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it-happened-one-fic · 25 days

Note

Hi, sorry to bother you but I would like to ask for a post from Leona, where Cheka is trying to get her two favorite people married (ie Leona and the reader)

Hi! Sorry it took me so long to respond to your ask! I had a bit of trouble writing this one, but over all I had fun too. I hope you enjoy!

Duly-Noted - Leona

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ fluff/ sfw/ featuring Cheka/ request

Word Count: 1790

Leona huffed out a sigh as he watched Cheka play with you on the floor of the Ramshackle dorm from his relaxed lounging on the couch.

It hadn’t taken him long to figure out his nephew’s scheme when, as soon as the little fuzzball had appeared, he’d cheerfully stated that he wanted to come and play with you. Of course, Cheka had given himself as soon as he’d included his demands that Leona come along with him, even though he’d been to visit you at Ramshackle dorm plenty of times on his own.

Cheka was definitely fond of you, and Leona couldn’t really blame the kid considering how you patiently played along with the child. But that wasn’t what was really going on here.

What was going on here had more to do with Cheka’s pressing questions about why Leona so often told family members that he wasn’t particularly attached to anyone at school.

He could still see Cheka’s bright eyes looking up at him with an insistent frown on his face, “You know that is true, Unca! You like Y/n!”

Leona had snorted at his nephew, shaking his head at the child and, for once, was genuinely amused, “And what makes you think that?”

“You look at them the same way Papa looks at Mama. And Y/n likes you too! Why don’t you just take them home with you? Then you don’t have to worry about leaving them here while you visit us!” Cheka was as determined as Leona had ever seen him, but it was a drastic misreading of the situation.

Leona had plenty of reasons to not want to visit home, and none of them had a thing to do with you. But the moment he’d told the child that, Cheka had smiled.

He’d been all but beaming up at Leona from where he sat on his lap, hands fisted in Leona’s shirt like he thought his uncle would run away, “But you do like them.”

There were moments, like right then, when Leona almost wondered if Cheka was more intelligent than his father. Perhaps he’d taken after his mother in that sense. But then Cheka’s hare-brained plot for tricking you and Leona into a relationship certainly hadn’t been well schemed.

After all, Leona wasn’t the only one who'd caught on. You had, too. Though, to be fair, Cheka wasn’t exactly being stealthy with his questions about how, “Wouldn’t it be great if we all lived together?”

Leona had fully planned on handling it, but you'd only smiled, shaking your head and saying you’d talk to Cheka about it, “He’s just a kid after all, and he doesn’t mean any harm. There’s no need to come down on him so hard.”

Leona had only eyed you with rising eyebrows before shrugging, “Have it your way. But he won’t drop this easily. He’s a stubborn little thing.”

You’d snorted, elbowing him lightly as you went by to rejoin his nephew, “Must run in the Kingscholar family.”

And that had been that.

Truthfully, Leona hadn’t known what you’d told his nephew, but Cheka had fallen largely silent on the matter of a possible romance with you after that.

In hindsight, though, Leona really should have known better to think that was all there was going to be to it. Nothing was ever that simple. Especially when you or his nephew were involved.

He had to hand it to Cheka, though; he’d been completely caught off-guard when the child had suddenly questioned him about his wedding plans. Especially since it happened during a trip to Sam’s with Ruggie.

Cheka held up the little ring-shaped lollipop, and before Leona could even start to refuse to buy the treat for him, the child spoke with innocent curiosity, “What kind of ring are you going to get for Y/n when you two get married?”

Leona blinked, his eyes widening as he stared at the child who just stared up at him while Ruggie did a spit-take and Sam’s eyebrows lifted. The only sound that broke the silence was the occasional beep as Sam continued to scan items.

Leona finally frowned, crossing his arms as he eyed the child, “What makes you think I’m going to marry the Herbivore?”

Cheka frowned almost immediately, as if he were trying to mirror his uncle’s expression, “Y/n and you like each other. But Y/n said they couldn’t move in with us until you two had gotten married. They said people would talk since we’re royals and they aren’t if you didn’t.”

Cheka’s expression slowly shifted to one of concern, his tiny hand reaching out and grasping Leona’s pants leg, “You are going to marry them, aren’t you, Unca? Y/n’ll be sad if you don’t.”

Ruggie only barely managed to contain his laughter in an ugly-sounding snort that had Leona shooting him a look while a smile began to creep across Sam’s face.

“Did they?” Leona’s gaze shifted back to his nephew as he spoke, his tone careful as he eyed the child. But he was already putting two and two together without Cheka having to say anything.

You certainly had talked to Cheka about it, but now Leona was going to have to talk to you about this.

Ruggie wiped his eyes lightly before kneeling, humor still flooding his voice even as he eyed Cheka, “Well, marriage is a pretty big deal, Cheka. Leona can’t just go proposing without putting some real thought into it.”

Cheka frowned, but Ruggie only titled his head, reasoning with the child easily, “Y/n deserves the best, don’t you think?”

Leona watched, eyebrows raised, as Cheka frowned thoughtfully before his tiny face cleared like a sun coming out from behind clouds, and he nodded, smiling widely, “Oh! I see! Leona wants to sweep Y/n off their feet like those princes in the stories Mama likes so much.”

Leona didn’t even bother hiding his groan as Ruggie snickered mischievously, nodding and egging on the child, “Exactly, so you’re going to have to give him some time to do just that.”

Ruggie paused, glancing up at Leona with a grin that had Leona glaring at him warningly. But the hyena beastman was hardly even phased as he looked back at the child seriously, his eyes sparkling with poorly disguised mischievousness, “We’ll both have to support him, Cheka.”

Cheka’s expression turned determined as he nodded before looking up at Leona, “Good luck, Unca!”

Leona sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out an annoyed, “Uh-huh,” as he watched Ruggie lead his nephew out of the store.

He would get Ruggie for what a mess this was inevitably going to end up being, as well as deal with whatever the little mercenary wanted in exchange for his assistance later. First, he had a certain herbivore to find.

And he couldn’t complain that you were hard to find. But then you never were.

You were, as ever, at Ramshackle. Working on upkeep for the run-down building on your day-off, just like you usually did on the weekends when you weren’t working at the Mostro Lounge.

Leona didn’t even have to call out since Grim handled letting you know he was here for him.

You turned, blinking up at him in surprise, before a smile split its way across your face. Leona wasn’t really looking at you, though. Instead, he was staring at the busted chair you were apparently working on with a frown.

How the crossbar had wiggled its way out, was beyond him, but that was evidently enough, what had happened.

“Leona! No little prince with you today?” Your voice was bright, and Leona found himself looking back your way as he propped himself in the doorway.

He crossed his arms as he looked down at where you were seated on the floor, tilting his head at you, “Nope, but a certain little prince did tell me what you told him the other day.”

You blinked in confusion before your eyes slowly cleared, and you let out a small chuckle, shaking your head slightly, “Oh, that. He bought the marriage excuse pretty easily, and at least that way I didn’t have to lie or something like that to him.”

Leona felt his eyebrows rise at your words as you twisted to go back to work on the chair, seemingly unconcerned by what side effects your words might have had.

“Yeah, but now that he’s found out we’re dating when no one else has, he’s going to report directly back to either Falena or his wife,” Leona pushed himself off the wall as he spoke, walking over to where you were.

You simply shook your head at his disgruntled words, a smile on your face, “I still don’t see why it would be so horrible for them to know. But even if he does tell them, they probably won’t believe him. Not if Falena is as concerned about your love life as you say he is.”

Leona frowned as he watched you before kneeling and reaching around you to help you support the chair while you fought the crossbar into place, “No, he’ll call and ask all sorts of questions or, worse, have his wife ask me all sorts of questions.”

You hummed, tilting your head slightly, “You’ll be able to handle it if it comes to that. But, like I said, I really don’t see why it’s a big deal if they know or not. I’d like to meet your family.”

Your words caused his eyebrows to lift once more as he glanced over at you, watching as a frown crossed your face.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, confusion accenting your voice as soon as you spoke, “How did you find out what I’d told Cheka anyway? Did he just tell you?”

Leona let out a huff, his ears twitching as he glanced off to the side, “He saw one of those lollipop ring thingies at Sam’s and asked me what sort of ring I was going to get you for the wedding.”

You laughed aloud, earning yourself a look even as you shook your head in light-hearted amusement before glancing at him, “Hopefully nothing like a Ring-pop. That would be hideous.”

Leona grinned, leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder, “You don’t want something big like that?”

You snorted, shaking your head, “No. I think a rock that size, even a fake one, would be a little heavy.”

He let out an amused huff, turning his eyes back to the chair as he idly considered what sort of ring might actually be best, “Duly noted.”

After all, your thoughts on it all mattered too, even if you didn’t know that held actually had been looking at some rings already.

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loveluvrs · 16 days

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third time's the charm l oscar piastri x reader

request/summary – Hellooo!! Would you be able to write an oscar piastri blurb with little examples of the reader showing him off and him getting all flustered? For example, drunk in a club with her friends / to make him feel more confident / ect..? 🫶

author's notes – idk if this was what anon was thinking of but this is what i imagined 😭

I walked into the paddock, hand in hand with Oscar. I was talking about the newest episode of the series I had been binge watching. Oscar, as usual, had settled into listening to me attentively, as I yapped on relentlessly without an end in sight.

I stopped when I bump into Max’s mum and sister. His family was like a second family to me, and I hadn’t gotten a chance to see them yet since Oscar and I started dating.

“Oh, hi! I’ve missed you guys so much. This is Oscar, you guys already know he’s my boyfriend,” I say excitedly as he reaches his hand out to greet them. “He loves the curry I make just like you guys do. Sometimes I think he may like it even more. I mean, he always begs me to make it whenever he’s visiting home,” I ramble on excitedly.

“Ooookay, we should get going now. Nice to meet you,” Oscar says before dragging me along with him to Mclaren garage. “What happened? I was talking,” I ask with a pout.

He laughs as he rolls his eyes playfully. “Yeah, I know, babe. You never stop talking, do you?” he says playfully, “you should remember to breathe every once in a while.”

“Ha ha. Very funny. I wasn’t even talking that much! I was just introducing them to you and telling them how much I love you!” I say defensively with a confused look in my eyes.

“Love, you were telling them I beg for your cooking, that’s embarrassing!” Oscar says with a slight laugh. It’s only now I stop and notice that he’s turned slightly red, making me giggle. Oscar gives me an unamused look before saying, “don’t laugh at me like that, you do this every time!”

“I’m sorry,” I say with a giggle, “you know I only do it because I love you. I just want people to know how great you are, promise!” Oscar opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted when some of his team members approach him to talk to him about the upcoming race weekend. “We’re going to talk about this later,” Oscar says softly as he points a finger at me playfully.

——

I screamed as Oscar won the sprint race in Qatar, and I immediately rushed over to him after the race, peppering him with kisses all over his face. “I’m so so proud of you, oh my god!” I say excitedly. Oscar’s face was already red from the heat, and it somehow turned even redder when he saw the cameras approach us. He whined slightly as he burrowed his face into my neck. “Baby, don’t embarrass me,” he mumbles quietly in a shy voice.

“My boyfriend just won a sprint race in his rookie season in F1, of course I’m gonna show you off and embarrass you. Don’t expect anything less from me,” I tease as I give him one last kiss before sending him off.

When Oscar returns to our hotel room that night, I’m already half asleep. He spends a bit of time on his phone while in my arms, trying to keep up with everyone’s messages. He stops when he sees an Instagram post from me, his embarrassed and red face that was caught on the cameras now plastered all over this post. “Did you really have to post that?” He asks me playfully.

“I absolutely did. You’re amazing, and you’re mine. Two things every person should know,” I say playfully, earning a playful eye roll from him. “But I look awful, babe!” He protests, zooming in on himself in the photo. I stifle a laugh. “Thousands of people would disagree, actually. Plus, you don’t look awful, you look happy!” I say softly.

He gives me an unamused look. “What if I don’t want to look happy?”

I giggle. “Then you are one sick weirdo, Oscar Piastri,” I tease with a soft kiss to his lips.

——

It’s Oscar’s birthday today, and I have been meticulously planning out every single detail for the past few weeks, including a party with some of his closest friends after qualifying session that day. Despite my protests, Zak also insisted inviting some sponsors to the event and key investors of Mclaren, to act as an opportunity for networking. I reluctantly agreed, although I knew Oscar wouldn’t like it.

As I thought, Oscar seemed a bit overwhelmed by the amount of people there. He was whisked away to a new person every two minutes, and it was all too much for him to handle. He eventually sat down next to me outside with a loud sigh, leaning his head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to invite this many people, but Zak said this and that. And you know how he is, he wouldn’t have stopped until I said yes,” I say with a frown as I clearly notice how he isn’t having the best of times at this party. Instead, he just smiles, leaning in to give me a soft kiss. He stands up again, holding his hand out towards me. “I don’t care. Just be by my side while I’m being interrogated?” He asks playfully. I giggle, and with a nod I take his hand, our fingers intertwining.

We soon see one of my old friends that I knew from RedBull, and I introduce Oscar formally to her. As always, I begin to praise Oscar as a driver and as a person. And as always, he gets incredibly red. This time, however, I catch myself before it gets too bad, cutting myself off. When my friend walks away, Oscar has a frown on his face.

“Why’d you stop? You usually go on for longer,” he asks softly. I shrug. “You always get embarrassed by it, so I just realized and quit while I was ahead,” I say quietly in a kind of embarrassed tone that he even noticed I cut myself off.

Oscar shakes his head. “Oh come on, babe. Yes, I do get extremely embarrassed by it. But rambling on about me is so you, and I never want you to stop, you hear me? If I can’t praise myself then I need someone who will,” he says with a playful smile.

“Promise? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything,” I say softly.

“No no no, absolutely not. You could never make me uncomfortable, ever. And you rambling on and showing me off is embarrassing, yes, but I love you for it. I promise,” he says softly.

“Well, if you insist… then I guess I could squeeze in a few rambles here and there..” I say playfully with a giggle.

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagines #oscar piastri oneshot #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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actual-changeling · 3 months

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Muriel isn't a child, they're not stupid or immature, and they CAN take care of themselves—with that, welcome to Alex's unhinged meta corner, hinged edition.

We need to talk about Muriel, so let's dive right in.

Despite the way many people depict them, they are the exact same age as every other angel, fallen or otherwise, and treating them as lesser because their mannerisms and expressions don't match up with what you think an 'adult' should look like doesn't mean they aren't one.

Not to speak of the ableism that's inherent to that kind of thinking, and actually, you know what? Before I keep talking, I want to ask you a question.

It is very common to talk about Muriel as a 'child of divorce', being 'adopted' by Crowley, someone 'precious' that needs protecting, and a lot of titles and concepts along those lines.

The question is: If, say, Uriel were in their place—sent down to earth after not being there for more than five minutes ever—would you still call him everything you call Muriel now? Would you treat him the same way you're treating them?

Would you see him the same way, and if not, why?

The question is, if any other angel were in Muriel's position, would you also infantilize them the way you currently do with Muriel?

Feel free to actually answer that question on my post or in your own, because I am genuinely curious about the reasoning, especially behind 'no' as an answer.

Heaven completely neglected them just like they did with everyone else, they were completely alone in a big, empty white room with nothing but a glass desk and presumably a chair for six thousand years—and probably even longer than that. Having someone ask them a job-related question every couple centuries doesn't even BEGIN to scratch the surface of their social needs.

When they came down to earth, it was the equivalent of one's first day at a new job, at university, at school, anywhere you had not been before but now plan on being for a while.

You come across others that have been there for twenty years and look like omniscient gods from your point of view; they run the game while you don't even know which game you're supposed to be playing. This is one of the reasons why they read as autistic to many, including myself, because that's exactly what every social situation feels like to me. That's for another post, though.

Of course they're socially awkward and easily overwhelmed! They were dropped off in a capital city after—and let me emphasise this once more—being completely alone for millennia.

The highest of the angels ordered them to do a specific job, like, fuck, I'd be having a nervous breakdown in the lift and curl up in a corner for a few hours because that thought is terrifying. Especially because failure is not something heaven accepts. Especially because they know what happens to those who disobey or disappoint in whatever shape or form.

