#crop top muscle witch

[spookystirfry]

Crop-top muscle witch you say? I'm incredibly excited for Hecate in Hades 2!

#hades2 #hades #hades fanart #supergiant games #hecate #fanart #crop top muscle witch

[insomniumstella]

sweetest peach 

bucky x bimbo!reader

warnings: implied smut, clueless!reader, pervy-ish!Bucky — the reader is more than fine with his behaviour though, corruption kink (?), explicit language

word count: 1,285

author’s note: this was supposed to be a headcanon, but it turned into a drabble real quick. i’ve been wanting to try writing something different though, so if you have any nsfw bucky thots or opinions, please do not hesitate to send an ask!

.•° ✿ °•. he’s a tad confused when you first join the team, clad in a pink crop top and a denim mini skirt. Steve doesn’t speak of the concern that swallows the space while you reapply lipgloss before freshly manicured fingers drum against the wooden desk in the conference room. 

✧.* “hi,” you giggle, “i’m y/n,” and it’s then that James decides you’re just too cute and too oblivious to be perceived as a threat, gazing at him through doe eyes. you're so much different than anyone else on the team, gleaming with happiness and innocence, and James almost wants to corrupt you. 

.•° ✿ °•. “hi, pretty girl,” he answers with a smile, “i’m Bucky.”

✧.* Maria Hill orders everyone to find a seat, so she could go through your file and inform the other avengers of the newest member’s abilities, but the soldier cannot focus, catching your wandering glance every once in a while. heat and desire itch underneath his skin as your eyes run across his firm shoulders and biceps, lingering on the metal arm before your stare finds his face again, and you offer him a sweet grin. he’s done for, Bucky realizes — he’d protect you with his life if it came down to it. 

.•° ✿ °•. it’s a couple days later when James comes to Steve with a proposal, suggesting he should be the one to train you as the captain has far too many responsibilities. Steve agrees, too lost in the pile of documents to notice Bucky’s true intentions visibly etched into his facial expression. 

✧.* you make it almost impossible for the soldier to focus during sparring, giggling and gasping, and whining when he manhandles you into different positions. it’s wrong, he understands, to make you accidentally straddle him time and time again, but he stops caring because you don’t seem to mind, grasping onto his muscled biceps for balance.

•° ✿ °•. “you lost again, peach.” Bucky chuckles, clutching your thighs to lift the two of you into a standing position. his hands come to rest under your butt while your arms latch around his neck as a plea for him to hold you a bit longer. mmmh, you hum with a sly smile, and Bucky’s taken aback slightly. he searches your face for an emotion he hasn’t yet decided upon, but it’s as warm and as charming as always, “sweets,” he leans in, “have you been letting me win on purpose?” 

✧.* a giggle slips past your lips at his comment, “maybe,” you admit, but James cannot find it in himself to be mad because you’ve been letting him twist your body into outrageous positions for the past several weeks on purpose, whining in frustration—or pleasure—when his rough hands would handle your flesh. “i’m a witch,” you remind, pushing a piece of hair that’s stuck to his glistening forehead aside, “i could’ve used my magic on you, but i like it when you touch me.” 

.•° ✿ °•. the ocean’s still for a while as Natasha begins taking you on missions. James continues to train you at hand-to-hand combat, though, and much to his satisfaction, you’re not only the most attractive student he’s ever had, but one of the best, quickly learning to fight without magic. 

✧.* the swift glances and soft touches you often pay him outside the comfort of the gym’s walls bring the most delicious of pain and pleasure. he’s one of many you pay attention to, and it suffocates him, the sight of you acting so naive and sweet around other agents drowns him. but i like it when you touch me, James reminisces night after night, and so touch James does because how else would he know if you truly desire him. 

.•° ✿ °•. you’re making coffee one morning when you feel him press into your behind to reach for a mug in the cupboard. the action is harmless, you think, and shift to smile at him as a good morning. he returns the gesture, bucking his hips into the plush of your ass before hastily retreating. 

✧.* in your mind, the next few incidents are just as innocent. Bucky’s a righteous man, who’s only trying to be friendly to a newcomer, right? he must be because he pulls you into his lap during the compound’s movie nights when the sofa lacks space or holds the dip of your back to lead you through a crowd of people. James even offered to do your laundry, neatly folding tiny clothes into organized piles, including brightly colored panties. you noticed your favorite thong was missing from the stack of clothing he returned but stayed silent, grateful Bucky helped you in the first place. 

.•° ✿ °•. it’s several months later when James decides he’s had enough. the team is hanging out at a nearby dive bar, indulging in countless dirt-cheap cocktails and heated rounds of pool. you’re standing beside Steve as you attempt to strike the cue ball, the cue stick gliding right above it. the frustration is evident in your face, eyebrows all scrunched up, wrinkling your pretty features. lacy panties peek out from under your skirt when you bend down, and James can feel his jeans tightening. lately, leggings and suits Tony designed with your specific kind of magic in mind have been the core of your attire, but it’s friday, and the night’s supposed to be fun, so you’re back to low-cut tops and barely there denim. 

✧.* “shit,” you curse. the word is foreign to Bucky’s ears when it comes from your plump lips, and he abandons the conversation with Sam to come stand behind you. he places his hands on the cushions, caging you between his body and the table. pouting, you turn around to glance at him, “the stupid stick won’t hit the stupid ball,” you whine, unintentionally squirming against his hard length. 

•° ✿ °•. “let me help you, peach,” James chuckles, holding your arms in his hands. he maneuvers you into the right position, helping you strike the ball. The cue ball strikes a purple neighboring sphere, and it rolls into one of the pockets. swiftly, you turn around to wrap your arms around Bucky’s neck, slightly jumping up and down from the happiness of a successful shot. “good job, sweets!” James celebrates with you, but it ends early when his metal arm detaches you from his body, clutching your waist to twist you, so that your back is against his chest again. “do that without my help this time.” 

✧.* you comply as he takes a step back, but your focus is soon blurred when his nimble fingers caress the skin of your exposed thighs. James is so close, you can feel the warmth radiating off him, and he shifts to shield his wandering hands from unsuspecting gazes. leaning down, “focus” he murmurs into your neck before his fingers drift higher, nearing your core. it clenches around nothing, and James seems to notice, chuckling before he withdraws his touch to correct your form. “lower,” he instructs, pushing down on the dip of your back, “this hand should be further away from the cue ball,” Bucky informs, but you’re putty in his hands. 

.•° ✿ °•. he retracts, allowing you to concentrate. the sphere misses a colored ball, striking the rail, and stops. “i missed,” you pout again and shove the cue into his hands, “i’ma get a drink.” 

✧.* "how about i come with you," a slight smirk dances on his lips as he drops the stick into Tony's lap. his hand slithers to rest on the dip of your waist, and he pulls you into his body. you only giggle at his antics, the sound of it syrupy and genuine. 

.•° ✿ °•. “alright, Buck,” you say, fluttering your eyelashes, and James swears he's going to completely corrupt you one day. 

#bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky x bimbo!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x bimbo!reader #bucky barnes x bimbo!reader smut #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader drabble #bucky x reader headcanon #bucky headcanon #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky x female reader

[madamecaos]

Sun and Rain

Where Ghost x Witch fem!Reader are Soulmates

Tag: Angst, lil gore, trigger S. Assault

He should’ve known this wouldn’t be a normal mission. He should’ve had a clue, recognizing that everything was all wrong from the beginning.

The intel, the secrecy of whom he was hunting had been cloaked, even from his superiors. But alas, a good soldier only follows instructions.

If only his precarious situation wasn’t annoying. Ghost had experienced the world through the missions he’d been sent to. Deserts frying him with scorching heat or skies blinding with white blizzards. And yet, the humid mild heat of the jungle was the most uncomfortable.

Mosquitos were the bane of his existence, since even batting them away, they would still somehow bite him through the mask. The sweat sticking to the back of his neck made him itch. And Soap noticed.

“You a little twitchy there, Lt,” said Soap, eyeing him, gun pointed to the front as he trekked through the shade of tall trees. A sea of trunks surrounded them, too many possibilities of an enemy hiding.

“Mosquitos,” he said, nothing more to explain.

“Even through the mask?” Soup asked, genuinely surprised like an inquisitive kid.

“The things are monsters.”

From the back they heard a slap, and all turned around in sharp alarm, pointing. Only, to reveal Captain John Price grumbling about the ‘bloody beasts.”

“Keep walking straight, less than a meter away.” Laswell instructed through the comms.

“Roger.” Price answered.

Ghost’s neck prickled in anticipation. He wondered how dangerous was the enemy, since they have them walking in the unamed jungle, with unspecified instructions, step by step directions. Odd.

But the trust in his captain was enough to put him in this position. He promised the intel was good. To trust him, or whatever that means.

And the instructions had come loud and clear. Kill the rising druglord in said coordinates, somewhere in Columbia. But no name was given, no information, no concrete intel. The information found of their own investigation and scouting lead to believe the new druglord was pairing with the top dog, Ignacio “El Brujo”. The new addition in the Colombia cartels had the government nervous, but they had no clue why.

Soap’s money is on technology. Gaz bet it was terrorism, pushing drugs not being enough to move Special Forces into Colombia. Serbia was more his pace.

The pink and orange sky glared upon them as they reached a peak in a jagged hill, giving away downhill to a beautiful mansion. Capital was spent on the vast of its structure. It was a wonder how NASA hadn’t just only seen them from the sky. It was huge.

Even with the sun shining, droplets peppered from the sky, some of it gray clouds.

“Would you look at that,” Soap muttered, the expanse of the rest of the property, a blanket of green and plantain crops in the middle of the sea of mountains. They were literally nowhere he recognized, the tropical sight taking his breath away, pink and orange glowing.

“There’s a saying about this,” Gaz pointed to the still sunny raining sky. “Here in Columbia I think, that a witch is getting married.”

