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#fandom imagines
alloftheimagines · 2 years
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billy hargrove | i need my girl
masterlist | request
words: 3k
warnings: sexual harassment, mentions of domestic abuse, billy being a drunk asshole (with an apology), strong language, alcohol, smoking, relationship angst, brief mention of reader having period cramps and brief mention of fatphobia.
prompt: Reader finds out that Billy get stuck at a party and reader had to drive to her house so he doesn't get in trouble by his father. Billy say some mean thing to reader while being drunk.
AN: I've been listening to "I Need My Girl" by the National A LOT and somehow this ended up fitting right in with the prompt. just in case you like music with your fics!
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You’re in your bedroom when he calls you, your pink telephone ringing. You’ve been expecting it. Nobody ever calls you on a Saturday night. Nobody but him. You’ve been waiting, anxious, because he’s at a party and you’re not, and you know what he’s like when he drinks too much.
“Hello?” you answer upon picking up, slipping a bookmark between the pages you’d been reading and crossing your legs.
Billy’s voice is slurred and gravelly on the other side as he yells, “Shut the fuck up. Shut up. I can’t hear my girl.”
You roll your eyes, though the term of endearment warms your chest.
“Babe?” he asks finally, and you imagine him swaying by the telephone, or maybe draped across a couch. You hear the sound of laughter in the background and wonder what kind of fun he’s been having tonight. Whether he misses you, or if the loud music is enough to drown you out of his thoughts for hours on end. Not like you. You’ve been worrying, imagining, all evening. It’s been a rough week with his dad, and Billy needed desperately to blow off steam, he said.
You never dare ask what "blowing off steam" consists of—not when he does it in the likes of Carol’s house, with prettier, popular girls. Not that you don’t trust him. You just know how he loses his head to impulse and self-destruction when he’s struggling. Worse when he’s drunk. Trying to talk him out of it only makes him feel smothered. He needs his space, and you have to live with that.
“What’s up, Billy?” You sigh and push the book away, rubbing your tired eyes.
“Not annoyed at me, are ya?” he asks. “Don’t be like that, baby. Don’t be grumpy.”
“I’m not. Just tired.”
“Oh, c’mon. You’re missin’ me. You can admit it.” It feels like he’s rubbing it in. Because all you wanted tonight was to stay in, rent a movie, and eat popcorn in his arms. But he hadn’t wanted to. He rarely does. Where you’re an introvert through and through, he only wants to jump from one rowdy moment to the next, never staying still for long enough to think, feel. And sometimes, you wonder if it’s because you’re not really what he wants. He claims to like your bookish, softer side, the fact you’re not like the other idiots he hangs out with—and yet when it comes down to it, he always chooses to hang out with them before you.
“Look, I’m about to go to sleep, so—”
“No, no, no,” he protests. “You can’t sleep. I need you…need you t’pick me up.”
You sigh and check the clock on your bedside table. It’s two am, you’re in your pyjamas, and you're suffering from a mean case of period cramps. Going out to pick up your drunken boyfriend is the last thing you want to do. “I can’t. It’s late. Can’t you catch a ride?”
“No. No. I can’t go home tonight.” Sadness shimmers in his tone. “Neil’ll kill me if he sees me drunk.”
“Then stay at Carol’s for the night. I’m sure she won’t mind.” It's petty, even for you, and you hate to be the jealous girlfriend.
His irritated huff crackles down the line. “I wanna see you. Wanna stay with you. C’mon, babe.”
You close your eyes, pain lancing through your chest. He knows you can’t deny him when he pleads with you like a desperate child. “Alright. I’ll be there soon.”
“Great. You’re the best.”
“Billy—”
He’s already hung up, leaving you to talk to an empty, droning receiver.
You slam it down and pull on the first clothes you find, exhausted and already dreading what you’ll find when you get to the party.
***
For good reason. As soon as you get out of the car, you hear the screeches of drunks twirling around the garden, abandoning empty beer cans and cigarette butts. Music blares from inside, silhouettes dancing in the window against flashing lights. Billy isn’t anywhere outside, which only makes things worse.
You steel yourself before stepping in, crossing your arms over your chest, since you didn’t have time to so much as put a bra on beneath your loose sweater. Your car keys jingle in your hand, your only comfort when sour, alcohol-laced breath wafts around you and bodies bump into you. “Hey, you’re Hargrove’s girl,” one of them mutters.
“Not for much longer,” you reply through gritted teeth. Not if this becomes a habit.
It’s Carol you stumble across first, bleary-eyed and smirking. “Lookin’ for Billy?”
You nod. “Yeah.”
“He’s got you on a tight leash.” She sneers, looking you up and down before pointing to the couch. “Over there.”
Anger pricks through you, but you take a deep breath and march over to the couch without another word. A reaction is what they want, and they won’t get one from you.
Billy lays sprawled on the couch, a bottle of whiskey in his hands and his eyes unfocused. His face is slick with sweat, his torso bare and his T-shirt and jacket strewn on the floor. He attempts to sit up when he sees you, eyes brightening. “Baaaaabe. You came for me.”
“Uh-huh,” you mumble, picking up his abandoned clothes. “Put your shirt on.”
“Uh-oh. She’s moody,” he pretends to whisper to the boy beside him, Tommy, who laughs as his eyes rake across you with something you don’t like.
“Isn’t she always? You picked the most uptight bitch in Hawkins.” He nudges Billy as if he’s in on the joke, and he laughs just to prove it.
It stings. Burns. You didn’t come here to be mocked by your boyfriend’s friends. You came here to take him home. “You wanna walk home?” you ask him, voice clipped.
“Now look.” Billy pulls his shirt on inside out, an oily smile on his face. “You poked the bear. She’s gonna be a pain in my ass all night.”
It isn’t just the words that make your stomach twist, but the way he’s talking about you as though you aren’t even there. You get enough of it at school. You shouldn’t have to endure it now, too. Not from him. He can be hot-headed, loud, and you’re patient because you know it’s a result of his father, but this…this is different. This is dehumanising. It makes you feel so small, you want to disappear.
You can’t even walk out. Not with Billy in this state, his eyes hooded and his limbs clumsy. He could run out into the road or pass out, choke on his own vomit, anything. And you know even now, deep in your heart, that he wouldn’t have called you tonight if he didn’t need to. It’s not something he makes a habit of, and not just because his friends like to poke fun.
So you just stand and you take it, offering your hand. “C’mon. Let’s go home.”
“Yeah, Billy. Do what your mom says. Off you go.” Tommy slaps his shoulder in jest as Billy attempts to haul himself off the couch. In the end, he only ends up pulling you back down with him, his unstable weight too much for you to bear on your own. You end up on his lap with an “oof.”
“On second thought, she’s got a pretty nice ass, huh?” A hand lands on your rear end, and it isn’t Billy’s. “Let me know when you’re done with her. I wouldn’t mind a go myself.” Tommy is chortling like a five-year-old as you slap him away, your cheeks turning a furious shade of red.
And Billy…you see the anger, the clarity, seep into his hazy eyes. See him stagger up off the couch. See him grab Tommy by the collar of his shirt, pinning him to the couch. “The fuck did you say?”
“Woah. Chill out,” Tommy says, eyes wide and his smug smirk long gone. “I was just messin’ around.”
“Yeah? Well you can go mess around with yourself. Don’t fuckin’ touch my girl. Asshole.” Billy is trembling, and you swallow as fear rises in you.
“Billy,” you whisper, attempting to pry him away before a punch is thrown. “Please. Let’s just go home.” Tears flood your vision when you realise everyone is watching. You’ve been humiliated by every single person in this room, including the only man you thought you could trust.
Billy doesn’t let go. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, rage tightening the tendons in his wrists, his knuckles turning white around Tommy’s shirt.
“Billy,” you beg again. “Please. I want to go home.” Your voice cracks pathetically, and you hate yourself for it.
But Billy loosens his grip slowly, the vein in his forehead throbbing. “Don’t even look at her again, or I swear to god, I’ll kill you.”
Tommy only lifts his hands in surrender, pale and shaken.
“Come on,” you murmur, dragging Billy by the arm. He follows, stumbling until he slips his arm around you just to keep himself upright. Your teeth clench with the effort it takes to guide him out of the house, glad when the fresh air hits your clammy face.
“What a fuckin’ dick,” Billy is mumbling in your ear. “I shouldn’t have come to this fuckin’ party. I hate that guy, Y/N.”
Finally, you reach your car, pulling open the passenger door and throwing Billy in with little tenderness. You slam the door on him, anger still rippling through you as you round the bonnet and slip into the driver’s side.
“Woah, woah,” he winces, “What’s with the slammin’ doors?”
You can’t say anything. If you do, you’ll explode, and there’s no use having an argument with him when he’s like this. Instead, you turn on the radio, fist the steering wheel with shaking hands, and drive.
“What, you’re not talking to me now?” He pokes you in your ribs, teasing, but you keep your glare on the road ahead. “Oh, c’mon. You know I hate the silent treatment.”
And you can’t help it. You explode. You veer off the road, coming to a halt by the tree line so you can face him properly. “You know what I hate, Billy? I hate being humiliated in front of everybody. I hate being talked about like I’m not there. Like I’m just the butt of your shitty fucking jokes. Like you don’t even want to be with me. I hate feeling like a piece of fucking shit because I came to get you, to help you, when you asked me to.”
