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dwobbitfromtheshire · 1 year

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Sailor Outfits and Cigarettes

Warning: Smut, smoking, dirty talk

18+ MINORS DNI

I like the idea that Steve hasn't really slept around that much, but he also likes sex too so when he realizes that he also likes men, he's just like: "Just more people added to the list of possibilities." Like, he realizes before Scoops Ahoy. He's working, and he's going outside for his break when he stumbles upon Eddie Munson smoking. He either just made a deal or was waiting to make a deal. Steve tried not to smoke too often, but he needed one today.

"Could I borrow a cigarette?" Steve asked.

Steve couldn't help but take a real good look at Eddie. It was the hottest day of the year, so Eddie was actually dressed for it. He wore a gray crop top and ripped black shorts that showed off his thighs. Steve could definitely imagine those thighs wrapped around him. His long hair was pulled into a bun, but there was still some hair sticking to the back of his neck, glistening from the sweat. He followed a bead of sweat as it trickled down his skin, and Steve wanted to lick it, to drag his tongue across the skin of his neck, then down to the tattoos peaking from his top. It was a thin top, and he could see his nipples as clear as day. He had piercings. Shit. Steve felt his cock twitch in his pants. Fuck.

"Um. . .no," Eddie said.

"Do you not have another cigarette?" Steve asked.

"I don't give out cigarettes to rich boys in sailor outfits," Eddie said as his eyes raked over his outfit, and Steve could tell by the way his eyes darkened that he liked what he saw.

"What if the rich boy sucked your dick for one?" Steve asked.

Eddie nearly swallowed his cigarette, coughing and spitting it out when it landed in his mouth. Steve tried not to look amused by it.

"Um, don't you work in a mall? Why don't you go in and buy yourself a pack?" Eddie asked, his face red.

"Well, at this point, it's more about sucking your dick than anything else," Steve said as he moved closer to him.

"You seem comfortable in your, um, -"

"Bisexuality?" Steve asked with an amused grin. "I stopped caring about what these mindless assholes think about me or who I like to fuck."

He seemed to move closer to Eddie with each word. He was so close to him now that Eddie could almost taste him. He could almost feel Eddie's skin against his own.

"Have you ever fucked a guy?" Eddie asked.

Steve moved in front of him and put one hand on the wall by his head. Eddie swallowed.

"Almost. I was about to go down on a guy when he panicked and decided to go back to his wife. Though I didn't know he was married. So, no, I still haven't fucked a guy," Steve said.

"Um, I haven't, uh, done anything," Eddie said.

"Not even a kiss?" Steve asked.

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Look at me. No one wants this."

"I am looking, and I like what I see. You're hot," Steve said.

"You're just saying that because you're horny," Eddie said.

"I'm horny because you're so damn hot," Steve said.

"Seriously, people hate me. Why aren't you one of them?" Eddie asked.

Steve leaned down to whisper in his ear, his breath tickling his ear.

"You can push me away whenever you want to," Steve whispered, his lips brushing his ear. "I think the reason people hate you is because they're afraid of how much they want to fuck you, how much they want to be fucked by you."

"Man, that's some ridiculous shit," Eddie laughed.

Steve bit his earlobe, and Eddie groaned. Steve could feel him trembling.

"They look at you, and all they see is how wrong you are. They're raised in a world that tells them they have to be absolutely perfect, not a hair out of line. Then they see you strutting down the sidewalk with that slutty little waist with those clothes that scream 'tie me up and tear me apart.' Man, they look at those hands, with those rings, and they want them wrapped around their throat as you try to stop them from screaming your name. They want to writhe under you and ride you like a stallion. They know you're wrong, but they think, 'Oh, I bet he tastes so good'," Steve whispered and licked a stripe up his neck, tasting the salty sweat on his skin.

Eddie groaned and rolled his hips up to grind against Steve’s.

"Fuck. . . I think I'm about to cream my shorts," Eddie groaned.

"Can I check?" Steve asked and Eddie nodded.

"Fuck, yeah."

Steve unbuttoned his shorts and slipped a hand inside, wrapping his hand around Eddie's length. Eddie crashed his lips to Steve’s and Steve moaned, then broke the kiss.

"Oh, baby, yeah. You're hard. . .is this for me? Just for me?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, just for you, sweetheart," Eddie said as he moved against Steve’s hand.

Steve kissed him, slipping his tongue inside as he massaged Eddie's cock with his hand. Eddie was so close to coming. So close. The backdoor to Starcourt opened suddenly, the door banging open.

"Seriously! Harrington! I am in there working, and you're out here macking on some girl!" Robin shrieked, and Steve broke the kiss. "Oh."

"Seriously, Buckley! I was almost there!" Eddie exclaimed.

"UGH! Harrington! Get your ass back inside!" Robin exclaimed.

"We'll pick this back up later, baby?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, yeah. Definitely," Eddie said.

Steve walked towards the back door and paused.

"I, uh, have something to take care of first," Steve grinned. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Ugh! Fine!" Robin said, and Eddie went to follow Steve. "Munson, what do you think you're doing?"

"Helping Steve take care of it. Wouldn't want him to walk around the parlor like that, would you?" Eddie asked with a grin.

"Listen, Harrington, I don't care who you fuck but if you leave me alone in there for too long I will find you and kill the both of you!" Robin exclaimed and walked off.

"She's nice."

"Isn't she?"

"Let's go take care of you, baby," Eddie said and slapped his ass. "Damn, that thing is bouncy."

#stranger things #eddie munson #joseph quinn #stranger things s4 #eddie stranger things #eddie munson lives #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #stranger things s3 #scoops ahoy #steve harrington scoops #scoops steve #steddie smut

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brunchable · 2 years

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A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be — Part 2 || Doctor Strange × F!Reader

Word count: 4.4K

Genre: Revenge/PayBack, Rejection, Swearing.

Special mentions: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner

A/N: There will be a Part 3. Listen, in this universe everyone is alive and well okay?!

You've been drinking away the pain that Stephen has given you late at night for the past few days as a way to pass the time during your free time. You haven't seen or heard from him in a long time, and you are positive that he has already changed his phone number as a direct result of the drunk texts you sent him when you were drinking. You have absolutely no way of communicating with him at this point.

“You know, I was actually the stupid one. I made myself blind to the fact that he can’t even choke on the word ‘I love you’,” You laughed at yourself, “What does Christine have that I don’t? Is he attracted to women with a large mole on their cheek? Should I get one tattooed?”

Legs crossed, martini in hand, a man has been watching you end up being left alone or avoided by people who initially wanted to talk to you. He pans from your feet up to your head. You wore white sneakers, patterned ankle socks, plain black dress that sits too loose around your waist. You had half-lidded eyes due to your drunken state and rumpled hair tied up in a messy bun. Tony shakes his head. Jesus Christ. He thought. He says something to the woman who currently sits at the table with him. She then nods, gets up and walks away.

As the Bartender pours you a second shot. You're now showing pictures from your phone to the Bartender who showed no interest, "This is my Aunt. Her two favourite things are Cats the movie and my ex. I hate both of her two favourite things."

A sharp whistle interrupts your one-sided drunk conversation with the bartender. You averted your gaze from your phone and your eyes landed at Tony who was looking at you. He motions for you to come over. It felt like every move Tony makes is practised to be perfectly cool.

You turn your head left and right before pointing at yourself, "Me?"

Tony nods and mouthed, "Yeah, you."

You shrug, taking your drink with you as you stand, and wobbles over towards Tony's table.

"Tony Stark." He offered his hand out for you to shake.

"(Y/N)—"

"I'd like to buy you a drink, (Y/N)."

"I already have a drink." You casually showed him your ice melted strawberry daiquiri.

"Let me buy you a drink, (Y/N)." He insisted.

"Okay."

Tony simply motions to the Bartender who nods. You take the seat opposite from Tony and felt compelled to tell him your sad break-up story with Stephen,"My boyfriend dumped me because he's still loves his ex Christin—"

"Christine Palmer, yes, (Y/N), I know. But how do I know that?" Tony cuts you off and tilts his head.

"What—I don't know?" You bat your lashes and shrug quite dumbly at his question.

"You've never met me before—how do I know something so intimate about you? Wanna know how I know that (Y/N)?" Tony asked, flashing you a wry smile before taking a sip of his whiskey.

"Uhhh Christine Palmer has screwed you too?" You snorted into a laugh but stopped immediately when the man didn’t laugh with you.

"No, it's because that's all I've heard—that's what we've all heard. For the last three nights, I've watched you batter every poor soul in this bar with your sad-sack loser sob story that no one asked for."

You take this in, pulling a fake smile and feeling offended you stand up to leave, "You know what, I don't need this crap—"

"Sit down, (Y/N)."

"Okay." You murmured and you sat back down immediately. Either Tony's tone was that powerful or you're just that drunk.

"(Y/N), I'm going to make you an offer, it's probably the best offer you're ever going to get, and you're extremely drunk, so it's wildly important that you don't answer until I've finished and you've taken a few moments to process what I'm saying. Do you understand?"

You go to answer but Tony holds up a finger to shut you up. You close your mouth and stop yourself from protesting. Once you're settled, Tony continues,"As I said, I've been watching you for three nights now and I can say, without hesitation, that you are the sorriest woman I've ever seen in my life—"

You took a deep breath to say something but Tony quickly cut you off once again before anything even came out of your mouth.

"Don't interrupt, (Y/N), it's the truth, and you need to hear it. You're sitting there with your messy bed hair, getting drunk on watered down strawberry daiquiri like a fourteen-year-old girl and probably wearing your grandma's cardigan—I don't know if I want to help you or euthanize you. We should burn that before it hurts anybody else." He stared pointedly at your cardigan.

"I bought these from Target, thank you very much."

Tony scrunches his face, "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that—Look. I'm going to help you. I don't know why. Maybe I'm just bored. Maybe all my friends have abandoned me for wives and children and labradoodle puppies, who cares why? Why doesn't matter. The point is, I can see that you got a pretty face under those unkempt brows, and awfully thick long hair. I'm bored as hell and need a project. So if you want, I'm going to help you rediscover your foxiness. Do you remember when you lost it?"

You shake your head "No. I don’t even think I had any. . ."

“Doesn't matter, we'll find it. And when we do—when I'm through with you, that ex-boyfriend of yours is going to rue the day he decided to give up on you too early. That's my offer. What do you say?” Tony leans forward and anticipates your answer.

You stare at him blankly in a long beat of silence. You found the reflection of yourself in a black glass over his shoulder and found a girl who has lost herself over a man who didn’t even treasure her. You go for a drink, almost using the straw... then catch yourself so you put down the drink and look up at Tony with a slight determination in your eyes, “Yeah, okay.”

"Westford mall food court, Thursday, six o'clock PM."

"I'm sorry, what?" You asked but Tony didn't repeat himself.

Instead downs his drink, nods at the woman whom he was with before, "You ready to go?"

She nods, subservient, and follows him out of the bar. You shook your head, and just in time, the drink Tony ordered for you arrived. You stare between the watered down, bland drink you had and the golden liquid in a short glass and you chose the whiskey.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The next day

You anxiously stood on the escalator, “What the hell am I thinking?” You thought out loud as you made your way towards the food court where you’re supposed to meet Tony. You almost forgot that you had plans with him, so you left in a rush and ended up wearing a plain white shirt and jeans with floral patterned crocs.

Meanwhile, you see Tony, standing against the railing in the food court, holding an empty box of doughnuts, the last piece in his hand—looking cool as ever.

"You're late," he pauses and offers you a doughnut, "Krispy Kreme?"

"No thanks. So what exactly are we—"

After finishing his bite of the doughnut he interrupts you again, "How much money can you afford to spend on clothes today?"

"I dunno. Four hundred?"

"Let's make that four thousand."

"Oh-kay." You press your lips together with a grimace, collecting all the patience you've got.

"We'll start with shoes." Tony paused to look down at what you were wearing and looked visibly offended, "W-What in the abomination are those?"

You look down at your footwear, "They're crocs. I left in a hurry, okay?"

"Well no wonder why you're late—Let me see those crocs you're wearing."

You hold up your foot so he could see it better.

"Take them off." Tony demands and you scowl at him but you did what you’re told anyway. You bend down to take one off, "Other one too, please?" Tony holds out his hands, after you've taken both crocs off. You shrug with a sigh and hand Tony the pair then he simply turns and throws them over the railing.

"What the hell, Tony?!" You screamed and looked over the railing to see your crocs now on the lower level.

"Sorry, that wasn't me. It was my alter ego called Captain Hook—he hates crocs." Tony sarcastically replied, he clearly didn't care if you got angry or not.

"Those were my favourite shoes!’

"Do you know why crocs have holes in them?" Tony asked in a serious manner.

Now slightly irritated at his inconsiderateness, you asked, "I don't know? Style?"

"It has holes because that's where your dignity drains out."

"Well now you're just being mean—"

"DO YOU WANT YOUR DIGNITY DRAINING OUT OF THOSE HOLES (Y/N)?"

"No! Of course not."

"Then don't ever walk around in Crocs, ever—never again. Let's go."

DESIGNER SHOE STORE

You follow Tony barefoot in a designer shoe store, cluelessly following him around like a puppy and very nervous at the amount of money he is expecting you to spend today.

Looking around, feeling out of place, you say to him,"I think this whole thing might have been a bad idea."

Tony ignores you and grabs a pair of Black Jimmy Choo Heels. You gulped as you stared at the price of it. You had a fair amount of money to spare, you just didn't like spending it unwisely like this.

"Anyone can rebuild their entire wardrobe with sixteen simple items. Try them on." Tony hands you the shoes and pushes you down by the shoulder to take a seat.

"Ha! I think I read that in a magazine." You retorted, carefully putting the heels on both your feet.

"You did, cause I've written it."

"Really?"

Tony chuckles and you chuckle back, clearly unsure what his chuckle symbolises, "You really don't know who I am, do you?"

You shake your head, "Nope!"

Tony shakes his head and returns to choosing more shoes for you, "Numbers one and two: pair of pumps, pair of stilettos."

You probably just spent a little bit more than an hour at that shop since Tony was more picky than you were, and because of this, you probably let him select the style for you because he is obviously more experienced in this department. You got up and wandered about, and while you were there, you looked at a pair of socks that had some adorable patterns on them. Tony moves closer to you and slaps the back of your hand, which causes you to release your grip on the item.

"I'm sorry, I'm lost—are you going to tell me if you really did write for a magazine?" You asked as he led you towards the cashier to pay for all the heels he's chosen for you.

"Your credit card please?" Tony ignores your question again and holds his hand out. You chew on the inside of your cheeks and roughly hand him your credit card.

As you go from shop to shop, you'll notice that each time you leave the store, your arms will be carrying a growing number of purchases. Tony never stops describing your wardrobe necessities, which results in you receiving an overwhelming amount of knowledge. What you need to do is make a note of everything that he says.

In a Designer Clothing store

You were instructed to stand on a platform while you were being fitted for a custom outfit. Tony wanted you to seem intelligent, sophisticated, and seductive rather than trashy.

"A set of Blazer and pants, preferably of five colours: one black, one grey, one beige, one brown, and one patterned. One camel coat." Tony leans in towards the tailor as they grab all your clothing.

You stand in front of the counter again then he calls out,"Card!" Tony holds his hand out and you hand it to him reluctantly this time.

Levi Strauss Store

You held jeans in front of you, eyeing them suspiciously.

"Two pairs of quality jeans." Tony said behind you.

"These are two hundred and thirty dollars each! Can't we just go to, I don't know, Target?" You suggested this while you were still looking at the jeans and in your peripheral vision; Tony pinched the bridge of his nose while shaking his head and then left you in the shop without saying a word. You immediately dash outside in an effort to intercept the man before he ascends the escalator that leads to the carpark.

"Alright, I'm sorry! Don't leave!"

Tony immediately turns back, standing right in front of you, sandwiching your head with his hand and he finally answers, "No, (Y/N). We can't just go to Target."

"Honestly though, what's wrong with Target?"

"In Hell, every store is Target, that's what's wrong with Target, (Y/N). It's the lowest common denominator. Be better than fucking Target. Say it to me." Tony stated with conviction.

"I'm better than Target."

Designer Dress Store

In a dressing room, dresses come flying over the wall at you as you struggle to get another dress over your neck, "Will you quit throwing dresses over the wall?! I haven't even worn the first one yet!"

"If you needed help, you should really say something—Hey fancy face, mind helping my lady in there?" Tony called one of the staff to go into your changing room to help you.

You jumped when the female staff barged into your dressing room. When she saw you, you might’ve heard her mumble, "oh god." And immediately helped you untangle yourself in the dress.

