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phoward89 · 2 months

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Series Masterlist

Chapter 5:

Coriolanus is at the PK Base in the communications center, sitting in one of the video phone booths. He's holding the receiver to his ear and watching the staticy small screen; waiting for Tigris to answer. He has so much to tell her. In fact, he's over the moon to tell her all about the love of his life: you. He's absolutely positive that she'll be happy for him.

When the static breaks and then clears slightly to show his cousin, he smiles like a madman. “Tigris, it's so good to see you!” Coriolanus exclaims, so much excitement in his baritone.

Tigris' gentle blue eyes widened slightly at her cousin's chipper demeanor. He was usually sullen during their sporatic calls. “Oh, Coryo, you look so much happier since the last time we talked. Did something happen?” The blonde girl asked, curious to know why her cousin was suddenly in a better mood.

“Yes.” Coryo nodded. Beaming, he blurted out, “I got a girl, Y/N, and she's just a perfect sweet darling.” His baby blues were sparkling with pride as he added in, “We’re serious, have our own place and when I pass the Elite Officer's Examine we’ll be able to leave 8.”

“Oh…” Tigris trailed off, her face full of shock. She wasn't expecting her cousin to be so serious with somebody so soon. Especially after he seemed so heartbroken about never being able to see Lucy Gray ever again.

Was Tigris wrong in her assumption that Coryo loved the songbird? If so, then she truly hopes that he's found love with you. But she also knows that her cousin has the genetics that can easily make him become like his father: General Crassus Snow.

Hearing him say that he's taking an Elite Officer's Exam makes her skin crawl. Tigris knows how cold the officers are in the various branches of Panem's military; she doesn't want her sweet cousin to be turned into a cold, heartless, hateful man to be used as a tool for the country.

A country that kills tweens and teens for entertainment disguised as punishment. Gosh, everything about Panem makes Tigris sick. And to think that her cousin, her sweet little Coryo who's a good person, could be used in a way to support the country's propaganda and skewed outlook bothers her. Makes her blood freeze up in her veins.

“Isn’t it great news, Tigris?” The platinum blonde peacekeeper asked, fishing for praises.

“Yes, yes it is, Coryo.” Tigris replied, her smile a bit too tight, too forced, and her voice a bit flat.

Coryo's face fell at his cousin's overly fake reply. “I thought you'd be happy for me Tigris.”

“I am happy for you, Coryo. I am.” Tigris weakly assured her cousin.

“I've found somebody that makes me happy, who needs me; makes me feel powerful, and I'm one step closer to getting us back home, to the Capitol. But, you don't sound as happy about it as you claim to be.”

“Coryo…” Tigris sighed, trying to find the right words to tell him about the hardships that have fallen upon their family within the last few weeks.

“Is Grandma’am around?” Asked the platinum peacekeeper. “I'm sure that she'd be happy to hear about my accomplishments.”

“Coryo, Grandma'am’s in hospice.” Tigris revealed, her tone sad as her face twitched with sorrow.

“Hospice! What do you mean she's in hospice? She was fine a month ago, what the hell did you do to her, Tigris?!”

“Me? Oh, Coriolanus, do you hear yourself right now?” The blonde aspiring fashionista snipped. Shaking her head, Tigris started to explain, “Grandma’am just shut down and started to wither away after we lost the penthouse-”

Coriolanus icy eyes popped out of his head. “Y-you lost the penthouse?! When were you going to tell me this, Tigris? Huh?”

“The back taxes were just too much to pay, so the penthouse was put on the market. But, Pluribus is letting me stay in the apartment above his club.”

“Okay, but what does any of this have to do with Grandma'am being admitted to hospice care?”

“Coryo, having to declare bankruptcy and sell the penthouse; letting all of the Capitol know that the Snow's are poor just broke her dear old heart.”

“She's dying from a broken heart? Really?” Coriolanus asked in disbelief.

“Yes.” Tigris nods. “The doctor said that Grandma’am lost the will to live; that it'll only be a short matter of time before she goes. And she's already in a catatonic state.”

“Are you still working for Fabricia Whatnot?” Coryo asked, his baritone colder than it had been mere minutes ago.

“Yes, I'm still working for her.” His cousin confirms with a nod.

“Good, because I won't be sending half of my pay to you anymore. The Grandma’am will be dead soon, due to her own pride and self induced delusions, and my money, honestly, is better suited taking care of my girl here in 8.” Coriolanus told Tigris in a chilly tone. One so chilly that it'd cause hell to freeze over.

“Coryo-” Tigris began, confusion all over her makeup slathered face, only to be cut off by Coriolanus’ icily steady voice saying, “I'm all my girl’s got, Tigris. I have to take care of her.” Looking at his cousin like he didn't even know her anymore, he remarked, “Unlike you, Y/N doesn't lie to me about how bad things are. At least she's honest, but you've had to have known for months about the past due back taxes on the penthouse and you never said a damn word to me about it.”

“Coryo…I didn't want you to worry about us. I was taking care of everything.”

“Time’s about up, Tigris.” The platinum peacekeeper announced, feeling betrayed and lied to by his cousin, who he viewed as more of a sister then a cousin.

“Coriolanus, you sound just like your father right now.” Tigris pointed out, her heart breaking at hearing the frostiness in his baritone and seeing cold deadness in his eyes.

“Well, I am his son. Perhaps I'll follow in his footsteps; rise to military greatness.” Private Snow told his cousin before saying a curt goodbye and hanging up on her.

It's getting close to the time that Coryo usually comes home from work and you're in the small kitchenette making dinner. It's nothing too fancy, just a simple stew. But your platinum peacekeeper never complained about what you made. He always ate his supper with a smile plastered on his face. In fact, he'd usually get seconds; pester you into eating another share too (he always said it was in order to build up your strength so you'll heal faster).

You're stirring the pot, making sure that nothing sticks to the bottom, whenever a faint knock appears at your door. You almost don't hear it over the sound of the radio, that's how light the knock is. Not wanting the stew you worked so hard on this afternoon to burn, you turn off the stove before going to answer the door.

“Ashlie, what're you doing here?” You asked your brother’s former girlfriend as she stood in front of you.

“Some of the girls at the factory are worried about you; I said I'd stop by and check up on you after my shift.” Ashlie answered as you heard the sound of Coryo's boots clambering up the building’s staircase.

Nodding, you simply said, “I'm fine.”

“Are you, Y/N?” Ashlie pressed.

Nice of her to worry about you now, but where was she before?

“There's been rumors that you've taken up with that blonde peacekeeper. That he's been living with you.” Ashlie all but hissed in a shameful tone.

“It's not a rumor.” You told her while noticing Coryo's tall denim clad frame appear at the top of the stairs, right down the hall.

“Look, Y/N, I'm sorry about not being around as often as I should, but if you need help gettin’ away from that peacekeeper I'm sure that Declan can help smuggle you out of the district.”

Smuggle you out where? You don't have any money and you're all alone. How are you going to survive hiding out in another district? Districts you're sure are just as bad if not worse than 8. The poor, lower end districts are all clumped together and, frankly, they seem to get worse and worse as you start going between them.

At least with Coryo your rent's paid, you've got enough food to eat, and you're not cold anymore. He’s decent company, when he's not in a condescending mood, and he seems to be devoted to you despite not knowing you that long. With Coryo you're comfortable for the first time in a long time. For once since moving to 8 you're not tempted to do a swan dive off the bridge into the toxic river surrounding the district.

You'll take your chances with your peacekeeper.

Shaking your head, as Coriolanus trudged down the hall, you told Ashlie, “I'm fine here with Coryo. He takes good care of me, so you don't need to worry.”

“And what happens when he gets bored of you; tosses you aside for another girl?” Ashlie asked as your boyfriend got closer. “Y/N, sweetheart, don't be a fool and trust him. He's a Peacekeeper for Christ’s sakes.” Berates your once sister. “One bred straight from the Capitol as I understand too.” The brunette spat out in disgust, right as your platinum peacekeeper appeared behind the girl that's slandering him.

“Darling, is this ratty whore bothering you?” Coryo coldly asked, his icy eyes narrowed at the girl blocking his way into the apartment, as he came to a stop right by the door.

His frosty timbre startles Ashlie; has her jumping out of her skin. Coryo's tone of voice doesn't bother you one bit. Why should it? His coldness isn't aimed at you.

“She was just leaving.” You assure your boyfriend, only to give Ashlie a look that reads ‘you need to go, now'.

“Well the girls at the factory are worried about you; hopefully you'll be able to return to work soon.” Ashlie remarked instead of leaving, like she should’ve done.

“She won't be returning to work at the factory.” Coryo bluntly announced, pushing himself by Ashlie and literally shoving you inside of the apartment. He blocked your view with his tall, sinewy frame while standing right in the doorway.

The platinum blonde's head lifted up in superiority. His glacier blue eyes bore into the former Seam girl with disdain as he explained, “As Y/N’s man, I take care of her and pride myself in treating her the way a proper Capitol born man treats his girl.” Gripping the door so hard that the wood began to splinter and crack, he barked out, “You're not needed around here. She's got me, so leave or else I'll bring you to base and turn you in as a rebel.”

Ashlie's Seam grey eyes widened in fear and horror at hearing Coriolanus’ words. With the rumors that she's heard about you being kept under lock and key by the platinum blonde peacekeeper, who by now everyone knew was sent from the Capitol; was a second generation military man, Ashlie was starting to worry about you. And when the girls that worked with you on the looms in the PK uniform factory’s weaving room started to express their worries to Ashlie, well she decided to pay you a visit.

Offer you some much needed support. A lifeline out of the predicament you're in.

But the brunette wasn't expecting you to turn down her help, to insist on staying with your oppressor. She also didn't think she'd be threatened by said oppressor, the pretty boy peacekeeper from hell itself. Ashlie feared for both her own safety and yours.

Maybe she should've came around more often, then maybe you wouldn't have become such easy prey for a peacekeeper with a cold hateful glint in his eyes.

“And the next time you show up to my house I'll have you hanged off the bridge’s trestle.” Coriolanus darkly promised, his face a mask showing no feelings, before slamming the door shut in Ashlie's face.

Coryo was quiet as he shed his coat, hanging it up on the hook near the door. “I made stew. I'll go dip it up.” You told him while he began to unlace his boots.

“It smells good, darling.” Coriolanus complimented, slipping out of his black boots, as you grabbed some bowls from the cabinet.

“You say that about everything I make.” You teased, portioning out the stew into a pair of bowls as Coryo pulled off his denim fatigue shirt.

Walking over to the table and laying his denim overshirt on the back of his chair, the platinum blonde simply said, “Because it's true.”

The atmosphere in the room wasn't heavy per say, but it wasn't light either. You felt like something happened today, something to put him in a sort of mood. And not a good one either. You really didn't want to stoke his mood into a roaring fire of unliveable sassy attitude, so you didn't say a teasing word back to him.

No, you just carried the bowls of stew over to the small table as Coryo took his seat at it. You couldn't help, but slip on a smile at the sight of your giant of a boyfriend dwarfing the sorry excuse for a kitchen table you had. Hell, the table looked more like a small school desk as he sat at it.

Silently, Coryo followed your every move with his icy eyes. He watched as you set the food on the table before fetching the bottle of milk from the fridge. Coryo knows how luxurious fresh milk is, so he's proud that he can buy it for you. He himself went without it for so many years in the Capitol.

The Snow family always seemed to go without; to struggle within the safe borders of the Capitol. Something that he was supposed to change. Coriolanus was supposed to dig his family out of poverty, but instead his family's been torn apart.

All because Tigris lied to him about how bad things really were.

Fuck!

He would've found a way to get her the money for the back taxes, to avoid a foreclosure on the Snow ancestral home, if she would've only told him that she couldn't pay.

How could Tigris, his own cousin, do that to Grandma’am; to him? And most of all to you.

You!

Who he promised to whisk away to the Capitol once he was able to. Now where are the both of you going to go when he gets clearance as an Elite Officer to return home: to the Capitol? He sure as hell can't bring you to the above club shoebox apartment Pluribus gave Tigris.

And to think that his Grandma’am's dying from a broken heart because her home was taken from her. Her beloved rooftop rose garden that was her joy is now withered if not destroyed by the highest bidder. To think that the old lady's in hospice, due to no will to live, all because Tigris couldn't be honest about the back taxes.

Damnit, fucking bitch should've worked a few corners to come up with the money. Anything to pay the past due taxes; keep the Snow family penthouse in the Snow family.

Where it belongs.

The sound of the milk glasses lightly clinking against the warped wooden table tore Coriolanus out of his thoughts. Watching you sit down next to him, he grabbed his spoon and told you, “Darling, let's promise not to lie to each other. Shall we?”

Oh boy, something definitely happened to him today. You didn't know what, but his remark about lying to each other tipped you off that he was lied to and he's upset about it.

Picking up your own spoon, you tell him, “I promise I won't lie to you, Coryo.”

“And I won't lie to you, Y/N. Which is why I have to tell you something very unsettling.”

Something very unsettling? What the hell did he do, shoot somebody during target practice? Murder somebody for a spot on the Elite Officer's Examine roster? Hell, the suspense is killing you.

Not literally, just figuratively.

“Today I talked to my cousin, Tigris, on the phone in the base’s communications center and I learned that things are worse than I thought they were back home: in the Capitol.” He revealed in between eating his stew.

Having a bad feeling, you asked, “What's wrong, Coryo?”

“The Snow penthouse has been seized and put into foreclosure for unpaid back taxes.” Coryo spat out, his eyes full of anger, as he held his spoon so hard that it was about to bend between his fingers.

His family home foreclosed due to back taxes. Oh boy… You weren't expecting to hear that. You can only imagine how high priced the taxes are in the Capitol considering how pricey things are in the districts. Capitol City, Panem is full of rich elites or wannabe rich elites, so…Yea…The price tag on things in the Gem of Panem, the Capitol, is surely higher than in the rest of the country.

“Tigris told me that everything was fine, but she lied.” Shaking his head, he tossed his spoon in his bowl, causing a loud clang to ring out. “I've been sending home money, assuming that Tigris was using it wisely, but now I don't even know what she did with it.” Reaching for his milk glass, he dryly added, “She didn't pay the taxes, that much I know.”

Reaching forward and placing your hand on top of his, you gave him an empathetic look. You felt for him, for his family. “Coryo, I'm sorry she lied; made you think everything’s ok when it isn't.”

Your boyfriend threads your fingers together, holding your hand, as he sips on his milk. He can't help, but feel lucky to have you. You're being so supportive and understanding about his family's fall from grace.

About him losing the Snow ancestral home. The home that he was supposed to take you to.

Placing his glass down after drinking from it, Coryo shook his head while gritting out, “And now Grandma’am's in hospice, dying of a broken heart, because she was forced out of her home.”

Poor Coryo…

To lose his home, his grandma, and to be lied to by his cousin.

“Seems like we've got more in common than what meets the eye.” You told him, letting him know that you sympathized with his situation.

“It seems we do, darling.” Coryo nodded. Picking his spoon up and scooping a portion of stew out of his bowl, he repeated, “It seems we do.”

You're washing the dishes whenever you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist. Coryo's right behind you, hanging on you, but you don't pay him any mind. You just keep on washing the bowl in your hand with the sponge- a sponge that has seen better days.

Your boyfriend nuzzles his nose into your temple, inhaling your scent. Kissing your cheek, he swears, “I promise, once I'm an officer and get into a wealthy position I'll buy back our home. We'll live in it once again.”

“Don't make promises that you can't keep, Coryo.” You advised him, rinsing out the bowl and setting it aside on the makeshift drying rack (which was a cookie cooling rack resting on a dishtowel).

“I intend to keep that promise, baby.” He told you in between peppering kisses up and down your neck.

“Coryo, stop that. I still have dishes to do.” You sighed, trying and failing to wiggle out of his hold while starting on the second dirty bowl.

“One day when I become President and make you my First Lady you won't ever have to lift a finger to wash a dish ever again.” Coryo smoothly murmured, kissing the sweet spot right below your ear.

“To make me your First Lady you'll have to marry me, Mister President.” You sarcastically pointed out, rinsing soap suds and bubbles out of the bowl.

You're placing the bowl onto the drying rack whenever Coryo spins you around. Tipping your chin up, making your eyes lock onto his baby blues, he seriously tells you, “Once I get my officer’s stripes I'm going to marry you.”

The weight of his words comes crashing down on your head like an anvil in an old cartoon. “You really want to marry me?” You asked, not quite believing the situation to be real.

You're just some district girl that he got into trouble and felt pity for. Yes, he takes care of you, but making you his wife's a whole other story. That's a lifetime commitment considering divorce was abolished in the early years of Panem's creation- which was after the end of both WW3 and the 2nd Civil War, which coincided.

“Yes, baby.” The platinum blonde nodded. A wide smile spread across his face as he cemented his fate with the words of, “I'm going to marry you and give you the life that we both deserve as Snows once I get my officer's commission.”

“You know, people in the districts have different ceremonies then Capitolites do for marriages.” You informed him; knowing that you're going down a path you can't turn off of as you do. “Couples in 12 do a toasting by breaking bread at the hearth over a fire they stoke.”

