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fourmarkdove · 3 years

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Upstate.

Title: Upstate. | Masterlist

Summary: When the Captain learns you’ve kept a secret all these years, he’s more furious than he’s ever been.

Pairing: Syverson x Reader

Words: 5.5k

Warnings: 18+ Smut. Angst, breeding kink, daddy kink, size kink, rough sex, dirty talk. Infertility/PCOS.

A/N: Had this in my drafts forever and sort of forgot I wrote it. Comments are welcome! Thanks for reading!

It wasn’t supposed to take this long to get pregnant.

It just wasn’t.

You went on the pill shortly after you met, which wasn’t the most glamorous story, but that one drunken pounding against the ladies bathroom wall just days before he was set to ship out set the tone for your relationship. At least in the beginning.

He did two more tours after that. The first time he was on leave, he dropped to a knee, all suntanned and scruffy, after dinner at your favorite little fish shop on the pier.

“We haven’t known each other so long, but your sweet voice on those phone calls, babydoll. They keep me goin’ when I feel like there’s not much reason to.”

That last time he promised, “We’re gonna settle down for good. You an’ me an’ our brood. Daddy just has some unfinished ass to kick, but don’t you worry, sweetness. Nothin’ but picket fences and backyard barbecues soon as I get back.”

You said of course you’d marry your coarse, burly soldier and there never was a happier man who swept up his girl on that pier in a yellow sundress.

You never thought you’d see the day when your hardline, take no bullshit, don’t give em’ an inch Captain would shed a tear - let alone in public - but he did just that the moment he turned his shoulder and saw you in the just barely off-white dress.

He swept his woman off your feet, saying he wanted to be a gentleman and treat you right. But you knew by the intensity of his gaze and how he barely glanced at the pretty white lingerie before he started tearing it off your body that he was going to have trouble being gentle. Not that you minded. You had no regrets when it came to this swollen beast of a man filling every hole, manipulating your body in unnatural positions because you were smaller and he was strong as a horse and built like a brick wall. He’d pin your wrists to the bed above your head and gorge on your heaving tits, or grip behind your knees and have your feet bouncing behind his thick neck, until you were a sweat slick, foul mouthed whore begging for more of his meaty shaft pounding you into a moaning, senseless mess. You thought growing up there’d be something magical and pure about being a new bride dressed in white giving yourself over, blushing and shy, to the man you promised to love forever.

The reality was so much more visceral. All you wanted for days on end was his thick body forcing your thighs open, his hands gripping your flesh, fingers leaving bruises on your hips, crushing kisses that nearly made you faint, the salty taste of his sweat and cum dripping from your lips and cunt, rolling down your thighs, smeared onto the teeth marks he left around your nipples and on your ass like a soothing balm. The only soundtrack in the house was the grunting feral sounds over you as if he willed his very being into yours through the force of each veiny thrust. And the lewd slapping of flesh against flesh, sometimes muted just a bit by the rough hair trailing down his torso leading to his monster cock. The sound of his thighs clapping against your ass and thighs as he fisted your hair and drove himself into your cervix never ever got tiresome.

When he’d get too close, he’d devour your cunt, biceps and forearms flexing and lifting you to his face, swallowing every drop of your slick mixed with his, swirling his thick tongue over your sensitive clit, feeding the mixed liquids back inside your slit. He’d drop to a knee and spread you over his shoulders if you didn’t make it to bed, or in bed, he’d trail down your body, nipping and biting, picking up your skin between his teeth, flashing those blue eyes up at you. He loved going down on his woman maybe even more than burying his throbbing cock, so he’d always glance up to see your lashes flutter, eyes roll back, lips part and scream silently as he gorged on your sex. His beard scratched between your thighs and made you that much more sensitive but fuck you loved it and he loved marking you. He’d sink his sharp canines into the crease of your thigh and bite down just hard enough to make you cry out and arch for him.

By the time you were begging to come and whimpering his name like a prayer, he’d force his heavy, uncut cock all the way inside and start grinding, flexing every muscle in his core powering the grunting snaps of his hips into yours, seeking both of your release. And his mouth would get so filthy pressed to your ear.

“Gonna fuckin’ fill you up with all this cum. Not gonna be able to walk straight for weeks. That’s right spread wider for me. Fuckin’ give me that cunt. You’re gonna take it all like a good girl aren't ya? Get you all round - knocked up with my seed over and over. All that thick cream in these balls is just for you. That’s right. You want it? Milk it, babe.”

He growled and groaned, slapping his balls against your ass, all of the things that made you gasp and close down on him. You’d come first. Always. pulling the head of his cock right up against your cervix. He’d keep thrusting through your orgasm and his followed quickly after.

His big body could crush you under his weight but you loved it, practically demanded it, so he’d half roll off, resting mostly on his side and forearm and hip, while he panted into your hair on the pillow. But you wanted him all over your skin. The musky scent of his, still rolling down his hot skin, sweaty and thick with pheromones and sex, from working so hard to get both of you off over and over, you had no way to explain how you loved it - except by licking up the side of his neck and suckle kissing behind his ear while he panted into the pillow, his bicep and forearm heavy across your chest or around your hip, still holding you possessively.

He’d chuckle, still panting and turn his head on the pillow. Voice still rough from the beating his vocal cords took while he growled, huffed, groaned and barked instructions to you, he’d whisper in those quieter moments.

“Insatiable, kitten. Gimme a minute. Daddy knows what you need.”

You’d turn over in his weighty, tree bough arms and nuzzle into his hairy chest, feeling his thumping heartbeat hard and steady under your fingers. Tree trunk legs could pull all of you into him, and he’d fold you into his center, so not a single inch of you would have to touch sticky bed sheets when he rolled over onto his back. Thick fingers spread across your back, soothing over your roughed up skin, lifting your hair off of your sweaty neck, until the cool air in the room and his perpetually hot skin balanced to the perfect temperature somewhere in the middle.

It went on like that for three, six, nine months once he was home for good. Only two things changed as the months went on. His chocolate curls grew and spilled onto his forehead - which you loved to run your hands through - and you conceded the beard stays if the curls do too.

You came off the pill immediately, from that first night he came home, and never went back to it.

“Sweetness, don’t stress about it,” he’d coo gently, finding you curled up in bed or in the bathroom, sitting alone in the empty back bedroom in the new house. He’d try to squeeze the sadness out of your body every single month with his huge bear arms.

“It’s fun to try again, ain’t it?” he’d wiggle his eyebrows, and make you giggle through the tears. The more playful he was about it, the harder he leaned into trying everything he could to make it easier on you, so that meant a lot of research on websites. He never in a million years thought he’d be reading up on ‘luteal phases’.

He never had to be told twice that you might be ovulating. You’d whisper it to him sometimes he’d sense it. In bed, he’d smell that wet heat before you even backed your ass up against him, wiggling your aching core against the base of his raging erection. Slipping his big hand down your tummy and into your panties, he’d slide a long couple fingers through your slick heat, spreading your pussy lips achingly wide before withdrawing his hand and wrapping his other arm around the front of your shoulders.

“Mmph looks like you’re ready,” he’d groan, checking the viscosity of your juices. Spreading your slick between his fingers, he’d lick at it, gripping you tighter as you’d smirk and work your hips mercilessly on his dick.

That one taste would be enough to work him into a rutting frenzy though. “Got damnit, I need a taste,” he’d growl, climbing down and burying his face between your thighs. His mouth and beard would come up glistening with your juices and he’d look positively lust drunk on the stuff. Spreading his knees, he’d hoist your thighs up onto his, spreading your knees over his hips, so he’d be able to have a perfect look at your swollen cunt.

Pupils dilated and breathing hard, he’d pinch the hood of your clit and stroke it between his finger and thumb, making you squeal and writhe, pulling your own hair. He was in awe of your pussy every time he actually looked at that tiny, suckling hole - how in the world did you manage to stretch and accept his girthy cock? It had to hurt, right? It HAD to. Gripping your hips, he pulled you up to himself, one forearm supporting under your ass, and the other around your back. Touching foreheads, he nuzzled you lovingly.

You kissed him hungrily, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip before letting go. Hair mussed and giving him the darkest look, rolling your hips in his lap, you purred deep. Much to your confusion, he was the one to slow things down, smiling in his gorgeous blue eyes, kissing over your forehead, temples, eyelashes, nose, each lip.

“I wanna give you everything, babydoll,” he sighed, dropping his head to kiss over your shoulder.

Arching your back, you had him grip onto your hands and ease you, still spread over his hairy thighs, back onto the bed.

“Put a baby in me,” you demanded. He huffed out a sharp breath, puffing out his cheeks, before plunging two thick fingers into your cunt, scissoring his fingers to stretch you out. You shrieked and moaned in pleasure, arching deeply.

He could have been gentle but those five little words; that demand of yours. You were his new CO and when he received orders, he ploughed through at a punishing pace.

“Gotta prime these walls,” he grunted, thrusting his fingers in and out, turning his hand so he could rub sloppy juices spilling out of your cunt. Leaning over, he pressed his palm against the mattress next to your head and did something near a one handed push up, coming nose to nose with you.

“Why we gotta prime walls, baby?”

You whined as he flexed and slipped a third thrusting finger into your slurping cunt, begging for something larger to grip onto.

“We prime…” you panted, clawing across the tense muscles in his chest, “because you’re gonna… paint my walls… with your seed.”

Giving you his tongue, he withdrew his fingers and smeared his fingers over his precum-leaking meaty member. Just pushing it down to the right angle and you arched, digging your toes into his tree trunk thighs as you accepted his cock into your aching insides. You cried out, tossing your head back, but that just made him latch onto your throat and thrust into your cervix like a battering ram.

You screamed his name two, maybe three times, and he bared his teeth, growling and swearing, struggling to hold on, planking on his forearms desperate not cum yet while your smaller slippery body, squirmed and writhed under him. One second you were hissing and gasping, sinking your teeth and nails into his shoulders or biceps. The next you’d sob and dig your feet in, because you were so stretched and so sensitive. If he could just hold on that second longer, you’d grab at his ass, let your thighs open up and release your massaging death grip on his cock still buried as deep as he last thrust before you clamped down on him to begin with. Then he slowed just a bit to kiss your panting mouth as the orgasmic shockwaves relaxed. Your deep purr indicated you were ready for more, so he’d catch under your knees and fold you in half, pounding your body at a different angle.

When it was time, he bore his teeth and groaned, burying his face in your neck, getting sloppy with his thrusts until the last two that were exceptionally deliberate, seeding white hot cum directly to the source, his slit ground mercilessly against your cervix, for a direct shot at emptying himself into your womb.

When all was said and done, you’d toss him a pillow and he’d kneel between your legs, pushing the pillow under you to keep your hips elevated. Hooking his arms under your thighs, he kissed all around your sensitive mound. Kissing inside your thighs, he could thumb your swollen lips apart and see how completely full he’d filled you, to the point of leaking, but neither of you minded. If it wasn’t too tender, he’d clean you up with his tongue before lying down with you again, closing your legs, and drawing both your knees up over his hip.

You assured him every time that the pain was hardly anything as you shuddered and clung onto his imposing frame. It was only the last couple of months that instead of giggling and demanding ice cream in bed after what you both agreed was the best sex anyone on the planet was having, you just wanted to be held.

“Shhh, shhh... I got you, sweetness,” he’d soothe, drawing up blankets, rubbing you all over. He’d tuck you into his chest, and you’d curl up even smaller, your soft little body trembling against his twitching muscle always felt amazing before. But not when it came with tears. You hid your face away when he asked what was wrong, but he felt the little puffs of held breath and silent tears falling into his chest hair.

Finally, finally, one night spent cradling you in his arms and kissing your tears away, he convinced you. And you didn’t just break your silence.

You shattered.

“Doc told me years ago... it isn’t... I’ll never have…babies of my own. My hormones are all wrong for it. She said shots, maybe IVF but… even conceiving… even if possible, it’d be…”

The worried lines around his eyes and across his forehead smoothed out as he stared at the blinking red light on the smoke detector above the bed. He stayed quiet, putting an arm behind his head.

“I hoped I would have found a better way to tell you all this before now.”

“You knew before we met?” His voice was uncomfortably calm. “Five years ago.”

“Yes, but I didn’t mean to—“

“Ya kept it from me. No indication whatsoever there were problems on the home front, though.”

“I hoped I wouldn’t ever have to say anything because we’d somehow be pregnant by now and—“

“Ya let me think everything was fine. Told me, “Come on home, soldier. Let’s try workin’ on that family again.’ And I did. Every tour. I came crawlin’ home to you.”

Sitting up against the headboard, he flicked on the bedside lamp and scratched his beard, eventually dropping his upturned hands on his thighs, displaying his defeat.

Even though you wore his shirt from the night before and he was naked, barely covered by the bedsheet, you felt entirely exposed. You wanted to dissolve into liquid and melt into the floor or shed your skin and slink into a nook and never come out again.

His wide eyes plead with you: ‘give me something substantial to grasp onto. Toss a rope and a damn good reason for all of the lies to a drowning man.’

There was only one reason, but you couldn’t bear saying it out loud. You couldn’t the entire time you knew him.

Slipping his hand behind your neck, he thumbed your chin up to look at him. “You thought I wouldn’t want ya if I knew, huh.”

Your bottom lip quivered but he didn’t let you collapse into yourself. Looking over your tense, teary, flushed features thoughtfully, he stayed silent. He had a way of looking still as a sheet of ice while a raging current boiled just underneath. That kind of stillness gave those under his command confidence because even amidst chaos, he made solid decisions. Ones that saved their lives, kept them out of harm's way.

In that moment, you felt no confidence. Sitting on your knees expectantly, you trembled all over. He moved his thumb down from your chin as he inhaled audibly, and furrowed his brow exhaling forcefully, wrapping his massive hand around your throat.

The moments waiting made your ears hot and the blood rush to your face. Tightness crept across your chest. You broke the silence first or you’d have lost your mind.

“You’re angry.”

He chuckled ruefully and went placid in an instant. “Angry. Mmm... Yes, that is one way to describe it, darlin’. Never more so, as a point of fact.”

Swallowing down tears, if he wouldn’t let you drop your head, at least you could close your eyes.

“No.” His calloused thumb stroked up and down the side of your neck. “No—no, you don’t get to do that. Not with me.”

“Please, Sy!” You burst, holding onto his wrist with both hands. “Please say something! I can’t take it!”

He sniffed and took his hand back, rubbing them together instead of touching you any longer. His broad shoulders lifted and dropped. “Not quite sure what to say.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t look at you, not entirely, so he arched a brow and gave a sideways glance. His voice was rough and deep with more emotion than either of you anticipated. “I was uh… unapproachable?”

Lifting your head from your hands, it made your heart shred into a pulp seeing the lifted brows and pained expression tensing his features. “What?”

“Unapproachable,” he graveled, cursing the emotion that made him choke up. “Fuck. I know I can be direct. I been tryin’ real hard to be gentle with you. Did I give the impression you couldn’t, ya know, tell me things?”

“No, of course not, Sy. I tell you everything.”

His smoldering ember pile only needed a breath of fresh air before it came roaring to life, consuming these new logs you’d placed on top.

“Gotdamn it. You knew this was important to me. The way you carried on, let me believe we had a life together. A future. With our family. Do I even know you?”

Smoke from the fire burning inside him made your eyes sting and water.

“Please, stop it, Sy,” you pleaded, pulling away from his grasp. “Please!”