"Come out and show me when you're ready." Tony demanded and sat down on the rose coloured ottoman with champagne in his hand.

You come out wearing a sky blue shimmering dress and Tony grimaces, "You look like you're going Ice skating—Next!"

You narrowed your eyes on him and went back inside to change into your second dress. You came out, this time wearing a black blazer dress. Tony tilted his head nodding his head in approval, "Add that in the bag—Next."

You got changed into another stylish dress—upon seeing his unimpressed face you immediately got back inside to change without Tony needing to remind you, you go back in and change with a different outfit.

"Seriously? You chose that? You look like a frilled-neck lizard!" Tony waves his hands in the air as you walk back inside.

“Oh shut up!” You mumbled.

You lost count at how many dresses you tried on and it was beginning to feel like this was a fashion show. This time before you could even get out he shakes his head, "You chose most of these dresses—" You blamed him.

"NEXT."

In a Beauty Store

Tony leads you into the skin section and quickly tosses you a tube.,” You rub this in around your eye every night and every morning.”

After catching the tube you asked, “What does it do?”

“It gives you x-ray vision, (Y/N),” he pauses, “It tightens the skin around your eyes. The bags under your eyes look like you could pack for a weekend away.”

You stop reading the directions at the back and examine your undereyes in a mirror, “Oh my God, it does.”

In a Salon

You sit in front of a mirror while a beautiful hairdresser examines your dull, straightened hair, “What kind of hairstyle do you want?” She asked.

“I’ll answer it,” Tony held a finger up, interrupting you again—it’s probably a force of habit now, “Cut her hair just above her shoulders, perm her hair to a loose wave as well, maybe dye it a bit darker with a few highlights.” Tony suggested while envisioning you with what he thought suited you.

“Yes, sir.” She chuckles as she prepares all her equipment.

“But—” You tried to object but the hairdresser started chopping off your hair.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

After Tony and the stylist made extra effort to hide your new look from you, Tony urged you to change into one of the Salon bathrooms where they covered the mirror.

Tony knocked at the door, “What are you putting on?”

“Items one, three, eleven, and fourteen!” You yelled through the door as you got changed into the clothes you’ve chosen out of the bag.

“Perfect,” He said and then stood back next to the stylist, “You smell great by the way.”

She giggles, smitten towards Tony’s charm,“Thanks.”

“What are you doing tonight?” Tony asked, glancing at the female.

“I don't know.”

“That's okay, I do.” Tony states nonchalantly. Earning another giggle from the female.

“Seriously? You just ask her out like that?” You complained through the door.

“Yes, just like that.”

“And it works?”

“Yes.” They exchanged looks and said in unison.

“Crazy.” You chuckle to yourself and prepared yourself to head out the bathroom, “Okay, I feel kind of stupid but…”

You slowly open the bathroom door and found Tony and your hairdresser waiting to get the first look of your transformation. Their eyes pan from your expensive high knee brown boots, to your red and black plaid dress with a beige turtleneck inside, matched with an oversize leather jacket and lastly your new haircut.

You were a new woman and both Tony and the hairdresser found themselves gawking at you.

“Wow.” The woman uttered.

“Yep.” Tony nodded in agreement.

“Can I fold the turtle neck a little?” You asked innocently.

“Shut up, (Y/N),” Tony paused and called one of the male customers in the salon, “Hey you! You'd fuck her, right?”

“Jesus! Stop that!” You yelled at Tony, feeling embarrassed that the stranger was now checking you out.

“Uh yeah, probably.” He shrugged.

“What?! You would?”

The man’s expression then changed into confusion. Tony shook his head at you, “You see that, (Y/N)? The simple act of opening your mouth instantly causes this nice man to lose interest in sleeping with you. Now I realise that your personality is actually your weakest link.”

You blink a couple of times, and with a pained smile you reply,” Well, that's the meanest thing anyone's ever said to me.”

“No, (Y/N). The meanest thing anyone's ever said to you is this: your ex-boyfriend dumped you because you lost sight of what really mattered: you didn’t love yourself. So of course you wouldn’t be able to keep him content—as a woman and probably as a lover.”

Your lips began to quiver, “Yeah, okay, that was meaner.”

“What’s your ex-boyfriend’s name anyway?”

“Stephen Strange.”

Tony snorted and laughed but stopped when he realised that you were serious, “Wait, you’re serious? Stephen Strange? The Wizard?”

You nodded awkwardly and circled your thumbs around each other.

“Well, shit.”

You furrowed your brows, “Why do you know him?”

“Of course I know him. For Pete’s sake, (Y/N). I’m Iron Man.”

Your eyes widened, “What the fuc—”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Later that night, Tony invited you at the bar again for another lesson. You sit at a secluded booth where no one will be able to interrupt the both of you. You were dressed very well this time however, your stride lacked confidence which Tony was quick to point out the moment you sat with him.

“You need to put your chin up more and have an ‘I don’t give a shit about your opinion’ attitude,” He advised and he slid you a wine glass.

“I can’t change in a matter of hours Tony—What are you going to be teaching me anyway?” You asked.

“I’ve arranged an Avengers party, which is in a couple of days and guess who’s going to be there,” Tony swirls his wine glass with a cunning smirk growing on the corners of his lips.

“Stephen?”

“Mhm,” He takes a sip, “And I’m inviting you too. Now, the lesson today is ‘how not to freeze like a deer in headlights when you see your ex’— Now pretend I’m Stephen, when you walk in, what do you say to me?”

You purse your lips, trying to think hard, “Long time, no see—”

“Wrong! He’s going to think you’ve been wanting to see him. Try again.”

“Hey asshole!”

Tony palms his face, “No, he’s going to think you’re not over him.”

“Well to be honest, I am not.” You admitted.

“Do you want him to regret leaving you (Y/N)? Or will you play easy to get? He played you, he probably only got in a relationship with you because he needed a rebound—No. . . you are the rebound.”

“Okay, what do I do then?!”

“You ignore him. You pretend he doesn’t exist, don’t look at him, don’t acknowledge him—that will hurt his ego. Flirt with other men, laugh at their jokes. If he makes the first move, act uninterested but not in a bitter way,” Tony explained thoroughly, “Trust me, you’ll get him wrapped around your fingers—men want something they can’t have. Can you do that?”

“I-I think I can. . .”

“Yes you can! I’ll be there anyway, I’ll keep a close eye on you.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The night of Tony’s party finally arrived—he was kind enough to send you a driver for when Stephen is already in the Stark Tower. As you checked yourself out through your vanity one last time, you finally received a text from Happy. You took a deep breath and took your black purse with you.

You got people of all ages turning their heads as you walked through the lobby of your apartment towards the entrance where Happy already got the door opened for you.

“Ms. L/N,” Happy greeted you and assisted you in getting in the back of the car, “You look amazing.”

“Thank you, Happy, you look great yourself.” You smiled and returned the compliment.

Meanwhile over at Tony’s everyone of his guests have arrived, people were mingling in all areas of his home but he sat with Bruce, and Steven.

“I’m surprised you don’t have a lady-date tonight Tony,” Steven chuckled.

“Cap, do you have to say lady-date all the time? It’s just ‘date’— and for your information, I do have a date, she’ll be here.”

“Where did you pick her up this time?” Bruce asked.

“I’m afraid that’s confidential Dr. Banner,” Tony smiled teasingly, glancing towards Stephen who was just behind Banner by the bar interacting with another woman.

*London Bridge by Fergie begins to play as Y/N walks in*

“Oh here she comes,” Tony nods his head towards you, informing his friends who turned their heads in your direction.

♬Oh shit! Oh shit!♬

The elevators of Stark Tower open up revealing you in a well-fitted red dress, matched with spaghetti strapped heels, your wavy hair falling just above your shoulders, your red lipstick complimenting the tone of your skin so well. Everyone who was standing in your path moved out of the way.

You strolled with your head held high, your face alluring and enigmatic, and your hips swinging beautifully from side to side as you went. Tony couldn't help but crack a grin since he was pleased with how you developed over a short time and with how you approached your entrance tonight. Still, he wasn't the only one who seemed interested in you; Stephen seemed to be doing the same.

Tony swore he saw the wizard do a double take the moment you stepped in the room—looks like Stephen was the deer in headlights.

You are aware of Stephen, and while it seemed as if you were staring at him and heading towards him, in reality, you were gazing over Stephen's shoulder at Tony the whole time. It appeared as if Stephen was getting ready for you as you came closer, but then you walked right past him, softly brushing up against his shoulder as you went, and directly towards Tony, who without any hesitation welcomed you by planting a kiss on the back of your hand.

Stephen followed through as you walked past him, watching you flirt with Tony as he introduced you to the other avengers.

“Is he looking?” You discreetly asked Tony.

He leaned in close to your ear, “Fake a laugh while I whisper and yes he is looking—If looks could kill, I would be so dead right now.”

You followed as Tony instructed and laughed, which seemed to stir something inside Stephen, “Was that (Y/N)?” Wong approached Stephen whose jaw was clenching so hard.

“Mhm.” Stephen hummed, eyes still glued onto you.

“Wow, she’s like a different woman.” Wong glanced at Stephen, “You don’t look impressed.”

Stephen scoffed, “I don’t care—good for her—I can’t believe she’s that stupid to turn to a playboy.”

“Are you sure you don’t care?” Wong’s eyebrows creased after Stephen contradicted himself.

“Do I look like I care, Wong?” Stephen snapped, “We’re not together anymore, she can date whoever she wants for all I care—but why Stark and since when?”

“No need to get mad, Strange, I was just asking—Why don’t you drink on it hm?” Wong passed Stephen another drink and left him to be by himself. Stephen glanced at you again, catching your eye just a millisecond while you enjoy yourself in the company of Natasha and Wanda this time around. Is she really going to act as if I don’t exist? He thought to himself and turned around, tongue poking his inner cheek.

“One dry gin martini, please.” you ordered at least two seats away from Stephen. You could feel his burning gaze while you kept your head looking straight ahead.

“You’ve changed, I almost didn’t recognise you.” Stephen addressed you and you glanced at him with a soft chuckle.

“Well. . . people change and life goes on.” You smiled and shrugged, keeping your replies short and dry—it was taking everything in you to act like you don’t care.

“True, glad you’re doing well. . . but I’d be careful with Stark, he’s not the type to commit—”

You laugh and dismissively wave your hands, “Oh no—we’re not together.”

Somehow Stephen felt a surge of relief after hearing that, “You’re not?”

“No.”

“Listen. . . (Y/N)—”

“I don’t want to hear it Stephen, I’m sorry. I came here to have some fun because I haven’t had one for a while—if you want a bit of my time, you’re going to have to get in line.” You nonchalantly told him and grabbed your cocktail, “See you around.” With that you walked away from him to join the ladies group once more, leaving Stephen dumbfounded and unable to think properly after being rejected.

TAGS: @elicheel @sherlux @stanny-uwu @frostandflamesfanfic @justsomecreaturewandering @soiopathicdetectivekid @fan-of-fic @gaitwae @shit-post-things @seasonofthenerd @patbrdac @evelynrosestuff @singhfae @severuined @farfromjustordinary @lovecleastrange @samisubi @mochuchi @faithinhome @ohchoices @junkertown-princess @sigyncevans @dragonqueen89 @the-royal-petals @hiddlechive @sleutherclaw @zelspktr @bobateadaydreams @lykaonimagines @valbensherstep @strangeobsessed @calsjack @crowleyspett @goldencherriess @jyessaminereads @fandom-lover-4 @tis-vereon @rbymoon @ronsbadidea @iloveobiwan @sunshineyrosie @strangefilms @justmewoo @imherefordeanandbones @winsteria @arioneway @strangefilms @siredlust @strangeions @gwephen

#Spotify #doctor strange imagine #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange x you #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x reader #benedict cumberbatch x reader #benedict cumberbatch imagine #benedict cumberbatch x you #tony stark imagine #tony stark x reader

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jihopesjoint · 1 year

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okay i choose rose but i'm not interested in hearing about your romantic crush i want to hear you wax poetic about either ur biggest bts crush or general fandom crush you have thank u so much

matchy is choosing chaos in the inbox tonight as if i needed an opportunity to wax poetic about park jimin. jimin THEE stallion

IN HONOR OF FACE DROPPING TONIGHT I AM POSTING MY ANSWER

i was actually talking to @eoieopda recently about how i feel bad sometimes about having jimin as my bias because i think hyung line always needs more credit than they get, and i don't want the assumption to be made about me that i don't love and appreciate EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THESE MEN. i'm not gonna get too deep into that conversation, but it basically came down to "you could write essays on jimin." and i CAN. and SO I SHALL!!!!!!

jimin is the love of my life. in this essay, i will- tell you why.

i'll start easy. surface-level. have you seen him dance? idk. idk idk idk, he just puts me into a fucking trance every time. that black swan solo in mots on:e brings a tear to thine eye. he is the swan, that song is one of his biggest fears. he's got "youth" and "young forever" tattooed on him. you can age out of dancing very quickly if you're not careful. I'M ALREADY DIGRESSING OKAY ANYWAY. he has not let his background in contemporary dance hold him back in any way when becoming an idol. in fact, he's made a point of making his background his strength. hip-hop, but make it ~pretty~.

*ahem* jimin has been defying gender stereotypes since day one. 🗣️ yes, he felt pressured to express his gender identity in a hypermasculine way because that’s how bts was presenting at the time. and he was trying SO hard. but even outside of that, he was always going against stupid ideas of gender. i always think of that moment in bon voyage 1 (i think?) when the members were saying that men don’t check their selfies. and jimin was like, “there you go again. what on earth is masculinity?” i feel like we can attribute A LOT of bts’s transformation from the school trilogy to every era afterward to jimin’s presence in the group. he’s been there the whole time telling the members to challenge their views of what it means to be a man. they support each other, so when jimin wanted to express himself in a more authentic way, they encouraged him. they also learn from each other, so when they saw jimin leaning into that blend of the masculine and the feminine, they saw that they could do the same because it’s all fucking arbitrary. jimin still identifies as male. wearing the color pink and jewelry and makeup and openly showing affection don’t take away from that.

AND THAT’S WHY JIMIN’S VOICE IS SO FUCKING INTEGRAL TO THIS GROUP. oh my god dude. the range that he fucking has? and the majority of the time he chooses to sing in his upper register and falsetto? who the FUCK ELSE is doing that? not your fave, i’ll tell you that much.

jimin provides a level of comfort that i aspire to (and we should all aspire to). the members are all close and have individual relationships with each other, of COURSE. but jimin just seems to make each member feel uniquely special to him in their presence. i don’t know how else to word that. i truly think he is the glue that keeps bts together (not that i think they would disband without him or anything). but he's a libra (with a cancer rising). libras are mediators. libra prioritizes harmony, and cancer prioritizes comfort. and then his gemini moon, which prioritizes connection and communication. so i would imagine that the members just naturally gravitate to him for that kind of comfort and connection. AND THEN HE ENDLESSLY GIVES THAT SAME AMOUNT OF COMFORT TO MILLIONS AND MILLIONS OF PEOPLE ALL THE TIME LIKE HOW??????

and then OH AND THEN he's just the funniest person alive easily like he's just so silly and light-hearted and how does one person just contain so many multitudes you know? there are so many sides to him (dare i say... faces). and i don't need to get into all the ways that i specifically relate to him because i think so many of us do. but i'm just so happy for him as he continues to understand himself and exhibit more sides to himself and HE IS THE LOVE OF MY FUCKING LIFE OKAY YOU CAN TELL THAT I RAN DRY HERE AT THE END BUT I JUST CAN'T PUT IT INTO WORDS ANYMORE PARK JIMIN I LOVE YOU

#this message in my inbox is like 2 days old i'm so sorry #MATCHYYYYY #park jimin

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wat-the-cur · 1 year

Text

Have some more random OFAH headcanons (Mostly Trigger-based, with some other characters sprinkled in, because I love them, too)

- Around the time his family moved to London, Denzil inherited one of his older brothers’ jumpers. It was black, and fuzzy and really soft. Denzil wore it almost every day for months, as a sort of security blanket, and he kept it until it fell apart.

- Julie the barmaid uses peach scented hand cream.

- Monkey Harris is adopted. He does not know who his birth parents are, and he has never cared to find out.

- Pauline Harris is Monkey Harris’ cousin by adoption. He hates her.

- While I’m talking about Monkey, he has had a fat crush on Trigger since they were teenagers, but he is closeted, and his love for his wife later on prevented him from ever acting on his feelings. This, though, is why he continuously teamed up with Trigger in the early days, despite the fact he never brought many, if any ideas to the table and was really only good at nicking things. He wanted to keep him close. He started leaving Trig out of his schemes after deciding it was unfair on both Trigger and his wife, hence why Trigger only engages in solo petty thefts later on in the series.