“Too bad we don't have a fireplace.” Coriolanus seriously pouted.

Oh wow, he's serious about this marriage thing. Lucky you.

“Yes, too bad.” You half heartedly agreed with him. Resting your hands on his chest, you decided to explain what you learned about weddings in District 8. “I've heard that here in 8 most weddings are typically held on Tuesdays and Thursdays in November and December.”

Your boyfriend’s brow rose with interest. “December you say?”

“Yes.” You confirm as he strokes your cheek with his thumb. “The bride sews her own dress, which is typically blue or purple, and makes a large amount of food for the guests who stay for dinner and then a late supper. While family and friends are gathered at the house, the couple’s joined hands are bound by a strip of cloth; then they recite words or poetry to complete the ritual.”

“And this ritual’s binding in the eyes of District 8?” Coriolanus asked, holding your gaze with his icy eyes. Eyes that were filled with both trepidation and hope.

“It's binding in all of the districts. I'm not sure about the Capitol tho.”

Bringing his forehead to rest against yours, he simply said, “Mary me on Thursday. I'll bring Sejanus home with me and we'll do the 8 ceremony.”

Believing it impossible to marry so soon, you react with, “But that's in 2 days, Coryo. I'll barely have enough time to make a dress. Plus I have to cook food.”

Bringing his other hand up to your face, so he was cradling it between his large calloused hands, the platinum blonde told you, “I'll bring home some material for your dress tomorrow and the only guest you need to cook for is Sejanus. You don't need to cook up our entire pantry.” His lips ghosted over yours. “Let me take care of you; marry me, baby.”

If you say yes to this sudden spur of the moment wedding you'll be giving up your freedom. In the districts’ eyes you'll become Mrs. Snow, wife of a Peacekeeper. One who's certain he'll become an Elite Officer. Is that what you want?

Hell…

You honestly don't even know what you want. But you do know that you refuse to go cold and hungry ever again because you're alone and can barely get by.

So, for survival purposes, you give Coryo a smile and tell him, “I’ll marry you.”

Without warning, Coryo kisses you. His lips hungrily pressed against yours, as if he was a man starved and his only fulfillment came from your mouth. You moved your lips against his, which only caused him to deepen the kiss by slipping his tongue into your mouth. Your fingers twisted and dug into his white T-shirt as your tongues intimately danced while your lips clashed, pushing and pulling for purchase.

You let out a little breathless sigh as Coryo broke the kiss, pulling back slightly so the two of you could catch your breath.

Coryo's icy blue eyes were nearly black with lust as he looked into the windows of your soul. His large hands still cup your face as he confessed, “I’d love nothing more than to bring you to our bed and fuck you right now, but since we're to be married in 2 days I'll wait til the wedding night.”

“Oh, so you're going to make an honest woman out of me first before you corrupt me?” You asked, your tone a bit light and teasing.

What difference was a couple of days? It wasn't like you're from a rich aristocratic family that needs to see the sheets in the morning for proof of innocence lost and consummation.of marriage. You're a district girl, nobody in the districts care about purity til marriage, etc.

Besides, even before you agreed to marry him you knew you'd be fucking Coriolanus. He's your boyfriend, it comes with the territory. The only question was when.

Now you have your answer: this Thursday night- your district style wedding night.

Leaning his forehead against yours, Coryo steadfastly declared, “You can't corrupt someone who's willing to drink from the silver cup, my darling.”

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callsignlucky · 2 years

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talk to me, lucky (part 2)

summary: You're Maverick’s kid. You’re also Bradley Bradshaw’s best friend—or at least, you were. What lies between you two now is uncharted territory.

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw/mitchell!reader

wc: 2.3k

a/n: sooooo likeeee i was genuinely expecting like three (3) people to read this. I'm so glad you guys like it, that means the world to me, so I'll continue this little series as long as folks want me to!

This part was purely self indulgent with the goal to make a Pete Maverick Mitchell so dad shaped that it might fix my own daddy issues. (didn't work but a girl can dream.)

Also!! I am purposefully trying not to comment on physical appearance! The reader is female, but her mother is intended to remain ambiguous. There is a lack of accessible fics on this website and want I POC to be able to enjoy this as well!

<- part 1 |part 3 ->

The Hard Deck fell silent as soon as my hand made contact with his cheek. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. All eyes were on us, but the only ones that mattered to me were Bradley’s.

They were as brown and as big as I remember, and he raised his hand to cup his cheek, brows knitted together in confusion as he stared at me. That only served to make me angrier, and I forced myself to take a step back before I hit him again and got myself into actual trouble. He was at a loss for words, and I was afraid if I said anything I’d reveal more of myself to the pilots to our left than I’d like. Without so much as a murmur of an insult, I turned, collected my phone and keys from the table, and made a beeline for the front door. As I was walking away, I heard Lieutenant Seresin laugh, making some quip to Bradley along the lines of what the hell was that about, Bradshaw?

My eyes found Penny’s, who knew and understood and looked at me with sympathy before patting my dad’s arm in goodbye as he slid off his stool. That made me feel rotten. He’d been so excited to reconnect with Penny, and here I was making a scene and ruining his evening. I bet he was thanking God the last name on my flight suit was my mother’s instead of his.

The air outside had cooled since the sun set, and I managed to speed walk down the block to where I parked my car before a hand caught my arm. I didn’t dare turn around, tears hot in my eyes, my heart still in my chest as I held my breath and waited. Much to my relief, the voice that spoke belonged to my father.

“Why don’t you ride home with me? You’re too upset to drive.” He said softly, and I shook my head, feeling more and more like I was nine years old as the seconds passed.

“I’ll walk.” I snipped, chest tightening with guilt at my tone. I was mad at him too, as much as I hated it. I blamed him for Bradley leaving, all those years ago, but I forgave him after a week. My father was all I had left, and I wasn’t prepared to lose him over an action he felt morally obligated to take. And Uncle Ice might have had something to do with me forgiving him so quickly.

Dad sighed from behind me. “You can’t walk all the way back to the house.”

“Who says I’m going back there?” My voice quivered, and even as he gently tugged on my arm I refused to turn around, arms crossed over my chest. The thought of going back to our base issued housing, that completely staged two bedroom home void of memories or light or emotion or Mom was already suffocating. Dad was quiet for a spell, probably thinking, before he inhaled sharply and spoke up.

“Alright, how about we go to the gas station for some slurpees and drink them at the beach?” His tone was light, and I didn’t have to be looking at him to know he had one eyebrow raised with that little smirk on his face. I perked up a little, and he tossed his arms around my shoulders from behind. “How bout it, Birdie? Or are you too grown to hang out with your old man?” He shook me a little, and I rolled my eyes with a small huff, turning in his arms. He had me with my nickname and he knew it, so I mustered the best pout I could.

“Can I get a large?” I asked, and Dad smoothed down my hair gently with a nod.

“Of course.” He stepped back and held out his hand, waggling his fingers and his brows at the same time. I laughed and rolled my eyes, taking his hand, and together we walked to where he’d found a spot to squeeze his bike. Like all the times I’d had before, I waited until Dad had slung his leg over the bike and walked it backwards before I slid on behind him. My arms wound around his middle and I unceremoniously shoved my face into his back, and I could feel him laugh as he eased the bike into a cruise. One hand came from the handlebar and clasped over mine, and I smiled faintly into the leather of his jacket as we picked up speed down the road.

I was one of the luckiest girls alive to have Pete “Maverick” Mitchell as a father. His military career alone opened more doors for my future than would’ve ever been possible without the Navy. Beyond that, he was—in my humble opinion—the best dad ever. Growing up, my father always put me first. He never accepted a promotion that would take him away from me more than he had to be, and after mom died he accepted a position that essentially grounded him so he could stay stateside, sacrificing his love for flying in order to raise his child.

In those years he never missed a ballet recital or softball game or debate competition, and he always made sure I went on whatever field trips my school was carting us off to. He made sure I had nice clothes and nice shoes and a reliable car and always, always made sure I knew how much he loved me.

Pete Mitchell thought I hung the moon from the second the nurse put me in his arms, and it has been that way ever since. He acted like a loving father should and then some, because that love always translated over to Bradley, too.

It was the same with me. Ever since I learned how to talk, some adult would smile at me and ask me what my daddy did for a living, and I’d smile with all my teeth (some of them missing on occasion) and say “My daddy is a hero!”, and I meant it every single time. I still do.

Dad and I ended up on a slice of beach far from the prying eyes inside The Hard Deck. I abandoned my socks and boots and rolled my jeans up before plunging my painted toes—the only femininity females were allotted in the Navy—into the cooled sand. I balanced my cherry Slurpee between my knees, eyes on the moon as it reflected off the water’s surface. Dad and I sat there in comfortable silence for a long while, just listening to the waves crash in.

“Are you mad at me? For slapping Bradley?” I asked finally, my voice quiet, lips wrapped around my straw. To my right, relaxed in the sand, my father shook his head.

“Not angry, just confused.” He pushed around the blue raspberry slush in his cup with his straw, eyes on the horizon, like always. “I’m trying to understand why you hit him. That’s not like you, and Bradley’s the last person I’d expect you to be violent with. When I saw your pictures next to one another in the debrief, I thought you’d be excited to see him again.”

Guilt hit me like the waves I was staring at. “I was, when I found out B and I both got pulled for this deployment. I was even more excited when I found out you were coming too, but that wore off pretty quickly when I remembered Bradley hasn’t spoken to either of us in years.” I set my cup down and leaned forward, hugging my arms around my thighs and watching my toes wiggle free of the sand before burying them again. “He abandoned us. We’re his family and he left, over something trivial.”

“Have you put yourself in his shoes?” Dad asked, and upon receiving my twisted up nose and furrowed brows in response, he took another sip of his drink before setting it aside and lying back in the sand. He opened up one arm and beckoned me forward, and suddenly I was six years old again after a nightmare as I lay down and rested my head on his stomach. His hand slowly began to work through my hair, his other arm propped beneath his head. “The only memories Bradley has of his old man are ones he learned from everyone else. He knew his dad was a pilot, he knew he was a hero, and as soon as he got old enough, he decided he wanted to follow in his footsteps. That remind you of anyone?”

I closed my eyes with a soft sigh, shrugging my shoulders. “No.” I muttered, folding my arms, and my head bounced with my dad’s little laugh.

“Well,” he drawled, twirling some of my hair around his finger, “it reminds me of Little Mav.” I grinned with my eyes still closed, turning my head away so he wouldn’t see. Little Mav was the nickname I had earned from my father’s fellow service men and women. I was his shadow whenever I could be, accompanying him to work with wide eyed wonder, amazed at all the things he could do. Uncle Ice had originated the nickname when he first met me at the ripe age of three, claiming I was twice the ball of energy that my father was and ten times cuter. I had him wrapped around my finger, too, which came in handy years later when my father tried to prevent me from enlisting. He never tried to pull my papers like he did with Bradley, but he did try and talk me out of it more times than I can count. Eventually he accepted the fact that I was determined to be a pilot, just like him, but was afraid my last name would set me back due to his reputation. While he was highly decorated and well respected within the Navy, the last name Mitchell tended to stiffen the spines and lock the jaws of quite a few admirals. So, thanks to our dearest Admiral Kazansky, I was able to enlist under my mother’s last name. I was grateful for it—the last thing I wanted was to be judged based on who my father was. Or worse yet, to be handed things because my old man was Maverick.

“That still doesn’t excuse what he did.”

“Would you have stuck around if I pulled your papers and set your career back as long as I did Bradley’s? Because believe me, I wanted to.” He wasn’t kidding and I knew it because yes, he never tried to have my enlistment papers pulled, but they had caused more than a few arguments before my father (with the help of his wingman) came to terms that I was a grown adult who made my own choices. It scared the hell out of him, having me up in the air, but he wasn’t going to stand in my way and risk losing me. He’d already learned his lesson with Bradley. I lay there quietly for a long moment, feeling my throat tighten up and my eyes sting with the threat of tears.

“He left us.” I murmured, choking out the last word and it was painful. “I…” Two words followed that, ones that I couldn’t force my mouth or my brain to conjure into reality.

“I know.” My father whispered, smoothing his hand over the top of my head with a heavy sigh, and I was so grateful I didn’t have to say it out loud. “That’s why you have to forgive him.”

“I don’t know how.” I whispered, sitting up when my father did and looking back at him. His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb swiping away a tear that had escaped, before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

“You’ll figure it out, kiddo.” With a grunt he stood, holding a hand down and using it to pull me to my feet. I stooped down and scooped up my shoes and my Slurpee, before an arm was slung around my shoulders and we headed back up the beach. “In the meantime, I’m gonna take you to your car and pay my tab at Penny’s. Don’t wanna get in any more trouble with her than I already am.”

To that I smiled wide up at him. “Ooooh, you have a crush on Penny Benjamin.” I sang teasingly. “Try not to mess it up this time, Pops.” Dad grinned down at me, a look of mock offense on his face as he placed his free hand on his chest.

“Sometimes I think you’re Goose reincarnated.” He mused, and my smile softened. I rested my head on his shoulder, switching my things to one hand so I could wrap an arm around his middle.

“You think he would’ve liked me? Uncle Goose?” I asked quietly, and my dad sighed with a nod, one of those bittersweet smiles on his face.

“Oh, I happen to know for a fact that he loved you.” He squeezed my shoulder and I nodded.

“I’ll have to apologize to him for slapping his son.”

“If Goose is out there somewhere, I’m confident he’d agree that Bradley deserved it.”

I hummed with a slow nod, exhausted. Tomorrow was our first day at TOPGUN, and it was bound to be a big one as I faced the consequences of my action. “I hope Goose is with us. I’ll need him tomorrow.”

“He’ll be there, Birdie.” Dad assured me quietly, and if either of us had been looking up at the night sky, we would’ve seen the shooting star that passed over our heads at my father’s promise.

taglist! :)

love u guys frfr

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw/reader #rooster/reader #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw/reader #pete maverick mitchell #Pete Mitchell is dad shaped I will die on this hill #rooster top gun #rooster #top gun #top gun imagine #penny benjamin #goose top gun #nick goose bradshaw #tom iceman kazansky

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

Text

I'll Protect Your Heart

Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: You get injured after trying to protect your husband and you get into a heated argument because of it

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, wife!reader, heated arguement, sad and concerned!dream, fluff, typos, etc.

R E Q U E S T @northmansvamp: can you make it that I have powers and I over use them that’s what causes me to pass out but he catches me and carry’s me bridal style to his bed (telekinesis) + protecting him from things that want to hurt him + and we are husband and wife

A/N: do you like true blood by any chance, cause i am also an eric girl HAHAHA. i hope you like this my love <3 Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9

It all happened pretty fast. It happened so fast, in fact, that I don't remember anything that happened at all. All I know I was with Dream and some freaky stuff started happening. So the fact I was now lying in bed with a towel on my forehead was pretty weird.

"Oh, geez," a voice croaks, "thank heavens your awake," Matthew swoops down on the bed, "Dream is like 1 molecule away from snapping."

I knit my brows as I raise my hand to pull the towel off my face, "what?"

Matthew walks forward, "well, yeah! I mean who wouldn't freak out after what you did."

I catch a blot of red on my damp towel as I drop it to my side. I shake my head and try to sit down, but then I feel pain spread throughout my body, "wait... what did I do again?"

Matthew does not respond. Neither do I repeat myself.

"Wait... are you serious, do you not remember?"

I bring my fingers to the side of my head and let out a soft sound when I feel pain in that area. I was probably grazed or something. I don't remember hitting my head anywhere though.

"I think, there was like..." I grunt as I push myself up, "... a fight."

"YEAH?!?" Matthew cried out, "no damn kidding," he words harshly. "There was a huge fight and you threw yourself in the middle of it against Dream's wishes .Then you-"

"Where is Dream?" I sigh.

"He went off to finish the-"

Matthew cuts himself off when I attempt to leave bed.

"No!" he protests, "no, no, no, no, no! The reason why I'm here is to literally prevent you from-"

"He needs my help, Matthew."

"Yeah, and look what your help did to you!"

I shoot him a dirty look as I make my way to the side of the bed.

"I don't care if you look at me like that! You overexerted yourself and I'm not going to let you out of this place!"

"Oh yeah," I mutter, struggling to get to my feet, "you think you're going to be able to stop me?"

"No, but he will," Matthew says in a gotcha moment.

I him in confusion and annoyance. I then look over to where he was staring and feel my skin break out in goosebumps at the sight of Dream's dark stare.

The next moment, he walks towards me and places his hands on my shoulders, "you are not to leave this room until I feel the strain in your body subside."

I narrow my eyes at the dark haired being, "so what? I'm a prisoner in my own home?"

"If that is how it makes you feel, so be it."

I scoff, "you literally would have been much more badly injured if-"

"So it seems your memory of the incident has cleared."

I suck in a breath, feeling anger rise up my body. I watch him as he pulls away and walks off to the window. I snip, "I remember how I helped you."

Dream is unfazed by the stern tone as he draws the curtains close, "then it would do you good to recall how I had to carry you here in my arms."

I let out frustrated breath and clench my jaw.

Dream turns to me, expressionless as he then waves off his raven, "you may go now, Matthew. Thank you for keeping an eye on the queen."