“What?”

“That when its raining and still sunny, a witch is getting married.”

Laswell interrupted. “Approach with caution, we need the target in our hands. Keep conversation tight, over.”

Price answered on their behalf.

And to think, this wouldn’t even be more weird. The mansion was empty.

Only when they broke the entrance, there realized it wasn’t necessary to break in. The door was open, no guards at the entrance.

Until they got to the living room and and saw a sea of dead bodies… dead parts of dead people. The body guards or… and their families. He even had to blink away from the image and its carnage. Some blood on the curtains.

“What the fuck,” Soap spoke out of turn, Price giving him a reproach look, as they had already shut them up.

But as he stepped to the sight, getting in front of the two muscle giants, he realized he would’ve said the same. A whole dinner room that had seemed like a regular family gathering, only bloody with someone’s arm without its owner.

“Ok then,” Price braces himself, steps through to limbs and corpses, acting as normal as possible. Their steps left bloody footsteps on the carpet, a red river in one direction.

They scouted every room, even found one in the bathroom, head banged to death in the mirror, as if he had gone insane.

If he were asked, he would’ve confirmed he felt nauseous. Not himself. Yet, he said nothing.

Room after empty room received the Special Task Force, no other soul in sight. Until they got to the master bedroom.

He couldn’t help but notice the bloody cuffs at the corner of each four post of the bed. Dread curled in his stomach, sweat going through his uniform.

“You ok there, Lt?” Soap asked at his paused posture, not registering.

“Intel finds there might be a secret basement.” Laswell says as if they could do something with that. It was secret.

“Any clue whatsoever?”

“Do you hear that,” Gaz said from the left, heading for the bathroom, gun raised. He pushed the door open, and in the middle, a middle aged man had a gun pointed upwards, pressed to his chin.

“Sir?” Price said, placating. “Put the gun down. We only just want to talk.

“I did it.” He sobs, index finger shaking at the trigger. “I did it.”

He repeats, eyes hazed, over and over again.

“I think he’s high.” Gaz commented, standing the closest.

“Grab him”, Price instructed, and Gaz did so with a side kick to the gun. Slipping the weapon away from the suspect.

“On the floor!” As Gaz brought the suspect for questioning into the bedroom, Ghost offers to check the perimeter for said basement.

Soap invites himself to the exploration.

It was more obvious than not, the only door heading a uncared for pair of stairs, leading into darkness.

“Lights on.” Ghost instructs Johnny from the front. Ghost with a head light, and Soap pointing with a flash light. Gun in the other hand

But nothing was amiss, except Ghost was cold as ice. As if he couldn’t help but shake, jaw trembling inside his mask. He fought through the shakes as they headed down and down, until they reached a normal basement. Walls recently painted white, except the floor. The modern decor was severed by the seven star pointed pentagram spray painted red smack in the middle of the center.

“Look down.” Ghost says.

“What the fuck, “ Soap repeats.

“Soap.” Price commands.

“Found the basement. Two doors to the left. A pentagram drawn in the middle of the room.” Ghost informs, heading closer to the infinite back. It seemed to go on and on, the space beneath the whole mansion. Empty like a parking lot.

“Roger that, see what else is there.” Price says nothing else.

As they get closer to the back, the see a set of doors, turning left to the kitchen.

His ears started ringing enough to be annoying, but not enough to hinder him. His heart started to pound, set on heading a certain direction.

It was sudden and electric, like a fast acting energy drink. The need to be somewhere else.

And he followed the trail. Back to the wall, driven, not knowing where’s he’s heading.

Soap followed silently, not understanding Ghost shift in direction.

Another left, another stairs to a lower floor.

“Damn,” Soap the commented. “Stairs to hell.”

At a sound from bellow, they raise their guns higher.

They were at a disadvantage, the lower floor being darker and not knowing what’s expecting them, Ghost throws a flash grenade, being answered with multiple screams.

Girl screams, and some might be children.

“Price, we got a situation.”

“Possible civilians down in another floor. Might be hostages.” Ghost adds.

His rapid heartbeat hadn’t decreased.

A curious pair of eyes, greeted them, scrunching at the flashlights.

“Special Task Force, put your hands up.” Soap intervenes, being the people person.

Everyone sitting on the floor did so, except one at the back. A girl, head lolled back on the lap of a woman, worrying a cold towel to her forehead.

The girl was still, clothes bloody, beaten to a pulp. Barefoot, naked west down.

Ghost thought her dead, until she moved. With trouble, she turned her neck, carrying a heavy head, curious at the sudden silent.

Lazily looked side ways, eyes barely open.

Eyes made contact briefly before the others closed with exhaustion.

But it was enough for Simon to see something drove him here, and that something was you.

Electricity zapped him from the spine, bringing him to his knees. And in a second, he lost consciousness with Soap’s worry echoing in his ears.

A/n: Sorry for any mistakes, here’s a balloon 🎈.

#ghost cod #ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #task force 141 #fanfiction #cod fanfic

[jacksfandomrandom]

Body problems

Summary: Charlie has the perfect date in mind. Unfortunately while Vaggie is getting ready, she gets self-conscious of her body. Luckily, her girlfriend is there to assure she's okay.

Tw: slight implication of an eating disorder and implied sexual content (nothing graphic or smut)

“Vaggie, Vaggie, Vaggie, Vaggie!” Charlie ran into the mini library where Vaggie was reading a book. This day was one of the only day’s that they had free time and weren’t doing any activities to help redeem sinners.

“Huh, What?” She looked up, a little surprised. 

“I just had the best idea!” She prompted. “You know how we haven’t been on a date in like 8 months?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to take you out!” she said. This was the best idea ever. Both of them needed a break from everyone, even though they slept in the same bed and were near each other almost all the time, they needed a date night. They haven’t had one in so long. It would be fun!

“I don’t know, Charlie… what if the hotel gets attacked while we’re gone?” 

“Alastor will take care of it. You don’t gotta protect everyone, silly,” Charlie ruffled her girlfriend’s hair.

“I guess it has been a while since we went on a date… alright, lets do it!” Vaggie shut her books and got up from her seat.

“Wait, wait, what we’re doing is a surprise. You go get ready while I prepare the date,” Charlie kissed her cheek.

“But don’t you need to get ready too?” Vaggie asked.

“Babe, you know I slay in a tux, no matter the occasion,” Charlie said confidently. Vaggie chuckled at the pure cinnamon roll of her girlfriend.

“Well, maybe not in bed,” whispered Vaggie in a seductive voice. She inched closer, putting a hand on her shoulder. She looked into Charlies eyes, swooning in her own head. Charlie moved closer too as Vaggie tried to stand up tall. Their lips connected and vaggie put both hands on Charlies cheek’s. Charlie put her hands on Vaggie’s waist. They pulled apartbut only about an inch before passionately colliding their mouths together. 

“Wait, wait, you have to get ready,” Charlie pulled apart. Vaggie whined slightly but knew that they didn't have time for this right now. 

Charlie knew exactly what she was planning. She was going to take Vaggie on a perfect, picnic date on a hill behind the hotel. It was also a perfect day. Luckily the sun would start setting in about two hours, so the two of them could watch the sunset together and get all snuggly and share their feelings and swoon over each other.

As Charlie was setting up the picnic basket in the hill in the back, Vaggie was quietly freaking out over what to wear. She wanted to be perfect. But her body wasn't perfect. She was flat. Not skinny. Her nose was so long, she looked like a witch. And her arms and hands were covered in battle scars. She was a bit muscle-y but had a bit of meat on her bones. At least that's what she thought. She found that she had gained weight from the past couple of months. It really hurt her and she constantly tried not to cry every time she looked at the scale. It made her feel worthless and ugly. Her nose was so masculine but also looked like an ugly witch nose.

Vaggie looked through her closet, trying to find something that'll cover her up a little more. Maybe that was why Charlie hadn't taken her on a date in a while. She was disgusting for letting herself go. So she grabbed a white short-sleeve dress shirt and black sweater vest and put it on. It covered her up a little bit. She put on a black and red plaid skirt and finally rolled on her gloves. She looked a tiny bit better. Her stomach didn't show like it did with her crop top polo shirt.

She stared at herself in the mirror for a while, thinking ‘why can't I just be perfect?’ She couldn't start crying though, Charlie was probably waiting for her. 

“You almost ready? You've been in there a while,” Just on cue, Charle knocked on the door.

“Yeah, I'll be right out,” Vaggie called back. She sighed, looking at herself one last time before trotting over to the door and opening it. 

Charlie stared at her, blushing  behind the red circles on her cheeks. She thought Vaggie looked absolutely stunning. However, Vaggie thought she was staring because she noticed how imperfect her body was.

“You look…Amazing!” Charlie complimented. 

“You… you don't have to lie, Charlie,” Vaggie mumbled. Charlie sensed immediately that something was wrong through her defeated look and mumbling.

“I'm not lying, though,” She doubled downed.

“But I look so… ugly, my nose is weird and I've been gaining weight…” she tugged at her other arm with her hand.

“No, sweetie, you're not ugly,” Charlie took her hand and cupped it with both of hers. She looked Vaggie in the eyes. 

“Honey, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my hundred years in hell. You are amazing, and shit, I don't even care about what you look like, I love you no matter what,” She promised.

Vaggie’s eyes watered and her lips quivered. She ran into Charlies chest and hugged her. She needed comfort from her biggest supporter. The whole day she had been feeling unworthy of food and love. She thought she didn't deserve it with her disgusting ass self. Now she just felt emotional. All of the icky feelings she had over the couple of weeks came out in tears and sobs.

“There, there, babe. It's okay, we all become our biggest enemy at times,” Charlie told her. She wanted her girlfriend to feel loved.