- Trigger has had brief relationships with a few of the barmaids at The Nag’s Head. Most notably, Joycie, Julie and Maureen. His affair with Joycie actually pre-dated her barmaid days. They dated for a time in the early seventies. Joycie has been heavily involved in the leather scene for years. Trigger was not, but he happily gave it a try to please Joycie, with whom he had his first healthy relationship after a string of bad ones. The two made a readers’ page in a leather magazine that Joycie was subscribed to. Her dressed as a jockey, he as a horse, under the pseudonyms Jockey Joyce and Sweeps the Stallion. Years later, Del-Boy bought a job lot of old dirty magazines from a sex shop that was closing down, much to the chagrin of Albert and (to an extent) Rodney. Rodney was not so upset as to turn down a gift of whichever magazine he fancied. He chose Joycie and Trig’s mag in the hope of a few uniforms, only to recognise Trigger’s eyes peeking at him over a long, leather horse snout. Del and Rodney quickly buried the magazine in the pile and swore never to speak of it.

- Joycie is Nervous Nerys’ aunt.

- Trigger used to walk both Karen and Nerys home, on nights when they had no transport. - Lisa, Trigger’s niece, had a crush on Karen in secondary school. Trigger was the first person she told, making him promise not to tell her mum. - Lisa’s dad walked out on her mum, before she was born. Trigger stepped in and sat with his sister through the birth. During the first year of Lisa’s life, Trigger lived with them, as an extra pair of hands to feed, or sooth his niece when needed. As a result, he is very protective of Lisa. When Andy stepped into her life, Trigger, as well as Lisa’s mum, gave him the talk. Trigger may not be too good with words, but he did tell Andy about the day Lisa was born, that a brother is no substitute for a husband, and neither is an uncle. He managed to make it clear what would happen if Andy left Lisa when she needed him, but fortunately there was no need. - Rodney suffers with reoccurring eczema, and he’s pretty insecure about it. - Marlene is bisexual and had several girlfriends, as well as boyfriends, before settling with Boycie. I like to think that one of those girlfriends was a girl called Sybil, who would go on to marry a Bazil Fawlty. She also harboured a bit of a crush on Raquel. - Besides the heart on her thigh, Marlene has quite a few tattoos that are hidden under her clothes. - When he was still in school, Boycie was sent to therapy for anger management. His passion for keeping fish started from this, as he was advised to get a goldfish to help him calm down. - Despite not being their father, Mike actually gets on really well with his ex-wife’s kid and always sends them christmas and birthday presents. - Trigger had terrible trouble tying his shoelaces, until Del Boy showed him the bunny ears method. He uses it to this day.

- Denzil moved in with Trigger during a rough depressive episode, and decided to stay when they found they both liked the arrangement. - Corinne collects prettily painted mugs, and has a special selection of ones with birds on them.

- The pink hat that Trigger said was stolen at a party, was actually a woman’s hat that he bought in the sixties, during his dandy phase. He loved it so much that none of his friends had the heart to tell him it was made for a girl. He wore it everywhere.

- When Trigger was young and first started to experience auditory hallucinations, his Grandma told him that it was just the spirits trying to talk to him. As she was a medium, little Trigger believed her. In actuality, Alice Ball was aware of what the issue really was, but did not want Trigger to know. This was because his mother, Elsie, had been sent to a psychiatric hospital for the same thing, and had been subjected to malpractice. She was never the same again, and Arthur and Alice grew a complete distrust of psychiatry. Trigger did not realise until a significantly late age, that his condition was actually a mental one, having been told to keep the “voices” a secret.

#headcanons #only fools and horses #ofah

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ryoskuna · 3 years

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⭑ shaken, not stirred. | bartender!sukuna au.

notes: this thought of bartender!sukuna has been in my head for weeks, but it’s when my mom was giving me a lecture while i was thinking of sketching him as bartender that solidified the fact. this may become a series thing, and you’re also welcomed to ask questions about this au (please do, it is one of my new favorite things). also i have no idea what reader will be in this au-verse, but i’m thinking a law student (am i self-projecting... perhaps), but i’m open to y’all’s suggestions and can do headcanons for whatever kind of reader y’all want to see. additionally, did i screenshot that picture for the banner from episode 14 bc i thought he looked extra good?? yeah... i did.

warnings: like... mild nsfw via music suggestions, mentions of drink tampering but not from sukuna

bonus: there’s a playlist that goes with this, here.

taglist: @lethargicyashi, @night-rook, @izuniias, @skys-luce-stellare, @skys-luce-stellare

there’s something about 6′4 sukuna shaking a cocktail shaker to toxic by britney spears that just.... chef’s kiss. no i will not elaborate, just think about it.

sometimes, you think he’s taller than 6′4, but that’s just his platform doc martens.

god, the man chewing on a thin stirring/cocktail straw or just holding it in his jaw, in between his teeth and watch his lips purse around it. he’ll take it out to talk, of course.

the waist apron he wears only emphasizes his shoulder-to-hip ratio

the best seat in the house is literally anywhere you can see him??? like behind him, you can see his back muscles flex, but in the front, you can see his tattoos on his chest peeking out from the fact that he is not going to ever button the top two buttons on his shirt. also, he leaves his sleeves pushed up to his elbows on most nights

tongue piercing, check. both of his ears are pierced, but he tends to change up whether he has just one in or both.

you find out about the tongue piercing when he does his taste-testing of the drinks he mixes, via the straw drop (take a black plastic straw, dips the straw into the glass, covers the unsubmerged straw end with his index finger to create suction, lifts the straw to his lips, releases his index finger, and "tastes" the cocktail). usually he’ll put the straw in his mouth, but if he notices you’re watching, well, there goes the tongue piercing.

he wears rings, constantly. at least two, one on each hand.

he is a megan the stallion fan (and nicki minaj too, but i digress) and knows most of the words to her songs. his personal favorite is crybaby, and you being his s/o, well, he’ll sing it word for word to you while making drinks at home. he leans in and whispers the real intense/filthy parts like (”uh-uh, don’t fuck me like that fuck me like this”) yeah. he looks like he’s talking normal, but the way his voice drops more and he whispers??? goodbye world.

sometimes he likes to tease too much while he’s singing and will lean in to lick the shell of your ear or maybe nip your earlobe, who knows

and then he’ll pass your drink like nothing ever happened

also has doja cat on his playlist, but yuji is to blame for that

cherry knot tying king

casual friday for the staff at said bar/establishment, and he’s coming in jeans and a loose tank top, you know, the ones with the drops on the sleeves on the sides??

sukuna is extremely aware of what’s happening in the room at all times. some creep hitting on someone? intervene. someone trying to spike a drink?? he catches them in the act. someone spiked a drink???? he just looks at the recipient, tells them to switch with him, and before they can say anything, they have a new, safe drink while he has the tampered one.

does he grab offenders whether they’re being following creeps, coming on too strong, or trying to tamper with drinks by the scruff of their necks and carry them out personally? yes, yes he does. if you’re there, he’ll wink at you before he gives him a kick on the ass for good measure as he pushes them out the door.

he makes custom drinks for people, like he’ll ask what’s your preference in taste like sweet, strong or whatever, plus two other questions that seem unrelated but he’s managed to make the perfect drink for you

again, he’s highly aware of his surroundings, so if you’re looking at his back, he knows, and will look over his shoulder to smirk at you, looking you right in the eyes. (SHEESH)

thinking of him coming in on one of his days off with a ballcap and a tight, dry fit t-shirt on, so by the time he’s working, his hair is a lil messy, and you better thank heaven for that dry fit t-shirt because MUSCLES BABE

is working on his own lil drink recipe book, which means you either get to be his taste tester, or taste it when he kisses you

this man knows he’s hot, he’s a smug shit about it, and works it to his favor. does he tie cherry knots at work because the women at the bar go crazy and give him extra tips?? yes

but if you’re there, oh sweetheart, he’s actually going to give you the cherry before putting the knot in his mouth to tie, BYE

also.... hehe, had to mention this but uh... you could bounce a quarter off that ass of his

he comes home from a late/graveyard shift, and just crawls into bed, smelling like syrup and cologne, just... run your fingers through his hair and he’ll be out in a few minutes

occasionally, he will sleep on the couch as not to disturb you, but the man really is too big to be sleeping on a couch.

if his shift starts at 6, he comes in at 5, hair a little damp from the shower he just took, and in a clean dry fit shirt and tight slacks or dark colored jeans. he’ll either work in the dry fit shirt, or he has a button up he can change into in the back

also??? really decent and will help you get stains out of your clothes if it’s something he can swing to clean in the sink like a shirt

otherwise, he’ll write what you need on a napkin and pass it to you

fucking hates white claws with a passion, ngl

during particularly slow moments at work, you might be able to catch him plucking a few cords on the guitar that sits on stage or poking around with the piano (look, i think he’s very capable of playing instruments and his fingers are good for it)

painted nails!! they’re usually a dark purple or black, occasionally a dark red. sometimes they’re clear, but he’s gotten the idea from when he supposedly was in his emo phase (and learned to keep something on them from breaking from his younger brother’s friend nobara)

likes to dance with you to the songs on his playlist in his minimalistic kitchen in between cooking or making drinks

at least once a month, you can catch him in a necklace

during the winter months, tight turtlenecks or ribbed long sleeved shirts are his best friends

he also drives a very nice and sleek black car (i’d imagine it’s like a black audi TT or an audi R8) that sits in the back of the parking lot and has a habit of turning his keys on his index finger as he walks towards the building/into work.

bartending might have started as a part time job when he was in college, but it’s something he’s just kept up over the years

man fills up a lot of space and knows it, even when he’s leaning on his back countertop during breaks or on the bar to take orders with his arms folded over his chest

ANYWAYS. be nice to your local bartender because he can bite. take that as you will.

#this was so utterly self indulgent #enjoy the meal #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #bartender!sukuna au.#sukuna.#jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #Jujutsu Kaisen #jjk #jjk hcs #jujutsu kaisen x reader #my writing.#rsff

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stripper-patrick · 3 years

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I like the barbies💓, but I want the Bratz😈Steve Rogers

Warnings: language, fluff, smut, dom!Steve, choking, degradation, oral (m), angst, angry!Steve, fingering, fluff, crying, slight sub!Steve

Tags: @rebellious-desires @mrsbanreswillseeyou @eclecticblkgirl

Relationship: Steve Rogers x black plus sized reader

Steve called a mandatory meeting but I’m not sure for what and I’m interested to see what he’s gonna say.

“Y/N” Scott calls and I turn around meeting him.

“Hey Scott”

“You look beautiful today” I can tell he likes me but usually I don’t pay attention because I’m so busy with work. See I work as a nurse but strictly for the avengers team. I interned for Stark and he hired me after a month seeing how good I work under pressure. Then that’s when I met Steve. They brought him to me when he was fresh out of the ice to which I took care of him as well as catching him up on the 66 years of history he had missed. He took a liking towards me and soon we started our best friendship which turned into a sexual relationship. I’d enjoy more but I don’t wanna ruin what we have so l handle this for now.

Me and Scott walk and talk together to the conference room where he opens the door for me “oh my god I’m so tired of wearing scrubs really I’d prefer to be in a big t-shirt and nothing else” I laugh. I notice I’ve caught Steve’s attention by that sentence. His blue eyes study my features of a short t-shirt dress and my silk-pressed ashy brown hair flowing gloriously on my shoulders with each step I take.

“Well I’m sure a lot of male patients would be very aroused by how good you’d look in either attire I know I would” I blush laughing and I catch a Steve’s eyes. The once ice blue orbs now turned into electric with what looks like lust and anger. Steve always was possessive but seeing as we aren’t together you’d think he’d let little things like this slide. But we’re both wrong.

Everyone piles in at once and we all sit down waiting for what Steve has to say. “For starters I’d like to thank everyone for coming to the meeting and as we know there’s a special event tonight the ultimate Christmas party Tony famously hosts every year but we don’t want it to be like the last time where we we’re attacked by robots which is something I never thought I’d said in my 99 years of life” he chuckles “let’s remember to have fun but keep the compound secure and safe as well”

“That was all you called us for?” Scott asks. He had a tendency to get under Steve’s skin often bringing up his past and on one occasion he even mentioned our extraordinary 74 year ago gap and Steve nearly put him in a full Nelson.

“It is is there a problem?” I can see Steve is boiling but I don’t know why

“No problem at all captain” he chuckles

“Good everyone’s dismissed” he calls “except for Y/N” my heart starts beating faster and I watch everyone leave. I avoid eye contact with Steve but the second I catch him (gif), I feel my wetness start to collect between my thighs. The door is shut and I stand up walking towards him. I do a half sit on the table as he strides towards me placing his hands on either sides of my hips coming about eye level to me. The smell of his mint toothpaste and Armani cologne is breathtaking.

“I don’t like how he talks to you or even looks at you”

“Who Scott? We’re just friends”

“He wants you Y/N and I’m sure he has a sense that something is going on between us so if he could he’d taste you right in front of me” Steve parts my legs stepping between them

“Nonsense Steve it’s not even like that. You’re just being over-protective and jealous. For what? I don’t know”

“Because you’re mine” his hand slides between my thighs as his calloused finger rubs my wet clit before sliding between my folds. My upper body slouches down as I push my hands behind me on the table to keep my balance. My eyes shut and I bite my lip holding back a moan.

“How can that be the case yet we’re not together?” I ask

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t mine” he says sliding a finger in. My body opens up to him. I’m feeling so many different emotions. Mad, sexually frustrated, horny, appalled. I don’t know what to do. He continues pumping slowly to torture me. My body shakes and he holds up my chin forcing me to look into his eyes. Steve curls his fingers making my body jolt. He moves his hand in a quick all-of-a-sudden pace slamming on my g-spot. My body rocks and my moans get louder. Steve covers my mouth “be a good girl for me and cum on my hand princess” my legs shake and next thing I know I’m convulsing against him trying to press my thighs together. My back arches as he pumps me dry. Once I come to my sense I watch Steve lick his fingers with a smirk.

“If you want me to officially” I stand up slowly watching him take a step back “you know what to do” I walk out going straight to my room. I take a deep breath as my wobbly legs force me to sit on the nearby chair. I’ve gotta start getting ready for this party. I bring myself together walking to the shower turning it on hot.

.....

I’m all dressed and ready for the party and I hear a bunch of people downstairs and the slow jazz music awaiting. I take one last look on the mirror at my outfit which is white mid rise bell bottoms, a double breasted blazer and a lace white bra that exposes the breast tattoo Steve likes so much. I grab my bedazzled clear heels sliding them on before heading downstairs. I stand at the top of the steps just grabbing some alone time before I merge with the crowd. A body slides next to me and I think it’s Steve until I meet eyes with someone else. Scott.

“Oh my god Y/N you look incredible” I smile thanking him keeping my eyes on the crowd “Jesus if I were Steve I wouldn’t let you walk out like that” I chuckle

“Scott I do what I want relationship or not”

“Speaking of what’s going between you and the crypt keeper” he takes a sip of his drink and I feel eyes burning into me. I look down seeing Steve staring right back at me. Sharon is staring at him like she hasn’t eaten in days and I feel my blood boil. He excuses himself and I watch him walk towards the steps.

“Nothing we’re just friends and coworkers”

“Hmm” he hums in disapproval. Steve meets us at the top with a fake smile on his face.

“Excuse me Scott I’d like to borrow Y/N for a minute” he grabs my arm whisking me away without even allowing Scott to comply.

Steve takes me to a dimly lit hallway and I yank my arm away “have you lost your damn mind” by this point I’m pissed. I get that Steve has attachment issues but that doesn’t mean he can control who I talk to let alone get mad that another guy is giving me attention when all he does is work and fuck me.

“Maybe. What the hell are you doing after I told you Scott is trying to get what’s mine”

“Steven how the fuck can I be yours and we’re not dating. And you know why we aren’t dating because you’re still strung up on Sharon who just so happened to be undressing you mentally”

“She was not” he scoffs. I squint my eyes in anger “It’s obvious Scott only wants to fuck you”

“And what the fuck do you actually get to do. Fuck me that’s it. You don’t know how bad I actually wanna be with you but the only thing we can do is fuck so don’t say shit about anyone else’s place when you’re actually participating in the act just using the same mindset” I storm away from him and walk downstairs mixing myself in the crowd.

“Y/N you look great” Pepper says “woah what’s wrong”

“Nothing I’m fine” I say. She knows me better than anyone else and she grabs my hand. She excuses herself from Tony and we head to the bathroom.

