#because no ghost in their right mind would approach a brooding ghost

[halfghostwriter]

When a true baby ghost is born— a ghost not born of dying, but rather through the desire of another ghost— they are little more than a core with wispy ectoplasm emanating from them for about a month. During said month, they take on influence from their surroundings in order to figure out the form they’ll take, hence why so many young ghosts look like their parents.

Because they aren’t fully formed until a month after their birth, the parent or parents will take on a far more aggressive, primal form in order to protect their child. The parent’s form will become incredibly monstrous, and their size will increase, with triple their normal size being most common among parents. Their mental state also becomes incredibly instinctual, higher intelligence temporarily being replaced by aggression towards anyone the ghost doesn’t consider family. They stay in this state until the baby is fully formed.

Of course, Danny “don’t worry about it” Phantom forgets to add this bit of trivia to his explanation to his fellow heroes as to why he was taking paternity leave. In his defense, he didn’t expect them to visit during that month.

And he definitely didn’t expect his brooding brain to latch onto most everyone who visited as “part of his brood.”

#danny phantom #dp x dc #Danny has inadvertently kidnapped: 1. the entire shazam family 2. most of the batfamily 3. most of young Justice 4. Martian Manhunter #5. several green lanterns 6. teekl somehow 7. several pretty rocks #I should mention Danny’s ‘brooding form’ is far larger than average #mostly because of his incredibly long tail that he’s using to wrap around his ‘brood’ #he keeps the baby in the extra pair of hands he grew #the only reason Sam and Tucker aren’t there is because they were with Danny when frostbite explained everything #they helped set up his nest in a quite part of amity park #the entire town knows not to go there during the month #it was a big story on the news #specifically because it meant that the usual rogues gallery wouldn’t be invading during that time #because no ghost in their right mind would approach a brooding ghost #phantomama au

[charliemwrites]

Since I’ve been going pretty hard on dark fics lately….

Who’s up for some childhood friend Simon?

In his worst moments, when he thinks of his inevitable premature and violent end, he hopes that he’ll be able to hold out long enough to die in your arms. Even if they have to fly him straight from the battlegrounds to you, lay him in the grass outside your flat, he wants your face and voice that puts him to his final sleep.

Most moments aren’t his worst moments. But he still thinks of you and prepares. Everything is going to you, of course. Price knows. You’ll get Simon’s tags, his mask, a flag. You’ll get a letter.

He started one night after you two reunited, a little drunk from a thank-fuck-we-survived post mission celebration. It’s a little wobbly and ramble in some places, but never threw it out - never reread it either. Finished it in one hour, three pages long.

He’s added onto it since then. On hard night, nights he misses you. When he’s nostalgic and tipsy, when he wakes up from nightmares soaked in your blood. It’s about 12 pages now. Different colors of ink, different types of pages. Even one slanted and awkward because his writing hand was broken so he had to use the other.

He doesn’t bring it home to you with him. Doesn’t want you to accidentally discover it and think it’s something else. It stays where Johnny will find it if the worst happens; Simon trusts him to give it to you.

He never really thought about it the other way round. Couldn’t stand to face the prospect again. Not when he can feel the bullet scar beneath your shirt sometimes, or sees you rubbing at it in cold weather.

(He doesn’t consider it his worst moments but he knows you would - that he’d crawl in that grave with you.)

But it’s almost happened again. You’re sitting caddy-corner to him at a briefing table, listening to Price as he explains the situation. Simon’s watching you watching Price. Your shoulders are relaxed, fingers fiddling with your temporary access card. Not nervous, just occupied while you focus.

You’re not worried at all. Simon feels like he’s falling apart right here. One shake of the stupid uneven table and all his pieces will just slide apart into a useless pile.

Without looking away, your hand slides across the table and hooks around his. He doesnt startle - he’s ghost right now, and ghost is rock solid - but his fingers twitch around yours. You shoot him a quick smile and then refocus on Price, picking at a worn patch on the skeleton design of Simon’s glove.

Duct tape for a collapsing soul.

Price concludes, “You’ll stay here, safe and sound with an escort.”

Simon speaks up for the first time in what feels like days.

“I’m not bein’ deployed, skipper. Not right now.”

Price snorts. “‘Course not. You’re on leave with little miss here in sweden.”

“Sweden,” Simon repeats, unimpressed. Not one of the Laswell’s better lies.

“Land of tall blondes,” you chime.

“No one else knows I’m a blond.”

You shrug. “Their loss.”

Simon snorts, you grin, and Price dismisses you both in short order.

You’re staying in Simon’s room; the captain didn’t even offer you temporary quarters. Not that you minded, happy to toss your things amongst his and climb into his bed.

He cleans his favorite gun impulsively at the desk while you futz around on his computer - probably investigating the latest set of unreleased movies he bribed from Laswell.

“You get ten minutes of brooding left and then we’re getting food and watching a movie.”

He scowls down at the magazine, oiled cloth in hand.

“I’m not brooding.”

“It’s like you have your own lighting. I swear those shadows are darker next to you.”

“That’s just how light works.”

“Oh it would have been so much cooler if you said, like, ‘I am the shadows’.”

He pauses, casts you a long, flat look. You beam.

“Ooh, yeah, with that face too! C’mon, say it!”

He blows out a dramatic breath, then grumpily repeats, “I am the shadows.”

You laugh, hopping up from the bed to approach. He shifts his gear out of the way, clearing a space for you to lean against his desk, your knee touching his.

“Im alright, Si. There’s nowhere safer I could be.”

He sets the pieces in his hands aside, flexes his fingers spasmodically.

“Could just not know me. Anywhere would be safer than knowing me.”

You click your tongue, purely derisive. “That’s stupid.”

“That’s just facts, babes.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s your guilt complex. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here.”

He arches his eyebrows - not that you’ll be able to see it past the mask. But you know him well enough to just know.

“Right here?” he challenges. “On a military base? With who fuckin’ knows out to get you? Just because you lived two doors down from me in kindergarten?”

You sigh, that one that tells him you’re employing extra patience purely out of love and experience.

“Right here, Si. Wherever you are,” you confirm.

“Should cut your losses,” he says, trying his best impression of the machine he became after he lost everyone but you. He’s never felt less protected in the mask.

As always, you see right through him.

“A bullet couldn’t take me from you, Simon Riley. The ‘Ghost’ doesn’t stand a chance.” You curl your fingers around the back of his neck, duck down until your forehead knocks against the hard mask’s. “Because it’s me n’ you ‘til the sun stops rising.”

An oath made of picked daisies and shared blood. The weight of it presses on his chest so hard he feels buried again. Layers of earth crushing him, you up above, the only heaven he knows or needs.

“Me ‘n you,” he rasps.

You let him stay like that another moment. Absorbing the warmth of your fingertips, crept beneath the edge of the balaclava. Breathing with you until he’s sure you’re synched. Heart, breath, blood, down to the firing of your neurons.

“Alright, no more brooding. You’ll feel better with some food.”

Simon exhales, sloughing off the gloom and pessimism that weighs on Ghost’s shoulders. You’re here, right here. Nothing will happen to you when he’s still breathing.

“Think I have a few more minutes.”

“Nah, it compounds when I brood with you.”

“You brood like a rainbow broods.”

You snort and flick at his mask, tugging him up with you towards the door. He lets himself settle, listening to your cheerful babble all the way to the mess.

#thoughts™️ #cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #childhood friend simon

[ihatetheinternetandeveryoneonit]

Tainted: An Amateur Blend of Astarion Angst and Smut

In which the master seducer gets out-seduced and has a big crisis over it.

Note: Finally the full fic is cooked and ready to serve. My first smut, and it's relatively light smut because that ended up being the least interesting part of this fic and it shows. So if you come here for the angst instead, you're less likely to be disappointed. I might mirror onto AO3 if I'm sufficiently bullied into it.

Rated Explicit 18+ Soft service FemDom Tav /Switch Astarion, brief hj, bj, and piv Warnings: dissociation, flashbacks to torture, allusions to forced prostitution and branding, Astarion wants sex but it's complicated™ Enjoy under the cut!

Astarion stepped out of the trees as he had rehearsed a dozen times that night. "There you are. You've had me waiting."

Tav smiled at him in the moonlight, her arms and hips swaying playfully as she approached. They both met within arm's reach of one another as Astarion leered into her eyes.

"Waiting since the moment I first laid eyes on you. Waiting…to have--"

A slender finger pressed against his lips.

He glared at her, drawing his brows. How dare you! Really. You want me to just shut up and have your way with--??

"Quit trying so hard," she chuckled.

'Trying so hard?' Hardly! It worked on you, didn't it? And hundreds more!

He tried to keep his face even, hiding the storm that was always brewing in his head each time he did this. But this time it wasn't that she was bedding him, it was that she was insulting him while doing it--probably without even knowing it.

A single kiss jolted him from his brooding. A kiss very unlike the wet greedy prodding kisses he had had countless times. Or the timid virgin kisses he had experienced hundreds more. This one was a single kiss right on the tip of his cupid's bow. Chaste, yet electrifying.

Paralyzing.

It drew a shallow gasp from him, prompting an impish grin from Tav as she pulled away.

What was she doing?!

The moonlight danced in her eyes for a moment, before she leaned in again. Hands snaking up his neck, fingers slithering up his scalp, gently pulling his head down for another kiss--this time on his brow. He took it as a prompt to smooth his wrinkled forehead, to release the growing tension from his face.

This was wrong--somehow. He couldn't quite pin down why.

An unconvincing scoff was the best he could manage. "What's next, darling? Holding hands?"

Tav broke the kiss and looked down at him, rolling her eyes with a smile. Her fingers traced back down his neck, his shoulders, lightly ghosting down his arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Her eyes followed her fingers, and Astarion gazed anxiously, trying to read those eyes in vain. Her fingers intertwined with his, and she gently pulled his hand up to her face. A playful smirk, and another kiss landed on his knuckles.

Some dark feeling stirred in the pit of his stomach. The reigns were gone now. He had no comeback this time.

"Are you alright?" She rested her chin on his fingers.

Stop it. He wanted to say.

"Yes, I'm fine!" he said abruptly.

She stepped back, blinking in confusion.

"Just…!" He sighed sharply, grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her in, kissing her the only way he knew: Deeply. Intensely. Waiting for her to melt into his embrace like they always did.

Eventually, she did. Uncertainly. Perhaps even reluctantly. His victims didn't often react like this but it always put a knot in his stomach whenever they did. They never wanted any of this.

He never wanted any of this.

But if anything, Cazador probably found that all the more gratifying.

Why am I even thinking about him right now??

Just do it.

Just ignore it.

Stop thinking!

All mantras he told himself and prayers to Tav to keep just keep going along. Dreading the moment she would push him away and he would have to look at her.

An increasingly familiar sensation pushed into his mind. Prying. Seeking answers that would not satisfy. Her tadpole linking with his. He could feel her emotions. Anxiety. Confusion. Concern.

Concern?!

To hells with her concern! His tadpole violently banished hers from his mind.

Get out!

As her tadpole withdrew, so did Tav, breaking their kiss with a full step back.

"I had a feeling something was amiss. What are you even doing?" Tav murmured.

A fair question, actually. Astarion stared over his shoulder at the first thing that caught his eye--a tuft of grass--still dreading the notion of meeting her eyes.

"Did I knock you off your rhythm?" Tav gently teased.

"Heh." was the only syllable he could manage.

"Look," she gestured to herself. "You got me here. Consider me seduced. You don't need to keep trying to convince me how beautiful and charming you are."

Then why was she making him doubt it? Why was he the one left like putty in her hands? Powerless?

Astarion dared to look at her. Her tadpole had only skimmed a sliver of the surface, it seemed. Sure, he was starting to doubt his own beauty and charm tonight, but Tav had no idea that she was the reason.

He had worked this hard, planned it all out, his first time where the target and the outcome was his choice. 200 years of practice at seducing pretty things, only to be immediately outclassed. She had instincts he didn't have--instincts to wrap a lover around her finger so effortlessly, put them at ease. An ease that paradoxically set him on edge. He would have been jealous if he wasn't so intimidated by it.

"A--uh," Astarion calculated his next words carefully with an artificial smile. "A sophisticated woman like you doesn't come around often."

Tav rolled her eyes with a friendly grin.

"I'm sorry," Astarion pouted playfully. "But I just knew I had to pull out all the stops if I was going to sweep you off your feet."

Tav raised an eyebrow, reaching for his shoulders. "I don't know how you could possibly think I wouldn't want you, silly. Just give me a moment to make you feel good, too."

His unbeating heart lurched uncomfortably. He'd heard that promise before, but this time he was starting to believe it.

"Could I convince you to relax?" she cupped his cheeks in her hands.

He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath.

She got onto her knees, gently pulling him to the ground with her. Her hands caressed his neck and shoulders.

It took Astarion a moment to realize what Tav was doing. He laid down, trying to enjoy the way Tav had to lean over him now.

"You know, if you're looking for my erogenous zones--"

"Shhh." She began kneading his muscles--and he suddenly realized how tense they were.

He really wasn't used to this.

Cazador's touches used to mock him with gentleness before beating and tearing into his flesh.

But still…

There was something here that his master's depraved mind could never hope to mimic. Something he couldn't quite articulate.

"W-why…?"

"Hmm?" Tav hummed.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Doing what, massaging you?" Tav chuckled.

"Well…yes."

Her hands paused. "Do you want me to stop?"

Astarion hesitated a moment, and closed his eyes. "…no, actually."

She continued to rub deep into his neck, releasing a soreness to the surface he hadn't even realized was there, before it dissipated into her fingers. He let a small contented sigh escape his lips. The vulnerability was nauseating, but he couldn't help himself.

"I just want to know why you're…?" He finally dared open his eyes and gaze at Tav.

She blinked at him. Something about the question had her taken aback.

"Well," she quickly resumed her work on his shoulders. "Isn't it the point of us messing around? To feel good?"

"Ohh, THAT'S why we're having a roll in the hay!" Astarion conjured a smirk. "I almost forgot."

"Cheeky." Tav rolled her eyes and sat back as Astarion got on his elbows. "Now turn over."

A sudden chill gripped him. "…Turn over?"

"Yes, let me get your back."

He froze in place for a moment, before something automatic in him obeyed. He loathed himself for it immediately, burying his face in the grass. All those years, he had taken great care that they never saw his back. He never allowed it. His fingers clawed at the dirt.

This is different. It's all different now.

Was it, though?

The air felt still and chilly. Tav hadn't touched his exposed back. Stripped only to his waist, he still felt more naked then ever under her eyes. He never knew just how bad the scars looked, but he was sure they were stark even under the dim moonlight.

"Well?" He growled into the dirt.

Silently, cautiously, her hands returned to his neck and shoulders, checking their completed work before drifting down.

"Does it hurt?" Tav asked, running a firm palm up his spine, brushing each bump and ridge as gently as she could but the friction was unavoidable.

"No," Astarion lied.

Every corner of his mind willed in vain for his muscles to relax, only for them to spasm. Mercifully, it only took two attempts at working his shoulder blades before Tav gave up, realizing that each touch only knotted his muscles further. She tapped his arm and he took it as a queue to roll back over.

He really couldn't meet her eyes this time, fixing his gaze on the stars. But he could still feel Tav searching his face.

"You're beautiful, you know." she finally said.

Those words rang hollow in his mind. Not because she was lying; she sounded sincere. But she said those words like a reasurring friend rather than a starstruck lover.

He had no power over her.

He had no power.

He was like a trembling virgin under her. Did she know that?

But they had already gone this far--and Astarion was loathe to end the night on such an awkward note. He swallowed his humiliation and reached for her waist, squeezing the fabric and flesh underneath.

"Thank you," he said, finding his most convincing smile.

She returned the smile, apparently satisfied that she had reassured him from some vain little insecurity about those unsightly blemishes on his back, and let his hand guide her hips to straddle his waist.

The relief was palpable as he fell back into his rhythm. He grabbed a handful of her shirt and pulled her down for a deep kiss, groping her breast. She fell right in line, leaning into the kiss and ghosting a hand over his ribs.

Astarion pulled Tav's shirt over her head before rolling over her and removing her pants.

He appraised this conquest in her full glory. He had taken so many pretty things to their last ecstasy, and this one would have certainly been a candidate if her timing had been less fortunate. But he had a feeling that she may have instead led him to his own doom.

Not that he would complain, all things considered.

She pushed him off and pounced on top, decorating his body with her kisses. He threw his head back, feeling the sensations, begging for them to wash over and carry him away. He just needed to get out of his head. Focus on her. The way she seemed to take inventory of every gasp of pleasure he made, as Cazador had taken inventory of every shriek.

Astarion shut his eyes, screwing his mind to focus on his own skin. Tav traced the lines of his lower abdomen, awakening a warm arousal.

It was his pleasure. All his.

And yet, it still didn't feel like his.

Her hands explored his hips, her mouth explored his waist, teeth tugging at his pants. Astarion groaned and grabbed a handful of her hair.

"Eager pup," He rasped.

