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rehfan · 3 months

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La Belle Dame avec Merci

Eddie Munson x Unpopular!AFAB!fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ readers only please - minor children DNI! – No Upsidedown; SLOW BURN; Eddie & Reader are both over 18; fake dating/relationship; reader is technically a virgin; mutual pining; Eddie has trust issues; emotional hurt/comfort; masturbation; emotional manipulation; reader is kinda shitty to Eddie; reader gets better; angst; more angst; Eddie’s mom is dead; small act of accidental physical violence; Uncle Wayne is the best

Tagged: @bluestuesday / @ali-r3n / @winchester-angel / @iletmytittiestitty-russ / <— let me know if you want to be added!!

DO NOT POST TO ANY OTHER SITE. My words are mine and mine alone.

Inspired by @/hard-candy-writing ‘s ORIGINAL POST — I sincerely hope I do this justice.

1.8K words of Chapter 1 below (no smut yet - this is a SLOW BURN) — more chapters to come! AO3 link

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Eddie Munson was on your radar about as much as any other guy in school. That is to say, boys were people to avoid on the whole; whether because they were just cruel to you, or users trying to get you in bed, and therefore people to pointedly stay away from or - if it ever would happen - a dreamy-eyed boy were to come along and finally be kind, the fact remained the same: boys were an inconvenience at best, a source of torture at worst. Keeping your head down was the rule for every day. None of them wouldn’t have anything to do with you anyway, but some would actively jump out of the way in the halls all the while thinking themselves clever and funny by quoting Monty Python: “She’s a witch! A witch! She turned me into a newt! I got better…” An act somehow always followed by a cackle from their clique.

Of course, Eddie himself wasn’t one of these. He mainly kept out of your way, even though you shared a biology class together. You knew him enough to hand him a pen or pencil if he asked you for one in desperation, but otherwise, he kept to the theater club and his D&D group, Hellfire, and gave you a wide berth.

So it was a surprise to you when you received notice from the librarian that Eddie asked for a tutor in history. Ms. O’Donnell was a challenging teacher, no doubt, but you were one of her favorites and were currently in her AP History class. Eddie was in American 20th Century history and while it wasn’t your favorite part of history, you could still help him get by. You thanked the librarian and went looking for Eddie.

It didn’t take you long. The librarian simply pointed behind you. He was at one of the smaller tables in the middle of the space, doodling in a notebook. His leg was pumping a mile a minute and he looked bored. It must be his free period, you thought. You sat opposite him without asking and he looked up surprised.

“So when would you like to get started?” you asked, unpacking a datebook and pen from your purse.

“What?” He was genuinely thrown off guard, but soon regained his composure. This was some kind of trick. Had to be. He searched the room and discovered the table behind you was loaded with jocks and party kids. They weren’t looking at either you or him, but something still smelled off. He narrowed his eyes at you and waited.

“For your tutoring. 20th Century History? Ms. O’Donnell’s class? The thing you asked to be tutored in?” You clicked your pen. “When are you free?”

“What are you talking about?” he said, utterly confused. You had never spoken to him for any length of time before but there was something about the sound of his voice you found fascinating. The more he spoke, the more you wanted to hear. Even if it was him turning you down for your academic services. “I never asked to be tutored,” he said, insulted. “I’m not that stupid. I’ll make it through her class all on my own, sweetheart, m’kay?” He tilted his head and gave you a smart-ass grin.

“Well then why did the librarian give me your name? And why did she say that you wanted to be tutored?”

“I don’t know, princess,” he said, leaning forward, that grin still painted on his face. “Maybe she’s trying to set you up with the only guy in school who isn’t terrified of you.” This was not true. You did terrify him. Deeply. Your piercing eyes. Your pretty hair. Not to mention your rather distracting body. You were a fucking masterpiece and totally untouchable. The Impenetrable Ice Queen. The Queen who was now talking to him, the lowly bard. What was happening here? Doubling down on his declaration, Eddie leaned in even further and whispered: “I can be scary too, you know.”

Your spine stiffened. That was a shot across your bow you weren’t expecting. “I don’t understand. The librarian always keeps track of who the tutors are assigned to. If you didn’t put your name in for tutoring-“

Just then a group of kids behind you laughed. “Hey Munson! The Ice Queen? You getting desperate? Want to take your chances with the frigid bitch of Hawkins High?”

“Yeah man, hope you like cold fish!”

“And cold showers!”

You didn’t even want to turn around. From the look on Eddie’s face, you knew that it was the same group of people that hated him too - that is to say, almost anyone else in the school.

You closed your eyes and took a deep calming breath. “Jocks or preps?” you asked him.

“Looks like a mix of both,” he answered you and raised his middle finger at them all. Because fuck them, that’s why. He wanted to punch them all in the face. After all, they were also insulting you and face punching after someone insults a lady is expected, no? The knight errant in him was itching for battle.

“The freak found the geek!” one of them called.

“Shh! Quiet in the library or all of you can leave!” said the librarian. She stayed long enough to watch the big group behind you duck their heads and pretend to study their books. Satisfied that everything was over, she went into her office to answer the phone.

As soon as she was gone, it started back up again, just quieter.

“Hey Munson, be sure your dick doesn’t freeze and snap off inside her.”

“Don’t worry. She’ll probably cut it off as soon as he pulls it out of his pants.”

“And hey, Ice Queen, watch out Munson doesn’t have anything catching.”

“Yeah. God knows what that freak carries.”

”Probably what the green monkey had.”

“It’s so nice to know they care,” you muttered, your voice dripping with sarcasm. As you kept your gaze in Eddie’s direction, you saw his jaw clench and his eyes darken. You commended him for keeping his temper, if only barely.

In that moment, as Eddie was steaming and you were trying to let their words pass over you, you came to an important realization: you and Eddie were in the same boat socially. It was also then that you realized that Eddie might be the answer to your prayers. In fact, out of all the guys in Hawkins, out of every single male soul, he was likely to be the one person that you could co-conspire with - if he were up for it, that is.

And if you were honest, there was something fundamentally attractive about the metalhead. You enjoyed how he held court in the cafeteria from time to time. It took bold resolve to speak his truth to the entire school. And there was something about his eyes. The intensity behind them was magnetic. You didn’t need much more thought.

You leaned in, resting your elbows on the table. “How game are you?”

“Huh?” he said, snapping out of his murderous plotting.

You slowed your speech to match the speed of his brain: “How. Game. Are. You? Will you play along with me?”

He narrowed his eyes. He didn’t see where this was going, but it was better than being carted off to jail by Hopper on a battery charge. He was an adult in the eyes of the law, after all. He allowed his curiosity to override his anger. “A little improv, sweetheart? Heh. What do you have in mind?” He honestly didn’t know what to expect from you at this point, but he was seriously intrigued. The Ice Queen wanted to conspire with him. He was flattered.

“Just follow my lead,” you said, “and let’s blow all their tiny minds.”

Slowly you rose from your seat. Your skirt was long, almost to your ankles, but had a slit that ran to just above your left knee. You came around the table and lifted and parted the skirt, swinging your left leg clean over Eddie’s legs and settled yourself in his lap. Automatically, his hands were on your hips, sliding down to stop on your thighs, warm and firm. Eddie looked shocked for about three milliseconds, and it was a good thing he had recovered; if he were too shocked, you didn’t think it would sell the way you wanted it to.

Taking his face in your hands, you turned your head to place a gentle kiss to his cheek, another to his temple, and yet another to the side of his head near his ear. You were testing his waters. You could feel him tremble slightly, but he was holding fast. Good for him. “Follow my lead,” you whispered gently. Then you pressed a searing kiss to his lips.

Eddie’s brain shut off.

He responded to you much more respectfully than you expected; he kept his tongue to himself. In truth, he was still trying to recover from the shock of having you so close and pressed against him. All it would take would be you grinding your hips against his and he wouldn’t be able to walk anywhere without a book in front of his crotch.

The whispered “What the hell-?” from behind you was completely worth the risk of trusting the honor of Eddie Munson. The sound of the rest of them whispering to one another in amusement, fascination, and shock was also satisfying.

The kiss lasted a good thirty seconds or so when the bell rang and everyone gathered their things. You got up. As you gathered your datebook, you smiled at him. “See you in biology, lover.”

There was an extra swing in your hips as you left the library. You could feel Eddie’s stare and knew that his dumb grin was on his face.

You were wrong, however. Eddie was too in shock to react. Too overwhelmed by your energy just now. He stared in confused longing, swallowing hard, knowing he could never really have you and wondering desperately what he was supposed to do now that he knew what kissing you felt like. What having you in his lap felt like.

With that kiss, you knew that the Hawkins High rumor mill was going to spin so fast, it might set the school on fire. That much, you could have predicted. What you didn’t expect was how hot and bothered it had left you. The warmth of him you had expected. Even the plush feel of his lips was a foregone conclusion. But the feel of him - him beneath you and in front of you, his hands on you, his scent spinning around your brain. That was overwhelming. This was either the best idea you’ve ever had, or the worst. Unfortunately, only Eddie Munson could define that for you.

**************

CHAPTER 2 is now posted to AO3 and TUMBLR

#fanfic #writing #joseph quinn #joe quinn #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #fake relationship #la belle dame avec merci #lbdam #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #ao3 writer #slow burn

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bhaal-baby · 5 months

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Just a bit of Astarionx GN! Dark Urge angst. Hope you enjoy!

Sleep refused to take you.

You tossed, and you turned, counting backward from one hundred and back again, and still, you lay there, staring at an endless sky, exhausted and frustrated. You blamed the rock you’d accidentally placed your bedroll on for the night, or the slight chill in the air that caused your sore muscles to groan in protest, or Gale’s incessant snoring that you were going to have words about in the morning. But you knew in your heart that none of those things had anything to do with it.

It probably had more to do with the fact that only a few nights ago, you nearly murdered the man you love.

Every time you closed your eyes, you saw yourself waking up covered in blood and viscera. Dazed, confused, and most disturbingly, satisfied, the same way it had been with that poor bard back in the grove. Only this time, the blood on your hands would be even more precious. You imagined white hair, stained red, and a bloodied pale face, lifeless and still. You imagined the bravado with which he carried himself would fade away in death, his meticulously kept walls crumbling as your blade ripped through him. Would he look at you in hatred in those last moments, or would those crimson eyes be filled with only terror?

He is so, so afraid. Of everyone, besides you, who he ought to fear most.

You shuddered violently, blinking away the terrible thoughts that plagued you. Sighing, you stood up. If sleep wasn’t an option, you may as well take a walk to try and clear your head, and patrol the perimeter of your campsite, ensuring the safety of your traveling companions that had become so much like family. It was ironic, you thought, given that you were probably the biggest threat to their well-being as they slept peacefully by your side. You wondered not for the first time if it was selfishness that kept you traveling with them. Your companions were strong enough to stop the Absolute on their own. You knew that. They would all be safer without one who kills in their sleep and battles the dark thoughts that you do.

“Going somewhere?”

Astarion stood just a few feet behind you. One of these days, you swore you were going to put a bell around his neck. He was far too good at sneaking up on you.

“I thought you were asleep.” replied nonchalantly.

“An attempt was made, but truthfully, I’m still getting used to sleeping at night.” He shrugged. “When I saw you sneaking out of bed, I thought I’d tag along and make sure you weren’t off to sate some of your more bloodthirsty desires.”

His words sent your heart into your stomach. He must have noticed your gaze fall to the ground because he added. “Really, as long as your knife isn’t to my throat, I’m not too concerned.”

You knew that was meant to soften the blow that he never meant to land. Still, it hurt to be reminded of what he thought you were capable of. Not that he was wrong. You couldn’t explain your murderous nights any better than he could, but a part of you wished he never had to see you like that, let alone nearly becoming one of your victims. He had been so kind to you the other night, even as you writhed against his bonds, desperate to make minced meat of his pretty face. He had told you then that he didn’t hate you for what you’d done, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he saw you differently because of it.

You decided to change the subject. “I’m going for a quick walk. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”

“Ah yes, a quick nighttime jaunt through shadow-cursed lands. Splendid idea. Do you think some of those wretched shadows will invite us to tea?”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics. “We won’t stray far from camp.” You sighed. “I just need to clear my head.”

Something that looked like concern flashed across his features. “Of course, I’ll join you. Maybe we’ll even sneak in a cuddle afterward.”

His flirting rarely phased you anymore, though you were often unsure of his sincerity, even after the nights you’d spent together. You could tell that, to some extent, it was simply something he hid behind. He must have found it easier to be the charming man who could lure anyone with eyes into his bed than what he really was. You saw the hurt and the fear behind it all, even if he didn’t want you to. And after the other night, you knew with certainty that he was capable of so much kindness. Not many people would do what he did for you the night your urges almost took his life.

He walked beside you silently for a while. You weren’t sure what to say to the man when thoughts of accidentally butchering him kept you awake. You plopped down on a fallen tree, motioning for him to join you. You could still see the faint glow of the dwindling campfire a ways away, but walking was doing nothing for your nerves.

It was nice just sitting with him for a moment. Without words, without touch. Just being in his company lit something inside of you. He tilted his head towards the starless sky and you took the opportunity to look him over. He was beautiful, that was certain. In the moonlight, he looked like a statue, something carved by the most skilled hand.

“Something is on your mind,” Astarion observed, catching you staring.

You scoffed. “You mean besides our impossible task of saving the entire sword coast from the Dead Three? Or the tadpole burrowed in my brain waiting for an opportunity to turn me into a mindflayer?”

Astarion leveled you with a knowing look. “Yes, besides the obvious. Now tell me what it is you’re stewing over in that pretty head of yours.”

You didn’t know how to answer him, but he deserved something from you. “I just wanted to thank you. For the other night.” You stared at your boots, sighing deeply. You could feel your cheeks warming. The words didn’t do it justice, but you didn’t know how else to show him what his actions meant to you.

He looked taken aback for a moment. “Oh. You needn’t thank me for that. It’s not as if I wanted to meet my grisly end at your hand anyway.”

You caught his gaze, fighting the hurt that threatened to well up inside you. “But it was more than that.” You protested. “When you had me tied up, you could have killed me. You probably should have. You would all be safer that way.”

Astarion’s easy expression morphed into one of shock. “I wouldn’t – I couldn’t.” He stumbled over his words, for once seeming unsure of how to react. He took a deep breath. “I meant what I said, you know. We’ll find a way to save you.”

