#and i really need to be doing my assignments

[pazzi5351]

Best massage ever

Paige x Azzi

WC: 1.7K

AN: the anon who gave me this idea. I love you. This one's for you freaky frogs!! I call this smut with some plot!! Enjoy 🥰(I just finished writing this from like a month ago…)

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Azzi loved the gym. It was her safe space to go to when she needed to quiet her mind.

Or her feelings for a certain blonde teammate, who’s also her best friend.

Azzi knew she liked Paige when she was fifteen during USA basketball. She knew she liked Paige when she quarantined at her house before her first year at Uconn and made stupid recruitment videos. She knew she liked Paige on her eighteenth birthday, which was also her recruitment announcement day, when she chose Uconn. She knew she really liked Paige when CD gave them their rooming assignments and Paige was one of her roommates.

So it was safe to say Azzi spent a lot of time in the gym.

Azzi usually spent her time in the gym alone but Caroline tagged along with her this time. Things were going well as they always do when Azzi’s in the gym. Today was a leg day for her and she was doing some leg presses when Caroline walked over to her.

“Az, you know how much I love you, right?” Caroline started.

Azzi scoffed lightly, continuing her set. “Yeah, Care. You good?”

Caroline nodded. “No, yeah, I’m great. I just, you know, as your best friend I wanna see you… happy is all. You know, not living in the gym.”

Azzi paused. “I don’t live in the– Caroline, what are you getting at?”

“I just think you should… tell Paige how you feel. I mean, hear me out, it’s super obvi she feels the same way and I just- I love you, I really do, but I hate when you make me come with you so you can avoid Paige. Which, by the way, is practically impossible because y’all are roommates.” Caroline said, finishing her ramble.

Azzi just blinked at her. How could she think that she’s deliberately avoiding Paige. She lives with her. It would be crazy to avoid her because she likes her. Right?

“I’m gonna go now. Backs of my legs are sore, y’know.” Azzi stated, standing up to grab her stuff.

“Az, you know I didn’t mean it like that–” Caroline began.

Azzi shook her head as she walked towards the door. “No, no, it’s good. I’ll uh, see you later.”

With that, Azzi left the gym and started walking to her apartment.

Her mind was moving at a million miles per second thinking about what Caroline had said.

Was Carol right? Does Paige like me? Was it obvious she felt the same way? Did everyone see it but me? There’s no way she could like me? I know I kinda disappear at the gym but it’s not necessarily to avoid her. Right?

Azzi was so in her head the entire walk home she didn’t even realize she was standing at her front door, or that her legs were actually burning.

Azzi stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her. She didn’t even realize how sore she actually was until she leaned against the wall to kick her shoes off.

“Hey,” Paige said from the couch, her voice light and familiar in a way that made Azzi’s chest ache. “How was the gym?”

Azzi nodded, stretching her arms up over her head. “Good. It was leg day though, so I’m sore as shit right now.”

Paige grinned, standing up to walk over. “Aw, poor you.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but she didn’t miss how Paige looked at her as she walked over.

“You want a massage?” Paige offered, sliding her phone into her pocket. “I mean, I’m not pro like the trainers, but I’m like top two.”

Azzi raised her eyebrows. “Oh yeah, and who told you that? They’re for sure lying to you.”

“Kk,” Paige said without missing a beat, smirking.

Azzi let out a small laugh and walked over to the couch and dramatically flopped down onto it. “Y’know what, sure Paige. I could probably use it anyways.”

“Aight, cool. Just lay there on your stomach and I’ll be back. Imma grab some lotion.” Paige said, before disappearing down the hallway.

Azzi adjusted herself on the couch, flipping onto her stomach. Her sports bra dug uncomfortably into her back as she tried to relax.

When Paige returned, she looked down at her for a second. “You can take your bra off if you want. It might be in the way.”

Azzi didn’t hesitate. “Good call,” she mumbled, sitting up to pull it over her head and letting it drop onto the floor beside her.

Paige tried to ignore the quick flutter in her chest as she straddled the edge of the couch and squeezed some lotion into her hands. She started gently, working on Azzi’s upper back and shoulders, the silence between them comfortable but humming with something unspoken.

“Lower,” Azzi murmured after a few minutes. “My glutes and thighs are worse. Please.”

Paige moved down without a second thought, beginning to knead her way over Azzi’s thighs.

But Azzi felt the hesitation.

“Paige,” she said, her voice low, “I know you’re probably trying to be respectful or whatever, but I really need you to like, be… harder. I’m sore as shit right now, so please actually touch my ass for once.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Paige let out a surprised laugh.

“Okay then,” she said, smiling wide, “whatever you want princess.”

Azzi chuckled, cheek smushed against the couch pillow. “Thank you.”

Paige leaned in again, her fingers finding the tense muscles in Azzi’s butt. She tried her best to keep her mind focused, but the moment was starting to feel... charged. Intimate.

After a minute, Azzi peeked over her shoulder. “You’re gonna have a hard time getting in there with my shorts on.”

Paige blinked. “You want me to...?”

Azzi nodded once. “Yeah. Just take ‘em off. It’ll help.”

Paige hesitated, then gently tugged the waistband of Azzi’s shorts down, revealing a tiny black thong that made her brain short circuit.

“Fuck, Az,” she whispered without thinking.

Azzi’s cheeks flushed. “Just, keep going.”

The massage continued—genuine, professional if you will—but with every minute that passed, the air between them thickened. Paige’s fingers brushed higher on Azzi’s thigh, and Azzi made a small, unguarded sound—soft, pleased.

Paige froze.

Azzi turned her head slightly. “Don’t stop,” she said, quiet and honest. “Please, P.”

Paige swallowed, fingers still resting gently against her skin. “Az...”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I can pretend this is just a massage anymore.”

Azzi pushed herself up slightly, just enough to meet Paige’s eyes.

“Then don’t.”

Paige nodded slowly, understanding the weight of what Azzi was saying to her. With that, she inched her hand higher on Azzi’s inner thigh, close enough to her core where she could feel the wetness that had gathered there.

“Shit, Az. All this, from a massage?” Paige muttered, tracing small circles between Azzi’s thighs, lightly brushing against her center.

Azzi turned her head, “Paige, I’d so rather you fuck me than sit here and tease me.”

Paige chuckled softly at how needy Azzi was being and nodded, leaning forward near Azzi’s ear. “I gotchu, princess.”

With that, Paige moved her fingers to rub small circles on Azzi’s clit through her soaked panties. Azzi shuddered at the touch. Her body relaxing deeper into the couch.

Paige sped up her circles and Azzi moved her hips back onto Paige’s hand. Silently begging for more.

Azzi’s hips rocked gently against Paige’s hand, her breath shaky, head buried in the couch pillow. Paige’s fingers moved expertly, slow but deliberate, slipping beneath the thin fabric of her thong, finally touching her directly.

Azzi let out a shaky moan, barely loud but so full.

Paige stilled. Not because she wanted to stop—but because something in her chest tugged so hard it almost hurt.

She didn’t want this to just be some tension-breaking hookup. She didn’t want to look at Azzi tomorrow and pretend it never happened. She didn’t want this to stay unspoken.

Paige leaned down, her lips brushing against the curve of Azzi’s shoulder. “Az…”

Azzi turned her head, her eyes heavy but open, searching.

“I—” Paige hesitated. “I don’t want this to be just… this. I don’t want to fuck you unless you know it means something to me.”

Azzi blinked. Her breath caught—not from Paige’s fingers, but from her words.

She shifted, turning over onto her back beneath Paige’s weight, the flush still high on her cheeks, but her expression soft.

“I’ve been in love with you since I was fifteen,” she said quietly. “Since USA basketball. Since that stupid recruitment video. Since you let me sleep in your bed when I got homesick.”

Paige’s lips parted, stunned still.

“I didn’t tell you,” Azzi continued, “because I thought you didn’t feel it too. That you just… wanted to be close. Not like that.”

Paige let out a breathless laugh, her forehead pressing to Azzi’s. “Azzi. You’ve been the only thing I’ve wanted since before I even knew what the hell I was feeling.”

Azzi smiled softly, cupping Paige’s face with lotion-slick fingers. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paige whispered, kissing her slowly—no teasing, no smirk, just gentle. Real. Like the years they danced around this had built up to this one moment.

Azzi pulled her closer, whispering against her lips, “Then show me. But not just because I asked.”

Paige shook her head, her voice a breath, “No, baby. Because I’ve been waiting years to.”

She kissed down Azzi’s jaw, her collarbone, tracing every place she’d always wanted to touch but never let herself. Her hands moved with purpose now—not teasing anymore, not careful. Loving. Claiming.

Azzi’s legs fell open easily for her, but her hands found Paige’s again, lacing their fingers together. “This is the part where you call me your good girl, by the way,” she whispered, breathless. “Just in case you forgot.”

Paige smirked, heart racing. “Never.”

Then she leaned down, fingers still working inside her, lips brushing Azzi’s ear.

“You’re my good girl,” she whispered. “My favorite. My best friend. My person. You always have been.”

Azzi moaned again, louder this time, arching into her, chasing more—of Paige, of this. Of everything they’d been holding in.

And when she came— gasping Paige’s name messily—it wasn’t just pleasure she felt. It was safety between them. It was theirs.

She laid there after, flushed and fucked out, while Paige curled beside her on the couch, brushing hair from her face, pressing soft kisses to her temple.

“I love you,” Paige said simply, like it had always been true.

Azzi turned to her, smiling sleepily. “I know. I love you too.”

And just like that, years of silence turned into the softest sound in the world.

[arthurs-ficz]

Mission Accomplished // Jax x reader oneshot !!

Caine had decided to give you random jobs for you to complete today, due to him having 'too many overstimulating options' from the submission box, according to him...

Despite this, you were about to complete another job when suddenly Jax decided to bother you. Of course.

"Whatcha doing? Looks real boring and tiring to me."

He says as he practically looms over you, watching to see exactly what you are doing. The jobs that Caine had assigned you, particularly, were pretty tame compared to the adventures you all would regularly go on. It did make you question why you were the only one assigned them, though... and why were these tasks so easy? You shrug it off for now and respond to Jax.

"I have to do some things today."

You say as you complete another task from Caine.

Jax quirks an eyebrow and leans closer, arms folded.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

Suddenly, you get the idea to say something risky. To get back at all the pranks and embarrassing things Jax had done to you. Would you regret it? Proba-

"Like you."

S i l e n c e .

Jax’s eyes widened at that, and a slight pink tinge tinged his cheeks. A slow smirk spreads across his expression and his tone becomes cocky as he looks at you.

“Oh, you’re gonna ‘do me’, eh? Really goin’ for full on cheesy pick up lines here, aren’t ya?”

Your cheeks stung with a flush as you looked away from him, continuing with what you were doing.

"Okay, but seriously, I need to get things done today."

Jax rolls his eyes with an exaggerated sigh, his smirk staying plastered on his face.

“Fine, be a boring workaholic. Go do important stuff'n ‘n all.”

He pauses and glances at you sideling again.

“But can’t you spend like, one minute just hangin’ with me first?”

You sigh. Just to get him away, you agree and look at him, his smug expression not leaving your sight for a moment.

"Well, what do you want to do?"

Jax shrugs as a mischievous glint appears in his eyes.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m easy to entertain.”

He turns in the direction of Ragatha and Pomni playing in the distance, and a sly grin breaks across his features.

“Or I could always take a tease at Pomni. That’s always fun.”

You sigh through your nose, looking at him with an uncertain gaze.

"Just don't go overboard... like you did last time?"

Jax leans against the wall and snickers, recalling the way Pomni had freaked out last time.

“Hey, not my fault she’s got no chill. You have to admit it’s funny.”

He glances sideling at you.

“Besides, you laughed.”

"Okay- but I laughed because I was in shock okaayy? That's completely different."

Jax grins widely and steps closer. His gaze is heavy as he leans in, his voice lowers to a murmur.

“You’re cute when you act all defensive.”

You hold your breath. He did not just say that.

"Shut up. I'm just telling you the truth here, it's different."

Jax snickers and raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing into a cocky grin. He steps closer so that you’re both almost chest to chest and lowers his voice.

“You’re totally cute.”

He glances sideling at Pomni, who’s still happily playing with Ragatha, and grins wickedly. You're about to open your mouth to object to what he'd said, but he interrupts your thought before it can get out.

“Y’know what would really get her to lose it?”

You stay silent for a moment, not knowing if you should even ask.

"..What?"

Jax grins mischievously and whispers into your ear.

“You should kiss me.”

He looks at you with the smuggest face, with no regret for what he had said. Did he really just say that? Seriously, what is he thinking?! You could have nearly dropped what you were doing right there and then.

"What?! Jax, that's literally crazy!"

Jax glances sideling at Pomni, still happily chatting with Ragatha. He smirks smugly.

“But it’d get a reaction.”

He turns to look right at you and leans in, his breath fanning your face. His gaze is intense and his tone is a smug murmur.

“You wouldn’t be too scared to do it, wouldcha?”

You have to blink before responding. This was insane.

"I'm not scared- it's just extreme for a prank! Let alone teasing."

Jax raises an eyebrow and takes a step closer to you. His voice is silky and cocky.

“But you’re tempted, aren’t you?”

His grin is Cheshire Cat wide as he studies your expression.

"Don't put words in my mouth."

You shake your head before looking at him again. Still has that smug cheeky expression on his face.

"Look, we'll just do this really quickly because then I have to go.. Are we seriously going to do this just in front of them? To give them a shock or something? "

Jax’s cocky smirk widens into full mischief.

“Oh absolutely we are.”

He glances sideling at Pomni and laughs out loud.

“This is gonna be sooo funny—“

"Okay!!"

You interupt.

"Let's just get it over and done with quick..."

You say as you try to keep your flush from staining your cheeks.

Jax’s expression softens a fraction, and he cups your face with one hand, the other hand dropping to your waist. He leans in closer still, his voice lowering to a murmur as his cocky smirk fades to a softer smile.

“You know, I can make it real dramatic. Give you like, the whole big kiss thing and all—“

His free hand brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Or I can make it quick and sweet… your choice.”

"Does it really matter if it's just a prank anyway?"

You mumble under your breath.

Jax’s grip on your waist tightens for a moment as he leans in even closer, his face a mere few inches from yours. He keeps his voice low, his expression an intense smolder and his smugness replaced with a softer, more genuine emotion.

“It matters to me.”

His voice grows to almost a whisper, his grip on your face shifting so that he cups your cheek rather than holding your jaw.

“I wanna know what you want.”

You feel your flush completely burning your face off again. Not only that, but it's suddenly so hard to stand up? Your legs wobble and your breathing hitches as you think of a response to give.

"I don't- I don't mind..?"

Jax pauses a moment longer, his hand still cupping your face. He searches your eyes and grins.

“Well, since you can’t decide, I guess I’m taking charge.”

He leans in the rest of the way, and his lips are on yours. The cocky smirk from before is gone now with the kiss he gives you: soft, almost slow, although they are right in front of both Pomni and Ragatha. However, he does make sure to keep it brief. After a few seconds, he breaks the kiss, but he doesn’t pull back. He keeps his face a few inches away from yours, his thumb idly tracing the outline of your cheek. His tone is soft, cocky smirk gone, and the mischief in his expression is replaced with something softer.

“Mm. You taste sweet.”

He leans forward and pecks you on the corner of your mouth for extra measure. Your thoughts are completely gone, almost like they pooled to the bottom of your shoes. The only thing you can feel now is Jax's surprisingly gentle grip on you.

"Did they- Did they see?"

You barely mutter out.

Jax glances sideling at both of them, trying not to break into laughter.

“Yeah and now they're both freaking out. Ha.”

He grins and turns back to look you directly in the eye, his expression still oddly soft.

“I think mission accomplished.”

[dayasfilms]

Ahhh I’m obsessed with your writing!!! Can we pls have Star and Steve’s first time together?

Your First Time With Steve

Summary: You and Steve have your first time together after you decide to take a little break from studying for your chemistry exam.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Year: Around September of 1982 (Star and Steve are in their sophomore year of high school)

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fingering, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv (don’t do this), fluff, bad dirty chem jokes, mentions of Y/N, feeling insecure, losing virginity (both f and m), it would make a lot more sense to read my ST series Reticent (click the Series Masterlist below) before reading this to know more about the part regarding protection and the scar but it’s not absolutely necessary

Word Count: 4.1k

Note: Thank you for your request! Funnily enough, I was already writing this before I even got this request so this is perfect timing. Enjoy a little smut one shot about Star and Steve’s first time together. Also, if you want to get added to my ST taglist, scroll all the way to the bottom of this post and click on the green link!

Series Masterlist

ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡

The amount of notes on your desk was enough to drive anyone insane. But even though you were in desperate need of a break, you didn’t stop. You kept flipping through flashcards, reviewing every homework assignment and highlighting the mess of topics that would be on your Chemistry exam in two days.

The house was quiet. Your mom was working late in the city, which meant you had the whole day to yourself with no disruptions. Not that your mom was a disruption, of course she never was. You just enjoyed having some peace to cram.

Though maybe you’d jinxed it. Just as you reached for the next flashcard in your stack, a light tapping sound came from the window. Your head snapped toward the glass, heart skipping just slightly. Cautiously, you stood and stepped closer, unsure what, or who, you’d find outside.

At first, there was nothing. You just saw the trees outside and the faint reflection of your bedroom in the afternoon light. You were just about to turn around when another knock made you jump, and a face appeared at the window.

You shrieked. A hand flew to your chest, trying to calm your racing heart as you exhaled sharply. Outside the glass, Steve Harrington stood with a sheepish grin, waving at you like he hadn’t just shaved a year off your life. You opened the window and stepped back as he climbed through carefully, brushing his jeans before straightening up.

“Steve!” You hissed, hands on your hips. “You scared me! You could’ve fallen!”

He gave you an unapologetic grin as he shut the window behind him. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry.”

You rolled your eyes and returned to your desk, pulling out your chair and flopping back into it. “What are you even doing here?”

He sat on the edge of your bed, watching you with soft eyes. “I missed you. Haven’t seen you since…uh, yesterday.”

You turned just enough to raise an eyebrow. “Wow, a whole day?”

“Exactly. Tragic.”

You laughed under your breath and turned back around, flipping open your textbook again. “Why not use the front door like a normal person? My mom’s not even home.” That made him pause. You turned to look at him again. “You didn’t notice her car wasn’t in the driveway, did you?”

He opened his mouth, then scratched the back of his neck. “Okay, in my defense, I was too busy thinking about you. I didn’t really notice anything else.”

You shot him a look over your shoulder, but your smile betrayed you.

“Also,” he added quickly. “Sneaking through your window? It’s super romantic, if you ask me.”

“Oh, is that what that was?” You teased.

Steve stood up and walked over to where you sat, leaning over your shoulder to glance at your pile of notes. His brows raised. “Jesus. How long have you been at this?”

You glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost three PM. You chewed the inside of your cheek. “…Since about ten? After breakfast.”

His eyes went wide. “That was five hours ago!”

You deadpanned. “Yes, Steve. I can count.”

He didn’t laugh. Instead, he gently spun your chair toward him, his hands resting on the armrests as he bent down to your eye level. “Hey. You need a break.”

You shook your head. “I need to pass Chem.”

“You also need a functioning brain, and I’m pretty sure yours is melting right now.” You smiled a little despite yourself, leaning back in your chair. “And I’m sure you don’t even need to study anymore. You’re the smartest person ever.”

You hesitated. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” he coaxed, brushing a hand down your arm. “Just ten minutes. I’ll even quiz you first. I promise.”

“You’re gonna quiz me?”

“I’m very qualified,” he said, grabbing a flashcard dramatically and clearing his throat. “What’s the atomic number of carbon?”

You rolled your eyes, yet you still had a small smile form on your lips. “Six.”

He flipped the card. “Correct. I’m a great tutor already.”

You crossed your arms, amused. “One question and you’re giving yourself a gold star?”

“Absolutely.”

He grinned, tossed the card aside, and asked you a few more. For a little while, it actually worked. You were laughing and forgetting about the pressure. But eventually, Steve stopped reading, just watching you quietly with a look that made your stomach do a slow flip.

He gently placed the flashcards down and stood up straight, motioning for you to do the same. “Come on. Just ten minutes. Take a real break.”

You let out a dramatic sigh and stood, and Steve didn’t waste a second before sliding his arms around your waist, pulling you toward him.

You smiled up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re relentless.”

“I just want you to breathe,” he murmured. “And maybe make out with you a little.”

You laughed. “Of course you do.”

You didn’t protest when Steve gently tugged you away from the desk and toward your bed. You let him fall back onto it first, laughing when he exaggerated the flop, then climbed up after him. He reached for you immediately, pulling you down beside him.

“You’re warm,” he murmured as you settled into his chest.