“Talk to me” a tear slips and I wipe it careful not to mess up my makeup. I explain to her what happened and she shakes her head

“Men are so stupid” she hugs me making me laugh. She helps me fix my makeup and it doesn’t look too bad. Pepper walks out with me our locked together and we go straight to the bar “4 vodka shots please”

The bartender grabs the Smirnoff bottle pouring the liquor into the small glasses setting them in front of us. She hands me 2 and I grab one glass tipping my head back letting the liquid glide down my throat leaving a fiery trail. My face scrunches up and the DJ spins the record stopping the smooth jazz.

I watch as Tony gets on the mic “I feel like we need to amp this party up some more” the crowd agrees as the DJ turns the music up putting on Meg Thee Stallion’s song Freak Nasty.

I take my second shot grabbing a lime to chase the liquor and replace the fiery taste in my mouth. My chest burns as the liquid courage smoothes down singeing my sternum.

I feel myself migrate to the dance floor rocking to the beat of the music. I bend over shaking my ass and I feel a body slide behind me. I’m not sure who it is but the guys hands slide around my waist keeping me close. “Damn baby can I take you home” before I’m able to pull whoever this is off of me Steve grabs him.

“Get your fucking hands off my girl” I watch Steve pull the guy away and he grabs my arm pulling me upstairs to his bedroom. I can tell he’s livid.

“Y/N what the fuck”

“I didn’t even know it wasn’t you” I say nonchalantly standing up “and again I don’t see why you’re mad we aren’t even-“ he cuts me off with a kiss and a hand pressed to my throat. Steve is quick to lay me on the bed still holding me in his powerful kiss. Steve pulls off my jacket moving his lips to my neck and breasts. I bite my lip holding back a moan. His hands slip into my pants undoing them and my legs fall open for him. I feel his erection against my thigh as he rubs my wet swollen clit begging for attention.

“Don’t stop” instead Steve does the opposite and stands up. I pull off my pants and soaked black thong. Steve undresses his bottom half and grabs my legs pulling me to the end of the bed. He taps his dick on my clit making me writhed before he finally pushes himself in me.

I grab his arm as he continues his assault breathing heavily near my ear. His moans are guttural and low as he nips at my ear. “Just like that please Steve” he pushed my thighs back on the bed stroking me down harder. My jaw drops and I lift my arms above my head gripping the sheets behind me.

“You look so fucking good doll” I whimper holding him close to me. The thought of Sharon taking him away from me overwhelms me and a tear slips. Or it could be from just how good he’s pounding out my pussy.

“Look at you. A beautiful fucking mess. My beautiful fucking slut” he bites my collarbone quick to put my legs on his shoulders.

“Steve please”

“What do you want? Use your words” I can’t even think. I’m not sure what I want so I let my heart do the talking

“Don’t leave me”

“I won’t baby girl. Fuck you look so pretty taking my dick like that”

“Steve” I moan. His strokes increase as he wraps his hand tighter around my throat

“Nobody is allowed between my pretty little sluts thighs but me” my release is on the brink as he keeps talking to me like this “and if they try... I’ll kill them”

“I’m cumming” my legs shake uncontrollably as my hips buck upward.

“Cum for me please” he whimpers. I muster up the strength and flip us over riding him. I grind hard on Steve as he coats my walls in his juices whimpering my name.

I keep bucking my hips watching him squirm. I slow down and collapse on his chest feeling his dick pulse inside of me.

“You’re mine” he rasps

“I’m yours” I smile

“We’re going on a date tomorrow to solidify it but for right now will you be my girlfriend?” He smiles

“Of course” I laugh as he kisses my head.

#smut #fluff #chris evans smut #chris evans #dom!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x black reader #poc #chris evans x woc reader #captain america imagine #captain america smut #captain america #steve rogers smut

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luxekook · 4 years

Text

chapter one.

⇥ pairing: jungkook x reader; eventual bts/ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 2.3k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, dirty talk, kissing, hickies, drinking, tatted jungkook, nipple piercings

Chapter One

Fall of Junior Year – 8:57am

I curse every single decision that has brought me to this very moment as I power-walk across campus, sweating under the already blistering sun. Campus in August could easily be compared to a swamp given the amount of unearthly humidity, and I'm pretty sure I currently qualified as the local swamp thing.

The only positive feature in my morning has been the table of free coffee and doughnuts staffed by Student Government. The first day of the fall semester always seems to be accompanied by frantically wide-eyed freshmen and celebratory freebies. However, air conditioning is the only thing I would be celebrating today as I finally reach Tyson Hall – the destination of my 9:00am class.

As I rush to my classroom with one minute to spare, I slump into a seat in the far corner – my preferred location for people-watching out of the large windows and for getting away with doing homework for other classes.

Familiar faces surround me, an unsurprising observation given that this is our mandatory research seminar as psychology majors. I notice my friend Jenni sitting in the opposite corner, eyes glued to her phone screen.

Opening my laptop, I shoot her a text to come sit with me. Her head whips up, black braids moving every which way as she immediately piles up her things and hustles over, “(y/n), I forgot you were in this seminar! I just switched over from quantitative research because I couldn’t take any more statistics – or Dr. Harding.”

Dr. Harding is the dean of the psychology department and has been teaching here for ages. Feared by most psychology students for his tough grading and intimidating persona, he’s actually a huge softie – something I discovered by going to his office hours and seeing all 85 pictures of his grandchildren hanging throughout the room.

“He’s not that bad, Jen.”

She scoffs, “You would say that because you got an A in statistics like some sort of wizard. Besides, Dr. Newman is so much nicer.”

Jenni has an excellent point. Dr. Newman is the main reason I chose this seminar. As one of the most respected researchers at our university, she’s known for her qualitative studies on gender across cultures. I consider Dr. Newman to be a real badass woman and I lowkey stan her.

I turn to reply, but Dr. Newman begins taking attendance and class begins.

Fifty minutes later, Jenni practically drags me out of the classroom, “I cannot believe she kept us the whole 50 minutes. Is she aware that it’s syllabus week? It’s practically law to just read over the syllabus and then dismiss class. This is outrageous– (y/n), are you even listening?”

“Hmm?” I totally had tuned her out, focusing on the number of students flooding the quad. I had missed this – the rush of students heading to class, the yells of people greeting each other from entirely too far away, the buzz of excitement over potential parties…

“Unbelievable. How did I forget you have this whole weird-ass feminist crush on her?” Jenni forges forth, “It doesn’t matter. What are you doing tonight? You’re going out with us, right? Luna and I want to go to Hannigan’s.”

Since the three of us had all turned 21 over the summer, we finally could legally go to the bars in town. Hannigan’s currently holds the top spot on the list of bars that most of the upperclassman frequent. It’s a popular Irish pub downtown known for its cheap beer and mixed drinks.

It’s also BTS’s unofficial hangout – a fact that makes me slightly uneasy. After learning who the higher-ups are in BTS, I have taken to avoiding them like the plague. It was a relatively easy thing to do since the spring semester tended to be less focused on rushing and recruiting for fraternities and sororities.

But now it’s rush season, and I’m pretty much fucked. There will be no avoiding seeing BTS’s president Kim Namjoon out recruiting with his vice president Min Yoongi and his social chair Jung Hoseok. There will also be no avoiding pledge master Taehyung leading around new BTS pledges like a mother duckling. And don’t even get me started on how Kim Seokjin, Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook will be popping up everywhere to advertise the latest BTS bash.

Sighing, I figure that the chances of actually bumping into them at the bar will be slim, given that it will most likely be super crowded and I can easily blend in.

I turn to Jenni as we keep walking towards our next classes, “Yeah, I’ll go to Hannigan’s. Are you going to come over to get ready at our place?”

Luna and I had moved into a cute little off-campus apartment over the summer. As it turned out, it’s cheaper to live off-campus than on-campus if you look hard enough. We also had it pretty good location-wise being just a few short blocks from both campus and downtown.

“Yes!” Jenni replies, slowing to a stop out front of the science building, “I’ll be over around 8 with tequila. I’ll text you later. I’ve got to go to neuro-psych lab now,” she rolls her eyes, “Hopefully we won’t be kept the whole time.”

Waving, we part ways, and I shake my head.

Tequila never leads to anything good.

Hannigan’s – 10:54pm

Fate seems to be on my side for once in my life. As soon as Luna, Jenni and I walk into Hannigan’s, my eyes are drawn to the back table where the BTS usually sits. It’s empty.

It’s practically an unspoken rule that no one else can sit there, and even though the bar is packed with all other tables accounted for, that one remains vacant – and for good reason.

Greek life essentially has a cult following around here. The Greeks provide status for those who are into that whole exclusivity thing. They also provide the best parties because of the size of their houses and because the university will never complain about one of their best sources of revenue.

I didn’t to rush a sorority way back in freshman year because I couldn’t feasibly afford it. The dues were way out of my price range, considering I was already paying for my education on my own. Luna, on the other hand, is in Epsilon Xi Delta (EXID) and consistently makes me and Jenni tag along to different Greek parties with her.

"Come on, bitches! Let's get some drinks," Jenni drags me and Luna through the packed room towards the bar that is already encircled by a crowd of thirsty students.

Tonight’s plan is simple – stick together, have fun, scope out cute seniors. Having already taken some shots before we left (saving that coin), we’re definitely feeling ourselves, flaunting our outfits like we didn’t spend a good hour picking them out earlier.

I had settled on a black t-shirt dress with a checkered flannel tied around the waist and some black Doc Martens. Luna and Jenni had tried to convince me to wear heels with them, but I knew syllabus week was a marathon – not a sprint. My feet would thank me later, and theirs would be crying.

As the bartender slides us our beers, the opening beats of Cocky AF by our badass queen Megan Thee Stallion blast through the speakers dispersed throughout the bar. Turning immediately to each other, we clink our beers together, take a sip, and head to the makeshift dance floor.

We squeeze and push our way through the masses until we reach a spot towards the back where the crowd has thinned out a little more. Within seconds, we’re in motion, hips swaying in time to Megan saying ‘bitch, I look good and you know that’.

Shaking out my hair, I get in the zone and lose count of how many songs we dance to. Eventually, our beers empty and Luna turns to me, “Another?" She accompanies her shouted question with an unnecessary charade of shot-gunning a beer in case I couldn’t hear her. I roll my eyes, laughing while I nod in response.

“Save our spot!” Jenni yells and disappears into the crowd of dancers with Luna towards the bar.

I continue dancing on my own. Swaying my hips, I decide to put my hair up to try to cool off a little in the sweltering bar. The music shifts into a new song, this one slower, more seductive, a favorite of mine – Lost in the Fire featuring The Weeknd.

As Abel’s angelic voice flows over me, a pair of hands slide over my hips from behind me. I start to pull away, but then I notice – the hands are tattooed. And for some reason, that hot little fact makes me relax into the large body behind me.

Those tattooed hands tug me back even more, bringing me flush against him as he falls into time with my movements. God, this guy can dance – a rarity these days.

His body is all hard muscle and heated skin. His mouth is hot against my neck, alternating between kissing, sucking, and biting. My skin buzzes. Fuck, I haven’t felt this way since–

Turning my head slightly, I can make out the vague outline him and it confirms my sinking suspicion... He’s a BTS boy.

"Hey, noona," he murmurs in my ear, his lips brushing over it as he speaks.

Fuck my life, I think as I shiver involuntarily in response. Spinning to face one of Satan’s henchmen, I toss my ponytail over my shoulder and jut a hip out in both defiance and defense. But really nothing could have prepared me for the sight of Jeon fucking Jungkook, the golden boy of BTS.

He somehow looks like he’s gotten even bigger since the last I saw him playing pong against Taehyung at that party – information that I cannot even comprehend. His left arm is completely tattooed, along with a few smaller ones dotting his hands. I glare at them, blaming those hands for throwing me off.

“Like them?” Jungkook waves his fingers in front of my narrowed eyes, “I got them this summer.” Smirking lazily, Jungkook makes his own perusal of me – taking extra time along the way.

His jaw flexes as his eyes turn molten, “You’re killing me, noona. Tae didn’t mention…” He trails off, swallowing hard.

I follow his gaze. Oh fuck. I had forgotten I decided to forego a regular bra tonight because I wanted to show off my piercings. Just having a thin bralette under my dress, my pierced nipples are definitely noticeable under Jungkook’s heavy stare.

Refusing to give into him, I square my shoulders, “Yeah, I got them this summer, too. But, I don’t see how that’s either your or Taehyung’s business.”

At my words, Jungkook rips his eyes away from my tits to finally meet my own eyes again, “Oh, but it really is our business. Tae said we’d like you and I agree.”

His voice is low and rough, and I swear I can feel it washing over my body, making all of my synapses fire in response.

“We?” I choked out. In full panic mode, I spin and try to leave, but I barely make it a foot away before getting stopped by a now-familiar tattooed hand wrapped around my wrist.

Luckily, a crashing sound echoes from the back table where the other BTS boys must be, and Jungkook lets out a string of curses, “Fucking hell, listen I have to go make sure no one’s hurt, or Joon will kill me. Stay here, okay? I’m not done with you, (y/n).”

His hand rushes up to the nape of my neck, pulling me into him. Our lips fuse together in a brutally hot kiss, his tongue slipping against my bottom lip for a fraction of a second.

And then he’s gone – disappearing rapidly through the fray to manage whatever trouble his frat has gotten into.

I stand there, shaking fingers on my lips wondering what the actual fuck just happened.

“Hey, sorry we took so long! This bitch cut in front of us and I swear she ordered for the entire fucking population of North America—”

Luna smacks Jenni’s arm, cutting her off, “You okay, (y/n)?” Luna peers closer at me, “Holy shit, is that a hickey? We were only gone for 10 minutes!”

My hand flies to my neck as both Jenni and Luna grab me, dragging me to the slightly quieter back alley of the bar. As they conduct the second Spanish Inquisition, I spill the details on what happened.

After a moment of silence following my explanation, they both start talking at once:

→ Jenni: “Hell yes, girl, go off! Jeon Jungkook is fine as fuck…” → Luna: “(y/f/n) (y/m/n) (y/l/n), have you lost your damn mind…”

→ Jenni: “…I’d hit that in a heartbeat. I’m so proud!” → Luna: “…Do you not remember last semester? Are you high? Oh my GOD, did he drug you?!”

“Stop!” I slap a hand over each of their mouths, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you guys are impossible. I am not ‘hitting’ anything, and, no, he did not fucking drug me.”

Sighing, I continue, “It was a lapse in judgement, okay? I remember last semester more than anyone, but he’s just so powerful and I don’t seem to have any common sense around BTS.”

I take my hands away from their mouths and immediately Jenni asks, “Wait, what happened last semester?”

Luna slings an arm around my shoulder, “Come on, let’s go get pizza and a six-pack from Ralph’s. We can go out another night this week.”

“Take-out from Ralph’s?” Jenni’s eyes widen comically, “This must be major tea. Let’s go.”

Instinctively, we clink our beers together for the second time that night and chug the remainder of our bottles in true broke bitch fashion (never leave paid-for beer behind).

With that, we trek back through the door and out of the bar. We finish our night filling in Jenni with our less than savory experience with the infamous BTS fraternity last semester.

But, as I lay in bed for the night, I can’t help but wonder if Jungkook had looked for me that night after I left… Or if he told Taehyung...

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sserpente · 4 years

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A/N: Finally! It’s been so long since I wrote something for Eric. This is loosely based on a request I got but mainly an idea I have been meaning to write for quite some time now! Enjoy! ♥

Words: 4199 Warnings: very brief mention of a pandemic

Some decisions in life had to be made not out of convenience but because they were the right thing to do. Although you had not gotten Candor for your Aptitude test, the choosing ceremony was the one day in your life you had sworn to be honest to yourself. Despite what everyone would think. Despite what your heart told you. Despite Eric.

You could not have stayed in Dauntless. You were war too peaceful, too much of a pacifist—but against all reason, you had fallen in love with the most dangerous and scariest person of the entire faction. Eric Coulter.

You spent a lot of time together, before he became a leader. Your friendship had involved long nights on the metal bridge right above the chasm when the compound was quiet for once. It had involved training together, fighting together and hoarding cake and muffins in your parents’ apartment. He had loved muffins back in the day. Coming from Erudite, all they had was fizzy drinks. You doubted he still ate muffins or cake these days. Anyway it wasn’t like you’d know. Not after you transferred to the faction Eric positively hated even more than Abnegation.

Amity had been the right choice for you—not only had it been the result of your Aptitude test (which your test administrator had told you with a rather concerned expression)—it was also the faction appealing to you the most. You belonged here; never in Dauntless where the preferred way of solving problems was by throwing fists.