When we see them, it is in that exact situation—talking to their bosses that they've likely never talked to before, arriving in a new world, being around new people, in a new environment, new everything. It always reminds me of this quote from Modern Family.

Muriel was assigned a rank and job just like everyone else, and they deserve the same respect and acknowledgement for it as the Guardian of the Eastern Gate or the Archangels themselves. Muriel is probably really fucking good at what they do, they've had millennia of practice, but we simply never see them in their everyday situations. Give them some time and support, and they'll be up to speed in no time.

They are not a child—don't treat them like one.

#alex talks good omens #muriel good omens #autistic muriel #good omens fandom #good omens #good omens season 2 #go2 #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #alex's unhinged meta corner #muriel meta #alex's meta minisodes

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lunarw0rks · 8 months

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please tell me i’m not the only one who thinks soap would be horny at the WRONG times?

like let’s say you’re hosting your very first end of the year bbq and you invite your close friends, the task force, + los vaqueros. you’re excited because you just had moved into your first house as well.

all is good until good until soap starts getting needy, purposely brushing up against your backside whenever he passes by, mumbling the most sarcastic ‘oops my bad’. he even says something along the lines of ‘sending everyone back home so we could have some alone time’ and plays it off as a joke but you know he’s being serious 💀 like that man does NOT CARE, he’ll take you in the bathroom if he has to.

a/n: naur, you're onto something anon. I always picture Soap as a horny bastard; not much restraint in his not-so-little body. got a little carried away on this, lol. warning(s): nsfw, horny stuff, fem!reader

imagine you bought a house together and the nice idea of throwing a little housewarming party, for him, for you — inviting his co-workers and some friends of your own. he insisted a thousand times that you didn't have to invite them; but only because of all the embarrassing stories they were going to tell you about your boyfriend.

but, when all was said and done, it was a great gathering. you did it all yourself — the meals, the decor, the staging of your newly purchased outdoor furniture — everything. it was alluring to Soap, how frazzled and insistent on "perfection" you were. though, you heard about a thousand times, that they would eat anything you put in front of them.

when you two sat around the fire, gaz asked how you two planned on celebrating the new house once the festivities died down. an innocent question; but it sparked in your boyfriend's mind. "aye, we'll find a way to celebrate, that's for sure. jus' gotta make sure the timing's right," he played it off with a chuckle, but there was no mistaking how flustered it made you.

it was going perfectly, or as perfect as a party with these people could be. a lengthy dinner in the backyard, endless conversations, and a little too much indulgence in the booze for some of them. "great party, great house. should have you decorate the base sometime, eh? if it's half as nice, it'll help with morale." price commented as he talked to you and him.

Soap's arm remained around your shoulder, your waist, or anywhere throughout the night. you didn't think anything of it, frankly, you were too laser-focused — until his neediness grew. brushing against your backside, a caress on your thigh lingering, a small wink when the guests weren't focused on you.

some went off to the side to smoke, and others remained on the patio to continue their conversations. by now, it was time to get the mess cleaned up. plates, cups, wrappers, empty bottles, and the other trash that had accumulated.

"i'll help you with that, love. you've done enough tonight, haven't ye?" he approached after dismissing himself, grabbing the second stack of silverware and following you inside. Soap finally had his opportunity to seize what he desired, when he knew the party was much less alive, much less prying eyes on you two.

you stepped inside from the patio, him closing the sliding door behind you. dumping the plates into the sink, you turned on the faucet with the intention of beginning a long night of clean-up duty. his hand reached around you, turning off the faucet, "not what i meant by helpin' you, lass. c'mon," he motioned his head in the direction of the hall.

you took one more look out the window, seeing the preoccupied guests, most paying little mind to your guys' close proximity in your new kitchen. why the hell not? might as well cross the guest bathroom off your list of "places we've had sex in our new home" — right?

before the door even closes, he's hiked up the hem of your evening dress, shoving his hand down the waistband of your panties. Soap ends up fucking you senseless on the bathroom counter, gagging you with his fingers in case any of his co-workers came inside the house to grab another chilled drink. you were only a few feet from the kitchen, it was the definition of risky.

mid-thrust, there was a soft knock. price, goddamn price. "everything alright in there, sweetheart?"

even with his superior on the other side of a door, about a foot away, did Soap stop? no, of course not. he slowed down but never stopped. he removed his fingers from your mouth, biting his lip to mock you that look in your eyes, whilst they shot open in a frenzy. you cleared your throat to conceal a moan, using every ounce of strength to not feel Soap bottoming out over and over again. "uh, just a— just a little wine on my dress, John. no worries!"

as soon as price's steps retreated down the hall, Soap's ragged, growly breaths resumed. in a split second, his ruts went from mockingly slow, back to a relentless pounding.

before there was any chance of another interruption, he finished with a sneer on his face. "wine on the dress, eh? smart girl. i like that." he heaved against your lips, gently wiping any mess that smudged on your lips. you were livid, despite coming down from your own high. a palm smacked his chest repeatedly until he shut your heated whispers up with a hundred pecks across your jaw and mouth.

Soap walks outside first, blaming the lost time on him fishing through the moving boxes for a Tupperware you needed. whether it was believable or not, that was up for debate. the sweat lingering on his brow, the afterglow of sex on his face? unmistakable.

now, you've either have to splash water on your dress to imitate where you would've scrubbed a wine stain off. or... just, walk on out of there like you hadn't just been fucked stupid — with trembling legs, naturally.

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wannabeschyulersister · 6 days

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so long, chicago

Without the warmth of your things in the apartment, it looked sad and cold. The boxes that you packed were stacked along the hallway. Movers were scheduled to help you in the next hour.

Your belongings would be traveling across the country with you following.

After one last sweep of the apartment to make sure you weren’t forgetting anything, you stood at the large bay window facing the city. A city that you once considered home.

You’d miss Chicago. You’d miss the people that you’d met. The connections that you formed. The memories. The laughter.

The sound of the front door opening snapped you out of your thoughts. You turned and saw Carmen walk in. You didn’t expect for him to be home anytime soon. You’d hoped that you could avoid the last interaction.

“Hey.” You said softly.

He nodded, “I thought you’d be halfway outta town by now.”

“The movers should be here any minute.”

Carmen took off his coat and placed it on the right hook near the door. Yours would normally go on the left but it was currently sitting on top of one of your suitcases.

“Richie said you stopped by the restaurant last night.”

“Yeah, I wanted to tell him goodbye.”

“I guess that’s nice.”

“You guess?”

“What do you expect for me to say, (Y/n)? I love that you’re abandoning me and everyone you’ve met here?”

“Abandoning you?” You couldn’t believe that he really said that.

“We’ve been together for six fuckin’ years! One day you wake up and realize you don’t want to be with me anymore out of the fuckin’ blue!”

“Out of the blue?,” you raised your voice, “Carmen, I dreaded making that decision for months! You were so out of touch that you didn’t even realize that we had stopped acting like a couple long before I ending things.”

Carmen chuckled bitterly, “That’s not true.”

You hadn’t planned on leaving on ugly terms with Carmen. If anything, you wanted it to be civil. You were huge parts of each other’s lives. Under all of the pain and heartbreak, there was love.

“I was the only person trying in this relationship. You would get home at one or two in the morning and I’d try waiting around just so we can have a conversation after not seeing each other all day. I planned date nights and tried to pry you out of that kitchen to notice that I was practically falling apart at the seams!” You confessed. It hurt you that he hadn’t even noticed.

“Relationships are hard! That why you have to make them work!” Carmen was visibly upset at how the conversation was going.

“I was the only one fighting for this, Carmen! When was the last time you bought me flowers or texted me to see how my day was going? I barely even heard an ‘I love you’.”

“I do love you. So much that I don’t want you to go and move to San Diego. You belong here with me and- and with your friends. People that care about you!”

“Sometimes love isn’t enough. I’m tired, Carmen. Tired of feeling like I don’t mean shit to you. I need to be with someone that wants to be with me. I want someone that won’t make me feel alone when we are together.”

Carmen closed the space between you two. It was the closest he’d been to you in days. He still smelled of the cologne that you bought him for Christmas with a faintness of the cigarette he must’ve smoked before.

“I thought we’d spend the rest of our lives together.” He said softly.

“If you thought so, then why aren’t we married? I’ve had friends in shorter relationships that have taken the next step. I’ve waited for so long for you to ask me to be your wife and every anniversary that passes, I know that it’s not going to happen. I don’t want to leave. I really loved living here. This felt like home more than any place I’ve lived in, but I can’t stay here.”

“I’ve been a fuckin’ selfish asshole. I’m sorry. You don’t know how sorry I am. Please, I’ll make things up to you. I’ll change.”

“And when things get hard? When you get busy and stressed at the restaurant, then what? It goes back to how things were? I can’t put myself through that. I can’t take that chance.” It killed you seeing him so upset but when you broke up with him, it was like you could breathe again.

You were becoming the person that you used to be. You didn’t want to sacrifice yourself for someone else that didn’t give you the time of day.

Three knocks to the front door made you step away from Carmen. You opened the door and saw the movers with a dollie and a couple of extra boxes.

“Excuse me.” You felt Carmen grab his coat and brush past you. Part of you wanted to chase him down and wrap your arms around him. You didn’t want the last image you had of him to be so hurt.

As you watched the movers grab your boxes and take them down to the awaiting truck, you grabbed the letter that you wrote for Carmen. You planned to leave it on the kitchen counter.

You didn’t know if he’d even read it. Maybe he would rip it up into tiny pieces. Maybe he would read it over and over again.

It wasn’t up for you to wonder. You were at peace with your decision and that’s all that mattered.

#carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x (y/n)#carmen berzatto x you #the bear x reader #carmy x reader #the bear imagine #carmy berzatto

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yyunari · 6 months

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ANTON 01. 🐇﹕ꕤ﹔ FALLING BEHIND

Growing up rather shy, Anton found himself falling behind in the love department. Perhaps all it would take was joining the Glee Club for him to finally make progress in his love life.

⌇＃GENRE ◠﹒glee au + fluff + angst + love at first sight + anton is down bad LMAO＃PAIRING ◠﹒anton lee x fem! reader ＃WARNINGS ◠﹒none?

Anton stared at the white heart imprinted onto his latte. His face was emotionless but if you looked close enough, perhaps you could see the intrigue swirling in his eyes.

Some people would say it’s just a random design. But to Anton, it sort of felt like more than that. It felt like a sign from the universe that love would slap him in the face soon enough.

But how silly was that? He knew it was stupid, but he couldn’t help but hope. After all 18 years of his life with no romantic interactions whatsoever, he felt that he was falling behind. To him, it was upsetting. All his friends had partners at least once in their lives before, so what was wrong with him? What was it about Anton that was so undesirable that he couldn’t get a girlfriend for the life of him?

As Anton stirred the ivory tint of the drink, he frowned. Perhaps he was never meant to be loved. Perhaps his shyness was an indicator that he would never find love.

The more that he thought about it the white foam swirled around the cup until it became to unrecognizable and blended into one large mess.

He then looked up to the man in front of him with a judging expression, and scoffed.

“You want me to what?”

“Join the Glee Club, Anton.” Mr. Jeon pleaded the boy. “We need more guys, and you have a really nice voice.”

The idea made him laugh a bit. Anton? Apart of the Glee Club? Mr. Jeon wanted him to do show choir? He was the quarterback of the football team. If he joined a club that no one respected, especially for guys like him, he would have even lower a chance of getting a girlfriend. He would probably even be shunned by his own teammates.

Besides, performing was a little too much for him. Of course he enjoyed singing, that’s why Mr. Jeon found out he could sing in the first place (he had overheard Anton singing to himself in the shower after football practice). But he could never see himself performing on stage for people to see. Being on the football team gave him some unwanted spotlight, but most of the time he was wearing his football gear so people couldn’t exactly see his face most of the time. If he were to be performing, he would have to dress up and have bright lights shining down on him.

It made him too nauseous to think about.

“I’m sorry Mr. Jeon, but I don’t think I would be able to…” Anton started. “With football and everything.”

Mr. Jeon handed him a piece of paper. “Don’t worry, I took the liberty of making sure rehearsals didn’t clash with your football practices. I also asked your coach if it was alright that I scouted you, and he gave me the green light.”

The man was right. Every rehearsal from then until the end of the year was perfectly planned so that he would have enough time to do both. It was quite scary, actually. Perhaps Mr. Jeon was scarier than he had let on.

“I don’t want to force you to do it if you really don’t want to,” Mr Jeon continued. “But please think about it. We have a lot of fun in rehearsals and I think you would get along with everyone! I know you love singing, and I think Glee would really help you showcase your abilities.”

“With all due respect, I don’t think people would see me the same way if I joined a club like Glee.” Anton wasn’t one to lie, and he wasn’t sure if the teacher was aware of how the general student population viewed Glee.

Mr. Jeon chuckled at what he said. “I know that Glee isn’t generally seen in a positive light to you guys, but I don’t think that should matter.” “What do you mean?” Anton asked, curious to what he was talking about.

“Why don’t you come to our next rehearsal?” Mr Jeon said. “When you see these kids sing, I think you’ll change your mind.”

Anton didn’t doubt that they were talented, but he wasn’t sure how seeing them sing could make him change his mind. “What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll give you detention if you don’t.”

What Anton forgot was that at the end of the day, Mr. Jeon still had a position of power over him.

Room 201.

Anton stared at the instructions that Mr. Jeon had sent to him, and sighed. He really didn’t want to watch Glee practice. However, his need to not get detention was much higher. It would put a stain on his perfect record, and he didn’t need that.

Begrudgingly, he begun to make his way towards the room. The time read 3:25 which gave him 5 minutes to get to the room before he was late.

Anton discreetly walked over to Room 201 while avoiding the stares of his teammates, as he knew they wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. Perhaps he cared a little too much of what the people around him thought.

But with his shy persona, he really didn’t want to be shunned from his friends. He didn’t want girls to judge him. He had enough time talking to people as it was, he didn’t need that extra judgement.

Anton didn’t care about being popular or having a lot of friends. He just wanted to have people by his side.

As he neared the Glee room, he contemplated on just turning back and taking the detention. After all, one infraction on his record couldn’t be too bad right? Especially after so long of getting perfect grades and perfect attendance, as well as his status of the quarterback. Colleges would be able to look past one measly detention.

He really didn’t want to go there.

“Kiss today, goodbye. The sweetness and the sorrow.”

…

What was that voice?

Who was it?

“Wish me luck the same to you.”

Once Anton was by the door, he could hear the voice more clearly.

“But I won’t regret, what I did for love. What I did for love.”

He peered through the glass to see just who was singing, and his jaw dropped.

“Look my eyes are dry”

Y/N L/N.

He had always heard that name uttered throughout the hallways and ridiculed by his football teammates. Oftentimes, people would describe her as annoying, stuck up, and ugly. Girls would laugh at her put together appearance and guys would make fun of her body shape. Although Anton never saw anything inherently wrong with the girl, the entire student body was under the impression was that she was the devil.

“The gift was ours to borrow.”

One thing that everyone knew about Y/N, and was a fact even she would agree upon, was that the girl was a born performer. She made it abundantly clear that her dreams were to become a Broadway performer, and that she would stop at nothing to reach that goal.

There was one occasion during French class that he shared with her that Y/N got into an argument with the teacher because she wanted to leave for an audition, and the teacher didn’t let her. In the end, Y/N ended up storming out of the classroom anyways.

At the time, Anton thought it amusing.

“Oh it’s as if we always knew, and I won’t forget.”

Anton had read once on Y/N’s blog that she was immediately trained to sing from the moment she was born and put into acting classes. So he knew that she had talent.

“What I did for love, what I did for love.”

But as Anton stared at Y/N, who stood alone practicing in the empty rehearsal room, he felt something ignite inside him.

Despite knowing that the girl had the talent, he never actually saw her singing. She wasn’t just good at singing in the way that people were usually good at singing.

Y/N’s voice could only be described as one dipped in honey. It was too sweet to be real, and Anton even pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“Gone, love is never gone.”

It was weird. Before that point, Y/N was never someone he would think about. In fact, she only ever crossed his mind if she was forced there. Even if she had passed by him in the hallways, he would barely give her a second glance.