“I'm sorry I didn't realize sooner that you were so self-conscious. I promise that I'll constantly comfort you whenever your mean thoughts get into your head. But you have to promise me one thing,” Charlie said. She pulled away a little and put her hands on her shoulders.

“What's that?” Vaggie sniffled.

“That you come to me whenever you're feeling like you're hideous or disgusting. Please, come get me when these thoughts get to you. You could easily develop an eating disorder-” Vaggie tensed at the words, “And your mental health could get really bad,” said Charlie.

“O-okay, I promise…” Vaggie answered. Charlie gave her one final hug before stepping away.

“Now come on, let's go on this date, I have a fun couple hours planned,” Charlie grabbed her hand and pulled her down the stairs. Vaggie laughed a genuine laugh to see how excited Charlie was to take her on this date.

The picnic was absolutely amazing. The food that Charlie prepared were pretty simply but just spending time together while watching the sun start to set made everything feel terrific. 

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel vaggie #Vaggie needs a hug #charlie x vaggie #charlie morningstar #vaggie #angst #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fanfic

[roley-poley-foley]

So about the demon sex thing. It's going Weird, you know how it is with demons

contains demons, witchcraft

As Nick tried to blow out the final candle, he felt a chill run through his body, the kind he'd learned to associate with magical happenings. He paused, looking around, but found nothing out of place, so he tried again. The flame wavered, but didn't die. He blew again, jumping when the other candles he'd blown out sputtered to life all at once.

"You called?"

Nick looked up. Just like that, a demon had appeared in the summoning circle. He was tall and covered in sigils from the neck down, dark horns curling up from his head. His leathery wings fluttered a little as his tail flicked, dark eyes on Nick. Nick had to gaze back or else he'd definitely stare at the demon's dick and balls. He'd been expecting a loincloth, at least.

Nick sat up. "I'm looking for demonic assistance in my practice."

"I can give you that." The demon's gaze wandered over Nick's body. "If you're strong enough."

"I'm ready for your test."

"Really? You're still dressed. Let me see you."

Swallowing, Nick stood. "What do I call you?" he asked as he shed his ritual gown.

"You'll call me... Noah."

Under the gown, Nick wore a crop top and shorts stitched with protective sigils. Noah was still giving him an expectant look, so he pulled off the top.

"Have you worked with other witches?"

"I've been summoned for rituals, but I've never possessed one." His eyes drank in Nick's naked body. "Come into the circle and let me possess you."

Nick stepped in, the soles of his feet tingling.

Noah took his face in his clawed hands and tilted it up, his long tongue pushing between Nick's lips. Nick had a terrible gag reflex, but the demon's tongue didn't trigger it as it slid down his throat, likely searching for the magical point there. Their lips touched, but it wasn't a kiss of any kind, just a result of what Noah was doing. His tongue felt like it waded between every muscle and blood vessel in Nick's neck, slithering around his spine and windpipe before withdrawing.

"Maybe you are strong enough," Noah murmured, "Get on your hands and knees."

Nick sank to his knees, a little apprehensive. He was a wine and dine kind of guy.

"There's lube," Nick told him.

"You don't need it," Noah replied, "This isn't sex."

It was kind of sex.

Noah knelt behind Nick. "We just take forms like this to make it easy on you humans," he continued, "It's a lot more than sex, though."

#cyblurb #its not really a whole thing of any kind #it kinda went in a weird direction #maybe ill expand on it sometime

[cuuno-moved]

Katherine, no matter what Joey says, is a princess.

Not a normal princess, of course, because Shelby has seen many princesses, and none of them are so hands on and ready to get on her knees in the mud and dirt and work, but she is a princess nonetheless.

She is also a very pretty princess.

Let me set the stage: Katherine's hair is inky black, but the tips are bleached red and blond, either by the sun or by her own hands. She's large - both tall and wide, arms and legs pulsing with muscle when she flexes (which she is happy to do, when requested). She wears pink dresses with gold ornaments over top brown skirts and off-white tank tops. There is something (objectively) beautiful about seeing her pull off the silky pink and delicate robe and becoming a farmer, ready to get her hands dirty.

And, well. Dawn has a dock, okay? Those things are a little hard to come by. So it's not too strange that Shelby parks her boat just on the dock - the thing has to get some use, doesn't it?

Shelby skips up the steps, gun on one hip and sword on the other, both bouncing heavily against her thighs, and then freezes when she reaches the top.

Because, well... Katherine is standing by one of the carrot fields, her pink dress thrown over a fence, and Witch Joey is standing just in front of her. They're arguing.

Witch Joey, is a lot of things. He wears a hat that is far too big for his head, and a cape with fur around the hood, and boots with heels that look almost too high to walk in, which only barely stopped his cloak from brushing the ground, and a long sleeved crop top that did not need to be a crop top! Which is probably the smallest problem, but is also really easy to get on his case about.

The other thing that's easy to get on his case about is the fact that he thinks that Katherine is a witch. Because of honey. Honey! Honestly. Just because they're gathered in the same bottles-! One would think that Joey'd never seen a potion before!

But anyway. Katherine is standing in all her farmer princess glory, and Joey is annoying her, and Shelby does not like this.

She considers running, then figures this may come off as weird, and begins speedwalking over instead. She raises a hand above her head and calls out: "Hello Katherine!"

Katherine turns to her, and the relief on her face is visible even from the distance. Shelby's heart beats a little quicker.

Joey scowls.

Shelby stands in front of Katherine, who grabs onto her hands. "Shelby, oh thank goodness," Katherine gasps. "Can you escort him out?"

Joey makes a noise. "What? No, we were talking!"

Katherine frowns at him, her face more disappointed looking than angry. "We were talking. But I don't think I'm getting through to you, and-" She looks up at the sky. "I need to harvest today. So you will either help me, or you will leave."

Joey's eyes scan over the farmland, then over Katherine's face. They all know what he's going to choose, including him, but he growls about it anyway. "I... Won't be helping. I'm sorry, Katherine."

Katherine sighs. "It's alright. Goodbye, Joey."

Joey tips his hat in her direction, then summons his broom out of nowhere. Shelby's hand twitches towards her sword, and she knows Joey sees it, because he glares at her.

"Goodbye Katherine," he says. And then he kicks off into the sky.

The two watch him go. When he's only a dot in the distance, Katherine turns to Shelby. "Thank you," she says, and Shelby flushes, twirling a stray lock of hair.

"I didn't really do much," Shelby reminds. "But, um, happy to help!"

Katherine smiles, tilting her head. "Would you like to help a little more?" She gestures to the carrot field.

Shelby considers. Glances at Katherine for a second. "Yes. Yeah. I'll help!"

Katherine pulls Shelby's hat off and places it on the fence post by where she put her dress. "Anything you don't want to get dirty, put on the fence. I don't know how much you know about harvesting, but watch me, and ask for anything you're confused about."

And then Katherine kneels and begins pulling out carrots, and Shelby tugs off her coat and folds it over the fence and brushes nothing off the knees of her pants. She kneels down right next to Katherine and presses her shoulder into hers.

"Alright," Shelby says. "What do you want me to do?"

YESYYEYSYSYSYEYSYYSYEYSSHSYSHDHDHSD L OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

#empireswap au

[comiiical]

@flexrated

With his shift finishing and the halloween party coming to a begin, JJ only had enough time to change clothes in the bathroom where the party was set. His partner inside the bathroom with him as he changed in front of him in the small WC stall that he was not happy to be in. His gaze going up and down through that muscled body and that short tunic. "Never did I thought I would regret convincing you of dressing up as Link," the witch admitted, as he slipped onto the combat boots that made up for the very short shorts that barely wrapped his front. With his head ducked down to tie the boots heh ad a good look under the tunic. "I thought you'd be wearing the slips I normally take off of your wih my teeth, not that jockstrap. Tempting me with easy access, babe?" He asked as he finished with the bottom layer, reaching out to close the short crop top that finished the Lara Croft outfit.

#flexrated #jj

[songwings]

(Viridian) meant to sketch this, accidentally turned it into a whole piece in a hour so have evil lesbians (delphiswap audrey and wanderfell razzberry)

Image description: Audrey and Razzberry kissing each other in The Crater, a dance club. Audrey is running a hand through Raz’s hair, and they’re both embracing each other closely. They’re both blushing a lot with their eyes closed and seem to be enjoying making out.

Character descriptions:

Audrey, a woman with fair skin, black hair in the style of a bowlcut with shaven sides, and thick eyebrows. She’s wearing a crop top with sheer fabric sleeves that seem to wrap around her muscles and some black pants.

Razzberry, a long-nosed woman with pale pinkish skin, blue hair and eyebrows. She’s wearing a black witch hat with an elegant, strapless black dress and gloves that go up to her elbows. There are even magical blue fires coming from her hat and the corners of her long dress.

#wandersong #wandersong au #wanderfell #delphiswap #audrey redheart #miriam wandersong #viridianposts #this is from a rp haha #also what new wingmate?? yes i am #audriam

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Eighteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: a short update while i try to find my writing rhythm again :))

***

Nesta hasn’t danced in over ten years—yet her body still remembers how to move fluidly and create shapes as if she never stopped. Pole dancing is different, of course: most of it takes place in the air, and she doesn’t have the right muscles developed to support her weight that well. Damn, she should really ask Cassian for help if she wants to keep doing this.

Still, Emerie and Gwyn are gaping by the time Nesta lands on the floor after trying out a basic spin.

She cracks her neck. “What?” she says at their stares.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Emerie demands.

She shrugs indifferently. “Eight years of ballet. Push-up challenges with Cassian.”

The instructor, an overly energetic Australian woman, comes up just then and claps Nesta on the shoulder, making her jump. “That was beautiful,” she praises. “Really, you have the balance of a cat. What’s your name again?”

Nesta introduces herself obediently, and Gwyn and Emerie follow.

The instructor nods. “In that case, Nesta, you keep doing what you’re doing. Don’t worry about your upper body strength yet, it’ll come around with time. You, the redhead,” she addresses Gwyn.