But it had been the moment you had turned away from the bowls filled with whatever represented the respective faction and pressed your thumb to the fresh cut on your palm, when your eyes met his cold and disappointed glare that he was never going to forgive you for leaving him. You almost scoffed at the thought. It sounded like a tragic love story when in fact, you had never actually gone further than sharing passionate kisses. The last few weeks before the choosing ceremony around your sixteenth birthday had been the first time Eric’s subtle touches became more meaningful, more physical—leading to your first kiss in the pit, in the middle of the night, and your first serious relationship. You still remembered this one time he had pulled you on his lap in the middle of the cafeteria, right before the eyes of Four and the other leaders as if to prove a point.

You had been frowned upon, too. It wasn’t just the minor age difference when Eric officially joined the Dauntless leaders. But everyone, including your own friends, had suspected he would favour you, making it harder for other initiates to secure a spot in Dauntless. Well, you were never going to stay anyway. It was just you had never told him that—not until the day you took your Aptitude test.

Several years had passed now. You had not seen Eric once since the day you left Dauntless and since your parents, sharing Eric’s opinion on feeling sick about all the peace and harmony in Amity, never came to visit you for you to ask about him. Without a doubt, he was still a leader. Without a doubt, he was still dangerous and feared. Without a doubt… you still loved him, even after all this time.

You had had one relationship since your transfer, just about long enough to gain some sort of experience, well, non-sexual that was. Up to this day, you wondered would it would be like to have sex with Eric instead. No Amity man had thus far held your interest for longer than a few days when they first began to court and compliment you—and you were fair enough to tell them straight away you did not reciprocate their attraction. None of them was muscly. None of them had intimidating tattoos on their neck and arms and none of them had two piercings above their right eyebrow.

At least you had hopes that at some point, you could forget him, move on and get married to a charming Amity man. That was until Jeanine announced a couple of Divergents and their sympathisers as fugitives—the very same fugitives Johanna was currently hiding in your faction and Dauntless, or whatever was left of it, disrupted the peace.

You jumped from your seat when the trucks arrived, tearing down the wooden fences in the process. It was obvious this was not going to be a courtesy visit. Swallowing thickly, you tried to remember what you had heard on the news. Divergents threatening the faction system, Jeanine trying to stop them from recruiting members of Dauntless to overthrow Abnegation and thus the government…

You did not have to be Candor to know she was lying. You had known a Divergent girl once. She had transferred from Dauntless to Abnegation after her Aptitude test and if anything, she had been terrified she did not seem to fit into only one faction. Four and Tris, they were no threat to the faction system. Their version of the truth was what you believed in. Still, much like Johanna, you did not want any part of this and instead, eat your bread soaked with peace serum.

For a breathless moment that lasted just a second too long, it was awfully quiet. Then, all hell broke loose as aggressive and armed Dauntless soldiers stormed into the open cafeteria and lined everyone up for “testing”.

It was panic you felt creeping up your guts. Fear of what might happen to you or your new found friends in this faction. Breathing heavily, you glanced at the exit nearest to you. You were fast. Your time in Dauntless had made you not only brave and daring but also strong. You had one shot at making a run for it and hide in the hennery or the stables—so you took it and you fled.

Was he here somewhere? You had spotted Max talking to Johanna as you ran but had not dared slow down; not until you had finally reached the stables the farthest away from the cafeteria and Johanna’s office and hid with one of your closest friends—you had named him Starlight and he truly deserved his title being a black and graceful stallion with blue eyes. You sat down next to him, waited and prayed.

The shots reached you across the fields seemingly out of nowhere. Flinching, you put your hand on Starlight’s mane to calm him down even though you barely helped with your heart beating faster than a steam hammer.

Not long after, you heard him before you saw him, your blood running cold and a petrifying shiver freezing you in place as you broke out into a sweat.

“We need shelter for the night.” Eric.

Go, leave! Leave before he sees you! But you could not bring yourself to run. If he moved any closer, he would be able to see you. Part of you wanted stay, to cup his face and kiss him, the other… the rational one, wanted to flee.

Now. You jumped, turning around the corner to do just that, in an attempt to leave him and his sinful voice behind you for good. Instead, you bumped straight into him. Positive that your heart skipped a beat, your eyes widened when you caught his attention and he recognised you.

“Eric.” Your voice was no more than a whisper.

Whatever flashed in his blue eyes, it was gone before you could properly grasp it. Was it surprise, anger, regret or longing? Or perhaps a mixture of all? Your lips parted when he took a step towards you, approaching you slowly but determined—like a predator about to attack its intimidated prey.

He looked more mature. Stronger, even. And right now, he was sweating a little, all out of breath and appeared to be downright furious. Tris, Four and their friends must have managed to escape then.

“Look at that,” He finally said. There was a coolness in his voice which had never been there before. With a slight frown, he eyed you up and down. “Black suited you much better than orange.” Another step, invading your personal space. You could smell his aftershave when you inhaled, shakily. He was still using the same.

“Eric, please leave her alone.” Johanna intervened. You had barely noticed her standing there before but were all the more grateful that she was. You were not afraid of him—Eric would never hurt you physically, you were sure of that. Still, her presence relieved you. “I told Max we have additional cots in a hut across the farm for our initiates. You can spend the night there.” She explained peacefully.

Eric’s taunting and challenging gaze never left yours when he replied to her.

“I think I’ll be just fine staying with (Y/N).”

“What?”

“Now what happened to that friendly Amity hospitality?” He mocked, a scornful smirk playing on his lips. Clenching your fists, you gnashed your teeth in an attempt not to lash out at him either verbally or physically. Johanna wouldn’t like that and you certainly wouldn’t either. Eric just brought out the former Dauntless in you.

Johanna opened her mouth to protest. She did not know Eric and you had a history but she was not the sort of person to start an argument. Besides, she could figure you knew each other from the past, given he had said your name and she was aware of where you had transferred from in the first place. How would she protest? If she did, she would hardly be the leader of Amity.

“I’m sure you’ll understand that the leaders of Dauntless won’t settle for sleeping in cots for initiates?” The tone of his voice hid a mocking threat. Johanna lifted her chin. She failed to stand up to him but her expression all but revealed how displeased she was with him.

Still, part of you longed to throw yourself into his arms. The other part… oh, the other part wanted to let out your Dauntless vein and slap him square in the face for his arrogant and superior attitude. Clenching your fists in an attempt to stay calm, you met Johanna’s concerned gaze.

“It’s okay. He can stay with me.”

“How generous…” The Dauntless leader mused.

“Eric! Remember we value peace in this faction.” Johanna called after him, presumably with a reproachful expression on her round face. He only chuckled in response as he followed you around the corner.

You did not know what to expect from Eric once you had brought him to your room. Perhaps that he would lash out at you and scream for transferring all those years back without telling him first, or maybe he would simply give you the silent treatment. If anything, Eric had always been really good at hiding his emotions from you. It was why him wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close so you crashed into his steel chest, his lips on your within a matter of seconds caught you completely off guard and was certainly the last thing you would have expected from him.

You had missed those lips… how warm and soft they felt against yours, his tongue demanding entrance to claim you for an even more passionate kiss and his strong arms folding around your body—so tiny compared to his—to keep you safe and warm.

Your eyelids threatened to fall shut, your fingertips itching to put your palms flat against his abdomen, to feel the muscles dancing underneath… you would have if you had eaten your bread today.

Outraged, you pushed him away with all the strength you could muster, glaring at him as if he had grown another head. How dared he? You could have been married by now!

“What… are you doing?”

The Dauntless leader quirked an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed. His lips were a little swollen from his own vicious attack. “If I recall correctly, kissing is usually what couples do to show their affection for one another.”

“Eric, we broke up.” You stuttered.

“We didn’t break up. You left.”

Your eyes met his. “Because I never belonged in Dauntless, we both know that.”

“Bullshit.” He spat with dismay. “You would have made through initiation easily with my help.”

Sighing mutely, you closed your eyes. That was exactly why you had never told him you wanted to leave your old faction. That… and the fact you hadn’t been brave enough to say goodbye and confront the ache in your heart. There went another reason you could not have stayed in Dauntless.

“Why are you here? This doesn’t seem like a courtesy visit to me. I heard the others talk about some sort of testing. What testing? Is it a disease? A pandemic?”

“Yeah, something like that,” he muttered with his back to you, stepping further into your room and looking around curiously all the while you crossed your arms before your chest. You did not have many belongings. A couple of books, a hay doll which you had crafted yourself and a little table lamp so you could read at night. You had bought it on Trading Day and regularly used it to read at night. It was a luxury not everybody here in Amity had.

With a start, he turned back around. His blue eyes were so cold you shivered. You wondered what had happened to him that had made him so… cruel. Eric did not look like he would hesitate to kill anyone who stood in his way.

“We’re looking for Divergents.” He said.

You frowned. “Why?” Your blood began to boil… they were human too, with hearts that beat all the same. There was no difference, really. Was it not the decision you made on Choosing Day which truly mattered?

“They’re threatening the faction system, attacked Abnegation, compromised Dauntless members…” And that was not the story Tris and Four had told Johanna. He was lying as much as Jeanine was—and he knew very well he was. The tension between you was palpable. If you reached out, you felt like you could actually grasp it, get him to snap. His composure was eerie.

“I think that’s not quite true and you know it.”

“Do I?” Eric raised his eyebrows, his tone almost mocking. You cursed yourself for thinking he was still incredibly sexy—despite his attitude; and your heart was beating so fast you could not help but realise you still loved him. “Don’t you worry. We’ll bring order to this mess they’ve caused.” Only it wasn’t the Divergents who had caused this mess, no?

You gasped when he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close, his mouth once again dangerously close to yours—not for the first time were you reminded of that one time he had pulled you on his lap in the cafeteria back in Dauntless. The only way someone like Eric would occasionally show affection for someone.

“You could come home then. Jeanine will sort it all out and everyone who ended up in the wrong faction can transfer.”

“I didn’t end up in the wrong faction!” You exclaimed indignantly, pushing him away with all your might. It didn’t do much. He barely stumbled back.

Eric seemed unconvinced—and almost all but unaffected by your words. “Okay.”

But only almost. It was the way he clenched his fists, the way that vein pulsing on his forehead and the way his left eye twitched barely noticeably. He would never admit it, let alone phrase it like so but you knew you were guilty of having broken his heart. The remorse was eating you up, from the inside out. Being with him now felt both like a relief and pure torture, knowing there was something you could never make up for.

“Don’t you miss the muffins?” He suddenly teased, playing down his emotions—like he always did. Only this time it sounded downright malicious and evil.

You scoffed. “When did you become… like this?” You said instead of responding to him. “So cruel? You wouldn’t have hesitated to kill any of us down there. I saw it in your eyes.”

His nostrils flared. “We’re at war, (Y/N)! I’m a soldier. Of course I wouldn’t hesitate.”

You snorted once more. “Well, that’s one of the reasons I left Dauntless.��

“And there I was hoping you’d regret your decision soon enough.”

For another long, agonising moment, he simply stared at you—then, mutely, he turned away and started taking off his clothing, piece by piece until all there was left were his black underpants. You had never seen him fully naked… well, how? You had never taken this step in your relationship given you had been much too young for it. And right now, there were much more important and pressing matters… like the fact he simply made himself comfortable in your bed as if it was his own.

“I could be married, you know.” You suddenly found yourself saying, only to realise the second the words left your mouth that you were only making this worse. “What if my husband comes home any moment now and finds you in our bed?”

“Then I’d tell him to fuck off.” He mumbled into the pillow before turning back around to face you. “You’re not married.” He added, nodding at your bare hand. “Actually I’m pretty sure you haven’t let a man lay a hand on you for more than an inept kiss.” You swallowed thickly. He was right.

“You’re wrong.”

“You know I’m not. Now go to bed, the trip back to Dauntless will take us longer now that so many Divergents are on the loose.”

“I am not coming back to Dauntless with you!”

He scoffed in response—and you were far too troubled to sleep. Let alone in the same bed with him. You considered your options for a moment. The hard wooden floor, the ice cold stables in midst of hay… or your soft bed in a warm room.

The decision was easier than it should have been. Still protesting mutely, you did as you were told, albeit reluctantly, but opted to keep on your dress.

You weren’t just cold. You were crying too. You realised the moment your cheek was growing wet from the sad spot of tears that had already formed on your pillow. Shaking silently, you hoped your mute suffering—more mental than physical—would go unnoticed and he wouldn’t wake up. That wish was ridiculous, come to think of it. Eric had learned during initiation that a light sleep could potentially save your life.

“Stop crying…” You heard him grumble, his voice drowsy. He sat up when you didn’t react, a loud sigh tearing through your dark room. “Stop crying.” He said again, softer this time, almost… soothingly. Comfortingly.

His skin felt like hot flames on yours when he leaned over to envelop your upper body in his embrace. You knew he wouldn’t say anything more. Eric was a man who let actions speak louder than words. Soon, you stopped trembling. Soon, you stopped weeping too.

It wasn’t just for his arms around you. It was the fact that you had hurt and disappointed him and he could have sent you straight into your death the moment he saw you again. He had not. He had acted cold and cruel and practically ordered you to return to Dauntless with him but he still loved you—as much as you still loved him. How much of this was healthy, you did not know. It was simply Eric’s way of showing feelings.

The next morning felt surreal, yet before you got to ask yourself if Eric was really here with you—here in Amity, in your bed—you felt the weight of his arm around your hips. You could tell by the way he tensed when you shifted slightly that he was already awake.

“Are you hungry?” He muttered. Frowning, you gazed at your wooden floor. You usually had breakfast before heading out to the farms. This morning, however, the thought of food alone was enough to make your head spin and feel nauseous.

“No… are you?”

“No. Pack your things then. We’re leaving.”

Eric stood. Half naked, he treaded across the room to put his clothes back on.

“I’m not packing anything. I can’t come with you, Eric, you know that.”

“Of course you can,” he spat. “Didn’t you listen to me last night? Jeanine will allow transfers. Make sure everybody’s loyalty is with the right faction.”

“My loyalty is with Amity.” And with you, you added silently. But you couldn’t have both. Faction before blood. The ideal praised be the entire city of Chicago had never felt more painful. “Why won’t you accept it?”

“Because you’re lying to yourself, (Y/N)! You think I didn’t try to move on? Fuck other women?” You flinched. “I could never wrap my head around you wanting to spend your life harvesting fruit and grain.” Dauntless never give up. Eric had never given up on you. Tearing up, you flinched once more when he opened your wardrobe and pulled out the small travel bag every Amity member was equipped with and started packing your few belongings himself when you did not make a move to listen to him.

“Eric, stop it!” The Dauntless leader didn’t even react. Instead, lastly, he reached for the testing device. You had barely registered him bringing the strange piece of Erudite technology to your room and setting it aside the moment the door fell shut so he could attack you with a kiss. Unceremoniously, he threw it on top of the few contents of the bag.

“We’re leaving. I’m not letting you go again.” He knew he wasn’t asking you to stay with him against your will. No, Eric was intelligent. He knew you still loved him and that being with him again would hardly entail him keeping you captive.

“Eric, I said stop!” Fuck Amity protocol. Snapping, you grabbed a hold of your bag and attempted to rip it from his grasp. He did not let go, resulting in an almost ridiculous tug war until the thin fabric of the handle broke apart and Eric’s device dropped out.

As it clattered to the ground, the built-in sensor activated, pointing straight at you. “Divergent.” A computer-simulated voice spoke from the tiny speakers.

You froze. Eric froze. Time froze.

Eric stared at the device as if it had just grown three heads. Then, slowly, his gaze wandered up to your face, discovering the utter horror in it.

He was unpredictable, he always had been. You could still feel his arms around you from last night, after all. And once more, you reminded yourself that you had never had a doubt that Eric would harm you in any way. Now, for the first time, you were worried he would kill you when he darted forward, his expression all but brutal and ruthless.

You tried to remember what your Dauntless friends had taught you long before your transfer. How to block a blow, how to duck and how to throw a punch so your opponent would be knocked out soon enough. Right now, not a single combat move wanted to come to your mind. All your body could master was flinch back—terrified.

It came different. Instead of lunging at you and arresting you for alleged attempt to overthrow the faction system, Eric stomped his foot and crushed the device under the sole of his boot. It broke apart like a dry twig, throwing sparks for a moment.

“Did you know?”

Slowly, you shook your head, still utterly horrified. “No…”

“Did you know?!” He repeated, yelling at you this time loudly enough for you to flinch.

“No! I did not! How would I? For Heaven’s sake, I got Amity for my Aptitude test, Eric!”

“Is that what your test administrator told you?”

“I am not Divergent, Eric!” You yelled. “Don’t you… don’t you think I would know if I felt like I belonged to more than one faction? I don’t!”