Matthew nods, "of course," he gives me a look, "see ya, bosses."

Once he flies off, Dream makes it to the bed and sits at the edge. I glare at him when he does so and wait for him to continue chastising me. He does not.

He leans onto his lap and tents is hands together. Dream draws in a deep breath before speaking, "it is no matter to me if I am hurt; my hurt is constant and does not fade."

I knit my brows at his words, not liking them one bit.

"Yet when I am with you, it's like I've never hurt at all."

My lips part and my defenses fall.

When Dream turns to me, his eyes are glassy and laced with worry, "how then would you expect me to exist if you had been lost to me? Knowing it was in my defense, my fault that lead to the macabre fate."

"Dream," I whimper, crawling over to him. The act caused me discomfort, but it was worth it when I got to lean on him and wrap my arms around his worried form.

"There would be nothing left for me if I am without you."

"Don't say that," I mutter, bringing my face to his shoulder, "there are a great many things in existen-"

"BUT I ONLY WANT YOU!" he snaps, growing rigid against me, causing me to pull back in surprise. As quickly as he had reacted, he turns, gets to his feet, and grabs my face. I feel tears prick in my eyes when I see just how distraught and sorrowful he looked.

"I only want you," he repeats carefully. His breathing grows heavy, "you must promise me that you will never do such a thing like that again."

"Dream."

He releases a breath and leans his forehead against mine, "you are not like me and my siblings. You are finite and breakable. You should not have put yourself in peril."

"My love," I whisper, "I understand you," I pull away from him, clasping his wrists as I take in his damp cheeks, "I am so sorry that that had you affected like this. I didn't intend to leave you so worried."

"Then promise me-"

"But you need to understand me as well," I mutter, "yes, I am not nearly as strong as you, I am finite and breakable, but my feelings for you are just as strong as what you feel."

Dream's brows furrow. He shakes his head.

"If I had a chance to redo everything, knowing I'd end up this way, I'd still do it all over again."

He mutters my name out like a plea.

"And you should not resent me for it, because I know you would do the same, if not more for me."

"But I am-"

"And I am your wife!" I quip before he could even finish. I tug him roughly until he is sat back down. I climb onto his lap and take my turn to catch his face, "one day..." I shake my head, "you and I both know I won't be here-"

"Please-"

"But I'm right here, Dream!" I blurt, grabbing his hands, placing them on my sides, "I'm right here for you to hold, and cry to, and love," I press a kiss on his forehead, "and if there's one thing I want you to remember about your queen, is that she believed even someone as big and tough as Dream of the Endless deserves to have someone protect him."

When he parts his mouth, I silence him with a kiss.

"And I will continue to protect you until my last breath, because that's what it means to love."

#dream of the endless #the sandman #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless fanfic #the sandman fanfic #the sandman fluff #dream of the endless fluff #morpheus fluff #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #the sandman x reader #morpheus fanfic #morpheus x you

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luveline · 2 years

Note

please more shy!reader with rockstar remus i’m foaming at the mouth

big scary rockstar gone soft tells u off for neglecting yourself ♡ shy!fem!reader | 1k words

Being a roadie is interesting.

Though roadie can feel generous – you're not a tech, you don't move things, but you're basically the unofficial errand girl. You learn to navigate cities you've never been to before and to mend things in a pinch. You always know where everything is, all the time. If a techie can't find something, they come to you.

You don't learn to talk to people. A year on the road and everybody knows now to just tell you what they need without any small talk. Everybody except Remus.

"Dove," he says as soon as he sees you, an empty room between you, "how are you? You look tired."

You set the guitar strap in your hand onto the desk. The room is a riot of equipment, coats, rucksacks and drinks and food and ashtrays, and you suppose you fit in well – you're a mess, simply put. Wearing the shirt you'd slept in and jeans with a bleach stain up the side, your hair rumpled and pulled back from your face. Of course he'd come to find you now.

"I'm okay," you say.

Remus weaves through mess to sit on the table opposite you, legs so long they don't leave the ground. "Good. Are you sleeping okay?"

You shake your head and hold up Sirius guitar strap. "It's… finicky."

Remus narrows his eyes. "I told him to throw it away."

You nod with a needle held between your lips for a second while you snip a new thread. "He says it's lucky," you murmur, taking the needle back into your hand.

"It's disgusting. You don't have to do that."

"Show's in an hour."

"I know. You look like you haven't slept since the last one."

You haven't. You don't feel very happy that he's noticed it, though, and you frown.

"Is there something you wanted, Remus?" you ask with as little emotion as possible. Silly to be upset. Sillier to show it.

"To see you."

You stab yourself in the hand with your needle and gasp. "Shit."

Remus jumps down from the table and is quick at your side. A fat bead of blood wells and trickles down your finger, further soiling the guitar strap in your lap.

Your eyes go wide at getting blood on Sirius' things and Remus takes it for something else.

"Hey, it's okay. Let me see," Remus says softly.

It's nothing. A pinprick. Remus takes your hand in his, his palms and fingers calloused from years of playing bass. Still, his touch is achingly gentle.

"It's nothing," you say sheepishly.

He hums like he doesn't agree but lets your hand go, sitting on the arm of your big padded chair. He's taller than you to begin with and this new height adds to how intimidating he can be.

Then, like sun peeking through low clouds, the suggestion of a smile. A reluctant one, for sure.

"You have to take care of yourself," he says, a short fall from stern.

"I do."

"No, listen. I'm not kidding around. You need to sleep. You need to rest."

You swallow around a lump in your throat and shrug. "This is my job. I'm on shift right now, so if someone wants me to-"

"Sure, but what about this morning? I know you don't start until two. If you can honestly tell me you were having time to yourself before two, then I'll leave you alone."

You can't honestly tell him that.

Remus works the guitar strap out of your hand and moves it to the end of the desk where you can't reach, looking down at you all homespun and handsome, eyes edged in the tiniest hints of dark stage makeup, his hair tousled and perfect. There's a bemused edge to his telling off that you don't miss.

"Sleep deprivation will make you sick. And then who am I gonna have to talk to before the shows? James?"

"Mean," you say.

"He can handle it."

Remus takes your wrist into his hand and ducks down so you're forced to look at his face. His smell drifts towards you, woodsmoke and something fresh, something a little odd, like parsley, coriander. You take a very deep breath.

"I need you to be good," he says.

Your eyes go wide.

"Are you good?" he asks.

You realise he isn't saying good as in well-behaved, but good as in healthy. The heat is already there, your cheeks flushed, embarrassed to have assumed the wrong meaning. Your pulse jackhammers under your skin.

"I'm fine," you whisper.

He tilts his head, hair falling across his forehead. "We can do better than fine."

When did we become a we? you ask yourself.

He massages your wrist. You gaze up at his expression hoping it might reveal the right answer, what you're supposed to say; he's impassive and you're speechless.

Remus doesn't need any words, apparently. He sidles closer on the chair and tugs your arm slowly over his thigh until your head is pressed to his ribcage. His thumb pushes against your palm, his fingers finally thread through yours.

Maybe you don't need to say anything, either. You close your eyes and let yourself relax against his warm torso. A thousand sounds echo outside of the room – metal scratching and dragging and last minute sound checks. It all fades to white noise as Remus drops the side of his head against your crown.

"Can't believe he had you fixing that thing. It's disgusting," he murmurs.

"It's 'vintage,'" you quote.

"Even if it were, it's a biohazard."

You flex your fingers where they rest between his. "And I was just touching it. You're infected," you whisper teasingly, lethargy loosening your tongue.

Remus laughs a startled laugh and squeezes your hand tighter. "I can deal with that."

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin x reader fluff #marauders era #marauders #marauder x reader #x reader #rockstar!au

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fandomfluffandfuck · 2 months

Text

First, I have to say that I've been sitting with this ask for a while because I don't know much of anything about this particular Sebastian character. I've never seen Gossip Girl, so Carter is unknown to me. I mean, nor have I ever actually watched Knives Out, but, shh, Tumblr talks about Ransom at length (and I can't blame them), so I'm at least familiar with Ransom.

So, with that mentioned, if this is out of character... that's why 💀 I'm purely going off of the idea of brat x brat

The problem is that both Carter and Ransom like to make trouble, and they both love attention, so you know they feed off of each other dangerously. Sparking and sparking until there's not just a fire in some designated pit but a crackling bonfire that's in real danger of spreading to the nearby dry forest and lighting the whole thing up with blinding, fast-moving flames. They breathe down each other's necks, pushing until they break the other, making them act out. Brattier and brattier.

And this time, it's Ransom who starts it, waltzing past Carter where he's relaxing on the couch. The TV is on, but he's only half paying attention, lying lengthwise, scrolling on his phone. Ransom stops, so he's standing in front of Carter, cupping his own hard dick through his loose-fitting sweats, blocking his view, and declaring, "I want a blow job."

Shameless.

Carter scoffs in response, barely looking up from his phone, "yeah? And?"

"And," Ransom puts his hands on his hips, already fed up with not having any attention paid to him by the other man, he isn't a fan of being ignored, especially not when his blood is so hot and thick in his veins, "you're gonna give it to me. Now."

"Oh," that gets his attention, "am I?" He glances up, unimpressed.

"Yeah," Ransom stands his ground, not even dignifying Carter with an eye roll. Yet.

Shifting where he's sprawled out, sitting up further and narrowing his eyes at him, "what if I don't want to?" He licks his lips, "what if I want you to suck me off, instead?"

A blurr of heated, intimate moments crash together in Ransom's mind. All various different moments when he's had Carter's dick in his mouth. At the gym, crowded together in the shower stall, struggling to breathe through the billowing, heavy steam, water rolling down their bodies, their bodies pressed together, goosebumps all over, wandering hands, biting kisses, then... getting on his knees, the tiles hard and cold causing him to shiver, but Carter's so hot and warm, especially his dick, it's so hard that he would make fun of him, 'its almost like you're really into me or something,' if it didn't fill his throat up so good, heating him up to a sizzle; rutting together on the Ransom's plush bed, admist moaning and Carter's complaints that his mattress is stupidly soft, it feels like he's sinking into it and going to be suffocated and Ransom is thinking about actually flipping him over and shoving his face in the pillows so he would just shut up and Ransom could get off in peace finally, but instead it's easier to swallow his cock, sucking and licking until he can't talk shit and only moan; pulling off to the side of a road, late night, on the way home from a night of dancing (Carter's idea), sweating and feeling too big for his own clothes, too big for his own skin, buzzing, and he needs an out, he needs to kill the tension, so, what way better than by leaning over and blowing him, feeling nothing but the heavy, heady taste of him and the stinging grip of his hands in his hair, his panting breaths panting their windows and giving them privacy.

Apparently, because of the wave of heat that washes intensely over him--pooling in his mouth especially as he starts to salivate--Ransom forgets to answer Carter.

Fuck.

"Speechless, hmm?" Carter flashes him that crooked, cocky grin at him, "see?" He laughs, overconfident, "this is why you're gonna suck me off. You need something to do with that mouth that isn't catching flies."

Ransom is about to snip back that he's not fucking catching flies, but...

Oh.

His mouth is open.

Fuck him. He snaps his lips shut, but not before a whimper escapes through them, just loud enough to fill the crackling air between them.

"C'mere," he jerks his head to the side, persuading and too alluring for his own good. The soft sounds that his hands make, rubbing as he strokes his thighs up and down, trying to get him to straddle him, is hypnotic.

Ransom can almost feel himself sway on his feet. But, "no," he replies staunchly, his jaw jutting forward.

"No?" He blinks at him, tilting his head to the side, "why not?"

The speed at which he can go from stone faced and demanding to soft and pliant, pleading, should be illegal. It's not fair. That's what. "'Cause," Ransom relents, "because I'm just not gonna."

Smiling with his teeth, Carter moves like a snake, lightning fast as he explodes into motion, reaching out to anchor his hand into Ransom's hair, messing up his careful style just so he can drag him down, forcibly putting him on his knees in front of the couch.

He doesn't give a shit when Ransom hits the coffee table, even though he hisses. It doesn't hurt that bad anyway. He just wants a reason to squawk and wriggle, trying to pull away using most of his strength.

Once he's on his knees and Carter can stare down at him, Carter pulls his head back, using his hair like a leash, putting him wherever he wants him, "you're such a bitch, Hugh."

The words, his name, catches Ransom off guard. He's stuck there, arching his neck, exposing himself to Carter, physically underneath him and--

The moan simply escapes him.

Apparently, the sound of pleasure--helplessly drug out of him--is enough to distract Carter for just a second because the tight grip in his hair weakens, and the sparkling, bright pain lessens enough for Ransom's mind to catch up. He's still hazy, his cock still aching and in need of relief, but his head is clear enough to process that he's distracted and Ransom absolutely is going to take advantage of it.

So, curling his fingers around his wrist, Ransom yanks his hand away and out of his hair.

Then, he gathers both of Carter's wrists in one of his hands, "where'd all those words go?" He taunts, rising to his feet and climbing onto the couch with Carter, taking his restrained wrists with him, lifting them over his head.

This time, though, when he gets in his lap, it's just on his own terms, settling into his lap, putting all his weight onto his equally hard dick, feeling it through his pants easily. He even squirms a little in place, half-grinding, just to watch more color spread across his cheeks. Pretty pink.

He looks so delicious when he swallows, stifling a soft sound as his throat contracts, "n-nowhere."

Knees sinking into the couch, Ransom lifts himself up and wastes no time pressing himself against Carter's blushing face. He groans quietly to himself, enjoying looking down and seeing him, watching how he obediently opens his mouth, his eyelashes fluttering, reacting so sweetly to having Ransom's hard cock rubbed and grinded against his face. Delightfully degrading. "Oh well," he mumurs, voice low, "it's not like you'll need words away."

Carter growls against him, but with how he's rocking into his face, Ransom can just feel the vibrations on his cock. It feels good. It feels like winning.

Pleasurable and powerful.

Fuck yeah, it feels good.

"Go on," Ransom taunts, using the hand that isn't holding Carter's arms back to shimmy his pants down, letting his cock bounce forward, hitting the flat, smooth muscle of his lower belly with a sharp, wet sound. He wasn't lying when he said he needed a blow job. He's been aching all fucking day. He deserves this. "It ain't gonna suck itself."

Lips hot and slick on the thin skin over his hip, Carter snarks, "it'd be better if it did."

"Shut up," he rolls his eyes, barely suppressing a shiver with the sensation of Carter's soft lips dragging down his skin, mouthing and mouthing and mouthing, getting closer to his cock, right where he needs it, "I know you love sucking dick. You'd live on my dick if I let you."

The only response he gets is a huff and...

A wet, hot, open mouth.

Winning.

Ransom is winning. They're not competing but he's fucking winning. Winning because he's getting his cock wet, holding onto Carter's wrists so he can't fucking touch himself when he works on Ransom, all his attention is on him, opening up.

"C'mon," Ransom pushes, impatient as ever even when he's kneeling on the couch with his dick splitting Carter's lips, it's not enough, not yet, "stuff that mouth before I do it for you," he unkindly pushes his hips forward, against Carter's face holding it until he starts to sputter. Ransom doesn't want his dick fucking warmed, he wants him bobbing on it, choking on it, crying him. Poor Ransom, he doesn't want to deal with having to thrust himself, no. No way. He just wants to have pleasure poured--lavished on him.

Carter plays along, opening up wider and letting his dick in deep. Deep. Where he's all wet and fever hot and tight, taking it like a good boy. Just taking it. Sliding back, pushing forward, sliding, pushing, sliding, pushing--slobbering all over it, sucking and slicking.

"Harder," Ransom pushes him more, pushing just to push. "Deeper." He's already sweating, feeling the heat, getting there, ready to snap, Carter's mouth is just as good as it looks, better than it looks, he's just wound too fucking tight. "Yeah," Ransom slips, fucking forward and letting go of his wrists, sure that he's won, Carter is focused on blowing him, nothing else, "yeah, just like that, y-your tongue, guh, right there-!"

Just, just when he's right fucking there, his orgasm rising in the back of his throat, spreading over his tongue, leaving him drooling, his appetite teased and his stomach clenched, growling for the full meal, just right fucking then--

Carter has the fucking balls to pull off of his dick, a string of saliva connecting the tip of his dick to his swollen, red lips.

Ransom is so devastated he can hardly whimper, fingers curled so tight they cramp in Carter's hair, watching through blurry vision as he ducks his head and bears his teeth, biting into his plush inner thigh. The flesh all soft and sensitive.

"AH!" Ransom quivers, stuck somewhere between pain and pleasure, and surprise and expectation. He should've fucking known, he--

Trembling leaves his hands loose and god-fucking-dammit. Carter's learned from the best because he's slipping out of his hands like sand through an hourglass.

"Fuck you," he glares up at him, lips lifted into a devasting grin.

Ransoms heart speeds so fast in his chest that he's pretty sure he's dying. He's having a heart attack, his blood pounding in his ears, his arousal pumping through his whole body. Not a part of him not coiled and tense.

