tried to brush it off, “I was worried it might go to the wrong person,” she said, “plus I messaged him on Instagram and he never responded.”

He hummed, debating the best way to approach this. He wanted to do some digging without letting on that’s what he was doing. “He said you guys had quite the connection.”

Was she really going to go into this with one of his teammates? She hadn’t talked to anyone about it but Roger. Words bubbled up into her mouth so fast, she guessed she was.

“Yeah, we did.” God, why did she have to sound so moony?

“Do you think there’s still something there?”

“He made it pretty obvious there’s not.”

“I don’t think he meant to do that. He was pretty shocked to see you.”

“I was shocked to see him too, but I didn’t just brush him aside.”

“Listen, Jessie - it’s Jessie, right?”

She nodded.

“Matthew can be pretty thick. He gets so in his head, sometimes he doesn’t really think things through, but he told us what happened, and how much he liked you, and he said he fucked it and you wouldn’t want to see him again.”

She hummed, and got him a new suit to try on. She’d been right. The oxblood did look killer on him, like he could be in a GQ shoot. He looked impressed.

“Would you want to see him again?” Sam asked.

“If he came in here himself?”

He nodded.

“I’d at least give him a chance.”

Even though she would usually just move on, she’d never felt anything like the instant connection she and Matthew shared on New Years. It was the kind of thing she thought only existed in books and rom coms. Experiencing it in real life made it into something she couldn’t just walk away from.

They talked about where they were from and made comfortable small talk for the duration of the fitting. She told him how relieved she was when Raul trusted her enough to run the shop by herself one day a week.

“Listen, I’ll tell Chucky to come by next Wednesday. We’re leaving for the opening roadie that day, but I’ll try to get his head out of his ass before then.”

She giggled.

He could see why Matthew liked her, and could see how their personalities would match up well. She was kind and easy to talk to - quiet at first, but got louder as she got comfortable, and Chucky was just loud all the time. He could tell they both valued relationships more than things.

The next week, after their final practice before the season opening road trip, Benny cornered Matthew in his stall. “You need to go see Jessie.”

“She doesn't want to talk to me, man.”

“The way she asked me about you last week would say otherwise.”

He scoffed.

“I told her you still like her -”

“You what?!”

“She brought you up first, and you weren't doing shit, so don’t tell me I'm ruining your plans or some bull. She said she's called you a bunch of times, but you only show up when she's not there.”

“It's just easier,” Matthew mumbled. It wasn't his fault she told him when she'd be gone.

Benny rolled his eyes. “Dude, wake up. She still likes you.”

Matthew looked at him, skeptical, “she told you that?”

“Yes, but she didn’t need to. The first thing she asked me was if you’d been traded. We weren’t even talking about you.”

A ridiculous amount of hope lit up his face.

“I knew it! You still like her too!”

What’s not to like? Matthew thought.

“She runs the shop on Wednesdays. Just go talk to her.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I went there last Wednesday, dumbass. She told me.”

Matthew hesitated, still unconvinced.

“Go. Now. I’ll drive you myself if I have to. I’m sick and tired of you moping around when there’s such an easy solution to your problem.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going,” Matthew said, holding his hands up in defeat.

“And check your instagram. She said she sent you a message.”

Usually when she walked onto the sales floor after the doorbell dinged, Jessie would have to search for someone among the racks of fabric samples and ready to be tailored suits. This time, a man was standing at the counter, watching her with the same determined intensity he’d shown the first time they met.

He was here. Finally. Four of his suits had been sitting in the storage room for more than a week, further proof that he was avoiding her.

“Hi Matthew,” she greeted hesitantly.

“Hey Jessie.”

They looked at each other in awkward silence for a moment.

“Can I help you with something?”

“Yeah, Raul told me some of the suits were ready?”

“They are.”

“I just came to pick those up.”

“Oh,” the tiny spark of hope fizzled out again. Sam must not have made it through to him.

She looked instantly downcast.

To hell with it. He couldn't make any more of an ass of himself. “And I wanted to see you,” he blurted.

“You wanted to see…me?” she repeated, pulling a pen from her ponytail to start fiddling with it. He didn’t know why, but it struck him as such an endearing gesture.

“Yeah,” he said, heart falling. Was Sam setting him up? He was a prankster, but not to this level, usually. Not when it was this important.

“Why would you want to see me?” she asked, feeling that guard go up. Every time she got her hopes up about Matthew, he tore them down.

Thoughts raced through his mind. He could lie so easily, but where would that get him? It was time to just own up and blurt it out. Her reaction be damned. “Because I really like you.”

She looked surprised. Way more surprised than he’d expected. “I thought you didn’t remember.”

“How could I forget?” he asked. “I thought you must hate me since I forgot your name and acted like such an ass that first day.”

Shaking her head, Jessie wondered how on earth they got into this situation. “I mean, I was disappointed, but then, you backed it up by never coming to the shop when I was working, I thought you must be trying to avoid me.”

“I was.”

One of her eyebrows shot up.

“Not like that,” he floundered. “Like, I couldn’t stand to see you and remember how well we got on, and how much I like you, and how pretty you are when I knew I'd blown my chance and you hated me.”

She let out a laugh. “That makes no sense. What did I ever do to make you think I hated you? I called you every time something was finished, or we needed a new measurement. I gave you the best fabric selections.”

Had that been because she liked him? “I don’t know, it did in my brain. I guess I was so embarrassed I forgot your name when I like you so much, I was telling myself you must be angry with me.”

Jessie rolled her eyes. “You know, Matthew, for someone so smart, you can be pretty dumb.”

“You think I’m smart?” He’d been called many things in his life, but smart was rarely one of them.

“Yes. I think you’re very smart, except when it comes to romance, I guess.”

He chuffed a laugh, grabbing the back of his neck. “I really fucked this one up, didn’t I?”

“I don’t know,” she said, trying to be cool and hoping against hope that this last shot would land on target. If it didn’t, she was kicking him out and scrubbing him from all her memories. “I think you might still have a chance.”

His eyes snapped to hers. “Yeah?”

She nodded.

Heart pounding, but trying to keep that flirty, cool skin on, he walked around the counter to remove the barrier between them.

Knowing he still liked her brought all those feelings from the club rushing back. She’d never felt like that with anyone else. If only he knew how many times she’d replayed that night. How many times she remembered how he felt and how no one had ever kissed her like that, or swept her off her feet so quickly.

“Play your cards right,” she said, feeling breathless with the nearness of him. “And I think you might get another chance at bat.”

As he leaned in closer, her pupils dilated, and her eyes darted to his mouth. He licked his lips just to see her force her eyes back to his like last time. Her blush was even more adorable in the daylight.

“If I swing, what are my odds of getting a home run?”

She laughed. It didn’t break the spell. It turned out that palpable chemistry was still between them, just waiting to be ignited. Their eye contact was hot and glued together.

“Maybe not today,” she said, “but I think it’s a safe bet that you’ll get on base.”

Time moved in slow motion as he leaned in further, looking at her mouth, then her neck, then her cleavage, barely visible through the two undone buttons of her starched, white shirt, before snapping back to hers as she stopped him with a hand pressed tightly to his chest.

“We can’t do this here. There are cameras on the floor,” she said.

His head dropped forward in defeat. “I have to leave for Vegas in two hours,” he said, feeling more than a bit desperate. “I really don’t want to wait until I’m back.”

“I don’t want to either, but I’m telling you, if Raul catches me making out with a client, I’m going to be out on my ass.”

“So what do we do?”

She thought for a moment before an idea struck her. “Follow me.”

She made a big show of walking into the back, digging his new lilac suit out of the garment bag and hanging it in the private dressing room. “You go in there. When I come back and ask you how it’s fitting, you need to tell me something needs to be adjusted and invite me in, okay?”

“Right. Yeah, okay.”

She put out the sign that said she would return soon and locked the front door. It wasn’t that unusual to lock up when they were helping a high profile client, anyway. Plus, Wednesdays were always the slowest day of the week, hence why she was allowed to man the shop alone. She just hoped Raul wouldn’t have any reason to review the tapes.

Her whole chest felt like it was full of helium as she walked back to him. Were they really about to do this?

“Everything going okay in there?” she asked.

“Something’s wrong with this suit jacket,” he said. “Can you come take a look?”

Upon entering, she found Matthew with his shirt already off.

Sweet Jesus, she was not prepared for that. For his sculpted body, and his chest hair, that tapered into a thin trail running down the center of his abs before it dipped enticingly into the waistband of his pants.

“That’s not fair,” she said.

“What’s not fair?” he reached for her and drew her to him, hands splaying over her waist.

“You’re already half naked,” she said, eyes wandering down his chest again.

“You could be too,” he teased, playfully pulling at the shirt tucked into her waistband. He didn’t actually pull any of the fabric loose, which she appreciated. He was letting her set the pace.

“Damn, Jessie. You’re the only woman I know who can make a pant suit look sexy.”

She laughed, and pulled the whole shirt over her head, leaving her in a white camisole, a black lace bra peeking out from underneath it.

“Do you always wear black lingerie to work?” he asked, voice gone husky as he ran a finger under one of the straps.

“Only when I think you might come in.”

His eyes snapped to hers, thrilled but questioning.

“Sam told me he was going to try to get you to come by today.”

“So this really is for me?” he felt dizzy with the prospect.

“No. It’s for me. I put it on this morning, thinking that at the very least if you came in and you were an ass again, you wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing how hot I look in my bra,” she said, before stripping off the camisole so he could see exactly how hot she looked in her bra.

Seeing her, in black suit pants, a gold belt buckle flashing at her waist, and her sheer, floral lace bra that plunged between her breasts, the breath was sucked out of his lungs.

His ongoing ache for her intensified, pressing insistently against the confines of his jeans.

He stepped toward her when she once again stopped his progress with a hand to the chest. “I really like you, Matthew,” she said, swooning a little at the happiness that lit up his face, “but I was serious. I don't want to have sex.”

“Can you define that a little more?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like you don't want oral sex, or…”

She wouldn't have guessed oral sex would even be on the table. She practically had to beg past boyfriends for it.

“I mean I don't want to have penetrative sex. The first time with someone new is hard enough. I don't want to make it more complicated by taking a bed out of the equation.”

“I get that. Plus, it'll give me something to look forward to when I get back,” he said with a grin and a cheeky wink.

God, maybe they really were made for each other.

As his left hand slipped to the back of her neck, the other spread over her rib cage, thumb brushing against the soft lace that cupped her breast.

She sucked in a breath, letting her hand ghost up his torso over the ridges and valleys, until her fingers hooked over his shoulder. The other slid around to his back.

It felt like it had been a million years since they’d last done this. Not the touching, not the skin to skin, which felt like…it felt like heaven, but the longing.

Jessie was looking at him with that same hope and lust in her eyes. It made his stomach twist with that same wanting to fulfill them both.

It was so long coming, he wanted to savor every movement, every breath, every glance. Her eyes were so green. Somehow even more green up close.

Finally, when their lips met, she sighed, melting against him.

This was all together more intense and less hurried than their first kiss had been. It was a slow burn, a thorough seduction, a fulfillment of everything Matthew had been dreaming of that night they lost each other.

When he pulled away, their heavy breaths crashed together.

Fingertips sliding up her back, he tried to memorize the feel of her. Her skin was so soft.

Jessie was growing impatient. Any other moment, she would love this slow seduction. Most of the time she felt like men moved too fast. Today though, she had so much sexual frustration built up for him that the weight of desire was already heavy between her legs.

Taking matters into her own hands, she leaned in and trailed her mouth along his jaw before nipping the soft spot behind it, just under his ear. He shuddered when she soothed it with her tongue.

“I’ve been dreaming of this for so long,” she confessed, barely above a whisper.

That snapped him into action. Taking her waist, he pulled her flush to him, and crushed his mouth to hers.

There was the passion she’d been looking for.

As they surged together, she felt so restless and turned on, she tried to hook a knee over his hip in an attempt to slot him between her legs.

Groaning against her, his hand slid over her rear and down her leg to keep it elevated and wrapped around him.

Kissing her was so much better than he remembered. How was that possible? She was so good in his dreams. In reality, she was living - flesh and bone and wanting - and he couldn’t get enough.

Moving to her neck, he sucked her pulse point. He felt her tremble against him, but her hand still came up to pull him back to her mouth. “Nothing visible, okay? I have to go back to work.”

He nodded and caught her lips. It might be too late for that one, but he wouldn’t do it again.

Her desire was a wildfire, consuming every part of her. It wanted to consume him, too.

When she tucked two of her fingers behind the button of his jeans, a moan fell into her mouth.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

She tore the zipper down, and palmed him through his boxers. His hips jumped into her hand as a moan ripped from his throat.

His fingers fumbled to her belt buckle and paused.

“Please,” she whimpered.

He was clumsy with desperation and the distraction of her kissing and biting his neck, but he finally got it open and her pants undone.

The weight of the buckle sunk the waistband to the floor with a heavy clink, and Jessie stepped out of it, kicking off her shoes at the same time. Sinking her hand into his pants, she shoved them down his muscular legs.

He nearly fell over in his attempt to get out of his shoes so he could free himself from the shackle of the fabric around his ankles.

Jessie giggled, and moved with him as he stepped away. He finally got his first look at her in her underwear. Made of some fabric he couldn’t name, they were also black and cut high on her hip. He could see it was a thong in the mirrored wall behind her.

His jaw grew heavy with longing, but managed to make his mouth work enough to tell her, “you’re so beautiful, Jessie.”

“Thank you. I think you’re really handsome.” she said, running a hand down his chest. And he was - he could be a living sculpture in the Greek wing of the Louvre with his curly hair and sculpted body.

Sliding his hands over her hips, he pulled her to him once more. He hesitated for a moment, and Jessie took charge, too impatient to wait. “Matthew?”

“Hmm?”

“I really appreciate you getting my consent, I really, really do, but you can just move forward. I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.”

“Okay.”

She captured his mouth again and the fire roared to life between them, stoked hotter by so much skin touching skin.

Sneaking his fingers into the waistband of her panties, he pushed them down, trusting that she would stop him if she wanted to.

She didn’t want him to.

His fingers traced back up her leg and when he stroked her, she broke from the kiss to let her head lull forward onto his shoulder. Her panting breaths were the stuff of his dreams. She was already so wet, and he wanted nothing more than to bring her pleasure.

“Oh,” she moaned when he explored more, running a couple of rough fingers from her entrance to her throbbing bundle of nerves. She rocked into his hand, and he took the hint, caressing her over and over again until she was trembling and moaning.

“Matthew,” her voice was wrecked: desperate and thick with longing.

“What do you need?”

“Your fingers,” she begged, “inside me.”

He obeyed, following the rhythm she set. Pressing the pad of his thumb to her clit, a wicked, self satisfied smile took over his face as her head tipped back, and her breath hitched.

He rutted against her thigh in an attempt to pacify some of his own lust.

“Oh,” she moaned, “just like that.” Her hands slid to his arms, clinging to his biceps.

He wanted to eat her pleasure for breakfast - sustain himself with it on long, lonely nights. He knew he would dream of her voice and all her little sounds through the whole ten days away, anxious to come back to the very actual reality of her. He kept having to remind himself this wasn’t a dream.

Body shaking, she cried out.

Feeling her core pulse around him again and again, the release was so long coming, it seemed to go on forever.

Matthew continued to stroke and leaned in, kissing her right through her orgasm.

As her breathing finally slowed, he eased his fingers from her.

“Oh my god,” she said, still clutching him to stay upright. “I’m so pissed we had to wait nine months for this.”

Laughter barked out of his mouth.

When she could make her hands work, Jessie pulled his hard, hot length from his boxers, and stroked a few times.

His mouth fell open, and he panted, “it’s bullshit, right?”

“Such bullshit,” she agreed, devouring the pleasure that washed over his face.

“Wait,” he said, grasping her wrist. “I want this to last.”

“You already got me off,” she said. “What do you need to wait for?”

“I'm not going until you've come at least twice. What's the point of women being able to have multiple orgasms if I can't give them to you?”

That was some flawed logic, but she allowed him to pull her hand away. She wasn’t going to say no.

“Can I taste you?”

“If you want,” she said hesitantly, as if he might be pulling some kind of prank. She'd never had a man offer to go down on her first.

“I do want,” he said, guiding her to lean against the mirrored wall and sinking to his knees. “I've been wondering how you taste since we met.”

Maybe that oral fixation all the girls talked about online was actually true.

“Can you put your leg up here?” he asked, sliding a gentle hand to the back of her knee, and lifting so the joint bent around his palm. He guided her foot to the stool.

When he looked up at her, his blue eyes shining with excitement, she retraced their steps to get there. Not even ten minutes before would she have expected to end up with Matthew Tkachuk eating her out in the back dressing room.

“That feels okay?” he confirmed, palm stroking back up her thigh.

God, he was even making sure she was comfortable. Her whole body fluttered in anticipation. “Yeah,” she breathed.

Every other time a man had given her oral, they were fast and sloppy, obviously trying to get it over with as soon as possible. With Matthew, he seemed to be dragging it out for his own pleasure, tasting and teasing like he just couldn’t get enough. He was driving her crazy - winding her tighter and tighter.

“Matthew,” she moaned. It was better than any of his dreams. Better than any fantasy. “More. Please. More.”

She felt his lips briefly curve into a smile against her before he really got to work. Licking with the whole flat of his tongue, then flicking with the tip, he was suddenly everywhere.

Her hand scrambled for purchase on the wall behind her. Met only with the slick mirror, her fingers fumbled into his hair, searching for anything to hold on to.

He groaned into her, almost as if in pain.

“O-okay?” she asked, voice shaking as she attempted to loosen her grip.

When she felt his response but couldn't hear it, it took all her willpower to push him away. She was not going to hurt him, especially when he had been so insistent on her consent. She could feel his hard breathing rushing over her and it set her skin to trembling.

“Okay?” she asked again.

“Good,” he assured, eyes flicking up to meet hers. “I'll let you know if you pull too hard,” he said with a wink before diving back in.

Her head thunked back against the mirror. He really was made for her, that was the only explanation.

God, she was perfect. She tasted like paradise, like water in the desert, like his favorite meal after a long period of fasting. She satiated his every craving.

Pleasure began to tingle low in her pelvis. It loosened her hips and turned her legs to putty. She'd never had a man take this much interest, let alone put so much effort into her pleasure. She moaned something unintelligible, even to her own ears.

His competitive drive growled into a higher gear, demanding to please her until she whimpered and begged. He licked and sucked and spelled his own name with his tongue, gauging where she liked to be touched most.

“Matthew,” she moaned. “Oh my god, Matthew.”

He slipped a finger into her, and she cried out. Her hand tightened in his hair when he added another.

A whimper on every exhale, she panted, trying to keep some semblance of control. It shattered when he gently kneaded her g spot.

Pleasure thundered low in her belly, and she was forced over the cliff, glad to know Matthew would be there to catch her fall. Her vision turned hazy as she crashed. Time and space exploded into nothing more than shadowy constructs. She heard herself shout as if listening from another room.

When she came back to herself, Matthew was still languidly tasting her folds, one of his forearms braced over her hips to keep her upright.

Pushing him away from her core, she tried to catch her breath.

As he sat back, he wiped his face with his free hand. The satisfaction of pleasing her rumbled contentedly in his chest.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I fucking love you.”

He laughed, a look of delighted surprise on his face.

The reality of what she'd just said hit her and Jessie covered her face with her hands, “oh my god. I can't believe I just said that out loud.”

“That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me during sex.”

Relief sunk into her bones. Soul mates. They had to be soul mates.

A few moments later, she finally found her feet and pushed away from the mirror.

“Alright,” she said, reaching for him and wrapping her fingers around his erection. He stumbled toward her, anxious to feel more.

She smoothed the precome leaking from the tip onto the shaft with her thumb. “I think it's my turn to taste now.”

Matthew wasn't entirely sure what he'd expected her to do, but lowering to her knees in front of him right away hadn't been at the top of the list. He expected her to jerk him off for a minute, maybe kiss and tease him a little. Not that he was complaining. If she was willing, he'd gladly accept.

“Do you like more suction or more mouth?” she asked before licking the underside of his shaft.

Oh God.

“I dont - I don't care.” He wasn't sure he was even going to last long enough for it to make a difference. He felt so close to the surface already.

“You don't care?” she repeated, sitting back on her haunches to look up at him.

With her mouth off of him, he could explain his reasoning a little better.

“Frankly, I've been dreaming about this for so long, I could almost bust just from seeing you on your knees.”

She was flattered and also a little relieved she wasn't the only one.

“Okay,” she said as she reached up to pump him a few times. “Something we'll figure out later.”

The fact that she was thinking about the future, too, made him weak.

Her lips wrapped around his tip, tongue caressing, and he was right there.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Jessie,” he moaned, “god that feels good.”

Was it the best blow job ever? Objectively no, but it was Jessie, so it felt more important than any that came before it. He felt like he was fifteen again, getting his first head, amazed by everything and having no restraint.

“I'm - I'm gonna come,” he moaned, trying to pull back so as not to come in her mouth.

Jessie would rather have it in her mouth than all over her, so she gripped the backs of his thighs to keep him in place.

“Oh, fuck.” How could she possibly be this perfect?

She sucked and caressed and he exploded with a long low groan.

She kept licking, albeit more gently, until he pulled back, sensitivity making it too much to bear.

“Holy shit,” he said. The room felt muggy and he felt content in a way he'd been longing for since they'd lost each other.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

He helped her to her feet, and pulled her against him, wanting to feel her close.

A while later, her phone, which had fallen out of one of her pants pockets, buzzed and the time flashed.

“Shit! I have to go,” he said, scrambling for his clothes. “I still have stuff to pack!”

“When’s your flight?”

“In an hour, but I have to drive home and then to the airport.”

They rushed to get their clothes back on. He hated seeing her bra disappear under the camisole again.

As soon as he was dressed, he grabbed her jaw and kissed her. Her hands floated from tucking her shirt to cup his face.

He'd just had her, but the wanting roared back to life as soon as she touched him, as if his body was trying to remind him what was possible between them. Like he could ever forget.

“This was so amazing. I promise I'll take you on a real date when I'm back, and I'll call you while I’m gone,” he said. “I'm sorry I have to dash out of here.”

He kissed her again, hard and purposefully, before rushing out of the dressing room.

“Wait!” she chased him onto the sales floor still tucking her shirt, “my number. You need my number.”

“Oh my god,” he slapped a palm to his forehead. “I can't believe I almost left without it again!”

She giggled, “you're not getting away from me this time.”

They exchanged numbers and Matthew raced home.

He rushed to pack the last of his things, grateful for the example his dad set, in always having a base bag packed the day before a road trip just in case something came up.

