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orbitariums · 2 days

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rum punch | patrick zweig x black fem reader

writing this because patrick is definitely the type to text you like “if you wanna pull up just to get fucked here’s the addy”

obsessed with this song right now (rump punch by cash cobain) and listened to it over and over while writing this. i recommend listening to compliment your reading experience 🙏🏾 it’s sooo challengers especially patrick zweig coded. let’s review: “top five nasty, you ain’t even gotta ask me” and “soon as you leave i miss u too, like damn”; “don’t be asking questions like a interview cuz you really know what we finna do”... “i just made her cum twice you ain’t make her cum once”?!!>!##? that’s patrick DOWN. sorry it must be said…

so a little drabble-ish thing is ahead! contains: cheating (ooops), degradation, smut

it started when you started dating your current boyfriend, or at least that’s what you would tell yourselves to make you feel better about the whole ordeal — not that patrick cared much to begin with. but anybody who knew you and patrick knew that this had been going on for far longer than either of you would care to admit, or that either of you had enough introspective ability to even realize. every single playful shove, every time you squeezed his hand to deflect from parting at the end of a hangout, the way he’d stack his legs on top of yours while you were studying even though he knew you “hated” it, his thumb circling your hand, your head on his shoulder during a late night movie sesh with art and tashi, eyes fluttering closed until you found sleepy heaven in the perfect crevice of his neck. nearly every time you saw each other, which was frequent, you were touching without touching. art, who wasn’t one to make crass comments often, would always tell patrick: “it wouldn’t even make a difference, you should just go ahead and fuck each other. the shit you two do is more than just sex.”

it was 11:16 pm when you called him. your boyfriend had sped off in the middle of the night in a fit of anger after an intense argument about the same thing for the hundredth time. you were so tired. you’d been so close to texting or calling him before, but you refrained — you didn’t want things between the two of you to get messy when nothing in your life was going right in the first place. but now that you were nearly slumped against the wall with tears hot against your face, so tired beyond comprehension, you could blame it on the delirium brought on by exhaustion. you told yourself you just needed the comfort of your close friend, who always made you laugh.

“patrick, can i come over?” you’d asked, your voice trembling, your face buried in your sweater sleeve.

patrick had never heard you sound so upset — he’d never even seen you cry. when you were around him, you were always so jovial and giggly. so when he heard your voice on the phone, so late at night, sounding so fragile and fractured, his eyebrows immediately knit together with concern, and he sat up on his couch.

“yn, are you okay? is everything alright, you sound—”

“i’m fine,” you sniffled, breath catching on your voice multiple times. “just-just need a friend. please, can i come over?”

you couldn’t see it, but his features softened, and some wedge in his heart seemed to shift over,

“yeah. yeah, of course you can.”

he was so confused, but just glad to know that you were at least okay, taking pride in the fact that he was who you wanted to be around, whatever was going on. he made some rushed efforts to tidy up his bachelor apartment, sweeping crumbs under the rug, tucking in pillows on the couch, throwing yesterday’s takeout into the overflowing trashcan, and swiping the trash off his coffee table.

he couldn’t believe how shrunken you looked when you appeared in front of his door that night, clad in an oversized stanford hoodie and sweatpants, slippers, tears still welling up in your eyes. this couldn’t be the same yn pushing him off of her with excessive force and maniacally cackling at his stupid jokes.

“wh-”

before he could get a word out, you threw your arms around your waist, plopping your head down on his chest. he stilled for a moment out of shock, then relaxed into your touch, embracing you with his arms around your shoulders and down your back, holding you because he knew that’s what you needed right now.

and then you were pulling away, sniffling and wiping away your tears, finally feeling some ounce of comfort now that you were with him. you knew, you knew, this was what you needed, as much as you had resisted this very thing.

“it’s chris,” you said, moving past him and inside his apartment, groaning as you plunked down onto the couch.

now, looking out the open door at the hallway ahead of him, patrick was nodding to himself silently, like he had come to some realization. he sat beside you, and you turned to him with a pout. and it was then that patrick knew he was not a good man for thinking about how pretty you looked with tears streaking your face and your lips pressed together in a girlish pout.

“he’s like… intimidated by me or something. every single thing i tell him about my day, about work, about my friends, my wins… he’s always finding some thing to harp on like i’m some villain stopping him from achieving his finance bro dreams. he hates that i’m living my life because he isn’t living his yet. so every thing i earn, he just picks it apart and tears it down, questions my motives for everything.”

“he’s a dick, alright?” patrick said, in that ever so frank tone that you honestly missed, and wished you could hear during these arguments with your boyfriend. “yn, i’d never… we wouldn’t treat you like that, me and art and tashi. we’re your real friends, we celebrate you. that’s how a relationship’s supposed to go. he’s a stupid fuck.”

you grinned a bit at his correction, the corner of your lips turning up.

“i know you wouldn’t.”

“can i ask you something though, yn?”

“mhm?” you looked up at him with such innocent doe eyes that he didn’t want to call bullshit, but he was calling bullshit.

“why… why’d you come over here? why not to tashi or your mom’s or… anyone else? why me?”

you sighed deeply, shaking your head,

“because, patrick, i… i just… want you right now.”

his face impossibly close to yours, intruding your senses and all your walls before you even realized they were up.

“how do you want me?” he asked, his voice the softest it had ever been, his breath tickling your cheek.

you were hoping you wouldn’t have to finish your sentence, and patrick knew it — his hands gripped the sides of your face with a stronghold, and then your lips were crashing against each other like a wave coming to the tide, foaming and sputtering and wetting the cracked sand at the shore. and it didn’t take long before you were climbing on top of him and straddling him, your clothes falling off one by one. his rough hand clutching your breast and squeezing, another in your panties navigating your clit like a fucking expert, making your back arch against the air. then your legs by your head as patrick drove himself into you, tender and slow and making you see stars instead of his face and the ceiling. fucking every tear out of you, turning your sobs of pain into sobs of pleasure. your moans were like a choir to him, licking flames against his earlobes each time you whimpered his name, leaving little half-circle imprints in his back with his nails. sweat dripping down his forehead as he clutched his eyes shut and tried not to come too fast, tried not to let the way you wrapped around him like a fucking snake— pussy squeezing his cock, legs trapping him inside you, hands roaming his back like new found land — make him lose focus.

“fuck, your fucking moans. d’you have any idea how much i’ve thought about this? f- fuck, if you come to me crying again, i’m not gonna go so easy on you.”

if he had an ounce of self-respect, he’d have stopped you after the first time (he didn’t have the discipline to deny you completely), but something about him stirred at the unpredictable predictability of it all. he knew that at least once a week, you’d come crying to him over something your asshole boyfriend did to you, it was just a matter of what day of the week.

he liked when you came over on friday nights most, because more often than not you’d stay the night, sometimes the weekend, making the excuse to your boyfriend that you were sleeping over at a girlfriend or your mother’s house. but really you were just spending the whole weekend getting fucked by your recovery boyfriend patrick, who would scrape up the little money he had to order food from your favorite thai restaurant every night and watch what were, in his opinion, the most insipid movies he’d ever seen — because he knew that less than halfway through you’d be split open on his cock, sobbing with pleasure into his shoulder as princess diaries became a distant echo in the background. his hand on the small of your back, his vision glazing over as he stares ahead at the tv, too enraptured by the sweet whimpers you make while you’re (attempting to) ride him, the sounds of your slick pussy swallowing him whole in slow intervals, panting and gasping as he speared you open because he was: “so big, patrick you’re so big.”

he’ll snap out of it then, find his hands wrapped around your waist and his lips buried in the crook of your neck,

“it’s okay, baby. you can take me.”

“i’m trying,” you wailed, the frustration so clear in your voice that it almost made him laugh.

instead, he wrapped his hands around your waist firmly, leading you down onto his cock himself.

“fuck!” you shouted out, practically collapsing forward onto him. “patrick, please—”

“if you can come to me crying just to get dick, you can take it.”

you gasped at the directness of his words, punching yourself for how much it turned you on. and he knew it too, by the way your pussy throbbed around his dick. you couldn’t see his face, but you could practically hear the shit-eating smirk in his voice as he grabbed your asscheek,

“yeah, your pussy loves it though. and you love being my little slut behind closed doors when your boyfriend isn’t acting right.”

you couldn’t control the moan that tumbled out of your lips when he said that, and definitely not the screech you let out when he started to thrust up, jackhammering into you so his cock reached the hilt.

“that what you wanted?”

“yes, yes!” you wailed, nodding desperately, positively wrecked as your head practically hung over his shoulder, enveloped in a world of pleasure.

“yeah… i know…”

and sometimes he won't be so nice. he'll be damn near using your pussy like a fleshlight, his body practically covering yours as he fucks you like an animal, hard and fast and rough, your pussy squelching around his cock each time he rams it into you. he'll use you like he's the one that needs comforting, like your pussy is the only safe haven he knows. and it's only fair, the way you hide out in his house and act like his dick is your life source. he fucks you like he's an athlete and this is his sport, tennis be damned. he'll degrade you anyway he knows how — because he knows you love it, knows it makes you finish two times as fast.

"he doesn't fuck you like this."

"you're such a fucking slut. come over here crying acting like you don't pull up just to get fucked." he'll laugh as he says this, and you want to smack his chest in indignation, but you can't manage anything but moans.

“you’re such a good girl. letting me use this pussy when i want.”

"there you go, squeeze my cock like it's yours."

"pussy's so greedy, getting fucked by the both of us. still so fucking tight."

"your boyfriend's probably wondering where you are." this has made you come twice now.

"whose pussy is it?" (and even though you have a man, you tell him it's his every time. sometimes he doesn't even need to ask, sometimes he fucks you so good that you just scream out: "it's your pussy — it's your pussy, daddy", and he'll chuckle and say: "i know.").

and you let him say these things and more, because he fucks you like no one ever has, like he knows something you told him in complete and total secrecy. like it's something so complex — but all it ever takes is one touch.

your friends have noticed something is different between you two, but it's honestly not a big jump from before — only this time, you guys sealed the deal and were actually fucking now. of course, patrick can't keep his mouth closed for long and ends up bragging to art, and you tell tashi because she's one of the girls, and now there's this unspoken understand between all of you. but no one feels the need to intervene, because honestly... it makes sense.

and you’ll have a conversation with him every other time, telling him “we have to stop doing this.” and one day he replies,

“yn. not to be a dick or anything, but you’re the one who calls me. you act like you're coming over for comfort, but we both know it's my dick doing all the comforting."

and you know it’s true, you know patrick is right even if he is an asshole. but you won’t let that stop you from texting him: thai food and a movie? everytime your boyfriend fucks up. and patrick won't stop you either.

#might continue this in bits and pieces #comfortfriend! patrick who stands in when your man isn't acting right #might need a better name for that #but not best friend patrick cuz that's a whole different vibe #we haven't even entered that universe #x reader #x black reader #challengers #challengers smut #challengers fic #patrick zweig x black reader #patrick zweig #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig imagine

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phoward89 · 22 hours

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Obsessed!Coriolanus Snow x Innocent!Reader, Obsessed!Crassus Snow x Innocent!Reader, DILF!Crassus Snow

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Cussing, obsession, smut, oral (f rec) , p in v, older man/younger woman, father & son both want the same girl, reader is just too sweet for this world and has no idea that the men in the Snow family are toxic...

This is the Crassus x Reader ending AKA ending 2.

It's kinda long.

Masterlist

Ending #2-Crassus

Coriolanus disappeared without a trace. Or at least that's what it felt like. Truth was, a couple of weeks after graduation he boarded a train to 8 as a peacekeeper grunt. Coriolanus received a conscription letter and was shoved off by his father General Crassus Snow.

Against his will.

Without Coriolanus by your side you fell into a depression. Yes, you received letters from him and the occasional phone call, but it wasn't the same. He wasn't physically around, like he's always been, and it hurt.

It hurt so much.

So goddamn much.

You felt so alone…

You thought that you were doing good job of hiding your hurt, your depression and loneliness. But you weren't.

No.

Crassus noticed it right away.

And he tried to swoop in and put a smile on your face by asking about your day or by suggesting you read a certain book in the library, but it never worked. Nothing worked to put a smile on your face.

The only time a faint smile appeared on your face was whenever Crassus handed you a letter from his son while shifting thru the mail after coming home from work. You'd always snatch it from him with a smile on your face. One that never quite reached your eyes.

You cherished Coryo's letters. He always complained about District 8 in them, but he’d also write a few lines about his feelings towards you. Always told you to wait for him; that he'd figure out a way to return to you.

Crassus, as cold and unfeeling of a man as he was, never kept his son's letters from you despite the fact that the middle-aged man wanted you as his next wife. His future First Lady. And why didn't he keep them from you?

Because he wanted to woo you away from his son’s affections. Crassus wanted the knowledge that he pursued you, courted you, and gave you somebody to confide in all the while Coriolanus was sending you letters that were borderline love letters.

Crassus wants you to pick him over his son, not because he made you, but because you want to.

Because you want him.

And having Coriolanus thousands of miles away serving in 8 would definitely help out with you picking the older Snow…

Out of sight, out of mind as they say.

“Petal, a letter for you from my son.” Crassus announces, holding the letter up for you to see as he stands in front of the fireplace shifting thru mail while you sit on the sofa watching CapitolTV.

Grandma'am was out visiting the neighbor, Pluribus, so it was just you and Crassus inside of the penthouse.

“Oh, thank you.” You thinly smile, rising from the sofa to go get your letter from the tall, stoic man that you've come to appreciate since you began living in the Snow's ancestral home.

Crassus knew that now was his chance to snatch you away from his bratty son. That now's the time to woo you. And how does he know?

By the thin, forced line of a smile on your face and the tight tone of your voice when you thank him for his son's letter.

“Y/N, I see how much you're suffering. Perhaps you'd like to talk about it with someone who's been deployed throughout Panem?” Crassus remarked, his voice low and thoughtful as he hands you over the letter.

“I'm fine, Crassus.” You lie, fingers brushing while taking the letter from him. “I don't need to talk about Coryo's deployment in 8, but thank you for the offer.” You assure the man towering over you while looking at the letter you're holding.

“You're not fine, petal.” Crassus tells you in a low, deep, all knowing tone.

It's unsettling since Coriolanus had told you the exact same thing one night before he was shipped off. He told you that you weren't fine; in a similar tone and manner that his father had just used on you right now.

You never noticed it before, but were Coriolanus and Crassus truly mirror images of each other?

“You haven't filled out your University admissions packet, so I surmise that you won't be attending. I also noticed how you sulk around, wasting your life waiting for a ghost.”

The packet was still untouched on his mahogany desk in his study. It was due weeks ago. Now that it's early September and the fall semester's starting soon, well, Crassus knows that it's too late for you to select a major of interest to study. That you won't be attending the University.

That doesn't bother him. In fact, Crassus prefers for you to be home with Grandma'am all day. You're a very beautiful Capitolite girl and in his mind you're better suited as a socialite. He's sure in time you'll get used to staying home and doing lady things all day such as luncheons, shopping, tea parties, etc.

“I-” You began, but your protest died on the tip of your tongue when Crassus cut you off with a blunt, “You can deny it all you want, but you fill your days moping over my son's absence.”

Of course, he saw right thru your facade. Crassus was a very perceptive man, a cunning one as well. He picked up on things that most people would overlook.

“You need to find a hobby to occupy your time; keep your thoughts off of things.” Crassus tells you knowingly. As if he has first hand experience in the matter.

Well, maybe he did.

“A hobby?”

“Yes.” He nods. “My mother has her rose garden; my late wife had her silly little songs and the piano.” The tall platinum blonde explains. He shifts his weight slightly on his feet while suggesting, “So perhaps you can find something as well.”

“Perhaps.” You parrot.

Maybe Crassus is right? Maybe a hobby will help you during Coryo's absence.

Crassus pecks you on the cheek before patting it and telling you, “Go on and read your letter. I'll be in my study reading my own mail.”

Without another word he walked away from you and into the direction of his office, a pile of mail in his hands.

You decided to take Crassus' advice and find a hobby to take your mind off of Coryo's deployment. After thinking about it, you realize that Crassus is right. You need to focus your energy on something else and since you're not in the best mindset to go to University (going to University was Coriolanus' dream; he wanted you to attend with him) a hobby is necessary.

At first you try your hand at gardening. You spent some time with Grandma’am in her rooftop rose garden, but you weren't a natural green thumb like she was. In fact, gardening seems to frustrate you.

Coriolanus was the botanist that thrived under Grandma'am Snow’s gardening lessons. Well, he did when he was still living in the Corso penthouse before he was conscripted into the Peacekeepers.

Anyways….

And since you weren't classically trained on the piano like Crassus' late wife, Demeter, you had only two other options for a hobby. Sewing or baking.

You weren't too handy with needlework and didn't want to bother Tigris with sewing lessons, because you knew that she'd start talking about Coryo. You couldn't handle that. The kind hearted young lady always meant well when she brought up Coryo, but it was a sore topic for you.

So, that left baking as your only hobby option.

But you had an old recipe book of your mother's from her native 12, so at least you had something to work with. You didn't have to bake blind without recipes.

Most of the recipes were for cookies. A couple for cakes, but mostly various cookies. Oh and bread. Lots and lots of bread.

Apparently, District 12 really loves their bread.