Seeing her in such a state, with the light perfectly reflecting off of the windows and casting an angelic aura onto her face, he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

“As we travel on, love’s what we’ll remember.”

Something that Anton was sure of, once seeing Y/N in her true element, was that Y/N L/N wasn’t just a born performer.

She was born to be a star.

He couldn’t help but wonder, maybe one day he could have that same level of confidence that Y/N had.

The way she carried herself with such grace and assertiveness attracted him. Anton was the complete opposite. He was shy, lanky, and often slouched down on himself.

But Y/N wasn’t like that. She knew her worth, and didn’t back down from anything.

Anton continued to listen to Y/N sing her song, with stars in his eyes and his mouth left slightly agape.

He wasn’t sure of the feeling that he felt in his heart, but he did know one thing.

Anton wanted to be apart of Y/N’s life. He wanted to hear her angelic voice, and see her beautiful face everyday. He wanted to be apart of her world because he found it quite wonderful. A girl shunned by the entire school, often discredited and regarded as undesirable, who was made to be apart of something more.

Anton wanted to know more about her.

“Great job, Y/N! I didn’t want to interrupt so I waited outside the room.” Mr. Jeon had walked into the room from the door on the opposite end of where Anton was. “You sound amazing, as always. I definitely chose right when I chose to give you the solo.”

Anton could see Y/N get smirk at the compliment. “I knew you would come to your senses. This song is perfect for my voice, after all.”

To most, she would come off as cocky and unbearable. And to most she was.

But for Anton, he saw it in a different way. Most people were just too insecure about themselves to be able to admit when they’re good at something. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. However, Y/N knew that she was talented enough to become something. There was nothing wrong in vocalizing that.

And Anton admired that aspect of Y/N.

“The others should be coming soon. I assume they’re all getting a quick snack since I moved the rehearsal time.”

So that’s why Y/N was practicing alone. Anton wondered why no one was there despite it being well past 3:30.

That face made Anton more attracted to her. Y/N already knew she was good enough to get any part, yet she still took time to herself to practice. And she practiced well.

A burning desire filled Anton’s heart as he pushed open the door.

“Oh, Anton! You’re a bit early. I for-“

“I want to join Glee.” Anton rushed his words, before he could chicken out. And suddenly, he turned his head and made eye contact with Y/N. He could feel all his confidence drain in that moment, as she kept her stare on him as if she were judging him. Anton forgot his tendency to be shy. “I-If the offer is still standing, I mean.”

Mr. Jeon clapped his hands once. “That’s great news! What made you change your mind?”

Anton kept his eyes on Y/N, who was also waiting for his answer.

There were multiple reasons he could think of, but one reason stood out amongst the others.

“I saw an angel.” Was all Anton could admit.

He sounded crazy, and neither Y/N nor Mr. Jeon could figure out what he was talking about, but that didn’t matter. Both were just glad there would be another guy in Glee.

“Well, we need another male lead for one of our performances so you and Y/N can lead ‘No Air’ together.” Mr. Jeon instructed. “Does that work for you?”

Y/N slowly made her way to Anton, and he felt the air in his lungs phase out.

“I don’t know, will you be able to keep up with me? I’m kind of difficult.” She challenged.

Anton mustered up what little confidence he had left in his body, and leaned in closer to Y/N.

“I like difficult.”

Anton was falling behind in the love department, and he needed to catch up. Maybe the latte design from the day before was a sign that he would fall in love. It had seemed to coincidental to not be true.

After crossing Y/N’s path in such a way, he knew that he would have to pursue her as much as he could. He had never fallen for someone so strongly before. But he knew that Y/N was the one he had been waiting for.

In a way, they were sort of one in the same. Both seemingly too undesirable to get into relationships. That idea comforted him.

Anton was falling behind, but for Y/N he would put all of his effort to catch up. Even if it meant disregarding his social status or mockery from his friends.

Y/N was worth the effort.

authors note. first riize fic!!! i love riize sm and anton is soooooo falling behind coded ugh i adore him also yay glee

permanent taglist. @muhwaa @yizhoutv @ja4hyvn @one16core @enhacolor @haerinz @soobin-chois @en-boyz @ohmy-fandoms @yjwonz @yunki4evr @strwberrydinosaur @duolingofanaccount @iichaeyj @eundiarys @ineedaherosavemeenow @chaerybae @bubblytaetae @w3bqrl @xiaoderrrr @jaeyunnsworld @rikizm @teddywonss @gweoriz @dimplewonie @jennaissantes @kivrio @kaykay11sworld @itsactuallylina

#riize x reader #anton x reader #anton lee #riize x you #riize x imagine #riize anton #riize fluff #anton fluff #lee anton #anton riize #riize imagines #riize #riize oneshots

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ambers-archive · 3 months

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what if all i need is you?

2 times the universe conspires against Spencer and the 1 time it doesn't. no use of y/n

"I think we’re lost," Spencer mumbled, stealing a glance at you, you’re in his passenger seat and you look like a dream he thinks.

He hates driving, usually avoids it, but watching you smile next to him and hearing you sing along to his favorite songs makes him think it’s not all bad.

"You think?" You laugh, meeting his eye.

He had the date perfectly planned in his head – a tour around the city since you just moved here. Showcasing his favorite bookstore, two tickets to his favorite museum's exhibit, the whole thing.

However, things were not going as planned. He found himself driving in circles, twists and turns multiplying at every corner.

The universe was taunting him.

"I swear, these street signs are conspiring against me," he muttered.

“In the meantime, we should enjoy this,” you suggested, pointing to a barely visible café on the corner, proposing an impromptu coffee stop.

With a slight smile tugging his lips, Spencer nodded.

“You’re in Med school?

Spencer asked, trying to hide his amazement.

It all makes sense now, he thinks. Rarely does he find someone who matches him intellectually, even rarer for him to enjoy conversations with them.

“I am! I know it’s a cliché saying, but I just want to help people, I want to make a difference in the world.”

“It’s not cliché at all, that’s really noble.” Spencer replied, a genuine smile forming on his face. The passion in your voice is like a breath of fresh air for him.

You blushed at the compliment, warmth spreading across your cheeks. "Thank you. It's not easy, but it's worth it if I can make a positive impact, even in a small way."

As if you took the words right out of Spencer’s mouth, hearing you made him realize the reason he started the BAU.

And oh how beautiful it is to have that passion.

For so long, his work had only consisted of repetition; the work that had brought him happiness was now draining him of it all. His thoughts are audible emanating from your lips.

To make a difference, and just for a little while, listening to you happily describe your passion, the horrors of his job, which once clutched his heart so deeply, slowly started to fade.

“Where to next, Doctor?”

“I hope you like museums, I was able to get us tickets to one of my favorite exhibits.”

“Lead the way.”

“I agree; the universe is not happy with you right now,” you laughed, both stranded in the middle of nowhere as his car broke down under the afternoon sun.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” he sighed, opening your car door. Taking his hand you led him towards the field, there were worse places to be stranded in you thought.

“If we call for a cab right now, we can reach the museum in an hour, depending on traffic. We’ll miss the first half hour or so, but—”

“Spencer, look! The sun is setting.” You walked off into the distance, taking a seat near a tree.

“We’re going to miss the show.” He said disappointed. You looked up at him and the orange glow casted a beautiful hue over your face. Just when he thought you couldn't get prettier.

“No matter how much you try in life, you’re bound to miss something. Just take in the moment right now.” You say, patting the seat on the grass next to you.

To his own surprise, he obliges.

He doesn’t mean to profile you, but it’s a reflex, a defense mechanism. Being around serial killers and rapists, he needs to know their every move. But right now, being in your apartment as you give him a tour, he lets go.

Realizing he doesn’t have to know everything about you right away; he can take his time.

He expected your room to be something like a catalog magazine, but books, plants, and paintings you've made surrounded you.

Messy maximalist, you called it.

Spencer learns you hate minimalism, you hate gray white empty spaces that don't feel like home.

He is almost envious of how carefree you are, willing to wear your heart out on your sleeve. Your guard has been down the whole time, a luxury Spencer can’t afford.

“Can I offer you some tea? I recently perfected my mom’s recipe for chai,” You asked, already boiling the water and getting your tea bags together.

“Tea sounds amazing.”

He looks around, forming a profile in his brain.

You’re messy, but you somehow find beauty in it. It doesn’t bother you; it makes sense, he thinks.

Artistic people are commonly messy.

“What books do you like?” Spencer asks, watching you get two mismatched cups out.

“I love classic literature, Persuasion is one of my favorites. I love Jane Austen and the way she captures love in its most pure form."

“How would you define love?” It’s a question that has been nagging him, he wants to pick apart your brain and know every thought.

He can tell you’re a hopeless romantic, and he now wishes he had accepted Garcia’s movie night invitation to watch Jane Austen movies.

He already has a sense, knowing you love classic period pieces, but he just wants to hear your explanation for it.

“In Med school they teach us that love is a complex emotion, a bunch of hormones: dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin in the brain. I can’t say much about hormones but love is life, and it's just peaceful like the slow water going down a stream. But an immediate phenomenon, much like life itself. It fills and empties you all at once, swirling like a river's water after a storm. Your hands, heart, stomach, and skin are just a few places on your body where you can feel it. And it overtakes you so intensely. You don’t even realize it until you’re in it. You can’t exist without it, love is like breathing.” You sigh, a shy smile overtaking your lips “Sorry i tend to rant a lot.”

Spencer meets your smile. It feels nice to be on the receiving end of someone rambling. “I don’t mind one bit. I knew you were an artist but I didn’t peg you for a writer.”

“Have you been profiling me, Doctor Reid?” you ask, he smiles avoiding your gaze.

“Most writers are artistic people; that is, they are imaginative, creative, and productive when working in an environment that promotes self-expression. Not to mention you mentioned journalism being your minor, also I saw you had a typewriter.”

“You're amazing, Spencer,” you say, taking the kettle off the stove, pouring two cups of chai.

Spencer whispers your name, and you look over, your name falls so easily through his lips. This is what was missing from your life, you think.

“I think you’re one of the most unique people I’ve ever met.”

He says, taking your hand, interlocking your fingers.

You graze your thumb over his knuckles squeezing his hand, meeting his brown eyes. And as if the universe was on his side for once you lean forward, your lips meeting his. Lips meddling into each other as if it was made just for you.

The morning sun is beating down on his small car, and there you are sitting in his passenger seat laughing at his horrible jokes.

Your favorite songs playing in the background. You smile at him, and Spencer is lost again, but not because of the street signs. He's just lost in your smile.

This is what was missing from his life Spencer thinks.

#criminal minds #writing #my writing #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader

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vhagarlovebot · 10 months

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NO ONE HAS TO KNOW. — STEPDAD!AEMOND.

summary: getting stuck in the middle of a storm and having to share a bed with your stepdad was definitely not in your plans.

content warnings: 4k words. 18+, fem!reader, dark content, age gap (aemond is 38 and reader is in her early 20s), stepcest, dubcon, somnophilia, thigh riding, daddy kink, unprotected sex, choking, fingering, praise kink, one bed trope.

note: you can block the tag “★. dark themes!” if you don’t like this kind of content. for those who were asking about this fic, here it is. finally. hope you like it!

comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

YOU CHANGE THE RADIO STATION making aemond groan in frustration.

“your mother wants us there.” he sighs, turning down the volume and giving a quick glance in your direction.

“i had plans.” you try to clean the window with the back of your hand to look outside, but the heavy snow doesn’t let you see anything. “are you sure we should be driving with this weather?”

your mother loves when both of you go to her conferences, she always says you’re her lucky charm, but you really didn’t want to leave the city this weekend. you’re sure your mother would’ve understood but aemond dragged you out of the house before you had time to message her.

“we’ll have fun.” he simply answers.

“sitting in a room full of people for five hours?” you look at him, raising your eyebrows. aemond glances at you once again and shrugs.

“you’re right. but we’re already two hours in, we can’t come back now. not with this weather.” he shrugs and you sigh, defeated.

aemond turns on the ac, humming along to the song currently playing on the radio. “what plans did you have?” he asks after a while.

“i was planning on… studying?”

“which translates into going to a party.” he chuckles, but then his whole demeanor changes. “why don’t you trust me?” his question takes you by surprise and aemond is quick to elaborate. “i know that me marrying alys must have been weird for you.”

you giggle, turning your whole body in his direction. “what makes you say that? it is, perhaps, the fact that you’re way younger than my mother?” you don’t mean to sound so defensive but you’ve never approved of your mother’s choices of partners. not because you don’t like them but because most of them have been barely old enough to drink. it was like having younger siblings. you were thankful when she started dating older men—older than you, at least.

“that’s exactly why i want us to be friends.” his smile tells you he’s being honest and, for a second, he looks younger than his age.

“aemond, that is exactly why we can’t be friends.” you run your hand over your face, exhausted. having this conversation with him wasn’t in the list of things you needed to do. “having you as my stepdad it’s weird enough, just… don’t make it weirder.”

neither of you says anything after that and a part of you feels bad for talking to him like that, but the other one knows you can’t lie to yourself.

hugging yourself, you try to sleep until the trip is over.

you have the same dream you’ve been having since that fateful night a month ago when you decided to go to the kitchen for some milk, and ended up listening to your mother and aemond having sex.

it wasn't your fault, really, you were just passing by when you heard it. you froze, struggling between keep walking or get back to your room when you saw them through a crack in the door. he was behind her, one of his hands on her hip while the other one tightly grabbed her hair, hips smacking against hers filling the room with obscene sounds.

you stood there until her moans became louder, his movements became sloppy and you felt your slick dripping down your thighs.

that night you touched yourself at the thought of your stepdad fucking you for the first time.

it was hard facing them the next morning. as soon as you saw your mother in the kitchen you felt guilty, dirty. what kind of daughter does what you did? then aemond appeared out of nowhere, startling you by grabbing your hips. you immediately pulled away, his touch making you feel even dirtier.

that night you humped your pillow thinking about him. you were going to hell anyway.

“hey,” you hear aemond’s voice and his hand caressing your arm trying to wake you. “we can’t keep driving, the roads are closed.”

“you have to be kidding.” you groan, rubbing your eyes. there’s a big sing in front of you telling you exactly where you are: a motel.

“we’ll have to spend the night here.” he looks apologetic and you soften your expression, he is not to blame. “i got us the last room available.”

“great.” you mumble, getting out of the car. “just great.”

going up the stairs to the room, your heart starts beating faster than normal, only then realizing you’ll have to spend the entire night in the same room. you and aemond. just the two of you.

you’re one second away from telling him you want to stay in the car when he opens the door revealing something you definitely weren’t expecting.

your heart drops to the floor when you see one tiny bed—just enough to fit two people—in the middle of the room.

“i’m going to take a quick shower.” aemond says, leaving his backpack at the foot of the bed.

you change to the only pajama you brought—a silk and very soft sleepwear dress—because you thought you were going to be spending the night in a hotel by yourself. definitely not in the middle of nowhere in a tiny bed with aemond targaryen.

you immediately climb on the bed, covering your body with the sheets, when you hear him getting out of the bathroom. you peek a little, and see him with just a towel around his hips, drops of water dripping down his toned chest.

you hide under the sheets when he loses the towel, all the blood of your body going to your face and between your legs.

aemond hops into bed with you, careful not to touch your body with his but failing; you still can feel his silk skin brushing against yours when he gets comfortable at a considerable distance.

you try to think about a bunch of different things. the cold war. the big pimple your friend had last week. how cold it is. your mother with a disappointed look on her face…

“do you have to breathe so loud?” aemond complains, turning around until he’s facing your back. you can feel his breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine.

“oh if it bothers you i can just simply stop breathing, is that okay with you?” looking above your shoulder you see how his brows knit into a question as his confusion deepens.

“what’s wrong with you?” he sounds sad and hurt by your words. and for the second time in the day, you feel really bad.

“i’m sorry,” you say, closing your eyes. “this is not how i pictured my night and i’m cold. i get bitchy when things don’t go as i want them.”

aemond moves closer to you and your heart does a backflip inside your chest. he puts one of his big arms around your waist and without any effort moves you closer to him.

“wh—what are you doing?” you stammer. even swallowing is hard.