"I do what I want to," Carter growls like a puppy, nosing down from his twitching, throbbing, and neglected dick to his heavy, hanging balls. His wicked tongue barely spends any time lapping and licking at them, and he doesn't even fucking spend the time to take them into his mouth he just keeps going. Going. Licking and slurping at his perineum until he's whining, high and mortifying, pleasure building back up inside him, white hot. Hot, hot, hot. Then. Fucking gone. He keeps going. He trails down, down, down until he's licking and nipping and torturing him.

Rimming him.

So all Ransom can do is whimper, his lips falling open as he tries again, in vain, to reach down and hold Carter. Carter won't let him. He just chuckles--the vibrations!--and listens to him whine and feels him squirm sadistically. He bats his hands away again and again until he's apparently struck with an idea.

It's enough. It's almost enough. He's almost close again. But, but, as he scrambles to get a fucking grip and grab his hair, stabilizing him, keeping him there so he knows he won't fucking move--the asshole--but Carter won't let him have it. He pulls away to tell him off whenever he tries it or he pulls away to simply slap his hands away. He won't let him touch. He won't let him touch!

"C'mon, Hugh, make yourself fuckin' useful--" he snaps, pushing his arm up and pushing his own fingers into his mouth forcefully "--and keep those wet for me."

Oh.

Ransom's eyes roll back into his head, suddenly muffled as he moans recklessly, assaulted by the heat that is suddenly not just washing over him by drowning him.

"Mmm-hmm," Carter keeping running his fucking mouth between sloppier and wetter and hotter laps of his tongue, "you're gonna open yourself up for my cock after I'm done rimming you and you're gonna ride me. 'Cause I've changed my mind, I don't want a fucking blow job. I want in this tight ass," he slaps then squeezes Ransom's backside, his nails digging in just enough to hurt.

Oh, god.

Ransom starts to shake his head, he's gonna fucking win. He's gonna fight tooth and nail to get the victory, his dick is so wet it's dripping and the room temperature feels so cold compared to Carter that it aches but, fuck, he changes his tune quickly when Carter fucks his tongue into his hole, making him squeal, and he ends up confused and compliant, nodding instead.

He's so fucking easy... a quick reminder of how much he loves being fucked, how sensitive his ass is, filled and stretched, how dirty and embarrassed it makes him feel, and he's dumb. How precious.

#asks #🫠🫠 anon #fandomfluffandfuck #ransom drysdale #carter baizen #ransom x carter #stucky #evanstan #au

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mydarllinglover · 3 months

Text

Stars Collided || Ten

So many thoughts were whirring in Lovisa's head, not just about what she had witnessed Anakin do to those two men, but how Ahsoka had barely reacted.

She then thought’s about other times she had seen Ahsoka act differently, or so to speak, similar to Anakin, but also how she somehow always knew there was something going on, like she just sensed it, and she was very in tune with her intuition.

"Anakin, can I ask you something?" Lovisa decided she'd get to the bottom of it.

"Of course, what is it?" He asked, glancing at her.

You know how you just know things, as in, if somethings going on you can just sense it, or you can feel presence."

"Yes, with the force, that's what allows me to." He said, slowly, letting her continue her train of thought.

"Right, is there a chance that anyone could be like you, like a Jedi, but they're not one?"

"I guess, I wasn't discovered until I was nine, and that's considered a little too old, most younglings were found as new borns, or toddlers."

"So one could slip under the radar, but it's not common?" She continued with her questions.

"Yes, I suppose, why do you ask?"

"Ahsoka, tell me again how you knew we were leaving." She turned to face the girl. "Truthfully."

"I- uh, I don't know, I just- I am not sure how to explain it, it was like something in my head telling me to leave my room, that something was happening that I shouldn't miss, and this feeling came over me, it felt, familiar."

"And have you felt it before?" Lovisa urged her to go on.

"Yes, Its normally whenever we're apart, I know when you're near, before you appear."

"And those .. people, back there, you knew they were there, before we even saw them."

"Whats this got to do with anything, Love?" Ahsoka sighed.

"Christ, have mercy on me." Lovisa prayed to herself. "Nothing at all, Snips, it all means nothing."

"She thinks you're force sensitive, like me." Anakin stepped in, sensing the girls anger flaring.

"That's impossible." Ahsoka laughed.

"Well, I'm not turning the idea down." Anakin shrugged.

"What? As in you agree with her?"

"Yeah." He looked between the road, and her, "Can't know for sure, but it makes sense, and I can feel it."

"So you're not just agreeing, because you're hopelessly in love wit-"

"All I'm saying" He cut her off. "Is that, it's a theory I'm not rejecting, but I wouldn't be able to know for definite."

"This is so unfair!" Lovisa huffed, as she held Threepio to her chest. "Why do the both of you get this, and I have nothing. I'm just... normal."

"Lovisa, you're a princess, and the future queen of Naboo." Ahsoka reminded.

"oh, God, I forgot about that, I thought it was a terrible dream." She sighed. "...Sorry." Lovisa then sent Anakin a meek half smile. "But it's beside the point, I was just... I don't know, born into that status, but anything could've happened, and I'd just be... some peasant, a farmer, I could even be one of the people working in the palace, nothing about me is special but who my parents are, but you guys-"

"I'm not like him." Ahsoka interrupted. "Thankfully."

"You guys, are different, you're strong, and you have intuition, or whatever it is, I wish I was like that, wish I wasn't so useless to myself."

"You're not useless." Anakin told her.

"I've had people looking over and taking care of me, since before I could walk, I had a royal guard, who was supposed to follow my every move, my whole life, I can barely dress myself"

"You got dressed all by yourself, in this." Ahsoka touched the fabric of her dress.

"Thanks." She smiled, but it was forced.

"You're the only person who's ever bested me in a spar."

"What?" Lovisa scoffed, with a slight eye roll.

"I'm being serious." He pressed.

"Ani, we were ten, trust me, I am not gonna fight you now."

"But what if I want you to."

"I'd lose."

"I wouldn't let you."

"So you'd let me win?"

"That's not what I said."

They looked at each other, Lovisa bit her cheek, as the corner of her mouth lifted, as she stared into his eyes, that were on her, not bothering to look away or even blink.

"Ahem, hrrm." Ahsoka cleared her throat. "I'm still here, by the way."

Anakin shook his head, as he looked back at the road, before looking around the area.

"We're nearly there." He said, encouraging the horses to pick up the pace.

"I've never been this far away from the kingdom, before." Lovisa shared, giving him a small smile.

"You should feel glad about that, Princess, I fear that my home has nothing grand, to offer you." She could tell by his voice, that he was embarrassed of Tatooine, that he thought this place, and maybe himself, was beneath her, and she hated that he felt this way.

"It gave me you, I'm quite grateful for that." She stated.

Then she had thought about what she had said, and slightly shifted, so that she was facing Ahsoka, more than straight ahead, as she fought the urge to shiver away the embarrassment of speaking her thoughts.

"Way to play it cool." The girl teased.

"Shut up." She hissed.

Eventually, Anakin had stopped the carriage, when they had entered the busy town centre, tying up the horses to a post, before helping the two women out of the cart, he then took their satchels, to hold on each shoulder.

"Stay close, no running off, I gotta find someone." He told them, passing Artoo, to the princess, so that she was carrying both puppies in her arms.

"Yeah, yeah." Lovisa nodded, distractedly, as she looked around.

"Hey, no, promise me you won't leave my sight, this isn't the kingdom, alright." He pointed a finger at her, his gaze bored into her.

"I promise, Ani, I won't run off like an insolent child."

"You, too." He turned on Ahsoka.

"What, I'm innocent." She held up a hand, Seven in her other hand.

"Ahsoka."

"Fine, fine, we won't sneak off." She rolled her eyes.

"Good. I still have the cuffs on me, don't make me use them." He turned on the princess, again.

"Are we allowed to look around the market? Or does Ser Anakin forbid it?" Lovisa asked.

"Yes, you can look around, just stay in this area." He circled around with his finger.

"Thank you." She reached up to kiss his cheek, before juggling the two puppies in one hand, and grabbing a hold of Ahsoka's arm, pulling her towards the various stalls, and people.

"Total buzzkill." Ahsoka rolled her eyes, as their arms linked at the elbow.

"He hasn't been here in a decade, give him a break, he might be nervous bringing us here."

"Oh, oh wow, this is a first." Ahsoka's eyes widened, as she looked at her friend.

"What?"

"You, you're actually giving someone the benefit of the doubt, are you feeling okay, Lovey, feeling under the weather?" She raised the inside of her wrist to the princesses forehead.

"I'm completely fine, come off of it." Lovisa slapped Ahsoka's hand away. "Though, it is rather hot here, I'm saddened, that I forgot my fan."

"I didn't." Ahsoka reached into her satchel, handing the fan to the girl, and taking Anakin's puppy, to free up her arms a bit more.

"This is why I love you."

"Oh, how charming."

"Come, I wish to find something for our new comrades. So that they do not have to be carried around, everywhere."

"Excellent. Seven seems to not appreciate it much."

"Stop holding him high up, then."

"Well if he just did as I said, I wouldn't have to."

"He's a pup, he doesn't know any better."

"You're doing it again."

"Sorry." Lovisa sighed.

The two looked around the stalls, until eventually they had found what they were looking for.

"Hello, sir." Lovisa greeted the salesman, who's store appeared to be for domestic pets. "As you can see, we are with three dogs, and are hoping you can equip them properly." She smiled, politely.

"Yes, of course, I can help you, you'll be wanting these." He reached under his table, and pulled a box onto his stand. "Dog collars." He said, looking at the three, before rummaging through his collection, I make them all myself." He shared, then he set three out in front of them.

One was a red looking leather, with a clasp, the other was a shiny yellow metal, and the other was a plain denim looking one.

"Yes, these will be perfect." Lovisa grinned, as she picked up the yellow one, to put around Threepio, as he wiggled his head about, but eventually, she had managed it.

Ahsoka placed the red one around Sevens neck, and then Lovisa put the last one, the blue denim, on Artoo.

"You'll be wanting leashes to go with them." The salesman added, as he handed the girls three ropes, "And I made them special, see, they have hooks, so you can attach them straight to the collar, instead of messing about, tying and untying all the time. Handy, see?"

"Yes, that is genius." Lovisa agreed, as she clipped two of the ropes, to the two dogs, holding tightly to the other end, as they sniffed around the floor, investigating the place, for the first time.

"That'll be all?" The salesman asked.

"Yes, amazing, thank you, kindly." Lovisa grabbed out her pouch, as she handed over more than enough coins, dropping them into his expecting palm, and he was quick to count them.

Without mentioning the extra coins, he simply nodded at them, and hid the money away, and that was their cue to walk away.

The two girls, called at the three puppies, letting them know their names, but also steering them to follow, as they continued to look at what the different stalls were selling.

"A blacksmiths." Lovisa noticed, her voice came out in a gasp. "Come on."

"Why? Why do we need to go to that one?" Ahsoka asked.

"For you, silly." Lovisa smiled at her friend. "If you are to be a Jedi, then you shall require an weapon."

"Lovey, do not be ridiculous, I am not to be a Jedi." Ahsoka scoffed.

"Yes you are, I will personally see to it." Lovisa spared her a serious glare, as she continued to march towards the blacksmiths.

"Hello." She greeted the man, with a certain type of authority, in her tone, so that he would know she means business. "I see that you make weapons, and I am hoping that you would be able to find a weapon suitable for my friend, here, and I will pay generously."

"Fair enough." He nodded, taking a hard look at the girl, studying her. "You fight?"

"No-"

"She will, though, she is about to begin training." Lovisa butted in.

"Interesting." The man rubbed his chin. "I have an idea." He held his palm up to the girls as he walked away, further into his space.

They stood there, as cluttering and clanging filled the air.

Then, he emerged once more.

"Here, these look like they could aid you." The man said, as he stood in front of Ahsoka, holding out two weapons in his hands.

Twin swords.

They were thin blades, and looked lightweight, which would come in handy for a girl of Ahsoka's size, instead of the type of sword Anakin and other Jedi carried around.

They were shiny, too, beautiful.

"Wow." Ahsoka let out a harsh sigh, as she stared at them, longingly.

"You'll need a sheath, to go with them." The blacksmith decided, as he turned back to his shop.

"Lovey, I can't accept this, this is just too kind." Ahsoka's brows furrowed, as she looked at the girl. "Your family have already and always done so much for me."

"Snips, you are like a sister to me, and I haven't done nearly enough, for what you have done for me, please, take this, because I will be purchasing it regardless. You are my best friend, and I do not wish for you to waste your life away, waiting on me, that is not what I want for us, I want you to stand beside me, not behind me, fixing my hair, or my dress." Lovisa told her. "No matter our paths, we shall always be equal with one another. I shall be queen, and you shall be a fierce Jedi Knight." She whispered the last sentence.

The two stared at each other, with so much love, before the Blacksmith interrupted, placing the two swords in the sheaths.

Lovisa handed the man plenty of coins, and the two bid him a good day, as they tugged their pets along.

They looked around, trying to spot Anakin, and eventually they saw him.

He had been talking to a short round man, with a large nose.

"Should we join him?" Lovisa asked, when he had looked over, to nod at the two girls.

"No, he's found out what he needs to." Ahsoka replied, and she had been right.

Anakin eventually left the little man, and marched towards them.

"I found out where she is." He greeted. "What did you do to Artoo?"

"We dressed them." Lovisa smiled, as she handed Anakin's puppy's rope, to him.

"Who were you talking to?" Ahsoka investigated.

"Waddo my old... master." He adverted his eyes from Lovisa, as he quickly turned around, heading back for the carriage.

Lovisa and Ahsoka shared a look, before following behind.

He had said Master, Lovisa was sure that she definitely did not hear him wrong, but what would he mean, Obi-Wan was his master, and that man looked like no Jedi.

"Ani-" Lovisa started.

"Uhm, I found out that she got married, she made it out, so that's good, but it's a little far from here." He shared, quick to avoid whatever Lovisa had to say.

"Yes, that's good, so she should be okay, maybe she's happy." Lovisa told him, as she grabbed for his hand, intertwining their fingers. "Have faith, Anakin."

He looked at her, carefully, before nodding slightly, wanting to believe what she was telling him.

#anakin fanfiction #anakin x reader #anakin imagine #anakin x you #obi wan and anakin #star wars anakin #sw anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader smut #ahsoka tano #anakin smut #anakin and padme #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin star wars

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marchtomydrums · 1 year

Text

Lesson Learned

Cordelia Goode x Wilhemina Venable x Ally Mayfair x Reader (mother/ daughter)

“Come on y/n just do it!” Maddison shouts at you getting impatient.

“Chill Mads if she doesn't want to do it she doesn't have to,” Queenie says.

Zoe nods as she looks at you “Don't do it y/n those things are bad for you anyways.”

Maddison rolls her eyes “You guys are such babies. It's fine. All of the older girls smoke. “

“So you do what everyone else does?” Queenie snips back.

“I'm sorry who is the cool one in this group?” Maddison asked.

“Not you!” Queenie says.

The three girls go into a frenzy of arguing back and forth as you held the rolled-up cigarette in between your fingers. It couldn't be that bad you thought to yourself.

You placed the cigarette in between your lips and you lit the end watching the first clouds of smoke roll out.

It really was like a smoke signal making all of the girls go quiet and look toward you.

Maddison smirked “Finally someone with some balls. Now inhale.” she says.

You did as she said breathing in deeply feeling the smoke fill up your lungs and blowing it out quickly.

You choke on the smoke getting caught in your chest causing you to cough loudly.

“Jesus this is awful,” you said coughing in between your words.

“You’ll get used to it,” Madison shrugs as she inhales smoothly and blows out rings of smoke toward Zoe.

“Y/n Y/M/n what on earth are you doing?!” you hear a voice shout behind you.

“Oh shit,” Queenie whispers.

You slowly turned around finding brown eyes glaring at you.

“Ally...I”

“Do you know how dangerous these things are? What they can do to your health?” she asked snatching the cigarette from you and putting it out.

“Give it to me Madison and the rest of whatever you have,” she says holding her hand out.

“You're not my mother. “ the blonde chuckles.

“She's not. But I am your supreme and I'm telling you to hand it over. Now.” Cordelia says walking up behind you.

Madison rolls her eyes as she hands over the pack she got this morning.

“You guys are ridiculous,” she complained.

“Thank you. Now all of you go to your rooms.” Cordelia shouts.

The girls quickly move past the two women heading inside. You tried to hide in the middle of them hoping to escape when you feel a hand on your shoulder pulling you back.

“Not you,” Ally says pulling you towards her.

You sighed as you watched the girls escape to their rooms. It was times like these that you wished you weren't the daughter of the supreme.

“Y/n what were you thinking?” Cordelia asked.

“I'm sorry. Madison said it wasn't a big deal. I was just trying it.”

“You know better than to listen to Madison,” Ally says.

“I know.”

“And you know how I feel about smoking,” Cordelia adds.

“But you let the older girls...”

“The older girls are just that older. They're all old enough to buy them and old enough to make their own choices. It's not a choice that I like but I can't stop them. As long as they follow the rules about keeping it outside and cleaned up that's all I can ask of them.”

“Y/n it's not a habit you want. It's nasty for your health. It makes you smell and it's extremely addicting. “ Ally adds.

