#skeleton appreciation day fic

[anonymous-dentist]

hi i got really bored in class

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader 18+ mdni, these two and their usual kinks, mention/discussion of pregnancy, Simon in his BDU so... you know.

You have a stage five clinger.

That's the only way to describe Simon lately. He's your shadow. The only time he separates himself from you is to take care of the baby, and even then, he's usually always in sight line.

Most people would feel smothered. Annoyed. Fed up, probably. You would have too, with past partners. But for some reason, with him, the irritation doesn't exist. He's working through something in his mind. Repairing something. Healing something. Even though the day in the hospital is long buried, you know it still sticks with him, the evidence clear in the way he still treads carefully, still handles you gently in bed.

The attention, the devotion, doesn't bother you. The need to reassure him drives you into his arms as often as possible, and when he holds on longer than usual, you never pull away.

The last day in your apartment is bittersweet. Mostly packed up, only the skeleton remains, a shell of what was once your home. You expected to feel sad, mournful, as you sweep up the dust in the living room, but your emotions are conflicted, a turbulent sea of satisfaction and already growing nostalgia. You're ready to turn the tide, move forward, while still appreciating the place you became a mother.

You're grateful to Gaz and Cami for taking Orion all day. They're at home, no doubt spoiling him rotten, while you try to wrangle dust bunnies and cleaning the oven. You get lost in the chore of trying to clean up, distracted enough you don't hear the door click.

When heavy footsteps sound in the entryway, you turn.

And lose your breath.

He's in the uniform again. The more formal one, the one that Price makes him wear for meetings. It fits him like a glove, snug in all the right places, and there's no denying what it does to you.

You're already wet. Just staring at him.

He smirks. "Alright?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm just... I'm almost done." You gesture uselessly around the kitchen, half pointing to the oven door, eyes still trained on him, sweeping up and down, over and over.

He steps closer, head cocked, leaning into your space just enough your body instinctively closes the gap. "See something you like honey?"

"Y-yeah."

"Gon' tell me what it is?"

"You look good, in the uniform." You clear your throat. "I... I like it." Your hand unfurls, palm flat, and he tugs on it, folding it over the hard bulge in his pants.

One moment, you're looking up at him and the next you're being spun around, back to his chest, thick fingers plunging into the waistband to tug your panties aside. He groans, stroking over your clit. "You're bloody soaked f'me."

"For you." Is all you can manage, voice twisted into a whisper, and he rips your pants down to your feet, lifting them out to kick your legs wide.

"Hands on the counter," he presses you forward until you're nearly at ninety degrees, cool air ghosting over where you're exposed, slick and swollen. "There we go, jus' like that." He grips fistfuls of your hips, your ass, and then tugs at his zipper, its echo instinctively rising you up onto your toes. He's still in his uniform, completely dressed, and you stare at him over your shoulder, legs trembling, soaking it in. You think you might be drooling. Blunt pressure notches at your pussy, the crown of his cock working its way forward before he slams the rest in, your scream pinging through the empty flat. "Fuck."

"Simon- ah,"

"I know, sweet girl, I know. You can take it, pussy looks so good stretched around me." He's teasing, in control though the clench of his jaw hissing through his teeth is clear, hips snapping over and over, rocking inside you. His lips graze your temple, breath hot on your cheek. "I want you to stop taking your birth control." You shudder, clenching around him. "We're ready, mama. You're ready. Let's," He shoves deep, deep enough you turn to liquid, body bending to accommodate, "have another baby." The rough fabric of his uniform pants scrape against your ass, brush and burn delicious with a bite, and you moan.

The mind has a funny way of erasing the memories of birth. Oxytocin is a finicky trick, the halo effect obliterating trauma and replacing it with joy. You can't say no. You don't want to say no, and the idea giving Orion a sibling, holding another sweet, squirmy baby in your arms, one with Simon's eyes, detonates in your heart, flutters spreading all the way through to your fingers and toes. Your spine arches, hips flexing back towards his own, and he chuckles-

before pulling out and flipping you over, hoisting you up onto the counter with your legs wrapped around his waist. Your eyes roll backwards as he slides home again, pinching your jaw between thumb and forefinger. He looks at you expectantly. Waiting.

The agreement sears on your tongue, incendiary heat forcing its way through your lips. "O-Okay."

"Say it." He thrusts, rubbing your clit at the same time, rolling you close to the edge. "Say yes daddy like a good girl."

"Yes, daddy." His nose touches yours. For a moment, you're both suspended, pupils dilated, sharing the same breath, the same DNA, the same blood. He slows down, and you squirm. "No, no don't stop- p-please-"

"'Say yes daddy, I want another baby' and I'll make you come mama. Tell me." He licks your cheek. You're barely hanging on, holding the front of his uniform. He teases your clit again, working it slowly, and you whine.

"Yes daddy, I want... I want another baby." It's enough. Enough for a dark glint to spark across his eyes, the same glimmer you see from time to time, the possession, the instinct, deep rooted desires.

It sends you into orbit, head tipping back, his teeth on your neck, the two of you coming together and riding through the wave until it's over, and he tucks you into his chest, cock still seated deep.

"I love you." He murmurs. "I'm gonna take care of you this time. I'm gonna be here." You don't ask about the what ifs, what will happen when he's away, what if he misses it. You just bask in the warmth of the moment, and sigh.

"I love you too."

[the-dendrophile-bookdragon]

Mister Targaryen's Curious Bookshop

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining, slow burn, Aemond being obsessed with the reader, a little bit of self-loathing and low self-esteem (Aemond), flower shop/bookshop AU

Summary: Aemond thought he would be alone with his bookshop for the rest of his life. Until the flower shop next door came back to life.

A/N: This fic had been sitting in my WIPs for ages. @hotd-bigbang gave me the motivational push to finally write it. And @targaryenrealnessdarling visualised my words so wonderfully, helping me imagine and feel this fic more.

Masterlist Taglist

Aemond had been working at "The Curious Book Shop" since college. It had become his refuge from the chaos of his family life and a break from his studies. He would hide in the deepest corners, surrounded by rows upon rows of books, studying for exams or reading for pleasure.

It was during one of his early morning runs that he stumbled upon his fate. Just around the corner from his apartment complex, he noticed a small bookshop. Something about it pulled him in as if it were calling out to him. The smell of old books gently wafted into his nostrils, and he felt as though he had entered heaven.

Aemond wandered the shop slowly, lazily browsing the shelves. His fingers grazed the spines of both old and new books. He spotted classics like *Frankenstein* and beautifully bound editions of Jane Austen novels, but there was also an entire section dedicated to fresh voices, new writers waiting to be discovered. 

Time slipped away from him until the bookshop keeper, a kind elderly man with snow-white hair, a stout build, and round glasses that made his eyes look larger—like a slightly overfed hamster—tapped him gently on the shoulder. With a warm smile, the man told him it was closing time.

Aemond felt a pang of disappointment. He had only explored half of the shop and longed to uncover every hidden corner. 

From that day on, he became a regular. His visits were so frequent that the old man eventually offered him a job. Aemond accepted without hesitation; it was a dream come true to work in a place filled with books.

Though Aemond had completed his business degree at Queen’s College in King’s Landing, he didn’t pursue the corporate path his mother and grandfather had carefully laid out for him. Instead, he chose to put his skills to use at the bookshop. His mentor appreciated his knack for numbers and calculations, and Aemond soon took over managing the shop’s finances and budgets.

For a long time, Aemond was simply an employee. His mentor guided him through all the shop’s nooks and crannies, revealing the secrets hidden deep within the endless rows of books. But when the old man passed away, Aemond was shocked to discover that, in his will, he had left the bookshop to him.

"Old Valyrian magic," his mentor had said one day as they placed new arrivals on the shelves near the cashier, "is rooted deep in every corner of this bookshop—in every rug fibre, dust grain, and wooden splinter. It is like the skeleton of this wonderful shop."

Aemond could feel it too—the raw power lingering behind closed doors, in the creaks of the wooden floor, and the way the air seemed to hum with ancient energy. Or, at least, he thought he did. The truth was, sometimes the shop seemed to have a mind of its own. Doors would appear where there had been none before, opening to reveal strange, hidden rooms. Other times, doors would remain locked no matter how hard he tried, as if the bookshop decided he wasn’t ready to enter.

One day, after stocking the historical crime books, Aemond’s curiosity was piqued when a door swung open just as he turned away from the shelves. This door, unlike the others, seemed to beckon him. It led him not to another room but to an entirely different dimension—a space outside the normal laws of reality.

There were no books written about the bookshop itself, at least none he could find, and so he started documenting his explorations in a leather-bound notebook. In it, he scribbled down every detail, theory, and oddity he encountered. He spent hours after closing wandering the ever-shifting landscape of the shop, venturing through realms that seemed to exist only within its walls. The bookshop was playful—mischievous, even. It would open random doors, then lock them again, guiding him through magical adventures far beyond the world outside.

One room in particular had become his favourite: The Hidden Library. It was a vast, seemingly endless space filled with row after row of books, stretching far into the sky. There were books of every kind—small, hand-sized paperbacks, large encyclopedic tomes, volumes bound in leather with golden lettering, some in languages long dead. History, botany, astrology, science, philosophy—the scope of knowledge was overwhelming.

The towering shelves formed a maze, a labyrinth of wisdom and mystery. At the heart of this labyrinth sat a large oak desk, polished to such perfection that it gleamed like glass. Above it hung an ornate chandelier, casting a warm, amber glow over the desk, perfect for reading or studying in the comforting silence of the library.

But the labyrinth had its whims. The shelves shifted at will, reshuffling the paths and the books. It was both awe-inspiring and, at times, deeply frustrating. There were days when the maze seemed to toy with him, taking him in circles or preventing him from finding the desk. Yet, Aemond knew it was the bookshop's way of showing off—revealing itself bit by bit, granting him access to its secrets.

Aemond often imagined that the Library of Alexandria must have been like this—filled with treasures of knowledge, books and scrolls that held the wisdom of the world, guarded by time and mystery. Here, in his bookshop, he was one of the lucky few to uncover these treasures.

But The Hidden Library wasn’t the only room that fascinated him. There were other hidden chambers—each with its own magic, its own allure. He spent so much time exploring these secret places that he realized the bookshop had become more than just his workplace. It was his refuge, his second home, and perhaps, more than anything, a living entity he had come to understand like a dear, old friend.

Next to the magical bookshop stood an old, battered flower shop. The windows were dusty, and the paint on the rusty frames—once a bright blue—was flaking off. The sunblinds were torn and faded, their colour washed out from years of rain and weather damage.

Aemond’s mentor had once mentioned that the old owner couldn’t keep the shop open because her hands were no longer as nimble as they used to be. “The arrangements she made were as magical as this bookshop,” he would always say. “A shame she had to close it. She had no one to take over.”

The old bookshop owner had seemed melancholic whenever he spoke of the previous florist, smiling wistfully as if he had secretly admired her, perhaps even loved her in silence. Little did he know that he would share the same fate, leaving behind his beloved shop.

But one day, the flower shop next door sprang back to life. The scent of spring flowers began to fill the street, drifting into Aemond’s bookshop. The windows were freshly cleaned, and a new, bright yellow sunblind had been installed, replacing the worn one.

A week after the shop reopened, he saw her. She had messy, short hair in a half-up, half-down style, and a soft smile on her rosy, full lips. Her eyes sparkled as she quietly mumbled to herself, carefully arranging cut flowers in a vase outside the shop.

Aemond didn’t want to admit it, but he enjoyed watching her. Lost in her own little world, she crafted magnificent art with flowers, leaves, and other natural materials. He marvelled at her creations every time he passed by, often stopping to buy a bouquet—sometimes just to strike up a conversation, sometimes just to be near her.

It was nearly closing time when she appeared in front of him, a bright smile spreading across her lips. Her hair was messy again, with leaves and colourful petals woven into it—likely by accident, as some softly drifted to the ground whenever she turned her head. 

"Hi, I'm your shop neighbour. Sorry for not introducing myself sooner; I had to unpack everything," she said, holding out her hand with a bright grin. "Lovely," Aemond thought as he shook her hand.

“I’ve been to your shop a few times. I should’ve introduced myself, too,” he mumbled sheepishly, a soft blush dusting his pale cheeks. His ears felt like they were on fire.

Her hand was so small compared to his, soft but marked with fresh scars—probably from working with thorny roses or other prickly flowers. She was always creating art, in any form or shape, and it showed.

Her voice was full of joy, and unlike so many others, she looked at him without a trace of disgust or discomfort. She didn’t flinch at his scar or the eyepatch. She didn’t even avoid his gaze, which most people did. She looked him straight in the eyes, seeing him as a whole person. A warm feeling washed over him at that realization—it had been so long since he’d felt this way.

“Oh! Yes, I remember you now. You always buy two bouquets at a time!” she exclaimed, gesturing excitedly with her hands. Her energy was infectious, Aemond noted, and despite the late hour, he felt more awake just watching her. “You must really like your life partner!”

His blush deepened, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at his lips. “Something like that,” he mumbled, feeling the heat rise in his face.

Clearing his throat, he squared his shoulders, trying to regain his composure as he towered over her. But she only smiled more, undeterred by his flustered state.

“No problem,” he whispered gruffly, shifting nervously from foot to foot. He averted his eye, staring down at the cashier counter. Why was he so flustered?

“Can I look around? I know you’re closing soon, but this is the only time I can visit because of my shop hours,” she asked.

He nodded solemnly, and her grin widened as she skipped off into the depths of the bookshop. Aemond couldn’t help but stare after her, his heart still pounding wildly in his chest. His usual calm demeanour was slipping, and his hands were growing sweatier with every passing second.

He watched her roam through the aisles, her fingers gently brushing the spines of books. A soft smile played on her lips, and her eyes sparkled with the joy that seemed to radiate from her. Her skin looked smooth, her hands had been as soft as silk.

Her hair was up in a messy bun, with loose strands framing her face perfectly. He tried not to stare too much, but he couldn’t help himself. She was beautiful—radiant, even. The flower girl from next door.

It was no longer unusual for her to visit him after her shop’s closing hours. Since their first meeting, it had become routine, and Aemond didn’t mind keeping the shop open a little longer for her. He enjoyed the peace, but even more, he enjoyed her presence. She brought a sense of chaos and life into his dusty, meticulously ordered existence—something he had always carefully avoided, but now realized he needed.

This time, she told him in advance where she intended to wander, mindful not to repeat the incident from her first visit. That day, she had innocently ventured into one of the magical rooms, and Aemond hadn't heard from her for hours. Panic had set in when she failed to respond to his calls. By the time he found her, it was nearly midnight, and both of them had early mornings ahead. She explained that a door had appeared before her, opening on its own, and she hadn’t been able to resist stepping through.

Luckily, it was The Hidden Library she had found, a room Aemond knew like the back of his hand. The labyrinth of bookshelves had shifted, subtly aiding him in locating her more quickly than it usually would allow. Other rooms might not have been so kind, and Aemond had been relieved when he spotted her amidst the endless rows of books.

When he found her, she hadn’t been panicked or distressed. In fact, she had a stack of books balanced in her arms, her face lit with pure delight. "This is magnificent!" she had said, her voice filled with awe as she wandered between the ever-changing shelves.

His heart had pounded in his chest when he saw her, but not out of fear anymore. Something else stirred in him—his heart skipped, or maybe it leapt with joy, something akin to a yearning he hadn’t felt in a long time. Aemond was no stranger to intense emotions, but this was different. It wasn’t the fiery anger or the cold, bitter loneliness he was used to; this was warm, fluttering, almost sweet in its intensity.

Crushes were for middle schoolers, weren’t they? He tried to tell himself that, but there was no denying it anymore. Watching her flit through his magical bookshop with that infectious enthusiasm, her joy at discovering something new—it made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t in years. 

He stood there, watching her as she made her way through the aisles, completely at ease in the strange, shifting shop. She never seemed bothered by the oddities or the magic; if anything, it only seemed to fuel her curiosity and joy. And as much as he tried to keep his distance, Aemond couldn’t help but be drawn to her.

Maybe crushes weren't just for middle schoolers after all.

Aemond had never imagined he'd find himself standing in a magical greenhouse with the quirky flower shop owner next door, watching her flit between plants and books with the kind of excitement that only she seemed to possess. The realisation that he had a crush on her had grown stronger with every bouquet she brought him, each one slowly wilting or drying out under his care despite his best efforts.

When she playfully teased him about his inability to keep her gifts alive—remarking that she’d thought a magical shop would do the job for him—Aemond could only smile sheepishly. He had no explanation, other than perhaps his unfamiliarity with the deeper, older magics of the place. Maybe, he mused, if he had studied Valyrian magic more closely, he’d have been able to keep her flowers flourishing. 

Then one day, they found it—The Glass House. It appeared out of nowhere. He had restocked some sections of the shop while she was aimlessly wandering around again. His eyes sometimes drifted over to her. Watching her read passages out of books quietly. Making a note of which book she held longer so he could give it to her when he bought another bouquet from her.

They both turned into the same aisle when the door appeared right in front of them. Just right at the end of the rows of bookshelves where usually a wall was.

She stared at him with big eyes. “Is this normal?” She looked up at him with a bewildered expression. He nodded nonchalantly, he was used to it. “The bookshop likes to play.” She giggled gently at his deadpan words.