You snorted softly. “You dragged me away from my desk. This is your fault so stop complaining.”

“Who said I’m complaining?” He said with a grin, then tilted your chin up toward him. “You’re so cute when you’re mad at me.”

You rolled your eyes, lips already curving as he leaned in. His kiss was soft at first, teasing and slow. But as your lips continued to move, it grew heavier. His fingers brushed along your jaw before sliding into your hair, and your hand found the hem of his shirt, fingertips curling slightly against the fabric.

The kiss deepened as you shifted, Steve sitting against the headboard while you straddled him, your body pressed to his. His hands moved to your waist, holding you steady.

It was easy to lose track of time like that. It was easy to melt into the feel of him, the way he kissed you like he’d never get tired of it. The way he always made you feel like you were the most important person in the world.

You shifted slightly, and the pressure of his bulge against your thigh made your breath hitch. He let out a quiet whine that was barely audible, but he quickly deepened the kiss to cover it up. The sound still lingered in your mind, sending a flutter through your core as your fingers curled tighter into his shirt.

At some point, you pulled back just enough to catch your breath, but you didn’t move far. Your forehead rested against his, and both of you were quiet for a moment, just listening to the sound of each other’s breathing.

Your heart pounded and not because of the kissing, but from the thoughts that formed the longer he held you. “Steve?” You asked softly.

His eyes blinked open. “Yeah?”

Your voice wavered, trying to figure out how to say it. “Have you ever, you know…done the thing before? Like, actually?”

Steve blinked up at you, surprised. “No. I haven’t.”

You nodded slowly, not quite meeting his eyes. “Me neither.”

He was quiet for a second, searching your expression. “Why do you ask?”

You paused, fingers fiddling with the collar of his shirt. “I was just…thinking. About us. Being with you like this.” His brows softened as he tilted his head, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You glanced at him, and though your cheeks were warm, you pushed through your shyness. “I think…I think I want to. I want my first time to be with you.”

Steve’s eyes widened, the boy stuttering. “I–I, uh, wha–really?”

You wanted to hide, thinking that maybe you shouldn’t have said anything. “Yeah. I mean, we don’t have to. If–if you don’t want your first time to be with me, I understand. But…I–actually, never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“Hey, no.” He shifted a little, cupping your face gently, his thumb brushing along your cheek. “Of course I want my first time to be with you. But are you really sure about this?”

You nodded, your voice a whisper. “Yeah. I mean…I’m nervous. But I trust you. And I want this. I want to do it with you.”

Steve let out a quiet breath and smiled, like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have you. “Okay. We’ll go slow, alright? If you change your mind at any point, you just tell me.”

“I will,” you promised, your heart fluttering.

He leaned in to kiss you again, gentler than before, like he was memorizing every second. His hands stayed put on your waist, always patient with you.

Slowly, he lays you back on the bed, his body covering yours. He peppered kisses along your jawline and down your neck, his lips leaving a tingly sensation on your skin. You arched into his touch, your hands gripping his shoulders as he continued his exploration of your body.

He stopped, pulling back a little to check on you. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded, giving him a small smile. “Just a little nervous,” you admitted, your cheeks turning warm with embarrassment.

He reached out and took your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, I’m nervous too,” he confessed, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin. "But I promise, we’ll take it slow. We’ll only do what you’re comfortable with.”

His words eased your anxiety, and you found yourself relaxing a little. You tilted your head up and captured his lips in another passionate kiss. He responded immediately, his hand cupping your cheek as he deepened the kiss. You moaned softly against his mouth, your tongue tangling with his.

Your hands began to roam, going up and down his chest. He groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair. You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, and it sent excitement through your body.

When he reached the hem of your shirt, he paused, his eyes seeking permission. You nodded breathlessly, eager for more. He took it off, revealing your bra-clad breasts. His gaze darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice deep.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the swell of your breasts, his fingers swiftly unhooking your bra. As he took off the material, he gazed upon your exposed flesh, his eyes filled with awe.

Suddenly, his eyes landed on a scar near the side of your stomach. He paused, looking up at you. “Wait, what’s this?”

You immediately covered it with your hands, shying away from him. “Um, it’s nothing. It was from a car accident when I was younger.”

His eyes softened, and he went down to the scar, pressing soft kisses on it. The contact made you shiver.

“Steve, you don’t have to—”

“Shh…” he shushed you, continuing to pepper kisses along the faded edges. “Just let me.”

You didn’t say anything else as he loved on you, pressing his lips to make you forget about what happened to you in the past. You wanted to tell him, but not yet. You weren’t ready to open up about that part of your life. You just watched him, your heart full of warmth and love as he put so much care into you.

He then brought his head up and took one hardened nipple into his mouth. You cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair as he sucked and nibbled gently. Waves of pleasure coursed through your body, making you squirm beneath him.

As he lavished attention on your breasts, his hand slid up your thigh, caressing you through your sweatpants. You tensed for a moment, unsure if you were ready for this. But as his hands went higher, you found yourself aching for more.

When his fingers brushed against your core, you knew there was no turning back. This was really happening. You were about to give yourself to him completely.

He pulled away briefly, his eyes locking with yours. “Is this okay?” He asked, his voice quiet.

You nodded, biting your lower lip as you gazed up at him. “Yes,” you whispered. “Please, I want this. I want you, Steve.”

A smile spread across his face, and he leaned down to capture your lips in another searing kiss. As he did, his hands helped you take off your pants and then panties, before his fingers glided through your slick folds.

You gasped at the contact, your hips lifting off the bed to meet his touch. He stroked you gently, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you moan with pleasure. Your head fell back against the pillow, your eyes fluttering closed as you lost yourself in his touch.

But as he continued to pleasure you, you couldn’t help but feel a little worried. You couldn’t stop thinking about how maybe you weren’t good enough to do this, that you would only disappoint him and make a fool out of yourself. Your insecurities threatened to overwhelm you, and you found yourself tensing up under his touch.

Sensing your sudden hesitation, Steve pulled back, concern etched on his face. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, his fingers stilling.

You bit your lip, unable to meet his gaze. “I’m just...I’m worried that you won’t like it,” you admitted, your voice small.

He cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “Hey, there’s nothing to be worried about,” he assured you, his eyes soft. “This is both our first times, remember? We’re learning together. There’s no right or wrong way to do this, all that matters is that we’re honest with each other and communicate what feels good. I want to make sure you feel good.”

His words helped calm your nerves again, and you felt yourself relaxing once more. You leaned into his touch, your lips brushing against his in a tender kiss.

“Thank you,” you whispered against his mouth. “For being so understanding.”

He smiled, his thumb caressing your cheek. “Of course, honey,” he murmured, before capturing your lips in another deep kiss.

As the kiss intensified, you found yourself losing yourself in the moment, all thoughts of nervousness and self-doubt fading away. You were here with Steve, the boy you loved, and nothing else mattered.

With newfound confidence, you began to explore his body, your hands moving under his shirt to touch his bare skin. He groaned at your touch, his hips pressing against yours. You could feel his bulge growing, straining against his jeans.

Unable to resist any longer, you reached down and palmed him through the denim, earning a sharp intake of breath from him. He bucked into your hand, his fingers digging into your hips.

“God, Y/N,” he gasped, his head falling forward to rest against your shoulder. “You’re driving me crazy.”

Satisfied with his reaction, you began to unbuckle his belt, your fingers trembling slightly. He helped you push his jeans and boxers down his legs, kicking them off the side of the bed. He then took his shirt off, throwing it to the side as well.

Now fully naked before each other, you took a moment to appreciate the sight of him. He was lean, subtly toned from years of sports, with a faint trail of chest hair that made your breath catch. His cock made your eyes widen, and you couldn’t help but feel nervous again.

Sensing your gaze, Steve looked down at you, eyebrows furrowing. “Hey, we don’t have to do this, honey. Just say the word and we can stop,” he told you softly.

You shook your head, bringing your hand to his cheek. “No, no. It’s not that I don’t want to do it. It’s just…” you looked back at his cock. “How is that supposed to, um…fit?”

Steve couldn’t help but almost let out a laugh at the nervous look on your face. He tried to remain composed, grinning at you instead. “It’ll be okay. And if it hurts too much, we can stop, okay? You just have to let me know. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

You nodded, biting your lower lip as you gazed up at him through lowered lashes. He leaned down and kissed you deeply, his tongue delving into your mouth as his hand slid between your thighs once more. This time, when his fingers brushed against your folds, you were ready for him.

He stroked you slowly with one finger first, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you writhing beneath him. He then added a second finger, and then a third. Your moans filled the room as he explored your slick folds, his touch driving you closer and closer to the edge. He pumped his fingers in and out, making sure you were ready for him. He wanted to make this as painless as possible for you.

A soft moan escaped your lips as his fingers kept moving inside you, the wet sound of it only making the ache between your legs increase. Your eyes dropped to watch the motion of his hand, mouth parting at the sight. It was too much but in the best way. You let your eyes flutter shut, head falling back against the pillow as you let him continue.

You suddenly felt Steve lick a stripe up your pulsing heat. You gasped, opening your eyes to see his head between your thighs. He looked up at you as he stuck his tongue inside, lapping at your soaked core.

“You taste so sweet,” Steve murmured against you, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. The vibrations made your hips move on their own, grinding against his mouth. Your hand flew to his hair, fingers tangling as you tugged him closer. He groaned at the feeling, trying to match your pace as he continued exploring you with his tongue. When his nose bumped a particularly sensitive spot, a sharp whine escaped your throat. He froze instantly, lifting his head with concern etched into his features. “Did I hurt you?” He asked softly, eyes wide and apologetic.

“N–no,” your voice was quiet, and you could feel your cheeks grow warm. “It felt good.”

His frown turned into a relieved smile when he realized you were okay. He brought his fingers back, pressing gently against the spot that had made you gasp. This was all new for both of you, but Steve was determined to learn, to make it good for you. And now that he’d found what made you fall apart, he wasn’t about to let it go. He lowered his head again, his lips wrapping around your clit. When he began to suck softly, your back arched, a moan slipping out as your hand tightened in his hair, keeping him close.

The pressure in your core was building fast, your breaths coming out in soft, stuttering gasps as Steve’s mouth moved against you. He held you steady, his hands gripping your hips as if he didn’t want to let go. Your fingers were still in his hair, tugging him further into you as that wave of pleasure crept faster.

“Steve,” you whimpered, barely able to say his name. He didn’t stop, he just kept going, and it finally sent you over. Your eyes squeezed shut, head pressing back into the pillow as your body tensed, then melted beneath him. The sound of your moan filled the room, shaky and breathless, as the release swept through you. Steve looked up at you, his lips still parted and glistening with your slick. His eyes were wide, completely in awe. You opened your eyes slowly to meet his, still dazed.

“Was that okay?” He asked softly, his hands gently tracing along the insides of your thighs as he brought you back down to earth. You gave him a lazy, content smile and nodded, your heart still fluttering from the high. He leaned up to kiss you again, and you could faintly taste yourself on his lips, a reminder that made your cheeks flush and your legs instinctively press together at the image of him between them just moments ago. He then pulled away from your lips, leaving you aching for more. You whimpered in protest, your lips chasing him.

“Shh, just wait,” he murmured gently, his voice soothing as he settled between your legs. Just as he was about to continue, he paused, eyes going wide as he pulled back slightly. “Shit–I don’t have a condom. I never thought we were going to do this today.”

You stayed quiet for a second, your heart racing. You debated telling him the truth, but now wasn’t the time. Someday, when you were older and ready, you’d open up about everything. For now, a small white lie would have to do.

“We…don’t need one,” you said softly, watching his head snap up in surprise. “I’m on the pill.”

Steve blinked, confused. “Wait, really?” His brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of it. “I mean–is that, like…safe?”

You almost laughed at the look on his face, but you held it back. Shifting slightly, you closed your legs, suddenly feeling too exposed. “Yeah, it’s safe,” you reassured him, meeting his eyes. “My doctor put me on it…to help regulate my cycle.”

He still looked a little uncertain. Steve had never claimed to know much about girls’ bodies but he was still trying to learn. He didn’t push you though. What you said made enough sense for him and he trusted you with everything in him. His gaze dropped to your now closed legs and then back to your face. Gently, he placed a hand on your knee.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked sincerely.

You nodded slowly, your cheeks warm. As he carefully parted your legs again, you swallowed your nerves and whispered. “Yes. Please.”

His eyes searched yours before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead, his thumb brushing your cheek. “I promise I’ll be gentle,” he whispered. “We’ll go slow. If it’s too much, you just tell me, okay?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you prepared yourself. Slowly, he entered you, inch by inch until he was fully sheathed inside your tight heat. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever experienced before. It was a mix of pleasure and discomfort that made you tremble. You were grateful he had taken his time to prepare you. You gasped as he began to move, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you tried to adjust to the new feeling.

As he continued to thrust into you, the discomfort began to fade away, replaced by a building sensation of pleasure that threatened to consume you whole. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to go deeper and faster.

He obliged, increasing his pace as he tried to get you to come before him. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and the slap of skin against skin as he drove into you with more speed. His fingers went to your clit, gently rubbing the sensitive bud, making you cry out in pleasure.

You could feel your orgasm building again, your body tensing as the pleasure became almost too much to bear. You clutched at him desperately, your nails scratching down his back as you were so close to reaching your high.

“Don’t stop,” you gasped. “I’m so close.”

He groaned against your neck, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he neared his own climax. “F-fuck, where do you want me?”

You tried to answer but another moan fell out of you. Your hands clenched tightly on his shoulders, barely getting the word out. “I-inside.”

That one word was all it took for him to push into you one last time, sending both of you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body shaking beneath him as wave after wave of pleasure washed through you. He followed at the same time, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he found his own release, spilling inside you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, content to just stay wrapped up in each other’s arms. Finally, he rolled off you and pulled you close, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“That was incredible,” he whispered. His eyes stayed locked on your face, full of longing.

You smiled up at him, your finger tracing lazy patterns across his chest. “Yeah, it really was,” you murmured, nuzzling closer.

He wrapped you tighter, tangling your legs together so there was nothing between you. He kissed the top of your head as your eyes fluttered closed.

He knew he’d have to leave soon since there was no telling when your mom would get home, but as he took in your peaceful face, all he wanted was to hold you like this forever.

After a while, you glanced at the abandoned flashcards across your desk. “Great. Now I’m definitely gonna fail this test.”

Steve shifted beside you, grinning as he trailed his fingers along your waist. “Impossible. Like I said, you’re literally the smartest person I know.”

You rolled your eyes. “Tell that to my chem grade after Monday.”

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “Honey, if tonight proved anything, it’s that our chemistry’s explosive.”

You blinked, then groaned. “Oh my God, Steve.”

“What?” He said, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying, we definitely bonded.”

You shoved his shoulder, trying not to laugh. “Stop!”

“Come on,” he said with a wink. “Don’t act like I didn’t rock your periodic table.”

You gave him a look. “Okay, now you’re banned from speaking until my exam is over.”

He gasped. “What?! That’s, like, two whole days!”

“Exactly. Suffer.”

ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡

•• @kirriririririri @djospresso

get added to my ST taglist

ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡

[literaryavenger]

Back To You - Bucky Version

Summary: You've always been there for Steve, and now you're watching him go back to the girl he always wanted. And Bucky's there to pick up the pieces.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angst. Maybe language. Fluff. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 1.7K

A/N: This was supposed to be a Reader x Steve story, but I was too tempted to make reader end up with Bucky. So I decided to make two separate endings, the original with Steve and an alternate one where she ends with Bucky, if only for @ordelixx who gave me the idea. I'd also like to thank @mrsbuckybarnes1917 for the idea and for helping me write about other characters. This is Bucky's version. Steve version here.

Masterlist

You know what’s about to happen. You know he’s gonna leave, you know he’s not gonna come back, you know you’ll never see him again.

You know he’s gonna try to have the life he always wanted with the girl he always wanted. The girl he loves.

And that girl is not you.

You watch him as he says goodbye to Bucky, you know he knows as well as you do that his best friend isn’t coming back.

Then Steve turns to you and you try your best to smile.

“I wish I had met you earlier.” he whispers as he kisses you on the forehead and you know in that instant this is really goodbye.

You smile and nod, not being able to get a word out, willing yourself not to cry.

He walks onto the platform and soon he’s gone.

You’ve been by Steve’s side ever since he came back from the ice. You were the agent assigned to watch over him, you were there when he woke up and had to run after him when he freaked out.

You were there during the battle of New York, during the fall of Shield in DC, during the whole Ultron incident and in Lagos.

You were on his side for the Accords, and you were by his side in London as he said goodbye to the love of his life. 

You were there with him and Sam in Romania to try and help Bucky, you were arrested with them and then helped fight the Winter Soldier, yet again.

You were on his side to fight against Tony and the rest of the Avengers, you got arrested again and were broken out of the Raft by him.

You spent two years on the run with him, and fought next to him in Wakanda.

You watched his dumb ass try to fight Thanos barehanded and you were quickly knocked down when you tried to help him.

You snapped like half the universe and apparently lost 5 years of your life. You came back, thanks to him, and fought against Thanos one last time.

And now you're watching him leave.

You were there to help him get accustomed to the 21st century, you were there for him on sleepless nights.

You were there for him as he cried for his lost friends, his lost love and his lost life. He always came to you when he needed to talk, to be held, help sleeping and even advise.

And you were always there for him, falling in love little by little against your better judgement.

You’re brought back to the present as you hear Sam freaking out on Bruce because Steve missed his mark and didn’t come back.

You look at Bucky and you both know what this means. He gives you a sympathetic smile and you try to give a smile back but fail.

You look away from him and take a deep breath. You turn around and start walking away.

You’re done here, and about to break down. Something you never allowed yourself to do in front of anybody, with the exception of Steve.

And now he’s gone.

You get in your car and quickly drive away, not looking back. You drive straight to Steve’s apartment.

You’ve been staying there since you came back while the compound gets fixed since your old apartment has been someone else’s home for the past 5 years.

Five years. That’s how long you’ve been gone. That’s how much of life you’ve missed. 

And now you’re left to pick up the pieces of your life by yourself, along with your broken heart.

If you were completely honest with yourself you always knew it wouldn’t have worked with Steve. You’ve never thought you were remotely good enough for him, and that was before even comparing yourself to Peggy. 

There was no doubt in your mind that she was Steve’s soulmate, and you’ve talked about her enough times to know he thought the same.

You’re taken out of your thoughts by a knock on your door. You frown and cautiously walk to it, picking up your gun from its hiding place under the coffee table.

It’s probably nothing but better safe than sorry, right?

You take a peek from the peephole and immediately roll your eyes, lowering your gun while opening the door.

“I guess you weren’t expecting company.” Bucky says, more amused than anything when he sees the gun in your hand.

You make no attempt to try and hide your annoyance as you roll your eyes again. “What are you doing here, Barnes?”

It’s not that you don’t like Bucky, you just don’t know him all that well if not only thanks to the stories Steve shared of him in the 40s.

“I thought I’d make sure you were okay. You ran out of there pretty fast.”

“Yeah, well, he’s gone. It’s a done deal, don’t see why I had to stick around.” You say crossing your arms defensively. 

Bucky doesn’t seem to mind your response as he simply leans on the doorway and keeps talking. “He was disappointed not to see you.”

You frown, beyond confused by a single and simple sentence. Bucky smiles and elaborates. “He lived a life. And he’s old now, but still alive.”

“Oh.” is all you can say. Steve old? You can’t even imagine it.

“He gave the shield to Sam.” Bucky continues, just making conversation.

“Really? I would’ve thought he’d give it to you if he had to choose.” Bucky frowns a little and tilts his head, seeming genuinely confused.

“Why would he give it to me?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, you were his best friend, you’re a supersoldier. I guess I just assumed.”

“None of that matters, Sam is a good man. He deserves it.” He argues, then quickly adds. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

You grin and nod, then say. “For what it’s worth you’re a good man too, Bucky. Steve thought the world of you, trust me. He never stopped thinking highly of you.”

That was nothing more than a simple reassurance for you, but for Bucky it was so much more than that.

He knew you were talking about his time as the Winter Soldier. You were telling him that, even knowing about all that, Steve never let that influence his opinion of his former best friend. He still knew who Bucky was, deep down.

Bucky never heard words like that coming from anyone that’s not Steve, and you said it so casually, like you really believe it and to you it’s no big deal to just say it.

But for him, it was everything.

You didn’t know it then, but that was the moment Bucky started falling for you.

“Why are you checking up on me, Bucky? Really?” You say after a moment, breaking the silence that fell between you.

“Steve made me promise to take care of you before he left.” He said simply.

Bucky didn’t know it then, but that was the moment your heart broke completely.

You managed to keep yourself from breaking right then and there, but Bucky could see that something was wrong.

