#The Wrong Earth: Night and Day 4

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (part 7)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

-

You watch him like a hawk after that. 

Not because anything’s changed. In fact, nothing’s changed. Seeing him drag a man by the collar of his shirt, the look in his eyes punishing and severe, has only confirmed the essential imbalance in your relationship. You don’t suffer the same fate as that man being dragged from the bar not because of mercy or leniency or forgiveness, but because the truth hasn’t yet come out. You’re safe because the truth is still hidden, a fact that could change at the drop of a hat. 

The thought makes you wary. You watch John in the days after with a scrutiny that borders on the paranoid. Does he already know? Has he left you stewing in ignorance all this time while waiting for the proper authorities to arrive? When he looks at you, does he see the blood on your hands? Does he know that he’s looking at a murderer? Does he know that your sins weigh on you like heavy stones dragging you down into the earth?

Every time the porch steps creak, your heart turns to stone and betrayal rushes up your throat like acid, and it burns. 

Then the door opens and John walks in. His face lights up when his eyes fall on you. “Hi darlin’.”

All you can do is let out a shuddering breath and slump into his embrace. 

You’re waiting for it to happen. Even when he pulls you into his chest at night, a big arm settled around your waist and his palm spread wide over your belly, you tense and wait for the truth to come out. But all he does is sigh and fall asleep, tucking you closer into his chest. You stare at the wall until the grooves between the wooden boards start to expand, the darkness encompassing every inch of the wall before bleeding down to the floorboards and up to the ceiling. Then you wake up and it’s the next day. 

The truth is imminent. It shines its light on the darkened path before it and stalks forward. You cower in the shadows waiting for it to find you, hopeful that it won’t. Sure that it will. 

There’s never a good moment to pack your bags and leave, and the longer you stay—as the days turn into a week since you first disembarked from the train and wandered into a town soaked in russet and red—the harder it seems to get a moment of peace. Though John wasn’t exaggerating when he said that a sheriff’s job never stops, you hadn’t thought that it would involve so much. 

Between chores and John and the townsfolk, you can’t get a moment to yourself. The closest you come to it is when Kate leaves you to your thoughts while she helps the customers. Even then, she still comes by every now and again to offer you a tea or brandy ball to suck on. 

You resent the idea that you need to be babysat, but he isn’t exactly wrong either. You’re not too stubborn to admit that. Under Kate’s watchful eye, you aren’t scurrying off anywhere. Instead, you help out around the shop where you can, offering to stock the shelves and sweep the floors. On occasion, you even get on your hands and knees in front of the shop to pull up the weeds, but that draws more attention than you’re comfortable with. They simply aren’t as concerned with weeds out here.

Most of your time is spent loitering around town waiting for John to take you home. Sometimes you join him for the day, trailing along after him when he goes out to collect the taxes or you accompany him when he has to attend trials and hearings in the court house, where you sit quietly in the public gallery and watch in rapt attention as the magistrate conducts the court proceedings, but there are days where that’s simply not possible.

“You’re gonna spend the day with Laswell, alright?” John tells you, pinching your chin to tilt your head up. 

He loves that little gesture, you’ve realized. Loves to touch you and guide you with a hand on your back or chin or arm, a hand brushing down the side of your waist to pull you in, gripping you by the nape of your neck just to hold. Even now, in broad daylight and in front of the window to the general store where anyone could look out and see the two of you, he keeps his thumb there, reluctant to let you go. The thought makes your neck go hot.

“When will you be back?” you ask.

“Later this afternoon—before dusk, so don’t go worrying about heading home without me. I have to see to something a few towns over.”

“Oh…what do they need you for?”

John frowns. “You’ve got an awful lot of questions today.”

“Never mind. Have a safe trip.” You don’t know why his reluctance to tell you anything frustrates you so, especially when he has good reason to, but even you can hear the way your voice grows petulant. 

His thumb squeezes against your chin, holding your head in place when you try to turn away. “I’m overseeing a hanging. Couple of men were found guilty of murder.” He studies you so intensely that he can practically see in your eyes the way your stomach turns at that. “See, I thought that might upset you. This is why I didn’t wanna tell you, darlin’.”

“It’s fine,” you say, swallowing. “I’m a big girl.”

“Yeah,” John agrees, brushing his thumb up your chin until it tugs at your bottom lip, watching the way it snaps back into place when he releases it. 

He makes every moment feel like a last goodbye and a homecoming. You almost can’t meet his eyes under the intensity of his stare, but you also can’t look away. Not with how he looks at you like some precious thing. 

You expect it before it happens, but when he dips his head to plant a soft kiss on your lips, you go breathless for a moment. His beard is bristly against your skin, just south of coarse. The kiss turns into another, even more tender than the first. You resent the way you lean forward when he pulls away, chasing after him. 

“You be good for Miss Kate, okay?” he says, waiting for your reassurance. 

“I will,” you rasp, mortified at how easily he unravels you and how plainly you let it show. John grins when he hears the tremble in your voice. 

Then he leaves, riding off towards where the horizon dips below the visible and you watch until he disappears completely, falling away with it. Kate beckons you inside after that, and it’s just hot enough out that you gather up the skirt of your dress and follow after her, climbing up the steps to the general store.

Kate is a tough nut to crack. She’s kind and never rebuffs your questions when you make conversation, but she also isn’t exactly forthcoming with personal information. She seems more than happy to let the conversation lapse into silence. When there isn’t a customer to serve, she’ll take out a leather-bound notebook and write, going so deep into her own thoughts that you sometimes need to call her name a couple times before she’ll respond. 

“Kate,” you say again, waiting for her to finally blink and look up, which she does with only the faintest glimmer of impatience in her eyes. “Care to join me on a walk? I need to stretch my legs and…well, I don’t know my way around just yet.”

She snaps her book shut, winding a bit of string around it before placing it back beneath the counter. “There’s a restaurant on the other side of town if you care for a bite as well. I could do with something to eat.”

It’s not as much of a walk as you might have expected. You learn along the way that Kate has lived in town for several years, taking the shop over from her predecessor, a former employer prone to drinking and prone to expiring from that very same vice. She speaks of him with familiarity and affection for the dead, but none of the longing and misery that you’ve come to expect from someone grieving a loss.

“You came far just to find a husband,” she remarks when the two of you are seated at a windowside booth in the restaurant. She spreads a cloth over her lap and you follow her lead. 

You bite your lip. “I’ve heard good things about the frontier.”

Kate looks amused by that. “Now who’s been lying to you?”

You laugh, half genuine and half to keep the atmosphere light. You don’t tell her that no one lied to you about going out west because no one had said those words to you in the first place. There hadn’t been enough time for a conversation after the event, only enough time to unlock the study door and wash your hands of the blood in the sink downstairs before fleeing the manor with only your purse and cardigan, the feather duster still lying on the floor upstairs. You hadn’t even bothered going home.

There’s no telling what your aunt and uncle must have thought. You try not to think about that because there’s no going back now. You had the luxury of a single cry on the train as it chugged away from the station and the day slipped into night, but nothing more than that and nothing since. 

You tuck into your food when the waitress comes back with your meal.

“John said you were a schoolteacher before this?” Kate says, pulling you back into the conversation. 

It makes you nervous to lie too much about a subject you hardly know, so you smile and nod instead of responding. 

“You must be quite the polymath,” she continues, eyes downcast, not allowing you a good read on her. “Arithmetic, writing, history—goodness knows the skills one needs nowadays with the leaps and bounds in education. Thank goodness for the Common School reformers, giving women the opportunity to develop young minds.”

“Yes,” you croak, then clear your throat. “I certainly did my best to…educate the children.” 

Comical, given that you’d dropped out of school at the age of fourteen to work in a factory sewing buttons onto shirts. 

“And was the profession enjoyable? I know John mentioned you were keener on starting a family than continuing on as an instructor, but was it an informative experience?”

“Oh yes, it was. I enjoyed it. Immensely.”

“It must have been nice to work in a profession with such little turmoil.”

“I couldn’t have asked for better,” you agree, your smile tight now, wavering only a bit at the corners. 

Kate stares at you for a beat too long. It makes your stomach hurt and you fight against the urge to wilt under her stare. You can’t imagine you’ve said something wrong with how little you’ve said, but her stare makes your skin crawl. 

Finally, she smiles, the skin around her eyes creasing. “Well, that’s just lovely to hear.”

You put the conversation out of your mind on the walk back, sure that you must have imagined the flicker in her eyes. 

John comes back earlier than you expected. You swear your heart jolts in your chest when you hear the sound of a horse whinnying outside the shop out of nowhere and a man’s low, rough voice responding back, soothing it. You hear the sound of dismount, boots hitting the ground hard, and then come up the steps, each step making the spurs on the back of his boots rattle. 

When he opens the door, his eyebrows jump up at the sight of you already there waiting. Your eagerness should embarrass you, and it does, but there’s not much you can do about it, and there’s even less you can do about the way you melt when he says, “There you are, darlin’. Time to go home.”

Precious is the world where home has come to mean something tender and soft, even as much as you’ve pushed against it. You still hold fast against the notion, steeling yourself when John helps you up onto Buttercup and follows suit, riding home at almost a gallop. You hear his laughter on the wind when you yelp and nearly slide off, his arm around you the only thing holding you in place. 

“It’d be easier to ride if I had pants,” you complain when you dismount, hands pressed to his shoulders when he helps you down. “How do women even ride sidesaddle on their own?”

“Plenty of women do, darlin’. It’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“We can get you pants if you need them so badly,” John says, looking up to the sky like Lord help me suffer this woman. “But that means I’ll be teaching you how to ride Buttercup on your own. Think you can handle that?”

You balk at the thought. “…Let me think about it.”

He snorts. “You do that.”

He leaves you to your thoughts when he takes the horses out to the paddock for a bit. 

You sit out on the porch and watch the sunset while the horses run around the pen, soaking in the last hour of daylight. Overhead, clouds as big as mountains pass, heavy like an oil painting. Off in the distance, you can see thick clouds blotting out the sky entirely, the belly of them split open and letting out a downpour of biblical proportions. You only grow a bit nervous when you notice the wall of rain moving closer to your house with the wind, inching forward more every minute.

It’s not long before John notices it too. He whistles for the horses and waits until they trot back over to the gate, fixing the lead to their mantles again and leading them one by one back into the stable. A light drizzle begins to pour. It churns up the dust and dirt when it hits the ground, scenting the air with the fragrant smell of earth.

You head over to the stable as John brings in the last horse, hovering by the door while you watch him run his hand down Buttercup’s muzzle, whispering softly to her. If he notices your presence, he doesn’t acknowledge it, his attention focused solely on her. 

It gives you a chance to admire him from the back. Thick thighs in indigo jeans that seem almost painted on. Shirt tucked into his jeans, stretched taut at the shoulders; dark droplets of rain drying already. The dusting of hair on the back of his neck. You can see the fine lines on his forehead and in the corner of his eye from the side angle and it reminds you again that he’s older and more weathered than you, settled into his age rather than floundering in it. 

“It’s raining,” you say, just to have something to say. You shrink under his gaze when he turns towards you, faint amusement in his eyes.

“I noticed.”

You cringe at that, aware that he knows. He’s the one that brought the horses in after all. There’s just something in you that feels compelled to open your mouth when he’s around. An impulse that makes you cheep like a bird. 

“Looks like a bad one,” you mutter instead of shutting your mouth, instead of hightailing it back to the house and shutting all the windows to keep the rain from coming in. Useless girl. 

“Probably rain all night,” John says, squinting out at the sky through the open door. It’s darker now, a storm brewing. 

“Is there…is there anything we have to do? To get ready?” You don’t know why you say we like this is a partnership, but it comes unbidden and you know if he told you to hurry back and take in the porch chairs, you would. 

“Nothing to worry about. I’ll close up the stables and seal the windows—storm probably won’t hit for another hour or two. After dinner, we’ll turn in early.”

With a final stroke down Buttercup’s jaw, he steps away and moves towards you. You feel rooted in place again at his approach; the thought of taking a step back never even occurs to you. When he finally reaches you, he doesn’t hesitate to reel you in by your hips, drawing you into a deep, wet kiss that he breaks only when you whimper into his mouth. 

“You feelin’ better about being out here?” he asks, low and intimately. “Looked like you had a good time with Laswell.”

“She’s nice,” you say, deflecting from the other question. 

John hums his agreement, readjusting his hold on your waist until every inch of him is pressed against you. Your breasts are flattened to his chest, belly pressed to his; every hard inch of him, solid as an oak.

“C’mon, honey, talk to me,” he murmurs. “Have I been treating you right? You still have any reservations about marrying me?”

“Bit late for reservations, isn’t it?”

He clucks his tongue. “‘Course it ain’t. Won’t change anything, but I still wanna know.”

It’s hard not to consider the possibility of being honest with him for a change when his gaze borders on the devout. No one in the history of time has ever looked at you like this, like you hung up the moon and stars. The thought chokes you up. In all the years of your life, has one other person looked at you and asked if everything was to your liking? John’s love borders on reverence, straddles the narrow divide between the telluric and the celestial, the earthly and the divine. 

It’s dizzying. And you’re not built for subterfuge. Not built to lie to the one man that, despite everything, despite taking you from your former life by force, has offered you a new one on a silver platter. 

You wet your lips, conscious of how dry your mouth suddenly is. John’s eyes follow the glide of your tongue over your lip.

And then you lie. “None whatsoever. I’m happy here.”

Maybe it’s a half-lie. After he shuts the stable doors and barricades them to keep the doors from swinging open in the midst of the storm, you wind up back on the porch watching the dark clouds up in the sky slowly approach, John at your back this time. 

John tilts your head up into another kiss. You don’t know when you made the conscious decision to let him think you amenable to this relationship, but you cling to that thought desperately when his tongue licks into your mouth velvety smooth. 

The roof extends out over the porch, keeping the two of you dry, but you can hear the sound of raindrops pelting the slate shingles. 

“You’ll see, honey,” he says against your lips, the words rumbling through you, buzzing under your skin and making it tingle. “‘M gonna make you so happy. Never gonna even think of leaving me.”

The words dissolve on your tongue. Swallowed down dry. With his arm hooked around your waist and hand tilting your head up, there’s no way you could think of anything else except wanting more. 

It’s hard to talk when he has you up against the railing, your dress pulled up and his fingers spreading apart your lower lips. It’s not the first time he’s touched you there, but it’s the longest he has, at least without the barrier of your underwear. His fingers spread your labia delicately, middle finger running up the wet seam. He hums into the back of your head while he does and presses a kiss into your hair. 

“Always so soft and wet here, darlin’,” John murmurs, stroking his fingers up your inner lips and petting the sensitive nub at the apex of your sex. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been aching for it? Been waiting for you to give me the word.”

Waiting, he says, while tucking a finger into your sex, curling it up into you and chuckling under his breath when your hands clamp tighter on the railing and your back arches. Just a single finger feels like more than you can handle. John has thick fingers; thick fingers with calluses that you can feel on the delicate flesh between your legs. It plugs you up tight, more so when your core clenches involuntarily around his finger. His chuckle descends into a groan, then a sigh. 

He pulls his finger out against the squeeze of your internal muscles, ignoring the way you whisper, “No, please” under your breath. 

You only stop pleading for more when he swirls his finger around your pearl again, lavishing it with attention. “Aching? I’m not—”

“You are, darlin’,” he breathes, and now you feel him pull you from the railing, stepping back to take a seat on the porch swing. He pulls you into his lap, sitting you across it instead of with your back to his chest like he did in the bath the other day. 

“Anyone could come by—” you hiss, fluffing the skirt of your dress out around your thighs when he tries to push it back up to get his hands back on your nethers. 

“You tense up when you’re nervous, honey,” John cuts you off, forcing his hand back up your dress until he pushes his finger back into your quim, delighted to find it hotter and wetter, practically dripping onto his lap. “See, there you go. Just relax. I’ll make you feel good, darlin’. We’ll take care of that nasty ache.”

You pant through each pulse of his finger. You don’t even think about looking up to meet his eyes, not when he stares down at you with obvious adoration and devotion, the emotion splayed across his face. He looks entranced at the sight of you coming apart on his fingers, a flush high on his cheeks. 

“No one’s gonna come by. Not this far out. ‘Sides, they know to keep their distance. Newlyweds need their space, right, darlin’?”

Supposing he’s right and no one comes out this way. Isn’t it still unseemly to do this out in the open? So far from your marriage bed? John seems incapable of relegating his affections to that space, unconcerned with propriety or modesty. You wonder with a spark of fear if he’d even budge if someone were to come trotting up the walkway on horseback or if he’d just wave them off and send them on their way. You don’t think he’s the kind of man to want an audience, thank the Lord, but he seems entirely unphased by even the idea of being intruded upon. 

You melt when he shushes your worries, feeling you tense against him, and sinks his fingers in deeper, now another. Don’t fret, he murmurs against your temple, sighing softly. I’ve got you, honey. Ain’t going nowhere.

You aren’t, are you, you think wildly. The land around here goes on forever and the train whistles by only twice a week if you’re lucky. Then townsfolk know you by face and a false name, but that would be enough for them to grow concerned if they were to spot you heading for the train with your suitcases packed, and with John or one of his deputies always in town, there’s little chance you’d be able to board without one of them interfering. 

Still though, it’s better than the alternative. For over a week now you’ve been on high alert, waiting for an arrest warrant to be slipped onto John’s desk with your likeness drawn on it, and for him to come collect you stone-faced and furious. It could still come. 