He was the last one on the plane, a first for him.

“Chucky just got fucked!” someone yelled.

Matthew felt his cheeks get hot. His hair was probably wild from Jessie's hands, and he could feel the love bite on his neck, a sure sign it would soon be a full blown mark.

Reino met his eyes and raised a brow. Jessie? he mouthed.

Matthew nodded.

He wiped the back of his hand over his brow in mock relief.

“Oh thank God,” Bennett exclaimed from across the aisle. “I thought I was going to have to lock you two in a room until you got together.”

Matthew laughed.

When he got settled, he sent Jessie a text. Just on the plane, but I'm missing you already. I'm back on the 14th, so pencil me in for that date.

I have you in for the weekend. We have a lot of time to make up for.

Fanciction Masterlist

#the winter fic exchange 2k24 #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk smut #matthew tkachuk fanfiction #matthew tkachuk one shot #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk #nhl writing #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #hockey romance #hockey fic #hockey smut

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wh0re43van · 5 months

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Frogger- Peter Maximoff X Reader

Summary: Teasing Peter Maximoff. That's it. Thats the fic.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: A little smutty (pg 13-ish), weed, kinda slow burn

A/n: This came to me while staring at a wall for 20 minutes after five bong rips. It was written in like an hour at midnight and only proofread once; probably a fair amount of typing errors. Thank you for reading !!

Pt 2

I lay on Peters bed listening to one of his Pink Floyd cassettes and sipping on a coca cola awaiting his return. I met peter at the arcade a couple months ago and we hit it off immediately… well, after we finished arguing over who got to the Pac-Man game first. He zoomed in front of me, seeming to appear out of thin air. I yelled at him, saying that I was there first and I had already put my token in, after he backed down, then we hit it off. He showed me some secretes he’d learned about the game then we went to get coffee. I’ve spoken to him almost every day since. He quickly became a close friend.

“Knock knock,” he says walking into the room. He’d zoomed out to re-up. I hop off his bed, setting my soda down on the coffee table as I approach him. I’m happy to see him, but even more excited to check out the weed.

“About damn time,” I joke as he tosses me the baggie.

“What? I was gone for literally five minutes,” he laughs, taking a seat on his couch.

“That’s awfully long for you, eh Quickie,” I sit down next to him grinning. “Shit, I left my papers in my car,” I frown, before picking up my keys and dangling them in front of Peter. He rolls his eyes, taking the car keys and speeding out and back, within seconds he’s tossing the rolling papers into my lap. “Thank you,” I bat my lashes at him.

“Yeah yeah,” he rolls his eyes, opening a bag of chips. He watches me as I break up the weed and begin to roll the joint.

“Damn you’re good at that,” he says genuinely impressed as he crunches on the Doritos.

“Well, I have a lot of experience,” I laugh sparking the joint, taking a deep hit. He’s told me that he didn’t smoke a whole lot before he met me, maybe I’m a bad influence. Then again, I had never stolen anything until I met him; so I guess it cancels out.

I pass the joint to peter as I exhale the smoke. “Good shit,” I laugh as I try stifle a cough. Peter takes a hit, immediately coughing so hard his face turns red.

“Goddman,” he chokes out, I hand him my soda in attempt to ease his coughing. “Wow I already feel it,” he says after he takes a sip, his voice raspy from the hot smoke and hacking as he sets the glass bottle down next to him.

“I think the coughing makes you higher,” I giggle, wiping off the ash off my skirt.

“I think you’re right, shit,” he sighs. “You feel it yet?” he asks looking at me through lidded eyes.

“Not quite, my tolerance is pretty high,” I laugh then take another hit before grabbing his Atari controller. “Wanna play frogger?” I ask.

“Stupid question,” he scoffs, zooming to the gaming console, looking for the correct game cassette. I take the time to admire how handsome Peter is, the way his white t-shirt hugs his toned arms, his constantly messy silver hair that falls perfectly into his face, his perfect skin- despite how much junk food he eats.

‘Damn he looks good,’ I think to myself as I take another hit off the joint, lounging on his crumb covered couch with the tan controller resting in my other hand. Peter zooms back to me.

“321 go!” He shouts, starting the game.

“Shit Pete I wasn’t ready,” I shoot up dropping the blunt, Peter of course catches it before it hits the ground then pops it into his mouth. I die almost instantly.

“You lose,” he takes the controller out of my hand replacing it with the joint. “My turn!” He gives me a shit eating grin that I’ve grown to adore. I roll my eyes.

“Alright Quickie,” I begin as his fingers move in a blur on the Atari controller. “Lets make this a competition. Best 2/3. Winner gets a whole joint to themselves,” I smirk.

“Oh you’re on,” he laughs, not looking away from the television. I cover his eyes with my hands, causing him to die. “Dude!” he shouts at me. I grin taking the controller. “You loose, my turn!” I mock him. He laughs, leaning back on the couch. I last a while, ultimately missing the log, dying when I fall into the water.

“425, beat that,” I proudly hand him the controller.

“Pft, in my sleep,” he scoffs, and he’s right. He quickly beats my score with a whopping 683. “You sure you wanna continue, man?” he smirks. “You can still back out and just split the joint, and keep your pride intact,” he offers with a smug grin. Instead of getting irritated, I develop a plan.

“Oh, I’m sure Peter,” I smirk back. “But could you go first? You’re so great, I’d like to know the final score I have to beat,” I ask batting my lashes.

“Uh, sure. Okay,” he agrees even though he looks confused. He starts the next game, doing very well of course. Without him noticing, I pull my sweater down to show some cleavage before I reach over him to grab my cola sitting on the opposite side of him. My chest sets even with his eyes as I grab the cold glass bottle. Peters fingers slow and a light pink settles on his cheeks. He clears his throat, as I sit back down on the couch.

“Alright man, you can’t distract me that easily,” he laughs it off, even though he’s still blushing, glancing between me and the screen.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’m just thirsty,” I smirk as I use my tongue to bring the paper straw into my mouth, staring at Peters eyes that keep finding their way back to me. I slowly slide the straw out of my mouth, my tinted lip gloss leaving a ring on the white paper.

“Mmm,” I moan, leaning closer to him as I savor the taste of the cherry cola. “This is really good Peter, how’d you know that cherry’s my favorite?” I ask lowly. His eyes go wide, his frog gets hit by a truck earning him a score of 237

“Come on!” the speedster shouts. “That’s totally unfair! How am I supposed to concentrate when you’re being all hot and shit?” he asks, his cheeks still pink.

“You think I’m hot?” I giggle, taking the controller from his hands. His cheeks burn even brighter when he realizes that he just admitted that he thinks I’m hot.

I easily beat his score; he doesn’t even try to stop me. “Fetch me my weed,” I grin, holding out my hand. He rolls his eyes, but in instant the weed, papers and lighter are in my hand. “Thanks, Quickie,” I wink before quickly rolling another joint.

I lean back on the arm of the couch, watching Peter as his eyes follow the joint going between my lips, staring as I French inhale the smoke. His bloodshot eyes watch in awe and I can’t help but smile at his obvious ogling.

“Let’s watch something,” I smile, standing up and walking toward the tv, taking another hit.

“Sure,” he sighs in relief. “What movie are you th…” he trails off when I bend over, my short skirt exposing the smallest amount of my ass. I pretend not to notice, picking up a random VHS.

“What about Jaws?” I turn, asking him innocently. He blinks shaking his head as if trying to release himself from a trance.

“Uh,” he clears his throat. “Yeah s-sure dude. What, uh, whatever you th-think sounds good,” he clears his throat again, staring into my eyes, not even blinking. I can tell that he’s trying extremely hard not to look at my sweater that’s still pulled down or my skirt that’s ridden up my thighs. I can almost hear him saying to himself ‘don’t look, don’t look, don’t look…’. I’m enjoying every moment of this.

I smile as I bend down to slip the VHS into the player, I turn to catch Peter adjusting his pants. He quickly removes his hand, giving me a huge grin trying not look guilty. I put the spliff back in my mouth to keep myself from laughing.

I walk over to the couch, tapping the joint out and setting it in the ash tray. As the movie starts to play, I take a seat next to peter, throwing my legs over his, allowing my skirt to fall down my thighs towards my stomach, and Peter seems to notice. His breath hitches in his throat, glancing back and forth between the movie and my thighs. We sit like this for the first part of the movie, eventually he relaxes a bit, getting into the film. I watch as the light from the screen bounces of his sharp features. I smirk as I lean up to Peter.

“You have something on your face,” I say quietly. He watches as I take my thumb in my mouth, wetting it to wipe the dried frosting off his cheek. His face floods red, he’s adorable.

“What’s wrong Peter?” I ask, still only inches from his face. “Why so quiet all of the sudden?” I lean into whisper in his ear. He visibly shutters as my breath hits his skin, a barely noticeable sheen of sweat appears on his forehead. I’m satisfied with his reaction. “Do I make you nervous, Peter?” I ask, wiping the sweat off his face. He turns to look at me.

“Uh,” he clears his throat. “N-no, of course not. It’s just, uhm, a little warm in here, th-that’s all,” he stutters, staring at me with his glossy brown eyes.

“Hm,” I pretend to think about his response. “You’re right,” I grin before pulling my grey sweater over my head, leaving me in my short skirt and white tank top that clings to my curves and barely covers my cleavage. He audibly gasps with wide eyes, not bothering to hide his staring.

“It’s getting even more hot in here all of the sudden,” he pulls at the neck of his shirt trying to cool himself off.

“Maybe you should take this off then,” I suggest, toying with the hem of the shirt. “Might cool you off,” I don’t drop his gaze as I reach for my cola, taking another sip.

“I-uh… y-yeah, sure, m-maybe you’re, uhm right,” he stumbles over his words before clumsily taking off the white t-shirt. I’m surprised that he actually did it, but definitely not disappointed. I drink in the picture Infront of me. The nervous boy fidgeting with his hands, a thin sheen of sweat on his flushed cheeks and toned torso, his chest rising and falling rapidly, all of my doing. The sight makes my core ache.

“Your goggles are crooked,” I observe as I slowly crawl on top of him to straddle his waist, giving him time to stop me, incase I’m taking it too far.

He just gulps, watching as I settle on his lap. I place one hand on his chest, using the other to adjust the silver goggles, my chest at his eye level once again. I catch his eyes, now glossed over with lust rather than THC, watching me as I smooth his hair down. As I sit back, my core against his crotch, I can feel his excitement through his pants, he bounces his leg rapidly in anticipation, watching, waiting for whatever it is that I’m going to do to him next.

“Are you sure you’re not nervous?” I smile, my skirt completely bunched up around my waist, exposing the entirety of my white thong.

“Y-yeah,” his voice cracks. “I’m totally fine,” his words come out shaky as he stares at my exposed underwear.

“I’ll move if you want, Peter,” I slowly grind my crotch against his, the friction on my core feels amazing. “Just tell me and I’ll move,” I offer with pleasure laced in my tone, hoping that he doesn’t ask me to stop.

He doesn’t say anything, just lets out a small whimper as I put more pressure and speed into my movements. I slowly dip down to his neck, giving him time to stop me if he desires, leaving wet kisses on his jugular. I swear I can feel how hard his heart is beating.

“You taste so sweet, Peter,” I whisper in his ear, continuing my grinding on his erection through his pants.

“Fuck,” he whispers, his breathing shallow and quick. I slowly slide my hands down to his buckle, still moving my hips as I trail my kisses closer to his lips. I pop the buckle open and bite down on his lip gently, he gasps against my mouth.

Beep beep. Beep beep.

Goddamnit

My digital wristwatch signals that it’s time to pick my little brother up from school. I hop off Peter, he furrows his brows.

“I gotta go man, I gotta pick up my brother,” I explain, he just watches in confusion as I slide my sweater back on my body, adjusting my skirt and putting on my shoes. I head to the steps, he jumps up as if he’s just now processed what’s happened.

“Hey, wait, you can’t leave me like this,” he whines, his erection prominent in his blue jeans. “We were having fun,” he frowns. I smile widely.

“Don’t worry, I’m coming back,” I wink. “My weeds here dude, you know I’ll be back,” I laugh walking away from the shirtless, frustrated, confused boy standing with a raging boner in the middle of his room.

#evan peters x reader #tate langdon #jimmy darling x reader #warren lipka #kit walker #american horror story #kit walker imagine #kyle spencer #quicksilver #quicksilver smut #peter maximoff smut #peter maximoff #evan peters smut #evan peters #tate langdon smut #kai anderson smut #kai anderson #james patrick march #jpm x reader

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thebestofoneshots · 7 months

Text

WOLFSTAR X READER SERIES

Gilded Constellations | THE INTERLUDE

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Summary: You meet Sirius and Regulus at a family vacation in the Caribbean, but things don't go as planned and you end up losing contact once the trip is over. Years later your family moves to England and you get accepted at Hogwarts where you finally meet Sirius once again, along with all of his friends. One of them with a mysterious secret, that you'll uncover as you embark on your own Hogwarts adventure. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Hey Lovelies, welcome to “The Interlude” of Gilded Constellations. We’ve basically already gotten to 100 k words in this story and that’s absolutely insane!!! Which is why I thought of doing a little thing where I could interact with my readers. As a thank you for being there and supporting me so much through this journey.

And so… this little Q&A was born. Those who didn't get to ask their questions, don’t worry my darlings, my ask will be open all week for you to ask whatever you want. It’s a mini event that will last from today ‘till next wednesday.

But yes, it does mean this week we won’t get a new chapter D:

Don’t worry, it will definitely be worth it since the next couple of episodes are two that I’ve put absolute extra care on crafting, and I will put just as much care on revising. I’ve been quite literally posting non stop for 15 weeks consecutively. That’s almost 4 months, what?!?!

I needed my tiny lil break, besides I wanted to dedicate this bit of time to work on my Maraudween Special smutty series that will include some interesting mini AUs, so those that read my other stuff and not just Gilded Constellations will be quite literally treated this Halloween. There will be a lot of posts these next few weeks. Although, I might be releasing some of the Maraudween stories at the beginning of November. Unfortunately, I’m not a machine and I can’t write in seconds like Chat GPT.

Without further ado, let’s get on with those questions!

Where did you get the inspo for the fic?

Oh my god if I tell you guys about this… It all started when I was in class, sometimes when I’m bored, my little mind starts to wander. I’m a total daydreamer, I can’t deny that, but at that moment in particular I was quite literally thinking of nothing and everything at the same time. And then, out of nowhere, this phrase came to me:

“You look at them the same way you looked at me when we met…”

And I was like, “omg that’s so freaking angsty” and “That’s a great freaking line for a poly story” And I quite literally wrote it down with a little tag that said, “-the start of a poly relationship story because I’ve never read enough of those.”

And then I closed the notebook and went back to class. But I guess the idea had already set in my brain because next thing I know, I’m writing down more things down. And let me tell you, before Gilded Constellations I only wrote Oneshots because a story seemed like too much commitment. So I kid you not, I wrote down:

“Not a short story, but maybe a 3-5 chapter long fic”.

Jokes on me though, we’re 15 chapters in, like 20-something written and we’re probably going to end up with longer than 200k words and I’m not even sorry about it. Besides, I'm really pumped to finish it because I want to get it printed in Lulu and have my own little copy as a “Damn you wrote that.” kind of evidence thing. So worry not about being left with an unfinished fic, I’m going to complete this story even if it’s the last thing I do.

Besides, if I’m being honest, when I’m not writing, I miss my boys, so I’ll definitely miss passing the time with them when I’m done with GC. (Luckily I’ve already got another series planned and spoiler alert: This one will be Poly!Marauders x reader, a lot spicier aaaand, PIRATES.)

That’s how the fic started, well that and a dream that was basically most of Chapter 3 and I thought it was so cute that I wrote it down and then I was like, “hold up, this could be the start of the Poly story I was talking about…”

Are there any real-life experiences that influenced your writing?

Well I mean, I’d say that art imitates life and life imitates art, but in regards to real-life romance I don’t really know that much. But there are definitely some things here and there that have been sprinkled from my real life into the fic. Not sure if I could think of a particular one but I can say sometimes Remus gives me the same vibe that a boy I “used to” have a crush on. “Used to” in quotation marks because I kinda still do even if we haven’t seen each other in years.

So I guess a lot of Remus comes from my crush, but also Remus is his own little boy as well and I love him more for it. Even If I’m torturing him so much with his heartache, I promise it will be worth it Remus, reader and Sirius will take care of you, eventually.

Other than that, I guess I like to pay attention to things around me, you’ll see me looking at nature, the sky, the way leaves move, the way people interact with each other. Especially at that actually, I like to pay attention to people, how they move, how they interact, and their reactions. Sometimes I do it irl, and sometimes I just watch movies or series, and since my writing process is like seeing a movie in my head and then putting it into words, it’s always useful to pay attention to the world around me. Even if I sometimes struggle to put into words exactly what I’m seeing in my head.

Did you already have everything planned, or did you just go with the flow? If you have already, how far? all of it? Or just some chapters ahead?

Well, yes and no. I do have various key points of the story planned, a lot of plot points that are going to happen and that’s kinda what I’m sustaining myself on. I know the big points and then I just have to write what happens in between them. And I’ve got it planned all the way ‘till my babes all start dating. After that, if I’m honest I’m not sure how I’m going to end it. Some parts of me want to go for the saddest ending possible because it would go along with cannon and the other side of me, the one that can’t bear to see my boys being sad, wants to just deviate completely and/or leave an open ending.

But so far, I really cannot tell what exactly I’m going to do, I just know that time will tell. Because sometimes the characters just do what they want and I love to see where they take me. Which is why the ending is not set in stone just yet.

Without giving too many spoilers, can you tease upcoming plot twists or surprises we can expect in future chapters?

My sly little foxes have already guessed some of the major plot twists that are upcoming in the story. And there definitely will come some surprises along the way, some you will love, some you won’t so much. But I promise you it will all be worth it!

Remember in Gilded Constellations, everything happens for a reason.

THE FANCAST

What's your fancast for the fic? Did you pick the reader too or just leave it be? // I wanted to know if you have a fancast for everyone…

I did mention that I basically see stuff as a movie in my head right? So yes, I do have a fancast! Although I most definitely see James as Aaron, Sirius as Ben, Remus as Andrew and Peter as Dane, I have also twisted them in my brain. Like it’s them, right? But my version of them. Like my Sirius is so fucking ethereal in my head that sometimes I myself blush with his beauty. And Remus, well, he is probably most similar to Talita Asami’s from instagram. Especially this one.

There’s something about the way she contrasts his soft features with the scars that’s just perfect. It’s that sexy pirate vibe I cannot get out of my head, if that makes sense. But also I’ve been toying with AI lately (Talkie) and ended up with these two versions of Remus and Sirius and they have absolutely taken over.

Sidenote: I made way to many of these, so do tell me if you wanna see them.

The reader: Uhm… well, I kind of just see her as me, hehe. Which is kind of the point, you should all just see the reader as yourselves, if you’re comfortable with that of course.

The rest of our babies though? Lily Evans, Marlene and Mary, are kind of like the boys as in I see them as their fancast but also not entirely. And Lily especially, she’s just so freaking pretty in my head, there’s no one I know to match her, all thought Sophie Skelton and Kennedy Walsh (@/c4tluvr666 on Tiktok) are super close.

Now, outside of canon characters, aka all of these OC’s I’ve been creating with time, some of them do have a fancast and some of them don’t. Let’s focus on the ones that do, because some of them I literally had in my head since the very, very beginning of the fic.

Tom Harrow- This boy actually started as a younger version of Tom Hiddleston in my head, but the more I wrote him, the more he said, “Luv, that’s not what I look like!” And, almost out of nowhere, baby Tom Hiddleston became Rober Sheehan, and let me tell you, it stuck. And it stuck so bad there is no way I could see Tom as anything other than Rob. Especially with his role as Klaus in Umbrella Academy having a rather similar personality in the entire open-minded spectrum that he’s got going on. And, talking about teasers, this boy is actually going to be a key point on the romance between our golden throuple to develop, so keep an eye out for him. I love him so much tbh.

Then we’ve got Beth Doxon, this girl is my wifey, I freaking love Beth so much and if you’ve been paying attention you may already know who I based her off, at least in looks. It’s Anya Taylor Joy as Beth Harmon in Queen’s Gambit, redhead queen (can you tell I really, really like redheads?) . Also that’s why she has such a strong character, even if my Beth is a lot more of a Party Animal than the original character.

Alexander Wood in my head is just a carbon copy of his son Oliver, but in Hufflepuff, and the rest of the Quidditch teams, I’ve got a good idea of what they look like in my head, but not really a fan cast for them. Suggestions accepted.

Well, except for Minho Yun, since his role in the story is going to be as a pretty strong supporting character, in fact, he was meant to be somewhat of an alt love interest that was going to help build Sirius’ jealousy, but in the end, I decided to completely scrap that to further develop him as a character. Some interesting things that you’ll actually learn on the GC Halloween special. Oh, and Minho is actually based on Sang Heon Lee (on looks) and Ki Hong Lee (on character, specifically on his role in Maze Runner). Had I based Minho on the character of Sang Heon Lee who inspired him, we would have way too many slutty boys in the same room, with Tom and Sirius and him, It’d be chaos, which is why he ended up being a little shier.

Nox, Neil and Todd, literally are just Nox, Neil and Tod from De*d Poets Society. I was rewatching the movie to nail that boy friend group interactions and to get in the Dark Academia Vibes and I wanted to give my boys a happy ending.

Also Neil just gives me the most massive Prongs vibe I cannot.

And lastly, there’s Nina Blythe. Nina to me is a totally angelic girl, I’ve got a very vivid picture of what she looks like in my head but I don’t really have a fancast for her. Maybe a little bit like Aurora (the singer), in regards to her soft features, but Nina has longer hair and it’s a little wavy. I kind of think of her as a girl from a Renaissance painting, emphasis on girl, since she is supposed to look younger than she is. Any ideas for a fancast? For her and for anyone I missed, I’m completely open to your suggestions.

THE TEACHERS

Professor Nightshade is definitely Eva Green from Miss Peregrine or Jessica Chastain from Crimson Peak. She’s got that tall, regal and dark but elegant vibe to her that is just so freaking gorgeous and awe-inspiring. I totally have a crush on Seraphina, can you tell?

Professor Aurelius Spellman is kind of inspired by Kingsley Shackelbolt. However, if I had to cast someone for the role it would be Djimon Hounsou, he has that attractive and rough vibe to him. Like scary, demanding but also alluring things going on, he’s just got the magician type I suppose.

This one’s going to be silly, but I can’t imagine Kettleburn as anyone other than Gobber the Belch from HTTYD, like, take away the horned helmet and give him a pointy hat, and boom, Kettleburn ladies and gentlemen. Down to the messy personality, honestly.