“Tell me more.” Her bright smile made his lips quirk up slightly. “Well, I don’t know how the magic works. The old owner couldn’t tell me either. But I found out the doors mirror the moods, likes and needs of the person standing in front of it.”

“Like the Room of Requirement?” Aemond snorted at her question. “More or less. The door stays and only disappears when it isn’t needed anymore. To make room for another door. A few doors had disappeared when my mentor died. It felt like the shop had mourned him.” 

He let his eyes wander over her face. To check if she understood what he was saying. She nodded lowly. She seemed to be deep in thought. Mulling over his words carefully. “There are multiple doors in the bookshop. Not one like in Harry Potter. Maybe even hidden ones. But most of the time they are prominent.”

She nodded softly. Looking at the door that had appeared in front of them. Vines seemed to wind around the wooden front like they were alive. Forming a large tree taking up nearly the whole door. To her, it seemed like the tree in the Nordic myth, Yggdrasil.  "So if I would go through one of those doors, it is like I would go through a portal. Like the wardrobe in Narnia?” Aemond snorted as he put another book onto a shelf, holding “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe ” in his hands. Coincidence? In this shop, less likely.

“I see the shop more like the Tardis.” He mumbled. He was reaching up to restock the “Lord of the Rings” bundle packs back on the fantasy shelf. A classic he seems to run out of every week.

“Because the store seems small at first glance but it gets bigger with every new door opening?” She stood beside him, holding the stacks of Agatha Christi novels for him. “Yeah, like that.” He smiled at her, a rare occurrence that had happened more often since they spent time together. She hummed thoughtfully. “I like my Narnia reference more.” Aemond chuckled. “I am hurt.” He pouted playfully at her, making her giggle.

Suddenly the door opened next to her. She shrieked, which made him look up at her. His body was alarmed. Ready to fight whoever dared to scare her. He blushed slightly when he realised what he was thinking. And that he would fight a door for her.

Her fright was not long living. She was too curious to be scared for long. “I can make it up to you. Go on! Go inside and I follow you, Doctor.” He laughed gently. Putting away the last of crime mystery books before turning to the green door. “Well… Geronimo!” He mumbled playfully into her ear. Making her blush.

He turned the golden knop. With a gnarling sound, it slowly opened. A breeze of warm wind blew into their faces gently. 

Aemond held the door open for her to go inside. She shyly thanked him. Her eyes grew big at the sight of what lay behind the inconspicuous door. Aemond had to keep up with her as she rushed inside the door.

She stopped in the middle of the room. Her breathing hitched in her throat as she took in the room overgrown with lush green plants. Her smile reached up to her ears. Her small body vibrates from excitement. “Look! A greenhouse library!” He smiled as he watched her flitter around the room.

Strangely, it wasn’t as humid as a typical greenhouse. It was pleasantly warm or cool, depending on what they needed at the time. On either side of the house stood hip-high plant tables made of stone, filled with plants both known and unknown, their blooms and colourful leaves on display for visitors.

In one corner stood two cosy-looking emerald armchairs with a table between them. They looked so inviting as if they had been waiting for him and his companion. Friend? he wondered about what he should call his shop neighbour. His little flower girl? His heart pounded against his ribcage. What was he thinking? His little flower girl? She was barely his friend—acquaintances, maybe? Slowly he started to confuse himself, distracting him from marvelling and listening to her.

But his heart knew what his mind refused to admit: he wanted her. He wanted to explore his magical bookshop with her.

They moved on. Going into the garden section. She already held three books in her hand. Opening them at random pages to read them at the same time. It was an endearing sight he didn’t like to avert his eyes.

She talked animatedly about the various plants, suggesting that he put her half-dead flowers from the front of the shop in the Glass House so he wouldn’t be so sad when they died. She stopped short when she realized she was alone in another corner of the greenhouse, having abandoned the orchids to return to the centre of the room—back to the two emerald armchairs. Back to him.

The sight of her wide-eyed excitement as they entered The Glass House was enough to make Aemond's heart leap. Plants of all kinds surrounded them, lush greenery spilling over the stone plant tables. Despite the greenhouse setting, the air was a perfect balance of warmth and coolness, catering to their comfort. In the centre of the room were two emerald armchairs, an inviting sanctuary in the midst of the botanical splendour.

He watched her eagerly explore the space, picking up books on gardening and flipping through their pages with a joyful energy that he found utterly endearing. She chattered on about the plants, suggesting with a grin that maybe he could bring her dying bouquets here, where the magic could keep them alive.

Aemond was about to respond, but the words caught in his throat. His mind wandered to the sensation of her small, scarred hand in his earlier—a hand that had felt soft, delicate, and utterly natural in his. He couldn't stop the warmth that spread through him, a feeling he wasn’t entirely sure how to deal with. What was she to him, really? His heart wanted to call her something more than just a shop neighbour or even a friend. Something like "his flower girl" seemed to fit, but it made his chest tighten with a strange kind of longing. 

As he stood there, lost in thought, he barely noticed her wandering off to the other side of The Glass House. He only snapped back to attention when he realized she had returned, her presence suddenly close again. She held out her hand, a playful glint in her eyes. "I saw another door opening," she said softly, her voice filled with excitement. "Your bookshop is telling me something. Want to come with me?"

He looked down at her outstretched hand, feeling a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite name. Hesitation flashed briefly before he took her hand, its warmth seeping into his. “Let’s explore the rooms together, then,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with resolve.

She led him through the new door, and they entered a room unlike any other he had ever seen. The ceiling stretched impossibly high, filled with swirling stars, planets, and constellations that shimmered and moved like they were alive. The smell of ancient books filled the air, wrapping around them like a comforting, familiar blanket. It was peaceful, serene—a perfect contrast to the excitement they’d felt in The Glass House.

They both stood in silence for a moment, awestruck by the beauty of the room. Later, they would come to call it "The Sorcerer’s Room," convinced it had once belonged to a powerful wizard—a figure out of legend, someone like Merlin.

But for now, Aemond was content. Content to explore the wonders of his magical bookshop, not alone this time, but with her by his side. And more than the magic of the shop, it was her wide-eyed wonder and infectious joy that captivated him the most. As they wandered deeper into the room, he felt her hand tighten around his, and for the first time in a long while, he realized how much he enjoyed sharing this world with someone who made it feel even more magical.

Since the discovery of The Glass House and The Sorcerer’s Room, she had spent most of her time in both rooms—studying the plants or curling up in the emerald armchair to read. She looked like a cat when she did it.  

In The Sorcerer’s Room, she would lie on the floor and point out different constellations. He would lie next to her, hanging on to every word that left her lips.

“Black tea, steeped for nearly ten minutes with a dash of milk.” He set the large yellow cup with white daisies in front of her on the small coffee table. She smiled softly up at him.  

“Thank you,” she said. She had lost track of time as she read in the emerald chair in The Glass House, a blanket she had crocheted herself thrown over her lap. At his sweet gesture, her heart thudded harder against her rib cage.

His heart leapt again at her soft smile.  

“Am I here often enough now that you’ve already memorized my tea-drinking habits?” she chuckled softly.  

He grinned involuntarily. “It’s an odd way to drink tea,” he teased, “but I like odd things,” he wanted to add.

She giggled softly, making his heart flutter again, before taking a sip. She closed her eyes and let out a content hum.  

“Perfect,” she whispered, her bright eyes twinkling in the soft glow of the light in The Glass House, like stars sparkling in the night sky.

His body warmed at her smile. A rare smile crept across his own, thinner lips. He leaned slightly closer, inhaling the floral scent of her perfume—so fresh and light. He wanted to fall asleep with his face nestled in her neck, to wake up to her warmth every morning.

The realization hit him hard. His body grew tense, every muscle and fibre rigid as he looked down at her. His knees nearly buckled as he stared.  

Her perfect little smile haunted his dreams and every waking moment. Her eyes hypnotized him whenever they caught his gaze. She was an enchantress, though she didn’t know it.

He cleared his throat and sat down in the other emerald green armchair next to her, trying to focus on his book. But every five seconds, he lost his place, and after a few paragraphs, he had no idea what he had been reading.

The reason was clear: she, his shop neighbour. The sweet florist next door. A woman so kind and warm that he wanted to envelop her in his arms, keep her close, and never let her go.

He was growing possessive. He caught himself growling at male customers from time to time, surprising even himself. He had never acted like this before. Not with his ex, Alys, or with Floris, the girl he dated for one semester at university.

This was different—a deep, primal urge. To be close to her. To take care of her. To provide for her. To be hers, just as he wanted her to be his.

The more he thought about her, the more horrified he became at how deeply in love he had fallen. His heart raced, his hands grew sweaty, and they trembled lightly, clammy with nervous energy.

The most fatal mistake he made at that moment was looking over at her. His lone, piercing pale violet eye drank in her worried features.  

Strands of hair had fallen into her face, and he watched as her nose wrinkled slightly, one strand tickling it. Her bright eyes examined him carefully, her worry growing the longer he sat like a statue in the emerald armchair beside her.

“Everything alright, Aemond?” she asked, her voice soft. The sound of his name on her lips was enough to make him swoon. So sweet, so innocent.  

“Yes,” he rasped, clearing his throat. “All is well. Never been better.” He rambled, trying to regain his composure.

She raised an eyebrow at him, clearly unconvinced. He felt trapped, like a rabbit staring into the eyes of a predator. What was she doing to him?

He couldn’t keep feeling like this—trapped in his own body. It was a sensation he had tried to avoid since childhood, an unhealthy way to cope with anxiety. He knew that well enough.  

Aemond abruptly stood from the armchair and rushed out of the room into the main selling area of the bookshop, trying to hide between the shelves. But he could hear her soft footsteps following him. She had thrown the blanket aside and followed him as fast as her shorter legs could carry her. 

He tried to outrun her, taking sharp turns every few steps but suddenly stopped at a dead end. Cursing himself for not paying attention to his own shop’s layout, he glared at the wall. A part of him wished for a new door to appear so he could disappear, but nothing happened. The wall remained still, unmoving.  

She chased after him the best she could. Her legs were much shorter than his, and while he could take one step, she needed four to keep up. She tried anyway, her eyes fixed on him as he turned corners.

But one of his turns was too fast. He managed to shake her off, leaving her out of breath and disoriented. Her mind raced, trying to figure out where he had gone. Her gut told her to go left, but her head insisted on right.  

Finally, she found him, standing rigid at the dead end. His back stiffened as she approached. "Why are you running from me?" she asked, her voice soft but tinged with confusion. He didn’t turn, as if trying to ignore her.

She stepped closer. "Did I do something wrong?"  

"No!" he immediately shot back. She jumped, startled by the suddenness of his response, a gasp escaping her lips.

Hearing the sound, he turned toward her. He had scared her—a thing he vowed he would never do. "I’m sorry," he murmured, reaching out, and she let him touch her arm. Her baby blue jumper felt soft under his hand. "I’m so sorry," he repeated, his voice quieter this time.

"It’s alright," she said, stepping closer. "I’m just a jumpy person."  

She looked up at him, her eyes shining even in the dim light, like stars in the night sky.  

"You’re so beautiful," he whispered under his breath, but she heard it, smiling bashfully.  

"Thank you," she replied, her cheeks heating up.

They moved closer—toe to toe, chest to chest. Aemond looked down at her while she looked up.  

"You have beautiful eyes," she mumbled.  

"No, I don’t," he responded, his tone harsher than he intended.

She frowned at his self-deprecation. "They’re both unique in their own way, and I think they’re beautiful." Her protest was met with a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.  

"Don’t tell me what to think," she said, glaring at him playfully.

He chuckled. "If you say so."  

She huffed in disbelief, frustrated by how low his self-esteem was. Words weren’t enough, so she let her actions speak for her. She leaned up and kissed him gently.

His breath caught in his throat as their lips met, and a tingling sensation swept over his body. Slowly, he pulled her closer by the waist, careful not to make her stumble. Her arms wrapped around his slim frame, her fingers digging into the wool of his jumper.

The kiss lingered, electric sensations running through both of them. Eyes closed, they held each other tightly. But eventually, they had to come up for air.  

Their chests heaved, eyes wide and pupils blown, but big grins spread across their swollen lips. They didn’t need words—silence spoke volumes, carrying more meaning than a thousand words ever could.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn't go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: get ready for the hate.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The tunnel lights up ahead of you, revealing the cubic rock walls as you plant torches in your stead. The eerie soundtrack of night time and the ominous groan of zombies looming somewhere in the cave have you uptight. Silently, you press on, digging and mining mindlessly, fingers mashing the buttons on your controller. 

“Hey, where are you?” Jacob’s voice startles you. 

You nearly forgot you’re playing co-op. You sniff and shake your head, cursing aloud as your shock has you succumbing to the arrow of a sneaky skeleton. You sigh as your possessions scatter and you spawn back in your bed. 

“Back home,” you say glumly, “just ate it.” 

“Ah, damn,” his deep voice rolls in your noise-cancelling headset, “sorry, hope that wasn’t me.” 

“No, I wasn’t paying attention,” you hum and sigh.  

“Ah,” he accepts and lets silence linger before he clicks his tongue, “what’s going on? Everything alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you put the controller down, your avatar sitting on the geometric bed, “I just...” you stretch your neck and massage your scalp around the thick band of the headset, “got a lot on my mind.” 

“Right. I thought you were all done exams,” he says. 

“I am, but... packing. Going home. I called my old boss and turns out I’m not gonna have a job this summer. Gotta start over,” you yawn and rub your eyes, “what about you? Final exam tomorrow?” 

“Uh... yeah,” he hesitates as if he forgot. You do wonder why he isn’t cramming right now. You could never play minecraft all night the day before a final. “Easy stuff. I’m not worried.” 

You scoff. You wish you could say the same. All you’ve done is worry those last two weeks. Exams, getting home, getting a job. Your grandmother won’t very happy to find out you’ll be slumming it for a while. At least you tucked away some money through the semester. 

“Hey, if you need a few bucks...” Jacob offers. 

“What? Are you crazy? No way,” you exclaim, “really, no, I couldn’t. I’ll be fine. I just... I hate looking for jobs. You know how it is. Friggin awkward.” 

“It’s not a big deal. My dad sent me my birthday money so...” 

“Uh uh,” you deny him again, “that’s way too much. I couldn’t-- we haven’t even met.” 

“Mm, yeah, about that,” he exhales into his microphone, “I, uh, got an extra ticket to this Con. I figured out that’s it like the midway point between us so...” 

“A con? Oh, wow--” 

“Yeah, but I get that it would be expensive so maybe I could pay for your trip?” 

“Jacob,” you wiggle the controller restlessly, “I can't accept that. It’s so nice but... it’s a lot.” 

“I wouldn’t offer it was too much,” his voice is soft, meek, and defeated. You feel bad but you would feel worse taking advantage of his kindness. “We’ve been talking all year. I just figured it would be a good chance to meet up. It would be in public and something we both like so...” 

You scratch your neck as it speckles with heat. You don’t know what’s more insulting; yes or no. 

“Can I think about it?” You ask thinly. 

The line is quiet. You look at the screen and it goes dim from your idling. You hit the analog stick and fix your headphones. 

“Jacob?” You murmur. 

“Sure, think about it,” he says, his voice raspy and rocky. It’s strange. You’ve seen him in pictures and his voice doesn’t really match his appearance. He sounds a lot older than he looks. “It’s next month so lots of time.” 

“I’m sorry,” you cringe. “I just wouldn’t want to waste your money.” 

“Trust me, it wouldn’t be a waste,” he insists, “this last year has sucked. So much. You got me through it all.” His microphone scuffs, “studying, exams, all that stuff. It’s tough making new friends. Seems like everyone here knows each other from high school.” 

“Yeah, totally,” you agree.  

You’re not exactly the most popular person. You have people you know in each class but not too many friends you hang out with outside the lecture hall or library. So far, not too many people want to spend hours mining digital gold or racing cartoon characters around a rainbow track. 

“Well, you should probably get some sleep,” you yawn, “you got your big exam and... I gotta keep packing. Gotta catch the greyhound tomorrow night.” 

“Sure, uh, yeah, right,” his disappointment is potent, “hey, will you text me when you get home? Just so I know you made it.” He snorts, “god, I sound like my dad right now.” 

“Oh, of course,” you chirp back, “I’ll try to remember. Might be late.” 

“That’s fine. Just as long as you let me know.” 

“Don’t worry about me,” you assure him, “not ‘til I have to face my grandma. Ha.” 

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he says, “well... er...” 

“Good night,” you finish for him, “let me know how the exam goes too.” 

“Will do,” his timbre gets even lower, “night.” 

You sign off and shut down the console. Another yawn flows through you and waters in your eyes. You should sleep, you got a long day waiting for you, but you know it won’t be easy. Not with so much on your mind, not least of all, Jacob’s invitation. 

🎮

You text Jacob as you get on the bus, to make sure he doesn’t worry. It’s so sweet that he does, even some of your girlfriends don’t bother that much. Not that you mind the ‘hey, bitch’ Janet sends you every now and again to make sure you’re still alive. 

You fall asleep on the bus. You’ve never been one to sleep while travelling but you’re exhausted from a night of anxious tossing and turning. After spending all day packing up the last of your things and scouring your dorm room, you’re beat to hell. 

It’s midnight as you get to your grandmother’s house. She’s up reading another Stephen King classic in her rocking chair. She’s always been a night owl and a voracious book hound. She grumbles at you but doesn’t bother to ask how your trip was. 

“Hey, grandma,” you hike up your bag and smile.  