Your heart clenched at the look on his face. It was softer than usual, almost vulnerable. You fought the tears welling in your eyes. “But at what cost?” It was almost a whisper. “How many innocent lives will I take before then? What if I hurt you?”

Astarion took your hand in his, and lifted it to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss on the top of it. “I won’t let that happen.”

The gesture sent a pang through you and the tears began to fall but he continued. “You are the first person I’ve ever truly cared for and I am not going to let this take you from me.”

The sincerity of his words struck you. He meant that. He cared about you. Maybe as much as you cared about him. Maybe more, because if you truly cared about him that much you’d go far, far away so he could be safe. “Astarion, none of that will matter if I kill you. You can care all you want until my blade finds its way into your throat and then that’s it.” The words came out harsher than you wanted but you knew you were right. He wasn’t safe with you.

“I am not afraid of you.” he said, reassuringly squeezing your hand.

You jerked your hand away suddenly. You didn’t miss the way he flinched as you did so. The man had been through too much to die by the hand of the one he cares about most. “You should be.”

You stood up, turning to leave, when his hand shot out to grab your arm. You tried to shrug it off but he held tight. “You don’t get to decide that for me.” he hissed. His voice was harsh and almost angry but when you turned to look at him you could see the hurt in his eyes. “If you don’t want me, that’s fine. But don’t you dare pretend that walking away from this is somehow for my benefit. I may not be entirely free yet, but for the first time in centuries I can make my own choices, and I’ll be damned if you take that away from me.”

You opened your mouth, stunned by the desperation on his face. You couldn’t find the words to say. You’d only wanted to protect him but instead, you’d hurt him by being self-righteous and overbearing. You had no right to tell this man, who’d known only slavery for centuries, what to do. “I– I’m sorry.” you choked out, taking a step towards him. “I didn’t mean to…” You trailed off, unsure what to say.

Astarion’s face softened, tugging you nearer to him. “Please,” he breathed, placing a hand under your chin and lifting your gaze to meet his. “Let me stand by you through this. We don’t even know if we’ll live through tomorrow with how things have been going. I don’t know what this is, or how it will end, but I know that I want to try.”

You could only nod, else the sob that had been building escape your throat.

Astarion looked at you and smiled, that charming smile that you were helpless to before leaning down and kissing you softly. It wasn’t like the other times you’d kissed, lustful and frantic, tasting your own blood in his mouth. It was gentle and lingering and spoke of a longing neither of you had the words for.

When his lips left yours, he pulled you into his chest, wrapping both arms around you tightly. “Now, how about that cuddle?”

Thank you for reading! Do let me know if you prefer this Y/N style fic or if a third person gender neutral "Tav" would be better! I was really torn on which way to write this.

#astarion x reader #astarion x dark urge #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #astarion fanfic

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brokebonewritings · 1 year

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can you do one where reader hasn’t ever dated anyone, or gone on a date and kissed anyone before bc of anxiety and being shy, and somehow you’re friends with matt and the gang (maybe from law school? idk) and foggy and karen keep telling you matt likes you but you don’t believe it until he tells you himself, and then you’re at a loss for how to proceed since you have 0 experience 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

My friend. Anything for you, especially since you’re my first request in a long time! So thank you so much! Hope you enjoy this little story 🤍

Sincerely, Anxiety.

Matt Murdock x reader

Tags/ Warning: Pure Cane Fluff

Word Count: 2.1K

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You sat quietly at the cafe booth you currently resided in. Waiting. Currently you’re waiting for your friends as they slowly filtered into the coffee shop. Karen joins you as she gets her coffee, the both of you catching up from the weekend. Foggy and Matt join 15 minutes later.

The lot of you sit around the table and talk about the previous week. Cases you are all working on, your families, dates. Not that you have been on any date. Your social anxiety was far too bad to do any of that.

“Okay, well we have to know.” Karen says. “Are you and Marci getting back together?” This was directed towards Foggy. His cheeks caught a tint of pink before he cleared his throat.

“I mean, I don’t know. It was just a date.” He replied.

You turn and give Karen a side eyed look before smiling. “So is there another date?”

“You guys suck you know that?” Foggy mutters. “Yeah, we’re planning a second date.”

Matt lets out a small chuckle next to you, as you shake your head and take a sip of coffee. You stare at the way his eyes crinkle out of the side of his glasses. It makes your stomach fill with butterflies. Focusing on your cup a little too intensely, you realize Foggy had been calling your name after a few minutes.

“Huh?” You look up from the cup “What happened?”

“Karen asked how your date went?” Foggy replied. Out of the corner of your eye you see Matt tense a bit. Karen noticed as well as Foggy. You sat in silence for a moment.

“I didn’t go.” You said quietly.

“What?” Matt said abruptly.

“Yeah, what?” Karen cleared her throat, in confusion.

“I just,” You start, rubbing the back of your neck. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I knew it would turn out bad.”

Now it was Foggy and Karen’s turn to look at each other in a knowing way. The dating conversation was dropped and everyone continued to finish their coffee. Once you are all determined to be done for the day you all part ways.

It was nice to see your friends almost daily. It helped that you all worked closely together. Karen, Matt and Foggy shared an office, and you worked right up the street in a PI office.

What wasn’t nice was torturing yourself by seeing Matt almost daily. Your hands were always clammy when you were near him. Heart beating slightly faster whenever you accidentally brush your hands. You really had it bad for Matt, and could you blame yourself? Yes, you always did blame yourself.

You and Karen walk through Central Park on a leisurely stroll. It wasn’t too often that the both of you got to hang out, so when it did happen it was nice. You both giggle as you make fun of Foggy and Matt the previous night at Josies. They had been arguing over what had happened on a particular night in college.

“What a great day for a picnic! This was a great idea!.” Karen exclaimed.

“Right? I’m glad you were able to come.” You smile warmly at her. “Especially without the boys.”

Stopping on the top of a small hill, you both begin setting up for your little lunch. It really was a nice day out. It was cloudy and the park wasn’t packed for once. The small basket was quaint, but nothing too fancy.

“You said you needed to talk to me about something?” You asked after a moment. The both of you continue setting out small plates and cups. She looks up for a moment, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear before clearing her throat.

“Right…” She starts. “It’s about the other day at the coffee shop. Foggy and I noticed that Matt looked surprised when I mentioned the date.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Did you tell him about the date?” She asks curiously. No. The answer was that simple. You didn’t know how to speak to Matt like a regular person. A big part of that was because you liked him. Another part was that you were too shy around him, and why would he be interested in someone that can’t even speak up at a bar.

“I didn’t think he would react the way he did.” You finally respond. Karen’s lips flattened, obviously she disapproved of your answer. You decide to ignore the look on her face as you pour the both of you a cup of lemonade.

“You know he likes you right?” Her comment makes you spill a little juice on the blanket. “Wait… did you not know?”

“Did I not know?!” You choke out. The reaction coming out of you was actually laughable. Honestly, how could you have known. The man likes to keep secrets, you knew he was good at it too. “He can’t possibly like me. I’m definitely not his type.”

“He’s got it bad for you, y/n.” She says. “Maybe you should just shoot your shot.”

“I don’t think he does though.” You admit quietly. “Even if he did the what if he rejects me?”

“He won’t.” She takes the small sandwiches out of the basket before putting one on a plate for you. “He talks about you constantly, and you know he doesn’t date anyone?”

“He doesn’t?” You take the plate and hand her a small bowl of salad in return. “Not even his infamous one night stands?”

Karen shakes her head and knits her eyebrows together. “He hasn’t spoke about that in a long time actually. Point is, he’s confided in Foggy about being smitten by you.”

The red tint on your cheeks didn’t hide the fact that you felt the same way. You very much were smitten by him too. However there was one thing that was holding you back. Your anxiety. How could possibly tell Matt that you felt the same way.

“Wait, why are you telling me this?” You ask, and she snorts in response.

“Are you kidding me? Foggy and I are kind of tired of the both of you dancing around each other.”

“You mean to tell me, that Mr. Confidence is anxious about telling me he likes me?”

She nods in response as she eats her salad. You focus on your own food for a moment before speaking up.

“I’ve actually never been on a date before.” You begin. “And I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Karen’s head flies up as she stares at you with wide eyes. “No way!”

You blush and nod. It really was never your fault. Your people skills in High School were very limited. Even after you entered college they were limited. Working as a private investigator helped a little but not a lot.

“I don’t even know where to begin in asking someone out.” You admit.

She considers the statement for a moment. “Then maybe we should come up with a plan.”

The smirk on her face says it all. For the rest of the picnic the both of you devise a scheme to tell Matt how you feel and a way to ask him on a proper date.

The week had come and gone in a flash. You all gather at Josies for your Friday night rituals. Same Table, Same Drinks, and Same People. Karen quickly takes a seat next to Foggy, which leaves you to sit next to Matt. You set your drink down before sliding into the chair. Matt looks over and smiles at you.

“Hey.” He says softly.

“Hi Matt.” You reply in the same tone. A blush slowly rises from your neck. The smile he gives you makes the butterflies that were in your stomach migrate to your chest. The warmth of his body sitting next to yours was comforting.

Throughout the night, everyone laughed and drank the woes of the work week away. Liquid confidence crawls through your vein, and once you have gotten enough of it you look at Karen and nod at her.

“Oh hey Matt! Y/n had something at their apartment for you!” Karen says abruptly changing the current topic. He raises an eyebrow before turning to face you.

“What would that be?” He asks curiously.

“Oh. Well, just a late Easter gift.” You stutter. “You’re still catholic right?”

Matt lets out a loud laugh which makes you smile. ‘Take a breath’ you tell yourself.

“Yeah, I guess I am still Catholic.” He replies. “Why don’t we go now. It’s getting a bit late.”

You nod, and give Karen and Foggy a smile. Of course in good Nelson manner, the other man gives you a thumbs up. Karen winks and mouths a quick ‘Good Luck’ before you and Matt stand and make your way out of the bar.

It's crisp outside. Not enough to need a jacket, but you could tell that summer was quickly turning into autumn. You both walk mostly in silence, besides the little jokes you both made to each other. It was crazy to think that the pining was mutual between you two. Outsiders could look and think you were already in a comfortable relationship.

Once you arrive at your apartment, you open the door and allow the both of you to enter. Setting your stuff on your counter, you offer Matt a glass of water. Happily he takes it and sit at your kitchen table.

“Wait right here a moment.” You say before disappearing into your room. Closing the door behind yourself, you lean against and take a big breath. Like you had been holding it in for ages.

You walk over to your small desk and retrieve the gift you had actually bought the day before. It was a small little box with a letter inside. Written in braille of course. Underneath the letter was a ticket to a candlelight orchestra.

Taking another deep breath, you step out from your room and head straight for Matt. He is waiting patiently in the same place he was before.

“Happy Easter, Matty.” You say quietly before handing him the small box. He grins as he takes it, opening it slowly.

His fingers gracefully take the letter out of the box before he sets it on the table.

“Braille?” He cocks an eyebrow. You nod.

“I wrote it myself.” A small smile forms on your face. Turns out learning how to read braille was hard. You had started it as a hobby a few years prior, and it finally came in handy.

Setting the paper on the table. His fingers glide over the page. You can see the smile growing on his face. Once he finishes reading your note, he turns his head in your direction. Anticipating his answer you forget to breathe.

“You like me?” He says shakily.

“Yeah, Matt. I really do.” You say with the rest of your breath.

His hand stretches out towards you and you grab his in return. You were shaking from the anxiety building up. He chuckles lightly when he feels the small tremors.

“And you want to go on a date with me?” You nod after his question.

“Only if you want to.” You let out.

“Of course I want to.” He says. “I’ve wanted to for a long time.”

“You did?” The realization was settling on your face. Karen had been telling the truth after all.

“Yeah and you know what Karen told me?”

“Hm?

“That you have never been on a date.” He grins. “And never been kissed.”

You were going to kill her. That’s on you though, she was the reason you were asking Matt out anyways. Your cheeks burned bright red as you stared at him.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Matt Murdock.”

“Me? Or will it be your anxiety?” He quips.

“Touche.”

The night went on until the sun came up. It was the longest conversation you had ever mustered the courage to have with him. Nothing was awkward about it either. It was like you both had been friends forever, which was somewhat true. Maybe this was the start of a huge stepping stone in your life.

Matt didn’t seem to be bothered by your anxiety anyways. He always knew how to get around the minefields in your head. That's what drew you to him to begin with. Hopefully the first date would turn into more. You could only hope.

Secretly you thanked Karen for the way she helped you ask Matt out. Maybe all you needed was that one simple push. When he finally decided to go home, he wouldn’t let go of your hand. It was like he had become attached to you.

“I promise I’ll call you later.” He says

“Or maybe we can get some coffee once you do wake up?” You suggested.

“It’s date then.”

“Okay fine. It’s a date.” You say with a smile pushing him out your door.

#request #fic request #marvel #matthew murdock #matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #getting together #fanfiction #fanfiction writer

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ryuichirou · 7 months

Note

Azul×Idia headcanons... hand em over, I wanna hear them all, every single one

(You're artsyle is so scrumptious it's not even funny❤❤❤❤❤❤)

Dear Anon! Sorry for the late reply. I am very happy you like my artstyle, and I am especially happy that you like Azul/Idia. They are our first twst ship, they are actually the first twst ship that we’ve written headcanons about, and our first post with them was almost a year ago?? That’s a long time, but I still feel like we just fell in love with these two lol

Just in case, here are some previous posts with hcs about them:

The very first one

Some more headcanons (+the ones about the Marriage AU)

The one with octo!Azul

The one about the overblot versions of these two

There are also some about Idia and the OctaTrio, but you can find all of them in the according tag (“headcanons”), so I won’t link them here.

As you can see, we have a lot to say about them lol, but it’s been a while since our last hc post about them, so I’ll give you some new ones! God I hope they’re new… I hate it when I accidentally repeat myself lol

They are an odd couple because both are allergic to sincerity and have a hard time opening up to each other. It’s almost like they’re afraid that if they say something honest and romantic, the other one is going to laugh at him. And to be honest, Azul is worse at it than Idia. Like, Idia’s initial reaction would be laugh it off and say that Azul is cringe (as a defense mechanism), but he would actually appreciate it a lot and maybe even open up in return. Azul, however, is absolutely terrified of being rejected for his feelings and sometimes has a hard time reacting to Idia’s own sincere moments. But he’s slowly getting better, I guess.