He didn’t push it though, making conversation a little more before saying goodbye with the promise that he’d be back the next day.

And that’s what he did.

In fact, he came back everyday, no matter what, to check on you.

It started out as quick visits where he wouldn’t even enter the door, then you started inviting him in for coffee because you felt bad he came to Steve’s apartment everyday, always refusing to let you meet him somewhere else. 

After a while you started inviting him for meals, to watch a movie or just to hang out.

You almost didn’t know how, but at one point you started to really look forward to Bucky’s visits everyday, getting excited every time he knocked on the door.

It was the best part of your day, really.

You knew Bucky felt the same, it was like you both knew what was slowly happening between you and you had a silent understanding not to discuss it.

You also never discussed your feelings for Steve, but you felt like Bucky somehow knew nonetheless. 

But the more time you spent with Bucky the more those feelings seemed to fade.

You still loved Steve, still missed him, you could feel yourself letting go of him with every time you spent time with Bucky, every time he made you laugh, every time your hands would accidentally touch.

You could feel yourself falling in love with Bucky and, this time, it felt right. This time you didn’t even try to stop it. 

And it seemed like Bucky felt the same way.

Time after time he became more bold with his flirting, with physical touch, until eventually he was shamelessly hitting on you and cuddling you every time he could.

And, when you made no attempt whatsoever to stop him, it was the only signal he needed to keep going.

One day, after about a year of his daily visits, he couldn’t hold back anymore and kissed you, overjoyed when you kissed him back. He asked you out right after and you didn’t hesitate to say yes.

It was the best first date of your life, but to be fair you’d been hanging out and basically dating for almost a year, so it felt simple. Effortless and uncomplicated. 

It was everything both of you needed. Your feelings for Steve were almost gone now, which is why you couldn’t even begin to explain what happened yesterday.

You were out with Bucky, hand in hand as you walked around the park, just enjoying the sunshine, when you could swear you saw Steve, not old Steve but your Steve, just standing there, looking at you and Bucky.

It was for a second, you merely glanced in his direction and by the time you turned back he was gone. 

Bucky didn’t notice anything, if not only the way you tensed and stopped in your tracks.

You thought about telling him what you thought you saw, but even you knew how crazy you would’ve sounded. So you said nothing and shrugged it off.

Because it was nothing.

Right? 

[crow-caller]

Papercraft is so fun and simple (unless it's not). But I mean, you can just Do It with no fancy tools. Paper and glue and scissors, like, children's arts and crafts supplies is all you need. I got a huge stack of fancy papers and markers and such but I'm in deep.

I'd really like to do a tutorial on it someday, or like, i really think I could irl run a workshop. It takes me a few hours for most pieces but I'm usually multitasking or going elaborate....

I first started papercraft because I was in a painting class in senior year of HS and I suuuuucked at it. I cant figure out "light" or "shading", so while I did assignments, I never really made anything good and often finished early. One day I made my first son

Then most days I would make a new child during the class. My teacher liked them. I did it instead of painting by the end— for our final, I presented them to the class instead of paintings, and they were hung for the final art show (hung. Floating. Ominous...) . I got an A-

I do way more complex stuff now, but not really. I'm just more willing to go multimedia or spend longer— i still am cutting by eye, arranging pieces until they look right, and doing whatever. Really cool art format, low barrier of entry because you can always just cut another piece of paper until it looks right ♡ nothing is glued until it's glued and even that can be undone.

(my gallery website here)

[runnning-outof-time]

Not At All | Tommy Shelby x Reader

PART 3 of A Series of Interactions at The Garrison - but can also be read as its own story

Request: yes by @brummiereader - sent in as a blurb request

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader

Summary: Things between Tommy and (Y/N) come to a head after a different kind of interaction happens at The Garrison.

Warnings: language, smoking, mention of drinking (it takes place at a bar, y’all)

Word Count: 2308

A/N: I’m so happy that everyone’s enjoying this unexpected journey so far — I hope this next part doesn’t disappoint! I’m sorry it’s taken a little longer than would’ve been expected for me to put it out….I hope y’all are still interested in it. I’m really proud of how it came out. The prompt I used is bolded in the story. Enjoy! :)

COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED — I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK OF THE STORY!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged!

Things were different at The Garrison today. Not many people had been through the Small Heath watering hole, and it finally gave (Y/N) a chance to breathe behind the bar. No one was yelling rudely for another drink, no one was arguing on who arrived at the bar first, and there were no terrible messes that needed to be cleaned up.

There was this one man though.

His name was Daniel. He was unlike the majority of patrons that frequented the pub. Instead of being demanding, he sat and waited for his order to be filled, tipped (Y/N) way over the normal amount, and struck up a normal conversation with her….one that didn’t make her feel inferior or like she was in harm’s way.

It was a welcome scenario that she was thankful for on a day that was going slower than usual.

They kept their conversation going, only stopping when (Y/N) needed to tend to a customer or restock the bar. It switched topics frequently, their discussions ranging from the goings on around the city to what Daniel did for work: he was a writer for the newspaper, and the boy did the stories he share make (Y/N) laugh.

“So this one time I was assigned to what my boss called a festival that was way too far outside of the city limits for my liking, but the pay was good so I agreed to it,” he started up on another story, resting both of his elbows on the bar so that he could lean in on them for effect, his grin growing as he continued, “turns out he wanted me to report on this sheep herding event that some local farmers were doing…you wouldn’t believe the size of the bloody crowd that this thing attracted!”

“Miss can I get another round of shots?” a patron interjected a request into the story, effectively pausing it and making (Y/N) go about filling the correct amount of glasses he was wanting.

“You’re going to need to make two trips for them,” she told the man as she placed the bottle of liquor back in its position on the shelf.

“Nah, I’ll be able to take ‘em,” the man disregarded her statement, then going about grabbing as many of the glasses that he was able to hold. He managed to get a grip on all but one of the glasses. “Put that one on top of this one here, will ya?” he then asked (Y/N) to assist him.

“I can bring it over to your table if you’d like,” she suggested another plan.

“I said put it on top of this glass,” the man insisted, his patience now clearly wearing thin.

(Y/N) pursed her lips into a fine line, obviously not wanting to follow through with what the man was suggesting. But she obliged, managing to get the last glass to balance on of the glasses he was already gripping in between his fingers so that she could avoid his temper rising any higher.

All was well until the man began to lift the cluster of drinks off of the bar top. Sure enough, the glass that she had balanced wobbled and fell back to its previous place, making the liquid it held splatter everywhere as it did.

“Fuck,” (Y/N) sighed under her breath, quickly grabbing a towel so that she could stop the spread of the spilled drink’s contents. She then shot a look to the man who was standing with the rest of the drinks in his hands. “Take those to your table and I will bring the last one over,” she said to him, the tone she spoke with telling him that her plan was not up for debate.

The man nodded and followed through with it, leaving the bar for his table.

“I’m sorry, give me a moment,” (Y/N) sent an apologetic smile in Daniel’s direction.

“No worries at all. Do your job,” he smiled back at her.

She then went about the motions of completely cleaning up the remnants of the spill on the counter before she refilled the glass and brought it to the table of awaiting men. They thanked her and she smiled at them before returning back to her spot behind the bar.

“Never a dull moment here,” she commented to Daniel, laughing softly as he smiled at her. “I’m sorry again for interrupting your story.”

“Love like I said, it’s no worries. You were doing your job,” he grinned at her. He then gently reached out and used his thumb to wipe what (Y/N) quickly realized was a wet spot on her right cheek. “Though it seems you missed a spot in your hasty clean up,” he grinned at her, his thumb lingering against her skin for a moment longer.

“Thank you,” she whispered her thanks, feeling her skin heating up where his finger brushed. She subconsciously leaned his touch, quite liking the feeling of his smooth skin touching hers.

“Oi, out!”

Another voice entered the conversation. (Y/N) knew exactly who it was without even looking. The commanding nature of it was a dead giveaway.

Daniel jumped back from the bar top and turned to face the gangster that called the city ‘his’, the smile he was previously wearing now nowhere to be found. “Mr. Shelby, I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong, I…”

“Out. Now,” Tommy didn’t want to hear any of what he had to say. His steely gaze was honed in on the man he was going to get out of his pub by any means necessary, if it came down to it.

Daniel didn’t try to continue with his rebuttal. He knew that continuing talking would get him nowhere in this situation. Everyone in Small Heath knew who Tommy Shelby was…they knew that what he says is what happens, regardless of what anyone else thought. He lowered his eyes from the intimidating man and turned to look at (Y/N) again, sending her a look that said “I’m sorry”.

(Y/N) didn’t quite know what he was sorry for. She was flabbergasted by what was occurring and couldn’t even think of anything to say in response to it.

Tommy’s eyes stayed trained on the man he was kicking out, watching intently as he stood from the stool and began walking to the door. Pleased with the outcome of the establishment’s door shutting, he made his way to the snug, leaving the situation without further comment.

(Y/N) had to blink a few times to make sure that what had just happened in front of her was actually real. There’s no way he came in here and kicked that man out for no reason, she thought to herself. The more she thought about what had occurred, the more she began to feel angry at Tommy for how he handled it.

A scowl formed on her face as she made a beeline to the snug’s closed door. Upon opening the door she found Tommy sitting in his usual spot, nonchalantly smoking a cigarette as if what had just gone down hadn’t happened at all.

“What was that out there?” she asked, trying to keep her voice level as the anger continued to bubble up inside of her. She motioned her hand in the direction of the bar to accentuate her point as she spoke.

“What?” he asked for clarification even though he knew full well what she was referring to.

“Why did you treat that man like that?” she happily gave him the clarification he was looking for.

“I didn’t like how he was acting,” he responded with a shrug, taking a long drag of his cigarette after he finished speaking.

(Y/N)’s brows furrowed together in an incredulous expression. “What do you mean you didn’t like how he was acting? What could he have possibly been doing wrong?” she fired off more questions.

“Who’s at the bar now?” he tried to veer their conversation off of its course.

“Harry’s got it covered, now answer me,” she wasn’t falling for it. She put him right back in the hot seat before adding: “if anything he was doing everything right. He has been the highlight of my day.”

Tommy’s expression changed the second he heard what she had to say about the man he’d just kicked out. His lips pursed into a fine line, his eyes narrowing as he stared straight ahead.

It was slight and quick, but (Y/N) noticed it. Her lips twinged upwards as she realized why he was acting the way he was. “I think I know why you’re acting this way,” she began, her statement making his eyes snap to her. “I think you didn’t like the attention that man was giving me…I think you didn’t like the fact that it was good attention.”

In the weeks that had passed since she patched him up after his late night…altercation, both Tommy and (Y/N) had been dancing around the fact that there could very well be some deeper feelings at play between them. Feelings that go beyond the ones that a boss would show to his employee, and an employee to her boss. They kept toeing that line, neither wanting to cross it.

But now it was apparent…Tommy had entered The Garrison and found (Y/N) in a position with another man that she should have been in with him, and he hated it.

He wasn’t going to admit that outright though. Silence hung in the room as he leaned forward in his seat. The smoke from his ciagarette wafted around him as he looked up at her. “You think I’m jealous, eh?” he asked her, his eyebrows raising as he spoke.

“I think there’s got to be some reason behind you throwing that guy out just for being nice to me,” she countered, her expression staying stoic although she was secretly loving the fact that he’d admitted to exactly what she was thinking.

A soft scoff left his lips when he heard her response. He shook his head as he spoke: “you’ve got it wrong, love.”

“No, you’ve got it wrong, Tommy,” she wasted no time in turning his statement right back on him, “you can’t even see what’s right in front of you.”

(Y/N)’s blunt statement was met with silence. She huffed as she crossed her arms over her chest, waiting intently to see what he would say in response. His eyes didn’t leave hers, and it was now almost like they were having a silent challenge; seeing who would crack first.

Tommy’s voice broke the silence: “I have the right to kick whoever I want out of me pub whenever I see it fit.” His comment came from way out in left field, and it was one that pushed (Y/N) to her limit. The manner that he said it in irked her even more. He was so apathetic with it, breaking their staring contest to snuff out his cigarette as he spoke.

“Yeah, well your pub now has one less employee…” she snarked back at him, “I’m not going to continue to work here if this is how things are going to be.” She waited for a moment before making a move to the door, watching to see if anything changed in his demeanor. He stayed stoic. She turned to the door of the snug. “I’m done. Flowers aren’t going to get you out of this one, Tommy,” she made sure to get the last dig in, her hand reaching for the door.

“Stop.”

Even though she had every intention of leaving, his voice still stopped her in her tracks. Tommy Shelby just had that power over her…he had that power over every situation; over everything.

(Y/N) just about jumped when she turned around to see what more he had to say. Tommy was no longer sitting in his usual seat. Now he was standing right in front of her. “What?” she questioned him, her brows raised.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead his hands found her cheeks and he pressed his lips firmly to hers. His kiss told her everything she needed to know; told her the real reason behind him kicking Daniel out of the pub; told her that those feelings they’d been dancing around for weeks were real. And she made sure that she kissed him back in a way that told him those very same things.

The kiss left them both breathless, and when they pulled away (Y/N) took immediate note of how Tommy’s thumb felt as it gently brushed her cheek. It was much more rough and calloused compared to Daniel’s smooth skin, and she was instantly convinced that she preferred the former feeling to that latter.

“It’s taken you long enough to do that,” she was the one who broke the silence this time.

Tommy tried to stop the grin from forming on his face as he heard her statement, but he failed miserably. “Would you mind if I did it again?” he asked her, his voice just above a whisper.

“Not at all,” she grinned, closing the space between them to match her lips with his once more. They shared another kiss before she spoke again: “oh, Tommy…” she paused, moving back far enough so that she could look at him, much to his dismay.

“Yeah?” he hummed, his gaze flitting down to her lips, wanting nothing more than to kiss them again.

“Maybe flowers can get you out of this one,” she said with a grin, harking back to her previous statement.

“Oh I can give you a whole lot more than flowers, love,” he grinned, hearing her giggle as he closed the space between them to kiss her again.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @succubaby @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings

@just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @littlepeakydevil @stevie75

@lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick

@dandelionprints @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee

@dragons-are-my-favorite @mrs-bond @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @everythingelseisextra

@little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo

@novashelby @wonderlanddreamer

[daydreamgoddess14]

The Reading Rooms

Previous weeks Masterlist

Always remember to heed the warnings posted by the individual authors. What I'm happy to read may not be what you're happy to read, so I take no responsibility if you find something you're not into.

And finally, Tumblr is a community. Reblog, gush like you've never gushed before - I promise you, the authors below will love it, and love you for it! We write because we love to, but we share our work because we love the community of it. If you read something you like, let the world know! 💕

The List

Another busy week! Handed in my assignment - nothing like the last minute, right?! Posted TWO new chapters of Strategic Interests and a spicy one-shot - I'll Do That Thing based on a gif I couldn't stop watching (you can blame @sunday-bug for that one!) which completely blew up. Fun! I'm currently working on Strategic Interests chapter 7, For Your Consideration - January Part 2 AND another spicy one-shot. Apparently it's a new thing where I write sex acts I've never written before. Why not, it's good to try new things! 🤭

I also read some amazing stuff this week, and thanks to @azriona, I discovered how to properly use the queue so I can stop clogging up ya dash when I'm on a reblogging spree!

Bucky Barnes

It's been a Bucky week.

The Celibacy Challenge by @sunday-bug was so much fun, I too would have to nope out of every room and I would cave SO fast 😅

I'm SURE I'm behind on reblogs for Declassified but Chapter 12 landed just as I needed something to read before bed last night and it was AMAZINGGGG!!! My love for Kelsey is only challenged by my need to shake her right now, @dreamwritesimagines!

Sergent's magic mouth by @buckyseternaldoll. Please. Anything. I'll give anything. Also by Elle,

I love it when @societyfolklore blesses us with a short and sweet bit of filth. So good to us 🙌

@navybrat817 said the words 'Bucky is hot and fucks like a God' and we all nodded with our entire bodies - Back It Up

@buckysleftbicep wrote a dad's best friend Bucky fic and... good god, it's so hot - daddy's best friend. As was little black dress, clearly I am feral this week. I feel like I'm gonna look back on these lists and go, whooooh yeah that was a horny week, y'know?

In fact, I'm sticking with Lily here, I realised I accidentally reblogged a reblog - so sorry, love. Swipe Right was so, so quietly beautiful 😭

@whitedarkmoonflower gave us the gorgeous Good morning and I would like to incorporate that and also Sweet Surrender into my morning routine please and thank you.

Saturdays with Bucky would be a dream. ngl. Loved this @buckybarnes82!

The Desperate to Devoted series by @buckets-and-trees was amazing!!

I will always rescue you by @firelilyfox was super sweet and lovely!

Happy Father's Day by @wildflowersandvibranium - this was the most adorable Father's Day everrrrr!!! Bucky is SUCH a girl dad, you cannot convince me otherwise!

The Suit Problem by @salty-tang - this was so hot and yessss, I can definitely see him ripping through those suits!! I've added the masterpost to my reading list AND it's so good to see another Congresswoman fic! 🙌

She Looks Nothing Like Me @writing-for-marvel - as a curvy girlie, I really felt this one! So, so lovely 🥹🥹

@buckybarnesfic BBF wrote their first fic!! About a stuffed dick!! Go read it, you will NOT be disappointed!!

A smutty talk you through it by @crowsofdarkness - no notes, just me begging, actually.

Ok, I've been neglecting my longreads - the 8/9/10/11k(+) fics that are all sitting in my drafts begging to be read. I've also just rescued a bunch of fics out of my likes so I can get to those for next week!

Phew! LFG!

[n01likeu]

Everything.

MINOR DO NOT INTERACT.

Paring: Choi San x Reader Word count: 6k Genre: Exploring themes of longing, control, and explicit intimacy within a relationship facing external familial conflict. Dom!reader, softdom!san, sub!san. Beg beg beg. Please note: This content is for mature audiences due to explicit sexual themes. It contains elements of emotional manipulation, toxic relationship, and power dynamics, as well as descriptions of crying, anxiety, and self-esteem issues. There are also mentions of consensual, safe, and aftercare. Self-indulgent. Reader discretion is advised. Author note: Please, lovies. Give me a heads up if I forgot to mention something that I needed to add, or if there’s any errors. I am new to this, and it’s my first time uploading my work here. I didn’t fully checked my work, do expect some errors, lovies. English is not my first language, bear with me. Happy reading.

You hate him so much. You despise him. Your coping mechanism is to hate your ex, even though you both ended on good terms. All you can think of are the things he did that made you frown—ick, rather. You loathe San. Oh, not really. You ended things with him because of your grandparents. They wanted you to focus on your future by studying business management to take over their company. You’re sick of this. Your parents can’t even protest; they obey as well. They love San, and they want him for you. Too bad, because they also want a “better future” for you.

It’s almost been a month since you last saw him face-to-face. You’ve done everything you could: visiting different cafes with your friends, going out to a park with your dog, isolating yourself in a library, and trying new recipes for pastries within that month. But in the end, San is still in your mind. You keep thinking that he’s supposed to be with you, visiting those new cafes, playing with your dog out in the park, reading books together in a library (but he’d be looking at you, not even a single glance at the upside-down book he’s holding), and baking with you using his passed-down recipes from his great-grandmother. It pisses you off so bad that every time you think of doing something, there’s always a reserved space for him. You hate him because there’s no other thing that could help you forget him since you did it all with him for over six years. You’re in your second year of college, all fucked up, rotting in your bed. Your best friend Ningning had visited your apartment just a few hours ago to lighten you up, knowing you’re not fully okay after finals and your endless reminiscing of San. You felt sorry for your best friend, but she reassured you it was all fine. Satan must be having fun... fucking my life in every way, you thought to yourself.

You’re staring at your ceiling, and now you’re thinking of your ex. You miss how he used to trace imaginary patterns on your arm when you were lying next to him, how his laugh would fill your apartment, making even the emptiest days feel vibrant. You miss the way he’d pull you into unexpected hugs, smelling faintly of the coffee shop he worked at and his subtle, comforting cologne. You miss his endless patience when you were struggling with an assignment, sitting quietly beside you, offering a reassuring squeeze of your hand every now and then. You even miss his annoying habit of leaving his socks by the bed, because at least then you knew he was there. A sharp pang echoes in your chest. It’s not just the absence of him, but the gaping hole where your shared future used to be. Every dream you ever spun, every “what if” scenario, every plan for five, ten, even twenty years down the line, had his face in it. Now, it’s just a blurry, undefined expanse, shadowed by your grandparents’ “better future” and the weight of their company. You clench your jaw, a bitter taste filling your mouth. This isn’t your future; it’s theirs. And you resent it. You resent them. But most of all, you resent San for being so unforgettable, for being so intrinsically woven into the fabric of your life that even tearing him out leaves a ragged, bleeding edge. You close your eyes, wishing for sleep, for oblivion, for anything that could silence the unwavering echo of his memory. But even in the darkness, you can still feel the ghost of his hand in yours, a phantom warmth that refuses to fade.

