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euphor1a · 7 months

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Riding Soobin’s thigh

thirst drabbles (11/∞)

fandom » txt

pairing » soobin x f!reader

rating » 18+ (minors dni!)

genre » smut, established relationship.

word count » ~ 1460

warnings » profanity, light dom/sub undertones, reader is thirsty, teasing, implied size kink, thigh riding, dirty talk, breast play, lmk if i missed anything!

You know he’s probably working on something important. The furrow between his eyebrows and his hyper focused eyes are kind of a clear giveaway. So, it’s probably for the best and the most natural thing to not bother him until he’s done. You know.

But God, why does he have to look so sexy while working? The glasses that sit low on the bridge of his nose being the most criminal of it all. You wonder if you’re a total weirdo for feeling so turned on by a rather simple thing.

To your defense, this is the first time you’ve seen Soobin working from home. And, he doesn’t exactly wear his glasses frequently. But then again, it hasn’t been long enough since you started to spend more time at each other’s places, often staying the weekends together instead of going on dates.

“Soobin-ah~” you coo, hoping, praying that he answers. God, you are so desperate, down bad.

“Mhm?” He answers, long fingers quickly typing something away on his MacBook. His gaze is transfixed on the screen, not once reverting towards you. The strangeness that’s been pooling in your stomach increases tenfold. You want him. Fuck, you might as well be crazy.

“Soobinnie…” you mewl, wanting nothing more than his attention right now.

Soobin looks at you for a split second, his face blank. “What happened?”

You sigh, mumbling an almost inaudible ‘nothing’ and lowering your head. He shrugs it off, going back to his work nonchalantly. What can you possibly tell him? That you’ve been admiring him for half an hour now and you’ve made yourself wet in the process?

But you’re no quitter. It’s embarrassing to tell him out loud, but you can surely do something to get him on board instead of confessing your sins, right?

You unbutton his oversized shirt you’re wearing as silently as possible, taking small steps to reach where he’s sitting on the couch, completely unaware of your intentions.

“Baby, what are you doing?” Soobin hisses under his breath, caught off-guard by the feeling of your warm hands squeezing his shoulders firmly.

“I thought you could use a massage.” Your voice is gentle, scared of rejection.

He can’t help the smile that curls his lips upward. “Aww, thank you, my love.” Your heartbeat picks up speed, hands continuing their journey across his broad shoulders. It only turns you on more, thinking about the times you had scratched up his back while he fucked you so good.

You let your thumbs rub soothing circles around his neck, earning a groan from Soobin. It makes you clench around nothing, a trigger flipping inside you.

So you lean down, dropping a fleeting kiss on his neck to test the waters. To your dismay, he doesn’t react to it at all. You swallow nervously, nuzzling the crook of his neck, more bold with your kisses now.

Soobin halts momentarily, your ministrations sending shivers down his spine. He has no clue why you suddenly did that, but he can guess what you really want when you reach for his earlobe and start nibbling at it.

“Oh, I didn’t realize that it was supposed to be this sort of massage.” He teases you, still trying to focus on his work. But you aren’t having any of it.

You hum in response, letting your hands wander off towards his chest, your mouth hungrily sucking a hickey on his neck. Soobin shudders as you slowly move downward, stroking his thighs teasingly before squeezing them rather roughly.

“Fuck,” he groans, your hands sneaking under the material of his shorts swiftly. He grits his teeth, your fingers gently caressing the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. It’s almost ticklish — but in a very good way, goosebumps spreading all over him. He can also feel his cock starting to stir in the confines of his boxer-briefs, a sigh escaping him.

Soobin removes the MacBook from his lap, spreading his thighs apart, giving you access to more. You smirk, excited to see that your plan has worked. But, you continue to stimulate his soft spots to get him properly aroused, so that he doesn’t back off later on.

But the more you see his thighs, the more you realize that you want to feel them against your pussy. The way his muscles contract every time you hit a more sensitive area has you feeling dizzy. You’re not sure why this is the first time you’re noticing how strong and thick his thighs are. But it really shouldn’t be a surprise — considering that he’s pretty big in every aspect possible.

After a while of teasing him, you go over to the opposite side to face him, quite impatient by now. You’re met with a pair of dark, dilated pupils, drinking you in with desire. You shiver under his gaze, discarding your panties and positioning yourself over his left thigh.

Soobin quirks an eyebrow as he watches you with piqued interest. His hands come up to caress your sides underneath the shirt loosely hanging from your shoulders. You lean down to capture his lips in a searing kiss, your hands around his neck. Soobin reciprocates with the same hunger, his tongue entangling with your own.

As the kiss gets heavier, the urge to have some friction between the two of you grows rapidly. And to relieve you from your misery, you start to lower yourself on his thigh. Soobin growls when your wet folds make contact with his bare thigh, his hand squeezing your ass firmly. “Fuck! So impatient that you wanna get off on my thigh, huh?”

You mewl needily in response, rubbing yourself against his thigh. “I just, I just wanted to see how it feels…”

“Aw, I’m always happy to fulfill your cute little fantasies. How is it, baby?” Soobin enquires, dropping a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“Hmm, so good.” You hum as you continue rolling your hips in slow and smooth circles. Honestly, you didn’t know what to expect, but this is so much better than anything you could possibly think of. You can feel your juices wetting his skin, the friction oh so delicious. Soobin reaches up to tuck a stray lock of hair between your ear fondly, his hand on your waist — guiding you on himself.

You sigh at his touch, moving your hips with a passion in an attempt to get yourself off. He caresses your back before sliding off the shirt from your body and throwing it off somewhere. Soobin grabs both of your breasts immediately, looking like a starved man who’s just been presented with a full course meal.

“So soft.” Soobin murmurs before taking one of your erect nipples into his mouth, his fingers teasing the other. A strangled whimper escapes you, your nails raking on his clothed chest — the delicate material getting snagged in a few places. He’s so good at sucking your tits, alternating between twirling his tongue in circles around your nipple and sucking and nibbling lightly. You can’t help but let out a string of moans as waves of pleasure crash through your body.

“Nngh, Binnie,” You cry out, “Feels– s’good!” He smiles softly in response, his adept tongue slurping at your stiff, sensitive peaks.

Soon enough, you start to feel your pussy spasming and every little sensation amplifying with each roll of your hips.

Soobin licks his bottom lip, eyes hungrily watching your every motion as you move so desperately to get yourself off on his thigh. Knowing very well that you’re very close to your release, he thumbs your clit gently to assess your reaction.

“Ugh, Soobin!” Your whimper encourages him to go on, calloused thumb rubbing your clit, adding more to the pleasure from his thigh. He leans forward, whispering lowly into your ear as he feels the heat of your cheeks against his own, letting out breathless moans.

“Do you like fucking my thigh like that, hm? You like it when your pussy rubs against my thigh and makes a mess?”

“God, yes!” You squeal, moving frantically against him, your cunt starting to pulsate as you start shaking. Soobin grunts, his lips finding yours again and again, muffling your loud moans.

“I’m gonna come.” You whimper helplessly, his expert fingers teasing out the pleasure from you. It feels unspeakably good, your hips moving on their own, slippery folds gliding along his wet skin.

“Then come, baby. Cream all over my thigh like the needy girl you are.” Soobin murmurs huskily, clenching the muscles of his thigh.

And that does it for you. You moan his name urgently, your body breaking out in exhilarating sensations as orgasm hits you in tidal waves. He holds you close, his cock twitching as you try to recover, your nectar sleeking his leg even more.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💌 author’s notes ꒱

thank you so much for reading <33!! i hope this was enjoyable! it was... an experience rewriting this old work from my old blog🧍🏽‍♀️ (s/o to the sweet, sweet anon who asked me to repost this long ago)! my apologies for any mistakes left in there!

consider leaving a reblog or a comment to let me know what you think of this <333!! feedback through asks will be appreciated too! support your local writers, it keeps us motivated to create and share 🌸!

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crinkly-spinkly · 8 months

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What did this fandom need?

A Thomas & Friends Human AU Reverse Harem x Fem!Reader Romcom?

Fuckin hell yeah it did 👉👉

The Housekeeper's Guide to Conductors and Courtship is an 18+ AU where you (yes you!) get hired as a live-in housekeeper to six wealthy, chaotic, and romantically starved steam engine conductors.

What kinds of hijinks will ensue? Find out for yourself if you haven't yet! Chapter 10 should be out fairly soon 🫰

Love y'all! Have fun!

💙Spinks

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admrlthundrbolt · 2 months

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Radioactive (Furiosa x Chubby Reader)

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Being the daughter of Immortan Joe was never the paradise others thought. Though taking care of the wives made it a bit less lonely. Especially when a visit from Furiosa was never to far away.

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

Hey guys, I'm back at it again. With the resent commercials for Furiosa, it reminded me of how much I love her character. So here's a bit of women loving and supporting women. Hope you enjoy.

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Immortan Joe was an evil man. He capitalized on others' torment. A wretch of a human being that believes himself to be a God. His kingdom was built on suffering and the bodies of the unfortunate.

To think that he could have sired you. The only female of his spawn. The singular child to be born in good health. Something to parade around as a symbol, that a healthy male heir could be achieved. You were a spark of hope for him. While you despised his very existence.

A solitary reprieve you did receive was being a care taker for his wives. Though you cringed at the thought of what they went through. You took solace in knowing that you did your best to make their lives a bit better. Even sharing the burden of a chastity belt. Another ‘gift’ of your father's. For you must stay pure and a true embodiment for the citizens. Just another way to keep you under his thumb.

Though you could not have been farther from him in mannerisms. You soft sweet nature was one that could rival a Saint. Soft skin and full figured, you were made to sire healthy offspring. You were to stay with the women. Keep away from the men, only to be brought out in watering ceremonies. You were a goddess of life. Even if you wish to stay to your duties and be left alone.

That was, until Furiosa came along.

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

Torn from her home and forced into servitude. It was an existence that she held the upmost animosity for. It may not have been Immortan Joe that stole her away from her people. But that didn't make him anymore innocent. He was a vile man, who kept around the useful. Seeking out the weak and preying on the niave.

It wasn't an honor to be an officer in his army. To work under him and bring glory, it made her sick. To know she was providing for a villain like him.

Her only solace came in being your guard. You were the only good thing to come from a beast such as him. The breaks she had between runs were spent in your company. Being assigned to you was one of the best days of her life.

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

You were helping Toast wrap her chest when Miss Giddy rushed over to you. “It is time for the water ceremony.”

Rolling your eyes, you finished the intricate knot on her top. Getting up, you apologized to the women. Though they answered with understanding smiles and shooing motions. If there was anyone else who knew just how angry your father got when he was kept waiting. It was the group of women that were expected to carry his brood.

Before leaving the room, you slipped into your chastity belt. Miss Giddy glared at the thing as she locked it. “Those things are inhumane. To think he even forces one on his own daughter.”

You placed a soothing hand on her arm. Knowing how heated she could get over such things. “It is what I must do. We all must make sacrifices for the greater good.” Feeling her tense up, you were quick to let the truth slip free. Turning to look her in the eye, you said. “Things will not always be this way. I feel that change will happen soon.”

Her gaze softened and muscles lost some of their tension. Leading you to the overlook, she passed you to your brother Rictus. Placing a hand on your back, he guided you to stand next to your father.

Nodding at you he began his speech. It was a way to inflate his ego. But the unfortunate people who had no choice at least got the reward of water by the end. He motioned you forward as he finished. Moving up, you released the dams. He always said it was a great honor for you to give them the life force.

As he slammed the levers back down you wanted to flinch. It made you feel helpless, sick to your stomach. As you give them hope, he was one step behind to stomp it out.

With the ceremony over, you stepped into the hall. You would rather wait in the shadows for your escort to return.

A hand brushed against your arm. Jumping a bit, your eyes darted towards the touch. It was a War Boy you had passed from time to time. “Sorry (Y/N), didn't mean to scare you.” He looked so regretful.

A reassuring smile slid onto your face. “It's fine.” Placing a hand on his shoulder, you gave him a soft pat. “What can I do for you?”

He face colored immediately, blushing from ear to ear. He stuttered for a few moments before gathering himself. “I've just never had the chance to speak to you.” Wringing his hands together, his eyes darted between you and the floor. “I wanted to introduce myself. I'm Slit.”

Suddenly the sound of harsh breathing appeared in the doorway. Your father stood, glaring at scene before him. How dare this mutt speak to his daughter. “(Y/N), why have you not returned to the vault.”