And on top of reading your cookbook you've been watching a baking show:

The Great Panem Bake Off

It's a baking competition where the best amateur bakers in all of Panem compete for a title and prize money. You began watching it for baking ideas and ended up writing down the recipes of the goodies that the judges liked.

After a few weeks of reading your mother's old recipe book and watching the baking show on CapitolTV, you decided to bake a batch of classic and simple sugar cookies.

So, one late afternoon while Grandma'am was tending to her magnificent rooftop rose garden you're in the kitchen hard at work baking a large batch of lemon zest and vanilla bean sugar cookies. Thankfully, living in Capitol City, Panem, you're able to procure the ingredients easily for your cookies.

You're so engrossed in making your cookie dough and baking off the tasty treats that your mind doesn't even focus on the missing member of the Snow family. Not once does Coriolanus cross your mind. No, the only thing crossing your mind is measuring out the ingredients and adding them to the bowl; mixing until firm and smooth. You're too busy letting the cookie dough chill and timing it to think about sulking over your best friend.

And when it's time to roll out the sugar cookie dough and cut the cookies out with a cutter, well, you can't even imagine thinking about anything but getting the cookies stamped out and onto the cookie sheet pan. A sheet pan lined with parchment to keep the cookies from burning and sticking (a tip you saw on the baking show).

You're so scared that if you leave the kitchen your batch of cookies will burn, despite having a timer set. So, you sit at the kitchen table reading a book that Crassus had recommended a few weeks back; waiting for the cookies to bake. Between the mouth watering aroma of fresh cookies filling the air and the intriguing plot line of the book you're reading, you're mind's too preoccupied to drift off to a melancholy about Coriolanus being gone.

Infact, it seems that Crassus was right about a hobby keeping your mind busy and off of things you can't change.

His son serving as Private Snow over in 8.

When the timer goes off you put on your floral printed oven mitts, which match your frilly apron, and pull the cookie sheet out of the oven. After setting the pan on the counter, you transfer the sweet treats to a cooling rack before rolling and cutting out another batch of cookies to place onto the sheet pan and back into the oven.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table, reading your book while waiting for the cookies to bake whenever you heard the front door open accompanied by the sound of Crassus' shoes echoing against the marble floor.

Crassus was home and all you could think of was getting his opinion on your cookies. Being a first time baker, you're afraid that they wouldn't be good. Even tho you followed the recipe religiously and everything seemed to turn out, you're still scared that your first foray into baking won't be successful.

So, you set your book down on the table, quickly rise to your feet, and grab a cookie from the cooling rack that's on the counter.

When you rush out of the kitchen, freshly baked cookie in hand, you see Crassus is starting to cross the foyer. He stops when he sees you, nose sniffing at the air, as his icy blue eyes take in the excited smile on your face.

From the smell wafting from the kitchen paired with the frilly floral apron you're wearing, the general concludes that you've taken up baking. He thinks it's good that you found something to occupy your days with.

Crassus is a tall man, even taller than his son, so he towers over you as you stand before him. Before he could make a comment on your new hobby, you grab him by the shirt and yank him down to your eye level- only to shove a freshly baked sugar cookie into his mouth.

“How is it? Do I need to tweek anything?” You ask, watching Crassus try not to choke on a large mouthful of cookie.

The middle-aged man’s large hand comes up to his mouth to pull the cookie out while he chews on the piece that's nearly choking him. You look at him with such innocence and patience while awaiting his verdict on your first attempt at baking cookies. Oh, and how your doe eyes has Crassus' knees buckling.

The cold, hard former soldier can't help, but to feel like a schoolboy again as you watch him chew his large mouthful. Oh, how embarrassing to feel like that over a young pretty girl shoving a sugar cookie into his mouth and looking at him like an angel sent from the heavens while awaiting his judgment on the sweet treat.

For some reason, swallowing down the cookie takes more effort than it should. Perhaps Crassus' throat feels tighter, as if it's closing up on him, because of the near intimate position you're in. Your face is mere inches away from his as he's hunched down into your space with your hand still tightly fisted into his shirt; keeping him in place.

Oh gods, how the man's mind is drifting off to dirty places…

“It's good.” Crassus finally answers after what feels like an eternity, but in reality was only a minute.

“You really think so?” You ask, genuinely surprised, as the icy eyed man in front of you just stares at you as if you hung the moon and stars.

A look he hasn't given anyone in a very, very long time.

“Yes,” He nods. “It's very good, petal.”

You're so happy that Crassus likes your cookie; that your first attempt at baking as your new hobby was successful. Honestly, you were scared that they wouldn't turn out. But it seems that you had nothing to worry about.

Without saying a word, you let go of Crassus' shirt and rush back into the kitchen to check on your latest batch of cookies. Crassus just shakes his head, clutching his briefcase his one hand and his half eaten cookie in the other, as a ghost of a smile slowly appears on his lips.

It seems like your innocence and warmth might be melting the cold Snow.

After the day you shoved a cookie into Crassus' mouth; nearly choking him, he's become your official taste tester for anything that you bake. He doesn't mind, in fact Crassus enjoys your baking. He has quite the sweet tooth even if he denies it.

Grandma'am enjoys when you bake chocolate treats and even Tigris enjoys your baking. She prefers your puddings. The warm hearted girl stops by from time to time to visit Grandma’am and you always give her some baked goods to take home.

All in all, your depression has dissipated and your mind's occupied with baking. You don't feel a heavy dark rain cloud over your head anymore, but instead you feel as if the sun’s shining down on you. You feel so much lighter, as if a weight has been taken off your shoulders.

And over the last few months you've grown closer to Crassus due to your baking. You looked forward to greeting him every evening when he came home with something you baked, asking him to taste it and tell you what he thought. And Crassus would always tell you that your sweet treats were good, great even.

That man loves everything you give him. From cookies to brownies to puddings to cakes to breads, he enjoys them all. Hell, he even has you pack some up for his coworkers at the Ministry of War.

Yes, cold and stern General Crassus Snow brought in baked goods to work to share with his coworkers. Honestly, he did it to brag about your baking skills. To show you off. To claim you as his in a way because women just don't bake for any man, they bake for their man.

And Crassus Snow views himself as your man.

He's been obsessed with making you his for a while; now he's succeeding in doing so.

But you don't mind his obsessive tendencies towards you. In fact, you welcome them because at least you're not lonely with him around.

And talk about being lonely, you found out from Crassus that his son, Coryo, was anything but lonely while off serving in District 8. His contacts told him that Coriolanus had taken up with a local district girl; had been with her for a while too.

Hearing that made you feel incredibly stupid for promising Coriolanus that you'd wait for him. Here you are being true blue to him while Private Snow's out fucking some district whore from 8. You wonder what she has that you don't have. Is she prettier than you? Maybe she's smarter or something? You dunno, but it hurts that he's cheating while you're waiting faithfully for him.

Aside from being hurt, you're pissed as hell. How dare he do this to you! Who the hell does he think he is? You're a proper Capitolite girl, you deserve better than what he's giving you.

Safe to say, you're a bit salty about Coryo's extra curricular activities in District 8 while serving as Private Snow in the Peacekeepers. Fucking bastard…

But at least you have your baking to help you thru it. Baking and Crassus' friendship that is.

But one day while you're baking cookies for the Yule holiday, the phone rings and you answer it only to be met with the one man you really don't want to talk to right now.

Coryo.

He tells you about some Elite Officer's Exam he took and you confronted him about his district whore. He denied it; even told you he loved you and wanted you to join him in 2 as soon as he got settled there- after passing his exams and officially being transferred that is.

And if that wasn't enough to turn your world upside down, a breaking news alert appeared on CapitolTV that would shatter Panem's heart.

It's late at night and Grandma'am’s asleep in her room while you're in the living room watching an old detective noir movie with Crassus. You're on the sofa, body softly nestled into Crassus’ side while his arm’s loosely slung around you, whenever the movie was interrupted by a news break announcing the death of President Ravenstill due to his ill health.

You're shocked to say the least. The very least. A president dying in office without a successor had never happened before in Panem's history. Normally, a president would step down if deathly ill or eldery; an election would be held to name a successor and the incumbent would pass over the baton.

President Ravenstill’s death turned the system upside down and on its head. So much so, that you ask the middle-aged man your sitting on the couch with what's going to happen to Panem now that the president’s dead. The platinum blonde man explained that the Senate would rule Panem with the help of the ministries and the late President Ravenstill’s cabinet.

Crassus also surprised you by announcing that he’s going to enter his name has a presidential candidate under the Old Guard political party. He also made a remark about how when he wins you'll be baking in the grand kitchen of the Presidential Palace. That you'll even be giving the palace bakers some of your recipes.

Everything feels so surreal; your entire day feels like a dream. A winter’s dream that can't be real, but in fact it's real. It's very real.

And to top off your day; mark the night as unbelievable, Crassus placed a hand on your chin only to tip your head to the side and capture your lips with a kiss.

A firm, but passionate kiss that caught you completely off guard.

You weren't expecting him to kiss you, but it only took a few seconds before your brain and body got on the same page and you're responding to his kiss. Your hands wrap around his neck as your lips press together. One of his hands goes to your hip while the other tangles in your hair.

You let out a breathy moan at the feel of his tongue sweeping along your bottom lip; asking silent permission to deepen the kiss. Permission that you granted by slightly parting your mouth just enough for Crassus to slide his tongue inside.

Your kiss with Crassus felt different then all the kisses you shared with Coryo- his son. Coryo's kisses always felt so needy and rushed, but with Crassus they're passionate albeit languid. It's as if the middle-aged man has all the time in the world to explore your mouth with his deeply impassioned kisses; to savor your reaction to his tongue tangling with yours, flicking against your bottom lip teasingly.

The way Crassus' lips firmly sweep over yours over and over again sparks a flaming heat inside of you. A need appears unlike anything you've ever felt before and, unable to stop yourself, you're slightly rolling your hips against him in an attempt to ease the growing ache in your core. And when Crassus breaks the kiss so the two of you can get some much need air into your lungs, you're looking at him wit lust in your doe-eyes.

Crassus can't help, but to flip you onto your back and smirk while slotting himself between your legs that have spread open on their own accord. He runs his knuckles along your cheek, only to hold your hip in his other hand. Crassus’ grip on your hip his strong, but sensual, as his other hand trails down your neck. Your chest heaves up and down as you look up at him, pupils blown wide.

“You feel what you do to me, petal?” Crassus asks, his voice low and thick, as he grinds his large cock, that's straining painfully in his pants, against your aching core.

The action has you soaking your panties. Just the feel of his bulge makes you ache, makes your pussy wetter then it already is. His cock, although trapped in the confines of his slacks, feel so large and heavy against your heated core.

“Crassus, please…” You moan needily.

"Shhh,” Crassus brings a finger up to your lips to shush you. “don’t make a noise, baby.” He dips his head down so his breath is fanning your face and his hand that's on your hip slides under your skirt, his fingertips teasingly sliding up and down your thigh. “We dont want mother to wake up now, would you?" Crassus rhetorically asks, nipping at a sweet spot right below your ear.

“We're really doing this here?” You ask, voice no more than a whisper, against his finger that was still resting against your lips.

Crassus trails his finger down your lower lip, that's bruised from his kisses, over your chin, and down the collum of your neck while telling huskily answering you with a low, “Yes.”

His lips captures yours in another searing kiss, one that shows off his years of experience, as his finger turns into his palm grasping at your breast. You moan into the kiss, your hands burying into his hair and your hips canting up slightly as Crassus toys with the wet patch right in the middle of your panties.

He pulls back from the kiss, only to slyly smirk. “I’m gonna prep you real good for my cock, baby.” Crassus scooted down the length of the couch until his head’s between your spread legs.

Legs that are shaking.

Crassus swiftly bunches your skirt up past your hips before curling his forefingers into the elestatic of your panties. “Lift your hips up for me, petal.” He orders in a low tone that's fire and ice to your ears.

Nodding, you do as you're told- resulting in Crassus pulling your panties off and licking a stripe up your wet cunt. He eases a long finger into your tight pussy while giving your clit a few kitten licks, causing you to wither from his touch.

Crassus' icy eyes hold your gaze as he slowly pumps his finger in and out of your pussy, his tongue flicking your clit expertly. You feel your cheeks grow hot, but you can't make yourself pull your gaze away from his. It's as if his light cerulean eyes have you under a spell. A spell you just can't find it in yourself to break.

Crassus pulls his lips away from your clit with a wet pop. With his eyes still on you, he says, “You're so tight, baby. I'm gonna add another finger, just let me know if it hurts.”, before slipping his middle finger inside of you alongside his pointer finger.

“I'm okay, Crassus. Please, keep going.” You told him, placing a hand in his platinum hair to encourage him to continue eating you out.

“As you wish, petal.” He tells you before going back to teasing your cunt with his skilled tongue while pumping his fingers in and out of your wet, tight hole.

Your breath hitches and you bite back a moan whenever you feel his fingertips curl up against the spongy spot hidden deep inside of you. He grins against your cunt at your reaction to his ministrations.

“Think you can handle a third finger?” Crassus asked, even tho he was planning on squeezing his ring finger into your dripping cunt no matter what your answer is.

He's a very blessed man when it comes to the size of his cock. He's large, both in length and girth, so he wants to stretch you out with his fingers as much as possible. Plus, the feeling of your tight cunt clenching around his fingers is sending all of his blood straight to his hard rock; making it even harder than he thought possible.

“I can handle it, Crassus.” You answer, chest heaving and voice wispy, as you feel a knot tightening in your lower belly.

Crassus wraps his lips around your clit, sucking hard, while stuffing you full with three of his long fingers. His ego was soaring as he heard your tiny, strangled moans mixed with the gushing sound your wet cunt made as he fingered you fast and hard while sucking and nipping at your clit. He groaned into your cunt as he felt your hands tightly holding his hair while shoving his face deeper into your cunt.

“Crassus, I'm close.” You tell him, bucking your hips in an attempt to find relief to the feelings quaking inside of you from the feelings of the middle-aged man's skilled fingers stretching you and his tongue swirling around your puffy clit.

Your thighs are shaking around Crassus' head, but he doesn't care. No, not when you're so close to cumming. Hell, he could die with his head crushed by your thighs and he'd die a happy man with your sweet tangy taste on his tongue.

His fingers curl against your g-spot just right at the same time his teeth graze against your clit, sending you over the edge. You cum with a silent scream, bucking your hips wildly.

It was unlike anything you ever felt in your life. You swear, you're seeing stars as you cum.

Crassus groans and laps up everything that you give him. You're messily dripping and all he can do is eagerly lick you clean. Oh, how your taste drives him wild.

He backs away from your cunt, only to look you in the eye while sucking your taste off of his fingers. “Sweetest thing I've ever tasted, baby.” Crassus smirks, his low tone oozing lust. And it has your cheeks flushing and your pussy growing wet- again.

Crassus quickly unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants down to his thighs. Your eyes widen as you see the large bulge pressing against his boxers, thanks to the glowing light the TV was casting in the room. You quickly realize, before he even pulls down his boxers, that Crassus’ dick is bigger than Coriolanus’. And that fact makes you both nervous and excited.

Crassus knows that once he enters your cunt he's a goner, that he'll most likely lose control. He's so pent up since his career at the Ministry of War along with his side job as an arms dealer; overlooking his assets in 13 doesn't leave him much time in his schedule to go out and fuck somebody. The gods know that he's always busy doing something.

But between his obsession with you and having your pussy in his grasp, well, he's sure that he's not sleeping a wink tonight. And neither are you.

“Sling your leg over the back of the couch, petal.” Crassus orders while pulling down his boxers; setting his very long and thick cock free to slap up against his stomach. A stomach that's still covered by his shirt. “I need your legs spread wide, as wide as possible, for me.”

“Okay.” You nod, adjusting your legs to spread wide in the way that he wanted them.

“Relax, baby, I'll take good care of you.” Uttered Crassus before pushing his cock into your wet cunt.

You bite your lip and claw at his muscular back as you feel his cock splitting you in two. Yes, you're not a virgin and had a big cock fucking you for a week back in late July/early August, but being stretched by Crassus' cock had you feeling like you're losing your virginity all over again. Clearly, your hole had tightened up after months of not being fucked- resulting in the uncomfortable feeling you're experiencing as the handsome man hovering above you pushes his fat dick into you at a steady pace.

Crassus knows your not a virgin since he didn't meet the resistance of your barrier, so he quickly realizes that you're so painfully tight because you haven't been properly fuck in a long time. Hell, he doubts you've been properly fucked at all considering the last man you most likely fucked wasn't a real man at all, but a green schoolboy.

“You can take it, baby. You took my fingers so well, I know you can take all of my cock?” Crassus praises and encourages you while sinking deeper and deeper into your tight cunt.

And when he's finally balls deep inside of your tight cunt, which is literally stretched to the max, his icy eyes roll to the back of his head and he lets out a tiny grunt.

Crassus gives you a couple of minutes to accommodate his size before he's pumping his cock in and out of your pussy at a steady, but deep pace. One of his hands is on your hip while the other’s resting on the thigh of your leg that's strewn over the back of the sofa. Your arms are wrapped around him, hands on his back, as you feel the veins of his cock gliding against your inner walls as he fucks into you- making you mewl.