Gwyn straightens.

“I’ve never seen someone with your height and grace at the same time,” the instructor says. Gwyn beams with pride. “Unfortunately,” she continues, “I’ve also never seen someone so prone to hurting themselves on the pole.” Gwyn hangs her head.

“And the pretty girl.” She turns to Emerie last, who looks like she already knows what she’s about to hear. “Well, we can’t all be naturals.” The instructor grins broadly. “Feel free to keep using the poles after class is over.” She nods to their group and moves on to some other students.

Emerie sticks her tongue out and groans. “My tights keep giving me wedgies on the pole.”

“This was your idea,” Nesta reminds her as she reaches for her water bottle.

“Yet you’re the only one reaping the benefits,” Gwyn grumbles. “You never told us you had the body of a dancer and the balance of a gazelle.”

“Cat,” Emerie corrects.

“Guys,” Nesta says firmly. “This class is important for all of us. We won’t look this good,” she gestures to all their bodies, “forever. Gwyn is already pushing thirty.”

Gwyn’s jaw drops. “I’m turning twenty-seven, not getting menopause.”

“Same thing,” Emerie mutters. Gwyn shoves her hard and goes to pack her gym bag, leaving Emerie dramatically rubbing her shoulder. Nesta follows after Gwyn while the rest of the class begins gathering their things, too.

“How’re you feeling?” she mutters lowly as Gwyn packs. They haven’t brought up the conversation in Gwyn’s car since it took place, but Gwyn seems returned to her usual self now, if not even sunnier.

Gwyn’s lips twitch up as she glances sidelong at Nesta. “Perfect,” she says smoothly. “I can’t even remember what I was so upset about.”

Nesta is glad, even though she knows the nightmare isn’t gone. Knows that anytime from the next hour to the next year, it could reappear in full force and drag Gwyn down again. But hopefully it won’t hit as hard as it did before, now that Gwyn has her.

After class, they all pile up in Emerie’s car, a handed-down hunk of metal which Emerie insists on calling “vintage”. Gwyn sticks her head between the driver and passenger seat from the back and wrinkles her nose. “Get me home quick, it smells like a dead banana back here.”

“Oh, is that where I left it?” Emerie starts to turn around, but Nesta stops her with a hand on her shoulder. “I need a shower and a nap,” she pleads. “Let’s go.”

Emerie begrudgingly assents, sticking the key in the ignition and turning it. Nothing happens.

Frowning, she turns it again, but the engine doesn’t so much as choke. She slaps the dashboard like it’ll bring her car to life.

“Amazing,” Nesta mutters.

***

Cassian has imagined more times than he’d like to admit what it would be like when Nesta finally introduced him to her friends, but he never imagined this.

Three tired and hungry girls sit in his truck, alternating between arguing and laughing with each other. He can’t keep up with all of their personalities at once, so he just hones in on Nesta while he drives. Nesta, who Cassian has never seen so carefree or witty with people other than himself before. It both fascinates him and freaks him out, the realization that there’s so much to Nesta he doesn’t know yet. It gives him all the more excuse to spend the next several years getting to know her.

“Don’t tell me what to do with my car,” the dark-haired girl, Emerie, is snapping from the backseat. “Mr. Madani,” she abruptly says, sticking her head forward to look him in the face. Cassian nearly jumps. “Do you know how to change a car battery?”

Nesta shoves Emerie’s face back through the gap between seats from where she sits in the front. “You don’t need a battery change, you need a lifestyle change,” she says. “And don’t call my boyfriend by his last name, he’s not a middle-aged dad.”

Cassian bites back a laugh at that.

“Oh, but if I’m twenty-seven, I’m on the brink of menopause,” Gwyneth speaks up.

“Really?” Cassian says, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror for the first time all drive. “You’re the same age as me?”

He remembers what Nesta told him about Gwyn’s discomfort around men, so he tries to keep his tone casual, distant. If he scares Nesta’s friend away, he’ll never forgive himself.

Gwyn looks stunned to be directly addressed by him, seeming to lose all her sass. “Uh...my birthday’s in a few days,” she says, suddenly awkward.

“That’s right,” Emerie interjects eagerly. “We’re having a rager.”

“We’re having a sleepover,” Nesta corrects. She throws Cassian an exasperated look. “Drive faster, will you? I can’t share a car with these girls any longer.”

“Don’t be fucking rude.” Gwyn flicks a hair tie at Nesta, making her cry out.

Cassian does not understand this dynamic at all, so he shuts up and does as he’s told.

After Gwyn and Emerie have been safely dropped off, Cassian throws his keys into the bowl at the cabin entrance and tosses off his shoes. “I think I finally know what it’s like to be you,” he tells Nesta as they meet the warmth of the house.

“What do you mean?” She unzips her windbreaker, revealing the form-fitting athleticwear beneath. God, he hasn’t even gotten a chance to look at her since he picked her up.

He redirects his eyes to her face. “You know,” he says. “On the outside looking in. I feel drained.”

Her lips quirk up as she hangs up her jacket. “That scared of a couple of girls, huh?”

“They’re your friends. I don’t know what else I expected.” He follows Nesta deeper into the living room, kicking at the ground. “So…” he trails casually. “How was class?”

Nesta responds by rolling her eyes. “I was wondering how long you’d take to crack.”

“What do you mean?” he says, indignant.

“I mean…” She steps up to him and takes his hands, dragging them up her waist to settle on the bare skin beneath her black crop top. “You haven’t said a word about pole-dancing since I told you I was starting it. One would almost think it didn’t affect you at all, and yet,” she tilts her head, “I get the feeling you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Especially at night, when you’re alone.”

Cassian’s breath goes thin. She knows him too well.

“Cunning witch,” he breathes. Nesta’s smile is slow and winning, which he takes as invitation to slip his hands around her back and pull her in. Her chest is pressed flush against his.

She stares at his mouth, the place she always stares when her mind is five steps ahead of reality. Like she’s already imagining how he’ll take her. “Dreaming about a private performance, are you?”

“Hopefully not right now,” a low voice says from above them.

Nesta jumps, spinning around in Cassian’s arms, but Cassian just closes his eyes and sighs. He opens them to find Azriel sitting in the reading nook that overlooks the living room, various work reports scattered about him.

“Have you been there this whole time?” Nesta demands.

“Unfortunately,” Azriel says at the same time Cassian grumbles, “Of course he has.” Remaining unnoticed is all his brother is good for.

Nesta sighs and rubs her eyes, the mood effectively killed. “I need a break.”

Cassian considers going up to Az and pushing him over the second floor railing as Nesta wiggles out of his arms and heads for the stairs. “And a back massage,” she calls over her shoulder.

“I’ll be right there,” Cassian tells her. But he waits to hear their bedroom door click shut before he also goes upstairs, not towards Nesta but to the reading nook.

“Hey, bro?” He tries to sound lighthearted as he approaches Az. “Do you mind not cockblocking me in my own house?”

Az doesn’t look up from the report he’s reading, flipping a page. “It’s rude to be horny in public spaces.”

“My house is not a public space,” Cassian growls, struggling to keep his temper. “Before you moved in, it was a very, very private space.” For him and Nesta alone, he doesn’t add.

Azriel finally looks up, question in his eyes. “So what?” he says. “You want me to leave?”

Never, is the automatic assurance that nearly comes out of Cassian’s mouth. Of course he’d never want his brother gone, especially when he’s clearly going through… something. But he bites down on the word and takes a seat in the chair across from Az. “I want to know how long you’re planning on staying. For real. You can run from your problems as much as you want, but that doesn’t mean I can provide you with a hiding place forever.”

“Wow.” Azriel’s eyes widen in mock-disbelief and he clasps a hand to his chest. “So cold, brother. I think you caught some of your girlfriend’s iciness.”

Cassian narrows his eyes seriously at Az. “Or maybe I’m being the only adult here.” Cassian now has responsibilities to a person who isn’t part of his traditional inner circle. A person he can see himself making long-term plans with, a person he plans on keeping around. It changes the course of his future in a way that the rest of his family probably haven’t realized yet.

Though maybe Azriel does realize it, because he looks away and murmurs, “No need to rub it in.”

For the thousandth time that month, Cassian wonders what caused Azriel to run away from Velaris. It’s a secret Az refuses to share with even him.

“I’m trying,” Azriel says. His words are slow, unsure. “I’m trying to create space between me and that city, but I’m going to need more time. I can’t tell you how long it’ll take until I can go back. But if you can’t keep me here, I’ll find someplace else to stay.” He shrugs. “It’s not that hard.”

Cassian exhales, feeling sympathy twist deep in his chest for his best friend—and he doesn’t even know what the sympathy is for. “Then take your time,” he says sincerely. “Stay here forever if you want. We can Photoshop you into all our pictures. But don’t think I’m gonna make it easy on you,” he warns.

“You already don’t make it easy on me,” Az mutters. “I can hear you and Nesta fucking all the time.”

“First, don’t ever talk about Nesta and fucking in the same sentence ever again.”

Az blinks in surprise, likely remembering the way they would talk about their hookups before Nesta came into the picture. “Damn, she’s got you bad.”

“Second,” Cassian continues, “I will not hesitate to make you sleep outside if you get on my or Nesta’s nerves.”

“With that attitude, I’ll be out of here by next week,” Az snorts. He crosses his feet and picks up his report again, clearly done with this conversation.

Seeing no hope in rubbing the point in further, Cassian leaves Azriel to his work.

***

Nesta is stripped down to her underwear and getting ready to shower when she notices a missed call from Elain on her phone.

She hesitates at her sister’s name on the screen, wondering what could possibly have encouraged Elain to call while Nesta was at dance class. What happened to the times that Nesta could go weeks without a single person checking up on her?