“I'm sorry,” you mumbled looking down.

“Honey I know it's hard growing up and you're going to want to try things. But some things aren't worth trying. I promise you aren't missing out when it comes to these.” Cordelia says shaking the box of cigarettes.

“I know. It tastes gross and it made me cough really bad. I won't do it again.”

Your mothers smile “Good!” they both say in unison.

“But... We still have to tell Momma and I don't think she's going to let you off so easily,” Cordelia says.

Your eyes grow wide as you shake your head. “No Mom, please. Please don't tell Momma. She will kill me and Madison.”

“You know we don't keep secrets from one another.”

“I know but...please,” you begged as tears pricked your eyes.

“ I’m sorry sweetheart but you know how this works. The three of us don't hide things from one another and we all make decisions together. We will talk to her and go from there.” Cordelia says as she kisses your forehead.

Cordelia walks back into the house leaving you and Ally outside.

“Well get a good look at me Al. I’ll be dead soon.” you cried.

Ally chuckles as she shakes her head pulling you into her arms for a hug.

“Oh sweets you're not going to die. She loves you too much to kill you. Now Madison on the other hand....”

“Ally!”

She laughs “ I'm kidding. We will talk to her sweets okay? But please promise me you won't smoke again. I love you too much to lose you. “

“I promise Al. “

“Good. I love you, sweets,” she says with a smile.

“I love you too.”

“Y/n Y/M/n!!!” you hear your redhead mother scream from inside.

“Ahh man,” you whined.

Ally chuckles as she lops her arm in yours.

“Come on sweets.”

“I'm never listening to Madison again.” you groaned as Ally all but dragged you into the house.

#writing #fiction #television #poly representation #cordelia goode x reader #ahs coven #ahs apocalypse #ahs cult #ally mayfair richards #cordelia goode #wilhelmina venable x reader #madison montgomery #zoe benson #queenie

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evesaintyves · 8 months

Text

for @remadoramicrofics - it outgrew microfic status, almost 2000 words, but i'm submitting it anyway. combining October prompt guts and October 14th challenge triptych.

three acts of bravery, maybe. read it below or on AO3 🎖

Packing up sets the world back in order. He learned to do it before he learned to tie his own shoes. With his mother clucking get your things, Remus—hurry now and his father directing the flight of reference-books into a box, wand swaying, face of stone, it was clear that sentimentality was only a weight to be dragged. He learned very quickly to snip any string that might tug at him—he is nothing if not a quick learner—and, eventually, to evade those ties altogether: to harbor no love for the peaked attic bedroom with the view of the river, the back garden overrun with primrose and gnomes. Nor the blue-eyed neighbor girl who peeked through the fence-slats.

It is a kind of art, to keep a life small enough to fit inside one suitcase, and it has saved him from more tight corners than any countercurse he might throw in a duel.

When Tonks put her hands to her belly, eyes all sparkling with some unrecognisable joy, and said now, don't freak out, I have to tell you something: it was a strangling feeling, like a dog snapping at the end of its lead. There had always been a way, until now, to walk off and start again. This miscalculation would be the end of that. Now he was chained to his regret, she was chained to him, and the thing inside her was chained to its brutal future.

He didn't freak out. He watched her lips move, her hands grab at him, and calmly, silently, he made the only conscionable decision.

Tonks made a mess of the house before she left; even the velveteen hippogriff she bought for the baby is lying on the floor, eyeless, disemboweled and spilling its batting-scrap guts. She screamed at him, she called him a bastard. And a liar. It doesn't matter, he's been called worse. He's been worse. It was satisfying, in the end, to see her finally understand: she took her hands off him like she'd touched something disgusting, her mouth quivered, she backed away as if in terror: how can you just stand there, she breathed, raspy from all her carrying-on, and look at me like a fucking stranger?

Easy, he might have said. I am a fucking stranger.

But he didn't say anything because he didn't have to. She was crying so hard when she apparated off to her mother's that he thought she might splinch herself—and a week ago, or maybe even this morning, that might have curdled his insides with terror and dread.

But he has unhooked himself from his insides. That's an art, too, and he's well-practiced: it can be every bit as natural, he finds, to feel nothing as it is to feel something. Easier, even, once you've mastered it.

He clicks shut the suitcase, knots the length of twine.

James, he says to himself, I'll find him. I'll give everything I have.

It isn't much. He's got hands that know how to kill and the will to do it. He's got a ruined body, still absurdly walking the earth while so many more deserving have returned to it. He's got the shame of all his generation's failures, the cans they've kicked down the road to their children. And he's got a monster inside: lusting, ravenous, insane, goading him to go after her, bury his face in her powder scent and beg, to confess that I want you, I want to live, I want to have what I want—

What higher calling, for someone like him, than to put all that between Harry and a curse?

Shh-shh-shh, Tonks whispers. She presses a kiss to the warm dry scalp, with its menthol smell of ointment, its tickling hairs. We're going to Nan's house.

Teddy, on a brief intermission from wailing, roots his red little nose and mouth against her shirt. He's always hungry, he's been on her sore tits all day—he was latched when the call came from Kingsley. It is never enough.

She can't just wait. She's not a keeper-of-the-home-fires. She's springloaded, a coil of taut potential straining for release—trained to fight three-on-one, to throw jets of wandless fire from her open hands, to keep her pulse rate seventy-steady all the while. They need her, they can't spare her, what is she doing here?

Waiting for death to come and find her, that's bloody what. They'll step over Remus's body ( he's a good fighter, not the best —these awful thoughts won't stop— he's distracted, scared, has too much to lose. His clicky old knees could betray him. He'll think of the baby, lose his focus, miss by a centimetre and that's the end. It could have already happened ), they'll swarm the castle like driver ants, and then they'll come for Teddy. She'll be in pieces before she lets them get to him, but once she's gone he'll be so helpless, swaddled in his bassinet. She won't have it. She won't sit and let it happen.

She stands there for a moment, in the dark house, with Teddy bundled to her chest. He's winding himself up for another cry, back spasming, a bubble of snot in his nose. It'd all be easier if she could just get him to sleep, but she's not good at that—it's hard not to let it feel like a failure. He's cried so much in this house she can hear it even when he's quiet, the sound has soaked into the walls. This, here, is the life these three have only just begun to make: the kitchen table permanently sticky with jam, the tousled bed: biscuit crumbs on her side, a stack of books on his. The baby's things everywhere, socks and sleepsuits, corduroy dragon, the cot overturned in her rush to get going. Blankets gushing out over the rug.

That's what she's got to go and fight for. This is only the start! They've got years, so many years, so much happiness and lost time to make up! So many knuckle-kisses, murmured sweetnesses under the duvet, Remus jiggling the baby through colic all night, giving her his worn-out smile from the doorway—God, fuck, she's never even told him about the time her dad took her to the zoo and she morphed herself a crest like the iguanas! The Obliviators had to come and zap everyone, Dad turned the colour of beetroot trying not to smile! He'll laugh himself sick!

She's got to go, so she can tell him. That and so many other things. He keeps appearing in her mind: sprawled across flagstone, hole burnt in his robes, face up and staring at the Great Hall's fake sky. Do you know what's up there, behind all the magic? he asked her once, years ago on a mission together, sitting hidden in the boughs of a tree. When she shook her head no, he said, Spiders. It's infested completely, there are a million. And cobwebs thick enough to swing on—don't ask me how I know. He waggled his eyebrows, charming in a way that was unlike him and perfectly fitting all the same. She was so taken by the thought of eight million eyes watching her little self perch on the stool at her sorting that she just grinned at him, gormless. He looked at her face like he was deciphering runes. And it's clear, now, that he was hers at that moment. Since that moment, he has been hers.

She won't let them have him. They've taken too much already: Dad, Mad-Eye, Sirius. The hope of every muggleborn kid who should have, this year, looked for the first time up into that indoor sky and felt the touch of wonder. She can't get it back, but she can make them pay for it. She's got enough revenge boiling down in her gut, it could power a thousand killing curses—she could explode with it, it could set her on fire—

C'mon, baby, she says. Teddy's shivering breath is so warm, so soft, on her chest. We've got to go.

When Nymphadora was a little girl, long before she got her wand, she used to break a stick off the sycamore tree and run about brandishing it, casting made-up hexes, making explosive sounds with her mouth. Halt! she'd shout at the imaginary enemy. Andromeda never knew where she'd gotten that. Ted's little black-and-white telly in his office, maybe. She'd jump off the garden wall, land on her face, pick herself up and announce, I'm okay! Even when she scraped up her elbows, even when she knocked out a tooth. She was always okay.

Andromeda has never asked—and who? Who would even tell her?—but she thinks that must have been how they found her. Faceplanted in the mud, wand out in front of her. Little warrior. When she handed the baby off that night she had that same look on her face: I'm okay, said through a mouth of blood.

Teddy is more of a dirt-digger, beetle-watcher, masher of rose hips into pretend potions. She has to stop him at the door and check his pockets lest he bring home a toad, a wriggling handful of earthworms. That's a bit of Ted coming through, she's pretty sure. This afternoon, she watched Teddy stop his potion-mashing, squint into the mess, and fish out a pill bug with his chubby little fingers. He held it up to show her: roly-poly, he said proudly. He's only just started pronouncing his Ls. He set the bug aside on the grass and recommenced his mashing.

Teddy's a lover, he doesn't like to kill things. That's the privilege of a peacetime child. For lunch he gets spaghetti hoops on toast, his grandfather's guilty favourite, and then a little kip upstairs. Andromeda cleans the mud off his dungarees, and off the carpet where he's tracked it in, and off the doorknob and the bathroom sink and his booster chair.

Nymphadora and Ted used to chuckle to each other at her arsenal of scrubbing charms, the shirts folded in squares. Like that sort of thing was her idea of fun. No. That was the daily fight against entropy. Her daughter, born under the standard of this potted aspidistra, raised in this tidy defiance of the mess outside, never understood. She went charging off with her wand out and left Andromeda to walk the floor all night for months with this little war on her shoulder, the baby that wouldn't stop screaming—and who could blame him? Andromeda understands that desperation, that longing for something impossible. The night they buried his parents, Teddy cried like he was begging God.

Andromeda didn't. She doesn't beg.

I know what you think you're doing, Narcissa told her once, a week before she left with Ted forever. She'd cornered Andromeda in the upstairs hall, gripping her wrist and hissing so that Father in his study wouldn't hear. You think you're doing something brave. You're not, you're just running. Anyone can run.

Andromeda would never concede that she was right. She wasn't—not about Ted, not about leaving home. But still she thinks about it. There's an Order of Merlin upstairs, in the locked room that was Nymphadora's, gleaming in its velvet case. For her courage. Her sacrifice. There's no denying that she earned it. But days like this—when the house is silent and Andromeda is folding dungarees, rinsing tins of spaghetti hoops—she wants to take her long-gone daughter by the shoulders and say: my darling, you have no idea.

images by edward hopper: a room in brooklyn, sun in an empty room (detail), rooms by the sea (detail)

#remadora #remus lupin #tonks #andromeda tonks #teddy lupin #remadora microfics

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nagito-kissmaeda · 1 year

Note

b, j (for alone at the edge of a universe), k, and x!

OOH THANK YOU! Link to the post here if anyone else wants to ask me stuff B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience? Hmm, the only one that is (and only sort of) is Community Gardens, because that's sort of uh, me getting the reader to say to Komaeda what I wish I could say to myself I guess lol. I have self esteem issues, YAHOO!

J: Write or describe an alternative ending to [insert fic].

SICK PRANK. i am STILL after all these years working on chapter 2, I swear. But hm, if I wasn't planning a sequel, I would probably have just cut the final line altogether. I will post a little snip from the second chapter as a treat (under the cut at the bottom) K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

Oh yeah, this is easy. I thought up this fic idea about a girl who meets Komaeda while he's getting treatment at the hospital, and she was going to take him out on little adventures and they would fall in love but he was going to die at the end. I made myself too sad thinking about it, so I will not write it. free real estate if someone else wants to write it instead lol. It was semi based on the song Firewood by Regina Spektor if you know it X: A character you enjoy making suffer.

OOH FUN! Tbh it isnt real suffering, but I do bully Souda constantly even though I really like him lol. But hm, I don't often write angst or anything like that so I'm wracking my brain a little. I think the real characters I like to make suffer are my fangan OCs lol. can't wait to kill them.

as promised, treat under the cut. There will be a lotta preamble before reader actually meets up with Komaeda again, but I'm giving you a taste of the good stuff

His eyes widen when he sees you fall, and you hear your name leave his lips as he breaks into a run.

A sob breaks loose from your throat, harsh and loud. Tears stream down your face and you cry so much that it hurts. Lungs burning as you desperately heave breath after breath between your wails.

He drops to his knees next to you, wrapping his arms tight around your shoulders. He even smells right.

“It’s okay.” He whispers, his voice sounding tight in his throat like he is trying not to cry, “I’m here now, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you, I’m so so sorry.”

Tears race down your cheeks, and you can’t manage a single word through your aching sobs. Instead, you circle your arms around his torso and hold him as tight as you can, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He’s here, he’s home. You have no idea where he went for so long, or why he left without saying goodbye, but right now you don’t have it in you to care. He’s alive, and he’s back.

“I’ll get you out of here, we can go somewhere safe I promise.” He says shakily.

Your voice hiccups, but you manage to whisper, “You’re okay…” He laughs. It isn't the same raspy giggles that you are used to, it’s softer, and he sounds relieved. He leans backward, gently holding you by the shoulders so he can look you in the eye, “I am, I’m okay.”

#/ask #komaeda x reader

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discrunkled-twog · 1 year

Text

Haircut

She ran her fingers through my hair. It feels nice, and calming. I've already decided what I want done, so when she asks, I say "To my ears, thinned out and layered."

She pulls my hair back behind my ears, leaving the front strands to hang out on their own. She pushes it up into something like a bob.

"Like… here?" She gestures to the bottom of my ear.

"Yeah." I nod.

"So, you want it layered in the back too?"

"Uhh…" I really have no idea what she's talking about, and I'm trying to remember from past hair cutting experiences. "I think I usually got it layered all the way around. It's been a while since I've cut it."

Still carding through my hair, she nods. "Yeah, it's really grown out. So all the way around?"

"Um, yeah, I think so."

"I have this thing, it's kind of like a razor, that I can use to thin it out. It'll cut it in the back." I can feel her toying with the hair at the back of my head. Still feels funny.

"Umm… maybe? I don't know, I just know I want it shorter." I smile and look down. I put my glasses down before we started so that they wouldn't get in the way. I didn't want to see myself in the mirror, and I felt awkward looking at her.

"Maybe I could play around with it, see how it looks?" Her tone is strange. Like she's talking about her own hair.

"Well, I assume you know what you're doing better than I do." I chuckle. She chuckles back and starts to make her way around the chair.

"Good girl."

Good girl.

Wait.

Alarms start going off in my head. Either I look young enough to where she thought that was an appropriate thing to say, I look old enough to where that was a flirty thing to say, or I'm overthinking it and it was actually very normal.

Even if I was young, it felt like something inappropriate. I keep looking down.

"So I just play around with it, and you can do something with it?" She's still messing with my hair, starting to comb through it.

I hum in response. I'm stuck on it now. Good girl.

Like a dog, oddly. But my mind goes to sex because that's what people associate it with. It's joked about a lot with people my age, so my mind automatically goes there. It's strange but it's normal at this point.

"I-I'll find something to do with it."

I am not attracted to this woman. I've been attracted to women before and taken things the wrong way, even if it's a fantasy, because I'm a teenager and that's what teenagers do. It's normal, probably, so I no longer chastise myself too much for it.

Still, my mind wanders. It's not exciting and flowing, but kind of cold. Flat. Not really enjoyable, but still where my mind goes.

Good girl.

Excuse me? Maybe I should be offended that she had the audacity to say such a thing, and maybe that'd be pretentious. I'm still quiet, and she's spraying water in my hair and combing it. My hair goes flat and I look at my father, who's waiting for his turn. It's like she doesn't even care that he's here; like she can't tell I'm a child.

Maybe something should happen, so I'd have a real story to tell, I think.

"So. What do you do? School? Do you work somewhere?" Finally, she starts cutting. Nope, still spraying.

"Oh, I'm still in school." I hope I'm speaking normally.

"Oh, yeah? High school?"

"Yeah, I haven't graduated yet."

She nods.

"Homeschooled, actually."

"Ah." Snip. "Makes sense why your hair's so grown out. Don't get out much."

Presumptuous, probably. I mean, I do go out. Somewhat. I get defensive over this, even though I have no idea what I'm defending.

"I mean, I guess so. I… do stuff. Sometimes. It's…" And then my speech trails off into odd mumbling like I'm nervous. Flustered, maybe. She doesn't care.

"Not out on your own yet?"

"Not yet," I say like I just can't wait to move out. Not true. I laugh. For some reason.

Why am I flustered? I probably shouldn't be, and I'm weirder than this lady at this point.

I catch a glance of myself in the mirror. I'm wearing lipstick that's much brighter than anything I've ever worn— as if I usually wear make-up and foundation that's the wrong color and I don't have my glasses hiding my bushy eyebrows and I feel so terribly ugly at the moment. My hair is wet and flat and isn't helping. I should've gotten dressed better before leaving the house, I think.