“Remember, we can't be too loud.” Crassus reminds you, his deep voice a whisper that sending butterflies fluttering deep inside your belly.

“I’m n-not being t-too loud.” You protest, falling over your words and trying not to moan as you feel Crassus' cock hit your g-spot.

Your nails dig into his back and he triumphantly smirks. Oh, yes, you're enjoying this as much, if not more, then he is.

“Keep it that way and I'll reward you by letting you scream on top of your lungs when I fuck you in my room within the next half hour.” Crassus tells you, his husky voice dripping with dominance, as he fucks into you even harder.

You can't believe your ears. Crassus wants to fuck you again- tonight! And in his bed!

Something about that revelation does something to you; has you cumming around his cock while choking back a moan that wants to bubble out.

The feel of your tight cunt clenching around his cock along with the feeling of you creaming it triggers off Crassus' orgasm. He cums, painting your walls white with his seed, while kissing your lips feverishly to keep himself from moaning and grunting too loudly.

Fucking Crassus Snow wasn't just a one time thing. In fact, it was something that occured regularly between the two of you. So much so that you took to sleeping in his bed instead of in your own room.

You doubt that Grandma'am knew what was going on between you and her son. She never brought it up; never gave you odd looks either. In fact, she seems to smile every time she sees Crassus peck you on the cheek before taking off to do something, greeting you, or sending you on your way.

Plus, as time went on, Grandma'am seemed too occupied with Crassus' campaign for the presidency to pick up on anything happening in the penthouse. Whether that be lingering interactions between you and her son or your own building anxiety.

And of course Crassus was too busy with both his campaign and his work at the Ministry of War to notice you growing more anxious. Or at least that's what you thought.

But Crassus is a very observant man and he truly does notice your anxiety. He just thinks it's due to his campaign; that you're nervous about how he'll do in the primary election that's being held in a handful of months to determine the two presidential candidates that’ll go head to head in the main election for the presidency come November.

He has no idea why you're truly anxious.

Coriolanus isn't Private Snow anymore, but he's now Elite Officer Snow since he passed his exams, or at least Crassus told you that's what he heard from his contact. Crassus also told you that his son's most likely going to bring his district whore with him whenever he transfers to 2.

So, of course you're anxious about what to do when it comes to Coryo. Especially since all calls and letters from the younger Snow have ceased. You can't help, but wonder if he truly does want you to join him or if he really did bring a district whore with him.

A district whore he denied having in the first place.

And then there's the subject of Crassus, your lover and Coriolanus' father. You can't help, but wonder if fucking you’s just something he does to relieve stress since you're around. He's so busy with his career and politics that he rarely spends time with you, unless it's in his bedroom.

Yes, yes, he still taste tests your baking, but know he's having you bake for his campaign workers and volunteers that it feels like he's just testing what you bake to make sure that it's edible for his entourage. It doesn't feel like he's genuinely eating your baked goods anymore.

Unlike Coryo, Crassus has never once told you that he loves you. Hasn't even told you that he cares. At least Coryo claims to love you. If Crassus truly felt something for you, wouldn't he vocalize it?

You go on worrying yourself with so many thoughts of Coryo and Crassus until one day you finally receive a letter in the mail from the younger Snow. Crassus gives it to you, like he always does, before pecking you on the cheek and going to his office to do some paperwork for his campaign.

You read Coryo’s letter, only to discover that he's living at the Nut in 2 and wants you to join him. Enclosed in the letter’s a train ticket to District 2- dated for the following morning.

That letter has you reeling as you shove it along with the ticket back into the envelope. You place the letter on the desk in your room, a room you never use anymore.

You're weighing the words you read in the letter as you lay in bed, waiting for Crassus to join you. But when he finally does come to bed, he makes you forget all about the letter. At least he does for a little while as his body's on top of yours, fucking into your tight cunt with fervent vigor.

But as you're basking in the afterglow of your fucking with Crassus, you can't help, but to wonder what the two of you are. And the nagging question has you asking, “What are we? Do you even love me? Or am I just a stress reliever for you?", as you lay pressed into Crassus' side with your hand on his chest.

Your question starles Crassus. He blinks his pale blue eyes and the hand that's resting on your shoulder starts to rub soothing circles into it. He thought that you already knew what the two of you are, but now he knows he thought wrong. Looking down at you, he gives you the honest answer of, “You're not a stress reliever for me, petal. You're so much more than that. You're my second chance of a woman's love; you're my obsession, baby.”

Right there and then his answer soothes the worry in your soul and you decide to stay with him.

Crassus, not one for being overly affectionate since he is, after all a stern man by nature, decides to move past his love confession by changing the subject with, “Well, petal, I did promise to let you be in control of round 2 if I made a noise first.” With a smirk, he takes a hold of your hips and starts to guide you to straddle his waist while remarking, "We better get you on top, huh?”

And as you ride Crassus all thoughts of that letter and the train ticket disappear forever. It's just a piece of junkmail that you'll throw in the trash come morning.

Crassus, not one for giving up control, gives you the illusion that you're in control as he lets you ride in, but in fact stays in complete control of you by guiding your hips at the speed he wants you to go. He even pulls off his dog tags (he's never once taken them off because once a soldier, always a soldier) and puts them over your head; letting you wear them as you ride him. It's a way of marking you as his, having you wear his dog tags while fucking.

And when he grabs them, only to pull you down for a kiss, he nearly loses his mind whenever you tell him, “You're a good boy, Crassus.”, with your lips ghosting against his as you bounce up and down on his cock with ease.

Your words make him realize that you have a dom side; that you're a switch since you always let him be the dom in bed. It does something to him, makes his cock get impossibly harder, knowing that you can be dominant when you want. That you can say words of praise that sound filthy flowing from your lips in a tone that's a bit more sultry and masterful.

All of those sudden revelations had Crassus losing control. And suddenly, he's telling you, “Oh, I'll show you how good of a boy I can be.”, while bucking up into you at an unyielding and brutal pace causing you both to moan and grunt until you cum together.

You threw the letter containing the ticket to District 2 in the trash. You never told Crassus about it either. You didn't feel the need to since you picked him.

Coriolanus waited for you at the train station all day, only for you to stand him up. That made him angry. He was insulted that you didn't listen to him; that you most likely told his father about the plans for you to move to 2- that his father must've stopped you. Hell, Coriolanus felt like an idiot waiting for you only for you to stand him up.

As he walked home alone, Elite Officer Snow realized that his father had won. That General Crassus Snow had taken you from him.

He also thinks that you're a dumb bitch for not listening to him whenever he warned you about his father having a thing for you.

And a few months later, in October before the presidential elections are held, First Lieutenant Coriolanus Snow is invited to his father General Crassus Snow's wedding.

To your wedding.

Coriolanus didn't want to go, but went only because it'd look bad for his Air Force career if he snubbed his father's wedding. All of his superiors thought that General Crassus Snow, the war hero of the rebellion, was one of the best military minds on the planet. So, he was stuck going.

Coriolanus brought his wife, a pretty little thing from the districts, with him. He has her on his arm, all dolled up in a cerulean blue dress. Her hair's up in some simple updo so you notice the faint scars on her back, from where they pop out from her dress, right away.

And that's when you knew you made the right choice in picking Crassus. You remember that Coriolanus once told you a story about how he turned a girl in for thievery and helped her leave the town square once her punishment, a whipping, was done. You remember he told you that story when you confronted him about seeing somebody in District 8. But now you know that First Lieutenant Snow was using his charm to lie to you; that he really did cheat on you.

You suppose that he pulled some strings and sent for his district girl once you failed to show up at the train station in 2. You're glad that he's not alone, that he has his district whore- as Crassus refers to the girl as.

You got stuck sharing one dance with Coriolanus, being his new stepmother and all, and he let you know how he felt about you being Mrs. Crassus Snow during your waltz.

“It should've been me marrying you, not my father, Y/N.” Coriolanus told you, his face a mask of indifference as his baby blue eyes blazed with anger. “I can't believe you let him seduce you; steal you away from me.”

Narrowing your eyes at the man that used to be your best friend, you explain your situation with, “Crassus never seduced me or stole me from you, Coriolanus. We became friends while I was dealing with your absence and one thing led to another.”

“He'll never love you the way that I do, my darling rose.”

“Don't talk to me about loving me, Coriolanus. Not when you're married to some district girl.”

“My wife might be district but at least she's loyal to me, is grateful for everything that I've done for her- unlike you who jumped into bed with my own goddamn father.” Coriolanus darkly hissed before storming off, ending your dance and leaving you on the dance floor.

Crassus just raised a brow and asked you what happened once you left the dance floor and returned to his side at the table on the dias- high up on display in the ballroom since you're the newlyweds.

You just told him that you had Coriolanus didn't approve of each other's spouses and that he stormed off after trying to make his wife seem like a better woman than you. Crassus laughed and told you not to pay too much attention to his bratty son. That he's always been full of piss and vinegar when he couldn't get his way.

Crassus won the presidential election by a landslide. One of the first things he did was intergrade District 13 back into Panem. And since the former sovereign nation was a great source of income for Crassus due to his nuke factories there, District 13 was put on a pedestal. They had rights similar to those in the Capitol while the other 12 districts still had to participate in the games.

Yes, your husband kept the Hunger Games. You think it's because they're so popular, but the truth his your husband finds the way his drunken class project blossomed into a spectacle that the Capitolites adore fascinating. Plus, Crassus was a cold, stern man that was a military genius. The president saw the merits of keeping the districts under control by using the games as a lifelong punishment.

At least your husband did improve some of the living and working conditions in the Districts. He told you that that people needed a little bit of hope to keep from rebelings, but also a firm hand to guide them and keep them in line. Crassus said it was all checks and balances.

And when Dr. Gaul approached President Crassus Snow with an amendment that would have all children born in the districts, including ones born on PK Bases, be legal district citizens and registered for the games, well, your husband approved it.

You wondered how your brother felt about that. If he ever married his girl in 12, where he was serving as an officer in the peacekeepers, or if he had a family. You'd never know those answers since he disowned you after receiving your wedding invite. He was pissed about the situation, said some nasty things, and literally disowned you.

You never thought about Coriolanus and his wife, whether or not they had children. Why would you? Coriolanus never wrote, never had anything to do with you or Crassus being his ego was bruised by your wedding.

Talk about children, Crassus had given you three beautiful children. Two sons and a daughter. Javani, Xanthos, and Mara.

Javani was the oldest and he, to your surprise, favored your late father in looks and temperment. Or at least Crassus told you he did. In fact, your husband always chuckles that the only thing Javani got from him is his platinum hair while everything else is from your family's genes.

Xanthos and Mara are Snows inside and out, from dawn to dusk, tho.

And when Javani is 18 he's selected to be a mentor for the Hunger Games since he's a very intelligent young man and is in the top 24 of his class. But what made his mentorship memorial and unusual was that, by a twist of fate, his assigned tribute was his nephew.

Yes, Javani Snow’s tribute was Cassian Snow, from District 2. Cassian's the first born child of Major Coriolanus Snow and his wife, a district woman you never bothered to learn the name of.

And, it's sad to say, after seeing Coriolanus' son get reaped and assigned to Javani as his tribute to mentor, you know in your heart of hearts that you made the right decision in staying with Crassus; marrying him and becoming First Lady Snow. Because your children are safe from the games.

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lovemadethemdoit · 2 days

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Hiii!! I have a prompt: The final mission but they don’t shake hands but actually kiss and confess their feelings.

No problem if you don’t want to do it or don’t feel like it or don’t have time for it, will gladly read anything you will write!❤️

Thank you for the prompt! Hope you enjoy. 🤗

Jake pulls off his helmet and presses his head back into the backseat, letting out a relieved laugh. He got there in time. Mav and Rooster — Bradley fucking Bradshaw –are safe, and back on deck in one piece. From where he’s still sitting in his own cockpit, he can see Bradley half hang out of the wrecked F-14. He and Mav are being crowded from all sides by what looks like the entire ship. He takes a deep breath and tries to brace himself for his own climb down the ladders. Jake’s heart hasn’t calmed down since he heard about Rooster’s E-SAT going live, and he needs a moment to get his shit together.

Bradley is alive.

Somehow that’s all that matters.

Their disagreements, the way they had hurt each other in the past, the way they both dug into where it hurt the other the most – it’s all irrelevant now. It’s all something they can work through, Bradley and him. Jake knows it with his whole being: This is the second chance he always ached for.

He isn’t going to let it pass by.

He pushes the button for the canopy and finds the eyes of his best friend down next to his jet. Javy’s the only one standing close, as he looks up at Jake with a wide grin and knowing eyes.

Jake makes his way down, his legs feeling like jelly. Javy pours his arms around him when he steps onto the tarmac. Jake gets embraced in the tightest hug he’s ever gottem, no words needed.

Javy pulls him along to join the celebrating crowd, everyone stepping to the side and opening a path for Jake to make it into the middle where the Daggers are celebrating and yelling to their hearts’ content.

They are all alive.

They somehow all made it back. It’s a miracle.

Bradley’s eyes meet his, and the ecstatic expression on his face transforms into a slow and wonderous smile.

Jake freezes in place and then it’s like they’re the only two people in this place. Everyone else falls into the background, gets tuned out.

Jake sees Bradley swallow, sweat sliding down from his hairline to dampen his flight suit. There are cuts there at his neck and Jake’s heart squeezes, a frown taking over, his fingers tingling with the need to check him over, feel him under his hands, alive and breathing.

Bradley shakes his head a little, drawing Jake’s eyes back up to his own.

He’s looking at Jake like he used to look at Jake.

With utter love. With his whole, entire focus on Jake.

Bradley takes the last couple of steps over to meet him where his feet seem to have grown roots. His hands find Jake’s hips, steadying him.

Their foreheads press close.

“I’m okay, sweetheart,” Bradley soothes him, voice quiet and rough, and Jake lets out a shuddering breath. Hearing the pet name fall from Bradley’s lips so easily makes his chest squeeze tight. He’s missed this, can’t even begin to imagine how he managed without it all these years.

He lifts his arms around Bradley’s shoulders.

It’s natural to lean up and kiss him. Their lips slide together. Jake’s breath is taken away for a moment. It’s like they never stopped doing this, like it’s instinct.

If they had enough sense they wouldn’t be doing this here, where everyone’s eyes are on them.

But that’s something they will deal with later.

For now, Jake threads his fingers into Bradley’s curls, angles his head where he wants it and licks deeper. Bradley lets him take control as they kiss and push into each other.

The crowd erupts around them and it may be about them, it may be something else.

They couldn’t care less at what’s happening around them, taking the time to assure each other of their aliveness. Of them, somehow, being worthy of another chance – both at life, and at the two of them.

Jake and Bradley.

“I love you, you absolute asshole,” Jake breathes against Bradley’s lips, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment at remembering the hour he sat in his jet, believing the love of his life to be dead.

Bradley chuckles fondly, cupping Jake’s cheek and waiting for Jake to open his eyes again. When he does, he finds Bradley looking at him like he’s the most important thing in the world.

How could he be, when Bradley already is?

Jake is brought back down to earth at the thought. He realizes that Bradley’s shaking in his arms. How Jake is shaking, too.

He catches a glimpse of medics nearby and starts to pull back. Back to himself, Jake realizes they need to be checking Bradley over. Make sure that Bradley really is okay.

Bradley doesn’t let him get far though. Not before he presses the best words Jake’s heard in a decade against Jake’s lips. “I love you more.”

Jake shakes his head, smiling, eyes tearing up. “Shut up,” he says, sounding fond and exhausted. “You’re never gonna win that argument, Bradshaw.”

Brasley’s expression turns serious. “I’m going to try, Jake. Every day from now on.”

The words punch Jake square in the chest. He nods his okay and leans up for another kiss before he finally lets the medics do their job.

#hangster #sereshaw #writing #ltfirecracker

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darylbae · 17 hours

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Daryl and breath play <3

Imagine him choking you out from behind as he roughly fucks up into you after you fucked up yet *another* resource run; drool running down your chin as you babble incoherently as his thick cock splits you open so wonderfully!

there ain't no god here — daryl dixon

in which you mess up on a run, and daryl has had enough

note: SMUT WARNING! do not consume this content if you are under the age of 18, i am not liable for you reading past this point.

warnings: rough sex, dirty talk, bad writing.