Looking toward the bedroom door as if Cassian will come in and save her from having to call Elain back, she waits a solid minute before giving up.

Elain picks up on the first ring. “I’m surprised you called back,” she greets.

“I’m full of surprises these days.” Nesta settles onto the bed. “What did you want?” She doubts Elain called just for a check-in, not with the stagnant bitterness that’s been between them lately.

“To have a normal conversation with my sister for once.”

Nesta tries not to roll her eyes all the way back into her head, even though no one is around to see her. “Go on and have it then.”

“I heard from Rhys that Azriel moved into Cassian’s place,” Elain says in her honey-sweet voice. “I’ve been meaning to ask how that’s going for you.”

Nesta’s brow furrows at that voice, the one that Elain uses whenever she wants to give her best first impression—or wants to pry something out of someone. “It’s going fine,” she says flatly. “Az and I get along great.”

That’s a bit of an exaggeration, but…

“You’re calling him Az now?” Nesta can hear the way Elain tries to tamp down on her curiosity, but she’s never been as good at affecting apathy as Nesta is.

“Yeah,” she answers. “Why? Do you miss him?”

Elain nearly chokes over the line. “Why—why would you say that?”

“I thought you guys were friendly,” Nesta says, leaning back into the pillows. “Doesn’t everyone miss him back in Velaris?”

“Oh.” The relief in Elain’s voice is palpable, piquing Nesta’s curiosity. “Yeah, we miss him.” She clears her throat. “He left without telling anybody.”

Nesta fiddles with the band of her panties. “You don’t know why he left either?”

Elain is silent for several moments. “No.” Her answer is quiet, truthful. “I don’t know.” She adds, “Keep an eye on him, will you? I would do it myself, but I’ve been iced out.”

Nesta finds this very suspicious. She can’t bring herself to be interested enough to keep snooping, however, not as the door creaks open and Cassian enters the room. “Will do,” she promises Elain, and makes a quick goodbye. When she hangs up, Cassian asks, “Who was it?”

“Elain.” Nesta frowns at her phone. She wonders if someone like Cassian would be better at reading between the lines of the strange conversation she just had. Maybe he could put his finger on the mysterious relationship between her sister and his brother. But since there are no creeks nearby for Azriel to be shoved into, and it isn’t any of Nesta’s business either way, she decides to give him and Elain time to sort their own shit out.

“What did she want?”

Nesta refocuses on Cassian, who leans against the door appreciating her half-naked form stretched out before him. Without words, she holds her arms open.

He shoves off the door and approaches her on the bed, letting her envelop him into a hug. It isn’t the warmest or most comforting hug, and her arms are stiff as stone, but he melts into her either way. There’s a weariness in his broad shoulders that spikes concern in her.

When Cassian pulls away, she traps his face in her hands and scans it closely for answers. “What’s wrong with you?” she asks. “You fell asleep early during the last two movies we watched and you’re half-asleep now.”

“What are you talking about?” He throws his signature smile her way, but it lacks alertness. “Do I look like there’s anything wrong with me?”

“You tell me.” Nesta shifts so she can slide her hand over the smooth plane of his back, resting her palm on the warm spot between his shoulder blades. It’s her best imitation of a soothing gesture, and it makes Cassian’s lips quirk up lightly.

He hangs his head and sighs. “Is it possible to have growing pains at my age?”

Nesta is confused. “Like, physically?”

“No,” he says. “Just… growing up.”

“I don’t think we ever stop growing up,” she answers honestly. Maybe she’s biased because a part of her is still trapped in that childlike state, and she has more growing to do than most people. “I think it hurts a little every time we have to shift and become someone older. What’s hurting you now?”

Her hand slides up to the nape of Cassian’s neck, gently massaging the muscles there. His head droops even more under her touch. “I can’t believe you’re asking me that when I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” he huffs. But he doesn’t look very inclined to argue.

Nesta squeezes the back of his neck. “I can be the stable one, too, you know. I can take care of you.” She should’ve defeated this misconception sooner.

“That’s not what I meant,” Cassian says, shaking his head. “I meant that I promised you a massage.”

Oh. She nearly forgot about that. “If you tell me what growing pains you’re having, I’ll let you join me in the shower,” she promises. “You can do whatever you want there.”

He looks up at that, dragging his gaze over her mostly-bare figure, and Nesta knows she’s won. “Tell me,” she demands one final time.

Cassian inspects her face, likely deciding how much he should reveal or not. “I’ve been thinking about the future,” he finally says. “It was never something I cared much about before, but now it keeps me up at night.”

Nesta is slow to realize—he’s talking about their future. “You really never thought about the future before?” she asks. At one point in time, Nesta had her life planned out to the age of forty. Her plans hadn’t included this, though.

Cassian shakes his head. “There was nothing for me to think about.”

She runs soothing fingers across his scalp, her heart rate unexpectedly picking up a beat. “And what do you think about now?”

Hazel eyes meet hers with wariness. “Stupid stuff,” he says. “Cars, taxes, insurance.”

At the look on her face, he pulls away from the hand that’s gone still on his neck. “Okay, let’s get you in the shower before I scare you away for good.”

Nesta feels herself being scooped into Cassian’s arms, but she doesn’t quite register it. It’s not until they’re in the bathroom that she remembers words. “I’m not scared,” she says from the cradle of his arms. “I was just surprised.”

Regaining her senses, she squirms until Cassian puts her down on the floor. She straightens. “I’ve never... pondered on the small things like that.”

Except they aren’t really small or stupid, are they? They’re big, inevitable facets of sharing a life with someone. She clears her throat. “The way we live now is already so nice. I guess I forgot things won’t be like this forever.”

Which isn’t the most assuring thing to say from the way Cassian’s face becomes carefully still. But in a blink he’s smiling again, his hands going to unclip her bra. “Don’t worry yourself with that shit,” he chuckles. “I was only dreaming.”

Guilt turns Nesta’s stomach into sludge. She made Cassian share what was weighing on him only for her to brush it off. She wants to talk through it with him until he’s giving her a real smile, but she doesn’t know where to start or what to say. So she lets her bra drop to the floor and steps close to wrap her arms around him.

His breath hitches against her ear, and one of his broad hands comes up to rest on her bare back. “Two hugs in one day?” he says, his amusement covering up some deeper emotion. “I’m either doing something right or doing something very wrong.”

“No. I’m just feeling appreciative.” Her hand returns to that space between his shoulder blades, the spot that seems to disarm him, and pats him there. She gives herself a solid moment to luxuriate in the warmth and size and hard strength of him before saying, “Get undressed, will you?”

One of his hands squeezes her butt. “You need to get off me first.”

She hums in agreement but doesn’t move—hoping he can feel everything she doesn’t know how to tell him.

***

a/n: i bought my eid dress and it’s so pretty yall 🥺

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

#ncssianwrites #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #a favor #nessian fic #nessian au

[theimaginesyouneveraskedfor]

The heat of the sun seeped through your cover-up even as you reclined under the multi-coloured umbrella. You kept your sunglasses propped up on your forehead as you shielded your face with a novel and disassociated from the sandy beach. The idea of a day by the shore seemed good in theory but in practice, it was always too hot and too gritty.

You could hear the splashing and laughter from the water. You wouldn’t mind a dip but none of your bathing suits fit anymore and you hadn’t had time to buy a new one. So you wore a pair of booty shorts and a borrowed crop top under your leopard print coverup. You still weren’t used to the extra pounds and just wearing shorts was hard enough.

You rolled over and planted your elbows as you flattened the book and kept reading. You bent your legs behind you and let them sway as you bent one ankle over the other. You flipped the page as your eyes roved over the unwinding sentence. The story was captivating even if it was cliché.

A shadow darkened your vision and for a moment you stayed focused on the book, thinking it was only someone passing by. When it didn’t relent, you looked up and shaded your eyes. A man smiled down at you and waved your bookmark between his fingers.

“This flew away on you,” he said as he bent to hold it out to you.

“Oh, thanks,” you sat up and took it from him.

“What are you reading?” he asked as you brought your book into your lap.

“Um, some new thing I found on sale,” you showed him the cover, “thriller about a cheating husband… the usual.”

“Sounds scandalous,” he smirked as he stood straight and put his hand on his hip. His broad chest and muscled stomach were hard not to stare at as his skin glistened with sweat and water, “so you come to the beach just to catch up with your book club?”

“What, oh, uh, no, I don’t feel much like swimming, thanks,” you opened the book again and lowered your head.

“Sorry, I’m bugging you,” he reproached himself, “I just… you looked like you needed some company--”

“I have some,” you said awkwardly as you looked up again, “they’re…” you peered around and found Laila and Jasmine hopping into the waves and disappearing into the foam, “in the water, but thanks.”

“Alright, I can take a hint but maybe I’ll run into you again… in the water,” he gave a crooked grin, “I’m Sam.”

You stared at him and ran your thumb along the edges of the pages left in the chapter. You gave your name flatly and once more returned your attention to the novel. 

“Thanks again,” you added.

“No problem,” he backed away slowly, “enjoy the sun.”

You nodded and waited for him to walk away. You looked up again slowly and followed his tracks in the sand across the beach. He fell down onto a towel beside another man of similar size. You detached your eyes from him and gazed out on the water. It sure was hot out but even the promise of the cool waves couldn’t erase your over awareness of your love handles.

🏖

The fire crackled at the campsite as Laila put together the kebabs for your first dinner away. You took the percolator and trudged past the thin line of weeds and down the dirt path. You went to the shared faucet just a few plots away from your rented site and field the percolator and replaced the lid.

You turned and sloshed water from the spout as you nearly collided with another. The man held a jug and chuckled as he sidestepped you. He was buff and his tank top showed off his muscular arms, though one was completely covered in a tension sleeve, even his hand. His dark stubble shadowed his sharp jaw as his lips twitched in amusement.

“Hey, wow,” he said as you righted the percolator.