“Erudite technology doesn’t lie.” He said, pausing dramatically. “And you know what? I think the part of you who is Divergent is the part that should have stayed in Dauntless with me.”

“You’re hurt. I know you are. Eric, I am sorry. I really am. But I was too much of a coward to tell you I planned to leave. I loved…” No. That was wrong. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for just the fraction of a second. “I love you.”

Eric approached you and this time, you didn’t move away. You stood your ground—for whatever was to come. Your reward was the relief washing over your entire body when he took a hold of your waist and pulled you against him.

“Come back to Dauntless with me.”

“Eric…”

“Come back to Dauntless with me. It’s the only place where I can protect you.”

Your lower lip was shivering when you looked up to lock your eyes with his. You still trusted him, even after last night. And you believed him, too.

A/N: Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

#eric divergent #eric divergent imagine #eric divergent x you #eric divergent x reader #eric coulter #eric coulter imagine #eric coulter x you #eric coulter x reader #divergent #divergent imagine #insurgent #insurgent imagine #jai courtney #dauntless #dauntless imagine #amity #amity imagine

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redsector-a · 3 years

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AO3 Ask Game

I was tagged by @themarshalstale which, thank you so much! I feel like I always get missed on these (I know why, it’s been 84 years since I published anything but still). 1. How many works do you have on ao3?

46 it seems. Which...look I’m slow man so that’s not surprising. lol Also crippling depression does not make for much production, at least for me.

2. What’s your current AO3 wordcount?

309662 according to the stats.

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

So do I could only AO3 or in like life? lol I suppose it should only be on AO3 since this is an AO3 ask game. Hrm. Basically AO3 can be summed up as: Marvel (in several iterations - all Avengers related) Torchwood Highlander But isn’t it more fun to consider my entire fandom life, which, I’m sorry, I’m old so...yeah. Not all of this is was published and beyond that a lot is not available anymore...which is likely for the best. Highlander Star Wars Babylon 5 Ronin Warriors/Samurai Troopers Marvel (again, several iterations also of note Avengers and X-Men both count) Torchwood Star Trek LOTR Stargate (SG-1, SGA) Mortal Kombat I dabbled with the idea of Potter fic but never got past the ideas stage.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1: You rearrange me till I’m sane Clint finds himself spiraling into a deep depression after the Battle of New York...until the Winter Soldier ends up saving him and inadvertently giving him a new purpose – to save the man that the Soldier had once been – Bucky Barnes. Not one to be outdone, the Soldier decides that his new mission is to ensure that Clint remains alive himself. Protecting a blonde man with a self-destructive streak is somehow very familiar to him. Through the back and forth of who is saving whom they cross the country and learn more about themselves and each other – and perhaps find a reason for living. 2: Five Dates Bucky Didn’t Realize He Was on And the One He Planned Himself To say that Bucky was surprised when Clint kissed him was an understatement. But it was nothing compared to the shock he felt when he learned they'd been dating for months without him realizing it.Clint gets whisked away for a mission before they have time to talk and Bucky is left to figure things out on his own - hindsight being 20/20 he can't help but wonder how he missed things the first go around.

3: Puck Luck Bucky Barnes is used to the ups and downs of an NHL season. He's used to the unpredictability of the game, knows that bounces don't always go your way, but that doesn't make a broken hand in the final third of the season any easier to deal with. Especially not when he ends up with an impromptu roommate/personal assistant in the form of one Clint Barton - his agent, Natalia Romanova's (rather attractive) friend he hadn't known existed before his injury.

It's just for six to eight weeks - what could possibly happen in that span of time?

4: Loose Lips Launch Ships

Based on the following prompt: “We go to school together and I think you’re cute and apparently you’re also the pizza delivery guy and my little sibling opened the door screaming hey sibling! you know that kid you’re in love with? you really weren’t kidding when you said his jawline could cut steel holy shit-” Bucky is the pizza delivery guy. Clint's younger (foster) brother has a big mouth.

5: Indelible Bucky Barnes has a pretty decent life – a good job, good friends, a cat that adores him - but something is missing. He’s always found body art to be beautiful and inspiring, and on a whim (and with the hope that maybe he can find what he’s missing) he decides to take the plunge and get a tattoo. That's how he meets Clint Barton. Clint's talented and compassionate and there is an instant spark between the two of them. It's not long before Bucky finds himself wondering and wanting more from the relationship despite the ghosts of the past that crop back up. Because Clint makes him feel normal in a way he truly hasn't for years...

(this was pre-Alpine so I was totally chuffed when canon confirmed Bucky’s status as a crazy cat lady (affectionate).

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not.

I really really really want to do it but I often times don’t end up doing it. There are a few reasons. First, I am akwward AF and bad at interaction adn I feel like just saying thank you would be...not enough? Second - I often times tend to like...turtle (aka retreat into myself) when life gets Too Hard/Busy which happens a lot to me (sigh) and then I miss the vague window in my mind in which it would be okay to respond and then it’s even more weird. I do love and cherish all of them. Like there was one months ago that made me go “hmm...I didn’t think I was going to do a sequel to that fic (You rearrange me till I’m sane), timestamp glimpses sure but a sequel hadn’t come to mind” but then the comment made me think! So...who knows? lol Anyway, I literally have been rereading some in an effort to try and get myself going again. Know that if you have commented, I love you.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

At the moment? Probably: Look at you look at me Bucky's in love with Clint - problem is he's really not supposed to be. For Winterhawk Week 2019 - Forbidden Love (I really don’t want to give away the spin in the fic but...if you’re familiar with the Secret Avengers Vol 2 run circa 2013ish (aka when SHIELD initially ‘took control of the team’) that’s a bit of a hint as to the spin). Were it done, Torch Song would be up there. ;) Torch Song Clint is sent back in time, via an alien device, to 1938. While he tries to figure out how to get back home, he takes up singing and entertaining to make ends meet and does his best to not disrupt the timeline.Then he meets a 21 year old Bucky Barnes. --- A torch song is a sentimental love song, typically one in which the singer laments an unrequited or lost love, either where one party is oblivious to the existence of the other, where one party has moved on, or where a romantic affair has affected the relationship.

7. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Does *wanting* to write crossovers count? lol I want, so badly, to do more crossovers and fusions (which...are kinda deeper versions of crossovers in a way). The only one I do have posted is a crossover between Highlander and Torchwood -

The Immortal Mr. Jones A series of vignettes (some long, some short) in the life of the newly immortal Ianto Jones. My most ambitions project that I have been working on since late 2011/early 2012 is a fusion of the Avengers with Stephen King’s the Stand. I will get that done at some point *shakes fist* The Stand, for those who don’t know it, is an epic 1000+ page novel about a flu epidemic (I know) that wipes out over 99% of the population and then two figures representing Good and Evil pull the survivors in two directions for a showdown. So basically it’s a non-powered modern AU set in that universe. It’s a passion and comfort project. lol

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. Well, minor bitching back when I was in a prior fandom because I tagged a pairing in a fic but it was pre-slash and not labeled as pre-slash. I got hate on...I think it was Torch Song? And I’ve gotten hate on tumblr re me and my fic in general as well. Fandom! *jazz hands* Oh! And I’ve also been hit by those reviewers within Winterhawk (among general Clint pairings actually) who like rate you on either number scales or the “meh” scale. Which isn’t hate exactly but...it’s passive aggressive bullshit because I can’t believe none of them realize at this point that the authors can see their bookmarks - you know?

9. Do you write smut?

Yes. Do I write it well? I have no idea. lol

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware of. Well...there was, I think, one of those reposting sites that had a few fics on it but I don’t think it was being passed off as someone else’s? I can’t quite recall. It’s why I have a note on AO3 about reposting my work anyway.

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not entirely, but sort of. Let me explain - I am part of a PBEM game; which for those unfamiliar since it’s a term that was most heavily in use 15-20 years ago, in which you basically do a round robin type writing thing but rather than everyone writing the same characters you write your own characters and you play off what other people have done. Another way of looking at it is it’s basically DnD without dice and written down rather than done out loud. You also don’t have to all be around at the same time. It’s a lot of fun and yes I have been in it for 20 years even though there aren’t many of us left but they are some of my dearest friends and fabulous writers. Wins all around. One of the other writers and I have actually toyed with the idea of doing a co-written fic actually, mostly because we work super well together and keep getting ideas for things but can’t really do them as rpgs since the pbem style isn’t used much anymore.

12. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Winterhawk probably. Though, let’s be real - Han & Leia are epic and amazing as are John & Delenn (from Babylon 5).

13. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Does wanting to expand The Black Stallion books as a wee child count? lol Not much of that was written save for world building ideas but there was a great oral tradition of telling stories to my friends. Otherwise...maybe a tie between Star Wars and Highlander. Star Wars was a love since I was super young but the writing bug didn’t hit me until around the same time Highlander was a thing as well.

14. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? You rearrange me till I’m sane for sure. Though Torch Song, if it were finished, would be tied I imagine (I suck at picking favorites). Honorable mention to Puck Luck and Indelible. Tagging: I have seen this like a million times (okay 5) so I feel like everyone has been tagged already that I know. But...I guess... @vexbatch @crazycatt71 @heartonfirewrites and @disruptedvice sorry if anyone has been tagged before.

#icyredfics #writing #winterhawk #long post

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merakiaes · 4 years

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His World - Geralt Of Rivia

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x reader

Requested: Yes

Prompts: None.

Warnings/notes: This isn’t proofread so I apologize in advance for any possible mistakes. I’m gonna come back and edit it later! I hope you like it even though I was completely writer’s blocked when I wrote it xx

Wordcount: 2393

Summary: Just when you’ve given up on the neverending dream of ever finding your soulmate, fate brings you together.

You lived in a world where you were born with words engraved into your skin; the words that would be the first spoken to you by your soulmate when you met them. If you ever met them, that is.

To some, said words were a curse, and to others, a blessing. Or well, up until the point where you actually met your soulmate, it was a curse for everyone, and not many were so lucky.

Whether you were just living in different parts of the world or if your other half was dead, you would never know. You could only sit by and stare as the words on your body faded away more and more for each passing year, until finally, only a faint, white scarring and a hole in your heart would be left behind.

The words on your arm were still very visible, although they had died down from a sharp black to a dark grey.

Like everyone else, you had once dreamt about the day when you would meet your soulmate, and woken up every day with a big smile on your lips, excited what the day would bring.

But as you grew up, you became much more aware of how dull and grey the world and the people living in it was, and you came to the realization of how truly rare it was to find your soulmate.

And you realized the chance of you doing so was even slimmer, as the words on your arm indicated that you would have to actually touch your soulmate to hear the destined words fall from his lips, and long story short, you were not a woman fond of social interaction and touching other people.

To put it simply, you didn’t think you’d ever find your soulmate. But then the day came, then that man came. That strange, peculiar man with the silvery-white hair and amber eyes, trotting into your village on the back of a big, proud stallion.

“Healer! We need a healer! Is there a healer here?”

You didn’t think you had ever heard the word ‘healer’ so many times in the same sentence before, and could only stare from your place at the outside fireplace where you were preparing the afternoon tea as the famous Witcher, drenched in blood and only God knows what, yelled at the top of his lungs after a healer with another man, much smaller in build, hanging limply under his arm.

Your uncle wasted no time in rushing over from his spot beside you, demanding to know what happened.

You left them to it briefly, missing the Witcher’s response as you put the chamomile tea back down on the table, taking your time before heading over to help in any way you could.

As you approached the trio, you noticed the rest of the villagers ogling at the Witcher from afar, keeping their distance. Your people had always been a scared one, and you guessed you should have been too, but you weren’t bothered with much these days.

You had heard the songs and tales about the mutant standing in your village. Why should you be amazed just from seeing him in the flesh when you already knew everything he had done and all he was capable of?

“I’ll take care of your friend and my niece will tend to your injuries meanwhile.” You heard your uncle tell the Witcher just as you reached him and you didn’t protest.

In fact, you said nothing as the Witcher’s amber eyes met your much duller ones, simply walking alongside him and your uncle as they carried the passed-out man to the infirmary hut.

Once in there, they placed the man down on a bed, and your uncle wasted no time in unbuttoning his shirt to get a better view of his wound.

“What’s his name?” Your uncle asked, turning to ready the herbs and bandages he would be needing for the healing process after a moment of inspecting the damage he would be working with.

“Jaskier.” The Witcher answered without missing a beat, his voice deep enough to send a rumble through your bones.

Your uncle nodded, looking up. “My niece will show you to the hut you will be staying in and help clean your wounds. I’ll make sure your friend heals alright, don’t worry.”

The Witcher, grumbled, and wordlessly, you turned on your heel and headed back out of the hut, expecting him to follow you. And he did, surprisingly without any protests, walking quietly behind you the entire time.

The only thing that could be heard was the clashing sounds of the hilt of his sword hitting his armor, his heavy footsteps and the whispers of your people as you passed them in the street.

In the corner of your eye you could see him watching them closely, but you couldn’t be bothered, your focus being solely on the obvious wound in his side that he had been clutching since he had let go of his friend, and the very reason he was currently limping his way forward.

What would have been able to damage a Witcher to the point where he could barely walk was a mystery to you, but whatever it was, it must have been big and dangerous.

After a minute of walking and taking a few left and right turns, you finally reached the hut next to yours - the one he would be staying in until his friend was ready to travel again - and walked inside.

As he let himself in and made himself comfortable in a chair in the middle of the small home, you wasted no time in going over to the shelf on which you stored the herbs and bandages, and gathered everything you would be needing for his injuries.

He groaned behind you, and by the sound of it, he was relieving himself of his weapons and clothes, getting himself ready to be tended to.

You quickly finished gathering everything you needed and turned around with the items in your hands and arms and for just a moment, you had to stop and stare at the magnificence of his muscles.

You had tended to many injured men in your life, but none of them had been half as strongly built as him, and at the end of the day, you were still simply a woman. A woman who could admit the beauty of the man in front of her.

Clearing your throat, you shook your head free of the distracted thoughts and set your feet into motion again, heading over to where he sat hunched over on the chair and putting the medical supplies down on a table beside him.

He must have been accustomed to the routine of getting taken care of by now because the second you came over to him he straightened himself up and put his wound on display for you, making it as easy for you to work as only possible.

He kept his hand on his knee for support, leaning slightly to the side to expose his bleeding side, and kept his eyes on the ground as you prepared the cleaning rag.

Once it was wet, you moved it to his side, but before you allowed the piece of fabric to make contact with the wound, you stopped yourself, glancing at him and hesitating.

“I’m sure you’re used to getting stitched up by now but if I hurt you, let me know and I’ll take it easy.” You told him softly, and the second the words left it was if he froze to ice in his seat.

You watched with confusion how his entire face turned cold, his eyes hard and his knuckles turned white where they were gripping his knee. But he said nothing, only staring into the ground and breathing heavily.

And you took the lack of protest as an okay to begin, simply letting your eyes leave his face to focus on the wound instead.

The rag made contact with his wound and he didn’t even flinch. On the contrary, he seemed to relax his entire body, and you couldn’t quite figure out how someone could relax at the feeling of a harsh rag brushing against their torn up skin.

But then again, no one had ever been able to figure out a Witcher, had they?

You took your time to clean his wound, making sure all of the dirt and dried blood disappeared with the rag before putting said rag down on the table.

The wound was now fully on display, and you couldn’t help but flinch at the sight of the depth of it, knowing you were the one who would have to stitch it up.

You prepared the needle and thread and got to work and the Witcher didn’t flinch a single time you pushed the needle through his skin. You seemed to be more uneasy than he was, despite having stitched countless wounds before.

“It will make a pretty impressive scar.” You spoke, your voice breaking through the eerily quiet air in an attempt to break the thick and awkward blanket of silence hanging over you.

But he only nodded, not saying a word.

Not so talkative, then, you thought, but still took what you could get, continuing to mend his broken skin.

Once you were done with the stitches, you picked up a salve, taking some of the lotion on your fingers and rubbing it around in your hands before carefully tarting to rub it around his now fully stitched wound.

Surprising you, he hummed when your hands made contact with his skin, and in fright and concern, you hurriedly brought your hand away, taking a step back.

“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” You asked quickly, but he only hummed again, his eyes shut and his body relaxed where he sat, not moving a muscle.

“Your hands… they’re soft.” He replied simply without opening his eyes, looking as if he was in some kind of trance.

And this time it’s your turn to freeze, your hand automatically flying to your arm on which your words were tattooed, your eyes widening as realization came over you.

Oh.

Oh no.

You took another step back, your eyes widening even further and your breath getting caught in your throat. “What-“ You took a deep breath, feeling your entire body starting to shake. “What did you say?”