You and Daryl have never had a nice relationship. From the moment the pair of you met, you'd been at each other's throats. Always arguing, always antagonizing each other, but there was something sizzling between the two of you. Which neither of you had noticed. Maggie said it first. When you'd all turned up to the farm, she'd asked you if the two of you were a thing, to which you laughed in her face. "As if I'd let Daryl put his hands on me," you exclaimed. "Dream on, girl," he'd call out as he passed the two of you outside. When the farm had been lost and you'd all found the prison, the two of you were incessant on arguing. It was just a constant cat fight between the two of you. Glenn had even made a comment about it feeling 'weirdly sexual'. Rick had learned to keep you apart, for the sake and sanity of the group. He was surprised you'd made it this far without physically fighting or fucking. The long winter on the road, hunting in the woods, finally finding Alexandria, you two just never clicked. It had even become a game of sorts, to inconvenience the other one, to push them just that little bit off the edge. The two of you were so caught up in this game of riling up the other, that people within the community were beginning to assume there was a spark between you. And Daryl heard none of it, until Spencer had approached him once. "Hey," he spoke awkwardly, too afraid to look at the archer who was aggressively buffing his crossbow with a cloth. "What." Daryl grumbled, not even bothering to look up from his weapon. He could tell by the lanky figure it was Spencer. "I, uh," Spencer was rambling, unable to get to his point, "I wanted to know if anything was going on between you and Y/N." "Why do you care?" "I was gonna ask her out, well, I was gonna ask her over for dinner. There's not much in the way of dating anymore." Spencer faltered, looking anywhere except at Daryl. "But I didn't know if there was actually a thing between you two, so I thought I should ask instead of listening to rumors." Daryl finally stopped fussing his crossbow. "Why would I care? Do what you want with 'er." Just as Spencer had retreated down the porch steps, Daryl had immediately regret what he'd said. But why? You frustrated him to his core, you got under his skin, you knew just how to make him tick. And he hated it, at least he thought he did. All he used to worry about were walkers. Now, they'd been pushed to the back burner of his mind. He's been so swept up in this little back and forth with you, that he'd forgotten how terrible the world was for a moment. Did he really care about the thought of you spending time with another guy?

Daryl had watched in dismay as you spent less time winding him up, and more time walking the streets with Spencer. It was almost as if you were riling him up by walking past the porch he'd sit on. It was jealousy, and almost a sick possession to want you all to himself. You, unbeknownst to Daryl, had no interest in Spencer. You spoke to him and spent time with him purely as a friend and to make connections within the community. So when you'd been sent on a run with Daryl, it felt nice to not have to play a part anymore. To just be around someone you were yourself with. Of course you cared about Daryl enough to not see him get killed, but the two of you have always been at each other's throats. That was kind of your thing. "We taking a car?" You asked Rick, folding your arms as you stood beside Michonne. It was supposed to be the four of you, but Deanna wanted to see Michonne and Rick. "My bike." Daryl retorted. "I suppose it makes it easier to throw myself off," you reasoned, scowling at Daryl, and you could see Michonne chuckle into her hand. "Please," Daryl bit back, striding towards his bike, "gives me a break from you." You had your arms around Daryl, holding on tightly as you sped down a long, narrow road. The wind whipped your hair into your face, and every time you felt inclined to swipe it away, Daryl made sure both of your hands were around him. He'd gripped your hand and forced it back onto his waist as you tried to smooth your hair down. When you'd gotten to a small town outside of the area, Daryl dismounted and helped you off the bike. It was the least he could do. You did your usual sweep of each store, and taking the stock you needed, occasionally being annoying and getting a series of grunts in return. "Didn't ya ever learn to shut up?" He spat, waving you off as he entered another aisle. You rolled your eyes, shoving stuff into the backpack you'd brought along. "Didn't you ever learn to treat women nicely?" You had aggravated him the entire run. Instead of moving things out the way so both of you could pass, you'd just climb over it and let Daryl deal with it himself. Instead of listening to him, you'd go off and do exactly what you wanted to. Daryl felt like a babysitter. "Surprised Spencer puts up with ya." Daryl mumbled, shining a flashlight into a dark back room, only to find dead walkers and upturned furniture. "Excuse me?" "Ya heard me, girl." "Spencer doesn't have to put up with anything." You remarked, folding your arms. "So it's just me then? Ya annoy me and not ya own damn boyfriend!" Daryl's voice grew louder, the two of you so caught up in arguing that you'd almost forgotten the dead were out to get you. "Spencer's not my boyfriend!" Oh, Daryl thought. His heart lifted for a moment, until he'd seen a walker come out of the room behind you. Without hesitation, he shot an arrow through it's skull, and watched as you caught your breath. "Get in 'ere." Daryl demanded, grabbing your hand and leading you into a vacant bathroom. "Always messin' up the damn thing." "What?" You answered, voice small and still shaking with fear. You'd never come that close to death before. A walkers hands had grabbed your shoulders, it's teeth mere inches away from you. "Why don't ya listen to me, huh?" He whisper-yelled, his grip still firm on your hand. "Always runnin' off and doin' what ya want. Ya need manners, girl." "I need manners? When have you ever said a nice word to me? When have you ever thought about me in any positive way?" Daryl paused, was it the time for this?

"Every fuckin' day. Every mornin', every night. Every damn time I see ya, I can't not think about ya." Daryl admitted, frustration still laced in his voice. "All ya do is drive me insane." Both of you were breathing heavily, tension still clouding the air in this very small bathroom. You were almost chest to chest with the little space available in here. Daryl was thinking with the recently unlocked part of his brain that just contained you. Every glance he'd ever sent your way, every time he'd seen you stretch and show the hem of your underwear, every time he'd look down at you and see those innocent eyes staring back up at him. There was nothing that felt as right as this. His lips were on yours, and you'd moved against his like you'd done it regularly. Hell, you thought about it at times. When you were lonely in your cell, in your room in Alexandria, the hatred went hand in hand with passion, and you were so overfilled with lust that it had all blurred into one. Every bitter word the two of you threw at each other, it fueled the fire that you were both burning in now. He'd gripped at the clothes he wanted gone, and you'd silently obey him. His calloused hands swiped over your neck, and it had awoken a side of you that was powered off when the world ended. "Oh, you like that, huh?" He asked, his voice no longer containing it's usual gruffness. It was whiny, almost poking fun at how you were putty in his hands. You just sighed in response, giving up any self control you had. It was all his now, to do with it as he pleased. "Gotta teach ya a lesson, girl," he breathed into your ear, hands on your shoulders and spinning you round the other way. You hadn't realized the mirror facing you, your tinged cheeks and sleepy eyes clouded over with lust.

Daryl's lips grazed the curve of your neck, daring to place a kiss on your soft, pure skin. He wanted to toy with you, like you did with him every day. Sauntering around, giving looks you'd only give to him, leaving him to deal with his hard-on in the middle of the night. "Ya gonna listen to me now, hm." You could feel his hands gliding closer to the inside of your thigh, heat burning between your legs. You didn't just want it, you needed it. You arched your back into him, rubbing against whatever you could. Needed the friction, the look in your eyes almost primal. Daryl smirked at you in the mirror, holding your gaze as he spat on his hand. Your fingers squeezed the counter as he slid into you, the two of you completely in sync as you moaned out for each other. The feeling purely nostalgic. "God," you cried, your eyebrows knitted together and your lip quivering. "There ain't no God here, girl, just me." One of his hands gripped your thigh as rammed into you, jerking your hip bones into the counter. If you weren't so wrapped up in Daryl, it would ache. But you couldn't stop, not even to readjust, you needed Daryl to carry you to your high. His other hand snaked up your body, sensually rubbing at your breasts, of which he'd caught glimpses of for years. Finally seeing them felt... satisfying. All the times you'd fiddle with your shirt, exposing them just barely, and Daryl would have to be a gentleman and look away. His hand finally reached your neck and he'd gripped both sides with his fingers and thumb. He'd peered at you through the mirror, catching the whites of your eyes as you rolled them back. Seeing how delighted you looked, it made him feel good. He knew just how to make you tick. "Ya gonna do as I say from now on," he breathed, squeezing tighter on your throat, "you're all mine, girl." "Yeah," you croaked, Daryl's grip on your throat and him inside of you rendered you unable to speak, you were just allowing him to do whatever he wanted. "All yours." He'd suddenly stopped and you whimpered at the loss of contact. Daryl had turned you around again, hooking his arms under your ass and lifting you onto the counter. "Wanna see that pretty face." He'd entered you again, filling you up and you were back to seeing stars as he pumped into you. His grunts and moans were close to sending you over the edge. His hand found your throat again, squeezing on the familiar spot and Daryl's eyes flickered to your breasts as the bounced with every thrust. They were entrancing. He was close to finishing, but he wanted to savor this moment. He wanted this, you, over and over again. He could see the drool escaping your lips and running down your chin, some dropping onto your breasts. He almost finished at the sight of it all. "Let go for me, girl." He moaned, bringing you closer to him for the final few thrusts. "Come on. Good girl." Your body took over, sending you over the edge and quivering on him. Daryl held your body tight, careful not to let you go. His rhythm had gotten sloppier, he couldn't hold it, just knowing this was all with you, all for you, he let go himself and caught your gaze as he did so. There was nothing he'd change about this, the tiny bathroom, the argument beforehand, the relationship the two of you had before. It all led to this, and he'd do it again. Exactly the same.

#inbox 💌#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x female reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon incorrect quotes #daryl x you #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfic

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brokenwinebox · 18 hours

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Claire And Marcus: Pushing

this is a meta inspired by @vacationship and @thoughtfulchaos773’s posts on molly’s interview about claire’s disarming moment with getting carmy’s phone number and the topic of pushing with the possible connection in the s3 trailer with sydcarmy. i highly recommend reading those before reading this because it’s based on that!!

vacationship’s meta w/ molly’s interview

thoughtfulchaos773’s meta on the topic

↓ long text below

i didn’t write a direct response to vacationship’s post but i wrote a response in my notes because molly’s interview really nagged on my brain after reading it.

here it is:

some of the things molly says is so strange to me. she will always say something in terms of clairecarmy but it could always be applied to sydcarmy. she even mentioned the whole staring being the way to intimacy for carmy. what does sydcarmy truthers say all the time about that ship??? that has to be intentional on the writers part. now, the pushing between sydney and carmy in s3? everything has felt so deliberate. claire is always in opposition to sydney. all the time. it’s making me think if there is a love confession between sydcarmy, it will happen on the phone that carmy will answer in juxtaposition to claire leaving it on a voicemail in s2.

that post and interview is why i made my first meta about sydcarmy in the first place. because it just seemed so strange that everything that was said about clairecarmy could be applied to sydcarmy.

i did respond to thoughtfulchaos773’s post because it legitimately bothered me. (not the post itself, just the possible ideas of what the writers have in mind when they write relationships.)

here’s my response:

in the car with claire and carmy, she said that he owed her in a jokingly manner to get him to that house party. so, i feel strange with the idea that someone has to do the heavy lifting for the other to barely make an effort. that’s why mutual pushing is appealing because it sounds like it goes BOTH ways. if that’s what the writers idea of a healthy relationship is then ig but with claire, it literally felt like she was dragging him. that’s just not really something i’m interested in with sydcarmy tbh.

when i thought back on this again, i had a overall question that’s still bothering me. is it a coincidence with marcus pushing syd, it lead him to constant rejection. where with claire pushing carmy, it lead her to constant (reluctant) acceptance???

with marcus saying he missed her too, it pushed syd to freeze when it felt like the moment was too intimate (not appropriate, perhaps?) on the phone. another moment, marcus asks her what she’s doing later. it pushed her to start stumbling over her words and try her best to slowly steer away from it. knowing it wasn’t working, she hesitatingly asks him if that was him asking her out. even in (S2E1), marcus lingered on syd after she asks him about his mother as if he needed approval from syd to make a move that could have very well just pushed sydney’s response to be silence. silence is still an answer/potential rejection unless that person (syd) says otherwise.

with claire, i already mentioned in my second response that claire talks about him owing her.

claire: “and i feel like you really owe me”

in response to carmy’s lack of a response to go to the house party. i already talked about how silence is some kind of answer. those words could have very well pushed carmy into going regardless if it was a joke or not.

then we also have him on the phone with claire (after she got his number without his consent) asking/pushing him to say (one more time)

carmy: “i want you to have my number.”

which lead to her asking him if he was busy. carmy stumbles, looks at the white board (thinking of the fridge guy and maybe even his plans with sydney.) then with the lines:

claire: “can you just not make this weird?”

that could ultimately push him to agree.

all of these pushing scenes both happen in pivotal moments for syd and carmy’s relationships with marcus and claire. it caused marcus to respond negatively when syd ignored him during friends and family in the s2 finale. it caused claire to respond positively when carmy kissed her in the restaurant.

is it a coincidence carmy and syd both froze/hesitated in response to whatever was said on the phone between claire and marcus? those phone call parallels has a clear connection there.

why does carmy’s response takes a lot of convincing/hearing what claire has to say while sydney’s response takes no time to immediately shut down whatever marcus says/would say?

now, we have the s3 trailer where we get to the mutual pushing that carmy wants.

carmy: “it is a partnership agreement. so that, you can push me and i can push you.”

is this an unconscious move because of the pushing he felt with claire?

would claire respond well with pushing from carmy’s side? carmy was very much in the passenger seat with claire (literally and figuratively). we already know that marcus responded positively because he believes syd knows him well enough for her to push him.

in molly’s interview, she said that claire pushing carmy was in response to her possibly being pushed in another relationship. but that doesn’t necessarily mean it would end in a positive response from her if carmy did the pushing.

how can the pushing work in the romantic relationships of sydmarcus and clairecarmy if it isn’t mutual? it just doesn’t seem like syd or carmy want to reciprocate in them.

syd has no problem pushing marcus to copenhagen but doesn’t seem to enjoy being pushed to respond to marcus in regards of dating him. carmy has no problem being pushed (or he does but doesn’t mention it) to do tasks with claire but doesn’t bother to push for an actual date or anything sentimental with her.

all of this has be connected to sydcarmy somehow, especially since the s3 trailer gave us that mutual pushing line.

i suppose we just have to wait and see what s3 has in store for us!!

once again, thank you to anyone who read this. this is my second meta ever so if it has a lot of mistakes, sorry!!

feel free to respond or disagree with me!

episodes mentioned: (s2e1) (s2e3) (s2e4) (s2e5) (s2e9) (s2e10)

#sydcarmy #sydcarmy meta #sydney x carmy #carmy x sydney #chefs kiss #anti clairecarmy #kinda?#anti sydmarcus #if you squint #the bear fx #the bear meta

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rafyki · 2 days

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Goth! Nico/ Surfer! Percy AU Part 5!

Finally, another chapter!! Back to Percy's POV~ oh I absolutely adore writing him being head over heels for Nico 💕💕

Some more internal panicking, some more flirting, and they're finally getting to know each other~~ 💕

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

You can also read it on AO3!!

~~~~~~

Percy went to the beach two days after ready to bury himself under the sand as soon as he saw Nico, and at the same time ready to show off the best surfing moves he knew.

I'll look at you surfing and enjoy the ocean from afar, that was what Nico had said.

Percy had been replaying that moment in his head so many times in the last fifty hours it was now indelibly engraved in his memory. He could picture it perfectly, like it was still right before his eyes - the afternoon light bathing Nico in pretty shadows, that single strand of hair that had escaped his ponytail and was falling on the side of his face, the numerous earrings on his ears shining in the sun, the way he was biting and playing with those on his lips (it must have been an habit of his, and it definitely was an image that had been driving Percy crazy since the first time he had noticed it); Percy had clearly taken him off guard, and his expression had been the prettiest mix of surprise and embarrassment.

Percy had been ready to make up some silly excuse and run away as far as possible to hide his embarrassment and cursing his stupid impulsive mind for even thinking that saying something like let me teach you how to surf to someone he barely even knew was a good idea.

And yet.

I'll look at you surfing and enjoy the ocean from afar.

He felt like screaming, felt like he could surf all day long even without waves if it meant Nico would look at him.

To be honest, flirting with him hadn’t really been his intention. He just wanted to talk to him, exchange more than those few words of courtesy that were needed to buy something.

He had not expected it to be this easy. Somehow, the words had come out easily, and the conversation had felt awkward but nice and natural at the same time - and maybe it was just wishful thinking on his part, but he couldn’t help but think Nico had enjoyed it too.

The smile on his lips had been genuine, the way he had laughed (and oh, wasn’t that the sweetest sound ever? Percy would gladly listen to it forever), talking and asking questions like he hadn’t wanted the conversation to end.

Somehow flirting had come so natural to Percy as he looked at him - the need of getting to know him, to impress him somehow, to make him smile, to make the moment last as long as possible, all mixing and tangling together; somehow, that had resulted in the filter between his brain and mouth shutting off completely.

It seemed Nico hadn’t minded too much though. Percy’s heart was playing athletics in his chest as he thought about it once again.

Calm down, he told himself, trying and failing to get a grip on his derailing thoughts. Maybe he just didn’t know what to say and said the first thing he could think of.

Okay, but did he really have to say that?

He shook his head. No need to think about it, he’d just have to go and face the consequences of his own actions.

Despite all the time spent thinking about it, he wasn’t exactly sure what to expect.

The beach was as hot and nice and crowded as it always was, but Percy couldn’t concentrate on how that usually made him feel, couldn’t ignore his nervousness and the way his insides were tangling and curling together out of anxiety and anticipation.

He didn’t even have Annabeth with him today - he was almost tempted to call her just to scream his struggles to her once again; she was probably tired of listening to him freak out and would tell him to simply go and talk to Nico again. Was she right? Of course she was. Did that make Percy feel any better? Not really, to be honest.

He sighed as he set everything up and got ready.

Would Nico look at him like he said he would? The simple thought made Percy shake.

He took up his surfing board, heart beating ridiculously faster than it should as he moved closer to the shore.

And then, right before getting into the water, he turned around.

Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but there he was, the boy of Percy’s dreams, looking back at him.

They were far enough from each other that Percy couldn’t see Nico’s expression clearly- maybe he had just happened to be looking that way for a moment. Percy almost expected him to simply turn around and look away like nothing had happened.

But then, Nico raised a hand and waved lightly. Percy’s heart did a flip as he waved back, a smile growing on his lips.

For a handful of seconds, there was no one else on that beach but them.

Then Nico’s attention was called back by a customer, and with one last glance at Percy, he went back to work. Percy stood there, eyes still fixed on him and smile still in place, for a little longer.

Maybe he’ll be really looking at me, after all.

He was definitely ready to show off everything he could do.