Tav scoffed, warm breath sweeping across his skin. "As if you didn't grope and strip me of every thread just now."

Astarion shuddered as her lips found where his belly met his pelvis.

"Make some noise, lover boy." Tav murmured between kisses. "Let me hear you."

"Shut UP, boy! The more you scream, the more I'll have to do over." Cazador never made mistakes. It was always something Astarion did that made his blade slip.

Astarion forced out a stifled grunt.

Tav sighed. In a single flick of surprising strength, she yanked his trousers from his hips, which earned a proper yelp out of him.

"There we go."

The blood Astarion had drained from that bear last night, which still left him quite full, rushed to his cheeks. He felt his cock twitch.

"You're so warm tonight," Tav mused, settling herself between his legs.

This was a very different kind of attention, he had barely touched her, and already--

Tav traced a lazy finger up an engorged vein, studying his face.

Astarion hissed and threw his head back. He gained some composure but his voice was strained. "I get cold when I haven't had blood in a while."

"Hmm, I'll have keep that in mind." The pad of Tav's finger circled the head and his eyes fluttered shut. "You do look rather cute when you're full of blood. All rosy."

If that counted as praise or just really good flattery, Astarion was getting too delirious to tell.

"Perhaps I should volunteer to keep feeding you myself." Tav's voice lowered to a rasp. "Would you like that?"

Damn, she was good. Astarion found himself nodding

"Would you?" She asked again, squeezing him gently and eliciting a gasp from him.

"Would you like me to stop?" Cazador dragged his dagger through Astarion's flesh. "Are you still screaming like a child??"

"Would you like to taste me, every single night? Drink me to your fill? "

"Only if you taste me first," Astarion blurted out the first comeback he could think of.

Tav didn't miss a beat. She devoured him down to the base.

His elbows collapsed under him. He arched his back and shoulders from the ground and cried at the stars above. A frantic wandering hand found her hair and balled it in a fist.

She swallowed around him and a pathetic little whine erupted from his throat. Caressing fingers ghosted his hips in encouragement.

Tav bobbed her head up and down at an excruciatingly slow pace. Each time releasing him from her mouth but still tracing a tongue at his tip before mercifully consuming him again.

Astarion groaned. "Ugh, I…don't think I've had a lover ever go this slow!" Probably a lie. But then again, he couldn't recall any memories to the contrary.

Tav smiled around his cock. "Good," her voice was muffled.

He groaned again in impatience, pulling at her head down to get some pleasure and some semblance of control.

Tav gagged on him, "Alrighh, alrighh!" she said around his cock, bobbing faster.

His pleasure quickly mounted. But when Tav dug her nails into his hips, it went beyond him.

A high strained whine escaped his throat, barely holding the urge to come as he shoved her off of him. "Not yet!"

Tav leaned back on the grass, enjoying her handiwork as Astarion panted to regain his composure.

"I like those cute little noises you make." She cocked her head and bobbed a leg from side to side. Trying to look coy. And succeeding.

"I'll show you cute little noises in a moment." Astarion lowered his voice to a growl.

"Oh, will you now?" Tav smirked, already playfully on her knees before he could jump on her. Clever girl. Astarion scrambled to his own knees.

They were at this strange sexual impasse. Two seducers, going toe to toe in this intricate little dance. And if they were keeping score, Astarion was lagging behind.

"You're a vision." Astarion coughed up the first hollow compliment he could think of, eyes quickly scanning her body. It was enough to make most of targets go weak for him.

Tav smiled kindly but impatiently. She leaned forward into a kiss. Running her hands up his arms, to his shoulders. Without warning she fell back, pulling Astarion on top of her.

Oh, this he could do.

He pressed his body over hers, letting her close her eyes and softly moan at the sensation of skin on skin. Vulnerable. He nibbled at her ear, her jawline, her bottom lip. His tongue prodded for entrance then artfully danced in her mouth.

He trailed kisses down her jaw, mingling at her neck, flicking his tongue across her collarbone. At length, he settled his face between her breasts, deciding that the left one was his favorite. He began to gently nip at it, while he palmed the other breast.

Tav hummed, either in quiet satisfaction or a hint of impatience.

Astarion contemplated teasing her, but truth be told he just wanted this over with. His kisses drifted to her sternum, to her stomach…before slender fingers tugged at his ear. He looked up at her.

Tav regarded him for a moment. "I want to see your face. I'm ready."

Again, feeling as intimidated as a virgin, Astarion slowly slid back up her body, trying to muster the courage to look into her eyes.

He propped his elbows on either side of Tav's head, and reluctantly his eyes flickered to her face.

She had a warm, reassuring smile.

Astarion couldn't stop himself from clenching his teeth. What was there to reassure, anyway? He didn't care how experienced Tav could be, his body count would still dwarf her own, guaranteed.

Tav's brow began to furrow before Astarion dipped his cock just beneath the surface of her entrance. She let out a shuddering moan, letting her eyes close.

Fucking finally. He had her.

A dip out to coat himself in her lubrication and then he slid fully in. Tav's lips parted and she gasped, her eyes now half-lidded, and their bodies began to rock together.

Astarion never claimed to be the biggest, so it didn't take long at all for her to adjust to him before he propped himself up and picked up the pace.

He pumped his hips into her, rolling them just as he had been taught. He hesitated a moment to straighten his back. Why did he still care about keeping form? It wasn't like he was back at the manor. Back at the "parties." There was no Cazador here, watching to provide any "feedback" later.

He shut his eyes and thrust into her at a rapid pace. Numbing his his mind, his favorite thing to do was count the thrusts until his mark came. He had counted to thirteen before Tav interrupted him.

"Astarion?"

Astarion's attention snapped to reality, but his rhythm was too practiced to falter, though he was a bit peeved to lose count. "What is it, pet?" he panted.

She stared at him as he continued to thrust into her, but her face showed no pleasure. In fact, it was frustration.

"What's wrong?" Her voice lowered into something so serious it was nearly comical in this situation.

"What do you mean?" Astarion wore a lazy smirk, trying to angle himself to hit an ever-so-popular spot, that ought to shut her up.

"Get off."

He paused and looked at her scowl. Yes, she was serious.

Furious, Astarion pulled out and shoved himself off. His first time choosing to have a roll in the hay, the first time he didn't have to think about his body being someone's death sentence. Only to be brutally rejected like this.

All those times, he wandered now, was his allure even him? Or was it some spell from his master?

"What do you even want here?" Tav sat up in a huff.

"What do you want?" Astarion shot back.

"I don't know," Tav narrowed her eyes at him. "Maybe to feel like I'm wanted?"

"Why do you think I invited you here?!" He spat.

Tav shrugged in exasperation. "If I wanted a well-oiled piston, I'd buy one from an artificer!"

"It's called skill, darling." Venom began to drip from his words. "Maybe one day you'll know what it looks like."

"Fuck skill, give me enthusiasm! If you're not enjoying it, then what's the point?!" Tav shook her head, scrambling to her feet. "If fucking me is such a chore, then you're relieved."

"Wait." Astarion reached out, but Tav was already out of his grasp. But she mercifully paused to look down at him.

His mind was a flurry of thoughts. "How…? You think I wasn't enjoying myself?"

Tav rolled her eyes. "I've had to fake it a time or two. I know what it looks like."

So she was one of those who cared about it being "real." But hells if he knew what real looked like anymore.

"But why do you care?" He frowned at Tav.

"Because I'm…sane?" She wrinkled her nose. "Not deranged? What kind of question is that?!" Her voice grew heated in offense. But after a pause, she softened a bit and sighed, sitting back down.

"Look, I'm not gonna ask any more on…whatever is going on with you right now. But I like you--so far--and there's no point doing any of this if you're not enjoying it. You'll be miserable, I'll be unsatisfied, and we'll both waste our time."

She treated this like it was basic, obvious. Maybe it was.

Gasps, moans of pleasure, nails digging in--those were just feedback to Astarion. His way of knowing that he was doing the right thing, touching the right spot. All those times seeing their pleasure was the goal, but never the prize.

It just then hit him. How utterly broken he was. A perfect mechanical doll, with skills honed to a degree that a courtesan could only dream of, but the part of him that would know something so fundamental as sharing pleasure with someone--broken.

He laughed bitterly.

Tav got dressed quickly, and stared down at Astarion. He was practically catatonic, lost in these thoughts.

"Here," she offered a hand.

He took it wordlessly and she pulled him to his feet, handing him his pants.

"We can try another night, if you're up for it." Her voice was so gentle.

He hated it, being treated like he was so fragile. But maybe he was. He didn't want to contemplate that possibility.

He couldn't remember the last time he felt so humiliated putting his clothes back on.

"Well, I'll…" Tav looked uncharactaristically awkward, and frankly Astarion found it unbecoming of this dangerously charming companion of his. "I'll see you at camp."

She stepped back, studying his face one last time before walking back into the trees towards the distant firelight.

Astarion backed up into the nearest tree and slid down, not even caring how it scraped his skin.

And for the first time in a very long time, Astarion allowed himself to shed a frustrated tear.

#astarion #Astarion fanfic #baldur's gate fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #bg 3 astarion #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion baldurs gate #astarion x tav

[novemberthecatadmirer]

(Disclaimer: brainless ooc speculation, and I don’t headcanon Eol as evil so there is that.)

The thing is though Eol was absolutely a troubling person and had serious issues and very toxic and was doing abusive shit

It is possible to spin his decisions and that final curse another way

—————

Fact: Elves had foresight

Fact: People got particularly strong foresight before death

Question: Are we sure Eol’s curse was really a curse?

—————

Maybe he just had this feeling something bad would happen if his son (or even include his wife) ended up in Noldor land

It was a really vague feeling but strong enough for him to believe in it

So he went after Aredhel and Maeglin madly despite the daylight and Sons of Feanor and Spider Forest

Then while he was approaching Gondolin, this feeling of Doom just kept growing and growing

In Turgon’s palace when he saw his son again he just suddenly realized, oh this shit is going to be worse than death

So he did… that

It did not work, Aredhel took the hit. And he did not tell people about the poison because at this moment he truly, truly HATED his wife. He just knew that’s his last chance.

In the end standing on that damned wall he finally had the clearest foresight. So he told his son what he saw as a warning. He did not understood what caused the scenes in his foresight though.

Only at his last moment falling in the air did he realize he was part of this self-fulfilling Doom too.

(I headcanon this way because I LOVE the trope “No one is trying to do evil but tragedy happened because walking disasters mess up when they are trying to do “the right thing”

(I personally headcanon Eol as that type of abusive parents who had severe past trauma and became extremely overprotective of their only child. The problem was they obsessively believed there was only one right way to live a good life and their idea of “the right way” was misguided at best completely twisted & traumatizing at worst. Also they’re unable to view their children as separate individuals with their own mind; they always see their children as some sort of extensions of their lives. Basically, wanted to be good parents ended up doing all the horrible shit.

(Could he even tell how different a child was to the talking swords? They all talked. Well a child could run away.

—————

My other personal ooc headcanon was Eol and Aredhel both lingered and helplessly watched the history unfolding in devastation. (Aredhel absolutely was punching Eol from time to time)

Then the horrible thing really happened and Eol followed Maeglin to Angband hoping to protect him in any possible way

He was never seen again ever. Nobody knew what happened to him.

Aredhel probably immediately dragged Maeglin to Mandos the moment he died

(I just think the image of Aredhel following Maeglin all the time in Gondolin and Eol sulking & brooding under that cliff because fuck Noldor city he was not going into those walls ever again is quite funny)

(Pretty fun to imagine under the cliff Aredhel sitting in the fire at her son’s broken body waiting for him to die)

(Maybe completely against canon because I am still confused if elves could see ghosts or not)

#tolkien #silmarillion #the silmarillion #silm #silm headcanon #silmarillion headcanon #eol #aredhel #maeglin

[dearshelby]

Now that you're back | T.S x OC

Summary: Tommy and Eleanor talk about (or at least, try to) the lead their relationship will take now that he's back from France.

Warnings: Traditional 1920s gender roles, cheating and english isn't my first language.

A/N: This is basically an introduction fic, it won't be a series, but you can learn more about my bby Eleanor and Tommy's relationship lol

gif credit: @amongst-the-roses, thank you for the new gif <3

It's been exactly six weeks since the last bullet was fired, no one might have noticed, but Eleanor has been counting the days in the calendar with a different pen colour since the Shelby brothers came back home.

Christmas and New Year's was celebrated with a tasty meal and many whiskey and cheap champagne bottles, although her, Polly and Ada could see the smiles of the soldier boys didn't reach their eyes, everyone was relieved life had come back to something near normal.

Also, it was at New Year's, after watching the few fireworks the Small Heath habitants could afford, that Eleanor made love to her fiancé again.

It wasn't intimate and passionate like before and she considered spending a few months in her mum's house until Tommy warmed up to life out of the battlefield again, but Polly advised her against it, if she went away now, it was likely Tommy would never marry her.

In those six weeks, Eleanor felt pathetic counting how many words she switched with Tommy, how many times he didn't flinch at an affectionate touch and how many nights Tommy bore to spend by her side without leaving the bed at some point.

She was hurt with how few the results were, hell, even Arthur, the brother she was least close to, had spoken to her more.

Tommy only approached her to ask for a shirt he wanted to wear and needed her to wash, if she could sew a blade in a cap for a new blinder boy, to warn her she didn't need to make dinner because he won't come home early.

To ease the pain, Eleanor tried to distract herself with books, new recipes, new sewing patterns, helping in the betting shop and helping Finn with his homework. In the four years that passed, she became awfully close to the youngest Shelby brother, almost considering him her own child.

However, while doing all these activities, Eleanor could see the engagement ring in her finger and at the end of the day, she felt like she spent twenty four hours looking at it, brooding over a subject she wanted to bury.

Eventually, she put herself together, Tommy didn't own her happiness. He didn't own her a good marriage and moving up in the world. Eleanor took off her ring, put her hair in a long braid, put an apron and moved through the house like a ghost, waiting for the day Tommy would get sick of her and take off his ring as well.

With her heart in hand, she carried on with her housewife duties and distracted herself in the betting shop. The loud noises of the coins moving, paper flipping and men shouting kept her mind away from her frustrating relationship. Still, every night when Tommy came home, she felt humiliated by his presence.

Eleanor only had proof that Tommy cheated on her twice, once he didn't realize his waistcoat was buttoned up wrong and the in the other she could smell cheap perfume in his detachable collar.

She didn't confront him. She didn't think she had the right to. In the balance of her head, her moral code told her her cheating weighed much more.

What type of woman cheats on her fiancé when he's away, risking his life every day to protect the country she lives in? What type of woman cheats on her fiancé with another woman? A filthy whore, unworthy of forgiveness, that is, it doesn't matter if she did it out of loneliness, it doesn't matter if guit ate her alive after it, she's a dirty fucking cheater.

Eleanor felt humiliated by Tommy's cheating, although she never talked about it and from what she learnt with the conversations with her friends, two times is not too many and it's completely understandable.

But the cheating wasn't the main cause of the bitter feeling in her guts, honestly, she didn't even blame Tommy for this feeling, surely he's a light addition to something she's doing to herself.

Eleanor felt humiliated by still being so in love with Tommy. At this point, all she wanted was to be indifferent, it doesn't matter if Tommy comes home or not, if he eats the dinner or not, if he's hurt and needs someone to clean his wounds or not, damn him, his clothes and house are clean and he can have a quick fuck if he wants to, he can't demand anything else! Oh, how she wished she could change her mindset just like hitting a light switch.

In a cold winter night, Eleanor made herself a cup of tea and her eyes wandered to another cup in the shelf, there was a long time she didn't see Tommy drinking tea, or water, or anything that isn't whiskey, she bit her lip in affliction, thinking of how Tommy would react to an unexpected gentleness of her, if he waved her off, at least she could say she done everything in her reach to save their relationship.

Her trembling hands did the best they could to not spill the tea on the way upstairs. She gulped, entering the bedroom and finding Tommy taking his boots off.

"Thought you'd be awake, hm, this is for you," she hands him a cup, which he hesitantly takes.

"I didn't ask for tea," he says.

"Yeah, it's called kindness," she sits beside him, "when you do something nice to someone and they don't have to ask,"

"Oh," he puts the cup in the small table near him, "fucking tea,"

"Yeah, well," Eleanor sighs, ashamed of trying to get close to him, "if you don't want it, give it to Finn, he likes tea before sleeping,"

She stands up and walks to the door with her cup in hand, stopping in the way when Tommy calls her nickname.

"Ellie," he gets soft at her kind gesture, but doesn't keep it up when her eyes are back on him, "did you get my-"

"Yeah, I did everything you asked me for," she harshly interrupts, holding back resentful tears.

Rushing out of the bedroom, Eleanor gets to the kitchen and throws her tea in the sink, feeling stupid and regreful. With her eyes closed and head hanging low, she jumps in surprise when a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist, Tommy rests his chin on her shoulder and searches for the right words to say.

"Let go," Ellie whispers.