The flames of anger - or was it hate - turned his pupils dark and made him somehow appear even larger with each deep breath.

“How do I know where the lies stop and you begin?”

Embers of his rage floated in the air and easily took to you like the driest kindling. You exploded unlike you never had before. Fists balled and panting, you squared your shoulders up and shifted your weight.

“You know what? Fine. Here’s the truth: I was barely 18 when the doctor looked at me and said, ‘consider adoption’. I wasn’t even thinking about kids then, only why I had cramps every month but no period.

“We’ve tried correcting hormones for years with so little success I’ve felt like a goddamn science project while my friends moved on, grew up, got married, raised families. Do you know how devastating it is to slog through one of those baby showers? Everyone is so warm and happy, celebrating new life and how their bodies produce something amazing.

“Meanwhile, all I can think about is how if I were to conceive by some fucking miracle, the chances of miscarriage are so high, it’d make more sense to plan some kind of memorial for a child I’ll never meet instead of a cute little fucking baby shower.

“And it’s the one thing you asked of me! What kind of a woman am I that I can’t give you the one thing you wanted?! A broken one. With a broken womb. So yeah, be upset with me. Hate me, Sy. But I promise you’re never gonna catch up. I’ve got years’ worth of a head start hating myself.”

Eyes bleary and completely heartbroken now that he knew your secret, your head dropped and you held it in pain from the headache that exploded from the tension.

You didn’t wait even thirty seconds before he nudged your head back up again with his knuckle. Your chest ached so badly from barely containing the sobbing. The moment you saw his arms were already open waiting for you to fall into, you gasped and let the tears come.

You leaned in an inch and he scooped you up the rest of the way. Helping you settle into his lap, thighs spread over his, he cradled you tenderly to his bare chest, wrapping you up in his entire upper body. Burying your face into his neck, you mewled his name softly when his lips pressed behind your ear.

“Sy, I—“

“Shh shh shh…” his baritone was so deep, you could feel and hear it as he dropped his head low to speak close like it was your own secret space to be alone together. “I’m sorry, sweetness. I know, babygirl, I know. Shh shh…”

Rubbing circles over your back, he gave you time to release through deep sobs some of that suffering you’d been dragging with you.

“I’m disappointed, shh—disappointed we can’t have our own, ‘course. But I think I’m more disappointed that you been upset this whole time over somethin’ we coulda sorted out together. Years ago. Babydoll, it breaks my heart to think of you bein’ this sad. Makes it a hundred times worse if you were upset ‘bout lettin’ me down. And you usin’ that ‘hate’ word in the same breath to describe the love of my life… Geez babygirl, that tears my heart right out my chest.”

Tears streaked down your cheeks. You pressed your palms against his hard as rock chest while he encircled you in his long reach. Tears rimmed his blue eyes as you wordlessly attempted to work out if he planned to let go or hold onto you. Eventually, you collapsed into him, exhausted.

“Look at me, Sweetheart. It’s important. What? Louder. Deep breath and one more time? Oh. No, I know it’s gonna make you cry more but imma make it better, I promise. Lemme see my girl. There she is.”

You sniffled and rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand. Your lips and eyes felt swollen from crying, and your hair was a mess, but he smiled in his soft blue eyes and stroked it back.

“Kids, no kids, doesn’t matter. I wanted you. Ask Parker or any other CO I work with. That very first night I saw you I said, “Imma marry that girl,” and here we are. But since we are married, I wanna know the things goin’ on inside ya. Not just ‘how ya feelin’, are ya hungry, are ya horny’ type stuff.”

You scoffed, kissing his cheek softly. He squeezed your hips tightly, lifting you closer, up higher on his pelvis, angling slightly back onto the pillows. He didn’t want you to get the wrong idea, but your heat, wiggling in his lap, and that you were starting to let go of some things inexplicably made the blood rush to his groin. You’d feel it in a second if he didn’t adjust your seating situation and lie back with you a bit.

“You’re not ‘broken’, sweets. And I don’t ever want to hear ya talkin’ ‘bout my girl like ‘at. You’re all woman, an’ the only one for me. You locked that right down in that pretty blue dress down on the pier years ago. Was it yellow? Nah. Really? With the little red… Huh. Color blind or not, this heart ain’t even mine no more so best be lookin’ after it. Yeah, you can cry now. Come here, babygirl. Daddy’s got you.”

When most of the tears were shed, he thumbed the dimples right above your panty line, just under the back of his lifted shirt you wore. Soothed very nearly to sleep, your fingers wound their way through his hair. He sighed letting his head fall back into your hands; he always loved when you scritched him like a puppy. Wrapping both hands behind your thighs, he held you in place, pressed to him and straightened up his neck when he really enjoyed what you were doing to him.

“Right there?” you cooed softly, raking your nails through his hair, down to the nape of his neck.

“Mmph,” he grunted affirmatively, tipping his chin down. He found one button on the shirt you wore straining against the fabric, exposing your bare skin right in front of his face. So he nuzzled into it. The unexpected tickle of his beard when he kissed inside made you gasp and arch back.

“Hey!” you squeaked and a mischievous smirk flashed across his face. He looped a finger inside his red flannel, releasing the fabric right below your belly button.

His eyes flashed up at you again as he pressed his mouth to your belly, swirling his thumbs in circles over your hips when he slid them inside the oversized flannel draped loosely on your body.

You closed your eyes, curling your fingers in his hair, and listened to the sound of the deliberate, wet kisses he placed from one hip to the other.

Hugging just under the curve of your behind, he ran his scratchy beard against your sensitive skin, but you still cradled the back of his head to you just the same. Finally kissing down to the apex of your sex, using his tongue to moisten the spot first, he placed a slow, suckling kiss that made your clit pulse and hips jerk involuntary.

“Sorry,” you mewled, pawing his hair. His jaw tensed and head lifted just slightly when your body responded so abruptly.

He nuzzled your skin and arched a brow up at you. “Don't be sorry, babygirl. Are you gonna let Daddy make ya feel good?”

A darkness fell across your features hearing that particular pet name for him. You tugged the shirt together.

“I don’t think I can do this, Sy. It’d be the first time not trying for... I can’t think about the… the emptiness. Feels like I’m giving something away too soon.”

“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, collecting your hand from his shoulder. “Tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you.”

“Time… I guess. And you. Fuck, Sy. I must sound crazy. The way I’m talking, it’s like somebody died.

Here I am going on when you’ve actually witnessed people die.

I don’t want to diminish what you’ve been through with my nonsense.

Of course we need to do this.

We need to do this.

I want this.

I need you.

I need us.

I need this.

Fuck me, Captain.

Fuck me senseless.”

You made quick work shrugging out of his shirt and wrapped both arms around his thick neck. Fisting the mattress, he shouldered your ribs so quickly, it knocked you right off balance and onto his arm. Gripping under one of your thighs, he used that massive upper body strength of his to lie you back gently onto the mattress, holding your whole body up with just one arm.

As he eased you down onto your back, you went quiet and he leaned on his elbow to look down over you.

You stared up at the red blinking light on the smoke detector a long time while he pressed his large forearm down against your chest, between your breasts, and spread his palm over your sternum, attempting to give you an anchor point. Your arms laid limp, one above your head, one at your side, almost like you were having a nightmare except wide awake.

He’d seen that vacant look in the eyes of fresh infantry grunts after their first real battle and brush with death. But he never thought he expected to see it stateside, in the eyes of his wife.

Doing what felt natural to do, after all he was trained for it, he dropped his voice and redirected your attention.

“Eyes on me, darlin’. I know you’re feelin’ pretty rough inside. Grief is grief however it comes. Yeah, it’ll take time. But that’s why you’ve got your Unit to fall back on. Unit of two, you an’ me. Makes us a pretty elite team. I’ll do some of the heavy lifting for ya now that I know what we’re working with. I need ya to stay with me though, yeah?”

“Unit of two. I like it. Will you ever… Oh Sy, will you ever touch me like that again?”

He frowned, wrinkles lining his forehead. “Sweets, hell nor high water gonna keep me from lovin’ on you.”

Three months later, you returned home from a walk with the new puppy to find Sy standing in the front lawn, one hand on his hip and the other waving at the delivery truck to keep backing up.

“More wood?” you called from across the street over the roar of the diesel truck lift dropping green treated lumber along the side of the house. While your husband signed off on the delivery, you crossed to meet him in the grass with the puppy under your arm.

Looping a sweaty arm around you, he pulled you in by the hip and kissed the crown of your head.

“Thank ya, sir. See ya’ next Saturday,” Sy smiled behind his reflective sunglasses, shaking the driver’s hand.

“Next Saturday?” you repeated, glancing over your shoulder at the new pile of lumber that had been dwindling as he completed projects. Or at least it was. “I thought the treehouse was done, my love.”

“Oh, it is. Come have a look see.” He dwarfed your hand in his, taking you to the sprawling backyard. His truck was parked at an angle on the lawn with his tools laid out in the back and sketches drawn all over sheets on the hood.

Leaning in with his hip, he showed you his drawings, motioning with his hands as to where they should be or already were in the yard.

“Swing set? Done. Slides over there? Done. High and low bars - also done. Rope bridge, climbing apparatus, bouncer thing, treehouse, done.”

Tilting your face, you bumped your head against his chest appreciatively and he smirked. “I want to build out chairs that flip down on the deck. Not sure on the height is all. I don’t suppose you have any input?”

“All the social worker has said is to plan on three siblings from upstate. Two boys and a girl, between the ages of 5 and 10. Sorry I don’t have any help as far as height goes. I think we are more than ready for the little ones next week, Sy. Why don’t you come inside and cool down with me?”

Scratching the back of his neck, he glanced over his shoulder at the freshly installed fence blocking the neighbors’ view. “Better idea, babygirl. How ‘bout we give those swings a try first. Should hold both our weight, I reckon.”

Arching a brow, you folded your arms across your chest, pretending to be annoyed. “Oh, you ‘reckon,’ hm?” you repeated, patting his sweaty chest through his tank top. “Bear, we already have a sex swing upstairs.”

“Yeahhhhh...” he drawled, giving you his most sly smirk, “but this one is outdoors.”

“Captain! I can’t believe you!” you gasped, touching your imaginary pearls before pushing off the wall of muscle your husband provided when he folded his arms across his chest, launching yourself into a dead sprint across the grass toward the swing set. “Ladies first!!”

He chuckled, and jogged behind. “’Course, babygirl.”

Masterlist

#fourmarkdovewrites #fourmarkdove masterlist #syverson x reader #captain syverson fic #hurt/comfort #tw:#tw: pregnancy #tw: infertility #henry cavil #henry cavill smut

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jflemings · 3 years

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baby, we bleed red and gold | f.w

warnings: Possible grammer mistakes

summary: The twins get a whiff of a plan that Draco and his buddies are hatching for the upcoming game and decide to get you involved in their plan to intimidate them. the tables turn and you get in the way of the serpents. Fred follows through with a promise.

authors note: I’ve had this sitting in my drafts unfinished for a couple of weeks now so I’d thought I’d smash it out. Once again another Gryffindor!reader that plays quidditch, I can’t help myself. Next fic will be multi house, promise.

Angelia had been absolutely kicking your asses in practice leading up to the match against Slytherin and to say you guys were prepared was a severe understatment. The atmosphere was unmatched when the lions and serpents went head to head; the age old rivalry sat thick in the air as the butterflies settled in the pit of your stomach and your hands clamped around your broom.

Up and ready to go with Ange first in line leading the pack, the seven of you got ready to kick off. It had been raining all week and the smell of the pitch took over your senses as you took heavy breathes in through your nose in order to calm the zoo in your stomach.

A flaming head of red hair came down to ear level with you on your right side.

“nervous, l/n? don’t be. Freddie and I have got your back, these serpents won’t lay a finger on your pretty little head” George’s tone was assuring but the smirk set on his lips told a different story. You had an overwhelming feeling that the twins were up to no good on this particular Friday night.

“Georgie’s right. No one is gonna get to our precious little y/n as long as we’re around”

you had to look up to make eye contact with the older twin, a grin gracing his pretty face and a simple wink thrown your way sent your heart into a frenzy. The hound in your rib cage couldn’t be ignored and neither could the whitening of your knuckles from holing the broom in your hands far too tight.

George stands up straight to be eye level with his other half

“Heard Malfoy barking orders to his sorry excuse of a team” Fred’s eyebrow quirks and silently beckons his twin to continue.

“Take out the twins he says”

Fred snickers and knocks his twin with his right elbow “like that’s the easiest thing in the world”

“I say we do something about it”

There it is. that’s the plan, take down the opposing team one by one, in whatever way they can.

Your head lifts and your ears perk as an idea comes flying through your head. The brothers are being rowdy and it somehow only grows your confidence and the bright idea cooking up.

“alright. I want in” the mischievous tone drips off your voice and the smirk gracing your lips can't be hidden when two hands mold to either shoulder and the pair are once again at your ear level and absolutely baffled at your statement. Sure, you got in with the twin’s pranks from time to time but you swore off foul play and mischief on the pitch; You were not about to risk the house cup for a laugh. When they don’t speak you continue.

“If the two of you keep Crabbe and Goyle distracted and off my back i’ll knock Pucey and Warrington around a bit to give dear old harry here enough time to catch the snitch” Your eyes were no longer fixated on the back of Angelia’s robes but instead giving side looks to the boys.

Angelia bounces on her feet and notates her neck back and forth before becoming completely still, almost like she’s trying to list the pros and cons of letting the three of you potentially sabotage your finale game.

She takes a deep breath out.

“If you three mess this up for us, you’re all benched for the first quarter of next season and if anyone asks I had zero involvement in this plan of yours”

You share a sly grin with the twins and George stands up straight while twisting his broom in his hands while Fred lingers by your side, you can practically see the gears turning in his head.

His mouth comes closer to your ear “If Pucey and Warrington are giving you too much of a hard time, let me know and I’ll give ‘em a fright, yeah?” His honey brown eyes scan your face with a sincere look while searching for a reassuring answer. You know that even if you had told Fred that you can take care of yourself if it even looked like the boys were giving you a rough time he’d have them off their brooms faster than you would ever realise.

All you can do is nod before Angie let’s the team know it’s kick off time. You all fly to your positions and you give Fred and George a side glance and nod, getting two smirks in return.

Madam Hooch kicks off the game and it’s on. The quaffle is in your hands and Warrington is tailing you while trying to dodge the twins, with little success. Angelina comes into your view and quicker than your body can process, you’re passing the quaffle on and scoring. Lee’s voice comes over the microphone.

“Brilliant set up and goal from l/n and Johnson! Gryffindor takes the lead by 10 points”

Angie looks over her shoulder and gives you a thumbs up before flying off ready to score again. That’s how the game goes for another fifteen minutes, you and angie scoring three times before Harry and Draco get the snitch in their sights. they’re flying down near the house stands and you easily spot Hermione, Ron and Ginny’s voices within the crowd of students.

The sheer excitement and pride you’re feeling puts you in a momentary state of bliss before a beater’s bat is flying your way. You narrowly miss it and spot Marcus Flint sporting a sickening smirk.

“Maybe if your bite matched your bark, your team would actually have a good chance at winning tonight, y/n” Pucey laughed before following flint toward the hoops.

This interaction meant little to nothing to you because everyone on that pitch and in the stands, including Pucey, knew damn well that you could take any one of the quidditch players at hogwarts one on one. But just because you weren’t bothered by the comment didn’t mean that someone else felt the same.