~~~

They weren’t friends exactly, probably not even acquaintances. But something had shifted, and Percy could feel it every time he went to the beach - it wasn’t just him, wasn’t just the anticipation he felt or the way he spent most of his time thinking about the next time he would see and get to talk to Nico again; no, it was in the way they waved at each other in greeting when Percy got there (or sometimes when Nico’s shift started later and Percy got on the beach before him), or the way Nico was always the one who took Percy’s order at the kiosk, the way he smiled at Percy like he was happy to see him, the way Percy let himself linger there for as long as he could and Nico would never shy away from small talks.

It was all the little things piling up that made Percy’s heart run around like crazy, and he couldn’t hold back the smile coming up on his lips every time - he just hoped it didn't look as enamored and lovestruck as he felt.

His crush was growing every day, every moment. Percy could feel himself fall harder and harder with every new word exchanged, every new smile and little laugh, every new thing he learned about Nico. He was probably going a little crazy with how much he liked that boy.

He went to the beach as often as he could, even just to get a glimpse of him and for those fast and precious moments they got to share.

Today he hadn’t planned on going, but he had finished earlier at work and his feet had brought him there almost without him realizing. It was later than usual, and he didn’t even have anything with him. Yet there he was, sitting at his usual place at the kiosk, trying his best not to make it obvious that he was looking at Nico, busy with another customer.

“Nico will take your order in a moment”, the other guy, the blond one who also worked there, told him.

“It’s okay, I can wait”, Percy replied. It took him a moment to realize that it was weird that the guy hadn’t simply taken his order himself. He worked there too, right? And he didn’t look busy, he was just there chatting with an elf-looking Mexican guy.

Percy didn’t know if he was feeling more grateful or more embarrassed at this - was it really that obvious that he was there for Nico? At the same time though, the fact that apparently it was a thing, that Percy was Nico’s own customer, that the other guy didn’t even question it, like he knew it - well, it was making Percy feel stupidly giggly and hopeful.

“Ehi, hi Percy”, Nico greeted him, and Percy finally got out of his own head, but only to feel himself fall once again as he met Nico’s eyes and pretty smile. “The usual?”

“Hi, Nico”, he said. His throat felt dry, his heart lost a beat or two. “Yeah, thanks”.

Oh he was too pretty. Annabeth and Grover had laughed at him when Percy had spent a whole evening telling them about every little detail of Nico’s features, how he must have been an angel - because there was no way a human being could be that incredibly and otherworldly beautiful, right?

No, you’re just completely gone for that guy, Seaweed brain, Annabeth had said.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen you having this big of a crush, Percy, had been Grover’s contribution.

And they were both absolutely right. Percy really didn’t remember the last time he had been so head over heels for someone, couldn’t even remember the last time he had had a crush at all. But Nico - god, Nico was making him feel everything all at once.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today”, Nico said, and Percy’s brain short-circuited for a moment. So Nico thought about seeing him? Did he look forward to see him just as much as Percy did?

“The weather isn’t so good and it looks like the waves aren’t big enough to surf”, Nico kept going.

Percy needed a second to find his words, too enraptured by the shy yet curious look in Nico’s eyes. He had such a nice voice, too, Percy loved listening to him talk.

“Uhm, yeah, I actually wasn’t planning on coming today”, he managed to say in the end. “But I finished earlier at work, so I thought I’d pass by and get my favorite drink”.

Nico smiled softly at that, and Percy counted it as a victory.

“You’re literally the only one who orders this”, Nico said.

“So it’s like a special drink just for me?”

Flirting came to him way too easy when he talked to Nico. Maybe it was the need to see the light blush tinting his cheeks. He blushed so easily, and it was always so evident on his pale skin. Percy loved it.

This time too, Nico rolled his eyes at him, but the blush was there. It was starting to become Percy’s new favorite color.

“Where do you work at?”, Nico asked after a moment. Percy didn’t mind too much that he had ignored his previous flirting. It was endearing, really, that Nico was so shy.

“Oh I teach kids how to swim at the pool near here”.

Somehow, that seemed to hit Nico, because he stopped to look at Percy with such surprise and awe in his eyes that it was Percy’s turn to blush in embarrassment. He was looking at him like Percy had just told him he went around saving the world on a daily basis.

“That’s so…”, Nico started, then stopped, cleared his throat and looked away. “That’s cute. You look like you’d be good with kids”.

“You think so?”, Percy smiled.

He liked sharing things with Nico, liked telling him about himself, cherished it when Nico told him something about himself.

“Do you like working here?”

“I do, I guess. It’s a good summer job”, Nico said, meeting Percy’s eyes. “And it’s allowing me to meet some interesting people”.

Percy's heart started to beat ridiculously loud in his chest. “Yeah? You don’t look like you like meeting people a lot though”.

That made Nico’s laugh. Percy sort of wanted to drown in the sound.

“I don’t, usually”, Nico said. “But I guess I can make an exception for some people”.

Percy wanted to kiss him so bad. Wanted to take him on a date and make him smile and laugh the whole time, wanted to hold his hand as he told him about himself, wanted to share everything he could with him, wanted to card his fingers through his dark silky hair and pull him closer and closer to him until he could press his lips to his and feel the rings under his teeth.

“Some special people?”

Another laugh, and that beautiful shade of pink on his cheeks. “Yeah, special”.

Oh Percy was so far gone for him.

#percy jackson #nico di angelo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #percico #nicercy #pernico #percy x nico #pjo #i had actually written another chapter before this then realize that i needed them to get to know them a little more #before that #so i have the next chap almost completly written already #and the chap after that! i cant wait to write it!!! i have it planned it out already #our disaster boys are getting there #oh but how i love writing them pining for each other #my fics #goth/surfer percico

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the-golden-comet · 17 hours

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✨Motivational Monday✨

Happy Monday, everyone! I’m back with some more motivation to start your week off right (and write) ✨

I’ve received some amazing DM messages this past week, both supporting my works and asking for writing advice. So, I figured I’d share a little bit of my own philosophy here:

Your writing and art doesn’t have to be perfect. Seriously. Humans aren’t perfect, so why should we hold ourselves to unreachable standards? It is inevitable for us to make a mistake, and that is perfectly okay.

Do you know how many times I reread and edited Peter Hart? A lot. There were still a few errors that made it past the final draft. I kind of chuckle when I read them now, and recall that there were typos that made it through print on some of my favorite childhood books. It happens. But…I don’t remember the typos. I don’t remember the minor errors—I remember the stories.

Think back to your favorite book series—do you recall a typo or printing error? Even so, it’s most likely not a big deal. What matters is you’ve tried, you polished, you’ve presented the best possible art you could. And, most importantly: you ENJOYED it.

Art without passion and emotion from the soul is hollow. This is why AI can never “create” art like we can. People get their feelings of anger, joy, sorrow, love, lament… deeply human emotions, out there. It’s vulnerable, it’s beautiful. It’s human. That’s why writing and the arts are part of the humanities.

Look, I get it: If it’s a job, sometimes you have to push through feelings of lower motivation to reach a quota. But I always harken back to the beginning: Why did you begin in the first place? What inspired you to pick up writing or art as a career? What sparked the creativity in your soul, that you wanted to share your passion and vulnerability with the world? If you lose sight of that, you lose sight of what makes art enjoyable: the fact that it was created by YOU. Do you know how freeing that is? YOU are the masters of your own world.

Wonderful people, your art is beautiful because it is uniquely yours. And nobody can take that joy away from you other than yourself. So why not enjoy what you do? Why not find happiness in your penstroke? Why not lift yourselves up, instead of tearing your beautiful hearts down? Life’s too short, lovelies.

Do what you want. Love who you are. Love what you do. Love what you love. 💖💫

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lemoncrushh · 14 hours

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Ruin the Friendship

Summary: It's Ella's birthday, and her best friend Harry plans to tell her how he feels about her.

Warnings: None, just sweet, sugary fluff

Word Count: 5.2k+

A/N: Uni!Harry x OC, AU, friends to lovers one shot written in third person, originally from 2019. I think my first plan back then was to include some smut, but as I was writing, I decided it was not needed. I think you'll see why and agree. Also, Liam and Niall are in this one :).

Ella was his best friend. Some people would say Niall was Harry’s best mate, and while he considered that to be true for the most part, if anyone was to ask, he’d proudly declare that Ella took the title. They’d only known each other since the first year of uni, but in that time they’d grown very close, and if Harry was honest, there were things they shared that he didn’t share with the lads.

Not things like details about girls he fancied or the head he’d gotten that one time from Marla Lemons. He could only talk shit like that with his mates, and he reckoned Ella wouldn’t wanna hear about it anyway. But they could have deep conversations well into the night about nothing and anything, musing about life and death and what it all really meant. He’d known Niall for nearly a decade, and while he could chat him up about complete random shit, he wasn’t the type to talk about things like that.

Sometimes it was nice to have a friend to just chat about nothing with.

One thing he’d never been able to tell Ella, however, was that he secretly wanted to be more than friends. He’d never made a move, and other than holding her hand when she was scared at the haunted house or wiping her tears when she’d cried about an exam she’d failed, he’d barely touched her. Something had happened that first year at university that had put them in the friend zone, and he eventually accepted that was just how it was meant to be. At least for a while. But this last year had been different. Something had shifted, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Harry stood in the kitchen, his hand around a red cup filled with some sort of concoction that smelled entirely too sweet. He didn’t really want to get shit-faced tonight, that wasn’t his plan. Not that he really had a plan. But it was Ella’s birthday, and if he had anything to say about it, it would be her best one yet. The last three had been fun as far as he could recall, except for the time some girl Niall had been dating...Lena? Lorna?...had gotten so wasted she threw up on the rug. Ella, being the kind soul she was, insisted on cleaning up, holding her nose with a clothespin until Harry finally pulled her away, yelling at Niall that he should clean up his own girlfriend’s puke. Later that night, sat with Ella up on the roof, Harry had thought about confessing his feelings to her. But it just hadn’t felt like the right time, and given that he was still pretty drunk himself, he was afraid Ella would simply blame it on that and not take him seriously.

So the friendship continued.

“Hey mate, you gonna drink that or are you trying to read your future in it?”

Lifting his head, Harry saw his friend Liam enter the kitchen, walking up to the counter beside him and pouring himself a cup of the same pink liquid.

“What’s in this?” Harry asked.

“Hell if I know,” Liam shrugged before taking a large gulp. “Mmm, tastes like bubblegum.”

“Blech!” Harry sounded after taking his own sip, making a face of disgust. “Nah man, where’s the good stuff?”

“Right here, mate!” exclaimed Niall as he strutted into the kitchen with a case of beer in each hand. Two more lads followed him in, carrying the same. Leave it to Niall.

“Not what I meant,” muttered Harry, walking around them to the living room.

The front door opened then, and another handful of people entered, some he knew, some he didn’t. He recognized Vickie, Ella’s roommate among them and when she spotted Harry she smiled.

“Birthday girl’s on her way,” she announced, setting a bag on the counter. Harry noticed the clinking sound it made which made his ears perk up.

“Harry!” Liam called as Vickie pulled out the bottles of both brown and clear liquor. “I think this is what you were looking for!”

Turning back to the kitchen, Harry eyed the bottles and was about to make a decision when a commotion started behind him. It wasn’t a surprise party, but it seemed every girl in the house had run to the front door to greet Ella when she arrived. Harry stood back, his hands in his pockets as he watched her beautiful smile, the pink in her cheeks when her friends hugged her or wished her a happy birthday.

He contemplated stepping forward to give her his own wishes, but soon thought better of it, deciding he’d give her time with her girlfriends first. Instead he made himself a drink, a proper strong one. At least one, he told himself. He didn’t need to get hammered, but he’d need the liquid courage if this was to finally be the night he told her how he felt about her. While he was at it, he reckoned he’d make a drink for Ella as well. He knew what she liked.

“Happy Birthday Ella!” he heard Liam exclaim over the loud music.

Harry looked up from his drink to see that the lad had beat him to the punch as he offered Ella a red cup of what he could only assume was the disgusting pink shit. He chuckled when he saw her make a face and shake her head.

“Um, no thanks, darling,” she said. “I think I’ll see if Harry has something more to my liking at the bar.”

He felt a warmth ooze throughout his body at both the mention of his name and the fact that she called the simple kitchen island with a handful of liquor bottles a bar. He watched as she took a couple strides through the living room and met him with a smile.

“What’ve we got here, bartender?” she asked.

Harry raised a brow. “Oh am I bartender? No one told me.”

“I’m joking,” she giggled, placing a hand on his bicep. “But can you make me something? I am the birthday girl, after all.”

With a smirk, Harry handed her the drink he’d mixed. “Just so happens I already did.”

A wide smile spread across Ella’s face as she took the cup. “See, this is why we’re besties.”

Harry’s face fell, but he quickly tried to compose himself. Clearing his throat, he nodded. “Yeah. You bet.”

Besties. Right.

“Hey, Ells Bells!” they suddenly heard behind them. They both turned to see Niall rushing towards Ella, nearly knocking her drink out of her hand when he enveloped her in a hug.

Harry rolled his eyes. He hated Niall’s stupid nickname for her. He suspected Ella wasn’t too keen on it either, especially when Harry’d slipped up once and called her that himself. She’d told him it was Niall’s name and she’d rather just leave it at that.

“Hello, Niall,” she greeted graciously, kissing him on either cheek.

“Who’s up for a game?” he asked.

Harry grimaced, knowing what kind of game Niall had in mind. But if Ella wanted to play…

“No thanks,” she shook her head. “I think I’ll sit it out this year, love, if it’s all the same.”

Niall shrugged. “Suit yourself. ‘s your birthday.”

“Besides,” Ella added with a cheeky grin, “I don’t want to end up like dear Lorna.”

Harry covered his mouth with his hand, nearly spewing out its contents. When he swallowed, he let out a loud guffaw, causing Niall’s cheeks to redden.

“Eat shit, the both o’ ya,” Niall spat before grabbing another beer from the cooler.

When he’d joined the group in the living room, the majority of them cheering at the prospect of a drinking game, Ella turned to Harry, her face flushed from laughing.

“You’re not gonna play?” she inquired.

“Nah, I’d rather not.”

“Wow. Harry Styles is not interested in getting smashed at a party?” she mocked. “Is the sky falling? Did I miss something?”

“No,” he replied with a shake of his head. “Just don’t feel like it tonight. I mean, I’m still drinking. Just...responsibly.”

“Uh huh. We’ll see how you are in an hour or two.”

“Oh we will?” he quirked a brow.

“Yeah. I’ll check in on you, but don’t expect me to hold your hair back when you’re retching in the toilet.”

He chuckled at their playful banter. He enjoyed taking the piss and teasing each other, even if Ella only thought of it as a friend thing. She didn’t need to know it gave him a boner sometimes.

“Styles, you’re not playing?” Liam called from the living room where a large group had gathered around the coffee table.

Harry simply held up his hands.

“It’s early yet,” Ella winked.

Early, indeed, Harry thought. Too early. He wanted this night to be over already, or at least get past the first part so he could possibly get a chance alone with her to give her his gift. He didn’t want her to open in front of everyone else. It was too personal, and if by chance she didn’t react to it the way he hoped, at least he’d only get his ego bruised a bit and not have to suffer a full embarrassment.

Vickie came up to Ella then, along with another girl who’s name Harry had forgotten. They chatted amongst themselves for a bit before Ella turned to Harry, her hand on his arm. Touch number two, he noted.

“Harry, we’ll be right back, Vickie wants to show me something.”

With a nod, Harry raised his now almost empty cup and drained the rest of his drink. He considered making a second, but reckoned he should pace himself if he didn’t want to hear Ella say ‘I told you so.’

He decided to wander into the living room and watch the others playing the drinking game. Sat on the couch, he laughed when Liam had to take a shot, then Ella’s friend Melissa had to take three in a row. Poor girl, Harry thought until she declared she could hold her own.

After a while, he got bored so he walked down the hall, wondering where Ella had gone. He couldn’t imagine there was anything in the house Vickie had wanted to show her. They’d probably gone outside or to her car. The music drifted down the hall as he made it to his room and sat on the bed. He was definitely not himself tonight. Normally he’d be the first one sat on the floor for a game, or at least by now he’d have a light buzz. He just wanted a clear head, he’d told himself. But it definitely wasn’t clear. All he could think about was her and what he was going to say, if he got the chance to say it.

Running his hands down his face, he took a deep breath and let it out. He stared at the floor for a good while, replaying in his mind the scenario he’d conjured up a couple years ago, edited and tweaked over time.

“Hey, what are you doing in here?”

He jumped when he heard her voice. Lifting his head, he saw her standing in the doorway, her gorgeous eyes wide with wonder.

“Hey,” he muttered softly. “Nothing, I’m just…”

Ella stepped into his room. She’d been in there several times, but this time as she sat on the bed, Harry felt himself tremble.

“Something wrong?” she asked. “Did one of those stupid prats out there give you a hard time? Because you know, that’s my job.”