He blinks, tucking his chin into his chest and sighing. “I know. And Tommy was way out of line—”
“I’m not talking about Tommy!” you scream—and regret it instantly when he flinches. He hates shouting. Hates being shouted at. You know that. You’re just so fucking angry, so hurt. You sigh; scrape your hand across your face before continuing, quieter. “I’m talking about you. The way you spoke to me, the way you laughed at his jokes. It felt…” your eyes well with tears, and you clutch your chest as though there’s a knife there, because that’s what it feels like. You’ve lived your entire life this way, getting nothing but laughed at by your parents, siblings, friends. For being too nerdy, too chubby, too everything. Everyone treats you like you're nothing. You just never thought he would, too. But he’s looking at you like you’re speaking a different language, a stray curl falling into his eyes, and you know it’s useless trying to make him understand. So you shake your head and focus on the road again. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter. Let’s just go home.”
“Y/N…”
You turn the radio back on to drown him out, but it does nothing to staunch your tears. You feel his gaze on you the entire time, and it only makes it worse, until soon your bottom lip is wobbling and you have to clamp down on it, have to wipe the tears from your eyes so the lights around you are no longer blurred.
“Shit,” Billy mumbles finally.
It’s all he says until you pull up in front of your house. Your bedroom light is still on, while the rest of the street is pitch-black.
You shut off the engine, exhausted and numb, and unfasten your belt. But when you try to get out, his fingers curl around your wrist, keeping you there.
You can’t look at him yet, so you look at the garden path behind him.
“Baby,” he says softly. “I’ve fucked up. I know. I know I have.”
You can’t argue with that.
Frustratedly, he scrapes his hair back. “I shouldn’t have made those bullshit jokes. I don’t know why I did it. I don’t know why I do a lot of things.”
More tears, this time flowing faster, rolling down your jaw, your neck, dripping onto your sweater. Your ass still burns from the feeling of Tommy’s hand. “You know, he wouldn’t have touched me like that if you hadn’t laughed at me first. When you treat me like that, you’re telling him it’s okay to treat me like that, too. That I’m just a joke to you.”
“You know you’re not.” He brings your hand to his lips; kisses the back of it, and then your thumb ring and your knuckles, so soft and bearing no resemblance at all to the man at the party. He stinks of alcohol, and it means nothing. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry.”
You pull your hand away, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes and sniffing. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
“No.” His brows furrow. “No. No. Don’t…please don’t. I said I’m sorry. Please don’t…please don’t leave me.”
Surprise flutters through you. You tilt your head. “What?”
“You can’t break up with me. You can’t.” He shakes his head, his own eyes glossy now, and no longer just with the booze. Fear is written all over his face. Fear like you’ve never seen before, even after Neil's beatings. “I know I fucked up. I know. I know. But we can fix it. I can fix it. I swear to god I can.”
“I’m not breaking up with you. I’m just upset. I’m upset, Billy, and I can’t talk to you when you’re drunk because I don’t think you understand why.”
“I do. I do understand. I was a fucking shit. I was so…god, I felt like him.” His upper lip curls with contempt, and you know who he’s talking about. His dad. “You deserve so much better than that.”
You press your head against the cool window, closing your eyes so you don’t have to look at his broken features anymore. You hear the click of him unfastening his seatbelt, and then the weight of his rough hands on your thigh as he shuffles closer. “It’s worse ‘cos I missed you so fuckin’ bad tonight. Kept thinking about how I could have just been home with you, but I was out gettin’ wasted, acting like a prick instead. And I don’t know why. I don’t know why I’m ruining the only good thing I have. And I don’t know why you’re still with me.”
You know he’d never say these things if he was sober, never admit them. But you also know they’re true, because he isn’t in the habit of being vulnerable like this unless he really means it.
“I’m with you because I love you," you say. "I just…I just sometimes wonder if you feel the same. If we’re right for each other. I’m never going to dance with you at a party or get wasted. I’m never going to like your friends, especially not now.”
“He’s not my friend.” It was practically a growl. “And you’re wrong.” He squeezes your leg. “You’re the only good thing I have. You’re my girl. I need you. I’ll do better. I will. I swear to fuckin’ god, I will.”
You don’t reply; don’t know what to say. You want so badly to believe him, but you don’t know if it’s enough anymore.
Until he says, “I don’t think I know. Y’know. How to have a good thing without destroying it. I’m so scared of…of losing you. Of being like him. And I think tonight I was waitin’ to see how far you’d go. How much you’d take. Like I wanted to show you the worst part of me, the ugliest parts. Maybe I wanted to drive you away now so you wouldn't leave me later. But I never meant for it to get that bad. I never, ever want you to be hurt, not by me or anyone else. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I just—”
“It does make sense,” you croak finally, letting your hand wander back into his.
“I’m fucked up, Y/N.”
A tear rolls down his cheek. You swipe it away with the pad of your thumb. “Maybe I am, too. ‘Cos it was so goddamn easy for me to fall apart tonight. To feel like nothing. And maybe I was expecting that, too. That you’d realise sooner or later I’m not what you want. That I’m…” Your chin quivers.
“Don’t.” He shakes his head slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so delicately it makes you feel like precious glass. “You’re all I want. You are.” He rests his forehead against yours. He smells like whiskey and cigarettes, and you don’t mind anymore, because it’s him, and you love him, and you forget sometimes how fragile this thing is between you. How easily one of you could break it. And perhaps how you’ve both been waiting for it to break, somehow.
But in the dark silence of the car, your hands locked together and your tears mingling, you forge it into something stronger.
“It won’t happen again. It won’t,” he promises.
“It can’t,” you reply, because it’s true. You’ll allow one mistake, one bad night, but your heart won’t take much more. Not like that, anyway.
“It won’t,” he repeats, brushing his lips against the tip of your nose. He doesn’t try to go further, doesn’t try to kiss you, and you’re glad. He’s drunk and you're tired, and you just need him to be gentle with you. “It won’t.”
You end up falling asleep with him like that in the car, uncomfortable but safe again, nestled against his chest. And in the morning, Billy’s grovelling begins.
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lostgirlfandom · 1 year
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Roman Fingers
Pairing: Lip Gallagher x Female!Reader
Warnings: Harassment, maybe a little bit of threatening, afab reader
Words: 775
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You were not one to hold back when someone was harassing you. Especially if someone touched you inappropriately.  
Which you were a little pissed because some asshole had decided to touch your ass while you getting something to drink at the table at this small mixer that was for some sorority you didn’t care to know the name of.  
One minute you were pouring some punched mixed alcohol into a solo cup, the next a hand smoothed itself over your ass as a guy you didn’t know pushed against your side.  
Pausing and narrowing your eyes into space in front of you, you processed the situation.
“Hey, baby... Aren’t you in my Physics class?” The sleaze asked you with a smirk. The smell of beer falling heavily from his breath and clothes. He stood at maybe 5’10 with a dark buzzcut. He wore a fraternity shirt that had some wet spots from sweat or beer, you couldn’t figure out.  
Pinching your lips together, you turned your head to him and stared into his glassy eyes with anger. “I’m gonna need you to take your hands off of me, bud.... before we have a problem.” You told him with a fake grin.  
He gave a scoffing laugh and have a drink grin as he swayed on the spot. “Oh, come on... Your body is ssso soft... I just want to run my hands over your body again, again.” He licked his lips.  
You opened your mouth to retort back but a voice chimed in. “The lady said to let go of her... I’m sure your simple mind could process at least that much.”  
The scum and you both turned your heads to the voice and you saw a guy standing there with a simple button up and jeans. A solo cup in one hand and the other shoved into his pocket. But what you took noticed of was his bright blue eyes that was lit with intelligence and smugness as he stared at the scum bucket.  
Blinking out of your thoughts, you grinned at him. “I got it handled.” You turned back to the sleaze and then proceeded to reach down with a hand and then gripped his junk tightly and then twisting slightly. He jumped and his face twisted into discomfort as his eyes cleared for a second of clarity. “Here’s what you’re gonna do... You’re gonna let me go, then you’re going to sit your ass in a corner... or leave all together! And never touch another woman inappropriately ever again... Clear?” The man’s breath had picked up but didn’t say anything as he was focused on the uncomfortable feeling of you twisting his junk.  
Sneering, you twisted harder, causing him to yelp and nod his head rapidly. “Clear... Clear!”  
Smiling, you let go of him causing him to sigh in relief and slouch down. He then hurriedly took off past the other guy that had tried to come to your rescue. Both of you watching him as he basically ran out the door.  
The blue-eyed knight watched him in amusement as he took a sip of his drink before turning back to you. You sighed and then looked back at the guy and took more of his features in. His blonde hair was ruffled like he just woke up, but you kept focusing on his eyes that you noticed was looking you up and down slowly. Taking in your outfit and your shape and then your hair and eyes.  
He gave you smirk as you tilted your head. “Looks like you didn’t need me after all.”  
You chuckled and looked down at the ground, pushing your chin to your chest. Shrugging, “I know how to take care of myself when needed.”  
You looked up from underneath your eyelashes and looked at him as he kept looking you up and down with a small smug smirk on his lips.  
Blinking, you know he looked familiar and then thinking about it, you know why. “You’re in a couple of Physics classes... and Linear Algebra class.” You lifted your head back up and smiled at him.  
