#grew up watching classic!who for about long enough

[variousqueerthings]

not negating that chris eccleston had a bad time on dw and rightfully wouldn't want to work with that team again for his own sake (minus billie i assume), but i have reservations about people in fandom jumping on the "yeah rtd is a dick who's incredibly hated in television actually, it's just a big secret," train when i have never heard anything to that effect outside of this working relationship that ended poorly and that as far as im aware rtd has never spoken about, so it's still a relatively private affair (of which we know a scant few details/that rtd didn't stick up for eccleston when he needed that support). i mean, he might be the worst guy ever, i've never worked with him, but i don't think the people saying this have either, and i think it's way too easy for people to assume the worst and go looking for confirmation bias, because it can justify their own dislike of rtd as a showrunner or his return as pure "nostalgia baiting" (that's another post). but yeah, if i see one more person go "oh i just have a feeling he's probably an asshole actually and the fact that we know that eccleston doesn't like him (as if that's new news) confirms that" as a roundabout way of going actually his era of the show wasn't that good or that him coming back to the show is a mistake, im simply not taking that seriously. just say you don't like the writing or whatever, don't make up a guy to personally dislike. there'll be another showrunner after him.

#honestly i think -- i hope -- that rtd wont stay on the show for too long and that itll be passed on to someone else #because i think it's time for a new generation to take over generally i think it's been in the hands of people who #grew up watching classic!who for about long enough #im not thrilled about the disney stuff (which idk if that had anything to do with him anyway but i hope it gets challenged) #but ive never heard a mutter or a rumour that he actually sucks and is terrible to the people he works with #but hey show me a mutter or a rumour id be interested #doctor who #dw #rtd #russell t davies #i often see people going *the whole martha thing* and im like... you mean freema agyeman? martha isn't real #did freema agyeman say something? i think that would be relevant if she did 100% #but when you say martha i assume you mean the writing of martha was flawed and yeah at times it really really was #at times it was pretty good especially from a character development perspective #and mainly the fandom was super racist and awful to freema #if that was reflected onset id be curious to know more

[tlou-reid]

Invisible String ❆ Spencer Reid

☃︎ SUMMARY: spencer’s new gf shows him a photo her mother sent. he happens to recognize it.

☃︎ WARNINGS: very short lol, mentions of diana and her dementia, all around cuteness

.｡❅⋆⍋∞｡∞⍋⋆❅｡.

“And isn’t it just so pretty think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?”

“Spencer!” You were practically sprinting through the BAU, with your arm extended and a phone in your hand. “Spencer!” You yelled with more urgency as you came to a clumsy stop behind his chair. He spun around to face you with furrowed eyebrows and a perplexed expression.

“Are you okay?” He asked, resting his hands on your hips for a moment, just briefly. He made sure you were steady before he let go, but he didn’t want to draw any more attention to the public display of affection currently going on behind his desk. It was hard enough to keep the higher ups off of your backs for just dating, let alone showing off your relationship.

You nodded excitedly, forcing your phone into his hands. “What is this?” He asked, looking at a thread of text messages from your mother.

“Look at the picture!” You cheered, leaning over to point at the image your mother had sent you. Spencer scrolled up a little bit, opening the photo. It was one he’d seen before, he knew that much. He couldn’t forget it if he wanted to, eidetic memory and all.

It was a photograph of a high school girl’s soccer team from around the 1950s. He recognized exactly one of them, his mother. She was dressed in a classic soccer uniform, with hair much longer than he was used to seeing her with. Spencer had seen the photo in a yearbook she had when she had first begun showing signs of dementia.

“That’s my mom’s high school soccer team,” Spencer concluded, not understanding why you were showing him this, or why your mother sent it to you.

Contrary to his confusion, you were full of glee. He looked up at you and was basically blinded by the radiant, beaming smile on your face. He was even more entranced by you when you spoke, “Noooooo,” you extended your words for emphasis, “that’s MY mom’s high school soccer team!”

You and Spencer hadn’t been together long, merely a few months. Due to the nature of your jobs and the way you were constantly on the go, he hadn’t had the chance to meet much of your family, not even your parents. The topic of them had come up, but he didn’t know much. You spoke more about how you grew up, telling anecdotal stories when appropriate.

“Really?” Spencer asked, bringing the phone closer to his face and scanning it for a woman who resembled you in any way. He could feel you excitedly nod, again, as he did so. “She said she knew your last name but couldn’t remember where from! She was cleaning out her storage closet and found her yearbook!” You were laughing as you spoke, mind blown by the crazy coincide.

“There’s like a one in a million chance this could’ve happened!” You explained, leaning down to point at your mother in the photo. He followed your finger, smiling when he saw her. You did have a bit of resemblance to her. He was so in awe of the situation that he didn’t do the numbers to figure out the real chance.

“How did we not know this?” Spencer asked, handing your phone back to you. “My grandfather was a higher up in the military, so my mom moved around a lot. She said she stayed at this school from 8th to 11th grade and it was the longest she was at one school.” You explained, still shocked by the photo.

“It’s like destiny!” You cheered. However, when you saw Spencer’s face twist up, your excited demeanor fell. “There’s no such thing,” Spencer declares, ever the man of science.

“Look up the Red Thread of Fate, boy wonder,” Penelope butts in from behind you. She’s watched the entire exchange. You smiled at having her be your back up, and because you could finally teach Spencer about something.

“That’s just folklore,” Spencer dismisses, brushing off Penelope’s suggestion. “Just admit it, Spencer!” You demanded, “there’s always been an invisible string tying us together!” You pulled him to a tight hug that only lasted for a second.

“Okay,” he agreed after contemplating for a while, “only because it’s very sweet that you think so.” With that, he turned back to his computer, trying to hide his blushing face.

#criminal minds imagine #criminal minds blurb #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds drabble #spencer imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid drabble #spencer x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid blurb #swiftmas 2023!

[spooky-pomegranate]

Through The Door:

Captain Price x F Reader (18+) 🔥 Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: Ghost doesn't trust you and when he hears you and Captain Price fighting in his office he stops to listen. But he hears and sees more than he ever expected.

It’s been ten days of this. Ten days of watching, following, and listening. And somehow it still hadn’t been enough time. Ghost still hadn’t caught you. But he knew he would. He just had to remain patient. He’d keep watching. You’d slip up eventually. He was sure of it.

Even if you did have everyone else fooled.

In just ten days, you had already made fast friends with Johnny. The two of you were always laughing and telling one another stupid jokes and stories.

The last thing you’d carried on about was music. You preferred old-school rock and roll. The Stones, The Who, The Beatles. But you liked classical too. You made fun of Soap for his favorite genre, cheery electropop. You called it music for “love-sick teenage girls” and teased him endlessly. He called you “a walking iPod shuffle” and said you were confused about your own taste. You playfully punched Johnny in the arm before you both laughed like hyenas.

It was like you were siblings, the way you constantly bantered and bickered. It set Ghost on edge. You both were so comfortable around each other. It was so familiar, so natural… It wasn’t right.

And Gaz, he wasn’t any better. You had asked him for additional training and on most days, Ghost found you two at the shooting range long after the recruits had left for dinner. At first, your conversations were shallow. In between firing rounds of high-caliber ammunition, you asked him about his life on base and how long he’d known Soap and Price. But the conversations eventually grew longer. And they grew deeper. Gaz told you about his family, his hometown, and his childhood. You told him about how difficult it was to leave the States and move to the UK on your own.

Ghost could tell that as the days were passing and as your conversations were growing more meaningful, the two of you were starting to trust one another more. And that frustrated him. Why couldn’t Gaz see what he saw in you?

He wondered if your skills were what threw the others off.

Ghost couldn’t deny that you were better than most of the other recruits. You were a natural at the shooting range. You picked up on techniques quickly and put them into practice almost flawlessly. And even though you pretended to be intimidated by it in the beginning you were especially good with a sniper rifle. You always asked the right questions about the winds, the terrain, and any potential bullet drop. And while Ghost found that suspicious, Gaz seemed to be amazed by it. Proud even. He joked with you about how quickly you could do math in your head and how that would come in handy if you were ever posted up in a sniper’s nest someday.

“Over my dead body,” Ghost had mumbled to himself as he watched you both from the shadows.

But you weren’t perfect. When Ghost did pull himself out of the base’s dark corners and did talk with you, you were always nervous. You spoke at breakneck speeds. Your sentences mushed together, like a quickly moving mudslide, totally out of control and unpredictable. You struggled to look him in the eyes. You fidgeted, stared at your shoes, and gave him any excuse you could to get away.

 “Sorry can’t chat, Johnny wants to train in the gym.”

 “I think I just heard Gaz call my name.”

 “Gotta go. Price needs me.”

And Price… you definitely had that man wrapped around your little finger. Or at least Ghost thought you did until one night when he heard you two fighting inside the Captain’s office.

“Price, why won’t you tell me what you and Laswell are planning for the raid?”

Your words had stopped Ghost in his tracks. He glanced down the empty hall to make sure no one was around before sinking to his knees and pressing his ear to the door of Price’s office.

“Come on, love we’ve been over this,” he heard the Captain answer.

“But I can help!”

Your voice was pleading. You were practically begging Price. But why did you care so much Ghost wondered?

“I want you to focus on training. You asked me to teach you to fight remember?”

“I know… but you also promised to let me take some of the weight off your shoulders too.”

“You’re too smart, you know that.”

“Price…” you whined the Captain’s name and Ghost rolled his eyes. He imagined that on the other side of the door, you were probably looking up at Price with doe eyes. Needy and wanton. God… you probably were pouting your lips too.

He could only hope that Price would see through you.

“I want you to be as prepared as you can be before then. I can handle this, I promise ya I’m fine. We’ve got more resources and men now. It’s not like before. We aren’t alone anymore. Ya trust me don’t you?”

Good man, Ghost thought to himself. Don’t give in to her so easily. As long as Price continued to keep his cards close to his chest maybe they’d all get through this in one piece.

“But what if he’s there? What if he has my briefcase there and he’s figured out how to use it? He’ll see you coming. Price what if this is a setup?” You were doing that thing where you spoke 100 miles an hour again, your words sloshing and sliding into one another.

“Laswell’s been surveilling the area. He hasn’t been there. Your briefcase isn’t there.”

“Price but what if-”

“Shhh. It’s okay. Come here, love.”

Ghost heard the sound of a chair scrape and footsteps shuffle away from the door. He knew you were walking over to Price. He could practically see you standing in front of him in his mind.

Then you sighed.

“I’m tired, Price.” Your voice was softer. Ghost could barely hear you now. He tried to press even closer to the door. The metal was cold against his ear. “I know I asked for this… learning how to fight. But it’s harder than I thought it would be and…”

You stopped.

“Go on. Say it.”

“Your Lieutenant…”

Shit. Your voice was muffled.

Shit. He needed to hear this.

Ghost slowly reached for the door handle and carefully, he turned the knob. The door opened the smallest crack. He peered inside.

You were sitting across the room, straddled on Price’s lap. Your head was buried against his chest. The Captain’s hands rubbed against the back of your t-shirt in lazy circles.

“Ghost? What about him, sweetheart?”

At the sound of Price’s voice, you pulled your head from his chest.

“He hates me.”

Price stilled and his jaw clenched. Neither of you spoke. Ghost held his breath before looking to his left and right. Thankfully, the coast was still clear.

“He doesn’t trust you,” Price eventually said, breaking through the silence.

“That’s the same thing.”

���It’s not.”

You sighed loudly and moved to stand, but Price reached up and quickly pulled you back toward him by your hips.

“Don’t leave,” Price said, his voice low and firm. “I trust you.”

“Then why doesn’t he?”

Because I know there’s something else going on with you, Ghost thought to himself. Because I know there’s a secret you’re hiding.

“Because he doesn’t know you like I do.” Price replied, his hand moving up your spine to hold the back of your head. “He doesn’t know how smart you are. That you can build something from nothing. He doesn’t know that you’re a fighter, that you’ve been dealt a shite hand in life but you’ve always soldiered on.”

Price leaned forward and kissed you.

Ghost looked down at the floor. He should leave, he thought. He should go back to the barracks and sit behind his computer and look for dirt on you that way. It would be less awkward. He’d feel less strange.

But Ghost didn’t move. He couldn’t.

What if this was the moment you finally slipped? What if you said something? He needed to be more patient. He’d stay a little longer. If only for Gaz, for Johnny. If they got hurt because he missed something he’d never forgive himself.

He watched as Price leaned back, pulling away from your lips. A smile sprawled across his face.

“He doesn’t know how sweet you taste either, sweetheart.”

You laughed, running your own hands through Price’s short hair as the Captain dove into your neck.

“I mean it, love. If any of those boys got to taste you like I do, if they got to feel you like I do…” Price pulled back from your neck and looked you in the eye. “If they got to fuck you like I do… none of them would ever distrust you.”

“Price, that isn’t really reassuring. You’re just saying you trust me because we’ve fucked.”

Ghost’s grip tightened against the door knob. Was that what Price was saying? Was that really all you were to him? A plaything?

He opened the door another inch. He needed to see your face better. He had to know what this was between you and his Captain.

“Remember the first day I brought you here? And I took you to my room. And I showed you all my scars. Do you remember?”

Ghost watched as Price tugged on your hair. Your head tilted back toward the ceiling and the captain dove into your neck again, kissing you just below your ear.

“Yes,” you answered with heavily weighted breath.

“And do you remember how you kissed me? How you teased me before you slid your sweet little tongue into my mouth? Do you remember?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed in affirmation.

“And do you remember how good it felt when my tongue was in between your legs? How it felt when my beard brushed against your thighs.”

Ghost felt his face grow hot. The scene in front of him made him feel like an intruder, a dirty and unwelcome voyeur. He knew he should leave.

But he couldn't make himself move.

He needed the truth.

He watched as one of Price’s hands left your hair and trailed slowly down your body. His fingers moved from your collarbone. Lower. Grazing your breast. Lower. Lingering over your stomach… Lower.

“Yesssss,” you whined as Price’s hand slid underneath the waistband of your pants and disappeared from Ghost’s view.

“And do you remember how hard you made me? Just by tasting you? Tell me you remember.”

You whimpered. It was a sound Ghost had never heard from you. Sweet. High-pitched. Soft.

Price’s shoulder moved up and down. His hand still plunged between your legs.

Ghost swallowed against a lump in his throat.

“I- fuckkkk,” you bucked your hips toward Price, “I remember.”

“And tell me you remember how I fucked you. When I first pushed inside you… how was it? Do you remember was I fast, like this?”

Ghost watched as Price moved his hand quicker. In and out. His right shoulder rose. Up and down. Faster, faster, and faster.

You yelped. The noise was loud and short. Your hands left Price’s hair and dug into his shoulders. You were clawing into him desperately. Falling apart with every second, every movement.

“No… no you weren’t fast,” your voice wavered as you answered.

“Good. Good girl. You remembered. Yeah, I was slow, just like this. Wasn’t I?” Price eased his pace, slowing down the movement of his hand buried in your pants.

“Yes… just like that,” you moaned as your eyes rolled back. You were lifting your hips up and down on Price’s lap now. Matching his pace.

Ghost shifted on his knees. His hand tightened against the doorknob as he continued to watch you both from the dimly lit hall.

“Has anyone else ever made you feel like that before, sweetheart? Has anyone ever made you feel that good?” Price asked as his voice dropped lower. He was practically growling at you.

And you…your face turned pink. Your lips parted. Your eyes closed. And your breathing… it became sporadic. Each inhale became a gasp. Each exhale became more desperate than the last.

This was wrong. Ghost shouldn’t be watching this. This wasn’t his intention. He never meant to see this. His eyes fell to the ground. But still, he stayed. He listened.

“No,” you moaned.

“That’s right. And no one has ever made me feel as good as you did either. You felt so good, love. So fucking good. And you want to know why I trust you?”

Ghost eyes snapped back to the two of you. This was the answer he needed.

“Mmmm tell me...” you gasped. The Captain picked up his pace, his hand delving between your legs with greater force. God the sounds your body was making. They were so loud. “Please tell me, Price.”

“It’s because I love you, beautiful. I’m so in love with you. You’re so perfect. I trust you with my life because I love you. I want to fuck you like that all the time… because I love you. If anyone got to love you like I love you they would trust you. Forever. Always.”

Ghost heard enough. He quietly backed away and gently closed the door.

He had found a truth today. Even if it wasn’t his place to hear it.

-----------------------------------------------------

(More from this story on AO3)

#call of duty #captain price #captain john price #captain john price x reader #john price #cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain john price x you #call of duty mwii

[forthelostones]

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ➺ 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 #4

anderson construction and landscaping had been parked outside your door since you returned home from university. as if the summer couldn't get any hotter, the business owner works overtime in your area. anderson is collecting new, loyal clients of your neighbors, cementing her permanence in your life for the next few months. what's to come of your girlish crush when she keeps showing up?

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜. 18+ (mdni); age-gap, young!reader, older!abby, butch!abby, slow-burn, suggestive language, thoughts of infidelity, ellie ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of parents, nickname: sweetheart, and modern au.

𝚊𝚗. everyone wow thank you so much for the love on for your eyes only! it means so much. here’s something a little different, hope you enjoy. any requests don’t hesitate to drop ‘em, xx jstar.

♫ 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. hypotheticals by lake street drive ♫

https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

I didn’t bother looking at my watch during our session and somehow I noticed the sun was nearly gone. A fist tightened in my stomach when I realized how long she had been in my presence without me being aware of the fact. I can’t remember a time when my social battery grew instead of depleting. 

Technically, I should be tired since I stayed up filtering through applications and cleaning my entire place simultaneously. But it was something about her that energized me. Even motivated me and made me excited about this project. She gave me a sense of agency, which I haven't felt in the last decade.

“You built these bookshelves, didn't you?” She snorted in disbelief as we traveled to the living room before her departure. 

“I did,” I said, in the kitchen as I fetched myself a beer, feeling proud at the recognition. 

I followed her manicured finger trace at the edge of the panels. She twisted her head sideways to read the dusty titles on the shelf. Even though I only saw her back, I knew her mouth was open in astonishment at my first edition copies of classic books, something I’ve been cultivating for twenty years. I bring the tinted bottle to my lips and stand with my free hand on my chin. 

She tucked her index into an original print of The Well of Loneliness. She looked over her shoulder quickly to check if I was watching her, which I was. I quickly diverted my gaze towards the floor and sipped. “I’ve had that book for a while,” I say. 

“Is it okay if I…” 

Her voice became silent, almost a whisper as if she’d be in trouble if she muttered a word about the novel. 

“Of course. Please.” 

I gesture towards the couch and she pulls the untouched book from the shelf as if it were delicate china and sits on my worn sofa. I bit the corner of my mouth as I saw her sit right where I lay my head and I took a seat on the farthest end away from her. She crossed her legs and brought the grey-shaded book onto her lap. The pages were stale and yellow-ish, almost crumbling under her careful touch. She followed the inside of the spine with her thumb, straightening the first page and a shiver traveled down my spine to my toes. 

“From the library of Abigail Anderson.” Her voice drops an octave, loose and saturated in a sexy chuckle. I wanted her to repeat my name just like that until her voice was hoarse.

I knew my cheeks grew bright red and I had the inclination to press the bottle to my face to cool my embarrassment. The embosser was a gift from an ex-girlfriend and she took the liberty of pressing it into every book I owned, even my most valuable ones. 

“You like that?” I smile, concealing my trembling lip with the neck of the bottle and thumb. 

“I wish I had one but my books aren’t special enough.” 

“What do you like to read?” 

“Same stuff you do.” 

That stuff is novels that exclusively includes women.

Her eyes linger with a glint that can only be described as fervor like she never met someone who read lesbian fiction. I didn’t break eye contact like I had been for the last three hours. I took another sip to hold back a large, toothy grin. Her phone vibrated with another ricochet of text messages, which she continuously ignored. But soon she broke our quiet pact by reading the messages and excusing herself to the next room. Her voice has a quiver in it although hushed. 

“Ellie. I’m sorry I just—okay. Okay. I know I am sorry. It just… Of course, I love you are you—alright. I’ll see you soon.” 

She comes back into the living room without moving back to her original spot. Her face was thick with an emotion I knew all too well. Dread. Maybe she needed an excuse to stay longer and I felt okay with that.

“I don’t know if you’re hungry or anything—” / “I’m gonna go—”. 