Tommy steps away from her slim figure, pressing his lips together, "I appreciate the gesture, I'm just not in the mood for tea now,"

"It's not about the fucking tea and you know it,"

"I know, but-" he sighs in frustration, "What the fuck did you expect it'd be like when I got back?"

"I expected you'd be able to look at me and see more than a- I don't know- a fucking pressed shirt or clean house, I expected you'd have the fucking tea and talked to me!"

"Talk of what?" Tommy asked, already aware of the answer. He only hoped he could postpone the conversation as far as possible because he knew it could end with her leaving him.

"I don't know," she answers ironically, "perhaps the six weeks that passed and you didn't even look at me,"

"The fuck are you talking about? I made love with you in New Year's, I wish you good morning every fucking day,"

"Oh, how very kind of you!" she snapped, "You didn't make love to me, you didn't look me in the eyes, you weren't there!"

Tommy doesn't answer, so she continues.

"You weren't there but I was, since the day you left until now I haven't spent a day without thinking about you, but you- you can't you even look at me when we fuck!"

"Eleanor-"

"Tommy," she leans on the sink and rubs her eyes, trying to calm down, "I need you to make a decision now,"

"I know,"

"You're a man, you walk around and do business, you have your aunt and your brothers, I only have you, I had my mother and I let her down to be with you,"

"Do you have me? You took your fucking ring off,"

"...You noticed,"

"'Course I fucking noticed and I fucking kept mine! Do you think that means something?"

"Keeping the ring is not enough, Tommy, what's the point of wearing a ring that symbolises nothing?"

"It stopped symbolising something when you took it off,"

"You are the reason why I took it off, I couldn't stand wearing it while you barely talked to me!"

"Well, we're talking now, aren't we?"

"Argh, yeah, and tomorrow you'll pretend none of this happened and everything will be the same,"

"Quit assuming the fucking worst about me!"

"So give me a reason to assume something good!"

Abruptly, Tommy steps close and pulls her to a rough kiss. His hands firmly cup her cheeks and his lips are tightly pressed against hers. Eleanor holds onto his wrist with one hand and takes the other to the back of his head, feeling the texture of his short hair in her fingertips.

"I think I'll get used to this haircut," she breaks the kiss.

"I was going to ask what you think about it, but-"

"But you were too busy not talking to me,"

Tommy gulps, talking softly, "I'll give you what I promised, I'll fucking marry you, but I can't do it now, there are business you won't take joy in being part of,"

"What business, Tommy? It's just a betting shop,"

"No, there's more to come,"

"Tell me," she asks and suddenly, she can feel Tommy slipping away, the intimacy they built being taken over by the overwhelming reality, "I'm your fiancé, you can trust me,"

"No one knows of this idea yet," he moves his hands from her face to her shoulders.

"So let me be the first,"

"Fuck, alright," Tommy curses, "I'm planning to make our betting business legal,"

"How?"

"Taking the pichs from Kimber,"

"From Billy Kimber? Have you gone mad? He's gonna blow our brains-"

"Now, I know that, you gotta trust me,"

"Kimber is fucking dangerous, Tommy,"

"I know, I won't go head to head with him now, I have a plan to take him down,"

"Hm," she worryingly sighs, "is there something I can do?"

"You can put your ring back on,"

"I will if you promise me something,"

"What?"

"Let's make a deal, alright?" she cups his face, "You'll talk to me, even if it's only a few words, you'll let me know of all your plans and you'll spend more time in bed with me,"

"Fucking or sleeping?" Tommy teases.

"Both," she smiles, then purses her lips before approaching a delicate subject, "I know of the nightmares, I'd rather you wake me up to keep you company instead of just leaving the bed,"

"...I thought you'd complain about my plan," Tommy prefers to avoid talking about his nightly struggles.

"I'm worried, yeah, but honestly, I can't see any other way of moving up in the world,"

"How ambitious of you," he jokes.

"So we have a deal?"

"Deal,"

#tommy shelby x oc #OC Eleanor Shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine

[tartagilicious]

what they would do if they caught you crying ❄️ // xiao, kazuha, + diluc (established relationships version <3) cw: injuries

XIAO:

- all of the time, i see people frame xiao as this emotionally clueless person, but personally, i just don’t think that stereotype is true — even with his habit of being alone, he reads people. he has life experience. you might be a little more in trouble if you ask him for something like comfort, but, not understanding.

- of course, his brooding appearance doesn’t really elude to this at all. so, it’s understandable as to why you avoid him when you come back to wangshu inn one day, beaten and bruised beyond even your normal level

- you think it’ll only lead to an awkward conversation, when in reality, xiao can actually be quite helpful! i can see him being a ‘listen and help’ now and ‘ask questions’ later kind of person. it tends to be adorable to see how concerned he can actually get over you.

- tears are another question altogether, too. definitely something that deserves his attention, even if you try convincing him you’re alright.

-----

you let out a resigned pant as you shut the door behind you, at last back in your room at wangshu inn once again. or, at the very least, you hope it’s your room — your vision had gone blurry around halfway your trek up the stairs.

unsteady legs take you to the bathroom. you’re relieved to recognise the throwaway products you bring with you on your travels sitting on the sink. in your haze, you knock the foremost bottles to the floor as you stagger to open the cabinet below it, yet when you reach down for the first aid kid, you find yourself stuck.

something inside you breaks at that moment — whether exhaustion or pain had pushed you, there is a single moment wherein you feel nothing but every imperfection on your body. every cut stings, ever bruise tingles, each scrape and sore bone screams to you at once, calling tears to your eyes.

in the back corner of your mind, you think to imagine yourself: half bent in front of the counter, the arm that isn’t supporting you weak at your side. and, of course, the fat tears that run from your red-rimmed eyes, landing amongst the threads of the mat beneath your feet.

somewhere nearby, you hear hinges creak open. an alarmed whisper reaches you ear as someone helps you to the ground, moving your hair from your eyes. there’s a moment of tangible silence that passes between you as your gazes lock. his expression is unreadable as gentle fingers ghost over the bruise on your temple, each bloody imperfection blanketed under his concerned golden eyes.

the world swims around you, extremely unwelcoming in the way it envelops your body in sludge. regardless, you find yourself saying his name. mumbling it, you grasp his arm.

“xiao.” a pained breath leaves your lips as you shut your eyes. “it hurts."

your lips twist as another sob is torn from your throat.

he shushes you gently, a gloved finger coming up to catch the tears that fall over your cheeks. the words that leave his mouth are slightly stiff, as if being read from a script, but the worry in his voice is incessant. it drips into you from every word he speaks, in each kiss that is placed wantonly on your skin.

in every tear he wipes away, there is a silent promise to catch the next one, and the one after that, until he can finally help your pain to subside. he wants nothing more than to see you drifting off to sleep, each wound covered and treated. and no matter how long that takes, he will always be there to wipe your tears.

-----

KAZUHA:

- he himself is vulnerable to his own emotions, what with being subjected to nature, but also the contents of his past. he’s average in that regard — but, i imagine kazuha as being pretty empathetic.

- he knows how to comfort you and does so effortlessly, even if he may be panicking inside. of course, he hates seeing you cry, it’s only expectable for him to know how to comfort you, even if he may not know exactly what’s wrong

- we all have those days. he understands that. so, when you try to hide your sadness from him he will not ever berate you for it, nor will he take it personally. he will only make sure he’s there to help you through it.

-----

you know you’ve spent too much time away when you hear a knock on the bathroom door — three lone taps at the wood, kazuha’s silent and heartfelt signal to you. for a moment, you think to pretend you aren’t there, but he’d seen you enter. there’s no escaping it.

it may be a futile action, but you stand to see your reflection in the mirror anyway. with your eyes slightly swollen and cheeks still damp, all you can do is wipe any tears away and pray that kazuha chooses not to say anything.

slowly, you creak the door open, popping your head out from the crack.

“are you alright in th—“ he pauses. kazuha’s eyes take in your face with more ardor than usual, laced with a familiar unease that sinks to the pit of your stomach. of course, there’s no fooling him.

he puts a hand on the door, as if to gently manoeuvre his way into the bathroom with you — but instead, it rests next to yours, patient as he asks,

“did something happen?"

kazuha’s voice is a perfect melody, composed of the softest winds and crafted from the anemo archon's most beloved songs. it’s that same voice that reaches out to you in this moment, patiently beckoning for something greater than pain, something more atuned to the romantics he pursues. simply, he seeks to be the reason your sadness ceases.

“no, no—“ you try assuring him, a quick laugh leaving your mouth. but, even you are aware of the way you avoid his eyes. “nothing’s happening, it’s alright."

his gaze narrow slightly.

“come on.” kazuha’s hand slides down to take yours, and together, you back into the bathroom. the weight of his hand in yours is far from unfamiliar, but as he shuts the door once again, you have the sudden urge to pull away.

kazuha is not someone you are uncomfortable with, but the level of intimacy between the two of you has nothing to do with wanting to hide your weakest moments. for the first few minutes, you perceive the situation awkwardly. you don’t know quite where to look or what to say, even as tears begin to fill your eyes again.

“please,” he at last whispers to you, head bent down slightly to reach you at eye level. “tell me the reason for your tears."

your lips morph into a gradual frown before you meet his gaze.

damn him. i couldn't refuse.

you throw your arms around his neck, a quiet whine escaping your mouth as he catches you dutifully. kazuha’s hands are warm on your back as he holds you with care, handling you not as something that is broken, but something he’d do anything to keep together.

-----

DILUC:

- sputtering, awkward, foolish — these words can all be used to describe diluc when he’s crushing on someone. you’re definitely not exempted from that either lolol

- his care for you is obvious in the way his cheeks flush when kaeya teases him about you, or the look he gets in his eye when you’re talking to him about something you love. the ways he loves are also ever-present in the way he comforts you.

- he may not look it, but he treats emotions well. in even your most extreme cases, your sadness is his own

-----

he is the first to notice when you dip into the back of angel’s share, giving your blessings to one of your regular patrons with more speed than usual. while the hour does chime high, you normally work alongside him until the last customer leaves the building. your unfaltering persona can be excused with a bad day. but, to just take off so suddenly, it strikes him in the wrong way.

diluc's distress may very well be visible in the way customers began to limit their interactions with him, but he doesn’t mind. if anything, it gives his mind time to wander to you. at first, he resolves to wait for your return, but that hopeful process is crushed when ten minutes pass and you remain missing.

his eyes wander down the bar, briefly going over each of the faces seated. either tipsy or engrossed in conversation, diluc takes the opportunity to nudge charles — a silent warning as he goes off after you.

for a moment as he walks, he thinks of the concern that weighs heavy in his chest. the same concern had always previously been reserved for things such as his business, or the safety of mondstadt. but to feel the same emotion because of another is a completely different sensation. it’s in his nose, in the way he can’t quite figure out where to place his arms as he moves. it’s stifling in the way that nothing else can be, like breathing in hot air on a summer day.

when he reaches you, he opens the door carefully as not to disturb you. a distinct shyness bubbles in his chest at the thought of catching you doing something you shouldn’t be, but when he opens the door, all he sees is you standing there.

your back is to him, body completely still all for the slight way your shoulders shake.

he calls out your name.

you startle easily, arms suddenly moving up to cover your face. diluc’s stomach drops as he approaches you, stopping next to you in front of the counter you lean into. no words are exchanged for a few moments as you continue to cry despite your hands, tears slipping out from beneath your gentle touch and onto the wood below.

diluc places a heavy hand atop your head.

in reality, there’s just not that much more he will allow himself to do — he doesn’t trust himself to say the right thing, or to be the person you need to pull you back from the darkness. there are too many things hat must be plaguing you in this moment for such a thing to happen, and his chest constricts at the thought. in some way, you must be stumbling on your last legs, painfully aware of every nerve and tiny cut on your body; that much is evident in even just the slight shake of your shoulders.

but unbeknownst to him, every instant he stands by you is time you have to heal. over time, you begin to recognise the feel of the cold air biting at your skin, and the contrast of his warm hand over your head. there is nothing you need him to say, nothing you need him to do, he himself is all you will ever need.

#i feel like my writing is so cheesy lately LMAO #anyways kazuha pls i can cook and clean #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact xiao #gi xiao #genshin impact kazuha #gi kazuha #genshin impact diluc #gi diluc

[silkenstarlight]

body is a temple

Summary: Bucky and reader are training when she finds him staring at her ass. She tries to rile him up, but quickly learns that he doesn’t tolerate teasing.

Pairing: Personal trainer!Bucky x reader

Warning/s (18+ only, minors dni): enemies to lovers, dirty talk, degradation, spanking, multiple orgasms

Word count: 2.8k

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Author’s note: i wrote this while wine-drunk, so if it’s extra horny, you know why

“Fuck!”

You tumbled onto the mat, back slamming against cool polyethylene. The breath whooshed from your body in a dramatic, crushing exhale, your lungs desperately trying to pull in air but failing beyond shallow, raspy puffs. Bucky looked down at you, the fluorescent lights of the gym feathering behind his head in a blinding halo, smirking as he drank in the image of you sprawled on the mat below him, completely at his mercy. He let you lie there for one, two, three seconds, before holding out his hand for you to grab onto. It was a kind gesture, something that completely contrasted with his previous rough treatment. You squinted and firmly grasped his hand, feeling your back leave the mat as he propped you upright again.

“Is that the best that you can do, (Y/N)?” He stepped back, walking to the edge of the mat and retrieving your water bottle for you.

You huffed, raspy breathing slowly returning to normal. “Is this really necessary?”

He handed you your water bottle, frowning. “Of course it’s necessary.”

“I was told that you would be my personal trainer. Nowhere in the program description did it say that you were going to beat my ass all day,” you shook your head, slightly incredulous, and took a few grateful gulps from the water bottle. You felt more comfortable talking back to him because you were the last ones left in the gym today, with no one but him to overhear your complaining. You had expected some light cardio, maybe some weight training, when you had signed up for individual sessions with a personal trainer at your new gym. You didn’t think you would be paired right away with Bucky, who seemed to exclusively work with experienced heavy lifters, and you definitely didn’t think he would take it upon himself to teach you self-defense, a skill which he was surprisingly extremely well-versed in. Every day for the past week, you had ended up in a similar supine position on the mat, beaten and scrambling for air, accumulating a mottled collection of nasty bruises and scrapes on your knees and elbows. The most frustrating part was that he remained unscathed through it all. Every time, it was you on your ass, and him helping you up. It made you want to scream.

Well, that actually wasn’t the only thing about this whole situation that made you want to scream. He was incredibly good-looking, exactly your type, all brooding looks and dark eyes. You actually had to pick your jaw up off of the floor when he walked in to your first session last week. But, the worst part was, he was a cocky bastard. He had to know the effect he had on you, and yet, he chose to do nothing about it.

“Well, you’ll just have to do better if you want me to stop crushin’ you every time.” He dabbed at his forehead with the hem of his shirt, and even though he frustrated you to no end, it took everything you had in you not to let your eyes drift down to look at his toned stomach.

“Now I think you’re just trying to make me mad.” You huffed, walking to the edge of the mat and returning your water bottle to its perch, preparing for another round.

“Well, if I’m pissing you off, why don’t you use that anger? Beat me. Just once,” he smirked, as if firmly believing that you couldn’t, that you didn’t have it in you. But, you were just stubborn enough to take the challenge.

“Fine.” You cocked your head and gritted your teeth, digging your heels into the mat and crouching in a ready position. 

“3… 2… 1… start.” The ghost of a smirk still graced his face, but he was concentrating on your movements now, eyes darting as you approached.

Jab, cross, jab. Knee, high kick, and--

“Damn you, Barnes.” 

One quick sweep, and he had you pinned. You wanted to scream, to thrash in frustration, but his body pressing against your back limited any movement on your part. Wonder if he likes having me pinned like this. You tried not to let that thought develop further, lest the heat you had worked up from sparring travelled up your neck for him to see, or worse, somewhere farther south--

“Why are you still panting, (Y/N)?” You could feel a puff of hot breath against your ear as he chuckled.

Fuck. “My, uh… my asthma must be acting up again.” 

“Didn’t think you had asthma.” He flipped off of you, arching a brow as you slowly stood.

“Forgot to tell you, then,” you fibbed, trying at all costs to avoid spilling the truth, that your panting was the effect of an illicit fantasy that you had thought about in bed, alone, on more than one occasion.

“Uh huh,” he said, unconvinced. You both got into a ready position again.

“3… 2… 1… start.”

This time, you took more of a defensive strategy, evaluating him before striking. Maybe, if you weren’t so focused on completing the flourishing movements, on hitting with perfect precision and strength, you could anticipate his attack instead. You circled around each other like sharks, his eyes glinting almost hungrily, but doing nothing to bely his next move. It was like trying to size up a brick wall.

Suddenly, he darted forward with a speed that no man his size should have, and he swept your legs from under you, flipping you with ease. You fell ungracefully in a prone position, cheek smacking the mat, eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment. You groaned, aching muscles begging for you to stop and rest instead of getting up and accepting his challenge. You pressed your forehead into the mat, weighing whether it was worth the hassle of asking him to cut your session short today, when you noticed that he was completely silent.