See the full post

1019 notes • Posted 2021-07-20 11:15:20 GMT

#3

autumn this or that

pumpkin or apple // cocoa or cider // halloween or thanksgiving // leaf piles or apple picking // hay ride or corn maze // wooly sweater or furry slippers // pumpkin carving or knitting // squash or sweet potato // black cat or bat // skeletons or witches // fake blood or fake spiders // mashed potatoes or stuffing // orange or black // apple pie or maple donuts // marshmallows or candy corn // vampire or werewolf // fireplace or cozy nook // spiced wine or craft beer // candied apples or s'mores // big scarf or oversize hoodie

1195 notes • Posted 2021-09-27 15:36:44 GMT

#2

Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

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

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake. 

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful. 

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much. 

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps. 

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

See the full post

1838 notes • Posted 2021-05-14 12:11:40 GMT

#1

Writers who create dark fiction do not need to:

be your therapist

be responsible for your consumption

explain concepts readily available to you through Google searches

share their past or traumatic experiences

answer questions about their trauma

apologize for you ignoring warnings

cater to your entitlement

And that’s it. Be responsible for your damn self.

8563 notes • Posted 2021-06-24 23:48:53 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Mind the Gap: Three

Shang-Chi laid you carefully on the bed and leaned over to kiss you on the forehead, smiling a little when you fuss at him sleepily. “It’s okay,” he murmured, brushing a lock of hair out of your face tenderly, “I’m only going down stairs.”

When you sit up. Bolt upright suddenly, he reels back. It takes a moment for him to realize that you’re not what’s staring at him. Your eyes are the same unearthly silver they had been. “Let her sleep,” he ordered sharply.

“We,” a voice that is your but… Not yours replies haughtily, “Do not sleep. We are eternal.”

“Not without a body you’re not,” he fired back, frustrated. You just got to sleep. You were just so close to feeling better. Your face doesn’t change, not really. There’s an absence of expression. One that he’d taken as seriousness in that empty field, but now realizes that the Archive probably doesn’t… care enough to make you appear “normal” when speaking. Still, even if the Archive wasn’t sneering at him where he could see it, he could feel it.

“Have care, boy. Our vessel will not belong to you.”

And before he could reply, You fell backwards onto the bed, your head hitting the pillow with a soft thump.

“You’re right about that,” he says quietly, not sure if it can hear him or not. “She doesn’t belong to me. She doesn’t belong to anyone… You might have saved her life once, but now you’re just squatting.” He shakes his head and pulls a blanket over you, carefully tucking you in before turning and heading back downstairs.

__________

Downstairs, he finds party preparations in full swing. There’s food being cooked and more food being ordered from town to be picked up. There’s a small army of people moving tables and arranging lights and torches and building bonfires. It was cozy looking. And impossible for him to tell how many people were coming.

“How is she recovering?”

Shang-Chi turned and faced his father, smiling ruefully, “Not as fast as I’d like. But at least she’s asleep.”

He nodded and gave his son a sympathetic look. “They’re all worried,” he cautioned.

“We should start a club. Y/N can make us jackets.” When his father gave him a look, Shang-Chi smiled a little. “It spoke to me,” he said after a second.

“The Archive? What did It say?”

“It told me that she didn’t belong to me,” he said, restraining an eye roll with effort.

Wenwu frowned, “It challenged you?”

Shang-Chi shook his head, “It wasn’t a challenge. It was a warning. She never even woke up.”

They stood for a long moment and considered the implications of that. But neither one of them had a chance to say more when Katy burst through the screen door with Xialing on her heels. “You have got to see this! There’s fucking werewolves!”

“Werewolves? Kai is a werewolf-”

“No. What? No- I-” Katy is bouncing on the balls of her feet and bolts back out the door.

“A pack,” Xialing said rolling her eyes, more fond than irritated. “Specifically her father’s pack.”

And it’s curiosity more than anything that lures Shang-Chi outside. You never talk about your parents- Not that he can really blame you. He hadn’t talked about his family with you at all. And now? He has the gift of staying in your childhood bedroom. And seeing the things that made you into the woman he loves. Still. Werewolves? He assumes your mother is a witch but- If this going to be a fight? Is it going to upset you?

He walks down the steps to see Kai and who he assumes is your father. You have the same lazy half smile and the same warm eyes that you share with your brother. And for just a second, he wants to turn around and bolt. He’s seen you dismember demons. He’s faced creatures from other dimensions. But somehow? Meeting his Girlfriend’s dad is more terrifying than both those things.

He’s a big man. Tall. Imposing. A solid wall of muscle. A shock of curly dark hair… It was almost like the universe had distilled his every idea of a werewolf into one person. Except for the jaws. And slobber.

“Good Luck,” Xialing snorted quietly.

“Gee thanks,” he said taking a deep breath and stepping forward. He’d been seen, there wasn’t any escape now.

The huge man stepped forward, “I’m Renaud,” he said. His voice a deep rumble, like Thunder. “You, must be Shang-chi.” He took the hand that was offered and shook it, not as roughly as Shang-Chi had expected. And he hadn’t missed that his name had been pronounced correctly. “Thank you, for calling my son… Just because Y/n can handle things on her own doesn’t mean she should.”

“So you found her?”

“Of course,” he said, smiling, “I always know how to find my kids.”

Shang-Chi smiled in spite of himself. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since you’d seen your father. But somethings seemed to be universal. “My father-” he started, But Renaud made an impetuous gesture.

“We’ve met,” he chuckled, taking the hand that Wenwu offered.

“Several times, in fact,” Wenwu said. “And I hope-”

The Werewolf released his hand and rocked back on his heels, “The sins of the father and all that,” he said with another impetuous gesture. “I learned long ago that telling a witch what to do is always a bad idea.”

Shang- Chi looked from one to the other and glanced at Katy and Xialing for help. He had the distinct impression that he was rapidly helping to establish some new international thing. When both the girls shrugged at him at a loss he glanced at Kai who gave him a small nod.

“Dad,” Kai said, “I’d hate to interrupt whatever work meeting is about to happen but… Hospitality Law. You know Grandma and Lea like to et all the stupid formal things out of the way up top.”

Renaud looked at them apologetically and turned to his son, “And then I’d like to see your sister.”

“So far as I know she’s asleep,” Kai said leading him away, the other three wolves that had been standing there watching followed after.

“It’s the middle of the day,” he protested.

“Not for her. She’s still at least a day behind the rest of us.”

Shang-Chi watched them go and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “At least no one at me,” he said, looking back towards the house.

“Werewolves haven’t done that in public for 300 years,” Wenwu snorted.

___________

People arrive steadily. Bringing kids. And food. And drinks. Shang-Chi watches in fascination as all the tables Kai had hefted into place filled with things. And the Coolers he had helped Lea to fill with Ice started keeping drinks cold.

So many faces and names. It’s a whirl and a blur. Still. It doesn’t take long for the kids to warm up and claim him, and Katy as their new playmates. Like all children they’re susceptible to a good story and an infectious laugh. Except for one. There was a little boy. He stayed near an oak tree. A Book over his lap. And he seemed to be watching the goings on, all the flips and little bursts of magical energy with irritation. He didn’t want to play. At least not with them. And while no one bothered him, it was clear that the other kids didn’t want to play with him either.

At least- At least for a while.

When you appeared, a little bleary eyed with your hair in a messy bun and some fresh clothes. His whole face lights up. Shang-Chi hears the shout and watches, grinning as his book goes flying and he launches himself at you, clinging onto your torso like a spider monkey and burying his face in your neck.

And suddenly, the silent boy with the great big book is talking. And talking. And he can’t seem to stop smiling.

“She’s his person,” Lea said smiling a little, handing Shang-Chi a glass of cold lemonade. He looked at her in askance and she smiled a little, “They both understand what it’s like to be the weirdest person in a room full of weirdos,” she explained. “Emmet had no magical ability. And Y/N hears voices and can tear out a Vampire’s heart with her bare hands.”

“Fair enough,” he says nodding, watching you greet the kids with hugs and kisses and declarations that they’re all too tall. “It’s good to know I’m just a novelty.”

Lea grins, “No one can ever take her place with them… It was Kai with the last crop. But Y/N was always his buddy. She’s had him wrapped around her finger since the first time someone put her in his lap.”

“So you’re telling me I should expect a big brother lecture?”

“Maybe. But. It’s more likely that he figures she could take you in a fight and there’s not much point.” The redhead’s eyes sparkle with mischief though. And Shang-Chi chuckles.

“You think so?”

“If she can’t, the Archive can.”

That was a sobering thought. And Shang- Chi took a deep breath. “What- what happened?”

The woman looked at him and for the first time, he considered that she was probably older than her face. Despite the lack of lines her eyes seem… Ancient. “I don’t know if I should tell you. I’ve spent… A long time keeping those details a secret.”

“I just-”

“I know,” she says softly. “You should know. If only… If only so you know she wasn’t always this way. She used to want… She wanted to be in the Olympics. She wanted to be a rockstar… She didn’t want to be this.”

Shang-Chi was quiet. Waiting. He didn’t really know what to say.

“Her mother- When she was born her mother was furious,” Lea said after a long moment. “600 years and so many babies I’ve brought into the world… And the was the only time I’ve ever seen That. She refused to even hold her.”

“Why-”

“Because she was powerful,” Lea said. “I knew- We all knew- the second she took her first breath that she wasn’t just a Witch. And for Clara? That was a betrayal. Clara had spent DECADES trying to amass more power. And here her daughter just had it? Absolutely not. It was unthinkable.”

Shang-Chi winced. “So then-”

“She sold her,” Lea said bitterly. “Put her on the black market and handed her off to the highest bidder.”

“No-”

“What she sold her to though? It was a… a cult. A fringe group. They took children like her and tried to- to change them. And if torture wouldn’t change it, burning. Well. The holy fire would at least make sure they went to heaven.”