You forced a sweet smile at your father. You needed to get his attention away from the War Boy. You didn't need more blood on your hands. “I'm not sure father. I was waiting for Miss Giddy to return. Perhaps she is looking after one of the wives.”

At the mention of his brides, he forgot about the boy. For a bit at least. “I will take you back and check myself. I must keep what belongs to me safe.”

As he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. You couldn't help the foreboding cold sweat that settled over your. You had to keep a shudder in check as he lead you back.

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

It wasn't long before your father summons you again. Which was odd, they're shouldn't be another ceremony for a while. Miss Giddy brought you to his private chambers. Making your way in, you reluctantly bowed your head.

He barley spared you a glance. “I've noticed the War Boys have been paying you more attention. That is a troubling revelation. You will now be escorted by my most trusted officer. She will start her duties with you tomorrow. You are not to leave without her. You will be assigned a new guide if she is otherwise disposed. Am I understood.” It was a demand, not a suggestion.

Nodding dutifully, you shrank into yourself a bit more. “Yes sir. What time should I expect them?”

“Furiosa will be by in the afternoon. I need to explain her new task. But I expect you to be ready well before then.” He waved his hand at you dismissively.

Leaving quickly, you met up with Miss Giddy in the hall. You had been thankful that she had a valid reason to not have waited for you previously. Though having the Furiosa be your new bodyguard was enough to make your head spin. She was the only woman to make it to the level of officer in Immortan Joe's army. To think that someone so impressive would be standing by your side.

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

She wasn't sure how to feel at this time. Having another task forced upon her was enraging. Being the foot soldier of a mad man was an ordeal in itself. To be required to babysit his daughter in her small amount of free time. Well that was a new level of lap dog that she wasn't looking forward to.

Still, she couldn't help but remember how highly others spoke of you. You were the bringer of life and hope. A symbol of a fruitful future. She would have to wait until meeting you to see for herself just who you were.

Taking a deep breath she knocked on the vault door. It swung open slowly and she was thankful for filling her lungs. As you came into veiw she was rendered breathless. You were a vision of plush radiance. She had never seen a more perfect being.

Seeing the officer, you became as giddy as a War Boy with his first rig. She was taller than you imagined, rugged and beautiful all at once. Gesturing into the room, you greeted her warmly. “Please make yourself at home. It may well be where you spend much of your time now."

She wanted to feel bitter about the statement. But with how invitingly you put it, it was hard to not look forward to it. Taking a seat on a nearby stool, she nodded. “Thank you.”

Pulling a large cushion over, you plopped down next to her. “I do not deserve your thanks. I'm the reason you will have little to no free time. I'm sorry my father stuck you with me.”

“It's nothing to apologize for.” She waved away the idea with her mechanical hand. Your eyes widened as you took in the intricacies.

“Did you build it?” She looked away for a moment before nodding. Hovering your hand near it, you looked up at her. “May I?” Nodding again, she watched your soft fingers delicately trace over every bump and groove. You were entraced with the mechanisms. She had never felt prouder of her handy work.

“I could make you something. It wouldn't be an arm, but it could be mechanical.” Your eyes shown brightly as you nodded vigorous at the offer.

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

Spending time with Furiosa was always a pleasure. You had grown close with each other. But there was one subject you both tip toed around, your father. You were wary of speaking poorly of him in front of anyone outside of the vault. It was something that was beaten into you at an early age. Still there was something about the way she held her tounge in certain moments. It made you believe that your thoughts could be more similar than many others.

You weren't going to breech the subject. Until the wives came to you in a bought of desperation. Angharad was growing rounder with his spawn. “I implore you to just speak with her. She may be our only hope.” Taking your hands in her own, she wept. “All of us, sister.”

Squeezing her hands you frowned. The truth was laid bare before you. But would she be willing to sacrifice for women she barely knew. You could feel your heart sting with the thought of her rejection. Nodding silently, you took her into your arms. Even if it destroyed you, you would save your sisters. You hoped that she would feel the same.

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

She was surprised when you didn't meet her at the door. Then she became frustrated with herself. Of course someone like you would have better things to do than greet her.

The Dag smiled knowingly at the officer. She had seen the way you gazed at one another. Immortan Joe had only handed you a partner on a silver platter. “She is gathering her things.”

Nodding, she stood near the door and tried not to fidget. As you emerged she gave you an unintentional look over. You were swathed in a gossamer robe and held a small basket at your side. She swept forward to take it from you. But you waved her away and smiled coyly. She was surprised when you didn't wait for Miss Giddy. She wanted to spit in the face of your father for making anyone wear those abominations. Especially forcing one on his own daughter. It was one of the few moments she was thankful for being barren.

Following close behind you, she was soon brought to an isolated cavern. It was empty, except for the sunken pool in the middle of the room. You set the basket near the pool and let the robe slip from your luscious body. If she was enamored with the sight of you a moment ago, then she was enraptured now. Stepping into the pool, you emerged yourself. She stepped forward when you didn't immediately resurface. As you breached the surface, she took another unconscious step.

You beckoned her closer. “Join me."

That snapped her from her trance. Shaking her head, she said. “I couldn't….”

Your eyes became half lidded as you folded your arms on the side of the pool. “You could, it would be a favor to me. Your ward."

Her eyes narrowed at that. “You are much more than that.”

Expression softening, you held a hand out to her. “If you are not comfortable bathing with me, I understand. Would you not sit by the water's edge and converse with me?”

She wanted to throttle herself. Here you were, like a literal wet dream in front of her. Still there was a part of her holding back and for good reason. It wouldn't do her any good trust the wrong person, not again. Nodding stiffly, she lowered herself near you.

Wadding over to the basket, pulling bottles and jars from it. Plucking a slim jar from the bunch, you returned to her. “Would you mind washing my hair?” A quick nod followed by you offering the container. Dipping your head under the water once more, you sighed. Facing away from her, you leaned back towards her. Heart hammering, she spread the liquid around her palms. The intimacy of bathing another was not lost on either of you. Still she massaged and threaded her fingers through your locks. Sinking a bit more into the water, you wanted to melt into the depths below. It was a lovely sensation, to have one you admire treat you so delicately. But there was a matter more dire than your fantasy.

“I need your help. The wives need to escape.” You yelped as her fingers jerked in your hair. You whirled to plead with her, thinking that she was against the idea. Her expression wasn't that of rage though, but bewildered curiosity. So you continued, hoping your hunch was right. “They are treated as nothing but prized breeders. I am disgusted with the way my father considers them possessions. Everyday Angharad grows closer to birthing his spawn. This is no place to raise a child.” Your eyes were wet with tears as you explain their plight.

Her stomach bubbled with hatred. For your father, who was responsible for so much suffering. For herself, to believe for even a moment that you would side with that monster. And for you, you begged for the wives. But he was doing the same to you. Even parading you around to prove he was capable of making something amazing. Really though, you were the one that had created that shine in yourself.

Lunging forward, she captured your lips with her own. Water splashed as she slid into the pool to press your bodies flush. Running your hands up her back, you pulled her closer. Trying to meld yourselves together. Pulling apart, panting desperately, you looked up at her blisteringly.

“We will travel to the Green Place.” Then she thrust her mouth at yours once more. You graciously followed her motions and enjoyed yourself thoroughly. If the Green Place was where she thought you should go, then you would trust her. You would follow anywhere she would take you.

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mothwingwritings · 3 months

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Green

F!Reader X Strade

Really original name for this one, major kudos to me for that one. B)

Here’s another little Strade thing. I remember reading somewhere on Gato’s blog that his fav color is green so this was born from that. I honestly may have made that up in my head though so if I did just pretend it’s true. :)

Anyway, it’s just another little ficlet while I work on some little stuff. I hope you all enjoy and thank you, as always, for reading. (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

THIS IS 18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!

Warnings: Mentions of noncon, torture, abuse, (briefly) suicide, and imprisonment.

Green was your favorite color.

You can’t really remember what originally attracted you to it, whether it was that you genuinely enjoyed the shade or if you were just trying to be cool and not pick a color that was overly ‘girly’. But after years of placing it on a pedestal, dubbing it your favorite amongst all other colors, your affection for it had remained solid.

Whenever you bought an item, whether it was something little or an object that was pricier, you always checked to see if it came in green. The walls of your childhood bedroom were coated in the color, and when you moved out on your own and were in charge of your own interior decorating, green was what you chose to paint most of the rooms. You adorned yourself in it, green being the prominent color in your wardrobe and jewelry collection. Sweaters, dresses, pants- at least one of each came in green. Even a vast array of your makeup was dedicated to the color, matching perfectly with whatever outfit you donned yourself in should you feel the urge to get a little more gussied up.

And on the night you met Strade green was one of the first things you talked about.

After he introduced himself you complimented his shirt. Or at least that’s how you remember it, the night itself had become a bit of a blur. You were shy by nature and not used to people ambling up to you for conversation, let alone at a bar (someplace you only went because you were meeting up with friends and just happened to arrive the earliest). You awkwardly tripped over your words, flustered by the man who had welcomed himself so easily into your space, taking the seat across from you so naturally it was as if he was the friend you had been waiting for.

After a preliminary exchanging of greetings and light pleasantries, an uncomfortable silence lingered between the two of you. He seemed perfectly content just being in your presence, sipping his beer with a twinkle in his eye as he watched you fidget and squirm through the forced interaction. You must have checked your phone at least a hundred times in hopes of an update, grimacing when one finally arrived in the form of a text stating your friends were stuck in traffic and probably wouldn’t be at the bar for at least another thirty minutes.

Your new companion’s unwavering stare coupled with the suffocating and boisterous atmosphere of the bar was starting to do a number on you. You contemplated hiding in the bathroom, but you weren’t too keen on sitting in a dimly lit, poorly maintained stall for a half hour while you waited on your friends. And if you dipped in there for a little bit just to find some reprieve, you’d still be facing the same situation when you came back out.

So mustering your courage, you decided to try and take some initiative in an attempt to make things a little less awkward.

“Um, I like your shirt,” you spoke just loud enough that he could hear you over the noise of the other patrons. Though you were overcome with nerves, you figured it best to lead a conversation with a compliment. Who doesn’t like to receive praise, even for something as trivial as a garment? “It’s a nice color, green is my favorite.”

Instant embarrassment caused your cheeks to flush. The words sounded a lot less childish in your head, and you chided yourself over how silly it sounded as soon as they left your lips. What kind of adult starts a conversation at a bar by talking about their favorite color? What were you, five?

But he laughed warmly, genuinely pleased by your comment, dispelling all feelings of bashfulness. At the time you liked the way his laugh sounded, warm and inviting as it fooled you into thinking that maybe he actually could become your friend.

“Thanks, and good choice,” he shot you a lopsided smile, raising his half-full mug to you. “Green’s my favorite, too.”

It was funny in a tragic sort of way, how something that you used to enjoy so much now just filled you with cold, deep, dread.

Now you could only associate green with pain. Green reminded you of his arms, constricting and choking you, squeezing you within an inch of your life as he dragged you away from the last semblance of normalcy you’d ever experience. Green reminded you of his chest, smothering you, muffling your screams as he tested out his newest weapon on you- the green handle of his knife getting stained with red splatters, your blood coating it as he carved into you with reckless abandon.

Green reminded you of the carpet in his bedroom, where he would hold you down after he finished brutalizing some poor soul in his basement, still high off his kill as he fucked you long and hard, getting off to your cries of pain as he spilled himself deep inside of you. Green reminded you of the bedsheets you would snatch off his bed, cocooning them around your body for a false sense of security, creating a flimsy shield against the rest of the world. Every night when you fell asleep nestled inside of them, Strade not far from your side, you wondered if one day he may use them to strangle you. You wondered if maybe that would be for the best, if you just never woke up again.

Green used to be yours, a color that loved ones and friends used to associate with you. A color you used to look at and see yourself in. A color that used to bring you joy.

Now all it reminded you of was Strade and just how much of yourself you had lost to him.

#btd strade x reader #boyfriend to death strade x reader #strade x y/n #strade x reader #btd strade x y/n #boyfriend to death strade x y/n #ykmet strade x reader #ykmet strade x y/n #ykmet strade #btd strade #boyfriend to death strade #also! fun fact! green is MY favorite color too! wowee!#mothwingswritings #thank you for reading and for being splendid and lovely #you kill me every time Strade

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minniesmelody · 2 years

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I just made these <3 feel free to use them, I would rather have you give credit but I don’t mind if you don’t want to ♥︎

#gareth the great #gareth emerson headcanons #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson #stranger things #hellfire club #eddie munson #stranger things imagine #gareth stranger things #steve harrington #gareth x reader #gareth #stranger things season four #gwydion lashlee walton #little miss #little miss splendid #i was bored so i made this

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reilliane · 2 years

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Prosaic ⊱⊰ Heizou

A/N: First test ficlet for Heizou! I still haven't completed his hangout but I can say I've gotten a few notes down about his personality. Hence... this! >:) also yes, this is inspired from his hangout lmao

✤ A supposedly normal day for a detective turns out to be the most thrilling when he finds yet another letter of complaint on his desk. (Or in another angle, a later interrogation going wrong- no, right??)