“you said you’re cold,” you don’t see him but you can hear his smirk. “and we don’t want you to catch a cold, do we? besides, i’m trying not to fall from this stupid tiny bed.”

you don’t say anything. instead, you try to regulate your breathing, once again thinking about the most disgusting things to keep you from thinking about the closeness between aemond and you, and how inappropriate it is.

after a while of thinking about the gruesome and injustice of the both world wars, you finally give up.

“i’m sorry.” you say softly. but aemond doesn’t say anything. you don’t know if he’s sleeping or not but if you don’t say it now, you would not say it again. “i didn’t mean to speak to you like that.”

“mmh.”

“i, uhm, would like that.”

“like what?” he asks, confused.

“to be friends.” you shrug, very, very aware of the closeness. “we shouldn’t hate each other.”

“i don’t hate you. never did.” aemond moves a little bit closer, his chest now in direct contact with your back. “we should get along… for the sake of your mother.”

you open your eyes, big with surprise and guilt. your mother who’s probably wondering where you are, if you’re safe, meanwhile you’re in bed with her husband.

“this isn’t right.”

“yeah, this bed is too small.”

however, neither of you tries to do something. in fact, you move closer. aemond slips his leg between your own, and you part them to give him access while your heart beats so fast you think you’re seconds away from throwing up.

you try to sleep but aemond’s closeness and arm wrapped tightly around your waist only helps to feed your fantasies. he, however, falls asleep in just a couple of minutes, and you try to ignore his slow, regular breathing on your neck and how that makes you feel, but you are weak. and a terrible person. because you can’t stop picturing aemond turning you around and taking you right there on the bed, calling you a good girl for taking him so well.

you know the thoughts you have about him are not normal but aemond hasn’t left your mind since the moment one of your best friends introduced him to you. you were mesmerized by his sharp jawline and smart ass, and to say that the long scar across his left eye didn’t make an impression on you is to tell a lie, because it only added to the growing attraction.

you had time to get to know each other a little bit, in the few occasions you bumped into each other at one of the many parties your best friend was hosting and who, you learned thanks to aemond, was dating jace—his nephew, before your mother came into the picture, and you were forgotten.

however, that doesn’t mean that the attraction you felt for aemond vanished, you simply ignored the weird feeling when you saw them kissing after he dropped her home one night.

you don’t know how they met, but you know aemond didn’t know you were her daughter until he visited your home for the very first time and saw you walking down the stairs. he tried to talk to you about it but you never gave him the chance, and eventually he stopped trying.

maybe it would’ve been easier if you had slept with him, that way he would be out of your mind by now. instead, you keep touching yourself at the thought of him and his grunts as he was fucking your mother, you keep replaying the way his hips were moving and smacking against her ass, you keep picturing yourself giving him that pleasure.

you try closing your legs but his leg between your own makes you wince at feeling the friction it creates. you slowly move your hips, trying to feel it again, and when your clit makes contact with his thigh you have to bite your tongue to hold your moan.

you close your eyes, guilt overtaking you. but only for a moment.

“aemond?” you whisper, looking over your shoulder to make sure he’s sleeping, and when he doesn't answer, you take a deep breath, cursing yourself for what you’re about to do.

you slide your hand down, spreading your folds and feeling how wet you already are. you bite your lips to muffle the moan threatening to spill from your mouth as you play with your cunt, barely sliding two fingers into your entrance. your other hand follows the same path, circling your clit with your middle finger, images of aemond’s face buried between your legs making you squeeze your eyes shut.

you try not to move too much but it becomes really hard with every passing minute, and as your desperation grows, so do your gasps and whimpers.

adrenaline courses through your body, something you’ve felt before—at night when you laid in bed, legs spread wide open touching yourself at the thought of him. but with aemond in the same bed, his warmth emanating from his body to yours, his arm around your waist holding you tightly against his chest… that is what pushes you closer to the edge, what makes you start moving your hips against his thigh seeking for something to give you more pleasure than just your fingers. it’s slow at first, afraid it will wake him up, but aemond seems to be a heavy sleeper because there’s no hair out of place, not even the slightest change in his breathing.

you roll your hips with more confidence, hands squeezing and pinching your breasts. but it is still not enough; you need him. carefully, you reach down and place a hand over his, moving it to rest on top of your breast. his hand is bigger than your own, and you wonder how would it be to feel his long, slender fingers in your dripping pussy or wrapped around your throat.

you drag your clit along his thigh, nearing your orgasm with every roll of your hips. you don’t notice you’re moaning aloud, until you feel aemond’s hand pinching your hard nipple, hot breath against your neck.

you shriek, immediately stopping. embarrassment and humiliation replacing the pleasure you were feeling just moments ago. you don’t move, you don’t talk, you’re not sure if you’re even breathing, too ashamed of yourself.

“so fucking greedy,” aemond chuckles, pinching your nipple again. “using me to get yourself off while i’m sleeping.” he grinds his hips against your ass, thrusting into you.

“‘m sorry,” you mumble, a shiver rolling down your neck. your whole body is on fire, a combination of shame and tingling pleasure.

“then do it,” his voice is low, and you can hear the smirk he’s wearing on his lips. aemond grabs your earlobe between his teeth, making you arch your back, a soft gasp spilling from your mouth. “use me just like you were doing before. want to hear those pretty sounds again.”

you swallow the lump in your throat, still not moving. you can’t. the voice inside your head keeps reminding you how wrong this is, how you shouldn’t have started something you shouldn’t be even thinking about. but your body speaks a different language, and aemond sees right through you.

“tsk,” aemond runs his tongue down your neck, and a new wave of goosebumps spreads all over your body. “suddenly you’re shy? or is that you like it more when i’m sleeping? hm?”

aemond presses his bulge into the plush of your ass, making you feel just how affected he is. you try so hard to listen to the voice inside your head but you are weak, as you’ve clearly demonstrated, and all it takes to shut that voice off is aemond’s hand sliding down, fingers expertly rubbing over your clit.

“it seems i’ll have to do all the work.” he nips at the soft skin of your thigh as his other hand makes its way to your neck, wrapping around your throat and squeezing ever so slightly.

“stop, please.” you blink repeatedly, trying to clear the haze from your mind.

“your mouth says one thing,” aemond spreads your folds, pressing one finger to your soaked cunt, making you squirm against him. “your body says another.”

your body betrays you while you’re still fighting against what you want and what is right.

“stop thinking about it.”

you really want to pull away, but your body screams for him. and you do it.

you start moving your hips, closing your eyes to focus on the feeling of his fingers rubbing your clit as your pussy clenches around nothing. your hands go to your breasts, taking your nipples and pinching, moaning when you feel the wet spot on aemond’s clothed thigh.

“use me, fuck yourself on my thigh.” he moves his leg up adding pressure to your needing hole. “just like that… good girl.” you throw your head back, giving him access to your neck. he bites and kiss and licks, leaving marks behind. “can’t stop thinking about how perfect this pussy would feel wrapped around my cock.”

aemond pushes one finger inside you slowly and you inhale sharply, one of his fingers feel like two of your own, yet it’s still not enough to alleviate the ache you feel deep within you; so you desperately search for his wrist, digging your nails into his skin, silently asking him to go deeper, faster.

“what’s that?” he teases you, leaning in just a little closer to whisper directly against your cheek. “use your words, baby.”

“want more, p-please.” you whimper when he inserts a second finger, immediately curling them upward. aemond brushes that spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars behind your eyes. but before you could let go, he pulls his fingers out, rolling you onto your back.

“want me to fuck you until you can’t take it anymore, is that it?” aemond asks you, climbing on top of you and spreading your legs apart. when you don’t answer, he presses his clothed cock against your soaked cunt. “don’t you know it is rude not to answer when someone speaks to you?”

“so-sorry,” you don’t even try to hold back the gasp escaping your lips.

aemond grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “answer when i speak to you.”

“yes,” you exhale shakily, hips bucking furiously against him. “i want that… yes.”

“nah,” he gazes at you for a moment, then shakes his head. “be a good girl and use your manners.”

“want you to fuck me… please, daddy.”

aemond growls, pressing his lips against yours. it’s soft at first, both of you still insecure, waiting for the other to change their mind at any second; kissing feels a little too intimate. but when he thrusts into you, dragging the tip of his cock just right over your clit, making you wrap your legs around his waist, every coherent thought goes out the window.

he breaks the kiss, pulling away enough to get rid of his sweatpants. “you have no idea how much i’ve been thinking about this.”

your heart beats faster at hearing his words. knowing that you’re not the only one with those sinful thoughts makes you feel less anxious, it isn’t better for either of you but you’re already deep into some twisted shit, there is no turning back, so, at least, you can allow yourself to fantasize a little.

“you knew what you were doing when you decided not to use panties to bed, uh?” aemond looks into your glassy eyes, aligning himself with your entrance, gathering some of your slick before pushing inside, slowly and carefully, giving you time to adjust to him. “went to bed thinking about this.” he pants, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from thrusting into you.

it hurts, he’s stretching you to the point where you have to hold onto him, nails digging into his back while your mouth hangs open, moans falling from your lips.

“so big,” you gasp, following his gaze down where your bodies meet.

“you can take it, baby” he says, hooking your left leg up higher which allows him to slide in some more. “look at you, taking daddy’s cock so well.”

you feel so filled already, and aemond is barely halfway in.

aemond leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek, warm and soft. his lips slide down until he’s kissing you again, tongue violating your mouth with such desperation and rudeness that your head is spinning trying to focus on two things at once.

he thrust into you fully, making you cry out. you feel him so deep inside of you, you are sure you can see the outline of his cock in your stomach.

you squirm beneath him, whimpering and moaning with his tortuous pace, the cold from the silver chain around his neck touching your cheek every time he slides his cock in, a welcome feeling against your hot face.

you can’t think about anything, you don’t remember why you were so anxious about or why you shouldn’t be doing this. there’s no thought in your mind besides how good he’s making you feel or how obscene the words he’s whispering in your ear are.

“tell me,” he grunts, pounding into you so hard you have to bite your lips to stop yourself from screaming. “since when have you been wanting me to fuck you?”

your eyes flutter shut, head thrown back in pleasure. “since-fuck! since the first time—” aemond pulls out, until only half of him is still inside of you, and then sinks back in, making you whimper. “we met.”

aemond lets out a loud groan, violently slamming his hips, fucking you harder and faster. he holds onto your hip with one hand, balls slapping against your cunt, as his other hand moves down to rub over your clit.

“you look so pretty like this.” aemond coos, leaning in to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “taking my cock like the good girl you are.”

“daddy,” you don’t even have time to warn him before you’re cumming all over his cock, walls clenching around him and legs shaking so much they fall open by his side.

you are so warm and tight around him, that his dick twitches inside of you as he approaches his own climax. he fucks you through your orgasm until his movements are sloppier and he begins to grunt aloud, face twisted in pleasure.

then, aemond pulls out, letting out a low moan as he comes all over your stomach, hot and white stripes painting your body.

he collapses next to you, pulling you in closer. you just stare at each other for a while, not a sound coming out of your mouths, just heavy breathing and panting.

“you okay, baby?”

the pet name sends shivers all over your body. “i’m alright.” you shrug, giggling when he looks at you with a frown on his face. “i’m more than okay.”

“good. because you need a shower.” he says, getting off the bed and taking you in his arms, making you yelp in surprise.

aemond steals a kiss from you as he walks toward the bathroom, both of you still so high and lost in the moment to worry about what this means.

when you wake up the next morning, the bed is cold and empty, and you can no longer feel aemond’s arm around your waist. but, at the same time, you still feel him everywhere.

you smile, fingers pulling your bottom lip down, images of what you did the night before flashing through your mind, but as quickly as they came, the anxious feeling in the pit of your stomach also comes back, erasing the smile on your face.

you’re fighting hard not to cry when the door opens, revealing aemond carrying two cups of coffee in hands. worry crosses his face when he sees your expression.

“what’s wrong?” he takes two big steps, leaving the cups aside, and sits beside you. aemond places a warm, comforting hand over yours. but you can’t look him in the eyes. “hey,” with his free hand, he cups your face, thumb brushing your cheek. “we have a long way back home, if you want to talk… we can do that.”

you nod, tears in your eyes as you finally look at him. he has a soft expression, reassuring you that everything it’s okay, even if he doesn’t believe that himself.

tags: @namelesslosers. @teamaemond. @abecerra611. @fleurriee. @vermithorn. @aemonds-fire.

#📮 ⌇ my works ˖⋆࿐#★. dark themes!#aemond targaryen x reader #modern!aemond #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen smut #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond smut #aemond targaryen scenarios #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #hotd imagine

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belovedspector · 4 months

Text

Love at First Sight's for Suckers (At Least, It Used to Be)

Pairing: Jake Lockley x f!reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Jake can’t help but notice you when you become a regular at his favorite diner.

Content: Fluff!

A/N: Title is from “I Never Planned on You” from Newsies. I’ve never written for Jake before, and I haven’t read the comics, so I don’t have much to go off of, but I figured I’d give it a shot. I hope I did okay! Enjoy! :)

Masterlist

Jake Lockley knows his place. He’s the protector of the system, keeping Marc and Steven out of harm’s way and doing Khonshu’s dirty work. He doesn’t have time for “earthly pleasures,” as Khonshu had once put it. He doesn’t really have a life outside of protecting his alters and the travelers of the night, and he’s fine with that. He’s content to lurk in the shadows if it means Marc and Steven getting to live their best lives. He treasures what interaction he does get, when he’s driving his cab through the city or getting food late at night after a mission. He tries not to dwell on it, though; there’s no sense in mourning what he can’t have.

Jake notices everything. It’s his job, to always be on high-alert, even when he’s not the one fronting. So, when you start showing up at his favorite diner every Friday night like clockwork, he notices. He observes from afar. From that first time you walked in, the bell tinkling to announce your presence, he’d been…interested in you. He’s not sure why—it’s not like you pose a threat. You should fade into the background, just like everyone else.

But, you don’t.

Jake can’t help but take note of everything you do—the way you always say your “please”s and “thank you”s to the waitress, your soft laugh, your sweet smile, the ungodly amount of sugar you put in your coffee. He’s good at watching people; it’s part of his job, after all, so he’s able to absorb you and your habits without drawing suspicion from you or anyone else. Some might call it creepy, but Jake means no harm, and he can’t help his…infatuation with you. He doesn’t know what’s happening to him.

One night, he finds himself rambling as he drives around the city. He likes to talk out loud to himself in the safety of his cab; it gives him a chance to make sense of his thoughts, and it’s not like he has anyone else to share them with.

He starts off by talking himself through the details of his upcoming mission, but he soon finds his mind wandering to bright eyes and the scent of coffee. You.

“She’s really something, huh?” Jake says to himself. “I—I don’t know what it is about her. I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“I think you humans call it a ‘crush.’” Khonshu suddenly appears hunched over in the back seat of Jake’s cab, and, if he was a less skilled driver, Jake absolutely would have crashed. As it is, he jumps almost imperceptibly in his seat, swerving the tiniest bit before regaining control of the vehicle.

“What?” Jake asks, not even sparing Khonshu a glance in the rear-view mirror. He’s used to the god’s antics by now.

“It appears you have a crush, Jake Lockley.”

“I don’t get crushes,” Jake protests. “Don’t have time for that shit.” He grips the steering wheel more tightly, the leather of his gloves straining against his knuckles.

“You’re right; you don’t have time,” Khonshu agrees, “so I suggest you nip this little problem in the bud, before it interferes with our work.”

“What, you want me to kill her?” he deadpans.

“No, nothing that extreme. I was going to suggest finding a new diner.”

“But I like that diner.”

“Then you’d best find a way to ignore the girl.”

With that, Khonshu disappears, and Jake mutters some choice words about the bird in the quiet of his car.

It’s Friday night again. Jake sits alone at his usual booth—in the corner, with his back to the wall, so he can continually scan the entire diner for any threats. He alternates between sipping at his coffee and taking bites of his blueberry pie while scanning the newspaper.

The door opens, the bell ringing along with it, and Jake instinctively looks up.

It’s you.

Jake casts his eyes back down to the sports page. Khonshu had given him orders, and he intends to follow them.