She growls again, eyes not leaving the page. You should know better by now not to interrupt her. You shoulder on and head down to the spare room where you spent most of your high-school career. You shut the door gently as the old hardwood floors creak with your weight and you drop your bag on the squeaky bed. 

You fish out your phone and plug it in as the battery flashes red with only two percent left. You leave it on the night table and stretch out, not bothering to change out of your hoodie and jeans. It’s not long before you descend back into the same dreams that marked your journey home. 

You wake up to buzzing. Your phone shakes the nightstand, rattling it against the bed frame. You groan and roll onto your side, reaching blindly for offending object. You hit the side button to dismiss the call.  

You blink away the bleariness and focus on the screen. Along with the missed call are several text messages. You squint as you expand the notifications. Jacob! You forgot to message. 

‘Hey, you home?’ 

‘Checking in. Must be busy getting settled in. Just let me know when you’re safe.’ 

‘Not meaning to be weird but everything okay?’ 

‘Please answer me. I’m worried.’ 

You drag your thumb around the keyboard, letting it predict your words; ‘sorry! I was so tired. Home now and safe 😊' 

Three dots pop up then swoop away. You frown as the same thing happens several times before a response appears. 

‘Was really worried. Thanks for finally answering. Been up all night.’ 

You’re stunned by the terse response. Yeah, you forgot to answer but he doesn’t need to worry that much. You frown and shift onto your side. 

‘Srry again. Tired. Talk in morning. Night.’ 

You turn your phone on silent and plug it back into the cord. You do feel bad but you’re too exhausted to let it keep you up. Besides, you need your sleep. You have lots of job hunting to do in the morning. Not to mention, your grandmother to face. 

🎮

You let Jacob cool down after your return home. Rather, he doesn’t text and you’re too distracted to do the same. As much as you’d like to sit around and game, your grandmother was as disappointed as you expected with your employment status, even when you gave her the money you had left in your emergency fund. 

After a week, you finally get a bite. It’s nothing special. There’s a seasonal ice cream shop in a booth shaped like a vanilla cone that needs a cashier on weeknights. It’s less than full time hours but it’s better than nothing. It will be strange working with high school juniors but you can’t afford to be picky. 

‘Game tonight?’ The text interrupts your first shift. You don’t have a chance to answer as a family approaches the window to order. 

You get them the soft serve and take their payment, bidding them a good evening with their vanilla points already drooping in the summer heat. You glance around at the mostly empty picnic tables. Soccer practice will end soon and you’ll be overloaded with eight-year-olds. 

‘Srry. New job. 1st shift. Maybe tmrw.’ 

‘New job? Congrats. Why didn’t you tell me?’ 

You sigh.  

‘Time got ahead of me.’ 

‘Same. Catch up tomorrow then. Minecraft?’ 

‘Sure. Tmrw.’ 

You slip your phone away. A mother and daughter approach and ask for a sundae and a banana split. As much as you love ice cream, working with it hasn’t tested your cravings very much. In fact, you might be falling out of love with it. The smell of vanilla and overly sweetened strawberries is kind of gross when it’s all you breathe. 

As you watch the happy customers walk away, you smile. Maybe it will be good to get some mining done. It will take your mind off of everything else. Hell, it might even make you feel like you’re doing something useful. 

🎮

“Shit, oh, sorry,” Jacob corrects himself. You always think it's kind of funny how he doesn’t like to swear. “My diamond armor.” 

“Oh no,” you utter, “where are you? I’ll grab your stuff.” 

He gives his coordinates and you turn around, leaping over the green blocks to make your way there. Despite your reticence at the beginning, you’re feeling better about the session. He wasn’t as tense as he seemed in his texts. 

“So, uh, did you think about the con?” Jacob asks. 

“The con? I almost forgot. When is it?” 

He gives the dates and you hum. Your chest flutters at the thought still. You’re not stupid. Meeting people IRL is not like online, no matter how many hours you’ve mined together. As much as you enjoy chatting with Jacob, you don’t know about meeting up. 

“I get it if you can’t get the time off but my offer still stands to cover the trip. If you wanna stay the night, I’ll even get an airBnB.” 

“Oh, wow, that’s a lot. I’m working now. I could put in,” you offer.  

“Is that a yes?” He asks hopefully. 

“I don’t know... I mean, I’ll have to look into it,” you say evasively. “Talk to my boss and grandma and all that.” 

“Right, right,” he tries to sound unbothered, “makes sense. Of course, no pressure. How about I send you the ticket either way? Haven’t got anyone else to bite.” 

“Oh, well, hold off, I wouldn’t want to take it and not use it,” you collect his weapons and armor from the ground in the game. 

It’s silent as you focus on getting every little thing. 

“Sorry, did I freak you out?” He asks, “I’m really not trying to pressure you, just got excited thinking about it.” 

“I know, Jacob, it’s not that, it’s just... a lot.” 

“Totally get it,” he intones, “let me know whenever you got an answer. Uh, where are you? I’m tryna find you.” 

“Just stay there, I'll come back to the house,” you assure him, happy to focus on the game instead. 

Still, you can’t entirely lose yourself in it. You’re sure he’s a nice guy. From pictures, he’s less than scary, and he’s never been anything but friendly. It’s not like the other dudes you meet online who jump to asking about your bra size and all that. It just isn’t smart. 

Well, maybe if you don’t show up alone. You know what con he’s talking about and Kara from Econ lives near there. You could probably convince her to meet up. Hm, that might work. 

Just like you told him, you’ll have to think about it. 

[sytoran]

˚₊‧꒰ა 𝖆𝖑𝖑'𝖘 𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗 𝖎𝖓 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖕𝖔𝖊𝖙𝖗𝖞 ... 🖋️

˚₊‧꒰ ✉️ 𝔟𝔢𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡 . . .

this is an 18+ blog. if you're a minor, kindly get off my blog, this is not for you. secondly, this is a safe space, any homophobia/racism/sexism/transphobia etc. is not tolerated. do not plagarise, copy, or translate my work. all works are strictly dom!reader.

˚₊‧꒰ 🎧 𝔫𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔤𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 . . .

sytoran speaks ♥︎ sytoran’s reblogs ♥︎ self-reblogs ♥︎ anon appreciation ♥︎ fic requests ♥︎ fic recommendations ♥︎ w. maximoff ♥︎ n. romanoff ♥︎ sytoran snippets

˚₊‧꒰ ☁️ 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔰 . . .

my ao3 ♥︎ requests are closed ♥︎ taglists are discontinued

˚₊‧꒰ 🎱 𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢 . . .

4k followers celebration ♥︎ the christmas chronicles ♥︎ kinktober 2023 masterlist ♥︎ 2k followers celebration ♥︎ valentines' special 2023

𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖆 𝖒𝖆𝖝𝖎𝖒𝖔𝖋𝖋

˚₊‧꒰ 🦢 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫 𝔲𝔫𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔢 . . .

nsfw alphabet — soft!wanda x gf!reader

arabella — soft!wanda x writer!reader

medicine — subby!wanda x avenger!reader

giddyup — horny!wanda x beefy!reader

rockin' around the christmas tree — horny!wanda x gf!reader

'tis the season to be horny — horny!wanda x gf!reader

last christmas | pt.2 — toxic!wanda x ex!reader

˚₊‧꒰ 🤍 𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔣 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔞 . . .

pretty little housewife — housewife!wanda x beefy!reader

babysitter duty | pt.2 — babysitter!reader x milf!wanda

kick a ball, score a hot mom — milf!wanda x footballcoach!reader

extra credit — professor!wanda x student!reader

all i want for christmas is you (to fuck me) — wife!wanda x beefy!reader

the excellence of misfortune

Moving into Westview to escape the demons that chase you, there you meet Wanda Maximoff, a married woman who's looking for the same kind of escapism. Where one seeks order and the other seeks thrill, maybe you can show each other a little neighbourly support, and perhaps, find the excellence of misfortune.

˚₊‧꒰ 🎧 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔤𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔞 . . .

taunt — meangirl!wanda x college!reader

boudoir photography — student!wanda x professor!reader

study break — councilpresident!wanda x jock!reader

i'm (c)reaming of a white christmas — innocent!wanda x brother's bsf!reader

slow hands | pt.2 — popular!wanda x college!reader

˚₊‧꒰ 🐇 𝔟𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔶/𝔟𝔞𝔟𝔶𝔤𝔦𝔯𝔩 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔞 . . .

babygirl wanda | pt.2 — drabbles

pretty in pink

Adopting a hybrid bunny girl becomes one of the best decisions you've ever made in your life. Despite the blurred lines that form in your relationship, you wouldn't trade anything in the world for your sweet angel that is Wanda Maximoff.

˚₊‧꒰ ⚽ 𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔲𝔫𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔰 . . .

guilty as sin? — older!nun!wanda x reverend!reader

espresso — model!wanda x gf!reader

spooky scary skeletons — toxic!wanda x ghostface!reader

the pirate and the mermaid — mermaid!wanda x pirate!reader

doctor's orders — barbie!wanda x gynecologist!reader

god, you're insatiable — jealous!wanda x gf!reader

heat waves — omega!wanda x alpha!bartender!reader

𝖓𝖆𝖙𝖆𝖘𝖍𝖆 𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖋𝖋

˚₊‧꒰ 🕸 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫 𝔲𝔫𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔢 . . .

mile high club — avenger!natasha x avenger!reader

widow's web — blackwidow!nat x ceo!reader

ice cream — drabble

˚₊‧꒰ 🤍 𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔣 𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔞 . . .

mechanic jacks and jacked mechanics — milf!nat x beefy!reader

let me fuck your tits? — milf!nat x beefy!reader

home is where the heart is

In which your married life with Natasha Romanoff is depicted through this comedy-drama series. With your dream job, three kids, and a plethora of friends, each day is blissful but all the more chaotic and unpredictable. (And ultimately, very horny.)

˚₊‧꒰ 🎧 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔤𝔢 𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔞 . . .

arsonist's lullabye — popular!meangirl!nat x beefy!jock!reader

i wanna be yours — roomate!nat x werewolf!reader

obsession, possesion! — innocent!nat x player!reader

˚₊‧꒰✒️ 𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔲𝔫𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔰 . . .

break the rules — stripper!nat x cop!reader

office hours | pt.2 — secretary!nat x ceo!reader

my divine goddess

After saving a mystical cat from a deathly experience, you're hauled into the world of Gods and Goddesses - with one wish to get whatever it is you desire. Steamy entanglements with the Goddess of Lust turn into love-filled confessions, but the two of you were star-crossed from the very start.

𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖊𝖔𝖚𝖘

˚₊‧꒰ ☁️ 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔞 & 𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔞 . . .

the super soldier theory — wandanat x supersoldier!reader

possesive wandanat — headcanons

˚₊‧꒰ 🍙 𝔭𝔢𝔤𝔤𝔶 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔯 . . .

if god forbid — agent!peggy x lieutenant!reader

˚₊‧꒰ 🐑 𝔞𝔤𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔞 𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 . . .

subby!agatha — drabble

© 𝐒𝐘𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍 2024-25 ━ do not copy, edit or translate my works

[discordantwritings]

The Sand Dragon and I Pt. 1 (Dragon! Sir Crocodile x Reader)

Part 1 / Part 2

Warnings: this chapter is SFW but the next one won’t be so still MDNI 18+, gn afab! Reader, Dragon Shifter! Sir Crocodile, the power dynamics are whack in this one not gonna lie, canon typical violence, Crocodile calls you pet

WC: 4.6k

Summary: You’re set to be sacrificed to the fearsome Dragon of the Sands as a tribute for your town. When you get down to the caves and get face to face with him however- you make a different choice.

Notes: this fic is for me ngl this is just me fully shoving my monsterfucking dragon loving desires onto sir crocodile and I hope other people like it

You knew long before your name was called that you were going to be the tribute to the sand dragon. No living family, you worked a non-essential job, healthy enough to make the journey to his cave- you checked all the sacrificial boxes. No one else seemed surprised either, very few people made the effort to even look sad for you. It was something that you were used to since you never made the effort to connect with anyone in your town.

You were independent- a symptom of your parents dying young and you having no family to take you in. No one else made the effort to help you, so you made no effort to help them whenever situations came up. You didn’t hate anyone, and no one hated you, but there was a large gap that you accepted a long time ago.

So when it was time to select a human tribute for the terrifying sand dragon that made his home in the caverns miles from your town- a ritual that happened once every 5 years to appease him on top of the annual gold tribute- everyone knew it was you. You had your bags packed at home already- not that you needed to pack much. The journey would take a day on horseback and as you strapped your bags to the horse’s saddle you couldn’t help but feel bad for her.

A sacrifice to be eaten, just like you.

A few people saw you off, mostly to be polite. A small token of appreciation to the person who was going to die so they could live worry free for another few years. It meant nothing to you.

The journey was painfully uneventful. Miles of sand dusting over craggy rocks with no other life in sight. You had hoped for something- anything- to keep your thoughts away from your impending doom but you never got that reprieve. So you stirred, and thought, and stewed until resentment and anger came bubbling up.

Why did you have to die? Just because your life sucked already? Because there was no one to stick up for you? Years of being alone suddenly tore through you- sadness hardening over into anger.

And then something else.

You don’t know what it is yet but it drives you to continue your journey until you reach the giant cavern opening jutting out of the dunes and rocks. You leave the horse at the entrance just underneath the lip of the cavern for some shade. Giving her your remaining water you leave her untied, hoping she’ll have a better chance than you.

It’s a long and dark journey down into the caverns below the desert, a single torch lighting your way. At first it was just rocks and sand lining the path down but soon it turned to bones and dented armor. You don’t look down for too long, knowing you’ll lose your nerve if you have to look at the discarded bodies knowing your skeleton might soon reside with them.

It takes you an hour, maybe, time is hard to gauge down here, to get to the first opening. Your torch lights only a fraction of the vast cavern but you quickly find you don’t need it- golden braziers line the stone walls and flicker with fire illuminating the space.

Initially you wonder if you were somehow transported somewhere else- because a place this nice existing in a deep underground cavern was vexing. The stone floor was covered in the most luxurious rugs you’ve ever seen. Deep reds, golds, and blacks overlap and you fight the urge to run your hands over the fabric. Mismatched furniture liters the space- all expensive in their own rights but seemingly misplaced as none of them are quite set up in a logical formation. A pleasant humidity hangs in the air and you look and see a small natural fountain in one of the far corners of the cave. On the opposite side of that there’s another tunnel that seems to continue down further into the earth.

What use does a dragon have for a living room?

“Seems like a little morsel has arrived at my doorstep.” A low voice echoes off the dark stone walls and practically shakes the ground you’re standing on. It’s hard to deny the deep instinct to run away- all of the cells in your body signal to you that this is a predator and you are prey.

From the far tunnel you hear the distinct sound of claws against stone and you know he’s coming. You hold your breath as a giant crocodile-esque head slides into view. If it wasn’t for the sheer size of this creature you think you could mistake him for a crocodile- the long flat snout and smooth scales resembling a mosaic across dark green skin. But the way the scales shine like emeralds flecked with gold set him apart. As his legs come into view your eyes are drawn to his front left leg. In contrast to the dark green of the rest of his body his front left leg from the elbow down was a bright shimmering gold. It almost seemed liquid the way it connected with his body but the way it landed with a hard thud with each step solidified its hardness. A deep gash ran across his snout, dull and long healed over. Bat like wings folded against his long body as he finally made the last few strides into the cavern with you.

It’s hard not to be in awe of a creature so terrifying yet stunning- fear overloading and loosing all meaning and giving way to appreciation. Colorless eyes lock in on you and his pupils contract into slivers. You truly and deeply feel like prey under his gaze.

“Your heart is beating so fast little tribute. Will you run? Will you fight? Or are you just going to stand there and let me eat you? I do love seeing how your little human brains scramble…” His maw opens and you see large, shining teeth- each probably as big as you. You’re not sure if a dragon can smile but you get the impression from his voice that he is, there must be something deeply amusing to him to see you falter under his gaze.

You don’t know what comes over you. That emotion that had puzzled you for the last day now rips up and into your throat, saying works your brain hasn’t even processed.

“What if I can make myself useful to you.”

Defiance.

That catches him off guard, his large head tilting slightly. He’s only confused for a second before he chuckles, a deep sound that shakes your ribcage. “Well this is new. And what do you think you could possibly do for me?”

And now your brain has caught up, desperately searching for good answers. “I can cook, I can clean, I can organize- I’m sure a dragon as important as yourself has much better things to do than worry about the day to day.”

There’s a painful silence as the dragon mauls over your answer, terrifying eyes dragging over your form. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself grounded.

“I have to admit, it is an interesting proposition.” He steps closer and lowers his head to the ground, jaws only a few feet from you. “It wouldn’t be a good life, serving under me.”

“It would be a life.”

“I guess it would.” You feel the heat of his breath wash over you. “If you ever underperform I will not hesitate to kill you.”

“I understand.”

“And you will do whatever I ask?”

“I will.”

“Then we have a deal.”

You feel like you’ve just sold your soul to the devil. In a way, you probably have. But you don’t feel bad about it at all.

His head swings up and away from you, standing up and nearly scraping the ceiling. “You’ll stay in here until I clear out a space for you. I’ll lay out where you can and cannot go and what your daily routine should be.”

You nod, knowing he probably doesn’t need to hear much more from you.

“Get some rest. I’ll start working you to the bone tomorrow.”