The jumble of words flusters us both and her grip tightens around her phone. The sight makes me think she could snap it in half right there. Ellie, her girlfriend, definitely gave her a stern talking to. The little cat-like girl I met on the street couldn't have made her feel so small. She brushes a stray hair from her face that wasn’t there. Instead of confidence, I saw her shrink down twice in size. 

“Oh, yea of course,” I rub my hot neck.

Her eyes dart towards the copy of The Well of Loneliness. 

“You can borrow it if you want to.” 

Instead of traveling around the couch, she let her body swipe past me as I rose from the couch. Our clothes mingled in a private dance just before she slipped on her shoes and fiddled with the door. With the book pressed to her chest, she turned to me, a mere two feet away, and thanked me. A silence fell between us. It wasn't awkward, but comfortable. I felt comfortable.

“Anytime, I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

What I wanted to come out as a statement became a question and I resented myself for it. I wanted her to know that I was going to see her.

“Hopefully. ‘Night Ms. Anderson.” 

“Drive safe, sweetheart.” 

A soft I will left her solemn lips and I watched the twinkle of her headlights illuminate my body. I raise my hand to wave her off but she turns her head before I can. I quickly tucked it away in my back pocket. My throat hardened seeing her car drive away.

As I closed the door, the lingering silence of the house struck me strongly. The missing book from the shelf made me feel hollow in a way. I was glad that she took it but I wish... I don't know. I finish my last sip of beer and toss the bottle out. I walk to the bathroom and turn on the shower.

The water offered me a clarity the cool breeze outside could not. I was relishing in a former life that I wish I had done differently. Craving someone who truly understood me and appreciated who I was. I never got that. My heart pumped with anxiety-ridden blood. Painful memories that I shoved away threatened to —

My hands are on the sparkling tiles, spread with 2 inches in between. I press my eyes shut and try to understand where I stand. It feels like the calm beads of water transformed into pebbles. Hitting my skin with an angry vengeance I could not place. The steam inhibits me from getting a deep inhale. I can't move. I open my eyes and soften my knees. I find the strength to reach for the knob and draw my body onto the floor. My knees come to my chest and I count until the water turns cold.

I opened the windows in my bedroom and listened to the chirping of cicadas. I close my eyes and walk backward onto the perfectly made bed. Instantly, my back melted. Why was I denying myself this? I lay with my feet dangling and was disrupted from the lingering sleep by my phone in the living room.

7:30 PM: What have you gotten me into Ms. Anderson?

She sat with the book in her lap, the only blankets around being a plum-colored top sheet. Her legs held the book and a small light illuminated the first page. Her thumb held the right page and her index and middle in the crease. I could imagine how she rubbed them against the paper like earlier. I stared at the photo and fell deeper into the elements of it.

7:35 PM: 400 pages is nothing, You'll do fine.

A bubble appears and vanishes.

7:36 PM: It's actually 448 pages, thank you very much.

7:37 PM: My apologies. 48 extra pages won't kill you.

7:38 PM: You don't know that...

7:40 PM: I think I do.

7:41 PM: Well, we can discuss what you think you know tomorrow...

My fingers twitched to reply but it was clear that she desired to be left alone. I couldn't determine why these casual conversations left my face aching, but they did. I reflected on how long it's been since I went on a date. The number enters my mind and burns slowly like a forest fire. The sides of my head throb as I slip under the blankets.

to be continued...

#abby x reader #abby anderson x you #lesbian #abby anderson tlou2 #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson #the last of us part two #abby anderson x reader #wlw ns/fw #wlw and nblw only

[ivysoul]

CHERRY *ੈ✩‧˚ LEON SCOTT KENNEDY — PART I. [3.3k]

༊*·˚ in which your dad leaves you under the watchful eye of his best friend, leon kennedy, when he’s away on vacation.

[♱] series warnings — age gap (38 & 20), sexual themes, arguing, cheating, overbearing father, angst. more warnings to be added.

[♱] individual chapter warnings — afab!reader, leon’s a bit of a perv, smut, dub-con, oral (m), unprotected p n v, rough sex, one spank, praise, creampie, reader has a serious attitude problem lmfao, + might be some i’m missing, so lmk if there is.

[♱] notes — this is my first ever series i am shitting my pants stop. i’m excited tho !!! smut galore btw bc i am a fucking whore !! like i’m talkin smut every chapter type beat. anyways, please give me feedback, i desire it carnally. also not proofread. special dt @ouchvns bc they were probably more excited abt this than i was LMAO.

series masterlist. ୨୧ next.

༊*·˚ You could feel the anger bubbling in your chest as you looked back and forth at your father and his friend, who you knew, of course. Leave it to your dad to get you a babysitter at your grand old age of twenty years old while he’s out on vacation. When he offered to let you stay at the house while he was away, you had no idea it would come with its own terms and conditions—those being Leon Kennedy himself.

You sighed deeply through your nose as your dad went on and on about rules. You were zoning out through the entire thing, utterly wishing you could just go back up to your room and avoid Leon as a whole (and saying goodbye to your dad. Call it petty, you didn’t care. Petty is what you were).

“Oh, and curfew is 12AM.”

Your eyes shot open so fast you were surprised they didn’t end up on the floor. Mouth falling agape, you just stared blankly at him, hoping it was just some joke and he would take it back. But nope! Classic ol’ dad!

“Are you serious? A curfew?” What you hated the most was that he looked confused as to why you were so upset. “Dad, I’m twenty years old. I don’t need a curfew or a damn babysitter,” you groaned, pointing to Leon. To which he muttered a quiet ‘ouch’.

Your dad shook his head and pursed his lips. “I’m not gonna argue with you about this. Leon’s gonna watch you for the three weeks that I’m gone, and I trust that he’ll take good care of you,” he looked to Leon, “right, Leon?”

Leon smiled at the man as he spoke. “Of course,” and then turned his head to you, his smile falling into a small smirk without even meaning to. “I’ll take very good care of her.”

Leon would be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to you, at least a little bit. The way your hair was long enough to frame your face perfectly, or the way your lips looked when you put your favourite gloss on them. Your clothes always seemed to fit and frame your body perfectly, allowing every curve and dip to be beautifully accentuated. But physical looks aside, Leon also loved how intelligent yet carefree you were. He loved how your personality reminded him so much of the sun—if you weren’t angry, that is. But he also loved your anger. How you made your feelings known and always spoke about what had made you so angry. Everything about you screamed to Leon that you were the most perfect person he’s ever laid his eyes upon, and every time he was around you, it only further proved to be true.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, looking anywhere but the two men in front of you. Your dad smiled and patted Leon on his shoulder before walking up to you, giving you a peck on the cheek, and bidding his farewells. As soon as the door closed behind him, the air grew thick with awkward tension. Your eyes just stared at where his body had disappeared behind the door, as if attempting to summon lasers that drop onto him from above. Leon chuckled airily and shook his head as he looked to the ground.

Your head snapped towards him, eyebrows furrowed and still angry. “What’s so funny?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“Oh, nothing, y’know…” Leon looked at you and saw what type of look you had in your eye. He shouldn’t have found it amusing, really, but he did. And he laughed again.

“Yeah, I’m sure you have soooo much to laugh about, Scott,” he cringed at the use of his middle name. “I bet this whole situation is just so funny to you.”

He nodded and puckered his lips, pretending to think for a moment. “It is, yeah. And don’t call me “Scott,” it’s weird.”

“Sure thing, Scott,” you mumbled loud enough for him to hear as you walked away, heading upstairs to do god-knows-what in your room.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A few days went by and Leon’s babysitting was still just as unbearable as the first.

Every time you’d go to leave the house, he’d interrogate you on where you were going, who you were going with, when you’d be back (because you had to be back), and if the place you were going to was known to be a safe area. The treatment made you feel like a kid again. You shouldn’t be mad at Leon for it, as he was just following the orders your dad had given him, but you were.

Today though, you had managed to slip out of the house without Leon noticing. Sure he had called you about ten times and left you numerous texts and voicemails, but you weren’t answering any of them. You’d even opted to turn your phone completely off.

Though you could barely even focus on what your friends were saying. Your mind was on you dad and why he would even do this. You knew he was protective of you, but when you turned twenty this year, he calmed down a bit. This was like a whole setback of six years.

“Babe? You okay?”

You turned to your boyfriend, Oliver, who had his arm securely wrapped around your waist, rubbing up and down your side. He had a look of concern on his face.

You smiled sweetly and placed a soft kiss to his lips. “‘Course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

One of your friends, Maeve, placed a french fry in her mouth and hummed at your question. “You looked kind of… zoned out. Like, you’re not really here right now.”

“Yeah, are you alright?” Cora, your other friend since elementary school, asked. Her brows were furrowed and she was looking across your face as if to see any hidden confessions lying underneath. She was always able to, the best out of anyone in your life.

You nodded. Sighed. And then confessed.

“Y’know that guy that my dad hired to look after me while he’s away? Well he’s been like, super overbearing. And I know it’s just because my dad told him what to do and all, but it’s still so fucking annoying. Can’t even leave the house without getting attacked with questions. And it’s—”

“Well isn’t this a surprise.”

You didn’t even have to look behind you to know who it was. Unfortunately, you were pretty well acquainted with the voice by now. How in the hell did he find you? Did he put a damn tracker on you that you were unaware of or something?

“Your dad wants you back home. C’mon.”

Your friends all sighed, Oliver squeezed your waist tighter as if to keep you seated. You turned your head to look at Leon. He had an irritated glint in his eyes, yet his kept his voice surprisingly calm.

“Are you serious? You’re taking me away from my friends now?” You complained, placing a hand on your boyfriend’s one on your side. Leon noticed it and almost let out a laugh.

“It’s not me, it’s your dad,” he said simply. “Now let’s go.”

Groaning, you looked to your friends and apologized. They all looked at you with their own apologetic gazes but said their goodbyes. And you took Oliver’s face in your hands and kissed him warmly. “Love you.”

He smiled. “I love you, too.”

As soon as you got inside the house, with Leon not too far behind you, you kicked your shoes off and headed for the stairs. However, his voice sternly called you back down.

“D’you know how worried he was?” His angry glare had stayed since you got into the car with him. Etched onto his face like a tattoo the entire time. “How worried I was?”

“Do you know how annoying it is to have you practically sit on me every damn day?! To have you watch my every move?”

“I’m following orders.”

“I’m so fucking sick of that excuse.”

Leon scoffed and shook his head, averting his gaze to the ground as he placed his hands on his hips. He honestly didn’t know what to say. And neither did you. You two had argued about this every day since he first arrived. And every time it would end the same way: you storming up to your room after yelling your throat raw, not to be heard or seen of again until you need to be let out of the house.

Let out. Like you were a fucking dog.

With a roll of your eyes, you turned on your heels and headed up the stairs, making sure to have your frustration shown through your heavy steps.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Hours went by as you scrolled aimlessly on your phone. You had already finished a book and got caught up on your favourite show, and you were now realizing just how thirsty you were. You checked the time on your phone, the big white numbers that read 3:27AM stared back at you. You weren’t even sure how you weren’t tired yet.

With a sigh, you rolled from your bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor with little pit-pats every time you took a step. The hallways were dark and quiet, the only light was from your phone’s flashlight as you made your way around the very familiar corners of the house. Being out of the comfort of your warm blankets made you realize just how cold you were in only an oversized t-shirt and a pair of your favourite wine coloured lacy underwear. But you didn’t care much to make your way back to your room as you were now approaching the kitchen.

The kitchen that you noticed was lit up. Turning off your mobile flashlight, you stepped closer to the kitchen cautiously and slowly. Once you saw Leon leaning against the counter, you calmed down, but your anger started to bubble up again at the same time. You weren’t sure how that was possible. He looked up at you, eyes lifting from the glass he had in his hands, and then he tilted his entire head up to look at you properly.

His eyes nearly widen when he takes in your clothes—or lack thereof. Your plush thighs on full display and your obvious lack of a bra had his head spinning. God, he was so weird. For imagining what your tits would look like out of the confines of your shirt, but at the same time he didn’t have to do much thinking. The cold made your nipples hard, and they poked through the shirt. He had to look away and hope that you didn’t notice his lingering gaze.

He cleared his throat. “What’re you doin’ up?”

You dismissed his question entirely, taking note of his glass and the liquid in it. Alcohol, of course. You reached into the cabinet to grab a glass, causing your shirt to rise up to your lower belly. Leon blinked. “Isn’t it bad to drink on the job?”

“Honestly, I think a drink or two kinda helps with your attitude.”

Again, you dismissed him. Leon knew now was probably the best time to say what he had been thinking since your last argument, the words he had been trying to come up with since getting the anger out of him. But even then, he’s not great at this. So it’s not going to be ideal.

He sighed through his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “Look, I’m uh— I’m sorry about earlier,” you stopped breathing. “But you have to understand that I’m just doing what your dad told me to do—”

“—Bullshit.”

Leon blinked, unintentionally giving you the silence you needed to continue.

“Last time I checked, my dad’s not even here. You don’t have to do everything he says because he’s not here to reprimand you if you don’t. So I like I said earlier, when you were giving that same, shitty excuse, I’m sick of hearing it.”

Maybe he hadn’t chosen the best words to say, and maybe he shouldn’t be the judge of his own character in this situation, but fuck, he didn’t think he was being that much of an asshole. He could be, but he wasn’t.

“I’m trying to apologize here could you—”

“—No, because it’s just gonna be that same stupid excuse—”

Leon stopped listening then. You rambled on and on and perhaps it may have felt good for you to get things off your chest, and you probably did need it considering who your father was, it’s just that Leon couldn’t, for the life of him, get the image of your pretty lips wrapped around his cock out of his head. No matter how hard he tried.

Leon was a man of self-control. He prided himself on that, in fact. He was able to remain calm in tough situations, he kept his cool when someone was pissing him off. But you. You were a whole other story. A walking pile of anger that wouldn’t dissipate. Your attitude was sickening and the thought of being in a room with you for more than ten minutes was repugnant to him. Yet all he was thinking about right now was stuffing your mouth full. Keeping you from talking for two fucking seconds.

He couldn’t stand it anymore. The echoey sound of your voice raging on as he zoned out with the vulgar image in his mind, the vulgar image being just that; an image.

He wanted it to be a reality.

He needed it to be.

Within seconds Leon was in front of you, roughly grabbing your waist with one hand and a fistful of your hair in the other. His lips were on yours before you could even comprehend what was going on. The taste of alcohol on his tongue and the overwhelming feeling of him took over your mind. Like a dark storm that hovered over the bright fields of good decisions and common sense. It rained down faster than it ever had, and now, all you could think about was Leon.

All the anger, all the detest, it lingered and mixed with need. For Leon, it was the same. The feeling of your chest pressed against his upper abdomen drove him insane. He could feel your pert nipples through both your shirts. He wanted to ravish you right then and there.

His hand on your waist travelled lower to your ass, groping the flesh harshly.

“‘M so—fucking—tired—of—your—attitude,” his sentence was broken into single words because neither of you could keep your mouths apart for long.

Until he finally managed to part from you. Your mouth, at least. Because your neck was the next place to get attacked. He placed wet, open-mouthed kisses from your pulse point to the base of your neck and trailed his tongue across your jawline.

“Leon,” he ignored you. “Leon—”

“—Shut up.” With two of his hands on your shoulders, you were on your knees within a blink of an eye, looking up at him as he looked down at you. The cold smirk he held on his face sent shivers up your spine. “Gonna fill your mouth, fuck the attitude outta you.”

Leon pushed down his sweatpants and boxers swiftly, revealing his hard cock. He grabbed it at the base, tapping his red, leaky tip on your lips, prompting you to open your mouth. Once you did, he didn’t give you time to take things slow as he shoved his cock into your mouth all at once. His tip hit the back of your throat and made you gag momentarily.

He groaned loudly at the feeling and made a makeshift ponytail with his hand at the back of your head, moving your head and using your mouth to his liking.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Y’got such a perfect little mouth. Shame you use more to talk than to do this.”

Tears brimmed your eyes, falling over and running down your flushed cheeks. The noises that were made were obscene but it only spurred you on. You could feel the wetness pooling in your panties pretty quickly.

You could tell Leon was getting close eventually. His breaths picked up and small little whimpers fell over his lips. His cock twitched in your mouth and you prepared yourself to take his cum down your throat, but he pulled you off of him before that could happen.

“‘M gonna fuck you now,” he groaned. “Gonna ruin this little cunt, yeah?”

He lifted you up off your knees before bending you over the counter. You heard a ripping noise and you knew he just ripped your damn underwear off. You wanted to be mad at him for that, but you found the words you were going to say leaving your head when he ran his cock up and down your slit, rubbing briefly against your clit.

Then he pushed in, fully sheathing himself within you in one thrust. You screamed out, the pain and the pleasure mixing together to create something so intoxicating. He was kind this time though, and stayed still so you could adjust to his thick size.

Before long, you were pushing back against him as a way to signal him to move, and of course he obliged. He began a brutal pace right away, completely forgetting to build up to it.

“You feel so good, baby. So fucking good f’me,” he breathed, delivering a hard smack to your ass and watching the red hand print form in its wake. You yelped at the action.

You loved how he was rougher with you. It’s what you wanted from Oliver in bed, and you’d even brought it up to him, but he was heavily against it. He was too soft with you, but Leon, the only thing soft about him were his words. It was a good balance that had you reeling.

Moan after moan and whine after whine left your mouth as you neared your release embarrassingly quickly. It was almost like Leon knew (he did), because his thrusts got deeper, rougher. The tip of cock reached your cervix and within seconds you were clamping down on him, walls spasming and body shaking uncontrollably.

“There y’go, sweets. Feels good, huh?” He was after his own release now, which wasn’t that far behind. His hips moved quickly and his hands were harshly gripping your hips, sure to leave bruises there by the morning. “I’m so close, baby. Gonna milk me dry, huh? Gonna have me cum in you? Fill you up? Yeah. Yeah, ‘m gonna fill you up nice and full. Send you t’bed with my cum still dripping outta you.”

“Please! P-Please, Leon. Need it s’bad.”

He stayed true to his word. His orgasm crashed through him like a wave, he spilled into you as he shoved himself as deep as he could go. He’s never came as much as he did then, or moaned the way he did. When he pulled out, hissing from the sensitivity, his spend mixed with yours pooled out of you almost immediately, dripping onto the floor.

With a soft chuckle and a shake of his head, he grabbed some paper towel and wet it to clean you up. When he ran it over your cunt, you jolted slightly.

“Just cleanin’ you up, hun. Don’t worry,” he grimaced at your ripped underwear on the floor, now puzzled as to what to put on you, before his mind went to his boxers that sat next to the ripped underwear.

He carried you back to your bed after he got you cleaned up, redressed, and gave you some water. You sleepily smiled up at him with your head on your pillow. “For an asshole, you really know how to make a woman feel good.”

He reciprocated your smile, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear and placing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Get some sleep, angel.”

☆ — © saintlulls, 2023 - don’t repost, translate, copy, or claim.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #resident evil #resident evil 2 #resident evil 2 remake #re2 #re2r #re2 remake #resident evil smut #smut #cherry *ੈ✩‧₊˚ saintlulls #saintlulls

[wings-of-sapphire]

HELLO THERE LOVES I MADE A WISH REWRITE

I watched Wish twice (once on early screening day and once on the offices release date) and I fuckin loved it. But I feel like while this was a great movie, it was Disney’s 100th anniversary one and it needed like twenty minutes more or so to develop the characters and make it a truly spectacular celebration of 100 years of Disney.

I recently read about the concept pictures for Wish— Asha being the daughter of Magnifico, Star taking a human form and having a relationship with Asha— and I liked the idea of changing up the “quirky main character” idea as well. Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with girls like Rapunzel or Mirabel. They’re fun, they’re optimistic, they’re hardworking and determined. Buuuuut as more of a pessimist myself I found my favorite character to be Gabo. The short pink sarcastic side friend based off of Grumpy. Yes, the friends are based off of the seven dwarfs. But ANYHOW— I thought maybe a return to the Classic Disney Princess attitude would be nice. So I chose Kusco. Because he’s the best Disney Princess out there.

I’ve been rambling long enough. Full rewrite under the cut! Will explain more in future posts! Ask any and all questions you’d like! Now, presenting my Wish rewrite~

💫 Asha is the princess of the kingdom of Rosas. Her parents, Magnifico and Amaya, built Rosas after Magnifico’s old kingdom was burned by greedy Wishers who used magic to give them whatever they wanted, which led to their own destruction.