His plan is going great. He’s not thinking about you, not even a little bit. But, shit, now he’s thinking about how he’s not thinking about you. Does that count as thinking about you?

Jake returns his coffee cup to the table with a little more force than necessary. He can feel a headache coming on.

Get it together, Lockley.

He looks up again to do another sweep of the interior, when he notices you’re not sitting in your usual spot. No, you’re…walking towards him. Surely, you’re just going to use the bathroom past his seat, right?

No such luck. You stop at his booth, standing awkwardly with your hands clasped in front of you.

Slowly, Jake moves his eyes from his newspaper and allows them to find yours. He’s never seen you up close before, and, God, you’re even more breathtaking when he can see the sparkle of your eyes and the way your lips curve upward into a soft smile.

“Um, hi,” you start, rocking a little on your feet. “Sorry to bother you. I was just wondering if you had a pen?”

Jake’s not very well-versed in pickup lines, but he’s pretty sure that can’t be one, right? He stares at you for a few beats, dumbfounded that you’re really speaking to him, before he pulls himself together.

He clears his throat and answers, “Uh, yes.” He reaches for the pen he always keeps in his jacket pocket and hands it to you.

He can’t help but notice the way your soft, warm fingers brush against his as the pen exchanges hands.

“Thank you!” you say, and you sound so sincere. “I just wanted to do today’s crossword. I’ll have this back before you know it.”

“Sure,” Jake forces out as you turn on your heel, back to what he’s begun thinking of as “your” booth.

He goes back to his own paper, definitely not thinking about you and your sweet smile and soft hands. It’s by complete coincidence that the next page he turns to has the daily crossword puzzle. He’s never been much for puzzles; that’s more Steven’s thing. Still, he takes a look.

Across 1. An infatuation with another person

It’s five letters. It can’t be anything other than “crush.” Jake groans. He scans the rest of the clues and notices they all seem to revolve around love. It dawns on him that Valentine’s Day is fast approaching. So, maybe the universe isn’t totally fucking with him, after all.

Jake has just about finished his pie when you come bounding over. You don’t wait for him to look up before you’re speaking.

“Thank you again!” you say, placing his pen back on the table near his coffee cup.

You’re already turning to go back to your booth, but Jake can’t just let you go. Screw Khonshu’s orders, he thinks.

“Wait,” he calls to you. He half-expects you to ignore him, to keep walking away, but you do turn around and take a step closer to him. Shit, now he needs to think of something to say to you. “That was, uh, fast,” he says lamely.

You beam at him, and it’s just about the prettiest thing Jake has ever seen. “Oh, yeah, I used to do them with my dad all the time, so I’ve gotten pretty good at them.” Your eyes drop to his newspaper that sits forgotten on the table, still open to the puzzle page. “Oh, do you do crosswords, too?” you ask, and you look like you’re genuinely interested in his answer.

“Oh, uh, not really.” Jake’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck nervously. Since when does he get nervous?

“Ah,” you say, nodding wisely, “you must be more of a Sudoku guy.”

“Uh, yeah.”

Great conversation skills, Lockley, he chastises himself.

“Well, thanks again for the pen. I hope I didn’t keep you from your Sudoku for too long…” You trail off, and Jake realizes, belatedly, that you’re waiting for him to offer his name.

“Jake,” he provides, putting on his most charming smile.

You smile right back, telling him your own name.

“Pretty name,” he remarks.

“Thanks, I got it for my birthday.”

Jake just stares at you for a moment before the joke lands, and then he’s laughing—like, genuinely laughing. He can’t remember the last time this has happened.

He notices you seem a little flustered. Maybe he laughed too hard? Maybe it wasn’t even a joke, and he just totally misread the situation? Maybe—

“Wow, I don’t think anyone’s ever actually laughed at that one,” you say with a slight chuckle of your own.

“I liked it,” Jake says honestly, as if you couldn’t already tell. Before he can second guess himself, he’s asking, “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

“Oh!” A look of surprise crosses your face. “Um, yeah, I’d like that. May I?” you ask, gesturing to the bench seat across from him.

“Please,” he says with a wave of his hand.

You slide into the booth as Jake gets the attention of the waitress and orders two coffees.

“Anything else?” the waitress asks, looking between the two of you expectantly, pen ready against her notepad.

“The pie’s really good,” Jake tells you. “My treat.”

You seem hesitant. “Oh, no, I couldn’t—”

“Come on,” he encourages with a smile.

“It is really good,” the waitress chimes in.

“Well, okay,” you relent. “One slice of”—you look down at the table to scan the menu briefly—“chocolate cream pie, please.”

“Coming right up,” the waitress says with a smile and a click of her pen.

The time passes quickly, and the conversation between you and Jake flows as freely as the coffee. All that’s left of your pie is an empty plate with a few stray crumbs. You’re laughing at some comment Jake made when you glance down at your watch.

“Shit,” you say, your brows furrowing together in worry.

“Everything okay?” Jake asks.

“Yeah, I just didn’t realize how late it had gotten,” you say. An apologetic look crosses your face.

Jake checks his own watch. 2:53 am. He really should be getting back home, so Steven and Marc can wake up in the morning without suspecting anything.

“Can I drive you home?” he offers.

“Oh, that’s okay.” You shake your head. “I’m just a couple blocks over.”

“It’s late. I’d feel better if I knew you got home safely.”

“You’re sure it’s no trouble?” you ask hesitantly.

“Not at all,” he says with a smile. He’s smiled a lot tonight.

“Well, lead the way,” you say as you both exit the booth.

Jake throws a wad of cash on the table—more than enough to cover the coffee and pie—and walks you to his cab parked out front.

“You’re a cab driver?” you ask, sounding intrigued.

“I am,” Jake says as he opens the passenger’s door for you.

You pick up right where you left off at the diner, intermittently giving Jake directions to your apartment. He doesn’t want the night to end, but, soon enough, he’s parking in front of your building.

You start to unbuckle your seat belt but pause and turn to him. “Hey, can I borrow your pen again?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Jake says, digging it out of his pocket and handing it over once more.

You take it with a smile and reach into your pants pocket. You pull out a crumpled napkin and quickly write something before handing both the napkin and pen to Jake.

Jake looks down to find your name and phone number written on the napkin.

You smile, looking a little shy. “In case you want to see me before next Friday,” you explain.

Jake doesn’t even think about the implication that you’ve noticed him at the diner every week, just like he’s noticed you. No, he’s too excited about the fact that you want to see him again, maybe even to go on a proper date. He hopes you can’t tell that he’s blushing in the dim glow of the cab’s ceiling light.

“Good night, Jake,” you say, finally unbuckling your seat belt and opening the door.

Normally, he’d do the gentlemanly thing and open the door for you, but he’d been too caught up in this surreal moment. Next time, he thinks, because there definitely will be a next time.

“Good night,” he echoes, still in a bit of a daze. He watches as you walk up the stairs to your apartment, making sure you’re safely inside before he pulls away from the curb.

Jake will deal with Khonshu’s wrath over disobeying orders. It will be more than worth it, if it means getting to see you again.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to let me know what you think! :)

#moon knight #mcu #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #x reader #jace writes

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ultimateshixiongfuckertournament · 2 months

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Noncanonicals Tournament FINAL

This final is between Han Ying from Word of Honor (shizun/mentor: Zhou Zishu) and Fang Duobing from Mysterious Lotus Casebook (shizun/mentor: Li Xiangyi / Li Lianhua)

Propaganda under the cut! (Warning: Propaganda may include spoilers about the characters and their media)

Han Ying:

He idolized and was mentored by Zhou Zishu to the point of recruiting other young martial artists to revive ZZS’s dying sect and willing to die live happily ever after for it.

#han ying wants to fuck zhou zishu SO BAD#han ying#shizunfucker tournament

#my sweet ying'er wants to fuck zzs so bad he's gagging for it

#HAN YING HANDS DOWN#would have licked his boots if he asked

#han ying wanted nothing more than to officially become zzs's student/part of his sect#it was literally his dying wish that his brothers in arms may get to do that#he says several times in the show to zzs's very face that he's 100% down for dying for him#he swears allegiance EXCLUSIVELY to zzs and not the prince they're all serving#he comes up with bangers like 'if there is anything you need I will lay down my life with no regret'#'if you were gone one day how could I live alone'#'a loyal servant wouldn't have two masters in his life'#he sneaks into zzs's abandoned residence and homoerotically-#-strokes the painting of a flower that symbolizes a) zzs himself b) zzs's grief for being the lone survivor of his sect#and he wanted to join siji so so badly#it was his life's dream and he died IN siji but before getting to have that 😭#listen he makes me insane#anyway they should have fucked sloppy style and zzs would have had an out of body experience if hy called him shizun#my final thesis goodbye

#it's HAN YING#you could power entire nations with the power of that yearning

#han ying saw zhou zishu and IMMEDIATELY dropped to his knees are you joking#wen kexing immediately clocked him

#ying'er my sweet prince#he wants the dick so badly

Fang Duobing:

Fang Duobing has most definitely had several fantasies of being dommed by his shifu Li Xiangyi! He is also equally invested in marrying Li Lianhua - travelling the jianghu, going on rooftop moonlit dates, incorporating looking after him forever and ever into his general future plans. This is even before he knows that Li Lianhua and Li Xiangyi are the same person. Oh there are Layers to the shizunfucking. Where's that post about being so devoted to someone that it breaks the pedestal they're put on and comes full circle to loving them for the person they are? (its here: https://www.tumblr.com/difeisheng/733133489565745152/the-core-of-fanghua-is-built-around-fang-duobings) When they finally do get to know each other 10 years later, after Li Xiangyi's identity is found out, Fang Duobing insists on being equals rather than master-and-disciple! Li lianhua is Fang Duobing’s guide in the Jianghu! He leaves his house, dog and the only records of his unique martial arts to Fang Duobing before running away!! Fang Duobing’s most important agenda is to save Li Lianhua from slow death by poison!!! He doesn't care if Li Lianhua keeps leaving him behind and lying to him and is 'at peace' with dying!! They live together. They'll never be equals. They've been equals all along. They're zhiji. They're master and disciple. they're married. They're everything.

#this man wanted to fuck his shizun under two whole ass different identities#this man was given one million choices between his shizun and his entire cushy rich boi life and did not sweat the decision even once#this man was engaged to a princess - who was COOL - and went “no thanks i’d rather follow shizun around in a fantasy china airstream’

#this cannot not be fang duobing let's be serious#polls#he's been drawing hearts around his shizun's name since age 8

#Fang Duobing going through it for what he thinks is two different people but is just one guy#so he gets my vote easy

#pls he is head employee at shizunfucker.co

#han ying #fang duobing #word of honor #mysterious lotus casebook #zhou zishu #li lianhua #li xiangyi

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loveysloveclub · 6 months

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marys song - jack hughes

in which, you had always loved the boy next door.

your parents had been best friends with ellen and jim hughes long before you were ever born. so, it was no surprise that you had grown up alongside the hughes boys.

quinn was like an older brother you never had. he was the one you would run to when luke or jack were being too mean or when you had fallen off your scooter trying to beat luke in a race. he always took your side, even when you were in the wrong.

you and luke had been the closest growing up, since you two were the same age. he was your best friend. you helped him get girls and he scared away all the guys that were ever interested in you. you two stayed up all night, communicating through your bedroom windows. he was your partner in crime.

and jack? jack and you had always had a strange relationship. you had realised you liked him when you were six and he was hanging out with another girl that lived on the same street at you. her name was sally and you hated her guts from the second you saw jack tie her shoe lace. seriously, who even wore laces back then? it was all about the velcro.

age seven

you had found jack sulking in his backyard, kicking the grass with his shoed foot. you didn't know why he was upset, you were simply looking for luke.

"what's wrong with you?" you had asked him, your arms crossed and head turned up. you were quite angry with him that day, you had seen him kiss sally on the cheek during a game of truth and dare that you weren't allowed to play in earlier that week.

"no one here to play with me." he sulked, once again taking his anger out on a patch of grass. "where is everyone?" you had responded, slowly taking a seat next to him on the grass field. "luke got hockey and quinn at the movies with his friends, he said i wasn't allowed t come."

"why didn't you ask me to play?" you had asked the boy, who barely shot you a glance before shrugging his shoulders. "yous been moody all week."

you glared at the boy, "i'm not moody, maybe you just annoying."

"i'm not annoying, you're annoying!" he shot back, standing up from the grass and over you. you stood up just as quick, crossing your arms and standing on your tippy toes to seem taller than him. "you're always annoying me, jack!" you shouted.

jack rolled his eyes, "you should go home 'fore i beat you up."

jack would never have touched you, he was always threatening everyone with the same stuff. but you took it to heart anyways, tears filling your eyes. "i don't like you anymore, jack."

and with that, you were off back to your own home.

jim had watched the whole interaction with a small smile, he had an ongoing bet with your own father that you and jack were gonna end up together. it was all for laughs, something to bring up every christmas dinner.

little did he know.

age sixteen

you were practically bubbling with anticipation as you bounded down the stairs of your summer house, phone in hand with the text message from luke saying they had arrived on the screen.

you had seen luke all year, of course. but you hadn't seen quinn or jack since christmas last year due to hockey. you also knew that they had both brought some friends they had met through hockey, and had always had a thing for hockey players.

"bye mom! bye dad!" you yelled as you slammed the front door behind you and bounced over to the hughes household. luke had told you to just walk in, like you weren't already planning on it.

the hughes house had always been significantly louder than your own, you being an only child and there being three of them. but the noise that greeted you when you walked in was other worldly.

screams were heard, along with heavy footsteps as people ran around. you smiled to yourself as you crossed the barrier into the living room.

luke had an unfamiliar boy on top of him, holding a pillow over his head. jack laughed as he held back quinn, who was attempting to help luke. and two more unfamiliar boys yelled at the tv screen as they played some sort of hockey based video game.

"jesus, what in a warzone is going on here?" you laughed at the sight, and six pairs of heads snapped towards you. the boy on top of luke fell off him, as luke bounded to his feet and marched over to you.

"come on, holly. we're leaving these psychos to their own devices." luke stated as he grabbed your hand and attempted to drag you off to his room. but you stood your ground, ripping your hand from his before bounding over to quinn.

"quinny!" you exclaimed before enveloping him into a hug. the boy groaned at the sudden impact, before mumbling a small "hello bug."

as you released him, you turned to jack. the boy smiled at you and time seemed to stop. you hated how all this time and distance would never put your mind at ease when it came to jack hughes.

he opened his mouth to say something before the boy who was previously suffocating your best friend with a pillow intercepted him. "trevor. trevor zegras. it's lovely to meet you. have you seen the house? let me give you a tour." you had practically grown up in the hughes summer house, but you decided to not tell the excited boy that as you allowed him to grab your hand and guide you upstairs.

you turned back to look at jack, who already seemed to be staring at you. you offered him a shy wave and smile before turning back around.

no one seemed to realise how jack's eyes lingered on your retreating figure, no one except quinn who smirked at the sight.

he so couldn't wait to tell jim.

age twenty one

you mumbled small apologies as you pushed passed people in order to get to the authorised portion of the prudential centre. jack had just won his game with an overtime shot, and you were bubbling with excitement for him.

finally finding where you were supposed to be, you quickly flashed your pass before being let through by security. you passed many devils players that you had met over the passed year or two, offering them small congratulations.

you found luke before jack, crushing the taller boy into a hug before shaking his shoulders aggressively. "you were so good, lukey!"

luke simply shook your hands off him, his face stuck in a permanent fixture of smiles, before telling you he'd meet you at the car. you nodded your head before walking off, eyes searching for the middle hughes child.

when you spotted him, he was just wrapping up a conversation with his captain, nico.

"jack!" you exclaimed to get his attention, he seemed to look around aimlessly for a few moments before his eyes landed on you, a large smile overtaking his features as he began his trek in your direction.

upon reaching you, he wrapped his arms around your waist, "hey baby."

you smiled as you wrapped your own arms around his neck, offering him a kiss as a congratulations. his lips chased yours, but you were quick to pull away. laughing at his pout, "i'm proud of you."

the boy simply hummed before reconnecting his lips to yours. you pulled away again, "and i love you."