You furrowed your brows, eyes flying open. Every time he had defeated you in previous rounds, he had uttered some sarcastic, infuriating quip, trying to rub in his victory even more. But he hadn’t said anything yet.

You pushed your chest up off the mat, craning your neck to look back at him. He was obviously looking at your body, eyes transfixed on your lower half, but when he sensed your sudden movement, he broke out of his trance. He quickly got up from his kneeling position, clearing his throat and walking to the water jug on the far wall. A smile slowly grew on your face as you realized that he had been staring at your ass.

You stood up, slowly walking toward him, assessing him with a sly expression on your face. “Were-- were you doing what I think you were doing just then?”

His back was to you as he filled a little paper cup with water. “If you mean pummelling your sorry ass into the mat yet again, then yes.” His voice still carried its usual snarky tone, but it shook slightly, as if he were just caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Not exactly what I meant.” You stepped closer until a foot separated you, and he turned around to face you.

“Then what do you mean, doll?” He smiled smugly, but you noticed the pink blush that was creeping its way up his neck.

You hummed a laugh. “What I mean, Barnes,” you cocked your head, relishing how your sudden onset confidence wiped the smirk from his face, “is that you were enjoying the view back there. Isn’t that right?”

Now it was his turn to huff a laugh. “Well, what can I say? You’ve got a nice ass. Gotta get something out of these sparring sessions.”

You scoffed. “Fucking pervert.”

“Call me that again.” His tone was more serious, suddenly bereft of the saccharine sarcasm you were so used to.

You paused, weighing his tone against the risqué direction the conversation was heading, and you smirked, deciding to provoke him further. “You’re a fucking pervert. Beatin’ girls up, just so you have a chance to get a good, long look at their bodies. What the fuck is up with that? Can’t get some like a normal person, can you?”

He let that sink in, head dipped, eyebrows raised. But then, a thought seemed to cross his mind, and a wicked smile crept onto his face. He looked at you with hooded eyes, and your stomach flipped, unsure if you were extremely turned on by your sudden proximity to him, or if you were preparing to balk.

“You’re going to regret saying that.” His voice was low, rasping with something you’ve never heard from him. Your mind was telling you to back up, to leave this encounter before it got messy, but your feet stayed rooted in position as he bridged the gap between your bodies. He grabbed your shoulders and turned you around before pinning you roughly against the wall.

“You know,” he said, breath hot against your ear, “you really shouldn’t be calling me a perv, when I know exactly what goes on in that head of yours during our training.”

“Wh- what do you mean?” You decided to play dumb, hoping that he wasn’t astute enough to deduce your secret, licentious desires.

“Oh, you know. Whenever I pin you, you’re always blushing.” He laughed mockingly. “It’s cute. It’s like you secretly want to be dominated.”

You huffed a breath as his hands traveled down your waist, before settling gently on your hips. His lips dragged across the shell of your ear and down your neck, pressing against your pulse point. You arched your back, grinding against the hard bulge that was forming in his shorts.

“Is that right, (Y/N)? You want me to pin you down and fuck you dumb?” He mumbled against your neck.

A wanton moan tumbled from your lips in response, but it wasn’t good enough for him. His fingers dug harshly into your hips. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes, p-please.” You hated how breathy your voice was, but you were too overtaken by desire to care whether he was just doing this to get a reaction from you.

“Please what?” You could feel his mouth curl into a smile as he reattached his lips to your neck, sucking lightly.

“Please, please, please, fuck me, Bucky.” Another moan slipped from your mouth.

“That’s better, baby.” His fingers relaxed against your hips, tracing upwards to the hem of your leggings. He tugged them down with your underwear so that they settled just below your ass, and he pulled back slightly to look at your bare backside.

“Goddamn,” he said, voice gravelly and low. He squeezed one cheek with his hand, kneading it slightly before letting it go and slapping it. “Been dreaming of this ass. It’s just as good as I imagined.”

You gasped, giggling. “So, I was right.”

“Right about what?” He asked, pulling down his shorts and freeing his cock before pressing it against your backside, hot length already dripping with precum.

“You’re a fucking perv, Bucky Barnes.” You smiled coquettishly.

He stilled behind you, and you could feel his glare burning a hole through the back of your neck. You kept smiling anyways-- this was the exact reaction you had hoped for.

He guided the tip of his member down to your slit, dragging it from your perineum to your clit and back again to gather your wetness, before completely sheathing himself inside of you in one motion. You moaned loudly in response to the harsh intrusion, body struggling to accommodate his size.

“Thought you learned not to call me that,” he said, voice level, unbothered by the fact that you were throbbing around him.

“Guess I n-never learn.” Your voice was barely a whisper as he began to move, slowly thrusting to allow your body a chance to adapt to the thrilling ache of being so completely full. It was a harsh sensation, but it felt good, each stroke dragging pleasantly against your tight walls.

“Oh, you’ll learn.” His left hand travelled up your body, drawing under your shirt and flipping the band of your sports bra up. Your breasts bounced free, full and heavy. “Let’s see those pretty little tits, huh?”

He pinched one nipple, rolling its rosy, peaked bud between his cool metal fingers and making you squeal in delight. You ground back against him, encouraging him to move faster inside of you.

“You like that?” He switched to the other nipple, kneading your breast gently in his hand, and you arched into the motion. “That feel good?”

You bit your lip and shook your head, trying to swallow your moans, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing you fall apart so quickly and completely at his hands. “N-no.”

“You know,” he said, driving into you harder and harder with each thrust, but remaining frustratingly unperturbed and casual, “you don’t have to lie to me. I feel how drenched you are. You can admit how good it feels, baby.” His feigned affectionate tone, paired with the way that the tip of his cock was starting to brush against your g-spot, made you cry out. His permission to let go just made you want to disobey him even more, but the pleasure was slowly overtaking your body, overriding your sense of shame. You rocked on your heels, trying to take back some semblance of control, but when his left hand dragged from your breast to your neck, squeezing slightly, you were a goner. You shattered around him, your muscles fluttering around him and coaxing a gruff moan from his throat. But, he kept his focus, fucking you through your orgasm and watching your face as he did, your eyes scrunched shut and your lips dropped open in a soft “o.” He let go of your throat and you gasped. 

As the waves of your orgasm subsided, he refused to slow down, his unrelenting pace repeatedly hitting your deepest point. You could feel him grinning stupidly at you, proud that he had already coaxed an orgasm out of you despite not cumming yet himself.

“B-Bucky,” you whined, your body limp against his. Though your first orgasm had abated, you quickly felt tension building again inside of you.

“Not so cocky now, are you, (Y/N)?” He said between heavy breaths. You knew he was close, just by the sound, but you also knew that he wouldn’t leave this room without teasing another orgasm from your body. “So docile once I put my dick in you.” He panted, laughing at the way you mewled and gasped around him.

His hand drifted down to where your bodies met, finding your clit in the slippery mess of your combined arousal. He pressed his fingers against it in erratic little circles, your body keening for him, completely at his mercy. 

“Look at that, makin’ you gush around me again,” he said, almost to himself, reveling in your neediness. “Looks like I win at this, too.” And, with that, you were done for.

Your muscles squeezed around him in a sweet, warm vice, and he groaned at the sensation of you cumming around him a second time. You mewled pathetically, body spent with unabashed pleasure. He followed closely behind you, losing himself inside of you and spilling his arousal in hot, vulgar stripes. His head was thrown back, claiming your body as his in sweet, silent throes. Once his hips finally stilled, his body slumped against yours, completely and utterly spent. You stayed like that for a moment, leaning up against the wall, the battle between you clearly over. And then, he grasped your hips, his cock slipping out of you with a vulgar sucking sound.

You bent down, pulling up your pants, when you heard him clear his throat. You looked back, reaching underneath your shirt to pull your sports bra back down over your tits, when he chuckled. You arched a brow, but he just shook his head slightly. “That was… much more fun than beating you up.”

You frowned slightly, but when you saw his goofy smile and suddenly relaxed demeanor, you couldn’t help but mirror his expression. “Does that mean that we get to do that, instead of my training?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” he said sternly, crossing his arms but smiling slyly nonetheless. “But, we can do it outside of training. As long as I get to take you to dinner first,” he added quickly, his voice almost shy as he averted your gaze.

You smiled, laughing, and he looked up, expression nervous. Now, you shook your head. “Considering how good you just fucked me, I should be the one buying you dinner.”

He smirked, grabbing your water bottle and handing it to you, his fingers brushing against yours. “Now, that’s an offer that I can’t refuse.”

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes drabble

[mothandpidgeon]

Ok but since you are writing a Regency piece...could you imagine having Din Djarin and Marcus Pike fighting over you? Each of them is so different and you can't help it because you're attracted to both of them because Din is the brooding yet kind introverted man that quotes to you poetry and takes you on long boat rides (with someone else of course because he cares about your image) and you're head over heels in love but then Marcus comes along and he's dashing and sweet and a little introverted but mostly talkative whenever he has to be and although he doesn't read to you poetry, he does gush about how none of the Greek and Roman and Etruscan sculptures and Italian works of art come close to your beauty and he takes you on long walks in gardens and even invites you to go to Versailles one time with him and then the three of you run into each other during one of the balls and the two are begging just for a moment with you and you're dancing with no one else but them during the entire night and when you try to go to the garden to get some fresh air, you're bombarded by the two men and they get into a heated argument to the point where they say that they will duel for you but you stop them both because you don't want either of them to get hurt and then...oh my sweet lord...and then, you take each of their hands and kiss their knuckles and fuck you shouldn't be doing this because what if someone sees and your reputation and no no no...but they both grow even more shy and you smile at them and-

"How about you invite us over to your estate Captain Djarin? I'm sure we can all...come to an agreement. Right?"

And the two are so confused but when they look at each other and return their gaze to you, they finally realize what it is you're talking about and they're both appalled by your offer but their shock slowly subsides because they fucking crave you and they nod and you throw each one of them a wink and-

"I'm looking forward to the invitation, good evening gentlemen."

And AHHHHHHHHHHH I DIE!!!!!!!!

Ok, Maggie, you went SO HARD on this one. Phew. You really know how to torment me!!! You are always welcome in my inbox. Considering the tale you wove, I really hope this lives up to it and you’ll have to forgive me I could go on but I was already approaching 1.5k words!!

Also I hope you don’t mind (and apologies to Regency!Din) but the mention of Versailles just screamed late 18th century (an important distinction in my nerd brain) so…

A/N: 18+! This ribbon bit comes from Barry Lyndon so apologies to the ghost of Stanley Kubrick.

It was a shame that Misters Djarin and Pike detested one another so when they had so many similarities. Both of them were kind and sweet and terribly handsome.

Mr. Pike accompanied you to the opera on more than one occasion. In the privacy of your box, he would whisper sweet words into your ear and nudge the soft skin of your neck with his nose. Mr. Djarin was more of an outdoorsman. He took you riding on his estate. When you were far enough on the grounds, he would help you down from the saddle and recite poetry to you beneath a shady tree.

And yet seeing them side by side now in Mr. Djarin’s parlor where you’d just shared a very awkward tea, tension straining the air between them, they couldn’t be more different. Mr. Djarin, so reserved, dark and modest. Mr. Pike, flirtatious and warm, cheek always dimpled with a smile.

You knew it wasn't going to be easy to break the wall between them but you’d been wise enough to plan for it.

“It seems I cannot force an accord between you but I know how men like their sport. I propose a wager. Nothing like a friendly competition to encourage affection,” you said.

Marcus cocked his eyebrow. He had wanted to win you since he’d met you last summer, pursuing you endlessly and yet this other man still stood in his way.

“I wonder which of you is a better hunter,” you said.

“And how would we prove that?” Mr. Pike asked. Din’s brow creased. He didn’t know how hunting had anything to do with your ludacris proposal, the one that they had both scoffed at at the ball. He wouldn’t have agreed to contemplate the thought if he hadn’t been so afraid of losing you.

You rose from your seat and both pairs of brown eyes watched you intently.

“I have devised a test. I’ve hidden a white ribbon somewhere on my person,” you said, trying to bite back your smile. “The better man finds it first.”

Both men looked at you in a stunned silence. Your heart was racing nervously but you were savoring their expressions. Mr. Djarin collected himself first.

“You’ll forgive me for being unfamiliar with the ways in which women amuse themselves but I hardly find such a suggestion to be entertaining,” Mr. Djarin said, his cheeks turning pink.

He couldn’t pretend that the idea of undressing you didn’t make his heart pound but he hated how easily you would give yourself over to Mr. Pike. He disliked the way Pike flirted with you so openly. Of course, he knew some of it was envy— he had never been a charmer.

“I do not speak in jest, sir,” you told him.

“That is what you want?” Mr. Pike asked, his soft eyes already slipping lower. He was already thinking of places to explore.

You watched Mr. Djarin look away from you when he nodded.

“And the better man, does he win something?” Pike asked, enjoying how flustered the other man had become.

“My highest regard,” you answered coyly.

Marcus chuckled.

“Then the lady should get what she wants, don’t you agree?” he asked Mr. Djarin.

Din cleared his throat.

“Very well,” he said.

Pike came to your side and took your hand to escort you to the couch where you sat between him and Mr. Djarin.

“Perhaps you should take the first turn,” you suggested to Mr. Djarin who was looking at you with a mix of fear and yearning in his eye.

He’d been so careful with you, always so cautious not to overstep or do anything at all that might invite scandal save a few soft kisses. And here you were laying yourself out for him. He swallowed dryly and met your eye with a shrug of surrender.

“Is it in your hair?” he asked, eyes darting up to your coiffure.

You smiled at him, nearly reached out to put your hand on his cheek. That protective nature was what drew you to Mr. Djarin in the first place. You knew what he really wanted, you could see it in his eyes, but he was too polite to take what was being offered. Not without convincing.

“I believe this requires a more thorough search, Djarin,” Pike said from over your shoulder.

He cupped your hands and turned them over as in a playful inspection, then lifted both of your arms. “No. Not there.”

You laughed and the noise made his heart jump. He’d found that he would make himself a fool if it put a smile on your face. Marcus was happy to take the opportunity to move in closer, to claim you with his touch. He brushed your neck so gently, his fingers tracing a ljne from your jaw to your shoulder where the bodice of your dress began. Goose pimples broke out on your skin and Marcus put his lips against your earlobe.

“I wonder,” he mused, leaning your back into his chest.

He hooked a finger under the fabric and followed the line down from your shoulder to the swell of your breast and you gasped. He had so often admired the rise and fall of your chest, Marcus couldn’t help but caress your skin with his thumb. Din felt himself stiffen as he listened to the soft moans Pike was drawing from you as he put a kiss on your skin. Watching your lips part, Din was frozen in place.

Marcus moved his hand down the straight front of your bodice and you felt yourself pulsing beneath your skirts.

“Perhaps under here?” he asked.

You allowed him to work the front of your gown open, the silk parting to reveal the creamy ivory stays below. Din felt twin aches in his chest and his groin as he saw the other man slide the bodice off of your shoulders.

Neither had seen you in such a state of undress before. Marcus took a moment to steady himself, admiring the figure below and sliding his hand across your middle. You were hardly naked, still clad in your stays, shift, and skirts but your underthings made his cock twitch.

“Now you see how the game is played and that Mr. Pike has been so far unsuccessful,” you said to Mr. Djarin, your voice more breathless than before. “Would you care to try, Mr. Djarin?”

You encouraged him by bringing your foot to rest beside his knee, leaning back into Mr. Pike. Din licked his lips, staring at the floral pattern on your delicate shoe for what felt like a century. Finally, he gave in to his longing.

He ran his fingers up your ankle over your silk stocking, revealing the smooth line of your leg. His large hands encircled your calf as he inched your skirt up further. You let out a shaking breath, squeezing your thighs together. You could hear Mr. Pike’s jagged breaths in your ear as he watched with anticipation. He had half a mind to release himself from his breeches to relieve the torment building there.

Din was careful not to reveal any of your skin, stopping just above the spot at your knee where your stockings were tied with thick ribbons.

“These are blue,” he said, running his thumb over the bow.

You were looking down at him flushed and breathing heavy and it took everything in his power to stop from taking you then and there.

You leaned to him, putting your lips against his and letting your mouth fall open to invite him in. You heard him whimper and he clutched onto your leg. Then you turned to Mr. Pike who kissed you hungrily, his wide palm kneading at your breasts.

“I’m quite disappointed in the both of you,” you said once you could speak again. Your whole body was thrumming with arousal.

You raised your skirts up around your hips and felt both pairs of eyes lustily watching. There, tied around the thickest part of your thigh was the white ribbon. But they only noticed the slick shining between your thighs.

“We shall call it a draw. But I’m afraid that means you’ll have to share me, gentlemen,” you said.

And from their twin growls, it was clear that they didn’t mind.