And with that he leaves you, thundering steps disappearing into the depths of the further tunnels. When you can no longer hear and feel the steps you collapse to the ground, exhausted from bargaining for your life. Every muscle in your body had been tensed and you work your way through your body, individually willing your body to relax.

This was your life now. You needed to get used to this fucked up situation very fast.

Gathering yourself you find the largest couch and drag it over by the fountain and begin putting together your makeshift bed. It was surprisingly comfortable and the sound of running water did a lot to block out your worst thoughts.

You shut your eyes and before you know it a sleep of sheer exhaustion catches you, dragging you down into unconsciousness.

You’re not sure how much sleep you got, there was no way to tell the time this deep underground. But you feel as rested as you probably could get under the circumstances and quickly move the couch back to where you found it before the dragon could come and see you’ve disturbed his room. Piling your stuff neatly behind a rock on along the wall of the cavern you wait for your instructions.

You pace the heavily rugged floor trying to keep an ear out for the distinctive sound of a dragon approaching. You don’t have to wait too long for some noise- but it’s not what you expect. You hear regular human foot steps echo through the far tunnel- are you not the only human here? Did someone sneak past you in the middle of the night? All your questions are stopped in their tracks when a man walks out of the tunnel.

Well, not quite a man.

He’s mostly human, standing on two legs with tanned skin and slicked back black hair. Dressed in an immaculate suit with a fur lined cloak covering his broad shoulders. But of course- there were the other features. You first notice his hands- one covered in green scales and ending in sharp claws, the other a molten gold molded into similar claws. His ears are longer and more pointed than a humans and across his face is a long dark scar. And of course you can’t miss the thick crocodile tail dragging behind him, the same deep emerald green scales of the dragon you faced yesterday.

As he walks closer you notice that he’s still so much bigger than you- towering over your form by three feet or more. His eyes had the same reptilian slit to them as he looked you up and down.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you’d think you’d be remiss not to call him handsome. But the fear for your life drowns out most of those traitorous thoughts.

“Surprised to see you didn’t try and scamper off during the night.” His voice, while certainly not as loud, still resonates deep in your chest as it echoes off the tall stone walls of the cavern.

“I made a deal, I intend to see it through.” You make the choice not to look him in the eyes out of fear of disrespecting him.

“Good to see you have some sense. Here.” He reaches into his coat and pulls out a rolled up piece of paper. You take it and unfold it and see a map. “This is your map of my lair. I’ve labeled the caverns you can go in and which ones you can’t. You step a single foot into somewhere you’re not supposed to be- I’ll kill you.”

“Understood.” You reply, looking over the map. You knew this place had to be massive but looking over the paper in your hand it was so much vaster than you imagined. Dozens of caves and tunnels interlinking, going over and under each other. It made your head swim.

“I’ll guide you to the important rooms so you don’t get lost. But after that I expect you to be able to navigate on your own.” He starts walking and you follow close behind as you try and track where you’re going on the map.

You travel down deep, following him as he quickly navigates the tunnels. Thankfully everything is lit by the same type of flaming braziers that are in the large entrance cavern.

“You don’t need to worry about preparing food for me- I only eat every few months and I eat more than you could possibly physically handle. You’re here to keep my lair neat and organized. Initial cleaning of the caverns I indicate and then if you do a good job- and only if- you can begin cataloguing my hoard.” He doesn’t make any effort to speak directly to you or to make sure you’re matching his pace.

“Yes my… lord?” It comes off more of a question as you quickly realize you have no idea what to refer to him as.

He stops in his tracks so abruptly you almost collide with his tail, but thankfully you’re able to stop just short. “This is the dry food storage, silly human foods that they leave as tribute. Should be enough for you to live on.”

You peek in, expecting a sparse and dingy space but are pleasantly surprised when you see all manner of foods. Beans, grains, dried fruits, spices, and probably more in the dark wooden cabinets and shelves. You only have that brief moment before he is walking off again and you hastily follow.

“Sir Crocodile. That’s the best name you humans have given me, so you can refer to me as such. My true name is unpronounceable for human forms.”

You nod, not like he can see you but better safe than sorry. Only a few tunnels later he stops again and points to the smallest cavern yet. It’s not actually small by most definitions of the word but as you gaze in you might actually call it cozy.

There’s a mismatch of elegant furniture piled in there- a dresser, a cabinet, a large bed, and rugs covering the stone floor. The bed is unmade but linens sit on top of it and even from this distance you know they are higher quality than you have ever even seen.

“This is where you’ll be sleeping and existing when not performing your duties. I don’t want you out wandering when I haven’t assigned you something.” And then he’s back to walking. You were expecting to just be thrown in a bare room but seemingly he put forth some effort… you’re not sure what to think about that.

The next stretch of your journey is long and you purposefully make sure your eyes don’t wander into any caverns you’re not stopping at. You focus on tracing your path, finger dragging along the rough paper of the map as you go.

“This is the last cave you’ll be allowed in until you prove yourself trustworthy.” He stops and finally fully turns around to face you. “This is my surplus- the stuff left to me that I deemed not worthy of my hoard. It’s been sitting and collecting dust for too long. I need to know what exactly is here and if I should keep it in storage or dispose of it. After you’re done cleaning the previous spaces and the tunnels between you can get to work on organizing and cataloging everything in here.”

To call this place a mess would be kind. Layers of junk and books haphazardly thrown into a cave that you honestly can’t tell the size of. There’s only room to get maybe five feet through the entrance before the wall of stuff is piled nearly as high as the ceiling. And on top of everything is a thick layer of dust and dirt. This might take your lifetime to sort through.

You turn your glance back to Sir Crocodile and realize he’s been carefully watching you this whole time, sharp gaze dragging over your body. Suddenly it’s ten degrees hotter in the tunnel and you force your eyes back to the ground. Did he purposefully make his human form attractive or was that just the default? And why did you even find the creature that could kill you without a second thought attractive. Stupid stupid base instincts.

“I suggest you clean the tunnels first so you learn your way. Then the entrance, food storage, and lastly here. You clean your room on your own time. I expect you to work at least eight hours a day- keep track with this.” That golden clawed hand extends out and you see a pocket watch settled in his palm. You reach out and take it, fingertips gliding over the cold metal of his hand.

“Thank you sir.” Pressing the small button on the top you find out what time it is- just before noon.

“Do your best not to make too much noise. If there is something so completely wrong you cannot deal with yourself just yell. I will hear. Just like I will hear if you try to leave, understood?”

“Yes.” Silence hangs awkwardly in the air and you look upward for a second to see him glaring down at you.

“Yes sir.” You correct, and his face returns to neutral.

“Alright, don’t make yourself too comfortable. I’ll check back soon.” And with that he turns and walks away, down a tunnel that you don’t have permission to tread into.

You let out a long breath, taking in all of the information he’s just given you. Using your map you (slowly) make your way back up through the tunnels to where you started. As you passed by the few spaces you were allowed in you couldn’t help but think about how much better this whole situation was than you expected.

Sure, scrubbing rock for weeks wouldn’t be fun but you expected much worse like cleaning his scales or butchering meals. You even had a space of your own that rivaled your room back home. Of course there’s no sunlight and you have the hanging threat of being eaten alive but you can’t help but feel a weird sense of relief. It’s not like you have anyone that you miss or responsibilities that you’ve left behind. This was just the newest (and incredibly bizarre) chapter in your life.

Well.

Time to get cleaning.

It takes you two weeks to clean the entrance, food storage, and the tunnels connecting them all. You worked more than your mandatory hours- what else were you going to do anyways, stare at stone walls? The work wasn’t fun by any means, dragging water to and from the fountain in the entrance cave was a serious workout, but there was something fulfilling once you were completely done with a space.

The entrance was the easiest given the water source was right there. You had taken one of the worse looking rugs and ripped it up to use as you cloths figuring you shouldn’t pester Sir Crocodile for cleaning supplies when you could figure out something on your own. Once everything had been as cleared of sand and dust as it could get you got to organize out the room- something actually a little fun.

You matched together furniture and set it up perfectly for gatherings. Not like there was actually ever going to be a gathering but at least your arrangement will never be messed up. You made sure to leave ample room for a dragon sized being to make it from the far tunnel to the exit- he probably leaves at some point.

The food storage wasn’t that bad either. You worked your way through it in between cleaning the entry cave and the tunnels, mostly when it was time to eat. There was a huge variety of food, most expensive and long lasting. It made sense, given that it was meant for Sir Crocodile and that no one would offer him anything less than their best for fear of being eaten. You were eating better than you had been in a while.

Throwing yourself into the work you could nearly forget why you were here in the first place. You hadn’t seen Sir Crocodile since he gave you that initial tour- you hadn’t even heard or felt movement deeper in the tunnels. Despite having no signs of him you could still feel his presence somehow. Every time you turned around you expected to see him standing there, judging you. But he never was. Maybe it was a sign you were doing a good enough job but you had no confidence in that.

No matter if your job was up to the correct standards or not you were onto your final task- cleaning and organizing the overstock. Far away the most daunting task. You have your bucket and cloths but honestly you have no idea where to start.

“From the top.” That deep voice comes from right behind you and the yelp that leaves you as you jump is mortifying.

You whip around and see Sir Crocodile in his humanoid form, clearly pleased with the reaction he got from you. He’s got a nasty grin, showing that his teeth are just as sharp as they are in his draconic form.

“I’m sorry sir?” You do your best to return your heart rate to its normal rhythm as you straighten yourself out.

“You were trying to figure out how to start here. From the top. Taking anything from the base even if it seems loose might cause the whole pile to collapse and crush you to death.” There’s a few terrifying seconds where you think he can read your mind but you shove that away- it was probably incredibly obvious how lost you were.

“Thank you sir.” It was probably simple advice but getting a clear starting point was relieving.

“Of course, I couldn’t have my new pet getting killed after they’ve done some decent work.”

Your brain struggles to process that statement, a weird mix of emotions swirling in your stomach at his words. You shove it all down for now- you can parse through that later.

“I’m glad my work is up to your standards sir. Was there something you needed?” Your hands grip your water bucket tight as his gaze bores into you.

“I’m just making sure that you are still aware of my presence. For a human though, you do seem pretty competent. You haven’t even tried to run away once.” He steps closer to you, invading your space. “Why is that?”

“I-“ You suck in a breath as you try and fight the urge to cower. “I have nothing to go back to.”

His pupils are narrow slits as they rake over your face for a few painfully silent moments. He then straightens up, barely exiting your personal space. “Interesting.”

He turns and slowly walks away, a clawed hand waving in the air. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

You finally exhale when he leaves the space, able to relax just a bit. Shoving down all your thoughts for now you focus on cleaning in a way that doesn’t destabilize the pile and crush you. It works for a while as a distraction but you slowly lose your focus and need to stop for the day.

It wasn’t until you were tucked in bed that you allowed your emotions to surface.

“I couldn’t have my new pet getting killed after they’ve done some decent work.”

It should disgust you to be called a pet. It should be dehumanizing and humiliating to have someone else look at you and see you as something so small, something they own. You search and hope that’s what’s churning deep in your stomach.

It’s not.

A shameful realization washes over you as the words repeat in your head, that low, terrifying voice somehow praising you while putting you down. You weren’t disgusted.

Heat pools in the pit of your body, a sick reaction you couldn’t will away.

You loved when he called you his pet.

You were fucked.

For the next few weeks your work slowed considerably. Not because you were less motivated- but because the overstock room had so many wonderful things. Sure there was a fair share of junk- broken porcelain dishes, rotting wooden statues, things that are so beaten you can’t even hope to identify. But the things that aren’t junk are fascinating.

You find trinkets and toys that spin and dance in ways you can’t figure out. Jewelry that despite being dusty, rusted, or dented was still gorgeous. Hand woven blankets and rugs that you could see the time and energy put in despite the holes and fraying edges. And then there were the books.

Most were non-fiction and on topics you could have only ever hoped to have learned about. From science to history to mathematics and everything in between every single page was fascinating. Every day you collected all the new books you would find and saved them for yourself later.

You’ve made yourself a reading corner in that cavern- cast off rugs and blankets folded and placed over the stone so you can sit somewhat comfortably. You fall back to only working your exact hours so you can spend the rest of your time reading. Pages old and new fill your head and you can only wonder that if these were the books dismissed by the sand dragon- what books lay in his true hoard?

“And what are you doing?” How someone so large continues to sneak up on you you’ll never understand.

You jump up, fear gripping your chest as he catches you decidedly not working. His face is decidedly unamused and you think that maybe you’ve really fucked up.

“I-“ For a second you debate lying, debate saying that you were thumbing through the pages to properly organize the book. But you aren’t the best liar- certainly not in the face of someone so terrifying. “I’m spending my off time reading through some of your books sir. I figured asking if I could read through some of your spare books was a question I shouldn’t have bothered you with.”

“Smart move pet.” Your body relaxes slightly, having made the right move. “What are you reading?”

That question catches you off guard, not expecting him to care. “Oh, this is a book on astronomy.”

“And is that interesting to you?” You can’t tell if it’s just his natural tone that makes it sound almost like an accusation or if he’s judging you.

“It’s something I never had the chance to learn about before so I decided to take the opportunity to educate myself.”

Crocodile nods, seemingly pleased with your answer. “A good use of your spare time. Just don’t get carried away.”

“Yes, of course sir.”

And like that he’s gone again. The conversation lingers in your mind until the next day when you come back to the cavern to see a plush chair situated where your rugs had been set up.

You can’t stop yourself from flushing as you look over your gift. You try not to let your thoughts and emotions get away from you, there was probably a banal reason he put a chair in here for you. I mean, sitting on the floor was probably bad for your back and if it was bad for your back then your work could be impacted.

It’s that and not that he might care about you.

No matter what, reading is a lot nicer when you’re not sitting on a stone floor.

[xhoneygirlxx]

One Of The Girls

Modern King!Steve x Fem Reader

summary: Steve only hits you up when it’s convenient for him and you’ll always answer because it feels nice to be what he wants, even if it’s just for a night.

warnings: fboy!Steve, modern au! circa 2018. reader and Steve are both in their early 20's. reader is given the nickname 'trouble'. ooc steve, he's a big meanie and pretty much a douche bag. angst. Minors DNI smut: unprotected p in v (wrap it up kiddos), fingering, oral receiving (m), daddy kink, swearing, slight dom/sub, cream pie, insinuations to reader being on birth control, possessive steve, toxic steve! hair pulling. Steve's job is mentioned briefly, I like to think that this version of him works for his dad landscaping, so that's what i put lmao. this is named after The Weeknd's song from the idol and I also use his song 'Try Me' in this, awe well. if i miss anything please let me know! also bad writing and grammar mistakes, not proofread.

a/n: hi my loves! i was inspired to write something based off of this blurb. again, smut is so not my strong suit so i beg that you be nice to me :) i also want to mention that when i was looking for pics for this fic, i couldn't find one picture that gave me fboy vibes bc joe keery is simply bf coded lmao. thank you all for interacting with my posts and just being so lovely to me! i appreciate you all and i hope you enjoy this <3

divider by: @saradika

You knew from the moment you met Steve Harrington it would be trouble, that he'd have you locked down for as long as he wanted. The pretty boy with the nice smile, who said all the right things and made all the right moves. You were a fool from the get go and he knew, he knew it the moment you let him hit that you were his.

Everyone knew about 'king Steve', the boy with the puppy dog eyes but a closet filled with so many skeletons that the door refused to shut. From what you heard he wasn't a relationship kind of guy, that he collected bodies like he was paid for it, and then went on his merry way no matter what carnage he left behind.

He was bad news and you swore you would stay away, not get swept up in the honey like vortex of his eyes, but when he said your name it sounded so right and who were you to refuse someone as tempting as him.

The name satan isn't far off for him, both so beautiful and angelic but rotten to the core, so evil that you often wonder if they were ever created with a soul.

As much as you wanted to let him go, block him out of your life completely, you simply couldn't. All your friends thought you were stupid for playing such a dangerous game but they didn't know him like you did. They didn't know how he actually took care of you when he was done abusing your poor hole, how he'd buy you little gifts simply because it reminded him of you, and they certainly didn't know the boy who would make you laugh so hard your ribs bruised.

At least that's what you tell yourself, how you sugar coat the simple fact that Steve Harrington treats you like trash because let's face it, he does. For every thing he does 'right' he does a million other things wrong. He goes weeks without texting you and the only time he does is when he's desperate. He only takes you to secluded spots just so he can get a nut. And most importantly, he tells you everything you want to hear so that you stay.

You were connected to Steve by a string, no matter how far you pulled away he would pull you right back in. If you were a masochist then he was a sadist and you would take whatever torture he gave you with the biggest smile on your face because at the end of the day you were his and only his.

It's a Friday night and while you'd usually be out with friends, you opted to stay in tonight, too tired from the work week to physically get out of bed.

Under the warmth of your comforter, you scroll through Instagram blindly liking different post on your timeline. The white numbers in the corner of your screen read a little bit past midnight and as badly as your eyes wanted to shut, your brain simply couldn't resist the glow of your screen.

A notification pops up at the top of your screen and your ready to fling it away to dismiss it when your heart rate picks up at the name.

IMessage:

Harrington 🙄

Your finger moves faster than the speed of lightning, hitting on the bubble to open the messaging app.

Harrington 🙄: wyd?

It's a simple enough message but you sit and ponder how to respond. You don't want to come off too desperate but you also don't want to wait too long to respond knowing he has other options lined up. Without overthinking too much more, you move your thumbs across the keyboard and sending your message.