His eyes lit up at your smile and words. “Yeah... Yeah you are. I knew you were familiar.” He blinked, licking his lips and shaking his head before putting his hand out for a hand shake. “Lip... Lip Gallagher.” He told you with a grin.  
“Y/N Y/L/N” You shook his hand.  
There was a small comfortable silence after you let his hand go. But you both were too busy observing the other.  
He let a smirk fall on his lips as he asked you, “So, wanna get out of here?”  
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reina-writes · 8 months
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Simon "Ghost" Riley being your bodyguard would include [part 1]
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Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!reader
Warnings: mention of kidnapping, mention of arms dealing.
A/N: This is headcanon "Simon Riley being your bodyguard would include", part 1/3: How Simon Riley got recruited to be your bodyguard.
What do you think, should I turn this into full fic?
Captain Price standing by the large map of the world, studying various markers and intel reports. Simon entering the room, his posture disciplined as he salutes the captain.
"Simon, good that you're here. I've got a new assignment for you."
Price telling about the mission briefly: the L/N family is under threat as their only child has become the target of some dangerous individuals. They're already attempted to kidnap you once and it's no doubt they will try again.
It turns out that during one of Task Force 141's previous missions, they had encountered a high-ranking member of the illegal arms trade network that now threatens the L/N family. This mission involved disrupting a major arms deal orchestrated by the network.
In the aftermath of that mission, Task Force 141 obtained valuable intel that revealed the existence of a larger, more dangerous network. However, the intel wasn't complete and they needed more information to fully dismantle the operation.
It's during their ongoing investigation that they discover the connection between the L/N family and the arms trade network.
During that ongoing investigation happened the first attempt of kidnapping.
The first kidnapping attempt further solidified the need for your protection and Task Force 141 realized just how grave the situation had become. The perpetrators were not just ordinary criminals; they were part of a well-connected and dangerous network with access to advanced weaponry and resources.
This is why Price invited Simon into his office.
Simon's eyes narrowing slighty, registering the seriousness of the situation. "What my job would be, sir?"
Captain Price looks at Simon, his expression unwavering. He knows the man and he also knows that Simon Riley is the best man for this mission.
"Your job, Simon, is to be Y/N's shadow. You're their bodyguard. You'll be with them at all times, ensuring their safety and acting as their first line of defense."
Simon's jaw clenching as he takes in the responsibility. He can't shake the image of you being a typical party person, who is born into wealth and privilege, seemingly clueless about the dangers of lurking in the shadows.
"Sir, I understand the importance of this mission. But I'm not a bodyguard, I'm a soldier. I'm trained to fight, not to hold someone's hand. If you want someone to babysit them, you're looking at the wrong guy."
Price raising an eyebrow and being seemingly amused by Simon's resistance.
"You might be a soldier, but you're also one of the best, Simon. I handpicked you for this mission because I trust your instincts, your combat skills, and your ability to adapt to any situation."
Simon sighing as he feels the weight of captain's trust on his shoulders.
"With all due respect, sir, this feels like a waste of my skills. Protecting a pampered heir doesn't exactly scream 'special forces.'"
Captain Price's expression softens slightly, understanding Simon's frustration. "I know it's not your usual mission, but I need you to put aside your preconceptions about Y/N L/N. They are not what they appear to be on the surface."
Simon's curiosity was piqued, but he remains skeptical. "What do you mean, sir?"
Captain Price leaning in, lowering his voice to a whisper.
"You'll see."
The smirk on Price's face as Simon blinks in surprise.
Simon knows he doesn't have any options but to give in. It's a sense of duty and responsibility.
"I won't let you down, sir. I'll protect them with everything I've got."
After this Simon joined the rest of the team in the briefing room, where Captain Price goes over the details of the mission, laying out their plan to protect you and gather more intel on the arms trade network.
Simon couldn't help but feel a mix of determination and unease. He knew that this mission was not going to be a walk in the park. Your life depended on their success and he had to set aside his reservations and focus on the task at hand.
The team would work in shifts to ensure round-the-clock surveillance on you, setting up secure communication channels and keeping you safe.
It was clear that this job would require Simon's attention 24/7 and he would be the one responsible of your safety. Where you would go, he'ld go. And for what Simon understood, your social calendar was full of events and parties.
After the briefing Soap gave Simon a knowing look.
"Looks like you've got yourself a little spark to protect, Ghost."
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muschiettistrashmouth · 5 months
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I don't wanna be your friend I wanna kiss your lips - Hercule Poirot
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Warnings: maybe possible spoilers for A Haunting in Venice. Also, my mother tongue isn't English so there'll be some errors probably.
Words: 539
Requested: no
Reader is frustrated for how long she wants to kiss Poirot.
When Ariadne Oliver asked Hercule Poirot for help, he asked you to come along. He didn't believe in ghosts, but you seemed amazed by the idea and just seeing you smile made the man's heart warm.
The night that was supposed to be fun soon took the opposite direction. The medium, Mrs Reynolds, was dead. Poirot locked all the exits and the rain outside beat hard against the windows.
Your arms had goose bumps, even with your long-sleeved dress, the wind was still chilling.
"How are you my dear?" Poirot asked, gently touching your shoulder.
"Im great..." your face heated up, cheeks were pink. It was always like this when you were together. Just one touch or look from him and your face would heat up. For years you had dreamed of feeling his lips on yours, that intimate touch that only his ex had the pleasure of feeling. The sensation was not new, but once again it was ignored due to your shyness and lack of courage and obviously, because of the crime that had occurred.
The legend was that the ghosts of the children at the orphanage killed them in revenge for what had happened to them, but of course Poirot did not believe this. Not that you believed in ghosts, but everything seemed to fit the legend so well.
*
The detective was doing his individual interviews with everyone present. You wanted to know how he was after they tried to drown him in the bowl of apples. You were really worried about him.
"Y/N" Ariadne caught your attention.
You were in the room where they tried to drown Poirot, you were distracted, staring at the apples floating in the water.
"Yes?" Your gaze returned to the writer's face.
"Have you guys ever...?" She moved her hands in front of her body, not really knowing if she was crossing some barrier she shouldn't have, but she didn't really care about it at the moment.
"Evrr... what?" Your expression was confused.
"Well, you two are very close, I was wondering if you've ever, you know, kissed." Ariadne felt like a little girl at school talking about these things.
"..." your face became even redder. "N-no, it's so hard with the whole Katherine thing. And sometimes I just want to…" a little cry of frustration left your throat before you could stop it.
Apparently your scream was louder than expected, because in a matter of seconds Poirot and everyone else in the house burst through the door, scaring you and Ariadne.
"Are you okay?" The detective's hands cupped your face, his face was steeped in worry.
"I am, it was just..." you swallowed, asking Ariadne for help with a look.
"We swore we saw a ghost!" This was the worst excuse for that moment, you didn't want to look foolish in his presence.
He giggled. GIGGLED! and held your shoulders affectionately.
"It's okay. Come on, maybe if you help me you won't be so scared."
Little did he know that he was torturing you more than helping. Well, maybe one day your courage would arise and you would finally kiss him and tell him how much you loved him. Until then, helping him would be enough for you.
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rewritethisstxry · 7 months
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May I request just some fluff, just Karl Heisenberg and female reader hanging out and maybe talking about their futures…brownie points if they mention kids? Some tooth rotting fluff were two love bugs just laugh and joke around and talk?
Thank you for this request! Sorry about the delay. I had it written up and felt that it just wasn't fluffy enough at first, ya know? I'm still not sure it is, but I hope you enjoy!
How it Feels to Feel at All
Pairing: Karl Heisenberg x female character
Word count: 1054
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The sky was clear for once. Not a cloud in sight, which made for perfect viewing. The temperature was cool but not cold. The sort of evening where it was easy, to forget the outside world and everything that they had going on. Nights like this, it was easy to get caught up in talking, in the potential plans for the future. It was in these moments that Karl allowed himself that sliver of hope that there was actually a future for him, for them. There was a chance of something beyond all of this, outside the control of Miranda. It was almost easy to fall into the discussion when he could see it all. The way she spoke, the hope in her voice, the happiness that flashed across her face at the prospects of what could come, What was to come. She hadn't lost that hope yet. Then again. She hadn't been here nearly as long as Karl had or seen half of the shit that Miranda was capable of. Thoughts for another time.
There was no stopping the genuine smile that crossed his lips as he listened to the random ramblings coming from his companion.
"You sound very sure of that Cupcake," he murmured, the words tinged with a deep fondness. The only good thing in his miserable life was the woman sitting beside him.
"Because I know it's true," she laughed softly. "Because it's what you deserve after all of this." She leaned back further against the section of roof they were currently resting on. There was a brief pause where her eyes moved along the sky overhead, taking in the stars. 
 "I guess," he offered in return, unable to tear his eyes from her. She was gorgeous no matter what situation she was in. Concentrated, she scrunched up her nose. Worried, there was a slight furrow to her brow that just accented her eyes. Hell, even angry Karl was able to see her beauty. Maybe even a little more so in those moments as She was a force to contend with. But It was these moments where she was relaxed, genuinely enjoyed a moment without the weight of their shared task hanging so heavily on their shoulders that Karl found his twisted heart wanting to beat out of his chest. The gentle curl of her lips that hinted at a smile, the way that there seemed to be just the softest hint of promise that shore in her eyes, even when her attention was focused on the sky above. She was a masterpiece. No matter what she thought.