"i love you too." he smiled before reconnecting his lips to yours once more, groaning when you pulled away again. "and luke's waiting for us by the car."

and with that, you were dragging a sulking jack through the prudential centre.

#jack hughes #luke hughes #quinn hughes #nj devils #hughes #jack hughes x reader #trevor zegras

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lowtaperfeyd · 1 month

Note

lady Jessica x fem reader fluff pleeeease preferably before arrakis but idc

Moments

Lady Jessica x reader

author's note: I did combine two requests together due to their similarities. Bare with me when it comes down to writing fluff tho...

warnings: normal dune things.

wc: 996

It wasn’t a surprise to the residents of Castle Caladan to see Lady Jessica and her lady-in-waiting, (Y/N), walking around the luscious gardens of the castle late in the afternoon. Them arm in arm strolling past yellow, red, and orange flowers blooming in the cool air of Caladan, talking incoherently.

“Do you really think Paul is the Kwisatz Haderach?” (Y/N) questioned, knowing the plot that the sisterhood had been planning, “It’s a generation too early.”

“I do.” Lady Jessica responded, “He’s shown the signs. The reverend mother Mohiam is visiting later before we leave. She’s skeptical as well.” She added, poking a bit of fun at her partner.

“And if he fails the test?” (Y/N) asked, “Not saying he will or not.”

“Then I would be wrong.” Lady Jessica utter quietly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you doubt yourself about this.” (Y/N) chuckled, “and you using ‘wrong’ and ‘I’ in the same sentence. But if you are right about him, which you most definitely are, then he’ll be fine.” “That’s easier said than done.” she chortled

“You’ve taught him everything he needs to know.”

“That’s very kind of you to say.” Jessica said as she looked at (Y/N).

“You’re welcome.” (Y/N) added while turning her head to look at the woman beside her.

As they continued to walk around the garden, they spoke about what needed to be done on Arrakis, what needed to be brought, and what needed to be gotten rid of. It was rather domestic they way they mentally sorted through silverware and bits and pieces of furniture like an old married couple. Their lighthearted arguments of whether or not the ornate chess table needed to come along.

“You cannot just leave a gift behind on a planet we’ll never go to again.” Lady Jessica declared.

“A gift that was given almost a hundred years ago, my lady.” (Y/N) retorted, “and besides when have you or anyone here last used it?”

“The point still stands, maybe even more so.”

As well as soft affection to each other too.

Other people in the castle also noticed these interactions as well. Gurney Halleck once spotted Lady Jessica with her head on (Y/N)’s shoulder as they were furiously arguing about whether or not Paul should learn universal history or mathematics first. Lady Jessica’s augment won with the fact that Paul would one day be duke. And dukes need to know what caused several wars which spanned centuries. Duncan Idaho was privy to see them argue with each other too. He saw them in the expansive library debating Bene Gesserit tactics and plans, while their knees ever so slightly tapped each other, more than once and in while.

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

Everything changed once they got to Arrakis though. There were no afternoon walks because of the scorching sun, there were no more arguments on what should stay or go because there was nothing to leave, and there were no more soft moments spent that lingered because they didn’t have that time anymore. Only after the battle at the Arrakeen, traversing the desert to find safety, and finally meeting the Fremen would provide some form of sanctuary.

In Sietch Tabr, (Y/N) and Jessica were in a tiny bedroom they were given. Both of them had their hair messy and tangled, eyes set back into their faces with new purple eye bags now making their appearance. (Y/N) was walking pacing around their room, back and forth like a fish in a pond back home. Lady Jessica sat on the bed with her hands gently tucked onto her lap and one leg over the other.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” Lady Jessica asked.

“We all are,” (Y/N) remarked, “my tiredness doesn’t sum to the tiredness of the people and group.” As she continued pacing.

Lady Jessica moved back onto the bed so she was sitting in the middle of it. She crossed her legs over each other.

“Come here.” She said, “rest, even if it’s only for a minute.”

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks. She looked over to where the red headed woman was sitting. Her features lit up by the soft, golden light that seeped through thin cracks in the rocks. Her beauty was a thing that would always be captured in (Y/N)’s mind.

“Alright,” The woman whispered as she walked over to the bed. She sat on the bed and slid back until she could comfortably lay her head on Lady Jessica’s lap. (Y/N) took her hands and laid them on her stomach as the red head started to smooth her hand over (Y/N)’s head.

“What do you make of some of the Fremen calling Paul the ‘Lisan Al-Gaib’?” (Y/N) commented.

“I think it gives us an opportunity to give the people what they want and have been waiting for.” Jessica shared, “They, also, need a new reverend mother.” “Does this mean you’ll drink the water of life?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she swallowed, “I haven’t given it much thought yet.”

“You’ll need to go to the south, Paul will need to go too if you do decide to drink it.” (Y/N) whispered, “You’ll need to go either way after becoming reverend mother.”

“I know.” Jessica sighed out as she continued to brush her hand over her head, “But all that can wait for tomorrow, rest.”

(Y/N)’s eyes would soon begin to fall as they got more and more heavy. The soothing nature of Jessica touching her head made her feel calmer than she had felt in days. Her muscles slowly began to relax and her head didn’t feel as tight and weighted as before. It didn’t take long before her eyes were fully closed and she was asleep, asking in the presence of Jessica and the love that was between the two. But the last thing she felt was Jessica pressing a tiny kiss to her forehead.

#dune pt 2 #dune #dune x reader #lady jessica x reader #lady jessica #house atreides

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 5 months

Note

I don't know if you're taking requests, but I'll take a chance haha, I read His Girl and became completely obsessed with Garrick because of you haha, could you make Garrick possessive/jealous of the female reader he says he hates, pleeease?

Well... I caved in. As always it's not exactly as the request but still something along the lines. 🤍✨🫧

Silent worry

"These are the petrol stations for today, hand them out to the squads", Garrick dropped a stash of papers next to you. You frowned at him instantly, "Our squad is supposed to be on a rest this week", you grunted, flipping through his plan. "Things change, hand them over. The first squad is supposed to leave in fifteen minutes", Garrick said bluntly.

"No they are not", you say firmly, and Garrick instantly raises an eyebrow at you. "I'm second in charge. You run this shit through me. They are not ready and will not fly. End of the conversation, Tavis", you pushed off the wall trying to size him up but in all honesty, who were you kidding? The guy was at least twice your size. His power was lethal. He didn't listen to people ordering him around. Unless it was Xaden or someone from the upper management.

"I gave you an order. You're not gonna follow through?", Garrick leaned over you. You hated that the height difference allowed him to look down on you lime that. You bit the inside of your cheek. You knew that you had to follow his orders but this was unheard of. The same squad that was supposed to fly now had only come back hours ago. Most of the cadets were still asleep.

"I'm telling you that I don't agree with your decision", you said through gritted teeth, "As a section leader you should know better". That was enough to ear a growl from Garrick. "You're getting too comfortable in your own position", he snarled, "Forgot what tasting dirt beneath other's boots felt like so quickly?". You know that Garrick can see the hurt that flashed through your eyes. You flex the muscles in your jaw. No, you were not gonna break beneath this man's gaze.

"Knock it down you two", Xaden's warning voice boomed as he and Bodhi walked towards you both. You drop your gaze yet you could almost swear that Garrick was about to say something but he had chosen against it at the very last minute. "Why are you too bickering once again, huh?", Bodhi draped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him playfully but the tight smile on your face didn't ease. More anger, however, flared in Garrick's eyes. Gods, you were done with this. Pushing Bodhi's hand off you. You shoved the papers into Garrick's chest, "I'll form a squad myself and we will leave when I say that we leave", you hissed, sparing him one last look as you pushed past them.

"Was this necessary?", Bodhi asked as he moved to lean against the wall. "No one asked for your opinion, Bo", Garrick huffed as he looked down the balcony at you rushing down the stairs. "You're too harsh on her", Xaden mused. "We don't cuddle cadets, Riorson", Garrick bit back coldly. "Right, but she's a friend. A part of our close group, not some newbie", Bodhi noted firmly, clearly getting fed up with watching you two bickering back and forth no doubt. "She deserves better from you, man", Xaden tapped his shoulder as he turned to step away. As if Garrick didn't know that himself. But he wasn't grown on love. All he had was Xaden and then along the way, they found people they could trust. But emotions... Let's just say managing them had never been his strongest asset. "Fuck it", Garrick grumbled as he pushed away from the railing, turning to the stairs. Bodhi chuckled in the background, "Don't forget to tell her that you love her", he shouted from behind, only earning a vulgar gesture in return.

He had just rounded the corner when Chradh's voice echoed through his mind. Save yourself the running, she already left. Garrick let out a frustrated growl, How many did she take with her? There was a beat of silence. Three, others declined. Declined? How dare anyone decline your orders? The squads were as much under your command as they were under his. Before you blow up and embarrass yourself, she gave them a choice. No, he was going to have a long conversation with you when you came back and Garrick was more than ready to remind you just how you don't ask but give orders.

What he didn't know was that he was going to get long hours of waiting. Filled with nothing but self-sabotage. You should have been back a couple of hours ago. No matter how much he tried Garrick couldn't focus on anything. He was clueless in the class that he paid zero attention to. He didn't hear most of his friend's conversations. Training had taken some of the toll but only for that time. Only while he was punishing. One swift hook under another. The bag cracked through the seams. "Right, tiger, step aside", Bodhi called out but his joke didn't land and Garrick had him pinned against the wall in the blink of an eye. Xaden quickly cut in, pulling at his lifelong friend, "Outside now", there was no question in his voice, this was a demand.

Garrick rubbed his hands over his face. The cool breeze helped but it also reminded him that the sun was setting down. Meaning now it was way WAY past the time you were meant to be back. "She will come back", Xaden said calmly, "So whatever that's brewing inside you now", he gestured to his friend, "let go of it because she will be too tired to deal with your bullshit". Garrick knew that himself without anyone having to tell him.

"You know", Xaden moved to stand next to him, "You're miserable company when Y/N is not around". They both snickered quietly but Garricks's face glazed over first. "And whatever that you're thinking now is not true", Xaden cut In quickly, "Not that you deserve any praise but she likes you just the way you are", "Fuck you", Garrick muttered, turning away from his friend, "Violet made you soft as fuck". Xaden only smirked, "I would do anything for her. We both have sharp edges and scowls but they see right through it".

He sat in the courtyard after that. Glaring at the darkening horizon as if that somehow prevented the night from settling in. You humans are unbearable creatures Chradh mused. Ask her dragon where they are. A chuckle sounded, I enjoyed watching you sweat way too much to do that. Garrick was about to fight back as the sound of the wings filled the sky. It had to be you. It had to. All other squads were back. He had chucked dozens of times. The moment your blue dragon came in view Garrick nearly sank to the floor. You were seated. Your posture seemed strong. You had to be fine.

The moment everyone dismounted Garrick stepped forward. Crossing the distance between you two. Your dragon merely rolled his eyes. "You three are dismissed", he said bluntly to the cadets motioning for them to get on their way. They slowly looked among themselves before their eyes fell on you. "I said...", Gaarick started again but you quickly cut in, "Go you guys, I'll see you in the morning. You did great", you said softly, offering them a tired smile, that they quickly returned. Shooting Garrick a dirty look as they walked past, already engaged in a conversation of their own.

Your shoulders slump slightly, "Let's hear it", you sighed, clearly preparing yourself for Gaarick's harsh words. That flickered guilt within his chest. Had he genuinely been such an ass to you lately, that him getting angry was all you expect? Garrick stepped forward, his arms instantly reaching for your body as he wrapped you up in his embrace. Your body stayed stiff for a moment. The shock of the situation kept you paralyzed before you muttered, "Garrick?".

"Just tell me if you're hurt. Did you get attacked? Does anything hurt?", he pulled away abruptly, looking you over. Your eyes fall on his wind-swept hair, "Have you been sitting here all night?", you asked him softly. He lost a breath himself, halting before he nodded his head. Your face softened as you reached up to cup his cheek, "You didn't have to, everything is okay", "You were meant to be back hours ago and we separated like that and...", a string of frustrated words slipped past his lips. You watched him for a moment before you stepped forward, pressing your head against his chest as you squeezed him to you. Garrick lost a labored breath, his own body relaxing before he pressed a couple of loving kisses along your hairline. Tenderly stroking your back. You looked up at him, "Worrying looks good on you", you teased him softly earning an eye roll, "You sound like fucking Bodhi and Xaden", he huffed but his tight smile curved upwards as you softly giggled. "Come on let's get you fed and washed up", Garrick pulled you alongside him, his grip not loosening on you as you two walked towards the main entrance.

#garrick tavis #garrick tavis x reader #garrick tavis imagine #garrick tavis x you #garrick fourth wing x reader #garrick fourth wing imagine #fourt wing imagine #fourth wing x reader #iron flame imagine #iron flame x reader #xaden riorson x reader

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chaoticloving · 1 year

Text

Made a friend today?

harry styles x reader (SOH)

summary: Y/n asks harry to buy some pads, and of course, he gets spotted.

w/c: 2.1k

warnings: nothing but period stuff ig

a/n: my period is going to be the death of me but this photo is so precious

Harry got into London late. The plan was that Harry would go back to his place since it's three in the morning, then once he has woken up he would text Y/n to let her know he was coming over, ending with them being disgustingly cute together by cuddling on the bed and watching a movie together.

Instead, Harry got a text that caused his heart to beat to extreme levels.

Can you come over?

The text at any other time of day would make this completely different. But its 3 am on a Tuesday--she should be asleep in her large bed.

Obviously, he responded with a yes and sprinted out of the jet, pushing the boys out of the way which caused some swears and threats from the others. Harry continued to make his bandmates even more angered by taking one of the private cars ordered and gave the address to Y/n's flat.

Harry has always been the one to overthink. From conversations with people to punctuation, it's no surprise he started to think the worst. But one of the most troubling things was that he couldn't quite place what could be wrong. It wasn't an emergency and life threatening. And despite the fact that yes, he'll admit, his first thought was infidelity, it was squashed quickly. He was confident in his relationship, there was no need to worry about love in the relationship.

So what could possibly wrong ?

Harry jumped out of the car after throwing a wad of money to the driver--politely, of course, he's still a gentlemen--after saying a quick thank you. He ran right up to the door and started to knock.

He knew the knocking might freak Y/n out a bit but he was a bit too tired to realize, not to mention it was coupled with his anxiety growing in his stomach.

Eventually, the door was swung open. Harry was met with a tired, baggy-clothed Y/n, her eyes were squinted from the bright street lamps along with the skin under her eyes being dark.

"Harry--"

"Oh my god, are you okay? Dying? Bleeding out? Broken bone? I can call an ambulance, right now." Harry asked, hands shaking and tracing over Y/n's face and looking all over her body.

"No, Harry, come in." She smiled softly and guided her ever-so freaked out boyfriend into her home. She sighed heavily as she locked the door behind him and guided them into the kitchen. She had some candles and dim lights on in the kitchen, as well as some warm tea ready made. Marney and Sugar sleeping softly in their beds. "Sorry I didn't mean to freak you out with the whole ominous text."

"But whats wrong? Are you okay?" Harry's voice was laced with concern.

"I just missed you too much. " She sweetly answered, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his nose sweetly. "Plus I have the worse stomach ache ever and I need a cuddle. "

Y/n felt a little guilty for not telling Harry the whole truth. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed that she was on her period, it was the fact that she missed him. She felt a bit silly coming clean and saying that she couldn’t wait to see Harry was because of some hormone changes.

But Harry didn’t seem to mind, in fact, he seemed relived. He hugged her tight, “let’s get you to bed then.”

“After I finish my tea.”

“Right after though.” He kissed her lovingly and wouldn’t remove his arms from her which lead to her awkwardly sipping her tea.

They made small talk. Harry was talking about his concerts and the flight back, mentioning that he’s been writing again and is proud of what’s he got so far.

Y/n spoke on her recent interviews. She was in the interview phase of the movie process and she can’t wait for it to be over. All the questions were either the most basic question that could be asked or one extremely invasive—mostly pertaining to her relationships.

After a few more minutes if swaying and chatting, Y/n took the initiative to move them upstairs after she saw Harry yawn and his eyes drooping.