He keeps you tucked into his arms and nestled close, shushing you when you hiccup and pinch your lips together to keep quiet. He lets you have that, unphased by the way you try to hide it, only tutting when you try to fight it, curling his fingers up inside you and rubbing a spot inside of you that makes it hard to breathe. 

“I could just take it, but you’re gonna give it to me, darlin’,” John says.

And you do. Messily, noisily. Burying your face in his neck and sobbing it out, humiliation wrung out of you, squeezing out every drop. He smells like musk and old sweat, amber warm. Liquid gold. You press your nose into the skin of his neck and draw in a breath so deep that you go lightheaded. 

John keeps his fingers tucked in you until you stop shaking, talking you through it even though you hardly hear a word. How could you over the rush in your head, the blood in your ears? When you open your eyes and look around, the sky is swollen and dark, the wall of rain 

“C’mon, honey,” he says, pulling his fingers out and placing his hand low on your belly. “Let’s go inside.”

You sit across from him at dinner, eating under candlelight. The weight of his gaze for once isn’t stifling. 

The rain only starts in earnest when he’s pulled the quilt over the two of you and pulled you into his arms. The rain pelting the windowpane dulls to a low roar when you turn over and snuggle deeper into John’s chest, pulling the blanket over your head. Tomorrow, the grass will be greener than the day before. You can feel it in your bones.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #price x you #john price x reader #price x reader #price/reader #john price/reader #john price

[zombiefiilm]

Next to You

spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: sharing a room with the person in the bau that hates you the most makes you go through more emotions than you thought possible

warnings: kind of enemies to lovers, arguing, crying, no use of y/n, smut, nsfw - 18+ only, apology sex, soft sex, fem oral, protected p in v, praise, typical criminal minds death and unsub mentions

word count: 2.7k

Last minute cases in desolate towns in the midwest often meant that there was nowhere for the team to stay. It wasn't uncommon for you to have to pair or group up with other team members in dodgy motel rooms.

The most recent investigation had brought you all to the middle of nowhere in Nebraska, a long day ending with a drive to an motel that housed 7 rooms in total.

You, Reid and Rossi were the last to arrive so when Prentiss handed you a room key and told you that you would be sharing with Reid, it was already too late to complain.

"It's for your own good" she she grinned, picking her go-bag off the floor beside her.

"I hate you" you sighed.

"Sure you do" she was already walking off. You've been face to face with serial killers regularly, and this was just surviving a few nights in the same room as Spencer Reid, you could do this.

You walked back outside to find Reid standing in the dark by the car, right hand in this pocket and his left leaning against the black SUV.

"Looks like you're with me, Reid" you announced and the way that his face instantly dropped almost knocked you over. It was almost like you'd told him you were about to kill him.

"Come on" you began walking down to room 4, Spencer following shortly behind as you unlocked the door.

Being met with just one double bed though was enough to bring tears to your eyes. The couch looked like it had been through the war and there was no way on earth you were even touching it. And the sigh that Spencer let out made you want to rip your own hair out.

"I'm gonna sleep in the car" you quickly turned around to walk out of the door.

"You're not sleeping outside with a killer targeting women the exact same age as you on the loose" he stopped you in your tracks. He was right. "I can take the couch".

You were a little surprised at the chivalry but thankful none the less. "Are you sure?"

He didn't answer, instead dropping himself onto the couch.

Feeling content with his actions, you dropped your own bag on the floor beside the bed and told him you were going to use the bathroom before cleaning yourself up and changing into the oversized t-shirt you were using as pyjamas.

Coming out of the bathroom again, you were going to tell Reid that he was free to use the bathroom now but he simply glared at you.

It was as if he wanted to make your life hell. He always scowled at you, made snarky comments on little details about you, gloated whenever you got anything wrong. He always drove you up the walls, since you first started at the BAU, and you never knew why.

It's not like you had done anything to him, from what you knew at least. You smiled and shook his hand when you met him and even thought he was cute, you treated him just like you did with everyone else on the team, but you quickly noticed how differently he treated you.

You gave him plenty of time to warm up to you before you let yourself develop any solid opinions on him. You were warned about how he took to knew people, and you were understanding at first. But after you were several months in, and now years, and he still treated you like an outsider, you were no longer shy to expressing your dislike for him.

Other people on the team noticed it too, you, JJ, Garcia and Emily often discussing it with each other, but if one of them ever mentioned Spencer's attitude to himself, he'd deny everything and brush it off.

You really tried to not let it get to you, especially with the support from others, But man, did it upset you.

Spencer eventually got himself ready in the bathroom and came back out, silently setting himself up on the couch as you sat in the bed and did some research. There was a nice silence for a while, and then:

"Could you stop turning the pages so loud" he sounded irritated already and you hadn't even spoken to each other in the past 30 minutes.

"What?" you matched his tone, was he really trying to start a fight with you right now?

"I can't even think with how much noise you're making"

"I'm not making any noise, Reid, what's wrong with you?"

"You're flicking the pages, I can't pay attention to anything else"

"Oh so the sound of paper is able to stop boy genius in his tracks?" you mocked, pissed off at what he was choosing to do do.

He glared at you in response, he looked like he was about to blow a fuse.

"I don't know how to help you here, Reid, I'm trying to work on the case"

"Yeah, trying, it's not like you've ever actually done anything important for one" his voice had raised slightly.

"What?"

"You're practically incompetent, how you got recruited to the bureau, I'll never know" you hadn't even noticed him standing up, but it suddenly made you feel uncomfortable so you got out of the bed too, standing on the opposite side of the room.

"Excuse me?" you were completely shocked now, how had he gotten so far.

"You heard me. You have no place on this team. All you do is mess things up, you can't figure anything out and then you go and let our unsubs go"

Oh

You knew exactly what he was talking about. During one of your first cases, you had unintentionally informed an unsub that the FBI were searching for him during an interview with his wife and he got away. He was dangerous and you had never forgiven yourself for the people who had died before he was finally caught.

You just broke down in tears after that. It felt like he'd re-opened the wound right there and then.

"Fuck you" you spat through tears. You couldn't even look at him now, turning your back to him to sit on the bed.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry" it was like he had suddenly snapped out of the unexplained rage he was just experiencing.

You felt the bed dip as he sat down behind you, and then a hand rest on your shoulder.

You were edging on losing the ability to breathe. It wasn't even just remembering the worst experience you had on the job, it was the fact that Spencer had used it against you just to get a reaction out of you. You wouldn't have even expected that from him.

He just sat behind you as you attempted to regain some sense of composure, not saying anything else. Was he finally feeling some sense of remorse for how horribly he had been treating you?

Once he noticed that your breathing had slowed, he called out your last name, your work name. It felt so impersonal in that moment. Not that you'd ever been on a first name basis with him, but you gave no reaction to him.

He tried again, squeezing your shoulder this time. You gave him nothing.

But then he whispered your name. Your first name. It was quiet, apologetic.. desperate.

You sniffled, wiping the tears from under your eyes before you turned around to look at him. He was sitting right behind you in the bed now, his big brown eyes practically burning a hole in your head. You knew you probably looked like a mess now, face red and wet, eyes puffy, and hair mangled.

"God, I'm sorry" his hand reached up to wipe a stray tear from your cheek "I'm such an idiot, I can't believe I said that".

You flinched at his touch, not saying anything back to him.

"If I could take that back I would, I did not mean it. It was just in the moment" he tried to hold your face in his hand but you avoided his touch.

"In the moment?" you repeated "What even was that moment. It's like you wanted to have an argument with me for fun".

"I don't want to argue with you, I just.."

"You just hate me" you finished.

"No! I don't hate you, I'm just stupid and don't know how to deal with how I feel about you"

You looked directly into his eyes, eyebrows furrowed. "How you feel about me?"

You managed to catch his gaze as it briefly flicked down to your lips. It felt like something was drawing you closer as you moved towards him.

"Please, let me make it up to you".

"No. Are you saying you've treated me like this because you can't figure out what to do about your feelings for me? What are you? Twelve? You've made my life miserable."

The tears spilled out again, what was he even saying?

"Please, just let me show you how sorry I am"

His voice was laced in what could only be described as desperation, it was making you want to hear him out, forgive him, and you didn't quite know why.

"Please" his voice was on the verge of breaking.

Your walls were crumbling down, it was like he'd cast a spell on you

"please"

You only nodded, allowing him to to lean in closer to you, finally cupping your head in his hands and softly pressing his lips against yours.

It was like he was purposefully avoiding any roughness as he gently kissed, from your lips down your jaw and then down your neck. He looked at you then, his eyes meeting yours in a silent question. And you nodded.

He loosely grabbed the hem of your shirt, and you let him lift it up over your head.

He didn't touch you yet, kissing your lips again as he began to slide your underwear down. You manoeuvred enough for him to take them off you completely. He was so gentle that you didn't even think of feeling self-conscious being completely undressed in front of him.

He urged you to spread your legs and quickly laid down on his stomach in between them.

You barely had time to blink before his lips were on you, kissing up the inside of your thigh. as his hands wrapped around you, holding you down.

Then, he was softly licking up your cunt, softly moaning to himself as he tasted you. He avoided your clit, dragging his tongue everywhere except where you needed him most.

"Spence" the nickname drove him crazy, he finally felt like maybe you could be his.

He finally flicked his tongue over your clit and you couldn't help but push your hips against his face, a whine slipping from your lips.

He only egged you on, using your legs to pull closer to his mouth. He kept circling your clit, increasing the amount of pressure he used as your squirmed under him.

Every few moments, he'd bring his tongue down again, dipping into your hole gently, gathering your slick, before suckling at your clit again.

Slurs of his name, swears and a few 'oh my gods' were the only coherent sounds that could leave your mouth. He had gotten you incredibly sensitive and you felt like you could tip over the edge at any moment.

Spencer himself couldn't stop himself from moaning at your taste, your sounds, how your skin felt under his hands. The vibrations pushing you further.

He suddenly sucked a bit harsher, almost nipping your clit before going back to his previously gentle movements.

The contrast between the rare harsher movements and his gentle attention had you bucking into his face, only to be stopped by his hands pushing you down.

All of a sudden, you felt your release. You moaned much to loud as you writhed under Spencer's mouth, him carrying you through your orgasm.

Just as you felt yourself come down, you went to pull yourself away from Spencer, but he refused to let you, keeping you pinned down to the bed as he let himself taste your release.

"Spencer, please" you were so incredibly sensitive at this point, your body jolting at every small movement. You had to bite the side of your hand to stop yourself from yelling out from the pleasure.

He suddenly pulled off of you with a soft *pop* ad sat up, quickly kicking his trousers and boxers off as you reached forward and loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt.

Now that he too was undressed, you felt more equal, it was almost metaphorical as if he was agreeing to end the weird tension between the both of you.

He sat between your legs again, lifting your legs around his hips. You hadn't noticed the condom he had taken out from his pocket until you heard the crinkle of the foil as he opened it.

He quickly rolled it down his shaft as you finally got the chance to look at him. You felt yourself clench in anticipation.

He finally lined himself up and you were subconsciously pushing your hips down towards him.

"Please, Reid" you practically begged as he leaned forward but he stopped at your words.

You looked into his eyes, pleading for him to fill you up, but he didn't.

"Spencer" you whined, and he quickly rutted his hips into you.

"Thats it, good girl" he praised as the air was knocked from your lungs.

He started slow, using one hand to prop himself up and the other to finally caress your skin. It was like he was trying to memorise the curves of your body with one hand. He grabbed at your hips, held your waist, squeezed your breasts, as he slowly picked up his pace.

He couldn't get enough of feeling your body as he pinched your nipple, marvelling at the way it hardened further.

"God, you're so beautiful" his hand finally fell down to your clit, rubbing small circles in time with his thrusts.

You couldn't even get a single word out at this point, too tired and desperate to say anything.

"I'm so sorry baby" if he didn't have your attention before, the name had definitely gotten it now. "I'll be so good for you from now on" you could tell he was close from the waver in his voice, but you too felt your 2nd release approaching.

"You're so perfect" his rambling was interrupted by groans, "never want to leave your side ever again" his thrusts had last there rhythm as he circled your clit quicker, desperate to get you to cum before him.

It didn't take long for the coil in your stomach to snap, vision blurring as he continued his thrusts. Not much after, he plunged into you one last time. You could feel him coming inside as he filled up the condom, his chest now flush against yours.

You both laid there for a few moments, enjoying the hot, sticky embrace as you caught your breathe.

Silently, Spencer pulled out, taking off the condom and throwing it in the trash before pulling his boxers on. He then got you cleaned up, helping you put on your own underwear afterwards, before you got into the bed.

He tried to walk over to the couch but you were not letting that happen. “Get in here Reid" you muttered, laughing quietly as he practically jumped in beside you.

As he faced you in the bed, he brushed a stray hair behind your ear. "I'll make it up to you, I'm sorry, about everything" he kissed you once more, it would take more time for you to forgive him, but for now you let yourself fall asleep in his arms.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x you smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x y/n smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencerreid #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid fluff

[etirabys]

meandering post about reading Orson Scott Card again

I've been offline starting at 9pm every day (except once. I was drunk at karaoke and asked for anons at 8:30pm) for six weeks, with the result that in befuddled boredom two nights ago I picked up Orson Scott Card's Songmaster from the house bookshelf.

I read Ender's Game and three sequels when I was a teen thought the books were mid. Since those are OSC's best works I assumed he had nothing more interesting to offer me and didn't try more of him for fifteen years, but Songmaster was compelling enough that I immediately afterwards picked up The Memory of Earth, the first book of a pentalogy.

TMoE is extremely my jam: after humanity blows itself up on Earth, AIs monitor thriving human civilizations in the planets that survivors managed to escape to, and suppress any tech that enables large scale violence by exerting low key mind control via satellites. But forty million years pass, many of the satellites break down, and the AI needs help from humans to restore capabilities. Because as its control wanes, people are starting to e.g. conceive of airplanes or bombs again, and override the injunctions against entering military alliances more than two edges of connection away.

The AI is worshipped as a god all over the planet, but the fourteen year old protagonist that becomes one of the AI's agents tells the AI from the beginning that he'll break with it if its morality seems wrong to him. I like the fourteen year old – unlike Ender or Songmaster's protagonist (adult minds piloting ten year old bodies), he's a normal gifted kid who's unpopular 50% due to his ego and big mouth and 50% because he's socially inept and offends people even when he's trying to be nice.

Songmaster is also partly about a permanent solution to large-scale violence, albeit through one guy who establishes a monopoly on violence and sweeps in pax galactica. Both it and TMoE are preoccupied with the eradication of suffering from evil / human violence, which is closer to my resonant frequency than narratives about defeating particular people or ideologies. At the moment I can't think of any other book with such an insistent focus on the matter than T.H. White's The Once and Future King. It's hard to make a compelling story out of, and I don't think Songmaster really succeeds, but TMoE's premise is well suited to explore that. (I'm also enjoying the matriarchal culture where everyone is expected to have multiple serial-monogamous marriages.) After reading 70% of TMoE last night I wrote:

Usually when I read fiction there's a small part of me going, how can I use this as fodder for my own growth, how can I remix or improve or react against this, how do the author and I measure against each other? (If the quality and content are at an anti-sweet spot, the small part becomes quite large and I feel all teeth towards the author.) But on occasion I read something so close that the absence of that measuring-feeling is its own sensation – ego departs, or at least is split across two bodies. There's just amity and recognition

And it's pretty interesting to feel this way about Card for, well, the reasons.

(If you're familiar with Card drama none of the following will be new to you; I'm coming to it fresh so the rest of this post is me going "uh... wow")

I vaguely knew he was a homophobic Mormon who'd gotten into fights about gay stuff, but I couldn't tell from the Ender books I read. But in Songmaster his issues spring off the page in such a weird way. Every fifth Goodreads review of this book is "Card, u gay?" because, well,

(One review, possibly from a fellow Mormon, that went "Card, it's so sinful of you to be this gay in your novel". Why did he write this book that would predictably make everyone mad...)

it's full of gay male desire. The protagonist (Ansset) is approximately a castrato and characters notice him sexually a lot. The first and only time Ansset has sex it's with a Kinsey 4-5 male character he loves, who's married to a woman but has fallen in love with Ansset. It turns out the drugs Ansset took to prolong his singing career painfully and only-kinda-figuratively explode your balls when you have your first orgasm and you'll never feel sexual desire again. (You'd think his loving teachers would have warned him of that, but, whatever, they didn't.) The other guy is literally castrated in punishment for inadvertently torturing a highly valuable castrato. It's pretty bald: GAY SEX IS ALMOST IRRESISTIBLY TEMPTING BUT YOU SHOULDN'T DO IT.

(Sidenote: both Ansset and the guy's wife are very close and have a "there's enough love to go around" attitude about the gay sex initially, before they go "wait Josif is a SERIAL MONOGAMIST... he can only love one person at a time... the moment he had the gay sex his marriage was destroyed". It's funny in a mildly stupid way that Card would set up this parable of homosexuality destroying lives and a marriage but almost everyone involved is peacefully ready to sail into an open marriage. I guess it makes sense if you want to say very clearly that THE GAY PART IS THE BAD PART)

which is fascinating to me, because... why would you tell on yourself like that

(81k also told me secondhand of an essay? interview? where Card openly says "we have to stand against legalizing gay marriage because everyone will get gay married and society will collapse", so that's informing my read of Songmaster as well)

I am pretty dang open about my personal life online but if I had a lot of feelings I thought were disgusting and immoral I would not write a novel dripping with those feelings before pointedly castrating the leads for them. Especially if it wasn't relevant to the actually highbrow themes of (checks notes) winning over your adversaries with kindness and never relinquishing your monopoly on violence. I would be so so so so embarrassed to let this go to print, it's so psychologically transparent, what was he thinking

(Well, I assume he's a very different person with different social incentives. For all I know, people in his church went "hey Orson we read your book and it's clear that you're gay but signaling strongly that you won't give into the gay feelings, we're here for you, it was really brave of you to publish this".)