"Well, I'll just have to have enough confidence for the both of us then," she teased as she nudged his shoulder lightly with her own. "Besides, maybe it's a secret dream of mine to see you in something besides the trench coat and suspenders." At that, he laughed outright. 
"And what would you have me in?" Her head cocked to the side as she turned her attention to him. Kal had a moment where his breath caught, though he hid it well.
"I wouldn't mind seeing you in some jeans and a flannel. Think it would look good on you." For a second time, she paused, though this time, her eyes squinted as she took him in. Her imagination clearly was working overtime as She pictured what she had said she wanted to see him in. It was enough to bring another laugh out of him as he threw an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "A proper garage. I'm sure that we can find plenty for you to do. There's a lot to catch upon. And I'm sure that with your little metalworking gift, you would have a blast in a proper garage. Hell, with your talent, custom work would be simple. And a huge money maker. If you wanted that. Once we are out of here, the choices are all yours. Anything you wanna do or not do." 
"You know, that shit is hard to imagine. Actual freedom. Wanted it for so long." Now it was so close that he could taste it. It had been hard work, and a lot of it had been driven by him, but he wouldn't be as far along as he was without her. She had helped kick everything into high gear. "Wouldn't be here without you, though." She reached across his body to grab ahold of his other hard, fingers gently intertwining. The barest of squeezes given, an unspoken promise for a moment that didn't need words.
"You know, you haven't told me what you want once we are out of here. You always stay quiet as I imagine what we will do. I know you are focused on the here and now." Sometimes it was easier that way. Not to focus on what may never come. Distractions were far too dangerous. But, he couldn't deny that the further they got, the more those sorts of thoughts leaked into his consciousness. What harm was there in sharing?
"Well, shit. Probably because I haven't given it a lot of thought. Really, none before you, sweetheart. The only thought I could focus on was finishing the bitch. Everything else after didn't matter much. Especially since I wasn't even sure I would survive the final push. I was okay with that if it meant that she was dead." Karl paused, thinking carefully on how he wanted to word himself next. He wasn't so sure that he was one who could have some sort of life in the world outside of this, Notafter so many years. She made him second guess all of that though, made him more than willing to give it a go. "A quiet place just for us, not too big but not too small that it feels confining. Maybe a bit out of a city, a space that is just ours. Enough room to have that library I know you dream about. I don't really know what I want for myself outside of this. Just know that I want you there with me to figure it out." He felt the warmth of her lips against his scruffy cheek before realizing she had moved.
"I'm not going anywhere, ever. I'm with you now and forever, Karl. I love you."
"I love you too, Cupcake."
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mixed signals - a Steve Harrington imagine
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summary: (pre season 4) Steve x fem!reader. She/her pronouns, no major physical descriptions and there is a mixture of angst and fluff.
Steve and the reader are at a party together, they have been friends for a while and they obviously have feelings, but the reader feels Steve has been giving her some mixed messages... 
warnings: drinking, drunkenness, swearing and some slight creepiness from a male character.
word count: 3.1k
note: this imagine is based from the prompt, “How much have you had to drink?” and I LOVE reading imagines like this. It’s kind of your typical cheesy, angsty, fluffy imagine but I loved writing it so, I hope it is okay!! Feel free to request something if you would like :) **not my gif**
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Every once in a while, Steve liked to throw one of his parties, where he invited a bunch of people and managed to get enough alcohol to last a long while. You would roll your eyes when he mentioned he was planning one, it seemed very ‘old’ Steve. Throwing parties, drinking, doing things that he would probably regret... but you loved them all the same.
You arrive earlier than the rest of the party with Robin, Nancy and Jonathan. Everyone was carrying something, whether that be duvets/pillows, as you would all usually stay the night following one of his infamous get togethers, or alcohol.
The sun was just starting to slope lazily through the sky, casting a warm glow onto everything in sight. Your favourite time of the day. You stopped a minute, leaning the crate of beers onto your thigh as you looked at the way the light was falling in through the trees that surrounded the Harrington house.
“I got those.” You hear the all familiar sound of Steve’s voice bounding towards you, snapping you out of your daze, as Steve was coming to take the crate from you. “All for me?” He grins, looking at the crate and then to you, “You shouldn’t have.” You give him a nudge in the arm, smiling back at him, shaking your head slightly at his attempt at humour. You both wander back up to the house, the others meandering ahead. The summer night was still, and it made the crunch of the gravel beneath your shoes seem louder.
“You expecting everybody?” You ask as you approach the doorway, Steve stopping to let you in first.
“Pretty much.” He stoops to gently place the crate on the floor then stands back upright, dusting his hands off, “Should be good!” he smiles wide. You laugh slightly, enjoying his excitement.
 Robin came ready so she spends her time having a few drinks with Steve and Jonathan downstairs whilst you and Nancy go upstairs to finish off getting ready. Steve brought you both a drink up for whilst you were getting ready, making a sarcastic comment about the length of time it would take. You both said nothing but replied with an exasperated eye roll. “I’m gonna take my damn time, thank you very much.” You say to Nancy once he’s left, having a long swig of your drink. You both get ready in silence for a few minutes, hearing the familiar tones of music start to drift upstairs.
“Are you going to talk to him tonight?” Nancy asks, quite out of the blue it makes you pause and look at her. You cock your head to the side and narrow your eyes slightly, trying not to smile. “Talk to…?” Inside, you cringe. You know that everyone else knows, what you hope to God is that he doesn’t know. She puts her hands down onto the counter, almost in disbelief that you were even asking such a question. “Come on, (y/n).” She laughs, shaking her head and going back to putting her necklace on, concentrating to make sure it’s the right way round. “I know you, and I know what you’re thinking. Have a little faith in it.” She smiles warmly at you, and you feel grateful for her encouragement. Your relationship with Steve has been a real mystery in your friendship group. Everyone can see that you both get along well, and you obviously have feelings for each other, deep feelings. You sometimes feel like he feels the same, he spends a lot of time with you, he offers you rides everywhere, he is physically affectionate at times, but yet has never broached the subject of a relationship with you. When you sit and deep the situation at times, it brings you such an annoyance that you feel like cursing him out.
You shrug your shoulders, a knot forming in your stomach, one that usually appears when you think of the prospect of Steve knowing how you feel. “I dunno. I might. See what the Dutch courage does to me.”
 A few hours into the party and the house is warm with everyone’s bustling bodies and loud chatter. You spent what felt like an agonizingly long time chatting to Jeremy, who is in your Chemistry class, he seemed interested in you but you couldn’t entertain it, so you sloped off for another drink whilst the conversation was, thankfully, interrupted. You pop the top off another beer with a satisfying fizz and take a big mouthful. Wincing slightly at the warmth of the liquid. You know for a fact your eyes have become dazed and your cheeks flushed, a tell-tale sign you are enjoying the time with your beers. Your head almost feels light, as if it wasn’t fully attached to your neck and you feel good. A hand on the small of your back brings you back into the room and you turn your head hoping it wasn’t Jeremy. Thank God..
“Hey, you.” Steve is standing awfully close, and you can smell the alcohol that radiates from him. You’re both standing in the busy kitchen and his hand stays on your back, he has to lean in to talk in your ear over all the noise. “I saw you chatting with Jeremy.” He leans back and wiggles his eyebrows, grinning at you widely. You laugh and shake your head, swigging your beer.
“That guy is so far up his own ass, it is unbelievable.” You say, probably a tad too loud to combat the noise.
Steve copies and takes a long drink from his own, swallowing quickly then wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb before leaning back in to talk to you, “You should go for it, you looked good together.” Immediately, your brows furrowed together, and your lips puckered out, in severe disagreement. Why was he encouraging it? He laughs, “No really, you should. I can totally see it. It would do you good, you know. Being with someone like that.”
“I don’t think so.” You let out a small breath and look at him right in the face. “Why do you say that?” You ask with genuine curiosity, your eyebrows staying knitted together. He shrugs, drinking, his eyes too bear the same look. “I might not want to be with someone like that.” You retort back, finishing off the rest of your beer and going for another. You snap it open with more force than anticipated and you clumsily spill the drink onto the counter. The alcohol you’ve consumed in the night all seems to come at once and that lightheaded feeling only intensifies and you reach across for some paper to mop up your drink, but Steve’s beaten you to it and is already wiping it up. Once he tosses the paper into the bin, he replaces his hand on the small of your back, “Hey, how much have you had to drink?” He asks with a sense of concern. But the condescending tone in his voice pisses you off so you just place a hand on his chest to create some distance and mumble, “Fuck off, Steve.” as you turn around to head out the back, leaving him slightly dumbfounded as to what on Earth had just happened.
 Before he can leave the kitchen, Robin is beside him with a grimaced look on her face. “Nice one.” She puffs air from her mouth. Steve’s hands shoot up in the air, “What did I do?!” He says defensively. Robin just laughs.
“I actually don’t know what happened I just came in.” She grabs a handful of pretzels and settles against the counter. “What did you guys talk about?” She pops a couple in her mouth and chews on them whilst Steve contemplates the conversation.
He shrugs quickly and then stutters, “I actually, I, I genuinely don’t know what I could’ve said to get that reaction.” He replays the conversation in his head, “I just went over to her, commented that I had seen her chatting with Jeremy and I dunno I guess tried to say she would be good with him.”
Robin stops chewing and extends her neck out, almost in disbelief as her eyes go wide, “Good as in, “Hey you guys should be friends?” or good as in, “Hey you guys should get married and have babies?””