The city lights hummed around you, a stark contrast to the quiet ache in your chest. You’d decided to brave one of your old haunts tonight—a small, dimly lit bar with good music and even better cocktails, hoping to drown out the persistent thoughts of San. The air was thick with the scent of whiskey and faint perfume as you nursed your drink, tracing patterns on the condensation of your glass. Suddenly, a shift in the ambient noise, a subtle change in the energy of the room, snagged your attention. You didn’t even have to look up. You felt him. Every nerve ending in your body tingled with an electric awareness. Your breath hitched. He was here. Your eyes finally lifted, drawn across the smoky room as if by an invisible string. And there he was. San. He was standing by the bar, talking to the bartender, but his gaze, hot and familiar, was already locked onto yours. The casual hum of conversations, the clinking of glasses, the music—it all faded into a distant murmur. There was only him. And you.

He started to move, not directly towards you, but as if on a circuit, heading towards the restrooms, a path that would take him directly past your table. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence that now enveloped you. As he approached, his eyes never left yours, a silent, potent conversation passing between you. There was no awkward smile, no forced pleasantry. Just a raw, undeniable hunger in his gaze that mirrored your own. As he drew level with your seat, his pace barely faltered. His hand, warm and calloused, brushed against your lower back, a deliberate, lingering touch that sent a searing current through you. It was a familiar ghost, a memory of countless other touches that had promised so much more. He didn’t stop, didn’t speak, but the brief contact was an explosion of suppressed desire, an unspoken question hanging heavy in the air. You watched his retreating back, your skin still humming from his touch. You knew exactly what that meant. And you knew, with a terrifying certainty, that you were going to follow.

As San moved past, the spot on your lower back where his hand had lingered burned like a brand. The air around you crackled with unspoken tension. Your breath felt shallow, caught somewhere in your throat. You watched the line of his shoulders beneath the dark jacket, the way his dark hair caught the dim light. It had been almost a month, but the sight of him, that look in his eyes, the brief, deliberate touch—it had ripped through your carefully constructed walls of indifference. Your mind raced, a chaotic jumble of longing, resentment, and that undeniable, insistent pull of physical attraction. You hated him for doing this to you, for disrupting the fragile peace you’d been trying to build. But a louder voice, a more primal instinct, was screaming something completely different.

Without conscious thought, you pushed yourself to your feet, your chair scraping slightly against the wooden floor. The sound seemed amplified in the sudden quiet that had descended around you. You hesitated for a fraction of a second, a sliver of your rational mind screaming at you to sit back down, to ignore the magnetic force drawing you in. But the memory of his touch, the intensity in his eyes that mirrored your own buried desires, was too strong to resist. You took a step, then another, your gaze fixed on San’s broad back as he disappeared through the door marked “Restroom.” You knew he hadn’t actually needed to use them. This was a silent invitation, a pretense.

Taking a deep breath, the humid night air clinging to your skin as the bar door briefly opened and closed, you followed. The dimly lit hallway leading to the restrooms felt thick with anticipation. The sounds of the bar faded behind you, replaced by a low hum of the air conditioning. You knew what you were about to do. And despite the turmoil in your heart, a part of you, a deeply buried, fiercely yearning part, couldn’t deny the electric thrill of it.

You reached the restroom door and paused, your hand hovering over the cool metal handle. The low murmur of male voices could be heard from within. Taking one last shaky breath, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. San was leaning against the sink, arms crossed, his gaze already on you, that same intense, knowing look still blazing in his eyes. The air crackled. The game had begun again.

He was still leaning against the sink, his arms crossed over the glossy texture of his jacket, the silver chain around his neck catching the faint light from the overhead fixture. His dark hair, slightly disheveled, framed a face that was both impossibly familiar and unnervingly alluring in the muted light. His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, devoured you. There was no casual greeting, no “fancy meeting you here.” His gaze alone was a physical touch, tracing every curve, every shadow. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, yet vibrating with an unspoken language only the two of you understood. It was the language of six years of shared history, of bodies that knew each other intimately, of a passion that had never truly died, only been forcibly buried. You felt your cheeks flush, a wave of heat spreading through you that had nothing to do with the humid night. You wanted to look away or flee, to break the potent spell, but you couldn't. You were a moth to his flame, drawn in by the sheer magnetic force of his presence.

He pushed off the sink, taking one slow, deliberate step towards you. Then another. The small space of the restroom felt even smaller, every inch of it shrinking until it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. The faint scent of stale cigarette smoke and generic air freshener was obliterated by the clean, distinct scent of him—something woody and slightly musky, utterly San. His hand rose, slowly, as if in a dream, and he reached out. His fingers didn’t go for your face or your hair. Instead, they settled on the sensitive skin of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly over your pulse point. The contact was electric, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire in your core. It was a possessive gesture, a silent claim.

“You followed,” he murmured, his voice a low, rough rasp that sent another jolt through you. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact, laced with triumph and a raw, carnal anticipation. His eyes dropped from yours, trailing slowly down your face, lingering on your lips. Your breath hitched. Your body was already betraying you, aching for his touch. The fight you’d been putting up for the past month dissolved like smoke. All the reasons you shouldn’t, all the ‘what-ifs’ about your grandparents and your future, vanished. There was only this moment, this man, and the undeniable truth of your shared, burning desire.

“Of course, I did,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible, a confession, a surrender. “Why wouldn’t I?” You leaned into his touch, your eyes closing for a brief moment as his thumb continued its maddening rhythm on your neck. The next move, you knew, would be yours to make, or his. And it wouldn’t involve talking. You snaked your arms on the back of his neck and pressed your lips against him, closing the gap between you and San. His fingers squeeze the side of your neck—enough to make you breathe, even. San’s other hand traveled down on your ass, squeezing it, pulling you closer until you felt his hard, clothed cock. You started to grind your body against him. San let out a low groan against your mouth, a sound of pure pleasure that vibrated through your entire body. He deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in a passionate dance. The pressure on your neck eased slightly, allowing for more comfortable breathing, but his grip on your ass remained firm, keeping your bodies tightly pressed together. You could feel the undeniable heat radiating from him, mirroring the inferno building within you. Every grind of your hips against his was met with an eager pushback, a silent language of escalating desire. The air around you crackled with an unspoken urgency, a shared need that threatened to consume you both. You felt yourself getting dizzy, not from lack of air, but from the intoxicating rush of his presence, the raw intensity of the moment. The world outside of his embrace faded into a blurry background, and all that existed was the pounding of your hearts, the delicious friction of your bodies, and the promise of what was yet to come.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, your forehead resting against his. His eyes, dark with desire, met yours. “God, you drive me insane,” he breathed, his voice thick and rough. His thumb, still on your neck, traced the line of your jaw, sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh, really?” You purred back, a mischievous glint in your eyes, a slight smirk playing on your lips. You could feel the frantic beat of your heart against his chest. His grip on your ass didn’t lessen, keeping you flush against him, making the undeniable evidence of his arousal all the more present. Your fingers, still laced in his hair, gave a gentle, possessive tug. He chuckled, a low, husky sound that sent another wave of heat through you.

“Is it now?” He murmured, his gaze utterly devoted. “Because I feel like I’m the one about to lose my mind here... if you’d allow it.” His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, filled with an almost desperate plea. “What kind of spell are you doing to me, beautiful?”

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his. “What do you want me to do?” You challenged softly, a hint of steel beneath the teasing sweetness in your voice. You felt him tense beneath your touch, a clear sign of his hunger and his readiness to submit. He pulled back just enough to look at you properly, a serious intensity replacing the playful glint in his eyes, now mixed with a deep, consuming adoration.

“Everything,” he said, his voice dropping to a near growl, a tone of absolute surrender. “I want you to do everything.” He squeezed your ass again, pulling you impossibly closer, his body vibrating with controlled anticipation. “And I want to do everything for you, to you, as you wish.”

You let out a soft, knowing laugh, a sound that held a hint of delicious victory. “Are you willing to do such thing, San?” You murmured, your fingers tightening around the back of his neck, pulling him a fraction of an inch closer until your lips were almost touching again. Your gaze dropped to his mouth, then back up to his eyes, watching the worship intensify.

“Please, love. Let me feel you. Let me fuck you right here, please.” Your hand moved from his neck, trailing slowly down his chest, resting over his heart, which was pounding a frantic rhythm. You felt his sharp intake of breath, a subtle shiver that ran through him. You could feel the undeniable strength of his body, the hard planes of his muscles, yet he was utterly still beneath your touch, waiting.

“Begging already?” you whispered, your voice dropping to a seductive husk. “Then you’ll have to earn it, won’t you?" Tilting your head slightly, a clear signal of your will. “You hear me, San?” The words hung in the air, a silken thread of absolute will.

“Yes. Please, let me touch you…” He spoke in a low tone, grinding on your thighs. Sweating gathered on his forehead and fell down to his jaw as he breathed heavily.

“Fucking insane. I didn’t order you to grind like a dog on me,” you spat. “Kneel.” A last word that followed out of your mouth. San immediately fell to his knees, hands on his lap. Looking at you as a vulnerable piece. The dim light of the restroom played across the silk black dress, highlighting the curve of your back, the enticing hint of your thong visible as you leaned against the sink, supporting your weight.

“Eat me out. Devour me like you own me.” You looked down to San, who was reaching for your ankles, massaging them as his hands traveled up to your legs, kissing them inch by inch, worshipping your body, parting your legs as he went up to your thighs, leaving a mark, and licking them after. His eyes, dark with fervent desire, remained fixed on you as he slowly, deliberately, brought his face closer to your waiting heat. You could feel his warm breath ghosting over your most sensitive skin, sending shivers through you that were a delicious mix of anticipation and absolute control. He paused, just for a moment, a silent question in his gaze, seeking your final, unspoken approval, even as his body trembled with eagerness. You watched him, your own breath catching in your throat, the thrill of his utter devotion a potent potion. Without a verbal cue, but with a subtle shift in your weight and a slight parting of your lips, you granted him permission. His dark head dipped, and then his tongue, hot and wet, made first contact. A sharp gasp tore from your throat, your fingers instinctively gripping the cool edge of the sink behind you.

He was everything you remembered, everything you craved, and more. His movements were precise, deliberate, a worshipful exploration that left no inch of you untouched. Each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck, was designed to push you closer and closer to the edge, a master of his craft, completely consumed by the act of pleasing you. You felt the warmth spread, fire igniting in your core, and the world outside the small restroom dissolved into a blissful haze of sensation. His hands moved to cup your buttocks, lifting you slightly, pressing you more firmly against his mouth. The silk dress rode up, revealing even more of your thong-clad rear. You arched your back, a low moan escaping your lips as the intensity built. You could feel his hot breaths, hear his soft groans of pleasure, mingling with your own. He was truly devouring you, just as you’d commanded, lost in a single-minded pursuit of your satisfaction. The thought of your grandparents, your future, and the entire world outside was utterly obliterated by the exquisite reality of San at your feet, making you burn. As he continued his movements, you found yourself twisting, unable to keep still, your fingers digging into the cool porcelain of the sink. Each stroke of his tongue, each gentle pull, was a direct shot of pleasure, spiraling through you. He paused for a moment, just long enough for you to let out a frustrated whimper, before resuming with renewed intensity, as if punishing you for your impatience, yet simultaneously rewarding you with deeper sensations.

“San,” you gasped, your voice strained, barely recognizable even to your own ears. Your head fell back against the mirror, your eyes squeezed shut, the world now nothing but the rhythmic, insistent pleasure he was eliciting. He didn’t answer verbally, but the way his tongue moved and the increased pressure of his mouth told you he heard your plea and was only going to push you further. He shifted, bringing one hand to cup your mound, his thumb sweeping over your already swollen clit, while his mouth worked wonders. The combination was almost unbearable, pushing you right to the edge. You felt a soft trembling start deep within you, growing, consuming.

“Please,” you whimpered again, the word barely a breath. “San... please…” You weren’t sure what you were begging for—was it for him to stop, for him to continue, for release, for more, or for less? It was just a desperate, animalistic sound of pure need. He lifted his head for a second; his eyes, dark and glazed with his own rising passion, met yours. His face was flushed, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, his lips glistening.

“Beg for it, doll,” he murmured, his voice a low, rough rumble against your skin, just before his mouth closed over you again, sending a jolt that made your toes curl.

A whimper tore through you. “San, I—I need—” Your words broke off into a choked cry as he intensified his service, driving you closer to the edge than you thought possible. “Please... please, I’m almost there…”

He pulled back again, just a fraction, the sudden withdrawal almost painful. You whimpered, reaching out blindly, your fingers tangling in his dark hair. “Don’t stop, San. Please, don’t stop. I need you, fuck.” Your voice was raw, stripped bare of any pretense of control. “Please, baby, don’t stop, I beg you.”

His eyes burned into yours, a successful glint mixing with the absolute adoration. “Say my name,” he rasped, his breath hot against your thigh. “Say you need me.”

“San, baby. Oh god, San, I need you. Make me cum. Please, baby.” Your hips bucked instinctively against his face, a desperate plea for release. You let out a loud moan; you didn’t realized how loud you are. He watched you, a slow, sensual smile spreading on his lips as your desperation grew. He was enjoying every single second of your unraveling, your complete surrender to the sensations he was orchestrating.

“Such a good girl. Begging for me just to fuck her stupid using my mouth,” he purred, the words sending another shiver through you. And then, with a final, deep dive, he pushed you over the edge. A strangled cry ripped from your throat as your body convulsed, pleasure exploding through every nerve ending. You clutched his hair, your nails digging lightly into his scalp as your knees threatened to buckle. He held you steady, his mouth still working, catching every last tremor of your climax, devouring you completely. When the last movements ended and your breathing evened out, he finally pulled away, his face slick with your mutual pleasure. He looked up at you, his eyes still dark with a simmering desire, but now also filled with a profound, almost reverent satisfaction. He reached up, his thumb gently wiping a tear from the corner of your eye that you hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“All for you, sweet,” he breathed, his voice soft, utterly devoted. He then leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to your now-sensitive skin, a lingering, possessive touch. “Always.”

It took a few shaky moments for you to regain your composure, to find your footing again as the waves of pleasure receded, leaving you delightfully weak. San rose from his kneeling position, his movements fluid and unhurried. He didn’t speak, but his gaze, hot and possessive, lingered on your face, reading every lingering trace of your climax. He reached out, his hand gently settling on the small of your back, a silent anchor.

“We can’t stay here,” you murmured, your voice still a little breathless, the words feeling foreign and heavy in the aftermath. The fluorescent lights of the restroom, the lingering scent of disinfectant, suddenly felt stark and unwelcome after the intimate intensity of the past few minutes. San merely hummed in agreement, his thumb stroking your skin. He didn’t need words. He knew exactly what you meant, what you wanted. Your apartment. Your bed. The place where inhibitions could truly melt away. He turned, guiding you gently with his hand on your back, leading you out of the restroom and back into the muffled hum of the bar.

The transition felt surreal. The conversations and laughter of strangers seemed distant, a mere backdrop to the vibrant thrumming between you and San. You didn’t speak a word as you walked past the main bar area, past curious glances, out into the humid night. The air was thick and warm, clinging to your skin, a stark contrast to the cool air-conditioned interior of the bar. He hailed a taxi with practiced ease, opening the door for you before sliding in beside you. The ride to your apartment was a silent symphony of anticipation. Your hand found him in the darkness of the backseat, fingers intertwining, a silent promise exchanged. His thumb drew lazy circles on your knuckles, a comforting rhythm that spoke volumes. The earlier resentment, the carefully constructed walls of hatred, felt like a distant, irrelevant memory. All that mattered was the warmth of his hand, the shared heat in the small space, and the electric hum of what was coming next.

Soon enough, the taxi pulled up to your apartment building. You fumbled for your keys, your hands still trembling slightly, a small laugh escaping your lips. San took them from you, his fingers brushing yours, and effortlessly unlocked the door. He let you enter first, a silent deference that made your stomach clench in a delicious way. The apartment was dark and quiet, save for the faint glow of city lights filtering through the blinds. You kicked off your shoes, letting them fall unceremoniously to the floor. San closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the stillness, severing you from the outside world.

He didn’t turn on any lights. The dimness felt right, adding to the illicit intimacy of the moment. You turned to face him, the faint light catching the contours of his face, the intensity in his eyes. He reached for you, his hands cupping your face, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks.

“My love,” he whispered, his voice a low, rough reverence that sent shivers down your spine. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your eyelids, then tracing the curve of your jaw with his lips before finally finding yours. This kiss was slower, deeper than before, a lingering promise. His tongue traced your lips, asking for entry, and you readily granted it, your body already arching into his. San’s hands moved from your face, trailing down your neck, over your shoulders, and then found the hem of your black silk dress. He slowly, deliberately, began to pull it up, his eyes never leaving yours, watching for any sign, any hint of resistance. There was none. The silk glided upwards, revealing more of your legs, the smooth curve of your hips, until the thong beneath was fully exposed. San took a moment, his gaze sweeping over your exposed skin, a low groan rumbling in his chest. You reached for him too, your fingers fumbling with the zipper of his jacket, then the snaps of his shirt. He stood still, a statue of patient devotion, allowing you to undress him. The leather jacket came off first, then his shirt, revealing the hard planes of his chest and the taut muscles of his abdomen. You traced the lines of his body with your fingertips, feeling the heat radiate from him, the faint tremor that ran through him as your skin met his. San stepped back slightly and took your hand, leading you deeper into the apartment, as if he lived there, to the bedroom. The soft rug underfoot felt luxurious against your bare soles. In the dim light, your bed looked like an island, an irresistible haven. He paused at the edge, his gaze searching yours.

“May I?” he murmured, a silent question asking permission to continue, even though every fiber of your being screamed yes. You nodded, a shaky breath escaping your lips. He reached for the strap of your dress at your shoulder, slowly sliding it down, allowing the silk to pool at your feet. You stepped out of it, the black fabric a discarded puddle. He then lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed. You gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist as he lowered you onto the soft mattress. He hovered over you, supporting himself on his elbows, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You are so beautiful,” he breathed, his voice thick with adoration. “Perfect. So fucking perfect for me and mine only.” His hand found the waistband of your thong, his fingers slipping underneath. He slowly, agonizingly slowly, peeled it down your legs until you were completely bare beneath him. He didn’t rush, savoring each moment, each inch of exposed skin. You reached for the waistband of his pants, pulling at them impatiently. He chuckled, a deep, satisfied sound, and helped you, shucking off his pants and boxers until he too was naked, his hard form pressing against your bare thighs. He settled between your legs, his weight a delicious pressure. He leaned down, burying his face in your neck, inhaling your scent, leaving a trail of hot kisses along your collarbone.

“You have no idea how long I have dreamt of this,” he whispered against your skin, his voice raw with a desperate longing that mirrored your own. "Of being here again, with you, like this.” You threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling his head back slightly so you could meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, almost black, brimming with an overwhelming emotion that captivated you.

“Show me, San,” you whispered, your voice a soft invitation, your hips unconsciously tilting up, pleading. “Show me everything.” He met your gaze, a powerful mixture of adoration and barely contained hunger in his eyes. He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours, a deep, consuming kiss that stole your breath away. This was not just desire; it was a profound connection, a reunion of souls that had been torn apart, now finding their way back to their inevitable convergence. His body moved, pressing deeper, finding that familiar, perfect fit. You gasped against his mouth, a sound of pure, unmixed relief and escalating pleasure. He groaned against your lips, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through your entire being as he began to move. Slowly at first, a deliberate testing of the waters, a teasing rhythm that built the excitement. You responded immediately, your hips instinctively meeting him, pushing back, craving the full immersion. His hands found your waist, gripping you firmly, lifting you slightly to deepen the angle, to ensure every friction was maximized.

“My love,” he breathed, the words muffled against your mouth as he broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your jaw to your ear. “You feel so good. So good.” His breath hitched as you arched into him, a soft moan escaping your lips. The pace quickened, a primal dance that spoke volumes without a single word. The bed beneath you became a tempest, the soft mattress sinking with each powerful thrust. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him in closer, urging him deeper. Your nails lightly scraped against his back as you clung to him, lost in the escalating storm of sensation. His muscles flexed under your touch, a testament to the raw strength he held in check for you. He was a force, yet utterly devoted to your pleasure, watching your face for every sign, every gasp, every subtle shift in your expression. He leaned down, catching your lips in a passionate kiss again, swallowing your moans, mingling your breaths until there was no telling where one ended and the other began.