Asha grew up in her kingdom learning that because her father kept the magic in check and only he granted wishes, Rosas could stay safe and happy. Asha gives tours of the city to people who sail in, and as they give their wishes to Magnifico, Rosas grows stronger and safer.

Welcome to Rosas

(Though she’s on carpets and stuff and there’s servants swarming her and she’s comfortable while giving the tour— we see Asha being kind to the child of the tour group)

Asha puts on a happy face for the tourists. But the people of Rosas say they know the “real” her. They hate their princess, truthfully. But they love her parents.

Asha doesn’t really have friends. She’s above that. She’s a princess and her parents founded this kingdom that literally granted people’s wishes. Sure, she sometimes lingers in the kitchen to hang out with Dahlia, the head chef. And sure, sometimes she wished wanted to hang out with them. Dahlia and her six friends whom Asha could never remember the names of. She calls them nicknames based on their characteristics. Easy and efficient. Dahlia is Doc, since she always patches her friends up. She said Asha couldn’t call her friend Stoner, so his name is Dopey (Dario). There’s Happy (Hal), Sleepy (Simon), Sneezy (Safi), Bashful (Bazeema), and Grumpy (Gabo). They’re all close-knit and trust each other with everything.

Asha doesn’t have that.

But she’s their princess. And she remains that way. Untouchable. Unbreakable.

Until one day, Grumpy Gabo says she’s not above them for any reason other than her title. That if ranks were stripped away, she’d be talentless and left behind.

Of course Asha can’t have that.

Soooooo she sneaks into her father’s study to get some of his magic.

What? He has a ton of it.

But then stuff goes awry. Asha tampers with Magnifico’s forbidden books and… nothing happens.

Grumpy laughs at her and Asha threatens to have him imprisoned if he doesn’t treat his princess with respect. Dahlia and the gang stand up for Grumpy and Asha storms off.

Amaya tries to comfort Asha when she runs to her room and throws herself on her bed and cries, princess-style, and Amaya and Asha talk about how Asha dreams of a group of friends she can have fun with and trust, and Asha says her brain knows what her wish was, and it was to become the most powerful sorceress princess in the lands just like her papa. Amaya says that a dream is a wish your heart makes, and Asha’s heart didn’t want to be the untouchable princess of Rosas. Her head may tell her that, but everyone needs connections.

 It’s Magnifico that ends up cheering Asha up by bringing her to see the wishes of Rosas again.

At All Costs

Asha calls Magnifico “Papa” and Amaya “Mama” by the way

That night, Asha tosses and turns, and we see the magic swirls from the book start to gather around her, then shoots into the sky as she shoots up, panting.

Turns out she accidentally ripped a star out of the sky. Asha runs after the giant comet fall, where a young man is floating in a crater in the forest.

The star had taken the shape of a young man. Who can fly. And bring objects to life for a bit.

He’s glowing yellow and wears a dark teal-blue velvet cape and his glow turns pink when he spots Asha.

When Asha freaks out and grabs the boy— she’s calling him Star— and hides his glow with her pajama cloak, and asks how the heck did this happen?

Star shrugs and says he was just chilling in space when the force of someone’s dream pulled him down to land.

Asha quietly excitedly stims, saying she can’t wait to rub Star in Grumpy’s face, and Star is like please don’t rub me in someone’s face, sweetheart.

Sweetheart?

Asha glares at Star, who smirks.

Asha exclaims that anyways— she knew she was a powerful sorceress, and Star says he senses no magic on Asha.

Asha says she must’ve had magic in her, or else how could she have ripped a star from the sky?

Star says people can learn magic but right now, Asha was inexperienced. It was probably because of her connection to the stars.

That means—

No, it’s not just you. All people are connected to the stars.

You’re a Star

Asha takes Star back to her room and says they can’t let her dad know she used his books to summon Star— but maybe Grumpy would need more proof. Maybe she could sneak a peek at his book again, and summon more stars to prove to Doc and the gang that she has talent and she was sooooo qualified to be their fr— sorcerer princess.

She tells Star to stay put in her room, and she’d sneak out and take a quick look.

Star asks if he can come with.

He just got ripped from the sky and needs some more exposition than “I don’t know.” And he’s too impatient to wait for Asha to come back.

Asha says he’ll have to learn and Star magically locks the doors until Asha explains something about how he was brought here.

“You made trees dance the hula and we rode here on a singing deer.”

Star gives Asha a look.

Asha pinches the bridge of her nose and explains that her papa’s whole family was killed because of the greedy wishmakers. With him in charge, he gets to choose, and people are safe.

Star says that the people deserve more, and Asha snaps that get family decides what everyone deserves because they’re the rulers of Rosas.

Star smirks at her and says she’s adorable when she’s mad. But, she’s wrong. The people deserve a chance to get their wishes returned so they can become dreams that can be achieved by pure hard work.

Asha says they’re the same thing, and Star shakes his head. “A wish you give away. A dream you keep with you to work hard and achieve your heart’s goal.”

“Wow, you have a great personality.”

Asha rolls her eyes and says Star can come, but he has to be quiet.

In Magnifico’s study, Asha sees Star heading to the wish room, and before she can grab him, he opens the doors and sees the wishes of Rosas.

Star is amazed and Asha sighs and walks up next to them. She looks up and closes her eyes and bathes in the feeling.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Yeah… they are.”

Star quickly turns to look at the wishes above them, his glow pink.

They end up arguing again because Star wants to return the wishes to the people so they can become dreams once again and Asha says her father worked hard on protecting them

Out in the hallways, Asha ends up shoving Star into a nearby room when she hears Doc and her friends come by

Asha smooths down her skirt and holds her head high as she walks by and calls to Grumpy. She smirks and says unfortunately, they were incorrect about her being talentless. In fact, she was so powerful, she ripped a star from the sky.

Behold.

She opens the door (which turns out led to the chicken coops) where Star was chilling in the sunlight where his glow looked normal.

“You brought us all here to check out your boyfriend?”

“Hal!”

Asha rushes to explain that no, Happy, he was the star. She orders Star to step out of the sun.

Star crosses his arms.

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

Dahlia and her friends all gasp and start planning Star’s funeral.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m a star. If you ever want your dream to come to fruition you have to be nice to people you want to befriend. Go on. Apologize and then ask me nicely.”

Dahlia and friends are now forgoing that funeral, there will be no remains left to bury.

But then Asha flares her nostrils, taps her foot, then glances at Doc. She averts her eyes and mutters, “sorry for being mean to Grumpy. Star, can you… can you please show them?”

Jaws: dropped. Wigs: snatched. Princess Asha of Rosas, apologizing and saying “please”? Sure, she cared for her people. But she never apologized if she accidentally ran into someone for walking in their way! It was her way! She was the only one who’s way mattered!

Star smiled and thanked Asha, then steps out of the sun to reveal his glow.

Jaws: even dropped-er. Wigs: even snatched-er.

After the initial “ooh”s, [something something]

Asha tells everyone that because she’s a star, she was able to be this powerful. They should all be impressed.

Star then corrects her by saying everyone was made of stardust and therefore had a connection to the stars and magic.

When Gabo laughs, Asha throws a fork at him and tells him to do that to himself.

Magnifico is calling Asha for a family meeting, and she says it’s probably about tonight’s wish ceremony. Dario’s Sabi who’s turning 100 today wants to get his wish picked. He doesn’t remember what it is as all wish-givers forget, but he knows it has something to do with his sickness. Asha tells everyone else to keep quiet about Star, or else. And with that, she leaves the room.

Star opens his arms and asks which of the group wants to help him commit a crime.

“What?”

He wants to break into Magnifico’s study and return the wishes to the people of Rosas.

Gabo snaps at him that they can’t just steal from the king and queen, and everyone else agrees. But Dahlia purses her lips. “Why?”

Dario asks if he wants to betray his girlfriend like that, to which Star turns pink and rolled his eyes saying they were not dating, in fact, they were enemies! She was uptight and didn’t care about anything but her title, scoff!

“Uh huh. Sure, buddy.”

“Gabo, stop talking.”

“Yes Bazeema.”

Star explains that losing people’s wishes made them lose a part of themselves. The most beautiful part, their heart’s dream. He tells Simon that his heart is sad.

He asks that if he returns Simon’s wish back to him, and it does make him whole again, then would they believe him?

Dahlia shakes her head and says they wouldn’t be part of this. But… they wouldn’t mention anything to Magnifico or Amaya. For the time being.

Star thanks Dahlia, and she says this was for Simon. And if Asha also changes her mind, then that’s a bonus. Then she smiles. “Good luck, kid.”

Magnifico called Asha to talk with her and Amaya about a threat that’s happened to the kingdom. Last night, someone harnessed the magic of a star and ripped it from the sky, which disturbed the wishes and his magic. Someone has threatened him, and this was a warning that something was to come. He couldn’t let that fire happen again.

Amaya and Asha calm his worries, and Magnifico says he doesn’t want the people to lose faith in him. Amaya says she will explain to the people about the giant light last night since they were asking questions, but they shouldn’t let it worry them.

“Thank you, darling.”

“You’ve got this, papa. I’m sure whoever bashed that light meant you no harm.”

“Thank you, Asha.”

Star asks Asha to spend the day with him, to which she agrees until the wish ceremony that night. The two have a day in Rosas, Tangled-style. Romantic montage, beautiful moments, Star sneaking glances at Asha when she isn’t looking and Asha doing the same for him.

Star shows Asha how to be messy and see the beauties of life while Asha shows Star how she actually does have good in her and cares for her people, truly. Star gives Asha a small wand to practice some small magic as a gift. While she shows him the study, he sneaks into Magnifico’s office and steals Simon’s wish.

Star returns to the seven and gives Simon back his wish. His dream was to become the kingdom’s best knight— and now he could achieve that! They show Asha how much happier Simon is with his whole self again, and while Asha is happy for Simon and that the seven are being kind to her (after she’s been kind to them), she asks Star to promise not to steal stuff from her papa without running it by her first.

“I promise, sweetheart.”

Safi asks Asha if she can get her papa to grant his Sabi’s wish, or at least return it so he could have a chance at fulfilling his dream like Simon now can. Maybe it would reveal a way Sabino could live longer.

Asha hesitates.

In her room, Asha paces. Her papa said that if people kept their wishes, they’d be dangerous and bring another fire to burn down their kingdom. But Simon seemed so happy. She didn’t know what to do.

Later, in the wish ceremony, all her friends are happy and excited for Safi’s Sabi. Sabino only has a few weeks left to live, and if this month his wish is granted, Safi can keep his Sabi with him.

Asha did talk to Magnifico but Amaya reminded her of the dangers of people chasing wishes in the wind. They showed Asha that Sabi Sabino’s wish was too dangerous, his heart’s dream was live forever. Sure, he was sick now, but once he gets better from that, who knows what immortality will do? Magnifico revealed the true story of their home using magical glass shards—

Backstory details that’s tragic and sad

Basically a king wanted to be immortal and it led to him going insane which led to the destruction of his kingdom

He sent his son away before the whole place burned to ashes

Magnifico was that son

A Wish Worth Making (?)

Asha agrees with him that that can never happen, and Sabino’s wish must never be granted and only the royal family can keep Rosas safe.

At the ceremony

Magnifico doesn’t grant Sabino’s wish and Amaya makes a public statement about how wishes were kept with him to stay safe and anyone who tried to oppose that rule was a danger to everyone in Rosas and a traitor to the crown.

Star calls them out for this and while Simon hides his glow with his huge body, the seven create a ripple effect through the crowd with questions that question the king and queen’s authority. They bring up how Amaya reassured them but this contradicted her words. Magnifico ends the ceremony and storms up to the royal master room with Amaya.

Asha and Star have an argument, with her saying her parents were good people and him saying that Safi’s Sabi will die because her parents were scared, and with that Asha flares her nostrils and says that she is the princess, and as their superior, they should watch their tone before something bad happens.

Safi is heartbroken. Without that wish, his Sabi will die.

Dahlia comforts him, and Star steels himself.

Star tells the group that they’re going to steal all the wishes. And return the dreams of the people back to them. Especially Safi’s Sabi.

“But Asha—“

“I’ll tell her when she comes back. We need to do this now.”

Back at the castle, Magnifico is pacing angrily in his room with Amaya. How dare these people question them? They’re doing everything in their power to prevent that (points to a burned tapestry of young Magnifico and his family) from happening again!

This is the Thanks I Get?!

Amaya also joins in

Cutscenes of the seven + Star breaking into the wish room again

Meanwhile, Asha goes back to talk to her parents. Maybe talk to them about Sabino again, maybe tell them everything, who knows—

Wait. There’s a noise in the wish room.

Asha uses her magic wand to open it and sees Star using his magic to lift the roof open to free the wishes. But it isn’t enough. They need more people; the roof is too heavy.

There’s a small magic scuffle with Asha and her wand against Star and his magic, and Asha ends up beating Star (much to his surprise and he’s totally not turned on by this which is why he’s bright red he’s not at all attracted to powerful women). Her heart breaks and she yells at him and all the seven and says if they ever show their faces around her again she’d banish them from Rosas.

“Sweet—“

“Don’t call me that name! Just— just go!”

“Asha, please. Safi’s Sabi—

“Go!”

Star stays and says he’ll be back to free the wishes and return them to the people. Sabino’s sickness has gotten worse, and he can’t wait another month for Magnifico to turn him down once again.

Asha snaps and yells at him a lot and blames him for everything that’s happened lately, the chickens, and the chalk drawing, and the dancing in the city square, and especially that sticky feeling in her chest when Star’s giving her those sad looks. So she doesn’t want to see him again.

She goes to snitch then sees the Epic Celestial Villains her parents had shifted into. Both of them used forbidden magic in the other section of the book Asha used. She asked if she had forbidden magic in her too, but they tell her she wasn’t powerful enough to handle this magic.

Their magic swirling fog is telling them via shapes that Asha was the one that ripped a star from the sky.

They’re acting different— they barely acknowledge Asha and demand that she tells them where Star is.

They crushed wishes to give them power, and Asha is of course horrified.

She saw how happy Simon was, and now those people…

Her parents weren’t survivors.

They were just power-hungry.

And now this forbidden magic was changing them.

They demand Asha tells them where Star was so they could siphon his galaxy magic and become the supreme rulers of Rosas— no one would never question them again.

Asha tells them she doesn’t know, and Magnifico uses his magic fog on Asha to make her tell them that Sleepy, Grumpy, Happy, Dopey, Sneezy, and Doc probably did know.

Amaya tells Asha she was grounded. She says Asha should sit down in her room and wait for the new era to rise.

Asha runs back to her room and cries, princess-style, and speaks out to the sky, to Star, that he was right. He was telling the truth, her parents weren’t good. And now she didn’t know what to do.

This Wish

Yeah she says she’s the first to stand in line but she’s been told that all her life okay

Magnifico makes an announcement to the people of Rosas that the entity that came from the sky was named Star, and he, along with Simon, Gabo, Hal, Dario, Safi, and Bazeema were conspiring to commit treason. He says to find them all and get him Star’s powers do he can grant all of their wishes!

Asha runs after the seven and sees them arrested by other citizens, with Gabo cursing everyone out. Magnifico waves his hand and mutes Gabo. Asha commands the soldiers to give her the satisfaction of imprisoning these traitors and interrogates them in the carriage driving them to the prison with guards posted by. 

She asks all of them where Star was, and they refuse to listen to her. They’re cold because she sort of beat them up with her magic. She says as their princess, they have to tell her.

“You all are underneath me. I am your future queen. Tell me where Star is. This is important.” She turns to the shortest in the carriage. “My parents are looking for him. Gabo, if you know where he is, you have to tell me.”

Gabo’s eyes flicker up at her saying his actual name. He glances at Dahlia, who sighs. She says that even if they wanted to, they couldn’t hand Star over, because he was already gone. He was at the place Asha first starting falling in love with him.

The guards raise an eyebrow at Asha, and she says the fools were so simple-minded that they believed her lie. Then she tells Sabi to shut up and stop sneezing.

She says the forest was where she first found Star, and Magnifico creates a dark fog horse to ride out and find Star.

Once she’s sure he’s gone, Asha whips out her magic wand and blasts the doors open. She apologizes to the seven and says nothing could make up for imprisoning them and lording her title over them, but she needed their help to help Star.

Asha and the seven run back to the Rosas town square where Star is rallying the people and telling them the truth about Magnifico and Amaya. The crowd gathers to help pull open the roofs to free the wishes.

Knowing What I Know Now

Asha joins in and leads the people

Asha apologizes to Star for yelling at him and he apologizes to her for going behind her back. He says she deserved to know. Before they go, Asha tells Star to wait.

“That… feeling. That I mentioned before? I think… I think they’re feelings. For you.”

Star’s glow slightly turns pink. “Like, do you mean…”

“Yes. Feelings of affection. I just… wanted to let you know.”

“Sweetheart, you should know I feel the same. Have since I first laid eyes on you.”

“I am pretty beautiful.”

“The beautiful-est.”

Asha laughs. “That’s not a word.”

“She’s right, it’s not,” Dahlia quips.

The two pull back and laugh awkwardly.

The seven lead the people of Rosas to help lift the roofs, but Amaya catches them and there’s a magic battle where Amaya turns into a dragon a la Malifacent. Star helps Asha suck out the evil magic, and Amaya falls to the floor. The roof is opened, and the wishes began to flow out.

Then Star is grabbed from the back by a fog hand and Magnifico tuts, telling Asha he’s disappointed in her. But now that he has the power of a Star, no one will ever question him again.

He ties down every single person and closes the roof, draining Star’s essence into his magical staff.

Asha yells and uses her magic wand against him, and the two have a giant blast of magic against each other, but the energy is draining Asha while Star’s is giving Magnifico more strength.

Star weakly whispers to Asha to remember where she came from.

Magnifico snarls do Asha that she is nothing, and Asha remembers.

“We… are… stars.”

Asha’s blast of magic is battling Magnifico’s but he’s still stronger.

Asha cries out a plea to the people, these stars just like her, and Dahlia responds.

This Wish (Reprise)

The strengths of these stars give Star enough energy to break free from Magnifico’s staff and fly over to Asha’s side, and the magic blast shines bright and blasts Magnifico back, burning away the evil magic.

When the dark clouds clear and the night sky is sparkling once again, Magnifico isn’t moving. Amaya and Asha run to him, and Amaya cries over his body. She apologizes to Star for what they did, and asks if she can help her husband.

Star sadly tells her that his powers weren’t strong enough for that.

Amaya cries, and kisses Magnifico’s lips. Then, her star soul orb thing in her chest glows bright, and Magnifico’s does too. His body glows that shimmering yellow and he’s lifted into the air and the last bit of evil magic is burned away.

Asha asks Star what he’s doing and Star says he’s not doing anything!

Suddenly, Magnifico’s eyes open and he gasps, then falls.

Amaya and Asha rush to catch him, and Magnifico asks what happened.

Star shrugs and says some sort of True Love’s Kiss.

Magnifico and Amaya walk up behind Asha and address the people of Rosas. They apologize for what they did and they know nothing could ever make up for it. But… they promise to keep working to be the best king and queen they can be. If the people will still accept them. Also, they should have what’s rightfully theirs.

Magnifico uses his magic to lift the roof and release the wishes of Rosas back to their people. Amaya tells them that now they have a chance to fulfill their dreams, and she and Magnifico will be behind them every step of the way.

Dahlia steps foreword and thanks them for apologizing.

Basically they can still remain king and queen but they start a council of representatives where people can address them directly about problems and stuff

Then, Asha turns to the seven and says she has to apologize to them. For treating them all so poorly in the past.

They forgive her, and when she asks how they can do something like that so easily, Dahlia smiles. “It’s what friends do.”

“…friends?”

“Do you have a hearing problem, or something?”

“Gabo!”

“Sorry, Bazeema!”

Asha laughs and turns to Star who spins her around.

“I have friends!”

“You have friends!”

Meanwhile, Gabo whispers to Simon how they ever feared the princess. She was just a sad, lonely, friendless girl.

Asha turns to her wand and discovers it broken in half when she was blasted backwards.

Star restores her wand, and she says she’s going to be the most powerful sorceress in the history of ever and Gabo says she looks like a stupid fairy.

Asha glares.

“A fairy godmother,” Gabo smirks.

Star laughs and says that sounds amazing and Asha groans and bites back a smile.