Steve looks back at Robin, dumfounded. Annoyingly realising he just tried to convince you, the person he ultimately has a lot of deep, unannounced feelings for, to be with someone else. Robin shoves the remaining pretzels in her mouth and works on chewing them for a minute whilst she lets Steve mull over his mistake. Once she’s finished, she leans into him, “Look,” she places a reassuring hand on his back whilst Steve leans onto the counter, staring into space, “We all know, buddy.” She lets that idea air for a short time. “But if you want to get anywhere with her, trying to ger her off with dickass over there isn’t going to set you off to a great start.” She pats his back and then wanders back into the thick of the living room, leaving Steve to grab another drink.
 Outside, the sun has long settled low for the night and the air is still warm. The sky is deep and dark with the odd star peeking through the few clouds that scatter across the vast space above you. You huff a deep sigh, realising you most likely just majorly overreacted. You tip back the last bit of beer in your bottle then place it down gently next to you. You sit on one of the loungers, near the back of the garden as the patio gets busy with people milling around, enjoying the warm summer night and you kick yourself for allowing your feelings to create an overreaction that led you to being out here alone. Even though you’re sat still, you feel as though you’re on a boat. Riding over small, gentle waves but enough to rock you back and forth. “Went in too hard, too fast.” You mumble to yourself, referring to the volume of alcohol you consumed in a short space of time. As you rest your head between your hands with your arms propped up on your knees you hear approaching footsteps behind you, moving oddly slowly. You sit up and turn around, put off at how slowly they really are going. “Who you talking to?” It’s Jeremy, your stomach flips as he comes closer and sits down beside you.
“Just getting some air.” You realise he has sat annoying close to you. “Do you mind?” You snap, “I just came out to get some air, so I’d appreciate some space.”
He stays sat next to you and your blood boils, you wait a few more seconds to see if he’s just too drunk to register what you said, or he’s just damn well ignored you as he starts to move his hand around your shoulders. “Woah, no no.” You say, pushing his arm away. You don’t want to stand up for fear the wavy feeling that is inhabiting your body will cause you to topple over. “Kindly, piss off.” You raise your voice slightly, to which a few people turn their heads in your direction. Including Steve, who came out to chat to a few guys from the year below. At the sight of this, he makes his way over, realising that the situation could get messy, he realises you will probably be pissed off at him if he intervenes, but right now he doesn’t see any other option.
“Okay dude, she’s asked you nicely. Let’s go.” He stands tall over Jeremy who lets out a defeated huff of air, standing up to go.
He walks past Steve but purposefully knocks their shoulders together, hard. He’s glad that’s all he got; he was half expecting a punch.
“I had it, Steve.” You say, annoyed that he came to you. Mentally, he laughs as he realised that’s exactly what your reaction would be.
“Really? Looked like you had it all under control there, (y/n).” He looks down at your glazed look, the light of the pool reflecting off your face. You look sad, and that hurts him. He sits down next to you, and you don’t now have the energy to tell him to fuck off, again. “I’m sorry.” He says, keeping a bit of distance between the pair of you.
 You blink slowly, the energetic buzz from the alcohol now worn off, a feeling of tiredness mixed with a deep sad feeling in your tummy makes you feel like you could cry. “I just don’t get it.” You say quietly for fear you will cry. Steve waits, he doesn’t want to ask anything as he knows you’ll explain eventually. You rub your forehead with the tips of your fingers, knowing that tomorrow you are most likely going to regret having this conversation, but it needs to be said. “I don’t get us to be honest.” You look up at him and he’s looking right back at you. “I love spending time with you, I enjoy when we do things together and I really feel these past few months I’ve been hoping you’ve felt the same.” Steve looks like he’s about to say something, so you quickly start talking again, “But, then like tonight… you try and get me off with fucking Jeremy? I mean seriously?” Your voice has raised ever so slightly with your pent-up feelings of anger, but Steve almost doesn’t want to tell you to quieten down. You slump back down and place your head in your hands, “It’s the mixed signals I hate, and I don’t like it when you give me them. You stand in the kitchen with your arm around me whilst also telling me I should go for someone else?” The way your tone of voice went up at the end made it seem like you’d phrased it as a question. You realised you had been speaking down towards the ground, so you move your head up to speak to him. Your head comes up and you turn to face him. “If you cared about me, you wouldn’t do that.”
You study his face, now waiting for him to answer. He runs a hand through his hair, you can tell he feels bad. “I honestly don’t know why I said that.” He sighs and you just want to lean over onto him and wish this night never happened. But, then you most likely wouldn’t be having this conversation so, every cloud…
And, you know he genuinely means everything he says, so you will him silently to keep talking. “I care about you, so much. I really do.” You bite the inside of your cheek, anxious that there is a huge ‘but’ coming soon. “And of course, I love spending time with you. I just, how I feel about you, it scares me because I really, really like you. And there’s so much pressure from everyone because they can so obviously tell.” You nod along in agreement, “I always worried you didn’t feel the same.” He ends with a shrug.
“I think we have just been seriously miscommunicating with each other.” You half laugh, the situation seeming ridiculous as everyone else seemed to have a better idea of yours and Steve’s relationship than you and Steve.
“Seriously though, I am sorry for before. I obviously don’t want you to be with anyone else. I want you to be with me, I want us to be together, (y/n).”
You wonder what his heart feels like at this moment because yours is beating extremely fast you can almost hear it thumping in your ears. You can’t help the smile that forms on your face and you hang your head down and giggle a little, suddenly feeling giddy that those words just came from his mouth. He nudges you softly and laughs, “Don’t leave me hanging.”
You look back up and smile at him, his eyes looking back at you, studying your face and the way your cheeks flush red, “I have wanted to hear you say that for so long.”
“Really? I never would have guessed, honestly.” He jokes with you and scoots closer putting both arms around you and rocking you gently, you bring your hands up to hold his arm that is resting just beneath your chin and your body gently fits into place with his, albeit the plastic sun-loungers aren’t the most comfortable of places.
“I um-“ you start, clearing your throat, “I want us to be together, too.” Your words hang heavy in the air, but not in an unpleasant way. And both of you feel there has been a weight lifted from your shoulders. Your feelings had most likely always been clear, but now it felt right that you were both on the same page.
You move your head from Steve’s shoulder and realise how close your faces are, neither of you feel the need to ask for permission or a go ahead, you had said enough. His hand moves from your shoulder and onto the side of your head, his thumb resting gently on your cheek, stroking it gently before pulling you closer to him. Your grip on his arm tightens as your lips brush across each other, slowly starting to move in sync with one another. He holds you so close as you share your first kiss, both of you had been longing for this moment for too long. Before you get too carried away, you pull away and place your head on his shoulder. Blushing immensely, it was a good kiss.
You feel Steve laugh, like he does when he thinks of something funny. “Jeremy is gonna be so pissed.” And with that you burst out laughing. So thankful that the night has ended like this.
“I am so glad we talked that through, though. In all seriousness, I was beginning to think you just weren’t interested in me.” You become aware of a chill in the air and try to wrap Steve’s arms closer around you.
“Pfft,” he blows air through his lips, “you kidding me? I don’t think I’ve ever not been interested in you.” He contemplates his next question, worrying it would be too soon, but then he realises he has just kissed you and confessed how he feels so, what’s to lose? “I want us to be in a relationship.” He says outright. “Just us two, me and you.”
You laugh, “I think that’s what a relationship is, Steve.”
He is quick to reply, with a grin, “Actually I hear some people have those open relationships now, you know?” He squeezes your shoulder slightly.
Keeping the running joke of the evening going, you’re quick to reply with, “Oh really?” You smirk, “Hm, shall we ask Jeremy?”
His chest vibrates with laughter, and you wish you could stay in this moment. “No seriously, will you be my girlfriend?”
You lean up to kiss him gently, pulling away and holding the back of his head with your hand, “Obviously.”
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ratedaskew · 9 months
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yall stay safe out there xoxo. - mod NOTHING can kill the grimace
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nightingale2004 · 3 months
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CAN SOMEONE PLEASE DO AN ASSASINS CREED PERCY JACKSON AU OR CROSSOVER?!?!?!?
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berzahoes · 5 months
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I DON’T WRITE SMUT!!
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hi, i’m jules and welcome to my blog! 🇲🇽i love horror movies, ghost adventures and so many bands that i can’t even remember all of them (i am not joking) i’m 21 and a may taurus. english is not my first language so if there’s any mistakes, please don’t be mean about it <3
hate will be blocked!!
masterlist
who i write for
tiktok: midnightm4ss
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losers-clvb · 5 months
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regrets // sirius black
pairing: post-azkaban!sirius black x female!reader
content: frustration, arguing, wounds, death, grief, pregnancy
summary: you’re pregnant with sirius’ child and the two of you are cooking dinner when buckbeak is mysteriously injured. against sirius’ wishes you attempt to help tend to the creature’s wound. whilst arguing with you to let him deal with it, buckbeak accidentally bucks up and you receive a gash in your arm. you run off in tears after sirius yells at you. that’s when sirius is called to the ministry to save harry, and though he tries to apologize when he leaves, you’re too stubborn to reply.
note: i originally posted this on a different account, but i'm switching it over to make this my main account.
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"You shouldn't be in here." You heard the voice of your husband scold you slightly.