The air in the room grew heavy, thick with the scent of aroused bodies and desperate need. The sounds of your apartment, usually so familiar, were now just the frantic pounding of your hearts and the soft gasps and moans that filled the space. The thought of anything beyond this moment, beyond the exquisite friction and the intoxicating scent of San, completely vanished. This was your true future, the one you truly desired, unraveling beneath you in a tangle of limbs and breathless whispers. He pulled back, just enough to look into your eyes, his own dark and dilated, filled with a burning intensity.

“Look at me,” he rasped, his voice strained, raw with his own approaching climax. “Look at me, doll.” You met his gaze, completely consumed, your body trembling on the brink. You could feel the building pressure deep inside, the undeniable ascent towards another peak. His eyes, fixed on yours, were the only anchor in the swirling of sensation.

“San,” you whimpered, his name a desperate plea, a worshipful prayer on your lips. With a final, powerful thrust, he drove into you, a deep, all-consuming connection that sent you spiraling over the edge once more. A guttural cry escaped you as your body shook uncontrollably around him, clutching him tighter. He groaned, a primal sound of release, as he followed you, collapsing onto you, his body heavy and satiated. The aftermath was a symphony of heavy breaths and pounding hearts, bodies slick with sweat, entangled in the peaceful silence that followed the storm. He buried his face in your neck, pressing kisses to your damp skin, utterly spent, yet still holding you impossibly close, as if afraid to let you go. He lay heavy on you, his chest rising and falling against yours, the scent of him—a mix of sweat, sex, and his familiar cologne—filling your senses. Your fingers, still tangled in his hair, gently stroked the nape of his neck. The frantic rhythm of your heart gradually slowed, syncing with the steady beat of his. The silence in the room was profound, punctuated only by your soft breaths and the lingering hum of satisfaction that resonated deep within your bones.

After a long moment, he shifted, lifting his head from your neck and propping himself up on his elbows, looking down at you. His eyes, still clouded with the afterglow, held a tenderness that made your own heartache in the best way possible. He reached out, his thumb tracing the curve of your bottom lip.

“Are you... Alright, my love?” he whispered, his voice a little rough, a hint of concern in his gaze. He always checked. He always made sure you were okay, even when he was completely lost in the moment. It was a subtle, natural care that had always been one of the things you loved most about him and something you had desperately missed.

You smiled, a soft, content smile. “More than alright, San,” you murmured, reaching up to cup his cheek, feeling the slight stubble beneath your palm. “Perfect rather.”

A relieved sigh escaped him, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good,” he breathed, the word filled with sincere relief. He rolled off you, but only to lie beside you, pulling you immediately into his side. Your head rested on his shoulder, your leg thrown over his, your bodies still connected by the lingering warmth and the unspoken intimacy.

The city lights still filtered through the blinds, casting faint, shifting shadows on the ceiling. You were both quiet, simply existing in the shared space, in the aftermath of something raw and powerful. You felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over you—the lingering resentment for the life your grandparents had dictated, the sharp pang of regret for the time lost, and an overwhelming surge of pure, unadulterated contentment in his arms.

“I missed this,” you whispered, the words barely audible, a confession that tasted like freedom on your tongue. “I missed you.”

He tightened his arm around you, pulling you even closer. His lips brushed your hair. “I missed you too, more than words can say,” he murmured back, his voice thick with emotion. “Every single day; It was hell without you—even though I can sense that you hated me to death. I know you.”

You sighed, burying your face deeper into his shoulder. The fragile peace was here, in this bed, with him. The outside world, the demands of your family, the future they had planned—it all felt distant, a problem for another day. For now, there was just this. Just San. And the undeniable, aching truth that you were exactly where you belonged. You felt his breathing even out, a soft snore starting to rumble in his chest. He was falling asleep, utterly relaxed in your embrace. You closed your eyes, letting the exhaustion and the profound contentment wash over you. For the first time in a long time, the insistent echoes of his memory were not tormenting you but lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

[pushspacetocontinue]

"Yeah, that's true," Travis agreed.

But it seemed that he had gotten the hint about what Willow was getting at.

"Heh, you can say that again," Travis said, "You got Martin with his voluntary work and finding a place that assigns therapy animals to people and the camping he likes doing, you got Truman with his film directing and love of theatre, you got Simon with his computer work, you got Bradley with his teaching and his nutritional knowledge, David with his farming and the love of the sea, me with the fitness talk and dancing skills, and Custard with his love of space, gaming and drums."

And of course, if Lewis was still here, his carpentry, his love for birds, and all the things he said to bring hope to others.

"Oh I didn't know that," Travis said. It was good to know it wasn't from some horrible injury at least, "But I'm glad that doing that didn't cause any notable drawbacks."

Travis smiled again then.

"And we're all thankful too," Travis said, before he then nodded, "All right, on we go."

With that, he started to follow Willow's directions as she gave them.

"Y-yeah, I, I can only imagine," Russell said, as he glanced around once more. He was also trying not to imagine it too hard, "Or, or your footsteps or, or just any-anything you, you might have said, said out loud."

If the volume had been just that little bit loud enough at least.

"But you made it work," Simon said, "And that's impressive. You made it habitable so you don't go completely insane when you have to do something in here."

Antonio's ear twitched at that.

"I'm surprised it didn't do it anyway," Antonio jokingly said, "With all the sassy energy I was most likely emitting while in here."

Leofric nodded.

"Yes, that makes a lot of sense," Leofric agreed, "And I will say that that impresses me further. Not that you need my approval of course. I just wanted to say it."

Antonio looked down at the coin he had picked up, and then back at Rook.

"Then I will make sure to take very good of it," Antonio replied with a small smile, as he placed into the chest pocket of his coat for the moment. He would find a better place for it when he got home.

"Oh he does," Leofric said, "And he really enjoyed creating some useful items with you back before we planned and carried out today's endeavours. Perhaps he might like to do that again."

"Thanks, Rook," Simon said.

"Y-yes, th-thank you," Russell said, before the blush on his cheeks darkened a bit at that comment, but he seemed to find the humour in at the very least, "Heh, m-maybe. I, I can't say I've, I've really felt the, the need to work out why. I'm, I'm just happy."

"That sounds like a good idea," Leofric said.

It seemed that Bill had indeed about to land as Rook had predicted. He had actually come to enjoy the experience, not that he was going to say that out loud in case Veronica decided he needed some kind of worse punishment.

But he had ended up not sticking the landing and completely falling flat on his face when everyone else arrived. But Bill still had to try and play it cool as he got himself stood up.

"Well, that was quite the trip, wasn't it?" he said with a grin, "How was yours?"

"I sure hope so. Things start going bad when we don't care anymore what happens to children."

"It must be quite interesting whenever you and the rest of your brothers meet up. With such a wide array of professions, you may never be at risk of running out of conversation topics." Willow chimed in. It was a touchy matter for Erica and she didn't want her to upset herself with the current topic too much.

"We have to take turns and there's just four of us!" The trick had worked perfectly. "Well, I didn't feel much pain as a zombie, but elves like me are just born with a hollow back. I don't know what it was for, it didn't really do anything. So I let Willow get rid of it."

"It was merely an aesthetic change that didn't interfere with Erica's magical affinity, as we have now confirmed."

"Yeah, it's no big deal." Erica reassured, "But I guess that's why we didn't know about it. I'm glad Rook met Russell, though. We wouldn't know all of you guys if she hadn't!"

"And for that, we're both thankful."

Erica nodded fiercely at Willow's words, before looking ahead. "I think I've seen this part of the city before."

Right on cue, Willow started giving out directions.

"I had to do it for my own peace of mind. Imagine dropping anything in here. The noise will bounce back and forth for days." Rook said, before eyeing Antonio, "And I had to think of my guests. After all, if you're too sassy while in the void, the void will eventually sass you back."

Luckily, there weren't signs so far of the pocket having any level of awareness. Perhaps its artificial nature meant it'd never fully go beyond reacting to the presence of those tied to it.

"Oh, I really panicked at first." Rook admitted, "Because I kinda sneaked in to see where mum was going and I got left behind. But then I just got bored of the panic and started poking around again. I guess it's just the effect this place has on you after you've been here for a while."

It did help that after a while it occurred to her she wasn't feeling hungry or tired. Not being directly affected by the passing of time while being in that glorified broom closet took part of the urgency away.

"Alchemy and herbalism are different disciplines. The ability to directly control the temperature and intensity of our fire is however a major advantage." Veronica replied, "I wouldn't mind sharing some of my knowledge on the subject. It can be very useful at times."

It wasn't just good for creating huge piles of precious items they could treat like Lego, after all. Rook was glad to see her gift was being appreciated.

"Anything for my big bro. But that coin you picked," She paused to point at it, "that's a lucky one."

She proceeded to pass more pouches around, even holding one up so it could be stored in the drone for the time being. They'd figure out a way to get it over to Simon's place later.

"Thanks, Leofric." She offered a second bag, "I can't wait to see what he'll make with these. It seems like he really likes smithing."

"I'm no expert, but I'll do my best with it." Lucien said, standing up, "Russell deserves to have something that shines at least half as much as him."

Rook rolled her eyes, "You guys are so mushy. I bet it's all those sweets you two eat."

Still, she was very happy for what Russell and Lucien had going for themselves. It was clear it made both happy and that was all that mattered.

"Well, let's catch up with Bill. He should be almost at the exit by now."

[tiramiiswu]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Invincible x Tharja!Reader

✦ masterlist || next ✦ imagine: mark with a dark mage reader inspired by tharja from fire emblem awakening, aka mark and the freak who follows him everywhere they possibly can and casts curses on people who inconvenience them ✦ pairings: mark grayson x tharja!reader ✦ warnings: slight yandere behavior, stalking, reader is a little freak sometimes ✦ a/n: the inevitable tharja!reader imagine i keep babbling about :3 i love my wife she's so silly 💞😊also sorry if this jumps around a lot i like, worked on this infrequently and mostly whenever a brain worm started wriggling i had to get it out of my system i dont really know when to stop

✦ you might be into him because he's attractive or maybe you're just fascinated by his strength or general trauma spiral, sometimes you just follow him like a little stalker because you find him so fascinating for some reason

✦ you like the way you are for sure, it's less so that you don't see anything wrong with your behavior (you're definitely aware enough to know what you're doing is odd) and more so like, this is kind of just how you are and you don’t really see a point in changing

✦ but if mark ever mentioned like her creepy stalker/dark mage behavior being weird or wishing you were like more normal you would both like, understand you needs to change your approach but also lack the social clues to do this in a way that isnt fucking insane

✦ like you don't really understand that he finds you weird, that your tendencies to stalk him and watch him when you think he isn't paying attention, you just think your approach is wrong and that you should try to be As Normal As Possible (in the most bizarre fashion)

✦ you're usually pretty gloomy and monotone so you try to sound and act generally cheerier and upbeat but also uh, you tend to say a lot of weird things

✦ like your phrasing is just kind of Off and Weirdly iterated, you sound old fashioned but in a like, medieval sense

✦ Like you start to greet him specifically with “how fare you” and “good morrow sir” and say “huzzah!” at the end of some of your sentences and none of it sounds right, like it’s just odd and archaic sounding and Extremely Unlike You

✦ At some point mark is even more weirded out by your attempts at being normal that he just, straight up asks you to go back to the way you were before he decided he can put up with your usual strange, gloomy self better than this friendlier side of you

✦ mark starts to notice when tharja!reader is stalking him, it’s never inherently malevolent or out to get him or his loved ones, you're just like, creepy in general

✦ he doesnt have to worry about you trying to hurt him despite your past as a goon of some bigger, more threatening villain

✦ you're reformed and relatively loyal to him and the guardians (at least up until the team splits, then it's pretty clear that you're only really following where he goes)

✦ you're mostly just a lurker

✦ you're fascinated with him in a way you can’t specifically explain, but you fully believe you were destined to meet and tends to speak to him like the two of you are star crossed lovers of some kind

✦ idk if you'd like, go as far as following him to his house that’s insane work even for you, but at places like the gda or the guardian's hq and even during some of his assignments at some point mark would just start to feel you staring at him from somewhere behind him or within the vicinity

✦ you really aren't being that slick with it tbh

✦ yes sometimes you're peering around corners and watching him without him knowing but sometimes someone can just, walk up to see what you're doing and it’s clear as day just watching mark do Literally Anything

✦ you always manage to appear when he’s in the middle of doing something, even if he’s with company

✦ whether it’s walking in to ask cecil a question during one of his training sessions or even just suddenly appearing during casual conversations he’s having with the guardians

✦ it becomes very evident to everyone that you're always going to be lurking somewhere nearby if mark is there

✦ at some point it might become like? comforting? (at least in a stockholm syndrome kind of way)

✦ you become more reliable in combat if you can manage to keep up with him somehow (you're mostly grounded and you don't have very great stamina tbh but you can manage on your own) you do well to watch his flank if you're not in immediate danger, glass cannon and all depending on your opponent’s resistance to magic

✦ but like idk tharja!reader’s head over heels in love with him and isnt opposed to lending an ear or a shoulder to cry on, you just aren’t exactly the first person you’d think to turn to for comfort

✦ i think he’s keeping you at an arm’s length because regardless you're fucking weird but like

✦ idk i want them to have their tharja/robin moment where after getting used to your antics and somewhat comfortable at the idea of you watching over him/taking care of him he feels you watching again and like

✦ reaches out and pulls around the corner you're hiding behind just like, “i mean, i guess an easier way for you to keep doing all this is to just keep you by my side forever or something”

✦ but for now instead of marrying you he'll just like, ask you out on a date

✦ and while you would accept this bc you were almost like? waiting for it, in very tharja fashion you would just be like, “hm, this is wrong, turn back around” and make him ask you again (you still said yes dw)

✦ you're not actually used to him like, looking at you directly

✦ he thinks it's kind of cute in a way that you get kind of shy when he's actually speaking to you face to face

✦ he notices you actually don’t like making eye contact with a lot of people in general, it’s rare to see you actually speak to someone while looking at them dead in the eyes you tend to look down or generally avert your gaze to focus on something else during conversations

✦ cecil probably couldve had you on a tighter leash if he started letting you monitor the graysons with him

✦ 10/10 if someone gave you the job you’d dedicate enough of your time away from studying dark magic and worshiping the fell god to stalk mark on a government paycheck

✦ that’s implying you even like cecil tbh

✦ you honestly couldnt care less what he actually wants to get out of it, you barely listen to him most of the time you're on parole anyway

✦ tbh you could develop a much better hex to keep tabs on mark and his family than whatever cecil’s system is, you just likes doing it yourself

✦ when mark isn’t there for you to shadow? you're holed up in some quiet dark room to practice your dark magic

✦ whether it be studying old texts of rituals and curses or just like, practicing a hex that can change the color of her curtains temporarily

✦ because you're not just practicing spells that are for combat, you're practicing minor hexes for simply just convenience’s sake, or

✦ like yeah you can cast a spell that has to inflict pain onto someone else to replenish your strength and stamina, sure you can sap the life force of another person to heal your wounds or trap someone in a pool of corrosive mire from a few yards away

✦ but what do you actually practice and study the most in you spare time?

✦ developing a new spell to relieve the aches and pains in you feet after you walk in heels, or a hex to help regulate your body temperature just enough to avoid shivering or feeling that prickling sensation from the room being just a bit too warm, sometimes it's just developing a quick charm to take your makeup off at the end of the night because you just couldn't be bothered to go through your whole routine that night

✦ you aren't always trying to cause harm

✦ well, okay except when you're trying to get out of having to see cecil because you Really Don’t Feel Like It and decide to put a curse on him so he gets sick or mildly injured so you can miss your meeting (this has caused him to add more time to whatever deal the two of you made in relation to not sending you to jail)

✦ like not enough to leave him severely harmed of course but like, leave him with a bad cold or maybe like a sprained ankle

✦ something that inconveniences him so he can reschedule and so you can just go back to your books or so you can watch mark in person

✦ this goes for quite a few of the guardians actually

✦ like i mentioned before you'd probably be a reformed villain, like not actually reformed like you had a change of heart and suddenly wanted to do good

✦ but because the villain you worked for was about to get apprehended or killed and you switched teams because you realized you were on the losing side and decided throwing your life away for some crazy mf who doesn't care about you wasn't worth it

✦ you're still not opposed to killing someone if you need to, mark didn’t approve of it though so you've been reeling in your more lethal spells (which was uh, most of them if you're being honest)

✦ it’s taken a bit but you're gradually starting to become more merciful and sparing your opponents from severe bodily harm in an attempt to gain mark’s approval

✦ you'd offer your help to anyone besides mark almost begrudgingly

✦ like you asked for this tbh

✦ you agreed to join the side of the good guys maybe even the gda with some deal with cecil or whatever sure, but you're not going out of your way to interact with your new "teammates"

✦ they always manage to find a way to butt into your business somehow, like you just cant escape them

✦ at some point it's like you're stuck being their therapist at times

✦ like there's something about you that makes people just kind of talk out loud about their problems around you or the universe just has the most impeccable comedic timing when it comes to you walking into a room when someone has a personal issue

✦ like you don't know how to make it any more clear how much you don't really care but like, for whatever reason you decide to offer your assistance (probably just to get them to stop talking)

✦ your methods would be fucking wild and unconventional as hell tho

✦ like oh, mark is still traumatized and conflicted over his feelings about his dad trying to conquer the earth? simple, you’ll just spend a couple of days working on like a whole ritual or concoct some elaborate spell or curse to place on him that will erase his memories of his dad entirely to get rid of the source of the problem like??

✦ it could definitely be a plausible solution (you had the courtesy of offering it to him and waiting for permission to use that spell and he definitely said no ofc) but who the fuck would think of that first???

✦ honestly you'd probably get along with robot decently well

✦ like who else would tharja!reader find kinship with than the fucking weirdo who literally stole his coworker's dna to seem more appealing to his crush? what a fucking freak (you definitely wondered if mark would like you more if you suddenly became ginger or something)

✦ tharja!reader likes to pretend that they're not interested in forming bonds and attachments with others except for mark, but he’s seen how you sit and observe people before offering a solution to their problems

✦ you don’t actively seek out friendship with anyone but he sees how much you try to just like, exist, to prove yourself as trustworthy to the other heroes who hold you at an arm’s length

✦ you tend to be othered due to your track record being a former villain, or because your personality isn’t the most approachable and how you're kind of off putting because your hobbies are strange and how your solutions to problems are extreme at times

✦ like he sees how you get defensive when you think they question your loyalty or judge your practices

✦ you have a tendency to get catty or make snide comments either at others or say something self deprecating about yourself to make a point

✦ you tend to shrug it off as just being honest or realistic, but it’s apparent that it’s starting to get under your skin how much you get treated like a time bomb

✦ he genuinely considers for a moment that you might��ve cursed him

✦ you didn’t btw however everyone definitely thinks you did based on the fact that mark is? actually looking for you now? like willingly?? what the fuck??