“Mhm, I’ve missed your bed.” Harry moaned as he collapsed onto the cozy bed.

“Get out of your airport clothes and brush your teeth.” Y/n scolded, making her own way to the bathroom. “I washed some of your stuff and it’s in your drawer.”

Harry groaned but complied. Stripping and leaving the clothes on the bedroom floor. He walked into the bathroom, grabbing his toothbrush and joining Y/n in the night routine.

As Harry looked at them in the mirror, he paid special attention to Y/n’s face. Her eyebrows scrunched and her hand would rest on her lower stomach. She seems to be in discontent, which spurred back on Harry’s protective mode. He did, though, have half a brain to wait to talk to her when

“Is the fan on?” Y/n asked as she stepped out of the bathroom.

Harry sighed when he saw it was. “Don’t know why you like to be so cold." He shivered.

"You get too sweaty."

They collapse onto her bed, Harry wrapping his arms around her waist. Y/n doesn't seem to like that--she shuffles around every few seconds, with Harry trying to touch her when she stops for a couple of seconds.

Y/n wriggled and crushed Harry's hand for the third time before he said something. "Are you okay? You've been off all night."

"Just my stomach." She sighed, finally resting on her side with her legs spread out. "Got the worse pain."

"Anything I can do?"

"Can you grab my heating pad? It's in the closet." Y/n smiled a big smile, which Harry rolled his eyes and got out of the bed and into the chilly air.

"Think ya ate something funny?" Harry asked from the closet, moving things around to find the device.

"Uhh, no ." Y/n started to think Harry would be grossed out. She mostly knew she was being irrational, but it was late at night so she was anxious (and on her period).

"Then what'cha think it is?"

"My period."

"Huh." Harry turned off the closet light, handing the heating pad that Y/n immediately turned on.

"My period."

"Oh." Harry froze for a quick second, then going back to slipping under the covers. "So you are bleeding out."

"Ugh, shut up." She lightly smacked. "Never should of told you."

"What? I'm being so supportive." Harry acted offended. "Not like I'm grossed out. Never was opposed to having some blood on my sword, anyway."

"Please shut up and cuddle." Y/n choose to ignore the innuendo. Back facing Harry, wanting to be the little spoon tonight.

Harry gently places his arms barely even on her, ghosting over her skin. "If I cuddle ya too hard are you gonna squirt like a ketchup packet."

"If you say one more thing I'm kicking you out."

...

The next morning was a living hell for Y/n. It felt like satan was personally living in her uterus and was trying to claw his way out.

"Do you think you could take Marney out for me? My stomach is still upset." Y/n asked when Harry and her both getting ready for the day. The morning so far consisted of Y/n and Harry cuddling each other in bed, but instead of being in a blissful state like Harry was, Y/n was dying.

"Of course." Harry answered, kissing her nose with his fresh minty breath. "Can you call your doctor or someone to get any help?"

"I just need some meds." Y/n sighs. Harry hugs her then placing a gentle kiss on the skin next to her eye.

Harry goes out of the bedroom door and greets Marmalade with a high pitch noise. She hears the door close and goes to one of her cabinets under her sink to grab a tampon. But, of course, Y/n grabbed the last one. She groaned in frustration, knowing that she needs to go get some more but was too tired to go to the local Tesco to grab some more.

She knew she would have to ask Harry to go out. She sighed and quickly inserted the tampon and washed her hands before leaving to the kitchen to make some coffee and get the pets breakfast out.

She poured the pet food into Marmalade and Sugar's bowl. Sugar came scampering in from the sunny corner of the living room to eat his food, purring a thank you when Y/n scratched behind his ears.

"Morning baby." Y/n smiled, going back to making some coffee to her and Harry's standards--Harry liked about a third of the cup to be coffee, the rest being some sugary creamer with even more sugar into it.

"Sugar, do you think Harry's mad I asked him to come here so late last night" She asked the cat, voicing her concerns only to realize how silly she's being. "Never mind. He loves sleeping over and seeing you cuties."

Sugar meowed in return.

"Think he would get mad if I asked him to go out again?" She questions, getting some ibuprofen for herself and swallowing the tablets with the coffee.

"I did just get him to take Marney out. Might piss him off if I keep ordering him around on our day off together."

The door opened, luckily when Y/n wasn't talking to her kitty, Marmalade's pattering feet came into the room to find Y/n, then rushing right over.

"Morning sweet girl." She gave Marney some scratched behind the ear and a belly rub. "Go eat your breakfast."

"Where are my head scratches?" Harry teased, grabbing his coffee mug and taking a drink of the "coffee". "How's the cramps?"

"Not good, but I took some medicine." She told him, then cleared her throat. "Can you do me a big favor?"

"Anything you need, babe."

"It's just that my stomach hurts too much and I know I keep asking you to do stuff for me and I am sorry. I just don't think I can be too far apart from the bathroom." She took a deep breath. "Could you maybe get me some stuff for me?

"Yeah, yeah, of course." Harry set the cup down and went to his the front door to put his shoes back on. "Period stuff?"

Y/n smiled, nodding. "Yeah. Thank you." Y/n hugged Harry and gave a quick kiss to his lips.

"Don't tear up on me." Harry laughed when he saw her worried expression. "I don't mind, I'm glad I can do stuff like this for you."

"You’re too sweet."

"I'll be back in a bit." Harry grabbed his wallet and waved goodbye to Sugar who was now by Y/n feet.

"I need to make him some pancakes, Sugar."

...

Harry has never been in this section of the store before, or at least he can't remember being here. He grew up with his mum and Gemma, so he's not stupid, he knows what a period is and he never thought of them as unclean or gross--he knew damn well that Gemma would fight him (and win) if he thought otherwise. Harry just never gave much thought to how this stuff works.

As he looked at the selection of period items, he wondered what the different numbers ment and was desperately trying to look it up online with no luck.

But then again, he would much rather be looking at the period products then the little tests just down the aisle.

"Are you okay, boy?" Harry looked up to see a concern older women with a teenage daughter--jaw dropped-- next to him. "You look really confused."

"Uhm, my girlfriend asked me to get her some stuff and I don't know if I should get pads or tampons or what the numbers mean."

"You men are so funny sometimes." The women chuckled to herself. "The higher the size, the heavier the flow it can take. Typically, 4 and 5 are night pads and 1 though 3 are day time ones. But at there is no harm in getting a higher size."

"Tampon sizes work the same way, just it is not recommended you sleep in them." She clarified. "Do you know if she likes tampons."

Harry shook his head.

"Alright. To be safe, get some pads; and if she is completely out, I'd say get a 5 and 3."

Harry nodded, fully listening to the women, paying no mind to her daughter who was typing furiously on her phone.

Harry grabbed the two boxes and nodded. "Thank you for your help."

"Get her something nice too. Just so she knows you care."

Harry nodded and thanked the women, he turned to leave as he heard the conversation between the mother and daughter. "You just helped the Harry Styles with choosing pads."

"Who?"

"He's in the same band as that Louis guy I'm obsessed with."

"Ohh."

Harry grabbed some flowers and gummy bears before checking out. He practically ran out of the store to get back to Y/n, promising himself he would not let Y/n know about the conversation he had with the women.

...

He got back to Y/n, unlocking the door with a key Y/n gave him. He was met with a sweet smell of maple syrup. He took of the shoes and walked into the kitchen.

"Made a friend today?" Y/n laughed.

Harry looked like a dear caught in the headlights. "No." He gasped, going to look at what was on Y/n's phone.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #fetus!harry #harry styles x actress!reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fake social media #harry edward styles #harry styles x famous!reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine

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foliosriot · 6 months

Text

Scream

pairing: ghostface!noah sebastian x reader

warnings: talk of death and murder. brief knife-play. vaginal fingering. p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it, my friends). pre-kink. fear-play i guess. let me know if i missed anything else! 18+ only MDNI or i’ll block you.

a/n: (that one tiktok sound like-) “he was the best guy around” “what about the people he murdered?” “what murdahhhh”

tags: @starsomens @fvckmeorchokeme @cncohshit @concretenoah + everyone else who didn’t know they needed ghostface!noah in their lives ;)

masterlist

You will admit: the recent string of murders have had your guts twisted with fear and anxiety. Because what if it’s someone you know next? What if it’s one of your friends? What if it’s you?

It has been terrifying just trying to exist the past week and a half. Three people were already dead, and who knows when the next person would be found mutilated? The last one was just down the street from you, for fuck’s sake! What’s stopping that masked psycho from claiming every other life — including yours — on your street?

Nothing, you’re sure. Serial killers are hardly ever satisfied. And this one is absolutely fucking insatiable.

However, right now, it’s a little hard to think about a psychotic killer with your boyfriend looking the way he does. He’s standing in your little kitchen, a mug of tea in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his sweatpants.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea if you stay over, Noah,” you finally manage to say. Noah had asked if he could stay over for the night what felt like an eternity ago. You had struggled to comprehend what he had said, and were only able to respond when your best friend and roommate, Olivia, had walked up next to you.

“Why not?” Noah asks, his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion.

“There’s a murderer on the loose, remember, dickhead?” Olivia snaps at him. “I would rather not come back to find my best friend all dead and bloody, then adding you into the mix just to make it worse.”

Olivia had a family reunion she had to go to, something that had been planned in advance long before any of the murders had taken place. She wasn’t able to get out of it, nor was she able to convince her parents to let you tag along, even though they love you like you were their own. She was heading to the airport later tonight and coming back in two days.

You watch Noah shoot a glare at Olivia as he says, “Yeah, I’m aware there’s a murderer on the loose. But I, also, would rather not come back here to see my girlfriend dead.”

As Olivia is clearly gearing up to launch herself into a heated debacle with Noah, you stop her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Guys, I’ll be fine,” you assure them, hoping they can’t hear the waver in your voice. “After I take Olivia to the airport I’ll lock the doors and windows, turn off all the lights, then sleep with my dad’s old baseball bat next to my bed. Besides, Noah has a label meeting early tomorrow morning, so he should just head home to get some sleep for once.”

Neither of them look particularly convinced. But the mention of the metal bat seems to be enough for their tense limbs to relax.

This is the exact reason your dad gave you his bat when you first moved out, anyways. He wanted you to be safe and to protect yourself in case of an emergency. And this seems to be an emergency worthy of the beloved metal bat.

Olivia sighs dramatically from beside you. “Fine. The bat is better than nothing.” She returns Noah’s glare. “You better be gone by the time we leave for the airport in an hour.”

Noah clenches his jaw. “Got it,” he says.

With an annoyed grumble, Olivia turns on her heel and stomps towards her bedroom. Your boyfriend and your best friend have never really gotten along, simply because they both want what’s best for you and they both tend to believe they know exactly what that is. They butt heads a lot when it comes to you. Thankfully, they know they can’t have you without the other, so it’s become a resigned acceptance between them, however uncomfortable they may be about it.

You are finally able to relax your shoulders after you hear Olivia shut her door with a loud thud. Olivia is very overprotective of you and would just have you attached at the hip if she could. But sometimes her worry is suffocating. Like now. So you know she just needs a few minutes to herself before she gets on her flight.

“Did you have to be such an asshole?” you say to Noah.

“How was I being an asshole?” Noah fires back as he sets his mug down by the sink.

“You never seem to know when to stop antagonizing Olivia.”

“Well, excuse me for being worried about your safety. She’s not the only one who gets a say in this shit.”

“And you do?” you scoff, resting your hands on your hips. “So would you be okay with me unlocking every door and opening every window? Turn on each light so I’m just a fucking beacon for the murderer to come and get me next?”

Noah narrows his eyes as he stares at you. You’re now beginning to forget any thought of a psycho killer, and instead thinking of letting Noah stay tonight anyways. Let him keep you safe while also letting him do whatever he wants to you. The idea is very enticing.

“But if you don’t want that to happen, just stay the night, ‘cause I know you want to,” you encourage Noah, a small smirk making its way onto your face. “You’ll still be there for the label meeting. Olivia doesn’t have to know. Come over and keep me safe.”

Silence falls around you. Noah just continues to look at you with a dark gleam in his eyes, and you can feel a white hot knot beginning to coil down in the depths of your stomach. You shift slightly under his gaze.

“You’re being a brat.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you spit at him immediately, knowing with 100% certainty that he is going to make you pay for that comment.

“I will if you stop being a fucking brat,” Noah counters sharply. “Unless you want to keep being one, and end up being punished for it.”

You remain where you’re standing. You have zero intentions on obeying Noah, nor do you plan on dropping the bratty act. Noah loves it when you’re being a bratty bitch and defying his orders, even if he doesn’t outwardly say it. You know what it does to him, so why stop?

“Stay tonight.”

Noah doesn’t say anything. His eyes remain fixed on you, and you can feel the searing sensation of his irises roving over every inch of your body. You shift once more, hoping he doesn’t catch the movement, but you know he does.

“Come here.”

His tone is almost casual. It catches you slightly off-guard that he appears to be mildly bored, when he would normally be demanding you to approach. But you’re feeling defiant, because what is he gonna do if he doesn’t get dominant with you?

“No, I’m okay,” you say with a sickly sweet smile. “I’m not feeling very passive at the moment. Thank you, though.”

That earns you a glare. You can see the way Noah takes a grounding deep breath as his gaze darkens even more. You watch him cross his tattooed arms over his chest as he settles his weight back against the kitchen counter. He angles his head downwards, his eyes still trained on you.

God, is he trying to scare you? Because if that’s the case, he needs to rethink his fear tactics.

“I’m not afraid of you, Noah,” you practically scoff at him.

“Have I ever given you reason to be afraid of me?” he asks lowly. The tenor of his voice hums in your ears.

“No.”

Noah doesn’t say anything in response. He just continues staring at you intently, his dark gaze fixed on you wholly. You aren’t able to detect any emotion in his eyes or facial features. If you couldn’t see the subtle rise and fall of his chest you’d think he were a statue — a man carved from marble with numerous, intricate paintings spanning across the beautiful stone.

As the silence drags on you begin to grow uncomfortable. Noah staring at you isn’t what’s causing you discomfort; no, it’s the anticipation and sense of the unknown he’s letting fall over you. You roll your bottom lip into your mouth and begin chewing on the skin.

But then the corner of his mouth twitches upward. The action is sly and riddled with intention.

“Then I won’t start now,” he finally says. “Unless you want me to.”

His word choice is deliberate, each one laced with a level of teasing you don’t think you have ever heard come out of Noah’s mouth. He knows what he’s doing. And he knows it is finally getting to you in the way he had initially wanted.

“So what’s it gonna be?” Noah asks. His voice is firmer as he speaks. “You gonna come over here like a good girl … or will I be giving you a reason to be afraid of me? Either way it’ll be worth it, I’m sure. But hey, your choice, princess.”

Now, there is the commanding voice you had been expecting from the start. And your heart is pumping uncontrollably now. The pulse buried beneath the surface of your neck is throbbing and vibrating, making the blood roar loudly in your ears.

He’s giving you an obvious choice: admit you were being a brat and surrender. Or, run like your life depends on it. Because it might at some point, in a manner of speaking, you realize.

“Oh, but I don’t wanna scare you too bad,” Noah continues nonchalantly, like he’s talking about the weather or something. “Especially with that psycho killer on the loose and everything, y’know.”

You’re gonna kill him. He’s being a complete ass but being so unreasonably cool and collected about it. He knows he’s getting under your skin, burrowing further beneath your veins and tendons. It has you growing enraged and annoyed with his antics, despite that searing hot coil deep in your belly.

When Noah casually pushes away from the counter, you stagger back a few steps. His grin slowly grows as he makes his way in your direction. Your feet seem to be glued to the floor as Noah is now towering over you.

“You’re gonna pay for that, by the way,” he murmurs. He brings his hand up to your face, and grips your chin between his fingers. “But not tonight. You said it yourself, princess: I have a label meeting early in the morning.”

Noah uses his grip on your chin to tug your face towards his. Your lips meet in the middle, and Noah already has his tongue in your mouth before you can process what’s happening. And you have half a brain to kiss him back, but he’s pulled away by the time you manage to catch up. You can’t control the whine that bubbles up from your throat.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Noah says with a grin. “I love you.”

Then he’s stepping out of your space and leaving through the front door.