✤ Words: 2k

Cracking cases, solving puzzles, and working up conclusions comprises his daily objectives—which means no 'light' tasks like finding a missing cat.

Yes, one can say that finding a feline is significant to some, but he's always seeking more. Something profound; the roots of a problem, the tellings of a quandary, anything that makes up a good mystery.

But even a detective has his slow days.

Slow, for this matter, is that the day fails to bring him any sort of fascination. Occasionally, it manages to swing by an interesting event—like meeting the Traveler—but this... is just not it.

So he finds himself seated behind his desk, tapping his fingers on the wood with a minuscule sigh of boredom.

His peers are casting him puzzled glances, unmistakably awed at the sight of the usually out-of-the-office man sitting where he's meant to be.

'For once, Shikanoin Heizou is actually present.' quoting Kujou Sara herself.

Literally present, yes, though that doesn't mean his mind is.

The detective filters through the papers in his hand with a weary hum. As expected, the given cases are rather... depthless.

He has no issue with those, no no, it's just that-

Arms stretching upwards, he yawns.

-He'd rather be solving and tinkering. Maybe an investigation will suffice, but there is nothing of the sort in any of the papers.

At least, not until he gets to the very bottom, where he sees a rather familiar file personally referring to him. It is the heaviest of odiums possible, a grand consequence for a probable mistake done in a scene that resulted in dissatisfaction.

It is—!

“Does anyone know who wrote and sent this in?” he calls, waving the paper around as he rounds his desk, “The name section is blank.”

A complaint letter.

How cumbersome, to think that somebody is discontented with his competence! Dear him, dear him.

“No...” answers one of his colleagues, “it's brought along with the feedback, suggestions, and requests form as a stack, so...”

So this could've been sent a few days ago and no one could remember the face of the writer. Dear heavens, it does not help that the Tenryou Commission allows anonymity in writing letters of complaint.

Humming for the nth time, he stares away at the wall, linking his mind back to days prior.

Ah, he doesn't know if he should perceive this as fascinating or troubling.

“Another one, detective? Have you checked what it's about?” asked Uesigi after downing a cup of coffee.

“Mm, well... oh?”

Fascinating...

Heizou feels his lips curling into a smile as he rereads what's written on the parchment. “Oh.”

Or troubling....

Doushin Shikanoin should be put behind bars for being so distractingly attractive. It's impossible to work when he's around. He's a thief for stealing my attention and a debtor for not paying back the time he made me spend cursing his damned appeal.

Why, it seems to be both.

To his luck, Sara appears through the threshold of her own office, eyebrow arched upon seeing him.

She must've been astounded, as well, though she fared nicely in restraining her shock.

Upon seeing the paper in the detective's hand, she nods with a sigh, recalling the day it was dropped off at the station. “Come to think of it, there's also a hairpin on the ground. Whoever sent it could've dropped their accessory.”

Dropped something?

How convenient it must be for the writer that no one saw them. Ah, he should ask the guards stationed outside.

Sauntering towards the lost and found shelf, Heizou is swift to lay eyes on the hairpin in question, stilling when he is able to recognize it in a beat of a second.

Aha.

With crisp neatness, he folds the letter and pockets it alongside the accessory before turning to his superior. “Ma'am, I'll be heading out for a while.”

The office is silent.

Sara does not speak, but with the baffled blinking of her optics, Heizou is grinning and already strolling out of headquarters. If they peer closer, which they do, an evident bounce accompanies each of the doushin's steps.

All of a sudden, he's become peppier. Wasn't he bored out of his mind just a while ago?

They can barely process the quick turn of events, but they've learned to let it pass. Shikanoin is rather eccentric and they've gotten used to it.

So, they all went back to their prior matters post-haste, saving their curiosity for later as they hear him exclaim out the door.

“I'm on the case!”

Only someone like him would ever call a complaint letter a case.

It is apparent that business is slow this morning. The people ambling to and fro are few, with most only passing a wave of greeting.

It just so happens that the most renowned festivities have elapsed, and the season of love is far away... so there are little to no folks who'd glance twice at your well-kept flowers.

Cheek resting on the palm of your hand, you sigh, waving at those that greeted you with a tiny smile. No such deductions are needed to be able to conclude that there will be no one buying today.

I can pay a visit to Yoimiya, it's always fun with her around. Objective in mind, you get to work, leaning off the counter to pat your kimono. I should close up for the day.

The location of the sun indicates that it's roughly around nine in the morning, ergo it's incredibly early to be closing, but you can't spend your time idling away.

Besides, if an urgent order arrives, your flowers are always prepared.

Your shop doesn't blossom in the season for no reason!

You lift a pretty bouquet of freshly imported silk flowers, about to transfer it to a neat and tidy glass case in the windowed backroom, when you hear rhythmical knocks against the wood.

“Miss [Name], good morning!”

Oh?

A dashing man stands in front of the counter, bright olive eyes telling of yet another possible gimmick. You wave.

“Good morning, detective. How do you do?”

A fascinating eccentric slithers in the dews of a prosaic morning, it seems.

Shikanoin Heizou doesn't frequent your floral shop unless it's to ask for some input regarding a case.

Your encounters mostly occur whenever you're free from floral responsibilities, bumping into one another in food stalls and event places. Having him here is not unwelcomed, however.

Now, he's always seen smiling, but he seems particularly brighter today as he wordlessly helps you transpose your flowers.

Perhaps the universe has sent him to liven up the day.

“Doing incredibly well, thank you,” he starts, dusting off his hands before flashing you an eye smile. “Do you mind answering a few questions?”

Ah, as expected.

He takes his prior position, in front of the counter and you behind it, much like a vendor and a customer.

Or for this matter; him, the interrogator, and you, the one being questioned.

“If it is in any relation to a case or of any aid, then I'd be pleased to,” you respond without batting an eye, swiping the petals that have fallen on the desk.

“Splendid.”

The sound of rustles prompts you to look, seeing him open a folded paper, though he keeps the contents to himself. He gives it a thorough reading.

You wonder what the case is about.

“So, may I ask where you were yesterday at the time of fourteen hundred?” he questions, flitting his eyes to meet yours.

His smile has grown lopsided, marginally appearing as a smirk.

Hearing his query drags a hum from your throat. Ah, is he asking whilst considering you a witness? Or a suspect?

Insouciant, you lean on the counter, mirroring his smile.

“Taking a stroll.”

“At the location of?”

“Inazuma city, of course.”

“In particular?”

“Here and there.”

Heizou folds his arms and gives you a frown, though this belies the highly entertained gleam in his eyes. You can't tell if he's dissatisfied with the fuzzy answers or not, though.

To any detective, they'd get pressed at the ambiguity, but this specific man... how should you put it—you have a feeling that he'd prefer a more unorthodox interrogation.

He always has a means to an end so he'll still get what he seeks regardless if you twist your answers. So, you suppose you're just making things a little more interesting.

Besides, you've got an inkling that this case isn't as critical as you assumed.

“You're being rather cheeky, miss [Name],” eyes slanting, he whispers, “If not suspicious.”

You can't help but laugh, disregarding his observation with a shake of your head.

“Oh no, but I am answering to the best of my ability! I haven't got any plans to go to Ritou or elsewhere, for the matter. So where would I take a stroll, if not in the city itself?”

He considers your answer with a thoughtful hum, mumbling something about it being a sensible answer as he cups his chin. It's not long before he is snapping his fingers, however, like he's conjured up a perfect query.

One that will force your ambiguous answers to conform with his.

“Hm! Then does the police station count?”

You shrug. “Well, your headquarters is in the city.”

The gleam in his eyes brightened.

With a flourish, he flicks the paper in his hands, turning it in your direction. “Then, can I assume that you are the one who filed this complaint letter?”

Humoring his assumptions, you lean on the counter, skimming through the words. You simper. Nothing short of flirtatious.

“What makes you think so, detective?”

“A friend told me that you did swing by headquarters at around two in the afternoon,” his eyes crinkle, accentuating the lift of his cheeks and the curve of his lips. “Need I say more?”

To add to the list of evidence upon which he can suspect that you are the writer, he takes out... ah, so that's where it is. The hairpin, you must've dropped it.

Still, the way he sounds assured with his conclusion makes it impossible not to be smug with your rebuttals. It is bizarre for him to delve straight into decisions without considering other known possibilities.

What can be the reason... oho.

“So you mean to say that simply because I went there, I was the one who wrote such a thing? You flatter me, doushin.”

His reaction is kept subtle, but it's no use under your equally watchful eye. There is a slight falter to his confidence, hardly noticeable.

With a slight tip of the chin, you draw out a prolonged sigh before gesturing behind him. He glances over his shoulder and sees a couple of women averting their gazes and speeding away, faces behind their sleeves.

“Surely, you are not blind to the gazes cast upon you by plenty of women. Yes, I came to the police station yesterday, but haven't you thought of the possibility that I was dropping it off for someone else?”

Heizou turns again, eyebrows arched. He doesn't bother hiding his surprise this time, but he's always been the tenacious kind.

One can easily tell that he will not be changing his mind about his answer anytime soon. Well, two can play at that game.

“My intui-”

“My intuition tells me that you came here with the hope that it was I who wrote it,” you cut him off, leaning closer and closer it's almost as if you're about to-

“Is that right, handsome?”

At the whisper, Heizou falls prey to stillness and genuine astonishment, watching as the florist withdraws with a charming smile. She only went close to take her accessory—that is now being slipped into her hair.

After his bearings have returned, he clears his throat and crosses his arms again. He tries not to let the compliment cloud the gears of his mind, though his cheeks are already rather hot.

“Then let me rephrase my question.”

The fixed [c]s on his person makes him feel warmer than usual.

Laid upon the desk is the complaint letter, sliding forward under the timid force of his fingers.

“Did you come to deliver this for somebody?”

He is highly, awfully aware of the soft fingers that graze against his own when [Name] moves to take the paper. Slow and purposeful, as though she's prolonging the 'accidental' touch.

The fact that they both aren't backing down from the others' stare sends a thrum of excitement in his chest. Fluttering butterflies, racing hearts, he yearns for it when the touch finally vanishes.

It takes him his all not to give chase.

“Oh, detective,” [Name] winks. An invitation. “Wouldn't you like to know?”

At least, until permitted.

Heizou's smile doubles in size.

Turns out that his day isn't as boring as he originally thought.

a/n: WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE the moment 'complaint letter' showed up in his hangout i have gotten this idea ever since ahdjdhjasdhas what better way to return his charm with an equally charming MC? ;) but seriously, i am in love with mutual pining hasdhajksdask

@cherryflushz @e7t3 @scarlet-halos @lordbugs @nebulaera @annoying-and-upset @hanniejji @applepi1415 @tjjjrsj @azirajane @hey-comrade-hold-stil @limelightsuperhero @chloeloe @loptido @windyventi @nejibot @ganyuqrt @justrinnn @yasunamilk @alana5021

#genshin x reader #genshin fluff #heizou x reader #heizou fluff #female reader #mutual pining is muah #who doesnt like that trope it is splendid

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sunflowersandsapphires · 11 months

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Splendid is the Flower Chapter 1: Orchids

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!OC

summary: While getting to know Frank, Wren experiments with different ways of expressing her affection to the gruff man.

warnings: swearing, no use of y/n

a/n: This was supposed to be a single fic but it ended up getting so long that I split it up into 5 pieces instead. I had a really fun time exploring Frank’s character with this piece. Let me know if you want to be tagged!

w/c: 1.3k

“Once in a golden hour

I cast to earth a seed.

Up there came a flower

The people said, a weed.”

—Lord Tennyson’s ‘The Flower’

They had only been traveling together for a handful of months when she decided to try something new.

Frank was still a stone wall of sharp commands and exasperated grumbling most days. Wren appreciated his company nonetheless. His harsh demeanor kept her away from prying eyes and his proficiency with swords and crossbows had proven more than educational.