She keeps cutting and I keep thinking. About her comment, and how it might or might not have been inappropriate, and about how I'm going to write about it later as if it's an important event. My thoughts spiral into something frantic and hormonal, if you'll pardon my French, but it's not something fun and it's stressing me out.

I avoid the mirror, and she's stopped talking. I glance over to my father, who's getting his hair cut at this point. The lady cutting his hair is talking about normal hair things, and I'm wishing that this woman would say something that would make anything make more sense. Or at least something noteworthy.

She's singing along to a country song. She keeps recognizing the ones that play on the radio, but this one is something about buying a boat. It's in the chorus and it's repeated, but I keep thinking.

Good girl.

Seriously, what the fuck?

She talks to the other lady from time to time, and eventually she's done. She puts her weird scissors down and turns me around to face myself. I feel so deeply unattractive, which probably isn't the right feeling to be having at the moment.

"Look, it's cute."

It kind of is. It falls around the bottom of my ears, but it's shorter than I've ever had it. It makes me worry a bit, but I still feel inappropriately nervous. I smile and agree. She hands me a mirror to look at the back, and that's it. It's done.

I stand up. I feel awkward and heavy. What the hell even are my shoes.

My father's been done for a bit now, but his hair looks pretty much the same. Mine is drastically different, but it's not the mullet that my mother says would've kept me inside the house for the next four to six weeks. It's fine.

Apparently I look like a lesbian now, so whatever.

#writing #my writing #creative writing #writers #writblr #original writing finally #just a thing that happened #felt like being dramatic about it #we all deserve to be dramatic about stuff and write about it from time to time #dwell in some fucked up thoughts from time to time #idk man just a thing read it or don't

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slightlysuspect · 2 years

Text

Brave New World Pt. 2

Honestly I don't even know why I write these. By principle I refuse to divulge any sort of real information in this pre-text, yet still I write them. Maybe I'll stop. But not today.

I 'awoke' from my sleepless night with a desire to get my arm fixed. I left Padme to sleep in awhile longer, while I made my way to the Grand Republic Medical Facility. This place is wildly huge. I'm sure they work with the civilian population a lot, but it's also the largest medical facility the clone army uses, and those military prosthetics are legit. I'm curious to see what my options will be.

Upon receiving a room, I began talking to the droid who would be doing the procedure.

"Greetings. I am 2-1B66. How may I be of service to you?"

"I need a new arm." I tell it. "What do you got?"

"Affirmative. Are you looking for a replacement, or an enhancement?"

What a trap question. Am I supposed to feel bad for wanting a better arm? "Let's do an enhancement."

"Affirmative. Running clearance. General Skywalker, you are authorized to create prosthetics reinforced with phrik. A flamethrower may also be installed."

WHOA. What did this thing just say? I can't shake the feeling that if I install a flamethrower in my arm Padme will be upset. "Yea that sounds perfect thanks." On the other hand when life gives you flamethrowers...

As the droid begins operating, my room door opens, and Ahsoka enters looking troubled. "Master are you alright?" she asks.

"Don't worry Snips I'm fine." I assure her. "Don't let the missing arm thing bother you."

"No it's not that." she says. "When I apprehended Maul on Mandalore he-"

"Oh yea that's right." I said. In the chaos of the last couple days, I'd completely forgotten she did that. "How did that go? Good I assume?"

"Master listen!" she insisted. Padawans are so impatient. "Maul seemed to be having premonitions of a terrible Sith plot that directly involved you. Have the Sith attacked you?"

"No need to be on edge Snips." I tell her. "Me and Master Windu took care of the Sith lord." I should probably stop lying about that, but it really briefs a lot better this way.

She laughs. "The Sith made a mistake when they chose to mess with my master." She announced proudly. About this time the medical droid begins testing the flamethrower without telling anybody. Ahsoka doesn't flinch. She just looks at me incredulously and asks, "Are you really getting a flamethrower installed in your arm?"

"It's for self-defense." I don't think she bought it.

The medical droid cuts in, "Base construction is complete. Would you like to install a Synthskin coating?" Maybe I can make Padme happy.

"Yes please that would be great."

Ahsoka interjects, "Oh you're going with the fleshy look now?"

"I am. You know the war is over, and it's time to stop thinking like a soldier." Yea that sounds legit.

"You just installed a flamethrower in your arm!" Ah. That's a good point.

"Once you have lived 22 full rotations as I have, maybe then you'll be able to see how a flamethrower can be used for peace." Don't look her way. I will not crack.

Finally she says, "Thank you for instilling me with your infinite wisdom master."

"So do you think you're gonna rejoin the order now that the war is over?" I'm really hoping the answer is yes.

She only sighs. "I'm sorry master, but the order has broken my trust. My issues with the order are not resolved now that the republic is at peace."

"I do understand that. Now more than ever. So then where will you go?"

"Well with war finally out of the picture the galaxy has never felt so open. I need to see the galaxy and form my own opinion about what it does and doesn't need."

"Well I hope you find what you're looking for in your adventures." The door opens again, and Padme comes in. "Senator Amidala." I say. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Are you still going to do this?" Ahsoka asks. "I'm not even in the order anymore."

"Not to mention Ani lacks all subtlety." Padme says. The girls seem to find that very funny.

"Alright. Alright." I say.

"Oh Ani you did get the synthskin!" Padme exclaims. "I love you." She leans in for a kiss.

"I love you too." I resolve to never look in Ahsoka's direction for at least the next 24 hours as I give Padme a kiss. And i swear she better never mention the flamethrower.

But the droid lacking all awareness announces, "Construction complete General Skywalker. Would you like to field test your new weapon?"

Padme gives me a look, but I'm quick on my feet. "It's a military droid Padme. It thinks of every prosthetic as a weapon." Never look in Ahsoka's direction ever again. Even with her out of my field of view, I can see the look she's giving me. "Anyways why'd you swing by anyway?"

"Well the Senate is having an emergency meeting to negotiate a Peace Treaty with the Separatists, and to elect a new Chancellor. Although I think the second objective is lesser known."

"Oh alright. Well good luck darling."

"ALSO I heard the Jedi Council is holding an emergency meeting today as well, and I figured you probably need to be at that, and I also figured this will probably be the first you're hearing about it."

"In fact it is." I say. "When were they gonna tell me?"

"Oh Ani relax." she says. "It's very early and you've been sitting in the hospital all morning. How would they have found you?"

"Well you found me."

"Because I knew you only had one arm."

"Ok well... Ahsoka found me."

Ahsoka says, "I was already here. I was looking after the 501st guys that got transferred here when I heard of your arrival." Ok I need to drop this I guess.

"Well anyway it sounds like we have places to be."

Author's note

The ending felt abrupt. But it just started feeling like it was getting too long. I'm so confused about what it is I'm making. I like it, but it doesn't seem inherently interesting. There's gotta be a splash. The question is where, and when? Can I make 10 parts of Brave new world that's pretty much just dialogue without it being too much? would I ever make it that far? And is the whole Brave new world series destined to be monotonous? Find out next time on: The incoherent ramblings of a madman Thursdays at 8/7C.

#star wars #fanfic #alternate universe

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Your Daddy Don't Know 8

Masterlist

Not really a full series, more a little drabbling here and there ft. dilf!Frank Castle. Leave a comment or some feedback if you like! <3

Warnings: age gap, slight dubcon so far, fucking, smut, choking.

You wake up nice and early. Well, your father makes sure of that, making as much noise as he can after his chipper intonation. You groan and roll over as he leaves your door open, feeling the vibrations of his steps even as he reaches the first floor. You dress in loose shorts and a looser t-shirt.

You come down to an empty coffee pot and before you can think to brew a new batch, your father steps in from the back patio.

"There you are, just saw Frank, he's mowing his yard," he announces, "better go apologise and get to work on that tub."

"Can't I have a coffee first?" You whine as you touch your forehead.

"You've been rude enough, don't keep him waiting," your dad chides, "made me look bad enough as it is."

"What? Come on," you pout and rub your temples.

You can't believe Frank. You always expected he's a bit of an ass but he's sneaky to boot. The way he distorted the situation to fit his whims. You know your dad won't believe you either, he respects Frank for some dumb macho reason you can't understand.

"Don't be a child," he warns, "now go."

"Fine," you sound like a brat but you don't care. If Frank wants to make you miserable, then miserable you'll be.

You shove your feet into your worn out Vans and head out the door. You feel like shit and probably look worse. Sure enough the roar of a mower makes you wince as you shield your eyes against the blinding sunlight.

You cross the street and near Frank, his tank soaked with sweat as his arms bulge. He stops as you approach and lets the engine die. His lips slant, not quite a smirk, as he faces you.

"Frank," you cross your arms, "my dad sent me over to… apologise."

"You know when you apologise, you're not supposed to act like you're tasting dirt," he mocks.

"How else am I supposed to act?" You sneer, "I was drunk Frank, but I remember."

"You got what was comin'," he shrugs, "sugar, I don't like brats."

"Well then, I guess we better just end whatever this is," you huff, "I've had my fun."

He chuckles as he leans on the mower, "is that so? You think this is over?"

"Not like it was anything more than fucking--"

"I thought I made it clear last night, girl," he snarls as he steps closer, "you're mine. You keep up this shit and I'll tell your dad a lot more."

"Like what? Pretty sure you fucking someone less than half your age is worse than--"

"Stealing from the job site," he growls, "slacking off, oh and I know he won't like to know the scene you put on at the bar last night. That last one's true enough, it'll make the others more believable."

"What the hell is your problem?" You spit.

"You're the one who started this. Comin' over in those tiny shorts," he snips, "you wanted it, you got it."

He stands straight and his jaw ticks. You glare up at him, your confusion addled by the sliver of fear.

"Now, you go back and get to the skimming the tub," he says as he clutches the mower, "I'll come find you when I got some real work for you."

"Why-- why are you doing this?" You ask.

"I'm an old man, sugar, I don't got time to waste," he says as he bends to pull the cord, "I put too much into you to just let ya go now."

☠

Frank brings back the cleaners for you to flush the tub through, a task you never done before but are all too eager to be done with. He doesn’t give you any hints as he leaves you again and you Google a tutorial, following each step with a grimace. Your head pounds with each move and sweat dampens your clothing and skin.

When at last you're filling the tub, you hear the back door swing open and shut. You grumble but don’t look up as you hold the hose over the edge of the tub. You feel his shadow and it darkens the summer day.

“I’m not entirely heartless,” he holds up a mug, “you look like you need it.”

You smell the sweet caffeine and try to resist. You sigh and peek at him from the corner of your eye. You reach for the mug but he moves it away.

“You gotta at least look at me,” he says, “a bit of gratitude.”

You turn to him and let the hose hang. Your derisive gaze lingers on his mocking dark eyes and the way he holds the mug, as if tempting you. You huff and stick out your lip like a child.

“Alright, thank you, Frank,” you begrudge.

“'Thank you, sir,'” he corrects, “and?”

You stare at him then at the mug. The steam makes you want to sigh. You stand on your toes and give him a quick peck.

“Now, sugar, you know I expect more than that but it’s a start,” he surrenders the coffee, “take a break, I’ll finish up.”

You take the cup and he grabs the hose, watching the water level rise. You retreat and sit on the step as you cradle the mug. You take a long, careful sip and resist a hum. He added just the right amount of milk.

The bitter roast lightens your eyelids as you continue to nurse it. Frank cranks off the hose and coils it up around the hook against the wall. He hits a switch on the tub and it begins to swish and bubble as he pulls the cover over.

“Feel better?” he snickers as he nears, lifting his foot to plant it just beside yours on the lower step.

“Sure,” you say as you drain the last dregs, “think I’m gonna go hide under my blankets.”

“You ain’t done,” he lowers his brow as you stand and he takes the mug, “not that easy, sugar.”

“Frank,” you touch your temple, “I get it, okay? This is just a little tiff. I’m sorry about last night, it won’t happen again. Let’s just go back to being… fun--”

“I want you to think about this,” he puts his hand on the siding of the house and looms over you, “you wanna keep fuckin’ like teens or you want more?”

“What? I thought-- Frank, what more do we have in common? I’m barely twenty. What could I possibly offer--”

“Well, what else you got?” he interrupts, “you livin’ in your parents, you flunked out, and you’re only prospect is doing grunt work for me.”

“So,” you utter defensively, “I got time. I’ll figure it out, but you know, I don’t appreciate that. At all. I don’t need you and I don’t like you thinking that I do.”

“Sugar,” he says lowly, slowly, and takes the mug from you, “you don’t know what you need.”

The glass cracks and shatters and he lets the shards fall between your feet. He stretches his thick fingers and you blink in shock. He has you by your throat before you can react. He marches you backwards up the steps and pins you to the door.

“Times aren’t what they were when I was young. You’re not gonna get much more than you got without a degree. Or without experience and far as I recall, I’m your only reference,” he growls, “so I think it’s time you grow up and start thinking of your future.”

“How do you know I won’t get a degree? How do you know I won’t go back and change things?” you sniffle, “you’re not all I got, Frank, you’re not.”

“You don’t sound convinced to me,” he snarls as he leans in,

“Frank, let me go,” you grasp his wrist as he has you on your toes, “please.”

“No, no, really think about it. Listen to me, now, sugar,” he growls, “I’m offering you a way out. I’m tryna help you grow up.”

“I don’t--” you gulp as his grips tightens and your voice gristles, “Frank, you’re hurting me--”

“I got room for you. More than.” His hot breath tickles your cheeks, “I don’t think you realise what your daddy says about you, girl.”

“Stop,” you beg as your soles scuff on the wood helplessly.

“He don’t want you there. When I come over for beers, you don’t know. So disappointed in you and now he’s got your leeching off him when you should be off doin’ something. Anything--”

Tears well in your eyes, from shame, from the pain of his tight grip.

“No, you’re lying,” you babble.

“I ain’t lyin’, I don’t lie, not like you, girl,” he squeezes.

“Frank, I don’t know what you want from me,” you squirm as your tears begin to stream down.

“I want you to start packin’,” he sneers, “I’m gonna go have a talk with daddy. Ease his worries for him.”

“I don’t-- No,” you quiver, “Fra--”

His fingers tighten on your neck and your words fade to a wheeze.

“You start addressin’ me with some respect, sugar,” he snarls, “I hear ‘no’ come from those lips again, and I’ll do a lot worse than tattle on ya. You understand me?”

You nod as your slap at his forearm. He narrows his eyes as he watches you struggle and gasp. He lets you go and you slide down the door as you suck in air.

“Good, we’re all figured out,” he grabs the door handle and tugs the door so it jerks you, “get up and go get cleaned up inside. Then we’ll go have a little sit-down with daddy.”

#your daddy don't know #frank castle #dark frank castle #dark!frank castle #frank castle x reader #dark drabble #drabble #dark!drabble #series #the punisher

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forsworned · 3 years

Text

[♥] academyau!substitute teacher {renguko kyojuro x reader}

Genre: Slight Fluff, Comedy

Categories: F/M

Relationships: Kyoujuro Renguko/Reader, Giyuu Tomioka/Reader

word count: 2,538

a/n: this is a pretty long read, so read at your own risk of boredom. i guess it could also b classified as a "x giyuu" but the title is just way too long and kind of throws the main focus off. might turn this into multiple parts so let me know what y'all think! also this is just a filler for the requests i have rn i don't want to leave you guys hanging

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

"I literally don't know shit about history."

Giyu sighed in exasperation. "You don't need to know anything about history [first name]. The teacher already has a lesson plan and you literally just need to pass out the papers. I just need you to cover for a couple of a days because one of the teachers are out sick."

You groaned as you threw your head back in annoyance, pushing your feet up against the edge of your desk. Even though it didn't look it Giyu was practically begging you to substitute for one of his coworkers. And he almost never asks for favors.

Giyu ran a hand through his hair. "He's super picky with his subs and everyone he's had come in hasn't come back."

"So you're saying that I'm a good pick." You mused, with your head in your hands with an annoying smug look.

"Don't push it."

You scrunched your face in disgust. "I just really, really don't want to Giyu. Middle school kids are the absolute worst. All they do is make moaning noises and forget or neglect to wear deodarant."

Giyu lightly chuckled. Your eyes darted to watch his usually solemn demeanor melted away into a small smile which immediately disappeared when you caught wind of it.

He cleared his throat and continued to speak like nothing happened.

"Anyway, so you'll do it?"

You rolled your eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. I'll do it."

Giyu looked pleased with himself when he heard your answer.

"I mean after all, I do owe you like a million and one favors." You sarcastically mused.

Which you kind of did. Giyu was your childhood best friend and always kept your out trouble in the nick of time. Whether it was you getting chased down by the neighborhood cat, or when you got gum stuck in your hair and you didn't want your parents to find out so he quickly snipped it out of your hair with everything seemingly in place like nothing happened. Yeah you could say you were a bit of troublemaker growing up, but Giyu was like the older brother that always looked after you.

"I'm so glad you realized." He replied cooly. "Be here by 7:30AM. Don't be late, I already have enough on my plate and I don't need you embarassing me."