Star smiles at the family, but he looks sad still. Asha holds his hands and he rubs her thumb.

“You have to return to the sky, don’t you?”

“If I had a choice, I’d choose to stay by your side.”

“I’ll keep on wishing on stars. I’ll find a way to bring you back.”

He tells Asha that they’ve learned that sending your greatest desires into the universe in hopes that they’ll be answered doesn’t do anything. It didn’t work for Magnifico, and it didn’t work for Asha. Instead, the people of Rosas should work to achieve their dreams.

Asha says she’ll work to achieve a way to find him again, then. Since she was going to be the most powerful sorceress—

“Fairy godmother~”

“Shut up Gabo.”

—she’d find a way.

Star smiles and says she’s his dream girl, and Asha jokes that’s he’s got to work to achieve her.

Star flips his cape and says it’ll be easy since he’s so absurdly handsome, and Asha snorts as she pulls him down and raises an eyebrow at him. Star turns a bright pink, then rolls his eyes as he smiles and pulls Asha up in the air with him by her waist, and the two kiss.

When they finally separate, Star is vibrating happily and he accidentally shoots out a magic blast at a nearby chicken, which makes it grow big and lay a giant egg on Gabo.

Star winks at her and returns to the sky.

EDIT BC I CAN’T BELIEVE I FORGOT TO ADD THIS BUT

ASHA DOES END UP USING HER FAIRY GODMOTHER POWERS TO HEAL SAFI’S SABI

MAYBE SHE MAKES A MAGIC FLOWER FROM A SUNDROP AND DAHLIA COOKS A PETAL INTO A COOKIE THAT HEALS SABINO

THEN BEFORE STAR LEAVES HE PROMISES TO HIDE THE GLOWER IN A FAR AWAY KINGDOM EHERE NO ONE WOULD BE ABLE TO EXPLOIT IT FOR IMMORTALITY (*side eyes Gothel*)

HE DOES END UP GETTING HEALED OK THE PEEPAW DOESN’T DIE

#disney wish #princess asha #wish asha #wish movie #asha wish #wish disney #wish 2023 #king magnifico #queen amaya #wish #disney #disney 100 #disney anniversary #walt disney animation studios #rewrite #au #rewriting #writing by sapphire

[bloompompom]

Playthings

One Shot

Pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader

Summary: okay, maybe you could admit you were a little sexually frustrated after a long semester, but it wasn’t your fault that you accidentally walked into the wrong room. and you’d only take some of the blame after you shamelessly came crawling back for more.

Word Count: ~6.8k

Content: explicit sexual content, explicit language, caught masturbating, casual sex, rough sex, dirty talk, porn watching, face fucking, some degradation and objectification, praise kink, quiet sex, panties as a gag, mentions of spit

all that to say, reader discretion advised. this is just a porno. if you were looking for plot, we don’t know her here

It started out normal, just like you had anticipated. Why wouldn’t it be normal? After all, it was just a regular, old Tuesday afternoon. The only thing that made it any more remarkable was that you didn’t have class today. Your professor was gracious enough—in her words, not yours—to cancel today’s session.

Her email included a not-so-gentle reminder, in bold lettering, that your presentations were due on Thursday. She hoped you’d all be smart enough to use this ‘found time’ to make any last-minute adjustments.

You would have much preferred to be dumb, at least by her standards, and squeeze in a nap, just like the rest of your classmates. But, no. You had to use this time to scramble to the finish line because just maybe you thought you had another week before it was due.

You weren’t entirely at fault, though. You were absolutely swamped with school with the end of the semester drawing near. It wasn’t just you, either. The other members of your group—four of you in total—were scraping the bottom of their reserves to try and finish this presentation. You all had other classes that called for more of your limited time and energy—you know, ones that actually pertained to your majors, none of which had anything to do with literature.

Who would have guessed that an introduction—extra emphasis on that word—to fiction class could be so much work? So much for your supposedly guaranteed easy A. It was a general elective, damn it! It served no other purpose than to tick that little box next to your degree requirement. Yes, I have three literature credits, and I read the books to prove it.

Well, half-read. Skimming, to put it nicely. Sorry, Wuthering Heights, for the bastardized synopsis that you were about to present.

All of which was to say, that was how you found yourself here, huddled together on this Tuesday afternoon, noses buried deep into your respective laptops, as you tried to put together a halfway decent presentation.

It was a warm day. You could tell even from inside. It was the kind of day where the sun clung to your body like a sheet, begging you to stay just a little longer to enjoy the afterglow. You wanted to listen, but you were forced to take turns lounging in front of the fan, stuttering as it only pretended to cool the room.

Your patience grew thinner by the minute, with every cramp and crack of your fingers and bead of sweat that threatened to drip down your back.

This semester, though almost over, was starting to feel like one of those classic scenes you’d find in horror movies. You know the scene: when the protagonist gets trapped in a closet-sized room that slowly fills with water. It was sort of like that, in which this dumb literature class had you gasping for your final breaths of air. And to top it all off, you had another group book report due. How old were you again?

“Sasha!”

You heard Jean hiss just across from you, interrupting the furious sound of clicking keyboards. You turned to look at him, past the coffee table that was decorated with empty energy drink cans and loose chips.

Sasha poked her head up from her laptop, looking innocent as Jean continued, “All your slides say, ‘Weathering Heights.’ Did you even read the book?”

“No, I didn’t! You know that!” she defended, sounding only slightly panicked.

You could see her edits as she made them, your eyes following across the screen. She corrected her slides to ‘Wuthered Heights,’ and you swore you could see the steam pouring from Jean’s ears. The only thing Sasha knew about any of your assigned readings was what she could find on Wikipedia—maybe less than that.

To your other side, Armin let out a lengthy sigh. “Let’s leave the editing to those that read the book. Okay, Sasha?” She looked defeated, even when he kept his voice soft, so he chipped in again. “Maybe you can… get us more snacks?”

That seemed to cheer her up enough. She offered him a salute and an, “On it, boss,” as she skittered off to the kitchen.

You had been sitting on the floor, criss-cross applesauce, for the last two hours, and your legs were starting to feel every minute of it. You extended them, one at a time, and listened to the embarrassingly-loud pop of your knees.

On that note, you planted your palms into the rug, pushing yourself to your feet as you asked Armin where to find the bathroom. He pointed you in the right direction, just down the hallway. With each step, you felt the stretch of your legs, and from behind, you heard Jean yelling again.

“You’re seriously ordering pizza?”

Even though you had only met them this semester, it was easy to guess he was scolding Sasha again. It was nothing more than happenstance that you sat next to them that day, the trio that seemed to know each other outside of class. When you were instructed to find groups of four, you were roped in with them in the chaos that was partnering up, always comparable to flocking birds.

You did well enough on that assignment, even with Sasha barely skating by, so you figured you might as well work on the next project together. They were the sort of people you could laugh—loud and hard—with, which probably explained why you were fussing over this presentation now, less than forty-eight hours before its due date.

First door on your right. That’s what Armin said, right?

No, that wasn’t what he said, actually. And you learned your mistake the hard way, too, immediately after opening the door.

Context clues alone, it was easy to guess that you didn’t walk into the bathroom. Of course, you didn’t walk into the bathroom. That would have been too easy, wouldn’t it? No, you walked into Armin’s roommate's room. You didn’t even know he had a roommate, let alone one you could walk in on, phone in one hand, his thing in the other. It didn't feel right to say it if you weren't supposed to see it.

“Oh my God, I’m—” You were so flustered you didn’t even utter the word ‘sorry’ before slamming the door shut again, which was probably for the best.

Your heart was pounding—you felt it echoing hard in your throat—when you looked just across the hall. The door was open and, lo and behold, it was the bathroom.Empty and dark.

You hid inside it, your back pressed against the door. You were mortified—hot with it, too. The apartment was already balmy with sticky spring air, leaving you flushed in all the wrong places as you debated running from the apartment, never to return.

You still had to pee, so you did that, spinning through every emotion all the while—like one of those ridiculously-large gameshow wheels you had to spin with both hands. Tick, tick, tick… tick. Suddenly, you were berating yourself. First door on the left. You’re such an idiot! Spin again. Tick, tick, tick… tick. The wheel stopped, and you shifted the blame. Shouldn’t he have known Armin had company over?

You stayed put on the toilet like there weren’t people waiting on you back in the living room. You were still thinking about him. That guy across the hall. What else were you supposed to think about? It wasn’t like you could go back out there as if it were still some regular, old Tuesday.

For obvious reasons, you didn’t see much of him. The image in your head was more like a photograph captured by a shaky hand. He was a blur of brown hair. White on top, black bottoms, cut in half by a tanned midsection that you only caught a glimpse of—right before he grabbed his blanket and you retreated to the bathroom.

If you thought hard enough—and embarrassingly, you did—you could see it again. See him again, with his hand wrapped around himself.

It was so wrong to think of him, a stranger, like that. There was a burning pit in your stomach when you thought of the indecency of it, fantasizing about someone in their most vulnerable state, without their permission.

You couldn’t help it, though. Just like how you couldn’t help the way your thighs clenched together the longer you thought about it.

The image you created in your mind was much lewder than what you had actually witnessed. While you couldn’t even pick his face out of a line-up, you still imagined his lips, how he’d bite into them as he pumped his cock through his climax. Toned legs, revealed by his pants that he had only tugged to his knees because, in the heat of it, he couldn’t be bothered to take them off fully.

You wiped again because you were getting shamefully wetter with every passing second. Then, for some insane reason, you felt the urge to apologize to him. Surely, that was the only solution to make this less awkward; you had yourself fully convinced of it for a split second.

You still didn’t know what came over you, but you pocketed your underwear before pulling your shorts back up. They almost didn’t fit, what with how small your shorts were, but you made it work.

You washed your hands, thinking that, admittedly, this wasn’t one of your brightest ideas. Your cotton shorts would unavoidably slip to the side if you were to return to your spot on the rug. But if this went the way you were hoping it would, you wanted to be thoughtful enough to grant easy access.

Then, if he needed a helping hand—pun intended—you would slip him your underwear, as if that were any less shameless than saying the words, ‘I would like you to fuck me now. If you’re interested, of course.’

It was in that same split second that you knocked on the door. The one just across the hall. The first door on the right. His door.

You wouldn’t call yourself naive, even in the slightest. You knew that by knocking on his door, you were risking the chance of something happening. What exactly, you weren’t sure, but you didn’t just have your panties shoved into your pocket for no good reason.

Your confidence started to wane, and it was quickly replaced by a sinking feeling. The timing was rather unfortunate, wasn’t it? It was as if the sound of your knuckles against the wood dragged you back to reality.

The door opened before you could even think of something to say. You should have had it planned out more, considering you spent the last five minutes contemplating your existence on the toilet. You were immediately consumed with how weird this was—how weird you had made it, just by showing your face again.

You found him a bit dazzling, looking up at him gave you the same feeling as when you stared into a bright light for too long. You blinked just the same, too, as if he had you seeing stars. Or you were going to pass out from humiliation.

It wasn’t like you were meeting under normal circumstances. You didn’t casually run into him at a bar, though you would have much preferred spilling your drink on him to whatever this was. You were only reminded of what happened when you noted that his cheeks were still stained pink. Whether it was from embarrassment or something else—like the telling blush of arousal—you weren’t sure.

All the same, he reduced you to nothing more than a moony teenage girl. You were fixed on his eyes. Green, but you were unable to distinguish the shade because you were lost in him again—the version of him you created in your head. You wanted to see if that version truly existed; how he’d look when he came from your touch instead of his own.

Your voice was mangled and lost in your throat. Like an opossum, it was just as if you had summoned him only to play dead at his feet. You tried not to crumble—swallowing your saliva that ran thick—even when he stuck his head out into the hallway, looking around as if he were on an episode of Punk’d.

He asked, “Is this some kind of joke?” to no one in particular, but he spoke like he really wanted to ask, ‘Where the fuck did this chick come from?’

“No, no!” you tried to assure him with the frantic wave of your hands. The flightiness in your voice only made you more nervous because now he knew you were nervous. You found just enough sense to introduce yourself, slowing your voice as you explained, “I’m working on a project with Armin.”

You could see it in his eyes, the fleeting second that it clicked for him. It didn’t last long, though. His brows were quick to furrow again because that still didn’t explain why you were here. Why you had just walked in on him—

“Can I come in?” you asked. You were looking for any sliver of reassurance in his answer. Something to help you decide whether or not you were going to hand him your panties.

This all sounded so absurd, didn’t it? Like something out of a bad porno—probably no different than the one you caught him watching.

He didn’t look sold on the idea, still eyeing you like this was all part of an elaborate prank. Even so, you could tell that, at the very least, his curiosity was piqued. He eventually stepped aside, holding the door open for you, like he had no other choice but to entertain the idea.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” you said as you made your way inside. You heard him close the door behind you, and you tried not to infer any meaning from it. He walked past you, placing himself between you and the bed. “For earlier.”

“Okay.”

There was a prickle of awkwardness. You felt yourself shrinking when you muttered, “And for this, I guess.”

You couldn’t read his expression. It was like he wanted you to get out but also… not? He looked at you the way one would look at an abstract painting. Like he was trying to get you, as if you were open to his interpretation.

Then again, you did just show up at his door, practically begging for more after stealing only a glimpse at his cock. He probably found you desperate and, right now, you weren’t above admitting that you were.

He looked at you like he was still trying to figure you out, as if it were possible from just a single look. His eyes didn’t carry the same boredom they did when he first opened the door, and the pink sheen on his cheeks had disappeared, too, telling you embarrassment must have been its cause.

He surely didn’t look embarrassed anymore. He sat on the corner of his bed, one leg bent at the knee and resting beside him, and the other hanging off the side. It was like you were sharpening the image you had in your head the longer you looked at him. You could see now that he was dressed in a white tee—covering his midsection this time—and a pair of black basketball shorts. His brunette hair was messily tied back in a way that had you wondering if it was ever neat to begin with.

Something about the sight didn’t sit right with you, even if all the parts you wanted to see were covered and forbidden. It was the sort of look that was too intimate to be shared between strangers, and more like something that had to wait for a second date, at least.

But you weren’t sure why you were thinking like that in the first place.

Much to your dismay, you were still fidgeting. It made you sound even more squirrely as you said, “That’s it, I guess.”

You didn’t need to say it. You could have just excused yourself after your flimsy apology. But you were still interested—and only because you knew he was still interested. It was apparent to you because, from this angle, you could see he was still hard. There was no way he was wearing any boxers.

And just as poorly as he tried to hide it, you failed to hide the way you let your eyes linger there. It was hard—no pun intended this time—not to. There was a lot going through your head, but the most blaring sign, flashing in big lights, told you this was about to become the best mistake you had ever made.

It was only confirmed when he said, “I don’t know if you are.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t look very sorry to me.” His eyes, now darkened, looked you up and down, only once, like he was sizing you up. “How about you come here and show me just how sorry you really are.”

There was a newfound gravel to his voice. You could feel it in your chest, thumping just around your racing heart. It lured you to him.

He talked like he knew how to fuck, and you really, really needed a good fuck—as if it could unburden you from a semester’s worth of stress. Where else were you going to find such a sinfully hot guy, hard and already riled up, like he was put here just to (fingers crossed) fuck you senselessly into his mattress.

You thought of the underwear that was still in your pocket. Before you could decide what to do with it, he beat you to it, like he knew it was there all along. He gave you a smile, one that said he had only let you think you were in control.

'How silly of you,' was what it sounded like when he said, “That’s what I thought.”

He balled the dainty fabric in his hand before tossing it aside. He seemed much more interested in you—taking you by the hips and pulling you onto his lap. He was strong. You could tell just by the way he held onto you, like he could bend and break you if he pleased.

The strength in his hands alone was enough for you to brush off the cockiness in his voice. But even more, you felt how badly he wanted this—perhaps even more than you did—in his touch, like fire underneath his fingertips. Not that it surprised you, of course. He was the one fisting his cock not even ten minutes ago.

But now, it was like you had dropped straight from heaven and right into his lap, quite literally. And as you lowered yourself onto him, the heat between your legs pressed up against his cock, you caught the beautiful groan he let slip.

You ground against him helplessly, letting yourself feel every inch of him through his shorts. His hands, resting on the tops of your thighs, dug into the plush of them as he dragged you over him. It was enough to pull a whine from you—even louder once he placed a hand on your back, flattening against it to pull you into him. You collided, his mouth on your neck. He made quick work of the delicate skin like he knew exactly where you liked to be kissed and where he should bite.

He didn’t shush you, but it lurked in your mind that his friends were just on the other side of his bedroom wall. But he didn’t seem to care, even with all your whimpers as he continued kissing your neck. He stayed there for a long time before ever kissing your mouth. Not that you could complain. You were lost in the delirious feeling of his lips, hot and wet, trailing down the side of your throat, dipping down to the spot near your collarbone that had you squirming already.

You wanted your shorts off, but you knew it would be difficult from this position. He knew it, too, which was why he told you, “Stand up,” between his nibbles at your ear lobe.

You did as you were told and stood just between his legs. His hands smoothed over your hips, taking your shirt along with him. He was at eye level with your bare stomach, leaving kisses there. One at a time, he replaced his hands with yours, having you hold your shirt up for him. You watched as he slowly inched off your shorts, kissing everywhere—your stomach, your hip bones, your thighs—but the place you needed him most. When you felt your shorts at your ankles, he pulled you right back onto his lap, like he thought you belonged there.

The only thing separating you was his thin basketball shorts. You wanted to undress him next, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry, with his fingertips tickling up your thighs. He only stopped to slip a teasing finger along the crease. You giggled at it, and it was the first time he heard your laugh. The sound was swallowed up by him, the unexpected plush of his lips now on yours. You liked them better here—on your mouth.

He kissed with just as much passion as you imagined, with his hand—the one that wasn’t tickling between your legs—cupping your jaw. He held you close, his tongue brushing past your lips to meet yours. You were really lost in him now, your hips aimlessly searching for his fingers—for anything.

You separated an inch, just for him to whisper to you, “I want you to get yourself off on my fingers first.” He tilted his chin down with unspoken gentleness. In the same cadence one would use to ask for permission, he asked, “Can you do that for me?”

He waited for you to nod, looking more like a bobblehead because if he didn’t touch you soon you might die. He rubbed your clit with languid circles, watching how you twitched when he grazed over a certain spot. When he quickened his touch, you collapsed your weight into his chest. It left you in the prime position to bite down on his shoulder, just to stifle your moans, as he dipped a finger inside you.

Already, there was a bubble, as hot as an iron, brewing low in your stomach. You rolled your hips in rhythm with the pumping of his fingers—now a second one inside you—with the heel of his palm adding pressure perfectly against your clit.

You tossed your head back when you came, another cry escaping past your lips. It was loud enough that he finally reacted to it, silencing it only by shoving something soft into your mouth. When you opened your eyes again, you recognized the black fabric of your underwear.

You were still riding out your orgasm—drool soaking through your panties—or else you would have taken them from your mouth. Instead, you kept your hands occupied by digging the blunt of your nails into his arms, looking for any sense of stability before you went limp in his arms.

“You gotta be quieter than that if you want to come again,” he told you. You only acknowledged it with another needy whimper.

He held you upright in his lap before laying you on the mattress beside him, like you were nothing more than a plaything. But you were fine with that. You wanted to be his plaything, just for now.

You went to take the underwear from your mouth, but he stopped you just before with his hand around your wrist.

“Promise you’ll be quiet for me?” he asked, his voice dulcet. You nodded, again like a bobblehead, and he took the panties from your mouth. He let his thumb caress over your cheek as he said, “Good.”

He tugged his shirt over his head. You ogled at what you could before he crawled over you, placing a hand on either side of your head to hold himself up.

His eyes were heavy-lidded with desire, following yours as you trailed your hand down the length of his body. You let them dawdle over his toned stomach before palming over his cock, which you hoped to see again very soon. You felt him twitch from just your hand alone, and it had you wondering how sensitive he’d be to your tongue.

When your fingers met the waistband of his shorts, you began shimming lower so you could take him into your mouth. He stopped you just short of freeing his length. You looked up at him, big-eyed and curiously, because what guy could possibly turn down a blow job?

He was back on his feet, towering over you as he stood at the side of the bed. He was quick to find his phone, and when he unlocked it, you heard the muffled sounds of whatever porn he had been watching.