And Donovan Pendragon (the teacher for Magical Theory) I feel like he isn’t mentioned enough, because I literally had no idea what his name was even going to be and I just left a line for it until I was editing the chapter before posting. So he doesn’t really have a cast. He’s caucasian in my head, but that’s about all I’ve got from him. Any ideas?

Do you have any headcanons for any of the characters and their relationship that you haven’t talked about in the story?

REMUS: Well I feel like this one has been talked about several times in the story but Remus being a beast in bed? I feel like everyone loves to tease him about it in the castle but to me, he’s also a total soft boy? Like especially the first time, I feel like he’s going to be so overwhelmed by both Sirius and Reader that he will basically just melt in the hands of his lovers.

SIRIUS: Smitten little puppy of my life.

SIRIUS AND REMUS: They’ve totally kissed in the past. At least once, and Remus still dreams about it. Sirius, well… maybe he’ll get some memories of it every now and then.

READER: My girl thinks she’s so freaking smart and yet is the most oblivious to her own feelings; she could be considered an idiot. She’s also so selfless it hurts, but like literally. Also, she loves flirting with Sirius way too much. Still, they definitely will need Rem in their relationship because there is no self-preservation sense when her personality is just as chaotic as our Puppy. Side note: Remus will 100% blush when she starts flirting with him in the same way he does with Sirius. And let’s not talk about what a tomato he will be when Sirius does it as well.

PETER: He kinda disliked the reader at first, especially since he felt like she was taking away his friends, but eventually he warmed up to her, and loves their friendship.

LILY: She enjoyed the kiss with Reader, and it made her realize she’s totally bi, because she also enjoyed the kiss with James.

TOM: My boy is clever as hell and he knows a lot more than he lets on. Also, he secretly ships the golden throuple.

BETH: She’s Tom’s bestie and she knows a lot of things too. She will also ignite chaos with the ultimate goal of being Gryffindor Tower’s own cupid. Do you think what happened at Marlene’s Party was a coincidence?

REGG: My beautiful Reggie is still sad about the incident. He’s still trying to find a way to reconnect with you and it pains him that you think he’d rat you out. Even then, he values the fact that you are with Sirius and that you’re helping him through everything that’s been going on, especially since he saw how red Sirius’s eyes were when he left the Black’s house with a trunk in hand sobs stuck in his throat. Reg cried like a baby that night, just wishing for time to go by as fast as possible so he could go back to school and see his big brother again. (I’m so sorry for that guys).

MINHO: Has a secret crush and you would not believe me if I told you who it was.

NINA: Has a secret crush and some of you have probably already guessed who it is.

DAMOCLES: You don’t know him yet but omg he’s just so clever, thank you Kles for existing.

And let's be honest, I totally have a bunch more of this but I think this is way more than enough, for now…

Out of all the chapters so far, what’s been your favorite?

This is too fucking hard to decide. But If I had to choose my top three, and in no order in particular, I’d say, for the released ones:

Fooled around and Fell in Love

Because, can we talk about the kiss scene? I feel like this one will come back bite my kiddos in the back so they finally realize what they actually fucking need.

Do Ya

I’m a total sucker for Sirius, what can I tell ya? But also the flying scenes were so much fun to write, totally an adventure to go through, still among my favs.

Maybe I’m amazed

“Do you like Golf?”

From the unreleased episodes:

Tonight’s What It Means To Be Young

The calm before the storm. Or is it the storm before the storm?

Bad Moon Rising

The FUCKING storm. But also one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. I think I like action scenes a little too much.

*** On The Run

The storm continues. But also, the calm after the storm.

Do you have a playlist that you always listen to when you're writing?

Not a specific playlist, but I have been listening to a lot of ‘70s rock. Things like Queen, Bowie, Boston, Foreigner, Kansas, Fleetwood Mac, Nazareth, The Police and some others. All of them help me get in the mood for writing. At least in the mood of the era, if that makes sense.

Aside from the ’70s classics, I’ve also been listening to a lot of Lord Huron, Hozier, and Aurora (I sort of discovered her recently and I’m obsessed with some of her songs). Also some of The Killers, Dotan and Vian Izak sprinkled here and there. Bastille and Imagine Dragons are always and forever so of course they wouldn’t be missing from my list.

But when I’m struggling, like really struggling with writing, then I go to this Best Instrumental playlist, where they have everything from the Narnia and Peter Pan 2003 soundtracks to Vivaldi and Ghibli. It really does help with the concentration.

How long for the guys to understand that they fancy each other?

Well, when you say the guys do you mean Sirius and Remus? ‘Cause then it’s not thaaaaaat far away from now. Now from then to them all dating, well…

I know Remus kind of struggles with feelings, and probably even more now that Sirius and the reader are together. But when he's gonna say "hey, can I come in?" 😏 lol I just want them together so baaaad!

Ahahahahahaha, Well that’s not exactly how it’s gonna go, but it’ll happen sometime after Christmas.

After wolfstar and the reader get together, the fic will end? or we're gonna have a lot of them together to compensate for the agony? 🥺

I’m not sure about the ending yet, but I’m definitely going to add so much fluff of the three of them together that you’re all gonna get cavities. Also, I’ve been writing The 5 Senses and the Halloween special (that might be finished until after Halloween) to practice for the spice, so I’m def compensating for the agony.

Also, I kind of want to explore the social implications of being in a throuple, of making that public in the `70s. Seems like a whole lotta issue bringer that kinda interests me… Sorry, you’re not completely getting rid of the angst even when they’re all together.

I don’t remember if I already asked you about this, but as a Regulus’ wife, I need to know. He'll come back, right? She will talk with him and he will be able to explain everything to her? I need this, I really need this! I can leave without this closing. THEY NEED TO BE FRIENDS AGAIN!

Your husband is safe with me. I promise. I’m not gonna say it’s gonna be very soon, but he will be safe because I love baby Reggie and I too can’t stand him being mistreated either.

Not a question. I just want to say that I really love this story. It's one of my favorites, and I just put it on my masterlist for how much I love it.

Aww shut up, I love you so much <3

Will we have some Sirius jealousy? ‘Cause I'm really interested in that. Oooh... will he notice that Reader and Remus are... more than friends before they even know it? I dunno, he's just oblivious about everything around him.

Funny that you ask, yes we will have a lot of Jealous!Sirius, in fact, it’s a huge part of how the throuple will develop. And you will have it so soon, even if it’s not exactly what you expect it to be. I can’t wait for next week!

And in regards to noticing, well… Sirius is not going to be the most oblivious about his own feelings in this story. I mean… not always.

Are there any particular scenes or moments in your story that were especially fun or challenging to write?

Well, I’m actually finding it a lot harder to write stuff atm, so I’d say the limbo between the Bad Moon Rising Arch and the next big thing that’s going to happen has been the hardest. Especially since I’m already going to get to a key point in which some shit is going to go down and I’m still not sure how bad and angsty I want to make it. Don’t worry, our golden throuple will be alright but…

In regards to fun, I must say the parties are some of my favorites, Potion Pong was incredibly fun to write ‘cause I literally transported myself to it and it was like actually living it, even if it was in my head. Also the flying scenes, they’re always fun to write, the race was incredible tbh.

I love to write the fun banter and the teasing too, it brings me joy. But I bet you could tell I’m one for the teasing from the very first chapters of Gilded Constellations.

Nina fancies Reader, right? She does. I just need a yes. I already know that 😌

( ≖‿ ≖ )

Can you share any behind-the-scenes trivia or Easter eggs that readers might not have noticed in your story?

I feel like there’s a lot of behind-scenes I shared so far but I guess I could share a few pics of my organization systems. Things like…

Your schedule:

The cover:

Some of you have already been theorizing about it too, you can look at some of those theories over here, and here, and also here.

Alt Covers I designed but weren't chosen:

Something you might not know:

GC is also available on Wattpad and AO3. The AO3 chapters usually drop like 30 minutes or an hour before Tumblr because it's easier to post there. And the Wattpad releases are actually way behind in comparison (there isn't much engagement over there).

Some Shots of my Plot notebook (0 spoilers):

And also, have you noticed the special little thing in the names of the chapters? 10 housepoints to whoever notices

I just thought of this, but what if we make a little housepont system and from things that you guys guess of the story you get housepoints and then we have a houseprice in the end? OMG I'd love to do this, if you're on tell me your house in the comments. So far Sytherin would have like 40 points just beacuse of dear @cometsghost and I'm not sure what is @blacksgarden house but they would also have like 40 pts.

How do you stay motivated and inspired to keep writing, especially in moments when you might experience writer's block?

It may or may not be healthy, but I just force myself to type? I never really have writer’s block, rather I’d call it writer’s overload. It’s when I’m running through so many possibilities in my head and I can’t pick which is the one I want to go through with. So I keep thinking about it and I don’t type. Which is why I just force myself to type, more often than not I’ll end up writing something I really like.

And as for the motivation, honestly just getting to see my boys again. To be able to submerge back into Hogwarts, that’s enough motivation. I seriously get an urge to go back because I miss them. It's kinda crazy. Like I might be chilling at home and suddenly the thought “I wish I was at Hogwarts” crosses my mind, not even joking.

The other motivation is finishing my book so I can get a printed version to place in my bookshelf and show it off. Not that anyone would know what it is, but I’d know, which is enough, hehe. And also to be a better writer, they say you should write every single day, which is kind of what I’m attempting to do with GC. By writing a chapter every week, I literally force myself to write every single day, even if just a couple of words.

Can we have cute moments with Remus? uuuh, Will he be cute when she notices that she really likes him?

Yes! We can have all the cute moments with Remus. Even before they all notice they’re into each other, we’re gonna have so many cute moments because even if Reader is dating Sirius I can’t leave my beautiful boy on the sidelines. Besides, how can I torture him if he doesn’t get a taste of how good it would be to be with them?

What can readers look forward to in the next chapters, and do you have any long-term plans or goals for GCs development?

Angst. Don’t hate me for this. But also comfort, and some fun little adventures and then a bit more angst, hehe…

Well, that’s the end of the questions I got sent ahead. Hope you enjoyed this rollercoaster of a Q&A. If you have any more, or if my answers have provoked further questions, then by all means, share them with me, I’d love to be able to interact with you a bit more.

Love ya, Lily xx

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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steddieunderdogfics · 2 months

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This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @estrellami-1! Most of their works are on tumblr, but they have three on Archive of Our Own in the Stranger Things fandom. You can find all of their tumblr works here.

@finntheehumaneater recommends the following works by @estrellami-1:

If I Should Stay

(Push Away the) Lonely Times

Soft Touch Baby

I’m nominating them because they are just a delight to talk to, and such a creative writer. Honestly, the way they describe things is beautiful and I can see it so clearly in my head. Any character they write is written to PERFECTION. They’re one of my favorite tumblr mutuals…ever :) - finnthehumaneater

Below the cut, @estrellami-1 answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Short, funny answer? Hyperfixation. Longer answer… it just works in a way I don’t see many pairings work. Maybe I’ve just got blinders on, I don’t know, but nothing about their canonical personalities have to change in order for them to be together.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

This is like asking who my favorite kid is… I like SO many, it honestly might be easier to ask what I don’t like! I tend to like the softer things, though; hurt/comfort (emphasis on the comfort), found family, fluff, things like that. I’m a sucker for anything soft and slow, which @ghosttotheparty does an AMAZING job at.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Again, anything soft and sweet! I tend to read what I write and vice versa… though I’m also an avid smut reader, and I’ve only felt brave enough to try writing it more recently. I think writing smut isn’t really my thing, but I am glad to have tried, just to say I’ve done it. But hey, never say never; it could happen one day!

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I can’t possibly pick just one!! @pukner has some AMAZING things, specifically the two series off-script and always burning, world keeps turning. I’m also obsessed with anything by @ghosttotheparty, as stated earlier, and anything by the amazing @steddieas-shegoes.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Honestly, probably 70% of what I write never sees the light of day. Not for lack of want, but because I lose inspiration halfway through. So with that being said, I think I’ve written all the tropes I’d like to; I just haven’t published all of them. Fingers crossed, though; I still have all those docs, and I do go back to them sometimes, so hopefully inspiration will strike again!

What is your writing process like?

In all honesty, I don’t really have one. I tend to start at the beginning and let the characters take over, which means even I am surprised by some of the things I write! One such example is the relationship between Steve and El in If I Should Stay. I never thought they’d get that close, but here we are!

Do you have any writing quirks?

Unless it’s considered a quirk to write alone in my room at night, in complete darkness, with only my phone screen for light… then no. I don’t think so. Although I have definitely noticed I make the faces the characters do, to make sure I’m describing the right thing! 😂

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Since most things I write never get posted… I honestly don’t know! Probably on a schedule, considering I’m not finished writing If I Should Stay yet, but I’m not super picky; nothing else I post is on any sort of schedule, though that may be just because I mainly post one-shots.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Honestly, it’s a tie between If I Should Stay and Falling. If I Should Stay because I never expected to stick with it this long—I’m working on part 61 right now—and I’m exploring a lot of things I haven’t before. Falling because to this day, nothing I’ve done has come out like that. It was effortless in a way I never expected it to be, in a way I’ve never experienced before, and I think the results speak for themselves; it’s one of my most-liked fics, clocking in at just over 4k notes on Tumblr and 6.6k hits on ao3, most of which happened in the first week of it being posted!

How did you get the idea for (Push Away The) Lonely Times?

In all honesty… I don’t remember. Probably a combination of “what if Steve had Good Parents” and “what if Steve and Eddie were childhood friends” Tumblr posts!

When writing If I Should Stay, what was something you didn’t expect?

Like I said earlier, Steve and El’s relationship was a surprise. As was Alli, actually; I had no plans for a sister, but then I saw a “Steve has younger-brother-to-a-sister-energy” Tumblr post, said, “you right,” and proceeded to write her into that very next part.

What inspired Soft Touch Baby?

I swear I’ve got the worst memory… I honestly don’t remember. It was one of my firsts, and at that point in time I hadn’t even seen the show yet, so I wasn’t super confident in the fic, but damn if I didn’t have the balls! Looking back on it now, it isn’t my favorite, but I think it’s important to know where you came from, if only to see that it’s not all in vain, that even I can see how much better I’ve gotten.

What was your favorite part to write from (Push Away The) Lonely Times?

Probably the entirety of parts 3 and 4. I love Jim and Hopper’s banter, and I love Jim’s internal monologue in 4 as he’s taking care of Steve. I love exploring characterizations like this!!

How do/did you feel writing Soft Touch Baby?

As I said earlier, I don’t love it now, but I do like it for the starting block it is. I do remember, though, while I was writing it, I was feeling so smug; I thought I was writing the equivalent of the goddamn Mona Lisa. Laughable, really, which is another reason I don’t delete/orphan it. It helps keep me humble, to an extent.

What was the most difficult part of writing If I Should Stay?

Honestly? Posting the first part. I thought it was a throwaway thing, something that came a dime a dozen, something that everyone and their mother had already written. I posted it far too late at night (or was it far too early in the morning?) because I decided I didn’t give a shit, and woke up to an overwhelmingly positive response. To this day, I’m blown away by the attention it got! My taglists hit 100 people in just 4 days!

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

Honestly, pretty much the entirely of Falling, and to a lesser extent, Because of You. In the former, it’s the whole Apollo/Dionysus banter, the way Eddie says Steve’s eyes are hazel and his hair has gold, the way he calls Steve sunshine boy, and the not to me, not if it’s you line. In the latter, it’s Steve saying, “…Because I trust you. I feel safe with you. I believe you’ll take care of me, because you’ve already proven you will.” I imagined him almost upset when saying this; louder than normal, very emotional, just trying to get Eddie to understand. It’s a very raw line, Steve’s being very open, and in the context of the fic, it’s kinda groundbreaking for him, and Eddie knows it.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I think I’ve shared something about most of the ones I’m excited about… all of this will be after I finish writing If I Should Stay, but I have a fae!Steve fic that I’m working on, one where Steve goes deaf (very heartbreaking and emotional and real and so, so much love and family), and I’ve got a lavender prom idea I’m working on, in which Steve and Robin are Platonic soulmates, Steve has an unfortunate crush on Eddie, and Robin’s got an equally unfortunate crush on Vickie. It’s a No Upside-Down AU in which Steve decides to host the first(?) lavender prom at his house. It’s not called a lavender prom, obviously, but I do have something of an idea for a nod to the name. Here’s a snippet, if you want, because I actually am really excited about this one:

Robin dramatically drapes herself over the foot of Steve’s bed and sighs. Dramatically. He quirks a brow, but otherwise doesn’t react, just keeps trying to focus on the same page he’s been trying to read for what feels like the past ten minutes. She sighs dramatically again. Somehow it’s even louder than before. He drops the book and looks heavenward for a moment. “What’s wrong?” “Prom’s coming up.” Steve’s nose wrinkles. It’s all anyone’s been talking about. “I know.” “I’ll have to dance with a guy.” “You don’t have to.” “There are rumors, Steven. Rumors,” she hisses, rolling over to stare at him. “Okay, so dance with a guy.” “And what happens if he tries to make a move?” “You reject him? Politely?” “Steve.” She says his name like he’s an idiot. He’s used to it. “The entire reason for a girl to dance with a guy is because she likes him. I’ll be back at square one.” Steve sighs, thinking. Truthfully, he isn’t really looking forward to prom, either. After his fall from the social totem pole, he puts a lot less stock in what people think of him, but even he has some societal norms to adhere to still. Societal norms like dancing with a girl when there’s a certain guy who’s been circling his mind instead. “Okay,” he says, thinking. “Do you know anyone else who has the same problem?” “Besides you? I can think of a couple of people.” The way she looks at him makes him think they’re thinking of the same person, and he’s suddenly struck once again with gratitude that she’s his friend. “If you talk to him, I’ll talk to Vickie.” “I will kiss you. Very platonically. On the forehead.” He laughs. “Okay. I’m thinking, what if I host something here, the same night as prom?” “I’m thinking there are a few people who would be really grateful.” They share a smile with each other before Robin grabs the book. “Okay, where are you, I’ll read, you listen.” “I love you,” he tells her seriously, moving to lay next to her and look at the page she’s looking at. He points to a section and she nods, tracing her finger down the lines as she reads.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

A VERY big thank you to whoever nominated me!! And a great big thank-you-I-love-you to anyone who’s stuck with me and my writing thus far. I appreciate each and every one of you! ❤️ And, if you’re someone who’s waiting on me to answer an ask, I swear I haven’t forgotten! I’ll get to them all… eventually!

Thank you to our author, @estrellami-1, and our nominator, @finntheehumaneater! See more of @finntheehumaneater’s works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#steddie fic recs #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #writer's spotlight #writer's wednesday

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crazychaoticizzy · 1 year

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Cultural Differences Part 1

You and Armin get assigned to complete a year long project for your Cultural Arts class together. You never thought it would turn into this . . .

WARNINGS: fem!reader, Mexican!reader, fluff, angst, slow burn, eventual smut, college!au, modern!au, Armin is German in this, and they were roommates, trauma revelations sprinkled throughout, slight hints of racism

DISCLAIMER: the reader in this fic is written to be Mexican, however she does not have predominantly Hispanic features described (I think). Y/n can be perceived as anyone since I don’t specify, however just know that she is written to be Latina. This story is also very personal to me, as Y/n is based very heavily off of myself

Masterlist

AOT Masterlist

Word Count: 3.9k

“Theoretically, if you talked to your roommates about it, could I move in with you?” you asked.

Mikasa’s eyebrows furrowed, and she quickly finished her bite of sandwich before saying, “Yeah, I think they’d be fine with it, and it’d be fun for me. Why, though? Is everything okay with your house mates?”

You continued staring down at the Tupperware container holding your food, moving around a piece of chicken with your fork. “Yeah, we’re fine. It’s just a lot. Hitch brings by a new guy every night and tries to be as loud as possible to make Marlowe jealous. They’re also the biggest group of slobs I’ve ever seen, it’s disgusting.”

Mikasa hummed, bringing her water bottle to her lips and taking a sip. “Right, I forgot they were your roommates.” She set the bottle down, tapping the pads of her fingers against it.

“It also happened again.”

The tapping stopped. “Again?”

You nodded. “Floch misplaced almost five hundred dollars.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes. “Fucking Floch,” she muttered. “And you were . . .?”

She trailed off when you nodded again. “The first one.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “Where did it end up being?”

“In his goddamn phone case. Why would you put five hundred dollar bills in your fucking phone case?”

“Because it’s Floch. He’s an idiot.” Mikasa shrugged her leather jacket off, folding it up and placing it in her lap. “I’ll definitely ask Eren and Armin if you can move in. I’m sure they’ll agree, so start getting some stuff together. I’ll talk to them about it later and get back to you, yeah?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. It’s fine if they say no, by the way, I’ll figure something out.” You put the fork you were holding down, closing the Tupperware container and pushing it to the side.

Mikasa was silent for a moment before grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’m sorry this has to happen to you.”

“Not your fault,” you muttered. Another few seconds of silence passed between the two of you before you said, “I kind of want to cut my hair.”

“Really? I’ve been wanting to do that too, but I don’t know. I’ve been thinking maybe a pixie cut.” Mikasa played with the ends of her hair, running her fingers over them as if to measure how much to cut off.

“That’d look cute. You’d be super pretty with that. What about me, how short should I go? Maybe here?” You held your hand up to just above your shoulder. “Or shorter?”

“Well, you’ve always looked good with shoulder length hair. Maybe a bit shorter this time, though.”

You nodded in thought. “Wanna go get haircuts right now?”

“Absolutely.”

The two of you exchanged a smile, and for just a moment while you cleaned up the table you were sitting at, everything seemed to be just fine.

—

You never talked much to the boy that sat next to you in your Cultural Arts class—a class you had chosen to take purely on a whim. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever exchanged a word with the blond that sat beside you. But when you entered class the next day and took your seat beside him, he couldn’t help but double take.

“You cut your hair,” he observed.

It caught you off guard. You didn’t really talk to anyone in the class, seeing as no one you knew took it and you were too nervous to start a conversation with someone, so it shocked you that someone actually spoke to you.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. You didn’t mean to, but it was force of habit—always talk quietly when meeting new people. You looked up at him, seeing that his eyes were traveling over your profile to admire your haircut.

“You look nice,” he said simply.

Your eyes widened slightly at the sudden compliment.

You thanked him, giving him a small smile before you redirected your attention to the mechanical pencil in your hands, spinning around the eraser.

“I’m Armin.” He continued talking to you. You weren’t complaining, but it suddenly felt like every beat your heart made was amplified. It was distracting.