He didn’t answer with words, simply standing up from the chair and looking into your eyes while bringing his hands down to the hem of his pants, pushing them down slightly to reveal his own words tattooed into the skin of his hipbone.

I’m sure you’re used to getting stitched up by now but if I hurt you, let me know and I’ll take it easy.

You stared at the black letters, barely even noticing when he brought his pants back up over them again, only snapping out of your trance when his low voice cut through the air, his body now standing right in front of you.

“Are you scared?” He asked, looking down at you with amber eyes.

You held his gaze, your breathing still heavy and ragged with shock, your entire body shaking and forcing you to lean back onto the table behind you, your hands grabbing ahold of the edge of the wood in order to keep your body upright.

But you shook your head still, answering quietly. “Of course not.” You took a shaky breath. “Everyone knows one is physically unable to hurt their soulmate.”

He nodded, taking yet another step closer to you, and you could feel your heart thumbing violently inside your chest.

“Are you... disappointed?” He asked then, his eyes searching yours.

“I- …” You hesitated, but once again shook your head. “No. No, I’m not. I’m just… surprised. Confused.” You confessed.

Swallowing, you pushed yourself off the table with a shaky breath, finally regaining the strength in your legs after the shock.

Your eyes watched him closely. “I was under the impression that Witchers were incapable of feeling human emotions.” You said, and he said nothing as you slowly approached him again.

Testing the waters, you came to a stop right before him, your chests grazing each other’s, and raised a shaky hand up to his face. You flinched back briefly when the tips of your fingers made contact with his stubbly cheek, but you quickly composed yourself and pressed your entire palm against it.

You let out a short breath at the feeling, tears slowly starting to prickle your eyes. “I never thought I’d find you…” You admitted, letting your thumb caress the corner of his lip.

He leaned into your touch, his eyes never leaving yours. He was silent for a moment before his hand slowly came up to rest on top of yours, his eyes showing nothing but utmost honesty and sincerity as he spoke, “You’re my world now.”

He hesitated, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before looking back into yours. “You always have been but now…” He shook his head slowly, bringing your hand down from his face and squeezing it. “I’ll never let you go.”

You breathed in shakily, your heart fluttering in your chest at the feeling of his warm hand swallowing yours. You had only just met him and still, you had never felt as safe and at home as you did at that moment.

You carefully brought your hand out to grab his other one, taking another step closer to him, making you as close as you possibly could be.

Looking up at him, your eyebrows knitted together in deep thought, your eyes flickered down for a moment before looking back up into his.

“I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else than by your side.” You confessed, squeezing his hands.

His head fell down to yours, your foreheads pressing together, and you watched his eyes falling shut in contentment as you continued. “I’ve waited my entire life to meet you and now that I have, I wouldn’t have wished for anyone else.”

You shook your head, letting go of his hands and bringing yours up to grab a hold of his face, causing his eyes to open again. “You’re my world, too.” You admitted, and then pressed your lips to his without another word.

#geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt imagine #geralt fanfic #geralt oneshot #the witcher #the witcher imagine #the witcher x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader

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hearthandhomemagick · 3 years

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Cottage Witch Journal Entry - Post Yule & Christmas

Okay, so far this forum of mine has discussed some very off the wall topics that invade my head throughout the day. Some very self destructive thoughts, and some self awareness thoughts. Thoughts on religion, video games, spirituality. Hell, I may even choose to discuss sexual exploration in the future. Who knows? All I know is that after looking back at some of my posts, I’m starting to realize how chaotic one individuals thoughts can be. How genuinely complex a humans life and mind can truly be.

Think about it, if you’ve read my posts in the past, regarding witchcraft, self care, self love, eating awareness, hyperawareness, overthinking, and so on and so forth, then you would think you’d be able to point me out in a crowd.

The truth is, you wouldn’t. A great deal of my writing is simply the regurgitation of my persistent, sometimes unrelenting, thoughts. I’m noticing the complexities of humanity, and it’s beautiful and tragic all at once.

Last time we spoke, I discussed in a mini post that Judy Alvarez was mine for the taking a staple of independence and power to me and that getting my power back was of high priority to me. It’s been a few days, but this still remains a significant thought in my head. I find myself becoming more and more enthralled by her character and persona, drawn into why I relate to her as much as I do. Then, I noticed the underwater life she loves so much, and am reminded of the blue jellyfish behind my left ear. I see her whale tattoo and think of the same one I have under my left boob. I think of how I wanted to shave the right side of my head similar to Judy’s hair back in High School and my mom telling me it wouldn’t look good. And finally, I think of her selflessness, and her need to help a traumatized soul, and how I used to be a Sexual Violence Outreach Advocate, just trying to help a traumatized soul. I relate to her in more ways than one, as silly and stupid as it sounds, and these may be extremely minute to notice, but important for me.

My boyfriend and I had a few conversations this weekend, all separate times, that really pinned me to myself. One conversation, he asked me what exactly I believed, in that moment, when it came to religion and spirituality. From there we got into a lengthy discussion (mostly my fault) where I explained my thoughts in detail. One quote I said stood out (I was also stoned so when I said it, it came out as a surprise to me as well), for I digress from the want to overexplain myself.

As I told my boyfriend, Hyperawareness will destroy a man before it enlightens him. And this year, Hyperawareness seemed to be the proprietor of my mind, for it most definitely would have destroyed me had I continued.

Another conversation we had, which we both agreed to, was the power of our physical bodies directly correlating to past experiences we’ve had with other humans. Also, our relationship with unsustainable lifestyles.

Example, my body issues are founded on the idea that I wasn’t allowed to be a tomboy and play sports or take karate or MMA Fighting classes, but I also wasn’t perceived as delicate and pretty because of my weight/I was bigger than other girls. I was discouraged from doing the physical things I was interested in, and gave up as a result.

Those experiences have perpetuated in many areas of my life as well. In High School, I chose Shop as my number one elective and Weight Training as my second. They chose to put me in Theatre and Intensive Reading instead (Intensive Reading is a class kids take when they make below average on state wide tests). Now, my first choices were classes I felt would develop my character and reflect the life I wanted to live, and I was told it was a bit manly for me to choose those classes. Now, as an adult, I don’t go out of my way to work on mechanics, even though it’s an interest of mine and I haven’t done weight lifting because I thought I’d look like a man. False ideas.

When you are denied your own personality as a child, and don’t realize that is what is happening because it is still happening, it becomes a spiral of what options do you actually have? You become an open book for others influences to freely write in, because you want to be your own independent self but you don’t even know who or how that person is. So, for a while when I got out of High School I was clinging to others personalities in an attempt to find myself. That’s not a good way of doing it, either.

I lived to please, so when people called me Sunshine, I figured the Sun didn’t wear a lot of black and didn’t act like a man.

Reality check, I was overthinking it.

I should dress and live how I see fit, regardless of the typical aesthetic. Fuck the idea that I have to subscribe to one aesthetic anyways. If I want to own a Bee Hive, a Cottage in the Mountains by the river with a tiny self sustaining garden, all while wearing black alternative outfits that somewhat line the aesthetic of post apocalyptical, then fuck yes I’m going to be a gentle, bright, motorcycle loving, knife wielding, MMA Fighting, Yoga and Meditation doing, soft spoken bad bitch.

Here’s the thing, I haven’t even bought myself clothes this year, because people were literally buying clothes for me. WHICH I AM EXTREMELY GRATEFUL FOR!!!! But, over the weekend I got rid of a lot of those clothes because they restrict my personality, I never wear them or they don’t fit anymore.

After the lengthy conversations, we both agreed that our youthful selves are not finished being fully alive. We didn’t stop being young once we got out of High School, we stopped being young when we started saying we were too old. So, we are starting to set goals together. Getting rid of old clothes was the first step, and we took into consideration that we are still individuals just helping each other accomplish a common goal, so the next step is our physical selves.

The plan is to clean out our storage room and transform it into a self-care/training area. Together, we will start the P90X after work on some days, while I try to keep up with yoga on my off days. This month, being aware of what I eat without the focus of losing weight has helped me actually lose weight. Now, focusing on my workout regime is the goal. Not to lose weight, but to be able to start MMA Fighting Classes.

MMA Fighting is something I started in High School right before going to college, but never finished. It’s something I want to commit to so as to release anger while Yoga will help me process my anger. So, healthy eating to support energy, and healthy workouts! I have also been having more endometriosis pain than usual, so avoiding my health won’t help me!

Spiritual wise, I want to focus on my better self. I want to put more effort into me rather than letting myself go in a world of people who don’t care if my personality exists or not. I want to be open, strong and powerful in what I believe. I want to own my shit, and fuck anyone who wants to stop that type of Sunshine. In the words of Meghan Thee Stallion, “Fuck being good, I’m a bad bitch. I’m sick of motherfuckers tryna tell me how to live.”

I’m inconvenient, and I’m happy with that. I’m not perfect, but I’m a process. I’m not weak and quiet, I’m strong and silent.

This specific post is a reclamation of my power. Somewhere along the road of this shitty adult life, I forgot the beauty in my own power. I’m equal, not less than.

Thank you for reading, if you did. This is, again, one of those things where I am journaling my thoughts, and trying to go over everything in my head without going crazy. If you thought this was annoying, just remember I deleted 5 paragraphs before posting, because I was overthinking and didn’t want to overexplain. (I do everything in copious quantities). If it bothered you, look past my post. If you related, let’s talk about it. All in all, thank you for being alive, darling. I’ll see you later!

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sp00kworm · 4 years

Note

H,,hi is it possible for you to do a darth maul with a male s/o sfw and/or nsfw imagine? Love your content!! UwU

Pairing: Darth Maul x Male Reader

A/N: I’m glad you enjoy reading anon! Due to the nature of events on tumblr at the moment, I don’t think its wise for me to write adult content for anonymous asks since there has been a big issue with underage users consuming this content. However!!!!!! I adore Maul and I would die for some content with him so I have written this to rot your teeth.

---

Fathier Race

Raising Fathiers was perhaps the hardest thing you knew of in the Galaxy. Sure, Republic fighters were out and around constantly, the Jedi helping in wars and disputes everywhere, but you could show them bruises and aches beyond anything like that half the time. Fathiers were needy and required hours of hard training to keep them in shape. You’d spent numerous years on Naboo, looking after the beasts for the races that used to occur. Rich Senators and other such Nobles liked to race them, and had done for years before the race courses were set up across the Galaxy. Highly prized and known for their ability to run amazingly fast across any terrain, you’d grown to love Fathiers more than anything. That aside, you grew to hate the Stable Master, and that had quickly made you leave. Even the money you had stashed wasn’t enough for even one of the Fathiers in your care.

All that had changed when you’d encountered the silent Zabrak.

You’d been in the stables late. Far too late. Late enough that you would be undoubtedly questioned roughly by the guards or the Master if he was still around. Golden eyes glowed underneath a shadowy hood. A fist clenched by his side as he caught sight of you, teeth clenched with a snarl as he stalked away, out of the ring of stables, and towards the door. With a last look at the door, you dared to breathe again, feeling the tension in your entire body dissipate as you glanced back and remembered the red skin and black, thick tattoos. The golden eyes glared at you behind your eyelids as you tried to sleep that night.

The memory of the Zabrak haunted you often after that but it wasn’t until many months later that the city exploded with violence, the thunder of rifle fire bouncing from the walls as the military moved in to take Naboo’s trading federation back by force. There was the hissing of lightsabers being drawn as you reached for the stable doors of the Fathiers. They bucked and brayed unhappily even as you undid the doors and got them running. They would be safer running in the greens rather than in here when the roof caved in. You grabbed a saddle and pushed it over the back of your favourite mare. She tottered unhappily with the noise but let you on top of her with minimal fuss.

The hum of a lightsaber made you freeze, sat atop the Fathier with your bags clutched close and a rope for catching some of the stray beasts.

“Are you going to kill me?” You asked as you turned in the saddle, holding your breath at the sight of the burning red saber and golden eyes.

The Zabrak reached for his hood and tilted his head as he pulled the black hood away from his head, revealling the crown of horns on top of his head, golden eyes boring into you. The man hummed as he took three, slow steps forward, prowling closer, looking at the quivering muscles of the beast underneath you. It was ready to bolt, nostrils flaring at the smell of him.

“Run, little stable boy. Take those beasts with you...” He turned back to the door, stalking away, stance low as he readied to fight, “They stink of spices.” He was gone in an instant, the sound of his saber cutting through flesh deafening. Your Fathier bucked underneath you. With a snap of your heels she bolted, howling to the wind as you clutched your belongings close, trying to escape from the war zone behind you.

Years later, you were set up with your own farm. Fathiers were happier with space to be free and roam, and although you didn’t race them, a few were selected as studs or mares for breeding sometimes. Most of your visitors were childrens groups. The farm was, however, often silent. Just you and your rescued Fathiers. Getting them from Naboo had been a task, and your favourite mare was living her final years out now in pasture. Ten long years had passed, and life was finally good. Sicemon was a long way from Naboo. The bribery of two of your Fathiers had been the price to get the rest here to the planet of vast grasslands. Still, the cargo ship’s crew had promised they were for the youngsters more than anything. One went to live on one of the crew’s own farms.

With a smile you watched two young Fathiers prance around each other in the paddock, kicking powerful legs up in the air as they darted underneath the adults and around their legs. Holding your tea close you watched them play for a little while more, breathing in the fresh air. That was until a figure appeared out of the trees, clad in black. The Fathiers startled as the figure stepped into the pasture, swathed in tattered cloaks, dragging their feet as they came close. The Fathiers brayed and scattered, leaving a clear path for the person as they stumbled in some of the longer grass before righting themself again.

With a growl you reached for the blaster tucked at your back and pointed the muzzle dead at the person’s chest, “State your business!” You hollered over the field.

The figure stopped and seemed to take heed of the weapon pointed at their chest. Gloved hands reached upwards slowly, careful of making sure that you weren’t going to shoot them my accident. They pulled back the black hood and scarfs to reveal a familiar crown of horns on top of red skin and inked black tattoos. Golden eyes looked at you from a gaunt looking face. This was not the man that had once scoffed at you before telling you to take the Fathiers. This man was the leftovers from that creature you had watched prowl to the slaughter.

“I mean you no harm.” He growled, teeth grinding as he looked upon your farm, a small home with miles of land around it. A little something in the middle of nothing, “I am...looking to inquire about your beasts.”

You glared, holding the blaster tight, “Liar. You look like you’ve been beaten up pretty bad. The least you can do is admit you need help. Plus, my Fathiers aren’t for sale.” He grumbled again with that and and directed his eyes at the blaster once more.

“I need food, water and maybe a bed.” He ground out, “If you would be so kind.”

“No I won’t.” You snapped, “Get on your way. I don’t want your trouble. Not after what I’ve heard.”

The Zabrak growled, “And just what have you heard.” He sneered at you.

“That a Zabrak swathed in black leads a criminal underworld gang.” You offered peering at his feet, “Something about him being half robot.” With a flick of the safety you looked at the man and sighed, “But I also know you have nothing left.” With a gentle curl of your fingers you let him come closer, “I’ll let you rest a while. You look like you need some food...” You pinched your nose at the stench emanating from him, “And a very hot bath.”

The Zabrak snarled at you once more as you turned towards the house and offered him a smile. He didn’t return the grin as he ducked inside of your home, pushing away dried herbs and vegetables away from his horns as he entered.

“Here. I have some breakfast. Its just porridge but its better than nothing.” You spooned a heap of it into a wooden bowl, placing a spoon alongside it before taking the pot from the fire and replacing it with one for water. You drew over the metal basin and took the hook along with some buckets, “I’ll be back soon.” The Zabrak nodded as he sat at the table, peering around the room with tired, sunken eyes.

It took three days to coax his name from him. Maul. Just Maul. He said nothing about it for three more days before you both drank rice wine and told each other about the brutality of your childhoods. He told you of his home planet and the Nightsisters. His brother. You watched a tear drip from the Zabrak’s cheek before gently reaching out to wipe it away.

“This is weakness.” He hissed, snatching himself back, pressing his fingers together tightly around the wine.

You smiled and swallowed the last of your own wine, “This is normal. There’s no weakness in expressing yourself.” You grinned at the other male before leaving him to look at the dozing Fathiers and to contemplate your words. Maul felt a cynical smile turn his lips upwards, stretching the tattoos on his face as he poured himself another long drink of alcohol.

“So, Maul, when can I expect you to actually ride one of these Fathiers?” You asked, perched on top of a young stallion, riding in tight, quick circles.