******

Fred knew how to keep his cool during games. After playing with his brothers since he could walk, he quickly figured out that you can’t always take your anger out on people flying on magic broomsticks a good 150 metres in the air.

So when he watched Pucey make a snide remark about you he didn’t know how to handle the overflow of anger crossing through him other than to take a page out of George’s book and attempt (and almost succeed) to knock the slytherin boy off of his broom completely.

The bludger sent flying towards one of the opposing chasers was anything but accidental and it was all George needed to know that it was time to show Malfoy and his team what taking down beaters actually looked like.

Your thoughts were racing when George caught up by your side diverging bludgers away from you

“I told you your pretty little head wasn’t getting touched this game” The younger twin smirked while diverging a bludger. George followed you to the hoops and cheered you now when you scored, once again putting Gryffindor back in the lead.

The game went on and on for another hour and a half; both teams going back and forth with no sign of mercy.

Alicia and Katie were on a roll. Their technique was unmatched when it came to scoring double goals, you were lingering behind incase they needed you as a distraction or for a pass off but when Katie yet again scores for your team it is immediately known that the odds are once again in your favour.

*****

With the quaffle once again in your clutches and the hoops in your direct eyeline nothing was set to get in your way. Pucey was trailing behind you with taunts and smart ass comments trying to throw you off your game.

“C’mon y/n, you think that’s what it’s gonna take ta get rid of me?” You could barley hear him over the wind in your ears until he was right up beside you with Warrington now joining him on your left. You were cornered.

“now now boys, wouldn’t want to get in my way would you? it’s not gonna end well If you keep riding my tail like this” The ever prominent smirk on your face was matched with Lee’s voice playing over the microphone letting the crowd know of the current score.

The two boys stopped mid air after you flew away from them catching up with the twins.

“Malfoy’s idea to shake up the twins a bit. Let’s see if we an give them a scare and get one of their star chasers out of the way” Warrington’s eyes scanned the pitch and found his teammates equally malicious ones.

Adrian hesitated before getting Goyle’s attention. The younger beater flew over to his older teammates whilst simultaneously trying to focus on the important game at hand.

Adrian spoke harshly and hastily “Draco needs more time to catch the snitch. It’s time to do what we talked about.” Goyle understood immediately and got into position.

Unknowing of the plan the opposing team had been coming up with against yourself and your teammates you continued on as you would. Making plays, avoiding bludgers and scoring. Fred and George were doing their best against Goyle and Crabbe but it was becoming obvious that Fred was becoming angry and his plays and hits were getting sloppy. His usual cool, confident demeanour had disappeared and it seemed the Goyle was successfully riling up the older twin.

Your attention was now split between the game and the boy you fancied. Angelina could see this and ordered you and Alicia swap on the pitch, finally sending you off for a much needed break. Alicia had made it onto the pitch fine and was now in a solid position to help Angie and Katie in what would hopefully be the final play.

The wind had begun to pick up since the start of the game, blowing your robes and hair all over the place. You were too slow to notice the bludger flying at a great speed toward you with a weasley twin hot on it’s trail.

A head of flaming red hair came into your view and a string of cursed seemed to follow. Fred was now positioned completely in front of you, his bat held high after a hit.

“Can’t catch the snitch so you get your pathetic excuse of a team to do dirty work? Thats low, Malfoy.” Fred’s voice was booming and the anger basically seethed out of him, turning his face the same colour of his hair.

“Ya know, Malfoy if you didn’t spend so much time playing dirty and actually trained your team maybe you’d have a chance of beating Gryffindor” George cupped his mouth to make his voice echo all over the stands.

Your stomach bubbled with anger when Fred turned around to face you.

“Angelina would have my head on a platter if she knew I encouraged you to get back out there. Have a rest, let the girls take over. Georgie and I have a bone to pick with Malfoy and his minions and we wouldn’t want you getting in the way of that.” His tone was comforting as he lightly took your chin between his thumb and pointer finger before flying off while swinging his bat.

You watched bludgers intensely follow the Slytherin players from the players stands, the feeling of Fred’s hand still settling into your skin. He kept his word the remainder of the game. All the players, especially Warrington and Malfoy, got a fright once Fred left you in the stands and if it wasn’t for harry finally catching the snitch you’re certain he and his twin would’ve put the whole team in the hospital wing for at least a week.

*****

The game had finally ended after almost four hours of play. You were tired but proud of your team and their talent. Fred and George flew down to where you were now standing on the stands and gave you a big, sweaty, exhausted hug.

“You guys were amazing tonight! Slytherin didn’t see what hit them” you lazily joked, a lopsided smile now present on your face. George patted your head affectionately

“Yeah well if it wasn’t for Freddie over here you probably would be in the hospital wing right about now.” George elbowed his brother and gave you both the biggest smile he could muster before mounting his broom to fly to his dorm. “I’m off to have a shower and hit the hay, being the best beater in Hogwarts has it’s toll on a man’s body ya know” a light yawn came from the boy’s mouth before he flew into the stars, the only thing you could see where his robes fluttering behind him.

Fred’s right arm makes it’s way around your shoulders and you lean into his side while wrapping your arm around his waist

“I don’t think you will ever fully understand just how much you mean to me, Freddie” you spoke softly

“y/n you mean everything and more to me.” His tired gaze found it’s way to you “I told you i’d give those nutters a fright, didn’t I? was only returning the favour, really. Couldn’t let them misplace a hair on your head now could I?” He spoke a-matter-a-factly and your other arm wrapped around his middle, with him placing a delicate kiss to the top of your head

“we bleed red and gold, baby. I’m always gonna have your back, on and off the pitch; I’m in it for the long haul” your head tiredly cuddled into his chest

“In it for the long haul, ay? good ‘cause I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

#fred and george #fred weasley x reader #fred x reader #fred weasley #gryffindor #harry potter #harry potter fic #pegswrites

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prolestariwrites · 3 years

Note

Are you still writing? I don't see you post as much stuff anymore.

I’m still here, alive and kicking and writing lol… I hope you don’t mind but I’m going to use this ask to give an update on me and what I’ve been doing.

The truth is, I write almost every single day. I have dozens of drafts and another dozen of nearly complete fics for different fandoms. I have some one shots that I never got around to publishing. I also have outlines for stories that I might or might not get around to doing. I have full fics that I’ve written in a discord server with my writing pals that are waiting for me to copy and paste into a document so I can edit and upload.

I’m going to go into my thoughts on these things, where I’m at, and what I’m working on under the cut. Maybe if you’re reading this you can help me piece it all together?

First I want to acknowledge that at least half of what I write, I do with my friend and writing partner @solynacea. We have novels of unpublished stuff that we’ve done just for fun that has never gotten published, and maybe never will. A lot of what I’ve written has been done with them, and many times we’re onto the next idea before editing and uploading and I think we’ve forgotten about half the stories we’ve written, lost into Google chat backlogs until one of us remembers something we can search to find it.

So if I’m doing all this writing, where is it? The truth I guess is that I’m still writing, but for a while I just haven’t been into publishing. And this isn’t going to be a sob story about not getting enough attention or credit, because I stopped looking at kudos and comments a long, long time ago. I like publishing my work because I like to know it’s somewhere where I can find it easily again. (My Google drive is a hot mess.) I like knowing that there is someone who read it and saved it to come back to again. If each of my fics has just that one person, I’m cool with it.

For me, writing is fun and publishing is work. I need to edit, I need to find visuals, I need to think of a title and write a summary and actually remember to update with new chapters. I need to be ready for other people to read it. So I’ve adapted this habit of writing without expecting to publish, and it’s helped me flourish.

But it’s also made me pretty inept at getting anything to the point where it can go on AO3. There is an expectation when publishing that things should be a bit polished. I’ve never been one to just throw whatever up unless I knew it would be finished, because I get the sense that people hate unfinished work. Am I wrong?

If you are asking about NnT, anon, I think we can agree that it’s unfortunately a bit dead. I do have one story to finish, The Dark Fate. I also have some outlines done, a bunch of completed or nearly (like just need one more chapter written) fics, some that were started and left halfway through.

But in general I feel like I’ve told the bulk of the stories I had for NnT. I don’t have much more left. Which really kind of sucks because it was the perfect place for a content creator. There were enough characters that you could interpret in a lot of ways, plenty of lore left undiscovered to flesh out, just fantasy enough to not get caught up in real-world locations or rules, but also not so big you get lost. Yet NnT is over and I’m not feeling the sequel. There’s just no inspiration.

I’m writing for a BNHA zine which is fun, and Kacchako is still one of my fave ships of all time. I have a story I’ve started about them that I can’t seem to get any gas on. The space though feels too big. I enjoy more of what other people do than what I can make myself. I do still want to write this fic though.

As for DMC, it was a nice place to hang my hat for a while, but I’m feeling like I’ve run out of things for it too. I wrote the things I wanted to say about Dante, Vergil, and Nero. I have a couple more chapters to do on The Wish and started writing a steampunk AU, but once those are done I’ll probably close the book, at least for a while. Writing in this fandom wasn’t at all what I expected coming from NnT, and the culture shock sort of zapped the inspiration for me, even though I’ve had a great time and met some great people. I also ended up liking the reboot more than the main games and finding anyone else in the same boat is like a needle in a haystack.

So what’s next? I’m on the hunt for inspiration. I’ve been catching up on Resident Evil and started writing for it. I’ve been editing an original work (supposed to be anyway, haha) and writing more original work with solynacea. I’ve tried my hand at the Witcher and looked into getting into other fandoms but nothing is striking my inspiration. Tried writing threads for a bit but it’s not my style. There are tons of things that I love, but it’s a whole other ballgame to have your own stories to tell outside of the original, and that’s what I’m waiting on.

I hope if you’ve read this far you can see that it’s not a lack of motivation or interest, just inspiration. I'm an author in need of a new home, so to speak. I’m not in a writing rut, and there are thousands and thousands of words unpublished that I’ve written over the past year since my publishing slowed down. I hope that RE can give me that push, and if it doesn’t, I’ll look for something else. Any ideas, anon?

In the meantime, I wonder, do you guys want rough or partially-finished stories though? Let me know. I can publish if you guys know what you’re getting into by reading it lol. And I don’t mind comments when people ask if I’ll ever finish xyz fic or asks like these that are about what I’m up to, so hit me up any time.

#personal #thanks for the ask!#and thanks for reading #maybe since there are people still out there I'll take some requests?#hmmmm #please feel free to add anything #free to comment or reblog if you agree or disagree

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bloomvalyria · 3 years

Text

I received a request for some sparxshipping, so I thought I’d give you some super old sparxshipping content! Since I’ve been getting so many questions about the whole “where did baltor go at the end of broken pieces?” debacle, I thought I’d share the idea I’d originally settled on back in 2016/2017 before scrapping it. It was a good idea in theory, but the deeper I explored it, everything very quickly fell apart. Nonetheless, please enjoy this scrapped rough draft material!

The room was oddly reminiscent of his pocket realm, slightly easing my tense muscles. It was enormous with a towering ceiling and tall walls lined with grand wooden bookcases. Dust coated the furniture and lightly lilted through the air. A great window overlooking the surrounding woods was perched on the other side of the room. The clear glass allowed an ample amount of moonlight to pour onto the hardwood floors. My gaze however was locked on a different light source flickering in my peripheral vision.

My Dragon Fire flared when I turned to look at the bright orange glow. Despite my distance, I could feel the intensity of the flames dancing in the fireplace. Its warmth combined with the pale moonlight gave the room an eerie yet annoyingly romantic vibe. Two stiff-looking arm chairs loomed before the fire, creating elongated shadows that stretched across the floor.

Easily able to sense the dark presence awaiting my arrival in the seat furthest away, I froze. My feet refused to take another step, petrified at the thought of approaching my host.

You can still turn back, my subconscious hastily whispered. He betrayed you. He lied to you. You owe him nothing.

That last statement prickled me. In spite of everything that had unfortunately transpired between the two of us, I owed everything to him. Without him, I never would have found Oritel and Miriam, nor would I have been able to revive Sparx. Even after our fight on Linphea, he’d still helped me achieve the one thing I’d wanted since discovering who I truly was. I may not have wanted to, but I owed it to him to at least hear him out.

Taking a silent, steadying breath I continued my approach to the ominous chair.

“No one would blame you.”

I nearly lost my footing as a familiar, deep voice echoed through the air. Coming to a halt, I felt the strength of the dark presence grow, fully announcing himself. A shadowy figure of a man lifted itself out of the furthest chair, startling me. He was shrouded in darkness until he stepped closer to the fireplace.

Baltor’s sharp features appeared more prominent in the harsh light of the flames. His piercing grey eyes stared deeply into the burning embers, and I couldn’t stop myself from wondering if it was on purpose. It was an odd sight to see him without his signature coat. Then again, his entire ensemble was much more relaxed than I was used to seeing. His normally regal attire was replaced with a simple pair of dark trousers and boots, along with a half-buttoned up, white-collared shirt. I had to mentally chide myself in order to stop staring.

“To be frank, I half-expected you not to come.” Baltor continued. He moved his arm up to rest against the mantle, attempting to look nonchalant.

I glowered at him. “I don’t remember inviting you to snoop through my thoughts.”

A small smirk tugged at his lips. I hated that it nearly made me swoon. “I don’t need to use our connection to read your thoughts, Bloom. You remember what I told you about your eyes.”

An annoyed frown instantly crossed my face as I fought the shiver that arose from hearing him say my name. Shoving my hands into my coat pockets, my fingernails dug into my palms. Resisting the urge to throw a punch at him, I decided saying nothing was my only good option. I considered testing my luck, but the dull throbbing that had suddenly emerged in the back of my skull greatly discouraged it.

“I’m more than aware that I’m the last person you want to speak with.” he said, redirecting the conversation. “All I ask is that we sit down and discuss this.”

“I’m not sure what else needs to be discussed.” I replied, deadpan. The darkness took over much quicker than I’d anticipated. “You knowingly faked your own death. You didn’t contact me at all for months to let me know that you were really alive. Then, you magically reappeared wanting to pretend everything was okay. And, when I asked you why you waited so long to find me, you fed me nothing but a string of bullshit lies.” I paused, dramatically. “I don’t believe I missed anything.”

My response was enough to finally pull Baltor’s gaze away from the fire. The concern pooling in his eyes made my stomach twist with butterflies. However, the darkness worming its way deeper into my brain fought viciously to counteract it.

“Bloom,” he said, calmly, “I understand that you’re angry with me. You have every right to be.” To my amazement, he took a daring step in my direction. “But I know that’s not you.”

The throbbing slowly began to subside, to my shock. I wasn’t sure what made it retreat, but I wasn’t going to complain. Regardless of how truthful my outburst was, the guilt that followed was immense.

“Sorry,” I uttered. “It’s been a bit out of control lately, what with the move back here.”

He nodded. “Understandable. This is your home, and you want it to feel like your home. Living on Sparx is certainly going to be an adjustment for you.”

“An adjustment is one way to word it.” I mumbled, quickly growing exhausted. Running a hand through my tousled hair, I slumped into the seat next to the one he’d previously occupied. The leather fabric wasn’t particularly comfortable, but I needed a place to sit down. Baltor followed suit.

For a while, we merely sat there, glancing at each other. Neither of us seemed to know what to say. All of the snarky, clever remarks I’d conjured up in my head had vanished. Every emotion I’d felt over the last year was a swirling melting pot in my chest. I had a million questions for him. For so long I’d been deprived of the answers I so desperately desired, and now that my opportunity to receive them had finally arrived, I was speechless.