Just minutes ago, you had both been trying making dinner for two, which wasn't going too well. It was a new thing for both of you. Sirius had always had food made for him, whether it was by a house-elf or a fellow magic-maker. Your father was a Muggle and had been brought up by a single mother, so he taught you the essential cooking skills, but over the summer Molly had been so intent on keeping you off your feet when the announcement of your pregnancy came about that you had become a bit rusty.
But then you both had heard Buckbeard let out a sharp cry of pain. Sirius rushed up the stairs with you waddling closely behind him to find an angry hippogriff with a deep gash. Sirius tried pushing you out of the room to keep you from getting injured, but you had refused due to the pure fact that you had become too fond of the creature to leave. Now, you were attempting the clean out the wound while Sirius tried to hold him still.
"I can do this myself." He grumbled.
"Just let me help. I've almost got it." You replied with, dabbing at the cut.
A shriek and a yell later and you were leaning against a wall holding your upper arm. Blood coated your fingers and was dripping onto the ground along with your teardrops. Sirius rushed to you, shaking his head as he gently grabbed your arm.
"You should have listened to me." He sighed out. "Now get out and fix that. I can't remember any healing spells." He continued and moved back to Buckbeak, who was waiting
"I'm fine." You said, moving toward Buckbeak, only wincing a bit when you moved your arm.
You grabbed a roll of bandages and started to try to dress Buckbeak's wound. You had dropped it at least three times before Sirius pushed you away from the beast.
"Go." He said firmly, pointing to the door.
"I'm fine." You said through gritted teeth as you were attempting to move past him.
Sirius had finally snapped. He loved you too much to let you do this. He shook his head angrily and took a few steps back when he saw no movement from you.
"Just get out, goddammit!" He yelled, turning away from you.
You stumbled back, the hand of your uninjured arm immediately going to your swollen stomach. You let out a shaky breath as you turned and waddled out of the room, slowly padding down the stairs. You grabbed a kitchen towel from the counter and wrapped it around your arm. You couldn't heal it magically at the moment because you had injured your wand arm. You wiped away the single tear that had rolled down your face and wobbled over to a chair. You sat there for at least an hour, simultaneously hating yourself and cursing Sirius out in your head. You occasionally checked on your injury, lifting the blood-stained towel up to see an ugly gash. You only faintly heard Kreacher's voice from another room but thought nothing of it. The house-elf always talked to himself, and you didn't feel the desire to hear more slurs about your blood status.
The front door of the house banged open to reveal an out of breath Remus. You frowned at him.
"Where's Sirius?" He breathed out frantically.
You pointed to the stairs meekly just as Sirius came rushing down.
"What's going on?" He asked Remus, the glanced at you to see if you were okay.
You didn't even look at him. Instead, you stared at the tablecloth in front of you. You were too scared to look at Sirius, but not of him. You were scared of what you would do if you did look at him.
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named lured Harry to the Ministry," Remus said quickly, grabbing out his wand from inside his jacket.
You looked up at this. Harry was like your nephew. You had immediately gotten along with the boy when you two first met, back when Sirius was in Azkaban. The Potter had only been eleven, and at that time, Dumbledore had introduced you as merely one of James' friends rather than Sirius' lover. You had been close to James before he was killed by the Dark Lord. He had treated you as his sister, and you had treated him as your brother because your own was too busy 'ruling the school' with Lucius Malfoy. You were treated as one of the boys, though you had never learned of the Marauder's Map until it was in Harry's possession. He had let you hang with the four Gryffindors most of the time, and they had all joked with you.
Then you had taken a special liking for one of the boys when fourth year rolled around. Sirius had always seemed to make sure you were happy, and sometimes even made you promise to cheer for him at Quidditch games. Your hands had grazed the other's frequently, and that was about the only time you ever saw Sirius blush. He had finally decided to ask you out on a date around Christmas time. It was just a simple butterbeer together at Three Broomsticks, but it was enough. You two had had butterbeer together before, but only in the presence of Remus, Peter, and James. This time it would be alone.
After the drinks, Sirius walked you back to the Gryffindor common room and just before you had headed off to the girls' dormitory, he had swiftly grabbed your face and placed a kiss upon your lips. You kissed back, of course, and that had led to you two cuddling and being as romantic as can be on the sofa. The only problem you two had not thought of was James. He had walked in on the two after a great day in Hogsmeade. He didn't seem to like his best friend being an item with his 'sister'. This led to an early bedtime for you both. By morning, Sirius had convinced James that he would keep you safe, and you had promised that you would still cheer for him at his Quidditch games. You were made one of Lily's bridesmaids and Sirius was made James' best man. At your own wedding, you had asked Lily to be your maid of honor, and Sirius had practically begged James to help him with his vows and be his best man.
So to say that you had felt a special bond with Harry was an understatement. You waited for Remus to continue with something, anything that would make you feel better. But he didn't. Instead, Sirius sprang into action. He told Remus to beat him there so he could make sure Harry was safe enough, swiped his wand from off the counter, and slipped on his shoes. He rushed over to you and placed a kiss on your lips just as he had done the first time.
"I love you, (Y/N/N)." He told you.
When you didn't answer him, he sighed.
"I'll be back." He declared before Apparating out of the home.
You instantly regretted not answering him. You moved from the chair you were sitting on to the bedroom you two shared, which was just Sirius' old bedroom with some of your things inside. You let your hand graze over the pictures of the two of you, of James and him, of the Marauders all together, and of just you. You gently laid yourself onto the bed and closed your eyes, cherishing the silence. You could smell Sirius on the blankets and pillows. It helped you fall asleep, but it didn't keep you asleep.
Only a half an hour later, you woke up with tears streaming down your face. You had the worst nightmare ever, one where Sirius died hating you. You couldn't stand it. You placed your feet onto the ground and walked out to the living area. You sat on the sofa and waited. You felt like you had been waiting forever before you finally heard the familiar sound of the door opening. You rushed as fast as you could to the door, greeting who you thought was Sirius with a hug.
"(Y/N)." You heard Remus' voice.
You threw yourself off of him and looked at him with concern. You noticed that Sirius was nowhere to be seen.
"Remus, where is he? Where's Sirius? I need to say something to him." You told the werewolf.
Remus looked as if he had swallowed a giant pill. He looked pained and weak. You frowned softly at the man, looking up into his eyes as you waited for his answer. He looked down at you and wrapped you in a hug. You immediately pulled away, sensing something was wrong.
"What happened? Is he hurt? Did he get caught by the Ministry?" You asked him, a million and one scenarios going through your head.
Remus shook his head. He gulped down a breath and stumbled into the house further. He practically fell down onto a chair, staring into space and running a hand through his hair briefly.
"(Y/N), he-he's dead. Bellatrix Lestrange killed him and -" Remus said softly, his voice breaking.
He looked up at you, tears streaming down his face. You couldn't comprehend his words at first. When it finally clicked, your face fell, along with your body. Remus had barely made it to your falling form before you hit the ground. He held you on the floor as you sobbed, clutching onto his shirt and gulping for air. All you could feel was pain and heartbreak.
You blamed Bellatrix, you blamed Voldemort, you even blamed yourself. Why hadn't you kissed him back? Why hadn't you told him that you loved him? Why did you get upset over something that was truly your fault?
You must have been sitting there for an hour before a knock on the door came about. Remus slowly helped you stand and supported you as he led you over to a chair. He then walked to the door, wand at the ready. He swung the door open with his wand pointed at the person behind it.
Molly Weasley had a forlorn look on her face. She shoved past Remus and practically ran over to you before wrapping you in her arms. She always treated you like her own child, ever since you met, which was sometimes a bit annoying because of the smothering, but most times it was endearing. Molly pulled away after a few moments. She looked you over and caught a glimpse of your arm. She gasped at the bloody mess, drew her wand from inside her bag, placed the tip of her wand near the injury, and muttered something. Instantly your arm healed, leaving you with no trace of an encounter with Buckbeak. You sniffled softly, tears still rolling down your cheeks.
"Now, you will come with me back to the Burrow. Go pack whatever you will need to bring, and I will find means of traveling. Apparating will hurt the baby, and I don't seem to have any Floo powder." Molly said, looking through her gigantic bag.
You did as she said, and packed everything you could. Your clothes, your toiletries, your favorite objects, and of course, every picture you could find that wasn't magically stuck to the wall. You carried the bag back to where Molly was. She immediately grabbed your bag from you and shoved it into Remus' arms. She then gently wrapped your traveling cloak around you and grabbed your hand. She led you outside the house, locking the door behind her with a flick of her wrist. You were carefully placed inside a taxi, with Molly next to you, Remus next to Molly. Molly gave the driver the address, stroking your hair gently as you leaned into her.
"Beautiful night, isn't it?" The driver asked, attempting small talk.
Remus didn't say anything back. You held back a sob and snuggled into Molly even more, your tears streaming down your face faster now. Molly just nodded sadly and continued to stroke your hair. The driver didn't say anything else after that.
When you finally reached the Burrow, it was daylight. You hadn't gotten any sleep since your little nap, but you couldn't sleep alone. You had barely been left alone since Sirius had escaped from Azkaban. You slept with him, you ate with him, you cleaned with him, you cooked with him, you had even taken showers with the man. Before your pregnancy, it had been a sexy time with him. But when you had started growing a baby bump, he didn't want you to somehow pull a muscle by washing your hair. It sometimes was a bit bothersome, but it was also sweet. He was so excited to be a father. He never let you get too cold or too warm. He kept you stuffed with all your favorite foods.