#rambl #orson scott card #eti reads stuff #eti reads the homecoming saga #songmaster #content note: homophobia

[sataraxia]

jerk.

earth42!miles x fem!reader

summary: you haven't heard about him for a whole week, what a 'jerk'. (wc: 3.9 k, kinda short and a dumb blurb)

warnings: cursing, a kind of suggestive? line at the end.

a/n: it's the first time i publish something so maybe it's kinda bad idk, and also this isn't angst miles is actually the best man ever pls i just wanna hug him. aand english isn't my first language so pls pls let me know if i spelled something wrong!

"I heard that kiki was invited to prom in the most romantic way possible, I'm so jealous."

"oh god, yeah, I wish I had a boyfriend like hers, or well, just a boyfriend".

You were biting your nails right now, looking everywhere but at your friends, what a topic, huh?

“hey, your boyfriend already invited you?”

And there was the question, you just looked lazily at them “uh, sure”

The truth was that you hadn't been talking to Miles for a week or so, and this was exactly why.

You always understood that maybe he didn't like a lot of things about high school, and you never complained about it, but this time, it was something important to you, and he didn't seem to care.

"baby, it's just a dance, I don't understand why you're acting like it's such a big deal." he said while not even looking at your direction.

"maybe it's a big deal that you're being a jerk about this."

Yeah, that conversation didn't end well, you haven't heard from him since.

The thing was, you don't do a lot of couple things publicly, and it's slowly starting to affect your mind, maybe he didn't want to be seen with you, or someone couldn't see him with you, the thought alone causing you to shiver. 

You spent the rest of the day distracting yourself with your friends and your homework, secretly waiting for a message from him to appear on your phone.

It did, but definitely not what you expected.

miles <4: 'i’m back in town, wyd?'

Oh. 

You didn't know whether to be happy that he wasn't ignoring you, or angry that he didn't give the last discussion more than a thought. 

You decided not to let it go this time, and not even look at the text.

Of course, that was stupid, but so were you.

It wasn't more than two hours, he was already knocking on your window, and once you let him in, he just looked at you, deeply.

“wanna’ tell me what’s up with you, darling?”

That was not affectionate, he was annoyed, mocking, you realize.

“nothing.” you couldn’t look at him when you were lying, he knew that.

“i thought you were the one who opted for that communication bullshit, cmon.”

“where were you?”

“work”  the tone was defensive, almost secretive, it was always like that when he mentioned something about the prowler, you never talked a lot about it.

“you could have told me”

“thought you didn't want a jerk talking to you?”

“yeah, but you’re still my boyfriend, Miles, we argued, and I didn't hear about you for a whole week.”

“sorry.”

That's what made your veins boil the most, he was never mean, disrespectful, or a jerk.

He always knew when to say sorry or when he had done the wrong thing, that meant he didn't really care about the problem that kept popping into your head, he didn't see it like a problem at all.

And that only made you feel dumber, maybe you were overreacting, again.

“it’s okay, i just missed you” 

That's all you had to say for him to look at you with those eyes that made you feel like the most special woman on earth, that made any insecurity disappear just as the space between your bodies did.

“i missed you too.”

Of course, he stayed the whole night with you.

The next afternoon, when you entered your room, you saw a package on your bed, with a note on top of it

“I couldn't go to prom if my girl wasn't wearing my color, be at your door by eight o'clock. 

                                                                                                      luv ya, miles.”

Inside the package was a beautiful dress, vibrant purple, obviously.

This was definitely the man of your dreams.

+bonus:

Eight o'clock, and he was with his motorcycle at your door.

"you are breathtaking, love" he said and you approached him to give him just a little kiss, while smiling.

"thanks for all this, but I thought it wasn't a big deal?" a smirk adorned your face.

"it was a big deal if you were calling me a jerk about it" you grabbed his waist as you settled on the bike.

"sorry about that." a little peck on the cheek.

"you'll have time to apologize to me, don't worry:"

#writing #writers on tumblr #oneshots #across the spiderverse #miles g morales #miles morales #miles 42 #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales fluff #earth 42 miles morales x reader #the prowler #miles the prowler #miles morales x y/n #sataraxia

[littyhoney]

Right Person,Wrong Time (part 3)

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

BIG SPOILER WARNING TO ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE!!

Earth 42 Miles Morales x Reader

Chapter summary: One last heart break...will you ever get enough of it?

Warning: Spoilers for the movie Across the Spider-verse, slight angst

ps: If yall have any request for one-shots and imagines message me im open up for requests! &lt;3

You been avoiding Miles ever since the incident happened betweent the two of you… not that you are being petty but it just hurt your feelings to see someone you care looking at you thinking it be someone else instead even after you give your all to him.  You still went on to the patrol with him at night but separately,only come to help him when the situation is overwhelms him but nothing more than that.

You are sitting in your dorm room at  Vision Academy currently finishing up your essay, music blaring in the background. But your focus got disturb when a ring come from your phone on the bed, you use your web to pull it towards you to see the caller ID.

Coco Head calling…

You sigh contemplating you want to accept the call or not,your thumb hovering on the red button but your guts is screaming at you to accept. “Oh what the heck…” you mumble to yourself before accept the call and put the phone againts your ear hearing a panic screams from Miles reach your ear and a few groans here and there.  You shot up from your seat.

“Miles? What is going on!?”  You panic as you hear Miles struggle againts or with someone over the phone,in your head maybe he is fighting againts a criminal when he is supposed to be in the principa’s office “you heard Miles  scream one more time before he manage to let out a loud “I NEED HELP HERE THIS GUY IS OUT OF CONTROL!” before another scream is heard.

“Where the hell are you Miles! Im coming to-” you start to walk towards the window before you see outside of the window makes you stop talking. Outside the window you see Miles is struggling to catch a guy…in a cow outfit? Or a dalmation,what a weird taste in costume for a criminal but you shake your head and tell him through the phone “be there in a minute!” you shed off your school uniform underneath it is your spider suit,believe me it gets itchy sometimes through out the day to wear this many layers of clothes to cover the suit man.

You put on your mask before jump out through the window and catch yourself using your web start swinging towards Miles and the weird criminal on top of the bus. You shot out a web towards the hand and foot making it fall on top of the bus as you land besides Miles,who is currently try his best to respond to his dad’s message.

“So uh what are you exactly?” you look down at the white with black spot guy as he struggle againts your web. He grunts around before answering “Im the spot! And no im not a cow OR a dalmation! I’am your nemesis!” clearly the guy is pissed off,but why? You tilt your head “Oookay?”

You turn towards Miles with your hands on your waist with a slight scowl shown on your mask “and you cant even handle a guy that looks like a cow?” Miles turn towards you slightly feel offended by you “That guy is a pain to catch! He can create portals and im late my mom is gonna kill me!” you shake your head slightly “That is a you problem with mama Rio” you turn your head back to the guy to shot a web at him so that you can give him to the police and finish the job easy,but instead of the web get on his body it goes through one of the holes and a black portal open up besides you as the web shot to your side “what the!-” you pull your web resulting to you catapul yourself into the portal resulting to you slam againts the street vendor “No way im getting my ass kick by a cow” you mumble to yourself before catching up on two of them.

Somehow you and Miles finally get a hold of this guy as he is now In a tangle mess mixture of you and Miles web to his limbs in his own portal that he made. You let out a big sigh before turning to Miles “You gotta go now man,don’t want mama Rio to go T-rex on ya” Miles let out a small shoot and look at you “Thanks for helping me with this uh criminal of the week” you nod your head “anytime man…anytime”

Miles look guilty as he contemplating wanting to reach his hand out to you “look, you been avoiding me for few days and I-I understand but-” you stop Miles sentence with your own “Look man,how about you go back to the academy first then we talk about this…after the party” Miles let out a defeat sigh before nodding his head and start to swing his way to the academy “I owe you one!” he shouted.  You turn your attention back to the cow looking guy “You stay put right there alright? The police gonna come by any minute” you start to walk backwards as you talk to the edge of the building

“Wait where are you going!? im not done yet!”the ‘cow’ guy screams as he struggle agaits the webs. “I have a class to catch up man, see ya never!” you fall backwards from the edge of the building and make your way back to the window that leads to your dorm room,but you’re still late for the class anyways.

(small times skip as miles got to face with his angry momma bear and stopping the spot with his dad)

It is later in the evening after a long day of classes youre making your way to Miles apartment to attend the party that mama Rio invited you to come,instead of swinging your way from place to place like Miles you love the simplicity to just walk down the sidewalk, looking at the people around you minding their own bussiness completely oblivious as the person that is walking among them is a spiderman/spiderwoman. Youre walking through the alleyway for shortcut before suddenly your spider sense goes off, huh that’s weird. Your hearing sense did’nt hear anything other than the busy street down the alley so you continue on walking.

You went up the stair leading to the party opening the door and see a lot of people are there enjoying themselves with foods and drinks and the music played by the DJ,wow the Morales really know how to throw a party. You make your way to Mrs Morales wanting to greet her first before doing anything else tap her shoulder “Hey mama Rio!”

The woman turn around and smile widely as she lay her eyes on you “(Y/N)! you finally made it welcome dear,we have lots of food and drinks help yourself out” you smile back at her “Thanks mama Rio” you were about to ask where Miles is before a voice came from beside you “Hey (Y/N)!” you turn to look at Mr Morales before held out your palm for a handshake “Congrats on the promotion captain Davis”you smile up at the man happy for him. The man chuckle shaking your hand “Thank you (Y/N),glad you could make it to the party It be a shame for you to miss some of Rio’s cooking”. You laugh lightly before asking where their son is,mama Rio nudge her head looking towards the water tank “Hes’s right there,with his friend”she put one of her hand on her waist looking at her son hanging out with the girl she never seen before.

Mama Rio voice drown away as you stand there,stunned to see who is standing beside Miles and chatting away happily together…It’s Gwen. Your heart starts to beat fast as you clench your hand to a fist on your sides,pursing your lips not believing that she’s there in person. Your heart seems to squeeze itself and you fight the urge to just storm away from the party,not only that Gwen didn’t come to see you but Miles didn’t even call or message to tell you that Gwen is here! Your brows start to turn upside down as your eyes are pierce to where they stand.

(Mama Rio’s POV.)

“She looks old enough to vote does’nt she?” Rio told her husband and the her son’s bestfriend before looking at the child who is beside her,who is clearly in distress. Rio is not blind or a fool,clearly she can see how much the child likes her son,deep down she is hoping Miles would see it but over the years it does’nt seem to grow past that point. Rio put her hand gently on the child’s shoulder giving it a light squeeze before speaking softly “I know you like him my dear,he needs some time to see that”

The child look down before speaking in a such soft tone it almost a whisper “I did give him time mama Rio…but…im giving up on it,maybe it’s better to be there for him and be happy for him you know…”

Rio sigh move herself to where her son is at not before giving her last words to the child “You are a good kid (Y/N), Im sure,one day you will find someone just as selfless and have so much love to give to you” she give the kid one last smile before make her way to where her son is.

Back to you POV.

Mama rio’s word ring through your head…your eyes trail back to where Miles and Gwen are before mumbling to the air “Maybe…in another universe…he would” little that you know…that universe exist,and it's called Earth 42.

To be continued....

(ALMOST THERE TO MEET EARTH 42 MILES BARE WITH ME LOVELY SPIDERS &lt;;3)

tag list:

@dazecrea @i-love-milfs2 @usernamepassowrd-blog @frissy @musicownsme @randomhoex @dystop4in14nd @coldlamaspersonspy @repostingmyfavs @lovefks @wingedghostpepper @bath1lda @baku-boneless @biggestmacsstuff @milesquaritcheswife @mmst4rz @jasontoddsfavoritechair @jadyn-is-kinda-gay-ngl @manduse @angelbunnyboo @bbootyyyshaker9000 @thymom696969 @camilo-uwu @duckwithsunglasses @arlipooh

#miles morales x reader #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x y/n

[taylormarieee]

Close Friends Luke Castellan

Summary: After that night you try your best to avoid Luke, but he wasn't going away that easily...

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Fem!Aphrodite!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Confessions, slight angst, Wingman Annabeth, Sexual tension, More sexual tension!!!, Reader avoiding Luke, Clarisse makes a comeback, Clarisse and reader become close friends, sadly a cliffhanger...

It's been a whole 2 days and you have been trying your absolute best to avoid Luke.

Sitting alone during lunch.

Avoiding him during Capture the Flag.

Avoiding him during certain activities that involve partners. You don't know why you kissed him.

You knew him for a day. A DAY! Who on earth catches feelings for someone in a day.

Maybe it was your moms doing but you just couldn't control the feelings you had for him.

He was so cute and incredibly attractive. Who wouldn't want a guy like him.

He's funny, charming, confident, nice, caring, and incredibly handsome.

You were so lost in your thoughts you didn't notice him coming up to you.

3:35pm

"Hey. Can we talk?" He asks you. You look up at him and as our about to make an excuse he shakes his head. "I don't wanna hear a bullshit excuse."

Your eyes widened. You notice he has a serious expression. Not one of happiness and charm like he usually does.

Were you hurting him? Hurting his feelings? You stay silent and he sits down.

"What did I do. You don't talk to me anymore. You don't sit with us anymore. You don't hang with me anymore. Why? Did I do something wrong? Did I upset you in anyway? Were supposed to be friends. You don't even talk to Percy or Grover or Annabeth anymore! What the hell is the problem?!" He says upsetly.

He was pissed. More than pissed, he was furious but he tried his hardest not to show it and yell at you out of anger.

"I-I'm sorry. You didn't do anything wrong and neither did the rest of them." You say glancing over to them as they watch from the other table.

"I just can't be around you anymore..." You whisper lowly hoping he wouldn't here but of course he did.

"W-what?" He asks, fae slowly morphing from angry to sad in a second.

Before you could even explain why your mouth just shut again and he looked at you waiting for a response. Silently pleading for one.

But you didn't say anything. You just sat there and stared at your food. He was tired of your games now.

It's either you had feelings for him like he has for you or you didn't want to be with him at all.

"Fine. Don't even tell me. If you didn't want to be friends, you should have said that. Can't believe this." He scoffs and aggressively gets up. Leaving you there.

You try to silently cry as you watch him leave. Percy, Annabeth, and Grover watch as he storms off and watch you just sit there with tears leaving your eyes.

They were all confused but didn't even go to comfort you, and they had every right not to...

4:30pm

You were practicing with a bow and arrow when you see Annabeth out of the corner of your eye.

"Hey. Nice shots." She compliments. You smile at her and she returns it.

"T-Thanks." You say quietly. She frowns and looks at you. "I know what happened. You kissed Luke." She says nonchalantly.

Your eyes widen. "He told you!?" You ask so embarrassed. She chuckles and shakes her head.

"He told Percy. He was so giddy and happy when he told percy and then Percy told me." She responds

Hearing that made your heart drop. He was happy? "You really hurt him ya know. He was crying and i've never seen Luke cry. He's tough, but something...Something about you did made him fly to the moon. Made him smile wider than before." She says.

"He's my family. I don't like when he's sad. Please make amends with him." She says before walking away.

You stand there and think about what she said before walking away to your cabin.

9:25pm

You were on your way to the dinner when Clarisse came up to you. Her arms up in a surrendering manner.

"Not here to fight. Here to talk." She says with a smile on her face. "O-Ok."

You guys walk in silence towards the banquet hall and Your eyes catch Luke and Percy staring at you before looking away and talking.

You furrowed your bros wondering what they were saying. You sit down with Clarisse and she smiles.

"I wanted to be friends. I respect what you did, standing up for yourself. So ca we be friends, start over?" She asks staring at you.

You stare back and smile, "Yea, sure!" You respond with a smile. "Can you wait right here, I need to go talk to someone."

"Ugh I was actually gonna go back to my brothers and sisters. There waiting on me." She says.

"Ok. Peace out Clarisse." You say walking away towards Percy and Luke.

"Luke. C-Can we talk? I'm so sorry and I didn't mean to hurt you. Annabeth told me about everything and I really thought about it and I'm sorry. After kissing you I just overthink it and I didnt know how you felt nor w-why I kiss-" Your ranting to him and your interrupted by him wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you.

"I didn't tell her anything." Annabeth appears. Secretly standing there the whole time thanks to her hat her mother gave her.

You chuckle and look at him when he breaks the hug. "Your adorable pretty girl you know that?" He says with a smile on his face.

"I'm sorry for what I said. Shouldn't have snapped on you like that. I was just so mad because I thought you didn't like me back." He says

"Friends?" You ask.

"Friends. Close friends." He says with a wink on his face. You giggle and sit with them for the rest of the night until it's time to go to bed.

10:57pm

Luke was walking you to your cabin. "I love you Luke. I mean granted it's only been 3 days since i've known you, I just adapted a crush on you." You confess.

"I've loved you the moment we made eye contact." He says chuckling at how corny that is.

"I guess it was love at first sight." You say chuklong with him.

"God that's so corny..."

"But true. I am the daughter of Aphrodite after all." You say laughing. He smiles at your laugh. He could listen to it on repeat all day.

You guys finally reach the cabin and he stops in front of you. "Welp this is my stop." You say.