You looked back up at him and smiled again. “Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”

You noticed how pretty he was—how his ocean blue eyes caught the light and the way his golden hair fell over his forehead. His glasses were cute, squareish with a dark tortoiseshell design, sitting halfway down his nose.

His lips curled into a smile, and he nodded. “Likewise.”

He looked familiar. His name sounded familiar, too, but you couldn’t quite place where you might know him from.

Since your professor had yet to enter the class, you decided to attempt a conversation with him. “So how do you like this class so far?”

You’re not sure if you imagined it, but you could have sworn his eyes brightened just a little bit hearing you continue to speak with him.

“I like it so far. I looked over the syllabus the other day and it seems like the class will be going on a couple trips later in the year,” he said. He was facing you in his chair, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Really?” He nodded. “Wow, I guess that’s what happens when you attend a really fancy private school,” you reasoned. “Fancy school trips for elective classes.”

“Yeah, I think the trips are more for the people wanting a career to do with culture, though,” Armin said. “What’s your major? You look familiar, maybe I have you in another class.”

“I doubt it,” you said, “but visual arts. Film, cinematography, video, set design, things like that.”

“What are you wanting to get into?”

“I want to be a set designer or producer. I think costume designing would be nice, too, but I know I want to help with movies. It’s always seemed fun,” you said. “It’s not really what Paradis is known for, but the program here is really good. I’ll get some experience in the field before graduating.”

“No, it’s cool. I have a friend wanting to get into the same thing, maybe you know him? His name is Jean Kirstein.”

You thought for a moment, attempting to put a face to the name. “Maybe? I’m not sure, I don’t really talk to anyone to be honest.”

Armin hummed. “That’s fine. I’ll ask him later and see if he knows you, if that’s alright with you.”

You nodded. “Yeah, perfectly fine.”

A smile painted itself onto Armin’s features, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He was about to say something else, but was interrupted by Professor Smith walking through the door.

He apologized for being late, and continued to begin the class by announcing the year long project mentioned on the syllabus.

“You will be working with your table partners,” he said. “The goal is to get to know them and understand their customs. You are meant to learn about their traditions and heritage, as well as their own personal culture and upbringing. I don’t want something that obviously came from Wikipedia, every family does things a little differently. I expect to see that in these projects. At the end of the year you will each be turning in both a written essay and a Google Slides presentation about your partner and what you learned. There will be a rubric on my desk for you to pick up at the end of class.”

Professor Smith gave his students a couple more minutes to silently converse among themselves, most likely so everyone could begin basic introductions with their partners.

You turned to Armin, finding that he already had his head turned and was looking at you.

“It looks like we’re partners,” he said. You nodded as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He unlocked it, creating a new message box for you to input your number and send something. He handed it to you. “So we can stay in touch better,” he explained.

You took his phone, the dark blue case a nice, matte feeling under your fingertips. You quickly typed in your number and sent a quick hi , feeling your phone buzz in your pocket soon afterwards. You handed his phone back, pulling yours out and changing the contact of his number.

The two of you traded small conversation while you waited for your professor to continue the class. When he started talking again, you tried your best to pay attention to what he was saying (something about Egyptian pyramids, you think), but your mind and gaze kept wandering to the boy sitting next to you.

Little did you know that Armin was in the exact same boat.

—

When Mikasa met up with you for lunch, she started off with saying that her roommates were fine, if not ecstatic, with you moving in. Mikasa hadn’t explained your situation, only saying that you had annoying roommates, and they both accepted almost immediately.

You were practically elated to hear the news. Despite never meeting either of her roommates, Mikasa spoke the world of them to you. You could only assume she did the same with you, speaking to no end about some little thing you did with her roommates.

After lunch she helped you gather your things from your dorm. The two of you were able to fit almost everything into two large suitcases, a smaller one and a backpack. Mikasa helped you carry them to the elevator in the building, and pulled her phone out to text her roommates as you descended.

She talked to you about your room on the way there, mentioning that it was used as a storage room but the three of them had gotten it cleaned out quickly when they came to the agreement that someone else would be staying with them. She also talked about how there was an extra room, something they had discovered behind a wall after they had purchased the house, that they used as a studio for their interests.

“You can set your instruments up in there, if you want,” she said. “They should be fine since Eren doesn’t really go in there.”

Eren, as Mikasa has told you on numerous occasions, was the one constantly up to something. He was stubborn, and only stuck to his ideas with no hope of changing his mind after he made a decision.

You couldn’t remember her second roommate’s name for the life of you, but you knew that he was nice, more reasonable than Eren.

Mikasa soon pulled up in front of a small two story house in a decent looking neighborhood. She parked, grabbing her phone to call someone.

“Get out here and help us,” she said when the receiver had answered. “Y/n’s here, by the way, so don’t be a jackass to her.”

She hung up immediately after saying that. Right as you opened the car door and stepped out, you saw someone with brown hair jogging out the front door to meet you and Mikasa at the car.

He stopped next to Mikasa at the trunk, and helped her pull out your suitcases and place them on the driveway.

You joined them after looking over the house again. It was nice, a blueish-gray exterior with white trim. Nothing seemed like it was about to rot away or fall down, so that was a plus in your book.

“He’s in the shower, he’ll be out in a minute.” That was the only part of their conversation you heard before the brown-haired boy turned to you and gave you a small smile.

Mikasa ended up introducing the two of you, seeing as you didn’t want to initiate conversation and the guy in front of you gave her a side glance. “You should be able to do this yourself. Anyways, Y/n, this is Eren. Eren, meet Y/n.”

Eren gave a curt nod. “Nice to meet you. Uhm, do you have any allergies? I have dinner going in the kitchen and want to make sure you’re not allergic to anything.”

You shook your head. “No, not allergic to anything.”

You spoke quietly again, and you internally scolded yourself for doing so. But then you took his appearance into account and immediately stopped yourself. He was tall, easily one of the tallest people you’ve ever met. He also seemed to carry a lot of muscle under his white long sleeve, and his brown hair was pulled back into a bun to reveal the small tattoo of something you couldn’t figure out behind his ear. His green eyes were piercing, and you couldn’t help but feel he was staring into your soul, learning all your secrets, when he looked at you.

His presence intimidated you, and you silently thanked Mikasa when she told him to start taking things into the house. Eren jokingly rolled his eyes, grabbing one of your suitcases by the handle and wheeling it inside.

“Sorry, he can be a bit”—Mikasa made a motion with her hands, hoping the action conveyed what she was trying to say—“but I promise he’s better once you get to know him. For the most part, at least. Don’t worry, though, he knows you’re one of my best friends and wouldn’t dare pull what he pulls with other girls on you.”

She grabbed the larger suitcase and handed you the smaller one, closing the trunk and locking her car. She gently beckoned you to follow her into the house with a smile, and you followed her.

It was surprisingly put together inside. At least, for a house full of college students. There wasn’t any dirty clothing or dishes lying around, and everything seemed to have a place. It was a bit crowded, but that was likely because of the boxes sitting in the corners.

Mikasa led you to a staircase, where the two of you struggled momentarily to wheel your luggage up before realizing you could pick it up and carry it.

You walked down the hallway to the last door on the right. Mikasa opened it to reveal the sparse room, only being occupied by a bed without sheets.

“This is your room.” Mikasa stood in the center of the room and held her hands out as if what she was showing you was a grand presentation. “It’s a little dirty, but it’s mostly just dust. Eren should almost be done with dinner, so we’ll start putting everything away afterwards, yeah?”

You nodded, reaching behind you to bring in your other two suitcases. You set them in the corner, along with the backpack you had brought with you.

You could hear the shower going; it sounded like it was on the other side of the wall. Mikasa noticed you looking at one of the doors to your right and said, “Oh, that’s just Armin. He’s showering right now. There’s three bathrooms, one downstairs and two up here. The bathrooms up here are shared with the rooms on either side of them, so you’ll be sharing one with him, if that’s alright.”

The name she had said went unheard as you nodded, opening the other door to reveal a small closet with a dresser already inside.

You followed Mikasa out of your room when you closed the closet door for a quick tour of the house.

All the bedrooms were upstairs, you didn’t pay much attention to who they belonged to, but you could tell which one was Mikasa’s—the one across from you, decorated with a Twilight poster and some bookshelves, different knickknacks and book collections on each one. One of her walls was painted black, and had different pieces of paper taped and tacked to it. You spotted a picture of the two of you on her desk, and smiled at the memory associated with it.

She didn’t show you the inside of the other two rooms, saying that her roommates could decide if they wanted you to see them or not.

Downstairs, the dining room and living room were combined, two couches sitting crammed together to make space for the unusually large dining table—rectangular with six seats at it. Half of the table was occupied with unopened mail and other papers, possibly forgotten projects from earlier years, and the other was was completely clean.

It was a rather open house plan. You were able to see into the kitchen from the living room, and saw Eren moving a pot around and grabbing bowls from a cupboard. You followed Mikasa again, and opened the door in the kitchen she stopped in front of to see what was inside.

“This is the pantry. The washer and dryer are also in there, along with, like, other cleaning supplies and things we don’t really use. And then the other bathroom is in the living room,” Mikasa explained.

“Mika,” Eren started, sprinkling some kind of seasoning over the food he had made, “dinner’s almost ready. Go tell Armin.”

Mikasa gave him a thumbs up, telling you something you didn’t quite hear before going upstairs as Eren pulled out a spoon and started scooping dinner into bowls.

You had heard the name, and were trying to figure out where else you knew it from. Obviously Mikasa had mentioned this Armin multiple times in the past, but you swear you knew it from somewhere else . . .

Eren put the big plastic spoon he had been using back into the pot. He lifted a bowl and offered it to you. “It’s fideo. Mikasa said you liked it, so I figured I’d find a recipe and make it for dinner.”

He had pronounced it wrong, but knowing that he had tried to do something to welcome you left a feeling in you that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

You took the bowl, bowing your head slightly to thank him and set it at the table.

You turned back towards him. “Do you need help with anything?”

Eren shrugged. “Not really. I mean, if you want to grab drinks you can, but we usually just grab our own.”

You needed something to do—you would feel awkward if you were the only one at the table—so you walked into the pantry and looked around for a moment. You saw a few packs of soda on the floor—all packages of store brand root beer—and bent down to pick up four cans from the only open box.

You walked out and set them down at the table, seeing that Eren had already set the rest of the bowls in their places and was sitting down.

You sat as well, soon being joined by Mikasa. “He’ll be down in a minute. He’s doing his hair.”

You saw Eren jokingly roll his eyes and mumble something that made Mikasa laugh from next to you. You let out a quiet, nervous breath of air in a sad attempt to laugh at whatever joke they shared.

Soon after the three of you started eating, you were joined by a fourth person that sat across from you. You glanced up when you noticed him, noting the familiar blond hair and glasses.

“Armin.” You’re not sure why you’re surprised, you really should have put together that the blond boy in your Cultural Arts class was the same blond boy Mikasa spoke about. Despite that, you didn’t put together until that moment that they were the same person.

Armin glanced up from his phone, which he immediately turned off and put the the side face down. He took the sight of you in with intent, looking over your gestures as if he was trying to commit them to memory.

His blond hair was still damp, sitting on his head flatter than it had been earlier. His skin seemed to be glowing, and the white T-shirt he was wearing hugged his torso and arms in all the right places.

“Y/n.” He said your name in the same tone you had said his, with genuine surprise and wonder. It might have been your imagination, but you think you saw him sit just a little straighter. “So you’re our new roommate?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I guess this’ll make our project super easy.” You smiled at him, and he immediately returned it with his own, one so bright it would have lit up the world if everything went out.

“Oh, so you two already know each other?” Mikasa asked. She wasn’t oblivious to the way Armin straightened his posture after seeing you, the way your eyes unknowingly lit up after realizing he was your third roommate.

She suddenly felt an abrupt protectiveness over you. Mikasa has only ever seen you seem so interested in someone from the very start once, and that didn’t end well. Despite knowing that Armin was a nice guy, that if you two theoretically entered a relationship he wouldn’t hurt you on purpose (even if he ever did hurt you Mikasa knows he would apologize as soon as possible with the most personal apology you would ever see), the thought still made her uneasy.

She trusted your judgment, of course, and in that hypothetical situation where you and him were dating she trusted that Armin would be the best boyfriend you could have, but she knew your past. She knew your habits and little quirks. She knew how you acted and was worried that if anything grew between the two of you, you would just run from your feelings.

She just didn’t want you to get hurt again.

“Yeah,” you said. “We have the same Cultural Arts class. We’re partners for our project.”

“What’s the project?” Eren asked. He was usually unknowing to emotions the people around him felt, but any idiot could see the spark between you and his best friend. He didn’t know you as well as he knew Armin, but you shared the tell-tale signs of interest through the way you were sitting.

He, for one, was rather excited for what might conspire between you and Armin. Since his best friend’s previous girlfriend broke off the relationship, Armin hadn’t searched for anything romantic, saying things like, No one likes me anyways, why would I look for someone that’ll half-ass our relationship?

“Just to learn about each other, really,” Armin said. “We’re supposed to learn about our partners customs and traditions.”

Mikasa hummed, half-way through chewing a spoonful of soup. When she swallowed, she motioned to you and said, “You should tell him about your Quinceañera.”

“What’s a Quinceañera?” Eren asked.

“It’s kind of like a sweet sixteen,” you said. “Kind of. More like a wedding, really, at least that’s what a lot of people describe it as. It’s just a birthday party Hispanic girls celebrate when they turn fifteen to commemorate becoming a woman.”

“There’s so much symbolism behind everything,” Mikasa said, knowing you wouldn’t elaborate further unless asked the right questions. She knew for a fact that Armin and Eren didn’t know the right questions, so she ended it by telling Armin, “Her sister’s having one later this year, so be sure to ask her about it after she comes back from the trip.”

Armin nodded toward Mikasa, silently thanking her for the continuation of conversation. “Definitely. You have a sister?” he asked you.

You nodded. “Rosalina,” you said. “She gathered her court of honor earlier this year and asked her boyfriend to be her main chambelan.”

Armin had not a clue what any of the words you were saying meant, but he knew that he would love learning about the traditions you celebrated.

He was suddenly more excited for this project than he had been.

Ngl this is me writing for the fun of it. This is basically a shameless self insert so…

If you want to join the tag list for this story just leave a comment or DM me!

next part >>

Tag List: @kellzyy @slishyrats

#izzy’s imagines ❀#attack on titan x reader #armin attack on titan #armin aot #armin x reader #armin x y/n #snk armin #armin arlert x reader #armin fluff #armin arlert #armin x you #armin x mexican reader #aot fandom #aot #attack on titan #attack on titan x you #aot fanfiction #aot x reader

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jilyarchive · 11 months

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MAY AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT: OHMYGODSHESINSANE

Q: Where can we find you and your stories?

A: @ohmygodshesinsane, AO3, FF.NET

Q: How would you describe your writing style?

A: Ooh, this is hard! I love writing a bit of banter but it’s the psyche underneath that I’m really drawn to, and the characters – I think of myself as writing about characters or relationships more than scenarios or plots. I like to hone in on the little moments rather than the big showstoppers. I’d rather write about the aftermath of a battle than the heat of it, and I love the mornings-after, the space between a confrontation and a revelation, and the first shared laugh rather than the first kiss. Maybe that’s the perfectionist in me coming out – I get nervous writing those big events, I get worried I’ll muck it up. And I love a party scene too. There’s something about the chaos that brings the important things into focus.

Q: How do you come up with ideas for your writing?

A: Honestly, other books and fics! I’ll read a romance novel and think – now, what if Lily and James had a conversation like that? Oh, and this could happen – and maybe Sirius did that bit – and instead of x, a and c happen. My real life does inspire a lot of it too. If I need to work through something, I’ll pull it to pieces in a fic. Or someone will tell me a story and I’ll think, ‘oh my god, I need to write something like that’. And it becomes something completely new by the time the writing’s done. I love prompts, too, I can’t get enough of them.

Q: When and why did you begin writing fanfiction?

A: I wrote my first fanfiction when I was around seven years old in a literacy lesson, and it was maybe three paragraphs based on The Lion King 2. Towards the end of 2010 I started writing HP fanfiction and in 2012 I started writing marauders and Jily fanfiction. I loved reading but I had a short attention span – I’d always start wondering, ‘but what if this happened? What if so-and-so did this instead?’, and I’d go scribble my ideas down. I could never watch movies all the way through because I’d run off to go play-act my own version of the story. And so it really just blossomed from that. I’ve spent over half my life writing fanfiction and I can’t imagine doing anything else with my free time.

Q: What’s one thing you’d tell someone who is considering reading one of your fics?

A: Thank you so much! It’s all homemade and written with love.

Q: What are some of your favorite Jily tropes?

A: I love a slow burn, if that counts. Otherwise probably Enemies-to-Friends-to-Lovers, Anguished Declarations of Love, and Forced Proximity in any way, shape or form. I love it when there’s a little angst mixed in there. And of course Quidditch Player/Professional Athlete!James x Journalist!Lily. It’s one of my absolute favourite AUs.

Q: What do you like most about the Jily fandom?

A: The Jily fandom is so friendly and welcoming! Never before have I felt so much like part of a community. People are so great about reading and commenting and sharing the love, and I love all the events we have. It’s very active and close-knit. It just has this truly lovely atmosphere.

Q: Pick a favourite Marauders era character.

A: Goodness, I have to go with Lily! She’s probably my all-time favourite to write, because I feel there’s just the right mix of canon information about her and things that are only hinted at that can be fleshed out. I could read character studies of her all day.

Q: Self-promo time! List the fics that you are most proud of writing.

creature comfort – This fic has been with me through thick and thin since I first started writing it in 2017 (!!) and it’s been so fundamental to me re-engaging in fandom and improving my writing skills. It’s been quite the undertaking to write but I love carving out the world word-by-word, and it’s been such a crucial tool for me to build the world of HP as I see it and to get a sense of James and Lily and the rest of the gang’s characters.

baby it’s cold outside – My first (proper) smut fic which I spent ages worrying over and crafting. I love how it came together in the end. It’s essentially an AU with Quidditch Player! James, Journalist! Lily Evans, and only one room left… with just one bed.

Mercy – This is a more recent one, and a fic written almost entirely by accident – I intended for it to come in at about 300 words and it wound up nearing 3000. With every line I wrote I felt I was discovering something new about the story and about the characters, especially Lily. The process of writing it was really special, and it took me on a bit of a journey. It was difficult but enjoyable. As for the story itself, it’s a Jily Lives! AU from Lily’s perspective – a bit angsty.

Q: Fic rec time! Could you recommend a few of your favourite Jily fics?

The Life and Times by Jewels5 – This was the first Jily fic I followed along with update-by-update and it was what really cemented my shipping of these two. I reread it every year or so and find another layer to it that completely unravels my heart.

We Have Buried the Putrid Corpse of Liberty by @mabeltothknows – I am very late on reading this but I am loving every chapter. I can’t help but adore anything Jily and Married at First Sight and this fic combines them perfectly. It has so much heart and humour and the multimedia aspects bring it to the next level.

i let you into the garden of my loneliness by @theesteemedladydebourgh – The prose is so beautiful and every emotion is so tangible in this one-shot, and it really does have my entire heart. It’s truly a masterpiece and well worth the read.

Thank you @ohmygodshesinsane for chatting about your fics with us! ❤️

#may author spotlight #author spotlight #<3333 #thank you!

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shig-a-shig-ah · 2 years

Note

you got any long shiggy fic recs on ao3?🛐

Oh, do I ever, anon. Long fics are my SHIT.

GRIEFING by rotpeach

A classic. I’m pretty sure this is the original Yandere!Shig fic and is by far the most popular one for him on AO3. Good shit, but reader is underage and the fic hasn’t updated in like two years, so be warned.

[[ save scum ]] by @feral-creep

Can’t recommend it enough! My favorite ongoing fic! Chapter 22 lives rent free in my head every day, and there are times I am physically angered that I did not write some of this stuff! I think I’ve described it before as 'not your mother’s yandere fic’ and I mean it because it is not for the faint heart (srsly: mind the tags), and has a lot of really unique stuff going on including a possibly impending Shigadabi x reader polycule.

A Taste of Your Own Venom by @nonobadcat.

Debately yandere because as Cat says, you can't rape the willing. But it’s got good creep!Shig vibes, and is a really fun, steamy story. On hiatus rn but ended off at a pretty satisfying spot so it doesn't read as super incomplete or anything.

Gamer Boi by girrsah

Really cute slow burn friends-to-lovers sort of thing. (Although don't take the lovers part literally, because there's no smut and I don't think there will be.) But it really is fucking adorable. Also incomplete, but has been updating, albeit slowly.

Look Upon the Light by @palbabor-writes

Really great friends to lovers, and Pal has some of the best Shigaraki characterization, imo. Cannot overstate how much this fic influenced me when I was first getting started writing him because she just really nails our boy. And, it's finished!

Kryptonite Divine by hiddenflowers

A little slow to update, but actively being written and super fucking cute. Starts with Shigaraki posing as a sex worker to get close to you, which is just a galaxy brained concept I will never get over.

Warm Healer by sanchoyo

Fluffy slow burn. Perhaps a little cuter/cheesier than I usually lean as far as my taste in fics, but sometimes that just hits the spot, ya know? And, it's finished with an also complete long-ass sequel fic, so it's very bingeable.

Coin Toss by @firein-thesky

The opposite of warm fluffy vibes. The only fic to ever make me cry. Is really good, but I do not recommend it if you're not down to be devastated. Also complete.

Play Nice by @sugoi-and-spice

Really good scummy Shig that I am still impatiently waiting to have time to catch up on. This one's an OC instead of a reader insert, but it's pretty impeccably written and the smut is SO hot, oh my lord. It did things to me.

Also going to just shamelessly plug my own three long fics: the ongoing Addicted to Bad Ideas, and the completed ones, Paper Skin and Offering.

#hopefully there's some new stuff in there for ya anon #happy reading :D #shigaraki fic recs #ghuleh.answers #ghuleh.reads

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normally-o-a-k · 1 year

Text

Hey look a fanfiction

Scam/Jodie

Friends to lovers, multi chapter, no beta we die like Glenn, idk what to tag this I’ve never written fic before lmao, spoilers kinda? Ron and Glenn are in this chapter for a teeny bit :)

Chap 5/?

Rating: it’s still fairly Teen rated

Previous chapter:

After what felt like an eternity, Jodie breaks the kiss, panting softly, his face redder then Scam had ever seen it “I’m no coward…” with one hand tangled in Scam’s hair and the other gripping the back of his suit jacket, he stays fairly still trying to keep himself from pulling him back in for another kiss.