Baltor shifted forward in his chair, looking as if he was about to break the never-ending silence. My Dragon Fire sprung to life with adrenaline, warning me that I needed to speak before he did. My irrational fear of how well he could redirect a conversation was too strong.

“Where were you?” I blurted, cutting Baltor off.

A sad gleam sprouted in his eyes. Still, he didn’t answer. I could see the cogwheels turning in his mind, scrambling to muster up a convincing excuse to push my question off till another time.

“Where were you?” I asked again, fury dripping into my voice. My fingers dug into the leather of the arm chair, trying to still their shaking.

Baltor ran a hand down his face, immediately seeming more exhausted than before. Hearing the question aloud seemed to drain him. “Bloom, I know it’s not what you want to hear,” he began, hesitantly. “Nevertheless, I do believe that particular question is one we should wait on discussing.”

Steam poured from my ears. My cheeks burned red with pent up rage. “No!” I shouted, unable to contain myself. “We are not pushing this off anymore! I’m not asking you to do something outlandish, Baltor. I just want to know the truth!”

“I want to tell you, Bloom. Trust me, I do.” Baltor argued. “Considering how you almost crossed into dark territory only a few minutes ago, telling you would only be detrimental.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I could already begin to feel the pads of my fingertips rapidly heat up. “How would that be detrimental? That doesn’t make sense!”

“Bloom, I’m serious.” he warned. “You don’t need to know.”

“Oh, come on, Baltor! What is so difficult about being honest with me? Where could you have been that’s so bad that you’d have to lie to me about it?”

“The Under Realm.”

His interruption made my heart skip a beat. My rage instantly diffused, morphing into a state of shock.

The name sent a chill down my spine as it echoed through my head. Flashes of memories presented themselves front and center, reminding of my time spent there. As always, none of them were pleasant ones.

“What?”

Baltor clearly didn’t want to continue the conversation; however we both knew I wasn’t just going to drop it after that revelation. “When I found out you were alive, I went to the Under Realm,” he affirmed, slowly dragging out his words.

The thoughts racing through my head were a jumbled, cluttered mess. I kept waiting for my instincts to kick in and react like they usually did. Yet, this time, the longer I sat there I only became more confused.

No logical reason for why he’d be in the Under Realm came to mind. I couldn’t think of any unfinished business he could possibly have there. Even if he did, that still didn’t explain why he’d suddenly decide to act on it when I was in recovery.

Maybe you’re overreacting, my hopeful conscience reasoned. He didn’t say which part of the Under Realm. He could’ve been in Downland for all you know.

I was doubtful. If he’d been in Downland, there was no reason for him to hide it from me. Baltor was well aware of my history with the Under Realm, and if he truly went there, he’d only avoid telling me about it if he went to one particular place. “You were in Shadow Haunt.”

A short sigh slipped past his lips, but no words followed.

White hot anger flashed in my chest. “Baltor, were you in Shadow Haunt?” I asked again, my fury slipping into my voice.

“Yes,” he said. “You broke my curse. I’d hoped to return the favor.”

I stared at him, wide-eyed as the complicated puzzle pieces began to finally make sense. “You went there to try and reverse the effects of Darkar’s curse?”

“It was a long shot,” he indirectly confirmed. “Shadow Haunt seemed the perfect place to, at the very least, begin to search for answers. Since that was where the curse originated, I figured there had to be some information lingering there; possibly somewhere in the wreckage of the palace.”

He suddenly went quiet, acting as if he was finished with his tale.

“I’m guessing you didn’t find anything?” I inferred, feeling a wave of disappointment.

Baltor shook his head. “I searched for days. I didn’t leave a single stone unturned in that damned place, but there wasn’t a single trace that remained.”

My heart sank in my chest. I knew better than to hope for good news, yet something in me still grabbed onto it. I so desperately wanted to be free of her that I couldn’t help but hope.

“Although, I was able to sense someone else’s magic.”

My gaze flew over to him. A mix of fear and hope twisted my insides. “Who else could be there? It was abandoned. The authorities searched every inch of it to make sure no one was hiding.”

“Well, as it turns out, they didn’t do a particularly thorough job.” He hesitated, looking as if he was debating his next words. “One of Darkar’s minions managed to survive the attack.”

The entire universe came to a halt. Bile rose in my throat.

“I believe you called him Avalon.”

#sparxshipping #bloomxvaltor #baltorxbloom #valtorxbloom #bloomxbaltor

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almondeyes-biased · 4 years

Text

Jungkook x Rain by BTS

for anon 💕

Disclaimer: it was raining and was cold today so I took advantage of the view and the vibe. I hope you all like it 💕

(Word count: 1.2k)

Jungkook woke up to the sound of raindrops that fall and tap lightly on the window glass. He reached for his cell phone on the nightstand beside him and opened it, only to be greeted by unanswered calls from the past three days and an unread message from you, a simple “you doing okay? Haven’t seen you in days, I’m worried,” display on the screen.

He groaned and raised his body from the mattress, letting the random papers full of songwriting attempts and unfinished lyrics scatter on the floor, on top of notebooks and staves. He walked to the window and opened the curtains further, to allow the dim grey light to enter and fill the room. It’s a really beautiful morning, despite the rain and lack of people walking up and down the streets. Jungkook opened the window, humming to a favorite song of his, and reached out his hand, letting the raindrops drench his hand, enjoying the contrast of warm from his room and the cool breeze the greeted him from outside. He passed his wet fingers through his hair, now dripping. A slight headache started creeping, so he decided to go and take a shower.

“Nice way to kick – start your day,” he ironically thought to himself as he let the hot water fall on him. He took longer than usual in the shower, letting his bitterness consume him and poison his thoughts. It’s been weeks since he was feeling a bit down, then his inspiration left him, and he had been upset ever since. He wasn’t sleeping well, he wasn’t eating well, he was a mess. This had eventually lead to cutting off all his contacts, not talking with his friends and not responding to your texts. This had been going on for two weeks or so now, and it kept getting worse day by day. He knew he needed to do something, he just didn’t know what.

As he was getting dressed, Jungkook looked outside once more. Now the rain was slightly lighter than before, but the background was still gray, gloomy and dark. It was beautiful. He hesitated for a moment, but deep down he knew he would, sooner or later. So he grabbed his jacket and his shoes, he shoved the papers and the staves in his backpack and his cell phone in his pocket, and stormed out of his small studio with his umbrella in hand.

He didn’t open the umbrella immediately. He let the rain fall on him, soaking his hair and increasing the chances of his headache coming back, but he didn’t care much. He walked in the rain, his footsteps leading him to nowhere. He looked around, the small poodles on the streets, the few people walking, the cars that were passing in high speed, splashing everything around them with water, and then he raised his eyes to meet the top of the high building and the trees. It was mid spring and there were blooming flowers all over their branches, but now with the rain most of them had fallen on the pavement, creating a wet yet beautiful carpet. “Maybe I could write about that…”

The sound of an incoming message interrupted his thoughts, and he took it out of his pocket with a sigh. It was another message he had gotten from you, like everyday. While the previous ones were mostly in question form, asking him if he was okay, or telling him that you missed him or that you wanted to assure that everything was fine, this one was shorter and simpler, but hit harder.

“I wanna see you.”

He took in a sharp breath, and without further questioning or doubts he let his footsteps lead him at your front door. His heart was beating really loud and remorse started taking over, but that didn’t stop him from knocking on your door, four times, as usual. It didn’t take long for him to hear your footsteps, almost running, towards the door.

“Kookie?”

“He didn’t raise his eyes to look at you, afraid that he would start crying the moment he’d meet your glance. You were about to almost shout at him, tell him how worried and how scared you were, how much upsetting his absence was for you all these days, but when you noticed the purple bags under his eyes and the slight tremble of his lips, you grabbed his arm and pulled him inside.

“Oh my god you’re dripping, Jungkook, you’re shivering. Give me that,” you helped him take his jacket off and while you were hanging it near the heater to dry he let his backpack against the door. When you turned towards him again, you saw his eyebrows furrowed and noticed the tears that were threatening to fall at anytime. Suddenly, you felt his arms wrap around you and his face bury I the crook of your neck, and it wasn’t until mere seconds later when you heard his quiet sobs and felt his body tremble against you. You let out a breath and hugged him tightly as you leaned against the wall, your one hand holding him close and with the other you drew small incoherent patterns on his wet locks.

Once he relaxed, you raised his chin and made him look at you, eyes red and lips swollen from the intense biting on them. You caressed the sides of his face, the worried look never leaving your face. You dragged him and sat him on the couch, ran to your room and brought him a clean pair of sweatpants and the hoodie you had snatched from him at one of your sleepovers, and let him change.

While that, you were thinking about how many times this had happened in the past. Jungkook was always sensitive, intense, never really showed his feelings, and he would never let you know whether he was hurt, upset, or tired. But you knew every time. You could tell, from his short answers, the way he would stare into the void and not talk, from his absence on social media. The first time it happened you argued, but afterwards you got a bit used to it, understood it, and always forgave him, as this was his own burden and had nothing to do with you. But this time it was for longer, and it seemed worse.

Jungkook cleared his throat and sniffed quietly, and you turned to him. You sat beside him on the couch.

“Do you wanna talk?” you asked him, placing one hand on his thigh. He shook his nead, and you sighed.

“What do you want to do?”

He quietly sat up and grabbed a pen from the table in front of him, then reached for his backpack and took out all his drafts and staves and sat back down, leaving them beside him. Then, still without a word, he took both your hands in his and pulled you towards him. He let his thumb run against your lower lip and his eyes wander around your features, and then he leaned in and kissed you. His breath was still shaky from his intense crying and his hands were trembling, but his kiss was sweeter and softer than you remembered.

When he opened his eyes again, he looked directly into yours this time, the only sound between you and him being the raindrops against the windowpane. He broke the silence first this time, his voice hoarse and rough from not having spoken for long.

“Will you stay in my arms for a while? I want to write, and I need my muse.”

give me an idol and a song and I'll build you a drabble or timestamp

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ladyemberswrites · 4 years

Text

[Oh boy, OH BOY! Like some people are going to hate me for this, but here it goes!]

Author's Notes: Okay, so like I've had this in my drafts for awhile now. So, this is like a very, very rough draft of a Gargoyles Human Au I was working on, but then I ended up changing a whole bunch of things as I went along, so this is pretty much a scraped draft, drabble sort of thing, though I will probably end up keeping many of the main elements in the final product. So, yeah-

!Warnings! [ Adultery/Cheating/References to Toxic and Unhealthy relationships/Age Difference/Age Gaps]

● If any of this isn't your cup of tea this isn't for you!]

Summary: "Elisa?" She hated the way he said her name. He said it so delicately, so soft as if he feared it might break on his tongue. She hated that she loved how he spoke it "Elisa". It made her feel wanted, feel desired, feel protected with just an utterance of her name. And that's where the problem lay.

Why she can't look him in the eyes, but she does so anyways to catch his tired, obsidian eyes.

"We need to talk." She blurts and she can see him physically wince the moment the sentence leaves her lips.

"I know"

It was long after midnight, but of course, New York isn’t called the city that doesn’t sleep for anything.

But, the point was moot.

For the first time, she hated the noise of the city that she called home. The lights too bright, the sounds, the smells of greasy street vendor food made her want to vomit. She just wanted everything to shut up and give her some peace. She wanted to wallow but she had work in the morning so getting drunk like any sane person would have was out of the question.

And the thought of sitting around any longer in the silence of her dark, cramped, shitty apartment made her want to rip her own hair out and scream.

So, where does that leave her?

Not much of choice, no, not really she has a choice, a choice that needed to be made no matter how much she didn’t want to do it. She can be a coward and run, but her mama didn’t raise cowards. She’s no coward even though at this point and time she wanted to be.

To go run and hide away from the big scary world.

The 23rd precinct came into view and her dread only intensified. No one was there which only worsen the feelings even though the building being entirely vacant is a blessing. No one to hear, no prying eyes nor ears. Yet, that didn’t lessen the fear; her heart felt like a rock sitting inside her chest and every exhale and inhale of her breath burned as if her lungs were drawing smoke and brimstone.

The scent of roasted Ethiopian coffee wafts under her nose and it warms her, almost comforting her as she turns the corner and finds the only light in the dark beckoning her. Her feet kept going, they wanted to stop and turn around and run until her feet bleed.

But, she can't. She had to do this, she had to, not just for herself, but for them and too selfishly appease her own guilt that's been gnawing away at her consciousness every waking moment.

The rap of her knuckles across the worn wood sounded like a death toll in her ears. In a way it was.

"Captain Wyvern." Her voice wavered, she sounded so damn mousey and timid, but the door and rumble of his deep baritone made her feel so small and tiny.

"Come in." She didn't notice the tremble of her fingers until she struggled to turn the knob of his office door, she stopped and swallowed, her throat feeling raw and scratchy. Inhaling, she finally finds the courage to open it and meet Goliath's boring stare.

The dark circles of his eyes were hard to ignore nor the fading blemish that stained his dark skin a nasty shade of blue and black. She recoiled at the sight, darting her eyes away to peer at the floor.

"Elisa?" She hated the way he said her name. He said it so delicately, so soft as if he feared it might break on his tongue. She hated that she loved how he spoke it "Elisa". It made her feel wanted, feel desired, feel protected with just an utterance of her name. And that's where the problem lay.

Why she can't look him in the eyes, but she does so anyway to catch his tired, obsidian eyes.

"We need to talk." She blurts and she can see him physically wince the moment the sentence leaves her lips.

"I know" she steps closer, her eyes briefly scanning the mess of his desk scattered files and unfinished documents laid about, a whole pack of cigarettes burnt to their very buds sizzles in the mini ashtray she bought him as a last-minute birthday present. Her eyes lifted to meet his scrutinizing gaze and hated that too, that inhuman inquisitiveness his eyes give off, watching her every movement like that of an apex predator.

"I want to transfer" the words tasted bitter on her tongue, heavy as they were she had managed without tripping over her them in haste. Goliath looked at her like she had just punched a hole through his gut and suddenly that bruise on his face didn't sting so much.

"What?"

"I-want to transfer"

"Why-" as if he didn’t know.

"I overheard you arguing with your wife about me the other night." His face fell blank "Captain-Goliath you know why I can't stay here. You know that I can't." Dammit, she hissed she fumbles with her oversized police bomber and rubs her watering eyes. She hears a creak of his mobile chair and the soft pad of shoes hitting the floor and suddenly he's towering over her.

"Elisa, you belong here" of course she did, didn't she? But, the matter isn't about her sense of belonging, it's about what is right and what is wrong. And she can't stay no matter how much she didn't want to leave, she can't because she knows she won't be able to control herself.

"You're making this harder than it has to be" she mumbles exhausted and emotionally worn "I have to go"

"The problems between me and my wife have nothing to do with you" he's trying to placate her, to affirm what she has so unsuccessfully tried to do for months on end.

"It has everything to do with it me!" She snapped pulling away from his warmth "how can you say that!? I kissed you! And before that, I confessed to you drunk off my ass!" She shouted as she had to hammer those facts into his thick skull because he wanted to ignore the blatantly obvious. To put behind them and pretend that night didn’t exist at all.