You propped yourself onto your elbows to see whatever it was he wanted to show you. He took your interest as an okay to show you the screen. On it was a woman, stretched on her back, with her head dangling from the bed. There was a man fucking her throat, garbling her wanton moans as he fingered her.

“I want you to do it for me just like this,” he told you before throwing his phone aside. It was useless to him now; he had the real thing. His hands found you again, the warmth of your stomach. His fingers slipped higher underneath your shirt. “Think you can handle that?”

You were beyond turned on by the thought of him stroking himself to this video earlier. Now, here you were—once again, straight out of heaven—like you were made just to fulfill his fantasies. But, God, the thought of him ruining you had you aching.

You answered him by stripping from your shirt. Your bra next, undoing its clasp and tossing it aside, all in one swift motion. You would gift him with the lovely sight—your body in its entirety—as you sucked him off.

But before that, he wanted you. Just a little taste.

He leaned over you, kissing between your breasts and everywhere else that he could. You felt the heat of his breath on your nipple, just before he took it into his mouth. His tongue was hot as he flicked at it, sucking until he had your back arching, with mewls spilling from your lips.

He kept you there, only for a moment, and only long enough that he could leave his mark on you. When he was finally satisfied with the number of love bites he had decorated you with, he rolled you around until you mimicked the woman in the video, your mouth gaping for him and everything. You even lolled your tongue out, eager to please a man you had just met—more importantly, a man that just made you come and planned to do so again very soon.

One of his hands was at your face, his fingers gently caressing the soft skin beneath your chin. He ran his thumb over your tongue, letting you give it a coquettish lick. He used his other hand to yank down his shorts, all the way off this time.

You were right when you guessed he wasn't wearing boxers. His cock sprung out, nearly slapping his abdomen, before he took it in his hands. He pumped himself twice, and when he lined himself up with your mouth, you wondered if it was the angle or if you were truly going to struggle to take him fully.

He ran the tip over your lips. You wetted them for him, making it easy for him to slip into your mouth. He groaned at the feeling—even sharper when you hollowed your cheeks around him, and that was only the head. He was just as sensitive as you had hoped.

You could feel his restraint when he pushed deeper into your throat, like he was painfully aware of the fact that you were completely at his mercy. You encouraged him, offering a few moans with every thrust. He used the first few as a test, like he wanted to make sure you could really take it, then he pulled out of your mouth with a conspicuous popping sound. There was even a cliche string of saliva connecting the two of you.

“Fuck—that’s so hot,” he muttered, his voice so raspy that it was almost missing. It was the first break in his composure, along with the shudder he let rip through his body.

You met his eyes again, staring up at him as you patiently wait for him to give you more. He rewarded your obediency by ramming his cock back into your mouth, gaining speed with every rock of his hips. It only took a couple more before you felt him at the back of your throat.

“I knew you could—ah—do it for me, pretty girl.” His voice was encouraging, like you could hear the swell of his heart. It was sweeter than any sonnet, having you melt even as he fucked your face until you felt tears pool at the corners of your eyes.

It was clear he was loving it, with how his hands went heavy as he slid them down your stomach. How his abs went tight every time you gagged on his cock. Even from upside down, with loose hairs casting over his lidded eyes, you still found him beautiful.

What a strange thing to say, considering he continued to brutalize your swollen mouth. All the same, he had you rubbing your legs together as if you were in heat, but it only left your thighs sticky with your slick.

He leaned over you, helping you out by reaching between your legs in search of your clit again. You heard him curse again, just under his breath. Whether it was from your cries—suffocated by his cock—or just how wet you were for him, you weren’t sure. The only thing you knew was that if he kept this up, you were bound to come undone again any second.

He must have felt it, too, because all at once, he pulled out from your mouth. It left you coughing like you suddenly remembered how to breathe again. Still, you mourned the loss of his fingers.

He caught the pout on your lips. It shouldn’t have made him smile, but it did, even as he teased, “Such a needy one, aren’t you?” He ran his fingers over your mouth like he could wipe away the frown. “You’re far too precious to suffocate.”

You whined at that, and you would have found it embarrassing if you weren’t so desperate, practically begging him to fuck you—now—with the kittenish way you rolled around until you were on your back.

Your eyes followed his hand as it reached into the drawer of his nightstand. He retrieved a condom and tore open its package, his attention never leaving you once. He looked pleased by it—your eagerness—how you spread your thighs only to keep him caged between, with your legs draped over the side of the bed. The smile at the corner of his lips still hadn’t faded.

You could only watch him, mesmerized as he rolled the condom over his length—impressive enough that you felt proud to have had all of it down your throat just a moment ago.

He knew you were there to give him exactly what he wanted. And when he cajoled you with, “Hold them for me—like this,” he knew you’d listen.

He lifted each of your thighs and pressed them into your chest. With your knees nearing your shoulders, you knew what to do next. You wrapped your hands around the backs of your legs and held them in place for him.

“That’s it,” he cooed, taking you by the waist and setting you farther back onto the bed. “Look how pretty.”

He walked his hands up either side of you until crawled onto the bed, hovering just above you with his weight shifted back to his knees. He guided himself to your entrance with one hand, letting the tip of the condom slip between you, teasing your clit just enough to have you pull in a harsh breath through your nose.

“So fucking pretty—” He pushed himself inside you. There was little resistance, like you had turned to putty and were somehow able to mold yourself to take him perfectly. Your head pressed deeper into the mattress, with him kissing up the expanse of your leg, just above your ankle. “—and all for me.”

You felt him flush against you, his pelvis grinding against your clit in just the right way. You fought the urge to lock your legs around him to keep him there, your voice nothing more than a whisper when you begged, “Fuck—don’t stop.”

He took you then. Madly, recklessly, agonizingly—whatever you wanted to call it—it was a frenzied mess of limbs and lips, sweat and sheets, flesh and groans. It was all of the best parts of being tangled up in someone. You wanted him, every bit of him, to taste and to touch, as if he wasn’t already as close to you as humanly possible.

He groaned in your ear, his breath fanning the side of your face. Like he could read your thoughts, he told you, “I want to feel you.” He dragged his cock from you, slowly, then punctuated his next statement with the snap of his hips, forcing you even higher onto the bed. “I want to fuck you raw.”

The words alone were enough to have you teetering over the edge again, but you were practically a babbling mess at the sound of his voice—all strangled as he nearly begged for it. The only thing you could manage now was a breathless chant of please, please, please.

After the third one, he looked at you more seriously. You found it cute, how his brows hung pensively over his eyes. It was much more boyish and suited his face more. “Birth control?”

You still didn’t have enough oxygen in your lungs to form anything more than, “The pill.”

“Clean?” he asked next. He sat back on his knees, waiting until you nodded. “Me too.”

Only then did he roll off of you. He moved to sit on the bed with his back to the headboard. Even after all that, his arms were still steady as he lifted you. In one swoop, you were back on his lap—so effortlessly that he had you believing you belonged there now, too.

With your arms wrapped around his neck, you pulled him to your chest because you missed having his lips there. He didn’t fight it, letting his tongue and lips and teeth explore every inch of you, his face smushed in your tits.

You let him continue long enough for him to ditch the condom. You reached down, stroking him a few times with your hand. He reacted to it—what a gift it was that there was nothing separating you again—with a hard inhale just through his nose.

You held him at the base to guide his cock inside you. As leisurely as one would stroll through the park—as if you had all the time in the world to stop and smell the roses, wait for every groan that bubbled at the back of his throat—you sank onto his cock. It gave way for another break in his cool composure.

You watched it as it happened—the very look, right as it skipped across his irises. It was followed by a breathless sound, one that lived somewhere between a chuckle and gasp, that slipped past his slack-jaw smile.

You couldn’t help but smile, too, thinking he looked drunk off the feeling—even more once you sat high again only to crash back onto him. Then again, and again. Quicker and quicker, until you were bouncing on his cock with your hands flattened against the headboard for support.

He reached a different angle in this position, deeper, and it had you almost trembling above him. He let you continue to use him, anyway you wanted, admiring where he disappeared inside you.

As if you weren’t the one controlling your fingers, you let your hand slip between your legs to aid your release. You felt all your blood rush to your face, flooding you with sweltering heat, and it became a challenge to keep your hips from sputtering.

Your only focus was on your high—like you had become dumb to anything else—and it was quickly approaching. Your shaky breaths melted into choked sobs just as he pushed two fingers, index and middle, into your mouth.

He pressed down on your tongue. “You don’t want them to hear you like this, do you?”

You looked at him, eyes wide and dedicated only to him, as you sucked his fingers instinctively. He smirked at you when he said, “Pathetic, little thing.”

You came again. Your orgasm crashed over you, with every muscle shaking and tensing before you could barely even hold yourself up anymore.

His finger left your mouth. They were wet, dribbling spit along your cheek, as he held your face in his hand. He turned you to look at him when he said, “What do you say?”

Almost like you had said it a million times before, you didn’t hesitate to murmur, “T-thank you.”

He hummed, “You’re such a good toy.”

He sunk down into the bed, his head now on the pillows. He grabbed your hips with bruising force, just before you could fall pliant over him. As if to say, ‘Now it’s my turn,’ he held you still while he fucked up into you, his feet planted firmly into the mattress.

He couldn’t stop your sounds this time. They spilled freely from you, even as you bit your lip so hard you must have drawn blood, still sensitive from your orgasm as he pounded into you. It nearly had you seeing stars, like you were blind from the pleasure of letting him have you.

He was close, you could hear it in his erratic breaths just before he grunted, “You gonna let me come in you? Shit—you want me to fill you up?”

“Yes—” you whined.

“Yes, what?”

“I want you to come in me—please!”

He didn’t let up. His thrusts were still just as unrelenting as he looked up at you sardonically. “You wanna go back out there with my come dripping from you?”

All you could too was give him a slurred, ‘hmmph!’

“So dirty. You’re gonna make a mess of yourself.” He snapped his hips a few times like he could bury even deeper into you. It brought out a certain gruff in his voice as he told you, “Don’t think that I’m giving back those panties.”

It took just one more buck of his hips, hitting just the right spot, for him to nearly knock out your last breath. You collapsed onto him, your bodies sticky with sweat, as you nestled your face into the crook of his shoulder. You were within perfect earshot of listening to his sharp grunts as he came.

His last few thrusts were languid. Long and slow strokes like he wanted to draw out the feeling. You couldn’t even open your eyes, let alone hold onto a single coherent thought, before you whispered, “Thank you.”

The thought of you thanking him for his come pulled another groan from him. You felt his cock jolt inside you. If he hadn’t just given you everything he had, you were sure he’d be hard again.

You didn’t know where your clothes were, and you couldn’t be bothered to care. You laid beside him, each of you on your backs, with chests as heavy as anvils as you gathered your tattered breaths.

You looked over at him, and he was already looking back at you. It was a moment of stillness. His eyes weren’t as dark as they once were—sort of like he was a different person. You couldn’t help but think he looked perfect like that.

He sounded different, too. Almost embarrassed. You heard it in the hint of a chuckle he offered, just at the end, when he asked, “What did you say your name was again?” You gave him your name, and he repeated it once to himself. “Got it. I’ll remember that for next time.”

“Next time?”

“You think I’m gonna fuck you like that then just let walk out of my life? No fucking way.” That smile was back—the big one he showed you when you learned he liked when you sat on his cock slowly.

You laughed a little, mirroring some of his bashfulness, as reality started to sink in. You finally confessed, “I don’t think I caught your name.”

“It’s Eren.”

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut

[shegatsby]

Ngl I've been thinking about this for awhile, imagine Hannibal Lecter with a Burlesque dancer like in the movie from 2010 with Cher and Christina Aguilera, reader as Ali/Christina would be really cool

A/N; Hi! Thank you for this request, i love that movie so much i sometimes listen to its songs. I had fun writing this. Happy Ramadan!

Words; 1.413K

Warnings; None.

‘’Hey! Y/N!’’ you heard a voice from the director of the show, ‘’It’s your turn now!’’ you looked at your reflection on the mirror for the last time, hair done, nails done, a nice lingerie that had rime stones on it… you were young and sexy and that was enough for your confidence. You’re good at climbing into a huge champagne glass which is filled with water and soup and big sponges and do your number. Years ago when you were a child you grew up watching burlesque dancer and the numbers they did on stage and climbing into a tall glass always entertained you, it was a classic. You were the only one who could do it right in your group, the stage was set, you had two dancers either side of the glass, dancing to the rhythm. When you walked to the stage the spot light found you and your audience started screaming for you, getting good reviews was a part of your every night. You loved the attention, slowly getting rid of your gloves you noticed someone. You knew your regular customers and this man was on the same spot, which was the VIP section, alone, drinking his champagne and admiring you from afar. He never flinched ever and you could tell that he liked dressing up and keeping everything pristine. Most of your regulars loved to send you gifts, mostly flowers, perfumes etc. However, this one never sent you anything, you started to get curious about him and asked your crew, they only knew that he was a psychiatrist and that’s it.

You moved on the stage like delicate swan, so elegant and all of the eyes were on you. As you danced to the rhythm and slowly undressed you felt his burning gaze, you knew that after the show you were going to get lots of presents except from him.

He never made a move. Most of the regular spectators loved to send you drinks and presents after the show but this particular gentleman only occupied his seat at the VIP section every week, drank his champagne, ate his luxurious dish and watched you from afar. ,

Human mind is tricky, the brain loves to focus on that one person who doesn’t have his focus on us.

Nonetheless you were intrigued by him.

Thanks to the help of the dancers on the stage you climbed into the champagne glass, your rime stoned lingerie shining under the spot light. The water was cold just how you liked it. Moving around in the glass, splashing water has always made your audience smile and left them satisfied. Maybe because of the fact that your lingerie was soaked and your damp body shimmered under the lights…

When you were done you were escorted back, it felt so cold so you wore your pink robe, people you work with congratulated you, and you kindly smiled. Before you could open your dressing room’s door and throw yourself on your pink fluffy couch your boss, an old lady with long silver hair and kind blue eyes stopped you, ‘’A gentleman is inside, he has an offer for you.’’ You were puzzled. ‘’Thank you for the heads up.’’ Before you walked in you checked your hair and make-up, and then you walked in.

He was sitting on the pink couch, when you entered and as soon as he saw you he bolted to his feat. ‘’Miss Y/L/N.’’ he addressed you and you smiled. He had a dark grey 3 piece suit which fit him perfectly, he looked odd in this room of pink. He extended his large hand and continued, ‘’It is a pleasure finally meeting you in person.’’ You held his hand and you felt a sudden rush to your  stomach. Why did he have such an impact on you? You noticed the way he emphasized the word ‘’finally’’ he was also aware of you noticing him for weeks. ‘’Please.’’ You gestured him to sit back, you sat across him. The sudden realization hit you, you had your soaking wet lingerie underneath your pink robe. His face didn’t give any clues whatsoever. ‘’Allow me to introduce myself, I am Doctor Hannibal Lecter.’’ You nodded gently, legs crossed. Melodies from the stage floating into the room, in that brief silence you wondered why did your boss allow him inside? It usually never happens.

He must have persuaded the old lady with something… most likely money.

‘’Y/N Y/L/N. At your service.’’ You replied with a soldier tone to break the ice and caught him smirking a bit. His maroon eyes looked into your eyes directly, you felt shiver running down your spine, he was intense. His gaze found the pile of presents resting on the table at the corner of the room, was that annoyance written on his sharp face?

‘’May I ask the reason why you are here Doctor Lecter?’’ you attracted his gaze again, you could feel your palms getting sweaty, his presence made you nervous and you didn’t even know this person.

‘’I would love to hire your service for one of my dinner parties.’’ He bluntly said, he seemed like a guys who would go and get something, a true dominant man. Also the way he used ‘’your service’’ didn’t go unnoticed, he was respectful. His hand went inside his jacket’s pocket to pull out a check book, he wrote something and ripped the page, you were excited when he handed it to you.

When you saw the price you were shocked.

‘’But this is too much-‘’ you said with wide eyes, holding the check as if it is something fragile, ‘’Burlesque is an art and I’m never shy spending money on art.’’ He replied, you could sense the strong undertones. ‘’When is the party?’’

You accepted his offer, this was the first time you went to do a number to someone’s home. He mentioned that his home was enough to bring your essentials. For a week you practiced and practiced. You felt like you needed to make him proud, even though he paid you and this was your job you just wanted to be perfect at it and have a good time.

He didn’t lie, his home was like a castle, more than enough for your show. You were ready and also small group of your dancers were ready too, everything was set.

Dancing so close to the audience didn’t make you nervous at all, you felt alive, the music felt like it was running through your veins, you were one with it. You could feel the public’s eyes were on you in an awe of your art, the energy was immaculate. You could also see the host of the party, Doctor Lecter, holding his drink in one hand, the other in his pocket, his maroon gaze focused on you and only you. Almost predatory.

The champagne glass act made the audience sigh in excitement, it seemed like this was the first time they experience this and it feed your soul.

After the show you went upstairs to change because Doctor Lecter wanted to introduce you to his guests. You were touching on your make up when someone knocked on your door.

‘’Come in.’’

It was Lecter himself. ‘’You are a vision.’’ He said leaning on the door, you smiled. ‘’I have a gift for you.’’ He walked towards you, ‘’You didn’t have to Doctor Lecter.’’ You said when he opened the velvet box he was holding, a golden necklace was in that box, 24 karat you assumed. ‘’Please,’’ he said, ‘’Hannibal.’’

‘’Hannibal you already paid more than the actual price and this…’’ you were blushing, ‘’I’ve wanted to give you this for so long,’’ he confessed, ‘’but I was waiting for the right time.’’ You watched him place the necklace on you through the mirror, both of his hands found their place on your shoulders, he knelt and he planted a soft kiss on your cheek, he turned to the mirror to see your face and lock eyes.

‘’Looks good on you.’’ He said, you touched the necklace, ‘’Thank you, you are so generous.’’ His aura was heavy, his manly cologne filled your nostrils. You were intoxicated, it was wrong, he was your employer. ‘’I hope we will be more close from this night on.’’

You could feel your heart racing, was this a some kind of proposal? Only time would tell. Hand in hand you left the room to mingle.

#fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #mads mikkelsen #reader #mads mikkelsen x reader #hannibal lecter fanfiction #hannibal the cannibal #hannibal x y/n #hannibal nbc #fem!reader #hannibal lecter x reader #burlesque #one shot fanfiction #requests are open #requests open #request #reqs open

[plus-size-reader]

Dating Bruce Wayne HC

~Bruce is an easy person to be with romantically

~So long as you’re a fan of awkward glances and late nights

~Bruce Wayne is a night owl and doesn’t actually make it to bed a lot of the time, so get used to cold sheets and early breakfasts

~A ton of really uncomfortable eye contact, because expressing his feelings is hard for Bruce and sometimes he just can’t express what he’s going through to you. It’s easier to just hope you get him well enough to work it out for yourself.

~Staunchly protective. Bruce has seen the underbelly of his fair city and as much as he adores it, he wouldn’t trust it with his most prized possession.

~Lots of little touches

~Bruce always has some kind of contact with you, whether it’s a hand on your lower back while you’re walking through a crowd or reassuring squeezes to your hands or shoulders as he passes.

~That being said, he isn’t “touchy” in any way. He doesn’t touch you just for the sake of it, every touch is deliberate and intentional.

~Bruce also isn’t particularly vocal if he can help it.

~After a while of being together, you just get to know all his little tells and actions that give away far more about how he’s feeling than he’d ever actually tell you.

~He’s careful, and guarded to a fault so don’t expect getting him to open up to you to be easy.

~Constantly getting dragged to galas and events, partially because it’s good for the heir to the Wayne empire to be seen out and about with you on his arm and partially because he simply can’t survive them on his own

~Bruce’s love language is absolutely gift giving, not because of the sheer amounts of money he has but because it was his fathers love language.

~He grew up watching Thomas shower Martha in just about everything she could have ever wanted, and that’s how he sees love. More than anything, he wants you to know that he loves you the same way his father loved his mother.

~Little black smudges all over your pillows and towels from all the eye makeup

~He’s a little (a lot) moody

~Bruce gets grumpy a lot and would probably get snippy sometimes if he’s too tired or hasn’t eaten in a while but eventually, you get good at not paying that too much mind.