"This is your stop M'lady." He says with a smirk as he bows. You giggle and playfully hit his arm.

"Get up you goofball." You tell him, "Before we get caught."

"But that's what's so fun about it." He says smirking at you. You two just stand there staring at each other.

"Well, uh I'm gonna go." You say smiling before walking up the steps to your cabin.

"Hey wait!" He yells before running up to you. He grabs your waist and kisses you.

You kiss him back passionately and gently grab his curls. He pushes you softly against the door of the cabin eagerly grabbing your soft hips and your waist.

"See you tomorrow pretty girl." He says smirking before walking away.

"Wait! What does this make us?"

"Very Close friends." He says with a wink.

"But Luke I don-"

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!" Chiron yells out.

Oh no... You two were in deep shit...

Taglist: @angelicdanvers @rhydianissuperior @csifandom @prettyinsatiable @reader-bookling123 @istillremberthefirstfallofsnow @lizziesfirstwife @glorywielder101 @kneehe-nehar7

A/N: Huge thank you to all of you for reading and leaving comments! I really appreciate it! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! I will be posting the next chapter tommorrow! Huge thank you to @angelicdanvers again because without her I wouldn't have even been inspired to do this!

#luke castellan pjo #luke castellan imagine #lukecastellan #luke castellan #pjo x reader #pjo series #pjo tv show #pjo show #charlie bushnell

[the-witty-pen-name]

Love is Blind (Part 3)

Eddie Munson x PlusSize!F!Reader

Summary: In a last ditch effort to evade the normal disappointments of dating, a group of misfits desperate to have someone see who they are on the inside volunteer for the most recent brain chemistry study at Hawkins Lab. 

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut in later parts (part 4), reader has low self-esteem and struggles with self love/acceptance, anxiety/trauma related to bullying, tooth rot worthy fluff, Eddie being a major flirt, cursing, mentions of substance use, descriptions of bullying & people being jerks but like also very overdone tropes, mentions of smut

A/N: Please let me know if you liked it!! Feel free to send me an ask if you want to fangirl with me over these two because I cannot stand them at this point. LOL Or if you want to share any ideas/predictions for upcoming parts with me or other ideas for future stories with Eddie, I would love to hear them. Also, if I forgot to include a warning that should be included, please let me know!

Series Masterlist

“Eddie.” 

“Hey, Eddie.” 

“Earth to Eddie.”

“EDDIE.” 

“Shit! Sorry,” he says, breaking out of his thoughts and coming back to reality. He stares at his notes in his DM folder and he literally has no idea where the campaign has left off. He clears his throat and awkwardly flips through the pages. “Umm..”

“We just made it to the fishing town and we were tasked by a local merchant to kill a sea serpent that’s poisoning the local fish in exchange for..”

“Oh yeah,” he interjects, grabbing the correct script he needs to continue. “Uh, did you roll..?”

“Are you kidding me, man! What the hell?” Gareth exclaims, exasperated. “What’s wrong with you today?” 

Eddie’s face turns pink, shaking his head and ignoring the question. He was not going to admit to being distracted. He’s not embarrassed to talk to the guys about you, but he hasn’t told anyone he signed up for the study. He didn’t want to admit he was desperate or lonely, he’s too proud. He knows his friends don’t care, but it’s a mental block he can’t pass. 

“Nothing, I’m good. Just let it go,” he says defensively. 

“No way. Fucking spill it,” Jeff laughs. 

Eddie racks his mind for the most sane way to answer their questions. He sighs, pushing a mess of his curly hair out of his face. 

“Who is she?” Gareth asks, raising an eyebrow. 

***

DAY FOUR

“I’m mad at you,” Eddie says, and you roll your eyes. 

“What did I do now?” You ask, playful sarcasm evident in your voice. 

“You’re throwing me off my game”

“I don’t even know what you mean by that.” 

“Obviously because I’m really cool and popular,” he jokes, “I’m a Dungeon Master as you know.” 

“Yup, I’m familiar,” you toy. 

“My friends called my ass out so many times last night for not paying attention and I kept fucking up.” 

“I don’t appreciate you pinning this on me,” you chuckle. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Lies!” He says in a bravado. “You are the distraction! You have managed to weasel your way into every aspect of mind- I hope you’re proud of yourself. I’m probably going to be dethroned. My reign is over.”

You bite your bottom lip, to hold back the goofy smile you know is creeping over your whole face. Never before has anyone made you feel like this. The notebook to keep track of other “dates” is long forgotten. You only want to continue talking to Eddie. You wonder if any of the other people you spoke to felt a connection this strong. You’re dying to know if there are other people who feel as good as you right now. 

“What were you thinking about?” you ask shyly. You can hear the way it makes Eddie stop in his tracks. You assume he wears some sort of chain on his pants cause you can hear it when he paces, but suddenly, his end of the wall falls silent.

“How honest do you want me to be?” he asks, suddenly sounding shy. 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I could go the cheesy, romantic, ‘I was thinking about you’ way- which is true. Or, I could be brutally honest because ‘I was thinking about you’ in this context has much more implications than that.” 

“You’re confusing me,” you laugh, “just tell me.”

“Do you ever fantasize about when we get out of here? In like, a you know-”

“Like sexually?” you ask, throwing him a bone. He was drowning. 

“Yeah,” he admits, and you can hear the chain on his pant leg as he fidgets. 

“Yes,” you answer honestly, “I do.”

“I think about it all the time,” he says, the confession spilling out, “The fact that I can’t touch you is driving me fucking insane. It’s not even like just like the thought of getting to fuck you- it’s like being close to you and like feeling your body heat, or like the weight of you sitting on my lap, what it feels like to just touch your skin- just everything that we’re being denied. I don’t even have a visual in my head to go off of it’s just like- I don’t know, man…”

You wince at the mention of sitting on his lap. “I don’t know if you’d want me on your lap for a long time..,” you sound defeated. 

“Um, don’t speak for me,” he cuts you off, playfully. “Any man who doesn’t want the full weight of his woman on his lap is a fucking idiot. Ugh, I don’t even think you understand just how amazing it is. I don’t care if you try to fight me on this, princess. You’re sitting on me, and I will love every second of it.” 

“I’m not thin, Eddie,” you whisper, feeling defeated. You hear him blow a raspberry and then he knocks on the wall. 

“I… don’t… care,” he emphasizes by drawing out each word. “You need to believe me. I couldn’t care less about your weight, your height, your hair… whatever  it is. I like you! And that means I like every part of you.”

His voice begins to raise, like he is yelling up, “If these fuckers would realize we’re done already and let me out.” He then lowers his voice like he’s looking back to the wall. “I want you. The experiment fucking works, I wish I could show you what you do to me cause maybe then it’ll finally stick. I’m going out of my mind that I can’t touch you and show you how much I want you, your body, everything. Do you need me to spell it out?” 

“Would you have still found me attractive if we met outside of this experiment?” you ask, “I bet you wouldn’t have even looked my way if you saw me at a bar or something.”

“Sweetheart,” he coaxes, “absolutely. I know that I would’ve been annoying the shit out of you for your number. You’d have been the one to reject me, I guarantee it.” 

“I would have never,” you reply. 

“So if it’s possible for you to know that you wouldn't have rejected me without seeing me,” Eddie muses, “why can’t you believe the same for me?”

“You haven’t asked me a single thing about my appearance,” he continues, “Do you care how much I weigh? Do you care if I’m short?”

“Not at all. I haven’t thought about it,” you admit. 

“I haven’t either. Now, please let me have my fantasy of you sitting on my lap please,” he whines, “I need something to get me through the day, Christ.” You laugh at his fake annoyance. 

You’re so happy at how he’s able to talk you down. It amazes you how he’s able to see through the insecurities and brings you back down to Earth. 

“Okay, okay,” you say, settling back into the couch and getting comfortable. You rest your head back. 

“I don’t know, basically, we’re in the middle of the campaign- I literally spent weeks writing it,” he continues, “and I literally just can’t stop thinking about how amazing it would be if you were there. I’m just sitting there, thinking about what it would feel like to just have you sitting on my lap while we’re playing and then I’m thinking about how I want to feel lean back on me and I’d have my arm around your waist holding you, and maybe I’d rub little circles on the side of your thigh and I thought about how soft you probably feel and then suddenly I’m sporting the most embarrassing boner which thankfully no one saw- Fuck, this is what you’re doing to me.”

***

“Is there any way to end the trial early?” Eddie asks, sitting in the interview room. There’s a man putting a pulse oximeter on his right index finger and another testing his blood pressure with a monitor on his left side. 

Two other technicians sit across from Eddie, taking notes from Eddie’s answers on a clipboard. They have tested his levels of dopamine and norepinephrine. They’re taking extensive notes on Eddie’s physical reactions to you, and the same is done to all of the candidates- including you. They continue to ignore Eddie’s questions as they ramble on about his levels of oxytocin. 

“In order for us to gather all of the information necessary, this isn’t possible,” one of them finally answers. 

“But I’m telling you how I feel- I’m telling you it works,” he insists. 

“Mr. Muson,” one says, closing a file folder that contains his charts. “This is a study in brain chemistry. You agreed to participate for the designated number of days and in exchange you’d receive compensation. Your conversations between yourself and the other candidates is not our business, nor what you choose to do afterwards. Our job here is to collect data, not the details of your personal life.” 

“I can’t believe this,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. He pulls off the oximeter and grabs his jean jacket. He walks out, despite their protests, flipping them off as he goes. He couldn’t care less about the lousy $200. As far as he was concerned, they poked and prodded the two of you enough. 

Of course, he did show up the next day. Promptly with a big grin on his face, he walked in with a happy go-lucky attitude that the entire lab team was secretly sick of dealing with. These sudden outbursts and dramatic tirades were becoming a staple of Eddie’s interviews and they equally couldn’t wait to be done with him. 

***

DAY FIVE

“Are these dice?” You ask with a chuckle, opening the small, black velvet bag that’s been left for you on the table in the room. You empty the bag out into your hand and watch as the dice roll into your palm one at a time. They’re all red and shimmer as you move them around in your cupped hand. 

“Well, I wanted you to have them,” you hear his voice explain from the other side of the wall. You’re beaming as you carefully pour them back into the bag and tie it off. 

“This is so sweet, Eds,” you marvel. “I love them.” 

“I also brought my guitar and like in a non-douchebag way I was kind of hoping to play something for you,” he says, his guitar perched on his lap. “I’ve just been working on this song and I wanted your opinion on it.” 

It's surprisingly soft sounding. You were expecting heavy guitar, something really metal based on what Eddie has told you about his music taste and his band. It’s slower paced, like a dreamy, slow rock ballad. 

You wished you could see him, observe how he looks when he’s concentrating or how his fingers look strumming against the cords. You just know he has the most beautiful hands. You imagine his fingers and try to visualize them flexing as he strums. You’re so distracted by it that you almost miss him singing a verse. 

“It’s not done yet,” he prefaces, still strumming. “I’m still working on the lyrics so don’t think too much about them, just like the meaning and the melody you know?” 

“Yeah totally,” you hum in agreement. “I think it sounds great.” He smiles at the praise. 

***

Before

You anxiously sit by the front window, peeking out between the blinds occasionally. You smooth out the skirt of the new dress your mom bought you, and you make sure your hair is still how you requested. Your mom let you wear makeup and you picked eyeshadow that matches your dress and you feel like a million bucks. It’s your ninth grade formal, and the star of the JV basketball team asked you to be his date. 

The minutes tick by and the time changes from reasonably late to stood up. You still hold out hope, and reject your parents' offers to just drive you to the dance. It’s been 45 minutes now, and you still hoped he’d be there. It was long past an hour that you admitted that he wasn’t coming. 

The following Monday you learned the whole thing was a prank, and he never wanted to ask you to the dance. It’s in the school paper that he’s at the dance, dancing cheek to cheek with one of the cheerleaders, who you can’t help but compare yourself to. 

***

Eddie is sitting at the middle school cafeteria table alone. He’s about a hundred pages into the Hobbit and the crusts of his peanut butter sandwich are forgotten about on the crinkly brown paper bag Uncle Wayne packed his lunch in. He’s long forgotten he’s sitting alone, far too engrossed in the story to care, when suddenly his head is yanked back by someone tugging on his t-shirt. 

“What’s up, Freak?” the voice asks before shoving Eddie back towards the table. He catches himself on the edge before his head comes in contact with the surface. He winces as anger boils up inside him. The three jocks laugh amongst themselves until a familiar voice shoos them away. 

“Sorry about them,” she says apologetically as Eddie looks to see her. Chrissy. He notices how she glances from him to the cafeteria table where the cheerleaders sit, and Eddie knows she doesn’t want to be seen with him for too long. 

“You can go, I’m fine,” Eddie says, forcing a laugh to make her feel better. “But, uh, I wanted to ask you-” 

“Okay, thanks,” she says, cutting him off and practically skipping to sit next to the prick who shoved him. Eddie recoils as the jock’s arm wraps around her. Eddie rolls his eyes and gets up to have lunch outside. Along with the remains of his lunch, he shoves the necklace he meant to give her in the bin. He’d stayed up past his bedtime, Wayne showing him how to drill a small hole into the top of one of his guitar picks to put a metal jewelry loop through so it could be put on a silver chain. 

***

You’re sitting at the table in the dimly lit restaurant and sipping on your cocktail when you see him walk in. He matches the description your friend gave you, and you feel yourself smile at how cute he is- definitely living up to the hype. Your friend spent weeks convincing you to go out on this date- one of her boyfriend’s best friends. They’re in the same fraternity. 

You can see as he walks into the dining room, he’s looking around trying to find his date. You offer a smile when he makes eye contact, and you offer a small wave. 

“James?” You ask, “you’re exactly like how Donna described you.” He offers a polite closed lipped smile, and a nod, taking a seat across from you without saying anything. 

As the date continues, you notice you’re doing a lot of the talking. You ask him questions and you’re met with a lot of one word answers. He looks detached, checking his watch and his attention seems to be wandering throughout the restaurant at anything but you. By the time your entrees arrive, he yawns. 

“I’m sorry, did I do something or say something?” you ask, hesitantly.

“No, no you’re good,” he says, straightening his posture like it would correct the behavior he’s been exhibiting. 

He pays for dinner, and you ask if he’d like to do this again sometime (just to be polite, you knew it was going nowhere). He sucks in air from between his teeth, and lets out an exhale. 

“You’re a nice person,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets as he waits for the valet to bring his car. “I’m sorry, but you aren’t really my type. Tom didn’t tell me anything about you really. I just felt like we didn’t click.” You notice the way his eyes scan your body, the unspoken awkwardness of you knowing what he isn’t saying. You nod, and say strained goodbyes as he gets in his car. You wished you were more surprised. 

***

Eddie is met with dirty looks when he approaches a girl at the bar. He feels her eyes on his tattoos and on his clothes, judging him. He sees her friend, who's also looking at him, lean in and whisper something and they both laugh. He knows the joke is on him, yet again. 

He opts to hang where he is, leaning against one of the high top tables, when he watches another guy approach her. He’s muscular, of course he is, and Eddie looks down at his own torso in comparison as this guy’s abs strain his shirt. Eddie scoffs, but now feels incredibly insecure at how his own shirt hangs loosely on his figure. 

***

DAY SIX

“Are you still worried about tomorrow?” Eddie asks, playing haphazardly with his rings as he sits with his forearms rested on his thighs. 

“A little,” you admit sheepishly. “Are you?” 

“More excited than nervous,” he replies honestly. “This whole thing has been fucking wild,” he chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Insane,” you agree, laying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. 

“I just wanted to ask, no pressure,” Eddie says, clearing his throat, “Uh the other day, when we talked about, you know- what’s gonna happen when we see each other…”

“Yes?”

“You said to not hold back, I don’t remember exactly what it was but along the lines of ‘I don’t want you to hold back. Just whatever feels right to you in that moment, do it. Kiss me, touch me, I’m down for everything.’ Or something. I just want to make sure…”

“You don’t remember exactly, huh?” you tease. 

“Is that still what you want?” he asks earnestly. 

“Without a doubt,” you smile.

TAGLIST

@woahnotmecryingoverafanfiction @ali-r3n @cherrycolas-things @hellfirebabe666 @trixyvixx @stardancerluv @i--wont-run-this-time @mewchiili @muamazon4 @1975lily @sadbitchfangirl @strangerthings36 @fanficfanatic000 @andrearose89 @sosawwycantrelate @animechick555

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x plus size!reader smut #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things fan fic #eddie munson #joe quinn characters #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x insecure reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x reader #eddie x you #plus size reader #plus size reader insert #reader insert #reader insert smut #reader insert fanfic

[berriweb]

╰┈➤ ❝ 3:19 AM ❞

: ̗̀➛ ft. earth-42 miles morales x fem! reader

: ̗̀➛ warnings. both y/n and miles smoke weed, short mentions of some injuries

: ̗̀➛ a/n. feel free to laugh and correct me on any fucked up spanish because i highly doubt google translate will be accurate and 4 years of high school spanish can only get one so far /3 the 42! miles brain rot I’m suffering from is LETHAL

Every few minutes a gust of wind would send shivers down your spine and poke chill bumps into your skin as air blew through the cracked bedroom window. You did your best to block out the chaotic sounds of sirens and the occasional arguments and fights breaking out in the streets below the apartment complex by turning up the speaker playing soothing music ever so slightly to combat them. Striding across the room, the smell of lavender, citrus, and maybe just a hint of cherry blossoms filled your nostrils and the room as you carefully lit incense and candles scattered across the desk in the corner of the room, before using the same lighter to re-ignite the joint hanging from between your pointer and middle finger.