You're a married man dammit!" God, she can only imagine what it would've sounded like if the 23 precinct was packed airing her dirty laundry for all to hear without a care in the world. Even in the quiet of the empty halls, she felt beyond mortified.

Goliath watched her almost apathetically mingled with what she had come to know as his " unable to process anything" look.

Whatever torrent of emotions were stirring through him she hadn't the faintest idea. Her captain was known for having a rather volcanic temper, but she had never, ever had him lash out at her, raise his voice yes, but never unadulterated anger. Right now, she wished he would get angry, lash out at her, throw something, flip the desk and let all its contents crash upon the floor. It'd make things easier for her, easier to pack her things and leave and never look back. And not cling to him like a lovesick puppy.

But he doesn't.

He runs a hand through his long mane smoothing it back for a lack of anything better to do or say.

"I need coffee." he mutters. For Goliath its code for "I need a minute to think".

He wanders out his office lost and leaves her behind struggling to keep her dwindling mental state from going straight to utter hell.

The silent tears do the opposite of what she's supposed to do, to keep a level head, but they come anyway, pouring down her cheeks in pathetic, wet globs. By the time he returns with two mugs of piping hot coffee her eyes are red and scratchy and he looks worse than when he left. Still stolid, still uncomfortably rigid as if he's standing trial.

She takes it and sips at it, just the right amount of sweetness she liked because of course, he knew exactly how she wanted it. Because he's attentive and she comes to hate him for that.

"Goliath?"

"Yes."

"Was she right? About what Demona said about you being infatuated me? About having a thing for me?" His chair squeaked, deafening in the silence.

"I-" her brows scrunch "you kissed me back that night. It was brief, but I noticed"

"...Yes…" he confesses and her fingers squeeze her mug so tight she feared it might break.

Brooklyn came in like a whirlwind, slamming the glass door of his office behind him it resounded like a thunderclap. Goliath glanced up from his documents, his prescription glasses sliding off the bridge of his nose.

"What the hell did you do!?"

"Pardon?"

"You're transferring Elisa!?"

He looks away from Brooklyn's accusatory gaze "Yes…"

"Why!?" He slams both hands on his desk "Elisa's a damn good cop and you know it! Just what the everloving hell did she do to make you want to transfer her!" Goliath hardly faltered under his younger brother's fury, he remained passive and unnerved.

"I thought you liked her"

"I do." He murmured, but Brooklyn took note of something, the perks of living with each other so closely for so long.

"But, I'm betting a little much, huh?" His tone was far from sarcastic his voice instead dripped with condescension, if not disgust.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Is that what you're doing!? Huh, covering your own ass because you couldn't keep your dick in your pants!? Never thought you'd stoop so low-"

"Enough!" He barked detesting the very insinuation that he'd kick Elisa to curb, that he'd use her to only abandon her for mere lust made him sick. As understanding he is of his brother's upset; he refuses to be accused of such a low, foul deed. Like a scolded puppy Brooklyn reels away with wide eyes.

"I know you're upset but I will not stand here and let you accuse me of something I did not do."

His gaze sharpened "This is not a decision I make lightly, but it has to be done."

"But, why!?"

"Enough, Brooklyn. You do not need to know the specifics only that I'm transferring Elisa to the 22nd precinct. My decision stands and you will accept it all the same."

"Just like that." He snapped his fingers.

"Yes." He says with finality.

"You're not getting away with this…" he hissed before he tapered away, slamming the door the way he had opened it earlier with a thunderous clatter.

As Brooklyn's loud, angry footsteps recede, Goliath resisted the sudden urge to hurl his mug across the room, to watch it crash and hit the floor, to shatter into a thousand little pieces upon the polished wood.

An appropriate metaphor for his current state of mind.

He heard his office door swing open again this time without a deafening noise.

"Always a lively lad" Hudson jeers. Goliath cracks his knuckles scowling at his desk.

"It is not always a good thing" his mentor hummed "Brooklyn lets his emotions run wild without thought or consequences too often."

"Aye, but the sentiment rings familiar" Goliath grimaced "lettin' one's emotions run rampant"

"I wasn't that bad"

Hudson laughed but shook his head "perhaps, but I'm not speakin of that" his mirth falters "it's about you and the lass"

There's no accusation in his voice.

"There is nothing between me and Elisa" as if it needed to be stated.

"If you're going to be carrying on an illicit affair, ye should be sure the walls don't be having eyes and ears" Goliath stiffened.

"I was in my office gettin some shut eye until the yelling woke me up. Nice thing to wake to seeing the two of you gettin' to know each other" Shame curled at the pit of his stomach his eyes left his mentor's questioning gaze.

"I had a serious lapse of judgment"

"I'll bet!" Goliath swallowed. Hudson crossed the room and took a seat.

"I do not know what's coming over me." He rubbed the bridge of his nose ", this isn't like me, Hudson."

"It'd be love I suppose"

"I don't-"

"Don't love the lass?" Hudson lifted a bushy brow "ye sure?" Goliath didn't answer, he didn't want to answer.

"I'm married, Hudson. A married man with a child! How can you say that!? In fact, you of all people should be furious with me!"

"And say 'I thought I taught you better'?"

"Yes!" he slammed the desk “What I did was wrong! I shouldn’t-I shouldn’t-” he ran both hands over his face in utter frustration “I should never have kissed her the way that I did. I shouldn’t be infatuated with her in the first place! Dammit….”

Goliath did not know what lunch with his wife might entail. He considered canceling out of guilt, but his conscience won in the end. He needed to face her, Demona, his angel, and to confess to her how he betrayed her in the worst possible way. He wasn't looking forward to it as he traps through the tables and chairs of her favorite french restaurant.

"Love." She was eerily at ease "you came."

"Of course."

"You are troubled"

"You stormed away last night. I was worried." Demona only let her lips downturn only a millimeter as she dusted her pencil skirt of invisible dust.

"I suppose I let my emotions get the better of me"

"I-before we eat. I must confess something to you"

"Is it about the Maza woman?" her tone dropped. To be fair her momentary jealousy wasn't as intense as it was before. She felt more aggravated by the fact she hadn't noticed earlier, she hates rude surprises. And what did she have to scorn the Maza woman over anyway? She's rich, she's powerful all gained and created by her very own hands. What exactly did she have to prove to her? It's an embarrassing sentiment, but a sentiment all the same.

Goliath nods mutely and Demona speculates that something serious between must have happened and as he spoke-not as nearly serious as she had thought. However, she found it both shocking and utterly amusing that Goliath of all people-it was almost laughable. He was cute; being completely racked with guilt. This Maza woman had certainly worked a number on him without actually intending to do anything at all. Quite impressive.

"I will not excuse my behavior"

"Why didn't you?"

"What?"

"What caused you to stop?"

"You of course!"

"A bit too late for that."

"I-" he swallowed "Y-yes."

"Seems my assumption was correct then?"

"I'm not going to leave you for another woman"

"But, Maza isn't just another woman." She cuts him off "Is she?"

Goliath froze.

"You feel a strong attraction to her more than anything I can garner "

"That isn't-"

"Isn't what? Why are you trying so hard to deny the obvious truth? You want Maza."

"So what!?" Elisa snaps "Do we just bang each others brains out? Then what?! Be consumed by a lifetime of guilt? Or do we just play pretend and spend the rest of our lives shacking up at some moldy, shitty motel acting like we did nothing wrong once the lights come on?"

Her shoulders sag, her voice cracks "Is that the kind of life you want, Goliath? Living out some lie that we know damn well isn't true?" She wiped her eyes with the back of her palm, she was crying again. Dammit!

Before she knew it, she's enveloped in warmth, his large arms and body wrap around her and she's pressed into his chest. Him and the oversized blue police bomber that he had given her to replace the once she lost on her first-night compasses her.

She inhales his scent; the heady smell of burnt oak.

And before she knows it she crumbles, her vision is blurred, everything outside is nothing more than white static in her ears as she wails against his chest.

A childish part of herself wanted to scream and say it wasn't fair, but she knew she can't-couldn't say it out loud.

"No." He finally says "that isn't the life I want for you." He squeezes her tighter, his fingers brushing through her short hair "you're young, so much younger than I am, you have your whole life ahead of you. I cannot keep you here, no matter how much I want you to stay."

It wasn't fair for him either. Forced to stay within a bitter, toxic marriage. But, that wasn't her issue to meddle in.

She sniffed "you're not that old" her tone is watery, heavy with grief, but she tries to lighten her mood.

"I'm old enough to be your father, Elisa." He says dryly with no ounce of humor.

"Yeah," she sniffs "but you're not my dad." She sniffs again "he's been gone for a long time…now.." as if this wasn't depressing enough, she shudders. Goliath holds her closer, letting his head fall upon her head.

#goliath and elisa #golisa #goliath #gargoyles #brooklyn gargoyles #gargoyles hudson #disney's gargoyles #gargoyles tv show

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somnolent-snufkin · 4 years

Text

Bite Marks

WARNING: THIS IS SMUT!

Snorkmaiden and Little My are both adults in this situation.

Snorkmaiden and Little My's relationship over the years had changed quite a bit. When they were in their late teens, they started dating. Now they were in their mid-twenties and still dating. They certainly weren't very open about the fact that they were dating; unlike Moomintroll and Snufkin.

Little My had been staying the night at Snorkmaiden's house more frequently. Snorkmaiden was still living with her brother. Which meant the two had to be less overly gay towards eachother.

Although there were some nights where Snork wasn't home...

"Hey Snorkmaiden?" Little My asked with a grin. She was sitting down on one end of the bed while Snorkmaiden sat on the other. My set her paw on the maiden's thigh. The mymble had grown about an inch and some taller since they were teenagers, so reaching across things wasn't as difficult.

"Yes..?" Snorkmaiden replied.

"Your brother's not home. We have the house to ourselves tonight."

"Are you suggesting something?"

"Yes, I certainly am." My said with a grin. Her eyes were closed half-way and her face was dusted with pink. The image certainly suggested something.

"What were you thinking of, dearest?" Snorkmaiden blushed as she spoke.

"Something exciting..." My bared her sharper teeth to further explain what she meant.

"Ooh! That is exciting!" Snorkmaiden's tone was gradually getting more and more amorous. That's when Little My crawled across her lap; slowly approaching like a predator. Then she pulled her in for a kiss. It was not a moomin kiss, but a mymble-mumrik kiss. It quickly became a very rough one too. When the two broke it for a moment, their eyes met in a loving gaze. My rested her paws on Snorkmaiden's shoulders, now straddling her legs. They sat like this for a few minutes. Simply loving being there with eachother.

"You know I love you a lot, right?" Snorkmaiden whispered.

"Oh, don't be so cheesy!" Little My laughed, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"But it's true!" Snorkmaiden chuckled. The mymble felt very flustered. When the situation felt too silly, My did what she knew would bring it right back to where it was moments ago: bite her girlfriend. She leaned forward and softly pressed her teeth into the fluffy fur covering her collarbone.

"Ohh!~" Snorkmaiden moaned softly. "M-My!~"

"Did you like that, dearest?~" Little My teased. "I know you love it when I bite ya!~" She gave a toothy grin.

"Oh, you little red rose." Snorkmaiden leaned closer towards the mymble. "Beautiful flower, still got thorns."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't even know."

The two chuckled softly. As the two shifted into more comfortable positions, they connected into a kiss. This one lasting a bit longer than the last.

"It's.. getting a bit.. hot in here..." Little My mumbled. "Let me.. take off some of this..." She sat up and began unbuttoning her dress. She decided to leave it unbuttoned, and not take it off. My leaned down again, beginning to nibble on Snorkmaiden's neck. The maiden made a few soft noises in response.

"M-My!~" Snorkmaiden mumbled. "B.. Bi.." The rest was inaudible. Little My paused.

"What was that, dear?"

"I-I.. I want you to.. bite me."

"Alright.." Little My grinned. She teased the maiden by nibbling ever so lightly. Snorkmaiden blushed deeper and mumbled something again.

"What was that?"

"Harder p-please!" Snorkmaiden was certainly flustered by all the teasing. But she had no idea how much she would be blushing in just a few minutes. Little My sunk her teeth into a little sensitive spot. Snorkmaiden immediately covered her mouth as she cried out in pleasure.

"How about I move this along?" My shifted her position, allowing her to do her work farther down. She started to kiss and nibble spots on Snorkmaiden's body, teasing the idea of touching her there. Everytime her kisses got close, she would move farther away.

"Ohh~ P-Please stop teasing me!~" Snorkmaiden whined. "Hurry up, dearest." My stood up and thought for a moment. Then she noticed how turned on Snorkmaiden was.

"Well, you seem to be wanting this far more than I thought." My chuckled. Her finger brushed against the slit, leaving some slick on it. She let go of her sly demeanor for a moment to ask something.

"Snorkmaiden? Could we do fingers this time? I think I'll get much pleasure from ruining my tongue again." My glanced up.

"O-Oh.. Of course! If anything's bothering you, let me k-know." Snorkmaiden responded. The mymble nodded.

"Same for you, dearest. Now.. what was I doing?" My's tone changed to a sly one yet again. "Yes, that's right." She set her finger on Snorkmaiden's belly, then dragged it down to her slit slowly. A slight moan was heard as her finger rubbed against the opening. It was very moist. As she inserted her finger in, the maiden made a pleased noise. So, My continued. She pressed forward, then pulled out, and repeated. Snorkmaiden was certainly vocal about her pleasurable time.

"R-Ready for a second one? If you aren't, that's fine." My took out her finger, which was now covered in wet fluids.

"Give... Give me a moment. T-Thank you.." Snorkmaiden sighed. My laid down on the bed next to her. She had a feeling this might take a moment.

"Hey.. My? Why don't... you like to be in my place during these? Wouldn't you like to be.. the one feeling the most pleasure? After all, you've been the one doing all this everytime." Snorkmaiden turned to look at her girlfriend. She seemed to be flustered for sure.

"I suppose I haven't thought of that. But maybe next time, you can be the one doing things." My stood up again. "At the moment, I believe we were in the middle of something?" Snorkmaiden nodded, signaling that she was ready. My pushed two of her fingers in, and a yelp came out of Snorkmaiden.

"Are you alright?" My abruptly asked. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" Snorkmaiden nodded, groaning a little. My slowly took the fingers out, and then out them back in. Now Snorkmaiden was feeling good. Pleasure took over the pain.

"Ohh!~ More, please!~" Snorkmaiden cried out. The mymble quickly responded by adding a third finger. Although she winced at first, Snorkmaiden found it delightful. The two of them both had arousal building up in their bodies. Though, it was definitely more for one than the other.

"Ahhh!~ So.. So.. close!~" Snorkmaiden's eyes shot open when My had hit a certain spot deep inside. "RIGHT THERE!~ OHH PLEASE RIGHT THERE!~" She kept going at it, though it was slow.

Seconds later, everything seemed to go blank for a moment as Snorkmaiden came. It was short lived, but it was very much worth it. My took her fingers out, clean them off, and then laid next to her girlfriend. She didn't really mind not being able to get far enough to climax as well. It wouldn't effect her too badly. As long as Snorkmaiden was happy, My was happy.

Sorry if this wrapped up kinda unfinished or was a big meh

I've been a mess lately and I just wanted to get this draft done

Hope you enjoyed this mess. There will probably be more to this specific version of Snorkmaiden and Little My.