She nudged Harry’s shoulder with her own, trying to lighten the mood. He laughed lightly under his breath, but said nothing.

“Hey. Harry. I’ve never seen you like this. What gives?”

She turned on the bed to face him, her legs criss crossed. Harry picked at his bottom lip. He wondered if this was it. If this was the moment he was supposed to take action. But how? Was he supposed to give her a long speech about how he’d pined for her for years, or was he supposed to just grab her and kiss her?

“This is probably a shitty thing to say,” Ella continued, “but I’m not sure I like this Harry. Not that you’re only fun when you’re drunk, I don’t mean that. But you’re so serious and quiet. It kinda scares me.”

“Sorry,” he said a little too quickly. “Don’t mean to scare you.”

“Something on your mind?” she tugged at his shirt. “You can tell me, you know. I’m your best friend.”

“I got something for you,” Harry finally said.

“Yeah?” Ella beamed. She bounced on the bed excitedly. “What did ya get me?”

“Um…”

“Ella!” the sound was deafening, coming from the living room. “Hey birthday girl! It’s time for cake and presents!”

“Oh!” she eyed Harry who merely shrugged. “Well, you can give me your present now.”

Harry shook his head. “I’ll wait. Til later. It’s…”

“Oh,” Ella mouthed again, her voice a whisper this time. “Okay.”

Ella rose from the bed, pulling Harry by the arm. They joined the party in the living room, the drinking game seemingly at a pause. The cake sat in the middle of the coffee table, pink roses and candles atop, Ella’s name in the center.

“Thank you so much,” Ella blushed, her hands by her chest. “I’m gonna cry.”

“You say that every year,” Niall quipped.

“Hush, you!” Ella poked at him.

Vickie lit the candles and a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ began. Though he sang along, Harry was mesmerized by how beautiful Ella looked in the candle light. His stomach was in knots now, and he knew he had to tell her.

Ella opened her gifts next, giving sincere thanks and hugs to each guest. When it was time to cut the cake, however, Melissa made it known that Harry hadn’t given her a gift.

“What’s with that, Harry?” she slurred, obviously drunk from the game. “You’re her best friend, where’s yours?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat until Ella spoke up.

“He’s saving it for later,” she winked at him.

Good god, how many times was she going to wink at him tonight? Had she done that before? He didn’t remember.

“Ooh,” voiced Melissa in a sarcastic tone. “Excuse me.”

Noticing Vickie could probably use some help, Harry rose from his chair and joined her in the kitchen where she was dividing slices of cake onto plates.

“Oh, thanks Harry,” she said, handing him two plates that were ready to be served.

“I should be doing this anyway,” he offered. “Seeing as I’m her best friend and all that.”

He hadn’t meant for his comment to sound sarcastic, but he certainly noticed it came out that way. When he turned the corner, however, he heard a snort from Vickie, followed by a “yeah, sure”.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“No, what was that sound for?”

“Go,” Vickie shooed at him. “Serve the cake.”

With a frown, Harry made for the living room where he handed Ella a slice of cake, making sure it had a rose on it, and gave the other to Melissa, despite the scowl on her face.

“What did you mean by ‘yeah, sure’?” Harry hounded Vickie when he returned.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Harry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“You’re lying.”

“God, don’t be so sensitive,” she scoffed. Deciding Harry wasn’t moving fast enough, she brought more cake to the living room herself.

“Please tell me,” he urged when she came back to grab the last pieces. “Do you not think I’m her best friend?”

“Oh, certainly, Harry. You are.” Then she lowered her voice before completing her thought. “But you want to be more.”

Harry glared at her, his eyes wide. “What?”

“Oh c’mon, Harry! Everybody knows it.”

“Everybody?!”

Vickie giggled. “Don’t get so bent out of shape. Maybe I exaggerated. But Niall told me about your present.”

What the...too much was going on now, Harry’s mind was in a whirl.

“How does Niall know? I didn’t show him.”

“He found it in your room. Was looking for some shorts or something.”

“Jesus,” Harry mumbled with a sigh.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell anyone else. I have no idea who Niall told, but I reckon it was just me.”

“What the fuck…” Harry dropped his head. It suddenly felt too heavy for his neck. His entire body felt drained, and he thought he might be sick.

“Hey,” Vickie said low, “if it’s any consolation...Ella’s never confided in me about you or anything...but if you were to make a move, I don’t think she’d reject you.”

Biting his lip, he lifted his head. He was afraid to ask, but at this point he had nothing to lose.

“How do you know?”

“Well, I don’t know. But she literally talks about you all the time. I notice how she looks at you. It’s possible it’s just a friend-like fondness because she really does love and adore you. But I swear they look like heart eyes to me.”

With another sigh, his shoulders dropped. He admitted he felt a little relieved. But he was still extremely nervous.

“Thanks, Vickie,” he said.

“Here,” she grinned, “have some cake.”

“Nah. I think I’ll make another drink.” Harry grabbed a bottle and a new cup, filling it with ice.

“Whatever works for you, darling.”

Vickie joined the group in the living room while Harry nursed his cocktail for a bit. He watched Ella with her other friends, her head falling back as she laughed. Taking her final bite of cake, she looked up and their eyes locked. She tilted her head in question before rising from the couch.

“Here we go again,” she smiled as she leant against the counter. “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong or not?”

“Not,” he managed a grin. “‘Cause nothing’s wrong.”

“Then why are you over here by yourself? Are you secretly getting drunk so I won’t notice?”

“Nope.”

“Hmm. So...how about that present?”

“I told you, I’ll give it to you later.” he replied, hoping his tone was light and playful.

“You’re being mean,” she pouted, resting her chin in her hand.

Harry chuckled. “No, ‘m not!”

“Well, you’re being weird then.”

“Sorry,” he muttered before taking a drink. “I just...wanna give it to you with no one else around.”

“Ooh. I’m intrigued.”

Harry noticed how her bum stuck out and she wiggled it just slightly. It almost seemed like she was keeping time with the music playing, but he wasn’t sure. Whatever the reason, he felt his blood rush to his crotch and he had to take another gulp from his cup.

“Make me one of those?” she asked, her eyelashes fluttering.

Harry obliged, pouring the liquor over ice and adding soda. When he handed it to her and she took a sip, her eyes widened.

“Is this what you’re drinking?”

“Yeah,” Harry laughed.

“This is way stronger than the first one you made me,” Ella claimed.

“Well, you gotta start off slow.” This time it was his turn to wink.

“Bloody hell, Styles, maybe I am getting drunk tonight.”

Ella rarely called him by his last name unless she was scolding him. With her hand on his arm as she took another drink, he suddenly decided he liked it.

The moment was short-lived, however, when his reverie was interrupted by the noise of half the party joining them in the kitchen. Apparently it was refill time, and they all began to freshen their cups or grab beers. They all chatted for a bit, and before long the whole gang was singing a chorus of “Smells Like Teen Spirit”. Harry realized he was enjoying himself, and was remembering it was a party and started to loosen up.

“Feeling better?” Ella asked, her doe eyes smiling up at him as she placed another hand on his arm. How many times was that now? He’d lost count.

He grinned, looking down at his now empty cup.

“Sorry I’ve been…” he didn’t know how to complete the sentence.

“No worries, darling,” sang Ella. “I just like it best when you’re like this. Happy and smiling. You have a dynamite smile.”

Before Harry could respond, her hand dropped from his arm and he suddenly felt a chill.

“Going to the loo,” she whispered in his ear. “Make me another?”

Harry watched her walk away before he refilled both of their cups with ice and made the same drink as last time.

“So did you tell her yet?”

Harry lifted his gaze to see Melissa standing across from him, a cheeky grin spread across her face.

“Tell who what?” he asked.

“Ella,” she rolled her eyes. “That you’re in love with her.”

Harry’s jaw dropped just as Liam and his footie pal Derek gasped.

“Wait...whoa...what?”

Harry searched the faces in the kitchen before landing on Vickie’s who simply shrugged. Then he glared at Niall.

“Don’t look at me, mate,” he held up his hands.

“It’s my fault,” Melissa admitted. “I saw the letter you typed on your laptop.”

“Letter?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Oh my God, there’s a letter?” Niall brought his fist to his mouth.

Harry thought he might be sick right there on the kitchen tile. Rounding the island, Melissa looked at him.

“Honestly Harry, I thought everyone knew. It’s rather obvious, don’t you think?”

“I didn’t think,” conveyed Liam.

“I might’ve suspected,” said Derek.

“I didn’t really know,” added Niall with a shrug. “Until I saw the box in your wardrobe.”

“What box?” piped Liam.

“I only told Vickie about it, I swear,” Niall continued. “I was wondering if maybe there was already something going on and no one told me.”

“You didn’t think to just ask me?” Harry scoffed, his jaw set. “And what were you doing in my room anyway?”

“Bloody hell, Harry!” exclaimed Melissa when he stepped closer to Niall like he was going to clock him. “What’s the big deal? It’s not like she hasn’t been in love with you for years anyway!”

“What?”

All was silent then, except for Ariana Grande who sang from the speakers in the living room as everyone turned to see Ella stood by the kitchen, her face full of shock, bewilderment and disbelief.

“Ohh shit,” someone muttered low.

��What’s going on?” Ella asked, her eyes wide and her fists at her sides. She appeared to be breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly. It was Harry’s instinct to pull her away from the crowd and hold her forever, but his feet seemed to be nailed to the ground.

The others in the kitchen quickly busied themselves, the beer and disgustingly sweet punch somehow suddenly the topic of conversation.

“Ella, the birthday girl!” cheered Liam. “What can I get you to drink, love?”

“Melissa?” Ella called, ignoring Liam’s attempt at distraction. “What did you just say?”

“Um...nothing um...important,” her friend stumbled. “I was just reminding Harry here what great friends you are and how it’s a wonder you’ve...never...become...more.”

Blinking, Ella looked from Melissa to Harry. He seemed to be in the same state of shock she was in, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down each time he swallowed.

“Ella…” he breathed, unable to spit out any other word.

“Um...guys…” offered Vickie, coming around the counter with her arms open. “Now might be a good time to open that present.”

She eyed Harry strongly, giving a slow nod of her head. Her hands on each of their backs, she ushered them towards the hallway and into Harry’s room. Without a word, she closed the door behind her, leaving Ella and Harry alone.

They stood in the center of the bedroom, staring at each other and waiting for the other to speak until Harry finally broke the silence.

“Is it true?”

A blush rose in Ella’s already pink cheeks as she bit her bottom lip and nodded. Harry wasted no time erasing the space between them, taking her face in his hands and planting a soft kiss on her mouth.

Startled at first, Ella froze, her hands in the air. Then she soon relaxed, letting her hands fall on Harry’s arms as she kissed him back.

“Ella…” he breathed again when he broke the kiss, his lips nearly still attached to hers. “I’ve...I’ve been in love with you for years too.”

“Since when?” Ella looked up at him with her big beautiful eyes.

“Since...I met you?”

“Liar,” she quipped, stepping back as she tugged on the hem of his shirt.

“Well…” Harry chuckled nervously. “Soon after...I reckon it was that day after the footie game when we were walking back and you asked if I was enjoying school so far.”

Ella glared at Harry, her brows raised. “First year? I don’t think I even remember that.”

“I do,” said Harry. “Very well. You had your hair back in a plait, but the sides were falling down. The sun was starting to set, and I just thought you were the sweetest thing I’d ever seen. I wanted to kiss you so bad.”

Ella hummed softly as she ran her hands up his chest.

“Kiss me again,” she pleaded. “Just like you wanted to then.”

Cupping her face again, Harry tilted his head and brought his mouth to hers. Ella felt the tingles right to her toes, a tiny squeak of a moan escaping her throat. That was music to Harry’s ears, and he eagerly slipped his tongue between her lips, meeting hers with a jolt of electricity. They kissed each other like they meant it, like it was everything they’d ever wanted. When Ella repeated her sound of pleasure, Harry lifted her by her bum and carried her to the bed.

“Your lips are so soft,” he declared, his body pressed against hers.

“Yours too.”

His hand on Ella’s waist, he lifted her shirt slightly until he touched skin. The connection was like fire, an explosion of all the senses. He began to kiss her neck then, feeling her pant beneath his lips, sending his blood rushing throughout his entire body.

“Oh my God, Harry,” Ella moaned. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked with a smirk. “Me too.”

“Really?

“Fuck yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because…” Ella hesitated. “I didn’t wanna ruin the friendship.”

“Me neither,” said Harry.

“So what do we do now?” Ella looked at him with equal parts desire and apprehension.

“Ruin the friendship.”

Ella giggled, causing Harry’s chest to tickle and his smile to widen.

“I guess...if both of us feel the same,” she remarked, “it’s not really ruining it, is it?”

“I suspect not.”

After a few more kisses, Harry rested his forehead against hers as he listened to both of their breathing.

“I should stop,” he groaned.

“No. Why?”

Lifting his head, Harry looked Ella in the eye. She was so beautiful, her pouty lips already swollen from his kisses, her gaze questioning. There were so many things he wanted to do to her, with her. But they’d only just confessed how they felt. Actually, they hadn’t really fully done that. Someone else had let the cat out of the bag.

“Um...let me...give you your present,” he said, sliding off the bed.

“Okay.”

Ella sat up, pushing her hair from her face as Harry rummaged through his wardrobe and pulled out a small box. Setting it on the bed, he cleared his throat.

“So um...there’s a letter that’s supposed to go with it. I was going to read it while you open the gift. It kind of explains it all. But...since you already know, I reckon it’s pointless.”

“No, I’d like to hear the letter,” Ella smiled sweetly.

“Right then,” Harry chuckled nervously while he pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket. Clearing his throat again, he began to read…

Dear Ella,

Four years ago, we met in Lit class. While I didn’t make the best marks, I felt as though I aced it because you were sat next to me. Your love for literature was infectious, and I always left class with a smile on my face. I also began to enjoy your company at football games. It was obvious to me that despite the fact that you weren’t a massive fan of the sport, you came along to cheer on your friends, and I thought that was just a kind thing to do. You’ve always had a compassionate heart and a kind soul, and I reckon that’s why I began to have deeper feelings for you.

As the years have gone by, I’ve tried my best to convince myself that we’re just meant to be friends. I consider you my best friend, and I cherish our friendship more than anything. Many times I’ve wanted to tell you how I really felt, but the timing was just off, or I was chicken shit. I worried that you didn’t think of me in any other way, and being just your friend was better than nothing at all.

I still feel that way, but tonight, on your birthday, I’m putting myself out there and taking that risk. You have my heart, Ella. I want you to be mine, both my friend and my lover. I want to kiss you better than you’ve ever been kissed. I want to hold you in my arms and tell you every day how in love with you I am. You deserve the moon and the stars, the heavens and the entire universe...and I want to be the one to give it all to you.

I pray that you’ll have me as more than a friend, and accept my heart as I hand it over to you.

Yours eternally,

Harry

Dropping the paper, Harry noticed Ella was in tears, her cheeks wet as she tried desperately to wipe them.

“That was the most beautiful letter,” she whispered.

Laying the letter on the bed, Harry sat down next to it and handed Ella the box.

“I hope you like it,” he said.

It was a simple white box, unwrapped but a pink bow adorned the top. When Ella lifted the lid, she gasped. Inside sat a silver charm bracelet containing six delicate charms. She fingered each one before looking up at Harry, waiting for his explanation.

“Here, may I?” he asked, lifting the bracelet from the box.

Ella nodded and Harry unlatched the clasp and wrapped it around her delicate wrist. Ella watched his mouth as he began to describe each charm.

“A book,” he said, touching the first one. “For your love of literature. A football, for all the games you went to.”

Ella smiled, recalling all the great memories she had of watching Harry and his team.

“Two hearts…” he added. “One for your big, kind heart. And one for mine which you now own.”

Without hesitation, Ella lifted her other hand to Harry’s cheek. He smiled back at her.

“And...the moon and the stars…” he finished. “Because you deserve them.”

“Harry…” Ella murmured softly, more tears threatening to fall from her eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

Dropping his hands to her waist, Harry pulled her closer.

“Say you feel the same, Ella,” he whispered. “Say you love me too.”

“I do,” she declared. “I so very much do.”

Hope you enjoyed!

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rreids · 3 days

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REN’S RECS —

. . . also known as my 1k follower celebration! i wanted to appreciate some other authors (thank you to @hotchfiles for giving me the idea), and i’ve been meaning to read more fics. perfect storm, no? they’ll be arranged by character and will have small semi-specific comments alongside a brief line of what the work is about (if the title doesn’t explain it). sorry for the spencer bias. it will keep happening.

— if you’re an author confused on why you were tagged when we’ve never interacted - hi! i liked at least one of your works enough i wanted to share it with my following and give you more of the interaction you deserve. if you want to be removed from this list for any reason just dm me or send an ask ^-^

— SPENCER

@day-dreamed : falling asleep on spencer’s shoulder. it was adorable and i really appreciated the gentle awkwardness in how you wrote spencer. i always imagine early seasons spencer and it just worked for me… super soft and sweet

@januaryembrs : fugitive affections. reader is incredibly affectionate and spencer can’t find it in himself to hate it. this was so cute my cheeks hurt. just the idea of him warming to someone and being so broken down and surprised by affection and easily given love… well.. yes… my little guy..