Bringing it up to your lips, you took a long drag before releasing it and making an attempt to blow towards the crack and avoid stinking up the room with the stench of weed and burning paper, hence the candles and cracked window.

When you flopped back onto the made bed after setting your joint in the ash tray, your gaze turned from the dimly lit ceiling to the glowing red alarm clock sitting on the nightstand next to you, 3:19 AM.

Reaching for your phone charging next to it, you squinted at the screen before using Face ID to unlock it, your previous messages with Miles already being displayed seeing as you couldn’t stop checking to see if there were any updates.

5:15 PM

M&M <3: Something came up, got some business with Uncle Aaron. I’m going to be late.

You: we still on for movie night ? :(

M&M <3: Of course, wait for me til then? Give me til 11.

You: i’ll keep your spot warm :) stay safe, i love you &lt;3

M&M &lt;;3: Te amo, Ma.

5:19 PM

You: oh!!! tell aaron i said hey 2, haven’t been around to visit n a while😞

12:01 AM

You: everything good?

12:45 AM

You: a little worried, txt me back when you can :(

2:00 AM

You: ?

Despite trying your best to ignore the nightly chaos ensuing outside, it was becoming increasingly hard to do so when your boyfriend of many years had recently admitted to being the Prowler and spending most of the nights he wasn’t with you out in the city carrying out orders on behalf of Kingpin, especially when he’d texted you earlier that day planning to be back by 11 at latest for a movie night, only to follow up a few hours later saying that something had come up.

He’d assured you when he first broke the news that he’d always come back home to you, but that never stopped you from worrying every once in a while that something awful would occur that was out of his control. Especially when he wasn’t replying to any of your attempts to check up on him.

What if he’d been captured? What if it was a mission Aaron sent him on and he somehow screwed it up? What if someone had screwed him over? A rouge villain? An assassination gone wrong? A stray bullet he couldn’t dodge fast enough? What if-

Creak.

Your unintentional spiraling into horrific ‘what if’ scenarios was interrupted by the sound of rusted metal grinding against another, your head tilting up in less than a second to see a clawed hand further pushing up your window frame.

‘Speak of the devil.’

The relieved expression on your face couldn’t be hidden as you nearly jumped up from your spot on the bed to his side as he crawled through your window, with an admittedly suspicious gait when he stepped back from the window.

“You’re back! What took so long?” You chirped as you stood. Normally you would’ve avoided bombarding him with questions as soon as he’d come back, seeing as he’d likely already been dealing with enough before arriving, but he’d never come home this late before.

The plates on his mask pulled back to show his gorgeous, as usual, yet tired face behind it, exhaustion pulling at the ends of his lips. “Lo siento mami, tomó más tiempo de lo que pensaba, I got caught up with some bad people,” he hummed while carefully removing his clawed hands and leaving them resting in your desk, the rest of his geared suit coming off after until he was left in just his shirt and some nice sweatpants. Without all of the extra gear, you had a better chance to size him up before he pulled you into his embrace.

You suspected he kept it brief to avoid/distract you from worrying about him, which was hard to do when you noticed the slight discoloration on his ankle when part of his pant leg moved and his attempt to not put as much pressure on that foot when he walked, paired with the way his nose scrunched when he moved and his right side of his torso flexed.

Part of you admired his dedication to protecting you from knowing too much about what he did as the Prowler and trying to be a role model for you. The other part of you thought he was a fool for not letting you in and allowing you to help, which you often voiced your opinion on.

“They had you at it for hours? Are you alright?” You buried your face into his chest to get a whiff of his cologne and what you were sure was a hint of blood and outside. He mirrored your actions by resting his head on top of yours, making you appreciate past you for choosing to oil your scalp earlier that night.

“I’m alright, but why are you still up? I’ve told you about-” “I’m awake-” you cut your boyfriend off before he could start to lecture you, which you didn’t want to hear no matter how much you loved his accent, “because my boyfriend promised to be home for movie night but instead left me worrying for his safety all night then has the nerve to lie to me when he finally makes it back hours later.”

A look you’d learned was his attempt at hiding his guilty conscience crossed his face before he rose a brow at your accusation of lying. “Wait, wha-” this time he cut himself off when your arm slithered back from around his waist and you used to fingers to dig into his side, causing Miles to jerk back and wince, holding his side.

"¡Hijo de puta! What’s your deal Y/N?! Eso duele como el infierno! Jesus-”

You tried (and failed) to hold back from giggling at his irritated gaze before grabbing him by both hands and leading him to your bed, practically forcing him to sit down at the edge, not that he tried to fight back.

“Consider it karma, Miles. If you’re gonna go out and do dangerous shit at least don’t lie to my face about it,” you tsked, kneeling down as you ignored the pointed glare and mean mug he sent your way as his nose scrunched and he muttered something under his breath about you being cruel. Lifting the side of his shirt up, you eyed the damage his assumed rivals must have caused before he came, black and purple bruises littering his side in different colors and shades. You sucked your teeth, looking up at him with narrowed eyes which he only responded with by looking off to the side and biting the inside of his cheek.

Moving down, you pulled his pant leg up to see matching colors on his ankle, and given his previous limp you’d have to take a guess as to what happened. He hardly ever let you treat him in any capacity, which was mostly due to him feeling the need to always be treating you, but judging from the look in your eyes Miles knew he didn’t really have a choice this go round.

“It looks sprained, and those bruises are gonna take forever to heal. Do you need an ice pack?” “Please.” You we’re already rising to your seat, not waiting for a response before you quickly and quietly left your room to go retrieve one from the kitchen without waiting your parent(s).

When you returned, you were carrying an ice pack, along with some bandages to keep it in place and a small snack just in case he hadn’t eaten in a while, and knowing how he gets when he prioritizes being the Prowler over everything else, he likely hasn’t. He’d taken the liberty of finishing off the rest of your joint, evident by the evidence still being in his hand and the smoke blown into your mouth when you leaned in for a quick deep kiss before kneeling once again to work on his ankle the best you could. You were by no means a professional, but your attempt was better than leaving it alone and your guilty conscience wouldn’t let you even if you wanted to.

As you worked in silence the initial tension in the air seemed to ease up, partially due to the weed, but you couldn’t help but still be slightly bothered by how worried you’d been for him. Yeah, he made it back relatively okay this time despite his lateness, but what about next time, and the time after that?

“Y/N.”

Miles’ voice pulled you out of your thoughts, mainly due to the fact that he hardly ever called you by your first name, and you realized that you’d been quietly staring at the floor for a while after finishing up treating his injuries. You could feel him reach down to grab both your hands and pull you up to his feet until you were standing between both of his legs looking down at him.

“You worry too much,” he started, but that didn’t help at all to ease your mind. “You don’t worry enough! Miles, you were supposed to be here hours ago. How can you expect me to just sit around and go about my normal routine knowing that you’re out their risking your life nearly every night? I can’t do that for you and you know that!”

Miles felt guilt creeping up his throat, this felt like a long overdue conversation. “I don’t expect that of you, but what do you want me to do mami? I can’t just drop out and you know that. All of this- I do it for you, for us, you know I can’t just back out now, it’s my only sense of normalcy ever since-” he didn’t finish his sentence, but you didn’t need him to. You couldn’t bear to look him in eyes, your heartstrings tugging painfully at the reminder of how he ended him the way he was now.

You’d been there for him through the worst of it, when his father died, when the city went to shit. It was awful for a very long time, your only glimpse of hope being when Miles seemingly started regaining a sense of who he was long after the fact. You’d been happy for him, encouraging him to go out more and constantly reminding him that you were there for him. Unbeknownst to you, the “healthy” outlet he’d been using to cope with the fact was sneaking out with his Uncle to commit crimes on behalf of some of the worst known criminals. You’d be lying if you said you approved, that you were okay with what he did and that you thought Miles was too, but you’d learned to accept it on account of the fact that there really wasn’t any other option. You knew you couldn’t even entertain the thought of not always being by his side, you needed him just as much as he needed you.

You couldn’t argue with his point and couldn’t hold eye contact, trying to look off to the side to avoid his hardened gaze but he was quick to gently take hold of your chin and turn your head back to him, making a warm feeling crawl up your neck.

“Siento haberte preocupado, mi amor. Do you remember the promise I made you when I first told you?” He asked.

It was a random callback, but you remember it as clear as day, the night you’d shown up at Miles’ house to surprise him with a gift you found at the mall which reminded you of him, sitting in his room awaiting his return only for him to crawl in through the window clad in Prowler gear mid-unmasking. You swore you could still occasionally hear the sound of your jaw hitting the floor.

“You promised that you’d never keep another secret from me,” you recalled with a small sigh, feeling your shoulders drop.

“And?”

“And…that no matter what you’d always come back home to me.”

“Dije que nunca te dejaré esperando a alguien que nunca volverá a casa,” Miles’ hands caressed your sides before falling still at your hips. “I promised to always, no matter what, come back, no?”

Your hands fell down to his shoulders, tilting your head until your foreheads were touching and you could feel his breathe hitting your collarbone.

“I’m sorry baby, I just…”

“No need to apologize, mami, I don’t blame you.”

His words ease your concern, but you know that the issue is too big for one conversation to solve. At the same time, however, it’s also out of concern.

Deciding that you’ve stressed yourself out more than enough for one night, you move away from him to flop back onto your bed before tugging on his arm to bring him down with you. Miles wraps his arms around your waist to bring you closer and you throw a leg over both of his while being careful to not hurt any of his already injured parts, burying your face into the crook of his neck while your free hand reaches to run your nails across the part for his braids.

“They got you good, huh? Messed up your pretty braids n’ everything, they were so neat,” you mumbled, making Miles chuckle.

“You can always do ‘em again for me, huh mami? You always do them the best.”

“And you missed out of movie night, I had the best trilogy picked out…” he could practically feel your pout on his neck.

“How ‘bout I make it all up to you tomorrow? No school, I’ll take you shopping and we’ll go eat someplace nice. Then we can watch all the movies you want, I can even find a decent theater for us, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’d like that…” judging by the slur, he knew you were practically out for the night, which was confirmed by the yawn that followed your words. He let a small smile tug at his lips as he kissed your forehead before pulling the blankets up to covered the two of you.

“Buenas noches, mami.”

“G’night baby.”

#earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #spider man #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #miles g morales #miles morales prowler #prowler miles #earth 42 #earth 42 miles morales #e42 miles #e42 miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles g morales x reader #miles x reader #atsv x you #atsv fanfiction

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Hi everyone! I have a new Arthur x female!OC fic I've been working on that's posted up on Ao3, so I figured I would share it here as well. Please let me know what you think! This story is currently still on-going :)

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Summary: Kate McCanon, a young widow from the north, meets outlaw Arthur Morgan. When the two cross paths she discovers a complex man wrestling with his own sense of right and wrong. As their unlikely bond deepens, Kate becomes determined to guide Arthur towards a brighter path, even as tensions rise within his gang led by the enigmatic Dutch van der Linde. With danger lurking at every turn, Kate must navigate treacherous territory to protect those she holds dear, all while finding love in the most unexpected of places. Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Chapter 1 - The Frost Gleams Where The Flowers Have Been

1890

Kate had never fancied herself a skilled woodworker. While she had lent a hand to her husband in constructing a barn, her role mostly entailed passing him tools and bringing him his lunch. But as she stood amidst the sawdust, tears streaking down her cheeks, she grappled with the daunting task ahead. She lacked both the sufficient wood and the patience to craft two coffins. Thus, the inevitable decision emerged: they would be laid to rest together.

The Reverend's suggestion to cremate the bodies, emphasizing the need to eradicate the disease completely, fell upon deaf ears. The mere thought of reducing her beloved husband and precious baby girl to ashes felt abhorrent to Kate. Instead, she harbored a tender hope that one day, perhaps, they would blossom into a magnificent Willow tree.

Amidst the melancholy chore, the vibrant symphony of birdsong provided a bittersweet backdrop, reminiscent of the lullabies she once crooned to her infant daughter. With a sorrowful melody humming in her heart, Kate toiled diligently, her hands blackened with grime, each wipe across her tear-stained cheeks a testament to her grief. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting their modest farm in a golden hue, Kate's work pressed on.

Night descended swiftly, cloaking the world in shadows that seemed to stretch for an eternity. Kate, perched upon her porch swing, found no solace in slumber. Her vigil was solemn, her gaze never wavering from the rough-hewn coffins that cradled her entire world within their confines.

With the break of dawn, the Reverend returned, his disapproval evident, yet tempered by resignation. Together, in a somber silence, they labored to fashion a final resting place. By mid-afternoon, the grave stood ready, a solemn abyss awaiting its occupants. With the Reverend's assistance, Kate tenderly lowered her cherished husband and daughter into the earth's cold embrace.

As dusk settled, the Reverend offered prayers and parting words before taking his leave. Left alone in her sorrow, Kate felt the weight of despair bearing down upon her. In a world forged by men and seemingly devoid of solace for a solitary widow, she found herself with no recourse but to depart.

Beneath the twilight sky, the epitaph etched upon their shared gravestone bore silent witness to her profound loss:

Here Lies My Beloved Noah, And Our Beautiful Daughter, Lorena.

May God Keep Their Souls.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

1899 

As the sun rose over the horizon, casting its golden rays across the sprawling expanse of Emerald Ranch, Kate found herself amidst the ebb and flow of another day's labor. Nine years had slipped by since the tragic loss of her husband and daughter, a span of time marked by wandering footsteps and the pursuit of odd jobs on her journey westward. 

She had once heard her father say they had family in California, he had many sisters but only kept in touch with one. Kate wrote to her after the death of her husband, seeking asylum with a relative with nowhere else to go. Her Aunt wrote her back and gave her condolences, she said Kate would be welcome with open arms. 

However, the last she heard of her Aunt was 7 years ago. But still, she continued west. She had come too far and been through too much to stop now. What she hoped to find in the valleys of California, she did not know anymore. Over the years she became more cowboy and less of a woman, her once soft hands now calloused by years of labor. The untamed plains and cold hard ground had become both her refuge and her bed. 

She came to Emerald Ranch only a week ago, her boss; Seamus, was reluctant to hire a stranger, let alone a woman, to help on the ranch. Kate assured him she was cheap labor and was only looking for shelter and a place to rest until she was on the move again. Kate was no stranger to odd jobs, she took any work she could get and saved as much as she could. But she was no criminal. 

She heard Seamus talking to two men as she filled the troughs with clean water. The gentlemen said they were new in town and looking for a partnership, one in which they could both make money. 

“Look I ain't no idiot, and I don't trust folks outta the blue. If you want to work together then you're gonna have to prove to me you’re worth my time.” Her boss's voice raised above the usual noise of the barn animals. 

“Of course! We’re only interested in a partnership, just looking to make a little extra money.” Carried the voice of an older gentleman. 

“No doubt. I do interesting very well. It's trusting that I don't do so well.” her boss answered, still not convinced by the two strangers.

“Look at us, we’re honest as the day is long,” said the other man with cheer. 

“You really want us to prove ourselves to this clown Hosea?” said the other voice, sounding much younger than his partner. 

Seamus scoffed, “good day to you, Hosea.” 

“N-now wait a minute Seamus. Arthur can be rough, and quick with his tongue, but I swear you can trust him, you can trust me.” Hosea pleaded, following Seamus to the side of the barn. Kate now had a clear view of the new “business partners”. 

Kate didn't know Seamus very well, but she could tell he was an honest enough man. Wise for his years, and liked to keep his nose out of trouble. “I’m an old man Hosea,” he began, “and you know why I ain’t dead yet?” 

“Because you don't trust idiots,” Hosea finished.

“Exactly.”

“We’re not idiots, Seamus. Let us prove it to you.” Hosea had an air of confidence, he wasn't some runaway bum looking to make a quick buck. He was serious about a partnership. Although Kate wouldn't say the same for his partner, who loomed behind them like a panther ready to pounce. 

“Okay…I’ll tell you what, old Bob Crawford and his boys just bought a beautiful stolen stagecoach from up north. It’s in their barn. Now you go get that,” he looked around for anyone who might be listening to his scheming, “then we can work together.” He said quietly, placing a hand on Hosea’s shoulder. 

“Who’s Old Bob Crawford?” inquired Hosea.

“An acquaintance of mine…well, not just an acquaintance. He’s my cousin, by marriage.” Seamus explained. 

“Oh so now we’re meddlin’ in your family business?” Arthur boasted with skepticism. 

Hosea waved him off and continued speaking, “Where is he located?”

“Now hang on a moment, you boys could very easily take this coach and sell it yourselves for a pretty penny,” Seamus began. 

“So you comin’ with us? I thought you didn't want to be involved in shady business?” Arthur spoke up again. 

“Heavens no, if my cousin saw me it would be my death. I'm sending someone with you, as collateral.” Seamus turned around and saw Kate already watching them, he waved her over. 

Arthur shook his head disapprovingly, “nah, I don't do babysitters Seamus.” 

Kate was just as skeptical about her part in this, she told Seamus she was looking for honest work, and robbing his cousin certainly falls out of that line. 

“She’s not babysitting . She’ll take you to my cousin's farm and let you do the robbing. Kate has been working for me for a few days now and she’s tougher than she looks.” Seamus said turning to Kate, “I want you to make sure that stage coach gets back to me. You don't need to take part in the robbery.” 

“You’re fine with them robbing your cousin?” She spoke in a hushed tone so only Seamus could hear.

“By marriage,” he added, “and yes, I would love it. The man’s been a thorn in my ass for years.” He said amused.