Harrington 🙄: wyd?

You: nm, why?

Waiting with bated breath, you watch the text bubble pop up to notify he's typing.

Harrington 🙄: wya? lemme scoop you

Bingo.

You: im at home. how long do i have before you get here?

Harrington 🙄: bet. gimme 15 mins.

Your heart shouldn't be beating as fast as it is and you shouldn't be hopping around with joy like Snow White when she's singing to the birds, but like always Steve says jump and you say how high.

It should make you sick how he hasn't texted you in two weeks, only now asking to come get you so he can fuck. It should make you sick when you put on your brand new panties, that you may or may not have bought for just him. It should make you sick when you spritz yourself in his favorite perfume, growing flustered at the memory of him complimenting you for it.

All of it should make you sick to your stomach but that's not a possibility when he chose you. He chose you to keep going back to, he chose you to continue seeing and not one and done your ass. A twisted part of your brain is so convinced that he has some sort of feelings for you, the way you do for him. It's like a kaleidoscope, no matter how you twist or turn it, the colors are always so beautiful.

And if everyone wanted to tell you any different, all you had to do was show them the sparkling diamond necklace that hung from your chest. A thoughtful gift from the man they all claimed didn't have any love in his heart, even though you and everyone else knew it was a way to show his claim on you.

The familiar sound of Steve's blacked out Jeep pulling in your drive way makes your heart jump with excitement. Wasting no time, you dash down the drive, not wanting to keep him waiting any longer.

Pulling the door open you're met with the all too familiar scent of him, Ralph Lauren Ultra Blue swirling in your nose and going straight to your head.

He looks so good in his grey joggers, hugging his thick thighs that he knows drive you crazy. The white Hanes tee he wears is crisp, like he ironed it before putting it on. The sleeves wrap about his toned chest oh so perfectly causing some of his wild chest hair to poke out. To add the icing on the cake he's wearing that gold chain, that damn gold chain you loved looking at when he had you on your back.

"Hey trouble." White teeth flash in the darkness of the car, like the moon that's hung in the sky.

"Hi Stevie," You internally cringe at how needy it sounds, "how was work?" He gives you a small chortle at your question, still smiling that damn smile that could cure deceases.

"It was fine, had to cut the college's lawns. Ya know, the fun stuff." You nod your head at his answer, too nervous to even give a spoken response.

"Anyway, I thought we could take a ride down to lover's." It's said like it wasn't common knowledge already. Giving him a small okay, he leans over and places a quick peck on your lips, before putting the car into drive.

The ride to lover's lake from your house was a short seven minute drive but for some reason it felt like the roads were getting longer and longer. You want to jump out of the car, bile rising in your throat knowing how this is going to end. The heartbreak, the sadness you were gonna feel the minute he pulls out was already hitting you and it hasn't even happened yet.

His radio plays at a louder volume, The Weeknd's 'Try Me' bumping through the speakers.

You're the best I ever had

Baby girl, remind me, mind me

Let me now if it's on

And you know where to find me, find me

Havin thoughts you never had, yeah

You want to roll your eyes at the words but then again maybe he put this on because this is how he felt about you. The logical part of your brain tells you to get real but when you feel the fuzziness in your cheeks, your logic is all but ignored.

Maybe this time will be different, you think.

When he pulls onto the dirt path, he pulls the car under the big oak tree he always does. You wonder if this is where he brings all of his hookups but decide to push that though in the back of your head, not wanting to ruin the night.

"I missed you, trouble." Steve leans his back on the driver side door, watching you with those eyes you feel for all those months ago.

"And I bet you say that to all your little girlfriends." You jest back, making him roll his eyes dramatically.

"You and I both know that's not true." The low husky tone in his voice makes the fact he didn't deny the accusation of having other girls around, go down that much sweeter.

"You're all talk Harrington," You say seductively, leaning over the center console, "Why don't you show me how much you missed me?"

Steve's smile is wicked, pulling the keys out of the ignition, pointing you to get into the back. When you're settled in, he maneuvers ungracefully over the center console, making both of you laugh.

Sitting his body in the middle seat, you swing your leg over his lap, immediately locking your lips with his. Steve's not as rough as he usually is, taking his time like he's trying to memorize the way your mouth felt and tasted.

When you try to speed it up, he wraps his hand in your hair, yanking you off of him.

"Slow and steady, baby. We have all the time in the world." With your hair wrapped around his fist and his hard cock digging into your thigh, his voice is all but calm and sweet.

Moving back in to meet his lips, you match his energy. Rolling your hips slowly, you relish in the way he groans into your mouth. When you drag your hips over his again, you shudder with the way his hard on catches on your throbbing clit. Wetness starts to fill your panties, tummy tightening with want.

Steve's hands move to your hips, guiding your movement. Spit soaked lips leave yours, moving along your jaw down to your neck. Leaning your head up to the roof of the car, he takes that as invitation to massacre the tender skin.

He sucks hard, right where your vein pumps frantically with lust, leaving another mark for you to carry around. One more tattoo right on your heart that beats for him.

Pulling away, a thick finger grabs onto the chain that hides under the collar of your sweatshirt. The small diamond glittering softly in the darkness of the night.

"Look at my baby, wearing her present so proudly. Isn't that right?" It's cocky and it should make you shiver with an ick but it doesn't. It only fuels your delusions.

You hum in response, too dumb off of his kiss to even open your mouth.

"Nuh uh, I asked you a question." Moving your sight down to him, he's already looking up at you. His lips are shining, cheeks puffed from the smile that glitters up at you.

"Yes, daddy." A deep growl comes from the back of his throat, a feral look painting over him.

You pretty much get whiplash from how fast he rips off your sweatshirt, revealing the pretty lace bra in the color he adores so much on you. His lips suck harshly on the skin of your chest, leaving reminds of him for only you to see.

"Can I suck you off, daddy?" It's breathy and so desperate leaving your mouth, all that talk about not wanting to look needy right out the window.

When his head moves away from the valley of your cupped breasts, he looks like a kid on Christmas. Eyes twinkling with excitement, like he's been waiting for all year round to hear those words.

"Don't need to beg me now, trouble. It's all yours." The smirk that paints Steve's lips is devilish and if you were in the right headspace you'd scoff at his condescending tone. But right now he was giving you exactly what you wanted and you weren't about to complain.

Clambering off of his lap, you move into the seat next to him, kneeling down. You could double as a dog who waits patiently for their owner to drop their treat, tail wagging and heavily panting.

Steve lifts his hips pushing down his joggers and underwear in one go, his heavy cock jumping up in excitement, bouncing off of his stomach.

The saliva in your mouth pools, almost escaping through your slightly parted lips. Your metaphorical dog bone waiting in front of you but you can't have it until he tells you to, so you wait for him to get get comfy again.

Looking over at you, he raises an eyebrow as if to say 'well?', and that's all you need to hear to move forward, making sure to arch your back when you do.

You decide to tease him a bit, kitten licking the head before sliding your tongue up the prominent vein that sat on the underside. The feeling of him shuttering spurs you one even more, bringing a hand up to his heavy ball sack and gently running a finger over it. You can feel your panties being drenched even more with wetness, just from the thought of how he tastes.

As weird as it might sound, you loved Steve's dick. It was a good seven inches, with the slightest curve that made him hit that special spot every time. He was thick too, so thick you that he always needed to prep you with his three of his fingers before hand.

Bringing your head back to the tip, you dripple spit onto it, smearing it with the precum that's already beaded out. Ever so slowly, you take your hand and begin you jerk him at the base of it. Looking up at him, you can see him eyes closed, brows furrowed together, as his chest moves rapidly up and down.

Deciding that you can't wait any further, you put him in your mouth and start bobbing up and down. Not even halfway down his shaft and you begin to gag around him. Using your hand to take whatever your mouth can't, you move faster. The raunchy sounds of you slurping him up fill the small space of the car.

When Steve jolts his hips forward you can't help but choke, throat closing around him, making him moan deeply.

"I know but you can take it, right?" You do your best to nod your head with him in your mouth. You look up at him with glassy eyes, drool coming out both sides of your mouth, and he chuckles at you.

"So fuckin' pretty." Steve says breathlessly and you beam at the praise, going back to taking him further in your mouth.

You push through the want to gag, putting more and more of him in your mouth. You want to prove something to him, prove that no one else can make him feel like this and it seems to be working when he whines so loud it rings in your ears.

Pulling your hand off of the base, you cup his balls in your hand, messaging the sack gently in your hair. The heavy weight of his hand lands on the top of your head, once again yanking you by the hair.

You whine at the loss of his heavy cock in his mouth, pouting childishly at him when your at eye level with him again. He's panting hard, cheeks fleshed pink, and his hair messy from him running his hand through it.

"It was so good, honey," he breathes, "but I really wanna finish inside of you."

The sentence makes your belly burn even harder than before. Trying to move around in the cramped backseat is challenging, both of you pausing to laugh when your pants get caught on your foot awkwardly.

Once your leggings and panties are discarded somewhere on the floor, Steve takes his time admiring you. His gaze burns you with every movement of his eyes. Here you are, clumsily sprawled out for him in the backseat of his beloved Jeep.

Bringing a hand to your thigh, he rubs it up and down the skin, causing the skin to raise in goosebumps every time his finger would catch on the lip of your heat.

You whimper at him, raising your hips trying to meet his touch where you need him most. Tisking down at you, he shakes his head.

"What's the magic word?" He teases and you pout even harder.

"Please, Stevie? Need you." You say wetly, the burn of tears coming back in your eyes. Steve leans over you, so close that if you brought your head up just an inch, your noses would touch.

"The right answer was, 'Steve is the coolest', but I'll let it slide since you sound so cute." He whispers to you, placing a quick kiss to the tip of your nose.

The tip of his finger runs along your slit and you mewl at the feeling.

"Do you always get this wet, trouble? Or is this just for him." The smile pulled on is one like the joker. Sick and twisted and yet all you see is an angel from above.

"S'for you. S'always for you, daddy." It comes out like a slur, so drunk off of one little touch.

"That's my girl." It's more like a whisper when it comes out of his mouth.

His finger diving into the sticky mess that's been made in between your legs. Swirling his finger around your hole, spreading the wetness up to your bundle of nerves, moving in slow figure eights around it.

Steve hasn't even put a finger inside you yet and the lewd squelching of your pussy can probably be heard for miles. The feeling of him putting more pressure on your clit makes you jolt with pleasure. When the first finger breaches your hole, your eyes close in euphoria.

Even with just one of his fingers inside of you, it feels way better than anything else. The thickness of it stretching you further than two of yours could.

Still using his thumb to circle your clit, he pushes another finger in. Starting off slow, he pumps both into you, curling them up in a 'come hither' motion.

You're high off of him, off of the way his hands feel, and how good he's making you feel. All of that waiting and wondering when he'd reach out to you paying off in this very moment.

"You can take another one, right? You gonna take three of daddy's fingers like the good girl you are?" His voice is intoxicating and you drink it right up.

You nod your head, babbling 'please daddy' and 'more, more, more". He's eating it right up, the way he's got you dumb and he hasn't even fucked you yet.

Without another word, another thick finger joins the other two. This time he decides to go faster, hitting that spot you struggle to reach on your own. With his thumb still swirling around and now three fingers deep, you can feel the tightness in your stomach building.

You can feel your slick dripping down your ass onto the leather seat beneath you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, legs pulling up from where he's sat between them, toes curling in a death grip.

"I'm gonna, fuck, I'm cumming," The sentence gets cut off with the air that's trapped in your throat.

His movements don't stop, guiding you through your orgasm. When the waves of your orgasm washes over you, your legs relax like they're filled with jelly, slobber running down the side of your face, and your chest moving unsteady as you try to catch your breath.

You hiss when he removes his hand from you, mourning the loss of feeling full. Moving his fingers to his lips, he sucks your juices off of them one at a time, releasing them with a pop when he's done.

Using his other hand, he brushes some of the hair that's sticking to your face with sweat behind your ear. Placing delicate kisses to your cheeks and forehead, he glances down at you. The harsh black that once enveloped his irises are now softened with a look that you have yet to decipher.

"You did such a good job for me, sweetheart." He coos at you, running his thumb along your jaw. "You okay? Need a break?"

"No, I'm okay Stevie." Your smile is nothing but pure happiness. Blame it on the after glow of your orgasm all you want, but the happiness is purely due to his attentiveness to you.

Placing one more kiss to your deprived lips, he moves his attention to his aching cock. Spitting into the palm of his hand, he jerks himself a few times before lining himself up to your entrance.

Pushing in gently, his tip breaches your hole and all the air is punched out of your lungs. Even with his prepping, you never seem ready for the real thing.

Going inch by inch, stopping every so often for you to catch your breath, he finally pushes all the way in. After waiting for the okay, he doesn't hesitate to pound into you.

You swear you can feel him in your stomach, reworking each and everyone of your organs, but you could careless when it feels this good. You want this feeling forever, the feeling of his weight on top of you, him spreading you out so well.

The gold chain that hangs from his freckled neck dangles in front of you, hypnotizing you with the way it moves back and forth. With all the strength you have, you watch him trying to remember how he looks when he's inside of you so when he ultimately ghosts you, you can close you eyes and imagine it.

Steve looks so beautiful like this, eyes closed tightly, browns pulling together, pink puffy lip tucked behind his straight teeth. You want to take a picture, hang it in a museum for all of the world to see, but this is for only you to see. Your own little memento for you to keep to yourself.

"Fuck you're so wet, hmph, and warm. Jesus" Steve grits out, bringing you back to reality.

Skin slapping off of skin echoes out, loud moans and groans making a lovely soundtrack just for you two.

"Shit, right there!" You cry out when his cock hits just perfectly on your cervix.

"Bullseye," He whispers to himself before ramming into you even harder than before.

Your mouth curls into an O shape, no words or sounds coming out. The feeling of your finger nails raking down his back backs him grunt loudly.

"You and this pussy are mine. Tell me you're mine." He demands but you can't do it, too overwhelmed with the way your stomach has started to tighten.

Because you don't answer right away, he snakes his hand down to your abused clit, circling it again causing you to jolt from overstimulation.

"Don't make me tell you again, trouble." He spits out.

"I'm yours Steve. S'yours." You shout, your orgasms approaching faster and faster.

"S'always gonna be mine, right? No one else?" He question and it sends your head reeling.

"Always yours, always fuck, yours." You're babbling now, tippy toeing on the brink of your release.

"Come on baby, cum for daddy. Cum on my cock." He pants, going faster and faster as he does.

Without argument, you're hurdled over the the edge, gushing and pulsing around Steve. He continues to fuck into you, chasing his own high now.

"Cum in me, daddy. Wanna feel it so bad." You coax, wanting to feel the warmth of his seed filling you up.

"I love how you feel, baby. You got, motherfuck, no idea." His strokes are starting to lose rhythm, sloppily moving as he continues.

"I love this pussy s'much. Fuckin' love yo-" Before he can finish his statement, he cums with a guttural moan.

Your mind goes blank, eyes snapping open with confusion. Was he about to say he loved you? Is that what he was going to say? Every single question runs through your mind while the boy in question is collapsed on top of you, breath choppy and erratic as he comes down.

After what feels like the world's longest minute, he removes himself off of you, pulling his dick out from your cunt. You whimper at the feeling, missing him even more than before.

Wordlessly, Steve pulls open the center consul and takes out a couple of napkins. Returning his attention to you, he wipes down the mess of you and his release off of you, causing you to shudder. He repeats 'sorry' over and over again as he does.

After that, he uses what's let to clean himself off before getting redressed. You move from your position on your back, sitting upright to ungracefully put your clothes back on. In the darkness of his car, you can't find the panties you were once wearing, deciding to forget about them and pull your leggings back on.

The blissful after glow that was once there is now demolished, a big elephant taking up most of the space now. When he moves back to the driver seat, you follow right behind him, planting yourself in the passenger.

Steve doesn't turn the car on just set, he just sits looking straight ahead through the clouded windshield to the darkness of the woods that sit in front of you. You want to say something, break up the awkwardness that sits between you two but you don't know what to even say.

It smells like sweat and sex, every window is fogged up with both of your hot breath, and the only sound that can be heard is the breaking of your heart.

You know he won't be back in two weeks, you know that his texts will stop rolling in, and that he'll eventually find someone to fill your spot. The bloodshed that's now left, of whatever this was, now fills the backseat of his car. A crime scene that will haunt him every time he looks in the rearview mirror, a murder by his own hands.

This cat and mouse game isn't fun anymore for Steve, not when he's lost at his own game. You're the cause of his demise, the girl that's broken through all his barriers.

Unbeknownst to you, you're all that Steve thinks about. Every morning, noon, and night, it's you that is on his mind. The months of seeing you, feeling you, the taste of you, were killing him softly. Steve didn't buy gifts for other girls, yeah he fucked around, but he never kept one around the way he did with you and he surely didn’t fuck them raw the way he does with you.

Steve was falling for you, opening himself up in such a vulnerable way that it scared him. He stopped the late night drive going nowhere, switching it to strictly going to lover's lake. The talks that he had with you, all the times you made each other laugh, were now replaced with short answers. Meeting up with you almost all the time now became once every couple of weeks.

You were the one thing, the one person Steve wanted and needed in his life but he couldn't give into it. He was a bad person, an asshole who turned good people into shells of themselves, and out of everyone he couldn't ruin you. He wouldn't ruin you.