@angelsassassin : home. spencer gets out of prison to come home to you. mdni by author’s request. him needing you like oxygen i’m actually going to perish!!! the normalcy and intimacy without any of the awkwardness of the time apart, the love and promises of care and his safety :( it says series i will keep an eye out for more parts…

@nereidprinc3ss : bandages. reid helps you change your bandages at work. i’m pretty certain i’ve reblogged + recommended this before but the characterization is so perfect and it’s so cute, it gets me every time. their dynamic is so well done

@reiderwriter : isn’t she pretty, daddy? spencer’s daughter tries to set you, her teacher, up with him. i’m not a kid person and tend not to read kid fics, but i’m so glad i did. this was heart-achingly sweet. she’s such a little troublemaker in the best way… literally so cute and <3 to me

@ddejavvu : the bau snoops at spencer’s apartment and finds he had a woman over. derek my comedic relief character forever and ever. and emily’s post it… idk. i just really loved it. again, i picture early season’s spencer — maybe a more confident reader too, where he’d be humiliated by this and she’d lap it up

— AARON

first of all i will recommend my dearly beloved @hotchfiles. all her stuff is incredible but if you want fic that feels like the show itself, read in nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti.

@ssahotchnerr : the parentals. the team refer to you and aaron as mom and dad. have reblogged this iirc. still wonderful. dave catching strays will never not be funny.

@irndad : won’t you be my sunshine. sunshine reader makes aaron feel young again, makes him want love. the way you write is so wonderful. it’s encompassing of all emotion and sensation and the words just flew by. you captured him wonderfully.

@headkiss : something more. the team thinks you and aaron are dating. you aren’t. except the time you are. heartachingly cute. i think you characterized everyone and everything so well, made me Yearn. so. so much. the +1 scene in particular, oh my god, the sweetness of it the imagery…

i know there’s plenty more excellent fics and writers so please feel free to send recs of your own and i’ll add them in reblogs! let’s share some love <3

GIFS AND MOODBOARDS —

. . . if you don’t care about the recs, have read the fics there, you’re an author looking for resources, etc., i’m opening requests for gifs, moodboards, and icons! (they're normally open but. more officially. i guess.)

— headers for fics / blogs are okay and will be done as gif or still image, whichever you prefer. if you want a specific season or look (character, team, dynamic, etc.), please let me know! generally just give me a character and color.

. . . they can be used however you want! just credit me somewhere. it can be used on fic, your blog, etc. you also don’t have to be an author to use or request something.

#ren's recs #1k celebration #i was scrolling for years looking for derek/emily/jj but i kept getting cross-tagged fics so sorry there arent any for them :(

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heelluring · 2 days

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— his regrets... • l.hs

wherein the sinner was once again hit by guilt but he guessed, it hurts the most when it hit the second time around [ part 1 ]

author's note ~ ! hi! so, i decided to write this since there are a lot of requests. i dont know if i ever gave the story any justice, i just hope i was able to deliver what i want to write. anyways, here you go. happy reading!

Heeseung stands outside the restaurant that both of you frequently visits. in the past, he'll drive to the restaurant while u're the one entertaining him through the passenger's seat. he'll call u pretty and will watch as a soft blush stain ur cheeks together with a subtle hit on his arms in attempt to hide your shyness. Both of you were happy that time, heeseung was happy, you were happy— when did everything go wrong?

oh, right. he cheated. he did the very same thing he promised he wouldn't do when you said yes to him. cheating with her older sister at that. what is he thinking, right? Heeseung also, didn't know.

And as much as he regret it, it wouldn't change a thing. He'll never feel your presence in his arms, again or feel how your lips fit so well in his.

It's been a year since he saw even your shadows but you're still the one haunting his mind. After getting caught with his affair, he immediately ran after you but was failed. Came running to your apartment, but no one was there. Your landlord assured him though, he was told that your things are still in the apartment and that made him hope, maybe this will be a passing tumbles? Maybe he can still fix this?

He was definitely wrong. It was all but a delusion. You never came even if he waited for almost a week in that apartment just leaving whenever he had to go to work. But, you successfully avoided him. The next time he came, your apartment was wide open, your things were gone including you, and workers from the complex are now starting to clean the unit for the new potential buyers.

You successfully vanished through his life, didn't even get him a chance to see you before completely walking out of his life. The same time you left, so is heeseung's life started to crumble. He was called by the HR department one day, saying he's just there to talk. Though the way they have every evidence of his infidelity and disgusting rendezvous with Rina told him otherwise. That's just like a punch for him. Your crying and pained face draws on his mind, he can't think about anything but how hurt you were the day you found out. He was a jerk, a sinful man that doesn't deserve any forgiveness. If all, it just made another salt that was rubbed on his wounds. He was so stupid. How could he do that?

After all the things you did for him, this is what he decided to give back and thus, karma's out for him. Things happened so fast that when he came into realization, the company already sent a letter making him choose if they'll forcefully fire him or he'll just voluntarily resign. It doesn't matter anyways. His business was all the employees could talk about for the past few weeks, even if he gets fired or resigned, doesn't matter because people knew what he did and that goes the same with Rina. With no stable income, life was hard. Heeseung had a hard time applying in a new position. No one's accepting him, in the end, he became content with jobs that had nothing to do with his past career. Being a janitor or a delivery guy, he did everything and anything just to survive.

"Heeseung? what are you doing there? There's a lot of people since dinner already started, we need you at the back" Even being a waiter in your favorite restaurant was one of the things he did just to put food in his mouth. But he knew it wasn't just because of that. Heeseung wanted to be able to hold at least one small fragment of your memory that was still enclosed in this restaurant. Because, every time he sees that one special corner, he was able to be happy at least for a short period of time.

"Serve the new guests, it's on table 15" Heeseung nodded at that taking the menus on his arm before walking towards the table. It was a couple, the man was the only one he could see while the woman's back was facing him. A certain feeling took over his system. The woman looks familiar but that's impossible. Heeseung shook his head and his doubt, before putting on a smile.

"Good evening, and welcome to Chaconne. My name is Evan, and I would be your server for the night. Here's our—" His tongue was cut off when the woman looked at him. It was you, it was really you. Heeseung wanted to cry, to just get on his knees and say all the things he couldn't get to say all these years. But, who is he fooling? He knew that what he really wanted to do was to hide in shame and guilt. He always wanted to appear in front of you as a successful and strong person but instead, you saw this side of him. The one who's currently paying his dues with karma. You didn't say anything, just looking at him with sadness in eyes. He can't read that sadness as something different though. He knew that it was accompanied with pity, pity with someone you're just acquainted with.

"Sir? Are you alright?" The guy you're with asked. "Ah.. ah— yes. Yes, I am. I'm sorry for that, Sir. So here's our menu..." It was smooth, he was able to calm down. He needs to be professional, he can't afford losing this job and he also can't afford to make you uncomfortable. After a while, the guy who he knew called Jay called him again to take the orders. It was an understatement when we say heeseung can't take his eyes off of you that whole night. You look beautiful as ever, the only difference is that you look happier. Jay said something to you, and that made your eyes widen in bliss before giggling, hitting him softly with your hands. As a man, heeseung knew how Jay loves you. The way he looks at you, how he softly caresses your hand on his, drawing small shapes on its surface in process, how he smiles just to you was all he needed to know. Besides, it's the same look he's given to you. You look so happy, you might as well be glowing when you're with him. Heeseung on the other hand, can't do anything but be happy for you. You now feel at peace and secured, it's a long way from how miserable you have been with him and heeseung can't help but thank the one above for that. Even when you two finally finished your dinner, leaving gracefully with your chivarious man supporting you, heeseung can't help but to follow you with his eyes.

Oh how he wished, he was that man. Heeseung was not a saint. Of course, on top of being happy for you, he also felt bitterness creeping up his system. But it's all in vain.

"Hey, heeseung." One of his co-workers called when it was closing time handing him a dark blue colored envelope. "Remember the couple you served earlier? The woman told me to give this to you." His eyes widened, taking the envelope before saying his goodbyes to the other workers. He was in the park when he decided to open it. A can of beer, and a cup of ramen placed hastily on his side as he took the envelope out. It was elegant and sealed, he flipped it twice before carefully ripping through it when he made sure there were no written words outside.

Hey, heeseung. It's been awhile. I know things didn't end well between us. I don't know if you're angry at me for the things I also did just to get back at you, and I won't blame you if you are. It doesn't matter though, I will still say sorry for those things. I was driven by my anger and pain, and because of that you lose your means to support yourself. I'm sorry Heeseung... for everything. For me, those moments were nothing but a memory, just a painful part of my past. I was able to move on and I hope that goes the same with you. You don't need to suffer, give yourself a chance again. Forgive yourself.

It's nice to see you again, Heeseung. You might not believe this but I hope you'll be happy, I am hoping for your best.

Heeseung didn't know he was crying until a tear stains the paper, the next thing he knew, his vision was blurry. "You were still saying sorry to me even though we knew I deserved it? Even wishing me happiness when I'm the one who took that away from you in the past. Y/n... how can you be so cruel?" His thumb brush on your signed name, as he whispers those words. How come, after all these years, you're still the one who can make himself feel understood. His whole system was numb, can't feel anything aside from pain. Is this the kind of pain you felt that night? Heeseung's happiness was with you but now, yours was nowhere with him. He feels relieved, yet there's a bittersweet feeling because this just means that he has to let you go, that this will be the last night he'll have a touch on your memories.

"Thank you... thank you so much... and i love you..."

heelluring, 2024

likes, reblogs, and comments are deeply appreciated ❤️

#enhypen #enhypen au #enhypen ff #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #angst #lee heeseung #yang jungwon #park jongseong #sim jaeyun #park sunghoon #kim sunoo #nishimura riki

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kremlin · 1 day

Text

it really is alarming how bizzare and erratic and nonsensical my behaviors and actions have become and how much of a complete weirdo i am, not in a fun quirky way nor a dangerous and mentally ill way, it is certainly negative and probably a symptom of much more pedestrian but nonetheless very serious problems like a lifelong hardcore drug addiction and lifestyle that would make a doctors eyes pop out of his skull. i haven’t exactly been to a statistically significant number of psychotherapists to make a sample size but certainly a good amount of them, the more straightforward ones have admitted they do not know which direction to go anymore and all of them licensed to write prescriptions have stated that my issues are not something medication is suitable or feasible to address. when i wrote that post a few weeks ago about how my life has been a failure despite zero hardship and every possible advantage, i don’t think i made it clear that this isn’t upsetting from a “boo hoo i am sad” perspective but a “i could have absolutely and meaningfully contributed to society with my skills but i didn’t”. those words i wrote were absolutely true and after re-read and consideration things might be even fucking darker, the only fucking thing i want anymore, more than i’ve wanted anything in my entire life, is my own family and it’ll never happen for categories of reasons, you can’t be a deadbeat junkie and expect to have a healthy family, you cannot treat people the way i treat people and expect them to just put up with it forever, you cannot expect to meet women that are going to love you and want to start a family being in the shape i am and *certainly* not women that are able to have kids and still roughly around my age. it would be frankly a seriously unethical move to waste their time frankly because even a basic relationship probably won’t work out.

i’ve never in my life been as social and outgoing and fun as i am right now, never been closer to my parents and extended family, and never felt this lonely by a mile, even when i was in school and would go months without a meaningful non-coursework non-job-related interaction with someone.

it’s so fucking frightening and i am so sick of being this miserable and i don’t know what the fuck to do about it and the closer i look the blurrier it gets. this is a new thing in my life, i’ve never really even been upset for longer than 3 days. i think before this last year. i don’t know if what happened last autumn just completely broke me or the camels back. and please for the love of god do not think for a moment i am about to do the things usually suspected of people who say things like i am saying because i am not and feel embarrassed that i have to write that.

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reidsdimples · 1 day

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When Everything Changed | Part 5- Finale

18+ ❤️‍🔥 MDNI ‼️

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Enemies to lovers

Part 4 | Master list

The truth comes out

“When are we going to admit that this isn’t hate?” He murmurs and kisses your head.

You didn’t want to answer him because you knew you never hated him. You may be annoyed by him at times but the truth was, a sick thrill shot through you when you bickered with him. It always had.

“It’s easier to hate you,” you whisper, still lying against him on the floor.

You’re fucked out, you can’t move after what he did to you.

“Why?” His voice is so low you’d miss it if you weren’t on him. You shake your head.

“Getting close to someone in this field is dangerous. Look at us,” you wriggle free and turn to face him. “We were both shot.”

“The average FBI agent is shot once in their entire career, most not at all. The odds of that happening to one of us again are slim,” he reasons. You drop your shoulders.

“Spence,” you sigh.

“I know you don’t hate me. You want to. But you can’t,” he stands and moves over to the couch where he wraps himself in a blanket.

You sigh and get your footing under you, your legs still wobbly and pull on your underwear.

“I thought that was just about getting it out of our systems,” you stand in front of him which forced him to look up at you. He winces and his throat injury though and stops. You sit on the coffee table in front of him.

“Did it work? Am I out of your system?” He stares through you.

The truth was, you didn’t think you’d ever get enough of him after that. You had never been with someone who could work your body so well. You simply shake your head ‘no’.

His eyes level with yours.

“I’m not asking for a relationship. I’m asking you to stop pretending that this-“ he grabs your arm and yanks you towards him until his face is in front of yours. “Isn’t fun. That you haven’t gone home after a heated argument with me and finger fucked yourself.”

“How did you-“

“You’re not as good as you think at managing your micro expressions,” he gives you a sky grin.

He had been alot better at that part than you.

“You’re not as inconspicuous as you might think,” you jerk your arm away from his grip.

“Yeah?” He tilts his head, challenging you.

“"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation, It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."” You quote from his journal, from Jane Austen.

His mouth falls open, he was utterly shocked.

“You read my journal that night,” he stands, angry.

“I just saw the blurb you fell asleep writing,” you respond and cross your arms.

“Writing a quote from a book isn’t proof of anything,” he snaps. “I have an eidetic memory, I do that sometimes.”

“Maybe, but look how pissed you are,” you scoff.

You’re being an asshole and you know it. His cheeks turn red and he moves from the small space where you had been facing him.

“Pissed you made an assumption about my feelings for you, yeah,” he raises his voice. It’s still scratchy.

“What feelings Spencer?” You shout and march over to him. “Why are you so angry if there are no feelings?” Now you’re grabbing his arm and turning him towards you.

You ignore your phone ringing, a text follows it.

He glares at you, his eyes travel over your body where you’re only wearing a tank top and panties. You didn’t back down though, you wanted him to admit what his pride wouldn’t let him.

Both of you were acting like children in the face of your feelings. You were aware of it. He had to be too.

“Let go of me,” he demands.

“No,” you dig your nails into his bicep. “Tell me the truth.”

“The truth?” He huffs a laugh and tries to take his arm back from your grip. You double down and place a hand on his chest, pinning him against a bookshelf. “The truth is, if you don’t let me go, I am going to fuck you until you can’t walk,” he whispers. His words travel through you, straight to your still sore pussy. Your heart pounds in your throat and in your head at his threat.

His phone rings and you drop your hands to let him get it.

“Morgan,” he pauses. “Yeah, good. Okay sounds good.” He hangs up and turns to you. “They got him, everyone’s good. We can start our reports after we sleep.

You glance at the clock, 4am. Damn. Sleep sounds amazing.

“Okay,” is all you say. You’re glad the team is safe but your mind is whirling from Spencer’s words, his actions.

“Why don’t you take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch,” he sighs.

“No you’ve been in the hospital for weeks. Go sleep in your bed,” you demand, pointing to his room.

“It doesn’t matter what I say, you always have to argue or disagree,” he shakes his head.

“I’m trying to be considerate. God you’re impossible,” you groan.

He appears behind you, his body pressing against yours. You wonder if he can sense your arousal after his threat, after going back and forth with him.

“Go get in my bed,” his words are lethal. They leave no room for arguing.

You step forward out of his reach and hurry into his room. Fine, you’d sleep in his bed. You were trying to be nice, so much for that. You slam his door closed behind you.

You pull back the comforter, his bed perfectly made and slide in between the black silk sheets.

You think you hear him approaching the door after using his en suite bathroom, or maybe you hope you do. But he never enters. You watch the ceiling fan spin slowly in the dark. You had never been so sexually satisfied and the frustrated in such close succession.

You groan and put a pillow over your head. It doesn’t help, it smells like him. Annoying, sexy, frustrating him.

You toss and turn in the dark for what has to be an hour before you give up and stare back at the ceiling. Of course you left your phone in the damn living room.

This was torture, knowing he was out there, being surrounded by his scent in his bed. Maybe you could just make yourself cum once and you’ll be able to sleep. That would be plenty right? Especially after the amount of times he made you orgasm already. You bet you’d sleep blissfully. You kick the covers off and spread your legs wide, the cold air from the fan blowing over your pussy.

You slide your hand over your stomach and down into your panties. You’re surprised to find your clit so swollen with need, sensitive to the touch from overuse but begging for more. Begging for him. God you wanted him again.

Your eyes roll back as you begin to circle your clit, pressing hard and grinding your hips against yourself. You turn your head and moan into the pillow as you remember him between your legs.

“Finally that mouth is good for something,” you remember saying. Fuck it was so hot the way he looked up at you from between your legs.