#Maggie the magnificent #I’m not sure what this is but I hope it was fun #historical au #regency au #regency!din #din djarin x reader #marcus pike x reader #ask the moth

[tealnymph-writes]

A Song of Shadows: Chapter 2

Title: A Heated Training Session

Gwyn starts having unexpected thoughts about Azriel while training with him in the summer heat.

Read on AO3

Azriel X Gwyn

Warnings: A little steamy

Word Count: 3,421

Masterlist

Gwyn knew today's training session was going to be brutal. Not because of the training itself. She had gotten used to the sore muscles and bruises months ago. No, today would be torturous because of the weather.

The midsummer heat had set in on Velaris in the last few weeks and it showed no signs of relenting today. She could already sense the oppressive warmth that awaited her in the training ring as she slowly made her way upstairs.

She would have much preferred to train at night when the sun gave way to the cool evening air. But while she had been continuing her nightly excursions to the training ring for practice, Azriel sometimes joining her, Cassian insisted she come to the morning sessions with the others.

As she approached the doors that led out, she mentally prepared herself to endure the next two hours of scorching sun. Stepping out into the bright day, she immediately froze. All thoughts of the weather rushing out of her mind.

Before her, standing by the far edge of the training area, was a shirtless Azriel. The witty, brooding male who had become her close friend these past months was entirely shirtless. Utterly bare from the waste up.

Why couldn't she think straight suddenly? Why couldn't she rip her eyes away from his torso? Sure, this was the first time she had seen him shirtless, but that shouldn't matter. She had seen Cassian shirtless plenty of times in the past month and her brain had never become a puddle then.

She needed to get a grip. Azriel was her friend. There was no reason at all to be shocked by seeing him shirtless. After all, it was brutally hot outside.

"Hello," Azriel greeted her, bringing her back to reality. "You were almost late. You're not starting to slack on me, are you, Berdara?"

"I am right on time, thank you very much," she testily responded as she strode toward him, desperately trying to keep her mind from wandering back to his bare chest.

"What are we doing today, anyway? I want to know how miserable I'm going to be."

He chuckled. "Sounds like someone's cranky."

"I am not! I'm just hot."

"Come on, a little heat never hurt anyone."

"That's not true. We could get heat stroke and die."

"We're fae. Heat stroke would take a lot longer than two hours to set in, let alone kill us. You'll be fine."

She only stuck her tongue out in response.

His shadows, seemingly amused by their interaction, danced towards her. As they gently settled around her hair, as they often did, her annoyance ebbed.

"I'm sorry for being irritable," she finally said. "I just hate the summer. It's too hot.

"I don't like the summer either," he replied, the ghost of a smile teasing the corners of his mouth.

Before she could respond, Cassian and Nesta emerged from inside. Their conversation cut short, she followed Azriel to the other side of the training ring.

"Alright, we're splitting into two groups today," Cassian called out. "Since it's so damn hot, I don't want everyone to try learning new skills today. Instead, we'll practice ones you've already learned. Hand-to-hand techniques with Azriel or sword play with me. You choose."

Not wanting to hold hot metal in her hands all morning, Gwyn decided in favor of hand-to-hand practice. She took her place among the group, situating herself at the front directly facing Azriel.

She copied his movements as he began the lesson. He led them through a series of exercises to warm-up, then moved onto the fighting techniques they had previously learned. Before long, she was drenched in sweat. All of them were.

As the lesson wore on, her mind drifted again. Back towards his impossibly toned abs. How did anyone get abs like that? She watched sweat drip down his chest, creating a trail leading to his v-line and below.

"Are you paying attention, Gwyneth?" His unexpected question pulled her out of her thoughts.

"You're letting your elbows drop and your feet are sloppy," he chided.

"I am not," she protested, annoyance with herself creeping to the surface.

What was wrong with her? She was never like this during training. Never. She was always a model student. It had to be the heat ruining her focus and making her think such ridiculous things. It had to be.

Azriel continued the lesson, and she tried her best to stay focused. But her mind kept drifting. To his arms. His abs. His shoulders. His pecs. Everywhere but where she actually needed to concentrate.

She couldn't focus. She was so miserably hot. It was like her skin was burning. And an unfamiliar warmth had spread between her legs that she refused to even consider.

Was she losing her mind? Azriel was her friend, dammit. She shouldn't be looking at him like this, no matter how perfectly sculpted he was.

For the next 45 minutes, she waged a mental battle with herself, attempting to keep her mind on the lesson. But it was pointless. Azriel had to correct her no less than five more times, much to her humiliation.

She mentally rejoiced when he finally told them to take a break, giving her a reprieve.

"What's got you so distracted, Gwyn," he asked as everyone else dispersed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she insisted, refusing to admit anything. "I am not distracted."

He raised an eyebrow, but simply shrugged at her before striding toward the table laden with water and snacks.

She watched him walk away, sweat dripping down his muscular back. She had never noticed just how toned he was. All of him. There wasn't an inch of him that wasn't covered with muscle. At least the parts she could currently see. She wondered if his other half would be the same.

What the hell was wrong with her? Where had that thought come from? And why was she thinking about his back muscles? He was her friend. Friends don't stare at each other’s abs, and friends definitely don't get distracted by each other’s back muscles.

He was right. She was distracted today. It was this blasted heat, that's what it was. It had to be the heat.

"You clearly need more personalized attention today," she suddenly heard Azriel say from in front of her.

She blinked. "What?" She asked, wondering how she had missed him walking back to her.

Had he somehow known where her mind had drifted before? She couldn't help the blush that crept up her cheeks at the thought, praying her scent wasn't affected by her ludicrous thoughts.

"Sparring, Gwyn." Azriel said, amusement in every syllable. "I said, let's spar because you clearly need more personalized attention."

Sparring. He was talking about sparring.

"Oh, right, sparring," she replied, understanding and relief flooding her. "Can't we just end the training early today? This heat is unbearable."

He rolled his eyes. "Your enemies won't wait to attack until the weather is more to your liking."

"Well, who said I want to spar with you? Maybe I want a more difficult opponent."

That drew a snort from him. "Oh, please. I've taught you everything you know. You couldn't beat me in a real fight on my worst day."

"Oh, really? Wanna bet?"

He smirked. "Fine, but I get to set the terms."

"Fine, but be careful with your terms, Az," she quipped, forcing herself to match his confidence. "You don't want to end up regretting it."

"Alright, if you win, I'll take you to that little restaurant by the river you liked so much," he offered.

A thrill went through her. She knew exactly where he was referring to. It was a quiet little place near the edge of the Sidra, right where the river met the sea. He had convinced her to go there last month when she'd mentioned wanting to explore Velaris more. She had been nervous about going, but he had made it sound so lovely. And it had been. Absolutely magical. It would be so nice to go back.

"Okay, I'll accept that," she told him, excitement bubbling. "And what if you win?"

His hazel eyes sparkled with mirth. "If I win, then you have to accept Mor's invitation to her birthday party next month."

"But that's at Rita's!" She gasped out. "I can't go to that. There will be so many people, I won't know anyone, and and..."

"If I win, you have to. You're the one who agreed to let me set the terms of our bet," he taunted. "You said you could beat me, so you should have nothing to worry about."

She huffed, refusing to back down. Instead, she strode toward the sparring ring.

"You're on, Shadowsinger," she called over her shoulder, determination settling in.

He chuckled as he obediently followed her, a smug smile appearing. She was going to win this ridiculous sparring match just for the sake of wiping that smugness off his face.

Once he had instructed the others to continue practicing among themselves, they both took their places.

"If we're going to do this, I want it to be a real fight," she said. "No mock-punches, no fake kicks. I want this to be a proper match."

"Fair enough," he responded, his face revealing nothing. "But you're going to regret this, Berdara."

"We'll see about that," she promised.

With that, they began circling each other like snakes, each of them preparing to strike. Looking for the first sign of weakness in their opponent.

She struck first, knowing he would never make the first move. She had played chess with him enough to know he liked playing black, which traditionally went second, because he enjoyed the challenge. Fighting would be no different.

He blocked her blow, easily pivoting to avoid it. She knew it wouldn't be that easy. She would have to outsmart him instead of out maneuvering him. She laid out her plan.

She would let him think he had the upper hand, give him confidence. Convince him she was getting tired. She knew he got sloppy when he thought he was winning. He did it on purpose. He hated winning too easily. He didn’t just want the challenge, he needed it.

So, she would give him one. Only he wouldn't know what the challenge was. She knew he could end it quickly, but he wouldn't. He was too confident; he would draw it out. Her only chance of winning would be when he started letting his guard slip. When he inevitably got bored and wanted to make things more interesting. She just had to wait.

So, she kept attacking, knowing he would keep blocking. It was like a perfectly choreographed dance. She struck, he parried. Neither one ever gaining the upper hand, the sun still beating down from above.

She just had to stay focused. Not let herself pay attention to his rippling biceps. His broad shoulders shining with sweat. His tensed abdominal muscles. What would those perfect muscles feel like if she touched them? What would his strong body feel like against hers?

What the hell was wrong with her? What was she thinking? She needed to stay focused but all she could think of were his stupid biceps and his impossibly perfect abs. She hated those abs. And she hated that stupid v-line. Males should only have v-lines in books.

She should blame this all on Emerie and Nesta. It would be their fault if she lost this fight. They were the ones who got her into those smutty books. It was their fault she was thinking about such ludicrous things. Them and this blasted heat!

The fight dragged on, much to her annoyance. Azriel was toying with her, she was sure of it. She needed to end this. He had to think she was tired for her plan to work, but soon she would actually be tired.

She decided to make a move to lure him in. To play his own game. Deliberately leave holes in her defense. It was a risk, but it would be worth it if it worked.

She continued their dance, striking and letting him parry, but she left her abdomen open. A rookie mistake, but hopefully he would think she was just getting sloppy. She just needed him to take the obvious blow to her stomach. It would knock her to the ground, but it would give her the opening she needed.

He took the bait. His well-aimed blow took her breath away and knocked her flat on her back. She let him think she was almost finished, luring him in closer.

Again, he took the bait. He moved to pin her, but she swung out with her legs. He didn't have time to pivot before she collided with his ankles, sending him tumbling to the ground next to her.

She twisted toward him as he fell on his back. Before he could recover from the fall, she quickly leaped on top of him, pinning him between her legs.

His arms shot out, aiming for her hips.

She saw the opening faster than he could react. He had fallen into her trap, exactly as she had planned. It was too late for him to correct his mistake. She was already drawing her fist back for the final blow.

This was it. She only had this one moment to strike. His upper body was momentarily unguarded, but it would only be open for a second. Not even long enough to blink.

As realization flooded his face, her fist connected with his jaw. Every ounce of her strength pounding into the vulnerable corner of his jawbone - just like he had taught her.

The other side of his face collided with the dirt as the force of the punch knocked him to the side. His hands stopped their maneuvers toward her, going to his jaw instead.

He was down. Defeated. She had won.

She only had a moment of excitement and shock before the reality of how hard she had struck him set in.

"Owwww," he groaned, pain evident in his voice.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" She gasped, panic setting in. "I didn't know I could hit that hard, I'm so sorry!"

She quickly leaned forward to examine his jaw, one hand on his chest to steady herself and the other reaching toward him. He grimaced at her touch but allowed it.

"I'm fine," he assured her, despite the bruise already blooming where her fist had made contact. "I think my ego is more injured than my face."

"I'm so sorry," she repeated as she gently examined the injury, silently praying she had not broken his jaw.

"Gwyn. I'm fine. Really," he insisted. "You don't need to apologize, I promise."

"Okay," she quietly conceded, finally meeting his stare.

She held his gaze, unsure why she suddenly felt so nervous. His eyes darkened and his shadows swirled around them both.

Something in the air between them shifted, sending a shiver down her spine. She knew she should look away, but she was frozen in the moment. She was lost in his dark gaze, the feeling of his body below hers shutting out all logic and reason. That damn warmth between her legs spreading, a steady throbbing now pulsing through her. She prayed Azriel didn’t notice.

A booming laugh echoed across the training area, bringing them both back to the present.

"I never thought I'd see Azriel get his ass handed to him," Cassian laughed. "Well done, Gwyn."

The realization that they had an audience hit her like a brick. She became all too aware of the fact that she was still straddling him, her hand resting on his muscled stomach. She swiftly moved to stand up, offering him a hand in the process.

They both quietly brushed themselves off. She couldn't look at him, not with the images of him beneath her still flashing through her mind. Not with the aching in her core still there.

"How about we call it a day?" Azriel finally spoke, running a scarred hand through his dark hair. "I think you've earned it."

If she didn't know better, she would have thought he seemed nervous. She brushed the idea away.

"Okay, if you say so," she agreed, unable to focus completely. The feeling of his skin was still roaring in her brain.

"I guess I have to accept Mor's invitation," she said, desperate to think of anything normal.

"If you want to," he replied, confusion on his face. "But you won. Fair and square. You don't have to accept anything."

She finally met his gaze and blinked. He was right, she had won. She had almost forgotten.

"Well, as long as you hold up your end of the bargain, I can at least consider Mor's offer."

"It's your choice. I won't force you. But if you do want to go, I'll be there the whole night. You could hang out with me if you want."

The words seemed to tumble out of his mouth. He unnecessarily ran a hand through his hair again, almost like he was as flustered as she was.

Was she going crazy or had she also seen faint color staining his cheeks? Surely it was just the heat from fighting, she assured herself.

"I'll think about it," she offered, still trying to quiet her mind. She needed to escape. She needed to calm the ridiculous stream of thoughts rushing through her head. She needed to stop thinking about how he had looked beneath her. How it had felt to have him between her legs. How wonderful his skin had felt. Dammit! She really was losing her mind.

She turned to leave, but he caught her by the shoulder, stopping her in her tracks.

"How about I meet you on the balcony at 7?" He asked, forcing her mind to focus for a moment.

"For what?"

"Dinner"

"Oh, right. Dinner"

Disappointment clouded his features. "Unless you don't want to go."

"Of course, I want to go," she protested. "I won, so you owe me."

"Okay, then I'll meet you at 7?" He asked again, seeking her confirmation.

"I'll see you at 7," she promised, unable to stop her smile at his persistence in trying to gain her consent. He never did anything without her explicitly saying she was okay with it. She loved that about him.

Before he could stop her again, she turned out of his reach to head inside. She needed to escape before her mind drifted below his neck again. What was wrong with her?

"Gwyn," he called, just before she reached the doors to the stairwell.

She turned to look at him, waiting. She tried to avoid looking at his exposed body again but failed miserably.

"You fought well today," he complimented her. "Good job."

Her chest fluttered. He never gave compliments in training. Never. Maybe the heat was going to his head too.

"Thank you," she smiled, pride flowing through her, pulling her back to reality. She had done it. She had beat him. And he had complimented her on it. What a strange day it was turning into.

She allowed herself one last look at him before heading into the stairwell. Only it wasn't his muscled arms, or chest or abs that left her breathless this time. It was the look on his face as he gazed after her that had her mind reeling.

He was drenched in sweat with a huge bruise across his jaw, yet she couldn't help but notice how happy and relaxed he looked. All traces of the sadness she sometimes saw in him were gone, replaced with a gentle serenity. His eyes were soft, and his shadows were practically dancing around him.

The image burned into her mind; she couldn't stop smiling as she made her way down to the library.

She liked seeing her friend so happy. But why did the word friend suddenly not feel right? She couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them today.

But she wouldn't let herself think about it, she decided. She wanted to enjoy every moment of dinner tonight and thinking about how she had felt during training would just further distract her.

It was probably just the heat going to her head anyway. It had to be. All of these insane thoughts were just a result of being too hot.

A cold bath would certainly help, she thought. She would simply take a cold, cold bath...

#gwynriel #gwynriel fic #gwynriel fanfic #azriel x gwyn #azriel shadowsinger #gwyneth berdara #gwyn #azriel #acotar fic #my fic #mine

[pressedinthepages]

Breeze

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

Rating: T

Masterlist

a/n: reader request: [Hello! I read that you would like to write something other than x reader from time to time, so I have a (hopefully cute 😳) Geraskier-request for you: Geralt saving money and surprising Jaskier with buying him his own horse. And Jaskier is deeply moved by that action (maybe he's crying) and Geralt just laughs and gives him cuddles/kisses him. 😌] awe dumb softe bois

also thanks to @sometimesiwrite​ for being a wonderful beta :)

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: mild language, ~yearning~, geralt has to use his voice to communicate

Two idiots and a horse get another horse.

    “Geraaaalt. Why aren’t we staying at the inn? I can literally see it from here, the soft bed and the warm bath beckoning to me through the dark. ‘Come to me, Jaskier,’ it’s saying, Geralt. It’s not like we’re strapped for coin, either. The alderman actually paid you pretty well for that bear ghost-”

    “Barghest.”

    “Yes, yes, exactly. But back to my earlier line of inquiry. I ask again, why in the shit are we staying out in the middle of the woods for what feels like the thousandth night in a row?”

    Geralt sighs, staring up at the stars on the clear night. “I’m trying to save my coin.”