She nodded in acknowledgement and turned to get a good look at the two strangers. One was indeed much older than the other, with cropped white hair peeking out from under his hat. The other gentleman was tall and burly, and he hid his eyes under the brim of his hat. He seemed wary of strangers and kept both hands resting on his gun belt. 

“Let me get my horse saddled and I’ll meet you boys at the intersection leading out of town.” She spoke, Hosea nodded and was already making his way to his horse. Arthur stood for a moment eyeing the woman, no doubt playing the intimidation tactic. But Kate had seen far scarier men than him in her days. “Y'know the quicker we get this done the quicker you fellas get paid.” She noted.

Arthur scoffed and finally followed Hosea to his horse, “don't need no damn babysitter,” he grumbled kicking dust.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate made quick work of saddling her black Hungarian roan, she calls Lorena. After her infant daughter. In a moments pass she was on the dirt road leading out of Emerald Ranch and toward Carmody Dell. She waved for the two men to follow her, they stayed behind her a short distance and made no effort for small conversation.

However, she overheard snippets of their own conversation as they went, “I thought you wanted me to be the strong arm? That's usually how it goes,” Arthur spoke.

“Yes but..” Hosea hesitated, lowering his tone a little, “you know how this works.”

“Cmon Hosea that fellers a joke, he don't even trust us enough to handle it ourselves. Now we got a chaperone.” Arthur complained loudly, at least he’s not calling me a babysitter , Kate thought. 

“All the better, he won't cause us any problems. And I cant blame the guy for sending the girl. Two strangers looking for quick money? Hell, I’d want assurance too.” Hosea answered, “besides, if he’s sending protection that means there’s big money to be made. Seamus wants his cut.” 

Kate came to the same conclusion, up until now Seamus had given her the usual ranch-hand tasks. Feeding and cleaning mostly. This was very different, there must be good money for this stage coach. 

“I guess you’re right,” Arthur muttered.

Hosea mumbled something back to Arthur about “hanging up their hats” if they couldn't finish a job as easy as this. They laughed and began chatting about their travels in Emerald ranch, Kate tuned them out and began humming a song to her horse. 

Her singing always pleased her horse and calmed the girl’s nerves. She was a strong and fierce steed, but jumpy and needy like a baby sometimes. Kate thought naming her horse after her daughter would bring her closure, instead, she was almost convinced that her daughter's spirit lived on in Lorena somehow. In all ways except biological, her horse was her baby.

Carmody Dell was a short distance north past the train tracks and Fort Wallace, Kate had passed it once before. They rode at a steady pace, the men behind her never coming too close. She wondered for a moment what their story was, and why they needed money so bad. Perhaps they were travelers like her, maybe they even had a caravan. She entertained the thought of traveling with a group again, but shuddered at the memories. Her previous caravan adventures had not ended well. 

Once the ranch was in view she slowed and allowed the boys to catch up on either side of her. She led them to a grassy clearing off the road. 

“You should continue on foot from here, I’ll stay behind with your horses.” She said dismounting. The two of them nodded and dismounted their horses, Kate was almost surprised to hear no objections from Arthur. 

“C'mon son, let's see what we’re dealing with here.” Hosea commented walking towards a large rock in front of the house. 

“Son”, so they are family . She mentally noted. Arthur gave his horse a pat, “be a good girl for the lady” he said, tipping his hat towards Kate. She was slightly taken aback by the sudden politeness.

She busied herself with the horses for a bit while the men laid out their plan, she gave Hosea and Arthurs horse a treat and was about to start brushing his horse when he approached her again. Startled, she backed away from his mare, she didn't want him to think she was snooping in his saddle bags. 

“You can keep brushin’ her, she loves attention,” he half smiled reaching up and petting her snout. “I just came to tell ya’ we’re gonna wait till it gets dark. Less chance of getting caught that way.” 

“Smart,” she replied, for whatever reason she suddenly felt very shy in his presence. 

He stood a few feet away from her and she could see more of his features. He was around her age. He had short dirty blond hair under his leather hat, and bright blue/green eyes. Her eyes lingered over his body. He was big too, more than a foot taller than her and well fed and muscular. His bicep had to be the size of her head alone, and she could tell by the fabric of his button down he had a bit of a belly hidden behind his gun belt. 

“What’s her name?” His voice broke through her awkward silence. 

“Who?” She asked and looked back at him. 

He chortled, “the black beauty you got over there,” he nodded to her horse. 

Oh, duh! “Her name is Lorena, she also loves attention but she’s nervous around new people.” Kate answered, still a bit lost in her thoughts. 

Arthur made a clicking sound with his tongue, reaching out a hand and slowly walking toward her horse. “It’s alright girl,” he cooed while she sniffed his palm. He pulled out a peppermint and gave it to her, which Lorena happily accepted. 

Kate smiled at the interaction, “you introduce yourself to my horse before me?” she teased. 

“My apologies ma’am,” he turned to face her, “names Arthur Morgan.”

“Nice to meet you Mr. Morgan, I’m Kate McCanon.” She reached out her hand and he shook it. His grip was firm but polite. 

“Likewise, Miss.McCanon. That’s Belle your brushin’, and that’s Silver Dollar.” He pointed at Hosea’s horse. “I saw this beauty when we first rode into Emerald ranch, had no idea she was yours tho.” He was talking about her horse again, “told myself I’d inquire about buying her if she was available.” 

Kate smiled at the affection he was showing for her horse, she knew Lorena was a beautiful mare. She often received compliments on the road, and many have offered to pay for her purebred. 

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but she’s not for sale.” 

“Well I can certainly see that,” he laughed, “she seems happy though. You must take real good care of her.” He said, his attention still on her mare as he scratched under her chin. 

“You some kind of horse breeder Mr. Morgan?” Kate asked. 

Arthur laughed, “no no. Nothing like that, though sometimes I wish I was.” He smiled as he said it but Kate noticed there was a sadness in his tone. “I just think they’re neat is all.” 

They had only just met, and while Arthur was not initially the most pleasant, she found it incredibly cute how enraptured he was by her horse. 

“I should probably also apologize for my rudeness earlier, it’s been a rough couple weeks for us and we uh- don’t always take too kindly to strangers.” Arthur took off his hat as he spoke and held it to his chest, a sincere gesture. 

Kate was shocked, the man she met at Emerald ranch not even an hour ago seemed like a completely different person than the man before her. His cold demeanor was gone, or at least reined in at the moment. 

“No apology needed Mr. Morgan. I understand,” She answered. “Although I wouldn’t call it rude, you were just skeptical. Rightfully so, can I ask what brings you to Emerald Ranch?” 

Arthur looked away from her as he spoke, choosing to focus on her horse. “We’re just stayin’ in the area for a few weeks. Passin’ through and tryna make money.” 

“By robbing stagecoaches?” Kate said in an amused tone, “you a bunch of outlaws or something?” She continued, half-joking. 

Arthur looked at her with surprise, “What? No, we uh- got laid off from the railway. Up-north. Just looking for money so we can find a place to settle down again. That’s all.” He looked away again, avoiding her gaze. 

“I’ll say it again, by robbing stagecoaches?” She kept her tone playful, but wasn’t entirely convinced by his story. But it felt good to be the intimidator.

“Wasn’t our idea, Seamus asked us to rob his cousin!” His voice rose slightly with anger. 

“By marriage,” Kate retorted. 

Arthur was about to speak again but only stared at her. 

“I’m just pulling your leg Mr. Morgan.” Kate laughed. “It’s no business of mine. I’m only passing through here, same as you. What you do here and how you earn your money is your business. As is mine.” 

Arthur scoffed, suddenly amused, did this woman just tease me?

He went to speak again before another voice interrupted them, “Arthur! Get over here!” Called Hosea. He pointed a finger at Kate as to say this isn’t over and walked away. 

Amused with herself, Kate grabbed an apple and sat down against a tree. Watching the sun set as she waited for the cover of night so the two men could pull off their heist. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate woke suddenly to the sound of horses moving. She quickly got up and looked in the direction of the ranch. Sure enough the stage coach was steadily moving down the path away from its place in the barn. She quickly mounted her horse and trotted over to them. 

“Nice work! Follow me back to Emerald Ranch and try to keep it in one piece.” She called up to Hosea who was driving the coach. With that she clicked her tongue and took off ahead of the coach at a steady but quick pace. Not wanting to get themselves caught. 

Before Hosea could crack the reins he looked to Arthur as he was about to get in the coach, “you ride ahead with her. I got this.” 

Arthur looked confused, “why wouldn’t I ride with you? The horses will follow.” 

Now Hosea was giving him an amused look, “I heard you with her earlier.” 

“And?” The cowboy replied slightly annoyed. 

“You’ve never fumbled our cover story so bad!” He quipped, “it was like listening to a child tell it!” 

Arthur shook his head, “now you’re playin’ match maker old man?” He teased, trying to hide his smile.   

“I’m just saying it wouldn’t kill you to go talk to her son."

Without another word Arthur nodded and dismounted the coach, getting into the saddle and riding off to catch up to Kate.

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan x original female character #hurt/comfort #eventual smut #eventual romance #fluff #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #rdr2 #rdr2 community #hosea matthews #dutch van der linde #rdr2 fanfic #fanfic #ao3 link #fanfiction #archive of our own #wattpad

[serafilms]

song 4! sweeter than fiction (taylor swift) + remus lupin (spotify wrapped event)

seen you lost in a crowd, seen your colours fade, wish i could make it better, someday you won’t remember, this pain you thought would last forever and ever

The air was cold last night. You feel it when you open your window and the breeze pierces your skin, your mouth twisting into a frown. This isn’t good for Remus, whose body temperature is high enough as a human, and even higher as a wolf. He would have been freezing last night. And very agitated.

Scanning the grounds you can see from your window, you don’t see the telltale werewolf or his three companions. It’s still early morning, but you know that he usually returns around now. Madam Pomfrey must already have him.

You don’t waste time in pulling on your shoes and slipping out the room, leaving the snoozing figures of your roommates behind. The common room is empty, and it’s still a few minutes before 6am, but you’re willing to take the risk of nobody finding you until curfew is lifted.

It’s one minute past six according to the clock on the wall in the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey gives you a raised eyebrow but says nothing as she leaves the room and you approach the only bed with its curtains drawn.

“Remus?”

There’s a groan in response. You pull open the curtains and slip inside.

Remus Lupin deserves the world. Which is why seeing him broken and battered, with bruises and scratches all over his arms and face, makes your heart break.

"Hi Rem."

He manages a half smile at you, but says nothing. On a better day, he might have quipped a joke, or called you a nickname, but today is anything but a good day.

"How do you feel?" You murmur, as you sit beside him and brush your fingers over his hair.

This time he replies, "Like shit."

You survey him as his voice seems to waiver, and suddenly his hand comes up to his face to rub at his eyes. It comes away wet with tears, and you don't hesitate to grab it, rubbing your thumb over the edge of his palm.

Remus inhales deeply, as his face contorts, and you swear your heart splits in two as more tears slip down his face. Your other hand comes up to wipe them away, and you lean in to kiss his cheek.

"I always think it'll get better," he cries, "each time I turn. But it never does."

Tears begin to gather in the corners of your own eyes, and you squeeze his hand a little tighter. You want to tell him that it will get better, that everything will be okay, but you want more than anything for him to believe it, and you can't seem to find the words. So instead, you gently nudge him over and slip into the bed beside him, his hand clutched in yours.

Remus breathes deeply to calm himself. His body is warm. You wonder how the world could let a boy so kind suffer like this.

"One day," you say, eyes fixed on the ceiling, "we'll be living in a nice house. With a library, filled with books floor to ceiling."

There's a rustle in the mattress beside you as Remus shifts his weight to face you.

"Lily will have invented some spell or potion to make it all easier every month, and we'll have a spare bedroom or two just for our friends to come stay with us." You turn to face him, and see tears in his eyes again. Your hand pulls away from his to wipe them, resting on his cheek as you continue.

"And you'll be doing whatever it is you want, and people will recognise you for you, and your achievements, and they'll sing your praises and know you not as a werewolf, not as a monster, but as Remus Lupin. The kindest, most clever wizard to ever walk the Earth."

Remus manages a smile, as his hand comes up to rest atop yours on his cheek. "Thank you, love."

His eyes shine with earnest.

"It'll get better, Remus." He smiles as he kisses your hand, and although you can tell that he doesn't fully believe you, you let it slide. You'll prove him wrong one day.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #marauders x reader #marauders imagines #marauders #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #marauders imagine #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin imagines #2023 spotify wrapped event !

[cellythefloshie]

;; Sister of the Groom

Summary: Your big brother Jordan is finally getting married, and as his wedding planner you have been more than involved with his big day. From planning to being a member of the bridal party you're ready to let loose and have your team take over for the night. Being the planner also helped keep you from being blindsided when your ex-hookup, Vince Dunn, arrived to support his ex-teammate. Worst of all, even after 4 years apart, the attraction is still there. Kinks, Tropes & TW: Sister of the groom, Binnington!reader, player's sister!reader, wedding planner!reader, bridesmaid!reader, situationship, "exes" to lovers, secret relationship, unprotected sex, car sex, implied jealousy, implied caught feelings. Word Count: 4358 Note: I used a different editing software to edit this fic. So please if anyone could reach out and let me know if there was like any improvement in it, that would be great.

Taglist: @mp0625 @starshine-hockey-girl @wingedwheelprxncess @misunderstoodwerewolf @callsign-denmark @puckmaidens @xcicix - I swear I'm going to get better at remembering to do this.

While Earth had four seasons, your life had two: hockey season and wedding season. 

It was a peaceful harmony. A perfect balance between work and play, as a wedding planner - but this season was different because your big brother was finally getting married. You had written off your entire wedding season for it. You turned many offers to plan the weddings for hockey superstars like Tyler Seguin and Brady Tkachuk. Jordan and Cristine were your utmost priority. It left you wearing many hats. From being the wedding planner to the sister of the groom to the bridesmaid, you didn’t know a moment of calm. That was until the morning of the wedding, when Cristine put the first drink in your hand. 

You sipped mimosas at breakfast. 

You had done a shot of Crown Royal with Jordan and your sisters, Sydney and Callie, moments before he walked down the aisle. 

Going into the evening, you remained in the state of a pleasant buzz that you would not let yourself push past into intoxication. It would be too much of a risk if something went wrong. It was a far too dangerous thing for the sake of the wedding, especially when your ex was there. Well, he wasn’t your ex, not really.

You and Vince Dunn had never been official. 

The two of you never went on any dates, but you and Vince had been hooking up since he and Jordan played on the Chicago Wolves roster together. But it never got more serious than that. It was the occasional fuck when you both were back home in Ontario for the summer. Or when you had been down to visit in whatever city your brother called home. It all ended with the expansion draft. It was the moment he uprooted his life that had mere glimmers of you in it and moved to Seattle. 

Vince quickly faded into a memory of your young adulthood, becoming nothing more than someone who once knew your body better than anyone. Someone that you only thought about when the weather was just right or when his name came up in conversation. It always left you with a faint smile, fond of the unspeakable memories that the two of you shared. When you saw his name on the guest list, you wore that same smile. Then again, when you saw he sent back his RSVP without a plus one. 

You should have known better to go into the night thinking you could control yourself with him around. Especially once you caught sight of him in the beige suit that almost looked pink as you helped the photographer with the pictures at sunset. You couldn’t help but stare. Your eyes flashed over how his button-down shirt would grow tight over his chest as he threw his arms around his former teammates. And they fixed on his smile as it tugged at his cheeks so playfully. Not once did you look away from him. Vince and how his curls hung down into his forehead or from how his suit fit him just right. Nor could you ignore how his laugh consumed him so fully. 

That was until his eyes fixated on you in return. 

A heavy breath coursed through you, your eyes falling to the grass before you fell into a full retreat towards the reception hall. You lost yourself in the crowd, the toasts, and the occasional comfort that came from sipping champagne when you felt the buzz beginning to fade. But not even drinking could rid your mind of his green eyes and how you could feel him staring at you. They were on you as you sat at the head table with the rest of the bridal party for dinner. And they followed you again as you took to the dance floor to kick off the evening with a dance. 

You let your eyes find him again in the crowd as you danced with the groomsman who had also walked you down the aisle during the ceremony. His hand was low on your back, his fingers wrinkling the blush satin fabric as you danced. But your mind was all too distracted to enjoy the moment. Your eyes found Vince at the edge of the dance floor. His head cocked to the side as his eyes dragged up and down your figure. And when he noticed you staring back, he smirked. 

He instantly knew that, even after four years, he still had his hold on you. 

Biting your lip, you glanced towards the bathroom. The song was slowly fading into the next and joined the voice of the DJ as he welcomed the rest of the guests to the dancefloor. It was the perfect opportunity. Your eyes found Vince again, glancing one more time towards the bathroom before you were slipping from the groomsmen’s hold. His hands travelled down the length of your arms, desperate to hold on to you - to keep dancing with you. 

“I’m sorry, I just need to use the washroom,” you said, offering him your soft excuses. 

It wasn’t a complete lie. You fully intended to slip away into the bathroom, but you would not use it as it was meant to be used. You would clear each stall, then desecrate every virtuous value weddings uphold in one of its stalls. Or maybe you’d let him fuck you on the countertop or against the door if you were feeling so bold.  

Your heart jumped into your throat, the beat of it synonymous with the bass of the music as your every step carried you towards the bathroom door. Eyes fixated on it, and you took steady breaths to keep yourself calm. 