“Dirty girl,” comes Spencer’s gravely voice from the doorway of his bedroom. You hadn’t heard the door open.

You startle and throw the blankets back over yourself. You were well and truly caught.

You see him saunter towards you in the dark and the bed dips as he crawls over you.

You meet his eyes, his own full of hunger.

“Show me how wet you are,” he whispers in your ear. You moan and bring your fingers up, shoving them in his mouth. He sucks gently, sliding his tongue between your fingers. You imagine the way that motion felt in your pussy.

He pulls the blanket off of you and kneels between your legs. He forces your knees flat to the bed so you’re spread wide for him. You wonder how many women he’s had in this position in this very spot. It’s fucking hot to imagine, Spencer, a womanizer. It was the only explanation for his filthy mouth and skills.

He pushes your panties to the side and pumps his long middle finger into you with ease.

“Let’s make a deal,” he muses and tilts his head as he slowly withdrawals his finger to the tip.

“Hmm,” you can’t talk. He presses it back in torturously slow.

“You’re going to tell me how you really feel about me. Then and only then will I expose my true feelings to you,” he hums as he slides his finger in and out of you. “I know you’re stubborn so I’m more than willing to fuck it out of you if I must.”

He removes his finger completely.

“Because the truth is, I want you to know how I feel,” he murmurs and bends down to kiss your pussy. Your underwear an all too cruel barrier.

Your arch up towards his mouth and he nips you with his teeth. You moan loudly.

He tears you free of your underwear and settles between your legs, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“Deal Spencer, please,” you beg and push your throbbing pussy towards his mouth. You needed him so bad, needed some kind of friction.

He pushes his tongue into your entrance and drags it all the way up through your folds, soaking his tongue. He lets out a sinful groan, pleased.

His two middle fingers find your entrance and curl upward, causing you to squirm at the blinding pleasure. He pins you down with his other arm across your hips and pumps into you while he sucks and licks at your clit.

“Spencer please it’s too much,” you cry out. You can’t believe how good it feels when he speeds up his tongue and applies more pressure inside of you.

“Tell me or I’ll stop,” he pauses. Leaving you to pant for a moment.

“I-“ you whimper.

He resumes his expert movements, winding you so tight it’s painful. You need to cum, you can’t take much more.

“You’re not listening,” he hums and withdrawals his fingers and mouth just as you’re approaching a euphoric orgasm.

“When we almost lost you, I realized I felt more,” you pant, your eyes blowing wide as you look down at him. His pink lips glisten with your arousal and he grins before sliding those wicked fingers back into you.

“Good girl,” he speaks against you and gives you want you want.

He pulls your clit into his mouth while his fingers pump you violently, curling to reach that spot deep inside of you. He presses you harder into the mattress, applying mind numbing pressure to your uterus. You’d never felt anything like it, how was he… how did he…

“Spencer!” An uncharacteristic scream erupts from your throat as the most intense orgasm you’ve ever experienced crashes through you.

You’re shaking around his fingers as he plants kisses against your pussy and slowly removes them. He plunges them into his mouth and licks them clean until you’re staring at him in awe. He was so fucking beautiful.

“That was easier than I thought it would be,” he crawls on top of you. His hair falls forward as he stares into your eyes. You whimper in defeat.

“I’m scared I’m falling for you. It makes me angry,” you whisper.

To your surprise he leans down and kisses you, his lips impossibly soft and warm.

“I’ve already fallen for you. I’ll catch you. I won’t let you get hurt,” he speaks softly and kisses you again. His admission feels like the most gentle caress and the greatest victory.

His hands push under your body and he brings your arms above your head. He holds you there, kissing you desperately. Your tongue pushes back against his until you’re both breathless and he’s grinding his erection against you.

Neither of you were done with each other despite the admission. You could spend the next 24 hours with him between your legs.

This brilliant, irritating, and irresistible man had somehow broken his way into your heart. You didn’t know it until he was fighting for his life in a hospital bed.

A strange sort of determination settles over you. You wouldn’t chance losing him again without loving him first.

“You’re mine,” it’s not a question, it’s more like he’s declaring it.

“Yours,” you nod and kiss him hungrily again.

#spencer reid #mgg #criminal minds #mgg pics #dr reid #spencer reid one shots #spicy spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid ai #spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid complete fic #spencer reid hands #Spencer Reid hair

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jack-kellys · 1 day

Note

For the bad things happen bingo: Jack + bridal carry?

oh well hey there stranger. it was very much my instinct to have jack be carried but im actually so strong and didn't (quite) cave. also i made this a treat for u

available bingo squares here, ao3 series here! there r also some details in my ao3 tags/notes that make a few things about jack more objective.

Jack doesn’t like his new job, but he’s used to being good at things–adapting to things, maybe–that he doesn’t quite enjoy.

Selling papers hadn’t been his life’s goal or anything, but he needed people to look out for him and a roof so he got damn good at it all. Same goes for these ridiculous cartoons for Pulitzer: Jack keeps his head down, his trap shut, and his pencil busy. By now he’s learned that making a bunch of very similar drafts is the way to go, so the old men upstairs can mull and hum and mutter about which reads the best when they all read the damn same.

What is great about this newer gig is Katherine. Without it he’s not sure he’d see nearly as much of her as he’d like, and there’s so many doors to nothing and cramped little hiding places for them to giggle and tease and kiss in when they take a break from work. And since Jack isn’t technically granted any breaks, all Katherine needs to do is talk down to his boss with a cold glare and the whole matter is solved. And more importantly, they can go back to locking lips. The best days are when Davey comes by before the evening edition comes out after school, and the three of them share a cigarette. Katherine’s started to look at Davey the way Jack knows he has been for a while now, and he’s not sure what it means, but it makes butterflies reawaken in his stomach again.

What’s not great about the gig is observing Katherine’s work life.

Since the strike, she’s not needing to type up just one article anymore- by now it’s three, and when the Sun’s offices close for the day she ventures over to the World because she has a key and uses the typewriters there. Her father never stops her. And Jack sees her, because, you know, his rules for himself could also be stricter, but he’s used to that schedule. Up at dawn and asleep after he collapses has been his life, never hers. Jack watches her try to adjust- she’s always shooting him an upbeat smile, usually excited to be writing–and writing and writing and writing–when it’s something that interests her, but Jack doesn’t think he’ll get used to seeing circles under her amber eyes anytime soon.

It’s November now, late in it, the time of year where there’s already a dent in supplies at the lodge that makes Jack sweat since it’s harder to steal in the winter. Jack’s at his drawing desk early this morning, wanting to have some time between when he gets out and the evening edition to try and hit up a few shops for medicines they’re running low on. Blink’s got a nasty cough right now, and the boy’s trying to puff out his chest about it, but Jack knows the truth.

He heads up the stairs for a quick smoke break after a few hours, and catches Katherine coming in the front door from the cold in a hurry.

“Hey,” he says, greeting her just inside the main door. “You’re here early, what’s the deal at the-”

Jack observes her, and Katherine must read his mind. She sighs, shaking her head.

“Jack, I’m okay. Rough morning,” she excuses. There’s no way a rough morning can excuse the redness surrounding her nose, the bags underneath her eyes so obvious they nearly look purple, which pops against how pale her skin looks. “And it’s cold out, too, so-”

“You catch Blink’s cold?” he asks. A middle ground, since whatever is going on with her looks worse than a cough.

“Maybe,” Katherine agrees, which means she’s got to be feeling worse than a cold. “I’ll take it easier today if it makes you feel better.”

“It’ll make you feel better.”

Jack glances down, feeling her fingers against his own. Katherine threads her hand into his, before lifting up, dawn-pink lips pressing a small, cold kiss to his dark knuckles.

“Go draw, Mr. Kelly,” she says to him, taking her hand away. “I’ll see you at three.”

Three is too long, and Jack can feel the time ticking by in the back of his mind, each hour making his palms itch worse. It’s not easy for him to get up and away–and especially into other parts of the huge building–without Katherine, so if she doesn’t make sure to come down and visit him he can’t really go up and see her.

He practically rockets into motion the moment the clock strikes three, shuffling his drafts into his portfolio and shoving it into his desk, tugging his coat on, hiking his bag over his shoulder, then stands-

-up too fast. He wobbles, gripping the back of his chair and blinking his sudden spinning vision straight. Jack takes a breath, and finally exits the room, glaring at his boots. He hates whenever Mush’s hypothesis is proven a little right- Jack’s got something weird with his blood, wrong with the iron in his body. It gets him jumpy in the winter, gets him worried about everyone and the cold.

Glancing around the hall, he sneaks up the stairs to where Katherine prefers to work- Bryan Denton’s office, who’s been out on assignments after shifting from the Sun for two months now and taught Kath a lot of what she knows. Jack knocks, before pushing open the door.

“Oh, Kathy,” he sighs, smiling slightly. Her head’s tucked on the typewriter’s keys as if it were a pillow, arms rested under her chin as her chest rises and falls evenly. Jack’s sort of glad she fell asleep- doing all this work for hours on end in her condition hadn’t been Katherine’s best idea.

Jack crosses over to her, drawing a hand through her hair. He pauses.

The ends of her wavy fringe his sweaty, he notices. Jack swipes his hand over her forehead.

Hot- burning hot. And her hands are cold when one of his own closes around them.

“Kath. Katherine,” Jack says, and says again. He shakes her shoulder gently. “Katherine, come on. Wake up, sweetheart.”

Slowly, her eyes flutter open with a small moan. Katherine’s eyebrows scrunch, confused- probably wondering why the first thing she’s seeing is an ‘f’ key.

“Did I…? Jack?” she mumbles, lifting her head. Her face turns to his, and she pouts, blinking sluggishly. “Oh, I didn’t go down to you, did I. I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright,” he reassures, two hands on her shoulders now. “Day’s over, yeah? Lemme get you- I’m gonna take you to the lodge for now. So you can rest some more.”

She shakes her head, expression pinched.

“Not necessary,” she insists, carefully standing up. “Everyone falls asleep at their desk, right? Right. One time- one…”

She sways suddenly, but catches herself just as Jack’s muscles go taut.

“One time.. thing,” she manages. She takes a step, and her dull eyes flutter, and Jack’s taut muscles send him surging forward as she falls sideways, only six inches or so from the side of her head slamming into the wall. Jack catches her, thank god, her form crashing heavily into his outreached arms. He hefts her up shakily, her temple finding his shoulder to rest on while his arms curl around her back and under her knees.

“Kath?” he tries. “Katherine. Katherine.”

She doesn’t wake, expression lax save for the strained twitch of her brow.

“Fuck,” he hisses, because he’s alone, with his unconscious partner, in an office that isn’t his and in a building that doesn’t like letting him inside. And Kath’s not waking up. Jack’s heart starts to pound louder, it feels like- sounds like.

Stairs. Stairs. He needs the stairs.

Jack rushes to them, doing his best not to jostle Kath as he starts downward. He needs to mind his footsteps- Katherine is practically his height, and her dress could easily cause both of them to go sprawling.

He makes it down, trying not to breathe too hard, and shoves with his back out the front door.

“Jack? -Kath?”

Jack’s head swings to the right, and Davey’s there.

“What happened?” the boy rushes out, striding over to Jack. “I was waiting for you two, they wouldn’t let me- is she alright? What-”

Jack lets Davey touch her forehead, watches him recoil and his eyebrows shoot up, before he traces her cheek gently.

“She’s sick. Came in and worked a whole day anyway,” Jack mutters. The November breeze makes Katherine shiver suddenly, but she still doesn’t wake, only looks more pained. Jack bites his lip.

“Hold her for a moment?” he asks Davey.

“What?” Davey splutters, eyes going huge. “Jack I can’t- I dunno if-”

Jack sets her in the taller boy’s arms anyway, and quickly sheds his coat. “Knew you were strong enough, Dee.”

“Whatever,” Davey mutters, narrowing his eyes at Jack, who sets his coat over Katherine. “Jack, you need that.”

“I ain’t sick,” he says, and carefully takes her back into his grasp.

“You’ll get sick. Or, you’ll-”

Jack starts walking. He’s fine. His nose is already chilled to the bone, but he’ll manage. He hears Davey quickly keep up, and they walk in strained silence for a while.

“You know, it’s my textbook on anatomy I had Mush borrow,” Davey murmurs. “And I read a good amount of it.”

“Good for you,” Jack mutters, though his body tenses up more than it already is as another gust of wind blows through.

“It ain’t good for you to be out and cold like this,” Davey continues, and Jack keeps his gaze pointedly forward. “You’re already losing color and it’s only been ten minutes-”

“Dave,” Jack interjects, gazing down at Katherine. His coat’s helped, maybe, but she still shivers and burns and shakes in his arms and he wishes he could somehow grip her even closer. “I’m worried about her, alright? Lemme- just lemme hold her.”

Davey goes quiet for a moment. Before too long, Jack feels the boy’s arm come around his waist, rubbing his back, warming him.

“Okay,” Davey says softly. “Okay, Jack.”

They make it to the lodge, and the front door of it is all Jack can focus on. He lets Davey open it, and he heads in with her, going up the stairs, away from the colder first floor. He sets her in Racer’s lower bunk, since that’s always a safe bet. Pulls the covers up.

Now what.

There’re other things he should do, he knows that, but his brain can’t seem to connect the dots, the red string of his thought process being held limply with no direction.

The hand on his back returns, and his name’s being said.

“-ck, you should get some rest too,” Davey’s saying. “You listening?”

“Always,” is Jack’s smart reply. “Yeah, I- well, I gotta run down to Mush first if he’s around, let ‘im know what’s going on.”

“Well, I can do that,” Davey brushes off. Then, he takes Jack’s hands, finding his wrists and cupping his palms around them. “You need to warm up, and rest, Jack, you just carried Katherine for a mile.”

“Yeah but I-” Jack shakes his head slightly. His shoulders hike as he fights a sudden shiver, slipping out of Davey’s hands as the red string finally lands around a thought. “I gotta grab some extra blankets, too.”

“Jack-”

He stands up, gripping the bottom of the top bunk to steady himself, blinking a few times. Fine. He’s fine. He’s going- he was going to get… something.

The red string suddenly slips away, and his head aches, his chest clenches, and he’s really, really cold. His vision flits between darkness and wood bunks as his eyelids flutter. Stronger arms than he thought he knew slip under his own right as he feels he’s about to sink, though, and his face lands against a warm chest. He yawns, lightheaded, brain feeling separate from the rest of his body.

“Breathe,” Davey’s saying, urgently. “Jack. Jackie, can you hear me? Just breathe, in slowly, out slowly.”

Jack’s trying to focus, but he’s not totally sure why he can’t, and his knees want to buckle. Davey’s strong, holding him up like this. Jack doesn’t feel like he’s holding anything.

He feels his eyes close, which makes the breathing easier but the focusing harder. Davey’s holding him close, safe. He’s tracing the side of Jack’s head soothingly with a finger in the space between his braids, and Jack lets himself yawn again, though this time his brain feels less like it’s suffocating than it did a minute ago.

“You gonna let me find Mush?” Davey says softly, but Jack can picture the ‘I was right’ smirk that’s probably residing on the boy’s pink lips. Jack simply nods into his chest. He lets Davey sit him on the bunk, still leaned into the other until he feels Davey shift him- trying to lay him down. Jack thinks he falls asleep before the boy even can- he remembers Davey’s chest as his resting spot, not the pillow beside Katherine.

He wakes groggily a couple hours later, his suspenders and dress shirt missing. His shoes are off, too, and there’s wavy, auburn hair tickling his nose and someone’s back he’s tucked into. Just barely, he raises his head, opening his eyes just enough.

Katherine’s awake, thank god, attire loosened. Jack’s arm is rested over her hip, but she’s petting someone’s hair, looking down at someone the way she looks at Jack. His head raises higher.

Davey’s fast asleep sitting half on the floor, face pillowed by his arm on the bunk mattress and hair being delicately combed through by Katherine’s fingers. Suddenly she pauses, and glances behind her. Jack meets her gaze, and she looks exhausted, but she gives him a tired smile. Jack tries to return it despite the fog going through his brain.

“Go back to sleep, Jackie,” she whispers, so gently it nearly convinces his eyes to shut then and there. “You’re off duty, alright?”

“How long’s he been asleep?” he asks her anyway. He leans over her a little, arm slipping away from her waist to find Davey’s cheek to caress.

“Maybe an hour,” she provides. “Adorable, hm?”

Jack hums his agreement, but feels his head bob downward, despite his desire to ask Katherine how she feels. Jack wraps himself closer around her middle, nuzzling his face between her shoulder blades. The hand that isn’t resting against Davey’s cheek finds Jack’s hand over her stomach, their fingers threading together. All three connected, like one snaking string. He smiles to himself.

“Sleep, Jack,” Kath says again over her shoulder. He listens.

#JATHRID #BABYS FIRST OFFICIAL JATHERID FIC!!!#jack kelly #katherine pulitzer #davey jacobs #newsies #newsies fanfic #newsies fics #fizz writes #fizz answers #mutuals #newsies the musical #jatherid #thanks isabel :) im decently happy with how this turned out!! idk how its almost 2.5k words tho wtf #also jack is anemic as shit. basically.#im weird and i normally make canon era jack anemic and modern au jack have cfs. idk why [i do]#rizz does bthb!

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