    Jaskier scoffs, drawing a raise of the brow from the Witcher. “For what, pray tell?”

    “New armor.”

    “Oh, so the Witcher can get new armor every other week and it’s fine, but when I go and buy a new outfit for a performance, it’s a ‘waste of coin, Jaskier?’”

`    Geralt hums with finality, listening as Jaskier just continues prattling on. There’s no real heat behind it though, and Geralt does feel bad making Jaskier rough it out here with him. But he knows that if he lets the bard wander into town on his own, Geralt will end up having a much larger and more annoying mess to clean up.

    “Jaskier,” Geralt hums, listening as he stops his ranting. “Come get some sleep, I’d like to get down to Blackbough by the new moon.”

    Jaskier huffs in response before he undoes the little buttons down the front of his doublet. He shucks it off of his shoulders and drapes it over a log on the ground, rolling up the sleeves on his chemise up to his elbow. Geralt tries quite desperately not to watch, but his eyes are drawn to every new inch of skin revealed under the low light of the embers. 

    Jaskier’s bedroll flaps loudly as he sets it between Geralt and the fire. He plops down onto it, stretching out and turning to face Geralt. The Witcher peers over at him, admiring quietly the way that the last few sparks of light dance over the high planes of his cheeks. 

    “Ah, Geralt. Another day, put to rest. Sleep well, dear Witcher.” Jaskier turns over with his back to Geralt, scooching back a bit, close enough that Geralt can feel the heat radiating from his skin. Geralt hums, his fingers flexing at his sides, itching to touch, to hold, to gather Jaskier into his arms and never let him go.

    Instead, Geralt only gives a whispered, “Goodnight, Jaskier.”

    ***

    The sky is black when they do finally arrive in Blackbough, bespeckled with stars far and wide. Jaskier leans against a post while Geralt checks over the notice board in the center of town, the bard kicking off one boot and digging his thumb into the tender skin of his sole. 

    “Fuck, Geralt. My feet are exhausted. Don’t get me wrong, I would happily trot along at your side until the end of my days, but I may need to invest in some new boots sooner rather than later if that’s to be the case,” Jaskier groans, sliding his foot back into the soft leather of his boot. Geralt hums as he tears a slip of parchment from the board, watching it flutter between his fingers.

    “Wind’s howling,” Geralt rumbles, tucking the parchment into his pack atop Roach.

    “Yes, dear Witcher,” Jaskier’s hair flaps about his face, “thank you for the weather update.”

    “Why don’t-” Geralt starts, peering over at the bard. “Why don’t you head to the tavern, see if they’ll let you play for a night in a room. I’ll be out scouting this contract, so you should absolutely stay here.”

    Jaskier looks back at the little building, noting the light shining from the windows and the voices still floating in the din of the evening. He nods, and Geralt raises an eyebrow at the lack of argument. “Oh shut it, Geralt,” Jaskier grins, “you know that I would typically be more than happy to traipse through spooky fog and poky underbrush. Alas, I am fucking tired. So, on this one occasion, I will admit that you are right.”

    Geralt gives one of his rare smiles, a cheeky turn of the corner of his lip, and turns to lead Roach out of town. “I’ll come collect you in the morning. Try not to get into too much trouble.”

    Jaskier scoffs half-heartedly, swinging his lute case around as he turns towards the tavern. Geralt listens to be sure that Jaskier is secure in the building before he changes course, heading instead to a large structure situated just on the edge of town. 

    ***

    Geralt stands in Jaskier’s room, surrounded by the dulcet tones of his deafening snoring. He has called out to the bard several times, but nothing has been able to wake him. That is, nothing until Geralt decides to grab a sweet bun from the innkeeper and a cup of steamy tea.

    Jaskier hums when he smells the herbs next to his face, smiling a bit when he sees Geralt brooding in the corner. Jaskier takes a great bite out of the pastry, moaning quite obscenely at the taste. “Have a nice night, Geralt?”

    Geralt hums, gathering Jaskier’s stuff from around the room. By the Gods, he was only here for a few hours. There is a doublet over a chair, trousers on the dresser, one boot by the door and one by the fireplace, and blankets and furs all over the place. 

    “Alright, Bard. Let’s go, I have something to pick up before we leave town.” Geralt chucks the pants to Jaskier. They hit him square in the face before falling into his lap, revealing quite the impressive side-eye.

    Jaskier sighs, sipping his tea as he goes about getting dressed. Geralt watches once more, chuckling to himself as Jaskier tries to ruffle his hair into something that doesn’t quite resemble a harpy’s nest. 

    The two of them head out of the tavern soon after, the morning sun greeting them through the dew. “Geralt, where’s Roach?”

    “Stable.”

    Jaskier responds by strumming a chord on the lute with a look over to Geralt, confirming his permission to play for the time being. Geralt gives a short nod of the head and Jaskier begins, something quiet and slow as the world warms in the dawn.

    The stableboy sees them approaching and ducks inside, leaving Geralt and Jaskier standing alone. Geralt closes his eyes and just listens to the tune that Jaskier hums, relaxing into the sweet tone that drips like rainwater off of a fresh flower. 

    The stableboy comes back out, followed closely by Roach and a second horse. She is palomino blonde and slender with a spring in her step. Jaskier quirks his brow at the latter, stepping confidently towards the stablehand, who most certainly does not get paid enough for this. 

    “Thank you sir, but it’s just Roach for us. Geralt, would you mind-”

    Geralt tosses the kid an extra coin as he takes both sets of reins, passing the palomino to Jaskier. But Jaskier only looks at him, even when he gives the soft leather a good shake in the bard’s direction. Roach butts Geralt on the shoulder, wisely prompting him to use his words. “She’s uh...she’s your horse, Jask.”

    “What? Geralt, I don’t have a horse. Did you get hit on the head or something, you silly Wi-”

    “I bought her, Jaskier. I bought her for you.”

    Jaskier finally shuts up, taking the reins from Geralt’s hand with a tentative grip. The palomino steps closer to Jaskier, snuffling his hair. He giggles, setting something quite tender alight in Geralt’s heart. 

    “Geralt, I-I don’t quite know what to say...I thought you needed new armor?” Jaskier’s voice is quiet as he scritches along the horse’s nose. 

    Geralt shakes his head, fiddling with the straps on Roach’s saddle. “No. Wanted this to be a surprise.”

    Jaskier goes silent, and Geralt can’t quite bring himself to look over at him. But then Jaskier sniffles and Geralt looks up, finding tears on his cheeks and a soft look in his eyes. 

    “You-you got her for me?”

    Geralt nods, struck by a sudden boldness. He moves forward, grabbing the soft fabric of Jaskier’s doublet at his wrist. “I don’t like seeing you hurt. You-” Geralt huffs, grappling for words. “You’re far too important to me.”

    “I-do I need to actively hold onto the reins all of the time, Geralt?”

    “No, why?”

    “Because I would very much like to kiss you right now, and I would love to have both hands free for that.” Geralt’s eyes widen a bit and he nods, his breath catching as Jaskier drops the reins and surges into him. Jaskier’s lips are so much softer than Geralt had ever let himself imagine, and his fingers in Geralt’s hair feel like the closest thing that he will ever get to true paradise. 

    They part, but only far enough to look each other in the eyes. Geralt looks into those eyes, the clearest blue rivers rushing to raging seas. Geralt’s hands rest on Jaskier’s hips, his thumb rubbing little circles into his sides. He closes his eyes and leans his forehead onto Jaskier’s, reveling in the way that Jaskier’s heart speeds up and his breathing tightens a bit in his embrace. 

    “Thank you, Geralt. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you,” Jaskier whispers, light as a feather between their lips. 

    Geralt hums once more, still holding fast to the bard. “We should be leaving soon.”

    “Can I have another kiss?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt can hear the smirk in his words. 

    “I suppose,” Geralt smiles as he leans back into him. 

#geraskier #fluff #THESE TWO #i love them

[annabethy]

22 or 33?

dangerous love

in which people think they shouldn’t be together, but annabeth disagrees,, percabeth

Annabeth’s eyes trace over his back, enjoying the way his muscles ripple through the thin black fabric of his shirt. He hasn’t noticed her watching him yet, and she’s thankful for that. She just needs a few more minutes of this, drowning away the outside world.

She leans against the wall, concealed from his vision. Honestly, she has no idea why she’s so drawn to him. He’s the complete opposite of her. Annabeth is the definition of a perfect student and a perfect daughter. Percy’s the stereotype — people think he has terrible grades and no life aspirations — and had it been true, then maybe she wouldn’t be in this situation.

But she knows him. She’s seen what he’s like behind closed doors. He’s a sweetheart, though no one would ever know it from his dark clothes and brooding expression. People think he has a tough exterior, but all she sees when she looks at him are the sweet kisses he trails down her neck, or that glow in his smile when he holds her to sleep, just the two of them. And he tries so hard. It never fails to bring a smile to her face when he shows her the highest grade he’s gotten this semester, when he asks her if she thinks he can make it into the internship he applied for.

It’s no wonder she’s falling for him.

Annabeth’s so drawn into space that she doesn’t notice Percy approaching until he’s right in front of her. He stands tall, a knowing smirk on his face, and she can’t help but match it.

“Chase,” he greets. He tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth, and she wants to soothe it over with her lips.

“Jackson,” she says in response, shoving her desire down. She won’t be the first to break this perfectly constructed tension. “Did you need something?”

Percy laughs, leaning in closer. She can feel his breath on her lips. “Funny. I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“Why’s that?”

Percy trails his lips over her cheek, but not quite kissing her. “Imagine my surprise when I’m just minding my own business, doing my work, and I notice a certain blonde staring at me.”

“I wonder who it was.”

“Mhm.” A slight nip at her earlobe. “I wonder.”

“I might need to have a chat with this girl who has her eyes all over my boyfriend.”

“I don’t know if that’ll be possible,” he whispers. He has her cornered now, his arm snaking behind her to rest snugly against the curve of her back.

Annabeth’s breathless. “No?”

“No,” he repeats. “She’s about to be pretty busy.”

“Doing what?”

Percy pauses for a moment, drawing it out, before his lips ghost right beside her ear and he says, “Why don’t I just show you?”

And he does show her. His lips fit her perfectly, and they move together as one. It’s slow and sweet, not at all like the way people think Percy would be, yet it really is so Percy. It’s gentle like the way he hugs her after a long day, and it’s warm, like the way his body feels under the blankets on a cold winter night.

Percy pulls away, and she almost whines at the loss of contact. He tugs her head into the crook of his neck and holds her there, and she decides that this is just as good. She doesn’t think she’s ever felt safer than she does here in his arms. She breathes out a sigh, tucking her arms between them as he pulls her in tighter. “I love you.”

His response is immediate. He tilts her face up, dragging his thumb down her bottom lip. “You have no idea how badly I want to kiss you again.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Wouldn’t want people staring, now would I?”

“They’re gonna do that anyways,” she says. “Everyone thinks I should stay away from you because you’re dangerous.”

Percy throws his head back in a laugh, and she does the same. It’s insane how wrong they are. “I’m dangerous?”

“Of course,” she teases, fingers picking at the thread of his shirt. “You wear black, so you’re obviously dangerous.”

“Is that what they’ve told you?”

“Mh-hm.”

“And what about you, Chase?” He gives her a lopsided smile. “Do you think I’m dangerous?”

She doesn’t answer for a moment. She knows without a doubt that he would never hurt her. He touches her with the softest caresses, kisses her with the lightest brush of lips. He is the kindest person she knows, and he is not dangerous.

But this love they’ve built? That’s dangerous because she would do anything for it. She would walk through hell for him, and she would stop at nothing to find her way back to him. He would never leave — not willingly, anyways. Things happen though, and she knows that she would rather die than live without him.

“Only a little bit,” she says, catching his lips with hers again. “But what’s love if it’s not dangerous?”

“Boring?” he offers. “Exactly.”

They fall back into a silence, and he just holds her. She can feel each of his breath hit against her neck, a nice reminder that he will always be there for her. She will be the one to stand by her side for the rest of his life. She will get to see him accomplish his dreams, and she will see that beautiful smile when she wakes up in the morning and right before she goes to sleep.

Percy must be feeling the same way because he pulls her in even closer and nestles his face in the top of her head. “I’m going to marry you one day, Annabeth Chase.”

She doesn’t have the words to express just how badly she wants that. People may never approve of them, but she doesn’t care. They aren’t a part of their relationship, and they will never get to see the way he is with her. She can’t expect people to see Percy the way that she does, and that’s okay. As long as he has him, she will be okay.

“Good,” she says. “Because I’m going to marry you too.”

“And our wedding will be filled with silvers and whites,” he adds. “Because I know that’s what you love. And you’ll be wearing the most beautiful white dress, and the ring of your dreams.”

She’s surprised he remembered the things she told him weeks ago in the dark, but she really can’t be surprised. “And one day we’ll have kids. Not too many, but enough so that they aren’t alone. And you will be the best dad in the world.”

Percy kisses the top of her head. “Do you really think we can make it there?”

“I know we can.” She knows that their words take a toll on him, even if he smiles through them. “I love you and you love me. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”

Percy catches her lips again and whispers three words that she will never get tired of hearing.

She returns those three words, and she sees her future with him, beautiful and full of love.

And it all starts here with this dangerous love.

#percabeth #percy jackson #pjo #annabeth chase #percy jackson and the olympians #my writing #anon #asks

[magalidragon]

it must be puppy love | part 2 | teaser

Distracted by work and fandom wank yesterday (don’t slide into my DMs with your BS. 😑) so I didn’t work on this how I wanted. As apologies for not getting it up today like I wanted I will offer a teaser and cross fingers I can get it done by Friday. Enjoy!

That was about the extent of it, he thought, reflecting on that particular morning. It was only a few days ago. He was so fucking confused. He brooded about it the entire way to the vet clinic, parking behind her car, and going up and inside. One of the vet techs-- every one of them wore red scrubs, so weird-- led him to the exam room, where Drogon was resting on the floor, poking at the crate where the pups wiggled around, squealing in displeasure that they’'d been taken from their mother.

Ghost rushed immediately to his children, Jon nodding to Dany, who was scrolling on her phone. "Hey," he greeted, unclipping Ghost's lead.

She smiled briefly; she had a very nice smile, he'd been remiss to tell her. "Hey. Oh look at that, Ghost you've got a new accessory."

"Passed his trials this morning."

"Amazing," she murmured, furrowing her brow as Ghost began digging at a divot in the tile. She darted a glance to him, silently questioning. He shrugged; he could pass the K-9 trials, didn't mean he had to be fully smart elsewhere. She smiled a little wider, scratching Ghost's ears. "Good boy. Check on your babies."

Drogon wagged her tail, looking up when he approached her. He knelt to her level, ruffling her ears and pressing a kiss to her nose. She was relatively cute, when you studied her long enough. He still gave Dany shit for having an ugly dog though. "How're you girl? Hmm? Pups keeping you up?" He turned to hte crate, reaching in and collecting the one closest, the little girl, whose fur had begun growing in and was now about the same snowy white as her father. She nuzzled into his chest, squeaking, litlte paws scrabbling at him.

He rubbed between her ears, lifting his gaze to meet Dany, who was still attending to Ghost. He cleared his throat, shrugging, pretending like he hadn't already been thinking about this. "You know...they're getting bigger and stuff and...we need to think about...are we gonna' keep them or...sell..."

Even he didn't feel good about the last word. He was relieved when Dany jerked her head up, horrified. "Sell them? Fuck no! You might have a heart of ice, but I actually care, these are Drogon's babies and I will not...”

"Whoa, chill out Dragon Queen." He made a 'time out' motion with his hands, not at all expecting that to stop her, which it did not. He sighed, while Dany ranted another moment about how he was just "dumping" the children because he couldn't be bothered, and finally he chose drastic action.

He swooped in and kissed her.

It had the desired effect. She stopped talking, her words catching in the back of her throat, mouth parted in surprise. He took the opportunity to lightly cup the back of her head, at an awkward angle as she was looking up from her seated position and he was bending over, the dogs and crate between them, and a wiggling pup against his chest. He was surprised himself, mostly by how gentle it was. He didn't intend it, it just...happened.

She reached up, her hand curling around his forearm, fingers digging into the thick fatigues material, and she returned the kiss, lips soft under his. He broke away first, eyes wide on hers, and saw her expression likely mirrored his, violet irises wide around her dilated pupil, her pink lips swollen, open slightly. She darted her tongue to wet them, her hand still around his arm. He dropped his from her head, lightly stroking over one of her braids across her shoulder and drifted away.

The room was quiet; the pups squealed and Drogon huffed a sigh, moving into a more comfortable position. Ghost panted, whipping his head between them both. He swallowed hard, murmuring. "No one's selling the puppies."

It threw her off, her throat bobbing, a muscle in her jaw ticking when she swallowed. "Alright," she rasped. She dropped her hand from his arm, like she'd been burned, and fisted her fingers against her thighs. Coughing, she composed herself, and he took the moment to do the same, also thrown off, not just by his initial reaction to bloody fucking kiss her, but the way hed done so. And even the way she reacted.