But now he was gone. You were alone in this world until your child was born, a child you would have to raise alone. Your child wouldn't have a father. No one to check under the bed for monsters. No one to tease you with. You choked back a sob, knowing that Molly and Remus were trying to sleep. You softly rubbed your stomach and looked out into the garden.
After hours of Molly smothering you with every form of love she had, you were finally left alone again. The moonlight streamed in through the window of the room you were staying in. The stars shone brightly on the country hills. You quietly made your way down to the garden, then sat on a bench out there. You snuggled into your sweater and looked up at the night sky. You saw a particular star shining the brightest. Sirius. You wiped away the tear that had fallen and smile sadly at the diamond-like thing.
"I love you too." You whispered to it, remembering Sirius' last words to you.
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why did i feel the need to write a sad sirius imagine as my first one? i have no idea, but there are more coming don't you worry.
if you have a request, please feel free to tell me! i would be happy to write anything [to an extent] that you would want to read!
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luvhyun3 · 2 years
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you’re feeling insecure — choi soobin (txt)
pairing: choi soobin x gn!reader
genre: text fic, drabble, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, implied highschool au (for some reason 😭) but they’re both like 18 dw
warnings: mentions of insecurities, crying
a/n: a request for the lovely @gfksn ! soooo ik u just wanted fluff but i was already in the middle of writing a hurt/comfort soobs text fic when i got ur request so i decided to just combine them ^_^ i hope u still like it tho !!
taglist: @ilynaevis @juniblvssom @angelchans @n0vad @starlostseungmin / send an ask to be added !!
masterlist
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“hi, love.”
soobin’s voice crackled through the speaker. you scrambled to calm your sniffles before replying, wiping your runny nose on your shirt.
“hi, soobin.”
you winced at your voice breaking, hoarse from sobbing most of the night. it was silent for a moment, as you struggled with finding something to say. luckily for you, soobin filled the silence soon after.
“you should’ve told me you were feeling this way sooner.”
you frowned, another sniffle coming out of you as your nose became runny again.
“i didn’t wanna bother you…..”
soobin sighed. “darling, talking about your feelings is not something that will ever bother me. what does bother me, however, is you not telling me how you feel at all.”
“i’m sorry, i just—”
soobin shushed you before you could continue.
“nope. stop it. no more of that.”
“but—”
“ah, ah, ah. you have nothing to apologise for. you can’t help the way you feel. i just want you to tell me next time, okay?”
there was a pause as you processed what he had said, feeling an overwhelming warmth in your chest at his kind words. you finally replied after wiping the tears that had fallen at his words on your sleeve.
“okay. sorr—”
“y/n.”
“thank you, soobin.”
you huffed. “hey, aren’t you supposed to be telling me how much you love me?”
soobin’s deep laugh sounded over the line, and you cursed at the butterflies taking over your stomach in response.
“of course. but i just wanted to get that out of the way first.”
though you couldn’t see him over the phone, you could hear the smile in his next words, a giggle falling from your lips in response.
“now, y/n, have i ever told you how much i love you?”
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© luvhyun3 — do not copy/repost to other sites.
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alloftheimagines · 2 years
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billy hargrove | dream
masterlist | ko-fi
requests open
words: 1.9k
warnings: brief mentions of domestic abuse, bruises, and sex (not on page!), but mostly fluff and a touch of angst
prompt: Billy is sleeping on Y/n. Reader is soft running he hand's through his hair while reading a book. He still a little groggy when he wakes up a little bit and sees Y/n's face and he says you're so gorgeous. I'm going to keep you and call you my wife
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You don’t notice Billy has fallen asleep until a soft snore breaks you away from the paragraph you’re reading. You keep your thumb pressed to the book’s spine as you lift it up to see his face beneath, squished on your lap. Your other hand is knotted delicately in his sandy curls and his thick eyelashes are heavy on his high cheekbones.
You almost can’t believe it. He’s never been this peaceful, always a guard up even with you, especially after the night he had. It ended with him sneaking through your window after an argument with his dad.
He doesn’t usually sleep after those. Usually stares at the same spot on the wallpaper while you curl up next to him, waiting. For what, you don’t know. You know he won’t talk about it. He likes being here because you don’t pressure him to, though he knows he can if he wants. But now it’s eleven a.m., and the plate of breakfast you shared is empty beside your legs, and you’re reading on your bed because Billy isn't in the mood to go anywhere, do anything, and he’s asleep. 
He looks so fucking peaceful it breaks your heart. Ever so gently, you pull your hand out of his hair and trace along his cheekbone, his ear, his jaw. It flutters, but he doesn’t. He remains asleep, nestling his face into your soft thigh, and you swear to god you’re about to cry because it’s the best feeling in the world. Like he’s chosen you. Like he trusts you to keep him safe while he drifts off for a few hours to somewhere better, warmer, than his usual life. 
Carefully, you grab the old throw from the bottom of your bed and drape it across his bare shoulders, soaking him in just a moment longer before you go back to your book. His mouth is curled upwards for a change, serenity parting his pink lips as his breaths leave him in and out, in and out. Even that steady rhythm settles something restless inside you like a lullaby. He’s always angry or messing around or fucking you senseless, breaths always hot and fiery like a dragon’s, but not now. Now they’re gentle as a mild spring breeze, blowing across the cotton of your pyjama bottoms. 
A smile graces your lips, unstoppable and unbridled. He’s peaceful, happy, and that makes you feel the same. 
You settle back, spine resting against your headboard as you try to remember where you were in your book. Billy mumbles occasionally or adjusts his position, and you’re so desperate to keep him there that you brush your nails along his scalp the way you always beg him to do for you — he’ll usually draw a few figure eights and then get bored. 
But not you. You could stay like this forever, even when your legs begin to ache and you’re desperate to stretch. You fight it all to make sure he stays like this. 
Eventually you get back to your book, the midday light pouring through your curtains and the birds singing outside. Everything feels easier in this little pocket of peace. Your heart feels lighter. You’ve never been like this with another human, never coexisted beyond the need for conversation or activity. 
As you turn the page, Billy shifts again, sniffing. You feel his eyes open a moment later and peer over your book at him. “Afternoon, sunshine,” you tease.
A breathy chuckle falls from him, and his hand finds yours beside your hip. He keeps his chin on your lap as he looks up at you. 
“Watcha looking at?” you ask lightly, playing with his fingers and lowering your book.
“You.” His voice is still thick and throaty with sleep, the cheek that had been squished on your thigh rosy. “You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous.”
Heat rushes to your cheeks. You slip your bookmark between the pages of your book and set it down, no longer able to live with it separating the two of you, blocking your vision of him. You want all of him, want to just be here, and that’s a first, too — to prefer reality over fiction. 
“Shut up.” You nudge him playfully.
He smirks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Only then does he seem to acknowledge the blanket around him, and he props himself up on his elbows before shimmying closer to you. You spread your legs so he can come closer, so he can wrap himself in you, a laugh falling from you when he loops his arms around your waist and tugs you into him. “Billy.”
“That was the best nap I’ve ever had,” he admits, brushing a strand of hair from his eyes. It causes the blanket to pool around his elbows. 
“You probably needed the sleep. It was another long night,” you murmur, ruffling his curls again. “I hope you feel safe here, Billy. I hope you know you’re okay here. You’re home here.”
“I wouldn’t come here if I didn’t.” He takes your hand; peppers a kiss on each knuckle. “You know what’s weird?” 
He flips around so he’s lying on his back again, this time between your thighs while you hunch over him, breathless and rapt with every little movement he makes. “What?”
“I love doin’ nothing with you,” he mumbles, blue eyes fixing on your lampshade hanging from the ceiling. 
You rub his shoulders, down to his chest. Sometimes you catch him tensing when you touch him without warning, but not today. Not now. Something’s changed. “Me too,” you admit. 
“Know what else is weird?”
You hum in question.
“Had a dream you were my wife just now.” His lips twitch with a hint of a smile, irises gleaming wistfully. “Best damn dream I ever had.”
You falter above him, breath hitching in your throat. He’s never talked like that before, and you don’t expect him to. You’re young, only just figuring this thing out, only just learning how to love and he’s Billy damn Hargrove, former king of messin’ around with whoever he can get his hands on.
But you’re certain — dead fucking certain — he wouldn’t say shit like that if there wasn’t some part of him that meant it. And you hope to god he does, because you can imagine it too. Sunday mornings spread out on the bed like this, or road trips on a Saturday, him tapping the steering wheel of the Camaro while you sing along and rest your hand out of the window to feel the breeze. To catch it, bottle it, because you’d do anything to keep every moment with him forever. 
“What else happened in this dream?” you ask carefully.
He laces his fingers through yours and places your hands on his chest, where his heart pounds beneath. “Nothin’ exciting. We were just dancing in the kitchen, making breakfast, a little like this morning. Only you had this wedding ring on and I kept kissing it. Kept kissing you. And the kitchen, the house, it was ours. White picket fence and everythin’. And I said I wish I could marry you again over and over, because once wasn’t enough. And then you did your usual pretty little blush and looked at me with those fucking eyes you know I can’t look away from, and I just…” He trails off and shakes his head.
“You soppy jerk.” You slap him lightly, teasing, because you’re not sure how else to manage this colossal amount of love. Your heart is full to bursting and tears are pricking your eyes.