The music that played and the glow of the surrounding lights left you feeling as if you were in a dream. That at any moment, you would wake up in a cold sweat in your hotel room bed alone. But the touch of a large hand against the small of your back confirmed that this was all very much reality. 

“Hello, Princess,” Vince said. You could barely hear him over the music, but you felt his hot words against the shell of your ear and in your hair that was slowly losing its style. It would be nothing more than a mess of curls by the time he was done with you. 

“Vince,” was all you could manage, his voice a mere breath on your lips as your eyes felt the bathroom door and fell on his features. 

He hadn’t changed all that much since you last saw him. He was still as pretty as ever. Your lips parted to tease him, only to be reduced to silence as the careful pressure of his hand guided you away from the bathroom door and towards the foyer. 

Your head cocked to the side, a brow raising. Where was he taking you?

Your steps didn’t falter, the music and lights fading behind you and into the calm of night on the patio. Minutes ago, before the first dance, the patio was full of guests smoking cigars and enjoying the night air, but with the first dances of the night captivating, there were only a few stragglers to catch you and Vince sneaking away. None of them knew you both enough to say a word as he led you to the fence that divided the patio from the path to the parking lot. He left you void of his touch for a moment as he hopped over the fence before extending his hand to you to help you over. 

One hand found his hand while the other hiked up your dress, giving him a good look at the length of your legs as you hopped the fence yourself. It wasn’t the most graceful attempt you could have made, but his hands were quick to find your waist. His hold kept you steady on your feet before he lead you off to the parking lot. 

At first, you were going to question it, but it made the most sense. No one would leave the venue for hours, and the only interruption you’d get would be from the valet. Whereas in the bathroom, there would be a constant cycle of women needing to pee, photo ops, and the occasional guest who would need to vomit after drinking far too much. The bathroom came with too great of a risk of being caught by your mother, your sisters, or the wives and girlfriends of one of his teammates. But in the parking lot, there would be no one to catch you there. 

He weaved you through the lot, in between cars until he led you to one that was clearly a rental and leaned up against the hood. Vince propped his leg up so that his bright white, never-been-worn-before sneaker rested up against the car’s fender. Then he patted the hood casually. The impact was a simple invitation to join him, one that left you leaning up against the car at his side. 

The cool night air sent a shiver down your spine and you crossed your arms over your chest to keep the goosebumps from rising. But Vince was already doing you one better. He had reached back and pulled off his blazer and draped it over your shoulders as he spoke. 

“It’s been a long time, Princess. How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you said slowly, simply. Nervous, you swallowed back anything more complicated than you could have said to him. You hadn’t gone out there for a conversation, you wanted him to touch you. 

“Things are good,” you repeated, looking back over your shoulder to meet his eyes as they raised from tracing over your silhouette again, “How’s Seattle?”

His smile grew, and your heart fluttered. His smile always made you weak for him.

“It’s great,” Vince answered, “we actually made the playoff this year-”

You cut him off with a laugh, your hand coming up to rest over your lips before you could stop yourself. “I know. I didn’t stop watching hockey just because you don’t play with my brother anymore.”

At that moment, you already knew you had said too much, and Vince wasn’t going to let it go. 

“You watch my games?”

Every single one. 

“When I can,” you lied, “the team had an incredible season.” 

And so did you. 

He had reached career highs in every category. Goals. Assists. Points. He hit milestones for them all as he helped take the team to the second round. A round you still believed they deserved to win over the Dallas Stars - but fate had other plans for them. Maybe he could help take them all the way next year, but first, he would need to sign a contract extension. 

You knew it would be the last thing he wanted to talk about. So, it became the last thing on your mind as you watched him reach up to push his fingers through his thick curls. They raked through each strand, breaking up his curls before letting them fall back into place. It left you to breathe out a long exhale, fighting back the fuck that craved to be cursed on the end of your tongue. Vince knew exactly what he was doing by enticing you with his curls. You had once loved to stroke your fingers through them - to use them as your anchor as he fucked you - and now it was all you were thinking about as he hummed. 

“We’ll be better next year.”

“Oh?” you raised a brow at him as you turned in place to face him fully. You had to fight the urge to hitch up your skirt and climb onto his lap. Instead, you lingered at the front of the car, standing between his knees. “Am I getting the inside scoop from Vince Dunn himself?”

“No, no,” he shook his head, a slight laugh in his words, “Nothing yet, but I want to stay there. They drafted me. They wanted me on their team,” he said, smiling. “It’s like home, but it’s complicated. You know?”

“Yeah,” you nodded in agreement, “I know.”

Your brother was in the NHL. You knew how complicated the lifestyle could be. Their worlds revolved around the game and the team. More often than not, the rest of their lives had to be put on hold. Some players would go without relationships and families. Others left the home and the children under the control of their wives and any support they would need to raise them. Hockey season was the very reason you and Cristine had done all the wedding planning without Jordan. But Dunn, he never had that. He didn’t have a wife or a girlfriend or kids. Instead, Vince had hockey season and an off-season, which was dedicated to training for the next season. He just had hockey. And well, you. 

“So you, ah,” Vince hesitated, “You bring a date to this thing?”

Your cheeks flushed, your hand coming down to rest on each of his thighs as you stood between them. “No, I came alone.”

Vince straightened up, sliding down the hood of the car so his feet rested firmly on the ground. It was there his hands found your waist and held you near as he quirked up his brow. “And the groomsmen you were dancing with?”

“Was a formality,” you assured him. 

“He was handsy,” Vince said, his words a complaint. It left you smiling.

“He was,” you confirmed, leaning in oh so slightly. “Are you jealous?”

Vince looked away, his teeth chewing on the inside of his cheek as he thought about just what to say. Was jealousy even in his vocabulary? 

Was it in yours? 

For years, you had been on-again-off-again hooking up between his temporary flings and your attempts at a stable relationship. And not once had either of you tried to interfere. There were no strings that tied you to one another, and yet you always found your way back to his bed after what seemed to be an inevitable breakup. Even now, four years later, you were still single, and from what you could tell, so was he, and you were both so quick to want to fall back into your old habits. 

“If I was?” Vince answered after a moment, his words more of a challenge than a clue to how he felt about seeing you dancing with someone else. 

Smiling, you leaned in so that you spoke softly into his ear, “I think I could think of a few ways to put you at ease.” As you spoke, your hand that was resting on his thigh travelled up. Up over the strength of his muscle and between his legs to stroke his cock through his trousers. 

“Fuck,” he cursed out, his bright eyes falling shut as you felt him grow stiff beneath your touch. “I left the doors unlocked. Get in the backseat. Panties off, Princess.”

Easing back, you cast a glance over the parking lot that was consumed by the amber glow of dusk. You looked for any sign of anyone who could catch the two of you in the back seat, and when you found no one, you moved to the backdoor of the car and crawled inside. 

It wasn’t the most spacious of cars, the back seat narrow and the roof low as you laid out on the seat and hitched your dress up high on your hips. The slinky fabric threatened to slip with your every movement as you hooked your thumbs around your seamless panties and guided them down your legs before they slipped down your calves. When they reached your ankles, you kicked them down to the tips of your toes and let them slide to the floor.

While it hadn’t been the most elegant way of undressing, nor the most comfortable with the seat belt buckle digging into your back, it captured Vince’s attention all the same. Vince made his way to the back door you had left open, one arm propping himself up against the car while the other fell to his too-white belt around his waist. Lazily tugging at his belt, his pants became loose around his hips. Then, he worked the button and the zipper, free with a single hand, his eyes not once leaving you as you lay propped up on the narrow seat. You could feel his stare drag down your face and over the angles of your body before his eyes fixated between your legs. 

Vince ran his tongue over his lower lip hungrily, and it sent a shiver down your spine as you suddenly remembered the last time you had Vince between your thighs. It was the night of the Stanley Cup Parade. His intoxication was so severe he staggered into his apartment, and you were no better. No amount of foreplay could keep his cock hard, and so he lay with you in bed for what seemed like hours, his head between your thighs. His tongue and fingers had brought you to your climax once and then again and again. Vince hadn’t stopped until your clit grew too sensitive to touch and he sobered up enough to keep his cock hard.  

His tongue and fingers alone brought you some of the most intense organisms you ever felt - that was once you showed him where exactly your clit was. And the sex that followed only left your legs trembling and your body reeling with pleasure. 

You wouldn’t have the same luxuries of foreplay now as you lay there, waiting, in the back seat of his car. 

With his pants falling, pooling around his knees, Vince hopped into the car and shut the door firmly behind him. Then came the awkwardness of you both trying to get into just the right spot. His large body was between your legs as you propped a foot up on the back seat. Then the center console. Finally, your foot settled on the back of the driver’s seat headrest. He was stroking his eager cock as he contorted his body just right. You were sure his back was aching with the arch he needed to maintain as he guided you up the seat awkwardly until you ‌lined up with the tip of his cock just right. And before one of you could slip, he thrust his cock inside you in one swift motion. 

There was a sting of resistance in your core. Your body was not quite ready for him, and it left you cursing as he pressed his hips flush with yours. Vince braced himself against the backseat, remaining still inside you as your walls broadened to accommodate him. The lack of foreplay and the unfamiliar sting only indulge your pleasure. It left your core aching for the thrust of his cock and the rocking of your hips. Feeling him fill you up with every inch of his cock so fully. It made you wet. 

“That’s my girl,” Vince said, his words a satisfied hum as a smile spread across his features. Then, let his hips take their first teasing roll. “Always get so good and wet for me.”

Your teeth came down on your lower lip at his praise. You threw your head back into the seat, biting down harder. But there was no stopping the sweet “‌fuck” that slipped from your lips as you felt him draw out halfway and plunge his inches back into your desperate core. 

Vince let his hips roll over and over. A smile of satisfaction grew on your face as your expression softened with pleasure. His hand left the back seat and dropped to your cheek carefully. His thumb dragged over your cheek, and settled on your lips - his focus on the swell you had coaxed to your bottom lip as he said: “So ‌beautiful-”

You couldn’t take hearing his words, his praise, so you silenced him. You stole the space between you, your lips finding him as effortlessly as you had many times before. It was so easy to fall back into old habits with him. To kiss him and to have Vince kiss you in return while he buried his cock in your tight cunt​​‌. To bite his lip, just to coax a moan from his lips against your own just so you could slide your tongue into his mouth. You knew his every weakness. Every move or trick to bring him closer and closer to his release - and he knew the same for you. 

With your tongue stroking along his in his mouth, you could taste the familiar flavour of champagne that was served at every table. It left you completely intoxicated by him, your body on high alert as it recognized his every touch, kiss, and thrust. The pleasure left your head spinning, your lips parting in a moan that you didn’t even attempt to hold back. And you only became louder as he tugged your hair aside just enough for his lips to kiss down the angle of your neck. Desperate, you reached out to grasp at anything for support. Your hand fisted his shirt when they couldn’t carefully surround the seat beneath you. From there, you were a goner. Your moans left your throat raw and your words left your lips before you could stop yourself from saying them. 

“Fuck,” you cursed out, your words lacing with your desperate moan, “I missed this. I missed you-” 

You almost choked on your words. Your eyes burned as they threatened to water at the realization of what you just said. You silently cursed yourself, suddenly unable to meet his eye. If Vince asked, it would be hard for you to take back what you said - to deny that he crossed your mind almost daily for the last four years. 

Yet, he didn’t question a thing. He only smiled against the delicate skin of your neck and let out those soft groans he couldn’t stop himself from holding back when he was close. 

Your lips pulled back into a smirk as you dropped your heel from the back of the headrest and pressed it into the small of his back with zero hesitation. The simple action coaxed a deeper groan from his lips. 

“Are you sure?” Vince asked. His words were breathy against your neck before he dragged a messy kiss along the sweet angle of your neck. 

It left you gasping as you lifted your head from the cushion of his seat just to get a good look at his cock slipping in and out of your cunt. The sight alone left you speaking through grit teeth - you were so close, “If you don’t, you’re going to ruin my dress-”

And his rental car and you didn’t want to have to worry about cleaning up either. 

Nodding slowly, Vince buried his face into your hair. You could feel his every heavy breath wash over you. The heat of his breath blossomed over your neck and became a sweet melody with his moans. Moans softened and broke with every thrust and became strangled by his climax. 

You nearly let your eyes roll back in your own pleasure, your eyes fluttering shut as your own orgasm coursed through you when you felt it. His every thick web of cum flooded your cunt after his last thrust left him buried balls deep in your core. 

With your legs wrapped around your middle, you both remained there in his back seat until the desperate panting of your lungs subsided. It was then you let your heels slip off his hips and let Vince ease from his place between your legs. You winced at the void feeling that was left there. The only thing remaining was his cum that threatened to spill from your cunt. 

Sighing, you reached for your panties on the floor, your fingers untangling the flimsy fabric quickly. Then, with your hips tilted up to keep his cum from slipping from you before you worked the panties up your trembling legs. The highs of your orgasm still lingered as Vince offered you his hand. You took it carefully, using it to steady yourself as your legs threatened to give out beneath you when your feet hit the pavement. 

You offered him a half smile, and you let his hand fall. You needed to return to the reception. This was where your night with him ended. With the help of the reflection of his car window, you straightened out your dress and fixed your hair just right. Then you began your walk back inside without a thought as to if Vince was following you back inside or not. 

You couldn’t let yourself get caught up in him any further tonight. 

Not at your own brother’s wedding. 

Dim lights greeted you in the reception hall. A song that could have only been a request from a guest because it was not on the playlist you and Cristine put together accompanied their amber glow. Hearing it had you gravitating towards the DJ to direct him back to the curated list when you felt a hand engulf your wrist. You held your breath and your head snapped around to find Vince. He still wore that same confident smirk he had on while he was fucking you, but his eyes were playful now. With a careful tug, he was guiding you out to the dance floor. 

“Vince,” you said his name alone. A caution to him as your eyes searched the dancefloor for your brother. 

With his eyes glazed over from his intoxication, Jordan was standing mere feet away. If he saw you, he may not even remember it come morning. Yet, Vince kept the dance playful and unthreatening to your honour. That was until the song changed and slowed. It was then he pulled you in, your body flush with him as the two of you swayed to the melody. There, he buried his nose into your hair so you could feel his hot breath wash over the shell of your ear as he said those oh-so-complicated words, “I missed you, too.”

#vince dunn #vince dunn fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl rpf #nhl imagine #nhl #hockey rpf #hockey smut #nhl smut #hockey imagines

[avelera]

Along the lines of, "Fanfic Writers Always Get the Sequels Wrong Because They Just Keep Remixing What They Have and Focusing on the Romance", here's my predictions for Good Omens S3:

My Fanfic Brain: Aziraphale does his best to stop the Second Coming but realizes he's outmatched when the other archangels gang up on him. Cornered and without hope of getting the important information/McGuffin he's acquired to the people (ie, Crowley) who need it in order to stop the next Apocalypse, Aziraphale is forced to face his greatest fears and Fall from Heaven. He shows up at Crowley's door, broken and singed, and together they reunite to stop the machinations of Heaven and Save the Day. I literally do not not care about any other shit that happens but I hope we find out that Angel Crowley was someone Powerful and Important, possibly Raphael. The End.

My Realistic Writer Brain: We open up 3-4 years later after the events of Season 2. The antipathy between Crowley and Aziraphale has had a chance to metastasize to the point that they are now Bitter Exes. As per Pratchett and Gaiman's hints at what 668: The Neighbor of the Beast would contain, Jesus Christ descends from his silver plane in America, surrounded by secret service, and goes missing. Now, both Heaven and Hell are looking everywhere for the missing Son of God. After a stint of trying to track Jesus down on his own (and also trying to sneak glances at porn while on Earth, Aziraphale reluctantly teams up with Crowley, who he has humorously reencountered, and Aziraphale and Crowley end up on a comedic roadtrip across America in search of him, filled with Bitter Ex energy, Aziraphale convinced that he can Fix Things if HE gets to Jesus first, Crowley committed to a replay of the first Canceled Apocalypse, not sure what he'll do but committed to stopping it.

The two grow close again over the course of this adventure, other wacky hijinks ensue and if Avelera is very lucky, the Long Night of the Soul beat will include Aizraphale being forced to Fall once he learns the full extent of Heaven's machinations and we'll learn that Crowley used to be Hot Shit as an Angel, but there is no actual guarantee on either front. The ultimate goal will appear to be Burn Down the System of Heaven and Hell to Save the World but since this is also a Pratchett work, and Pratchett is a great lover of Systems and Civil Society, it's more likely that Aziraphale's conviction that Heaven can be Fixed and Crowley's conviction that it needs to all be avoided and/or burnt down is actually a Debate, and we end up with some sort of happy medium between the two. Then they retire to the South Downs. The End.

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens spoilers #spoilers

[ranaissingle]

Whispers and Melodies

(Rhysand X Reader)

Summary: She has heard a deep melodic voice speaking to her from a far away place for decades. Anything from snippets of a longer conversation to roars that shook the very earth she walked on.

Rating: T (for now)

A cup of tea sat cooling on the window sill of a small cottage on the outskirts of the Day Court. The quaint home overlooked a large river delta with roiling waters whose waves flowed into an ocean only a stone's throw away. Inside the cottage sat a girl gazing into the night sky while she forgot all of the day's troubles. 

The healer had spent the entire day tending to patients from the village near her cottage. It was a quaint town whose community was close-knit and small. It had taken the townspeople a while to grow accustomed to me but as the years had come and gone, they had opened up to each other. Her skills as a healer also aided in this endeavor. But despite how much she enjoyed her dealings with the townspeople, her favorite part of her job was the research that it allowed. At the end of a hard day of treating her patients, she could lock herself up in her office and lose herself in the formulas and ratios she tested in her compounds. 