Putting the keys into the ignition, he turns the car on, headlights illuminating the trees around you. Cracking the windows, he lets the cool air sweep the scent of you out of his car. Putting the car in drive, he presses down on the gas as hard as he can, taking off of in a flash.

The car ride home is silent, only the hum of his music can be heard with the whooshing of the wind. Anxiety fills your body, picking and pulling the skin around your nails with your teeth.

The loud ding of his phone rings out, a notification popping up on the Apple radio screen. Your heart cracking when you see it.

IMessage:

Jess💦: Still coming over?

Taking his phone out of the cupholder, his eyes are still trained on the road. As he pulls up to the red light, he types out something quickly and then puts it back down.

Another ding is heard and another notification pulls up on the larger screen.

IMessage:

Jess💦: See you soon daddy

Tears fall quietly from your eyes, your heart now completely shattered in the front seat of his car. You should've know, you did know and you still did it. You let your naïve heart believe that maybe you could change him, and you ended up looking like the idiot everyone said you were.

You can't even be mad because they were right, you were a goddamn idiot to think Steve Harrington loved you, let alone liked you enough to change.

More tears fall onto your cheeks, the burning feeling of a choked sob sits in the back of your throat. It feels like everything that could've went wrong, did just that.

The cold nip of the night air can't compete with the way your veins have frozen over and your heart slowly turning into a lump of coal. When he pulls in front of your house, he puts it in park and looks over at you.

“So,” he hesitates, “do you need money for a plan b?”

Your mouth hangs low in shock and he’s looking at you cluelessly. Scoffing at him you pull the handle to the door open.

“Don’t worry Harrington, I’m on birth control.” Putting a foot onto the ground, you got to get out, pausing turning your head back to him.

“Not like the world needs another you in it.”

Getting out of the car, you slam the door so hard you're surprised the glass doesn't shatter.

This was the end of whatever you and Steve were, him being the one to cut that pesky string that kept you close to him. Steve Harrington has changed you, a hateful person now replacing the sweet girl he loved so much.

The girl that Steve Harrington loves was now dead and Steve Harrington was now dead to you.

Thank you all for reading. The ending is rushed but we won't speak on that lmao. Love you all <3

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[charlottecutepie]

about me | masterlist

hi my name is Liz, you can call me Lizzy/Beth, she/her, infp 4w5. I’m over 18 and this blog contains sexual themes, so if you’re minor don’t interact

this blog contains smut, angst, fluff, gore, violence and hurt/comfort fics. i mostly write for fnaf, although i love other fandoms too

rules: no homophobia, transphobia, racism or anything like that, otherwise you’ll be blocked. let’s be nice to each other. dont copy and translate my works and this master list too, don’t post them on any other sites, I put a lot of effort into them so it’s disrespectful. im open to blurbs and i write for fem reader. also comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

some things I adore: night sky, writing, drawing, dancing, cinematography, dilfs, history, astrology and astronomy, spirituality, forests, unicorns, summer, chocolate, purple and blue colours, ballet, lambs, lavender, rain and rainbow, dark red lipstick, memes, poetry, deers, bubble baths, herbal tea, dogs, meadows

artists that inspire me a lot: melanie martinez, lana del rey, the neighbourhood, pastel ghost, grimes, tame impala, tv girl, marina, cults, arctic monkeys, crystal castles, cigarettes after sex, mitski, princess chelsea, mars argo, billie eilish, sidewalks and skeletons, allie x

aesthetic I love: coquette (all sort of), vintage americana, dreamcore, cottagecore, fairycore, balletcore, old money

MASTERLIST

⊹ ‧₊˚ 🐇 WILLIAM AFTON / STEVE RAGLAN

nsfw alphabet | deal | his princess | teacher’s pet | picnic date | strawberry jam | Valentine’s Day blurb | married!William headcanons

William Afton audio | audio 2 | audio 3 | audio 4 | audio 5 | audio 6 | audio 7 | audio 8 | audio 9

🎸⋆⭒˚.⋆ MICHAEL AFTON

his least favourite colour | bully | nsfw alphabet

☥ Bunny meat (William Afton x fem!reader x Michael Afton) ☥

1 chapter | 2 chapter | 3 chapter | 4 chapter | 5 chapter

🎞˚ :♡· ˚₊˚ HENRY EMILY

Henry Emily audio

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮ MIKE SCHMIDT

nothing yet. . .

[rxqueenotd]

The Verdict- Chapter Four

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

Warnings: mentions of parental death, mentions of suicide, sexual themes.

A/N: happy Saturday! I have nothing to say except thank you to everyone who reached out with praise for this fic and urged me to continue. Big shout out to @luxlisbons who is constantly feeding me inspiration and listening to my neurotic ass. If you want to be added to my taglist, just let me know.

The arrangement that had begun as a matter of convenience had quickly transformed the dynamic between Leah and Vincent. Sharing Vincent's apartment brought them into a proximity that neither had anticipated, a closeness that underscored their days with an undercurrent of unspoken tension and unacknowledged attraction.

The mornings found them navigating the small kitchen together, a dance of shared spaces and quiet exchanges over coffee. These moments, charged with a palpable tension, were filled with lingering glances and the brush of fingers that neither could completely dismiss as accidental. The air between them was thick with something more than just the steam from the kettle—a budding desire that neither had yet dared to voice.

The first week bled into the second with ease as Leah and Vincent became acclimated as roommates. Leah, in the constant pursuit of finding a new temporary home, found herself discouraged each time she showed Vincent a listing.

“Bad neighborhood,” he would say, or “I don’t think that place suits you.”

Leah eventually gave up, falling asleep on the couch most nights when Vincent decided to work late in a quiet attempt to give him back his bedroom. Without failure, though, she would wake with Vincent asleep across from her on the chaise lounge. A testament to both their stubbornness.

As they delved deeper into the case, their evenings often stretched into late nights, with legal documents and books scattered across the living room table. The professional masks they wore during the day gradually slipped away in the privacy of their apartment, giving rise to laughter, shared stories, and the occasional bottle of wine that led their conversations from work to personal revelations.

"I've noticed the way you look at Daniel sometimes," Vincent broached the topic cautiously. "Do you have kids I don't know about?"

Leah shook her head, chuckling. "No, I just empathize with him. My mom... she committed suicide when I was a teenager. It's hard not to see his pain and not relate it back to my own."

Vincent nodded, his expression somber. "I'm sorry."

Leah waved off his apology with a smile. "Don't be sorry. I hate talking about it. I'm sorry I even brought it up."

Vincent shook his head. "It's okay. I appreciate glimpses into your world."

"What about you?" Leah inquired. "Any kids? Deceased parents? Any skeletons you want to share?"

"No kids that I know of. My mother is a publisher and very much alive. At least she was an hour ago," Vincent quipped.

"So that's who you were talking to. Sounded intense," Leah teased, referring to Vincent's animated phone call earlier.

Vincent chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Do you suddenly speak French?"

Leah shook her head, grinning. "Her tone was very motherly. She's quite loud."

"She can be nosy, but I always answer her calls. She keeps her distance," Vincent explained, blinking and clearing his throat.

"And your dad?" Leah probed. "Is he as nosy as your mom?"

"I wouldn't know," Vincent shrugged, meeting her gaze. "I've never met him."

Leah, suddenly embarrassed, felt the smallness and intimacy of the space they shared, shook her head, a tumble of apologies fell from her lips.

“It’s fine. Really.” Vincent reassured her, his hand reached out to pat her hand.

“Really put my foot in my mouth with that one.” She admitted with a nervous laugh.

“Is your dad alive?” Vincent asked, opening up the space to dive deeper.

“Unfortunately so,” Leah sighed, “at least he was the last time I checked.”

Leah grabbed her glass of wine sitting between the heap of legal papers on the coffee table, sipping generously from it.

“Long story.” Leah sighed and looked away from Vincent.

“I have time.” He said with a gentle smile.

_________________________________________

“Is it still awkward?” Kate's voice echoed from the phone resting on the kitchen table as Leah paced around the empty kitchen.

“No,” Leah admitted, “I mean, there have been a few incidents, but overall, it's not awkward.”

“Ooooh,” Kate quipped, “tell me more.”

Leah, her cheeks growing warmer with each passing moment as the memory replayed in her mind, sighed, “He was supposed to be out late for dinner with mom, so I decided to relax in the tub. The apartment was eerily quiet, and he just walked right into the bathroom while I was sprawled out like a stranded orca in the tub. We both just stared at each other, frozen in place, until he slammed the door and bolted. I wanted to waterboard myself!”

Kate burst into laughter as Leah covered her eyes.

“He kept apologizing profusely, and I begged him to pretend it never happened!” Leah rubbed her face and let out a sigh.

“There was also the time I peeled off my sweatshirt in the middle of the night and dozed off with a flimsy tank top on. I'm sure he got an eyeful then, but he was respectful about it. Unlike the time I woke up to find him in the kitchen, in his briefs, frying eggs, and it was staring at me, and I was staring at it. I had to step outside onto the balcony and pretend to admire the weather while I regained control.”

Kate, once again amused, cackled from her end of the call.

“Jesus Christ, Leah,” she exclaimed, “just fuck him already!”

Leah huffed and shook her head, “I highly doubt that will happen, Kate.”

“Nice people fuck every day, Leah,” Kate persisted.

“Maybe so, but not in this house,” Leah remained resolute. “Besides, he's kind. He went out and bought some apples when I mentioned that I like to snack on them in the middle of the night. I woke up one morning, and there was a bowl of them on the kitchen table.”

“You like him,” Kate remarked, her smile evident in her voice.

“As a roommate, yes,” Leah replied.

“I can picture you standing there, nervously biting your cuticles, pacing back and forth. You must be blushing like a dozen different shades of pink,” Kate teased, sensing Leah's inner turmoil.

“I told him about my mom last night,” Leah confessed softly, “and my dad and Charlotte.”

“Ah, yes, daddy and step-mother dearest,” Kate joked, “Eddie and Betty Machete. That's quite a load of baggage to unload on him.”

Leah shrugged, “He asked, and I told him. I'm pretty sure Charlotte isn't the first person to fuck and marry her best friend's husband. Ex-husband? It's still unsettling to me after all these years.”

“Did he share any juicy details with you?” Kate inquired.

“His mom had a fling in Ireland in the eighties and came back with him as a souvenir. He's never met his father,” Leah revealed.

“See, you've trauma bonded. Just make a move on him already!” Kate laughed.

“You're crazy. I have to go,” Leah playfully rolled her eyes.

“Don't call me back until you've fucked him!” Kate yelled out as Leah hung up.

_________________________________________

Leah was certain that Vincent was in love with Sandra. She had sensed it the first time she saw them together in Sandra's chalet kitchen. Vincent was making pasta, soothing her with soft coos as she cried over the triviality of Parmesan cheese. The day's drama had reached its peak as she sobbed into the open refrigerator door. It had seemed puzzling at that moment, but after spending so much time with Vincent and picking up on his little nuances, Leah was convinced. This realization became even clearer as she watched Sandra recount her meeting with Samuel through the camcorder's flipped screen.

"He was... he was one of the few people I knew who could change the atmosphere in a room just by walking in. I suppose that's what charm is, isn't it? I fell in love with his charm," Sandra said, reflecting on her feelings.

She spoke of not feeling understood by her family or friends growing up, of feeling truly seen only when Samuel came into her life. She longed for a time when that connection still existed, reminiscing on what was lost. Leah felt a deep resonance with Sandra's words, hanging on to every syllable as if Sandra was guiding her on a precarious tightrope, with the ground beneath widening, threatening to swallow her whole.

Vincent's lighter pinged from his seat near the window. Leah observed him lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke out the open window.

"Don't say it's gone," Vincent urged Sandra, prompting her to share how she and Samuel first met. She briefly recounted how he had landed a job at a London university and how they had moved there together. She praised his teaching skills and his ability to make everything vibrant and accessible. However, despite all this, Samuel longed for more, as people naturally do. It seemed as though he had chased his dreams straight out the window. Sandra contrasted her own ease with writing to his struggles with time management when working on his novel. Then, she recounted Daniel's accident in vivid detail.

Nour nodded along as Vincent offered suggestions, while Leah sat motionless, pondering whether everyone had a defining crisis in their life that altered them forever.

During a brief respite, Leah stepped outside for a breath of fresh Alpine air. The cold bit at her cheeks, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the indoors. She was soon joined by Sandra, who, in a rare moment of vulnerability outside of what Vincent had requested from her for the sake of the case, offered Leah a cigarette. The two women, standing side by side against the backdrop of snow and solitude, shared a silence that spoke volumes.

It was Sandra who broke the quiet, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and defiance. "You remind me of a cat, you know. A black cat—slinky, chic, and a bit intimidating. But ultimately harmless." Her comparison, unexpected yet oddly accurate, drew a surprised laugh from Leah, the tension between them easing.

Leah took a slow drag, considering Sandra's words. "A black cat, huh? I'll take that as a compliment, I suppose. They're survivors, after all."

Sandra's lips quirked into a semblance of a smile, a glimmer of the woman she might have been before tragedy had taken its toll. "Survivors, yes. But they're also misunderstood. Feared for no reason other than superstition."

The conversation, meandering between confessions and observations, offered Leah a glimpse into Sandra's soul—her fears, her regrets, and her defiant hope for vindication. For Sandra, the moment provided a rare connection, a sense of being seen beyond the accusations and the public persona crafted by the media and the court.

As they stamped out their cigarettes and turned to head back inside, the brief camaraderie forged in the Alpine chill left a mark on both of them.

_________________________________________

It was Vincent who suggested that Leah ride back to Paris with Nour before it got too late. He wanted to have a private conversation with Sandra, and although Leah felt a tug in her chest and her internal monologue firing on all cylinders, she didn't resist much. "Attorney-client privileges," she told herself, even though she couldn't recall ever sharing a drink or personal history with the people she had represented.

Nour chattered about the case for most of the journey back, while Leah tried her best to engage in the conversation. However, it was evident that something was amiss. Leah couldn't quite pinpoint what it was or why she felt the way she did.

The apartment was dimly lit when Leah returned, with only a few rays of light streaming through the kitchen window, casting a stripe across the living room. She quickly shed the day away by washing her face and changing into an old collegiate sweatshirt before settling on the couch with a glass of Chablis to unwind. As she slowly drained the bottle of Chablis, she reflected on the weeks spent with Vincent and Sandra. Their dynamic became increasingly clear in her mind, stirring a jealousy within Leah that she had only experienced as a teenager caught in the turmoil of an unfaithful father and an emotionally unstable mother years ago.

"Ancient history," Vincent's words echoed in Leah's thoughts.

As she drifted off to sleep, the last thought on Leah's mind was what was truly unfolding in Sandra's home and why it was affecting her so deeply.

________________________________________

Leah, never a heavy sleeper, was immediately awoken by the sound of the front door opening and closing. Despite Vincent's attempts to be quiet, his efforts were useless. Slowly sitting up on the couch, she switched on the tableside lamp as the bathroom sink began to run. A few moments later, Vincent emerged in the living room, offering her an apologetic smile as he observed her rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Can I ask you a question?" Leah asked, to which Vincent nodded in response.

"What's the dynamic between you and Sandra?" Leah shifted on the couch, observing as Vincent's eyebrows arched upwards in surprise.

"What are you talking about?" Vincent questioned, tilting his head. "I'm her lawyer."

"I'm not stupid, Vincent." For some reason, Leah felt compelled to delve deeper. "You paid her for bail."

Vincent, confused by Leah's sudden change in tone and line of questioning, gave her a quizzical look. "Only a portion of it."

Displeased with his response, Leah shook her head. "I wouldn't go to such lengths for a client."

"She's a friend," Vincent explained.

"‘Ancient history,’” Leah echoed his words back at him. “You don’t describe a friend as ‘ancient history.’”

“What's the matter? Why does it concern you?” Vincent inquired, slightly puzzled, moving closer to where she was seated on the couch.

"It just struck me earlier as I reflected on the past few weeks that something hasn't felt right, like I'm on the outside looking in. But then I saw the way you looked at her earlier. And then it hit me," Leah said, casting a heavy glance at Vincent.

"What hit you? What are you trying to say?" Vincent asked, running a hand through his hair.

"Are you defending her because you genuinely believe she's innocent, or because your feelings for her have clouded your judgment?" Leah questioned.

"I'm standing up for her because she's my friend, Leah. Because I believe in her innocence," Vincent explained.

A bitter laugh escaped Leah. "Friendship can blind us, Vincent. We're trained to read people as lawyers, but sometimes the truth is staring us in the face."

Leah shook her head incredulously. "And you sent me down the mountain with Nour. Usually, you want me right there with you, just to have another perspective."

Vincent's eyes widened in disbelief. "Leah, what is this really about?"

Leah's tone turned sharp. “If there's something between you and her, I need to know. I want to trust your judgment, not your feelings."

Vincent shook his head, frustration evident. He pushed his hair back, a mix of emotions crossing his face.

Leah's voice softened, yet held a steely edge. "Did you fuck her tonight? Was that why you sent me home early?"

"What if I did?" Vincent retorted, noticing the jealousy etched on Leah's face. "How would that concern you?"

Leah stood up abruptly, tossing aside the blanket on the couch as she stormed past Vincent and into the bedroom.

"Enough of this," Leah exclaimed as she rummaged through her suitcase. "I refuse to be a part of this. It's unprofessional, and I want no part in it. You can do as you please, but I'm leaving."