He felt himself waver and he leaned against the tree that was at his back. “What the fuck-”

“Indeed,” Lea said nodding. “To make a long story short, It took Kai, Renaud, and her Great Aunt Jet to bring her home. And it cost Jet her life… It was a price she would gladly pay but not everyone feels that Y/N was worth the effort. Including Y/N.”

He looked back towards you, watching as you tossed one of the kids up to Kai who tickled them and tossed them to one of the waiting werewolves who promptly pitched them off the dock and into the lake. But on the edges, he could see the barely masked disapproval. And he knew you. He knew that you knew it was there.

“Lenora has been trying to keep things at bay but… I’d be lying if I said I blamed Y/N for keeping her distance. She loved Jet. We all did. And it’s- it’s hard for her, knowing that if it weren’t for her- She might still be here. She might be able to control the Archive. Instead of being controlled.”

And all he can do is watch you. And hurt. He hurts for who you are now. And for the little girl that you had been. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“Shang- Chi,” Lea cautioned, “She says she doesn’t remember but-”

“You don’t know?”

“No. We don’t. And if she’s trying to protect herself-”

“I won’t ask her,” he said, “I don’t think I’d want to remember that either.”

#shang chi #shang-chi x reader #fluff #angst #meet the parents #torture mention

[anxious-logic]

You Thought Wrong.

hellooooo take this thing that i wrote almost 3 weeks ago and meant to post 2 weeks ago but didn't have a title for it!

Ship: Prinxiety (Virgil/Roman)

AO3 rating: T

Word Count: 1,438

Warnings: canon-typical Remus, special mention for brief Remus goriness (including mentions of acid burns, bones, and muscles), misunderstandings, swearing

Summary: Virgil fucked up, big time. Now he just has to try and fix it.

***

Virgil slowly brought his fist up to the door he was standing in front of, feeling the mist falling from the sky slowly soaking his hair and hoodie as he tried to muster the ability to knock.

How could you ever think that, Roman?

He swallowed hard as his own words echoed in his head, a harsh reminder of how cruel he could be when in unexpected, anxiety-inducing situations.

I just thought... the way you looked at me, I truly believed there was something-

You thought wrong.

Virgil grit his teeth against the memories that were going round and round in his head of what had happened between him and Roman only hours before. He just had to knock, wait for Roman to open the door, then he could explain. It was stupid, would come off as a sad excuse more than the true explanation that it was, but he had to clear the air. Had to do something.

The precipitation from the sky started falling harder, phasing from a light mist to something not quite heavy enough for an umbrella or raincoat but unpleasant enough that Virgil felt uncomfortably damp. He blew out a breath, pulling his hands back to his hoodie pockets and tilting his head towards the sky.

It didn’t really matter if he got wet right now. It was cliche, sure, that it was raining when he was trying to confess and apologize to his best-friend-of-who-even-knew-how-many-years-slash-crush-slash-roommate, but even Virgil could appreciate a good cliche sometimes.

Virgil was startled out of his thoughts by a car driving by, the engine loud and wheels splashing through a shallow puddle on the road that passed by the picturesque house. He glared at the receding white vehicle for interrupting his moping, then shook himself, turning back to the door of the house.

It was just a door. Then eight words: “I fucked up and I actually love you.” Not so bad. Easy, in fact. This would be fine.

Before he could finish second-guessing himself, he forced his hand to rap against the door a few times. Almost before he was done knocking, he heard the handle turn and the door click open.

“About time! I was starting to wonder if you were melting in the rain, Wicked Witch of the West. You know, I’ve always wondered how that would work, if it would all melt at the same time or if it’s like acid burns, little holes burning through your skin to the muscle then bones…”

Virgil jumped at the loud voice and gory words. When he looked up, Roman’s twin brother was lounging in the doorway. Virgil grimaced at the crop top, booty shorts, and fishnet tights with larger holes ripped into them that Remus was sporting.

“...No, I’m not melting,” he said. “I actually- um, I came to talk to Roman?”

Remus’s face turned more serious than Virgil had ever seen it. “I hope you know you hurt him. I’m letting you talk to him because I think you could be really good for each other. But if you hurt him again, nobody will be able to find enough of your body to identify it.”

Virgil closed his eyes with a small sigh. “I know. And I’m not expecting him to even want to take me back. But- I have to apologize, and I have to tell him the truth. Because I fucked up. I know I did.”

Remus gave him an evaluating look that even the mustache adorning his upper lip couldn’t soften. “Okay.” He whipped around so he was facing the inside of the house, giving Virgil an unasked-for front-row view of the many tattoos on his back that ranged from the nape of his neck to below the waistline on his shorts. “Roooo-maaaan!!”

Virgil winced at the loud, extended shout, barely resisting the urge to cover his ears. He relaxed as Remus cut off, only to tense up again as he heard shuffling footsteps coming from inside the house.

“What’s going- oh.” Roman cut himself off as he made eye contact with Virgil, pulling the red comforter around his shoulders tighter. “What are you doing here?” His voice was stony and unwelcoming.

“He wanted to talk to you. Don’t kill each other and if you do anything illegal don’t get caught ‘cause I’m broke and can’t pay bail.” Remus waved his fingers in Virgil’s direction, then sauntered away back into the house.

“...I don’t really want to invite you in right now, but I also don’t want to keep the door open and really don’t want to go outside. So come in.” Roman shuffled back a few steps, the comforter pooling around his feet.

“This shouldn’t take long,” Virgil said, swallowing past a lump in his throat. He stepped inside anyway, pulling the door shut behind him. He shivered as he realized just how cold it actually was outside.

The two of them stood in silence, Virgil shifting from foot to foot on the creaky floorboards the only sound in the room.

“What did you want to talk about,” Roman said, more of a statement than a question. “You seemed pretty clear on what you thought about me earlier.”

Virgil closed his eyes and blew out a breath, trying to steel himself. “I know. I know I sounded horrible, I was a dick. I fucked up, probably permanently.” He swallowed again, fixing his gaze on the floorboards beneath his feet. “Because the truth is, I- I love you. And I know that that’s- not at all what I was saying earlier,” he plowed on before he could give Roman a chance to respond, “but I’ve never felt this way about anyone before… and it scares the hell out of me.” He fell silent.

Roman didn’t say anything for what felt like hours, the sound of rain outside the only one that could be heard. Eventually, Virgil heard fabric shifting and looked up to see Roman lowering himself to the ground, readjusting the comforter around his body.

“If you really feel like that, why did you say those things?” Roman asked, his voice so quiet Virgil had to strain to hear the question.

“I panicked,” Virgil replied, forcing the words out of his throat as he looked straight at Roman. “I didn’t know what to say, and my instinctive response to situations where I don’t know what to do is lash out and isolate myself. So that’s what I did, because I didn’t know how to react or what to say or- or anything.” He let a breath out of his lungs, still watching Roman closely. “I had a plan, for how to tell you. But then the plan wouldn’t work, because you were saying things, and I was surprised, and so… yeah. And again, I know that’s really shitty of me,” he added frantically, “and I know I need to work on it.”

Roman’s face softened. “Virgil…” He made eye contact with Virgil for just a second before glancing down at his lap. “I get that brains can be fucky. I know that there’s only so much we can do to keep them under control.” He took a deep breath. “But if we’re going to make this work - and I’m not saying yes yet, but if we’re going to make it work - you need to try as hard as you can not to do that again. And I need to work on not running away so quickly, I know,” he added before Virgil could say anything. “But I can’t- I can’t go through that happening all of the time. Especially from someone that I care about.”

Virgil nodded quickly. “I know,” he said. “I- I understand. I… I wouldn’t be able to either.”

Virgil heard Roman swallow, and glanced up to see him extending a hand from under the comforter.

“Sit with me?” Roman asked, voice quiet. Virgil scrambled to do so, gently grasping Roman’s hand once he got to the ground.

“I want to make this work,” Roman whispered into the air, nestling closer into Virgil and tucking his head into his neck. “I really, really want to. I… I love you too.”

Virgil turned his head and pressed his lips to the top of Roman’s head. “I can’t promise it’ll be perfect, that I won’t mess up. But I can promise that I’ll try my hardest not to.”

Roman tilted his head up and captured Virgil’s lips with his own, and even though Virgil was still damp from rain and the floor was hard and the angle of his neck was so extreme it was almost painful, it still seemed perfect.

***

Please consider reblogging if you liked this!

#ts virgil #ts roman #prinxiety #ts remus #virgil sanders #roman sanders #romantic prinxiety #sanders sides fanfiction #remus sanders #sanders sides fanfic #i can write sometimes #sanders sides

[aroaessidhe]

The Witch King character descriptions

for fanart! find my full database of book character descriptions at my pinned post.

Wyatt

short (5’2), white/pale, green eyes, small fangs, shaved head, blond, almost always wears a black hoodie and a binder

burn scars all over his arms

pastels, a light green cuffed pants, white button down embellished with a rose on the front pocket ugly canvas slides and socks with the same rose pattern, glamoured scars (this is not an outfit he chose himself or likes)

Briar

deep warm brown skin, generous curves, broad nose over a thin upper lip, gap in her front teeth. flowers braided into her long black and teal hair, today purple cone-flowers that match the tshirt under her overalls.