Like what the fuck Snow? They had no label on whatever this was, didn't want to even think about it, and he was not interested. He'd been married for five miserable bloody awful years, the only thing he'd come to realize out of that situation was that he never wanted to feel like that again and that meant no bloody relationships.

Ghost, the stupid mutt, did not seem to understand that they were in this together, and had gone and started something with the dog next door, and now it seemed he was in the same situation. Even if Drogon seemed a bit more reluctant, despite Ghost's best efforts. He was now sitting right beside her, his big fluffy butt sitting on her back legs, but Drogon didn't mind.

Dany's eye twitched, almost imperceptible. She cleared her throat and reached into her tote bag, removing a very "lawyerly" black leather portfolio. She flicked it open and took out a red pen with dragons engraved in it, uncapped it with her teeth, and began to scrawl atop a yellow legal pad. He scowled. "You suing me?"

"No," she snapped. She set the pen cap down and primly rested the notepad on her knee, legs crossed. She spoke as she wrote. "In the matter of Ghost Snow and Drogon Targaryen....custody arrangements for...." She glanced at the pups, hte one still in his arms and the other who had wiggled out of the crate and straight to Drogon, suckling eagerly. She squinted. "Well they need names, but for now we will refer to them as Child A and Child B."

He drolled, "How sentimental." What on earth was she doing? He said nothing, his heart skipping behind his ribs.

Dany continued, writing quickly. "Custody agreement shall commence upon the date of first weaning, after which Child A and Child B are no longer fully dependent on mother, Drogon Targaryen, for sustenance."

"You are so clinical, my gods."

"I am being thorough," she said, but there was no heat behind it. She lifted her eyebrows, smirking at him. "Do you want them every other day or week or what?"

He looked at Ghost, who cocked his head, tongue out at the side of his open mouth. "I think Ghost would like to see his children as much as physically possible." He furrowed his eyebrows, thinking, an idea forming. He nodded to her legal pad. "Keep working on that, but I have an idea."

"Dangerous."

#jonerys #jonerys au #my fics #my moodboards #jonerys fanfic #fic tease #ghost and drogon falling in love lol

[baroquebucky]

hi lovely! i adore ur writing :-) i was just wondering if you could write something about bucky being all soft and gooey around his gal and kissing her and being all lovey dovey with her in front of the team, and them teasing him for it. i’d love to see it if it inspires u! thank u!

a/n: okAY I HAVE RESTARTED THIS LIKE SEVEN TIMEs because i didn’t know how i wanted to write this and so i decided to do some headcanons about this !! if you want an actual imagine let me know !!! i hope you guys enjoy it :~)

masterlist

Bucky was afraid of touching you the first time he met you

he was afraid that all the darkness and pain in him would ruin your happy, radiant demeanor, and he didn’t want that

but you didn’t allow that, giving him hugs for every little thing, bumping shoulders with him, grabbing his hand and dragging himself round to have fun

it was obvious the two of you would date, you made his life so much better and he did the same for you, helping you grow more confident and self assured

for years bucky only knew physical touch as painful, something he dreaded

and you showed him something completely different when it came to touch

the way your fingers gently traced every scar he had, the way they ghosted over his chest when he was asleep and you couldn’t sleep, the way you would pull him into you for a hug, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing him tightly

Bucky especially loved how you played with his hair, gently tucking it into place when the two of you cuddle or were kissing, the way you attempted to braid it and style it

Bucky couldn’t get enough

he missed out on this for so long so of course he would want your tender love any chance he got, he didn’t care who was around

the whole team thought Bucky was this brooding, intimidating man who was capable of killing them all if he tried, yet there he was, cuddled into you like a puppy

Bucky would kiss your face all over, making you laugh, planting sloppy kisses on your cheeks and forehead before finally connecting your lips.

“Fucks sake im trying to watch this show can you please do that somewhere else?” Sam would groan, annoyed at how soft Bucky was, Bucky only grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, never once disconnecting your lips.

You would smile into the kiss, pulling his hair slightly causing Bucky to groan a little, sam would make a gagging noise,” that’s it im out i hate you guys” you would burst out laughing the second he got up, immediately apologizing to him

he of course would accept, you were always too sweet and did so much for him, he couldn’t be mad at you.

At Bucky though? He couldn’t 100000% be mad at him

So Sam made it his mission to embarrass the metal armed man.

The two of you sat on the couch, cuddling.

Bucky snuggled so close against you if he moved a centimeter more he’d be on top of you. He had a hand in your hair, your arms wrapped around him, rubbing circles on his back.

he stared up at you, admiring how fuckinf beautiful you were

“how did i get the prettiest gal in the world hm?” he would smile, pressing a kiss to your arm, “oh shut up bucky” you blushed, refusing to take the compliment

“no I’m serious you’re so goddamn perfect doll” he whispered, moving to get comfortable enough to kiss your neck

“bucky stop we’re in the living room” you giggled, he continued to kiss you, placing a soft kiss on your jaw and then on your cheek

“what’s Sam gonna do? Get upset again?” He laughed and you rolled your eyes.

“I love you so much” he smiled at you, effortlessly lifting you and placing you on his lap

you smiled at the man, running your fingers through his soft hair, he smiled at you, his eyes fluttering closed at the relaxing contact.

“you know i love when you do that” he hummed and you smiled, leaning down to kiss his forehead you removed your hands from his hair and sat next to him, putting your head on his chest.

“why’d you stop” he pouted, looking at you as if you broke his heart in two

“Oh my god you are whipped” Tony laughed, you went red, Bucky felt slightly embarrassed but didn’t care too much, a smile creeping onto his face and he turned to look at you

“well how could i not be? i have the best girlfriend in the world” he spoke, you blushed deeper and tony rolled his eyes, turning around and leaving “yeah sam he isn’t gonna be embarrassed around us”

Sam groaned from the hall, emerging and narrowing his eyes at bucky, “I’ll get my revenge” Bucky only laughed and you but your lip to stifle your laughter.

“cmon angel” you spoke, standing up and grabbing his hand, leading him to your room so you guys could cuddle in peace.

The pda did not cease, Sam made every team member catch the two of you cuddling or being utterly adorable and yet nothing

Bucky has no shame showing the fact that he was wrapped around your finger, kissing your hand every chance, placing kisses all over your face and cuddling you at every chance

Then peter came to stay a night

he saw the way bucky would do everything for you, barely letting you do anything, he saw the way that if you asked for something he’d give it to you, the way that he cuddled into your side and was somehow always touching you

“oh my god” peter smiled to himself, texting ned and MJ quickly, guys mr barnes is a simp

He tried his best to hide his laughter but he couldn’t, wheezing as he picked up the Group FaceTime call

“no way the winter soldier is a simp??” MJ spoke and ned added on “he literally killed people how the hell did y/n manage to get him to simp so hard”

peter began explaining, giggling as he told them everything

Sam heard the loud teenage boy, immediately being struck with an idea

“hey Pete” he approached the boy in the kitchen and he gave him a small wave “i need you to do me a favor”

You and Bucky were in the garden, singing along to music and laughing, he held your hand, swinging it back and forth.

“I need to water the plants today but I’m so tired” you complained to your boyfriend, sitting under a tree, you were in between his legs and he rested his chin on top of your head

“I can do it for you doll face” he replied, you laughed shaking your head softly, “no i can do it lovely” but Bucky insisted

so there he was, watering all your flowers and getting bit by mosquitos, enter peter

peter was shitting himself, he was still kind of scared of Bucky, finding him intimidating despite knowing he could take the man

“what are you doing mr barnes?” Peter questioned, standing next to him and looking at the many plants

“y/n was tired so i told her I’d water her pants for her” he spoke, peter wrangled every ounce of courage he had

“huh so youre kind of a simp then” he spoke, Bucky turned to look at him, did he just-?

“what? no!” Bucky protested, suddenly feeling embarrassed because he was this little 18 year old calling HIM a simp

“i mean think about it, kinda yeah” he spoke, laughing softly, “it’s okay, in the end we all simp for someone” peter smiled, walking back inside, already wanting to apologize to bucky but instead searching for Sam so he could order him the pizza he wanted

Bucky stood in the garden, shock on his face. Sam watched from the kitchen window, laughing his ass off, finally embarrassing the super soldier

Bucky walked into your room, going to sit next to you, “am i simp?” He looked at you, troubled. You tried your best to stifle your laughter, composing yourself before looking at your boyfriend

“i mean yeah” you admitted, shrugging your shoulders.

Bucky was hurt for a couple of hours, vowing to himself that he would no longer simp for you, he could do that

right? wrong

by the end of the night Bucky was snuggled up to you side, eyes closed and mind at peace, you mumbled sweet nothings into his ear and he felt so- at home.

you were buckys home, he didn’t care if others saw it, he didn’t care if that made him a simp. He would be damned if he didn’t take every and any chance to kiss you and show you off and love on you

you did the same for him, Bucky was your safe space, your everything, your home

although Sam rolled his eyes when the two of you were cuddling heavily during movie night, he couldn’t help but be happy that bucky had found happiness in the world

#bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes headcanon #soft!bucky barnes #soft!bucky #clingy!bucky barnes #clingy!bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes headcanons

[eveenstar]

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒲𝒶𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒

𝙰 𝚁𝚎𝚍 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚁𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝟸 𝙵𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙸𝙸

Summary:  In 2031, a journal is found. It tells the story of a woman named Y/N L/N, who claims to be a time traveler from 2021. This is the story of her life.

Tags/Warnings: Nothing to add yet.

Note: Also, this is a Javier Escuella x reader. The reader is also female, sorry! 

“What the hell?”  

“Is she alright?”

“Don't just stand there, help the poor girl!”

I remember waking up on a bed, not soft at all, reminded me of a rock.

The rays of the sun made the girl groan and sit on the bed. Rubbing her eyes, she looked around and noticed the strange ambient she was in. A few people walking around, yet none of them noticed she was awake. The woman got up slowly, swaying on her feet, and took slow steps towards her bag left on the ground, until a small voice startled her.

“Mama, the weird lady is up!”

“Already?”

(Y/N) sighed, her head up, and watching as all the eyes were on her. Her mind was still processing the information from the past hours, time-traveling. Right, right, she knew what to do. At least, what she was supposed to do. Her body felt different, probably still adjusting to going through a portal, her mouth was dry and she could still taste a bit of dirt on her lips from the fall.

“Hey, lady, you good?” A silvery voice ringed, waking (Y/N) from her thoughts. Looking at the group of people surrounding her. The man wearing a sombrero got closer to her with a cautious look on his face. The girl didn’t answer, the shock beginning to take over her body. Only know did the poor girl realized what she had done.

“Javier, be careful. She could be…dangerous.” Another voice coming from behind him said.

Dangerous? Well, she kinda is, right? Being a skilled hacker and knowing her way on a gun, but that probably wouldn’t serve much in this era. The hacker part, at least. (Y/N) focused on the loud voices coming near them, they were arguing, and probably about her too.

“Why are we keeping her alive, Dutch? The woman came through that shiny golden circle on the sky and you decide to keep her here?” A blond man waved his arm towards her angrily. (Y/N) recognized him from the old picture the other woman had shown to her; Micah Bell.

“We can’t just kill her, Micah. We need to hear her first.” The other man, Dutch van der Linde, or the dude with fancy clothes, replied. Seemingly annoyed by Micah.

“We have far too many mouths to feed already. We can’t have another one.” A feminine harsh voice announced. “Who comes through something like that in the middle of nowhere? In our camp? She’s dangerous.”

The woman let out a heavy and annoyed sigh. Crossing her arms and looking to the gang, with her brows furrowed. She wouldn’t let them talk like that about her like she wasn’t there. Everyone quickly looked at her.

“If you let me explain myself first before any of you open your mouths.” (Y/N) could see the surprised look on a few faces, but an angry one on the others. Maybe having an attitude wouldn’t do her any good here, probably should get rid of that before causing any problems amongst the gang. After all, she needed to gain their trust.

“I’m sorry, Miss…?”

“(L/N).”

“I’m sorry, Miss (L/N), they can be quite suspicious about strange folks. Of course, we’ll let you explain yourself after…that.” Dutch spoke softly with an educated tune, being the calmest and reasonable of them all. The girl took a few steps back, stumbling on her words a few times, even mumbling in Italian. Everyone’s eyes were on her like hawks, most of them curious but suspicious. It wasn’t hard to understand them, a random woman popping out of a hole on the sky dressed weirdly would any person be suspicious and probably very shocked.

(Y/N) was taking too long. Hearing a click of the tongue made her straighten up and fixing her eyes on the wanted gang.

“Well, err, I am…from the future-“

“The future?! I can’t listen to that bullshit!” Micah replied almost immediately.

“Shut the fuck up I’m talking!” The sudden shout made their eyes widen a bit, but she could still hear a few mumbled laughs on the background. “As I was saying, I came from the future. I’m from 2021. Someone sent me here to…help you all before a big tragedy takes place.”

After seconds of shocked nonbelieving silence, a few loud voices were heard around. Mostly because they didn’t believe one single word she’d just said, others were questioning why Dutch decided to let her live and how they should just throw her on the river. But, one of the girls slowly approached her, more calmly.

“Why you?” The young brown-hair freckled woman asked, one of her brows up in a questioning way. She sounded so gentle when she spoke.

I adored Mary-Beth. I think she was the kindest and most gentle member of the Van der Linde gang.

“Oh. Well, you see….” (Y/N) gazed hesitantly to Dutch for the first time. He was watching her with his arms crossed, with a heavy brooding expression and eyes narrowed. The leader was wearing a black and red vest with a blue and white pinstripe shirt, with gold chains on his vest, with a smart black jacket and a black hat. He was taller than her and stronger; with a thick, black mustache and soul patch under his lips, he also has dark black, slick backed hair that curls at the end. Taking a mental note on his appearance, he seemed far more intimidating in real life.

I recall thinking “Damn, is that my great-grandpa? He’s hot.”. But in a serious note, he seemed to be so cold-hearted but at the same time, kind and trustworthy. He did look like a gentleman. He was an outlaw, and well, I guess it does run on the family.

What was she doing? Why did she take the stupid decision on going back to the past just because someone didn’t like how this gang’s fate ended? Many, many lives didn’t have a happy ending too. So why change only theirs? (Y/N) was already regretting the foolish decision she took, but hey, she still had that block thing to go back. Nothing was lost yet, she just had to justify herself and get the hell out of there before they decide to kill her or worse.

Hearing a forced cough woke the girl from her thoughts. Feeling embarrassed when she noticed she had been staring at him this whole time. Good, just wonderful.

“I’m Dutch’s…great-granddaughter.” The words merely escape her lips and heavens, how she felt like throwing herself out of a cliff after it. A burst of loud laughter was heard, coming from some of the men. A great joke, yes, that’s what this was. They didn’t believe her, not without proof, and she couldn’t honestly blame them.

“You can’t possibly believe this crazy woman’s words, Dutch. C’mon.”

“Miss, please elaborate on that.”

“Dutch? C’mon boss, she hit her head when she fell!” Micah shouted, not very happy with the leader deciding to hear her story before making any judgment. (Y/N) was glad for it, who knows what would happen if he decided to listen to that idiot.

She grabbed her bag and started to look for her phone, it probably wouldn’t work much there but if time traveling is a thing, maybe ghost WiFi was too. Who knows. Probably asking for too much there. (Y/N) took a few steps closer and turned it on, showing them the colorful wallpaper and the date, “2021”, proceeding to shows some pictures of streets and buildings she had on her gallery. It seemed to have worked, has everyone had a terrified look on their faces. Most of them were still a bit hesitant, and probably scared of the unknown.

The girl turned to the leader, she didn’t have any proof about being his great-granddaughter. Wait, she didn’t ask for it too. Damn it, did she just get fooled by that woman?

“I don’t have any proof, sir, but that woman told me I was…your granddaughter and needed me to save you all.” Before he replied, she added. “She did mention a one night woman you were with.”

“If what you’re telling us is the truth,” He began, slowly. Still watching her closely. “I guess you’ll have to stay with us.”

Giving the man a slight smile, the girl nodded. She heard a few angrily mumbles coming from behind them, some of the gang’s members weren’t very happy with that sudden decision. With a gentle pat on her shoulder, Dutch made his way to the middle of the camp and looked at everyone, rubbing his hands together with a serious, yet sympathetic expression.

“Family, Miss (L/N) will stay with us for the time being. I don’t want any complaints about this, she showed us proof of her story and if she’s here to help us, we should give her a home.” Nobody spoke, just silence. Maybe they didn’t want to oppose their leader. “Miss Grimshaw, please help Miss (Y/N) prepare a tent and show her around.”

The older woman nodded, looking at Dutch and then glaring suspiciously at (Y/N).

“Miss (Y/N), I would like to speak with you…privately.” Feeling a sudden jump of beat on her chest, the girl nodded. The serious tune on his voice addressing to her caught her by surprise, she didn’t like that tune coming from adults. Perhaps because every time that happened, they would blame her for something afterward and treat her like a child.