~He’s covered in bruises, cuts and scars. Most of them you don’t take care of for him, but one occasion, he’s let you check them out just to make yourself feel better

~Having dinner together, at his favorite place, on the same night every single week…as long as he isn’t busy wearing his mask and saving the soul of Gotham city

~Constant check ins from Alfred, who grows just as protective over you as Bruce is.

~It’s important to remember that Bruce grew up richy rich and high society so sometimes he gets a little snobby. He likes expensive wine and the kind of classical music that blends into the background of a room.

~If you didn’t grow up like he did, he’s going to be a little out of touch.

~”You can’t just drop that much money out of nowhere”  

~”I don’t know. Not everybody was a boy billionaire”

~Dating Bruce Wayne and dating Batman are two different things but somehow, you manage to juggle the two without issue.

~Absolutely loves to rest his head against your middle, especially if he’s getting overwhelmed. He loves to just pull you into him wherever he’s sitting and hide away in you for a while.

~Small surprises all the time. You haven’t actually woken up without a pastry from that little french bakery you love or a cup of hot coffee since you moved into Wayne Manor.

~Forehead kisses

~Bruce is sensitive to bright light, which you adjust too quickly, which means a lot of candle lit dinners and nights spend in front of the roaring fireplace in your pajamas

~This man is a fantastic boyfriend. He’s absolutely on top of everything. Sometimes, he forgets his own appointments and things like that but never yours.

~That’s the deal. Alfred takes care of Bruce, and in turn, Bruce takes care of you.

#bruce wayne #DC #the batman #batman #battinson #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x ps reader #bruce wayne x plus size reader #bruce wayne imagine #dc x reader #dc x ps reader #dc x plus size reader #dc imagine #batman x reader #batman x ps reader #batman x plus size reader #batman imagine #the batman x reader #the batman x ps reader #the batman x plus size reader #the batman imagine #the batman 2022

[hoedamn-eron]

listen okay

been thinking about Oscar's characters and what they're like as dads

Spoke very briefly with @writefightandflightclub about this, months ago (can't even find the post it was that long ago - I'll link it later if I do - FOUND IT)

Poe Dameron is a girl dad

Santiago Garcia is a girl dad (see here)

Steven Grant is a girl dad

And Marc Spector and Jake Lockley

(Jake especially)

But Nathan Bateman

Nathan Bateman oozes boy dad

Because, right:

Nathan created Ava and has the mindset that girls are scary

(And Luna pointed out that he'd be wary after that having a girl after 'the incident' and I agree)

Seems like the kind of guy to say 'first time, guaranteed' after sex, when you both agree to start trying

(he was right, it was)

(you still don't know how he did it)

Anyways, you both have a boy

He needed to find out at your anomaly scan because he hasn't been able to control one single thing during this pregnancy and he hates it

So he voted he found out the gender

Makes you put on classical music for "the foetus" (Nathan's words) because he seems like that type of guy

Not that he doubts the kid'll be a genius, but it can't hurt

When your son is here, Nathan would be a mess

It was one thing knowing you were pregnant, seeing the bump and ultrasounds and all

But now there's an actual kid

A kid that is fully reliant on him

Nathan probably wouldn't sleep for weeks

Just sit and works and watches the kid, make sure he's breathing

He'd mellow out eventually, when you'd told him he needed sleep and can't keep doing this to himself

You took over the night shift after that, mostly

He isn't the kind of dad to rough house

But one that you'll catch talking out coding issues to an infant who just stares at Nathan, just because of the sound of his voice

Your son would look nothing like you, and take everything after Nathan (he's super smug about it too - not only can he make literal lifelike robots, but he has 'superior genes' too)

Would want to call the boy something unique like Silas, or Atlas, something along those lines

You had veto'd them very quickly

But Silas grew on you, so I can imagine you agreed to a unique name

Once your son was old enough, he'd definitely teach him how to box

Since Nathan's sleep schedule is fucked (he's working on it), he's always up first with the kid

You'll always find them on the decking at the punching bag

Nathan was always guiding him, praising him when your son eventually punched the bag

You and Nathan both regularly went out on hikes (he enjoyed them more than you did) even before the kid

When the kid was born, it was easy to carry him around in a carrier on your chests

But when he got older and learned to walk, he never wanted to be carried

And the hikes took longer

So now Nathan's planned out new family friendly routes for you all, where you'll all be out for an hour, tops, and not far from the house

Nathan really hates mess, so will probably follow the kid around once he starts walking, just picking up after him

If he's stressed or hungover (he's working on that too) he would probably yell at you to sort it out

He'd apologise later after you chewed him out, even offering to do bath time and get the kid ready for bed

"I'll read him a story or some shit"

(It's probably Stephen Hawking)

He'd arrange someone to decorate the kids bedroom to look like space or something

You had a field day looking around the IKEA website and choosing what you wanted for your son's dream bedroom, but Nathan had just rolled his eyes and got the more expensive, designer, equivalent and it was delivered within a week

You'd told him off for doing it, but he just shrugged at you wordlessly as he set up the bedroom for your son

This is long enough, I'm gonna stop here, but now I want to write a full series of dad!Nathan 😭😭😭

#headcanon #nathan bateman imagine #nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x f!reader #ex machina #oscar isaac #imagine #nathan bateman is a boy dad change my mind #everyone else is a girl dad #dad!nathan bateman #dad!nathan bateman x mom!reader #parent!reader

[lethalchiralium]

Not sure if you have, but have you written anything about Simon’s and Missus’ wedding? Did they elope w/ Winnie, have a small private wedding? Or did they go down to the county office and sign the marriage certificates? Were there the classic gold wedding bands or something simpler? Or no rings needed?? Now I’m imagining flower girl Winnie or hell even ring bearer Winnie with Soap and Gaz flower boys 😭

Keep it up with the happiness series!! ❤️

EEEE WEDDING! ELOPEMENT!

side note, missus definitely wanted a wedding but compromised for elopement. you are always so kind to your lovely simon 🤍

happiness canon!

There was a dress you used to love when you were a teenager. You had loved it so dearly, it being one your late grandmother bought you when you turn seventeen - it was flowy, beautiful, and looked perfect on you. It was your favorite dress.

Unfortunately, you had lost it when you moved to England to work for Simon. You had told Simon long ago, before your engagement, that you were looking for an exact copy of said dress. And because he’s going to be your perfect husband, he spent almost the entire engagement scouring the internet for that dress - not for you to wear for your elopement, but as a gift for being his wife.

The dress was folded in a box, sat in the back seat of the car that was going to drive you to the little cabin up in Scotland that Simon had rented. Gaz had made sure the car was locked several times, Simon had reiterated to both him and Soap that if that dress disappears, so do they.

Winnie was on Soap’s shoulder in a beautiful dark green dress - it matched both Soap and Gaz’s ties. The girl was quiet, watching the sun rise as Soap waited for Gaz at the entrance of the small garden.

“Locked up?”

Gaz nodded.

“A'richt, let's git th' flower girl ready.”

•••

Simon wrung his hands beside the priest, a short man who was all too cheerful for Simon’s liking. He hated this suit, even though it was the best one he owned - spent thousands on it. He wanted to look good enough for you, wanted to meet the imaginary standards you had set for him in his head.

You had agreed to an elopement instead of a wedding, since he wanted to marry you without the mask and a large amount of people seeing his face was not a great choice for safety. He knew that not having a wedding disappointed you, but you still kept a happy smile - but he couldn’t wait to marry you, when it could be years before his family is safe when he keeps the mask off in public.

His shoes felt too tight, even though they were perfect. His dark green tie felt suffocating, the feeling of his balaclava missing from his body was making his chest coil like a venomous serpent, ready to attack at any sign of danger. Yet, there was no danger.

He was waiting for you.

Winnie was chaperoned down the aisle, throwing down handfuls of petals aggressively as Soap and Gaz snickered beside her. With every handful she threw to the ground, her smile only grew bigger. She sat beside Gaz and Soap in the only row of chairs.

There was only the wind as your music when you walked down the aisle, your arm around your father’s. He smiled proudly at your fiancé, he truly could not think of a man better suited for you than Simon. In your hand was a bouquet of white flowers, your hair done perfectly and makeup precise. Your smile was as big as the ocean, your hands kept your bouquet low in front of your dress. It was one of those 1950s era dresses, the edge hitting below the knee with a round neckline - a variation of your great-grandmother’s wedding dress. Small kitten heels that weren’t too tall; Simon intimately knew how much you hated being in high heels for a long time, a beautiful sapphire bracelet hung from your wrist - a gift from your father. The diamond necklace Simon gifted you yesterday sat perfectly on your collarbone, a piece from his mother that was intended to be given to Winnie when she is eighteen. And as he gazed at you, he forgot all about the wedding present he had for you in the car.

You two were married by a priest, with your friends, your father, and your daughter laying witness to you taking Simon’s warm hand, sliding on a gold band with a smile that rivaled the beauty of the moon. He held your hand softly as he slid on your gold wedding band, it locked perfectly with your engagement ring.

On some quiet shore of Ireland, you married Simon Riley - a man who cared for you more than he could ever for himself. And as he kissed you as your husband, he forgot about the entire world because now, he was a part of you.

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

#happiness series #lethalchiralium #lethal chiralium #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #simon riley call of duty #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x wife!reader

[southernbluebellereader]

Hello bestie 🌼

May I order a mechanic!Ghost pls?

I’d like to have an extra hot sauce pls make it spicy pls 🌝👏

Take how long as much as you like, I’m patient

Don’t forget to take care of yourself bestie 💖💝🌻💛

Personal Mechanic

A/N: Yes, ma'am! I got you! Love this! The car I had in mind that the reader have is a Red 1970 Chevy Impala.

Mechanic! Simon Riley x F!Reader

Warnings: Some cursing. Some touching of private parts. Dirty talk

Master List (tag list at the bottom)

Everyone hates car problems, especially you. As much as you appreciate your late uncle giving you his old classic car, it came with its problems. But you didn't mind, you got to see Simon. You got to know him over the years and you seemed to save all your car problems for whenever he came back from deployment.

"You know how hard it is to order tires for a car like this? And if I can find them, I have to import them..." The older mechanic kept blabbering about how much the cost would be and how much work it would be. You sighed and shifted your weight as you listened to the older man, waiting for Simon to swoop in at any moment to save the day.

"Ok, I understand, but you know I always pay! You all are the only ones near here who knows how to work on my car," You tried to explain.

"Yes, but it's a lot of money-"

"Ok, I think that's enough harassment, big man," despite his size, Simon knew how to sneak up on people.

"Simon, you're back!" Ignoring the elder mechanic's protests, you nearly skipped over to Simon and hugged him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He smiled softly as he leaned down and wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close so he could carry you as he hugged you, relishing in your giggles.

"Hello, sweet girl," Simon quickly kissed your forehead and let you down, "This man bothering you?" The two of you giggled as the older mechanic mumbled under his breath and left the two of you alone.

"No, but I do need some new tires, though."

Simon had his ways of finding the right car parts for your car and made sure your car was as good as new. Let's just say he always kept a stash of extra parts and tires for your car. And especially when the two of first met, he always looked forward to seeing you.

You'd left your car with Simon and came back a few hours later when all the other mechanics had left, "How're my babies doing?" You walked into the garage of the car shop, watching as Simon finished up changing the last of your tires. By this time of the day, he'd shed his work jacket, leaving him with a damp tank top.

You heard him chuckle as he stood up and wiped his hands on a rag, walking up to you slowly, "Red's doing pretty good."

"And you?"

Simon took a moment to relish in your appearance before answering, "I'm better now."

"I missed you."

"I missed you too, pretty girl." Simon brushed a few hair strands away from your face and behind your ear, then caressed your cheek. Just him touching your cheek made your knees weak, so you leaned against him. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close, seeing your cheeks flush the longer you stared at each other.

"You were gone a long time, Simon."

"I know, I'm sorry..." Simon hated being away from you, he hated making you wait for him. "Can I make it up to you?"

You nodded, then impulsively took his hand and led him to the backseat of your car. He took you for a risk-taker, but in the car? He sheepishly looked around the garage to make sure no one was left, then he opened the back seat door and said, "Get in." You sat inside the back seat of your car and watched as he closed the garage door.

You watched how his steps grew wider so he could get back to you quicker. You'd turned your body towards Simon, your heart beat and breaths grew quicker as he sat in the car and closed the door beside him.

He wanted you. He needed you. He missed you. Simon was practically crawling on top of you, barely closing the car door after him. His breath was hot and heavy as he kissed you, you tugged his shirt to bring him even closer to you between your legs, resting his hips against your, spreading your legs apart. Both of you thanked the heavens that you wore a dress that day. Your mind couldn't catch up to your body begging for Simon.

Quickly and deeply, Simon planted deep and sloppy kisses on your lips, jaw and neck. You whined his name as his hands traveled all over your body and eventually under your dress.

God, how he whispered your name in between haste kisses, his hands quickly pulling your damp under garments off of you. You tugged at his tank top, which he swiftly pulled off of his body and threw it onto the front seat.

Both of your bodies grew warm and flushed, Simon stopped for a moment to allow you to catch your breath. Even when your cheeks were flushes and your breath was heavy, he still couldn't believe you were real. How dare you look at him with such love and admiration? How dare you wait for him every time he was deployed?

How dare you look at him? With all that he's done? How dare you let him touch you? How dare you let him be in your very presence?

"Simon."

Your soft voice brought him back. You placed your hands around the back of his head and brought him down so that his forehead was resting against you, his body practically rested on top of yours, between your legs.

He looked at you, physically feeling his body receive your affection in such a way he hadn't felt in a long time - if at all. You caressed his face and smiled up at him, "I missed you so much, Simon."

"I missed you, too, Y/N."

You chuckled slightly, your smile becoming every so slightly more devious, "Oh yeah? How much did you miss me?"

"Want me to prove it to you?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List

@ateliefloresdaprimavera @galagcica @sweetybuzz25 @wisedinosaurpolice @itsasecrets-things @ronbon @lieutenantlashfaz @piper570 @shuttlelauncher81 @thanksbutno98 @gabriellathegreat @kult6 @loadedberetta @sarahs-secrets2 @whore4dilfs @addy3114 @ollie71526483 @blueoorchid

#cod #call of duty #call of duty mw #call of duty mwii #call of duty mw2 #simon x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #fan fic #fan fiction #simon #riley #lieutenant simon riley #riley x reader #cod request #call of duty request #request

[thorin-is-a-cuddler]

Don't leave your demon uncuddled

A/N: Crowley wants cuddles, but Aziraphale never stops reading. This calls for drastic measures.

When Crowley had introduced Aziraphale to the marvels of staying in bed all day – all week, all month, not yet all year – long, he’d had a very specific picture in mind: the two of them wrapped around each other, respective noses buried in shades of cream-colored and auburn-tinted hair, eyes merely opening to exchange glances of fond admiration, warmth encompassing them both in a timeless embrace, a fest of never seizing cuddles.

In Crowley’s opinion, this plan should have worked out fine. Not a single obstacle had presented itself to him when he’d set out to tempt the angel into the gentle embrace of warm blankets and soft pillows. What the demon had underestimated at the time, was the power of Aziraphale’s books.  

If the angel were asked to list his favourite things since… well always, he’d most certainly list Crowley first and foremost. The mention of his books were, nevertheless, only one breath away.

So, quite unexpectedly, since Aziraphale’s introduction to spending quality time in bed, Crowley had not been succumbed to countless hours of cuddling, but to a quite unsatisfyingly absent angel whose face tended to disappear behind the pages of a leather bound classic. Moving between the covers and pillows ended up being rather unpleasant, since numerous pointy hardbacks stuck out on either side of the mattress. And if he got really unlucky, Aziraphale even left their pillow fort for a while, putting many cold miles between their vessels, only to return with more books.

To be fair, the giddy face of the angel who seemed to experience a whole new level of dedication to his favourite hobby was rather endearing and Crowley could not seriously bring himself to complain to Aziraphale about the lack of physical attention to himself. Besides, the angel was a rather entertaining reader, exclaiming and gasping and giggling all the while which did give Crowley some fun hours, as he simply watched him, curled up by his side, shaking his demonic head with a soft smile.

Sometimes Aziraphale had found good compromises: petting Crowley’s back while reading out loud to him or drawing the lines on the pages out with a single finger between Crowley’s shoulder blades. He was also really unbothered about Crowley’s choosing of which way to position himself around or on top of the angel, across his belly, next to his side, underneath his arm – nothing disturbed Aziraphale when he was reading.

Crowley had therefore enjoyed some of the time they’d passed in bed together.

But after two weeks of frequent reading and of books piling up around them like a flooding tide, Crowley did start to feel like he was drowning in old ink and crinkly pages. And it had to come to an end.

“Angel,” he moaned, when hours had passed with only the sound of pages turning, the repetition transforming it into a form of torture to his ears. He was curled up by Aziraphale’s side, the blanket allowing for nothing but his hair and his yellow eyes to stick out – his expression was all but pleased. “Aziraphale!!” He repeated, slipping his head out from underneath the blanket entirely, intensifying the glare he directed up at the angel’s face.

“Hmmm?” He asked, not even looking at the demon, his blue eyes glued on the pages that shielded him from the warm and welcome temptation of snuggling in peace.

Crowley groaned and had to summon all his lazy powers to slip out one arm from underneath the comfort of the blanket. He moved it up to put his hand between the stupid book and the angelic face. “Haven’t you done enough reading for now?”

Aziraphale swatted Crowley’s hand away like a pestering fly and didn’t pay much attention to his responding hiss. “Crowley, why don’t you just go back to sleep, that’s a dear.”

Surprisingly, the displeased look in Crowley’s eyes grew even less pleased than prior and the demon struggled to pull out arm number two from within the sweet – and currently only – embrace of his blanket to cross both of them over his chest meaningfully. “Can’t you just put your book down for a few months and… just…” cuddle meee?, he continued in his head, but a sudden twang of insecurity avoided the words from leaving his tongue.

His lips turned into a thin line, when Aziraphale’s sole reaction consisted of a quickly uttered: “What? Yes, jolly good, indeed.”

Fiddling with his hands, he sighed and glared at the ceiling for a while.

“You’re not going to pay attention to me then?” He asked eventually, moving his head to look at the angel’s face. And just then did a small smile and a very smugly raised eyebrow grace that oh so innocent face.

“I guess not.”

Ohh, thought Crowley. Ohhhh. That was how he wanted to play? Foolish, foolish angel. No one could beat Crowley at a game of ‘You can’t get a reaction out of me anyway’. That was a challenge, the demon was more than apt to live up to.

A smile took over his brooding features as he nodded to himself, feigning peacefulness, his eyebrows rising just as smugly as the angels’ had. “Huh.”

Another page was turned – extremely slowly and extremely loudly. Crowley narrowed his eyes. The angel was still smirking ever so slightly, thinking himself clever. The smile on Crowley’s features grew.

“I see. Don’t let me disturb you then, I’ll just get a little more comfortable.” Lifting his upper-body, Crowley crawled on top of his angel, placing a hand on either side of his body, before lowering himself down. His head came to a rest on Aziraphale’s belly, the soft cotton of his pyjama smelling of fresh waterlilies. With a loud sigh, Crowley cuddled himself as close to the angel’s body as possible, his arms finding the space between the small of his back and the mattress to cross underneath and wrap him up in his embrace.

Aziraphale didn’t allow any of that to disturb him in the least. Behind his book, hidden from view, he bit his bottom-lip, concealing a little smirk. Mischief was in the air and he was quite prepared to see whatever Crowley would come up with to gain his attention. The letters on the pages turned into senseless repetitions of the same line, his attention not really remaining with his lecture.

Crowley was feeling particularly mischievous in that very moment and he was in a rather perfect position to act out his mean little plan. Moving his chin over Aziraphale’s tummy, he tightened his grip around him ever so slightly. Suddenly he buried his nose in the soft, angelic belly and inhaled deeply. “Ahh, you smell so good, angel.”

Aziraphale’s grip on his book grew a little stronger. Oh dear, maybe he was in more trouble than he’d expected. “Crowley,” he warned meaningfully, conveying unmistakeably with his tone of voice that the demon better not do what he appeared very much about to do.

“Yes?” The demon answered innocently, a playful grin settling on his face, as he started circling Aziraphale’s belly with the tip of his nose.

“I’m warning you.” The angel stated, shifting a little on the covers and lifting one hand from his book to hold up a reprimanding finger. His face stayed hidden behind the hardback copy which merely propelled Crowley’s grin to new dimensions of evil.