Scam was straddling his lap, all four hands gripping either parts of Jodie’s shirt or his hips. He licks his lips “ooooh? I’m still not sure~ I think I’m going to need more proof~!”

“I didn’t flake on the dare…so it’s my turn right?” He didn’t want to keep kissing Scam just to get left behind later… but on the other hand… he really really did. Torn, Jodie pulls his hand from scams hair, covering Scam’s mouth instead. “Cut it out”

Scam sighs when it became clear Jodie wasn’t going to kiss him again “I have to say your commitment to winning is impressively single minded~” he had kind of hoped since things had escalated Jodie wouldn’t turn him down flat, but he just keeps getting taken by surprise. “Truth”

“Hypothetically….” He moves his hand from Scam’s mouth “If someone like me…. Was interested in someone like you… would the you in that situation continue to lead them on if the me in the situation asked you to stop?”

Scam smiles “Are you saying… that you are interested in me Jodie?~”

Jodie looks away “You’re the one who picked truth Scam, not me”

“The me in that very hypothetical situation would keep flirting~ Because he would have no intention of leading the you in that , once again very hypothetical, situation on.” He smiles wider, reaching up and tapping Jodie on the nose

Jodie scrunches his nose and makes eye contact again “Are you saying you’re genuinely flirting?”

“Ohhh? Trying to cheat and get two truths out of me?” He laughs

“Hey, it’s a follow up! I’m not cheating.” He blushes, both his hands settling on Scams hips, getting a bit bolder “I pick Truth”

“Hmm~ how long have you had a crush on me~? Was it love at first sight~?” His grin stretches most of the way across his face now. He leans in close to Jodie’s ear and whispers “I’ll know if you lie to me~”

Jodie turns redder than usual, turning his face away from Scam “I… I guess I lose”

It definitely hadn’t been love at first sight, especially considering Scam looked like Glenn when he’d first seen him, but rather a slow build up of attraction over the last year since the doodlers summoning. Even so, he wasn’t ready to just outright say it.

“What a shame!~ ” He laughs. “I suppose if you had asked me….I would have said ‘from the moment I became mostly myself again’! You were my hero that day you know~ and I never quite thanked you properly for it~” he reaches up , fingers tracing over Jodie’s jawline as he leans in, watching Jodie through half lidded eyes. “I have a few ideas~” one of his hands settles on Jodie’s thigh.

Jodie, to his credit, was a fairly experienced man. However he’d always been the one to pursue, not the other way around. No one had ever tried to seduce him before, and the more Scam did, the more he felt in over his head. Completely overwhelmed by the outright confession and the suggestion of something he’d really only considered in particularly good dreams, he bursts into flames.

Scam jumps back and off of him quickly, now standing a few feet from Jodie, he chuckles “Well~ that’s going to make things a bit difficult isn’t it?” Parts of his suit was now visibly singed but Jodie didn’t seem to be burning the couch so he was thankful for that at least.

“Shit! Sorry, I didn’t mean to- did I burn you?” His flames start dousing themselves and he quickly stands and reaches out for Scams hands.

He doesn’t resist, letting Jodie check his hands for burns “I told you I’m quick~”

Jodie nods “yeah I know I just…reacted…” he relaxes a bit now sure he didn’t hurt Scam. “Don’t take it the wrong way or anything… I just…” He didn’t know how to explain in a way that Scam wasn’t going to tease him about.

“Is that going to happen a lot?~ if so I ought to look into some flame resistant magic!” He grabs Jodie’s hand before he could pull it away and interlocks their fingers. “I guess you could say you’re a little too hot for me to handle as things are?~” he laughs.

“It’s just a little fast…” he rubs his thumb over the back of Scam’s hand, he looks down at their hands. “Is that a dealbreaker?”

Scam smiles “It could be completely off the table and it wouldn’t be a dealbreaker~!” He grabs Jodie’s face, turning it so he can look directly into his eyes, uncomfortably squishing his cheeks in the process. “Jodie~ clarify something for me hmmm? The suggestion of dealbreaker implies a deal, correct~? Are you saying you want to start something with me?” He felt absolutely giddy “be very very clear~”

“Do you… want to date?” Jodie blushes to the tips of his ears. “I think we’d be really great together…”

Scam nods enthusiastically “Yes! Absolutely~!” He let’s go of his face and wraps all four arms around him, pulling him into tight hug, resting his chin on Jodie’s head. He’d been a little worried about the height difference making things uncomfortable, but it wasn’t in the least.

Jodie smiles and relaxes into the hug, looping his arms around Scam , gripping the back of his jacket. His face pressed against Scam’s chest, this was nice, even with the slight scent of burnt fabric and axe body spray. He closes his eyes, letting himself enjoy the hug. After a moment or two Jodie breaks the silence “Kissing isn’t off the table… just so you know…”

“Ohhh? Is that an invitation~?” He laughs and loosens the hug, leaning down and kissing him.

It was different then their first kiss, no desperation or rush. Scam was taking his time, His just too long tongue exploring every inch of Jodie’s mouth, tracing his fangs and curling against his tongue. He wanted more of him, but until Jodie was ready he wasn’t going to push.

To say the kiss was good for Jodie would be an understatement, he practically melts into it, fingers gripping the back of Scam’s jacket tighter because he’s sure that he wasn’t going to be able to focus on standing upright for much longer.

Scam slowly breaks the kiss, biting too softly to draw blood at his bottom lip before pulling away and licking his lips. The purple of his cheeks now visibly more magenta then they’ve ever been.

Jodie’s heart was racing again, he hadn’t wanted the kiss to end. “I… wow…” he untangles himself from the hug, stumbling back a bit, “we should… get back to Hell… it’s getting late… and I should check in with everyone else…” if he didn’t get some distance between them he was honestly sure he might ignite again. He opens a portal to the infernal plane, stepping through.

Scam grins and follows him through, wondering what he should cash in his favor for.

Jodie felt a bit more stable once he was in a room that made sense again. He fixes his polo shirt and turns towards Scam. “I’m going to call Glenn in my office to check in on them, why don’t you head to bed… Maybe we can go somewhere tomorrow?” After an awkward pause he grabs Scam by the wrist pulling him down and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight” He let’s go and quickly shuts himself into his office, grabbing the phone off his desk and calling Glenn’s phone.

Glenn answers after a single ring, “Hey it’s Glenn, what’s up?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be undercover right now?” He rolls his eyes “You just said your name idiot.”

“Oh , yeah about that, our cover is pretty badly blown it’s like a whole thing actually, but don’t worry the kids are safe with Henry and Darryl… so…”

“Where are you then?” This sort of thing was exactly why he wanted to be on the field helping them directly.

“Oh me and Ron got separated from the pack when the second Giant showed up, we’re fine just camping in the woods for a bit to get our energy back up before meeting back up with everyone else. How’s things with Scam ? Has he fleeced you out of the monarchy yet?“ Glenn laughs.

“No it’s… I have things under control” he definitely did not. “Ron’s with you? Can I talk to him?” He wanted to tell someone… but telling Glenn seemed like it was probably more trouble then it was worth.

“Uh yeah sure—“ he hands the phone over pretty quickly.

“Hi it’s Ron who’s this?”

“It’s Jodie…”

“Oh yeah, that makes sense.”

“Ron can I tell you something?”

“You can tell me lots of things. I know cause you usually do whenever you call and it takes a while.”

“Thanks… I uh think I’m in a bit over my head”

“What you have to do for that is get a stool…Samantha got me one because I couldn’t reach the bowls and it helped a lot”

“I mean with Scam Actually”

“Yeah he is pretty tall huh…”

“No I mean… I made out with him twice and-“

“Like as friends? that’s usually a Darryl thing…”

“No I mean I’m dating him now and I’m excited? But I also think I’m going to screw it up—“

“Oh congratulations! I was worried about the same thing when I was dating Samantha. It’s okay though you just have to be yourself, but also be sexy so they can’t look away. But then Samantha only has two eyes and Scam’s got that extra one that might actually be for looking away? Was it looking at you when you guys kissed?”

“I… thanks Ron…I’ll remember to be myself”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN KISSED?” Glenn grabs the phone, laughing hysterically “Fuck seriously? It’s been a day! Holy shit, did he trick you into it? You know we’ve got that failsafe still right?”

“He didn’t trick me, we actually had a pretty good time and…I like him Glenn so stop fucking laughing” he frowns and covers his face with both his hands, phone sitting on the desk infront of him on speaker.

“Shit sorry man, look it’s fine I get it, I found out this kinda thing existed after that venom movie, you know? It’s not my thing but yanno, No judgment here…really it’s more his personality” Glenn stops laughing “You really locked lips with that guy though huh… and you like him? Shit…”

“I asked him to date me…”

“Jeez… look, if you get off on that who am I to tell you not to… just be careful alright? He’s like the embodiment of screwing people over…”

“He’s… he’s not that bad Glenn, he just wants to have fun…”

“Hey, I mean it… just be careful…”

“Don’t tell Nicky yet…”

“Of course not man, I’m not an idiot”

“Goodnight Glenn… thanks”

“Yeah no problem, have a Goodnight”

He hangs up and heads down the hall to bed.

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #dndads spoilers #dnd dads #dndads s2 #scam actually #scam likely #dnddads #dndads fanfic #dndads season 2 #dungeons and daddies fan fiction #dungeons & daddies #jodie x scam #jodie/scam #scam x jodie #scam/jodie #scamster #scodie #dndads tax evasion

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muskywolfthings · 1 year

Text

Hello hello! Hope you guys are doing well :3 I’ve made it my new mission to be more active on here, even besides posting stories- because Tumblr has always brought me a lot of joy, with the people, and writers, and artists, and readers, and even just lurking anons lol. Tumblr used to be my happy place, and I really need more of that in my life as of late.

I’m in the process of moving some fics over to Archive, and I’ve been writing more recently- just personal things, nothing crazy, but Sterek has really gotten its grip back into me- tho I’m also still knee deep in Geraskier content after becoming obsessed with The Witcher lol- and I’m optimistic about getting back into writing for you guys as well! Slowly, but surely. No more deadlines, no more promises, no more having grand expectations of myself to write and be here as much as I used to- cuz I don’t think I’ll ever be able to be as devoted to my accounts as I once was. But I can surely get close to feel myself again 😁❤️‍🔥

I started Kinkmas in 2020, burned out fast, and then took a test hiatus lol- but I loved the fics I produced for the first few days, so I think I’m gonna continue Kinkmas this year. /Slowly. I’ll upload my fics I’ve written so far to a Kinkmas collection on AO3, and then continue from there- tho I may only do like a 25 days of Kinkmas type thing, and pick and choose kinks from the list for those days? Idk, sort of bending the rules a bit, and I’ll probably extend way past December to fill them all- but I genuinely do want to complete a Kinkmas, since I never participated before when I was just putting things out regularly anyways. So there’s that lol

Idk, I’m feeling better about certain things, worse about others, but being in this space on tumblr makes me feel at home. Writing for myself, and for you guys makes me happy in a way I can’t express. And I’m committed to making more time for it. If not for anyone else, than for myself

I was never one for a TON of interaction, I always just sort of wrote stories, filled prompts, and kept it pushing. But I would love to hear more from you guys as I attempt to get back into the slow swing of things! Send me asks, lemme know how you are- if you’re enjoying fics, etc. just chat me up sometime, I’d love to hear from any and all of you :3

I will also attempt to be more active on my AO3 going forward, answering comments and the like, since I always forget those are a thing.

But yeah! Long winded post to say in here, I’m listening, I’m writing, and trying to integrate myself back into this space that’s made me so happy for so many years. I hope you’re all doing well, and yeah! I’m usually around for messages, or asks, submissions. The works.

Love all you guys so much ❤️‍🔥

~Musky 🌚

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narutobad · 2 years

Note

Black period fic rec list?….. 🌝👀

hi anon, i'm so sorry it took me so long :( here you go, under the cut

i’m tagging the authors’ tumblrs so you can follow them too; if you happen to be the author of any of these fics, please know you’re important and deeply appreciated. thank you so much for your work!

multi-chapter

close to home by dances.with.sunflowers

Something in his eyes told her, it was always you.

// this is my absolute favorite get-together ss fic, i don’t see it on rec lists very often and it’s such a shame because it’s so great?? the most realistic one i’ve read so far. if op wants to post those bonus chaps 10 years from now i won’t be mad! //

equilibrium by @psalloacappella

We bear the whispers of stories we didn't write, and the burden of becoming legends we never desired. All we do is keep chasing one another in circles, endlessly wanting.

Everything has changed; nothing has. Team Seven navigates life after war.

// the fics in this series go beyond sasuke and sakura’s relationship, they explore the complicated dynamics and push and pull within so many others, and do such a great job of depicting every gray area. so unique. love it so much. about sasusaku especifically, i adore sasuke’s devotion to sakura in each and every fic they’ve written. do check those out! //

unspoken by silentvoicescryingout

Years had passed between Uchiha Sasuke and Haruno Sakura. It took them time to re-learn each others' silent language

// this fic is full of miscommunication and angst and it’s so good, so incredibly well written //

in times of peace by @southsidestory

The war is over, and like Konoha, Team 7 has rebuilt itself from the ground up. Everything has changed, but Sasuke and Sakura remain much the same. Eleven years, she thinks, is a long time to be in love.

// ok this author is put on rec lists all the time as she should and for good reason!! i love her characterization of both characters, they’re so messy and angsty and so GOOD //

satoru by pudgypanda.

A series of vignettes set chronologically over the course of the years Sasuke and Sakura spend traveling together - and a story of how two hurt people reaching for each other can grow back together again.

the garden by @catflorist

Sasuke left Konoha for a cottage in the woods. One day, Sakura arrives injured at his doorstep. They recall their past and think about what comes next.

Slow burn, post-canon about how Sasuke and Sakura grew close again.

// one of my fave ss authors, appreciate how they become friends again before anything romantic happens, and fics addressing the injustices in konoha’s system are so important to me!! plus they garden together!!! //

heat by @lady-otori [on-going]

Sasuke’s temperature has always run higher than most, and Sakura has always, always burned for him. Moments of heat, spent together in the time after his return.

// the ust is so thiiiiick, definitely one of the hottest ss fics i’ve ever read //

i follow rivers by @diwatafolk

Sasuke and Sakura throughout the Blank Period. Also, in this universe, they own cats.

// love this author. they’re written with so much care and tenderness //

one-shots

(we bloom during) Hanami by sparklyfaerie

He wants her to say it first; he wants her to take the burden from him and put voice to what’s growing between them. It’s the only way, he knows, that he won’t feel like he’s being selfish and pressuring her into anything.

tender by pain_somnia

He ignored freckled shoulders and winsome smiles meant just for him. He ignored creamy thighs and slender fingers that pinched at the back of his shirt. Those tender feelings weren’t meant for him to explore.

// i adore this author’s writing. their blank period trilogy of sorts is so fluffly and achingly sweet. finally and nightly visit //

open my chest and colour my spine by whirpoools

two weeks by @kuriquinn

Why do you stay with me?” she asks quietly, tentatively. She's never asked anything this intimate before.

He clears his throat, letting the question hang in the air. Thinking of what to say to that. If he could ever put it into words and say those out loud. He thumbs the curve of her waist. “Why do you keep me?” he asks. He feels her shift to burrow her head deeper on the crux of his throat. “There’s no one else,” she answers. He exhales. “There’s nowhere else,” he answers.

Two weeks from now, Sasuke Uchiha will fall in love for the first time in his eighteen years.

// legendary author. one of my favorite sakura / sasuke characterizations out there. i think miso soup everyday also fills this prompt, do check it out! //

the burden of unknowing by @anthropologicalhands

Unexpectedly, Sakura joins Sasuke on his travels. There is something weighing on her. He will wait until she's ready to tell him.

// sakura finding out about the uchiha massacre is a favorite of mine. she deserves to know, it’s so satisfying to see her allowed to get angry. and well, if it’s written by this author it’s guaranteed to be good 🥰 check out their other stuff!! //

pockets by miyachondria.

They've been beginning for quite some time.

interim by stannide

Sasuke lives with Sakura in the weeks after the war.

#fic rec #i realize i didn't have to go this hard with this list but well #🤷🏻‍♀️#DO let me know if any of you actually read these and if you enjoyed them bc i feel like i'm answering to the void every time y'all ask for #recs #like FOLLOW UP PLEASE!!

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clefairymuke · 2 years

Text

eloquent | one

pairings: levi x reader | eren x reader (fwb)

word count: 4799

tw: [chapter]: swearing, alcohol consumption, references to marking (hickeys), drunk sex

[fic]: age gap, professor/student pairing, smut, hate sex, angry sex, casual sex, i’ll add more as i go

themes: modern au, college (grad school) au, enemies to lovers, slow burn (smut is immediate but feelings aren’t), professor levi, authority kink, extremely smutty, i should be ashamed, teasing & edging, pining so hard it's embarrassing, dom levi/sub reader

note from the author: sorry i disappeared i’ve literally written so much of this fic but i had really bad block for the beginning but inspiration struck today i hope you like it

Tick. Tick. Tick.

You recline your head against the cold black leather of the sofa, eyes squinting up at the analog clock on the wall above you. 11:06. You glance at your phone once more for good measure, the reminder banner still bright and undismissed.

September 7, 2021 Advising Dr. Ackerman - Johnson Building R 19 10:30 A.M.

Looking at the great dark oak door across from you sends ice through your veins and unease to your stomach. The receptionist — a rather unkind woman with frizzy blonde hair who wore a nametag that read “Cheryl” on her painfully lime green blouse — has assured you, regardless of her level of sarcasm, that Dr. Ackerman had not forgotten you, and was simply a very busy man. Forty minutes late, though? You ask yourself, your finger twirling idly in the front of your hair. You sigh. Published author or not, he would at least shoot me an E-mail. You glance at Cheryl again and straighten your back, pointing a fake grin her way as her eyes pry at you from behind her thick, round glasses.

“I’m sure he’s wrapping it up,” she says, her nasally voice shrill in your ears. “Dr. Ackerman entertains a lot of visitors. He’ll get to you when he gets to you.”

You nod back at her, turning your head away before she can see the look of annoyance on your face. You see the manilla folder on the sofa next to you, a bit too thick to close completely. It was your last years’ work — scattered scenes, chapters, and ideas for your latest project. It was your only project, really, since the sins of your past will likely lie dormant in your Google Drive to never be seen again. This one, however, is your blood, sweat, and tears. You can’t bear to think too deeply about the words on the pages right now. You’re patiently waiting at the gate of the lion’s den.

Your eyes have wandered the walls twice by now, but they’re drawn back to the neatly arranged frames that surround the oak door. Pulitzer Prize in Fiction. Dr. Ackerman in the most expensive suit you’ve ever seen shaking hands with Harper Lee. Edgar Award for Best Novel. Doctorate’s degree in English. Dr. Ackerman, no older than 24, holding a copy of his novel Serpentine on the set of Good Morning America. He’s a fucking legend.

As if that isn’t intimidating enough, he has a reputation. He tends to lose his temper and can be a rather unconstructive critic when presented with the works of others. He trended on Twitter last year when a life-long fan of L. K. Ackerman and indie author sent him their debut novel and asked for his critiques — he tweeted pictures of the pages he disliked most with insulting annotations in the margins, captioned, “Abysmal. Consider a less difficult career.” He proceeded to block most everyone who sent him backlash, including his own social media manager and the First Lady of the United States of America.

And the cherry atop it all, the thing that’s been crawling underneath your skin and breathing down your neck since you first received your advisor assignment: the signed copies of each of Dr. Ackerman’s novels on the tip-top of your bookshelf, alongside the photo of you and your favorite author, L. K. Ackerman, at a signing for his latest book, and a special limited edition Serpentine bookmark with a note on the back:

thank you for your support.

if you really dream about writing, never let anything get in your way.

levi

Will he recognize you? That’s a tough one. Sure, you’ve been to multiple signings and have “met” him many times. Still, you doubt people like him remember the faces of people like you. The crowds likely got very annoying, and he probably said the same script and wrote the same note to you as he did every other person in line. At least, you hope so. Dr. Ackerman thinking you’re obsessed with him wouldn’t be very helpful to your teacher-student relationship. You look up to him a great deal, and his books are easily your favorite stories you’ve ever read, but you aren’t obsessed with the author himself. If he does unfortunately recognize you, you hope he’ll understand that. You wince a bit at the thought of him laughing in your face.

The door handle rattles at 11:18. Dr. Ackerman strolls out, a wrinkle-free brown blazer draped neatly over his arm and his pinstripe tie hanging fashionably loose atop a grey button-down shirt. The woman who follows behind him, however, looks rather disheveled; her blonde hair is all but falling out of what looks like it used to be a neatly-braided bun, and little black mascara stains shine just below her lash line. Her tight-fitting blouse has a button blown open right at her chest, which she nonchalantly tries to cover with her cardigan. Your mouth threatens to drop open as she walks by and your eyes catch a deep purple hickey on her left breast.

This was the meeting that pushed nearly an hour over? You feel your eyebrows pinch together in anger before she’s out the door and you force them to relax again. Fuck it. You think, picking up the file folder next to you. No point in arguing. You lift your eyes to look at Dr. Ackerman again, watching as he takes long strides to the desk where Cheryl, who is training to work the reception desk in Hell, sits and paints her nails. “Tell me I’m done for the day, Cheryl,” he says, his tone both bored and irritated. You want to scoff, but you decide against it. He wasn’t this inconsiderate when it was the fans that line his pockets.

“Sorry, boss, that little bird over there is waiting on you,” she sighs, rolling her eyes and pointing your way. Your gaze moves from her stubby finger to Dr. Ackerman’s disappointed face. He looks at you, his eyes shooting from your head to your feet, and then back to your eyes again. He cocks his head to the side just slightly, jutting out his chin and accentuating the sharpness of his jaw. You feel like all but your terribly dry mouth has turned to jello.

“Oh?” he questions, straightening and taking a step toward you. “What do you need?” The question sounds almost rude, as if he’s rushing you out the door. You try not to take it personally. You clear your throat.

“I had an advising appointment scheduled with you for 10:30 A.M., Dr. Ackerman. Sorry if it’s any inconvenience,” you tell him, ignoring the fact that he’s wasted an hour of your day already. Whatever satisfaction you might get from chewing him out isn’t worth a bad first impression.

“Am I supposed to already know your name or something?” he asks. You furrow your brow, your face contorting in anxiety. So, he does recognize you. This just became the worst day of your life.

You chuckle nervously, gripping the manilla folder a little tighter than you should. “I was actually really hoping you wouldn’t recognize me. Um, I —” you break off, laughing again. “I’ve been to each of your book signings. But I’m not a fangirl or anything, I promise. I didn’t expect you to remember my name, don’t worry about it.” You wish there was some way to just swallow every word you just said back inside of you. Dr. Ackerman now looks uncomfortable, and Lilith, mother of all monsters, also known as Cheryl, is giggling not-so-silently into her hands.