✦ like he just cannot stop thinking about you it’s genuinely driving him mad like at first it was because yeah you’re always near him or watching him ofc he’s going to think about you constantly you never leave him alone

✦ but now he’s like, up at night thinking of you sometimes, maybe hugging his pillow to his chest and kicking his feet a little

✦ at some point you aren’t even there and he passes by a shop that has like pretty notebooks or like a black cat or crow plushie in the window and he thinks about you or how you would probably like something like it and maybe he even buys it for himself

✦ if mark ever feels like tharja!reader is like, trustworthy or loyal enough to him (with some stipulations) he might introduce you to his family

✦ you would oddly be mostly disinterested in his family but like, hey, a win’s a win you gets to go to his house and lurk in his room, life is good

✦ depending on when you're invited over mark doesn’t have to worry much about you reporting back to cecil about oliver because you're like

✦ actively avoiding the kid

✦ you look at him like he’s a little creature

✦ like not specifically because he’s an alien or because his skin is purple, but because he’s a child

✦ you don't want any of his kiddy germs on you

✦ mark thinks it’s funny how much you stiffen up when oliver walks over to you

✦ like the way you shuffle further away from him when sitting on the couch and the little sounds of panic/defeat you make when inevitably little toddler oliver corners you and starts like patting your leg or trying to crawl or climb over you

✦ you look so miffed by oliver being curious it's so silly

✦ sometimes you make a minor illusion of like a butterfly or some small glowing image to lure him away so you can escape, or just so he won't hover around you when you're trying to converse with mark or debbie (the graysons finding your efforts to entertain oliver quite silly and endearing in an odd way)

✦ mark pretends not to see you working quietly on making an amulet that can help disguise oliver/change his appearance with a transmog to help debbie save money on whatever foundation or face paint she uses to hide his alien skin

✦ he thinks it’s cute that when oliver’s still pretty young you tend to talk to him like he’s an adult, seeing you holding your amulet up to him and with a rather serious frown explaining to the boy the importance of keeping the pendant unharmed and intact in order for the enchantment to work

✦ the sigh you let out when he inevitably ends up teething on the pendant before giving him the ever so slightly affectionate tug on his cheek is something mark thinks about quite often after that

✦ you don't particularly like being touched by people, but with mark? you're like a cat, you slink around and start to cling to his side or creep up behind him and just sort of like, press into his back and hold onto his waist or shoulders

✦ neither of you have really noticed yet but the two of you both sort of take turns like, watching the other sleep when you're together

✦ whether it be looming over him when he's napping or staring at his face when the two of you fall asleep side by side, you find the peaceful, helpless look on his face when he's vulnerable just oh so mesmerizing

✦ on the other hand whenever you actually managed to fall asleep first beside or on top of him (or sometimes when he finds you slumped over your books, a hex dancing along your fingers to your pen to scrawl across your notes while snoozing in your chair) mark can’t help but find the relaxed expression on your face so… enchanting

✦ it’s corny mark’s so fucking corny but genuinely it’s like you put a spell on him

✦ which tbh is highly probable, like sometimes you put a hex on him during combat to spike his adrenaline for a few seconds or block a pain receptor or two every now and then (maybe even crank up his libido or something idk whatever this little freak wants)

✦ but this time you definitely didn’t do that

✦ last minute addendum mostly unrelated to that last part but this now implies the existence of noire whose father is mark

✦ and that her like bipolar mood swings/personality switches are being influenced by fucking viltrumite genetic strength,,,,,, girl is gonna get a crit and shout “blood and thunder!” and rip a man in half omg

✦ i think they’ve created a monster and by they i ofc mean me this might get a pin put in it i will be scheming about father candidate mark now

[vera-deville]

I am here with but one simple request, jack with a non-confrontational, socially anxious reader! it’s such a contrast with his own confrontational manner and lone-wolf nature that I think would be quite interesting to explore (๑>ᴗ<๑)

love your writing, keep up the good work ^_^ ♡

Louder Than Words 05/03/2025

Pairing: Jack Howl x Reader Word Count: 1,104 Warnings: N/A Gender: GN Tags: @qaxdea, @katzline Notes: Thank you so much! I really needed to hear that, and I'm so happy you enjoy my writing! Masterlist

You had always known that group projects were simply another nook of purgatory established to make life that much more devious to get through.

The very idea of them gave your stomach leeway to twist into anxious knots, constricting like a boa until you couldn't breathe anymore. It wasn't that you didn't like people (okay, perhaps a little), but it was more so that you didn't know what to do with them. The talking. The awkward "who's doing what" conversation. The silent tug-of-war when nobody wanted to take the lead, and everyone kept glancing around, waiting for someone to volunteer. You'd rather write five essays alone in a cave than do one group project with three strangers who barely remember your name.

So when Professor Trein announced a four-person Herbology research project, you nearly curled up under your desk and died on the spot.

And of course, fate - cruel, ironic fate - put Jack Howl in your group.

Jack, with his gruff voice and stone-faced demeanor. Jack, who didn't care if someone got upset when he said what he really thought. Jack, who had no problem walking straight into confrontation like it was a warm summer breeze.

You were going to die. Or cry. Possibly (most likely) both.

The rest of your group was rounded out by a loudmouth from Savanaclaw named Yulan, who had opinions about everything, and a sleepy Octavinelle student who you were 90% sure was just in it for the grade. That left you, nervous, anxious, and wouldn't-say-boo-to-a-ghost you, trying desperately to keep things from going up in smoke.

The first meeting went about as well as expected.

"I'm just saying, if we're talking about magical soil composition, we have to include the variant growth properties from the Scarabia greenhouse. That stuff is wild."

"Yeah, but that's not what the assignment's asking for," Jack cut in, arms crossed. "It says we need to focus on herbological integration in real-world applications, not theory."

"I am talking about a real-world application!"

"Not if you can't prove it," Jack said flatly.

Yulan slammed a notebook on the table. "You wanna bet?"

You could practically feel your soul saying goodbye to your body.

"Um...maybe we can, uh, do both?" You squeaked, almost whispering.

Neither of them heard you.

"Alright, I'm done arguing," Jack growled, standing up. "If you want to waste your time, go for it. But I'm not failing because someone can't read a prompt."

Yulan bristled. "Who're you calling someone, dog boy?"

You slid a little further down in your seat.

And yet, even after the shouting and the note-slinging and the pure chaos of that first meeting, Jack stayed behind when the others left.

You hadn't said a word in the last fifteen minutes. Just scribbled things in your notebook and tried not to look like you wanted to evaporate.

Jack leaned against the table, arms crossed, looking almost...thoughtful.

"Hey," He said. "You okay?"

You blinked. "Huh?"

He nodded toward your still-white-knuckled grip on your pen. "You looked like you were about to bolt."

You flinched. "I...I don't really do well with conflict. Or people in general."

Jack's ears twitched. "I could tell."

You braced yourself for the judgement. The teasing. The "well, toughen up" speech.

But it never came.

Jack looked away, scratching the back of his neck. "Didn't mean to snap like that. I just hate when people don't listen. It's not personal."

You blinked again. Slowly. "You...weren't mad at me?"

He snorted. "You didn't do anything."

That shouldn't have made you tear up the way it did.

"Thanks," You said softly. "I, um...I wanted to say something, but I didn't want to make it worse."

He looked down at you, golden eyes narrowing slightly. Not in judgement. In...curiosity?

"You always like this with people?" He asked.

You nodded mutely.

Jack grunted. "Then I'll talk to them."

"What?"

"I'll keep the loud ones off your back. You focus on the research stuff. You're good at that, right?"

"I-I guess so. I mean, I like organizing and writing..."

"Good," Jack said simply. "Then you do that. And if Yulan tries to start another debate, I'll shut it down."

You blinked. "Just like that?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You want me to not help you?"

"No! I just...I'm not used to people being that direct."

"Guess that's why I'm here," Jack muttered. "Balance."

From then on, Jack didn't just participate in the project - he managed it. Not in the way most people would simply take over, but rather by smoothing out the chaos so that you never had to. If Yulan got too loud, Jack would glare at him until he quieted down. If the Octavinelle student slacked off, Jack growled until he did something useful. And whenever it came time to present your findings to the professor, Jack always, always deferred to you to start the presentation.

"You did most of the writing," He'd shrug. "It's only fair."

You couldn't remember the last time someone had made you feel...capable. Protected, even. But never belittled.

It wasn't just about the project anymore.

Jack started walking with you to class after your meetings. He'd slow his pace to match yours, quietly adjusting his long strides so you didn't feel like you were trying to keep up. When he asked you questions, he actually listened - ears twitching every so often as you spoke, tail swishing thoughtfully behind him.

"You talk quiet," He once said, "But you say smart things."

You flushed all the way to your ears.

Eventually, you even got comfortable enough to sit with him at lunch. Jack didn't talk much, but you didn't feel like you had to either. He liked the silence. He thrived in it. And now, so did you.

"Can I ask you something?" You mumbled one afternoon as you sat underneath a tree, papers spread between you.

Jack nodded.

Why do you go out of your way to help me? I mean, I'm not...strong. Or brave. Not like you."

Jack looked at you for a long moment, then snorted.

"You ever try doing something when your heart's about to leap outta your chest? Walking into a room full of people, talking even when your throat locks up?" He shook his head. "That's strength, too. Just a different kind."

You stared at him.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Don't look at me like I said something poetic."

You laughed. "Sorry. You just surprise me sometimes."

He shrugged. "I like people who are real. You don't put on a front. You just...are."

Your chest swelled with something warm and unsure and a little fluttery.

Maybe group projects weren't all bad.

Author's Note: I've been in a bit of a rut lately, which I was really sad about, because a couple of months ago, I had a really good streak going, and I was churning out fics at a rapid rate. Unfortunately, I just kind of fell off that streak for a while. I'm trying to get back into it, and I also plan on opening commissions soon! Please be on the lookout for more information regarding that, and I hope you enjoyed this fic!

[whitecompri]

😆 Okay, here's a fun idea in mind:

Imagine hedgehog dads' trying to help the kids with their homework (particularly math), and they happened to be just as stumped as they are. And it results in utter chaos.

Inspired by the 6 × 3 video from the classic HARDSTOP LUCAS (if you know him). 😎 🫡

Hope this idea works! If you don't wanna do it, that's fine too. Just a funny idea that I NEEDED to get out there, lol! Have fun! And thank youuu! ❤

Daddy Homework

Pairing: Sonic x Reader; Shadow x Reader; Silver x Reader; Scourge x Reader

Genre: Fluff, light comedy

Rating: G (General Audience)

Warnings: None

A/N: Thank you for the request! I loved the idea, I thought it was a great fit and very funny. I had never seen this video before, and I thought it was really funny too, lol. I hope you like the result!

Sonic

It was late afternoon, the final rays of sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows. The blue hedgehog was leaning casually against the counter, taking a sip of his soda. His ears twitched toward the front door as he heard it creak, signaling someone’s arrival.

Almost immediately, the door creaked again as it closed, followed by small footsteps entering the house.

Slightly turning his head, his green eyes scanned the kitchen entrance, seeing the little blue hedgehog walk in slowly, looking tired, with her backpack on her shoulders. She slipped the straps off, tossed it beside a chair, and, with some effort, managed to sit on the chair—which was taller than her.

“So, kiddo? How was school?” Sonic asked, walking to her side and pulling out a chair.

“Tiring... It’s so boring having to sit in a chair all day...” She crossed her arms.

“I know how it is... But just relax, it’ll be over soon.” He gave her a light pat on the back.

“Dad, can you help me with my homework?” she asked quietly.

“Sure thing. Just show it to your old man—shouldn’t be anything too tricky.” He laughed, leaning an elbow on the table and setting aside his soda as she reached for her bag, pulling out her pencil case and notebook.

She carefully opened the notebook, flipping through the pages until she found the lesson, then handed it to her dad, who smiled and scanned the page.

“All right, let’s see...” Sonic began to read. “An isosceles triangle is a type of triangle that has two equal sides and—hold on, what? Congruent? Equal angles? Formed with the base?” He furrowed his brow, tilting the notebook as if that would help him understand, his confident grin fading as he read. “Huh... where’s the good old math?”

He looked at his daughter and raised an eyebrow.

“What’s up, Dad? You’re an adult, right? You should know this stuff.” She crossed her arms at him.

“I’m an adult with tons of knowledge and experience in many fields, just not triangle puzzles. By Gaia, I don’t even know what that is. I thought math was just adding, subtracting, dividing, and multiplying!” He crossed his arms back at her.

“But that is math, Dad—it’s trigonometry!”

“To me, that just sounds like a snowboard trick. My thing’s speed. I wasn’t made for tough stuff like this. If it were a simple addition or subtraction problem, I’d handle it no problem.” He handed the notebook back to her.

“Can’t you at least try? This assignment is going to count for a grade!” she sighed in exasperation.

Sonic paused for a few seconds, looking at his daughter intently before taking a deep breath.

“All right...” He ran a hand through his quills, frowning. “What do I know about triangles...” He tapped his finger against his temple, closing his eyes tightly, thinking, impatiently tapping his foot on the floor.

Suddenly, he snapped his fingers, opened his eyes, and dashed off, leaving his daughter confused and staring at the spot he’d just been.

She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, Sonic reappeared in front of her, holding a small decorative pyramid ornament made of metal.

“How’s this?” He flashed a sly grin.

“And how are you planning to solve my homework with that, Dad?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Just use a ruler and add the sides, right?” He tossed the little pyramid into the air and skillfully caught it.

“Of course not!” She took a step forward, pointing at the notebook.

“Sweetheart, solving puzzles is way outside my dad skills...” He flashed her a grin.

“They’re asking for angles, Dad… A-N-G…”

“Okay, no need to spell it out, I get it...” He puckered his lips at her, gripping the pyramid in his hand and setting it on the table, pulling out a chair as she sat across from him.

“I got something that might help...” She rummaged in her backpack and pulled out a round ruler marked with angles.

“Now that helps...” He took the ruler and placed it next to the pyramid, squinting as he inspected the measurements.

“So?” asked the little hedgehog innocently.

“Ninety degrees?” He raised a confused eyebrow, studying the ruler more closely. “Write that down—ninety degrees. And if your teacher gives you trouble, just say your dad helped.” Sonic sighed, handing the ruler back and folding his arms.

“You’re giving up?! We didn’t even really start!” she exclaimed, slapping her hand on the table.

Just then, you entered the kitchen, drawn by the commotion.

“What are you two up to?” you asked, standing at the table and observing the small pyramid now in place.

“Dad was trying to help me with homework… and totally failing,” Sonic pouted at you, then turned to you.

“I wasn’t totally failing—I can’t fail at something I haven’t really tried yet!” He folded his arms again.

“Let me take a look at the assignment...” You picked up the notebook and scanned it, your eyes widening. “Your age and this? Are you really supposed to be learning this already?” you questioned your daughter, who nodded.

“Look,” you said, leaning close. “We start with the law of sines…” You showed her precisely how to complete the exercise.

Sonic’s mouth dropped open as he watched you teach your daughter. Then a small smile spread across his muzzle as admiration glowed in his eyes.

“...Exactly right. Now, to finish, you’ll find the result—2√3, perfect!” You smiled at your daughter, praising her. She looked thrilled.

Then you looked at Sonic, and the intense way he was staring at you made your cheeks flush hot.

“W-what?” you asked, looking away.

He stood and came to your side, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“That was amazing.” He winked at you.

“Well... everyone’s got their areas of expertise, right?” You scratched your neck.

“My area of expertise says I’ve just fallen even more in love with you...” He offered you a knowing side smile. “I’m so lucky to have someone so smart in my life...” His voice dropped lower.

Just then, your daughter broke the spell.

“If you two are gonna kiss, wait until I’m gone—I don’t wanna see any of that.” She said firmly, her ears drooping as she packed up her things.

“Oh, my bad, kiddo...” Sonic chuckled and gave you a quick kiss on your forehead. “We’ll continue later...” He released you, grabbed his soda, then crouched beside your daughter to ruffle her quills playfully.

“Wanna go for a run? Not that you’ll beat me, but it’ll be fun.” The little one gave a mischievous smile and nodded, and in an instant, the two of them were gone, leaving only a blue blur behind, their clothes fluttering in the rush of speed.

You sighed and closed your eyes, shaking your head. It was amazing how he still made you blush, even after all this time together—and it was one of the things you loved most about him.

Shadow

It was early on a weekend morning; a gentle breeze rustled his black quills as he focused on the task he had chosen for the day: cleaning his motorcycle.

Shadow carefully wiped the metal parts, his red eyes scanning for any specks of dirt on the vehicle.

He heard small footsteps approaching across the yard and didn’t even have to look to know it was his daughter—he knew the sound of her walk too well.

“Dad?” she called softly.

“Hm?” he responded, placing the cloth on the handlebar and turning to her.

She came closer and handed him her open notebook.

“Can you help me with my homework?” she asked as he took the notebook into his hands.

“Sure... Come, let’s sit over here.” He guided her to sit at a small wooden table nearby, placing the notebook down and beginning to look over the assignment.

“So? You know the answer, right? This assignment’s even messing with my sleep,” she said worriedly, fidgeting with her fingers on the table.

“The powers (-2)^4 and -2^4… are they the same or different...?” He read the question quietly, then brought a hand to his chin, narrowing his eyes. He took a few seconds to think before clicking his tongue.

“Dad? You don’t know the answer?” the little one asked.

“It’s not about not knowing... The real question is... what’s the point of this in your life?” He looked into her eyes.

“I won’t pass the school year if I don’t know it,” she raised an eyebrow at Shadow, who just closed his eyes and sighed.

“You don’t know how to do it, do you? I thought the Ultimate Lifeform would be able to solve something like this easily...” she crossed her arms at him.

“I was created for many reasons, but solving math questions was definitely not one of them...” he said, picking up a pencil and trying to scribble something in the notebook.

“Why are you answering it then?” she leaned over slightly, trying to see what he was writing, eyes widening when she saw him doing some absurd math.

“Dad, you’re adding both numbers? That’s not how it starts!”

“I’m trying...” he gritted his teeth, grabbing the eraser and rubbing out his scribbles.

“That’s just scribbles, Dad... not the answer,” she raised an eyebrow at him.

“Tell me how to start the question then...” He dropped the pencil on the notebook, crossing his arms, waiting for her to respond.

She scooted closer, pointing at the problem.

“Dad... this is raised to the fourth power... that means you do two times two four times... not two times four!”

Shadow looked at her with his mouth slightly open, processing her words for a few seconds, then raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t get it... if I do two times two four times...” He discreetly counted on his fingers. “It all comes out to four...” His red eyes looked at her in confusion. She just put a hand to her temple.

“No, first you do two times two... then you do two times four!”

“Whoever made this wasn’t very smart... There should be a better way to visualize it... How was I supposed to know this is how you do it?” He raised his hands in disbelief.

“By learning math?” she crossed her arms at him.

“Math never helped me protect the world...” He crossed his arms right back, grinding his teeth.

Watching the two of them at the little table outside, seemingly locked in a long debate, you raised an eyebrow and slowly walked outside, stopping beside Shadow and looking closely at what they were doing.

“Homework?” you asked, noticing how Shadow’s shoulders instantly tensed up at your approach.

“Yeah... but Dad’s not really helping much...” the little one said softly.

“Ah, sweetie, Shadow is terrible with anything school-related.” You giggled softly, watching your daughter’s surprised expression.

“What do you mean?” she asked, stunned.

“Your dad never turned in a single homework assignment in his life when he was living on the ARK.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling him tense up even more.

“...I thought we agreed never to bring up that detail about my life again.” He muttered lowly, blushing slightly under his fur.

“Sorry, but she had to know, Shads...” you whispered.

“Whoa... I had no idea Dad was the Ultimate Slacker...” she said, amazed, staring at Shadow.

“Well... I can help,” you said, pointing at the notebook.

The little one began writing, while Shadow silently followed along with his eyes.

He raised an eyebrow as he watched the simple steps being completed.

“There you go, the answer’s 16 and -16, perfect.” You praised her, and she happily took her notebook and ran back inside.

Then, you turned your gaze back to Shadow, who sat with his arms crossed and eyes closed.

“Don’t be upset, Shads.” You smiled, walking up behind him and placing your hands on his shoulders. This time, he relaxed under your touch.

“It’s just a bit of math... nothing you’ve ever needed before in your life...” He nodded briefly.

“...Would you teach me?” he asked softly, making your face light up.

“Of course! I can give you private lessons anytime you want—it might be helpful to know the basics.” You hugged him from behind, resting your chin on top of his head.

He let out a quiet ‘hmph,’ though a small smile began to form on his muzzle as he enjoyed being close to you and the idea of spending more time together.

Silver

The white hedgehog was humming softly, content, as he gently poured water from his watering can over the garden. His golden eyes sparkled with pride as he admired all the green and blooming plants.

After finishing, he set the watering can down, placing a hand on his hip to take in the view—until, from the corner of his eye, he spotted a little hedgehog standing at the door, watching him.

Silver turned his head slightly, now seeing his daughter clearly. He smiled warmly and floated over to her with his powers.

“Hey there, little one. What’s wrong?” He landed in front of her, noticing the worried look on her face.

“Dad, I need help with my homework...” she said, hugging her book. Silver’s eyes lit up.

“Great! I can help you—let me take a look.” He smiled, carefully taking the book as she showed him the homework page.

“Okay... Solve the complete quadratic equation using the quadratic formula... 2x² + 7x + 5 = 0...” He stared at the equation for a few seconds, scratching the back of his neck.

“Dad?” the little one asked.

“Uh...” He furrowed his brow at the page. “I’ve never seen anything like this in my life...” he admitted softly. “Bhaskara is... what, exactly?” he asked in a whisper.

“The guy who made this up... or something like that,” she shrugged.

“Hmmm...” He rubbed his chin, pouting in concentration. “But... doesn’t this equation already have an answer?”

“I think it wants the value of X, Dad, not the value after the equals sign...”

“Ah, right...” He shrank into himself a little, clearly intimidated by the equation. “In the future we don’t have anything like this... Math’s really different over there...” he murmured.

“That’s true... I guess I never thought about it...” the little one crossed her arms, thinking.

“But I can still help... let’s go.” He smiled, taking the pencil she handed him.

The hedgehog sat down on the ground at the doorstep, the little one doing the same, both examining how to begin.

“Alright... if I have two X’s... let’s say I have...” He looked around and smiled as he spotted two small stones, placing them in front of him. “If I have two stones with this little number here...”

“Dad, I don’t think that’s how you do it...” she raised an eyebrow at his method.