#murrmin fanfic #murrmin #murrmin fanfiction #snorkmaid might do something nice for my soon

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she-wolf-of-highgarden · 4 years

Text

All the times Arya mentions being (un)afraid

“A shade more fun than needlework," Arya gave back at him. Jon grinned, reached over, and messed up her hair. Arya flushed. They had always been close. Jon had their father's face, as she did. They were the only ones. Robb and Sansa and Bran and even little Rickon all took after the Tullys, with easy smiles and fire in their hair. When Arya had been little, she had been afraid that meant that she was a bastard too. It had been Jon she had gone to in her fear, and Jon who had reassured her.” - Arya I, AGoT

“The direwolf," she said, thinking of Nymeria. She hugged her knees against her chest, suddenly afraid.” - Arya II, AGoT

“She looked at the sword with wonder in her eyes. For a moment she was afraid to touch it, afraid that if she reached for it it would be snatched away again, but then her father said, "Go on, it's yours," and she took it in her hand.” - Arya II, AGoT

“Her fingers brushed against rough unfinished stone to her left. She followed the wall, her hand skimming along the surface, taking small gliding steps through the darkness. All halls lead somewhere. Where there is a way in, there is a way out. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Arya would not be afraid. It seemed as if she had been walking a long ways when the wall ended abruptly and a draft of cold air blew past her cheek. Loose hairs stirred faintly against her skin.” - Arya III, AGoT

“Three of them started forward, chainmail clinking softly with each step. Arya was suddenly afraid. Fear cuts deeper than swords, she told herself, to slow the racing of her heart.” - Arya IV, AGoT

“Arya closed her eyes. For a moment she was too frightened to move. They had killed Jory and Wyl and Heward, and that guardsman on the step, whoever he had been. They could kill her father too, and her if they caught her. "Fear cuts deeper than swords," she said aloud, but it was no good pretending to be a water dancer, Syrio had been a water dancer and the white knight had probably killed him, and anyhow she was only a little girl with a wooden stick, alone and afraid.” - Arya IV, AGoT

“Arya knelt in the dirt among the scattered clothes. She found a heavy woolen cloak, a velvet skirt and a silk tunic and some smallclothes, a dress her mother had embroidered for her, a silver baby bracelet she might sell. Shoving the broken lid out of the way, she groped inside the chest for Needle. She had hidden it way down at the bottom, under everything, but her stuff had all been jumbled around when the chest was dropped. For a moment Arya was afraid someone had found the sword and stolen it. Then her fingers felt the hardness of metal under a satin gown.” - Arya IV, AGoT

“It was the scariest thing she'd ever done. She wanted to run and hide, but she made herself walk across the yard, slowly, putting one foot in front of the other as if she had all the time in the world and no reason to be afraid of anyone. She thought she could feel their eyes, like bugs crawling on her skin under her clothes. Arya never looked up. If she saw them watching, all her courage would desert her, she knew, and she would drop the bundle of clothes and run and cry like a baby, and then they would have her. She kept her gaze on the ground. By the time she reached the shadow of the royal sept on the far side of the yard, Arya was cold with sweat, but no one had raised the hue and cry.” - Arya IV, AGoT

“The long windowless hall beyond the door was as black as she remembered. She held Needle in her left hand, her sword hand, the candle in her right fist. Hot wax ran down across her knuckles. The entrance to the well had been to the left, so Arya went right. Part of her wanted to run, but she was afraid of snuffing out her candle. She heard the faint squeaking of rats and glimpsed a pair of tiny glowing eyes on the edge of the light, but rats did not scare her. Other things did. It would be so easy to hide here, as she had hidden from the wizard and the man with the forked beard. She could almost see the stableboy standing against the wall, his hands curled into claws with the blood still dripping from the deep gashes in his palms where Needle had cut him. He might be waiting to grab her as she passed. He would see her candle coming a long way off. Maybe she would be better off without the light …” - Arya IV, AGoT

“Yes I do, Arya could have said. I killed a boy, a fat boy like you, I stabbed him in the belly and he died, and I'll kill you too if you don't let me alone. Only she did not dare. Yoren didn't know about the stableboy, but she was afraid of what he might do if he found out. Arya was pretty sure that some of the other men were killers too, the three in the manacles for sure, but the queen wasn't looking for them, so it wasn't the same.” - Arya I, ACoK

“Fear cuts deeper than swords. Arya made herself approach the wagon. Every step was harder than the one before. Fierce as a wolverine, calm as still water. The words sang in her head. Syrio would not have been afraid. She was almost close enough to touch the wheel when Biter lurched to his feet and grabbed for her, his irons clanking and rattling. The manacles brought his hands up short, half a foot from her face. He hissed.” - Arya II, ACoK

“Yoren wouldn't like it if she fought with him. She tried to look afraid. "Wolves? For true?” - Arya III, ACoK

“From up here, she could see a small wooded island off to the northeast. Thirty yards from shore, three black swans were gliding over the water, so serene . . . no one had told them that war had come, and they cared nothing for burning towns and butchered men. She stared at them with yearning. Part of her wanted to be a swan. The other part wanted to eat one. She had broken her fast on some acorn paste and a handful of bugs. Bugs weren't so bad when you got used to them. Worms were worse, but still not as bad as the pain in your belly after days without food. Finding bugs was easy, all you had to do was kick over a rock. Arya had eaten a bug once when she was little, just to make Sansa screech, so she hadn't been afraid to eat another. Weasel wasn't either, but Hot Pie retched up the beetle he tried to swallow, and Lommy and Gendry wouldn't even try. Yesterday Gendry had caught a frog and shared it with Lommy, and, a few days before, Hot Pie had found blackberries and stripped the bush bare, but mostly they had been living on water and acorns. Kurz had told them how to use rocks and make a kind of acorn paste. It tasted awful.” - Arya V, ACoK

“She had thought she had known what it meant to be afraid, but she learned better in that storehouse beside the Gods Eye. Eight days she had lingered there before the Mountain gave the command to march, and every day she had seen someone die.” - Arya VI, ACoK

“I should have let the fire have them. Gendry said to, I should have listened. If she hadn't thrown them that axe they'd all be dead. For a moment she was afraid, but they rode past her without a flicker of interest. Only Jaqen H'ghar so much as glanced in her direction, and his eyes passed right over her. He does not know me, she thought. Arry was a fierce little boy with a sword, and I'm just a grey mouse girl with a pail.” - Arya VII, ACoK

“As his men herded off the captives at spearpoint, Arya saw Pinkeye emerge from the stairwell, blinking at the torchlight. If he found her missing, he would shout and threaten to whip the bloody hide off her, but she was not afraid. He was no Weese. He was forever threatening to whip the bloody hide off this one or that one, but Arya never actually knew him to hit. Still, it would be better if he never saw her. She glanced around. The oxen were being unharnessed, the carts unloaded, while the Brave Companions clamored for drink and the curious gathered around the caged bear. In the commotion, it was not hard to slip off unseen. She went back the way she had come, wanting to be out of sight before someone noticed her and thought to put her to work.” - Arya IX, ACoK

“Jaqen still owed her one death. In Old Nan's stories about men who were given magic wishes by a grumkin, you had to be especially careful with the third wish, because it was the last. Chiswyck and Weese hadn't been very important. The last death has to count, Arya told herself every night when she whispered her names. But now she wondered if that was truly the reason she had hesitated. So long as she could kill with a whisper, Arya need not be afraid of anyone . . . but once she used up the last death, she would only be a mouse again.” - Arya IX, ACoK

“Arya went to her knees. She wasn't sure how she should begin. She clasped her hands together. Help me, you old gods, she prayed silently. Help me get those men out of the dungeon so we can kill Ser Amory, and bring me home to Winterfell. Make me a water dancer and a wolf and not afraid again, ever.” - Arya IX, ACoK

“Arya's mouth hung open. “Who are you?" she whispered, too astonished to be afraid. "How did you do that? Was it hard?” - Arya IX, ACoK

“I'm not afraid," she said. "That boy Ned said . . .” - Arya VIII, ASoS

“The castle's not closed," Arya said suddenly. The sergeant had said it would be, but he was wrong. The portcullis was being drawn upward even as she watched, and the drawbridge had already been lowered to span the swollen moat. She had been afraid that Lord Frey's guardsmen would refuse to let them in. For half a heartbeat she chewed her lip, too anxious to smile.” - Arya XI, ASoS

“When the time came to leave, he needed Arya's help to get back up on Stranger. He had tied a strip of cloth about his neck and another around his thigh, and taken the squire's cloak off its peg by the door. The cloak was green, with a green arrow on a white bend, but when the Hound wadded it up and pressed it to his ear it soon turned red. Arya was afraid he would collapse the moment they set out, but somehow he stayed in the saddle.” - Arya XIII, ASoS

“The sound was as huge as he was, a terrible groaning and grinding, so loud it drowned out even the captain's voice and the crash of the waves against those pine-clad ridges. A thousand seabirds took to the air at once, and Arya flinched until she saw that Denyo was laughing. "He warns the Arsenal of our coming, that is all," he shouted. "You must not be afraid." "I never was," Arya shouted back. "It was loud, is all.” - Arya I, AFfC

“Ashore. Arya bit her lip. She had crossed the narrow sea to get here, but if the captain had asked she would have told him she wanted to stay aboard the Titan's Daughter. Salty was too small to man an oar, she knew that now, but she could learn to splice ropes and reef the sails and steer a course across the great salt seas. Denyo had taken her up to the crow's nest once, and she hadn't been afraid at all, though the deck had seemed a tiny thing below her. I can do sums too, and keep a cabin neat.” - Arya I, AFfC

“Valar dohaeris." He pushed off with his oar and drifted back off into the deeper water. Arya watched him row back the way they'd come, until he vanished in the shadows of the bridge. As the swish of oars faded, she could almost hear the beating of her heart. Suddenly she was somewhere else . . . back in Harrenhal with Gendry, maybe, or with the Hound in the woods along the Trident. Salty is a stupid child, she told herself. I am a wolf, and will not be afraid. She patted Needle's hilt for luck and plunged into the shadows, taking the steps two at a time so no one could ever say she'd been afraid.” - Arya I, AFfC

“She opened her eyes and stared up blind at the black that shrouded her, her dream already fading. So beautiful. She licked her lips, remembering. The bleating of the sheep, the terror in the shepherd's eyes, the sound the dogs had made as she killed them one by one, the snarling of her pack. Game had become scarcer since the snows began to fall, but last night they had feasted. Lamb and dog and mutton and the flesh of man. Some of her little grey cousins were afraid of men, even dead men, but not her. Meat was meat, and men were prey. She was the night wolf. But only when she dreamed.” - The Ugly Little Girl, ADwD

“After three hours of wine and words, the priests took their leave … all but the kindly man, the waif, and the one whose face bore the marks of plague. His cheeks were covered with weeping sores, and his hair had fallen out. Blood dripped from one nostril and crusted at the corners of both eyes. "Our brother would have words with you, child," the kindly man told her. "Sit, if you wish." She seated herself in a weirwood chair with a face of ebony. Bloody sores held no terror for her. She had been too long in the House of Black and White to be afraid of a false face.” - The Ugly Little Girl, ADwD

#Arya Stark #im not crying YOURE crying #ASoIaF #A Song of Ice and Fire #valyrianscrolls #quote dump #tw violence #tw child abuse

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eruriotica · 5 years

Text

zucchini (rough draft)

queerplatonic levinana (planned engame of eruri and mikenana), currently unfinished at 2371 words. I wrote this over two months ago, and haven’t been able to come back to thicken it up, so I wanted to share the rough draft in it’s current form. please enjoy, feedback is much appreciated.

Sometimes they belong to other people, but they always belong to one another.

It’s something he’s not keen to describe in detail to less-than-potential love interests that pass in and out of his life. Either the person accepts Nana’s place at his side, or they can fucking leave. They’ve been this way for so many years now, that anyone who drifts into their lives knows that where one is, the other follows.

That’s how he knows Erwin is a keeper.

They meet in middle school-- Levi with a first flaring angry streak evolving out of a troubled childhood, Nana with gangly limbs and seemingly no sense of self preservation. She’s standing there after school, merely watching the scuffle with interest, and it’s Levi noticing her out of the corner of his eye that distracts him long enough for his opponents to get him square in the jaw. A victory blow, they decide, because when they notice her too, they scatter in fear of her as a tattletail.

Levi dusts himself off and asks her, trying to act tough, “What the fuck do you want?”

Her nose wrinkles. “You shouldn’t use that language.”

The response confuses Levi, and he picks himself up, aiming to bypass her, but she asks, “Want to get ice cream with me?”

“What?” He’s thrown off yet again, thrown off his guard entirely, doesn’t even try to hide it. Is this a joke, did someone put her up to this? As if oblivious, she begins to repeat her question, totally undeterred, so Levi interrupts, “No, I heard what you said, but like, why?”

This makes her lean back, as if she herself hasn’t considered why, and must now decide. “Well… I guess… because I like ice cream.”

Levi scowls, eclipsed with the feeling that they’re having two separate conversations at each other. But there’s something in her unafraid friendliness that doesn’t let him turn away from her offer.

After one ice cream cone at her uncle’s shop, Nana declares Levi to be her friend. He looks up from his chocolate swirl and quirks his brows, but does not reject the building plans for the bridge.

Levi’s resistance to her insistence on their friendship is an unheard false complaint, because they are friends, no matter how much Levi tries to cling to his tough-lone-wolf façade. There’s times when she seems immune to his brushing offs, but he’s not going to admit that he actually sorta maybe likes that she doesn’t understand his roundabout ways of half-heartedly telling her to leave him alone. No, admitting that would be admitting they are friends, and Levi still wants to pretend he’s a badass.

Three weeks later, she takes it upon herself and gets them matching bracelets with her allowance, splitting the words ‘best’ and ‘friends’ between the two of them, so that settles that, he guesses.

Nana likes to have sleepovers, and to Levi’s fascination, her parents don’t discriminate by gender. Levi’s mother drops him off and stays to have a curious talk with them, and in the end, Levi spends every other weekend at Nana’s. She fills in the gaps by staying with him.

Things change halfway through high school. Nana’s been a whole head taller than him over the course of their friendship, and Levi thinks eagerly of his anticipated growth spurt. He thinks about hugging Nana to his chest and tucking her head under his chin.

Levi likes her, but he doesn’t like like her. No way. They’ve been best friends for three years and that would be… gross, maybe.

He totally doesn’t like Nana.

He totally likes Nana, but Nana introduces him to her hot friend, and her hot friend definitely makes his stomach fill with butterflies.

Besides… he wants to do things with Nana that he knows he shouldn’t; things meant for a boyfriend and girlfriend. Levi wants to kiss her, wants to touch her body but not in secret places. It’s his newborn libido, because he didn’t use to feel this way about her. Maybe introducing him to a hot guy is confusing his love life in some way, making him direct his desire to the wrong person.

Levi drags Nana to a party. She doesn’t usually participate in this kind of scene, but to feel Levi pulling on her arm, she can’t refuse. She also doesn’t censor their plans to her parents. They worry, but tell her to stay with Levi and come home as soon as she’s ready. They tell her that house parties are a normal teenage thing, and her eyes light up at that, the joy of experiencing something normal. Her parents give Levi the same stern talk they always do when he pulls up in his fifth-hand Toyota. He nods through the talk, totally not listening in the slightest.

At the party, Nana is a curious pair of hands, trying all the foods and drinks until she finds a punch that is spiked. He watches her take down an entre colo cup and a half, and when they join a rogue game of spin the bottle, Levi cannot muster even a smidgen of disgust when he lands on Nana first thing.