“There it is,” he whispers, looking at you upside down and tapping your cheek. “Pretty little blush.” He groans. “And those fuckin’ eyes.”
You roll them, half-tempted to cover your face before you melt into a pathetic puddle of goo. It’s rare he says things like this out loud, even if you know he feels them. But you never imagined they’d sound like this coming from his mouth, hoarse and honest and sincere and enough to turn you inside out. There’s no coming back from this, you know. No way to stop loving him now. You’re in too deep, and there won’t be a life, a time, where you don’t feel this way. It’ll follow you forever, through fire and thunder, because it’s real. It’s so fucking real you can feel it in your bones like an itch, an ache. 
You’re in love with him. 
“Could be real,” you comment bravely. “That dream of yours. Doesn’t have to stay a dream.”
He smiles, sighs. “One day, baby.” He kisses your left hand, your ring finger, where the wedding band must have been in your dream, and his lips alone feel like a branding of gold. A promise.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” you beg,  because it’s devastating you. Even when you know he’d never say things like this without meaning them, you can’t imagine a life past him sneaking into your room every night, broken and bruised. You can’t imagine him keeping his guards down like this for another hour, let alone the rest of your lives. You can’t even really imagine him getting down on one knee or saying he loves you just because he can.
But you probably wouldn’t have imagined him sleeping in your lap or talking about marriage this morning, either. And now look at you both.
“I’m not.” A shadow crosses his features, and you regret your words immediately. He sits up and twirls around so you're face to face, finally on the same eye level. And then he cups your jaw, eyes boring into yours. “I’m gonna be good enough to be your husband one of these days, baby. I swear to god. We’ll get out of here, find somewhere new. Somewhere where it’s not always so heavy. And you and me…we’re gonna be as happy as I dreamt. Forever.”
Your eyes flutter closed, a tear trickling down your cheek. “You’re already good enough, Billy. You’re all I want. Exactly as you are.”
His fingers filter through your hair as he pulls you closer to kiss you properly, deeply, until heat stirs in your belly and you’re so dizzy you’re seeing stars. 
And because you’re feeling safe, right, courageous, you whisper, “I love you.”
“Love you, too.” The words could break you, especially the way he says them. Like it’s true. Like there is nothing in the world that’s truer. Like you’re it for him.
And he’s it for you. 
You smile, resting your forehead against his chin and breathing him in. “Must have been some nap.”
“Was,” he admits, and then picks up your book and hands it to you. “Will you read to me for a little bit?” He lies back down, hugging your leg again. “Just wanna hear your voice.”
Your entire body is fluttering, but somehow, you find the steadiness to read aloud. He dozes in and out of consciousness, but whenever you stop, he begs you to keep going, like he can’t bear a world where you’re not talking. 
And you feel needed. Important. Special. Because the rest of the world gets Billy’s walls and barbs and armour, and you…you get so much more.
You get soft Sundays in bed, and you get to catch his tears when they fall. You get a life with him.
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lostgirlfandom · 1 year
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Miscellaneous Masterlist
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I'll add more as I go along.
Riverdale
FP Jones
Mother Dearest
Mother Dearest Part II
Mother Dearest Part III
Mother Dearest Part IV
Hellboy
Hellboy (Both Versions)
Abe Sapien
10th Kingdom
Wolf
Real Elvis
Austin! Elvis
The Labyrinth
Jareth
American Horror Story
Michael Langdon
Reunited
Shameless
Lip
It's a Tuesday
Roman Fingers
Polar
Duncan Vizla
Fun and Games
Breakfast Club
John Bender
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ficmesideways · 6 months
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October Updates!
My inbox is almost empty. I will be taking more requests until probably the end of the week and then will have to closer her down for 2 weeks while I am on vacay. I will repost closer to the cut off dates but wanted to put it out there just in case.
Also, after my vacay I will be taking Halloween themed requests, and they will be made the priority from Oct 22nd through the 31st. Let's get spooky!!
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muschiettistrashmouth · 7 months
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I wanna hold your hand- Nikki Sixx
Day one - holding hands
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NOTE: Hello there, I wanted to try something new this year so I started a writing challenge for September. So here's day one!
Warnings: none
Requested: no - part of a challenge.
Words: 300
Enjoy!
Dating someone like Nikki Sixx was challenging, not only did you have to stay alone for days when they were on tour, but the fans were really cruel sometimes. The other girlfriends warned you about it in your first conversation with them. And that really made you stay away from the media and public stuff. Sometimes it was unbearable to not be able to touch him outside your house or backstage.
Sharise was one of your best friends and was always with you on every occasion. It was rare to see one without the other. And it was during one of your talks that Nikki finally understood why you never touched him in public.
"You know, I'm too scared to even hold hands with him and end up with a crazy fan around my throat." You pull your legs against your chest, resting your chin on your knees.
"Oh honey, I understand, really." She sighed, placing a hand on your shoulder. "They really have very aggressive fans, but you will stop living your relationship because of them? It doesn't even make sense!"
Now it was his turn to sigh, it really didn't make sense.
Tommy is behind the door with Nikki when Mick and Vince arrive.
"What are they doing her-" Mick didn't even finish his sentence, Tommy told him to be quiet so they could hear better.
The three stared at Nikki as if to say 'why didn't you ever do something about this?' to every sentence of your conversation with Sharise.
Mick, in all his delicacy, enters the room.
“Hi, Mick!" The blonde smiled at him.
——
After the boys finished getting ready for their post-show party, you all walked out the door. Nikki held your hand affectionately.
"I won't let anyone stop you from touching me again."
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rewritethisstxry · 8 months
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Hello and welcome to my mixed mosh little corner of tumblr. Here I write for a variety of fandoms and characters. Primarily will be featuring drabbles with the occasional longer piece. Headcanons will feature from time to time.
At the time I do NOT consent for my work to be translated or posted anywhere else.
Below you will find some more information on who and what I write.
MINORS DNI. Due to the nature of potential content, only 18 and older are allowed.
Characters || Rules || Masterlist || slasher writings blog : @slxsherwriter
What I will write:
Angst
Fluff
Smut
Platonic relationships
Alpha/Omega dynamics
What I won’t write:
Snuff
Rape, rape play, non con
Underage
Inc*st
Real person fic
Marvel: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Alexei Shostakov, Peter Parker, Victor Creed, Deacon Frost, Peter Quinn, Frank Castle, Matt Murdock, Foggy Nelson, Bruce Banner, Brock Rumlow, Nathan Summers, Eddie Brock, Cletus Kasady, Otto Octavius
DC Universe: Bruce Wayne, Harvey Bullock, Jim Gordon, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Jonathan Crane, Clark Kent, Arthur Curry
Stranger Things: James Hopper, Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers
Stargate Atlantis: Rodney McKay, John Sheppard, Ronan Dex, Carson Beckett
Sons of Anarchy: Jackson “Jax” Teller, Harry “Opie” Winston, Filip “Chibs” Telford, Juan Carlos “Juice” Ortiz, Lincoln Potter, Galen O'Shay
The Walking Dead: Rick Grimes, Shane Walsh, Negan Smith
What We Do in the Shadows: Nandor the Relentless, Guillermo de la Cruz, Laszlo Cravensworth
Resident Evil: Karl Heisenberg, Albert Wesker, Chris Redfield
Ted Lasso: Ted Lasso, Coach Beard, Jamie Tartt, Roy Kent
Good Omens: Gabriel, Aziraphale, Crowley
Video Games: Connor RK800, CaptainJonathan Price, Simon Ghost Riley, Sniper
Movies: Finn Brody (Godzilla), Raleigh Becket (Pacific Rim), Terry Malone (Black and Blue), Abe Guevara (Point Blank), Bobby O’Neill (The Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard), Guy Clifton (The Crash), Roy Pulver (Boss Level), Sloan (Into the Ashes) Braxton Wolff (The Accountant), Ethan Sawyer (Those Who Wish Me Dead), Bradley James (Grudge Match), Sam Rossi (Sweet Virginia), Mr. McCarthy (Me, Earl, and the Dying Girl), Grady Travis (Fury), Griff (Baby Driver), Adam Frawley (The Town), Buddy (Baby Driver), Clyde Brenek (The Posession), Patrick Sullivan (The Accidental Husband), Harvey Russell (Rampage), Jude Fisher (Peace, Love, and Misunderstanding), Luke Vaughn (Heist), Franklin Clay (The Losers), Max (The Resident), Nicomund the Red/Santa Claus (Violent Night), Doug Dennison (Sleepless), Frank Masters (The Equalizer), Hellboy (2019), Alex Baldr (Max Payne), Matt Graver (Sicario), Douglas Hunsiker (The Rise of the Planet of the Apes), Steve Emmett (Boa vs Python), Joe Braven (Braven), Lee Christmas (The Expendables), Deckard Shaw (Fast & Furious)
Musicals: Jack Kelly (Newsies), Dewey Finn (School of Rock), Hades (Hadestown)
Tv shows: Ike Evans (Magic City), Jason Crouse (The Good Wife), John Winchester (Supernatural), Mason Baldwin (Elementary), Colton Fisk (The Equalizer), Kevin Tidwell (Life), Declan Murphy (Law & Order: SVU), Eugene McGillicutty (Royal Pains), Chuck Martin (ER), Dickie Flood (Th Practice), Malcolm Bright (Prodigal Son)
Tolkien: Boromir, Faramir, Eomer
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