She hastily slipped into a pair of jeans while Vincent observed her from the hallway. Brushing past him again, she retrieved her belongings from the bathroom.

"What are you doing?" Vincent inquired, looking puzzled.

"I'm leaving," she replied, stuffing her suitcase full.

"Where will you go?" he asked.

"To a hotel, maybe a hostel," Leah replied, pulling the sweatshirt over her head and tossing it into the suitcase, leaving her in a thin tank top. "I don't know."

Vincent approached her as she struggled to close and zip her overflowing suitcase, its contents spilling out haphazardly as she packed in a frenzy.

"What's gotten into you?" he questioned. "What's all this about?"

"I don't know, I just—" Leah paused, meeting his gaze, her eyes searching his face. "It hit me today that you're so blindly in love with her that if she had pushed Samuel out the window in front of you, you'd defend her to the end."

He grasped her shoulders, drawing her closer as he looked into her eyes intently.

"Do you want me to fuck you? Is that what this is about?" he asked, his expression serious despite the taboo nature of his question.

"That's exactly it," Vincent shook his head as he spoke. With nimble fingers, he swiftly unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans.

"Say it," he paused, looking up at her. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you to look at me like that," Leah confessed. Despite her uncertainty, she let her emotions guide her, baring her soul to the man before her.

"I do," Vincent murmured, drawing her closer. "I have. I am."

Taglist: @weakling-grace

[hearts-hunger]

can i keep coming back to you? || danny wagner x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: Danny comes home to you after a long day, and you show him the decorating you've been doing. | Standalone in the Four Weddings universe

Pairings: Danny x Reader | Genre: domestic fluff | Word Count: 2k | Warnings: none!

A/N: Besties, I admit this fic is 100% gratuitous self-indulgent fluff. I just want to decorate my house for Halloween in August, and I want to do it with Danny. Enjoy! ♡

“Don’t get scared, sunny.”

You turned, careful to put one hand on the bookshelf to keep your balance, and saw Danny coming in the door.

“What do you mean?” you asked. From your vantage point perched atop one of your dining room chairs, you looked around for something he might be hiding. “Scared of what?”

He smiled. “I just meant don’t get scared of me coming in,” he said. “I didn’t want to startle you and make you lose your balance.”

“Oh,” you said with a laugh. “Thanks.” You turned back to the shelf you were decorating, straightening a picture frame once you had the little pumpkin lights arranged just so. “Don’t you love this picture?”

He crossed to stand by your chair, looking for a long moment at the picture of the two of you from your trip to the beach in the spring. His hair was longer in the picture, tangled by the breeze, and his smile was big and bright as you kissed his cheek.

“Yeah,” he said fondly. “I do love that picture.” He put his arm around your waist and looked up at you. “Doing some redecorating, sweet sunny?”

You gave him a bashful smile and draped your arms over his shoulders. “Yeah, well, I know it’s not even September, but... I went a little crazy in the Halloween section at TJ Maxx.”

He chuckled. “I kinda figured from all the pictures you sent me. Did you end up getting the sheets with the skeletons and pumpkins and whatnot?”

“Yes!” you gushed. “And I got a blanket to match. You’re gonna love it.”

“I'm sure I will, sweetheart.”

“Do you want to see all the other stuff I got?” you asked, already knowing the answer. You were very grateful for the way Danny so generously indulged your love of decorating; no matter the holiday, you were given free rein to decorate anything and everything in your house, and Danny always complimented the changes you’d made with genuine interest and sincerity.

He smiled. “Of course I do.” He looked up at you with a tired sort of patience and affection, and you put your hands on either side of his face.

“I haven’t even said hi to you,” you scolded yourself. You gave him a kiss. “Hi, baby. I’m glad you’re home.”

He smiled against your mouth. “Me too.” He hugged you and rested his head on your chest as you gently ran your fingers through his hair.

“Long day?” you asked.

He hummed in agreement. “Your boys couldn’t quit fighting long enough to play through a whole song. We didn’t get anything done.”

You huffed a laugh, thinking of ‘your boys’ and how every once in a while, they’d get into a mood where they couldn’t seem to do anything but bicker.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Hopefully everybody just needs a good night’s sleep. You guys have been burning the candle at both ends lately.”

You brushed your fingers over his necklace, the permanent chain that apparently would stay on until the day he died, or the day you went crazy for him and found a way to get it off.

“This still isn’t driving you up the wall, huh?”

He looked up at you with a grin. “No, but I think it might be driving you up the wall. You don’t like it?”

“I like it just fine on you,” you said. “But say the word and I’ll get a pair of bolt cutters and take it off for you.”

He laughed. “That seems excessive, but I appreciate it.”

You cradled his face and kissed his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose, enjoying the novelty of being taller than him for a moment.

“You look tired, sweetheart,” you said gently.

He nodded. “I am tired,” he admitted. “But I still want to see all your new Halloween trinkets.”

You gave him a beaming smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sunny.” He scooped you up to carry you, and you giggled as you put your arms around his neck. “Where to?”

“Depends,” you said. “Are you going straight to bed, or do you want some dinner first?”

“Dinner,” he agreed.

“To the kitchen, then.”

He carried you in and set you on the counter, right next to the candle holder with four little ghost candles perched atop it.

“Hey, those are cute,” he said.

You sighed. “Here’s my dilemma with them.” You picked one up and ran your thumb over the waxy surface. “They’re candles, obviously, but when I got them all set up — ”

“You didn’t want to burn them,” he said with a smile. “Isn’t that right?”

“Oh, I just couldn’t.” You held it out to him, and he held it for a moment in his big palm. “They’re just so cute! I couldn’t melt them.”

He chuckled and put the ghost back with its companions. “I understand, sweetheart.”

He patted your thigh before he went to the fridge and pulled out a Corona. “You want one?”

“Sure.” You hopped down from the counter and started to get things set out for dinner. “I tried a new crock-pot recipe, so I hope it’s not awful. It’s some kind of chicken taco casserole something or other.”

He lifted the lid of the crock-pot. “It smells good,” he said agreeably. “I’m sure it’ll be great, honey.”

You were too distracted to respond, trying to figure out how to get the plates you wanted from the top shelf. You knew you could just ask Danny and he’d happily get them for you, but you didn’t want to bother him, and you stood on tiptoes and tried to reach them.

He gave a soft laugh. “Sunny,” he scolded lightly. He handed you your beer and reached above you to take down the plates.

“You know you have a really tall boyfriend to get things off a high shelf for you,” he said. “You ought to put these long limbs to use.”

You smiled. “Thank you. I just didn’t want to bother you.”

“Helping you is never a bother, sunny.” He kissed your nose. “Now tell me what else I can do to help you, please.”

You enjoyed the bashful butterflies he still gave you as he followed your directions on setting up for dinner, and the two of you sat catty corner at the table for a long time after you finished eating and talked about how your days had been. After dinner, Danny washed and you dried, and you shared a bowl of ice cream at the counter.

“Are you at the studio all day tomorrow?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said, and his tone was apologetic. “I know you had some errands you wanted to do together, but...” He absently toyed with one of the ghost candles, distracted and tired. “If those errands can wait until this weekend, I’ll just move my golf thing and we can do them then.”

He looked over at you. “Unless they can’t wait until the weekend. Then I’ll ask the guys if I can step out for a little while to get them done.”

You brushed a few curls from his face. “They can wait, but I don’t want you to have to cancel with your dad.” He and his dad had planned to golf together on Saturday, and you knew Danny had been looking forward to it.

“I’ll just go tomorrow by myself,” you said. You didn’t really need Danny to go with you, but both of you preferred to do boring errands with each other to make them less boring.

“Are you sure?” he asked. He washed your ice cream bowl and set it to dry. “I can talk to the guys, see if I can leave for an hour or so. Maybe we can get coffee or something.”

“I’d love that,” you said. You laced your fingers with his as he came back over to you. “We’ll figure it out. I just feel like I haven’t seen you a lot this week.”

“Yeah, me too. I miss you, sunny.”

You smiled. “Aw, honey. I miss you too.” You tilted your face up for a kiss, and he leaned close and obliged you.

“Come in the shower with me,” he said, kissing the corner of your mouth.

You grinned. “Okay, but only so I can show you the new shower curtain I got.”

He chuckled. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

He did end up liking the shower curtain with pumpkins and black cats on it, but you guessed he probably would have been happy with any kind of shower curtain just so long as you were behind it with him. He wasn’t interested in showering as much as he was interested in simply being close to you, and you happily indulged his desire for long, slow kisses and gentle touches. You washed his hair for him and enjoyed the way he relaxed under your hands as you washed the worries of his day away in a soft lather.

He was a little more energized after your shower, and when both of you were in your pajamas with your hair bushed and your skincare done, he sat on the bed and waited for you to show him all the things you’d bought. He put on some music, and you hummed along to First Aid Kit while you fished your trinkets and tchotchkes out of their bags.

“Look at this guy,” you said, holding up a little cauldron with moons and stars around the rim.

“Candy bowl,” he guessed.

You laughed. “Yeah, candy for one person, maybe.”

He looked thoughtful as he wrapped your new pink Halloween blanket around his shoulders. “Um... we could use it as a bowl to hold keys and stuff on the table by the door.”

“That’s actually a great idea,” you said. “Okay. Key bowl.”

You held up the next thing, a light up crystal ball held in gold skeleton hands.

“Okay, that’s cool,” he said. “We should just keep that out all year round.”

You hid a smile at his real interest in this particular decoration. You knew he didn’t mind all the things you’d picked out, but he was sort of indifferent to them; mostly, he was just happy to enjoy them if they made you happy. Every once in a while, though, you’d find something that really sparked his decorative interest, and it seemed like you’d hit the nail on the head with this one.

“Watch,” you said, and you flipped the switch at the bottom that made the crystal ball light up and swirl with glitter.

His eyes widened. “Dang, sunny. You should go to TJ Maxx more often.” He took it when you offered it to him, watching it like a kid with a shiny new toy. “This is some real wizard shit. We should get one for Jake. He’d love it.”

“Okay, but fair warning — if you let me go back, I’m gonna end up getting more decorations we don’t need.”

He smiled and handed the crystal ball back to you so you could put it on the dresser. “I like it when you go shopping for stuff like this.” He nodded to the bags you still had at your feet. “What else did you get?”

When you’d given him a show of the rest of your baubles, he convinced you to leave them strewn about your room in a state of disarray with the promise of helping you set them up later. When he opened up his blanket cape and invited you in for a hug, you gladly accepted, and he held you in his lap all cuddly and snug.

“You were right,” he said. “I do like this blanket. You’re a genius.”

You giggled as he hugged you tighter and made sure you were wrapped in the blanket with him.

“My sweet sunny,” he said, resting his head against yours. “You’re so good at making our house cosy and fun and beautiful. Thank you for making it a home.”

Your heart wobbled. “I’m glad you like it, Dan.” You pulled back just enough to see his face. “It’s all for you, honey.”

He smiled. “Thank you. And thank you for sharing it with me.” He kissed you and snuggled you close, rocking you gently to the music. 

“Did I ever show you this album?” he asked.

You smiled. “We listened to it the day it came out,” you reminded him. “We went on a drive and listened to it all the way through.”

“We sure did,” he agreed. “I remember.” He was quiet for a moment, thinking of that early-morning drive with the cool breeze and one hand on the steering wheel with the other hand in yours.

“That was a pretty good date,” he said. “Don’t you think?”

You smiled. “Yeah, I do. We should do it again sometime.”

He hummed along to the song for a moment. “This song makes me think of you.”

You didn’t know it well enough to know the lyrics, but you knew it was a compliment. “Oh yeah?”

He hummed in agreement. “I’m gonna love you ‘til the moon don’t shine,” he sang. “I’m gonna love you ‘til the waters run dry. Oh, you, can I keep coming back to you?”

His voice got a little muffled towards the end as you pulled him down for a kiss, and he smiled as he tried to keep singing and kissing you at the same time.

“Can I keep coming back to you, sunny?” he asked.

“You are simply not allowed to go anywhere else,” you replied.

He laughed and kissed you again. “Yes ma’am.”

danny taglist:@tearsofbri@busybeingtrash@myway-late@gotavansleep@gretavanbri@stardustchxrds@pxppylove @bajabule69 @radmads-gvf@sunnykiszka@audgeppp @ageoffleeet @stardustjake

gvf taglist:@malany-gvf@spark-my-nature@eearevee@madneedshelp@demonrat444@josh-iamyour-mama @honeyandsweettae @mydarlingdanny@gretavandann@sacredjake@myleftsock@joshskittytickler21@hellowgoodbye@watchingovergvf2@fearfulspirit@mywaysoon@carbondancingthroughtime@caprisunsister @eraofstardustchords @sacredthefran@shesawomaninadream @serendipiti @demonrat444@wildflowerxx-x @tearsofdanny @iluvjoshkiszka @jordie-gvf-admin @demolitionndann

@gvfrry@ohhey1293@the-chaotic-cow@mountain-in-springtime@xserenax-13@stardustjtk @brooke-gvf@weightofdreams-gvf@jakeydoesit@gretasmokerising@hayley1623@doodle417@finestoflines@brokenbellz@bowievanfleet@s0livagant@strugglingtodoshit@s-u-t@kay-jordan@gretavanfleas@jakeyboiiiiiii@gretavansteph@gretavanbitches@myownparadise96@luverleaver@weightofdreamz@greatervanfleet@maedesculpaeusoubi@jakekiszkasbestie@pineapple-photographer@baguettejuliette@alexxavicry@levi-wants-ur-bones@carlybubs@cowboysamkiszka@dannyandthekiszkas@jordierama@slutforsteve@starshine-wagner@quartzzzzzzz@edgeofdreams@writingcold @lostoverseer @catharu77 @mackalah@jaketlove @haileygvf @blacksoul-27 @ur-m0ms-blog

sorry if tumblr didn’t tag you — it’s stupid sometimes. but i’m real thankful for you, sweet peaches! and if you’re a new bestie and would like to be added to my taglist, check out the form right here! ♡

[anonymous-dentist]

Reward for @guanine-the-worm

-

Quackity was there for Tubbo's first birthday. He was not there for his second. He tries not to think about this too much, but it's awfully hard not to when fucking Wilbur Soot won't stop rubbing it in.

"Yeah, he probably doesn't even know who you are," Wilbur sighs.

Stretched out across Quackity's couch with Schlatt on vacation, both out of sight and out of mind, Wilbur yawns and crosses his lanky legs like he owns the place.

Quackity's eye twitches. He's got half a soul. Maybe he can trade in the other half to get rid of Wilbur once and for all.

"That's fine," he tightly says.

"Yeah, I'm sure it is," Wilbur agrees. He nods, unserious. "I mean, you only sold your soul for him. That's all. Not like that's important or anything."

"I don't know what you're talking about," says Quackity.

He turns his head to stare at the wall, ignoring Wilbur's eyes burning holes into the side of his face.

Quackity was there for Tubbo's first birthday. Philza was there for the second. Next is the fourteenth. Maybe Quackity will make it to that one.

-

Vote Quackity for sexyman and get a mini-fic

[callsign-phoenix]

I wrote this as a part of my falltober fics, I hope you like it!

It is a Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x gn!reader imagine.

Thank you @famfan-1034 for proofreading!

Day 6: Skeleton

Warnings: none

You and Bradley were in a quite new yet exciting relationship, when you managed to find the time to spend together.

Both of you had very demanding jobs, while Bradley was a fighter pilot you were a doctor at one of the local hospitals.

Your office was always full with patients but you had a break of one or two minutes in between to catch your breath every once in a while.

You were looking forward to such a one when you saw off one of your last patients of the afternoon, closing your door and letting out a deep breath.

You hurried towards your desk and sat down in your chair, sinking down into the cushions.

Your eyes closed and counting your breath for a few seconds you tried to relax in the little time you had to do so.

You had just settled into the chair when you felt something slim and boney fall onto your shoulder.

You immediately shot back up in your seat, until you heard a voice you were quite familiar with.

“Is it too late to help me, doctor?” You heard Bradley’s slightly distorted voice, and when you spun your chair around you were faced with Bradley in another one of his short Hawaiian shirts, holding the skeleton from your office out towards you.

You managed a tired chuckle before you stood up, to be slightly more level headed with him.

“I get the feeling that all help is too late for you,” you replied to Bradley rather than the skeleton, earning a proud grin from his lips.

He moved towards you to press a gentle kiss to your lips as a greeting, his hand finding your shoulder and delicately caressing it.

“Hard day?” He asked, and you nodded in reply.

“Always,” you chuckled, which brought a smile onto Bradley’s lips as well.

You were both silent for a second until Bradley spoke up, taking a step back after kissing your temple.

“Can I cook for you tonight? You come over to my place after work? It’d be nice, and you can just relax,” he suggested, and you nodded gratefully.

Bradley was by the door in just a second before he turned around, giving you a perfect view of his tight jeans and shirt that strained on his upper arms.

You smiled just seeing it and waited for what Bradley had to say.

He was once again grinning at you with a gleam in his eye.

“Bring our friend. I’m sure Mr Skeleton would appreciate the change of scenery,” he winked, and you rolled your eyes at that.