“Relax, sweetie... In the future, math works like this... I think.” He looked away. “Anyway... moving on, how about...” He tapped the pencil to his chin.

“How about we just start with the formula?”

“You mean that... Baskada thing?”

“Bhaskara.”

“Yeah, that one... Well, I wish I knew what that formula actually is...” He gave her a sheepish grin. “There’s gotta be another way to do it...”

“No, Dad... there’s not.” She shook her head. Silver pouted.

“Not even... if I try using my powers?... Even if it probably won’t help...” he laughed.

“It’s okay, Dad. Thanks for trying to help...” she said softly, reaching to take the book back.

“Wait, I’ve got it!” Silver said suddenly, excited, turning around and heading inside. The little one followed, hopeful and curious.

He found you at the kitchen table, reading a book calmly.

The hedgehog sat in front of you, beaming, and placed the book in front of you. You looked up from your book, curious, then saw the workbook.

“Homework, huh?” You smiled.

“Can you help?” Silver asked, as the little one stopped at his side.

“What’s the task?” You marked your page and set your book down. “A quadratic equation? It’s been years since I’ve done one, but I think I can help.” You said cheerfully.

“Thank you, you’re a real lifesaver...” Silver laughed, crossing his arms on the table. The little one did the same.

“It’s nothing. If you want, I can teach you too.” You smiled.

“Sounds great to me. Math in the future is... not exactly like this.” He scratched his neck, glancing away.

“I know, alright, let me see what I can do.” You analyzed the question, grabbing a pencil and beginning to explain to both of them how the equation worked, making small pauses to remember things before continuing.

However, Silver was actually more focused on you than on your explanation. He was watching you with a soft gaze, following every movement you made with his eyes, a little smile on his face.

Then he let out a long sigh, catching your attention.

“Everything okay? You seem lost in thought...” You laughed, watching him blush and his eyes widen.

“N-no, it’s nothing! I was just... admiring you...” He looked away, scratching his arm.

You chuckled softly.

“Thank you, Silver. You're adorable...”

He smiled gently, then suddenly stood up from the chair.

“I-I’m gonna make us a snack... I’ll be right back!” He fumbled a little trying to get out of where he was, quickly heading to the cabinets, looking for ingredients.

Now it was your turn to admire him, watching every agile movement and the little smiles he gave.

“Mom...?” The little one called, breaking the spell and bringing your attention back to her.

“Ah, sorry, here, you just have to do this and you’ll finish the equation.” You said quickly. The little hedgehog giggled softly, clearly enjoying the cute interactions between her parents.

Scourge

The hedgehog was sprawled out on the couch, his muzzle fur covered in chip crumbs as he munched away. Every now and then his hand reached into the bag for more snacks, bringing them lazily to his mouth.

He shifted a bit, stretching his back, enjoying the calm of the house at night. In the armchair, you were curled up reading a book, also savoring the peaceful moment.

That was until the sound of a bedroom door upstairs echoed through the house. The familiar creak made Scourge flick his ears back. He licked his fingers and tossed the snack bag aside. His blue eyes followed the sound of tiny footsteps coming down the stairs, already spotting two little green-furred hedgehogs whose eyes sparkled mischievously upon seeing Scourge.

“Dad!” the older one called out, coming down quickly, followed by her younger sister.

“Whaddaya want?” he asked, stretching and sitting upright to look at them.

“...Help us with homework?” the older one asked with an innocent look, showing him her notebook, the younger mimicking her with hers.

“Uh...” Scourge looked at their notebooks, scratched his neck, then glanced over at you. “Hey... think ya could gimme a hand here?” he asked. Slowly, you lowered your book, observing the three—but didn’t even have time to answer.

“Dad! We want your help this time. Mom helps every time!” the older one insisted, crossing her arms and staring at Scourge. His ears turned sideways, clearly uncomfortable. You let out a husky chuckle, enjoying the scene and his interaction with the girls.

“...My help, huh?”

“Yes...” both said in unison.

“You sure? 'Cause askin’ a stranger on the street might be smarter...” Scourge laughed at his own joke, but his smile faded when he noticed the girls were still serious, arms crossed.

“We don’t care if your head’s empty...” the little one said.

“Hey, watch ya mouth—I’m still ya dad...” he pointed to himself, making the two exchange confused glances.

“Anyway... you heard my sister, we don’t care, we just want your help...” The older one placed the notebook in his lap, waiting for his next move.

Scourge sighed, thinking for a moment, scratching his cheek before clicking his tongue.

“Aight, screw it. I’ll help ya two.” He extended his hand, opening the notebook to the last page.

“This one... just this one left...” The little one pointed to the question.

Scourge cleared his throat before reading aloud.

“What’s the volume ‘n total surface area of a rectang’lar prism with... what—5, 7, and 9 cm?” He paused, trying to make sense of what he just read, then furrowed his brow. “What the hell’s that even s’posed to mean?” He looked at the girls.

“Dad, you’re supposed to know that!” The older one crossed her arms.

“Pfft, yeah right. D’you see me lookin’ like someone who loves math?” He raised an eyebrow at them.

“No, but I thought you’d at least be useful for helping.”

“You’re really gonna keep throwin’ shade at ya own father?!” He gritted his teeth.

“Of course! How can you be the leader of a gang, become a king, fight a bunch of strong people... and still not know how to do basic math?” The older one waved her arms, trying to wrap her head around the fact that Scourge just didn’t know how to do that question.

“I never had to know nothin’ about volume or area... or whatever them scribbles are in that notebook... My brains ain’t about stupid numbers, alright?” he muttered, clearly getting irritated.

You let out a quiet giggle, continuing to read but clearly listening to the conversation.

“You laughin’ at somethin’?” Scourge raised an eyebrow at you.

“Nothing, I was just reacting to a funny part in the book...” You winked at him, returning to your reading. It was pretty obvious the book wasn’t the reason for your laughter.

“Tch... Aight, ya little punks...” He grabbed a pencil and started scribbling something—an absolutely horrendous scrawl. “Done and done. Daddy left a lil' note for the teacher.” He grinned smugly.

“Dad... I hope that’s not a threat...” the older one said in disbelief, taking the notebook from his hands and reading the note. “Teach my daughters something that’s actually useful?” she read aloud.

“Whaddaya think? Just saved ya from homework ‘til the end of the year...” He leaned back on the couch, hands behind his head like he’d saved the world.

The little one huffed, grabbing an eraser and rubbing out the note he’d written.

“I’m not showing that to the teacher...” she frowned.

“Daddy... can you help me?” the younger one asked quietly, holding up her notebook.

“This homework’s already meltin’ my brain...” he sighed, taking the notebook—only for his face to light up with a huge smile. “Six times three? Easy, kid. That’s twenty-one—write it down.” He handed back the notebook, puffing his chest proudly, feeling like father of the year.

At that moment, you lifted your eyes and stared at him in surprise, then raised an eyebrow. The girls looked at Scourge with the same mix of shock and confusion.

“Scourge...” you said softly. “Twenty-one?”

“What? That ain’t right?” He scratched his head, starting to count on his fingers.

“Dad... It’s eighteen...” the older one said with her mouth agape.

Scourge’s eyes went wide, his muzzle visibly flushing even through his fur. He looked away, crossing his arms.

“I-I knew that! C’mon...” He squeezed his own arm, then suddenly got up and left, muttering, disappearing into the kitchen.

You watched Scourge carefully, then turned to your daughters.

“Let Daddy rest his brain. I’ll help you.” Smiling, you closed your book and placed it on the coffee table.

You already knew Scourge would probably stay sulking for quite a while after that scene. But you were also determined to comfort him later and make sure he wouldn’t stay upset about it.

[coltermorning]

A Standing Offer Pt. 2 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: When your car ends up with a minor problem, you’re forced to interact with Arthur again.

Author’s Notes: Part two of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, eventual smut

AO3 Link

~

A Standing Offer

Word count: 3418

Part Two

“That aren’t gonna buff out, Artur.”

Arthur was doing his best to ignore the Irishman at his side, sweat beginning to bead across his forehead for his efforts. He was trying hard to get your bumper back in working order, but it was proving more difficult than he’d thought.

“What is it they call insanity? Doing the same ting over again and expecting different results?”

“Quit while you’re ahead,” Arthur grumbled.

“Exactly what you should doing there.”

Arthur stood so fast that Sean jumped back to avoid him. Arthur laughed at him. “What you so jumpy for? I’m just getting another cover for this buffer.”

“Oh, sure you are,” Sean said. “Very funny.”

“Unless you think I have reason to beat your teeth in,” Arthur suggested.

“Me? Never,” Sean answered, following Arthur along as he made for the part he was looking for.

“Shit, there’s reason enough to give you a good beating every day,” Arthur said, scanning the shelves on the wall. He found the right cover for the buffer machine and took it off the shelf, feeling along it to see if it would do the trick. He wasn’t quite pleased, but it was worth trying at least.

“You always this nasty toward your friends?” Sean teased.

Arthur finally turned to him. “To my coworker who won’t go work his job, keeping me from mine in the process? Yes.”

“Ahh, you love me though. Besides, I know what it is. You’re just hung up on that girl. What’s her name? Ruby?”

Arthur really could have punched him then, and John and Javier too for ever mentioning you in the first place.

“I ain’t hung up on anyone. Now go do the job you’re hired to do before I fire you myself.”

Sean let out a bark of a laugh. “You wish you could, English.” But, thankfully, he let Arthur be and went back to the old Chevy he had been assigned a week ago.

Even though Arthur’s shadow was gone, he found himself even more aggravated when he continued buffing out the bumper. The breaks in the plastic that resulted when the piece bent back into its proper shape weren’t going anywhere.

Arthur put the buffer down and rocked back on his knees, hands on his hips. This weren’t good. Either you’d need a new bumper, or you would have to come up here and confirm that you were all right with the damage. The second one was cheaper, but Arthur wanted no reason for the boys at the shop to keep ribbing him over you. It didn’t make any goddamn sense, as far as he was concerned. John and Javier were the two idiots who had cornered you in that club. He’d barely even spoken to you in comparison. But no, all he’d heard since was how sweet on you he was, volunteering to fix up your car cheap. He wished he’d never even offered.

Truth be told, Arthur didn’t quite know why he’d done it. There was the obvious, that he felt bad for all the damage his truck had caused that you would have to pay for. But beyond that, he’d told himself the minute he left the Rouge that he would block all thought of you off. True, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you that night, and also true, he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you’d spoken to him. But it was your job to act as you had toward him. He didn’t think he’d ever have reason to see you again anyway. When he got out of his truck in all that buzzing traffic, the last person he’d expected was you, shouting at some poor girl enough to make her look like she was shrinking into her clothes. He was so amused by your change in behavior that he’d told himself right then and there to be done with it all. He couldn’t fall for a stripper who had only paid him any mind because she was getting paid to do so. So, he’d told you the damage, determined to leave it there, then the words that he would help you came spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them. And he’d regretted them every moment since.

Arthur wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his arm, knowing either way, the shape the car was in at least warranted a call. Best to get it over with sooner rather than later.

~

A number you didn’t have saved in your phone crossed your screen, distracting you from your reality TV. You would normally damn whoever it was and ignore it, but a lot of random numbers had been calling you since moving and starting a new job. You groaned loudly and picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Y/N? This is Arthur.”

Well, well. You didn’t like the excitement that bolted through you one bit.

“Hey,” you said simply, not wanting to make this some big deal. Simple phone call, back to your show.

“I got a problem with your car.”

Just perfect. Couldn’t you have one relaxing day?

“What is it?”

“I got the front bumper back in place, but the breaks in the plastic won’t buff out.”

“So…”

“So you’ll either have to keep it like this or order a new bumper.”

“Oh.” That was an easy decision. “It doesn’t affect driving it, does it?”

“No, just cosmetic.”

You grinned at his use of the word cosmetic. “Easy enough. Leave it like it is.”

“Can do,” he said. And, just before you were about to hang up and go back to your show, “I’ll need you to come look at the damage and sign off on it.”

Christ. You really didn’t need to go see this man in person again. You would have to go back up there to get your car anyway, but you were hoping Arthur would already be busy with another car by then. “Can’t you just sign it for me? Take this as my personal attestation that I won’t sue you?”

“Afraid not,” he said simply.

“Ugh. Fine. When do I need to come up there?”

“It’s ready now. Anytime before five.”

“Great,” you said with as much sarcasm as you could muster. “Be there soon.”

“Bye,” he said, and hung up before you could.

“Bye,” you said in a sing-song voice, tossing your phone across the couch. This was just not what you needed right now. You were thrilled the car was done so soon, but you were determined to get this man out of your head. Going to see him at his shop, where he dressed like masculinity given form, would not help. But you sucked it up and called an uber anyway, at least glad that you wouldn’t have to inconvenience Janiyah by bumming a ride anymore.

The entire ride to the shop, you watched the traffic from the back seat and did your best to hold your tongue. But truly, you would have to move closer to the club or something. This road rage was taking years off your life.

Before you could do something stupid enough to ruin your uber rider rating, you arrived at Arthur’s shop. It was named Van der Linde Auto Shop—a mouthful of a name that you’d told them to change upon learning it. Because of it, though, you’d learned that Arthur didn’t own the place, that his last name was Morgan, and way too many other personal things about the guys who worked here. John and Javier included. The owner hadn’t been in the last time, and neither had the rest of their little gang of merry men. But today as you walked up in broad daylight, the place was crawling with them.

“Y/N,” someone called out from your right, and you squinted into the sunlight to find John. There laid another problem—because of the business with the cars and the cops, they now knew your real name.

John loped over, pausing his work on a ridiculously jacked-up truck you had a sneaking suspicion was his.

“Hey. Arthur’s just inside. Said to let him know when you got here.”

“Well, here I am,” you said, curious over John’s enthusiasm. You wondered if it was due to flattery or guilt. Most men couldn’t help feeling one or the other toward you after meeting you a second time.

“This way,” he said, sure as ever. You followed him in through the shop’s big bay doors, thinking he was likely feeling both. But you refrained from calling him on it, remembering the woman he and Arthur had been arguing about at the club. No need to insert yourself there.

“Arthur! Y/N’s here,” John called out to the floor.

You couldn’t see Arthur but heard him call out, “Give me a minute. Almost done here.”

You turned to John and smiled. “Thanks for the help.”

The scars across his face stretched as he smiled back. “No problem. See you.” Then he turned to go, and you could only laugh under your breath at his confidence.

“Yeah, see you.”

Wanting to get out of here as quick as you could, you went looking for Arthur. There were cars in the way and four other men you could see working—Javier and three others you’d never met—but no Arthur. Javier waved at you with a shit-eating grin on his face. You didn’t even want to know, just waved back. But you did spot your car near the back of the shop, so you made for it. Only, you saw sudden movement by your feet and stopped, taking in the sight of…holy fuck.

There were two work boots and a very familiar pair of well-fitting jeans sticking out from under the car at your side. Arthur was on his back on one of those stupid roller things, and the way he reached up to work on the underside of the car revealed a sliver of very chiseled, deliciously sweaty abdomen. You had two seconds to imagine your tongue on those muscles before you mentally kicked yourself and behaved.

You nudged one of his boots. “So, should I come down there, or..?”

There was a moment’s hesitation before he pushed himself out from under the car, rising up and putting those abs to work. You forced yourself not to watch them. Even though the rest of him looked just as good in a black shirt that stretched across his broad chest. He had black streaks across his arms and hands from whatever he had been doing with the car, and he started to wipe them away with a dirty rag.

“What part of ‘give me a minute’ didn’t you get?” he asked, though he sported a smug look as he said it.

You just shrugged. “You look done to me.” Not just done—hot as fuck, you thought to yourself. The way he cleaned his hands with that rag made his forearm muscles turn over, bulging. Something about the movement and the black shirt as opposed to the white one he had been in the last time...

Now that you took him all in, you realized he was undoubtedly threatening in a way that ran past the seams of his shirt and down his coarse arm muscles to his able hands. This man was barely-contained power. And yet, you still wanted it all for yourself.

“I am done,” he said. “But make no mistake, if I weren’t, you’d be waitin’.”

“You sure know how to charm a girl,” you replied lazily, easily. It was so easy to flirt with him you made a point to keep the chit chat to a minimum from then on.

He smirked and threw the rag on top of the car, rolling the contraption he’d been lying on back under the car with his boot. “Car’s over here,” he said, leading the way. You watched his ass in those jeans again, not really caring to divert your gaze. If this was the last time you saw him, it was best to take in the view.

He stopped just before your car and pointed at the front bumper. “Scratches are just there.”

You leaned down to get a better look and were pleasantly surprised. They really weren’t bad. You certainly wouldn’t be buying a whole new bumper just to fix a few pieces of fractured plastic. They were noticeable, but the thing was drivable and had two properly-shaped bumpers again. That was the best you could ask for at the price he was offering.

You straightened up and turned to him, and his gaze flicked back to your face. From where it had been on your ass.

This was a dangerous game the two of you were playing.

“Looks fine to me,” you said. “Where do I sign?”

He just grunted in response, motioning for you to follow him. You really wished he wasn’t so gruff. Rude, really. If he’d just accepted your dance back at the club, he would be gone from your thoughts entirely. But no. He had to make things difficult, like he knew you were a sucker for a challenge.

Arthur led you back to the shop’s corner office, one you noted was walled with glass. Likely so whoever was in here could see what was happening on the shop floor, though your mind went to less innocent things, like what all those workers would think of what a mess Arthur could make of you on this very desk. You shook that thought off before it could take root and looked to Arthur. He had found the form he wanted from the filing cabinet and laid it down on the desk, beginning to fill out the details of the repair. You watched his shoulders and back muscles work against the tiny weight of the pen on paper. This man really was a sight to admire.

“There, if you’ll just…sign there,” he said finally, flipping the paper around for you to sign. He held the pen out to you, and you impulsively tried to catch his gaze as you took it, but he wouldn’t look up. Coward.

You set your purse down in the chair at your side and signed. When you finished and handed him back the pen, he gathered up all the paperwork and the receipt. Then you paid and knew it was time to go or else risk getting hung up on this idiot.

“Here’s the keys,” he said, handing them over. “Try your best to drive a little better from now on.”

“Shut up,” you quipped. “Like you wouldn’t be happy to have me back in.”

He chuckled and shook his head, his face tingeing red. “Go before I charge you for keeping me from my job.”

You gave him one last long look, memorizing that handsome face, before turning on your heel. “Thank you, Arthur.”

All he said in response as he followed you back to the floor was, “Be sure to put it in reverse to back out of here. That’s the one with the ‘R’.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you shot back, though you gave him a smile and a laugh as you did, secretly hoping that just as it usually did at the Rouge, the look would linger.

~

It took you until you got out of your car back at your apartment to realize you didn’t have your purse. It, and your phone, and your wallet, were still sitting in that goddamn chair at Arthur’s shop.

You let out a groan and slapped a hand to your forehead, debating turning right around to go get it. You would need it for work tonight. But you also didn’t want to see Arthur again. You’d spent the entire ride home cursing yourself a fool for how you’d acted toward him at the shop. It was infuriating, really, how you just wanted to be done with him, but seeing him made you turn into the world’s biggest, most obnoxious flirt. You could not get involved with this man. It went against every instinct you had in your professional life. So, you did what any sane person would do when faced with such a problem and avoided it. You stomped upstairs and slammed your apartment door shut behind you, leaving that problem for a later, much wiser, version of yourself.

After eating a ridiculous amount of junk food and bingeing reality TV for the rest of the day, you finally gave in and left a little earlier than usual to go get your purse back before work. You only hoped that John or Javier or literally anyone other than Arthur would be the one to retrieve it for you when you got there.

Upon arriving, not only were you disappointed, you were debating turning right back around and leaving. It was late enough on a Wednesday night that everyone else had left for the day, and only Arthur’s gray truck remained sitting just in front of the office. Fuck.

All you could do was go in and get your shit and leave with as few words as possible, and that’s exactly what you aimed to do as you parked beside him and walked up to the door. But then you saw him through the glass office windows walking around the shop carrying some power tool, lifting his shirt up to wipe his sweat away. You watched that glorious body in silence, not moving a muscle to go inside as he used the tool to saw a piece off of a car. Fuck him and his stupid sculpted body.

Before you could move, he looked up and saw you standing there. He startled a little but set the tool down and walked over to you, opening the door. “Jesus, you trying to scare the shit out of me?”

“Sorry,” you managed. “I was just…I left my purse.”

“Oh. Where?”

You pointed inside the shop to the chair that held the tiny bundle of leather you could have burned up with the spite you felt toward it.

He held the door open wider for you and motioned for you to come in.

“Sorry about that,” you said honestly. “Didn’t mean to take up so much of your day.”

He huffed a laugh. “You sure about that?”

You stopped and turned toward him. “What do you mean?”