She’s soft under his mouth, soft and giggly. A few other suitors give her chaste kisses, but when the bottle gives her to Levi a second time, his pulls his giggling best friend by the hand to seven minutes of heaven, blushing amid the whooping whistles of their peers.

In the semi-darkness of someone’s bedroom closet, he pulls her face toward his and takes her laughter in his mouth, but the actions twist equally horrifying and pleasurable in his gut. Pulling away, he rests his forehead on her chin, listening to her hum and purr as her hands skirt around his waist in innocent tickles. And suddenly, Levi has a small revelation; he wants to be close to Nana, and definitely wants to kiss her, but he doesn’t want to be more with her. He doesn’t want to date her, but he wants to go on dates, to dinner, on trips. Wants to watch movies and cuddle. Wants to lay in bed beside her and pull her against him, but doesn’t want to roll her beneath him and… no.

It confuses him, and with hesitation, he pulls back. Nana’s looking at him with clarity in her gaze, a small amount of dejection laced. Her hands still before slowly removing themselves from him.

“Nana,” Levi says again, finding his way to her hands and entwining their fingers. “Do you want… do you wanna… mess around?”

Levi watches the heartbeat’s worth of her pause and his stomach twists once more, this time decidedly sick. He’s misunderstanding her eagerness to get frisky.

Shyly, Nana shakes her head and explains, “No, but yes but…” Her eyes drop to his mouth and she licks her lips before sinking her teeth into the bottom one. “Levi, is this weird? I don’t like you like that but sometimes…”

“You wanna do things?”

Nana bites her lip again and nods. “Yeah. Like kiss you. A lot. Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Levi echoes. A silence falls over them in their shared confession, the new knowledge that both feel similar. “Yeah. Can… I kiss you again?”

Just like that, she’s back to an eager puppy, all quick sure nods and smiles, hands around his squeezing in pulse.

There’s a disapproval going into college. It’s just the obvious decision to them, to go to the same school for their higher educations.

“Don’t you think,” their mothers press gently, separately, “that you two are a little too close?”

Levi’s never told his mom that he’s dumped anyone who said this to him in the past. When he gets to school and finds his best friend in the worst sort of mood, he knows she’s endured the same discussion.

At lunch, she slams herself into Levi in the quiet back end of the library, and he forgets immediately what book he needed to pull for his anatomy presentation.

“We’re going together,” she whispers to his crown. They’re settling toward adult heights, and she’s gonna stay a few inches taller than him. He minds it less than he thought he would.

Levi twists in her hold to hold her. She’s hunching around him, looking like an uncertain puppy, but if it makes her little tail wag, he’ll keep them together their whole lives. Sliding one hand around the back of her head, he brings her down to accept his promising kiss. “Yeah. Of course. Together.”

Over summer break, he starts talking to this guy despite his better judgement, but it’s all infatuation and bad sexting, so the thrill overrides his logical thought. For a few weeks, he’s so enamoured that he doesn’t realise his most important person is retreating.

Nana’s been talking to a guy, but Levi knows she doesn’t talk to anyone like that. But still. She’s talking, too. He’s not the sole trespasser.

They fight, both hurting and feeling replaced. It starts with a passive aggressive response that escalates to Levi driving to her house at one in the morning and climbing through her window.

“What’s your fucking problem?” Levi demands of her in a heated hiss, not even all the way into her bedroom yet, barely collecting himself and standing upright when he’s spitting, “What the fuck did I do wrong?”

“You’re okay with letting your boyfriend tell me to leave you alone!” Nana whispers back. “How could you?!”

Levi’s heart skips a beat, anger deflating. “What?”

Nana pulls out her phone and shows him, evidence that rips a hole right into him.

“Why would you believe it?” Levi curls his fists, a break-up text sent to that piece of shit. He gets left on read but doesn’t give a fuck. “Nana, I’d never do that to you!”

“But you were!” She wipes tears from her eyes and sits on the edge of her bed. “You were leaving me behind, Levi, and you said we’d stay together!”

Levi sits on the floor at her feet and lays a hand on her knee. He doesn’t really know what to do with this possessive streak she’s giving him. With the possessive streak he’s giving back. But he knows he hurt her. And he knows he’s sorry.

Levi rises and hugs her, bringing her head to his chest and tucking her under his chin the way he thinks about way too often. “I got… distracted.”

Other than a sniffle, she’s quiet, letting him speak.

“You’re my person, Nana. You’re mine. I’m yours. We won’t let anyone come between us again, okay?”

She nods. He slips into bed with her, keeping her against his chest, and stays with her through the night.

They’re best friends. They kiss. It’s not a big deal. It’s just kissing— good morning, goodnight, I missed you, I’ll see you later. It’s not a big deal until Levi’s trying to get in this guy’s pants and the guy really won’t lay off on how weird it is that Levi kisses his best friend.

“So?” He tries to sound oblivious, tries to change the subject, doesn’t want to let this guy even come to the ‘me or her’ ultimatum that Levi feels coming, not before Levi can get rawed. But it hovers over them, so Levi tells the guy to lose his number. No one is going to make him choose between his Nana. She’s gonna win every time some insecure, low self-esteem temporary lover tries to compete.

Still, the guy had a cock that made Levi salivate, and the loss is a sting. He sneaks into Nana’s monthly ice cream night, bringing her Tylenol and serving as her flesh and blood heating pad. She watches a ridiculous Lifetime movie and Levi doesn’t even bother wiping his face as he bawls.

Boys come and go. It’s not until he dumps a girlfriend for her, that anyone begins to question why he’ so close to Nana.

“It’s not like that,” he’s quick to snap, but silent when asked, then, what it’s like. They’re best friends, and he loves her, but not like that. Maybe at another time, he would have thought so, would have confessed his feelings as romance and not the platonic things they truly are.

So far from home and so stressed by their course loads, eighteen credit hours like the starry-eyed, overconfident idiots they are, it doesn’t take long for their occasional bed sharing to become a permanent routine.

Levi curls around her, his icy toes tucked between her calves, warm blazing limbs under the heavy blankets that would have them sweating if it weren’t for the unusually cold night. He presses his nose between her shoulder blades to warm it up a little more. He’s below the covers but he still yearns for warmth, specifically for hers. Erwin’s gonna be gone another night. Levi’s been spending a lot of time with the upperclassmen.

“I made pancakes,” Levi greets in the morning. They’ve got a campus apartment with a coffee shop a block away, so twin cups sit on the counter with their names. Nana mumbles a sleepy greeting and folds herself around Levi from behind, not nearly tall enough to let her head rest on top of his, so instead Levi can feel warm breath in his undercut. “Chocolate chip, your fav.”

“Thanks. There’s whipped cream in the fridge,” Nana whispers, yawns. “I gotta go grocery shopping. Wanna come?” And of course he tags along, his fingers slipped between hers, holding her hand the whole way.

Erwin texts Nana to ask if Levi is with her, that’s how Levi finds out his boyfriend got back early. Levi blushes, thankful that his best friend and his boyfriend get along so well, each so very important to him and respectful of one another’s love for him. It’s not some triangle, it’s a support. They’re his supports, unified.

Erwin shows his investment by the way he welcomes Nana into his life, now as much a part of the deal as Levi. They get plenty of alone time, us time, hours as a couple with just the two of them, and Erwin doesn’t treat Nana like an unwanted third wheel when she’s orbiting around them.

#levinana

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awakeshedreams · 6 years

Text

Won’t You Let Me Love You?

Credit to original gif owner.

Prompt: "let me love you."

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader

Summary: Jungkook wants you let him love you like a man loves a woman but you're making it hard.

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff if you squint.( one shot)

Wordcount: 3.1k

Warnings: infidelity, Jungkook being a soft heart breaking baby boi and rough heart breaking d*dd* at the same time rip yeah that's about it!

Request:

A/N: Hey guys ! So this was unfinished in my drafts and I decided to finish it up and post it real quick ~ I wanted to get this up before the comeback because it's gonna be stressful and hectic but still fun you know but imma be even more mentally messed up shshsh anyways I hope you guys enjoy this piece and have a great day/night 💜 P.S ignore any grammatical errors I really can't write for shit now especially and I apologise for the shit smut anon :")

The moment you walk into your apartment you feel like collapsing onto the floor.

You were so tired.

Work was hectic today, for some reason everyone just couldn't do shit well and so you had to take over. Not only that but none of the meetings were productive.

Not to mention that your good for nothing cheating husband had come to work and asked about him.

You of course ignored him, feeling that you didn’t even need to explain yourself to the likes of someone as trashy as him. How can he act like he cares about what you're doing and who you were sleeping with when he had broken his vow and has been fucking any young in a skirt for a long while now.

You had him escorted out of your office, reminding him of what you would do if he came close to Jungkook and tried to hurt him. You were very protective of Jungkook, you would do anything to protect him.

That aside, you're very glad that today was Friday and next 2 days would be spent at home.

You would get to spend more time with him.

Jungkook. He would be so happy, it’s not every weekend you come back to him and spend the whole time with him.

“Y/N-noona?”

Speaking of the devil, you smirk.

You hear his voice call and you can tell that he is probably sat in the living room.

You take off your shoes and head in further.

“Jungkook,” you smile once he comes insight, sat on the floor in front of the large screen T.V. watching anime.

He's such a kid.

He smiles back at you and you open your arms wide, inviting him into your welcoming embrace.

He doesn’t hesitate to immediately get up on his feet, almost running to you and you can’t help but chuckle at how excited he is.

You almost fall over once he comes at you with full force, but his strong arm around your waist pulls you closer and into him.

“Welcome back,” Jungkook says into the crook of your neck with a sudden change in tone, sounding raspier and deeper, the heat of his breathe on your neck making the hair on your body stand as you feel the pit of your tummy stir.

“Thank you,” you smile nervously as you caress the nape of his neck with shaking fingers.

“Noona, are you okay?” he asks and you swear you feel him smirk against your neck but you don’t address it.

“So how was college?” you ask as you clear your throat and manage to pull away from the hug, resting your hands over his solid chest while his arms stays around your waist still quite tight, not leaving much space between the two of you.

He immediately frowns and you furrow your brows.

“Jungkook? What’s wrong? Is everything okay at college?” you ask in concern as you place a hand on his cheek and look into his eyes.

“Can we not talk about it.” He says rather than ask, seeming quite upset and angry about something.

“Jungkook, what’s going on? I’m pretty sure I’ve paid for the whole semester already? Are the bothering you still? Or is the money for the textbook not enough, I’ll send more-“ you begin but you are cut off when Jungkook abruptly grabs your hand over his cheek, making you flinch.

“For once, please, when I'm with you, can you stop reminding me that I'm just a horny and poor brat who leeches off of your money?” He glares at you and you swear you hear his voice falter.

You sigh as you close your eyes. Not again.

For some reason, Jungkook has been as moody as a teenager as of recently and you found it cute how he wanted to spend more time with you; he had even suggested the idea of spending the weekend together. You were quite happy about it and didn’t think much of It, Jungkook was shy outside the bedroom, he didn’t speak too much or voice his own opinions that much. So that for you was progress.

And it wasn’t even that he was uncomfortable with you. He just liked the idea of you taking care of him and being in charge, he would tell you to order for the both of you, he never once denied any of the gifts you had gotten him even if they weren’t really his cup of tea, he would also let you take control in the room sometimes.

But as of recently, it seems that something was off. He would be doing the most to almost appear... macho? It’s like when a teenager begins to rebel and act like an adult, they’re done being babied and taken care of and just want to be the boss of everything and let people know, in this case let you know. It's like he’s trying to make a point. It almost seemed like he was attempting to compete with your husband, which he didn’t have to because he was already 100 times better in every aspect.

“Jungkook, is there something going on that you're not telling me about?” you ask feeling slightly fed up and wanting him to get straight to the point.

He looks at you for a while before walking off to the room.

You furrow your brows as you huff. Who does he think he is ?

You stomp down the living room following him with hot heels, managing to grab his hand before he fully walked in.

“Jungkook you brat, I’m talking you, I asked you a damn question, and I expect you to answ-" you begin but he turns around and shoves you against the wall, trapping you in between his hands that slammed against the wall beside your head as he hovered over you.

“What do you think you're-" you begin again feeling livid but your words are swallowed by Jungkook who has crashed his lips against yours.

You protest at first, but it’s hard to resist and slowly, your lips start moving in sync, like they always do.

You gasp into the kiss when one hand applies pressure on the curve of your back to push your lower body closer to him and you feel the shape his hard member press against your belly.

He takes that chance to deepen the kiss, tounges mingling as he smirks against your lips.

You wrap your arms around his neck as he begins unbuttoning your top, revealing your lace bra.

He fondles your breasts and pinches your hardening nipple through your flimsy bra, making you moan in pleasure.

He pulls aways suddenly, the both of a pair of panting heaving messes.

“I’m not a kid Noona, or do I have to remind you?” he says with a raspy deep voice as his dark lust filled eyes bore into yours and you feel a shudder run down your spine.

“Baby, You think you can remind me?” You taunt with a playful smirk.

“Oh I can, and I will. And this time, I’ll make sure you never forget.” He smirks wickedly and you feel your knees give up on you.

But all you do is huff and try to hide how affected you are.

“I'll let you try,” you smirk and he just stares at you with an unreadable expression.

You want to ask him what’s on his mind but he cuts you off by crashing his lips onto yours and pressing his body flush onto yours, hands roaming all over your body as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer.

“Jump.” He says in between the kiss and you do, he hoists you up by his hold on your waist so you end up wrapping your legs around his waist.

He moves from your lips to placing kisses around your jaw, making you whimper when he sucks harshly at a soft spot just below your ear before proceeding to trail kisses down your neck, sucking lightly.

“Y/N- noona, you might think I'm just a little boy but you and i both know I'm more of a man , a gentleman even, than your husband will ever be in a lot of ways.” He says as he smirks against your neck.

You moan when he presses his hard member against your clothed throbbing core, proving his point.

“J-jungkook,”

He inches your skirt up, until it comes to bunch up your waist.

You hear the sound of metal clanking while he continues torturing the expense of your collar bones and without warning, the tip of his already free cock is rubbing at our clothed core.

Your head rolls back at the feeling of him smearing his precum on the wet spot on your panties, the friction of your underwear rubbing against your folds and clit making you moan as your grip on his hair tightened.

“I want you Jungkook,” you pant and you feel him smirk against your neck.

He doesn’t do anything, in fact he halts in his motion.

Your eyes shoot open as you furrow your brows.

“Jungkook please-"

Your breath hitches as he shoves himself in you balls deep, his whole cock filling you in so well that you roll your head back in pleasure and claw at the nape of his neck, leaving red nail marks that you'd need to treat later.

As rough as he is trying to be, he lets you adjust for a bit before he starts moving.

He is merciless with his sharp hip movements, he pounds into you, making sure you feel him hit your g spot with every thrust as your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders.

“Can your pussy of a husband fuck you like this, huh?” he demands to know, thrusting harder into you as he stresses his words.

“No, only you,” you moan as your head rolls back when he starts kissing your neck, his soft actions contrasting his savage thrusts.

You feel like your about to fall apart but his strong arms around your waist keeps you up as he fucks you into the wall, taking your breathe away with every thrust as you feel your orgasm get closer.

You hold him tighter as you buck your hips against his wildly before coming undone around him, twitching as your juices covered his cock.