“I’m not doing anything.” He lied, placing a kiss in the middle of Aziraphale’s belly, before more kisses followed - to his sides, to his ribs, to his hips, all soft spaces that got Aziraphale to hold his breath and press his lips together tightly.

He tried not to react too strongly to the sensations spreading on his midriff, but truly, Crowley started to tickle him more and more and soon enough, Aziraphale was sure of it, it would become unbearable. He cleared his throat and shifted around some more, trying to distract himself with the sentences under his nose, but it was to no avail. He was about to lose their little game, but he tried to stay afloat for as long as he possibly could. Little titters of laughter tinted his voice when next he spoke. “You- you will regret this.”

“I sure hope I will.” Crowley answered, his smirk audible in every syllable and all hell broke loose when next he dipped his head to Aziraphale’s tummy and started growling into it. A loud screech left the angel’s lungs as he slipped out of his comfortable sitting position, starting to hit Crowley’s head with the next best weapon – which turned out to be the very enemy, the book itself.

“NOO!!” The sweetest squeals emerged from the bibliophile angel as Crowley continued to snarl, growl, gnaw and nibble all over the cotton covered ticklish belly at his mercy, paying no heed to the painful attempts at self-defence directed at his poor head. “DON’T DO THAT!!! OH CROWLEY YOU’LL-“ A peal of high-pitched laughter cut off Aziraphale’s line of thought as wily fingers started prodding his sides, adding to the unbearable sensations that overpowered his vessel.

“I’ll what? Tickle you until you pop? Maybe sooo.” Crowley snickered when Aziraphale finally tossed the dangerous book aside and started pushing and hitting at him with his hands instead, his scrunched up face decorated with the sweetest smile and his cheeks painted a very rosy colour.

“I BEG OF YOU!! STOP THIS!!”

Crowley merely smirked lazily, rubbing his face against Aziraphale’s ticklish sides and wiggling his fingers into easily accessible ribs on either side of his favourite body, never wishing for one second to stop.

“Can’t ignore me now, can you?”

Aziraphale arched his back as best he could and pushed his head into a bunch of pillows violently. They went flying, coming in handy and appearing a new wonderful weapon against Crowley’s ticklish attack. The demon started laughing when one of them came down next on his tousled hair, softer than the previous weapons, but nevertheless dangerous in the hands of the angel.

“Hey, stop hitting me!” He chuckled, removing one arm from underneath Aziraphale’s back to protect himself, trying to pull the pillow from the other’s grasp.

“NEVER YOU FOUL DEMONIC-“ Aziraphale choked on a new wave of laughter when Crowley’s hand disappeared underneath his arm, fingers hitting the centre of his armpit and making it impossible for him to keep from squeaking with laughter. The pillow was left harmless on the mattress next to the pair, as Aziraphale tried to curl up into a little ball.

Crowley followed his every move, expertly attacking whichever weak spot revealed itself next, until Aziraphale’s position on the bed had changed from upright to sideways.

“TRUTH, TRUTH!!” The angel squeaked when Crowley’s fingers were gently scribbling up his sides, kisses tickling him underneath his chin. “YOU GOT ME! I GIVE UP! I DO! CROWELY!!”

Chuckling softly, Crowley stilled his skilful fingers and removed his mouth from Aziraphale’s sensitive neck. The angel was panting, a big smile on his face and small titters still spilling from his lips.

Crowley had missed their tickle fights especially during these last two weeks of the angel’s insatiable hunger for books. Nothing was as sweet as his angel’s reaction to having Crowley kiss and tickle all over his middle. Though Aziraphale would probably not agree with him on this – he kept teasing that nothing could be sweeter than his demon flailing like a bug in  the water whenever Aziraphale’s fingers came near his hips or the backside of his ribs.

“You,” Aziraphale exclaimed when his breathing allowed it, “are in for quite the ordeal!”

“Oh, am I?” Crowley chuckled, pushing their noses together and planting a quick kiss on the angel’s lips. “Do you really think you’d have the singlest tidbit of a chance against me right now?”

Aziraphale threw his head back with another peal of laughter when Crowley’s fingers continued their ticklish way up his sides. “NO NO!! NOT A ONE!! CROWLEY PLEASE!!”

“Not a one.” Crowley repeated meaningfully and grabbed Aziraphale’s shoulder to roll them over, grinning happily up at his angel’s bright face. “I won. Now I demand-“ He stopped himself, too embarrassed to say it out loud.

“Cuddles?” Aziraphale offered, smirking knowingly.

Crowley growled  and hissed in response, but his blushed cheeks made it lack any vigour. “Yes, that!!” He spat out, before burying his face in Aziraphale’s neck and turning them over again.

Aziraphale smirked at the demon’s antics, wrapping his arms around him to pull him as close to his body as possible and allowing him to keep his face hidden at his neck. “You shall have your cuddles then, you wily snake.”

Crowley grabbed the blanket and pulled it around them, before letting out the loudest sigh of relief, happily enveloped in the hug he had wished for. Occasionally he allowed his snake tongue to slip out between his lips to tickle Aziraphale’s neck. But apart from that, their cuddle session was not interrupted for an impressive amount of time. And Crowley couldn’t have been happier.

#good omens #tickle fic #good omens fluff #ticklish!aziraphale #tickling #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #cuddles #snuggles #pillow fights #don't ignore the lil snake aziraphale

[its-vannah]

Gold Rush | Graham Dunne x Reader

Request from @ariianelle: hey!! you're currently carrying the djats fics rn and I was wondering if you could write a graham x reader inspired by gold rush by Taylor Swift? specifically fluff with a happy ending? mainly just Graham pining over the reader? <3

A/N: This may be my favorite Graham fic I've ever written. It was entertaining to no end—and I'm usually pretty hard on my work.

Warnings: Mentions of kidneys and vomit

Daisy Jones and The Six Masterlist

Being in the spotlight was exhausting. There were times you wish you could have five minutes, just five to yourself. But that wasn't the kind of world you lived in.

Cameras were constantly flashing around you, microphones were being put into your face, fans were asking for your autograph. You could barely catch your breath.

You hadn't asked for any of this. Not the fame or the fortune. From a young age, you were forced into acting lessons by your parents who had big dreams of their daughter fitting in with high society.

The first movie you ever did cemented your place in Hollywood as a sexy, sultry, up and coming actress. You were fifteen. There shouldn't have been anything sexy or sultry about you.

After the release of "The Governor's Daughter", you were launched fullforce into a career you never wanted. No matter how many carpets you walked down or how many after parties you attended, none of it made the life you were living any easier.

You were living your parents dream, not your own.

Those thoughts were interrupted by a knock on your dressing room door. Taking a deep breath, you smoothed out the front of your dress, opening the door.

The SNL manager stood outside, pointing to the face of his watch, "You're on in seven."

You got the memo, shutting the door behind you and making your way to the stage. But an ongoing conversation in a dressing room beside yours caught your attention.

"You don't get it, Billy, she's the most famous actress of the decade. She's our Evelyn Hugo," One man exclaimed.

Another man laughed, "Evelyn Hugo is still the actress of our decade."

"No, you don't get it, she's different. Everybody wants her. Everybody. I heard one guy sold his kidney just to meet her."

"A kidney? Graham, where are you getting this from?"

A sheepish laugh escaped the other man's lips, "The tabloids."

"You, as much as anyone, should know to never trust the tabloids," He sighed, "Graham, if you like her so much, why don't you ask her out?"

"Have you seen her? She's beautiful, she grew up beautiful," The man, Graham, said, "I don't have a chance with her. I don't even think I'd be able to talk around her."

A groan escaped the other man, "You never know. Michelle Wieler liked you in fifth grade and according to you, she was the prettiest girl in the whole school."

"Billy..."

A sudden snapping behind you snapping you out of your trance, "Snap, snap, Y/N, time to get out on that stage."

Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself for your SNL monologue.

------------------------------------------------------------

At the end of your monologue, you made an announcement to a happy crowd, "Stuck around because after break, Daisy Jones and The Six will perform their hit single, Look At Us Now!"

The audience erupted into applause, on the edge of their seats to listen to the increasingly popular song. It hadn't been out long, but it was already a classic in their eyes.

Walking back of stage to prepare for a skit, you had little to change about your appearance. The segement revolved around your character going on a date at a formal restaurant that goes horribly wrong.

All you needed was a quick touch up. You were in and out of your dressing room in the snap of a finger, taking your place beside the sound tech. You always appreciated those behind the scenes. They never got enough credit.

Beside you, two men walked up, each with a head full of curls. One looked like he had been through hell while the other looked like he had just seen a ghost.

He began whispering to the man beside him, his eges glued to you. But the man simply elbowed him in the ribs, effectively shushing him.

He turned towards you, extending his hand, "Excuse me? Big fan of your work, name's Billy Dunne."

You shook his hand, giving him a warm smile, "Y/N L/N."

Billy nodded to the man on his left, "This is Graham. He's a bit starstruck, if you can't tell."

Your eyebrows raised. So this was the Graham who had been gushing about you in the dressing room. He was cute, that you couldn't deny. But his naivety got in his way.

"Graham, is it?" You smiled, moving in front of him, leaning in to hug him.

He tensed up, shock settling into his features as he looked at Billy, trying to contain his excitement.

Before you pulled away, you whispered in his ear, "For future reference, it was both kidneys."

You pulled away from him immediately after, sauntering off in the other direction.

Graham turned towards his brother, his jaw open.

Billy gave him a questioning look, "What the hell happened to you?"

"Did you tell her?" He was practically shaking out of his skin.

"Tell who what?"

Graham tried to take a deep breath, his foot rapping against the floor, "Did you tell Y/N about the kidney thing? What I said?"

"I've been with you the whole time, dumbass."

"God, I'm an idiot," Graham cursed himself while his brother wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"Oh, Graham, you have so much to learn."

------------------------------------------------------------

After the band delivered a flawless performance, you walked out on stage to do your skit. Even now, after years of walking out in front of an audience, you felt like your heart was beating out of your chest.

Taking a seat on a wooden chair in front of a table draped in white cloth, you waited for your costar to join you.

That's when Graham Dunne was pushed out on stage, nervously smiling at the crowd.

Amused, you crossed your legs and leaned in to whisper as he sat down, "Where's Don?"

"Puking in one of the stalls in the men's room," He responded.

"So they sent you?" You asked, the corners of your lips lifting.

He swallowed the bile rising in his throat, "I can tell them to bring somebody else—"

"No, stay. I just hope you can read the cards."

Graham nodded, "About earlier—"

"And action!" Someone yelled off set, cutting the youngest Dunne off.

With that, Graham launched into his first SNL skit.

-------

After the skit, you and Graham walked off stage, laughing at one another.

"I was awful!" He exclaimed, unable to control himself.

"You were hilarious," You replied, "Anyone else would've thought you just had impeccable comedic timing."

"Or that I'm a dumbass!"

You shrugged, "Well, I think you did wonderfully."

"How wonderfully?" He asked, looking at you expectantly as he shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"Wonderful enough that I'll let you ask me on a date," You smiled, adding, "I mean, according to you, everyone wants me."

He cringed, "How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough to tell you about over dinner, if you'd ask me."

He nodded, straightening himself out, "Y/N, will you go on a date with me?"

You pretended to hesitate, "I don't know, let me think about it..."

Graham's eyes widened, having already fallen victim to your relentless teasing.

You reached for his hand, jokingly checking his pulse, "I was teasing, Mr. Dunne."

Nodding, he grinned, "Friday, at six?"

"I think that could be arranged."

"I won't have to give up a kidney, will I?"

You took his arm, linking it through yours, "Oh, Mr. Dunne, you have so much to learn."

#fanfiction #daisy jones #daisy jones and the six fanfic #daisy jones fanfic #daisy jones & the six #daisy jones and the six #dj&ts #djats #graham dunne x y/n #graham dunne x reader #grahamdunne #graham dunne #snl #snl 1970s #taylor jenkins reid #taylor reid

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story- Side Part - Adonis

My first side part of two. Will plan for a second one for Liam. Hope you guys enjoy seeing it from a "hero's" perspective!

Enjoy!

Masterpost linked here!

____________________________

 I am the hero.

I believed this with every part of my being. Every cell and every atom within me screamed for me to step into the spotlight that was rightfully mine. The center stage that everyone longed for but so few could touch.

I grew up in obscurity. A father in a dead-end job whose lack of drive and ambition led our family to live paycheck to paycheck. Coming home just to drink and complain about work. I also had two older brothers who finished high school and went straight to work in the shop like our old man, with little regard for the world beyond our small town. But my mother… my mother was like me. She was a dreamer.

During my childhood she would read to me every night before bed. Classics, sci-fi, adventure stories… any book my mother could get her hands on. We explored world after world from the safety of my room as she read to me, equal parts excitement and longing shining in her eyes as she described faraway places and people that she would never get to see.

But her favorite story, the one we read most often, was a classic. A story of a brave knight, a hero. A story of a beautiful princess. A story of an evil dragon. I would listen with childish wonder as she described the princess being kidnapped and guarded in a tower, the knight and the dragon’s harrowing battle, and the happily ever after that awaited the hero and the princess.

“All stories should be like this one.” She told me confidently. “It is the best story in the world.”

She would point to pictures of the knight in the story book, a man in metal armor with a brightly shining sword. “When you grow up, you are going to be a great hero, a great man like him!”

I looked up at her, confused. “What about dad? Isn’t he great? Shouldn’t I grow up to be like him?”

At my question, her eyes were filled with sorrow and rage. “Don’t you EVER end up being like your dad. He’s a nobody.” She pointed at the book. “There’s no pictures of men like your dad in here, because they’re not important enough to get pictures. They don’t defeat the dragon, they don’t marry the princess, and they don’t have happy endings.”

“But Dad married you, and you are better than any princess!”

“…” She just stared silently at me for a moment. “Promise me you won’t become like your father. PROMISE.”

“… I promise.” I looked down at the knight in shining armor again, feeling determined.

I am the hero.

____________________________

My mother left us shortly after. Quietly walked out with her bags while we were all sleeping. My father didn’t say much to us about it. Just worked harder at his dead-end job and drank more when he was home. I watched it all, and knew without a doubt: My father was unhappy because he wasn’t the hero my mother wanted him to be. But I was different than him.

I worked hard, studied harder. Got into college on a scholarship. I was studying finance, determined to get into a career that would make a lot of money. To be different from my father. Packed away with all of my textbooks and papers, however, I still carried around my mother’s favorite book, the only memento I had of her, the only thing she had left behind for me to keep.

And that’s how I met Arabella.

My fairy tale book slipped out of my bag one day as I sat on bench trying to find a specific paper. I bent over and reached out to pick it up, but she got there before me.

“I love this book! Such a classic!” She smiled at me as she handed it over.

I fell in love with her smile.

We talked at length about books and stories. She was an English major, a lover of writing in all its forms. After that fateful day we spent many hours together. Talking, laughing, trading ideas. I fell deeper and deeper in love with her, fantasizing about confessing my feelings, and having her reciprocate. We would get married, have children, become successful, important people. Different from my father and mother.

She was my princess, my happy ending.

… Until she wasn’t.

“This is my boyfriend, Ben.” She introduced him with a different smile. I had thought I had seen all of her smiles, but it turns out that her most beautiful one, the one filled with love, was saved for someone else.

I hated him.

Hated how he seemed to shine in every space he was in. Hated that he was always the center of attention. He was a natural born leader, a great conversationalist, an all-around good guy that everyone liked. I hated everything about him, but most of all I hated the fact that he stole the love of my life from me. My darling Arabella.

She was mine.

But when I finally worked up my courage to tell her my feelings, instead of a smile filled with love, I got a look of pity and concern. She didn’t feel the same. She hoped we could still be friends.

I was humiliated. I thought I was the hero of her story, but I was just a nobody, a friend, an extra on the sidelines.

I was just like my father.

I hated my father, hated myself for being like him. But slowly, inevitably, my hatred took a new turn.

Arabella. Why did she not love me? Why was she ignoring our obvious connection? Why did she look at me with pity when I was so much better than that loser she was dating?

I hated her too. If she had never been there, I would have never felt so weak and helpless. I felt trapped in the sidelines, and couldn’t see a way to escape this fate of being nothing, of fading into obscurity. I had to do something. I refused to disappear into nothingness.

I am the hero.

So I fixed the problem.

And as I stood over the bodies of Arabella and Ben, my hand still holding the blood-stained knife, watching the blood pooling under them, rolling slowly towards my shoes. I realized the truth behind my world:

I was special.

The world froze. An inhuman being, the System, offered me a chance to work with it, to save the universe.

It was everything I wanted and more. Power. Prestige. A mission. I would be the main character, the knight I read about. I would be the hero.

It warned me that if I left with it, this world would be destroyed. I looked around. Now that I knew that this world was a lower realm, a romance story that I was a side character in, it all seemed so… small. Worthless. This world had done nothing but contain me, and I deserved to escape it.

I felt a brief flash of conscience. If I said yes, everyone I knew would be destroyed. My father. My brothers. My friends in college.

My mother.

Arabella.

But what have they ever done for me? I looked at the two options in front of me, and selected “Yes” with a firm hand.

And in that instant, they were gone.

And I was free.

____________________________

The System and I came up with a plan to save the universe. We tied all the heroes to me, to help me improve their character, in bonds called Fate.

But it wasn’t enough.

So we got a dragon, an evil creature who could be a good prototype for the villains in the lower realms. My nemesis to fight. But this failed too. The dragon was weak. For all its anger and desperation in the beginning, it soon became like a soulless, lifeless puppet. Silently completing its mission in each lower realm, often dying so quickly that I barely had time to influence the hero’s story. Punishments, threats… nothing worked. The nameless villain just looked at me with eyes that seemed like they belonged to something dead.

“You cannot threaten me.” It whispered. “You have already destroyed everything I love. My family is gone. I am alone.”

I felt a brief moment of panic at his words, but pushed it down and walked away. Refusing to dwell on the thought that rose up at his words:

We were similar. We both lost everyone. We were both alone. But we were so different… I lost mine by choice.

It didn’t matter. I did what I had to do.

I am the hero.

____________________________

We were getting nowhere. We needed something more, before the universe became too unstable, and all of the lower realms collapsed.

We needed a heroine. My princess.

There was only one option. One woman that I would accept. The love of my life, the heroine of my story,

Arabella.

I knew the System could do it. It was the god of this universe, filled with strange, unnatural abilities. It could bring her back, erase what I had done.

It had to.

After much arguing, the System agreed to “create” an Arabella.

I met her in the higher realm, the System had dressed her in gorgeous clothes, just like the princess she was meant to be.

I looked at her, and she was just as beautiful as I remembered. And she was mine.

But then everything went wrong.

She looked like Arabella. And sometimes had similarities to Arabella, such as a love for stories. But she was also so very different.

“Call me Bel.” She asked me one day, her eyes filled with frustration.

“But you ARE Arabella.” I felt desperate to explain.

She shook her head. “It doesn’t feel right. I don’t want to be called that. You mean something different than me when you use that name, and it makes me uncomfortable.”

What could I say. How could I explain? I bit my tongue and agreed.

It was so frustrating. Having my Arabella so close, yet so far away of me. She learned about our world quickly, and displayed an astonishing talent for fixing the lower realms in a variety of ways, but never once in the way that I wanted, the true and better way.

I tried to tell her about the higher story. About fate. The princess and the hero needed to fall in love. Our happiness, our love would stabilize all of the lower realms. Save the universe.

But Bel after listening to me, gave me a look. A look I knew all too well. It was the same look Arabella gave me in my original world.

A look of rejection.

I had become a higher being. Becoming the hero that would define all heroes. Much more than the silly hero my mother showed me in a worn-out story book. But still my princess refused me. She would leave me, just like my mother left my father for being a nobody. An extra. A background character.

I refused to let that happen.

I am the hero.

____________________________

I continued the story. She would be “kidnapped” by the dragon. I would rescue her, we would fall in love, and the dragon would be defeated. All would be right.

But she refused. She decided to die rather than be rescued. And then the System made her a deal.

I watched her disappear. I watched the foolish dragon make a bad deal to follow her. And as they faded from the realm, I panicked.

They had left me behind, the hero, the main character. I had to stop Bel from succeeding, from changing her fate to join the villains. She would accept her fate. She would be my heroine again.

The System, for the first time, fought me. I wanted my memories, control over some of the story, power. It argued that I would only push her further away. I refused to compromise.