Despite his aversion to others, and, seemingly, to his own general happiness, he seemed almost…content with her companionship. While he still rolled his eyes at her cheerfulness, and ignored her attempts to care for him, she’d noticed a striking increase of smirks on his lips recently. She decided to take that as a sign that he didn’t hate her for following him around—even though he repeatedly reminded her that their fates were not bound together, as she had once suggested.

Regardless of why they ended up on each other’s doorsteps time and time again, Wren cared for Frank. She was one of very few, it seemed. His behavior effortlessly created a barrier that most people weren’t willing to cross, but she wasn’t one to say no to a challenge.

Staying on Frank’s good side while treating him with genuine care required an ongoing series of rules, otherwise she ran the risk of spooking him and ruining any connection that existed between them. She kept detailed mental notes of when each form of affection was accepted, if at all.

After a lifetime as a soldier and an outcast, Frank didn’t even flinch when vile words were thrown his way. The mere thought of some of the insults that had been hurled at him were enough to make Wren shudder, but Frank would merely shrug and move on with his day. To make up for the viciousness that he faced elsewhere, Wren had committed to using kind words around him early on in their companionship. He was clearly uncomfortable with praise and compliments (if the way he rolled his eyes and pretended not to hear her was any indication) but his footfalls always seemed lighter when she called him sweet or thanked him earnestly.

The next thing she noticed was his expectation of violence from everyone around him. Given his line of work, he had to be accustomed to brutality, but Wren found it sad that he was so at ease in a fight. Especially when he had practically hyperventilated after she tried to hug him for the first time. After some trial and error, she realized Frank did appreciate a gentle hand from her, but only every so often. Though he was clearly touch starved, he would shy away from Wren if she got too attached. She wasn’t quite sure what that was about, but she hoped to find out.

Because he had traveled on his own for so long, Frank had a difficult time asking for and accepting her help. If Wren needed something, it was absolutely futile to ignore his attempts to care for her. Even if he complained throughout, he would brood for days if she denied him the opportunity. She was hurt? He insisted on stitching her up. Hungry? He’d share his meal. Lamenting and objecting the whole time, sure, but he’d be damned if she didn’t have that last slice of meat. Unfortunately, Wren had yet to discover the key to returning the favor without him lashing out. She’d just have to keep studying.

But, one day, when she was running an errand for an acquaintance in a neighboring town, Wren realized something. Throughout all of her observations, she had never even tried to give Frank a gift. She had no idea how he’d react to it, but if she was careful enough… It just might work.

Once she was safely back in their temporary quarters, Wren fussed with the colorful bundle she had just acquired. Eventually, after much thought, it was placed next to Frank’s things. Intentionally close enough that he could inspect it, but far enough that he wouldn’t be forced to. Now to wait for him to react.

Frank was running late after a shit hunt that was for shit pay because the shit innkeeper had failed to realize that the “fylgja” he had asked Frank to find was actually a pack of draugar using illusory magic. When Frank returned with the rotting corpses of revenants instead of a beautiful woman who could grant immense fortune, the innkeeper was less than thrilled—giving Frank barely half of the agreed upon compensation.

Trudging back to their small room, Frank was downright enraged. Using his shoulder to shove open the door, he tossed the sack of coins onto the bed in the corner and began stripping off his foul-smelling, gut-covered clothes.

The room was filled with a rage-induced silence for a few minutes until a voice piped up.

“Hunt was that bad, huh?”

“Fuck!” Frank whirled around, blade drawn and pointed at a familiar, smiling face. “Wren, shit, you can’t fucking do that. Vicious pyret.”

Wren giggled, completely unperturbed by his dagger slashing so close to her. “Sorry, you just were so wrapped up in yourself, you didn’t even notice I was here. You hurt?”

“Not physically. Financially, on the other hand…” Frank grumbled, sheathing his weapon and returning to the task at hand.

“He shorted you?” Curious, Wren padded over and took a seat on the bed next to Frank’s growing pile of rags, inspecting the satchel of coins.

“Paid me less than half of what he promised—the bastard. Going forward, we don’t trust the word of a drunk idiot from Leybrook.”

“Understood.” Wren nodded in confirmation, turning back to face him. Her eyes twinkled with an emotion Frank couldn’t place.

After a moment, Wren stood up and began throwing his soiled clothes into a sack of other laundry that needed to be washed. Exhausted, Frank collapsed on the bed. Underneath him, something crinkled. Afraid he’d broken something of Wren’s, he moved cautiously to see what it was,

Sitting on the bed, mostly undamaged by his weight, was a bouquet of purple flowers wrapped in parchment. He’d been so preoccupied with frustration and disgust that he hadn’t noticed them until now.

“Shit, I sat on your flowers.” He groused, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he held them out to her.

“Oh that’s ok! They were for you, actually.” Still gathering clothes, Wren wasn’t looking at him.

Frank couldn’t tell if she was serious. He pulled the gathering of stems to himself, inspecting it. “For me? Why?”

“I saw them when I was foraging for Anna earlier today. They reminded me of you.”

“How on earth can I remind you of a flower?”

“Well,” She was looking at him through her lashes, clearly a little nervous about his reaction. “They’re Fragrant Orchids. They represent strength and resilience so, naturally, I thought of you.”

With that, Wren moved on. She started rummaging through her pack for a meal, as if she hadn’t just turned Frank’s entire world on its head.

“You don’t have to keep them.” She remarked. “Just thought they were nice is all.”

“No, I—“ Frank’s throat felt swollen with an emotion he could’ve sworn he didn’t have the ability to feel anymore. He cleared it and started again. “They’re—they’re pretty, Wren.”

“Really, I can take them back,” She stated, reaching out for the bundle. Frank’s hand drew the blossoms to his chest, instinctively.

“No!” He yelped. Then, more than a little embarrassed by his outburst, he added, “I mean—if we get rid of them, you’ll be sad and I can’t handle that. I won’t be the reason for that.” Yah, sure, that sounded plausible—right?

“Ok, if you’re positive.” Giving a shrug, Wren fished out some dried meat and stale rolls from her bag, offering a portion to Frank.

They ate in comfortable silence, but Frank kept stealing glances at the flowers, as if worried they’d burst into flames.

After the daylight had disappeared, and they both had slept, Wren woke to see the flowers in a pot filled with water in front of their small window.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x oc #frank castle x female reader #frank castle #the punisher x reader #the punisher #marvel the punisher #jon bernthal #my writing #fc #splendid is the flower

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mondaymelon · 3 months

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₊⊹ "𝐧𝐨𝐨𝐨, 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝…" | xiao, childe, alhaitham x gn!reader

「 "𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐚𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮!!"」

— in which you've gotten drunk... drunk enough to fail to recognize your own lover.

— silly fluff. soft xiao, had this one in the drafts for far too long and its about time i choke it out... happy white day !!

the moment your slurred words reached his ears, XIAO knew that he never should've let you get your hands on that cursed rice wine.

in a way, he supposed it could be his fault. the one time he had decided to indulge in trivial mortal matters like alcohol due to your constant insistence... well, just look at you.

red-faced, the tips of your ears and cheeks stuck in a helplessly drunken flush, you babbled incoherently with half of your face smushed against the table. xiao could only stare in contempt as you feebly reached towards the already-emptied bottle,

( xiao had taken one sip and refused any more indulgence, claiming it was bitter, when in fact, you had gone out of your way to find a sweeter drink ),

and sigh, massaging the bridge of his nose with a certain disillusionment.

"come on, you're getting to bed." the man was just about done with your hopeless actions. he grabbed your wrist and tugged, only to be met with resistance. you're pouting like a child, brows furrowed lazily as you stare upwards at him.

"nnno. m'not going with you."

"...excuse me?" what in the archons was the problem now? he tugged again, this time with a small margin of force, and was met with an even larger pull back, this time paired with a low whine. "hey, it's late, and all the wine is gone, so just comply with me won't you?"

"i already told you... i have a husband..."

your complaint met the cool night air and the adeptus' silence. his lips were slightly parted as his round eyes blinked once, then twice, in a sort of stunned stupor. "...love, i am that husband."

archons, how had he found himself such a foolish mortal to love?

"don't lie to me!" you shook your head profusely, wiggling around in his grasp relentlessly until the adeptus had no choice but to let go. "i know my husband when i see him... and he's way handsomer than you, stupid..." you stared him up and down with squinting eyes, eyeing the way his ears were beginning to turn pink, and sat heavily in thought as you pondered the man before you.

definitely not your husband.

idiot. with a huff, he easily hauled your body over his shoulder as if carrying something as trivial as a sack of potatoes. you hung loosely over, landing a couple weak punches on his back as you proceeded to prattle on, your defiance seemingly having little effect.

then, you were silent, and xiao had to look back to make sure you hadn't gotten hurt. sure, he had considered once or twice leaving you out there all passed out on the balcony, but not without reason, yet he'd decided against it. you seemed fine, mouth hung slightly ajar as you snoozed peacefully, your eyes shut and cheeks still warm from what you'd downed. the audacity to fall asleep... xiao couldn't deny that his sigh was one of fondness.

"night, this husband of yours loves you."

strange, wasn't the wine from liyue supposedly far less intense compared to the vodka CHILDE had tried back home?

that, or the people here simply were more susceptible when it came to the topic of intoxication. you were no exception — he'd taken you out drinking, his mistake, thinking it'd be an easy, splendid time.

and don't get him wrong, it was! not just, well... conversation was rather hard to make when the other person was practically unconscious. you're practically splayed across the mahogany table, eyes nearly drooped close and fire across your cheeks.

you giggled. it's a muddled sound, when you're mostly mumbling into the table. "hhhey, pour me another glass~"

childe scans your less-than-ideal state and procures an answer in a little under a second. "love, you've had too many."

you seem shocked at his words, leaning forwards a little with narrowed eyes. your figure sways as you shake your head lazily, from side to side. "wwhhhat? nnno, that can't be right..."

the man holds back an amused chuckle. it's entertaining. "and how many fingers am i holding up?" he holds up just one hand, displaying a reasonable amount of three.

there's a beat of silence. "...nineteen?" you blink a couple times, as if to shake you out of your stupor. "...nineteen," this time, with confidence.

childe claps his hands together, a sudden sound that makes you startled, and he moves to apologize immediately. "we're getting you to bed, love. clearly you've had more alcohol than you can handle."

"what, was i wrong??" there's tears forming in your eyes, and your lips tug downwards in a frown. "u-uhm, fifteen? nno, four...?"

"still incorrect, love. i'm afraid it's time for you to go to sleep. you'll wake up with a hell of a hangover tomorrow morning, but..." he sighed, thinking back to his time in shneznaya, then made a mental note to prepare you a hangover drink in the morning. his hand found its familiar place in your hand, unnaturally warm with your skin rosy from the alcohol. he smiled, turning to glance at you, but ceased when he saw you on the ground, tears now falling from your eyes, quietly sobbing as you shook your head back and forth.

panic immediately sets in. what has he done wrong?? "love, what-"

"nnnno, don't call me that..." you squinted upwards at him, looking quite displeased. "no 'love', 'kaaay? i'm not your love, mister."

he paused. wait, you didn't possibly think that... "love-" oh, old habits died hard, and the word had already left his lips before he could process what you'd said.

"i have a husband, you!!" in some sort of fit, or perhaps better worded as a tantrum, you stood, wrenching yourself from his grip and then hitting him repeatedly in the shoulders, chest, anywhere your fists could reach, really. the alcohol had surely affected your capabilities of combat — you missed half the time, and what punches did land caused no pain at all.

as your anger subsided, your step faltered, body swaying in the open air before childe reached over to catch you in his arms. he was concerned, naturally. "lov- are you alright?" his worry only grew when he heard no response, but it ebbed with a chuckle when he saw you were already fast asleep in his arms, snoozing without a care in the world.

"a husband, hm? whoever it is, he must quite be the gentleman..."

ALHAITHAM knew his night was fated to end in idiocy the moment you knocked on his door.

it didn't even strike him that you were holding wine, of all things, when you waltzed into his house like it was your own. sure, it wasn't as if these occasions weren't frequent, but really anyone would be surprised to glance up from a quiet reading session only to see their (annoying) lover pressed against the door, repeatedly calling out his name in a sing-song, satire-like voice.

like... calling a cat. it was a realization he made with not too much contentment. silently, he thanked the archons that kaveh was not home — they knew that he could not handle the both of you.

it was only when you sat down at his table, where he'd been reading up to the point when you barged in, that he noticed. green-tinted glass, a little wind motif on the front... dandelion wine from mondstadt. now, just how did you get your hands on that?