He raises one eyebrow at you, and then holds out his hand to shake yours. “I just meant you neglected to introduce yourself. If you’re always this nervous, I think a Xanax prescription would be very helpful. Your name?” He asks dryly.

You take his hand and tell him your name, trying to shake off the pure mortification you’re feeling. “I’m sorry, I just admire your work and I’ve met you a few times as a result. I was worried I’d look like a crazy superfan,” you tell him, the little voice in your head screaming at you to stop talking.

He chuckles and places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you to his office. “My first piece of advice for you is to work on your people skills. You must be awful at networking.” His bluntness shocks you, but you just push the anger away and focus your attention on the room in front of you. Despite the unfortunate events that took place in this office for at least the past hour, it’s utterly spotless. A great mahogany desk sits at the center of the room in front of a tall, black-framed window that sat overviewing Lake Mustang, the unusually large pond that adorns the west side of campus. It’s a beautiful view, and you can tell by the reading nook nestled in the corner that he enjoys it often. Two large bookshelves sit on each of the walls to your sides, brimming with pristinely cared-for hardcover books, old and new. A floral-patterned armchair sits facing his desk, and he motions for you to sit in it with long, slender fingers.

The romance author in you sees a student who desperately wants an “A” and the dark-academia-esque English professor with dark eyes and slender fingers who could give her extra credit, if. . .

As much as you may see where the romance author in you is coming from, now is not the time. You try to shake the thoughts free from your skull. Guesses at where Dr. Ackerman laid out the blonde from the lobby poke at the very back of your brain — he probably bent her over his desk (and over his lap), or sat in his big leather chair while she climbed on top. A thought crosses your mind about the versatility of an office space, and you tuck an idea for a love scene away in your mental filing cabinet.

He sits in his desk chair across from you, holding his hand out for the manila folder you’re digging your nude-painted fingernails into. You suck in a cold breath through your teeth. You hand it to him, loosening your iron grip and trying as hard as you can to shake the nervousness that overwhelms you. You can’t help but assume he’s going to hate it. When the rough yellow paper leaves your palm, it feels like your heart is trying to burst from your chest and go with it.

You put your hand to your mouth and clear your throat, watching carefully as he bends the scarcely attached clasp and pulls the typed papers from the safety of the folder. “The first page is a synopsis of the plot and a table of contents. You’ll see a key for the colored tabs. First are the scenes and excerpts that I feel are my most sound work. I thought that would be a good starting ground.” You search his ash-colored eyes for any signs of opinion, studying his face. He looks very young for his age, his jaw sharp and his skin soft and clear. His eyes are stormy. You don’t think you’ve ever seen eyes so truly grey, nor ones with such intensity. If looks could kill, they would come from this man, you think. Still, his face is charming. Even pushing 40, he’s incredibly handsome.

The sound of the papers thudding against the desk pulls your thoughts back to the present. “I don’t care to read all of this shit when I have the author in front of me. I prefer organic responses anyway,” he states, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet on the desk. “Is this the piece you sent in an excerpt of? I remember your application.”

You freeze, biting at the inside of your lip before opening your mouth to speak again. You remembered your submission; you hadn’t yet titled it, but you called it “The Bane of My Existence” in writing workshops and conversations with your friends. The title had nothing to do with the plot, only your honest feelings about the grueling slowburn that laid claim over three entire years of your life. “Uh, no, sir, I unfortunately abandoned that project a while ago. But this one is much more —”

He cuts you off with a laugh, and you can tell by the tone that it’s at your expense. You shrink. “I’m sorry, I guess we’ll have to reschedule. Pull that project back out and bring me some good pages. I chose you for that piece. I’ll be the one to let you know if you should abandon it,” he tells you, an authoritative edge in his voice. Before you can even register that he’s kicking you out, Dr. Ackerman is up and opening the door, motioning you out with his arm.

Autopilot overpowers the shock that's moving through your limbs to grab your folder and walk out the door, saving at least a little bit of face on what’s lining up to be your most mortifying experience yet. You don’t tell him goodbye, since the tears pushing behind your eyeballs would surely break free if you did; still, you feel his eyes trained on your back as you pass him. “It was nice to meet you,” he tells you insincerely. “Come back at the same time on Thursday with something I want to read.”

You squeak out, “Yes, sir,” as you pass Cheryl at her desk. You try not to look at her, afraid that she’ll see the tear that’s now traveling down your cheekbone, but the horrible sound as she sucks her teeth and snickers beneath her breath confirms your fears. You silently hope that the devil is ready for her to transfer to his front desk very soon.

The automatic door opens out to campus, and the sunlight feels like pure relief on your face. For a moment, you consider dropping out and heading home — Zeke might be upset to have to find a new roommate, but at least you’d never have to face Dr. Ackerman again. Your friends would be supportive. You could go to cosmetology school, or write for your hometown newspaper.

You need to call someone before you actually start packing your things and booking a flight. You pull out your phone as you walk down the cobblestone path, dodging incoming grad students on your trek to the parking lot. Leaves blow over your boots every few moments, the breeze slipping through the holes of your knit sweater. Autumn is beginning to settle in. You scroll through your recent call log. Mom (3), Zeke, Eren, Mom (2), Zeke (4), Tinder Jean, and, finally, Mom (2). You sigh. Your social life needs work.

In your defense, your mother is an excellent conversationalist, and your roommate and his little brother should definitely count as friends. Tinder Jean was a mistake, though, and you can’t defend yourself for that. You frown before hitting the FaceTime button next to Zeke’s name. Your eyes fall on the front of your car, only a few feet away. You pick up the pace and grab the driver’s door handle, throwing yourself in and slamming the door. You can cry now.

Zeke’s face appears on your screen, a pen tucked into the blond hair above his ear and the clear glow of a computer screen in a dark room falling across his face. “Make it quick,” he says, “I think I’m having a breakthrough.” Before you can respond, you see him look away from the computer and at your face, your eyes a little swollen and your lip quivering like a child’s. You hear him mutter the word “Fuck,” before the light switches on and his computer turns off. He picks up the phone from its place on the desk and holds his face square in frame. “What happened, kid?”

“I’m sick of this shit, Laura. I mean it,” he said sternly, his voice getting louder and more desperate with each word. He could see her nails digging into her palms. His eyes followed one drop of blood as it flowed from the inside of her hand to the tip of her manicured thumb. His breathing grew ragged.

Laura, however, didn’t say a word. She knew there was no undoing what she just did to him. Everyone was going to hate her. But she hated him, and she wanted to hurt him, and he deserved it, and fuck everything else. Because Laura is a terribly written character and I would kill her off if she wasn’t half of the romance in this romance novel.

Fuck this scene. This is the worst thing I’ve ever written. Fsadjgfg

You watch the cursor blink a few times before you drag it across the two pages you just wrote and smash the delete button. The Bane of Your Existence, once your proudest work and now your most infuriating. Of course this is what Dr. Ackerman wants. Maybe Cheryl already works for the devil, and his name is Levi.

You groan before fishing your phone from your back pocket, opening Snapchat and tapping Eren’s avatar hesitantly.

party tonight?

Before you can lock your phone again, he’s typing. You stifle a relieved grin. You need to relax.

i’ll pick you up @ 9

Zeke is not a friend that attends parties at your side by any means. You’ve never seen Zeke be more adventurous than bong rips in his bedroom or cheap whiskey on the rocks on the sofa. His brother, on the other hand, is the frat boy of your mother’s nightmares. You’re closer to Eren’s age, anyway, but Zeke — albeit a late bloomer— was the more intelligent brother, and was often your first choice to work with. Once you finished up general education, Eren wasn’t in fiction writing courses anyway. He still attends the state school a half hour away for undergrad, but he and Zeke are too close for you not to see him often.

Zeke has been holed up in his room since he started working on a new short story last week — he writes horror, and he’s nothing to bat your eyes at. He has an immense amount of talent for creating suspense and making typewritten letters genuinely frightening. You hope he’ll let you sample his new one soon. You smile to yourself when you hear his fingers clicking furiously on his keyboard as you pass his bedroom. Your eyes lock on the oven clock as you enter your kitchen, the bright green digital numbers reading, “6:37.” Not too much time to kill.

You pull the pantry door open by its cool metal handle, rummaging through endless empty boxes until you reach the snack cakes in the very back. You retrieve two before putting back the now-empty box; you and Zeke are currently at war until he starts cleaning up his beard hairs immediately after he trims. It’s disgusting. So, you aim to get his hopes up that his favorite snacks are waiting safely in the pantry only to be met with heartbreaking disappointment.

You walk through the wide arch that separates your kitchen and living room and plop down on the shitty Wal-Mart futon, grabbing the remote on your way down. You turn on the cooking channel and turn your attention to your phone, opening Tinder and shoveling half of a cream-filled cupcake into your mouth.

The dating pool in this town is rather weak, you decide. Of course, it is a college town directly adjacent to another college town, and you are on what is traditionally used as a hookup app; still, you lament on your limited choices. College and relationships haven’t melded very well for you in the past. Even on breaks, you get far too immersed in writing to spend enough time with your significant other to satisfy them. Your mom tells you that it’s a good thing, and that it shows your motivation for school — but you just don’t care to bother with it. Still, you have needs just like everyone else. And every writer draws inspiration from something. You close it out with a deep sigh before sinking your remaining time into a farming game you saw an ad for on Facebook. You’re debating spending ten dollars of your hard earned money on gems when Eren texts you.

omw

You close out the godforsaken game and retreat to your bedroom to get dressed. You pull on a tight-fitting black sweater dress falling at your mid-thigh; you want to be sexy, but not cold. The breeze had chilled you a bit earlier. You sit on your bed and tug your favorite fall boots just over your knees, taking a minute to lace them before standing again. Your hair and makeup from your advising appointment are passable enough, you figure, looking in the mirror quickly before getting your purse and going to Zeke’s door.

You knock twice and wait a second before nudging the door open and poking your head in. You see him in the same spot as earlier, hunched over his keyboard with the lights turned off. “Hey, I just wanted to let you know me and Eren are going to a party tonight. He’s on his way to get me,” you tell him, already starting to close the door before he can reply.

“Be safe,” he calls out to you. “Call me if you need a ride, Ubers are high around here.” You shoot him a thumbs up before pulling the door shut and turning on your heel. Your phone vibrates again as you walk down the hallway.

here

You take your keys off the hook by the door and make sure to lock it behind you before turning and scanning for Eren’s red Ford Focus. You practically skip down the steps when you spot him, more than ready to put your day behind you. You pull the handle and settle in, breathing in the smell of cigarettes, weed, 5 gum, and the floral air freshener plugged in on his AC vent. Eren greets you with a squeeze on your knee, a cigarette sitting between his lips and his hair falling in his eyes from the half-up bun he’s made his trademark. He grabs the pack of Marlboros and gestures it your way, and you shake your head. “Do I ever accept the offer?” You ask him.

“After a few drinks,” he snorts, spinning the volume dial on his radio until some screamo song is audible. He swings his arm around and rests his hand on the back of your seat as he backs out of the parking space, leaving it there for a few minutes as you begin your journey to Eren’s frat house. The two of you discuss your experience with Dr. Ackerman as you make your way down the highway, and you try your best to keep calm. Try as you might, though, you can’t seem to be an optimist. Your greatest inspiration refused to read your most prized work. A lesser author might jump off a cliff. You haven’t decided how low you’ve sunk yet, but you’re starting to get there.

“Fuck ‘im,” Eren says nonchalantly after listening to you whine for a few minutes. “Bring him the other shit, let him read it, and don’t worry about what he says. Plenty of people have written plenty of books without the help of that fucker.” He looks at you and shrugs his shoulders, and his green eyes look sincere.

You smile and shake your head at him. “I’m stuck with him unless he sticks me with another advisor. His opinions affect my degree progression.”

Eren sucks his teeth, tossing his finished cigarette butt out the window. “Then make him reassign you. Be a hellish bitch. I’m sure it won’t be that hard,” he teases you, poking your side and making you yelp.

Still, his idea isn’t awful. “Good plan, Eren,” you tell him, and you mean it. “If he already hates me, it can’t be that hard of a push. I’ll just be a hellish bitch.”

Eren bares his white teeth at you in a playful smile before getting another cigarette from his cup holder and lighting it expertly despite the wind. He turns up his music one more time, now a bit too loud for conversation. “I need to get in the zone for the party,” he shouts, accidentally blowing a bit of smoke in your face. You cough. “I need to get laid tonight.”

“Me, too,” you shout back, running your hand through your hair. “I’ll find someone for you if you find someone for me. Wingman me.”

“Deal.”

Several hours and drinks later, you aren’t quite sure who you’re dancing on. Although that would typically be alarming, you don’t consider it. The only thing you’re considering is how secure his hands feel on either side of your waist and how warm his lips feel on your neck (and how it feels when he grinds against you, but you’re trying to ignore that part before you get all drunk and desperate). You see Eren — two blurry versions of him, really — drunkenly grinding on a redhead, and you start to stumble his way, the drink in your hand spilling out and your former dance partner shooting a hurt look at your back. By the time you’re halfway there he’s noticed you already, and has nudged the redhead over to the next guy, waving you over with a smile on his face.

“Are you having fun?” He shouts as soon as you’re in earshot, slurring through his words.

“Hell yeah!” you tell him, closer now. You stumble right into him and use his shoulders for stability, causing him to wobble and nearly take you both down. You giggle when you catch yourself, laying your head on his chest and breathing out in relief — relief from what, you aren’t quite sure.

“Do you want to dance?” he asks over the music, wrapping his arms around you and clumsily trying to turn you around. You oblige him and pull his hands to your hips, turning around and starting to move to the rhythm of the hip hop song blaring from the sound system. You feel his long fingers fasten around your waist, and he pulls you in closer, letting you grind on him to the music. The two of you are too drunk to care, and it won’t be weird in the morning. You two have spent the night together after a few too many parties, but it’s probably better than fucking a stranger and having to go get tested afterwards. You don’t seem to want to have sex with each other when liquor isn’t involved, anyway, so preserving your friendship is never really a concern.

Not that you’re able to think about this right now, of course. You’re too many drinks deep to focus on anything but Eren’s jeans growing tighter behind you as you rub against him. When his lips fall to your neck, the crowded room starts spinning even faster than it already was. You wrap your arms around his neck as he leans in behind you, securing his mouth on you as you wiggle your hips playfully. You feel his teeth prick against your sensitive skin as he smiles against you. “Come on,” he says into your shoulder. “Bathroom.”

You release each other from your holds and stagger together to the bathroom down the hall. Hopefully you don’t remember how obvious it was in the morning. Apparently all it takes is seven shots to make you try to pull Eren’s shirt off in the hallway in front of other party attendees. Still, the two of you stumble into the bathroom, you feeling around desperately for the light switch while Eren shuts and locks the door. When his lips finally crash on yours, your tongues needy and sloppy and your hands wandering each other’s bodies without reserve, you feel a hunger you didn’t know you were neglecting. You push your hands up his shirt, combing your fingers across his warm skin and toned muscles, letting out a breathy moan.

With his right hand, Eren grips the back of your thigh, his rough hands warm against your skin as he hoists you against the cold tile wall and wraps your legs loosely around his hips. With his left, he starts at his belt. Fuck, you think, a fleeting moment of clarity before you let Eren really make you forget about everything for a while. Zeke got so pissed off last time we did it.

But, just like that, the thought is gone again, and he pulls your panties to the side.

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bonus scene [eren x reader | nsfw]

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dreamingofaizawa · 3 years

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Good Kitty

Shouta Aizawa x Chubby! Kitty Hybrid! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

If you are under the age of 18, leave. Thank you.

Warnings: Kitty hybrid reader, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink (?), reader has insecurities, Shouta is soft and lowkey feral?, chubby kink (sorta), reader has a heat for the first time, barely implied virginity loss, a touch of dacryphilia

Word Count: 2.4 k

Author’s Note: This is inspired by @cupcake-rogue ’s fic Not Allowed on the Bed. I got permission to use it as inspo so here we are! Tbh the orignal had me feeling all sorts of feelings because, as a very subby sub that loves to please, I definitely have a praise kink and I WILL CRY if I’m called a bad girl. HOWEVER, Katsuki being the rough-around-the-edges guy he is wanting reader regardless of size made me very happy and warm and fuzzy.

The premise with this is pretty much the same, except I made reader a kitty hybrid...and of course I wrote for Shouta, love of my life he is. I’m such a fucking simp. I’m not the biggest fan of the ending, but this has been sitting in my WIPs for too damn long and it’s decent enough for me to feel ok posting it.

Also, for reference, reader has black fur regardless of hair color. Reader could be blonde, but still have black ears and tail. That’s just the way I’ve chosen to write this for some reason, don’t ask me why, I’m weird like that.

I think this is the first time I’ve written for a hybrid, so cut me a little slack.

Anywho, enjoy~

You can’t remember life outside the shelter. You’d grown up here, the caretakers said they’d found you on the street as a nearly newborn kitten and immediately scooped you up and brought you back here. That was a long time ago. Now you sit, waiting, your hopes for getting adopted diminishing with every passing day.

It’s unfortunate, but you still haven’t been adopted. It’s not that you’re bad, you always behave, you make sure you do. But you’ve overheard time and time again the people that gazed down at you and whispered about how you were too chunky, too big and too squishy for a kitty hybrid. And some even called you bad luck. The pitch black fur on your ears and tail warded off many.

Today was just the same as any other day. Wake up, get fed, wait in your room while potential owners pick and choose not you. Adults and children alike would take chunks out of their time to play with you, but they all left the shelter with another smaller cat. It was nearing bed time now, dinner just finished and the caretakers were about to start closing when the little bell on the front door jingled. Someone had just come in. You ignored it all the same.

Two pairs of footsteps began making their way past rooms, whoever it was that had entered smelled good, like coffee and tree bark. A smooth hum accompanied the caretaker’s voice, it made your ears twitch and tail sway gently. Still, you decided to just curl up in bed and try to sleep. The chance of him adopting you was slim, if it existed at all.

As you lay there your ears pick up their footsteps, the lazy set that dragged familiar, the nearly silent set less so. You listened as they came closer, never stopping as the man strode past each room and peered in the windows. You waited for them to pass right by your room, as they had been, but suddenly the footsteps halted. The caretaker spoke first.

“Y/n? You awake?” You let your eyes flutter open and sat up, tucking your legs under you and sitting up straight. They asked the man if he wanted to go in and see you, and he gave a simple nod. When he entered you finally looked up at him. The first thing you noticed were his eyes, tired and bloodshot with dark circles beneath them, a deep scar curved under his right eye. His long black hair fell around his shoulders, swaying lightly with every measured step he took toward you.

He stopped right in front of you, a large hand stretching out and you give it a small sniff before nudging your head into it, letting him pet your hair and scratch at the base of your ears. It felt nice to be getting attention like this. A small purr sounded in your chest, your tail gently swishing behind you.

“How long have you been here?” His voice is deep and calm, tired even, but it sounds so welcoming. It’s so soothing to your sensitive ears, like a warm blanket. You give a small hum before answering.

“A long time. I don’t remember anything outside this place.” At that he raised an eyebrow, turning to the caretaker with a questioning look.

“Most people look for...specific traits in the cat hybrids. Y/n here is well behaved, a perfect house kitty really,” you purred a bit at the praise, “But she’s a little larger than most. And her black fur wards off the more superstitious.” The man gives a curious hum before looking back down at you.

“Do you want to come home with me, kitty?” The question caught you a little off guard. Nobody really asked the hybrids if they wanted to go with them. You looked over to the caretaker, who nodded their head with a gentle smile, encouraging you to answer. All you could do was give a small nod, and soon you were in the car, on the way to your new home.

He’d told you to call him Shouta. He was nice, always quiet and never got mad. He never smiled, but you supposed that’s just the way he is. He gave you your own room, and always let you rub up on him when you wanted to, taking the opportunity to pet you. Occasionally you got the odd kiss on the forehead when you nuzzled into his neck. Those always made you purr. He never came seeking you out, which was good since there were times you really didn’t want to be touched.

The longer you’re with him the closer you get, and you find yourself doing things you’d never thought to do before. Sometimes you found the floor more comfortable than the couch, and would kneel down and rub up on his leg, your tail wrapping around his ankle. There were times you’d see his fingers idly drumming on his lap, and you’d lay down and nibble on one with your little fang-like canines. He didn’t seem to mind that little oral fixation, and he always let you do whatever you wanted. All in all, life with Shouta is great.

But today you feel weird. You’d been cooped up in your room for the first hour or so of the weekend morning, not quite wanting to go out and make it known something was off. But it’s gotten abnormally hot, your face and chest especially warm, and between your legs as well. Your panties are beginning to feel damp, your thighs starting to feel humid and sticky. It’s a little uncomfortable. And your tummy is starting to boil, neediness beginning to cloud your mind. This never happened at the shelter.

Reluctantly, you step out of bed onto slightly wobbly legs and peek your head out of your door to see him sitting on the couch, a book in hand and a mug of coffee on the table. His hair is loose, his strong lean body relaxed as he read. The sight of him and his scent made the feeling worse, made your panties and thighs wetter, your chest beginning to heave with your panted breaths.

“Sh-shouta…” Your voice came out shakier and quieter than you wanted it to, but he’d heard you regardless. He closed the book and peered over at your shaking form in the doorway.

“What is it kitty?” You nearly mewled at his voice, his heavenly smooth baritone sending a shiver down your spine through to the tip of your tail.

“Something’s wrong...I feel weird…” As you tell him about everything that’s happening to your body, he’s dragging his eyes over you, taking in every detail. Soon he’s on the phone with the doctor, you can’t quite comprehend his words, only catching snippets. ‘Help’ and ‘how long’, followed by agreeing hums. It was all jumbled after that, your mind refusing to focus as you leaned heavily on the doorframe, your quivering legs barely able to hold your body.

Shouta’s large hand came up and cupped your cheek, letting you nuzzle into his palm. When had he hung up the phone? He ordered you to sit on the bed, and you obliged, watching as he swept up his hair into a loose bun and strode over, tilting your chin to look up at him through half-lidded eyes. He’s so close, his scent overwhelming and making your brain fuzzy.

“You’re in heat, kitty.” Heat...where had you heard that before? Back at the shelter, maybe? It was all a distant, unfocused memory right now. Shouta leaned down and kissed you sweetly, lips melding with yours as you purred and mewled, your tail thrashing behind you. His hands tugged at your clothes until you were bare before him, every inch of you on display.