Finally, the System agreed, but would only send me to a few worlds.

“She’s already visited twelve worlds.” It stated in a dispassionate voice.

I was in shock. “It’s only been a few minutes!”

“Time moves differently in the Void.”

“SEND ME!”

____________________________

A zombie world. I was the hero, Eric, already in a relationship with a cheerful girl named Hannah. She was a lovely heroine, but utterly helpless. As she stared up at me with love and respect in her gaze, I should have felt happy, content. She treated me as the hero I was, as the center of her universe.

I didn’t care.

She wasn’t Arabella… Bel. She was just a small little character of a broken lower realm. I didn’t need such a worthless being’s love.

I needed HER.

I turned my attention to Jason, Eric’s friend.  A pathetic secondary lead. I despised him, watching his struggles with disdain. Jason was a disgusting worm, following the heroine around like a lost puppy. Oblivious to the fact that she only loved the hero. He was a nobody, an extra.

He reminded me of my father.

I hid his role in Bel’s character’s death. Filled his head with thoughts of violence, planning on using him at just the right moment.

And when Bel showed up, I put myself forward as the perfect hero. Reasonable, friendly, respectful of boundaries. After all the time I spent fixing lower realms with her, I knew what she would like best. The only downside is that I had to play my role, to pretend to love Hannah. I felt the bonds of fate. Anytime I tried to break away from them, the System’s power would correct me. But I still tried my best, hoping that Bel would see beyond the characters we played, see the true me.

But instead, she paid me little to no attention. Only focusing on Hannah, or on the pathetic bastard of a villain who trailed behind her. He was as weak and useless as always, his character supposed to be the leader of a violent gang. Instead, he cooked meals and brewed tea, calling himself a support spouse.

I wanted to kill him.

But I couldn’t. I needed to be a perfect hero. Otherwise, my princess would never love me.

In the end, I failed. The dragon died, but Bel still didn’t look my way. She completed her mission and left the world without a goodbye.

Heartless as always.

____________________________

The System agreed to send me to a second world. A vampire realm. I played her brother Alexander. 

The realm was a disaster. I tried to be perfect, tried to be reasonable and helpful. But I had pushed too far from the character’s role. The System forcefully corrected me, treating me like a puppet over and over, acting like a foolish teenager in love rather than a confident immortal being. I watched in silent rage as the dragon married my princess with a smirk, calling me brother-in-law. I could do nothing but seethe, trapped in this cage of a character, unable to do anything but watched as she saved the realm again.

In the end, it felt so good to kill him. I watched the dragon die under my hands with a smile. And if Bel reacted poorly… well she just didn’t understand my point of view. She didn’t remember our destiny together. She didn’t remember that the dragon was a monster, a villain.

I just had to convince her.

____________________________

“YOU FAILED.” The system told me in the void. It had no emotions, no humanity, but even so I felt that there was a note of panic within its voice.

“You wouldn’t let me do anything!” I argued back. “Give me more freedom, and I promise I will convince her of our point of view.”

“WHAT IF SHE REFUSES?”

“Then I will make sure she fails her mission. Either way, we win, correct?”

“…” The System was silent for a few moments. “YOU HAVE ONE LAST CHANCE. SHE HAS NO MEMORY IN THIS REALM. SHE MUST FAIL. ”

I laughed. “She will.”

I did everything I could. Desperate, this time I resorted to all means: kidnapping, drugging her, lying to her. I betrayed the whole world to the alien race, trying to force her mission to fail.

But she still won. She still refused me, even when her mind and body were falling apart.

And with her power, she restarted our story in the higher realm. She chose the dragon again. She chose to reject fate. And at the end of it I realized her plan was never just to simply join the villain. She became the new System. She became a god.

____________________________

She looked at me, filled with a power I would never know. Standing next to the love of her life that wasn’t me. And I couldn’t help but wonder:

Had I really been so wrong?

“I have a much better ‘fate’ in store for you:” She told me. Smiling a smile I had never seen before. Different from any I had ever seen before A cruel smile. And I truly believed in the depths of my soul, that she was not, she never had been Arabella. The girl I thought I loved, died on the ground after I stabbed her in the heart. Not even her body was left behind as I destroyed the world behind me.

I am the hero.

“You will be banished to a lower realm. To live out your days as an insignificant side character.”

Her power lifted me off the ground, healing the wound in my side. I was helpless against it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be! I was the knight! The hero! I would defeat the dragon, save the princess. I would live happily ever after!

“NO! YOU CAN’T!!!”

I am the hero.

“By day, you will remember nothing… but every night, your memories of the higher realms will be returned to you, just enough so you can always live in regret for what you have done.”

“NO!” I struggled against her powers, but there was nothing I could do. I stared into her eyes. So familiar, but foreign. And filled with nothing but weary disdain. I knew that look, knew it all too well. It was the look sealed into my heart, in the depths of my worst nightmares.

It was the look my mother gave my father the night she left. That look couldn’t be for me. It was for nobodies. For extras. For people of no importance. Not for me. Never for me.

I am the hero.

“You must accept your fate, Adonis. Goodbye.”

____________________________

“Heading home, Adler?”

Craig, the middle-aged man in the cubicle next to mine, spoke up as I stood up at my desk.  His space was decorated with miscellaneous motivational signs and pictures of his smiling family. He hid a space heater under his desk, but everyone liked him too much to report it to the manager.

“Yeah, shouldn’t you be done for the day too?” I responded blandly, putting on my coat and walking away. I didn’t really want to get drawn in to a long conversation, which Craig was well known for. From a distance I saw a man and a woman talking, and felt a tightening in my chest. I didn’t want to talk to them, but I couldn’t resist saying hi to her.

“Hi Anne.” I joined the conversation between the two, ignoring the flicker of frustration that crossed her expression. Hopefully she’s just tired. “… Hi Brad.” I added after a long hesitation.

They both greeted me, and fell into an awkward silence. I knew they wanted me to leave, but a strange stubbornness kept my feet rooted in place. “Have you heard about that new movie about knights and dragons that’s coming out soon?”

Anne still seemed annoyed, but showed a brief look of interest at my question. “Oh yeah! I’ve been wanting to go see that one!”

Then would you like to go with me? I bit the words back before they could slip out. It would not go over well, especially with Brad, Anne’s boyfriend standing next to me. Instead, I said something I didn’t mean. “Maybe we could all go see it as a group?”

“Maybe.” Her response was noncommittal.

“…”

“…”

After the silence stretched on too long, I finally couldn’t take it anymore. “Well, have a good night.”

They both waved silently at me, and returned to their conversation with one another, never sparing another glance my way.

I walked away, feeling uncomfortable.

My apartment was empty. I had considered pets, but it would be too much extra cost to the monthly lease. I turned on the light, set down my coat, and looked around with a sigh. The room was pretty bare. I had a few sparse decorations, but couldn’t be bothered to do more. All I needed was a few pieces of furniture, and multiple shelves of books.  I made myself a quick microwave dinner, and since I had finished my latest book last night, went searching through the bookshelves for what I wanted to read next.

My hand paused over a well-worn book. It was a classic story, about knights and princesses and dragons. Basic, childish almost, but I always felt drawn to it. I picked it up once more, and settled down to read.

Passing a quiet evening, I got ready to sleep. I stared up at the ceiling above my bed, a strange emptiness within me.

I wonder what Anne is doing now?

A sigh escaped me. I knew she didn’t return my feelings. She didn’t even like me as a friend.

I’m just not the guy for her. And I need to be content with that.

After all, it's not like I'm the hero of a fairy tale.

With that last melancholy thought, I fell asleep, my hands still clutching the book of fairy tales.

…

…

…

And I remembered.

I remembered everything.

I was the higher-level being Adonis. Hero of the universe. Cast aside by Bel. Banished to a lower realm.

And now I was powerless.

Helpless.

Nothing.

THIS ISN’T RIGHT!!! THIS ISN’T ME!!! I AM SPECIAL. I AM MEANT FOR GREATNESS!

I AM THE HERO!

I woke up, shaking in terror and agony. My trembling hands clutched my sweat soaked face. And in the dull light of the sunrise streaming through the window into my bare and empty apartment…. I screamed.

I tried to hold onto my memories, but I could already feel them fading away. I would once again become Adler, the pencil pushing nobody who read fantasy books and nursed a silent crush on a woman at work who already had a boyfriend.

Until night came again. And I remembered once more.

This was my punishment.

This was my hell.

My only solace was that in this lower realm I was mortal. I would grow old. I would eventually die. And I would be free from this wretched existence.

My memories grew foggy, confused.

I thought of my mother, of my promise to her to be the hero of her story book. I thought of Arabella, of her bright smile that I fell in love with. I thought of Bel, our adventures, and her triumph over fate.

And I hated them all.

“NOOOOOO!” My anguished cry tore through the apartment, but there was no one around to hear it.

“I AM THE HERO!!! THEY ARE NOTHING!” I tried to scramble out of the bed, desperate to run away, to escape.

“I AM THE HERO!!!” I fell to my knees, my thoughts becoming vague.

“I AM… THE… HERO!” I desperately held onto the word. I knew it was important.

“I…. AM….”

I blinked, feeling confused.

“What was I saying?”  Wiping my forehead, I grimaced as it came away with a cold sweat. “Must have had a nightmare.”

I stood up, heading to the bathroom to shower. I had a long day of work ahead of me. I had several reports due soon, and maybe… just maybe… I could catch a glimpse of Anne when I passed by on my lunch break.

As I walked towards the shower, I caught sight of my face in the mirror, and came to a stop. As I stood there, staring into my own eyes, I felt the strangest urge to scream.

But it quickly passed and I went back to getting ready for my day.

“Hopefully tonight I sleep better.” I muttered to myself, looking away and closing the door behind me.

I didn’t want to be late to work.

#writing #please fix the story #side part #adonis #fantasy #murder #no plans for redemption

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

Just a Crush

Okay this one was requested by the lovely @mrsarthurmorgan7 who asked for more Chubby Arthur and Chubby reader, which OF COURSE I'm gonna write that's my favorite kind.

This one is a request for a shy chubby female reader who has a huge crush on Arthur and he knows about it which he jokes with her, not to be mean of course, he would never.

The request was for modern, so that's the route we're going, no one worry though, there will be some 1899 Arthur coming soon >:)

Warnings: Fluff, teasing, obviously we have to have some NSFW jokes in there, but nothing TOO bad, don't panic.

Gif is from Pinterest, still mad at Tumblr >:(

You HATED this.

Okay, well you didn't really hate it.

But you HATED it.

Arthur was such...you couldn't sit here and say that he was an ass, he wasn't, not in the slightest. In fact he was the opposite, but he always seemed to tease you, and it was AWFUL.

He knew exactly what made your face red and that's part of the reason why you were 100% sure that he KNEW how you felt about him.

You HATED it because you could never tell if he meant the words he said or if he was just playing around.

What's worse was that you could barely form coherent sentences around him.

You'd never seen such an attractive man before. Arthur was MASSIVE. For a lack of better words, he was huge.

A little on the chubby side, but it just made him a hundred times more attractive in your eyes.

His chest was meaty, arms were huge, both biceps and forearms, and his thighs too.

He was an absolute unit of a man and if he REALLY wanted to he could cause some serious damage.

Hell you knew that he could.

His family and your family have been friends for generations, you grew up with the man and even as a teenager he was a big guy, you'd watched him swing an axe and cut wood for your mother when your father had been too busy to do it.

It was easy for him, like slicing butter.

He was farm strong. Chubby with a little bit of belly but strong enough that his back, chest and arms were defined, it was the best body type but it did nothing to help you when it came to talking to him.

Today was no different than any other day.

Your family was having a cookout for the Fourth of July. So of course Arthur's family was there too.

You'd done your best to avoid him, your family had a swimming pool, and with the heat everyone had a swimsuit on, including you.

You had made the dumb decision of trying to wear a two piece rather than what you're comfortable with, a one piece.

Being chubbier you hated how the two piece looked on you, and the idea was initially to try and get your confidence up rather than down, but once Arthur and his family had shown up that idea flew right out of your mind.

Suddenly you felt completely exposed and you felt entirely too chubby to be wearing what you were, and you knew for a damn fact if Arthur saw you he'd immediately make fun of you.

You couldn't bare the idea, not when you were dressed like this. He'd be shirtless too, if he was planning on swimming and you knew that wouldn't help you focus either.

So, you sat in the corner of your parent's yard, in a swing that had been there for god knows how long, trying to make sure you were the least noticeable person there.

You'd been doing a rather fantastic job, quietly covering your stomach with crossed arms over it, until Arthur does in fact spot you out of the corner of his eyes.

He begins to head towards you, that classic smirk on his face and to your horror, he is in fact wearing nothing but his swim trunks.

You do your best to pretend that it wasn't a big deal for him to come your way.

"Well, well, well, what are you doin' all the way over here little Darlin'? Hidin' from the rest of us are ya?"

He chuckles, that southern charm rolling off his tongue easily, reaching your ears like some kind of liquid gold.

"Just...sitting Arthur."

You mumble, your arms instinctively tightening over your stomach, not wanting him to see it.

"Mhm...is that right?"

He smiles and takes a seat on the swing next to you, even without touching you, you can feel the heat radiating off of him.

"So, what's my biggest supporter been up to?"

You scoff and roll your eyes, but the red color that fills your cheeks doesn't help you portray the annoyance you wanted to.

"I am NOT your biggest supporter."

"Aw c'mon Princess..."

Arthur smirks and he puts a finger under your chin, making you look at him.

"I got you wrapped around my fingers, you can't sit here and pretend I don't...you ain't very good at lyin'."

You frown and sigh, managing to look away.

You can hear Arthur chuckle again, a happy sound, and he gently shoves your shoulder.

"Never gets old, that color in your face."

"Shut up Arthur, don't you have someone else to bother?"

"Now why would I go do that when you're my favorite?"

You try to remain annoyed and angry but you can't help but laugh and smile.

"Alright...okay."

"See, now stop bein' grumpy and talk to me, I haven't seen ya in a while."

"We hung out last week Arthur. At the bar?"

"Oh yeah...You ever give that one fella a call?"

You snort.

"Hell no."

"And why not? He liked ya!"

"Cause I didn't like him."

"Cause you didn't like him, or cause you liked someone else?"

He questions, wiggling his eyebrows at you, that stupid smirk on his face.

"I hate you."

"No ya don't. If anythin' I think it's the opposite, I think you love me."

"Shut up Arthur."

He nudges you, that smile on his face.

"C'monn....let's have some fun, okay? It's a party ain't it? Lets swim!"

"Oh...no, Arthur-"

"No, c'mon."

He stands and grabs your hand, which sends even more color into your face, and he pulls you up off the swing, dragging you towards the pool.

"Arthur-"

"Please? C'mon...We ain't too old to be havin' fun just yet. I'll even get John in here."

"Arthur -"

"You look great."

He stops walking and looks at you. Something in his eyes tells you he means that. It's not another one of his jokes.

"If that's what you're worried about. You look fantastic. I saw you coverin' your stomach earlier...You ain't got nothin' to hide. You look good, ain't no one gonna make fun of you, and if they do I'll take care of it, okay? Now, will you please go swimmin' with me?"

"....Alright, okay."

He smiles brightly at you and continues to lead the way to the pool, saying quick hellos to those he passes and finally he reaches the pool.

He stops at the edge before getting in and waits until you join him.

He looks at the pool, then at you and suddenly you feel his arm on your back just moments before you're shoved into the pool.

You swim up and cough a moment, then point up at him as he stands there, laughing.

"You son of a bitch-" You try to sound threatening but the giggle in your voice is all to evident.

He leans down a little as you swim to the edge.

"You mad at me Sweetheart?"

You smile at him, doing your best to look sweet.

"No, not at all."

You smile again, and then you grab onto the pocket of his swim trunks and yank as hard as you can, pulling him into the water with you.

You laugh loudly as Arthur comes careening into the water, splashing everywhere as he goes under.

Once he comes up, spitting out water, he gives you a look of astonishment before he again gives that smirk you know all to well.

"Oho...you're in for it now Darlin'!"

He swims towards you, and splashes you, sending a large wave of water your way with his arm.

You scoff and send a wave back.

He laughs and the splashing between the two of you continue.

You can't help but laugh and smile as the two of you do this, ignoring the rest of the party, as far as you were aware, it was just the two of you, and no one else.

Eventually Arthur takes the initiative, and ducks underwater as you send a splash his way.

You furrow your brow, confused for a moment, only to feel large hands on your thighs as you're hoisted upwards out of the water.

You look down with wide eyes at Arthur as he looks up at you where you now sit upon his shoulders, his hands on the outer edges of your thighs.

He snorts and turns, taking you with him, looking out towards the party.

"Which of you fools wants to play chicken with Y/N and I?"

He calls, smacking your thigh slightly.

"C'monnnn not all of ya are...chicken are ya?"

He offers a loud laugh and makes a chicken noise, jumping from left to right in the water.

You feel yourself falling and instinctually you clench your thighs in an attempt to stay upright rather than plummet into the water.

Arthur looks up at you as he does and he snickers.

"Mmm...You havin' a bit of a reaction up there are ya Princess? Can't say its the first time I've had a woman's thighs around my head like that."

"Shut up!"

He snorts and again pats your thigh before opening his mouth to call out again, just as John and Abigail rush over and climb into the pool.

John's smirk is nearly malicious as he nears.

"It's my time to shine here Morgan, I'll knock you both over and if I win this, I'm never letting it go-"

"Oh horse shit, I weigh more than you alone, me and Y/N both could knock you and Abigail over in a matter of seconds."

John scoffs and motions for Abigail to come over. The two take a second and manage to get Abigail on his shoulders.

"Havin' fun up here Y/N?" Abigail asks, a smile on her face.

"As much as I can I suppose-"

You answer, still attempting to keep your balance.

"You ready!?"

Arthur asks.

"I guess so!"

The four of you take a moment to start and then finally John and Arthur move towards one another, looking up at you and Abigail as the both of you fight to stay up.

Abigail is strong, even though she's smaller than you, and it's quite a fight for you to win.

She shoves you and you shove back, her arms and yours a tangled mess as each of you do your best to knock the other over.

Finally, after what feels like forever, and with both John and Arthur cheering the two of you on, you manage to push Abigail over, landing both her and John in the pool with a loud splash.

You smile and cheer, and Arthur does too, he shrugs you off his shoulders, though it's done in such a smooth way that he manages to catch you in his arm, bringing you to his side.

He briefly kisses your cheek a wide grin on his face.

"You did it!"

He smiles at you and watches as you look up at him in awe, your eyes wide and your jaw slack as your gently press your hand to your cheek where he'd kissed you.

He tilts his head, almost like a curious dog, and raises an eyebrow.

"Y/N? You alright there? Looks like you short circuited." He chuckles.

"Did you just kiss me?"

"What? That? Yeah, sorry I just kinda did it, didn't mean to upset ya-"

"You just...did it?"

"Yeah, didn't really think about it much-"

You look at him and after a moment he seems to recognize what it is that you're getting at.

He looks at you for a moment, then suddenly he makes a decision.

Why is he teasing you so much? Why is he sitting here pretending that you're the only one who has feelings for the other when in reality he feels the same for you? Why is he doing that to himself when the two of you could easily be a couple?

Well...He knew why, it was fun to see that face of yours go all red when he was smug about it all, but...why didn't he just go for it?

He cared for you, you cared for him, and how long had this unspoken thing been there between the two of you?

Wasn't it about time that ONE of you did something about it?

He looks at you a moment longer, and then before you can register what it is that's happening, his large hands are cupping your face and his lips are pressed to yours, kissing you fully.

You're stunned, your eyes wide, but after only a moment you fall into the kiss, pressing your hands to his chest and bringing yourself closer to him.

At the moment the sound of both your family and his, including John and Abigail, all cheering, as if they had been waiting years, fades away and it's just the two of you.

When he pulls away he smiles down at you, and for once he's the one with a red face.

"That one I did think about."

"You know...I hate you."

"You don't."

"...I don't."

You chuckle and keep your hands where they are, looking at him.

"I hope you know I've wanted that for the longest time."

He chuckles, a hand going around your waist.

"Can't say I haven't...I ain't much of a liar."

"Bullshit."

"Alright I am, but I wouldn't shit you, you're my favorite turd."

"Ew Arthur-"

"It's funny!"

"Grow up-"

"You love me the way I am-"

"Not if you talk like that-"

"liaaar-"

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