"connections," you had stated. with a note of pride, he might add. what, was he supposed to congratulate you on being able to talk to other people? even he, a person who generally hated people, could do that.

ah, but he didn't hate it. your voice, that is, when you rambled on for hours on end. he didn't have the heart to interrupt you, especially when you were so heated on a topic — be it work troubles, an especially annoying sailor, or you accidentally dropping your pita pocket into the water when walking along the port, he didn't mind.

"...mmbottle. haaithammm, the bottle..." your drunk complaints reach his ears, and he his irritation is more so disrupted with inward amusement as he watches you in the predicament you've landed yourself in.

"the bottle?" he questions, raising an eyebrow. his hands are crossed over his chest; he's clearly getting a ruse out of this. "just what would you need the bottle for, love?"

your eyebrows scrunch together. he can tell your brain is working at its max capacity. "...im. thirsty?"

"you've already drunk two thirds of this bottle." he holds said bottle high above your head, hopelessly far from your reach. "if you're so thirsty, drink water."

"i don wanna."

"..."

"just... one drop?"

"hah..." he pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply, and places a hand on your shoulder. you barely react, and don't even glance at the sudden weight. "love, you're staying over. you're going to bed."

"bed...?" horror crosses your face, paired with evident irritation. "y...you, who do you think you are, to suggest such things!?" your face is bright red, and you're hugging yourself with one arm and pointing an accusing finger towards the male with the other. "i have a husband!!"

ah. "...what's his name?"

"and why do youuuu want to know?" you narrow your eyes suspiciously at him, but seem to come up with an answer to your own question, for you answer him anyhow. "haitham."

"do you love this 'haitham'?" alhaitham's enjoying himself. when he teases the sober you, all you do is retort back, but now... he can see your flustered expression on full display as you stammer out an answer.

"o-of course! a-and, if you wanted to know, he's waaaaay handsomer.. than ... you..."

just like that, you topple over and sink into the couch, knocked unconscious. a trace of a smile crosses alhaitham's lips as he looks at your sleeping form.

"fortunately for you, this 'haitham' you speak of loves you too."

(a/n) bye i was gonna add kaveh to this one too but i realized oh fuck its white day i said id post a month ago what the fuck am i doing so i just like regurgitated this out and spat it onto your dashboard. ahodfjlds

tags (id paste the aesthetic thing but i cant find it so we're just gonna roll w this):

@manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @ @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader,@fiannee, @aether-darling, @ceneid, @avensuersa, @solxima

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dragon-kazansky · 2 months

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Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

♡♡♡

Season One

Chapter One - Mr Bridgerton

Chapter Two - Empty drawing rooms

Chapter Three - Becoming acquainted

Chapter Four - Roots for friendship

Chapter Five - Diamonds

Chapter Six - Splendid

Chapter Seven - The prince

Chapter Eight - Sparkling diamond

Chapter Nine - Late night scandals

Chapter Ten - Duel at dawn

Chapter Eleven - Ruse to ruse

Chapter Twelve - Beautiful day for a wedding

Chapter Thirteen - Passionate

Chapter Fourteen - Scandals in abundance

Chapter Fifteen - Rhythm of our hearts

Chapter Sixteen - Entanglement

Chapter Seventeen - End of the season

♡♡♡

Season Two

The tag list is full! I'm sorry! I've reached the capacity!

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #dragon writes #bridgerton shade of blue

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yzzart · 6 months

Note

Love your Tom blyth fics an unhealthy amount!!! I’m picturing reader and Tom being all lovey dovey at the premiers but playing it off as really good bestfriends UNTIL she goes to kiss him on the cheek and in instinct he turns his head to kiss her on the lips so they just say fuck it and hard launch there and then x

"An unplanned situation."

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader

summary: a small gesture, with a sweet intention, revealed a promising secret.

word count: 1.359!

notes: i started this request in the morning and only had the opportunity to finish it a few minutes ago, forgive me for that, anon! — i hope you like it and of course, feel free to share ideas with me!

"Y/N, look here!"

Another request, among others, screams and countless flashes, was directed to you; being, theoretically, almost impossible to identify who had demanded your image. — There were so many voices mixing, not to mention the music in the background, but, you tried your best to pay attention to most of the cameras.

However, it wasn't anything you weren't used to; something that has already been normalized in your life.— And during the premiere of The ballad of songbirds and snake it was no different, and it was splendid; simply perfect. — Not to mention, the feeling of gratitude that grew in your chest.

Cameras and cell phones captured your every movement, your poses and the way your perfectly chosen dress was valued and highlighted on your body. — And how it matched the color palette of the film. — Everything was being recorded, at the exact moment, posted and commented on all social networks.

You had the opportunity to meet, talk and take photos with some of the cast. — It was so pleasant, the company and unity that everyone developed during the filming of the film was inexplicable and so adorable; you were grateful to have worked with so many talented people. — There were some people who were absent, until now, in your eyes, but you would definitely meet them again on the carpet.

And, of course, your eyes roamed the decorated room, matching the elements of the film, and crowded in search of a specific person. — It wasn't exaggerated words to say that you were starting to feel uncomfortable because he was missed; and the cameras recorded it. — Silent questions, which would be written, formed in the minds of the presenters and photographers.

Your boyfriend had yet to appear on the red carpet; perhaps he is giving a quick and curious interview or greeting someone. — That's what was going on in your head.

You and Tom had a secret relationship, ever since you met behind the scenes, in front of the world and all the cameras that may exist in it; something that was so risky and at the same time adventurous. — And that, as incredible as it might seem, you knew how to disguise it in front of your fans; even though they gradually became suspicious with comments, interactions and behind-the-scenes photos.

They were either smart or you and Tom were too far over the line. — This question was not important or essential for the moment. — And you considered each other best friends for interviews or responses to comments; you tried your best.

And so, Rachel sent countless screenshots of tweets, which talked about or mentioned the relationship between you and Tom, to you. — It's impossible to deny how funny it was.

Persisting in continuing to look for him and for a few seconds, your eyes meet his blue and so charming irises. — Its shade of blue was a magnificent and beautiful combination; something you would never get tired of admiring. —And there was no other thing, or anyone, that could take his eyes off you.

As if the only thing that mattered at that moment was you. — And everything around him simply disappeared.

"There you are!" — Tom walked towards you, easily as there weren't so many people on the carpet, and an enthusiastic smile forming on his lips; also accompanied by cameras and intense flashes. — "And so beautiful!"

Holding a part of your long and dazzling dress so as not to hinder your steps, you met him, and without wasting any time, hugged him. — A common gesture, and not so different or strange, for the spectators; so, you thought. — Tom's arms went around your waist, holding your protectively for a little while, while your arms positioned themselves around his neck.

Tom's fragrance, which you liked so much, filled your nose; it felt so good, and you felt your eyes weaken, contaminated by it. — And the british man was aware of that.

"You look perfect, always." — The older man distanced himself, just a little, and brought his face closer to your ear, wanting only you to hear. — "The most beautiful woman that has ever crossed my eyes." — The lenses probably captured a reddish pigmentation on your cheeks and it was not part of your makeup.

You placed one of your hands on his chest, and looking directly into his eyes; that shone at you, and it wasn't just because of the influence of the lights in your direction. — Tom's gaze was sincere, and passionate, intensely fascinating you. — He conveyed what he felt most with just his eyes.

And that was one of the facts about him that you were passionate about and recognized very well.

"Oh, shut up!" — Raising your hand and resting it a little away from your mouth, you laughed a little embarrassed and looked back at the cameras; remembering that they remained there and you knew that later you would see your interaction with Tom on some social media.

Again, a thing and situation you were used to.

"Look at that camera!" — A voice mingled among others, which requested the same request, asking you to take some photos together; something that would feed news, fans and press.

At no point, minute or second, did you and Tom remain distant or apart from each other; always a few steps close, hugging each other for photos and certain looks, completely indiscreet. — Even during brief interviews, as Blyth mentioned you or your character's work, you were silently watching. — One of the interviewers even commented on how cute she thought it was.

Tom's hand was on your waist, holding and almost covering you, making a quick caress in a few seconds and one of your hands was still resting on his chest; and you continued, of course, to be the focus of the cameras.

Quickly, with the intention of changing your pose and trying something new and also to take advantage of the fact that Blyth's face was almost close to yours, you decide to place your pigmented lips on his cheeks. — Such a cute and friendly gesture, and so common. —But, automatically and hastily, Tom turned his face away at the same time, without having in mind what you were, in fact, planning. — God, it was a shock; an absurd and completely intense shock.

For the first time that night, in that place and on those cameras, your lips touched Tom's lips. — It was very quick, good and surprising; and that definitely left a cold, freezing air in your belly accompanied by a desperate feeling in your mind. — Rumor has it that smoke was coming out of his head. — It was a peck, a quick and simple kiss.

When you separated, hurriedly, your eyes met Tom's once again; who were a little wide-eyed, expressing surprise. — Looking for something to say or do, just like you. — And you watched his lips curve into an almost smile, as if he was trapping him.

Shouts of enthusiasm and some possible whistles echoed throughout the immense place, along with some looks and expressions of surprise at what had happened. — And some people were worried if they had recorded the exact moment, of course. — Your fans were probably commenting frantically about what happened.

You really didn't know what to do but at no point did you move away from your boyfriend — now, official to the public — and keep your hand on his chest; as if it were, in fact, planned.

"A nice way to reveal it, huh?" — Tom laughed, relaxed and without a feeling of discomfort or uneasiness, he still had his hand on your waist; and he still squeezed you, then leaving you with another caress. — "I think." — He didn't look at the cameras, his orbits focused only on you.

They have always focused on you, regardless of what is actually happening; and that will never change.

"A nice way to reveal." — You repeated your words, but, as an affirmation and certainty; maybe, seeing how relieved Tom was, and not showing some kind of distress, your chest calmed down and you felt safe.

And soon, you and Tom became one of the most talked about topics on social media.

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus #snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes

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mickandmusings · 1 month

Text

sincerity & sonnets

pairing: anthony bridgerton x f!reader

word count: 2.1k

summary: anthony bridgerton is blessed with many things-a warm, loving family, a well-funded lifestyle as a viscount, a beautiful wife. more notably, he is cursed with a short fuse and a sharp tongue, which might lead to his demise.

(based off of this request! to the anon who requested, I sort of wrote the argument as more of a sharp remark, but i hope it is still angsty enough for your liking! <3)

warnings: angsty->fluffy, no other warnings

As Anthony sat at his desk, scribbling away at his numerous piles of papers stacked in front of him, he noted the unusual quietness that had fallen on his study. He first thought that he had shut the door, but one quick look at the doorway contradicted his beliefs. Anthony's eyebrows furrowed in confusion-his home was never quiet.

Between his own family, and the families of his four sisters and three brothers, his home was full of life: laughter bounding off the walls, his wife and sisters' voices chatting over tea, the stampeding footfalls of his hoard of nieces and nephews assured his ears would never grow accustomed to utter silence. Even in the rare occurrence that the house was empty save for Anthony and his beloved wife, he'd often hear her humming to herself as she attended to her own business in their home, or she would join him in his study, writing her own correspondences at the smaller desk next to his own. Which is why, now, as he sat at his desk this afternoon, the silence stunned him. Anthony frowned, lifting his pocket watch to assure himself he was not entirely losing his mind. As the gold clock stared back at him, the small hand signaled it was midday.

He chuckled to himself, his wife must have chosen to sleep in entirely too long. Y/N was a chronic night owl, often keeping Anthony awake with her bedside chatter and comments on the appearance of the night sky through the window that faced their bed. Anthony would indulge her, but would still wake before the sun. His wife, however, would not budge for several more hours. He grinned and pocketed his watch, pushing himself up from his chair to wake his sleeping beauty of a wife.

Anthony bounded up the stairs two at a time, nodding curtly at any house staff before reaching their shared bedchambers. His dark eyes peer into the empty bedroom-his wife certainly was not here. He noted the dutifully made bed, the open curtains allowing the sunlight in, and, most importantly, his wife's absence. Anthony shook his head briefly before dashing back down the stairs, nearly stumbling into one of his wife's handmaidens.

"Pardon me," he addresses the woman with a sigh, a bit breathless from the unexpected goose chase his wife has taken him on. "Do you know the whereabouts of my wife?"

The younger maid looks at Anthony almost confused, but quickly takes on a professional tone:

"The Viscountess is reading in the garden, she's only just gotten back from tea with the Dowager Viscountess and the Duchess."