He leaves you breathing heavily. You nearly sprint outside and stop Noah from leaving when you hear someone walking up behind you.

“Oh, good. He’s gone.” Olivia’s voice nearly startles you. “I’ve got my stuff ready so let’s just go now. I don’t wanna get stuck in traffic.”

You nod in acknowledgement, but your brain feels fried. Your entire nervous system just got short circuited because Noah thought it would be fun to mess with you. He knows you want him to stay over while Olivia’s gone. And, you know he wants to stay over. So why did he just blow you off like that?

You don’t give yourself time to think it over before you’re following Olivia outside. You let Olivia drown you in conversation on the drive to the airport. She doesn’t appear to notice your weird behavior, or, if she has noticed, she doesn’t mention it.

But then she’s getting out of the car with her bags and you’re hugging her and you watch as she walks inside the airport and leaves you behind.

You feel like screaming.

The drive home feels like a blur. You wish you would be arriving home to see Noah waiting for you, but the house is empty. Annoyance strikes your intestines as you do what you promised initially: lock the doors, close the windows, turn off all the lights, put baseball bat at bedside.

It still feels wrong somehow. You want Noah with you, even though he has that meeting very early in the morning. In order to remedy his absence you tug on one of his sweatshirts before climbing into bed.

The next day drags on. Olivia had texted you when her flight landed and when she was reunited with her family. Noah had sent a good morning text and nothing else. You were growing increasingly angry as the hours ticked by.

You were off work today, so you had the entire day to do what you want. But your brain was vibrating with anxiety and had you stuck on the couch. You were able to get through an entire season of your favorite show, though! It still didn’t feel right.

The sun had long since fallen beyond the horizon by the time you’re rummaging through the kitchen to find something to eat for dinner. You settle on making some mac ‘n cheese, and get to work.

You’re pouring the small pot of hot noodles and water into the colander that sits in the sink when the phone rings. Another thing your dad had insisted on when you moved out: a fucking landline phone. You thought it was ridiculous, but you had humored him anyways by getting one.

With the noodles in the colander and the hot metal pot set aside you reach for the phone. You press answer and stick it between your ear and shoulder as you continue making your dinner.

“Hello?”

“Can I help you?”

“Who are you?”

“I dunno, who are you trying to reach?”

“I’m not sure.”

“That’s okay. Must be wrong number. Don’t worry — it happens.”

You’re quick to transfer the phone back in to your hand and end the call. Dialing the wrong number happens all the time, so the oddity of it doesn’t irk you.

Not until you have the mac ‘n cheese all ready a couple minutes later and the landline rings once more. You furrow your eyebrows as you go to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have dialed the wrong number again.”

It’s that same voice. There’s a familiarity to it you can’t quite put your finger on.

“It’s alright. I’ll let you go so you can try again. Third time’s the charm, right?”

You’re about to put the phone down when the person on the other end stops you, saying, “Wait! Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?”

“Why do you wanna know my name?”

“Just in case I accidentally call you again, of course.”

“Well, I’m confident you won’t. You’ve got this.”

“In the meantime, as I’m trying to remember the correct number, let’s play a game.”

You roll your eyes. “A game? Why?”

“‘Cause it’s fun,” the person says simply. “Plus, I think we’re friends now, so it’s only fair, isn’t it?”

“I guess…”

“Good. Answer a series of questions correctly and you win. Answer incorrectly, and I win.”

“What does the winner get?”

“Whatever they want.”

You consider this for a moment. Because what’s the harm in answering some meaningless questions from a stranger? But you find yourself anxiously rethinking your decision even as you agree.

“Good. I’ll give you a couple warm-up questions. Starting with: do you have a boyfriend?”

“I do.”

“Hm. Pity. What’s he like?”

“First you wanna know about me, and now my boyfriend?” You’re growing more and more irritated with every passing second you are on the phone with this person. “You planning on stealing him from me?”

“No, of course not. Just tell me about him.”

“Oh, my god. I’m hanging up now—“

“Hang up and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

The sheer aggression and violence that ripple through this stranger’s voice forces you to stop. The phone begins to gently rattle against your ear and you can’t suppress the shaking that overcomes your body. Panic is now flowing through your veins as you stand in your kitchen in silence.

“Good girl. Now, where were we? Right: tell me about your boyfriend.”

“Um, he… He has tattoos, a-and he’s really tall. Uh, he— He’s in a famous metal band, and—“

“Yeah? What band?”

“B-Bad Omens.”

“Oh, I know them. Don’t they sing that song Just Pretend?”

You nod, even though you know they can’t see you. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, that’s them,” you murmur.

“Well, let’s start the actual game, shall we? First question: your boyfriend was at a meeting this morning with his band and their label. Who’s their label?”

The question stuns you. You’re suddenly frozen in place and you can’t gather the air in your lungs to even breathe, let alone speak. How the fuck do they know that? Why do they want this information if they obviously already have it?

“S-Sumerian,” you choke out.

“Correct. Next question: what band member left before the production of their second album began?”

You now feel sick to your stomach. You suspect this has to be some crazed fan with an unhealthy obsession with Bad Omens. If that’s the case, they should know already know the answer to this particular question. So why are they asking you?

“Vincent.”

“Good. Final question: where am I?”

“Wh-What? What do you mean where are you?”

“Where. Am. I?”

Dread floods your body. “Are you in my house?!” you practically yell in to the phone speaker.

“Come find out. But if you find me it won’t count as answering the question.”

You’re quick to tear the landline from your ear and jab your thumb against the end call button then tossing it onto the kitchen counter. Your hands are shaking as you take a few steps away from it, silently hoping it won’t ring again.

But it isn’t the phone’s shrill ring that makes you jump. It’s a sound coming from somewhere else in the house.

Your fight or flight response kicks in immediately. You rush to flee through the front door when you hear slow, heavy footsteps coming down the hallway. They sound calculated and deliberate, and you have no choice but to stand there in terror.

From the direction of yours and Olivia’s bedrooms comes a dark figure. They walk out of the shadows and into the dining room. Their body is covered in a black cloak, with a hood up over their head and a white mask on their face. The mask is a simple depiction of a screaming face. But it’s not any less mortifying as you watch them.

The figure comes to a stop when they catch sight of you. Their head tilts to one side, almost they’re considering their next move of action.

But you move first, suddenly booking it for the opposite end of the house towards the laundry room, the extra bathroom, and the garage. You hear them give chase a moment later.

You scramble your way into the garage in hopes of getting the large door to slide open. But the masked figure is one step behind you, and prevents you from hitting the door controls. They have you tripping forwards, and you nearly face plant into the concrete but you catch your weight on your hands. You push yourself up just as the intruder goes to grab you.

Darting around your car, that still sits idly in the middle of the space, you are being taunted by the figure in the hood. They stay near the door back into the house which keeps you on the other side of the car.

Then they’re skirting around the vehicle straight for you. You make a last second decision and make a break for the door inside. The intruder races back after you.

The figure chases you down the hall towards your bedroom. You go to slam the door shut before they can reach you, but you didn’t anticipate their strength. They shove the door open all the way, making you scramble back to your bed. You’re panting as you scoot backwards on the mattress.

The black-cloaked figure says nothing as they slowly stalk towards you. Adrenaline in coursing through your veins and you’re panicking. You are rendered silent as they reach the bed and continue their hunt across the sheets until they’re looming over you. The white mask is haunting as it stares down at you with that soundless wail.

“P-Please… I-I don’t wanna die…”

No response. Whoever is underneath that mask does not seem interested in listening to your pleas.

One of their hands reaches back behind them and reveals a shimmering hunting blade. The metal is clean and shiny, and you can see your fear reflected back at you through it.

Their unoccupied hand goes for your shirt, and you flinch at the contact. Your heart is pounding relentlessly as your shirt is lifted from your body. You couldn’t help but be compliant, especially with how they’ve got you situated between their legs.

You watch as they point the knife at you, then have the fine tip poking at the indent at the center of your collarbones. The barely-there feeling of the cold metal on your skin is sending your brain into overdrive. They then slowly, lazily, drag the blade downwards across your bare chest. You see how they’re clearly enamored by the goosebumps flaring across your abdomen as they continue dragging the knife down, down down…

Suddenly, there’s a hand gripping your throat. But it’s not with the murderous intention you were expecting. Instead, there is almost a gentleness to how their squeezing your neck, with the way their thumb grazes your pulse point.

You’re horrifically confused.

You nearly say something to them, but they’re taking the hand holding the knife to their mask. And then they tug off the black hood and this is the end, oh god—

“Noah?!”

And yes, that is your boyfriend kneeling above you with a wicked grin on his face and a knife in his hand. The terror and anxiety you had been feeling begins to melt away, and you can feel nothing but anger and embarrassment.

“Told you I’d see you tonight, didn’t I?” Noah says casually.

It’s a struggle to comprehend his presence. You can’t understand why he’s doing this or why he thought it was okay with a murderer running rampant.

“Wh-What the fuck?” you stammer.

“Oh, what’s wrong, baby?” Noah takes his gloved hand away from your throat and uses it to brush aside the stray hairs that were clinging to your skin. “I thought you wanted me to stay over? Keep you safe?”

You did want that, yes. But this is not what you meant. Never did you say you wanted Noah to stalk you like he were the predator and you were the prey.

But you can’t stamp down the exhilaration that is igniting your insides. You can’t get rid of it, especially with how Noah is looking at you. You suddenly want to turn in to jelly and be completely and utterly obedient to his every word.

And that sort of terrifies you.

“I-I did, but you didn’t have to do this,” you tell him. Your body is slowly relaxing beneath the weight of his own, now that any imminent danger has been found folly.

Noah looks at you quizzically. “What do you mean?” he asks you innocently. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe and sound.”

Noah begins tracing lines across your stomach and chest with the blade’s edge once more, a careful hold on the hilt in order not to pierce your flesh. The sensation has your brain faltering and not fully processing his words. Your hands inch towards his thighs.

He notices your hands moving in no time. He doesn’t stop you and says nothing.

You slither your hands under the cheap black fabric, and you immediately grip at his legs. You boldly glide your hands upwards until you reach the waistband of Noah’s pants. Noah watches as you tug lightly at one of the belt loops, then going for the zipper.

“Did my little charade turn you on, baby?” Noah moves the knife under your chin and gently pushes up so you’re forced to make eye contact with him. “Did you like me chasing you?”

You nod. And you see him grin.

“Shit, and who am I to deny you?”

But you know Noah. He’s going to tease you and get you all worked up, have you in near hysterics before he finally gives you what you want. And he doesn’t seem to be in a very generous mood at the moment.

Noah drops the knife to pull off the entire costume. He tosses it aside before getting rid of his shirt as well. A part of you knows this is what he wanted from the beginning, when he first offered to sleep over. But you can’t be bothered by that, not when he’s moving back enough to pull down your pants.

When he gets your pants off, and they join the rest of the clothes on the floor of your bedroom, Noah drags his tattooed hands up your legs agonizingly slow. He stops briefly when he reaches the top of your thighs, but then he proceeds to dig his fingernails in to the soft flesh and tugs you towards him. You yelp in surprise and are promptly shut up when you find your legs slung around Noah’s waist and his hand resting at your throat again.

“Good girl,” Noah says quietly. The hand not on your neck has begun making its way to your clothed core, which earns a weak whimper from you. “Are you gonna keep being a good girl for me?”

You whine when his fingers start stroking at you through your underwear. You think you answer him, but you don’t care enough as you are now grinding into his hand.

For a moment, you feel Noah remove his hands from your body. You whimper and whine at the loss of touch, until his hand is back at your throat and there’s a sharp cold resting on your hip.

The knife harmlessly glides against your skin once more. Then the pressure from the waistband of your underwear vanishes, to be replaced by the metallic cold of the blade in Noah’s hand. It slowly travels down past your pelvis, making you jerk in surprise.

Noah chuckles at the way your body reacts. You almost begin bitching at him when the knife disappears and is then substituted for his fingers. And his fingers feel so much better against your folds than that stupid knife could ever dream of.

And he’s just lazily stroking, avoiding slipping any one of his long, tattooed digits inside of you. You try your best to grind back against his hand, but the one at your throat squeezes for just a moment. It makes you pause, whining at the unexpected dizziness you are now experiencing.

Then his fingers are inside you, stroking and rubbing and searching for that bundle of nerves deep within. You cry out at the sudden intrusion. But then you’re pushing back on Noah’s fingers and the pressure on your throat eases a bit.

“Such a good girl,” you hear Noah murmur. “Can you cum for me, sweetheart?”

You nod frantically and he thrusts his fingers harder into your pussy. You’re moaning and writhing at his touch, and then that same pressure is applied once more to your throat and it’s just too much. Your body clenches around Noah’s fingers and you ride out your orgasm as he slows down his strokes.

The feeling of suddenly being empty is overwhelming. But you don’t have to worry about that much longer when Noah maneuvers your body off of him and onto your stomach. You feel the bed shift as he moves, and the sound of him taking off his pants has you gripping at the sheets.

Then the bed dips from Noah’s weight and he’s suddenly right above you. His bare legs are caging in your thighs and his hands are gently roaming over the expanse of your back. You can feel his cock against your ass; it takes a little too much self control to not push back into him, although you end up failing.

“You look so hot like this, baby,” Noah says. His hands halt at your hips, and he’s digging his fingertips into the bone. “So, so good for me.”

Noah doesn’t hesitate when he begins pushing his hard cock into you and using your hips as leverage. You’re crying out and moaning weakly as he adjusts slightly and then bottoms out.

There isn’t any warning given before Noah is pulling out just enough then slamming back in. He sets a brutal but steady pace as he fucks you. Your knuckles are whitening from your tight grip on the bedsheets. You quickly become a moaning, blubbering mess beneath Noah as he keeps going and going.

He keeps hitting your cervix perfectly and it makes you see stars. His hands on your hips is currently the only tether you have on reality.

Suddenly there’s a hand in your hair and it tugs at the roots until you prop yourself up on your elbows. Noah’s grip on your hair is sending spikes of pain from your scalp all the way down to your shoulders. But each thrust of his hips is another tug on the strands of hair entangled in his fingers. It’s a mashup of sensations that has you chasing your high again.

“Ah— Ah—“

God, you’re so close. You need to cum so fucking bad.

“Ah, Noah—“

“Come on, baby,” Noah breathlessly encourages you. “I want you to cum with my name on your lips.”

And with that, your pussy is clenching around him and you’re coming with a cry of his name. Then his thrusts get sloppier until he’s coming inside of you. You feel all warm as you are filled with nothing but Noah.

Noah then pulls out and the feeling of his cum dripping out of you is definitely the best thing you’ve ever experienced.

His hands are then forcing you to turn over and rest on your back. He straddles your weak body, and the sight of him above you like that makes you want to go again.

“Such a good little slut for me,” he says quietly. His chest is heaving as he drags one of his hands upwards, starting at your stomach and stopping at your tits. He palms one then the other, playing with each for but a moment. “Always so good for me, baby.”

Silence settles over you while Noah continues to just touch you. It’s calming and has your eyelids growing heavy.

But there’s still something that is gnawing at your brain. And you have to say something.

“Are you the killer?” Your voice is fragile when you verbalize your question.

It doesn’t seem to bother Noah, though. His hands are still wandering and touching you as he seems to process what you said.

“Yes. Does that scare you?” he replies. His eyes dart up to meet yours, and the dark glint has your heart pounding. “Do I scare you?”

You don’t have an answer for him, so you remain quiet.

“Are you afraid of me?”

He’s referring to what you had talked about yesterday. A part of you wants to yell out and tell him you are utterly terrified of him, that you cannot fathom the horrific atrocities he has committed. You can’t stand the thought of how much blood stains his hands. The hands that are touching you, caressing every curve…

“No,” you whisper.

Noah’s mouth twists into a lopsided grin. Your answer seems to satisfy him, and you can’t help the satisfaction you also feel spreading throughout your chest.

“Good. I would never want you to be afraid of me,” he tells you as he leans down so your faces are parallel. “You’re mine. And I’ll get rid of anyone that thinks they can take you from me.”

thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated :)

a/n: happy halloween, my fellow noah whores >:))

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #scream au #ghostface noah sebastian #𖤐 #𖤐: writing

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