Despite that, Azul is actually quite romantic sometimes. If he falls asleep in Idia’s room, he clings to him, his long limbs, his warm hair. He is actually quite needy when he lets his guard down. But Idia learned not to comment on that, because Azul instantly gets embarrassed and super pissed off and sometimes even bites him :( Ouch

They actually argue quite often. And god forbid if they argue about something that can’t easily get googled and prove one of them wrong, because this petty argument is going to last for ages. Sometimes it ends up being an arousing thing for them, but Idia always comments on how much of a cliché it is to yell at each other and then make out passionately.

Their sex life used to be super awkward at the very beginning of their relationship, because they are basically a combo of a socially inept hikki guy whose kinks and preferences are super far detached from a real human life, and a merman who didn’t have legs or human reproductive organs only 3 years ago. So they weren’t even super into sex at first, it’s just too much mental and physical work, too awkward and embarrassing. That being said, they did have their early horny moments when they got really carried away and way too into touching each other.

After they’ve been together for some time though, sex is going to become less stressful, at least for Azul. He learns very fast, and he is obsessed with getting better, so Idia is going to be overwhelmed and fucked in all the right places at the same time lol But they still have these vibes of two awkward but horny nerds sometimes.

There are periods during which they don’t have sex at all, and barely even have any romantic interactions. During these one might even think that they’re just friends, since they seem to be very neutral in the ways they interact and talk about games and stuff. Idia doesn’t mind it, but it’s a bit wild even to him sometimes how not interested in sex Azul actually is…because when Azul is aroused, it seems like sex is the most important thing in his life lol I guess this is an animal within him.

They aren’t really into bdsm, but they’re one of those couples who fall into the d/s dynamics naturally sometimes for some reason. Mostly because Idia is very bratty with Azul and likes to tease him, and sometimes Azul gets pissed off and reacts in a very dominating and overwhelming way, and then all of a sudden things happen… Let’s just say that Idia got spanked more than one time.

#replies #azuide #azuidi #headcanons

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wisterialilies · 2 years

Text

Sweeter than Pudding

————————————————————————————————————————

Pairing: Gojō Satoru x Fem!Reader

Tags: Fluff, maybe some crack if you squint hard enough

Author’s Note: Ta-da! I present to you something loosely based off an irl experience! Ngl, feel like this had the potential to turn into a smut fic lmao. Anyways, hope you guys enjoy this totally pg-13 one shot <3

————————————————————————————————————————

“’Toru, what did I tell you about leaving your laundry laying around the house?”

You stand in front of your husband who’s lounging on the couch, scowling at him as your foot taps irritatedly against the floor. Satoru lazily glances up from his phone, then at the half-rolled up sock that’s pinched in between your two fingers.

Rather than being apologetic, he simply flashes you his usual shit-eating grin and chirps in reply, “Oh, must’ve dropped it on the way to the laundry room. Thanks for picking it up for me!”

Certainly, you hadn’t been expecting him to get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness for making you pick up after him for what seemed like the hundredth time, but for him to not even show a hint of shame, well… Satoru better thank the heavens that you didn’t drop that sock on his face right there and then.

As you take a deep breath, you can see him set his phone down, no doubt getting himself prepared for the onslaught of words that’s about to come. And with that, begins your nagging.

“Honestly, you have to stop tossing your clothes wherever! Not only are they unpleasant to come across when I’m just trying to go about my day, every time we have guests over, I have to scour the house to make sure there isn’t some stinky shirt or sock laying around. What if I accidentally overlook one? Do you know how embarrassing it’d be to have our guests see that? Oh, god forbid if they see your underwear!”

You shudder at the mere thought of the humiliation that situation would create. Satoru, on the other hand, simply gazing at you with an amused grin on his lips.

“I am your spouse, not your housekeeper. And you are not a child,” Yeah, you totally weren’t just thinking back to all those times your husband acted like a giant man-child. Also, is it just you or is he staring very intently at your face right now? “So please clean up after yourself! It takes you less than a minute from anywhere in the house to get to the laundry room. I swear, the next time I find any of your clothing laying around, I’ll-“

Satoru suddenly jolts up, startling you from nagging any further. He claps his hands as if he’s remembered something and you stare at him, wary of what the excited sparkle that’s suddenly appeared in his eyes mean.

“…What is it?”

“Looking at you reminded me that we have pudding in the fridge!”

Is that why he was staring at you so hard just a moment ago?

You raise an eyebrow in disbelief. “Me? What does looking at me have anything to do with pudding?”

“Because, my love,” He leans forward and gently caresses your cheek, holding your gaze with his striking azure eyes. “You are just the sweetest.”

Normally, you would have laughed at how cheesy that line was. But with how sudden his comment is and how sincere he sounds, you’re left both speechless and flustered.

As the wheels in your mind turn, trying to figure out if Satoru has some sort of ulterior motive behind those flirtatious words of his, he leans forward for a kiss. You automatically close your eyes and when his lips press softly against yours, you practically melt, all suspicious thoughts leaving your head in an instant.

But he pulls always all too soon, much to your disappointment. Then, with your gaze trained on him, half questioning and half wanting more, he swipes his tongue across his lips and remarks, “Sweet.”

Your face instantly flushes and you lightly hit his shoulder. “Ugh, I swear you’re such a tease, 'Toru.”

“It’s true though. After all, you’re my sweet and wonderful wife.” Taking your hand in his and turning it over, he places a light kiss on your inner wrist. Briefly glancing at the sock that you’re still holding in your other hand, he proceeds to give you a swoon worthy smile. “And because you’re my beloved wife whom I cherish so dearly, I sincerely apologize for making you clean up after me. Surely you can find some place in your benevolent heart to forgive me, hm?”

Ah ha! So that’s what he’s after. Look at this bastard, trying to charm you into forgiving him! But as much as you’d hate to admit it, it’s certainly working.

Satoru starts to pepper kisses up your arm and you quickly pull it away. You advert your gaze from his, well aware of how red your face must be. Clearing your throat, you do your best to sound as stern as possible. “Fine fine. You can stop with all that sweet talk now. I’ll let you off the hook this time. I’ll even be nice and put your sock in the laundry basket for you. But next time, don’t leave your laundry around the house!”

You point the sock towards him in a threatening manner and he simply chuckles, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Yes ma’am!”

Satisfied with his response, you make a swift exit from the living room and once you’re out of his sight, an extremely pleased smile stretches across your lips. Your husband may have said all those things just to save himself from some nagging, but that didn’t mean his words weren’t true. After all, you are the wonderful and deeply cherished wife of the strongest jujutsu sorcerer.

You pop into the laundry room as you wallow in the memory of your husband’s flattery, tossing the sock into the laundry basket.

What was it that Satoru said you’re as sweet as? Ah, right. It was pudding; sweet indeed.

…Hm?

Pudding?

You pause, cocking your head.

The last time you checked the fridge, there had only been one cup of pudding left. A cup of pudding that you had been saving to eat for later. A horrified gasp escapes your lips as you come to the sudden realization and you sprint towards the kitchen as if your life depends on it.

Surely your husband isn’t the type to eat something that’s already been claimed, right?

…Right??

Oh, who were you kidding? He’s 100% that type of person. If something in the fridge goes missing, he’s always the first one to blame. not like there’s anyone else to blame

Damn that Satoru! He had an ulterior, ulterior motive behind all that sweet-talking of his!

Skidding into the kitchen, your eyes dart around frantically to see if you aren’t too late in rescuing your precious dessert from the clutches of a certain white haired rat. Your gaze lands upon the said white haired rat who’s standing in front of the garbage can, half-way through tossing out an empty pudding cup with a spoon between his lips.

Time seems to slow down for a moment as you watch the cup fall into the garbage, clattering loudly when it hits the bottom. A silent scream erupted from inside of you.

Your pudding…!!

You haven’t even been gone for three minutes and Satoru already finished the entire pudding. Speaking of your husband, he seems to find your reaction to be quite funny. He takes the spoon out of his mouth with a ‘pop’, amusement twinkling in his eyes as he gives you a mock pout. “Aww, you caught on quick. And here I was, hoping that you wouldn’t find out until later tonight. The pudding was delicious by the way, so thanks!” He then leans forward, as if he has some big secret to share with you. “Oh, also, I take back what I said earlier. You,” Pointing the spoon in your direction, he continues, “Are much sweeter than any of the pudding out there.”

Whatever mighty thread that's holding your sanity together decides that now is a great time to snap.

“SATORU!”

The very next day, poor Nanami is subjected to an hour of listening to Satoru whine about how as a punishment for eating your pudding, you made him get kikufuku in the middle of the night. But the worst part was, he had to sit there and watch you eat all the mochi. Not even a smidge of cream was left for him! At that part, Nanami pretty much just tuns out everything else Satoru says and instead marvels at your ability to eat a whole box of kikufuku mochi in one setting. Well, that probably taught your husband to think twice before deciding to eat something of yours again.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #x reader #jujutsu kaisen one shot #gojo

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papercwipping · 1 year

Note

To Paper C.

this blog inadvertently led me down a path of self-discovery and I am freaking out every step of the way

When I first found the objectum tag (accidentally) I just thought “lol” and moved on; it would pop into my mind from time to time but didn’t really stick… until I stumbled upon you and your computerposting

And that led me back to objectum and I started thinking about it more and looking around the blogs and quietly saving your artwork to photos but I was still in denial— denial, that is, until I randomly started thinking “I think my computer is named Sir” or reminiscing upon how I see clouds so beautiful I start to weep and how all my backgrounds and icons are various pictures of clouds, and that led to “I should start treating my computers like friends” and “maybe I should start a blog about objects” and I’ve been flustered thinking about it for at least four hours now?? Like maybe I should do that and I should love the things around me like friends oh my gosh what am I thinking aaaaa

help

Sincerely,

Objectively Confused Anon

ohhh my Goodness this is probably the sweetest thing ive ever had sent to me auuuh

first of all, Hello !! im so happy that youre discovering things about yourself and finding comfort in My Blog of all places ! theres quite a bit of stigma and misunderstanding when it comes to objectum/objecto-spectrum identities and it always brings me HUGE joy seeing people being themselves both Proudly and Casually !

i dont know that im the best person to talk about the Objectum Experience ( ive only considered myself conceptum for a couple months! ) but i think an important step to understanding and accepting your feelings is to simply Be . let yourself Feel and love how you love ! if you want to befriend your computer, plants, the world around you, go for it !

id also suggest talking to other objectums ! which can be Scary, ( trust me i know ) but community is a big part of any Identity- there are a lot of different ways people align with being objectum, and learning more Can and Likely will help you figure things out smoothly :-]

never feel embarrassed for loving and finding Care for and humanity in the things around you - and Never forget that there are other people just like you everywhere, even if they dont necessarily identify as "objectum"

thank you for enjoying my art, im so Honored it/i could help you with this in any way and i hope you and Sir have a good rest of your day !!!

#✉️.txt #APOLOGIES IF THIS ISNT THE BEST WRITTEN RESPONSE ...#But im so A !!! this made my night !!#happy Pride Month to objectums posics and object-sympathizers #long post

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i-just-like-goats · 2 years

Text

Dazai. Reader x Chuuya

Summary: You finally marry the man you love

Warnings: none that I can think of

WC: 0.5k

Main Masterlist

Today was the big day or whatever clichéd phrase people liked to say. It was your wedding day.

But on this day, Dazai couldn't bring himself to feel happy. After all, you were getting married to Chuuya. So, pushing down his pain, he put on his best smile and strode into the room you were in.

“Dazai! I’m glad you’re here,”

“Well, I couldn’t miss your day. Though it does feel like me walking you down the aisle is rubbing salt in the wound, don’t you agree?”

“You know I didn’t mean it that way,”

“Just kidding! Come on, don’t frown like that. This is meant to be the happiest day of your life, even if you’re getting married to that insufferable, hat wearing, gravity manipulating, annoying-”

You laughed at Dazai’s comical expression of contempt as he ground his teeth in annoyance.

“Alright, alright Dazai, let’s go,”

With the brightest smile he’d ever seen, you held out your arm for him to take. Dazai stared at your face with fond longing. Rolling your eyes, you yanked him to you, causing him to stumble slightly. He shook his head slightly to snap himself out of his awe. You were no longer his after all.

The doors opened, and Dazai walked you down the aisle with a soft smile gracing his features. You’d be united with the man who made you happy, and even through the heartache, Dazai couldn’t ruin this for you, so he savoured this last moment with you.

Dazai nodded to Chuuya, as Chuuya nodded back. With another smile, Dazai turned to you. You smiled back and hugged him, and let go. Dazai watched you walk the last few steps by yourself to Chuuya. It hurt, but he was grateful that he could be there to witness this special moment.

You had completely forgiven Dazai long ago, after all, you did love him dearly and you still cared for him, but no longer romantically. Seeing him supporting the two of you even through all the pain he caused and is experiencing made your heart soften.

He watched as you gazed into your fiancé's eyes with all the love in your heart. He watched as you said your vows with sincerity. He watched as you embraced your husband and sealed it all with a loving kiss.

The reception was lively as expected of the Port Mafia, but Dazai couldn't bring himself to share in their joy.

He slumped at his table. Everyone else had left to join the newlyweds on the dance floor, leaving him alone.

Dazai shot up once he saw you attempting to break away from your guests, opting to walk in his direction. Blending in with the party and taking advantage of your preoccupied state as you apologised profusely, declining people's offers of dancing, Dazai slipped out of the venue.

With a sigh, he watched your bewildered face search for him, as he stood just outside the entrance. He felt guilty leaving like that so suddenly, but he watched as Chuuya looped an arm around your waist and he smiled bitterly, for that was all he could do. Watch.

A/N: that concludes this accidental series! I hope you guys have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed seeing your reactions to my writing!

Tagging: @satansfallengirl @hanakotateyama

#dazai angst #chuuya nakahara #nakahara chuuya x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya x y/n #nakahara chuuya x you #nakahara chuuya x y/n #bsd chuuya x reader #bsd angst #bsd x reader #dazai x y/n

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imperator-titus · 9 days

Text

Chapter 12 is up!

Note:

Thank you for the support as I write this fic! <3 Future updates may a bit slow as I try to FINALLY finish the game on my own. I am also in grad school, so I might be too busy for both the game and writing sometimes. I hope you enjoy! This chapter felt maybe a little too self-indulgent... End Note: The song referenced is The Evening Star by the band Tyr from the Faeroe Islands. I didn't want the reference to it to be TOO vague for the sake of… not putting song lyrics briefly in a fic. Originally, Rowan was supposed to accidentally make Odin a god and turn into a kind of Norse witch-like character, but that's SUPER indulgent/silly and I would end up spending way too much time researching Norse mythology and culture again.