“You’re such a pretty kitty, you know that? So beautiful. Lay down for me.” The praise made you purr, made a chill crawl up your spine and your tail flick wildly. You obeyed the command, laying flat in the middle of the bed and he slotted himself between your legs, plunging two fingers into your tight hole. He let out a groan, pumping and scicssoring his fingers to stretch you out. You were already a sloppy mess, loud squelches ringing through the room in between your loud, whiny mewls and panting.

It felt so good, the heat in your belly burning and tightening until Shouta’s fingers curled up into a spot that made stars dance in your vision. The pressure in your belly snapped hard, your legs trembling as he kept fingering you through it. His fingers slowed when you whined about it being too much, too sensitive. But you still felt hot all over, now it was worse, you wanted something so bad but you didn’t know what.

He got up and undressed himself and you licked your lips at his naked body, scarred skin pulled taut over thick muscle. What stood between his legs had heat spreading like fire through your body. You’d never seen a naked man before. He was quick to return to you, slotting his hips between your thighs and guiding the thick head of his cock along your soaked folds.

“Relax kitty. I’m gonna make you feel good.” You gave a small nod and then he was pushing his thick cock inside you, groaning at the way your pussy clamped down on him. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth as he slowly pushed and pumped his hips, cock dragging along your wet warm walls perfectly. Mewls slipped past your lips, high pitched whines and pants like music in Shouta’s ears.

His hands wandered over your body, squishing and pulling at every piece of you he could get his calloused fingers on. It made you squirm beneath him, your own hands trying to push his away, but he wasn’t having any of it. He grabbed both your wrists and pinned them above your head in one strong hand, then went right back to groping your body with his free one.

“I can’t have you stopping me from touching you, kitty.” That’s all he said before focusing back on your body. He tugged at your belly, your sides, every place that was fatty and squishy. He’d never admit out loud how much he loved how soft you are. You’re perfect, plump and meaty, just more for him to touch, to look at, more to squeeze and pinch and pull.

He groaned out as you whined beneath him, tears beginning to clump in your lashes because he just kept squeezing, and he isn’t fucking you hard enough. Your orgasm built slowly with his languid pace, not nearly enough to get you to that peak and you were frustrated because you wanted relief but it wouldn’t come. Shouta picks up on your hips jerking and rolling, trying to get him to fucking move faster. He pulled his hips back and slammed back in, setting a brutal pace and making you whine high and long.

Tears begin to fall from the sheer ecstasy of it, and he’s realizing how much he loves to see you cry from the pleasure he can give you. With a groan, he’s releasing your hands and wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face into your breasts and biting and sucking at your skin as he pounds you into the mattress. He isn’t normally an impulsive man, wouldn’t let himself let go like this. But for you. For you he’d give in to his lust and ravage you like you need him to.

Your orgasm slams over your body like a tsunami, your muscles locking up and a loud yip ringing from your throat, pleasure making your whole body shake. Shouta let out a hiss, your nails digging into the muscles in his back furiously, but he wouldn’t stop for that. He never stuttered in his pace, just kept ramming his hips into yours, heavy balls slapping against your ass and lewd squelches coming from where your bodies are connected.

You’re overstimulated, throat feeling raw and tears still falling down your heated cheeks as you thrash from another orgasm, this one just as powerful as the last and making your vision spot black. This time Shouta leans back, wrapping a hand around your throat and licking the salty trails away.

“Such a good little kitty for me, so good.” With a few more thrusts he’s spilling inside you, and you can feel the warmth spread in your belly as you lay there, boneless. He lays down on top of you, both of you sweaty and tired and he starts whispering sweet words into your twitching ears.

“So pretty. You’re so pretty, kitten.”

“Such a good girl for me.”

“You’re all mine, kitty. So good, all for me.” Tears begin to spill from your eyes for a different reason. Up until now you’d lived your life believing nobody wanted you because there was something wrong with you. You never felt ugly, never really felt like there was something truly wrong with you, but you always felt...unwanted. Unloved. Unlovable.

But Shouta makes you feel wanted, and loved, and pretty and all the things you always assumed you didn’t deserve. You’re his kitty now, and you’re such a good kitty for him too. He’s showering you with affection that you’d never known before and you’re shaking from all the overwhelming emotions. He can feel your body quivering, leans back to look at you and cups your face in his warm palm.

“What’s wrong, kitten? Why are you crying?” Your nose twitches as you sniffle, which he mildly notes is fucking adorable.

“Do you mean it? Am I a good kitty?” His eyebrows furrow and he rolls the both of you over so you’re on top of him. He’s peering into your big sad eyes as if reading your soul through them, trying to read the emotions you’re feeling, but it isn’t hard for him to figure out what’s racing through your mind. You nuzzle your nose into his neck and breathe in his scent, his hand coming up to pet your hair and ears.

“Of course, kitten. You’re such a good kitty.” The small reassurance makes you feel warm and happy, your tail flicking softly before curling around both your leg and Shouta’s, the end brushing his skin gently. You can’t help but want to stay with Shouta forever.

#shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x fem reader #shouta aizawa mha #shouta aizawa bnha #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa shouta x fem reader #aizawa shouta mha #aizawa shouta bnha #aizawa mha #aizawa bnha #tw: hybrid #shouta aizawa smut #aizawa shouta smut #aizawa smut

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movedto-galenmarekstan · 2 years

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—ATTACHMENT, PART ONE summary: attachments, possessions — these things are forbidden to jedi. but the jedi are dead and the boy calling himself starkiller is no jedi. tags: enemies to lovers, mutual pining, redemption a/n: my beloved starkiller fic, back from the dead and better written

The last stormtrooper fell with a dull thud. Your hands trembled around the hilt of your lightsaber.

You closed your eyes, slowing your breathing until the pounding in your ears faded and only once your hands stopped shaking did you deactivate your dualsaber, clipping it to your belt.

Avoiding looking at the bodies of the stormtroopers you had slain, you joined your master in the center of the Imperial station.

Kota was already firing off orders to his men. The soldiers, all seasoned veterans from the Clone Wars, followed his orders without question and started securing the station. You watched as they either completely ignored the bodies or pushed them out of the way like they were dead weight. Like they were never human to begin with. You wondered if you would ever be so unaffected by such a waste of life.

Through your troubled thoughts, a familiar feeling prodded at your mental shields, bringing with it warmth and a sense of slight worry.

You looked to your master to find he was already staring at you, concern etched into his brow. It was obvious he sensed your unease through the bond you shared. Shame from worrying the old man made you drop your gaze to the floor, the artificial world of Nar Shaddaa glittering beneath your boots. You pulled your thoughts close. Kota had enough to worry about without your lack of composure.

“General Kota!” One of the soldiers shouted, drawing your master’s attention away from you. A holoprojection of a light spacecraft of Imperial design appeared before you both. “He’s here.”

Your heart nearly stopped. You could feel it; the darkness creeping closer and closer, stronger than anything you had ever felt before. It could only be Lord Vader.

“I’ve finally drawn you out of hiding.” Kota murmured almost to himself, then ordered, “Lower the containment field on hangar twelve and tell the men to get into position.”

“Yes, General!”

“And you,” Kota turned to face you. “You need to get out of here. Now.”

You thought you would be ready for this. Your master had been certain that two Jedi attacking Imperial targets would be too much to resist for the Emperor’s enforcer, but that day had always felt so far off that it was easy to fool yourself into thinking it would never come. Your training was far from complete and Kota, the man who was both father and teacher to you, was ordering you to abandon him.

The idea alone caused your instincts to scream at you to stay, to fight at his side.

But before you could say a word, he raised his hand and interrupted, “I know what you’re going to say and I don’t want to hear it. We’ve talked about this, girl. You’re no match for Vader. You will die if you stay here and I’m not going to let that happen. There’s so few of us left.” While Kota’s words were blunt as ever, his voice was gentle as was his grip on your shoulders. He forced you to look him in the eye. “You’ll make a great Jedi someday, but for now; remember what I taught you, stay hidden, and I’ll come find you. I swear it.”

You bowed your head, fighting to speak around the burning in your throat, “Yes, Master. I’ll do as you say.”

Kota gave your shoulders one last squeeze. “Go. He’ll be here soon.”

There was some murmuring and you suddenly remembered you weren’t alone. The soldiers had all paused in their work to watch the scene between you two. But you weren’t embarrassed by the audience. After all, they had watched you grow up ever since Kota took you under his wing.

Each of them had played a role in your childhood; even the most hardened of Kota’s militia had a soft spot for you.

As you walked towards the station’s turbolift, the men and women nodded as you passed or patted you on the back. A few saluted. Kota’s unit was the closest thing you had to a family and the knowledge that most of them would be slaughtered by the Sith Lord settled heavily in your heart like a physical weight.

The lift’s doors opened. But you hesitated at its threshold. A thought pulled at you and you glanced over your shoulder. Kota stood in the room’s center, his lightsaber drawn. You had the most terrible feeling this would be the last time you ever saw him.

“Master!” You called out, prompting a bemused look from him. “May the Force be with you.”

Kota huffed, annoyed in his own affectionate way, “And with you, Padawan.”

Your mind and spirit a little more at peace, you stepped into the lift and let the door slide shut.

“Care to explain what we’re doing here on Onderon?” Juno Eclipse asked as she guided the Rogue Shadow through the planet’s colorful atmosphere. “A planet with a heavy Imperial presence, I might add.”

“Good question.” Starkiller spun around in the co-pilot’s seat to face Kota, who had been unusually taciturn the whole journey to the Japrael system. He kicked the blind man’s boot to get his attention. “What are we here for, General?”

Kota sat back in his seat, inhaling deeply. “My Padawan.”

“You have a Padawan? Since when?” Starkiller couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. There was no mention of any Padawan in imperial records or PROXY would have warned him before his mission to assassinate Kota. He ignored the lingering guilt that came with that memory.

The old Jedi leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “After the Jedi Order fell, I went looking for survivors. The Force brought me to Corellia. I found a little girl, strong in the Force and hiding from Vader’s Inquisitors.” He chuckled at some fond, distant memory. “Clever little thing. Managed to give me the slip a couple times before I proved she could trust me. I took her on as my student and we’ve been together ever since. She has more mastery of the Force than even some members of the Jedi Council did.”

“Approaching Iziz now.” Juno announced, giving Starkiller a pointed look.

“Get to the point, old man.”

Kota frowned at being hurried. “I promised her we would see each other again, but… well—” He gestured to his ruined eyes. “The point is, she’ll join your cause and inspire others to do so as well. I’m sure of it.”

Starkiller thought for a moment. “How do you know for sure she’s here on Onderon?”

“We had a plan in case we were ever separated. If she listened to me, she’ll be here.”

If. Not very reassuring.

Starkiller turned his seat back towards the viewport. They were quickly coming up on the capital city.

He couldn’t think of anything less he wanted to do than hunt down some Padawan on an unfamiliar planet, but building an army to challenge the Emperor had slowed to a crawl with too many potential allies intimidated by the Empire’s strength. Jedi were rare but still highly respected in the galaxy. Some had trusted him almost immediately because of the blue lightsabers he wielded.

The Jedi still meant something to people; a symbol of hope, of justice. He knew he could never live up to that ideal, but if Kota was right about his apprentice…

“Alright, we’ll do this your way, General. Take us down.”

“I’ll get you as close to the city gates as I can.” Juno’s hands flurried over the controls to start the landing sequence. “Good luck finding your Padawan, Master Jedi.”

Starkiller had visited many cities on dozens of different worlds but he had never been anywhere quite like Iziz.

It had been easy to get past the city gates with so many farmers passing through to sell their wares. The stormtroopers on the parapets seemed to be more for show than actually watching the people entering the city. The hordes of people led them through the streets to a sprawling and colorful marketplace.

He could sense the market was the beating heart of Iziz; lifeforms of all kinds making up a bustling crowd, endless shops and stalls in every direction — even street performers plucking instruments or dancing to their own rhythms. A sweet smelling smoke hung in the air, filling his lungs and making his mouth water. And despite the chaos and stormtroopers mingling with the crowd, it was oddly peaceful.

The planet had in small, seemingly insignificant ways, maintained its unique culture in spite of the Imperial occupation.

“So.” Starkiller said once he and Kota reached the market’s center. “Where will we find this Padawan—”

There was no answer and Starkiller turned to find Kota had stopped at a small stall selling colorful fruit. He fought the urge to roll his eyes at the old man’s antics as he backtracked, narrowly dodging a group of giggling children running through the street.

“I’ll take two.” He heard Kota say, pointing to a large, plump red-orange fruit. The merchant, a Pantoran man, eyed the covering over Kota’s eyes and then Starkiller as he approached.

Starkiller crossed his arms, glaring at the man. The Pantoran quickly took Kota’s credits and handed over the bagged fruit.

“Can we focus on why we’re here, General?” Starkiller’s patience was already running thin.

Kota’s head snapped towards him as if he was surprised he was still there. “By all means, my boy. No need to wait on me.”

The Jedi walked to a small stone staircase in the shade between two buildings, plopping down on the first step. He pulled one of the fruits from the cloth bag and took a large bite out of it.

Realization dawned on Starkiller. “You have no idea where she is, do you?”

Kota’s chewing slowed. He took his time swallowing, as though considering how much he wanted to share. “Before I lost my connection to the Force, my Padawan and I shared a bond.” He explained, his voice ladened with sadness. “I was always aware of her presence. I knew where she was, what she was feeling. I never thought I would lose that bond so it’s up to you to find her now. I can’t.”

Starkiller scanned the crowd. It was no Coruscant, but the Force still roared with thousands of voices — too many to single one out from the rest. “How do you expect me to find her in all of this?” He demanded, throwing an arm out to the throngs of people.

Kota huffed. “The old fashioned way; by looking.”

Now Starkiller did roll his eyes. “Can you at least tell me what I’m looking for? Is she human?”

“You’ll know her when you see her, boy. She’s strong in the Force — not unlike yourself. It should be easy for you to find a single Padwan in a crowd.”

The old man returned to his fruit, apparently finished doling out sage wisdom.

Starkiller marched away and with no clear direction to go, he joined the flow of the crowd again, wandering through brightly-colored aisles and dodging pushy vendors while keeping an eye out for… something. He slowed to a stop and reached out, allowing his Force to spread throughout the marketplace as a whole. Voices and thoughts that were not his own overwhelmed his senses and he could only endure for a few moments more until he cut himself off.

And there he sensed it; the unmistakable presence of a Jedi. A powerful one. Bright and tranquil, yet it was barely a whisper among the cacophony of life surrounding him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, the beginnings of a migraine throbbing through his skull.

“Hey, civilian!” A modulated voice barked behind him.

Starkiller looked over his shoulder. Two stormtroopers stood behind him, their blaster rifles level to their chests.

“You’re blocking the road.” The trooper on the right said, gesturing with his rifle. “Move along.”

He was not blocking the road. There was plenty of space for them to go around him, but still he mumbled a soft apology and stepped aside, his back pressed against the post of an abandoned stall. He hoped they wouldn’t ask for his identification. He was strong in the Force, but he had never mastered the art of mind tricks and he had a feeling Kota’s Padawan would vanish at the first sign of trouble.

But the stormtroopers didn’t spare him a second glance as they marched past.

Once they were out of earshot, Starkiller sighed in relief and tilted his head back against the wooden post. He followed the troopers with his eyes as their stark white helmets bobbed through the crowd.

Something compelled him to keep his attention on them and there it was again —- a whisper in the Force, growing louder and louder.

His eyes picked out a figure moving through the throngs of people; a woman swathed in light, flowing robes with her face concealed by a low hood, a satchel thrown over her shoulder. She confidently strode past the stormtroopers as one of them stopped to watch her past.

Starkiller straightened up as she came closer. She tilted her head to look at him. Most of her face was hidden by her hood, but he could make out the curve of her cheek, a long thin braid woven with beads and strips of colorful cloth, and there wasn’t a trace of fear in her eyes as she stared back at him.

For one split moment, he could feel the depths of her strength in the Force. He could drown in it.

She turned her head and continued walking.

Starkiller pushed himself off the post, quickly falling into step behind the girl. She walked at an unhurried pace yet he had no doubt she knew she was being followed. But where she was able to move through the crowd with grace, Starkiller kept running into people and resorted to skirting around them and pushing back when they got in his way, ignoring the shouting he left in his wake.

He started gaining ground. The edge of her cloak was just within his reach — then the leg of a massive creature cut him off.

Starkiller stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet. He somehow hadn’t noticed a long caravan of farmers and their beasts of burden moving through the marketplace. The reptilian beasts were slow moving, at least three meters tall, and when he looked through the gaps between them, he could see the Padawan disappearing into the crowd.

She would be gone by the time he found a way around.

Starkiller took a few steps back, gathering the Force. He launched himself over one of the behemoths, landing on his feet on the other side. The beast startled and threw off the load it was carrying, forcing him to roll to avoid being crushed.

The farmer leading the creature shouted at him, but his only focus was on finding the Padawan. He caught sight of her dipping into an alleyway and broke into a sprint after her.

The roar of the crowd faded behind him as he pursued the girl through cramped alleys and empty streets as they raced further and further from the marketplace. But just like before, she somehow kept several steps ahead of him. It was starting to get on his nerves, but he also had to admire her stamina. It had been a long time since a target had challenged him.

But just as he followed her turn into another long alleyway, he was met with empty space. His chest heaved to catch his breath as he looked behind him, confused. There was nowhere for her to have gone.

Then he heard a distinctive hum above him.

Starkiller glanced upwards just in time to draw his lightsaber to block her lightsaber. He used her own momentum to throw her off of him and she rolled into a low crouch beyond his reach, gripping a white-bladed dualsaber with both hands.

Her hood fell away from her face. She glared at him. She shined in the Force. Beautiful in a way he’s ever known.

“I don’t want to hurt you, girl.” He switched off his lightsaber in an attempt to look non-threatening. “But you’re coming with me.

The Jedi dropped her satchel from her shoulder, down to her hand, and hurled it towards his face. Starkiller raised his arm to block it, but the bag was much heavier than he was expecting and he smacked himself in the face, his nose stinging from the blow.

“Ow! What’re you—”

She lunged at him, swinging low. Their blades crashed —blue against white— and they left scorch marks on the narrow walls as they pushed and shoved against each other. She met him blow for blow.

She aimed a kick at his chest and he easily caught her ankle. He could’ve easily cleaved her leg at the knee, but he only threw her off balance.

The Padawan recovered quickly, holding her dualsaber out in a guarded stance. He saw Kota’s training in the way her feet were planted firmly on the ground.

Starkiller advanced, taking his other lightsaber in hand as he charged at her. Unfazed by his change of tactics, she countered his restrained strikes until her onslaught put him on the defensive. She used the wall to launch herself over him but he easily swung his lightsaber behind him, protecting his back from her blade.

Before she could touch the ground, Starkiller pivoted on his heel and thrust his arms out, throwing her out onto the street. Her back hit a stone wall and she landed in a heap on the ground.

He walked slowly towards her. The Padawan groaned in pain, but she still pushed herself to stand, pulling her lightsaber to her with the Force.

“Wait — just listen to me, Jedi.” Starkiller implored, returning his lightsabers to his belt and holding a hand out to her.

She panted for air, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I was sent to find you. Your master—”

“Oh, good. You found her.”

They both snapped their heads towards Kota walking towards them, still holding that stupid bag of fruit.

“…Master?”

You almost didn’t recognize him. Obviously, he hadn’t been taking care of himself; his hair was matted and falling out of a sloppily tied knot, his armor was gone, his clothes torn and a strip of cloth covered his eyes, but what you found most disturbing was that the bond that once flowed so strong between you had gone silent.

It was as if he wasn’t even there.

You slowly lowered your lightsaber. “Master, what’s happened to you? Why can’t I feel you?”

“A lot has happened, Padawan, but we’ll talk about it later.” He said, grabbing your attacker’s shoulder amicably. “This is Starkiler. He’s got a plan to destroy the Empire and we need your help.”

Your gaze shifted back to the man who had chased you all over Iziz. Even without the Force, you would still be able to sense he was incredibly dangerous; his furrowed brow and the way he carried himself so aggressively put you on edge.

The Dark Side clung to him like a second skin. Rotting him from the inside out. How could your master be in league with someone like him?

“Padawan? You alright?” Kota asked, worried at your silence. You hadn’t realized how much you missed his voice until that moment.

“Yes. I’m fine. I just…”

You choked up. You could feel the sting of tears and instead of trying to put into words of how lonely the last few months had been, you rushed to your master and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his shoulder. Kota grunted in surprise but quickly reciprocated, one hand cradling your head and the other patting your back. Just like he did when you were little.

He… didn’t smell the best but he was warm and alive and that’s all that mattered to you.

Starkiller looked up at the darkening sky to avoid the tender scene happening next to him.

You and Kota let go of eachother. He squeezed your shoulders and you grasped his forearms in return. “C’mon.” He said. “We better get a move on.”

“Wait!” You turned back towards the alley, where your satchel and its contents were thrown on the ground.

Starkiller watched as you rushed over and started gathering your belongings. His nose still throbbed in pain, but it was mostly his bruised ego that made him snap at you, “What do you even have in there? Rocks?”

“Jedi texts, actually.” You said excitedly, ignoring or not even noticing his tone. You placed the tomes in your satchel with great care. “I bought them for almost nothing. I doubt the merchant even realized what they were. One of these was written by Master Yoda over two-hundred…” You trailed off and smiled at him somewhat apologetically. “I’m… sorry. About earlier. Is your face okay?”

Kota tilted his head to Starkiller.

“She hit me in the face with her bag.” Starkiller mumbled.

The old man tossed his head back, barking in laughter.

You flustered, “I thought you were an Inquisitor! And you were the one chasing me! Were you expecting me to be friendly?”

“If you listened to me, we could’ve avoided all this wasted time!”

“Alright, alright — enough you two.” Kota chuckled as he calmed down. “We gotta get out of here before someone comes to check out all the noise. Oh, wait — almost forgot.” He held out the bag he had been holding to you. Inside, you found a perfectly ripe meiloorun; a childhood favorite of yours. “Thought you’d be hungry.”

You could’ve cried from the thoughtful gesture. “Thank you, Master.”

You and Kota set off towards the city gates, Starkiller close behind.

Starkiller’s starship —the Rogue Shadow, he called it— came into view, cleverly hidden amongst the dense foliage of the jungle beyond Iziz. The ship’s lights cast a warm glow but your blood ran cold at the sight of it. You knew that ship. Kota’s hand on your back kept you pushing forward.

“Ah, welcome home, Master!” A slouched, seemingly half-assembled droid greeted as it noticed your group approaching. “I see you were successful in your mission.”