Anthony nodded in thanks, hastily departing for their expansive garden, his mind racing. Seeing his wife was an afternoon ritual-she would come bounding into his study after tea with his mother and respective sisters, spouting off all of the new ladies' gossip as he listened intently, all while pretending he was entirely disinterested. He enjoyed seeing her eyes grow wide with the shock of scandal, or her smile at a sweet interaction she witnessed at the park. If you were to ask Anthony Bridgerton, there was no sight more splendid than his wife in all of her extraordinary, everyday beauty. Not that he would admit that aloud, at least not to anyone but her.

Frankly, he was missing her presence today more than he cared to admit. He spotted Y/N almost instantly, her periwinkle gown shining in the sun. She sat in a chair politely under a shady tree, the book on her lap seemingly forgotten. Her expressive eyes locked onto the treeline in the distance, her face solemn. Anthony's heart seemed to fall in his chest, the sinking realization of why his home had been so soundless for the entirety of the day. His chest felt tight as he thought of his actions last night...

It had been a very, very long day for Anthony. With Francesca's upcoming debut to society, his mother had been harping on Anthony for nearly a fortnight about every minute detail. His patience for his mother was infinite, but sometimes she did manage to test its limits. Atop this hurdle was the never ending stacks of paperwork littering his desk, waiting to be looked over and signed off by his barely legible scrawl. He had neglected to write Colin back for weeks-his younger brother writing about his travels in Greece. The house staff had been in and out of his study all day, the incessant knocking severing his nerves. The heavy weight of life as a viscount was falling on Anthony, making him irritable and exhausted. His dear wife had settled his discomfort around lunch, bringing his nearly-cold meal into his study to make sure he ate. She had left him with a chaste kiss and a better mood, but Anthony had returned to her worse for wear.

Dinner in their large dining room had felt unnaturally dreary, only the sound of utensils clanking against china plates filling the air, only to be stifled by his wife's chatter. Normally, Anthony would've listened attentively, enjoying hearing about trips to the modiste or how Portia Featherington had driven his wife to near madness. Today, however, her voice had him pressing his nails into his palms to aid his irritation. He sipped his wine and shuffled his food on his plate to avoid making eye contact, he would not want her to see the frustration lingering in his eyes.

"Eloise was completely beside herself, I had never seen her so embarrassed! Madame Delacroix-"

"Must you talk so incessantly?!" Anthony's voice spat out in a low growl, dripping with fierce vexation.

Y/N's eyes grew wide, looking at her husband as if he had sprouted an extra arm and slapped her with it. She said nothing, only cowering in on herself, staring down at her lap as she fidgets with her hands. After several moments of Anthony's intense silence, she lifts a shaky hand and wipes the tears forming in her eyes as she hastily made her way out of the room, attempting to put as much distance between her and Anthony as possible.

Anthony followed suit moments later, feeling angry at himself as he slammed the door of his study shut, falling asleep at his desk hours later. Y/N had slept on her side of a bed far too large for one, her eyes tender and cheeks splotchy, her mind racing. Did she truly talk too much? Had he been annoyed by her daily talks for all these months? Her mind weaved small details into a full blown breakdown, and she quickly settled on being Anthony's perfect, quiet wife as she caved to her drowsiness.

The wind blew his wife's curls against her shoulder as Anthony approached her in the backyard, her back still facing him. He wasn't sure she had even heard him approach, her eyes still focused on the landscape sprawled before them. Anthony shuffles nervously, his hands behind him as he stands at her side, only the wind and birds chirping aiding the suffocating silence.

"Splendid weather we're having," Anthony's voice finally spoke, awkward and fumbling into casual conversation as he sank into the chair across from him. Y/N said nothing, only blinking in the same direction she had been staring at the entire time. Anthony nodded, mostly to himself, resigning himself to her silence, it was what he deserved at the moment.

After several moments of dead silence, Y/N turned her attention back to the book perched in her lap, and Anthony sat silently, wanting to spout out his apology in a hurried, bumbling manner, but he knew his wife, she would simply nod and continue reading, allowing herself to stew in prolonged silence.

He rose quietly, leaving with a small kiss landing atop her head-a touch that burned Y/N's skin. She watched Anthony leave out of the corner of her eye, sighing heavily as his presence was back inside their home. She was a myriad of feelings: angry at Anthony for being so blatantly cruel, his words had stung and left her reeling for hours. She was sad, as much as the words had fired her up, they had torn her heart, leaving her chest heavy with dejection. Y/N was nearly bursting at the seams to just apologize-even if it wasn't her who needed to apologize-just so the awkward encounters would come to an end. She wondered if Anthony even felt remorse at all.

In his study, Anthony ran his hands through his hair for the hundredth time, attempting to focus on the business papers in front of him. His efforts were fruitless-all he could think of was the empty look on Y/N's face. He had never seen her this lifeless, like her glow had been snuffed out, and it was entirely his fault. Anthony's mind raced with a million different scenarios of how he would make this up to her, ranging from flowers to begging on hands and knees, but despite his blunders, he knew his lady well. His Viscountess had never been one for showy things or frivolous purchases, she would only want his sincerest apologies. He would do it tonight, over dinner, he decided. He only hoped when the time came, she would at least spare him a glance.

Hours later, at the dining room table, Anthony found himself sitting in his chair at the head of the table completely alone. The kitchen staff came and left with plates and glasses, but his wife had yet to make an appearance. Anthony's foot tapped against the floor in anxiety, his eyes shooting up to the closest staff member, nearly shouting:

"Where is the Viscountess taking her dinner?"

The head of the kitchen staff looked at Anthony wide-eyed at his outburst, replying politely:

"Viscountess Bridgerton took her dinner in the library tonight."

Anthony said nothing, rising from his seat and walking down the hallway, coming to the door of the library and knocking lightly.

"Come in."

Anthony nearly burst into a fit of tears, happy to hear her voice.

He pushed the door open, Y/N's eyes meeting his before they dropped back down to the open book in her hands. Anthony felt guilt press heavy on his chest. He settled into the plush chair opposite her, separated only by a small end table. Anthony looked over at her, his brown eyes all but practically begging her to say something to him.

"Y/N..." Anthony's voice is small and timid, trying to coax her into at least hearing him out. Y/N's voice came out a whisper, cutting him off.

"I am sorry."

Anthony furrowed his brow, that was certainly not what he was expecting to hear. He looked over at her, her gaze locked on the moonlight coming through the window, her eyes glassy with tears.

"I am sorry I have become a burden, Anthony. I did not realize I irritated you with my ramblings. I thought you wanted to hear of my daily activities. I know my day as a woman is not nearly as riveting as yours as a Viscount, but-"

"My dear, your apologies are not necessary," Anthony's voice dripped with sincerity, his eyes warm as he looked at her, ready to grovel for forgiveness. He stuck his hand out for her to take, which she did. He pulled her towards him softly, his gentle touches coaxing her into his lap. Y/N's eyes grow soft under his gaze, her limbs melting in his strong hold. "I am the one who has been a fool. I look forward to your ramblings, no matter if they hold what you consider to be valuable or not, they brighten my day. I wait most ardently for news of trips to the modiste, or my mother's ramblings over tea-" He pauses, tucking a stray curl back behind her ear, his thumb wiping away the stray tears on her cheeks.

"I don't want you to be silent. Your voice is more pleasant than any other sound," Anthony cuts himself off, sighing, before starting again. "I should not have spoken to you in such a manner. I should not have raised my voice at you. You have my word that it will never happen again, I cannot go another day surrounded by your silence, it is torture."

Y/N smiles slightly at her husband's words, his transgressions forgiven with his sincere words. His face is close enough to hers to brush her nose against his, their lips close enough to meet.

"Are you certain you were not a poet before we met, Lord Bridgerton?" Y/N's voice is a whisper, the moment feeling far too intimate for anything else.

Anthony chuckles as his hand grasps the side of her face lightly, bringing her closer, speaking before he kisses her deeply:

"Only for you, my beloved...you inspire sonnets."

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #request #bridgerton x reader

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crinkly-spinkly · 10 months

Text

(+18) Heavy Petting

James would be the king of ridiculous propositions.

It feels good to be back home 🫰

✨Full uncensored comic is available on my Patreon!✨

#back to the ol grind #love y'all!#ttte #thomas and friends #thomas the tank engine #thomasallgrownup #james the splendid engine #james the red engine #ttte human au #housekeeper's guide #self insert #reader insert #ttte james #ttte james x y/n #ttte james x reader #spicy spinkles

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ghostfacd · 5 months

Text

LIVE LAUGH, SCREAM! | TOM BLYTH

pairing. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

summary. where one comment could lead into an internet feud between tom blyth and yn avocot, resulting in them falling inlove ?!

author’s note. [ THIS TAKES PLACE BEFORE YN AND TOM STARTED DATING ] thank you to the nonnie that said yn gives off scream vibes bc they’re the reason i even made this post in the first place! 🤭

installment of this au | read for context

ynuser scream bts (you’re welcome!)

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jennaortega did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

➥ jackchampion no but it might’ve when she stabbed u in the movie

➥ ynuser JACK 😭😭

user1 jenna flirting, jack teasing, I LOVE THIS CAST YOUR HONOR

user2 okay but literally your performance was just chefs kiss 😭 PLEASE tell me you’re starting in other movies as well bae

➥ ynuser oh thank you!! im so honored you enjoyed it ❤️ I will get back to you on your question!! 👀

➥ user3 OMGG YN IN ANOTHER FILM WOULD BE KILLER

➥ user4 well actually 🤓☝️ she was one of the ghostface in the film which means she actually was a killer

user5 @/user4 bye

tomblyth amazing film

➥ ynuser thanks

➥ user6 THANKS?? THANKS?! girl that’s tom blyth

➥ ynuser @/user6 who?

user7 no way this girl just asked who tom blyth is

➥ user8 well can u blame her tho?? he’s in like what, billy the kid or whatever? it’s not that known..

➥ user9 nah girl stars in one film and thinks she’s all that 😭

rachelzegler YOU DID SO GOOD GIRL 💕

➥ ynuser rachel my love 😭😭❤️

tomblyth who am I? well now you know

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user10 oh he’s so fine

user11 LMFAOO is this a jab at yn not knowing who you are

user12 show that girl 🤭🤭 she thinks she’s all that after getting one acting gig

➥ user13 y’all are so obsessed with her hello..

ynuser sure. now i know

➥ user14 oh im having so much fun watching all this go down

ynuser more bts because i love scream 6 and so should you!

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tomblyth yeah the movie’s cool and all but how abt i treat you out for dinner?

➥ user15 HELLO???

user16 enemies to lovers era ?

user17 pls lord get these two together

jackchampion say yes to the dinner invite and bring me back steak

➥ ynuser 🤨🤨

➥ jackchampion and a vanilla soda too please

user18 i love jack n yn’s friendship

ynuser and tomblyth both posted a story!

ynuser eating sushi and then putting on some comfy pjs is a great way to spend a day

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user19 the way tom also posted sushi pics very similar to what she’s eating…

➥ user20 WHY IS NOBODY MENTIONING THE MATCHING HOTDOG STORY POSTS AS WELL 😭😭😭

user21 pjs TOGETHER?! im afraid we’ve lost her

user22 everybody knows.. everybody knows

jackchampion splendid way to spend the day

➥ user23 what if it’s jack?? tom and yn don’t even fw each other LOL

➥ user24 true. he did ask her for dinner tho

➥ user25 who wouldn’t? she’s yn.

Eclaté_Mode On this new episode of BTS With Your Favorites, Tom Blyth dishes on his skincare routine, how he keeps himself productive during breaks, and his internet rivalry with actress, Y/N Avocot. Full video linked in bio

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user26 THE WAY HE COMPLIMENTS YN this is definitely enemies to lovers

user27 “me and yn have exciting need to share soon” excuse me

user28 so they inlove or what

user29 yn fell inlove with a brit man it’s over for US

user30 WAIT WHAT DOES HE MEANNNN

tomblyth well surprise. enemies to lovers much?

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ynuser nice pic send me it

user31 WAITT RACHEL HIM AND YN IN A FILM?? did not expect this..

user32 hold awn..

user33 is this confirmation they’re dating

➥ ynuser we aren’t dating.

➥ rachelzegler yet.

➥ user34 RACHEL???

rachelzegler you’re welcome for this crossover, i encouraged both of them to audition for the role

➥ user35 WE LOVE RACHEL ZEGLER

jennaortega take care of my gf 😽

#Coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosbas #the hunger games x reader

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incognit0slut · 3 months

Note

hi! could u write a fic about is the first time of the reader with spencer helps her and them made love so romantic *im sorry im so romantic 🙈* :)

I luv all ur writings <3

xoxo

(18+) soft spencer x inexperienced reader. 1.4k

Love was a foreign concept until he met you.