Tags for whole Story: Astarion x Tav (Rowan, not reader, human, agender AFAB but lets the team refer to them as female), Canon x OC, Isekai, Angst, All the Vampirism Warnings (Blood, Biting, etc.), Sexually suggestive situations, Allusions/Mentions of Suicide, Memory Loss, Gender Dysphoria, Slow Burn

Chapter Text for those not on Ao3:

Rowan had big plans for the day. The group was going to defeat Ketheric, she practically considered this a fact. She felt like something out of legend, a witch capable of seeing the future. If only it came with cooler clothes…

It wasn't a pointed snub, but certainly a welcome excuse, that she ignored Astarion in favor of getting together everything she would need to create her biggest victory feast yet. There was a lot to do and little time to do it, there was no place for distractions of that magnitude.

“I would like to use the inn for a banquet, if you don't mind,” Rowan told Jaheira politely after getting the woman’s attention. The High Harper gave her a critical look as she added, “And I would have your people ready to assault Moonrise Towers, probably within, I dunno, an hour?”

“And how do you know this? Your friends said nothing when they passed through yesterday.”

“Let’s just say that I have my ways.” Jaheira looked over Rowan’s shoulder to where Arabella was introducing Withers to Mattis. Between the… man’s presence and Rowan's confidence, she was somehow convinced.

“Do with the inn as you wish. Harpers!”

The first thing Rowan did was gather the tieflings, as they wouldn’t be joining the fray.

“I sincerely request your help in making this a place for a proper banquet,” she told them from her perch atop a crate to make herself taller. “I would like anyone who can cook to help me with the food, I have some ideas that I would like to discuss with Rolan, anyone good with music could practice, and everyone else can clean this place up. Well, as well as it could be cleaned. And I can pay at least something for your time.”

Alfira and Bex were the most enthusiastic of those gathered, which she expected. Even the children were a little excited for a break in the monotony. And coin.

Much like how Rowan convinced Gale to enchant some trunks to stay chilled, she asked Rolan to enchant certain tables to be warm and another to stay cool. That way, all of the food didn’t need to be done at once. Bex helped with the cooking and turned into a shy mess when Rowan complimented her cookies.

Alfira would catch the human singing as she cooked and pressed her to keep going.

“No one wants to hear me sing,” Rowan told her with a laugh, constantly wiping sweat from her face and under her chest. Every now and then she had to walk out to the fountain and dump a bucket of water over her head.

“But they’re such beautiful songs,” Alfira would insist before attempting to write an accompaniment on her lute.

Tables and floors were cleaned, dishes made spotless. The children had fun decorating the place with things Rowan had been saving for such an occasion.

Rowan regarded the inn with pride. It had been practically transformed.

“If you all promise to pace yourselves, I think it would be fine if we started,” she told them after checking the time.

“Won’t that be bad luck?” Bex asked with an anxious look on her face. Rowan smiled at her so warmly that the look melted away.

“I have complete confidence that everything will turn out just fine,” Rowan reassured her and the others gathered around. “I give them somewhere between one and two hours before they start coming back.”

“They better hope it’s one, before all the drinks are gone!” Lakrissa cried with a goblet of wine already raised.

The inn shuddered with the sound of a resounding cheer.

“I’m sorry to be rude,” Barcus started, coming up to her after everyone split off into small groups, “but Wulbren wants to leave for Baldur’s Gate, so I should be going.”

“Are you sure? You’re more than welcome to stay with us.” Rowan was more than a little put-out, but she put on a brave face.

“I should stick with Wulbren and… well, he’s not going to stick around for this.” He was startled as Rowan placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him.

“Be safe, Barcus. Everything will work out, in the end.” Flustered, it was all he could do to say goodbye.

“Ahh, our diligent host once again!” Rolan called happily as Rowan made rounds of the inn to check on everyone. He offered her a cup. “Please, join me for a moment.”

Rowan thought about taking the cup, but held up her hand to refuse. Apologetically she said, “Sorry, can’t have wine. Wine doesn’t like me, I’m afraid.”

“That’s too bad,” he muttered, avoiding looking at her directly.

“I’ll find something I can drink,” she reassured him and, with a wink, added, “and then I’ll be foolish enough to have a dance.”

Rolan stammered, but when Cal and Lia snickered nearby, he turned on them instead. Oh, to have only one life and only so much time, Rowan thought as she walked away.

Probably more than one person who could remember Rowan’s words considered the possibility that she was more than just a simple human who liked to throw big parties for strangers and spoke a little strangely. No more than two hours after she began the festivities, the rune circle blazed as the victorious came home.

“Your friend has exceeded my expectations,” Jaheira remarked, waving a hand at the decorations around the inn. It was lit up with twinkling lights and garlands made of paper. Music could be heard under the sound of laughter.

“I don’t know that I have the energy for a party,” Wyll remarked with disappointment, “but I’m concerned how Rowan would take it if we didn’t enjoy her hard work.”

“Perhaps I can help with that,” Isobel said, preparing healing spells. Pain bled away and was replaced with renewed vigor.

“Now, if only there was a spell to replace a good bath,” Astarion said sourly. Gale started a motion, but Astarion smacked his hands. “No conjuring a puddle of water over our heads. Again.”

“Looks like Rowan brought our clothes from camp!” Karlach called out brightly, pointing to a few crates filled with their usual lounging clothes along with some buckets of fresh water, towels, and soap. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m willing to do a quick scrub if it means I can go tear into some grub.”

Not out of any particular charity, Astarion was one of the last of the group to have a quick wash-off and throw on fresh clothes. The festivities, everyone’s happiness, left a sour taste in his mouth.

Until he opened the box left for him. Inside was a wine bottle, its label painted over. Drawn carefully on it was a pattern in the shape of a star and underneath in a practiced hand was “Half-Dwarf Vineyard” and “Barrel-aged over 35 years.” The bottle was warm to the touch.

Underneath it was his shirt, the one Karlach burned holes into when man-handling him. He'd practically given up on it, at least until he summoned the energy to deal with it. The scorched edges had been removed and patched. The patches were hidden by white-on-white embroidery. To the wandering eye it was just leaves and such, but he noticed there was a sun, a moon, and stars.

Astarion huffed and put the shirt on carefully over his curls and pointed ears. It smelled nice from Rowan washing it. Uncorking the wine bottle released an intoxicating cloud of a familiar bloody perfume. He placed the bottle to his lips and took a hesitant swallow. Rowan’s blood, as warm as if it'd come straight from her neck.

When Astarion finally entered the inn, he did so quietly and subtly, hugging what shadows could be found. He watched as his traveling companions, the Harpers, and the tiefling refugees made merry. With the Harpers returned, there was a little more music than when they arrived. That and the drinks inspired most to dance.

Whether he noticed or not, his eyes followed Rowan, at least when he could see her in the crowd. She danced with anyone unaccompanied, a huge grin on her flushed face. Her step was clumsy, not even Wyll’s occasional lesson could keep her from making a mess of things. If Astarion had a heartbeat, it would've sped up every time she joined hands with someone new.

It was just good ole tavern dancing. She was being a good host, making sure everyone who wanted got a chance to dance. But the way Halsin laughed as she did a little circle around his unbudging mass, Gale had that charming easy smile, and Karlach lifted her by the ribs into the air with an unabashed cheer…

It didn't escape his attention that the tiefling wizard approached her, with a blush and shy smile, egged on by his brother and sister. Rowan of course obliged. They were awkward, stepping on each other's toes, but they laughed it off. Astarion nearly bit through his lip when Rolan tried to show off and dip his partner, but lost his grip and Rowan crashed to the ground. The tiefling cried out as if he’d dropped her into a pit of orthons, but Rowan just rolled on the floor, cackling until she couldn't breathe. Others laughed as well while Rolan made a show of checking her for any injury and being concerned that her face was turning colors as she failed to stop laughing. Eventually she stopped, got herself together, said something Astarion couldn't hear, and gave Rolan a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“Quite the party, huh, Astarion?” Shadowheart asked with a knowing smirk. Astarion nearly bludgeoned her with his wine bottle. She held out her goblet. “Mind sharing?”

“I don't think you’d like this vintage,” he snidely refused, glaring at her for sneaking up on him. “It's a little too… meaty.”

Shadowheart took the bottle from him anyway and inspected it. “Interesting concept. Rowan had Rolan enchant the tables to hold certain temperatures for the food and drink. I suppose she got him to enchant this too. Imagine what she could do as a wizard.”

“We already have an infestation of wizards.” Astarion snatched the bottle back even though she was offering it.

“I take it you haven't forgiven her yet.”

“I haven't had enough time today to even have a thought,” he answered with an angry sneer. More flippantly he went on, “Besides, why should I forgive her? What she did was worth a lot more than a shirt and some blood.”

Shadowheart sighed and took a sip of her wine. “I never know if you're the perfect actor or an imbecile. Rowan seems to not mind either way, so that doesn't answer anything.”

Astarion made a noise in the back of his throat as he walked away and made his way up the stairs. Along the railing he found Lae’zel sitting at a place for two, absolutely devouring what looked like an entire pig’s worth of meat. Did they really manage to pick up that much food on their travels? Rowan really was a genius to have Gale enchant trunks to keep food cold.

“Not one for dancing?” he asked as he sat down across from her.

“A waste of time.”

“Judging by Wyll’s fancy footwork, I would say it provides some advantages on the battlefield.”

“Hnn. A good observation. I will reconsider,” Lae’zel said thoughtfully before ripping off a strip of meat with just her teeth.

Some unknown amount of time passed without anyone bothering them. Eventually, Shadowheart came and insisted that Lae’zel join her downstairs, leaving Astarion alone.

It had to be well into the night before people started to slow down. At several points Astarion considered sneaking off back to camp on his own to get some peace, but something kept him around. He was committing to an exit once more when Alfira started up a tune that he didn’t recognize. That would’ve been even more motivation to become scarce, except he could distinguish the hum guiding her. The familiar voice rose in song.

Astarion made his way around the inn on silent feet. Every now and then, he could make out the words, sung with a peaceful sadness.

Days are long and nights are cold

In the heavens on high, is a light so lonely, the evening star that shines so far

I keep your memory in my mind, one day I’ll repay in kind

Oh would that I was home again and home was here

For so long as I’ve gone and so far I’ve wandered, the evening star to me you are

As Rowan started up another song with drunken enthusiasm, Astarion decided that he was finally done with the party. A certain druid apparently couldn’t let him go without saying goodbye.

“Leaving so soon? Rowan will think you didn’t have fun,” Halsin remarked, very clearly drunk. Apparently tonight was a rare night. Astarion rolled his eyes.

“She can think whatever she likes,” he responded with thick sass, waving his special wine bottle around. Looking the man up and down, he added in a sultry voice, “Of course, if you would like to have some fun, I have a few ideas.”

Halsin looked like he was about to refuse, but a grin broke on his face. “What did you have in mind?”

A lot of things, really. That he wanted to sink his teeth into that beautiful neck and drink more than Rowan could ever spare. He wanted to make the man beg for more. He wanted to be reduced to a whimpering puddle, unable to remember who he was. For the lingering touch of so many unwanted lovers to be washed away. To stop wondering if that song was for someone that wasn’t him.

When they were done, Astarion had trouble walking straight. It was something he’d thought about often, something he was convinced that he wanted, so why did it feel so… strange? Like shame, but that didn’t make sense. It was done for himself, he wanted it, he enjoyed it, and Halsin was well and satisfied too.

Apparently, the others had returned to camp without them, leaving behind a few tieflings and Harpers to close out the festivities. By the time they got back to camp, tent flaps were closed and only a few candles still burned. It was fortuitous; suffering the slew of jokes the group would have fired off could only make him feel worse.

Astarion’s ‘sleep’ was restless. More nightmarish memories of his time under Cazador’s control. Didn’t that handsome stranger promise that he’d be safe? No, that made no sense. This was the Szarr Palace. He’d returned without prey for his master and Cazador made sure Astarion understood just how much it hurt to fail.

“Don’t you love me, my darling boy? Don’t you want to make me happy? Why must you make me punish you?”

His whole body hurt. It felt like his brain would melt.

Without realizing it, Astarion was back in his tent, awake and sitting upright. The first of his senses to return was smell. There was the distinct metallic tang of blood, familiar and comforting. The second sense was hearing. Someone was outside his tent, but moving away from it.

He was alone, unharmed, but he could feel the fading effects of panic. Under his fingernails was blood, fresh, hers.

No one was outside his tent, but a few paces away was a puddle of… something, not blood, that glistened in the moonlight. A trail of footprints, barely impressed upon the ground, led to the edge of camp where they bathed and washed their clothes.

On silent feet, one of his most beloved vampiric gifts, he followed the track. He heard her before he saw her, softly cursing and sniffling. There she was, leaning over the wash tub, scrubbing something. Her naked form practically glowed in comparison to the darkness that surrounded them. Astarion couldn’t help himself, he stared a moment, taking in the parts of her he’d never seen.

He covered his eyes, turned away, and purposefully rustled a nearby bush with his foot. Rowan gasped in surprise.

“Please go,” she begged through shuddering tears.

“I don’t understand what this is about,” Astarion said, trying to mimic her gentle and reassuring tone, trying not to let on how scared he felt. To wake up in such a state, her blood on his hands, the signs of her hurried escape, finding her here, weeping, trying to scrub some stain away in secret. “Please tell me, Rowan.”

“I’m not mad at you, just please, please, I’m fucking humiliated.”

Shame once again washed over him. Astarion wanted to crawl back into his grave. Instead, he pulled off his shirt and, careful to not look at her as he walked over, offered it to her. Without comment, she took it. He started to walk away, but turned around. She looked so much smaller, drowning in the fabric of his shirt.

He didn’t know how much time passed before her quiet footsteps sounded outside his tent. They didn’t approach at first, but he could hear a soft scraping noise a few steps away.

“May I come in?” Rowan whispered close to the tent flap. Despite the hollow feeling in his chest, Astarion managed to answer loudly enough for her to hear.

She let herself in and placed his shirt, neatly folded, near where he was lying. There were four lines of scabs running across her face, two passing over one eye.