You used your hand to shoo him out of your office space. "Mhm, you can leave now."

"I'm serious."

"Yup."

He squinted his eyes at you."[first name]"

"Ok! I got it. I'll be there 7:30 sharp." You exclaimed throwing your arms up in surrender.

He smirked in satisfaction. "Good."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The morning air was crisp as the sun shone down on your blurred eyes. You absolutely dreaded waking up in the morning and despite that you still agreed to be here. Oh, how you hated that man.

"Good morning." A familiar voice muffled beside you.

Speak of the devil.

He was munching away at his raisin bread walking next to you in the most nonchalant manner. Typical Giyu.

"Shut up." You mumbled miserably.

"You know, you could be a little nicer."

Your eyes narrowed at him. Expression in full death stare mode, but Giyu was as cool as ever, and as always completely unfazed by your behavior. But before you could retaliate, middle and highschool girls were practically lining up to say good morning to Giyu, blushing like mad when he acknowledged them. You on the other hand, were getting the death stares and whispers instead.

"Must be nice to be the heart throb PE teacher." You teased, poking him with your binder.

Giyu ignored you as you walked into the building, showing you to your classroom. You ignored the stares of kids burning holes through your back as you analyzed everything. Tons of inspirational historical quotes lined the walls, pictures and signatures of past and possibly current students covered one single wall. You inspected closely trying to catch a glimpse of who the teacher you were substituting for. One person in particular caught your eye, and he was hot. With a capital H. But before you could look at the other pictures to confirm Giyu called you over.

"Miss [last name], can you come up to the front and introduce yourself."

You sighed as you approached the front of the classroom and watched as the students all stood up. As their whispers got louder, you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Good morning class. I'm going to be your substitute teacher for the day as Mr.--"You glanced over at the desk and moved the plaque in your direction. "--Renguko is out sick today."

As the class bowed in respect getting their good morning greetings, some of the children could't help but show their disappointment. You noticed most of them girls.

"I'll leave them to you." Giyu stated, and then looked at the class. "And be good to your substitute. I don't want to hear anyone misbehaving."

They bowed as he exited the room and now all eyes were on you. You sighed to yourself.

I really gotta learn to say no sometimes.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

To say you were exhausted was an understatement. It’s not that you hated kids or anything, but they always just see to have so much energy and well, you didn’t. Not even a cup of coffee could save you right now. You watched as the clock above your desk ticked and felt yourself getting more and more sleepier by the moment. Your consciousness fleeting as you lie under your warm blankets.

The image of that fiery haired man popped into your head and your eyes shot open.

You totally forgot to ask Giyu about that hot guy!

You let out a loud groan, knowing that your timing was off because now he would most definitely be suspicious if you asked him tomorrow. The curiosity of knowing that man itched at your skin. You absolutely had to know who he was.

What if he was a high school student, or worse a middle school student who looked very grown.

You outwardly icked at the thought, closing your eyes and scrunching your face in disgusted.

No way. He definitely had to be an adult. Maybe even a teacher.

“The history teacher!” You exclaimed out loud, shooting your whole body up.

It had to be him. You smiled victoriously to yourself, mentally patting yourself in the back.

And you had the perfect plan set up to find out.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You had to have looked in the mirror for about three hours to make sure you looked absolutely stunning. Hair curled to frame your face perfectly, and make up subtle but very much enhancing your natural features. You rubbed your lips one more time in the mirror before smacking your hands to your face to wake yourself up. Giyu was not going to be happy.

The morning bells chimed and you were seated at the desk welcoming students as they walked in. You discreetly checked your make up in your compact mirror under the desk to make sure nothing was running and not a hair was out of place.

“Perfect.” You whispered to yourself, running a hand through your blow out. All this work for a man that probably wasn’t even a teacher here.

“Miss [last name], what are you doing here.”

You froze at the voice. Nothing could prepare you for the icy glare that Giyu shot down at you. It sent a shiver down your spine. But his glare melted right off of you as you glanced over to the man next to him. Your mystery man finally come true!

“Oh hello, Mr. Tomioka. It’s pleasure seeing you.” You smiled, standing up. You looked right over to the handsome man right next to him. His hair like rays of sunlight with eyes to match. You could barely contain your excitement. “And you must be Mr. Renguko.”

His smile as big as the sun. Scratch that. He was the sun.

Bright, beautiful and fiery. He physically made you warmer just being in his very presence. You could’ve sworn you heard simultaneous female sighs in admiration, but you were way too distracted by how utterly gorgeous he was.

“Yes, I am.” He cheerfully stated. “And you must be the substitute that was in for me yesterday.”

He took your hand in his and you could’ve sworn you melted at his touch. Finely calloused hands, indicating that he worked with his hands a lot. Not that his physique couldn’t already tell you how absolutely fit he was.

“Yes, I am. Your class was wonderful. I didn’t have any problems with them whatsoever.” You couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. This really was the man and it took every ounce of you not to pinch yourself to see if you were awake or not.

“So are you going to tell me why exactly you’re here today.” Giyu chimed in. This time his icy glare had no effect.

“Oh yes, I thought I was still scheduled for today. I never heard anything back from Mr.Tomioka so I assumed that I would head back in.” You lied right through your teeth and Giyu could see right through it.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “And I remember emailing you last night confirming that Mr. Renguko was fully recovered and ready to work again.”

You couldn’t see it but Giyu was totally spitting out venom with every single word he spoke. It was almost terrifying, but you were way too distracted by the glow of the man that was the literal sun right beside you.

As if the smile on your face couldn’t get any bigger.

“That’s odd. I don’t remember getting an email.” You innocently put a finger to your lip, and looked upward as if you were searching your head for the memory of the email confirmation that you definitely recall getting.

Giyu’s went from you to Mr.Renguko. And then it finally clicked for him. His shoulder dropped in defeat. He did not have the strength required to dealing with your shenanigans today. He turned around heading out the classroom, raising a hand to dismissively.

“Just don’t burn the place down.”

You gave him two big thumbs up. “You got it!”

"So would you like to observe the class since you're already here?" Mr.Renguko interjected. He motioned to the empty seat right beside his desk and chair.

You beamed at him. "Only if that's okay with your class, of course."

"Oh trust me, they are more than okay with that." He grinned at the students. Most of them smiled and blushed looking away from your direction. You sat there in confusion, but before you could inquire about what he said, he shot out of his seat and grabbed the stack of papers on his desk.

"Alright, class we are going to go over your classwork from yesterday and finish the rest of chapter six."

☆彡

It seemed like forever until Mr.Renguko had settled into his seat while he let his students work together on their classwork.

"I can see why my students are such big fans of you." He mused. You looked up from your phone and saw him warmly grinning at your face. This time you didn't fight the blood rushing to the surface of your cheeks.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well," He pulled out a stack of notecards and began shuffling through them. "I always have my students write their own evaluations of my substitutes and yours were outstanding. Lots of compliments about your appearance and how you carried the class."

Evaluation? Appearance?

Your jaw went slightly aslack at his words. The only thing that left your lips: "Evaluations...?"

His grin grew. Mr.Rengoku knew that this had caught you off guard but he continued. "Yes, I like to know what substitutes are doing their job and keeping my students in line and comfortable."

You were almost speechless. "Wow, you must really care about your students."

He smiled softly this time, and fondly looked over at his students working diligently and quietly together. "Yes, I do. They're kind of like my own kids. I want the very best for them."

Just when you thought you couldn't admire him anymore that you already did. Hot and caring? It had to be too good to be true. You pointed to the best teacher of the year awards on his desk. "I guess you didn't get those just based off your looks alone then."

He visibly blushed and chuckled at you statement as he rubbed the back of his head. "Nah, I don't think so."

You raised an eyebrow at him and pointed at the wall of photos and signatures that lined his wall. "That wall definitely says otherwise."

He laughed a hearty laugh this time. "I don't really think that's the case. Like I said I just look after my students like their my own. They really are my pride and joy."

It really was incredibly hard to not let yourself melt into a puddle in his presence alone. But before you could collect your thoughts, the lunch bell rang and students filed out to their homeroom's and handing in their assignments on their way out. Most of the girls shot you dirty looks before heading out as a way of showing their contempt towards you before the smiled at Mr.Rengoku who was collecting papers at the doorway. At this point, you literally couldn't blame them. Their teacher was a total hottie and you were practically stealing him right under their noses.

As the last student handed in their assignment, Mr. Rengoku closed the door behind them and approached his desk to set aside the stack of papers. He pulled put a box of tissues, picking one out and sneezed rather loudly into it. Cheeks were now a hue of vermillion and he slighted groaned while holding his head.

"You don't look so good, Mr. Renguko." You stated worriedly.

He waved you off. "Nonsense, I'm fine. And you can drop the formalities when were not in front of students. Call me Kyojuro."

You sighed as you fumbled through your bag handing him some cold and flu pills and a packet of vitamin c. "Ok, Kyojuro. You can call me [first name], but I'm going to need you to take these for me and get on home."

He blew loudly into his tissue before tossing into the trash revealing his very red nose. "I-I'm fine, Miss [last name]-- I mean [first name]. Really, I'm ok." He stuttered as he tried to collect himself and get up. Unfortunately, he couldn't hold himself up for more than ten seconds before collapsing and luckily you were there to catch him. He seemed to have been mumbled incoherent words as he laid heavily in your arms. You sighed as you slowly laid him down on the ground and reached for your cellphone to dial the one person you knew could handle this situation the best.

"You didn't actually burn the place down did you?"

You rolled your eyes. "No, idiot. Teacher down."

"Ah, fuck."

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adventuresinwonderlust · 3 years

Text

Title: Caution to the Wind

Pairing: yoongi x reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, tension, first kiss, solo masturbation (f), mentions of erections, mentions of virginity and losing it (friendship pact)

*AUTHORS NOTE: Warnings will update per chapter as things get steamier*

Permanent Tag List: @mochilicious-yoongi @heyimtavia

Rating: 18 and over

January:

This was fine. You were fine. Min Yoongi was NOT your boyfriend. He was your childhood friend, who you experienced your first everything with. You both new that your fun experiments were all in preparation for this moment right here, a college party. You swallowed back the amber liquid in your cup, watching him laugh and flirt with a random girl who wasn’t you. You nodded to yourself and turned away. The sting of tears burning, so desperate to reveal themselves. You’re fine! You kept telling yourself. You look over at him again to see the girl tugging at the lapel of his flannel shirt. You squeal internally, dying inside, wanting so badly to interrupt. You promised each other you wouldn’t let feelings get involved. You would only fool around so not to be the only virgins at college but this, this was so hard. You drop your red solo cup on a side table and walk over to him. “I’m headed back to the dorms ok. Have fun.” You nod and walk off past him. You sniffle back the tears that threaten once again. How did you get here? How did this happen? Fucking morning wood that’s how! You think back, racing out of the frat house to hail a cab.

June:

It was normal for you and Yoongi to sleep over each other's houses. Although you were both normally at your place since your mom was laxer. You had both fallen asleep watching a movie, the sun rise now peeking through your curtains. You grumbled, rolling over to find Yoongi lying on his back, soft snores escaping his slightly parted lips. You waved your hand over his face to see if he was really sleeping or just pretending. No movement. You smile to yourself, enjoying watching your best friend sleep. The angelic way he looked, the calm way his chest moved up and down, how he rested his hand on his tummy. You shifted the covers down from your over warm bodies, running your hand over his, gasping to yourself at the sight of his erection. You looked up at his face again and find him still fast asleep. You had heard of morning wood before. Your female friends had talked about it. They said it was a natural, normal reaction men had. Some of them even told you it was the best erection to have sex with. You swallow back the lustful lump in your throat, waving your hand over his face again. No movement.

You bite your lower lip, your hand hovering over his morning wood, desperate to touch it. Yoongi suddenly takes in a deep breath rolling away from you and nuzzling into the pillow. You release the breath you had been holding, turning your back to him, tucking a pillow between your legs. You gently and carefully begin to hump it, tucking your lips into your teeth to hold back your moans. That’s when that warm feeling begins to build, fireworks soon exploding in your brain. You can’t help but whimper, soft cries leaving your now open mouth. You still, your high dissipating, gasping when Yoongi rolls over and wraps his arm around your waist. “Shh. It’s ok Y/N, you're just having a nightmare. I’m here with you.” He mumbles into your ear, his soft snores soon following. You rest your arm over his, intertwining your fingers, falling back to sleep.

A few hours later, you make your way down to your kitchen to find your mother and Yoongi deep in conversation. “Good morning Y/N,” Your mother greets, “How’d you sleep?” “She had a nightmare last night.” Yoongi chuckles, sipping his coffee. “I did not.” You scoff, grabbing a mug. “You did so, you should’ve heard her Ms. Y/L/N whimpering like a puppy. It was cute.” Your mother rubs your shoulder while your face turns beet red. “You having nightmares sweetheart?” “I’m fine mom. Yoongi’s just teasing me like always.” “Well, you two, time to buckle down and get some dorm shopping done. I’m really excited about you two going off and having the whole college experience. I’ll come by after work and pick you both up and we can head to Ikea. Yes?” You both nod, your mother kissing your head as she heads out. “Yoongi call your parents and let them know you’re here please, so they don’t freak. Have a good day and don’t spend it all on the couch!” She hollers back at you both.

“Why did you lie about having a nightmare?” Yoongi asks, eyeing you suspiciously. “Maybe because I didn��t have one.” “I heard you.” “You misheard.” “I didn’t mishear anything. You were practically crying in your sleep.” “I was not. So, drop it.” “Look you even woke up grumpy. It’s ok to have nightmares. We all do sometimes. It’s normal. That’s what you get honestly for watching those stupid horror films.” “Yoongi, please, just shush.” “OK grumpy.” He smiles, sipping his coffee. “What do you want to grab at Ikea today?” You ask him, taking a seat at the table with him, coffee and toast in tow. “You know they say stress can cause nightmares. Are you stressed about moving out of your moms house and into the dorms?” “I didn’t have a nightmare ok! I was masturbating! Now will you just lay off me!” You finally shout. “I knew it! I knew I felt you humping! Oh my God, you dirty little birdie! With me in the bed!” Yoongi starts laughing, holding his tummy. “Shut up ok,” you shout, tossing a corner of your toast at him, “if it wasn’t for your morning wood, I wouldn’t have gotten so worked up.” You word vomit, covering your mouth immediately in shock. Yoongi stills across from you, his eyes wide.

“Are you saying... I… made you… horny?” Yoongi inquires confused. “More like your dick ok, so don’t get all worked up and full of yourself.” You snip, sipping your coffee to keep the flush in your cheeks from becoming visible. Yoongi smiles wide, his gums exposed before giving you a shit eating grin. “Hey, it happens right? I mean we’ve been friends since we were kids. We sleep in the same bed. We were bound to rub against one another at some point. I’d be lying if I said I never rubbed one out after you shoved your ass into me.” He shrugs. “Really?” “Yeah. You’re a beautiful girl. Any guy would react the same.” He smiles. “Except no guy ever has which is why I am going to go to college a complete virgin!” You huff. “Who cares? I’m going to college a complete virgin also, it's not a big deal.” “You’re a guy. It's different for you.” “How so?” “Guys think of taking a girls virginity as some sick conquest. There’s no care or concern towards their feelings. Girls aren't the same with guys. We find it endearing when a guy is still a virgin.” “Yeah right! Girls think a guy is an inexperienced loser if he’s still a virgin.” “Well, if we are still virgins when we hit our second year, let's just sleep together and put each other out of this misery.” You laugh, standing to bring your dirty dishes to the sink. “That’s really funny. I may hold you to that! I'm going to shower.” Yoongi declares, standing and hurrying off to the bedroom.

You both spend the day lounging, watching TV, and making shopping lists for your Ikea trip. By the time your mother arrives back home, Yoongi is fast asleep on the couch. “Long day?” She asks, nodding at your curled up bestie. “Too much dorm planning.” You reply, nudging him gently. He peeks at you with one eye, soon stretching his whole body. “Is your mom home?” He inquires. “I am. Now let’s get a move on. I wanna avoid traffic.” Yoongi pops up quickly and you all head out. “Are your parents sad to have you moving into the dorms?” Your mom asks Yoongi. “Well, I practically live at your place, so I imagine it’s no different for them.” He chuckles. “I don’t think his parents notice he’s gone.” You chime in. “Of course they do Y/N. We parents notice everything. Maybe we don’t say it out loud, but we notice.” Yoongi just nods, deciding not to give input. You know the truth; his parents are strict. They never cared for his interest in music and were not happy to find out he was pursuing it full time in college. They hadn’t been speaking for a while, but it didn’t bother Yoongi much. He just breezed by counting the time till move day.