Maul scoffed from the fence, searing eyes watching every movement closely, “I would rather wrestle a fabled demon than sit on top of one of those.” He commented as he watched the male Fathier spin and buck, prancing with energy despite the exercise.

“They’re not scary.” You laughed before leading the stallion close and pointing over at your old mare, “She would be easy to learn on, I promise.” You leaned over in the saddle and grinned at the Zabrak before sticking your tongue out at him.

“You are not a child.” He snapped before pinching your tongue between his thumb and finger, tugging harshly before he rolled his eyes, “I will not learn to ride. Accept that and find another thing to pester me about.” He stretched his arms over his head and turned before you caught him by the sleeve and tugged him back.

“What?” Maul snapped before going silent, eyes wide.

You kissed the Zabrak harshly before letting him go, cantering away with a great laugh.

Maul snarled behind you, “You are the single worst human male I have ever met.”

“Then get off my farm!” You teased from across the paddock.

#darth maul x reader #darth maul x male reader #maul x reader #star wars #darth maul #maul #star wars the phantom menace #star wars the clone war #the clone wars #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #request #sw #star wars the clone wars #star wars: the clone wars #the phantom menace

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fanfics4all · 4 years

Text

Angelina

Request: Yes / No Could you please do a multi parted storyline(kinda like the most important parts of the show) where Veronica and Hermione move to Riverdale with Hiram’s second(most involved and more important) family, his wife Dove and his his daughter(Veronica’s half twin sister) Angelina, Angelina starts off dating Archie(after Veronica and he kiss in the closet and Betty is over him) and later in season 2 she starts dating Sweet Pea(I changed my mind) and btw she becomes a serpent -she becomes a serpent along the season 2 storyline, could include pictures Thanks Anon

Request are open but ONLY if they’re Halloween <3 Have a nice day/night

Archie Andrews x OC (Former)

Sweet Pea x OC

Word count: 1956

Warnings: Nothing

A/N: I was super super tired when I wrote this so I’m sorry that this probably sucks!

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!

Masterlist

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

My father had gotten arrested and now my Mother and I were moving to his hometown, including his ex-wife and my half sister. We weren’t going to be living in the same apartment, but we would be in the same building. We were moving into The Pembroke and it was probably the nicest thing in this town.

“Why couldn’t we just stay in New York?” I asked.

“We’re here till things cool down.” My Mother said.

“Right…” I sighed.

We each went to our separate apartments, ours being bigger than Hermione and Veronica’s. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love my half sister, she’s like my best friend, but I still enjoy being better than her. Once I finished unpacking my things and got my room sorted I walked out to see my Mother just getting off the phone.

“Hello dear, would you bring this back to Hermione? She ordered from a small diner that she said was to die for. I ordered for you already and you and Veronica are going to go pick it up.” She said and I sighed slightly.

“Fine.” I said and grabbed the phone from her. I took it over their apartment. Veronica answered the door and smiled at me.

“Oh, thank you. I see you’re ready to go.” She said with a smile.

“Let me just grab my coat.” I said and went to go get it.

“Ready.” I said and we went out to the car. When the car stopped it was in front of a small diner called Pop’s Chock’Lit Shoppe.

“We’ll be right back.” Veronica said as we got out. We walked inside and I noticed someone staring at us. Veronica pulled me along, near the table of the guy staring at us.

“I called in an order, for Lodge?” Veronica asked the man working.

“Four burgers, yeah, almost ready, but you gotta wait.” He said with a kind smile and walked behind the counter.

“Hi.” Veronica said to the two that were sitting in the booth we were standing in front of.

“Hey.” The guy that was staring, smiling at us.

“How are the onion rings here?” I asked.

“So good.” He answered.

“Can we get some onion rings too, please?” I asked.

“Yeah!” The man working said.

“Thanks. We just moved here with our Moms, so…” Veronica said.

“From where?” The guy asked.

“New York.” I answered with a smile.

“Wow.” The guy said.

“Do you guys go to Riverdale?” I asked.

“We do. Both of us. Together.”

“Yeah, we’re sophomores.” The guy and girl said at the same time.

“Us too.” Veronica said.

“I’m filled with dread.” I said.

“Why is that?” The guy asked.

“Are you familiar with the works of Truman Capote?” I asked and he nodded.

“I’m Breakfast at Tiffany’s, but this place is strictly In Cold Blood.” I said and he laughed while I giggled.

“Angelina Lodge.” I introduced myself.

“This is my half sister, Veronica Lodge.” I said as I shook the guys hand.

“Archie Andrews.” He said with a smile.

“Uh, this is Betty Cooper.” He said as he introduced the girl.

“Wait, are you…” Veronica trailed off.

“Supposed to give you your tour tomorrow? Yes. I’m your peer mentor.” Betty finished.

“Do you want to join us?” Archie asked.

“Hey, maybe we can un-fill you with dread.” He added.

“Our Mom’s are waiting for us.” Veronica said.

“But, to be continued.” I said with a flirty smile. Veronica pulled me away and we grabbed the food. We went back to the car and we were on the way home.

“He was pretty cute, what do you think?” I asked.

“For a small little town, yeah, he’s cute.” Veronica agreed.

“Now I’m very excited about school tomorrow.” I said and she rolled her eyes.

School was interesting for the week. Veronica and I joined the cheer team and she became pretty good friends with Betty. I on the other hands didn’t really find anyone that really interested me besides Archie. He wasn’t my usual type, but why not try something new? So when the dance came and Veronica, Betty, and I went with Archie. Veronica was trying hard to get Betty and Archie together, but it didn’t work out. So now we were going to an after party at the Blossom’s house. It was a lot more fun than the actual dance was.

“It’s game time at Chez Blossom, kiddies.” Cheryl Blossom said as she gathered a bunch of people up.

��We’re going old-school tonight. Seven minutes in Heaven. Who wants to tryst in the closet of love first?” She asked.

“My vote is A for Archie. Anyone care to second it?” She asked.

“Wait, actually-”

“Yes, Andrews! Yes!” Reggie said, cutting Archie off.

“Alright, gather round, kids.” Cheryl said.

“Let’s see who’s riding the ginger stallion tonight.” She said as she placed a bottle on the table and spun. I sat next to my sister and hoped with baited breath that I would get to be the one in the closet with Archie. It landed in between Veronica and Betty.

“Oh no way!” Reggie said and I rolled my eyes.

“It’s clearly pointing to... new girl, Veronica. This should be fun.” Cheryl said.

“Um… I’m not doing this.” Veronica said.

“That’s up to you. But if you don’t, house rules decree the hostess gets to take your turn.” Cheryl said with a smirk. My sister got up and went into the closet with Archie. I narrowed my eyes at the door.

“I’m out of here.” I said and left quickly. How dare she!

“Angelina, what are you doing home so early?” My Mother asked.

“My bitch of a sister ruined my night.” I grumbled.

“Watch your language! What do you mean she ruined your night?” She asked.

“There’s a boy here that I told her I had my eye on and she went and tried to get him with another girl and then kissed him!” I said and she sighed.

“So high school drama.” She said and I narrowed my eyes.

“I’m going to my room.” I said and stormed off.

A little later Veronica came into my room and I immediately threw a pillow at her.

“Get out!” I growled.

“You’re not honestly upset that I kissed him, are you?” She asked and I narrowed my eyes.

“I told you when we first saw him that I thought he was cute, you should know that means I have my eyes on him!” I said and she rolled her eyes.

“Please, he’s not even your type.” She said.

“Seriously? Just get over it.” She said and I glared at her.

“I told you I liked him and one, you go and try and get him with another girl, then two, you kiss him!” I said.

“I’m sorry Angie, but I can’t help that I like him too.” She said and I rolled my eyes.

“Get. Out.” I growled and she sighed.

“Fine, whatever.” She said and left.

A few weeks later and I was the one dating Archie Andrews. Veronica was jealous, especially since I was rubbing it in her face. She always got the guy and this time it was my turn. As our relationship went on I realized he really wasn’t my type. My type was definitely someone more like Jughead, the bad boy type style. Archie actually got jealous about me hanging out with Jughead more. I was bringing out my normal style, lots of black and bad girl looking clothes. Something my Mother and Father hated. They’d rather I dress more like Veronica does, but that just isn’t me. When the year was ending I broke it off with Archie. We just weren’t end game and I didn’t want to waste my time anymore. Jughead understood where I was coming from, but he was the only one. However when I was coming home after the breakup, I walked in to see my Father sitting at the end of the table.

“Daddy!” I said and ran over to him.

“Hello Princess.” He said as I hugged him and he kissed my head.

“You’re back! So we can go home right?” I asked and he shook his head.

“I have plans here, so we’re staying.” He answered and I frowned a little.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I just broke up with my boyfriend and I do not want to stay here anymore.” I said and he sighed.

“Sorry Princess, we need to stay here a bit longer.” He said and I sighed.

“Alright Daddy.” I said.

Weeks went by and Jughead and I were definitely spending more on the Southside, something my parents hated. They especially hated when I joined the Serpents. That night was amazing. It was the night I met Sweet Pea. It was at Jughead’s Father’s retirement party and I was about to become a Serpent. Before I left the house with Veronica I put on the perfect lingerie under my black dress that my parents allowed me to wear out of the house.

A bit into the party Jughead nodded me towards the back of the stage. He walked over to Hogeye and told him that it was time. I undressed and left my heels on, ready to do this dance and have every guy looking at me. Even though I didn’t have feelings for Archie and he was dating my sister now, it would be so fun to see his face during this.

“We’ve got something special tonight, we’re gonna be welcoming a new member to the Serpents. Everyone, give it up for Angelina!” I heard Hogeye announce and people started clapping. The song Lil Freak started playing and I walked out on the stage with a sexy strut. My eyes scanned the room and I saw Archie looking at me with his jaw dropped. I smirked and walked up to the pole and worked it like it was my job. As I continued scanning the room I saw a tall tan Serpent boy with a sexy Serpent tattoo on his neck.

When the song ended I got my jacket and I walked to the back to get dressed again. I met Jughead outside the door and he smiled.

“How does it feel being a Serpent now?” He asked and I smirked.

“Like I’m finally my own person and not Daddy’s little girl.” I answered and he chuckled.

“Well, you got a fan.” He said and I raised my brow.

“Come, I’ll introduce you.” He said.

“Angelina, this is Sweet Pea, Sweet Pea, this is Angelina Lodge.” Jughead said and I smiled as I saw the tall tan boy.

“Pleasure to meet you.” I said offering him my hand.

“You were amazing up there.” He said and I smirked.

“Thanks for noticing.” I said and he smirked in return.

“Angelina! What the hell was that!?” Veronica asked, completely ruining the moment.

“I’m a Serpent, that’s what that was.” I answered with a roll of my eyes.

“Clearly… Daddy and Dove are going to be pissed.” She said and I scoffed.

“Like you care, now if you excuse me, I’m talking with a very attractive guy.” I said and turned back to Sweet Pea.

“Let’s get you a drink.” He said and led me off to the bar.

That was how our relationship started. That was also how I lost the title of Daddy’s little girl. My Father hated that I joined a gang and that I was dating someone from it. My Mother didn’t care as much since she was happy that I was happy. Angelina Lodge was no longer going to let other people run her life, no, I was taking my life into my own hands now!

#riverdale #riverdale imagine #riverdale season 1 #riverdale season 2 #archie andrews #archie x oc #Archie Andrews x OC #veronica lodge x sister!oc #veronica x sister!oc #sweet pea x oc #fanfic #request

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potatowitch · 4 years

Text

Quality of Life Wishlist for DA4

This will be a very long one but I have some Thoughts about little tiny things that I think are missing from Origins, DA2 and Inquisition that I hope Bioware thinks about when making DA4.

Make banter guaranteed to activate every 15 minutes or so, regardless of where you are, unless you are in combat or a conversation with an NPC.

Make armor look different depending on race/origin. My Dalish elf shouldn’t be forced to wear shoes just because the other three races would. Same goes for stronghold/home outfits/pyjamas - why you have to download a mod to let your elf wear the elf NPC clothes in Skyhold I’ll never know. They’re literally already in the game.

Let the MC respond to companion banter more, even if it’s the way Hawke does in DA2 where a dialog wheel doesn’t show, they just make a small comment.

Make it easier to increase inventory size, similar to buying backpacks in the first 2 games. Having to spend Inquisition perks to increase inventory size bugs me.

Better hair options! Even if all the “long” hair options have to be updos to minimize clipping, there is no reason to have fifteen different variations of “bald/shaved” and only one “long hair that’s been put into a braided bun” option. Give me LONG ponytails. Side braids down the front. Pig tails. Elaborate braided buns. Long hair that’s been pulled back from the face. Space buns. Anything.

Tintable weapons. Bothered me to no end when I would make a dragonbone weapon in Inquisition and it had to be that weird orange gold colour.

Let me swim but please do not make me fight anyone underwater. Every single time it happens in a game, any game, I want to vomit.

Make companions actually utilize the jump function. I don’t know how difficult this would be to program but I got real sick of companions getting stuck behind fences because they didn’t realize they could jump.

Let me make my own notes on the map. An example: adding a pin that says “saw a dragon here. come back later when higher level”. The original Neverwinter Nights game did this and I loved it.

Way to do some war table functions without having to return to a stronghold, similar to how the Descent DLC did. For example, I should be able to do every war table mission from Skyhold, but if a war table mission takes place around the Hinterlands I should be able to order it to be done from a table in Redcliffe.

A different quiver. Please. Even if it works the way it does in Skyrim where it matches the bow. I am So Bored of the same quiver that matches none of my armor.

Companions have their own personalised mounts that they summon when you get on yours, so they can ride with you and they can still banter. World of Warcraft does this with companions on the Broken Isles in the Legion expansion and I appreciate it. Imagine Blackwall having a black horse with Grey Warden insignia on the saddle. Vivienne’s horse being a beautiful white stallion with an elaborately braided mane.

Expanded tactics, similar to the first two games. I miss being able to tell Alistair “hey if someone attacks Barkspawn please immediately taunt them”.

Please consult someone who actually wears makeup on what shadow, liner and blush are meant to look like.

Let me save a preset in the character creator so if I want to replay my main I don’t have to take a million screenshots of my sliders then try my best to recreate them from an image. I should not have to install mods to do this.

Don’t make me travel to Kirkwall to change my hair. In both DA2 and Inquisition your character has a bedroom, why can they not just have a little mirror on top of their dresser to change hair and makeup? Fair enough if you want to change facial features, tattoos and scars, but hair and makeup? Come on.

Better eyebrows and lashes.

Please include ALL tattoo options from Origins, DA2 and Inquisition, ESPECIALLY if we’re bringing back the Warden, Hawke or the Inquisitor for any reason.

Let me give my elves cartilage piercings. Let me give everyone facial piercings.

More diverse body types, even if it’s similar to the way Bioware does it in SWTOR (you have petite, “average”, curvy and buff options - it’s not a lot, but it’s better than what we have). I really like the system that Guild Wars 2 has where you can pick a base body type from 10-15 options and also edit your height, but I know that might make things difficult to program for cutscenes.

Can I have some healing spells back? Even if it’s just one or two? Don’t love how if I’m out of potions in Inquisition all Solas can do is be like “here. have a barrier. hope you don’t die because my resurrect is on cooldown lol”

Find a balance between Inquisition’s “you only have 8 spells slots” and Origins and DA2′s “your action bar covers the whole bottom of your screen”. Maybe 12 spell slots?

If we must have a “squad goes to a party” level, please make the outfits pretty and race/origin appropriate and Do Not give everyone the same outfit. Better yet, upon entering the level, bring up a temporary character creator that’s like “here are a couple of outfit options, also do you want to change your hair and makeup for this mission specifically?”

Body scars and body tattoos, especially for Dalish elves. Let my vallaslin go down to my titties.

A more customisable HUD/UI. Let me make my quest tracker smaller! My action bars smaller! My companion portraits SMALLER! They take up so much space!

I really hope they bring back the companion armor system from Inquisition. I love how the basic armors look different depending on which companion you put them on and I hope they keep that in DA4.

Let me choose whether hats are visible for specific companions. I don’t want everyone wearing their helmets but Cole’s hat, Vivienne’s headpiece, the flower crown, the Qunari face paint and the mage hoods are Important and I like them and want to see them.

Capes? Can I have some capes? I’d like a cape.

#dragon age #dragon age 4 wishlist #dragon age origins #dragon age 2 #dragon age inquisition #how do tags work #long post #trinity is rambling again #i have Opinions ... again #i typed this up with Inquisition unpaused in the background hoping it would help me get the Dorian and Bull romance going #but no #all that happened was solas and dorian bickered #no input from bull at all #thanks dude #uh #dragon age 4 #is that everything i need to tag?#lmao

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