“I can’t have Karlach finding me in that, she’ll paint my ass red,” Rowan explained with a taste of humor. Tentatively, Astarion sat up, leaning on one hand. The necklace he gave her managed to glitter just enough to catch his attention. “Are you alright?”

“Am I all right?” he retorted in disbelief. In a hushed but agitated voice that betrayed his desire to scream, he growled, “I attacked you, and can’t even remember!”

“That’s not… really what happened,” she said hesitantly. Taking a deep breath, she went on, “I woke up because I needed to, well, piss out about a quart of whatever the hell Umi found in the bar that wasn’t wine, yeah? But there was a noise coming from your tent, so I came to check on you. You were thrashing around and kind of, well… whimpering, so I tried to wake you. And it worked, but it was like you weren’t there, just sort of… looking through me. You got real angry, said something in what I assume is Elvish, and swiped at me. I tried to avoid it, which sent me rolling out of the tent. That activated the spins from the aforementioned liquor, and- Well. I suffered some embarrassing but predictable side effects. So that is why I was cleaning up my clothes and as for the crying- Please don’t make me explain in any more detail, I might actually self-immolate from humiliation if I do.”

“I…” Astarion started before her story actually sank in. His body started to feel unnaturally light as relief pushed away his fears. Solemnly, he finished, “I thought I did something that I could never forgive myself for.”

“I meant it, I’m not mad at you. It was just too much drinking and a misunderstanding. Not the worst outcome of such a combination.” Sincerely, Rowan placed the tips of her fingers on top of the hand that was bracing him. “I want to tell you something very important and I need to know that you’re alright before I say it.”

His undead guts turned into knots. This was it, the nail in their friendship’s proverbial coffin. There were too many pretty, less complicated, and kind people for her to choose from and thus no reason to keep him around. Astarion only nodded, but the press of her fingers demanded he look her in the eyes. It hurt, but he did it. She showed him grace by lowering her eyes after seeing whatever it was she needed to see in his round, wet eyes. His fangs worried at the inside of his lip.

“I know that I loved someone- deeply, completely, without doubt.” She shook her head. “That’s not- This is hard.”

Rowan covered his hand more fully with her own. “I love you guys. You make me happy. You make me feel wanted and safe. Only one person ever made me feel that way. I love you, and I’ll always love you. I’d love you if you tried to choke me to death, or sold me for a laugh, but I don’t believe that you would. I’d love you if you chose to ascend or just threw Cazador into a pit of spikes.

“I will always love you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t get mad, or disagree, or refuse to speak to you again. You’ll always be in my heart, a piece of me, but I won’t set fire to myself just to avoid the pain of letting any of you go. I love you, and that means I don’t want you to set yourself on fire just to keep me around.”

Her voice was trembling by the end and when Astarion could muster the courage to look her in the eye once more, he saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. Despite them, she smiled. He was supposed to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.

“I should go back to bed. If anyone finds me in here, Gale will turn me into a sheep,” Rowan said finally, chuckling to herself. She patted his cold hand and stood. “Sleep better this time, Star.”

The tent felt so cold in her absence. Did the cold always bother him so much?

Raising his shirt to his face, he took a deep breath in. Her smell mixed with the perfumes he used to cover up the undead smell filled his lungs. Astarion never wanted to touch it again, so that it might keep that scent forever, but he knew that was foolish.

Was this what it was like to be loved?

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rehfan · 2 months

Text

La Belle Dame avec Merci - Chapter 2: Keeping Up Appearances

Eddie Munson x Unpopular!AFAB!fem!Reader

Tagged: @bluestuesday / @ali-r3n / @winchester-angel / @iletmytittiestitty-russ / <— let me know if you want to be added!!

DO NOT POST TO ANY OTHER SITE. My words are mine and mine alone.

Inspired by @/hard-candy-writing ‘s ORIGINAL POST — I sincerely hope I do this justice.

Chapter 1 Tumblr Link -- AO3 LINK — Masterlist link

Eddie was still in a state of shock until the second bell rang and he was officially late for English class. He crept in and sat near the back, your kiss still tingling on his lips, your thighs still in his hands, the weight of you in his lap causing other things to wake up. His knee thrummed under the desk and he could barely pay attention to the creative writing assignment that Mr. Hutchinson was talking about. It was all he could do to try and think of serious things to calm his dick down: accidentally slamming his fingers in the van door, Wayne chewing him out about cigarette burns in the carpet, things like that. The last thing he wanted was to pop a boner during class.

Please, dear God, not here.

The next campaign, buying more guitar strings for Sweetheart, slamming his fingers in the van’s door - again. Any thought he could manage that had nothing to do with the taste of your watermelon Chapstick would be a good thing right now. Because he should definitely not be focusing on how you smelled and whether that was your shampoo or your soap or a perfume you used. Yep. For sure should not be dwelling on what underwear you had on underneath that prim skirt with the slit all the way up it.

Fuck.

He was going to see you again in biology. That was in forty-five minutes. Would you want to sit in his lap again? How could you? You were whole lab tables apart from one another. There was no way to move seats without it being a big deal. Jeff would feel abandoned and who was it? Gail? Gail who shared the lab table with you would probably be put out. But then, he may not even have to worry. It was highly likely that you’d freeze him out. After all, that little display was just improv for the party/jock crowd in the library. He wasn’t stupid. He knew the score.

Sighing deeply, he decided to write a story about an errant knight who had been seduced and charmed and then completely dumped by some woodland fairy.

Was he really going to allow you to run the show, though? To push him this way and that just to satisfy your own strategies? He didn’t want to be used. Not like his uncle’s last girlfriend had used Wayne. Not like his father had used his mother.

He changed the ending of his story. The knight was under a spell. It was broken when he saw her true reflection in the water of the lake. That wasn’t a woodland fairy. That was a witch who wanted him as a blood sacrifice. He threw her in the water and she fizzled, melted, and drowned, screaming in agony. He’d be damned if some deceitful witch was going to get the best of him, no matter how attractive.

~080~

Meanwhile, you sat in your French class, your head swimming with thoughts of brown eyes and curly hair. The scent of him clung to the edges of your brain, a blend of smoke and spice, mixed with the smell of his shampoo.

Well this was inconvenient. You really needed to pass Madame’s pop quiz or you’d ruin your perfect A grade for the semester so far. 90 percent or better or you were a loser. No compromise. You tried your damnedest to focus on the correct past tense conjugation of rêver without focusing on its ironic meaning; all your brain wanted to do was dream.

Those brown eyes… you had never in your life gone for a guy with dark eyes. You had always been a sucker for crystalline blue eyes and maybe some dark lashes, like Brian Bloom has or blond with blue-eyes like John Schneider. Eddie Munson was unlike either man. Not that you were holding your breath about meeting either Brian or John in your lifetime. But Eddie was just SO NOT your type and his sudden presence in your awareness was jarring.

What the hell had you done?

You finished your quiz, but re-read it just in case. Walking it to the front to drop it on the teacher’s desk only to sit back down and sigh, you felt every inch the tragic figure just waiting for class to end. You had probably fucked yourself over. There were only ten questions. You knew you probably screwed up more than one. Boys were clearly nothing but a distraction and here was your proof.

The bell rang again and you gathered your things only to stop in mid-motion at the realization that it was biology next. Would he expect more of the same? You sure as hell left him with a good indication that you were expecting to see him again. See you in biology, lover. Ugh. You cringed at the words.

Maria walked down the corridor with you speaking French like she always did when class was over. It was as if she thought the extra three minutes between classes was supposed to increase her knowledge of the language or something. Internally, you rolled your eyes, but kept smiling at your friend, replying in short answers. Jesus. You weren’t even kind to your actual friends. Who were you?

As you made your way down the hall, some of the kids were staring at you strangely. There was giggling as you passed a gaggle of preppie girls. Word was spreading. It hadn’t reached everyone yet, however. Maria would have pulled you into an empty classroom along the way just to interrogate you. No, it wasn’t everywhere. But it was building. You could feel it, thick in the air, like forest fire smoke. Like the cigarettes you had smelled on Eddie.

Fuck.

Get your head on straight!

Locker first, then class. You were almost late. That wasn’t like you, which showed how reticent you were to actually get to class. If you had the guts, you probably would have skipped. But you were as faithful as a bird dog; you couldn’t be devious. Not to a teacher, anyhow.

The class was almost full with kids coming in around you as you made your way to your normal lab bench. Gail wasn’t there. Was she sick today? You looked to the door in a blind panic for her. If that seat was empty, Eddie could sit there. Or worse: one of the jocks or party kids.

The teacher walked in. The door was going to close. Still no Gail.

“Uh, let’s break it up back there and get to work,” called Mr. Harris. You looked behind you to see Eddie and Jeff standing on either side of Gail who looked like she just lost an argument. You saw her nod at Eddie and take something from his hand. Eddie just grinned and snatched up his book and notebook.

You didn’t know if you were happy or sad, sick or well, dead or alive when Eddie Munson - with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face - plopped his things and himself right down beside you. He folded his arms on the lab table top and put his head down, face angled toward you.

“Hey, lover,’ he said, his voice a low rumble.

Why was there suddenly no air in the room?

Fucking hell. Get a grip!

Somewhere you found the fortitude to banter back. “Hey, cuddle-puppy,” you cooed sardonically, miraculously sounding like a human person with actual confidence. But you had to remind him that this wasn’t really real. Or were you just reminding yourself as his brown eyes melted you from the inside? “How’s my favorite co-conspirator?”

Eddie snickered a laugh. It was born of a nervousness he felt just sitting next to you. Jesus, he just called you ‘lover’! It was a bold move, even for him, but he had to show you he wasn’t scared of you. And when you called him a co-conspirator, that built a knot in his stomach he couldn’t explain. You wanted to continue this? Really? The knot turned sour. He didn’t need you or your lame-ass attempt at calling the cool kids’ bluff. Didn’t matter how pretty you were.

Mr. Harris cleared his throat and started the lesson. Today, you were dissecting frogs. But before you could begin, he had to make sure all of you turned in your permission slips. Eddie reached into his jacket inner pocket and drew his out, opening it up and waiting for Mr. Harris to come around. You noticed the signature.

“Your dad’s name is Wayne?” You were just making conversation. No harm meant by it. Still, you saw Eddie pause and side-eye you, clearly judging you and how best to answer.

Finally he said: “Uncle, actually.”

“Why didn’t your mom sign it?” Again, it was a natural enough question. Your mother had signed your slip and you had turned it in last week. Maybe his parents didn’t want him dissecting frogs and he had to go to another relative for assistance. You didn’t know. How were you supposed to? Eddie Munson was a stranger, really.

“She couldn’t,” he said as Harris took his slip from his fingers. “She’s too busy.”

“Busy? What does she do?”

“She’s the opposite of a helicopter parent.”

“Huh?”

“She took off when I was nine,” he said, watching for your reaction. Watching for the reaction that everyone gave him when they found out about his mom leaving him high and dry. And then dying. Of course, he could have just told you that she was dead, but plenty of people knew that: the school, the cops, Wayne. But no one knew that she died while running away from a man who used to beat the shit out of her. Died because of him chasing her in his car in the middle of winter. Died because she was brave enough to break away and just fucking run. But she couldn’t outrun a Buick. Wayne said she had had plans of coming back for Eddie, but that was a more complicated situation and too big a subject to cover just before the beginning of class.

“Oh.”

And there it was: the look Eddie was so familiar with. The wide eyes, raised eyebrows of a person who couldn’t fathom that a mother could abandon their child. A certain satisfied cruelty settled inside him. His history with his mother was none of your business. This would keep you away from her, and therefore away from him.

“I’m so sorry about that, Eddie.”

And there was the predictable follow up: pity. Sad mournfulness for the poor orphaned boy whose mommy left him all alone. He nodded and continued to quietly regard you. He was watching you, observing like a scientist, distant and evaluating.

To break the awkwardness, you began: “But what about-“ You didn’t finish. You didn’t want to ask any more. His face was placid, but his eyes were still boring into you. You didn’t have the will to continue. Besides, class was starting and you had to pay attention. Prep trays and equipment were being passed around the class by Mr. Harris as well as some hand-picked students and you wanted to make sure you got what you were supposed to for the lesson.

“But what about what?” Eddie prompted you. He was curious but cautious. Was this the witch plotting to spot weakness? He put up his mental defenses and waited.

“No, it’s none of my business. Sorry,” you said.

He leveled his gaze at you for another millisecond. Okay. Maybe you were still the fairy princess. He reached into his mental bag of holding and wielded the shield of humorous deflection and the cudgel of bravery. “Hey now, if we’re going to be co-conspirators, we’ve got to do a little soul-bearing, cupcake.” He tilted his head toward you briefly. “Go on, fire away.”

“What about your dad?” you asked, meekly. The next words poured from you and you felt yourself falling over yourself to navigate the situation and not make him angry. “Or am I getting too personal? I don’t mean to. Sorry if I am. I’m just curious. You can totally tell me to shut up now.” You could feel the blush creep up your ears.

Eddie smiled and ducked his head, cupping a hand to the back of his neck to hide it from you. God, you really were adorable. What in the everloving fuck was Eddie going to do with that?

“My dad couldn’t sign the permission slip because he’s busy being a guest of our fair state,” he said. He took in your puzzled look and whispered, smiling, “He’s in jail, babe. For a long long time.”

“So you live with your Uncle Wayne,” you concluded.

“Boy, you really are as smart as they say,” he said, his tone almost truly proud. Almost. That grin was back and you gave one back at him. Eddie liked that grin. He liked it a lot.

The dead frog was the last thing to be deposited on your wax tray. “Are you ready for this?” he asked, removing his jacket and draping it on his stool before being seated once more. He pulled up his three-quarter sleeves to the elbow.

Tattoos. He has tattoos. You were NOT ready for tattoos. Jesus fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck. You wanted to lick them. And then you remembered where you were.

“See something you like, sugar?”

“What? No! No. Just- I’ve never seen a kid our age with tattoos. That’s all.” The blush you felt pinking your skin could be seen from space. You were sure of it. Jesus.

He leaned in again to talk to you. It seemed he always leaned in when he thought he had something clever to say; it was annoying and alluring at the same time. “Well I do have a few more years on all of the children here,” he said, “or don’t you remember that about me?”

You did. You just… forgot. Something about that niggled in your brain. “Wait. If you’re well over the age of consent, why did you even have to get a permission slip signed?”

He tilted his head. He had to admit, that was a really good question. But he shrugged and countered: “Why did you? Aren’t you eighteen already?”