It plodded down the ship’s loading ramp and right up to you, invading your personal space and putting its faceplate uncomfortably close to your face. It felt like he was studying every pore, every flaw.

“Um… hello…?”

You earned only a thoughtful hum in reply.

“PROXY, give her some room, please.” A woman’s voice said and the droid obeyed. The owner of the voice, a tall blonde woman clad in an oil-stained flight suit, stepped out from underneath the ship’s hull. She politely wiped her hand clean on a rag before holding it out to you, smiling warmly. “Juno Eclipse. It’s a pleasure to meet you; General Kota spoke very highly of you.”

You took her hand. You liked her already. At the very least, you knew you would have an easier time with her than Starkiller.

You heard an odd noise, like a machine whirring to life and in the droid’s place stood a perfect mirror image of you, imitating your posture and looking back at you with devoid eyes. You self-consciously tucked your Padawan braid behind your ear. Did you really look like that?

“PROXY, knock it off.” Starkiller ordered and your doppelganger faded away.

“Now that you’re here,” Juno said, “I’ll set you up with a bunk and give you the tour.” She beckoned you to follow her up the loading ramp. Kota gently pushed you towards her, giving you a reassuring nod.

At the top of the ramp, away from Kota and Starkiller’s ears, Juno grabbed your arm and leaned in conspiratorially. “If I’m being completely honest with you,” she whispered, glancing down at the men, “I’m glad there’s another woman joining us. Too much testosterone for my taste.”

You shared a grin before heading inside.

Most of your life has been spent on starships. Kota thought it was wise to constantly keep on the move, especially with a youngling under his care. You grew into adulthood surrounded by stars and the flow of hyperspace; rarely ever feeling dirt, grass or sand beneath your feet.

The ship Kota and his men had traveled in — a relic from their service during the Clone Wars — had truly felt like a home, filled with warmth in the void of space. It was your home and in many ways, always would be.

On the other hand, Starkiller’s ship was cold. Impersonal. A tool to be used and cast aside when it was no longer useful. There was no history etched onto its walls, no personal belongings scattered about — nothing to indicate anybody even lived within the ship’s hull. The ship as a whole felt oppressive and uncomfortable. You doubted you would ever be able to fully relax here.

Once Juno was satisfied you were well acquainted with the layout of the ship, she led you to the cockpit.

The conversation you heard from outside abruptly stopped when the door opened. Kota sat in the co-pilot’s chair with Starkiller standing beside him. They turned their attention to you.

“Master. I think it’s time we had that talk.”

Starkiller bounced his leg impatiently.

Kota and the girl were taking too long. They had shut themselves in the common room, far enough to keep their conversation private but he could still hear the occasional raised voice. The longer they took, the worse his anxiety grew.

“I wonder what they’re talking about…” Juno mused. “You don’t think she suspects that you’re the one who—“

“If she did, I don’t think she would have come willingly.” Starkiller interrupted. He didn’t need to be reminded of what he did that day.

Juno frowned, not nearly as self-assured.

“I like her.” PROXY declared from his corner of the cockpit.

The door to the cockpit hissed open. You stepped through, Kota trailing behind you. You had taken off your cloak, revealing the inconspicuous street clothes you wore underneath and the dualsaber clipped to your belt. You fixed your gaze on Starkiller.

“My master has asked me to help with your training as a Jedi and build your Rebellion.” You said, “I want the Empire gone and the Jedi restored just as much as you do. I want to help you, but you need to be willing to learn from us. So, if you’ll have me, I’ll join in your fight against the Empire.”

Starkiller rose from his seat and held his hand out to you. You looked down at it, smothering the revulsion you felt at the thought of touching him.

But you gave him your hand.

“Welcome to the Rebellion.”

#ch: galen #starkiller x reader #galen marek x reader #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction

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crimsonkenjii-writes · 3 years

Note

I’m not sure if you have ever written smut, but all of your sfw giyuu pieces make me think that he would be such a softie during his first time with his s/o. If you feel comfortable, could I request some nsfw hcs about that 🥺💙 thank you!

I actually haven’t written smut before lolol but I think I’ve read enough to write a decent one lmao

I usually make my fics gender neutral unless otherwise stated but I would prefer knowing the gender specification for smut so I know how to write it lol. But don’t worry too much about it, it’s all good :) and thank you for wishing me a good day! I actually did have a good day :D

Giyuu Tomioka x Fem!Reader

⚠️ nsfw headcannons below cut! ⚠️

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image by: @/zenitsu-dandelion　

Giyuu would be so so so nervous his first time with you! What really helped his nerves calm down was that this was also your first time so he didn’t feel much pressure of having to be an “expert”

He constantly keeps asking if you’re doing alright, if he needs to slow down or stop and if you’re feeling good. He always makes sure to ask for permission and consent to continue on further

“Are you okay with this, Y/N?” He’d mumble out gently between soft pants, “Are you alright with me going on further?”

He wanted to get intimate with you, but he was just so nervous to ask. He didn’t want to initiate incase you didn’t want him to. He also couldn’t figure out how to even ask such a question without it being awkward. Luckily, you were able to ask him in such a way you both felt comfortable

Now here you were, in a dim lit room, slowly roaming your hands across each other and holding on to one another as if you’d fall if you dared to let go.

When you guys started, his cheeks were a burning, bright red and his eyes kept darting away, trying to look anywhere but you. He couldn’t get his words out without a nervous stutter. But the way you stroked his cheeks and ran your fingers through his long hair soothes him enough to make nothing but eye contact

Giyuu’s eyes kept scanning all over your body, taking everything in. He stared as if he was trying to remember it all in the case he’d never see such a beautiful sight ever again. His hands grazing over every part of your body, leaving a chilling trail of goosebumps.

“Y/N.. you’re so beautiful... how does someone like me deserve someone as spectacular as you...?” He whispers almost inaudibly as his lips lingered over your. His eyes never leaving your lips until he finally made contact and held your face to deepen the kiss.

He was super nervous at first grabbing any intimate part of your body but you helped guide him telling him it was alright and that you wanted him to. It was Giyuu’s first time feeling breast so he was really shocked by how soft and squishy they were.

But he loves playing with them now. He likes to massage them with his larger, calloused hands while his other grabs every other part of your body and he kisses and sucks at your neck and collarbone. Giyuu also likes to squeeze them when he’s railing you from behind ;)

His hand hesitantly slid down to your clit asking for permission to proceed. You give him the okay and he starts to circle his finger around it, massaging it in the perfect way. You mewl out in relief from the sensation which makes his heart skip a beat. Seeing you so worked up just turned him on even more

He would proceed to finger you, watching your reaction to make sure it was okay to add more fingers. All of this was helping you get aroused enough to get ready for penetration

He also found out that he freaking loves when he’s teasing your entrance and you buck your hips up to feel more of the friction while you cry out, “Giyuu... please... more...” between moans and heavy breathes. This got him super hard in seconds.

Giyuu’s foreplay during your first time was pretty timid. He would bring his hands around you slowly to make sure you were okay with what he was doing. His foreplay consisted with a lot of pillow talk, touching and kissing every part of your body and just staring in amazement he kept whispering everything in your ears which made it even more of a turn on

“Y/N you look so good... God you’re so beautiful.” “You feel really good.” “Your body feels so soft” “Your lips taste so sweet, I can’t get enough of them...”

He would have added in oral for your first time because he really wanted to devour every part of you and taste you but he felt too nervous of messing up since he was a virgin. So you both kept away from oral this time around and decided to try it out another time

After a lot of foreplay because this man grew a liking to teasing you Giyuu lays you down gently and lines himself up to your entrance. He was already hard from just seeing the way you squirmed beneath his touch, breathlessly calling out his name and begging for him to let you orgasm

“Y/N, can I put it in...?” He asks nervously, his full and soft blue eyes not daring to part from yours. Your cheeks were burning up as his cool breath fanned over your face. You could hear him whimpering, waiting for your response so he could finally release himself and feel you warm walls around him

Once you gave him the okay, one of his hands intertwines with yours, sinking deep into the bed as his other guides himself in then proceeds to kneed at your waist once he got the tip in. He lets out a shuddering breath, feeling you around him for the first time. He had to bite his lip to hold back from moaning so loudly and keep himself from ravishing you right then and there.

He feels around your entire body a lot. Giyuu wanted to feel every part of your body when you were losing your virginities together. There were so many loving parts of your body he’d never explored before and this was the perfect time of course. Giyuu could not keep his hands off you!

He goes in slowly to make sure he wasn’t hurting you too much, but thanks to all the foreplay, there wasn’t as much pain due to all the arousal. It still felt tight and weird but him going slowly also was a huge help. Once Giyuu finally was all the way in and you had told him to continue on, he gently pushed his hips back and forth, hand still wrapped around yours. He kept his eyes on your face to make sure he wasn’t hurting you after stretching you out

You guys did missionary for your first time because it wasn’t anything fancy and was a good starter position. When you started to feel really aroused, you wrapped your legs around Giyuu’s waist and pulled him in close. This really made his heart pound and made him moan right next to your ear.

Giyuu also kissed you a lot during your first time and kept his body really close. It just made him feel more intimate and secure with you so close to him. Each time Giyuu would start to shiver from the static feeling of your walls clenching around him, he had to remove his lips off of you to just take in sharp, shaky breathes. He kept nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, panting and moaning right next to your ear, making you feel even more ecstatic.

The more aroused you both became, the rougher it got. You raked your fingers across Giyuu’s back, pulling him in even tighter. His hands gripped your waist as his hips snapped against yours and his forehead laying against yours. His thrust became faster and harder the more he heard you moaning and gasping

His eyes half lidded filled with lust hooked onto yours as he breathed out, “Y/N, I’m... I’m about come...” this sent sparks through your body as you purred back, “I’m gonna come too...”

The rhythm in Giyuu’s thrusts became uneven along with his quickened breath as his eyes shut tight. He was digging deeper into your core at a faster pace. You could feel yourself melting as the shaky feeling of an orgasm began to overtake you.

You felt your whole body clench and hold on to him tight as you succumbed to your orgasm, moaning out his name and he continued to pump into until he came as well.

After you both catch your breaths from your orgasms, he pulls you in for a tight hug, kissing you affectionately and cupping your cheek. He tells you how much he loves you, how much you matter to him and how beautiful you are. Giyuu’s after care is very sensual and cute. This is when he’s most vulnerable with you and does a lot hugging, holding, cuddling, kissing and pillow talk. Giyuu also of course helps you clean up any mess that was made

Overall, Giyuu is a complete softie during your guy’s first time. His cheeks, nose and ears get super duper red and it’s really cute. Giyuu always made sure you were okay, comfortable and excited through the whole experience and made sure you orgasmed first.

The next morning, he got super shy because of how embarrassed he was that he actually had sex with you and said all that sappy stuff. You teased him a little which earned you another blush that spread from ear to ear. Giyuu eventually got braver to start initiating sex and would usually start it off with touch instead of words since he’s not very good at forming his sentences at times.

#overall 10/10 would recommend sex with Giyuu lmao #I actually had a lot of fun writing this lol I feel a little braver to start writing more smut ):3 #tomioka giyu x reader #tomioka giyuu #giyuu tomioka x reader #kny x reader #kny smut #giyuu smut #demon slayer x reader

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fandom-imagines-stories · 3 years

Text

Worth the World

Spike x Reader

Words: 2459

Summary: On a particularly bad day, the reader can barely bring herself to get out of bed. Spike does his best to comfort his girlfriend without being overbearing.

Notes: This is inspired by one of my favorite fics ever by @suckmysupernatural. I got this idea when having a depressive episode myself, so I hope you guys enjoy a little comfort fic with one of my favorite vamps. Plus, I’ve never written for Spike before and since I’m getting back into Buffy, I thought this would be the perfect time. (Also, this is entirely based on my own experience, so it might not be everyone’s experience with this kind of thing {but please be nice, I just used a few of the things I felt so it’s all based on my own emotions and insecurities!}) Enjoy!

Warnings: Depression, self-loathing, anxiety (This imagine was really just a way for me to put down my emotions and write something comforting, but I hope you all like it too)

You didn’t want to move. You weren’t really sure if you could. Your limbs just felt… heavy. Forcing your legs to move, you slowly swung them over the side of the bed, using all the strength you could muster to sit up straight.

It wasn’t that something terrible had happened. In fact, the day before had gone pretty well. You’d spent most of it watching movies with Willow and Buffy and, when the sunset, you went on a long evening walk with your boyfriend. There were no deadly forces plotting world domination, no vengeful vamps after you or your friends. Hell, your favorite restaurant was open and you brought home leftovers for breakfast.

Now, the idea of eating made your stomach turn. You managed to shuffle your way to the kitchen of your apartment, but just stood in front of the counter, leaning on the marble top for support. Just standing there felt like it took every ounce of energy you had. It was almost painful, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You did your best to keep them from falling. You had places to be today, meeting up with the gang and you didn’t want to worry them with your moping.

With slow steps, you made your way back to your room to get dressed. Of course, most of your clothes were dirty and you didn’t care enough to wash them. So you threw a sweatshirt over your pajama top and put on some shoes, hoping no one would ask about it. You caught your reflection and felt that dark, empty feeling in your chest grow. Pathetic. Your shoulders sagged forward and you blinked away more tears as you watched them well in your eyes. You didn’t have the right to feel like this. How much had Buffy been through and she still greeted every day with a smile. Everything was perfect and yet you were pathetic enough to still want to crawl back into bed. You just hoped that you would feel better by the time you saw everyone. Especially Spike.

You sat with your legs pulled up to your chest. Xander and Willow were debating whether or not using wooden bullets would be a good vamp killer. Buffy was listening in amusement and Giles just looked exasperated, distracting himself by putting books back in their proper place on the shelves. No one said anything about your pajamas. You actually felt kind of invisible, like no one even really knew you were there. It made the empty feeling that much worse.

“What do you think, Y/N?”

“Xander, don’t you think that’s a little insensitive?”

“What? It’s not like we’re planning on dusting her boyfriend. Even if he is annoying and evil and-”

“Xander.” Willow said sternly. When you looked up, everyone’s eyes were on you.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t really paying attention.” Your voice held little to no emotion. You were almost too exhausted to feel anything. You just felt hollow.

“If I shot Spike with a wooden bullet do you think he would, you know,” Xander made a motion with his hands that was meant to simulate a vampire dying. “Just theoretically, of course.”

Everyone was expecting a witty remark. You and Xander were close and teased each other often, especially about your relationship with Spike. Instead, you just shrugged, your eyes fixating on a spot on the table.

“Maybe.”

The group collectively exchanged a look of concern, but didn’t press anything. After all, what reason could there be for you to be upset? They knew that if something had happened with Spike, you would tell them and there weren’t any recent deaths to worry about, so they continued on with their playful conversations about breaking curses and some movie that they had watched recently. It felt like you were intruding- like an unwanted bystander that everyone wished would just disappear. While no one had said anything like that, the thoughts filled your head nonetheless.

This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, but you’d never told them. An episode like this hadn’t happened in months so you had hoped they had stopped. Some days you were as happy as you ever had been, but others you felt like a burden. Worthless and pathetic- pitying yourself for no reason at all.

Spike didn’t even know, even after almost a year of dating. You never dreamed of telling him. Spike was always saying that you were the strong one. You were the one that helped him through every day of his endless living. He got his soul for you. What would he say if he saw you like this? If he knew the doubts and loathing going through your head. He would know that you’re weak and vulnerable and you didn’t want that to happen.

So you didn’t tell them. You kept all of your thoughts inside of you as they ate away at your mind. On the outside, you just looked tired. Everyone knew that you stayed awake into the late hours because of Spike, so you hoped that’s what they would think. You were tired, but it wasn’t from lack of sleep. It was like your body just wanted to give up. Maybe if you could just wake yourself up, everything would go back to normal.

Buffy and Willow went out for coffee, so you went with them, hoping the caffeine would be enough to shake you out of this. Instead, it just made you more jumpy and anxious. The cup shook in your hand, but you kept drinking, still hoping that it would give you enough energy to fake it. This, like your out-of-it demeanor, did not go unnoticed.

“Hey, are you feeling okay?” Buffy asked, suddenly stopping her conversation with Willow about shoes. At first, you didn’t realize she was talking to you. You were so focused on the thoughts swarming around in your head, you hadn’t noticed they were both looking at you with concern.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’ve been spacing out all morning. What’s going on?”

“I guess I’m just tired.” You shrugged, grimacing from the effort the small movement took.

“Are you sure? Did Spike do something stupid, because you know I’ll-”

“Really, Buffy, I’m okay. I think I just need to go home and rest for a while.” You finished the rest of the coffee, feeling your heart beat faster as the anxiety built up in your chest. “I’ll see you guys later, okay?”

“Okay.” Buffy gave you a skeptical glance and Willow smiled sincerely.

“Feel better, Y/N.”

“I’ll see you guys later.” You faked the best smile you could before turning away from them.

“Is she going to be okay?” Willow wondered, watching the way you nervously messed with the hem of your shirt as you walked. Buffy narrowed her eyes and grabbed her bag.

“I don’t know, but if she won’t talk to us about it, there’s one person she will.”

“Oh do we have to go there? You know that place gives me the creeps.” Willow whined. Buffy just gave her a look and the two trekked off in search of your sun-hating boyfriend.

You stood in the middle of your living room as the tears slowly started to pour down your cheeks. The coffee must have given you enough energy to cry and now you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move, you just stood, frozen by the overwhelming emptiness inside you. Pathetic. Useless. Worthless. Everything was swirling around your head, breaking you down further until you had to lean against the window sill to stay standing.

You could faintly hear something outside your door, but you made no motion to open it. It sounded far away, or maybe you were just blocking it out. All you could hear was your heart pounding, along with the hundreds of doubts rattling in your head. It was until the door burst open that you flinched.

“First, the slayer comes banging on my crypt, telling me that something’s wrong and then you leave me to break down your door- if I could die, you would have scared me to death. Why didn’t you open the door?” Spike huffed in frustration. You didn’t turn around. Frankly, you hardly noticed he was there. His irritation quickly faded, replaced by worry. “Y/N, love, what is it?”

You still didn’t respond, keeping your back turned with your hands clinging to the window sill to keep from falling. Spike approached you slowly and you thought you heard his footsteps, but part of you thought you were just imagining him. Why would he come for you? It was the middle of the day and the sun was high in the sky. A rush of guilt washed over you. He came here despite the danger of being burned and you didn’t even have a reason. You’d put him at risk for your own pitiful problems.

“Darling, why won’t you look at me?” He took another step towards you, but stopped. The sun’s rays created a shield around you, preventing him from pulling you into his arms. “If you could just lower the blinds, that would make this far less awkward.”

“You d-didn’t need to come here. T-the sun.” You stammered. You wanted to reach for the curtains, but you still couldn’t move your arms without your legs giving out.

“A little sunlight isn’t going to stop from me from getting to you,” he said sincerely. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him rush to the window, the sound of his skin sizzling in the light made you let go of the ledge. Your legs buckled just as he got the curtains closed.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You had hurt him. All you had to do was reach up and shut out the sunlight and you couldn’t even do that. He burned himself just to reach you.

“It’s alright. I’ve got you. It’s alright.” He held you up for a moment before sinking to the floor to hold you in his lap. “I’ve got you love, I’ve got you.”

“Y-you shouldn’t be here, Spike. I’m not-” You hid your face from his view so he would see the tears. “I’m not worth all of this. There’s something wrong with me. One minute I’m fine and the next I’m like this and I don’t even know why. I don’t have a reason to feel like this. It’s like I’m… broken or something.”

“You aren’t broken.” Spike said softly, tucking your head under his chin and gently rocking you back and forth. “You’re human.”

He held you like that for a long while, not saying anything or even moving off of the floor. He didn’t make you look at him until he was sure you had relaxed enough. Putting a finger under your chin, he gently lifted your face to meet his.

“I’m sorry about all this.” You sniffed, using your sleeve to wipe some of the dampness off your cheeks.

“I don’t want to hear those worse from you for the rest of the day.” Spike gave you a small smile and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I would trek across deserts wrapped in a blanket if it meant being here with you. Every second is worth it.” Now, he lowered his lips down to yours for a slow, sweet kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes were shining with the soul of a man in love. “To me, love, you’re worth the world.”

You stared into his eyes and knew that he meant every single word. While it didn’t chase away your doubts or the empty feeling in your chest, it helped you see that this feeling would end. And for now, that was enough.

“I love you.” You whispered, pulling him closer. He kissed the top of your head.

“I love you too, darling.” He hooked his arm under your knees and stood, holding you against his chest. “Now, why don’t I get you something to eat and we can spend the day in bed?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’ll behave, I promise.”

“Spike.” You laughed lightly.

“There,” He beamed, “I knew I could get a smile.”

He carried you into your room and placed you on your usual side of the bed, laying your fluffiest blanket over top of you. Then he vanished into your kitchen, the sound of your cupboards opening and shutting reminding you that he had no idea where anything was. It almost made you smile. He came back in with a bowl of your favorite cereal, a class of milk, and a thin leather bound journal.

“What’s that?” You wondered as he climbed into the bed beside you. He handed you the cereal and milk and put his arm around you, pulling you close.

“Eat your cereal.” He ordered teasingly, opening up to the first page. You tried to look over his shoulder, but he pulled the book away, laughing. “Do you want me to read or not?”

“What is it?” Your curiosity made your tone amused and playful. You were starting to sound like you again.

“Well, ever since I got this pesky soul back, I’ve had an unbearable amount of feelings running about in my head, so I figured I could at least put them to good use.”

“Spike, are they…?” You perked up with excitement. He smiled sheepishly.

“Poems.” He looked down at seemingly endless pages of his writings and back at you. “They’re mostly about you, of course. I thought, maybe, you’d like to hear them. See if they’d make you feel a little better.” You were almost too awestruck to nod.

“I’d really like that.”

With your cereal in hand, you curled up beside him, laying your head back against his shoulder. He read softly and slowly, his gentleness with his words almost lulling you to sleep. The poems were beautiful, forcing you to stay awake if only to hear one more word. Spike felt you relaxed against him as he read and paused his reading to kiss your forehead, then your cheek, and lastly your lips.

You felt the emptiness for a few more days, but each day, he was by your side, making sure you ate and gave yourself time to breathe. By the time you started to feel normal again, he’d read most of his poems and continued to write more and you were able to go for your evening walks without feeling exhausted. Your friends were more than supportive and helped you through it all while still giving you the space you needed.

It wasn’t the last time an episode like this happened, but now you always knew that, no matter what, you’d never be alone.

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#spike x reader #james marsters #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #btvs #spike #spike buffy #xander harris #buffy summers #willow rosenberg #buffyverse #comfort fic #depressive episode #comfort boyfriend fic #cute

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