Spencer has savored the taste of chocolate, relishing its rich sweetness as it melts on his tongue. He's indulged in the smoothness of honey, its velvety texture spreading across his palate. And amidst his love for the sugar in his coffee—slightly bitter yet abundantly sweet—none of these flavors could compare to the taste of you.

Because you tasted so divine, it was the only way he could describe it. His hands were pressed on the back of your thighs, forcing you to spread your legs further apart as he worked his tongue over you, swallowing every drop of arousal that dripped down to his mouth.

The thought of ever going back to a life without the taste of you seemed absurd now—It was a crime against his senses. So he devoured you eagerly, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony, completely lost in the spell of your flavor and scent. He couldn't get enough, and honestly, he didn't want to stop.

He was hooked, addicted to the way you writhed and moaned beneath him; your fingers tangling in his hair, your desperate pleas, and the way your hips bucked against his mouth. And when he sensed you teetering on the edge of release, he doubled his efforts, sucking and licking with a feverish intensity, intent on drawing out every last drop of your bliss.

It wasn't until you gently pushed his head away that Spencer finally drew back, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. You couldn't help but giggle at the satisfied grin that spread across his face, his breathless chuckle mirroring your amusement as he crawled over your trembling body.

"That was..." you trailed off, running your hand up his arm as he settled between your legs.

"Good?"

You sighed.

"Amazing. Splendid. Marvelous."

With a soft laugh, he reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. "Someone's been hitting the thesaurus."

You swatted at his shoulder playfully. "Shut up and kiss me again."

The smile on his face widened into a grin as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin before capturing your lips in a soft, tender kiss. He pressed himself closer to you and the unmistakable sensation of his cock brushing against your clit made you gasp in surprise.

"You're so perfect," he muttered, slowly grinding his length along your wet folds. He fought the urge to take you right then and there, but your comfort was his priority. He needed to make sure this was what you wanted. "Are you sure you're ready?"

You stifled a sigh. While you appreciated his concern, it was starting to get on your nerves, after all, it was just sex... You might be inexperienced, but how difficult could it be?

"Mmhm," you answered, though your voice came out a pitch higher than you intended. "Of course, I am."

He slightly pulled away. "You don't sound so sure."

You stared at him for a moment before finally letting out a sigh.

"Fine, I'm a little nervous, okay?" Biting your bottom lip, you voiced the question that had been weighing on your mind.

"Is it—" you suddenly sighed, or it was more like a moan that escaped your lips as the underside of his cock continued to rub along your wetness. "Is it... going to hurt?"

His expression softened as he reached out to gently cup your cheek. "It might be uncomfortable at first, but I'll be gentle, I promise," he reassured. "We can stop anytime you want."

"I don't want us to stop."

A surge of warmth flooded him at your words, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead. "Then we won't," he promised, slipping his hand between your body. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

You made a noise in the back of your throat as you watched him bring his cock closer, dragging it through your folds before he thrust his hips forward. The sensation was overwhelming and unfamiliar, and you couldn't help but tense up in response.

"Is this okay?" he asked. You nodded, though your breathing had become erratic. Your eyes fell closed as you started to feel him stretching you, the sensation both strange and uncomfortable. It was like your body was resisting him.

"Honey, I need you to relax," he murmured soothingly. "Can you do that for me?"

You winced when you felt him pushing further, a sharp pang of discomfort shooting through you. "S-Spence... it hurts..."

"I know, honey, I know," he whispered, his thumb continuing its gentle caress against your cheek. "Breathe with me."

You opened your eyes, meeting his reassuring gaze. Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your racing heart, and he followed suit, matching your rhythm. In. Out. In. Out. Hold.

Breathe.

"Good, that's it," he encouraged softly. "Just like that. You're doing great."

Despite the initial discomfort, you focused on relaxing your body, allowing him to stretch your tight walls. He watched your lashes flutter against your cheek before his gaze dropped between you, taking in the stretch of your cunt, slowly allowing him to press deeper and deeper.

He then buried his face in your shoulder as he sheathed himself completely and you stifled a shocked yelp as you clung onto his shoulders for dear life, nails digging into his skin. You hadn't expected to feel so full, for him to reach that deep.

The room fell quiet, broken only by the steady rhythm of your breathing and the faint rustle of sheets. He waited patiently, his body pressed against yours, allowing you time to adjust. Then, he pressed a lingering kiss on your collarbone, his lips warm against your skin.

"Tell me how it feels," he whispered. You weren't sure you could form proper words, becoming so lost at the feeling of him inside of you. But you managed to take a moment to gather your thoughts.

"It feels... weird," you replied.

He lifted his head from your shoulder. "Do you want me to stop?"

You shook your head, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips as you stared up at him. He was beautiful like this, pressed against you, cheeks flushed with desire, damp hair tousled on his forehead—his cock finally buried deep inside you.

"You're doing so well for me, you know that?" he said, and the words made you sigh in response as his hips moved slightly back before rolling back into you, causing you to close your eyes with a quiet gasp the same time he let out a groan.

Something shifted after that. The air crackled with electricity. The blood in your veins pumped a little faster and your breathing deepened, each inhale filling your lungs with the heady scent of him. With growing urgency, your hips began to buck forward, eager to meet his slow, deliberate pace.

"Th-That feels good," you couldn't resist whispering to him. The initial pain you had felt had quickly faded, replaced by a rush of pure, hot pleasure that overwhelmed your senses.

"Do you think I can go faster?" He whispered, and you could hear the slick noise as he thrust his cock into your dripping walls. "Can you take it?"

A breathless yes escaped your lips and it was enough for him to get lost in you completely. His lips found their way to your neck, trailing kisses along your skin as he quickened his pace. The sensation was overwhelming, it was too much yet not enough, and all he could do was kiss every inch of your skin and tighten his grip on your body.

Spencer never understood the term making love, for love itself had often felt like a foreign concept to him. But with you in his arms, nothing else seemed more fitting, it was as if you were two pieces of a puzzle finally coming together.

He now realized that love wasn't something to be analyzed, it wasn’t something his big brain could understand—it was meant to be felt, deeply and profoundly, and his love for you was as natural as the beating of his own heart.

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader smut

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sytoran · 10 months

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𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 | n.romanoff

you visit the strip club downtown with your co-workers to let off some steam, but it seems like you've caught the eye of none other than the 'black widow'.

🖤 pairing: sub!stripper!natasha x fem!cop!reader

🖤 word count: 3145

🖤 note: SMUT (18+), this one been marinating in my drafts like im preserving wine

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You don’t know why you let your co-workers drag you to a strip club on a Friday night, but you’re sure as hell not complaining.

There are plenty of women, everywhere. Women in bikinis, women in stockings, women in thigh garters. You're in wonderland, honestly.

Hey, cops needed to let off some steam too, okay?

The cheers and hoots surround your table as Carol gets a lap dance by a brunette stripper. The blonde woman is blushing – you didn’t know she could do that – but she’s having the time of her life.

As Carol slides a bill between the stripper's tits with no lack of embarrassment, you laugh and get up to go get another drink.

It wasn't an overly rare occasion for you to be letting loose, but it was infrequent enough that your co-workers quite physically hauled you to this adult entertainment facility after a particularly taxing case.

ULTRAVIOLET was the most popular strip club in Queens, New York City. They served both men and women, with sparkling reviews about customer service and atmospheric aesthetics.

Carol, Valkyrie, and Maria would simply not shut up about the 'Black Widow', who was supposedly the sexiest, most stunning stripper any of them had ever laid their eyes on.

"She fuckin' looked at me in the eye," Valkyrie had moaned on a Monday morning, speaking of this stripper they so revered. "I can't look at anyone the same no more."

You were about to make a quick-witted retort about Valkyrie’s dramatization of mere eye contact, but Maria had only nodded solemnly in agreement and you had to admit you didn’t take Maria’s judgment lightly.

Aside from the talk about the Black Widow, you were hit with the novelty of the strip club once you stepped foot within.

As the Commanding Officer of the New York City Police Department, 104th Precinct, the boundless freeness of this place was quite a sight to behold. What with the heavy music, and the beer-tinged scent of the air, and nude women – the sensory overload did wonders to take your mind off work.

"You here alone?"

You spin on the barstool at the sound of a sultry voice. You have to physically stop your jaw from dropping to the floor at the sight of a breathtakingly gorgeous woman.

Scantily clad in matching sequined undergarments and fishnet stockings, stands a redheaded woman leaning against the bar counter, looking at you with magnificent green eyes.

"I'm not alone- I mean, not in that way, because I'm just here with friends. Well, co-workers, but they're my friends as well-"

Splendid job, Deputy Inspector Y/N L/N, you say internally. You can look in the eye of murderers and terrorists, but one look at a pretty woman and you're fuckin' gone.

"You're cute," the lady interrupts with a small tilt of her head, saving you from digging your own grave further.

You swallow harshly, feeling her manicured nails trace the curvature of your bicep.

"Just cute?" you ask, trying not to sound too hopeful. Her fingers move down to the collar of your white shirt, fiddling with the fabric. Call it stupidity, but you feel the urge to reciprocate the contact. You move your hands to her hips.

The lady smirks. "Hm, maybe not just cute. But I think you need to show me."

The redhead hasn't broken eye-contact all the while. Your eyes feel like they're burning. You slide your left hand down to the hem of her panties, and tug slightly. When her panties snap against her skin, she jolts with the impact.

You smirk with victory, pulling her in by her waist so your mouth is pressed against her skin. "I'll show you," you murmur, kissing the warm with a fervour you didn't know you possessed.

The woman's breath hitches and she pulls your head closer. You accept the invitation, beginning to leave a hickey on the sensitive spot of her neck.

After a few moments of your concentrated work on her neck, the woman finally lets out a sigh-turned-moan of pleasure, and you nearly pass out from how sexy it is.

She tugs your head away and pulls you in by the collar for a kiss. Your eyelids flutter close.

Your quavering breaths meet in a frantic harmony, and you want to explore her mouth, but she ends it as quickly as it begins.

"What's your name?" the redhead asks, warm breath on your lips. "Y/N," you say hoarsely, trying and failing not to sound like you were left high and dry.

You slide your hands to the bare skin of her torso, silently delighting in the way it raises goosebumps. You need to get more of her, feel more of her. "Do I get to know your name?" you ask.

The lights in the strip club suddenly dim, and the music takes on a far more sensual tone.

The woman slides out of your grasp like sand falling through your fingertips, and you're left with the ghost of her burning embrace. Your question remains unanswered.

"Let's give it up for our next dancer," the bar owner says into his mic, and the noise dramatically fades away. "The Black Widow!"

Blue and violet lights dance in your vision as the woman who had kissed you just moments before, approaches the stage, hips swaying in time to the music.

Your eyes narrow, and you down the bourbon in one shot. You'd need it.

When the beat drops, The Black Widow throws her head back and she begins to move.

God, it's criminally sensual, the way she danced, unlike anything you'd ever seen before. You couldn't put into words the allure she possessed.

The redheaded woman runs a hand over her own skin, dipping into every curve, as the music crescendos, and you know you're not the only patron with their heart thrumming in their chest.

When she begins twirling on the pole, you see men clearing out a month's paycheck for this divine woman, and honestly? You don't blame them.

Money gets flung onto the stage and catcalls get yelled as perhaps the most erotic scene unfolds before your very eyes.

When The Black Widow lifts up a thigh to show off her tight stockings, you're unable to hold back any longer, drawn to the stage like a moth to a flame.

Sitting back down into your original seat, leaving the empty glass of bourbon behind, all else fades away. Your world stumbles on its axis as the woman makes her way over to you, running a hand through her luscious locks of hair.

Your mouth dries up as The Black Widow turns around in front of you and fully bends over, exposing the delicious curve of her ass. You sink back into your seat, bringing two fingers to your lips in silent contemplation. Internally, you're fighting the goddamned World War II with your libido.

She's still swaying in beat to the music, and spins around as the sound of a saxophone starts playing. The last thing you see is a playful wink from the gorgeous woman before an ample asset of tits covers your vision.

Fuck, you're not going to survive.

Your nose quite literally gets buried between her tits as the woman climbs onto you. You would pay to see your co-workers' faces right now. How would you ever face them at work again?

“Get it, Y/N!” you hear Maria call in the distance, and a shrill whistle follows.

You smirk against the pair of tits in your face, inhaling the scent of her perfume, and her sweat, and simlply her. You let the stripper work her magic.

After a few more minutes of your paradise, she pulls away, skin flushed.