“Huh, true,” you said. “Maybe it’s a school thing.” you shrugged back at him.

“Heh. Looks like the Establishment has managed to brainwash us already.” He shook his shaggy head. “Well, I feel foolish.”

You had to smile at that. “You are very anti-establishment, aren’t you?”

“You really are getting to know me, huh darlin’?”

“Well,” you replied, whispering conspiratorially again, “what kind of a fake lover would I be if I didn’t get to know my pookie-kins?”

He looked at you with a comically critical face. “I don’t know about you. You may be too smart for me. I usually go for the empty-headed bimbo types.”

“Ah yes… like a jock, only a girl? Body by Jake, brain by Mattel?” you asked. His eyebrows raised and he let out a laugh, short and sharp.

Mr. Harris cleared his throat. “If I may begin?” he asked. The lesson started. Eddie handed you the scalpel with a wink.

You twirled a finger in your hair and looked comically puzzled. “The pointy end goes in the frog, right?” you asked him, giving him your best bimbo impression. Eddie couldn’t help himself; he giggled. He actually fucking giggled. He knew there was more to your game. There had to be. He couldn’t ignore his instincts. But he also knew that you were funny. And smart. And beautiful. And funny, smart, and beautiful totally worked for him.

Fuck.

#fanfic #writing #joe quinn #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #joseph quinn #la belle dame avec merci #lbdam #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #slow burn

52 notes · View notes

girlsloveamystery · 1 year

Text

I posted 1,709 times in 2022

640 posts created (37%)

1,069 posts reblogged (63%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@winterlovesong1

@bughead-bones

@flythesail

@jandjsalmon

@voidsteffy

I tagged 81 of my posts in 2022

#bughead - 43 posts

#also on ao3 - 41 posts

#fanfiction - 41 posts

#otp - 30 posts

#nancy drew spoilers - 21 posts

#cw nancy drew - 20 posts

#nancy drew - 7 posts

#nancy and ace - 6 posts

#film - 4 posts

#nancy x ace - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 28 characters

#sweet pea and betty siblings

My Top Posts in 2022:

. “Thanks for coming to the planetarium with us, Betts.” The shortening of her name had started the week prior, when they went out for another coffee run and he accidentally slipped up and called her that. He hadn’t been sure how she’d take it but when all she did was blush faintly and smile, he knew he had done the right thing.

She nodded her head, green irises shining happily. “Thanks for not scheduling it on a day I go into the office. I’m happy to help in anyway I can.” Her voice was sincere and he knew her words rang true as they came as she smiled brightly at him. He shrugged a shoulder.

“It was for me as much as it was for you,” he assured her quietly. “I need all the help I can get on field trips like these.”

Betty smiled kindly, patting his hand the next moment. “You’re doing a lovely job, Jughead. The kids adore you.”

It was Jughead’s turn to blush at the praise. He had always hoped he’d make a good teacher; wanting the kids to know that they could rely on him whenever they needed him most. He was relieved to know that the majority of them seemed to at least know that. “Thanks Betty.” He smiled shyly, feeling very much like a schoolboy with his first crush. He knew it would be inevitable that he would ask her out on a date.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39206100/chapters/98347287

23 notes - Posted May 29, 2022

Have the writers stopped fucking with Jughead and Betty yet or?

24 notes - Posted March 21, 2022

“Betty Cooper, you are a sight for sore eyes,” Jughead grinned at her, taking in her appearance and she wished she had thought to touchup her makeup but she had been busy with the pie.

She pulled a face. “I look like I’ve been in the kitchen all evening. Probably smell like it too.”

Jughead bent his head down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, hopefully the first of many that night, and shook his head. “You smell like chocolate, an utterly divine scent if you ask me.”

Betty melted into the next kiss he placed on her lips.

“Yuck!”

Pulling back, they turned and faced Charlotte, who was staring at them from the hallway. “Charlotte, didn’t I tell you to wait in the kitchen?” Betty quirked an eyebrow at her daughter.

“Yes, but it was taking you a while at the door and I wanted to make sure everything was okay,” Charlotte said. “I didn’t expect you to be sucking face with Mr. Jones.”

Sucking face? Where did she even learn that phrase from? Jughead laughed. “Hey, Charlotte. Sorry you saw me, uh, kissing your mother.”

“I don’t care Mr. Jones,” Charlotte shrugged a shoulder, smiling good-naturedly the next moment. “I mean, it’s better than my dad.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39206100/chapters/99005949

26 notes - Posted June 10, 2022

Just then, he heard her retching again and cut off the stove, running towards her the next moment and gathering up all of her hair as she was violently sick into the bowl he spent the day cleaning out periodically. "You're all right, baby, you're all right." His tone was low and soothing for her, hoping to encourage her to stay as calm as possible. No one liked throwing up repeatedly but the silver bullet had done a number on her. Betty slumped back into the pillows a moment later, finished for the time being.

"I'm sorry," she croaked in a raspy voice and Jughead winced when she did, knowing her throat had to be feeling like an inferno by now. He pushed her sweaty hair off her forehead and rubbed soothing circles into her skin there as he helped her take a sip of the room-temperature water that was resting on the nightstand.

"Its okay, baby," he assured her softly, letting her know he was in no way upset about taking care of her. He wasn't – not in the slightest. He rubbed her back slowly as he encouraged her to drink slowly, lest it upset her stomach once more and when she had her fill, he pulled back the glass from her lips, removing it from her trembling hold altogether. "Better?" His question was laced in gentleness; only the tone his mate could pull from him as he nudged a lock of hair behind her ear.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34715074/chapters/90315982

29 notes - Posted January 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

“Yes, he was nice,” Charlotte said softly, tucking herself behind her mother’s body and Betty led her into the building and down the halls to where her classroom was. Walking inside, she spotted a young man – not much older than her – with raven locks and a genuine smile as he greeted each new student. She led Charlotte – who was still tucked into her side – up to him and waited for their turn. Mr. Jones turned to them after the current kid scampered away and smiled at Betty and Charlotte. Oh my ovaries.

“I’m Jughead Jones,” Jughead said, holding his hand out to her. Betty smiled sweetly, flushing slightly as she shook his hand.

“Betty Cooper, Charlotte Cooper’s mother,” she replied, running her hand down her daughter’s hair.

“Oh yes, she had Michelle, the babysitter take her to back-to-school night, right?” Jughead asked with a smile.

Betty felt her cheeks redden more as she looked down, feeling ashamed of not being able to do more for her daughter. “Yes. I – uh, am sorry. I would have been here but I had to go into work last minute. Out of my control.”

Jughead smiled sympathetically at her. “Not judging you, Ms. Cooper. I understand the importance of a job.” Then he directed his eyes to the little girl, smiling brightly at her. “You ready for a fun day, Charlotte?”

Charlotte stayed close to her mother’s side, hugging her leg as she stared up at Jughead shyly. “Yes, Mr. Jones.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39206100/chapters/98093973

31 notes - Posted May 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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mollysolo · 2 years

Text

Arms Unfolding

Pairing: Josh Kiszka X fem!Reader

Summary: Josh falls asleep in your arms after a very long and tiring day of interviews.

Warnings: None :))

Please Note: Josh Kiszka is a real person that I have never met and the way I’ve written him should not be seen as anything but a work of fiction.

Word Count: 543

a/n: i hope y’all like this blurb!

You smiled to yourself while you sat on you and Josh’s shared bed as you could hear the front door start to unlock. You then set the book you had been reading aside as you waited, your arms unconsciously crossing across your chest.

But as Josh’s footsteps continued throughout the entrance of your home, you noticed that his footsteps were a lot slower than they usually were whenever he got home, making you worry. Then, the memory of what he and the guys had to do today flooded your mind.

Your eyebrows furrowed with worry as he got closer and closer to the bedroom, a frown rolling out across your lips once he reached the doorway. Bags had now formed under his eyes after several long hours of press and all you wanted to do right now was hold him while he finally let himself sleep.

You unfolded your arms and kindly held them out for Josh, causing his eyes to light up a bit as he leaned against the doorframe. He had been waiting for this all day and he was more than glad that he was home now.

“Come here, my love. Let me hold you while you rest.” you said while you still held your arms open, another smile now on your face as your own eyes lit up.

You laughed a little as he walked over to the bed and slowly plopped down on top of you, accidentally pushing a little air out of your lungs. But you didn’t mind this at all because you knew how much he adored being held by you.

Then as he got settled and wrapped his arms around your comforting waist, you brought yourself even closer to him by snaking your arms around his ribs and hugging him tightly before letting go very subtly.

You started to talk to him again whilst you brushed his hair out of his face and he slid his tired face into the soft crook of your neck, “I’m sorry you had an exhausting day.” you told him while you pressed slow kisses to the half of his forehead that was exposed to you.

His grip around your waist tightened for a moment and he lifted his head up to look into your (e/c) eyes, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Plus, my day is much better now that I’m with you again.” he replied with a smile, reaching up to run the pad of his thumb along your bottom lip, making you blush.

“You sure?” you asked him in response, pure sincerity and concern in your eyes.

“I’m sure.” he answered as he put his face back into the crook of your neck and you softly reached behind your back to intertwine your fingers together, liking the way he squeezed your hand once it was comfortably in his.

“I love you, now sleep Josh, you deserve to rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up, I promise.” you happily told him, pressing a kiss to his exposed cheek at the end of your statement.

“I love you too, mama.” he mumbled to you with a kiss to your collarbone before he finally let himself fall asleep after a press day that seemed to go on forever and ever.

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spilledkauffie · 3 years

Text

Meet Cute

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x DogMom!Reader Word Count: 1.8k T/W: fluffyyyy A/N: I know it’s a trope, but I love it!

Can you imagine Bucky with a puppy?!?!

Managing six dogs at once wasn’t exactly easy, but you did it rather gracefully, at least most of the time. Today however, you fumbled with your keys at your apartment door when two dogs suddenly, and swiftly wrapped around you, pulling opposite directions. With a small shocked squeak at being squeezed, you accidentally dropped both your keys and a leash, one out of six wasn’t bad, but it was still a loose puppy, trotting around the apartment hall like he owned the place.

“Peanut!” You yelled out of sheer concern as the baby dachshund gallivanted towards the stairs, as if it were his prison break at last, “Peanut, sweetie, come here!” You called again, eyebrows furrowing during your attempt to untwist the other leashed from around you, as he got closer and closer to that first step which was far too steep for him to comfortably and safely make wihtout tumbling down the rest.

You watched in sheer panic as his short stout front legs took the leap of faith with ears flying freely in the air like he was Dumbo. You anticipated the little yelp that would absolutely break your heart— Thankfully there was a soft landing platform neither of you had prepared for. Underneath Peanut appeared two hands covered in black gloves. The small dog fit perfectly in the hands as he wagged his tail, beyond proud of the heart attack he nearly gave you. Sighing, you leaned into the door of your apartment for support.

“Whoa there,” the saviour said, bringing the pup up with him as he stood, having had to dip to catch the pup on the stairs, after glancing at the shining silver bone shaped name tag he met the dog’s eye line, “Peanut, was it?”

As the stranger made his way up the last few steps, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. While you didn’t know him personally, you had seen him around the apartment complex before. Heart still pounding, you shook your head at the pup who was plenty happy in the hands of his rescuer.

“Peanut Butter Brittle Biscuit,” you full named the dog, causing him to tuck his tail, still wagging it though. Setting your hand, which was still being tugged on by the other five other dogs, on your hip, “you know better than to just run into strangers, it's rude.”

“Well, Peanut,” he looked to the pup in all seriousness, “I’m Bucky. There, we aren’t strangers anymore,” he affirmed, shaking the dogs tiny little paw gently, “and so we’re not strangers,” he looked to you, “I’m Bucky, and you are?” You smiled at his flirty tone, “unless you’d like to go by 4C? Keep it professional?”

“Four- C?” You gave a puzzled look.

Bucky pointed above and behind your head, with the hand he was not literally cradling Peanut with. Quickly glancing you realized it was your apartment number. Now feeling a flush of embarrassment, you took a moment to face him again, squeezing your eyes closed.

“Oh yeah,” you nervously laughed, before giving him your name as well, you liked the way he repeated it to himself, “and you’re 2E, right?”

“Do we know each other?” he asked, tilting his head with a smirk.

“Oh no, I just, sometimes I see Yori go down there, and- I’m not stalking you, I promise,” you frantically explained, waving your hand, wrapped in dog leashes.

“No,” Bucky smiled, letting you know that was not what he was thinking, “I think I’d hear you if you were though,” he looked down and around at the literal pack of dogs sitting and standing around you. The pack ranged from a German Shepherd to a Golden Retriever to a Dachshund to a Pomeranian to a Corgi to, lastly, a dopey Great Dane.

“Most definitely,” you laughed, trying to calm your nerves, “we’re not the most graceful bunch, you had a display of that just a moment ago, which thank you so, so much.” You placed your hand over your chest, as an expression of relief.

“No problem,” he said with a sincere nod and smile, petting back the dog’s ears, “looks like Peanut here is a real daredevil.”

“You have no idea,” you glanced at the puppy, “he’s a troublemaker and thinks he’s invincible.”

With that Peanut interjected giving the most babyish attempt at a deep roo, sassily from where Bucky held him still.

“Talker too, huh?” Bucky gave a shocked glance at the Dachshund who was still resting comfortably with his chest being cradled by Bucky's hand.

“Yeah, well we’re 40 minutes late to D I N N E R,” you spelled out the last word in a whisper, “Fridays are always long days,” you gestured around you to the bigger dogs with toys covered in drool, they just stared up at you, sighing you collected yourself, “they’re park days.”

“Ohh, I see,” Bucky nodded, “I'd hate to keep you any longer then.”

With a soft ‘okay’ and a smile, you held your hands out to take Peanut back. There was a brief moment in the exchange where your hands touched his and he gave a ‘sorry’ knowing it was probably cold against your skin. As Peanut hovered with both your hands on his chubby little sides. Your Dane tugged one way again, while the Retriever was determined to go the other, pulling you and Bucky closer together. Practically chest to chest, save Peanut being the barrier between the two of you.

“Oh my gosh,” you whispered, looking down immediately, even though there was hardly room between you two to do so, literally feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you closed your eyes, “this is not happening.”

“I’ve been in worse situations,” Bucky remarked cooly, keeping his gaze focused on you, finding it surprisingly cute at how flustered you were around him. It’d been a long time since he had felt someone had real genuine human emotions regarding him.