When you all arrive at Ikea you immediately suggest separate carts, knowing you’re going to fill one up with everything you have in mind. You decide to separate and browse and then meet somewhere in the middle. Yoongi heads off on his own while you and your mom walk through the aisles. “So, how’s he holding up?” She whispers to you. “He’s good. You know Yoongi, he’s super private sometimes. He seems good, normal even. Like nothing is going on at home.” “He’s been at the house a lot. I was worried they kicked him out.” “God no! He just prefers our place.” “Ok, just wondering. Speaking of an inquiring mind. Have you two ever? I mean you’d tell me, right?” “Mom! He’s my best friend!!” “Okay. Okay. I was just asking. It’s not a big deal if you have. I just wanted to know.” “Mom, please. Just stop.” “Ok. OK. Let’s move on. Oh, look at the throws. I love them. What do you think?” “They are nice, but I have so many already.” Two hours pass before you are all done with your shopping, but you feel comfortable with your purchases. “How’d you fair?” You ask Yoongi when you all link up again. “Good. You?” “Really good!” You walk over to the registers and your mom ushers both carts to the check out. “Oh no! Please Ms. Y/L/N, I’ll pay for it.” Yoongi begs, watching your mother wave him away. “My gift to you for making it into college.” She smiles, swiping her card. Yoongi sighs, giving you a pained look. “I’ll pay her back.” “Oh hush. You know she doesn’t mind. She loves you Yoons. Just smile and say thank you.” He nods, walking over and hugging your mother from behind. “Oh! You’re welcome Yoongi.”

“Do you wanna stay at my place tonight? My parents want me to come home. I’d enjoy your company.” Yoongi asks you in the car, showing you a text from his mom. “Yeah sure.” He smiles, chewing at his fingers nervously. “Mom can you drop us off at Yoongi’s tonight?” “No problem.” You head home and drop off all your things, packing an overnight bag quickly and hopping back into the car to Yoongi’s house. You mother waves you off and you both head inside. Yoongi’s mother is in the kitchen prepping for dinner. She looks up briefly at you both, giving you a small smile, that drops when she locks eyes with Yoongi. She nods at him, then turns to go back to what she was doing. “You head up. I’m just going to talk to her.” Yoongi whispers. You nod and take your bag and some of the things Yoongi bought up to his room. You sit on his bed and begin to scroll through your phone when you hear them begin to yell at one another. Your heart pounds in your chest and you move towards the door. She calls him selfish for choosing music over something more sustainable. Then they switch to speaking in Korean. You sigh, feeling your heart break for Yoongi.

You plop down on his bed, hearing his footsteps stomp away at the stairs as he makes his way up to the room. He slams the door when he enters causing you to jump. You drop you phone beside you and look up at him. “Hey you ok?” He shakes his head, making his way toward you. You outstretched your arms, and he falls into your embrace, wrapping his arms around your body. He rests his head on your chest and you run your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry Yoons. I wish she was more understanding.” “It’s almost over. I’m almost free.” He sniffles. It pains you to see him this way and you wish you had more than words for him.

Before you know it, you are awoken to the sound of Yoongi playing music from his laptop. You stretch your body and look over at him. “What time is it? When did I pass out?” “It’s 3am. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” “It’s ok. How are you feeling?” “I’m fine. Sorry you had to listen to us fight.” “Please, don’t apologize! How many times have you been around for my mom and I fighting?” He laughs with a small nod. “Still, it’s rude,” He whispers, “Anyway, I was thinking. About what you said earlier. And I… uh… well… we should. Just do it you know.” Your brow furrows trying to decipher what Yoongi is talking about. “Do what Yoons?” “Be each other’s first…. well…. everything. We’ve known each other forever and we trust each other. I think we should get all the awkward stuff out of the way before we start college that way there's no need to worry when we meet people.” Your eyes pop open as you realize Yoongi is asking you to be his first. “Um, I was kidding.” You blurt out nervously. “I mean, I know at first but maybe it can be for real. No strings attached Y/N. We take it slow, one thing at a time and if it's super weird then we stop.” “It’s going to be weird Yoongi, we are like siblings!” You shout. “Get the fuck out of here! We are not! You literally masturbated to my hard on this morning, please tell me how many siblings do that? Ok, look, just forget I said anything. I'm sorry.” He huffs, putting his headphones back on and turning up his music. You sigh, lying back, mulling the idea over in your head. He is right, you trust him more than any random guy you'd ever meet. It isn't like Yoongi wasn’t hot, you just never thought he would take your offer serious. You turn on your side watching him shake his leg frantically. You wave your hand to get his attention. He looks over at you, tugging his headphones off. “Why don't you come lie down? You can tell me more about the arraignment you had in mind.” He stares at you, completely stoic, before closing his laptop. “We don't have to do anything. I was just, I don't know, overthinking. It was stupid.” He shrugs. You simply tap the bed beside you.

He sighs, pushing away from the desk to make his way to the bed. He lies down facing you, taking your hand in his. You both stare at each other for a minute and you feel your heart flutter. “Kiss me.” You whisper, your body heating from the instant turn on mixed with embarrassment. “What?” He chuckles. “Maybe your idea isn't as crazy as it sounds. I trust you more than anyone. We can start small and work our way up based on how we feel. If it gets weird or uncomfortable then we stop. No strings attached. No emotional involvement. Just two friends helping each other out.” You state plainly, staring at your intertwined hands rather than Yoongi's wide eyes. “You’re serious?” He swallows, his cheeks reddening. “Yeah, only if you want to.” “I mean, yeah, if you want to, I do.” He shyly responds. “Then stop talking and kiss me. We'll start there. We can be each other’s first kiss.” You don’t know why but you both instinctively lick your lips. Yoongi looks down at your mouth, seemingly mesmerized. He swallows hard, the bounce of his Adam's apple making your core burn.

“Here goes nothing.” He smiles, leaning towards you, the smell of his body wash invading your senses. He licks his lips again, rubbing them together right before he presses them gently against yours. You immediately melt into the kiss, your head prickling, heart racing, and it takes you a minute to close your eyes as Yoongi has. Your mind begins to race. How long do we stay like this? Should I pull away? Why does this feel so good? Is he enjoying it? You finally pull away, eyeing Yoongi’s calm face, his eyes still closed as if in a state of bliss. “What? I mean, was it ok?” You ask. He nods. “I was just savoring it. My first kiss.” He chuckles. “Do we keep going?” You ask nervously. His eyes widen. “Do you want to?” “Is that weird?” He shakes his head quickly. “No, I kind of want to also.” This time you lean forward and press your lips to his, raising your hand up to rest at his neck. You think of every movie you’ve ever seen and push your tongue out of your mouth, rubbing it against his lower lip. You swear you feel it right between your thighs, moaning at the sensation. Yoongi moans as well, opening his mouth to grant you access.

You press your tongue against his, realizing that you have no clue what to do next but are completely unable to stop. It’s then that Yoongi impresses you, completely taking over the kiss. He tilts his head a bit, rotating his tongue slowly around yours before removing his appendage from your mouth to suckle on your top lip. Just when you think you have a moment to breathe, he returns his tongue to your mouth, swirling faster, making what can only be described as love to your mouth. You can't stop the soft moans leaving your throat, or how the way Yoongi devours them has you completely soaked. Of all the times you’ve ever touched yourself, you don’t think you’ve ever been as wet as you are now. Curiosity takes over and you reach your hand down from Yoongi’s neck to the front of his pajama pants, dying to see if he is at all affected by this. You pull away from the kiss with a gasp at the feel of his massive erection. “I’m sorry.” You pant, embarrassed that you just grabbed at his hard on. “It's ok Y/N, you can touch it if you want.” He grants in a low lustful tone you’ve never heard before. You heart begins to race and panic hits. “Maybe it's too much. Maybe we should chill for now.” You say quickly, placing your hand flat on his chest.

He nods at your statement, lowering his hand to adjust himself. “I’m sorry. Of course, we can stop. I want to go at your pace. I don’t want to freak you out or make you uncomfortable ever.” “Thank you Yoongi. Honestly, I really enjoyed the kissing. I just want to take our time. It’s my fault I shouldn’t have reached for you.” “Don't apologize. Its ok. I'm ok. I want to go slow too.” He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead, and you breathe a sigh of relief. “Let’s get some sleep.” He whispers, pulling a pillow down from the top of the bed to rest in his lap before pulling you into his arms. “Safety first.” He teases and you both laugh out loud. You bite your lower lip to keep from squealing like a little kid. Your first kiss and who better to have it with then Yoongi. You nuzzle softly into your pillow, whispering goodnight to Yoongi before falling asleep in his arms.

#bts smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #suga x reader #suga x you

118 notes · View notes

hannagoldworthy · 3 years

Note

Hmmm AU ideas? How about Harvest Date? Just a modern style au but with the fixings of a autumn outing?

Pumpkin patch?

Corn maze?

Horror movie night?

Costume party?

What would they do?

(Ah, this was a fun one; the headcanons drawing on my small town upbringing just started piling in! I'm probably going to have more installments for this one so as to write a proper date, but for now, I'm starting with a quiet meet-cute in the middle of some cheerful chaos.)

The town of Templeton in rural southeast Colorado had three very small claims to fame. The biggest was its annual Fall Fair. Hosted on and around the one street the community had to its name, there were carnival rides, games, 4-H projects, and produce stalls manned by the various farmers of the area. Both of the small motels Templeton boasted were packed to the brim, and a good three quarters of the out-of-town visitors were happily camped in a county-owned field behind the mayor’s office; it was fortunate that the newly arrived young doctor from Colorado Springs already had family in town, or else she might have had to join them.

As it was, Barriss Offee was grateful that she’d decided to move in early, because she could not imagine getting her car into the small gravel parking lot behind the tiny mosque her uncle tended with the street as full as it was now. It was all she could do to keep up with her cousin as they wound their way through the crowd.

“Come on, Barriss, keep up!” twittered the younger girl, yanking at Barriss with one henna-bedecked hand. “Doctor Fisto’s selling baby sugar gliders this year!”

“…Ahsoka Tano, we are not going to surprise your father with a pet flying squirrel tonight.”

“Uh, they’re marsupials, and I’m not going to buy one, I’m just going to look because they are adora-”

“SNIPS!”

As she came to a screeching halt Ahsoka’s face nearly split in a wide, beaming smile. “SNAILS?” she hollered in response, touching fists with an imposingly tall young man in what appeared to be his early twenties.

Barriss’s head spun; she’d only just recently got into town, and had not yet been introduced to her cousin’s…eclectic assortment of friends. “Okay, so who is ‘Puppy-Dog Tails’?”

“I am,” groused another young man who sidled up behind Snails and nodded respectfully. “Rex is my real name, and this idiot who’s been trying to get me to ride that death trap at the end of the street is Anakin.” Ah, so these were the two troublemakers Ahsoka had written so much about; it was nice to put faces to the fondly overlong list of catastrophes.

“The Twilight is not a death trap,” Anakin pouted. “I set her up myself!”

“My point stands.”

“Which ride is the Twilight?” Three pointed fingers directed Barriss’s gaze to a variant of a Ferris wheel with enclosed, two-seated cars, each of which spun madly on a horizontal axis. “Oh.”

“Want to take a ride?” Anakin grinned. “Rex is being a big baby, so you and he can take it easy on each other while Ahsoka and I have some real fun!”

“I…uh…I actually intended to do a little shopping of my own.”

Ahsoka’s eyes narrowed in playful suspicion. “You just got in this morning! What could you possibly want to shop for?”

“…Pumpkins.”

“Pumpkins? You?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Aren’t you the one who’s always saying Halloween is haramand we should have nothing to do with it?”

“Yes, but pumpkins needn’t be associated with Halloween. I’ve a notion to bake a few nice pies for Thanksgiving.”

In medical school, Barriss had taken up baking as a hobby to de-stress, particularly during exam weeks. Her experimentation had proven fruitful, especially to Ahsoka’s ravenous teenage sweet tooth. The younger girl weighed the ride against the pie in her mind, and reluctantly nodded. “Maybe we can get Obi-Wan to ride with Rex?”

“Seriously, Snips?”

“You haven’t tasted one of her pies yet, it’s life-changing. See you back here when we’re done, cuz!” Ahsoka seized Anakin’s hand, and then it was his turn to be dragged through the crowds with wild abandon, as Rex chased after them. Barriss followed them with her eyes until she could see Ahsoka’s zebra-striped hijab in line for the Twilight; then, she set about to shopping for her hastily-crafted alibi.

There were quite a number of booths selling pumpkins, which…well, that was to be expected. One, however, stood out for its distinct lack of Halloween decorations, arrayed instead in cheerful autumn themes like apples and colored leaves. As she drew closer, Barriss could see that the wares themselves were quite colorful: a wide variety of heirloom pumpkins and related squashes, in brilliant colors of red, green, white, blue, and multicolored stripes. Her brow furrowed a little, because she had no experience in selecting a heirloom pumpkin to bake; in college, all she’d had to do was search out a pumpkin labeled with the word ‘pie’ at a grocery store, and that was that. Her gaze eventually drew toward a small-ish pumpkin with light brown ‘warts’ which stretched across its salmon-pink skin like lace.

“A galeux d’esyines,” asked a low voice, to her right and at her elbow. “A fine choice, Doctor Offee. It’s too hard a shell for carving, but very good for cooking and in soups esp…”

The voice trailed off as Barriss turned to greet its owner, which was something that Barriss had experienced a few times; someone saw her face and their expression went slack-jawed and dazed. Her mother told her it was because a particular shade of blue made her eyes greatly stand out, and Barriss, wanting to make a good impression on her first day in her new home, had chosen to wear a hijab of that particular hue to the fair. That, her nice black dress, and the delicate patterns of henna her mother and Ahsoka had painted all over her hands and face left Barriss looking decidedly her best, and she couldn’t fault someone for being just a little twitterpated.

However, she was startled to find that the feeling was very much mutual. The stall owner looked up at her from a sleek black wheelchair with painted flame accents; he wore black cowboy boots, black jeans, a black leather jacket with black fringe, and a scarlet dress shirt with a black bolo tie. From underneath a wide black hat adorned at the brim with sharp predators’ teeth, two fine, deep-set brown eyes peered out, framed by strong cheekbones covered in circular blue-black tattoos.

Barriss blinked, and turned to look at the lacy pumpkin in a belated attempt to hide her blush. “I, uh...how did you know my name?”

“Well, Doctor, you taking a job here was front-page news; really, you can’t be anyone else.”

That tidbit of information was not helping her poor flushed cheeks. “You’re not serious.”

“The town paper has about four pages on average, so yes, I am quite serious.” There was a chuckle, and a tattooed hand was extended into her line of vision. “Maul Opress.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said, focusing on his hand as she shook it to avoid his treacherously pretty eyes. When that proved unsuccessful, she lifted the pumpkin she had been studying as a distraction. “This good for soups, you say. Is it any good in pies?”

“I should say it is better in soups, though not intolerable in pies, I suppose. The best pies my brother’s made have used the Fairytale,” he gestured to a large green vegetable, “or the Cinderella,” he indicated a large, bright red pumpkin.

“I…well, I think those are a bit big for my purposes,” Barriss replied. “It’s just going to be for me and my family, and we don’t typically eat that much.”

“No, but your cousin’s army of friends does.”

His tone teased a small smile out of her. “How can Ahsoka have an army of friends in this town?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t the slightest; sometimes I think she grows them out of the woodwork. I don’t know how the imam manages to feed them all.”

“Uncle Plo did have a reputation for working miracles back in The Springs,” Barriss said mysteriously.

Maul laughed. “Oh, and he’s built on that since he came out here, I can assure you. Mark my words; you’ll have to make at least a dozen pies.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Barriss replied. “But I think I’ll go with this one, if only because I’ve never seen anything like it before, and I might like to see how it does in a pie. Or a soup.”

“Very well, then,” he replied smoothly, heading toward the register.

***

“You’re back early,” her mother called as her latest customer waggled his fingers excitedly to show off Luminara’s handiwork for his buddies. “Don’t tell me; Ahsoka, Rex, and Anakin ran off to the Twilight and left you to browse by yourself?”

“Yes, and I’m quite happy to have done so instead of ruining my appetite on that puke machine,” Barriss replied airily, setting her purchase under her seat and taking her place by her mother’s side.

“Well, at least you’re having fun right?” Luminara said with a gentle smile. “Your uncle disappeared a few minutes ago; I’ve no idea where he…Plo Koon, you are not going to bring that dirty creature into our house!”

Her uncle stopped short to cover the small ears of a soft-coated baby sugar glider which sat on his shoulder. “She is not dirty, Luminara, she’s a clean, beautiful creature and little ‘Soka has been wanting one for years. Now hush, let me smuggle this cage into the house before she sees.”

“You spoil that girl!”

“Not unnecessarily!” Plo hurried into and out of the small house attached to the town’s mosque, settling himself into the seat on Barriss’s right-hand side. “That’s a lovely pumpkin, Barriss. Where did you get it…oh, you look a little flushed, my dear. Perhaps you should go inside.”

“I’m fine,” Barriss resolutely stated. “Just a little tired; I’ll be all right.” But, for the rest of the day, her thoughts remained stubbornly around the corner, on her new acquaintance with the dark eyes and the mischievous smile.

#star wars #mauliss au prompts #barriss offee #darth maul #ahsoka tano #anakin skywalker #captain rex #luminara unduli #plo koon #morai #very much based on my hometown #in a different state #racial and religious diversity included #fairs like this were a major cultural exchange #the henna booth was run by my local mosque to give a halal alternative to some of the more Halloweeny festivities #and the sugar glider booths make the rounds at my country fairs #Thanks for the ask Lis!

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