“Don’t worry, he just wants to talk to you about that great-granddaughter thing, ya know,” Mary-Beth said, giving (Y/N) a warm smile. “I’ll catch you later, ‘kay? Someone has to show you around and meet the other folks.”  

“Thanks…?” The girl tilted her head a bit. That’s right, they didn’t present themselves yet.

“Mary-Beth. You?” The young woman replied. Her name fit her perfectly, she looked like the main character of a romance novel.

“(Y/N).”

“Oh, well, nice to meet you, (Y/N). It’s better if you go now, don’t wanna keep Dutch waitin’.” Mary said, already making her way to another tent. (Y/N) nodded in agreement, putting her brave face and walking confidently to Dutch’s tent. Alright, probably not that confident, but she couldn’t let the others think she’s weak or scared now. She had a role to keep! The thought about going back to 2021 was already in the back of her mind and probably would stay there for a very long time.

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde #javier escuella #javier escuella x reader

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

you’re so creepy | part i | ksj ver

Every campus has one. You know - the resident campus creepy girl. This campus has seven. All from in the boys’ POV.

summary: Seokjin is pretty sure his creepy girl is a witch. He’s totally not into that. Well. Unless...?

warnings: non-idol!BTS - university!BTS; alcohol consumption; 18+ for language, ends with a kiss that Seokjin enjoys a little too much; Seokjin’s POV

--

No amount of money or dares could force Kim Seokjin to approach the creepy goth girl. His friends all thought it would be funny for him to interact with the black-haired, thick eyeliner and dark lipstick wearing, brooding young lady that always seemed to show up to these university parties. He did not think it was funny at all. For all he knew, she practiced witchcraft and he was not down with that. Absolutely not.

Okay and maybe she scared the shit out of him.

“I heard she only comes to these parties to feed off the weak,” Kim Taehyung murmured in his ear.

“What does that even mean?” Min Yoongi muttered, raising an eyebrow as he took a sip of his beer. He frowned and glared at it, as if the contents of his cup offended him.

“Well if she’s feeding off the weak, you’re toast, Hobi-hyung,” Jeon Jungkook laughed, seeing Jung Hoseok’s face become panicked.

“Haha, what are you talking about?” Hoseok replied nervously, eyes darting around. “I have tons of courage.”

“Hyung, can you get me something else?” Yoongi nudged him with his cup.

“Yah, I’m older than you! Get it yourself.”

“Yeah, but you were going to get up anyway, weren’t you?” Yoongi tilted his head at him. “You’re standing up.”

He made a disgruntled noise. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

He left them, hurrying off to the bathroom. The goth girl had arrived dressed in a ripped up black sweatshirt and black jeans, milling about with a trail of admirers. The two silver hoops on each side of her lower lip flashed in the bright lights, a stark contrast against her black lipstick. Her long black hair was messy and wild, covering part of her face. Seokjin shook his head. He just didn’t get why anyone would be attracted to someone who radiated eeriness. He went to the bathroom and did his business. He was pretty sure girls like that would never be interested in guys like him. He was clean-cut, wholesome, confident. Too different for someone who looked like they summoned ghosts in their spare time. He washed his hands, drying them neatly.

The door of the bathroom opened and he squeaked, whipping his head around quickly.

It was the creepy goth girl.

“Oh. It’s the pretty boy actor kid.”

She closed the door behind her.

She closed the door.

“W-what?”

“Yeah, the actor major who been avoiding me,” she said absentmindedly. She didn’t even bother to address that she was standing in the bathroom of a random house having this discussion. “I was on stage crew for the play production. You were the lead actor. Ah, Kim Seokjin, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, you remember me?” He laughed awkwardly, despite his mind screaming that he was going to be sacrificed any second now.

“Of course, I remember you, you freaked out every time I was within ten feet of you.”

“I– well, no, of course I didn’t–”

She tilted her head and took a step towards him. He nearly shrieked and she grinned at him. He backed up into the sink and she swooped in, placing one hand on either side of him, pressing close. He could smell the spicy bitterness of her perfume. The holes in her sweatshirt were huge and he could see the black bra underneath it. His eyes widened, his voice dying in his throat.

“They say pretty boy Seokjin is scared of creepy girls,” she drawled, her tongue sliding out and teasing one of her lip piercings. “But you’re not scared, right, pretty boy?”

He was close to screaming but she ground her pelvis against his, startling him.

“W-what are you doing?” he croaked, surprised that his heart was beating so fast.

She raised an eyebrow, looking up at him innocently. Her pink tongue slid out and wiggled slowly in the air, drawing slow circles framed by her black lips. His eyes were glued to her tongue, watching with fascination. Her hands slid up his sides, long delicate fingers with black painted fingernails. One of her hands danced up his shirt, the other snaking around his neck. He couldn’t move. He wasn’t sure if he was because he was freaked out or because he was aroused. She pulled him down, straining on her tiptoes to bring her face close to his.

“Still scared, pretty boy Seokjin?”

He felt her lips press against his, soft except for the hard metal of the lip rings digging into his skin. She bit his lower lip, making him gasp. She took the chance to slide her tongue inside, her other hand dragging her nails down the front of his shirt, setting his skin on fire. He noticed her eyes were closed, lashes dark and outlined with a feverish amount of black eyeliner.

She kissed him roughly, breaking apart with a smirk. He was too flabbergasted to speak. Her lipstick was smeared and messy, but she seemed not to care.

“See you around, pretty boy Seokjin.”

And she turned around and left the bathroom.

After a good five minutes, he exited the bathroom in a daze. He needed fifty drinks to wash the memory away immediately. His dick was fighting to leave his pants at the mere thought of those lip rings and black lipstick.

He found Yoongi next to the alcohol, who seemed to have decided he had the ability to get up and serve himself. His questioning eyes saw Seokjin’s shocked expression and then fixated on his mouth.

“Uh… why do you have black smeared all over your lips?”

-

after the kiss.

--

masterpost

#seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x reader #seokjin scenarios #bts drabble #jin x reader #seokjin fluff

[headinthe-fridge]

My Grandfather’s Lawyer (pt.8)

⁂ – Ushijima Wakatoshi x reader –  ⁂

warning: nsfw, swearing

Summary: Your grandfather, Washijo Tanji, disowned your mother when she was pregnant with you and her hatred towards him was passed on to you. Now, your estranged grandfather wants you to leave your life in Tokyo and come live with him in his estate in the Miyagi Prefecture.

You took a day off and a 6-hour trip, intending to give him a piece of your mind before disappearing from their lives forever. You didn’t expect to see an ailing and fragile old man. Your day trip stretched into weeks and soon, you patched things up with your estranged family and warmed up to everyone -except to one: Ushijima Wakatoshi -your grandfather’s lawyer.

He thinks you have ulterior motives in reuniting with your grandfather.

You weren’t suppose to care what he thinks of you. His opinion didn’t matter.

But it did.

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

AN: Ahhh, it’s ending soon, you guys. But don’t worry, I already have a new story in my drafts, I am just not sure if I should write another Ushijima fic or with another character. Who should I do next?

‘a familiar voice spoke beside you that nearly made you fall off your seat.’

"Oya, y/n-chan! There you are hiding!"

To say you were startled was an understatement but that's Bokuto Kotaro for you. The man never seem to run out of energy every time you see him.

He sat beside you, his enthusiastic smile never leaving his face. “You look amazing.”

You blushed at his words. “Thank you, though my shoes are killing me.”

“Here,” He unceremoniously reached for your ankle and placed your feet on his lap.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Relax, gorgeous, I’m gonna make your feet a little better.” He winked at you before pulling out a small, circular container from his pocket. “I love the smell of eucalyptus so I always bring this little buddy here,” He showed you the topical balm before applying some on your blistered feet.

The minty scent filled your nose while the cool salve soothed your reddening skin. Kotaro took hold of your other leg and did the same with your left foot.

“Oh, what’s this?”

You and Kotaro simultaneously turned to Kuroo who just came, carrying a pack of bandage plaster. Beside him stood the stone-faced lawyer, looking as dashing as ever that it made your head hurt.

He looks so damn good all the time, it’s not even fair.

“Just helped Miss gorgeous a little.”

“Put this over the blisters, since you’re already holding your feet.”

Kuroo was about to give the pack to Kotaro when Ushijima butted it, hand stretched out towards your cousin.

“I’ll do it.”

Your heart skipped a beat, a protest formed in your mind but before you could voice it out, Kuroo gave Ushijima the pack while Kotaro vacated his seat beside yours.

“Take care of her, alright. We’re gonna go grab some drink.” Kuroo advised.

“Man, I’m hungry. Let’s go, Kuroo-san.”

With that, you were once again alone with Ushijima in a secluded area at night. Your last encounter with him flashed inside your mind, his lips sucking on your, his body pressed against yours, and his hands on your-

You dispelled the sinful thoughts away as he took the seat next to you. You will not submit yourself to him again. No, this time you’re gonna be unmovable.

You gulped as you tried to calm your racing heart.

Shit, why does he have to smell so damn good to?

He sat there staring at you, making you squirm. You couldn’t fathom what he was thinking for his face did not give anything away.

“Stop staring! You’re making me uncomfortable!” You hissed.

A small smile ghosted his lips but it was gone the next second, you thought you imagined it.

“Sorry, it’s just that you’re so beautiful tonight. You look dazzling as always, I feel like kissing you again.”

Your heart did a somersault while your stomach fluttered. Did you hear that right? Ushijima Wakatoshi just complimented you. You felt your insides melt. 

“May I?” He asked and the only thing you could do was nod.

His hand reached for your leg, sending tingles all over your body at the contact. He examined your blisters before opening the pack of plasters.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, forcing the words to come out of your mouth to escape the awkward silence that lingered between the two of you.

He looked at you briefly before continuing with his task. “Why? Am I not invited?”

“You were m.i.a. for a week, I’m surprised you knew about this party.”

“So, you missed me?”

You stilled. “W-why would I miss you?” 

Ushijima chuckled at your flustered reaction. He then reached for your other leg and started to peel open another plaster. “I know there’s a party, I know where the venue is, I know what time it will start, and I also know that the main course for tonight is your favorite baked barbecue back ribs, simply because I was the one who organized this.”

“You-what?”

“Did you like the table’s centerpiece? I heard you loved lilies when you were in high school but I wasn’t sure if you still do so I tasked Atsumu in confirming it for me.”

So that was why Atsumu, some time last week, asked him you out of the blue if you prefer roses or lilies. Then asked again between peony and lily, and orchids, and daisies, and a whole other flowers whose names you can’t remember now. You always chose lily because Ushijima was right, it was your favorite.

“I don’t know what to say,” You breathed, warmth seeped into your chest at the thoughtful gesture. “Thank you.” You finally added.

Ushijima gingerly placed your feet down before crouching before you. “Here let me put these on for you.” He reached for the heels on the stone floor and carefully slipped it back to your feet.

“You don’t have to thank me, Tanji-san really wanted to surprise you so I had to be meticulous about every detail, or I’ll lose my job. So he says.”

“Oh, I see.”

Your heart broke. You thought he did it wholeheartedly but it was clear he only did it for the sake of his job. And here you were, getting all giddy over nothing. Turning soft over nothing. You swore you were not gonna submit to him but you just did it again. Now, look what happened.

“What’s wrong?” He asked when you abruptly stood up. 

“I’m gonna go back inside.” You took a step but Ushijima held your arm, stopping you in place.

“You’re mad, I can tell. What is it? Was it something I said?” 

You turned back to him, his face once again back to his usual scowl. There it is, that’s the Ushijima you know, not the soft boy that he was earlier.

“I’m not, why would I be mad? Please let go of my arm.”

“I don’t believe you. Tell me, what is it?”

“I told you it’s nothing! Let me go.” You tried to yank your arm free from his grasp but he did not budge.

“Why do you always run away from me? Tell me, who are you afraid me, really, me or yourself?”

Afraid that he would see the truth in your eyes, you looked away. “I don’t know what you mean, please let me go.”

And he did. He did it without any other resistance that it caught you off-guard. You did not linger any second longer and bolted out of his sight, walking as fast as your blistered feet in heels could carry you.

The past week that you haven’t seen him made you restless. Every time the door chimed, you unconsciously expected that it would be him. The next thing you knew, you were yearning for his brooding presence and scowling face. Your day didn’t felt complete without seeing his handsome face shooting daggers at you.

You were afraid, yes, but not of him but of yourself. You knew why, you like him. His kiss lingered at the forefront of your mind, his body ignited a prairie fire within you.

----

You were standing before the buffet table, torn between the chocolate mousse and mango tiramisu when Kotaro appeared beside you again and picked a dessert for you.

“This is heaven.” He smiled.

You beamed at him in return and took the sweets from his hand. “Thanks, you’re a life saver.”

“Are you enjoying your party?”

“Yeah, everyone’s really nice.” You replied, but your smile dulled at the memory of your exchange with Ushijima earlier. Unconsciously, your eyes scanned the crowd until it fell on the said lawyer, animatedly chatting with your cousin, Hoshina. It was the first time you saw smiling like that, eyes wrinkling in mirth, full set of teeth showing. You felt a painful prick at your heart.

“Are you okay?” Kotaro asked, but you didn’t reply. His eyes followed your gaze and saw what you saw.

“It’s Toshi, isn’t it?” You turned back to him, eyes wide and was about to deny when he beat you it. “Don’t deny it, I can see it in your face.”

“What about you? You think you’re hiding it well but I can see it too.”

It was his time to get flustered. “W-what do you mean by that?”

You chuckled softly at his reaction. “Come on. Ko, you’re in love with Hoshina, and I can tell you have been for a long time. Why are you not shooting your shot?”

He shook his head, both you gazes falling back to the people that held both your affections. “She’s a Washijo, heaven never came down just to be with the earth.

“Oh, please, believe me, that cousin of my has a soft spot for you.” You lightly pat his cheeks twice in endearment and encouragement.

“Thanks for the boost but I’d rather not let my hopes get too high.”

----

“So, how does it feel to be so important?” You just got out of a cubicle after taking care of your business when Hoshina greeted you. Leaning on the comfort room counter. “I bet you’re rejoicing now that you have everyone’s attention including Wakatoshi and Kotaro’s.”

You brushed past her and approached the sink to wash your hands. She turned and looked at you through the mirror and you met glare.

“It’s as you say -I am rejoicing, I feel great.” You shook your hands to whisk away excess water then finally faced your cousin. “Why, do you have a problem with that?”

Her smirk vanished. “When are you leaving? As far as I remember you wanted to go back to Tokyo as soon as possible, how come you’re still here?”

“Ah, didn’t you know? I’m staying here for good. I’m a Washijo too, and I also have the right to live here.”

“What made you change your mind? Does it have something to do with Kotaro?”

Your mind blanked for a few moments at her questions. Then it finally dawned on you, all thesse weeks of Hoshina being hostile towards you was because she was insecure -and all for the wrong reasons. You were relieved but thought of teaching her a lesson.

“Do I hear jealousy here? And if I say yes, what are you gonna do about it?”

Her ears fumed at your words. “I’m warning you, if you want to have a peaceful life here, leave Kotaro alone.”

“Last I checked, you’re not his girlfriend so you don’t have any right to threaten me like that. And no, I will not leave him alone just because you told me to.” You challenged and you expected for her to fight back but instead, her face fell.

“But...” Tears welled in her eyes and you felt guilty for going overboard.

“Don’t worry, Ko and I are just friends.”

“What did you say?”

“You heard me, we’re just friends.”

“You don’t have feelings for him?” Her voice sounded hopeful, her menacing tone gone.

“Why would I? He’s not really my type so he’s all yours.”

You did a double take when Hoshina blushed.

“I-I’m sorry.”

“What for?” You asked, now more than surprised.

“For my behavior since you arrived. I haven’t really been very welcoming.”

“You don’t say. I could still feel you shooting daggers at the of my mind but don’t worry about that. I understand that you were just being spiteful, and probably a little biased because of the things you might have heard about my mother, like how biased I was about ji-ji.”

Hoshina gasped. “You finally called him ji-ji.”

You smiled softly. “Yeah, I just did.”

“He’s gonna be so happy when he hears it. He would always whine about you not calling him that for weeks.” She groaned.

You were happy, you bounced in your steps as you and Hoshina exited the comfort room together, chatting, and laughing together. You never gave up the hope that you will get along with your cousin soon, and that’s what’s happening now.

You were deprived of the feeling of having relatives all your life and that was the reason why you easily forgave Hoshina for her shortcomings. It’s all in the past, and now you want to focus on the future. But even if you told her that you would be staying for good, deep in your heart you still weren’t sure.

Taglist: @thegrumpyhag​ @sushij1ma​ @valoryess​ @yakus-yakult​ @ly-nia​ @ushi-please​ @plutoglass @kokofirebangbomb​ @strawberryy-milkk @melanieacademy​ @defunkitatedmess​ @lunarknox​ @wtoshii​ @kyomihann​ @multishippers-trash-blog​ @monviemoo​ 

Part 9

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