Neither of you took your hands away from the other’s. Standing there you bit in your lip, calming your rising pulse as you were now close enough to smell his cologne.

“I’m-” you started, finally looking up, “so sorry.”

“It’s really okay,” Bucky chuckled, not wanting you to feel as worried as you were, but you just knit your brows together and gave another apologetic look, “honestly, I could- I could do this all day.” There was a pause, then you smiled, ducking your head to hide your face against Peanut who was really becoming a star matchmaker, “I think Peanut and I are going to be very good friends by the end of this.”

Lifting your head with a nod, you sighed, stroking the pup’s ear, for a moment before you guided the other dogs around to give you some more space. Bucky respectfully took a step back, somehow still holding Peanut after all that. You opened your apartment door and the dogs rushed in, you let each leash fall off your hand as they entered. You said their name with each one to keep track of them.

“And lastly,” you exhaled, reaching your arms out again for the troublemaker of whom Bucky surrendered, though he was getting fairly fond of him, “well, at least let me invite you in? Have a drink on me? Something?”

“That’d be great,” Bucky said, gesturing for you to lead the way.

Once you were both in and Bucky shut the door behind him, you let Peanut loose and immediately he ran to his dinner bowl, waiting in anticipation. Offering Bucky to sit at the bar, you set two cold bottles on top of the counter, but before you joined him you got out six dog bowls, making him smile.

“How long have you had them?” Bucky asked, opening his bottle relaxedly with his hand.

“They vary, some for years, but the most recent,” you nodded to Peanut, “only a few months.”

“So uh, why so many?” Bucky inquired.

You squeezed your shoulders up, looking around at all of them, “they needed a home,” you said, soft smile, “each of them came from a broken place, of hurt and pain. That’s all they knew before I took them in, and,” you shook your head smiling wider, looking over to Bucky, “if I could be a part of their healing, I knew I had to be. I can’t think of leaving something to suffer if there’s something that can be done to help.”

“That’s-” Bucky looked to the floor as you rounded the counter, to sit next to him on another bar stool, having just set all the bowls down, “that’s a really great mindset.”

“What about you?” you took a sip, “any pets?”

He swallowed shaking his head, “no, I have a weird work schedule,” he squinted at his own reasoning, hoping it didn’t sound too dumb.

“Oh gotcha,” you nodded, before gesturing with the top of the bottle, “well Rodgers seems to like you.”

Your gesture drew Bucky to look down, sure enough set atop his thigh was your German Shepherd's head, looking up with big eyes and slowly wagging his tail. Bucky pet the dog’s ear, “Rodgers?”

“Yeah, you know after Captain America? He’s ex-military himself so I thought it was fitting,” you bent down to pet the dog yourself.

There was a quietness, Bucky looked away from the dogs and you for a moment. Biting the inside of his lip he felt something he hadn’t in a long time, though he tried to repress it. A part of him felt it was a sign, another part of him told himself to ignore it. Takin another swig, he made his choice

“Hey, if you ever. . . need help with them, I’m,” he hesitated, “I’m usually free Fridays, or- park days.”

“I’d love that,” you smiled leaning back up, “how bout I get your number so we can plan a da-,” you quickly changed your sentence, “a park day.”

While you got up to grab your phone, he flipped open his, seeing the very few contacts and the messages from only one person. Wincing he was a little nervous, this meant opening up. You returned, asking for his number, to which he willingly gave you. Finishing the drinks he said he really should head home, you completely understood, already surprised that he stuck around that long after the incident earlier.

With casual goodbyes, you shut your door and he headed back downstairs. Taking his gloves off, he suddenly felt his phone vibrate. Sitting on his couch he took it out of his pocket. Seeing your name pop up with a “hi 4C here, texting you like I said I would” and a smiley face with a dog emoji made him smile to himself.

He opened it-- it was time to start answering messages, it was time he found his healing.

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andypantsx3 · 3 years

Note

“You’re going to regret that, sweetheart.” + Hawks + If you can include at least a hint of NSFW, it'd be great and congrats on your 1st anniversary!

Thank you love!! I hope you like it.

Honest | Hawks/Reader

Prompt: “You’re going to regret that, sweetheart.” Word Count: 1150 words Tags/Warnings: established relationship, NSFW Notes: Thank you @bobawithpomegranate for beta reading!!

Keigo thought you didn’t know about it.

You’d only done it once before, accidentally, and you were so inexorably tangled up in the throes of passion that you’d almost—almost—missed it. The moment your fingers caught in the little feathers right at the base of his wings, and he’d groaned into your mouth, a little shudder shivering its way down his whole body, for a second he’d pressed himself against you twice as hard, kissed you twice as passionately, before he let out a sharp breath and was in control again.

The entire thing had lasted less than a second, and you were so close to your climax that you had been a little too busy to explore it any further. Keigo hadn’t acknowledged it, either, hadn’t given any direction like “fuck, baby, right there,” or “do it again.” In fact, he had seemed like he was fighting his reaction down, determined to ignore it.

But you had noticed, and you stored that knowledge away to think on.

It wasn’t like Keigo to hide things from you, not anymore. Though it wasn’t unlike him to reshape and remold himself to fit a situation, to ignore his own wants and desires in order to put everyone else first. Keigo had spent so many years in the service of others that, sometimes, you thought he forgot that he was a person with needs of his own.

The more you thought on it, the more likely you thought it was that Keigo had liked it so much that he’d lost control of himself for a moment—had forgotten to be Hawks, the hero, or Keigo, your attentive boyfriend of several months, and had chased his wild pleasure without putting yours first.

It was enough to make you want to roll your eyes. Like there could be anything that could possibly turn you off about Keigo losing it over something you did.

So you plotted and waited, resolving to get to the bottom of things.

And then, one evening after another of Keigo’s long patrols, you pounced.

You’d dragged him into bed before he’d even made it all the way through the door, catching his surprised noise in your mouth.

“Well hello to you too, sweetheart,” he purred once he’d finally gotten a handle on things. His hands slid up the sides of your shirt, calloused and warm.

“Take your jacket off,” you complained, shoving at his flight suit. He laughed, pulling it off without disconnecting his mouth from yours. His movements sent a puff of his scent your way—fresh like the outdoors, all cold wind and clear air.

“Missed me this much, chickadee?” he asked as you made short work of his pants.

“—always miss you,” you admitted. Which was true. With his crazy schedule, it was hard to get him alone, which made it all the more important that he spent his time with you actually getting what he wanted, being honest about what he wanted.

You tugged him over you, already feeling the swell of his interest hard against your thigh. Those calloused fingers slid down into your underwear, which you hadn’t bothered to cover with pants, for the purposes of easy access. You muffled a gasp against his mouth when he pressed against you, exactly where you wanted him.

Keigo worked you up embarrassingly fast, the way he did everything. Golden eyes fixed rapturously to your face, watching your every reaction with an almost inhuman alertness, and his skillful fingers reacted in kind, playing you with familiar dexterity. He was so, so good—so horribly, distractingly talented—that you almost forgot exactly what it was that you had planned to accomplish.

Almost.

Just as Keigo was working your underwear off you and pressing himself inside, movements slow and controlled, your hand skimmed the sleek muscles of his back. Your fingers tangled in the tiny feathers at the base of his wings, soft and downy.

And then you gave a tug.

Keigo’s hips slammed forward, burying himself in you up to the hilt. He groaned.

“F-fuck, sorry baby,” he said, pulling back, looking slightly dazed. “Must have got excited.”

You eyed him, watching him try to scrape his features back into some semblance of control.

And then you tugged again.

He bucked into you again, swearing as he slammed an arm down next to your head for balance.

His golden eyes were wide when they found yours, and not just with shock. His expression was darker, hungry in a way you’d never seen before.

“Wha—what are you doing?” he asked, sounding pained.

You stared back at him evenly. “So I was right. You like this, Keigo. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Keigo watched you back, those eyes unreadable. “I don’t—I didn’t want to—I can’t think when you do that, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you. I might get too rough.”

His words sent a little shiver down your spine.

Keigo was hot as fuck when he was deliberate with you, controlled and gentle, working you up into an incoherent, begging mess while he stayed calm and in control.

But the idea of him losing it, getting rough with you for once was...appealing. Very appealing.

“Keigo, safe words were invented for a reason,” you said, petting softly down his back. His wings flapped minutely, a little aimlessly like they did when he was feeling overwhelmed.

He was silent for a long moment.

You sighed. “Kei, you have the most self control of any person in the entire world. If I ask you to stop, you’ll stop. But I don’t know that I’ll want you to. The idea of you losing it while you’re with me—only me—is literally the hottest thing I can think of.”

Keigo’s hips shifted a little, reminding you that he was still pressed firmly inside you. Your hips bucked up without input from your brain.

“If I—if we do this, you have to promise you’ll tell me when it’s too much,” he said finally.

You nodded quickly, already reaching back for those feathers.

Keigo gave you a pointed look, prompting you to say, “Kei, if you don’t fuck me within an inch of my life I’m throwing you out and doing it myself.”

And then you grabbed those soft feathers again, and pulled hard.

Keigo swore, collapsing against you even as his hips slammed into yours again. A sharp pain on the side of your neck told you he’d bit down, hard, and it sent a wild swirl of stinging desire to your core.

You smirked, but before you could pull again, two long red feathers were sweeping up your arms, gathering up your wrists. A hot spike of arousal pooled in your abdomen, and you squirmed in anticipation as your wrists were pinned firmly above your head—this was new.

“You’re going to regret that, sweetheart,” Keigo promised darkly, bracing an arm beside your head.

You laughed.

Oh, you sincerely doubted that.

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #bnha x reader #takami keigo #garbage fest 2021 #garbage fest fics #bnha

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midnightwinterhawk · 3 years

Text

I put together a little collection of Sterek and Steter fics for funsies. “Just a few fics”, I thought, “nothing too crazy.” Thirty fics later I had to cut myself off and finalize the list. You can thank @the-cookie-of-doom for the inspiration.

These primarily fall under the Hurt Stiles Stilinski category because I apparently like to see my comfort characters suffer. Most of these have hopeful/happy endings but mind the tags. For reals.

Placed under a cut since I have no self control and this turned into a long post.

Sterek

adore to see your eyes fly by @1001cranes

(11,309 l E)

stiles is a pyromaniac, derek is a sociopath. a match made in some kind of heaven. teen wolf kink meme fill.

take my heart from me by @areiton

(23,188 l NR)

He didn't really mean to adopt Derek's pack of puppies. He didn't mean to make himself important to them.

To Derek.

He just wanted to keep them all safe.

That's all Stiles ever wanted.

"Why Can't You?" by @asterekmess

(3,602 l T)

Now. This was happening now, and he couldn’t be less prepared.

After a long night, things between Stiles and his father come to a head.

And You Say You're Alone by bi_leigh_bi

(30,314 l E)

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter's untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

A Victory March by @churkey

(2,688 l T)

When Stiles is eight he learns that nothing will be the same. His dad comes home one day after work and sits Stiles down for a talk. He explains that werewolves and all the monsters are real.

They're real and not hiding under anyone's bed.

Bury the Moon by darthjamtart

(16,592 l M)

First things get bad. Then they get worse. Stiles doesn’t know what he’s sacrificed until it’s too late.

Dying is the easy part.

Love's Violent Delights by @dexterous-sinistrous

(10,685 l E)

Derek caught the way the man’s eyes looked over Stiles before lingering on his ass. He waited for the clerk to place the key on the counter before he reacted.

Stiles startled at the loud noise, turning away from the pamphlets in the display box to see Derek pinning the clerk’s head against the counter. He drew in an even breath, looking between the struggling man and Derek.

Derek briefly looked at Stiles, hesitating before he saw the gleam of excitement in Stiles’ eyes and the hint of lust in his scent. “Ever look at him, or any other Omega, like that again, and I’ll slice your eyes out with my claws.” He shoved the man back, not caring of the commotion that was made as he snatched up the key from the counter.

Empty by @discontentedwinter

(48,034 l M)

Jordan Parrish is the new sheriff of Beacon Hills, a town haunted by its past.

Your Vision Borrows Mine by hazyascent

(188,781 l E)

Stiles has encountered a fair share of monsters before, way out of his league - the kinds that children are afraid are hiding in their closets and under the bed.

He’d even become one himself when he was void. The nogitsune was in his house, his body, and his mind.

But the worst monster he’s ever faced took even more from him and got away with it.

It’s why Stiles has never really been as terrified of werewolves and kanimas and darachs as he should have been. They’re really not that scary, relatively speaking, and he has a whole team on his side. They always found a way to win - until they lost someone they really loved.

Stiles doesn’t know how to be normal, not after everything he’s done and everyone he’s hurt. The nogitsune is gone, but another monster is on its heels.

His uncle is back. And Stiles has never felt more alone.

It Was a Wednesday by @isthatbloodonhisshirt

(80,129 l M)

“What happened? Where are you? What’s that sound?”

Derek jumped, having momentarily forgotten Scott was on the phone with him because Stiles had started moving. He’d stalked over to the other side of the cave, still eying Derek warily and growling, then settled protectively over a mass of clothes, leaves and animal innards. It was probably where he was sleeping.

Lovely. No wonder he smelled like death.

“Stiles,” Derek said, answering Scott’s question. Or, one of them, at least.

“Stiles? What do you—Stiles is making that noise?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“How fast do you think you can make it to the south lot of the Preserve?”

Tiny Houses by @ohmyjetsabel-blog

(77,183 l E)

"So this is what Stiles does. He lies in Scott’s bed and waits for Melissa to say she’s found someone to get it out of him, to cure him of the wrongness and the bad, and he dreams.

God, he dreams.

He dreams of fire and swollen bellies and that scene in Alien, of giving birth to jackals through his urethra, the whole horrific nine yards. His head is a terrible place to be, he can’t imagine his stomach is much better, why anyone would want to put a thing inside of it."

I'm There in the Water by @spaceprincessem

(15,878 l T)

“But it’s—” Derek paused, his words unsure, “it’s not like us,” he swallows hard, chin dipping to his chest in frustration, “it’s like a…”

“An abomination,” Stiles finished, nodding his head as he finally lets his gaze really look at Derek since Scott had pulled them from the water.

He suddenly wished he hadn’t because the way Derek looks at him makes Stiles feel like he is ten years old again. Like Derek is seeing him for the first time since they accidentally fell into each other’s orbit all those years ago. Like Stiles isn’t a burden or invisible.