You regard her with a darkened gaze, pulling out your wallet. You stuff a bill in the side of her thong, making sure to snap the fabric in the same spot as you had previously.

The woman's face flickers in recognition. She shakes her head, then dips her head down to whisper in your ear.

"11pm. Room 8. Private session. Don't be late."

Like it was planned, the music comes to an end. The redhead doesn't wait for your response before she gets off your lap, raising her arm in acknowledgement of the roaring cheers. Her hips sway as she walks away from you, and you don’t even pretend that your eyes are glued to her curves.

Money gets thrown onto the stage once again, all in hopes of earning a fraction of what you had just experienced.

"Holy shit, Y/N, what was that?" Carol yells at you over the noise, slapping your back. You shrug plainly with a stupid smug smirk as Valkyrie whines in jealousy.

Oh, you were so fucking ready for 11pm.

"A private, fuckin' session for Deputy Inspector Y/N fucking L/N. Who would'a thought," Carol slurs, banging a shot glass onto the round table.

You roll your eyes at Carol's dramatization. It wasn't as if your status as Commanding Officer steered women away from you – in fact, some of them were quite into it.

But for your prevalently horny friends who had women over just about every week, you were considered starved of sweet pussy and were in dire need of quenching that thirst.

So when you broke the news that the most sought-after stripper in the most famous strip club in Queens, had just offered you a private session, lo and behold the chaos that ensued.

"Shit, girl, I would get down on my knees for that lady. You are one lucky bastard," Valkyrie adds in, ruffling your hair as you grumble.

"You'd get down on your knees for any woman, actually," Maria says, the usually composed woman more laid back in the environment of the strip club. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

Valkyrie lets out an aggrieved noise, sitting up to whack Maria's arm, but in her drunken state she misses and slaps Carol's drink out of her hands.

"Oi!" The blonde cries out indignantly, looking at the drink that had splattered onto her clothing.

Carol grabs Maria's martini out of her hands and throws it at Valkyrie in retaliation.

Before you know it, your three idiot friends have gotten temporarily suspended from the strip club for 'causing a ruckus'.

Just like that, and the clock ticks down to eleven o’clock.

It’s 11pm, and you're overly aware of your police badge at your belt and your gun in your holster.

Or at least, you were, until Natasha swung one leg across your lap and sat herself down with an unspoken grace, effectively sitting on your lap. In the privacy of the enclosed room, you unashamedly stare down at her cleavage, eyes several hues darker than they were before.

“See something you like?” Natasha asks breathily, running her hands over her full breasts, pushing them up to elicit a reaction from you.

The moving lights in the dark room cast shadows, and when you back look up with a sinful smirk and half-lidded eyes, Natasha swears she feels herself get wet.

All the air in your lungs dissipates when Natasha begins grinding on your thigh in beat to the music, hips moving skilfully in the sexiest fashion imaginable.

Fuck, this woman was going to be your demise.

Your hands feel like they’re on fire as you watch her put on a show, simply aching to move and touch. Natasha trails her fingertips down your tensed arms, running over the curve of your biceps. She smirks at the goosebumps it raises, her hands dwelling to the edge of your pants.

Your breath catches as her fingers find the outline of your police badge tucked underneath your shirt. The Black Widow looks up at you, expression a no-tell. “You on duty?”

“Nope.”

“Is that why you’ve got a gun in your belt?”

“Nah, that one’s just for pretty girls like you,” you respond slowly, hands tentatively going to rest on her thighs. When the smirk reappears on the stripper's face, you relax and let your shoulders untense.

“If you say so, officer,” she comments huskily, leaning forward to nip at your earlobe. The shiver runs through your bones.

You’re about to counter with a quick retort of your own before Natasha begins grinding on that bulge in your pants, treating your gun like it was a strap.

“Shit,” you say breathlessly, hands burning at being unable to touch. Behind your back, your nails were digging into your palms so hard you swore you had already drawn blood.

Fuck, it was torture.

Her pretty moans and breathy whines ring in your ears as she moves her hips roughly, a torment to your demise.

After a while, you come to the realisation that you can feel how wet Natasha is through her undergarments, soaked from having just dry-humped your thigh.

“Fuck me,” she says, and your throat dries up. “What?” you ask, dazedly, still staring at her bouncing tits in front of your face.

“I said, fuck me,” Natasha repeats, head tilting to the side, halting all her movements so you would look at her.

You splutter. “But the sign said–”

“What can I say, officer, you wanna make me break the rules.”

That’s all the confirmation you need before your hands can finally touch her, finally, meeting and warm skin and sweat droplets and everything you’d ever wanted.

You let out a huff of amusement as Natasha wraps her pretty lips around your fingers and sucks, making lewd noises with her tongue. Your ears burn, now, having been tainted with the beautiful symphony of this woman’s pleasure.

“You’re very naughty,” you comment, your other hand slipping under her top to reach her full breasts. Palming at the mounds in your hand, you face moves to the bare skin of her collarbone and begin kissing it.

“Don’t make marks,” Natasha says breathlessly, when you let your teeth nick the soft skin there, and there’s a pit of desire in your stomach that growls in frustration, but you know you have to respect her wishes and instead move your mouth down to her chest.

Natasha doesn’t remember when you slipped off her bra, but she isn’t complaining about your haste and instead throws her head back when your mouth latches onto her breasts.

“Mhm, that feels good,” she moans, weaving her fingers through your hair and scratching at your scalp. You hum in acknowledgement against her flushed skin, your tongue paying special attention to her hardened buds.

When both your hands move to the underside of her thighs and lift her up, Natasha lets out an embarrassing squeak at the sudden change of position. But as you lay her down on the sofa with your body weight pressing into hers, those whimpers turn into filthy moans.

You stall for a moment, hovering above her with your silver necklace dangling right above her face. She looks so pretty like this, her hair all splayed out, the sheen of sweat on her skin making her look tantalizing.

Natasha catches your swinging necklace between her teeth, winking seductively at you, and you’re snapped out of your moment, a laugh taking over.

“Have I told you that you’re incredibly bad?” you say, in between kisses scattered between her breasts, down her sternum and to her stomach.

“You- you have,” Natasha replies with some difficulty, as your kisses get lower and lower. “Maybe you should punish me for it, officer;”

She shuts up when you slowly spread open her thighs, revealing the dripping heat that is Natasha’s cunt. You maintain eye contact with her as you lower your mouth to her pussy, her lust-filled stare making your head spin.

When your tongue meets her cunt, it was game over.

“Fuck,” Natasha moans, already unable to continue looking at you in the eye, hands moving to grip the cushion of the sofa. Her thighs clamp around your head, and you’re suffocating, but in a way that feels so good you could die in bliss.

You lap at her dripping cunt like you were starving, like you would die without it. Natasha’s moans get louder. You move your mouth in rocking motions, pushing your tongue further in with each thrust.

“More,” she gasps out, and you quicken your pace, fingertips digging bruises into her plush thighs. In retrospect, you don’t remember how long you stay there, ravenously eating her out like your life depended on it.

When you feel her breathing get faster and more shallow, breathy little whines that get louder and louder, and you know she’s about to cum.

Instead of gently bringing her to a high, you internally say fuck it and decide that if this was the one chance you had, with the most sought-after stripper in Queens, you were going to make it an unforgettable one.

You move your mouth up to wrap your lips around her swollen, throbbing clit, and you suck on it, hard. In tandem with that, you easily slide two fingers in, curling them inside her to hit that sweet spot. Natasha positively screams, and you swear it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

Her orgasm floods the lower half of your face and your fingers, and the little mewls of your name Natasha lets out as she comes down from her high is one you’d always remember.

Finally, you emerge from between Natasha’s thighs. Slowly, you kiss up her stomach and her breasts, up the way you came down from, and you meet Natasha’s blissed out face.

You take a moment to take in her tousled hair, her swollen kissable-pink lips, her smudged makeup, her shallow gasps for air, and the pure lust in her eyes.

Just like that, and another jolt of arousal hits you. Before you can act on it, Natasha pulls you into a messy kiss, hot and sweaty.

“You look so fucking good-” Natasha says in between the frantic meeting of your mouths. “With my cum all over your jaw.”

You bite back a growl at her words, wanting to let her know just how exactly good you can make her cum. Natasha catches your hand that slides down to her wet cunt, before bringing it up and placing a kiss on your fingertips. “Our time is up,” she whispers, nodding to the clock behind you that now reads 11.31pm. “One private session lasts 30 minutes.”

This woman was going to be the death of you.

You turn back to The Black Widow with dilated pupils, slowly reaching into your pocket for that leather Saint Laurent wallet, and the ghost of a smirk on your lips.

In the wee hours of twilight the next day, you leave the strip club with your wallet emptied, a searing cramp in your hand, and the memory of an unforgettable woman whose real name you hadn’t even known.

Boy, you had one hell of a story to tell your friends.

i think i'm not gonna taglists anymore, sorry yall. there's just so many usernames and i have to constantly update it :(

main m.list | AO3

#natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff smut #bottom natasha romanoff #sub natasha romanoff #top reader #dom reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x reader #wlw smut #gxg smut #marvel #marvel women #x reader

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sunflowersandsapphires · 11 months

Text

Splendid is the Flower Chapter 2: Lily of the Valley

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!OC

summary: Wren and Frank grow closer. Wren uses her new knowledge of him to remind him that someone cares.

warnings: swearing, no use of y/n

a/n: This part takes place a few months after the first. This chapter is short but the next one is much longer. Let me know if you want to be tagged!

w/c: 600

“To and fro they went

Thro' my garden bower,

And muttering discontent

Cursed me and my flower.”

—Lord Tennyson’s ‘The Flower’

The next time Wren brought Frank flowers, they’d gotten a bit closer. At her request, he’d started hosting sparring sessions with her twice a week to teach her new combat skills. Eventually, when her abilities were satisfactory enough, he allowed her to hunt with him. Admittedly, having her along usually made the hunts less agonizing—her talent with magic both speeding them up and preventing wounds.

Then, about a month ago, Wren had been captured and tortured by Aeridian soldiers, who then left her for dead. Frank had worked tirelessly to find and free her, but he was almost too late.

Night after night following the rescue, he sat by her bedside—changing her bandages and applying cold cloths to her head to bring down the fever raging in her frail body. He didn’t think he’d miss her chatter but, while she was recovering, her lack of conversation was startling to him. So he spoke to her, instead.

Frank told her about his time as a soldier for the Red Army. The friends he’d made, the ones he’d lost. He told her about meeting Maria and starting a family.

And, one dark morning when she was more lucid, he confided in her. Speaking about the horrible end that his family had met, the men that had betrayed him for power and glory. Wren listened intently to every word, mourning his losses with him.

Following that day, something between them had shifted. It was like a weight had been lifted from Frank’s chest. He became more open with his affection for her. Not to an alarming degree, but an offer to share a bed every few nights and a hand on her back to help her stand while she regained her strength were actions that didn’t come lightly for him.

This week, she’d finally healed enough that they could travel again, but Frank was hesitant to push her limits. They’d traveled as little as possible for a few days, then set up shop at an inn where Frank was enlisted to chase down a garmr that was picking off farmhands and the prized livestock in town. Wren didn’t even attempt to tag along, knowing he’d resolutely shut her down. But she wasn’t about to let him go alone and empty handed.

As Frank finished suiting up in his dark armor, she gently pulled something from her pack and handed it to him. His fingers wrapped around the green stems cautiously as he frowned at her.

“Flowers?”

“Lily of The Valley. For protection and good luck.” She bit her cheek, hoping he wouldn’t reject her offering.

“Ah. When did you have time to pick these?”

“Couldn’t sleep last night. Went for a small walk.” She confessed.

“Wren—“ He started, clearly upset at her unsanctioned activity.

“I know, but I was careful! I swear. And, I didn’t want to let you go without something to keep you safe in my place.” Her voice was small.

Frank set the flowers down with care, sitting on the bed and gesturing for her to join him. As she sat next to him, he surprised her with a tight embrace.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to me. I’ll be back before you know it, sweetheart.”

She nodded, fussing with a clasp on his armor. “You’d better be, Castle.”

He chuckled and pressed his lips to her hairline. “Cross my heart.”

He held her for a bit, neither of them talking, before standing up to set out on the trail. Tucking the white flowers into his belt, he turned to her. “Get some rest. I’ll be back when you wake up.”

And, being a man of his word, Wren awoke wrapped in his arms once again.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x oc #frank castle #the punisher #the punisher x reader #marvel the punisher #jon bernthal #my writing #fc #splendid is the flower

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