Bradley was an idiot, but you were slowly but surely falling in love with him.

tagging: @starkleila @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @letsfvckingdance @shadeds-library @jewels98 @yespolkadotkitty @whateverbagman @neptunes-curse @sweetheartlizzie07 @top-gun-rooster @iloveprettyboysblog @ateliefloresdaprimavera @imjess-themess @littlebadariell @angstyjellybean @marchingicenotes7 @midget713 @supernaturaldawning @gspenc @adorephina @gigisimsonmars @tipsykeen @bespinnn @airedale17 @malindacath @aerangi @kassieesworld @kwanimations @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @marvelandotherfandomimagines @kmsryles343 @mavericksicybabe @kendra-rose @desert-fern @mavrellover91 @allivingstone01 @rhettabbotts @withakindheartx @trikigirl271 @cherrycola27 @abaker74 @bonitanightmxres @ratcatcher2world @glowingtree @wingmanvenus @roosterforme @oliviah-25 @natasharomanoffisbaebby

(please tell me if you want to be added to the taglist, or use this link)

[tossawary]

Happy October, everyone! I've been switching icons less frequently lately, but I've been sitting on this idea for a while; the base is a photo that I took of a real cassowary skeleton at a museum.

Not much to report on my offline end except that work has been going along as usual and I'm excited to appreciate the color of autumn while it's here. I may post some Whumptober oneshots here and there if I have the time, because I want to experiment with writing warm-ups and some of the prompts look fun, but I won't make any promises. I want to get out and about before it starts getting cold and dark!

The big news is that I've completed a fic for the Moshang Big Bang 2023 event (happening now! Right now! Lots of long, lovely Moshang fics in your area! Go check it out!) and the assigned posting date is October 25th! It's the second-longest fic that I've ever written (after PINTWILF) and I'll be posting a chapter a day for over two weeks. It's called "Servant to a Different King", based on some posts that I originally made years ago now, in which Shang Qinghua became Tianlang-Jun's servant instead of Mobei-Jun's, and it's basically a self-indulgent Demon Realm rom-com.

I wish everyone good weather whatever their season! (I'm not going anywhere but) See you all soon! ✈❤❄

[veryace-ficrecs]

Wolverine Hurt/Comfort Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

tommorow's jokes have yet to be laughed at (or said) by ArchaicVampire - Rated T

“Logan? What are you doing up, mein freund?” Logan thinks up a million things he could say, like I’ll sleep when I’m dead or I was doing my usual midnight pushups, but he doesn’t say any of that. There’s no use bothering him with bullshit excuses. “You’re the only one who understands.” The skeletons in Logan's closet are haunting him again. There's only one man in the mansion that truly knows how he feels.

O Memory, where is now my faith. by justbefeathersandthequietofthefall - Rated T

Logan vs Pain. i.e. Dealing with the fact that superhuman healing doesn't stop getting injured hurting like a bitch.

Call Me by My Name by CNWrites - Rated G

They were misfits on a team of misfits. Logan was used to that kind of crap. If he had put down bets, he would have said that Nightcrawler was the kind of guy who couldn’t take it. Apparently, they were both sticking around. ____________________________ In which we see five times Logan used something other than Kurt's name, and one time he actually used it.

There's a room where the light won't find you by Notsogoodwithnames - Rated T

Logan knows he was made for nothing but war. He never went to school. He never even took care of many children. Not even your own children. He certainly isn't qualified to teach anything that didn't involve the shedding of blood. Xavier saved him. The X-men saved him. Not only from himself but in so many ways than he can explain. Taking care of these kids is not going to fix anything. Or clean his hands, not even a bit, he's aware of that. But if there's a chance that he can do something right, better than anything he ever did, to help these kids have a better chance than he did. Then he's going for it.

So this is what it feels like. by OwBoy - Not Rated

“Sir?” the woman said as she came more into the light. Her shoes made a dull clopping noise with each step she took towards Logan. “Wha…?” Logan asked, his voice slurred. “The girl,” the woman said, nodding toward Laura, “Is she your daughter?” Logan's gaze once again fell on Laura and he nodded. “I thought so,” a slight smile crossed the woman's features as she spoke. “She looks just like you.” “Where…” Logan’s words drifted off as he took in the rest of the room. “Where am I?” he asked. “You’re in Canada,” she answered. “In a refugee town given to mutants by the Canadian government. It’s called Eden.” “Eden.” Logan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The place he said didn’t exist, the place Laura and the other believed they’d find and make their new home, the place from that stupid comic book, it actually existed. AKA: What if Charles, Logan, and Laura had all made it to Eden alive and started a new life together? Fluff, angst, domestic life, and brewing romance.

The same bell chiming the hour on the clock, and everything changed. by justbefeathersandthequietofthefall - Rated T

He drifted through the hallways, with every recognisable face sending him reeling. A few awkward conversations later, and he was in the Professor’s office having years of history dropped on him. Despite the importance of this, he was barely present in the conversation – a fact which Charles didn’t miss, who told him to go let it all sink in and that they’d continue later. ‘Let it all sink in’?

Fucking hell.

Exploring Logan's mental state after the events of Days of Future Past

Never Take for Granted by CNWrites - Rated G

Kurt Wagner would consider himself a fairly appreciative person. Perhaps that instinctual value of appreciation was the reason he felt giddy, warm, so overcome with love for his friend that he could practically feel it bursting out of his chest. “Don’t move ‘round, elf.” A heavy hand rested on an arm that Kurt hadn’t even realized he was trying to move. “Yer hopped up on morphine, you idiot. Yer gonna break your stitches if ya can’t cool it.” Oh. Or maybe that was why. _______________________ In which Kurt spends some time in the med bay after taking a hit for Wolverine. Luckily, his friend isn't the kind of person to leave his side.

[dearophelia]

best of sara's fic, according to her

Because I’m feeling some kind of way about my cancer lately and wanted to put together a Sara’s Greatest Fic Hits while I’m still around to do it (which is a morbid thing to type, but see the intro: been feeling some kind of way lately).

These range from my most popular fics, to the ones lost to weird posting hours, and everything in between. If I counted correctly, there are 14 fandoms on this list: from Mass Effect and Dragon Age, to Grey’s Anatomy and Stargate SG-1, to The West Wing and Calvin & Hobbes.

I’d appreciate reblogs on this (I am not ashamed to pull the stage iv cancer card here) so it can reach as many people as possible.

I have been writing fic for over 15 years; this is not a short list.

All are rated T or lower unless otherwise indicated. All stories are at or under the 3k mark unless otherwise indicated.

Stargate SG-1:

waves are universal (the heaven in hiding remix) (Sam/Jack; I’m very Normal about this fic; time travel and alternate realities, a host of OCs (and some familiar faces from Norafic if you look closely), oh and the Sam/Jack kid from the alternate reality! Only she’s an adult and working on a way to save the world! This has it all, folks: humor, romance, angst, action! I told you I’m Normal about it; 40k)

strange is the night where black stars rise (Sam; horror! A low creeping sense of doom! The King in Yellow! No, seriously, fuck that planet; 10k)

#sg1wedding (Sam/Jack; their wedding turned into An Event against their will; bets are going down about who would win in a fight: Bra’tac or the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs; also Jack loses his socks; twitterfic from 2012 and technology has definitely Marched On, just read it like an unhinged group chat fic)

phoenix (Sam/Daniel/Teal’c, Sam/Jack, Sam/Jack/Daniel/Teal’c; apocalypse (that I consulted a real live geologist on!); rebuilding in the wake of said apocalypse; team family feelings, kids, and some really shitty neighbors; 38k)

Dragon Age:

joy cometh in the morning (Ariadne; rated M; a host of OCs; mind the warnings; friendship; worldbuilding galore; friendships and mentors and first loves; did I mention friendship and worldbuilding?; 56k)

through the rude wind’s wild lament, and the bitter weather (Ari+Cullen; quiet magic, kind magic, good magic is still new to Cullen)

as the sun kissed the horizon (Ari/Josephine; a relationship in ten moments)

‘til we meet again (Ari+Cullen; platonic sleeping together!)

so hold my hand, consign me not to darkness (Ari; her faith is the core of who she is and, for the first time, Andraste isn’t there; post-Trespasser)

raise your fists up to the sky (Kylie/Krem; it’s Krem’s first day with the Chargers and there’s a naked elf in the middle of camp)

every demon wants his pound of flesh (Krem+Bull; Krem was in the Fade with the Inquisitor and the fear demon had some Things To Say To Him)

black dove (Anaya) & strange little girl (Anaya+Dagna) & dissolving clouds (Anaya+Cullen) (because neurodivergent Inquisitor, friendship, blossoming romance, and three very different takes on blood magic)

skeletons (Zahara+Bull; she is saarebas, he is Ben-Hassrath, and language is important)

children shouldn’t play with dead things (Juliette Amell; she’s always had an easier time with the dead than the living; cw for bugs)

a sorta fairytale (Josephine/Cassandra; flower shop & tattoo parlor AU; 8k)

Mass Effect Trilogy:

gonna set your flag on fire (Nora Vakarian, Liv/Garrus, James/Liara, Liv+Liara, Livfam; action! Humor! Angst! Worldbuilding! OCs!; I am Super Normal about this fic too; I promise everything’s okay in the end, promise, even though it isn’t written yet; Nora is an N3 and has an inactive control chip in her head. She and her team are ordered to investigate a Cerberus facility. It goes, shall we say, awry; 40k)

anthem (Liv/Garrus, Hannah/Zaeed, Liv+Liara; eight months is a long time without each other; angst with a happy ending (I promise); post-Destroy; 13k)

holy ground & dress (Liv/Garrus; ficlets from the night he gets sworn in as Councilor)

brightly shone the moon at night (Liv, Liv+Liara, Liv/Garrus, Livfam; five Christmases in Olivia Shepard’s life; 5k)

the pieces of gold, they light up your eyes & now we’re alone, now we’re alive (Liv/Garrus; the evolution of a relationship)

fighting is said to have reached palaven (Liv/Garrus; please, please let him be alive)

and some things you just can’t speak about (Quentus+Nico; the war)

‘cause i know that it’s delicate (Liv/Garrus; pre-wedding!)

nosce te ipsum (Nico; he likes boys and fanfiction and he didn’t think he’d get his little italicized oh moment)

i will write you love letters if you tell me to (Liv/Garrus; Hannah gives him one of Liv’s notebooks before he goes off to Omega; Garrus does the only thing he can think of with it)

i really need you (Liv/Garrus; James POV during the reunion scene in Priority: Palaven)

you look really tired (Liv/Garrus, Liv+Liara; post-Thessia, Olivia’s not doing well)

hey, so, ground rules (Liv+Zaeed; it’s a lot weird now that he’s dating her mom)

and all the scars you bear are from a previous war (Liv+Quentus; Mom!Liv)

you can hear it in the silence (Liv/Garrus; just a moment, post-war)

this all started because of a bad day (Liv/Garrus; from first meetings to matching rings)

combat, i’m ready for combat & turn on your favorite nightlight (Hannah; she’s a civilian and her daughter isn’t, and she’s bound and determined to know what Liv goes through when her boots hit the ground; Hannah, Zaeed, Liv, and Garrus hit up Armax)

four quarians who never made it back to the fleet (and one who did) (kinda what it says on the tin, honestly. Oh, Tali’s in this!)

everyone’s lost, the battle is won (Evangeline; somewhat predictably, my experiment in getting as many of my team killed as possible resulted in Feelings About It)

across the sky (Susan/Liara; how to make the Control ending feel good)

and yours is in red underlined (Vanessa; The Illusive Man has pissed her off for the last time)

i’m headed straight for the castle (Vanessa; renegade control ending; kneel before your queen)

Mass Effect Andromeda:

for saviours (Tori; ten scenes from a pre-Andromeda life; 10k)

ringing joyful and triumphant (Tori/Liam/Jaal; just some morning fluff)

the thing with the baby angara (Tori/Liam/Jaal; thinking about the future)

the undone and the divine (Tori/Liam/Jaal; the lone single solitary explicit fic on here, give it props for that alone; Liam gets absolutely railed by his partners. That’s it. That’s the fic.)

you’re like the thing that makes the universe explode (Sara Ryder/Suvi, Drack; kid, the only people who don’t know that you like Suvi are people who haven’t met you and Suvi)

this one’s for the torn down, the experts at the fall (Tori+Garrus; one night in the intersection of Victoria Ryder and Archangel; maybe they’re better friends than they both thought)

The West Wing:

a great revelation sigh (CJ; she’s Chief of Staff; ten steps to the apocalypse; the apocalypse source probably didn’t age well, heads up)

it’s in my blood and i won’t give up ‘cause it’s running through my veins (Amy+Andi; it’s Election Day in the future and Amy has nothing to do)

Grey’s Anatomy:

dropsonde (the singers in a lower choir remix) (Addison/Alex, Derek/Meredith, Addison+Derek, Addison+Mark, Mark+Derek; the one that kicked off all the remixes; absolutely off the rails from canon somewhere in S3; budding romances and kidfic and my theory about people being storms and lighthouses; 40k)

scarlet city (Mark/Addison, Burke/Cristina; film noir gangster and detective AU; Addison’s the gangster, Burke’s the detective; literally everyone I could fit into this fic shows up; also Denny is comic relief; 18k)

Misc:

access records (Star Trek Voyager; Naomi Wildman’s holodeck access for the past week; worldbuilding!)

in this twilight our choices seal our fate (the song in the house of night remix) (SVU; Olivia/Elliot; rated M; on the rise and fall of partnership; probably a little too much religious imagery but what the hell else am I gonna do with a minor in religious studies?; 4k)

the end of days job (Leverage; Parker+Eliot+Hardison; the apocalypse job, basically; this one ages well!)

let the only sound be the overflow (D&D; Calia/Kelpie/Edal, aka ot3: fathoms below; the ocean is big and they are not)

we are golden stars above silver seas (we hear echoes from another galaxy) (Calvin & Hobbes; Calvin+Susie; throughout all those years, she never gave up on him; this one went viral on tumblr [LINK] and I cleaned it up for the AO3 version)

lift her, pull her, from the orchids (Grace and Frankie; Grace/Frankie; the one where I invoke the spelling bee)

rocket queens (Babylon 5/Pacific Rim; Susan Ivanova/Talia Winters; look, they’re jaeger pilots, I really don’t know what else to tell you)

the great gig in the sky (Battlestar Galactica; Six; rebirth is painful, she forgets this sometimes)

[erineas]

Hi there! Hope you don't mind but I'm just wondering if you have any recs for fanfics of the skellies :D I typically love reverse harem trope ones racoonsinqueen & tyranttortoise my absolute favs but if you know any that are just one main pairing but the writing is still good, I'd love to know :D

OK, EVERYONE STOP THEIR HORSES, because it's fanfic appreciation time ✨

I've read my fair share of fanfics, most aren't finished or their authors disappeared but I'll mention them too because they still very much worth it and I. Just. Love. Themmmm!

Also I'll try listing by memory so this is probably going to be messy:

Bitty Hunt by RND_Injustice (SSLL but you're a bitty! Unfinished, has 33 chapters + 18 bonus chapters in here. 10/10 Already read it three times) My Favorite Red Scarf by RND_Injustice (Reader x UT Papyrus. Unfinished, has 34 chapters. MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE. 100/10 I want to marathon this fic with someone, if that makes sense) Fur a good time, Call by popatochisp (Reader x HT Sans. Finished, with extra chapters on Snips & Snails. Another favorite with a 100/10. Also want to marathon this one) Dirty Laundry by popatochisp (Reader x Swapfell bros. Finished. To be honest I don't remember much, that's why it's in my rereading list but it promise very good things and the feelings I get just reading bits are like-- kdjkdjkdj my heart!) On top of the Bone Pile by Lyrjok (Reverse Harem. Finished. Good writing, SSLL vibes but totally different and really good. 10/10. Rereading right now) A Mouse Among Skeletons by Duchess_Aquarius (Reverse Harem with more skeletons than the main 5 AUs. Kinda crazy, rlly, but I still ate it. Finished. Be sure to read the tags. Rlly good writing. You decide how good it is) Bones, Picked Clean by lulu-writes (Reverse Harem. Unfinished. 37 chapters. I don't remember much about it but I loved their Horrortale bros) The Skeleton Games by Poetax (Reader x UF Sans. On going, has 56 chapters by this time, SHORTY RED. I also love this one, another favorite hehe. Unexpected 100/10 to me) Aggre(v/g)ation by Llama_Goddess (Reverse Harem with UF/HT/UT Sans x Reader. Finished. Being honest again, I started reading years ago and haven't finished it for reasons that have nothing to do with the fic. I found it again and let's just say there's a reason why everyone worships this fic)

Those are ones that made my days the first time I enter tumblr. Now that i'm back, lets continue with the recent ones i've read:

House Next Door by BattleMaiden13 (Reverse Harem. On going. Has 130 chapters by this time but you're damned if you want to catch up because THAT AUTHOR IS FAST AF. I've started reading like a month ago and they already posted 25 chapters. Writing improves very fast as you're reading and there's so many things to enjoy. Delicious. 10/10) Saving Three Ex-cell-lent Skeletons by RecklesslyCaffeinated (Reverse harem with UF/HT/UT Sans x Reader. Finished with a second book on the works. ABSOLUTE BANGER. Another 10/10, made me heart bleed for skeletons and question myself) It's just a Game by Htsan (You x UT Sans. Finished. Unconventional. Read it if you like heavy angst and interactive games, and maybe hate your emotional stability... Really good, tho. 10/10. Made me cry so many times. Not gonna elaborate)