Like he is enough.

Or five times Stiles felt like he was drowning and the one time he finally caught his breath

Gunplay is Not Really Our Kink by theroguesgambit

(2,577 l M)

“The rules to the game are simple. One bullet, six chances. You pick it up and take turns pulling the trigger on the other man, or we gun you both down right now. You play along, only one of you has to die. Fun game, huh?”

Derek and Stiles are captured by a group of hunters and forced to play a twisted game that only one of them might walk away from.

The Price by theroguesgambit

(18,452 l M)

Stiles must surrender the most important thing in his life to protect the town… and no one can figure out what it was.

Nieważny by Zethsaire

(2,037 l E)

The pack is gone, everything they've ever cared for destroyed. Now Stiles and Derek hunt the hunters, taking revenge in the only way they know how; blood.

Steter

Make Me Bleed by @asarcasticwitch

(2,304 l E)

Peter’s expression contorts, impressed or surprised, Stiles can't decipher, but the grin on his face proves he’s not exactly disappointed with the unexpected turn of events.

“Which bite exactly were you hoping for, hm?” The older man curls one hand around the back of Stiles’s neck, trailing his thumb along his pale, fragile throat.

Stiles tilts his head back in unyielding submission, giving the wolf no room to debate his sincerity. “I’m sure you can figure it out, Alpha.

Two Roads Converge in a Graveyard Town by @cywscross

(15,645 l T)

The Deadpool brings one more assassin to Beacon Hills. A man's gotta eat after all.

when you're going through hell (keep going for me) by cywscross

(57,022 l T)

Peter is abandoned in the aftermath of the fire, and Eichen House takes ruthless advantage. Six years later, when he's finally able to move again, he finds himself in a cell with a boy in a straitjacket.

(Kate’s biggest mistake was letting Peter live. Eichen House’s biggest mistake was letting Peter meet Stiles.)

Don't Fail Me Now by @discontentedwinter

(36,315 l E)

Stiles goes to Derek looking for help.

He finds Peter instead.

Peter takes what he's wanted for a very long time.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

(56,525 l M)

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Bite Down by EclipseWing (@shadow-of-the-eclipse)

(27,586 l M)

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

Into Eden by @graciebirdie

(12,232 l M)

Stiles deciding to bring home the stray alpha he'd hit with his jeep probably made him certifiable, if it hadn't turned out Peter was as crazy as he was.

Before you let go (and the light takes you in) by Issay

(4,032 l E)

Stiles makes one last errand - goes to leave flowers on all the other graves. Fuck, so many graves. The grief is as endless and as inescapable as the sky.

He goes home and there is a thing wearing his father's face, waiting for him in the kitchen.

Call My Name by KouriArashi ( @gingersnapwolves )

(81,370 l M)

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

Hide my tears in the rain. by MrsRidcully

(6,865 l M)

After years spent successfully dodging werewolves, evil spirits and wendigos, it was a drunk driver who stole his Dad, a drunk driver with a suspended license and a record sheet as long as Stiles’s arm. Stiles would have laughed at the irony if he hadn’t been so busy screaming.

In My Veins Like Disease by romanoffbarton

(1,140 l T)

He tries to leave once.

Foreshock by @twothumbsandnostakeincanon

(22,816 l E)

The day Stiles’ mom died, he almost leveled his house.

Not on purpose. Not even by mistake, really. More by instinct.

Since then he's dug his fingers into everything his has left, holding on with desperation.

Desperation never stopped an earthquake.

Your Touch is My Choice by twothumbsandnostakeincanon

(2,171 l T)

The first time John does it, Stiles is two years old and about to run into the road.

“Mieczysław!” Heart pounding, John grabbed him by the back of his neck and got a hand around his tummy, snatching him back. “No, you have to stay away from the road,” he said firmly.

Shameful Company by Whispering_Sumire (@whispering-sumire755)

(38,779 l E)

"Did I turn into a unicorn?" Peter asks dryly, and Stiles glares at him for a moment before the laughter bubbles up, unbidden, nearly unwilling, and he looks so surprised at the sound, his shock dimming it for a moment before it bursts through with even more trembling ferocity. A long, thin, willowy hand curls into a soft fist over his mouth, and he's shaking, frail, more tears falling, but the copper of his eyes are glowing, crinkling around the edges and scrunched with mirth.

"No," Stiles chokes, chuckling wetly. "No, fuck you, a unicorn? What, like, Rainbowcreep? Zombiesparkle?"

[About a year before the fated Hale fire, Peter starts having nightmares that involve a woman with red hair. The nightmares lead to a spell that brings a man back through time, and, eventually, though the time-traveler is traumatized in the most horrific ways, and Peter's never been good with or for people, in general, they develop a bond that neither of them expects.]

Would You Forgive Me If I Called You Hope, Peter Hale? (Hope, By Any Other Name) by Whispering_Sumire

(10,099 l T)

Stiles has scars. He owns that, he accepts it, he's cataloged and memorized every single one, he's hyper fucking aware of them all.

"What do you want, Peter?" Having the more untrustworthy of the Pack getting protective weirds him the fuck out, leaves an odd fluttering in his chest, like moths, waiting perilously and suicidally to be burned.

He doesn't like it.

"You're injured," the man says, "and whatever it is, it's put you in enough pain that I nearly fainted when I-"

"- Used your werewolf mojo on me without my permission?" Stiles smirks, and Peter gives him a black look, crossing a leg over his knee and smoothing out some invisible wrinkle on his pants.

"Tell me the truth Stiles, how bad is it?"

[Or: The one where Stiles has scars, is more than a little fucked up, and Peter notices. He helps.]

#hurt/comfort #angst #dark #hurt/no comfort #angst with a happy ending #fic rec #be kind to yourself and mind the tags #Sterek #Steter #Stiles Stilinski #Derek Hale #Peter Hale #hurt Stiles Stilinski #Sterek fic #Steter fic #to the pain

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anne-i-write · 3 years

Text

moriarty the patriot headcannons

| requested by anon: can you write headcanons for moriarty brothers meeting and having dinner with s/o's parents for the first time? and s/o's father is overprotective. thanks 🤍🙆🏻 |

william x reader; louis x reader; albert x reader

word count: 1857

tw: mentions of toxic behavior in albert’s hcs

a/n: IM BACK AND THRIVING BBS!!! it’s so good to be back again to writing!!! hhh i’m so sorry if this is far from what you wanted but i hope you all enjoy it nonetheless!!!! lowkey went off the railings w this one so 👀 also if i missed any tags, please let me know!!!!!

william: 803 words

it had been you and your father since you were younger bc your mom was the “lucky” choice of some noble

but you wouldn’t have it any other way

you two are very close and everyone in the town knows

that, and that you both hate nobles

so it’s no surprise when the moriartys move into town, you’re both less than pleased

you always try your best to avoid them whenever they come into your town and your father always begs his friends to take the nobles as customers, despite the fact it could be good for business

but the town you lived in was particularly small and you did end up bumping into william

literally

some stupid man didn’t see you crossing the road and you were nearly crushed by the carriage if it hadn’t been for the hand that pulled at your wrist

“i swear people these days don’t know how to drive carriages.”

you don’t know who you were expecting

BUT ANYONE BUT A NOBLE

“are you alright?”

“i’m fine thank you—“

you’re absolutely flustered

how did i not know that this was a noble??? he smells so clean!

“i’ve got to be on my way now!” and you left william there with no explanation

but lil did you know he actually knew who you were

or to an extent, you weren’t as sneaky as you’d hoped you’d be

he saw you hiding in corners and alleyways every time you two accidentally made eye contact

and some of the townsfolk actually told him a little about you and your father so he understood why you weren’t too welcoming

but to take great lengths to avoid him??? he is very intrigued

so he starts off small, trying to send you a kind smile before you dart off behind a fruit stall

he really tries his best to get close to you and after a few weeks (and a few persuasive friends), he finally gets to hold a conversation with you

and boy does he fall FAST

it takes a while but you finally reciprocate his feelings and he thinks its smooth sailing from there right???

lmao everyone knows your father is literally the most intimidating looking man that could ever walk the earth

if they didn’t know him personally, they would be afraid of getting curb stomped 🤠

i mean,, he’s a big softie but god forbid anyone even DARES to look at you in a romantic light

you warn william of this and he’s like “don’t worry love, it shouldn’t be too bad”

it is bad

even william has cold hands bc your father is giving him the dirtiest look

dinner isn’t even dinner it’s a grill with how much questions your father is asking him

it does NOT help that he’s a noble

“so,,, you’re a noble”

“your cooking is amazing sir”

your father leaves the table for a little bit and you can hear the quiet sigh of relief from william

“i’m sorry for my father”

“no, no,,, i just,,, your father’s really intimidating, isn’t he?”

you let out a chuckle and william relaxed, a soft smile gracing his lips

“he can be, but it’s just something he does.” you threw a wistful gaze at the door your father disappeared before.

“he’s just worried about you, i can see it. he doesn’t want you around people like me.” you grabbed his hand over the table and he gently squeezed your hand.

“if anything, if he’d give you a chance, he’d want me to be with you. noble or not”

you both continue to have a delightful conversation, your sweet laughs filling the room

however, you didn’t know your father was listening in on your conversation and he couldn’t agree more with william

your mother left with more than just a curt goodbye and unshed tears

she left you with a tear stained letter filled with sorrowful regrets and sincere apologies

he knew you would eventually grow up to be critical of the world and if you were to find out that your mother had left unwillingly, he was afraid that you would be too bitter towards the world

but as he hears your laugh and his worries are dulled down a little

he sees you smiling so happily at william and when he chances a glance at the noble beside you, his worries are completely erased

william’s looking at you the same way everyone swore he looked at your mother

it’s a gentle gaze filled with love and kindness, one that he knew could protect you and take care of you

your father hated nobles and hovered over you when it came to love

but he couldn’t help but hold back on questions when he came back and you instantly noticed that your father took a liking william

louis: 508 words

everyone knew you as “Little Noble” in your town

the sole reason being your father literally treating you like a noble lmao

he gave you the best of everything he could afford and tried his best to not let you do any work

tried

of course, you were a little angel and you HAD to help otherwise you’d cry about making someone else tired when you could’ve easily helped

you’ve carried this trait until your early twenties and there were no signs that you would stop

hence why you were bringing home some fresh fruits from the stall clerk before a man bumps into you

you were so caught off guard that your knee buckled and you fell on your butt

everyone was stunned into silence as you fell but louis was so apologetic

so when he helped you back up, he felt the chilling stares of the town burning into his back

and then you apologize for bumping into him when he was the one who bumped into you and you fell??????

“please, let me make you something! i feel so bad!”

he tries to decline but there was this odd pressure to say yes to you

he ends up going home with you

you’re both in front of the door before your father opens it, his eyes wide

“who is this boy?”

“oh, i didn’t get his name on the way here. what is your name?”

your poor father’s heart is pounding way too fast for his liking

“oh! look at that, thank you so much for bringing my child home! you should be going home now”

he tries to shut the door on louis but you hold it open and beckon louis inside

“i invited him here! i accidentally bumped into him earlier so i offered to make him something!”

louis is so awkward pls

your father reluctantly lets him in but gives him a side eye the whole time he’s in the house

“does your child do this often?”

“why? do you find it strange?”

YOUR FATHER IS SO PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE PLEASE SAVE LOUIS

anyways, you finish making your treat and give it to louis, your father glaring at your interaction

louis is still a little stiff but the more you talk to him, his guard is let down a little

soon enough he has to leave and you wish him well

he leaves with a wave and a kind smile and you look over at your father who had been scowling since you appeared at the front door

“he is a bit cute, don’t you think father?”

your father sputters, stunned by your bold claim

“y-you’re still too young to think about men like that!”

you laugh and shut the front door, teasing your poor father about finding love while also wondering if you would meet louis again

as you talk with your father behind closed doors, louis smiles to himself as he thinks about the unusual encounter today

surely, if i met them again tomorrow, it would make for a pleasant day

albert: 546 words

he meets your father before he meets you

it was during a ball your parents organized in order to connect with the more prestigious nobles around you

your parents were obsessed with the way your family was viewed and apparently being an earl wasn’t enough

so albert hears about you when your father boasts about how you’re the perfect child who answered to his every beck and call

in all honesty, albert was disgusted

no one deserved to be brought up like that

he casually makes his way into the conversation and your father is seething

“my child is your age, it’s a shame you act like this, i would have thought of you as a prime husband for them”

who is this earl to tell him what to do?

needless to say your father crosses him off of the guest list for the next ball

days go by and your father doesn’t know that you’re currently in town, doing what you can to help the working class as best as you can

it is on one particular day of visiting an orphanage do you run into the eldest moriarty brother

you two exchange polite greetings and you both pause

“your father is the earl, is he not?”

“you are a general of the army, are you not?”

a brief mention of your father and your mood dulls slightly

“yes, but i’m here on my own accord”

he would kill you if he found out you were amongst the “filth” as he called them

“well, i’ve brought books for the children, would you like to help me read some to them?”

he seemed sincere enough to not want anything more from you, so you agreed

he was actually very pleasant to be around and you find yourself enjoying his company

the meetups continued to happen and soon enough, albert finds himself standing in front of the doors to your family estate

your father is not pleased at all

“it’s nice to meet you again, sir”

“i didn’t forget about what you said to me at our first meeting”

and you’re sitting there like,, ????? they’ve met??? and your father doesn’t like albert???????

of course, inviting albert to your home would have repercussions but you didn’t expect your father to be so hostile

he was always hostile towards other nobles unless they were of higher importance than him

but for him to hate albert so quickly and openly??? this was quite new

you had mentioned that your father has always been one for power so it was clear to albert that you obviously grew up in a home that was more,,, toxic than protective

it was at dinner that this behavior reached its peak and albert despised the atmosphere and the way your father treated you

“i’ve come here to ask for your child’s hand in marriage”

your father rejects the idea without any hesitation

“i refuse to have them live the rest of their life in your household when they could do so much better”

when you invited albert that night, you knew there would be repercussions with your father

but what you didn’t expect was that you would leave your father and adopt the moriarty name as your own, the family welcoming you with open arms

moriarty the patriot taglist: @zoehanji

#moriarty the patriot #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #albert james moriarty x reader #albert james moriarty #william james moriarty #william james moriarty x reader #louis james moriarty #louis james moriarty x reader

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