He crossed the room and took your purse, handing it to you in an annoyingly courteous way that made you think get out now before you do something stupid.

“Just that I’m starting to think you like my company,” he said, meeting your eye with a smile so charming that it made your flirting look pitiful in comparison.

You were lost on a comeback and settled for a simple, “I’m just forgetful is all.” Even though that couldn’t be farther from the truth—he had distracted you into forgetting your purse earlier.

“Uh huh,” he quipped. “And you just happened to be looking my way when I spotted you watching me work through that window, right?”

You felt your face heat. “Something like that.”

He really smiled now. “‘Course.”

He let the silence stretch enough for you to feel a panic you normally never did when it came to men.

“Well, thank you,” you said, turning for the door. “I owe you.”

“Nah, you don’t owe me anything. We’re even,” he said as he stepped forward and opened the door for you.

You passed him and walked into the night air, about to do the very thing you knew you shouldn’t. But you did, because he was a good person under all that toughness.

“Not even a dance?” you quipped, turning on him with a raised eyebrow.

His face hardened, his jaw clenching just a heartbeat long enough for you to know the comment had its desired effect. But then he leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms in amusement.

“You want to know why I turned you down before? Why I will every time you ask?”

Your heart started racing in a way no man had made it race in years. “Why?”

“Because I don’t pay for it. If I get what I want from you, it ain’t going to be for any money.”

You just stared at him. He stood straight and let the door fall in, retreating back into his shop. “Night,” he said without looking back. And you were left watching him go, for once the one allowing a man’s words to linger.

[lieutenantselnia]

Ever since I played the first Kingdom Come: Deliverance game I've been wondering why Istvan Toth's German voice sounds so familiar, but I could never point out from where else specifically I knew him, until now. His voice actor, Charles Rettinghaus, is fairly successful and has voiced loads of different characters during his career, but I had the feeling that I probably didn't remember him from one of his more well-known roles, but rather some one-off villain or minor character from a kids show or something like that. Specifically that arrogant, backstabbing villain tone he does as Istvan felt oddly familiar to me. Turns out I was completely right, because today (randomly while brushing my teeth) it suddenly struck me: He was also the German voice of Kuchikukan, a one-off villain in The Penguins of Madagascar in the special episode Operation Lunacorn Apocalypse. To sum it up in the shortest way possible, Kuchikukan is an evil spirit who is accidentally freed and then takes possession of Private's toy unicorn, as he needs a body in order to follow through with his his plan to take over and eventually destroy the planet, and of course the penguins have to stop him. He talks with exactly the same arrogant, overconfident voice as Istvan does whenever he's sure that he has the upper hand in a situation. It's just so hilarious to me to see them side by side, like - in another universe, Istvan Toth is an evil pink toy unicorn with world domination/destruction plans.

Also by now I've already reached the point in the story of KDC2 where Istvan won't make another appearance (I should prioritise my assignments but I just love this game so much❤️), and honestly I'm almost kind of sad about it now. Like, when I'm immersed in the story playing as Henry he always pissed me off extremely, but as a character viewed from the outside, he weirdly grew on me in the second game now, and I think a big part of the reason is because he always sounded like his voice actor had just so much fun voicing him and I just found him really entertaining. Like, he really stole the show every time he was on screen. I feel like this playthrough won't remain the only one I do😅

[zepskies]

Oh my God wow, thank you so much, friend!! 🥹 It's amazing to me that you set aside the time not just to listen to this, but to have so much thoughtful feedback to share about it! 💕

This was my very first time hearing your voice, and I feel the need to point out what a pleasant voice you have, Alex! And I do mean this in the most sincere way, coming from someone who can be very very picky about what voices to listen to. I know this wasn't the point of the podcast, but I had to let you know :)

ehehe omg thank you!!! 🥰 I used to hate my own voice in recordings, so that makes me feel better. 😂

That's such an amazing compliment!! 😭 You know I try my best to get the characters' voices and mannerisms right, especially Dean because he's living in my heart for such a long time. I tried really hard in Smoke Eater too because that was my first full AU story ever.

ahhhhhh I loved Yellowstone!! Haha I think the reason I didn't go that route is because I didn't want to outright copy the show, but maybe now that I've finished watching it I'll come back to the idea of a modern cowboy AU for Dean.

Awww I love that, of course you're included!!! 💗💗

First of all, I found it very interesting that despite your own heritage, you grew up with a white reader in mind. Just goes to show how predominantly a white person is and has been the main character in so much of media that that's what your brain defaulted to.

yuuuup, that's what it was. Plus in school I was always the minority, especially because the families that went to my school were much wealthier than mine.

I also thought your discussion about what makes an OC an OC and where a reader insert stops being a reader insert suuuper interesting. Because that's a genuine question! Where does a blank slate stop being a blank slate, and how much character do you have to give to the reader role in a reader insert fic for the story still to work, right? I loved to hear your take on it, especially where you said that writing reader inserts is basically like writing OCs without giving them a name. - I had never thought about it that way! But of course, you're right. Because a reader that is an active participant in a story can't be a completely blank slate. They have to be assigned certain traits, not necessarily body-wise but character wise - if you're doing more than a drabble, imo. For there to be dialogue and a story that feels full, that feels alive, the reader has to have some sort of character to be a character.

Oooh thank you! Exactly! I know people tend to think of "reader" as a blank slate. But that only works for a drabble imo. Even in a longer one-shot, let alone a series, that blank slate is just a flat character with no personality, like in an otome game or something lol. Ultimately I get frustrated reading those characters, so I prefer to write and read reader characters that make active decisions in the story and have a personality, even if it's not "what I would do." Because even when I'm writing a reader character, she might have aspects of "me," but overall she's usually not me. She's a character, whether I give her a name or a physical description or not.

Which brings me to my next point: projectability is always a thing of perspective and the ability to put yourself into someone's shoes. As far as fanfiction goes, the reader insert genre tries to make that as easy as possible by offering a mostly blank slate (that is very often white-coded, unfortunately, but that's not the point I'm trying to make in this paragraph). I have seen people complain more than once about the character!reader being unrelatable because of certain character traits and/or backstories that were assigned to them, and I wonder: people, where has your media literacy gone? Do they not teach to adapt to a person's perspective via literature in schools anymore? Must all media cater exactly to your every taste, down to each very nuance?

Yeah, it's often white-coded because white writers aren't typically thinking of other races/ethnicities, even when they write a "reader" character. 😅 Also why sometimes those reader characters are very not relatable to me on how they speak and act lol. (Though this could also be because there are a lot of younger writers out here now, so that could be more related to age and maturity.)

I've def seen those posts that have readers complaining lol. I also think that's the case of people who are either young or not used to reading normal books, just fanfiction. Because 2nd person in the literary world is actually really rare. I try to make my stories and reader characters compelling, but I wonder if my stuff actually appeals to the younger demo of readers now (early 20s and younger).

I love how you give personality to your reader characters, Alex. Especially when it comes to your own representation. You said in the podcast that you were worried about how the traits you assigned to your reader in the Midnight Espresso-verse would be received by your audience and that you received great feedback. I want to reiterate that by saying how despite myself not having the same background as you, I could absolutely relate to the plus-size aspect of the reader, as well as her love for cooking. You said it so beautifully in the podcast, that this version of the reader is one that came from the intent of Dean having a (Latino) girlfriend that nurtured him in the same way he nurtures the people around him, and I fully 100% could relate to that as well :) Which might be my very complicated and long way of saying: Please do not worry about how much the reader can adapt to the traits you're giving to the character!reader. If most character!readers have been predominantly white for the longest time and so so many people that where not white made it work, then so can we white folks when we are given a reader that does not fit all of "our" typical criteria.

I appreciate you so much for this! 🥹🥹 Yes overall I've gotten way more encouraging and fun feedback than I ever expected for the Midnight Espresso-verse, certainly for that first story. I came at it with the thought that some women would relate to the plus-sized aspects, while other Latinas might enjoy the ethnic representation. And non-Latinos could maybe enjoy exploring a different culture if they wanted to dive in. I'm really grateful that you did!! 💕 And yeah that mutual "nurturing" aspect with her and Dean was 100% my favorite part about creating their relationship. 🥰

Yeah, honestly even if she's more OC than reader at this point, I don't really mind. I've loved writing every story in the ME-verse. Of course I've gotten a lot of wonderful responses from other Latinos on that series, but overall it's been my non-Latino friends who have supported me the most on that series. 💓💓

It made me very happy to hear that you're seeing more and more diversity within the SPN fandom these days. I've spent most of my time in the PPCU fandom this past year and all across it, but specifically in the Joel Miller fandom, there have been too many racist instances. It's great to hear that it's going better in other fandoms!

omg really? How so racist? That's so icky, especially for Pedro and his characters since he's such a sweetheart and very open about the joys and struggles of being a Latino and an immigrant in Hollywood 😭

Which brings me to my next point - the anon request you got that led you to writing Unravel Me 👀 Wow. I haven't read it yet. It was on my TBR list anyway, but hearing you talk about how it came to be and how much thought you put into it (understandably so) it's now an absolute must-read for me. (Sort of unrelated but still related: I've seen your playlist covers for the story, and - wow??? A masterpiece??? Visually, I mean?! The EFFORT. I'll be speaking about this in a second, but I needed to mention it now in case I forget! Gorgeous!)

Aw thank you so much for putting it on your TBR! 🥰 Even though I'm not 100% sure it was ready to be posted, I've done my best, even knowing it was going to be so niche that not a lot of people would likely read it lol. Honestly that's part of why I created those playlist covers -- to try and hook people with the visuals to get them to read the series. 🤣🤣

Though I did do playlist covers for Break Me Down (Soldier Boy x Reader), Lost on You (Soldier Boy x Supe!Reader), and Between the City & the Stars (1940s!Dean x Reader). I just love playing with that template. 😆 But also the music playlist for Unravel Me was so fun to put together, I knew I wanted to create those posters for Side A and B. It's really just a bonus if they manage to hook people and get them excited for the next part of the series. 🥰💜💙❤️

Another point that had me thinking a lot was the question about how much of an immigrant's identity should be kept and how much should be adapted to the country they've moved to also captivated me. I know US politics in regards to immigrants are ""problematic"" atm to say the least, and it's been a widely discussed topic over here in Germany for years now as well, especially with the heavy influx of immigrants over the past years. I can't imagine how complicated it must be, figuring out a sense of self that both fits to where you live and still keeps the core parts of who you are and were before coming to said country.

Oh God, yeah. It's always been a hot-button issue in the U.S., but especially now of course. Interesting that Germany has seen a big influx in immigration too. But yeah, I really dove into studying that aspect of being bicultural when I started reading short stories by Sandra Cisneros in high school and college. She's Mexican American and her works explore, through her characters, the nature of “los intersticios (the cracks)”—those spaces between the different "worlds" she lives in for being bicultural—all in effort to figure out her own inner identity.  

It is complicated. It's affected my own sense of self, my relationships within my own family, let alone friends, etc. And everyone's layers are different, whether they're a first, second, or third generation immigrant family.

I want to wrap this up by saying how incredibly impressed I am every single time I hear/read about how you prep for your stories. I think you are by far the most in-depth fanfiction writer that I know. You put so much research into it, and not just for The Honorable Choice, but everything you put out. I'm struggling to find the correct words to properly express how admiring I find it, especially for a story like The Honorable Choice where you take on the perspective of someone of a different ethnic background than you.

Wow, thank you so much, friend. 🥹🥹 The Honorable Choice was such a fun passion project, and scary too! lol I'm a nerd who genuinely loves the research, especially bc I love history. But it was also because I respect the cultures of Native Americans too much to get it wrong. I did my best to represent the Lakota tribe in the late 1800s to the best of my ability while still giving an entertaining love story, so hopefully it was authentic. 💗

You are an inspiration, Alex. Truly. Thank you for welcoming me into the writing space when I came back. Thank you for answering every question I had, and thank you for the work you put into all of your stories. To you, to your talent, your inspiration and work ethic, and to many more stories to come! 🩵

You've literally made my entire week so much brighter and are making me blush, lovely!! If I could be any small support to you then I'm so glad to hear it. 💕 People did the same for me when I started my blog over here, and I'm actually really excited to share a (hopefully) fun writing event soon with you guys!!

Racial & Ethnic Representation in Fanfiction

[🎙️ Podcast Interview]

Hey, friends! Sandra and Kasey, the lovely hosts of @idlingintheimpalapodcast — the podcast for all things SPN and fanfiction — invited me back on the pod for an interview on a topic that's very close to my heart…

With @rubyvhs, we talked about the fun moments and challenges about reading and writing fanfiction that represents specific racial and ethnic cultures, being bicultural/multicultural, the immigrant experience, and much more.

I offered my own experience as a Latina POC writing in the fandom space, specifically Supernatural and The Boys (and adjacent Jackles fandoms).

Check it out here: ⤵️

Interview Timestamps –

(Plus fic recs, SPN writer/reader shoutouts, and more! Links to all the fics we mentioned are at each time stamp.)

2:54 – When did you start writing fanfiction, and when did you join SPN fandom?

⟡ You can check out my first author interview with Sandra and Kasey over here. We chatted about Dean Winchester and Jensen Ackles’ early roles, the best and worst seasons of SPN, the joys and pains of writing Soldier Boy, and much, much more. For all the timestamps of key moments, fic recs, and SPN writer shoutouts, see this post (you'll find the link to the video there too).

6:18 – What is your ethnic, racial, and cultural background? (And how me and Sandra bond over “food and family” ties between Hispanics/Latinos and Italians.)

13:05 – The immigrant experience in America, what you take with you from the “Motherland,” the struggles of bicultural identity, my personal experience being a second-generation child of an immigrant family, and Sandra’s experience as a first-generation child of Italian immigrants.

16:58 – What do you look for when you’re reading fanfiction? (Canon-compliant, AU, romance, etc.) Does the length of a story matter?

19:52 – Bonus: The merits of drabble writing vs. long-fic writing.

25:54 – Have you ever actively searched for fanfiction that represented your ethnicity? (Whenever I do, it’s like finding gold.) Plus, the challenge of writing reader characters, the “gray area” of writing reader characters like OCs.

32:38 – The inherent “bias” of reading and writing reader characters as White. The concept of diversity being “cool” in popular media, TV shows, and movies is still pretty new.

36:36 – Why I started writing reader characters that might have a specific body type, race, and/or ethnicity.

Examples:

⟡ Midnight Espresso – Dean Winchester x Plus-size Latina!Reader

⟡ If I Stay – Dean Winchester x Plus-size!Reader

⟡ 10 ‘Til Midnight – Professor!Dean Winchester x Plus-size Grad Student!Reader

⟡ Unravel Me – Soldier Boy x Afro-Latina!Reader

⟡ The Honorable Choice & Outlander – Cowboy!Dean Winchester x OFC

40:14 – The fun challenges: like giving Dean a partner who takes care of him as much as he takes care of others in Midnight Espresso.

45:28 – The BIG challenges: like writing Soldier Boy being himself with a “person of color” (POC) in this new series, Unravel Me. What even is a POC? Where do you start with Soldier Boy, the Sandra-proclaimed “bowl of fishhooks?"

51:38 – Is there ever an element of fear when you publicly post a story that represents your culture, which is something very personal to you? What happens when you get haters in the comments?

1:05:33 – When and how did you begin to break out of the “ingrained biases” in your writing? (AKA: Always assuming my own characters are White.)

1:08:04 – When did you decide to explore writing plus-size!readers?

1:13:20 – What has your experience been in writing a race/culture outside of your personal experience? The Honorable Choice and Outlander, a western AU where Dean Winchester falls in love with a Native American Lakota Indian. (Shoutout to @jacklesversebingo!)

Plus, the ethical responsibility to “do no harm” when you represent different cultures, and answering question of not only can I write this, but should I write this?

1:32:42 – What advice would you give a writer interested in writing about a culture outside of their own that they don’t have first-hand knowledge of? How can a writer avoid cultural appropriation if their goal is cultural appreciation? How important is a sensitivity reader/beta reader for this effort?

1:40:35 – Final thoughts on diversity and representation of culture in fanfiction, whether it’s your own or someone else’s:

“Write what you know. Write what you can research. Write what you’re interested in. Remember that words have power, so be careful how you use them.”

1:45:30 – Sandra and Kasey’s outro: The importance of representation and diversity in fandom.

I hope you enjoy the ride!~ 💜

💗💗💗 Shoutouts to some of my beautiful friends and lovely readers who've supported my attempts to explore ethnic and cultural diversity in my writing:

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @waynes-multiverse @rizlowwritessortof @roseblue373

@tofics @deanwinchesterswitch @deanbrainrotwritings @deansbbyx @waywardlatina

@supernotnatural2005 @wayward-dreamer @spnwoman @waywardxwords @mostlymarvelgirl

@chevroletdean (shoutout to your 500 follower fic challenge at around 19:52 😘) @siampie @bettystonewell @wvffles

@iprobablyshipit91 @my-stories-vault @littlesoulshine @thatonewriter15 @jessjad

@deans-spinster-witch @winchestergirl2 @kazsrm67 @chernayawidow @jackles010378

@jollyhunter @leigh70 @foxyjwls007 @beakaleak32 @alwaystiredandconfused

[netflixbingger]

Hey!! I was wondering if you could right a Cassian x Reader about how reader keeps on pushing herself and keeps taking more and more jobs from Luthen and Cassian finds out and starts to worry for her and even gets pissed at Luthen for it.

It started with one extra mission.

Then two.

Then a courier run, a weapons drop, and recon on a suspected Imperial sympathizer… all back-to-back. Luthen didn’t even hesitate when you said yes. Just handed you the details like he expected it.

Because you always said yes.

You weren’t trying to prove anything. Not really. But there was this pressure in your chest that never let up. This need to be useful.

Needed. Relied on.

And maybe you liked it—that dizzy sort of burn from being in it all the time. Moving too fast to feel anything. Too tired to think.

Cassian didn’t know.

He’d been off-world on a separate assignment. Longer-term. Quiet. Surveillance-based. You hadn’t heard from him in nearly two weeks.

So when Luthen asked again, you said yes.

Even though your ribs still ached from the last mission. Even though you’d only gotten three hours of sleep. Even though you hadn’t eaten in—

You couldn’t remember.

Cassian got back to base in the middle of a rainstorm, shoulders tense, jacket soaked through.

The first thing he asked was where you were.

The second thing he asked was why the hell your name was listed on five assignments in the last eleven days.

“They needed someone,” Cinta said, barely looking up from the console.

He stared at the datapad. “She’s not a courier.”

“She is when no one else steps up.”

Cassian’s jaw locked. “She’s not a machine.”

Cinta gave him a look. “None of us are.”

That didn’t stop Luthen.

He found you in the corner of a maintenance tent two hours later, trying to patch a fresh burn on your shoulder with shaking hands.

You looked up, surprised to see him.

“Cass—”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The way he said it—low, flat, furious—made you freeze.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, like that would shut it down.

“You’re not.” He crossed the tent in three long strides. “You’re not fine. You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“I’ve been busy—”

“Busy doing what? Running yourself into the ground so Luthen doesn’t have to shuffle his damn deck of names?”

Your shoulders stiffened. “I volunteered.”

He stared at you. “Of course you did.”

You didn’t mean to sound defensive, but it came out sharper than you wanted: “What do you want me to do, Cassian? Say no when people need me? Sit on my hands while the rest of you bleed for this cause?”

“I want you to survive it.”

That silenced you.

His voice dropped, rough and quieter now. “You think I don’t get it? I know what it’s like to feel like the only way to matter is to stay moving. But that’s how they burn us out. How we die.”

You looked away. “I’m not trying to die.”

He stepped closer.

Cassian exhaled slowly. “You don’t have to be everything.”

Your voice was small. “Feels like I do.”

He reached out, fingers brushing your arm, then gripping your wrist gently.

“You don’t.”

Later that night, Cassian found Luthen near the comms relay, issuing orders like always. Calm. Precise. Detached.

Cassian didn’t raise his voice.

But when he spoke, it cut like a knife.

“She’s not your pawn.”

Luthen’s eyes flicked to him. “She volunteered.”

“She’s not a tool.”

“She’s capable.”

“She’s wrecking herself trying to keep your schedule from falling apart.”

A beat of silence.

“You’ve got people. Use them. Don’t break her because it’s easier than saying no.”

Luthen didn’t respond.

He didn’t have to.

Because Cassian was already walking away.

Back in the bunk, you were asleep for the first time in what felt like forever.

Cassian sat down at the edge of the bed, watching your chest rise and fall.

He didn’t touch you.

Didn’t speak.

Just stayed.

So when you stirred a little, reached blindly in the dark, your hand found his without even opening your eyes.

And he held it.

Tight.

Like he’d never let it go again.