He let's your feet fall onto the floor once he pulls out, and you almost fall but he wraps his arm around your waist.

You’re a panting mess as you lean against the wall and try to catch your breathe.

“We're not done.” Jungkook whispers in your ear, sounding as energetic as ever.

“What?” Your eyes shoot open.

You were now laying in bed, Jungkook arms wrapped around your waist pulling your bare back tight into his naked chest.

You were exhausted, Jungkook didn’t give you a break and you're not complaining because you enjoyed every moment of it.

Still, this position after sex wasn’t a regular one.

More often than not, Jungkook would be fast asleep on your chest, or at least pretending to be. He would wrap his hands around your waist tight so you wouldn’t be able to leave in the morning thinking he’s asleep.

“Noona?” he calls out, chest vibrating against your back.

“Yea?”

“Um, I... I’m sorry for being a brat earlier.” He confesses into your neck and you smile, bringing your hand up to pat his cheek.

“Its okay, Jungkook.” You reassure but you can sense that he still has more to say.

“Its just I... got mad when you brought college up and how you pay for it. And it's not that I'm ungrateful for it or anything it’s just...”

“Its just what Jungkook?” you ask as you turn around to face him, and you giggle at how flustered he looked. Even in the dimly lit room, you could see a faint red tint sprinkled over his cheeks.

“Its just, for me, this, what we have and what we are is more than just that. You’re more than just a ‘sugar mommy’ to me and I want to be more than just your ‘sugar baby.” He confesses all the while looking into your eyes and this time, it’s your turn to be flustered.

“W-what do you mean?” you ask, clearing your throat when your voice cracked mid way.

“I mean, I like you. A lot.” He says as he giggles and you look at him stunned with your mouth slightly agape.

“Huh?” is all you manage to say after awhile sitting up, covering your bare chest with the sheets.

“I like you a lot. I think I might be in love even.” He shrugs as he sits up too and you look at him like he’s mad.

Him... in love with you?

You furrow your brows as you try grasp the confession and connect the dots... is that why he was acting a lot more clingier and has been trying to impress you by being independent?

“Why?” you ask in a low voice.

“What do you mean why Noona? You're acting really silly.” Jungkook chuckles.

But when his eyes land on your face and he takes in your glassy eyes his eyes widen.

You begin sobbing. And Jungkook is immediately panicking.

“Noona, why are you crying?”

You don’t respond but instead just wrap your arms around his neck and nuzzle your neck into the crook.

It’s been so long since you’ve actually heard any sort of verbal romantic and affectionate confession from anyone and it’s just so overwhelming.

Jungkook slowly wraps his arms around you as he awkwardly pats your back, trying to comfort you.

“You're such a prick! I thought you hated me and were going to leave...” you cry as you try to hide your true thoughts and he chuckles.

“I’m sorry I made you think that.”

After a while of silence you finally stop crying, but you stay in his arms.

“Jungkook,” you call and he hums.

“For liking me, a lot. Thank you.” You say and he doesn’t respond.

“But I hope you know that there are better people out there, not some horny lady who is taking advantage of your unfortunateness and youth for her own good. You deserve better. Maybe it’s because I’m the only one you’ve been sleeping with for some time now. Maybe this is a sign I should let you go-“

“Noona!” Jungkook cuts you off, voice shaky with his grip on you tighter than ever, afraid that if he loosens even a bit, you'll walk away.

You pull away, trying your best to keep your face stoic as your heart broke at the sight of his now red nose and glassy eyes.

“Noona, pretend I never said anything. Let’s get back to how it was. I’m sorry.” He says as he holds onto your hand and you try so hard to hold back another sob as you shut your eyes.

“Jungkook,”

“Noona I swear, I promise I’ll be a good boy and I won't-"

“Jungkook!” You shout, making Jungkook flinch as a tear escapes your eye.

“It's over.” You say firmly before getting off the bed, your hand slipping out Jungkook's grip that had gone loose.

“Don't worry about anything. I’m going to keep funding you. You can continue staying here too. You’re a good kid and you’re very talented, I’m not going to give up on your dreams because of this. I believe in you.” You say once you reach the door, not turning to look at him even once but you can already guess how he is.

You can hear him sniffling, just how red was his nose now? Just how puffy were his eyes? Just how much tears has he shed? Your heart is still curious and longs to see his face but you don't turn around.

He doesn’t respond.

“Goodnight Jungkook.” You say before heading out, picking up your discarded clothing and putting it on before grabbing your shoes and heading for the door, hands resting hesitantly over the doorknob before you finally open the door and walk out. You weren’t going to spending the weekend, or any other weekend how you'd imagine you would, after all.

When you get into your car, you sit in silence for awhile.

And then you start crying, silently sobbing behind the tinted glass of your range rover, almost a whole hundred storeys down but still you don’t want Jungkook to hear, see or know about your current situation. You laugh at your self.

“How can you be heartbroken at your big age, Y/N?” you mock your self.

You can’t be selfish anymore than you had been, Jungkook was young and had so many dreams and he was so talented. He has so much of the world to see before he decides that of all people in the world, he would be with you. You had used his poor financial situation for your own benefit, he was such an angel but you were so selfish.

He doesn't know what he’s talking about, he doesn't really mean it, that’s what you tell yourself again and again.

But you fear that’s not true. And selfishly, you anticipate that not being true at the same time.

Even still, it didn’t matter how you felt. It was best to let him go.

HEHE so that's it ~ tell me how you guys liked it and let me know if you have any requests 💜

#bangtan #bts #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts imagine #bts au #jungkook angst #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #jungkook au

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fanfictionrecommendations-com · 7 years

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On the Controversy

Recently we've been getting some buzz on tumblr - some good, some bad, some ugly - and it put into relief some things we want to be really transparent about. We want to only ever be an addition to the fanfiction world and community we love so much and we'll work hard to make sure that happens.

So let's dig in, starting with - what happened? On Sunday the 18th Ronnie and I decided that our content output for fanfiction recommendations was slower than we'd like and we wanted to bring a third person into our team. So, on Monday the 19th we started working with the r/sherlock commmunity to find some superfans that could help us out. We've found some amazing people and started discussing the kind of blog posts and rec lists we could make with their help. So far, so awesome. However, to show them what we were working on, we made an early version of our Sherlock recommendation list live, to give an example as to what we wanted to be doing. So far, so big mistake. That got shared, went public, and got us in hot water quick.

That fic list had author blurbs on it - nothing private, all basic information already linked from author's public fanfiction pages, but not yet okayed by the author - and information about a writing course we'd been hoping to gauge interest in. We'd also messed up some (fortunately not many) of the podfic links, so they didn't redirect to the podficcer's download pages but to the downloads themselves. As said, a rough draft, but that rough draft looked Very rough when suddenly in the public eye.

<Note: The more complete (but still unfinished) Sherlock Rec List has been posted with author blurbs and podfics hidden until we receive appropriate permissions. >

Most of the concern comes down to two points: will we/do we post author/podfic information without permission and how do we make money?

To the first question: No, of course we won't. That post was not meant to be in the public eye. Until we have all our author blurbs okayed by the authors in question, that part of the rec list will not be made live. We will absolutely not post author information on our rec lists without a prior okay.

Alright, now let's talk money.

Where did the money come from? Ronnie and I funded this personally, out of love of fanfiction and love of the work it's given us. We've done well enough in our lives to be able to fund this out of pocket for the foreseeable future. I'll talk about why the heck we'd do that in a sec. First, let's finish out that answer. So the money came from us. Let's talk profitability.

As said, we're financially well off enough to not really need to know if it'd ever be profitable nor where we'd allocate that. We discussed that with each other at the start. We don't need it to make money. Personally, however, I want it to sustain itself; I have a dream of that like a child learning to crawl, coming to walk. I want fanfictionrecommendations to stand on its own feet, independent from us, because I think it can be a real force for good in bringing new readers to fanfiction and we can't support it forever - but we don't know if that'll ever happen. We've discussed a couple ways fanfictionrecommendations could come to pay us back someday, or at least expand enough to support the blogging jobs we're currently supporting on our own. I get most excited about the idea of a writing course, so it's the first thing we looked to gauge interest in, to see if it'd be able to bring in enough to at least support the rec lists' sorting tool designs and site hosting in the future.

Where would profits from there go? What if this is something fanficcers really want, really support, really help grow? - I don't know. That sounds like a dream. Ronnie has suggested charity (A03 being something I'd really want to support, for example, or writing scholarships if there would be enough money there for it to be viable) or back to the authors (but we'd have to talk to a copyright lawyer to see if it wouldn't screw people over to be indirectly making commissions/money off their fanfics being listed with us). The simple answer is I don't know what we'd do; we don't even have a way for it to pay for itself yet (if it'll ever have one). I do know we want fanfictionrecommendations to support fanfiction writers in every way possible - by encouraging new readers to new fandoms, by giving another platform for podfics and fanart covers to be brought together with their reference content, and by supporting the community it's all born from.

So now the personal question: Why the heck would we throw money and time into this? Let me introduce myself a bit. I'm Gwen. I'm a Romance and Sci-Fi author that secretly likes fanfic a whole lot better. It didn't even matter what hit me – I've been crippled and chronically ill, lost friends and family members to suicide and disease, and spent years battling loneliness and anxiety; I always read and wrote fanfiction, even when it meant my originals got pushed aside. Fanfiction has gotten me through a lot and I'm passionately, sometimes embarrassingly, attached to it. Ronnie saw the results of that. He's seen me unable to stand, writing anyway. He knows what fanfiction can do for people, what it's done for me. So when we hear people say they don't read it because there's so much out there they don't know where to start, we want to fix that – we want to say 'hi, start here. Go everywhere'.

I hope you'll help us make that happen. Check out the recommendation list we made for Sherlock - it's not done yet, but we still think it's kickass. We'll be reaching out to authors and the fanfiction community for feedback - please let us know yours!

Gwen and Ronnie

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duaneodavila · 6 years

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The 5 Ds: In-House Self-Care In The Time Of Year-End

It’s that magical time of year in New England when the leaves turn red and gold and a brisk autumn wind carries the promise of pumpkin spice and apple cider donuts. The orchards and hay rides are teeming with happy kids and everyone’s crock pot is primed for chili and football. It’s also the time of year I want to whip up a batch of murder cookies and send them to my entire Sales team.

Like Halloween and the 4th of July, our year-end falls on the same day every year. It doesn’t keep you guessing like Easter or Passover or require a math calculation as to which Thursday you can binge on turkey and stuffing. Our year-end is the same damn day every year.

Despite the fact that the date never changes, and the week after that follows is the launch of the sell sheets for the next year, the Sales team never plans ahead. As a result, each year-end plays out like a backwoods slasher film in which I emerge bedraggled and wild-eyed during the end credits in the metaphorical equivalent of a blood-stained tank top. Oh, and I’m usually missing an arm (and all of my dignity). And because everyone loves a poorly scripted, derivative sequel, I go back into the woods with the crazy wielding chainsaw maniac because it’s now the launch of sell sheets season.

When I first took over the Sales team, I survived my first year-end on Airheads (the candy, not the Sales team) and sheer determination. It was a rough 36 hours of wakefulness and for the life of me, I still can’t figure out what the mystery flavor of Airheads is, only that it smells of citrus and tastes like broken dreams.

In my second year, I tried to get ahead of year-end. I set up meetings with my Sales team the month before, gently advising them to make decisions about lingering negotiations, unfinished contract,s and skeleton drafts of sell sheets. For the most part, the team praised me for thinking ahead and then proceeded to ignore all of my emails and meeting invites. Year-end arrived and nothing was done and there I was, eating chunky peanut butter straight from the jar and hexing the entire Sales department with a curse that would have made Sam Raimi’s evil dead sit up and applaud.

Eventually, I got smart and decided to invest equal parts into preparation and self-care. Since I already knew how preparation was going to go, I polled my squad and settled on the 5 Ds of self-care. Now, repeat after me: Drink. Duck. Dodge. Disappear. Dish.

DRINK. Stay properly hydrated. Year-end isn’t a sprint. It’s a marathon. Proper hydration is a must. I recommend white wine to stay awake, and full bodied red to help you get down. But it doesn’t need to be alcoholic — anything with caffeine or inadvisable amounts of sugar will do. In fact, my old Biglaw mentor (the Man Bunny of a former ATL column) used to consume mass quantities of Pedialyte when he was in the throes of a deal. I love my electrolytes rebalanced and replenished as much as the next attorney, but Pedialyte does come with the problem of its weird watered down taste and its unmistakable pediatrician office stink. Use with caution. It’s not for everyone. And whatever you do, do not spill that stuff on your desk.

DUCK. Now is not the time to be a hero. If you have stuff on your plate that’s unrelated to year-end or sell sheets, shift it into low gear, make your apologies to the business partners (or duck them), and do not take on new work. That’s the easy part. The difficult part is forgiving yourself for doing it. There will be plenty of time for you to stand up and save the company. Right now, you just have to get your hot mess of a Sales team to the finish line. Believe me, you already deserve a freaking medal for that alone.

DODGE. As in, dodge the blows you know are coming. Sales people are just as frantic as you are, and they are looking for any opportunity to get their heads above water. Don’t stand there and take it. Get out of the way. Put it back on the business to do their work, so you can do yours. Yes, that’s right. A while ago, I got over some of my misgivings about forms and I created an idiot-proof sell sheet. That’s right. Best two hours of my life putting that sucker together. I review the form every year (two months before year-end, thanks) and send the updated form to the entire Sales team with instructions. The idiot-proof kind. So when I inevitably get that email with a bunch of nonsensical bullet points from a business partner who couldn’t be bothered to use the form, I dodge and throw it back on them to fill out the form and all the required information before I agree to review it. That’s the game. Them’s the rules.

DISAPPEAR. Get away from your desk (particularly if you’ve spilled Pedialyte on it). An easy way to avoid the urge to throttle your Sales people with your bare hands is to disappear. I find that holing up in a seldom-used conference room, the cafeteria during non-meal times, or even a coffee shop laying down smooth emo beats does wonders for your ability to concentrate. Why? Because it cuts down on the amount of people asking you irritating non-essential questions that can be answered anytime and don’t matter right now because it’s year-end. Their feelings will matter again. After sell season. The point is, make yourself unavailable so you can make yourself available for the stuff that actually matters. You can’t do this in your office. Your closed office door with you behind it? Might as well as be a bullseye.

DISH. To hell with the idea that discretion is the better part of valor. Call your squad and compare notes on who did you wrong or the sheer amount of work that stands between you and the door. Why? Because someone will be having a year-end that’s worse than yours (perhaps the kick off of an audit or an ongoing SEC investigation). Not only can you support your squad mate, but you can thank your lucky stars your year-end isn’t that bad.

Do my five Ds sound obvious? Duh, that’s because they are. But who among us isn’t guilty of total self-neglect during crunch times like year-end? Simple things like getting up to use the bathroom or stretching your legs or stopping to grab lunch go right out the window along with personal hygiene and work-life integration goals. And we all know what happens when we self-neglect. We go too fast in the interest of getting it done and we miss something.

Or else we bake a bunch of murder cookies and send them to our business people.

Kay Thrace (not her real name) is a harried in-house counsel at a well-known company that everyone loves to hate. When not scuffing dirt on the sacrosanct line between business and the law, Kay enjoys pub trivia domination and eradicating incorrect usage of the Oxford comma. You can contact her by email at [email protected] or follow her on Twitter @KayThrace.

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