Y/N padded over to her small kitchen, mug in hand, and placed it into her sink before walking toward her research room and locking the door behind her.

She always thought of her research room as a safe haven. The vials full of various substances that she had been testing littered her desk along with her carefully taken notes about the contents and phase changes of each substance on her log book. Her most recent project had been to synthesize some type of blood clotting or replenishing potion that would allow her to administer it to a patient who was more likely to die of blood loss before she even had the chance to solve any of their injuries. A potion like this would allow her ample time to stitch up any wound or brew some other cure for poisons and the like. 

Her current issue consisted of not being able to stabilize the potion for long-term storage. The fennel root and crushed carrowfish shell she’d added seemed to be slowly decomposing each other which made the potion essentially useless after more than 4 days of storage. The trials she was running right now attempted to add some honey which slowed the reaction process as well as introduced some antimicrobial properties to the potion. 

Y/N quickly jotted down the physical changes in appearance and consistency of each of the test tubes with varying amounts of honey. Each testing glass contained more honey than the last. Whichever combination yielded the best preservation and overall effectiveness is the ratio that she would begin perfecting. 

Y/N stayed in her laboratory until she felt her eyes begin to strain and her feet start to ache. She carefully placed all of her measuring tools and weights back onto her working table before she exited the room and made her way to the front door of her cottage. She undid all 3 locks and tugged the large oak door open with both her hands. 

In the distance, she saw a figure. A male it seemed; lying on the ground as the ocean lapped at his skin and crusted it in dried salt. The setting sun gleamed against him and warmed his pale skin in a sheen of gold that she thought suited him much more than the sickly pallor he seemed to have. Most people tended to steer clear of her section of the beach out of some deeply engrained paranoia of outsiders. But this male seemed to have missed that particular message.

Rhysand had known he had been fooled the moment he stepped into the ballroom on that fateful day. Amaranth had promised a ball in celebration of the many alliances she had made as well as an apology to those she had wronged. Rhysand had gone to the ball purely for formalities' sake. He had always loathed these types of false pretenses that the upper echelon of fae had always insisted on perpetuating. Nonetheless, he had dragged himself out of his court that afternoon and appeared at this ball. His own cowardice to refuse Amarantha’s invitation had resulted in 50 years of extortion, rape, and violence that despite his centuries of experience, he could not seem to shake the black cloud that it had cast over him. 

Feyre being his mate was not something he had seen coming nor was it something he wanted. Tamlin would treat her well, she cared for all of his people and he would care for Feyre Rhys was sure. Despite his freedom, Rhysand could not bring himself to go to his home in Velaris. His family was likely waiting for him to return but they would all know exactly what had happened to him as soon as he stepped in the door. He did not wish to deal with their horrified faces and pitying looks once they found out. So instead, he wandered. 

He wandered around lands both Night Court and Day. He walked and flew so far that he ended up somewhere on a coastline. Rhys has no idea where he had landed but he didn't seem to care that he was likely lost. So as the sun set, he continued a slow walk along the cliffside coast and eventually down onto the sandy beaches. The sun sunk further into the horizon leaving only the gleaming light of a cottage in the far-off distance. As Rhys drew closer, he noticed a crop garden with some vegetables and herbs growing on the plot off to the side of the house and a water well located up a hill. Rhysand was tired. He was tired of walking, of flying, of breathing even. He just wanted to rest. He wanted to sleep on a soft bed and not have to think about anything at all, not be worried that one wrong move would result in the death of everyone he had ever loved. So he made his way closer to the cottage before sitting on the wet sand closest to the water and stretching out his long legs. The water lapped at his feet and calves, almost as if it was slowly pulling away all the tension that wound itself in his legs. He stared out at the ocean for what seemed like an eternity. Rhysand got lost in the repetitive movements of the water and the slowly setting sun in the distance casting beautiful colors on the waters and sand. 

When he eventually woke up from what felt like an eternity of slumber, he was not nestled in the sand as he had expected. Instead, he was cushioned underneath with quilts and pillows, and on top of him lay thick blankets to combat the morning chill that often accompanied this time of the year. The room itself looked lived in, to say the least. Canvas’ and embroidery projects were pinned to the wall in various positions. Everything from people to landscaping were inscribed into the wall. Pages that appeared to be ripped out of books with certain lines underlined also adorned the cedarwood walls. The entire room smelled of something woody and calm that Rhysand couldn't quite a place. He stretched up from his lying position and slowly removed the layers of quilts and blankets from him. His legs felt sore and ached from the hours of walking he had done the day before. He tried to stretch his wing muscles but they also ached from their overuse. He hadn't flown in decades, yet he had taken to the sky’s as soon as he could as if he had never left the great blue expanse. He now felt his lack of practice as he tried to rotate his shoulders and ease the aches that had rooted themselves in his back. 

A shuffle from outside the door had Rhysand snapping his neck towards the door. He slowly lifted himself off the bed, careful to make sure none of the wooden beams snapped. He paced towards the door and stuck his ear against the wood grain to listen for any further movements. He was listening to the slicing of metal that would indicate a weapon the characteristic heavy footfalls that usually indicated a warrior of some capacity. Instead, he heard sharp cutting noises blunted by a wooden board, the shuffle of lithe feet, and the soft humming of a female. 

Hello everyone! It has been too long! So many things have happened in the last months and I can't wait to get back into the groove of posting multiple-part stories.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar imagine #acotar series #rhysand x reader #rhysand #rhys acotar #rhys x reader #feyre archeron #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x oc #night court #velaris #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #morocco #Spotify #azriel acotar #cassian #feyre acotar #fae folk #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #a court of frost and starlight

[thefrogman]

On fucking up...

The house has been incredibly quiet since my dad passed. And that quiet turns into loneliness quite often for me. So last night I decided to use every spoon I had to go to the movies. I swallowed my social anxiety and went out into the world.

The theater had these recliners that sit on a raised step. But when you are actually sitting in the seat you can't see that step. Once the movie was over I forgot about the step. I got up to leave and my ankle caught it on the way down. I flew forward and crashed into the back of a row of seats.

A middle aged gentlemen saw this and said, "Gee buddy, this your first day walking?"

And the other 8 people in the theater gave a boisterous laugh.

I wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

Making a mistake feels bad.

Making a mistake in public is an embarrassing lesson in humility.

And making a mistake witnessed by 15,000 people is terrifying.

When you get something wrong and people call you out, your first instinct is to dig in. Everyone wants to dig in. Which is usually the worst possible reaction. You want to defend yourself. You don't want to believe you were wrong. And you start spewing out reasons why you can't be wrong. I think the current vernacular calls this "tweeting through it."

Over the years I have tried very hard to fight that instinct to dig in. To consider what people have said and recheck my facts to see if my original information could be inaccurate. And sometimes you find out you were right and strengthen your point of view.

But when you find out you were duped or misunderstood the information, there is nothing quite like that sinking feeling.

And when you are wrong in front of 15,000 people... that sinking feeling goes to the center of the earth.

You get sucked into a thought spiral...

"How do I fix this? Do I send a message to all 15,000 people? Do I just post a video of me repeatedly punching myself in the face? Do I delete the post? No, can't delete the post, people will think you are trying to hide your mistake. Plus all those reblogs."

You have to accept the fact that even if you publicly admit you were wrong, a lot of those people are never going to see it. They are going to believe the thing and possibly spread it to others.

You've created a runaway freight train and you just have to watch it crash into stuff.

The sad thing is I have learned this lesson a few times in my 10+ years of being a minor public figure. It has caused me to be so paranoid about passing along bad information that I will fact check things to death. Sometimes 5 or 6 sources. I'll look at reputable sources and disreputable sources. And I'll try to corroborate those disreputable sources just as an exercise to give me confidence I have the best information at that time.

But the other night I finished watching John Wick 4 and was high on action juice. I started watching every John Wick video on YouTube. My history shows about 40 videos. And at 2 or 3am I heard the director being hyperbolic in a podcast clip and thought a fun fact was too great not to share.

I thought, "I'm not telling people to eat horse paste for COVID. I'm not pretending I'm a submarine expert who knows exactly how to save people at the bottom of the ocean. It's just a flippy gun maneuver. I'm sure Chad knows what he is talking about."

So I posted the thing on my personal blog with sleep in my eyes and figured it was fine. And after 500 notes no one had really said anything, so I thought it was okay to share on my main blog.

And that was my biggest mistake. I deemed the subject matter to be trivial so I lowered my standards.

I forgot that damn step was there and flew into the seats.

There are dishonest people on the internet. Tons of them. People who will post dangerous misinformation without a care. People who have a pattern of lying. Grifters who thrive on baiting people for clicks. And I think it has caused us to react to bad information with hostility by default. People forget that there are still honest people who just make a mistake or get duped. Yet they can still feel the need to make people feel stupid for believing something that seems so obvious to them.

I have been guilty of this myself. I have called people out forgetting they are a human being behind that social media avatar.

The first person to call me out just said, "This is not true, LMFAO."

That's not helpful.

People made me feel like I was a liar. And I am very sensitive to that. For years doctors, family, and friends were skeptical of my Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. And when someone accuses me of being dishonest, I get very anxious and see red.

But I tried very hard not to dig in. I asked for more information--for evidence. Just point me in a direction so I can figure out what's true. But I got angry when all they said was that I was wrong without elaboration. Which is another form of digging in.

I guess I'm asking people to start with compassion before hostility. Maybe if we don't know the person or they have been a mostly reliable source, we can give people a chance. If the person has a history of deception, that's a different story. Bad faith is usually pretty easy to spot.

I remember for a long time I used to love telling people their blood was blue until it was exposed to oxygen. It was just the funnest fun fact I had ever heard and I *needed* others to know the thing I knew. Giving people knowledge can be intoxicating. But then I told my good friend who just became a medical resident and he was like, "I don't remember that in medical school. I think that might be an urban legend."

I still got that sinking feeling and I still had flashbacks to every person I told... but I was grateful he was so kind when he corrected me.

You can correct someone with kindness.

I'd ask that you imagine yourself in their shoes. Think about how embarrassing it is when you get something wrong. And just be like, "Hey, I think you got some bad information. Here's why."

When someone faceplants into a row of seats, metaphorically or otherwise, maybe ask if they are okay before laughing at them.

#long post

[fetusharryluvr]

wedding planning gone wrong

in which everything goes tits up, y/n is upset, and harry comforts her…

4 months ago to the day, you became Harry’s fiancée. It was the best night of your life, so far. You still remember it as though it were yesterday. He whisked the both of you away to Italy for the weekend, a place you both loved with your whole hearts. Then, during a moonlit dinner in Rome, he went down in one knee, and of course you said ‘yes’ before he could even finish his sentence. It was perfect, just you, Harry, and the stars.

The two of you had been stuck in your own little husband-and-wife-to-be bubble ever since. One thing you and Harry never understood was how people could wait 2 or more years to get married. Your love for eachother was endless, you didn’t want to wait.

You began planning almost immediately. He adored seeing how happy and in your element you were. Most nights he would come home to you cozied up on the sofa with your laptop, asking him questions like “Magnolia or ivory centrepieces?”

Harry himself couldn’t tell the difference, but somehow he’d always give you the right answer.

Tonight was exactly the same. Or so Harry expected. “Hey, wifey. ‘M home.” He called out out as he locked the front door, a nickname he had given you from the moment you accepted his proposal.

He waltzed into the he living room with a wide smile on his face. It’d been a long day at the studio, and all he was looking forward to was cuddling up with you and hearing about what new ideas you had for the wedding.

Except, this time when he walked into the living room, he was greeted with the hushed sound of your crying. His face fell when he saw you curled up under a blanket with flushed cheeks, and your swollen, bloodshot eyes. “Love?” He cooed, immediately sitting down on the sofa beside you, taking your hands in his, “What’s the matter?”

“It’s all ruined, H.” You sniffled.

He didn’t understand. “What is? What’s ruined?”

You frowned. He brought his hand up to your face, ruining it along your cheek and pushing a stray hair behind your ear. “The wedding. I got a call from t’ venue this mornin’. They said there was a double booking and it turns out, the other couple have a famous photographer, so the hotel picked them over us ‘cause it’s ‘better publicity.’” Seeing how upset you were just made Harry even more sad. “An’ then I went back to the dress shop for a final fitting and when the lady was zippin’ it up, she ripped the dress. S’ now we’ve got no dress and no venue.”

Harry brought you closer to him, allowing you to sob into his chest. “Shh, it’s alright. It’s okay, we can fix this.” He hated to see you cry. He knew how much this meant to you, how excited you were. How you’d had your wedding all planned out since before you knew Harry even existed. He sighed into your hair, pulling away and holding your cheeks. “Y/N, love, look at me. I love you so fucking much. I would move heaven and earth for you, y’know that. I will try and fix this for us. And if I can’t, then I don’t care. I would marry you in our bedroom wearing your bloody pyjamas if it meant getting to spend the rest of my life with you.”

You felt yourself beginning to well up again as you stared at him, his hands warming up your cheeks, “Really?” You asked, unsure.

He looked back at you, speaking in a soft, sincere tone that told you all you needed to know. “Of course. We don’t need a big, fancy, expensive party to prove that we love eachother. I want a marriage, not a wedding. I just want you, and everything that comes with you.”

That. That was exactly why you wanted to marry Harry. He didn’t care for what other people thought, he loved you and that was all that mattered. And he was right, you didn’t need a huge, look-how-much-money-we-have wedding, all you needed was eachother.

That night, you spent it cuddled up on the couch, making love with your fiancé, watching your favourite romcoms, and googling the nearest registry offices. The planning may have gone tits up, but you and Harry were going to have the best wedding ever.

#harry styles #x reader #harry blurb #harry oneshot #harry styles au #harry styles concept #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry drabble #one direction #harry styles blurb #harry styles x yn #drabble #harry styles fandom #harry one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles comfort #harry fluff #harry styles angst #angst with a happy ending #wedding #fiance!harry

[angelltheninth]

Flufftober 2023 Masterlist

Since I'm doing Kinktober last year I thought I'd mix things up a little. I like fluff just as much as I like smut.

Like last year I will update it as its filled out.

You can send me a character from a fandom that I currently write for and I'll write for it. These will be filled out in the form of fics, headcanons and drabbles.

1. “I’ve got you” - Bucky Barnes - Superheroes with Style

2. Coffee Shop - Silco - Flirting Above the Paygrade

3. “Wait you love me?” - “I always have” - Jason Todd - The Heart Wants What the Heart Wants

4. Different Job - Tonowari - Tonowari Meets You as a Buff Healer

5. X + 1 - Simon “Ghost” Riley - Five Almost Kisses and One Kiss with Simon

6. Role Reversal - Luocha - Helping a Sick Luocha Get Better

7. Fairytale - Abby Anderson - True Loves Kiss From Abby Anderson

8. Rainy Day - Manjiro “Mikey” Sano - A Few More Minutes and Then Some More

9. (...) at first sight - Beelzebub - Love at First Sight with Beelzebub

10. Love of my Life - Ekko - Quiet Domestic Morning with Ekko

11. “Oh no, you’re a morning person!” - Daemon Targaryen - Daemon Not Being a Morning Person

12. Fire & Ice - Pavitr Prabhaker - You're Hot and You're Cold

13. Wrong - Bakugo Katsuki - Jealous Boyfriend Bakugo Misunderstands the Situation

14. “I hate it” - “No, you don't” - Nagi Seishiro - Teasing Nagi Seishiro In Front of His Teammates

15. Confession - Eddie Munson - Injured Eddie Munson Confesses to You

16. Candles, Lanterns, Fairy Lights - Yuuji Itadori - Candlelit Surprise

17. Encouraging Someone to Achieve a Goal - Pantalone - Pantalone Encourages You To Work Hard

18. “Did you plan for this to happen?” - Wally West - Wally West Helps You Train for a Marathon

19. Keeping Someone Safe - Leona Kingscholar - The Lion King's Fangs

20. Wearing His Clothes - Pietro Maximoff - How Pietro Reacts when You Wear His Shirt

21. Swoon - Percy de Rolo - Things Percy Does That Make You Swoon

22. “You’ve told your parents?” - Neteyam - Neteyam Meets Your Parents

23. Trinket - Cassian Andor - Gift Giving with Cassian Andor

24. Hot Chocolate - Earth 42!Miles Morales - Leaving Hot Chocolate on the Window for Prowler!Miles Morales

25. Nook - Aki Hayakawa - Aki Surprises You with A Pillow Fort Date

26. Fireplace - Leon Kennedy - Cuddles by the Fire with Leon Kennedy

27. Outdoor Event - Vash - Watching the Meteor Shower with Vash

28. Soothing Touch - Hobie Brown - Hobie Brown Comforting You Late at Night

29. “Hey, wake up!” - Yoru - Yoru Wakes You Up with Kisses

30. Self-Worth / Self-Love - Miguel O'Hara - There is More in You

31. Dreams Do Come True - Adam Warlock - Princess Carried by Adam Warlock

#flufftober #masterlist #marvel x reader #arcane x reader #dc comics x reader #cod x reader #honkai star rail x reader #the last of us x reader #spiderverse x reader #avatar x reader #star wars x reader #jjk x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #obey me x reader #hotd x reader #bnha x reader #stranger things x reader #blue lock x reader #genshin impact x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #critical role x reader #valorant x reader #resident evil x reader #chainsaw man x reader #trigun x reader