Native American (Seminole, Diné)

yellow energy, like sunflowers and bumblebees and lemonade.

denim jacket covered in pins and patches (BI-FURIOUS with a battle axe)

ratty paint splattered old sweats and tie-dyed tshirt

hair in a braid

Emyr

massive brown wings (thin, veined, leathery) tipped with golden claws, horns (curled into two spirals of soft brown atop his forehead, glinting gold in the sun), long fangs, claws, black/’nearly obsidian skin’, black hair, sides of his head shaved to expose the dramatic points of his ears but left long down the center of his skull, septum ring, extravagant clothing and jewelry. muscled and lean, a foot taller than wyatt.

protective spikes that shoot out from his wings

dark thick eyebrows, long lashes, brown eyes, sharp cheeks, broad nose

golden magic sweeping around him like a halo

in a pink suit so dark it could be red, patterned with gold flowers. a chain hooked into his septum ring that stretches up to connect to a gold cuff on the tip of his ear. an assortment of bejeweled rings on his long fingers, necklaces dangling aeound his neck. black eyeliner and shimmery gold eyeshadow

human glamour - round ears, grey trackpants and powder blue tshirt with a deep v

low-slung black harem pans and sheer white shirt

slouchy azure pants and an oversize white cloak that clips at the throat and hangs down to his knees. strappy white sandals.

hawaiian shirt under a formfitting blazer

in only a pair of sheer black pants of tightly woven mesh, low slung. an opaque swath of black fabric around his waist like a skirt

a sword over one shoulder, a leather breastplate and pauldrons, matching leather pants slung low on his hips

white lace shorts and a tan shirt (like a billowy pirate shirt,) hanging off his shoulders

floral button down and purple chinos, in human glamour

Wade

wings like a flying squirrel, big droopy tufts of brown fur, uniform tailored to fit. uniform like guard uniform except green (?). his is better fitted to his body, green rope belt more like silk. his boots have metal heels. a dozen earrings in each ear. tan, white. long blonde hair in a bun at the top of his head. horns like moose antlers

deep dark green energy

Clarke

pale waif of a girl with a mountain of blonde curls and deerlike antlers instead of horns. white, poofy, dainty feathered wings. sequined corset shows off  a stretch of white skin of her stomach, pierced navel, low-slung white skirt

bright pink energy

Jin 

very tall, no wings or horns. shaggy black hair infront of their dark eyes. huge muscles. piercings on hip, between eyes, two in one nostril, and each eyebrow. several colourful tattoos decorate their beige skin. leather pants held together at the sides by rainbow coloured ribbons, top just a black sash across their chest

thick, ear-length black hair

deep purple energy streaked with white

Briar twists little stems of baby's breath into their hair

Derek

velvety black wings and two thin horns straight up out of his head. blonde hair slicked back, a single tendril falling over his blue eyes. fangs, full pink lips. dark perfectly tailored clothes. muscular frame. white.

in all black, black suit with black button down

Tessa

upturned button nose, full pink mouth, long lashes, green eyes, one darker than the other. honeyed hair, long and pulled into  a bun, two strands falling down to frame her face, same height as wyatt.

white lace crop top with a high neck over some sort of weird copper metal bra. tiny brown leather shorts beneath a sheer floor length white skirt. scarification in old language at her waist (date)

wings like a dragonfly, two sets, thin and shimmery

lavender energy

side/minor characters in the database! yes including all the monarchs

#the witch king #h.e. edgmon #thx to that one person who sent me a couple a while back; just a little less for me to type!

[unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin]

The Cleaners Princess Kenny Omega smut

Summary: Olivia Jackson was the bullet clubs Princess, Kenny’s Princes. When she got hurt and had to put up here boots he and Kenny broke up. Now she’s back, and he and Kenny have some feelings.

Warning: Daddy kink, smut, some power kink I think, hair pulling, just generally nastiness. 

Olivia POV

3 years. It had been three years since I made a mistake in a match. Three years since I was carted out of the Tokyo dome on a stretcher. Three years since I had to retire from the sport I loved more than anything.

I couldn't get these thoughts out of my head as I drove down the road to Daileys place. I had finally gotten cleared to get back in the ring, and just in time for a huge moment on my brothers new company AEW. I turned into the parking lot of the event, and no one was out there. For a better surprise factor I was going to show up after the show already started. I found a parking spot and pulled my phone out, sending a quick text to Matt so he knew I was here.

I leaned my head forward a bit, letting it rest on the steering wheel. Was I really ready to get back in the ring? I practically jumped out of my skin when there was a knock on the window. I looked over to see Matt laughing causing me to role my eyes. I got out of the car, crossing my arms over my chest. "Really Matthew?"

"Oh calm down, it was funny." He said winking at me. "You got your bag?"

"Ya, I'm the back." I did heading around to the trunk to open it. As I pulled out my bag I looked over at Matt. "Where's my other half?"

"Fucked up his knee during our match earlier tonight. He should be fine, but we had to change the finish tonight a bit." He explained as he took my bag from me.

"You know I can carry my own shit right?" I asked as we walked to the back door.

"You sure? You couldn't back in Japan."

"That was a gimmick. You know me, living the gimmick." I joked poking his side.

"Ya, your the best at Playing entitled little sister. You kept it up even after you stopped wrestling." He said making me huff.

"That's not fair, I'm not even the youngest."

"Ya, but your the youngest of yourself, me, and Nick." He pointed out.

"Me and Nick were born the same day!"

"There was like a 5 minute difference." My head swung around to see one of my closest friends Adam page.

"What's up cowboy?" I asked crossing my arms over my chest as we stopped to talk to him.

"The sky."

"No shot Sherlock."

"Liv, watch your language." Matt mumbled shaking his head. If you went off of looks allow you would know me, Matt, and Nick were all related, but I acted so different then them. I drank about as much as Adam, and often would swear like a sailor. The only thing I had in common with them was wrestling really.

"Well I should probably get going. Got to get ready for the big night" I said winking at Adam as I turned to follow Matt down the hall.

"The Doc brought Nick back to the room before you got here, and you can get ready in here." He explained before pushing open the door. Nick is sat on the couch with his leg up, Karl was standing talking to Gallows, but Gallows wasn't looking at me. I smiled and put my finger up to my lips, telling Nick and Karl to stay quiet. Nick chuckled, and shook his head.

"Hey Matt." Karl said, clearly trying not to laugh as I snuck up behind him. I ran a few steps and jumped onto his back.

"GALLOWS!" I yelled as my arms wrapped around his shoulders and my legs around his waist. He surged forward in surprised, his arms flying out to steady him.

"Olivia!" He said surprised as he looked at me over his shoulder. I smiled at him giggling.

"Hi." He just chuckled at me and grabbed under my knees and hoisted me up so it was more of a piggyback.

"Sometimes I wonder how your related to those to." Karl said laughing.

"I still don't think she is." Matt said rolling his eyes. I simply smiled as I jumped down from Gallows back (witch is pretty far), landing with a slight thud.

"Well, I've seen almost everyone. Where's Kenny?" I asked looking around the room, and I could feel the mood shift to uncomfortableness. I rolled my eyes at their nervousness. Me and Kenny has been dating back in Japan, I had even been known as 'The Cleaners Princess'. When I got hurt we tried the long distance, but it simply didn't work out. We split up, but we never hated each other. I still saw him when he came to see Matt and Nick in California.

"Really guys? It's been more then 2 years. Besides, I'll have to see him regularly if I'm going to be working with you again." I reminded them.

"We know. He will show up with Don at some point, it's normal to have him show up late." Nick explained as I nodded.

"Ok. I'm gonna go get changed, do my makeup, all that good shit." I said walking over to the bathroom they had. Once inside I locked the door and pulled my sweatshirt off. I did the same with my shirt and bra, but paused as I looked in the mirror. I had a couple nasty scars on my body from surgeries over the years.

My fingers traced over the small tattoo on my side. 'Livin the dream' was written in small black letters. Most of it was covered by even ring gear, so no one else knew it was there. Except of course Kenny. A dare one night after I drank a considerable amount, also the night me and Kenny got together.

I pulled myself away from the thought as I reached into my bag grabbing another bra, and my crop top version of a young Bucks tee shirt. I pulled my sweat pants I had worn here off, and pulled the ripped jeans on. The fans had always called my crazy Jackson, witch matched that I was always the 'wild child'. I then pulled out my old leather jacket. It was cold and smooth, just like the last time I put it on. I had never dared to where it out of wrestling. On the back the word 'Princess' was spelt out in light pink letters that had a look of being attached badly. I loved it. It's Time to put on a show.

—————————————————

"What's the drunkest thing you've ever done?" Kenny asked both of us sitting on the couch in his room after drinks with the guys.

"Honestly? Probably my tattoo." I answered.

"Tattoo?"

"Ya, don't you remember? On my side. I got it the night we got together." I said pointing to my left side.

"I'm gonna be honest I only remember certain parts of it." He confused taking a sip of water.

"So, how as Kenny Omega been? Nice to see the cleaner back." I said shifting a bit and pishimg at the lose hair that had come out of the ponytail.

"Why does everyone keep saying the cleaners 'back'?! I've always been him!"

"Probably just waiting for the mean ruthless Kenny. I mean, you were the guy who would do what it took to win, and you did that against Mox." I shrugged.

"I guess really that the cleaner kinda died off when you left." He admitted. "I mean, I had put a lot of time in making us the 'power couple' of the wrestling world."

"Lest be honest, we were the hottest couple. Plus I bet people are already wondering on twitter." I said pulling my phone out to open twitter. I had about a million notifications and as I clicked through them until I found one that stopped me. It read: Kenny's princess is back!! I bet she's calling his daddy tonight 😉

I felt a blush creep up my neck, and practically jumped when I felt Kenny's breath on my neck. "Well look at that. You were right." I'm sure it could look like he was just reading the tweet for the hell of it, but I could hear the change in his voice. I get his hands on my waist as he turned me towards him, our faces inches apart.

"I don't think I told you how much I've missed seeing you in the ring." He whispered, thumbs rubbing at my sides. "Did you miss me?"

"Depends on the part." I whispered, my hand moving up to his hair, and I gripped it lightly. "I missed playing with your long hair," I let my hands move along his arms to his fingers, "I've missed your muscle, and these fingers." I mumbled running my hand on them. "And I've course this." I whispered as o reached down and palmed his dick, and I could feel it was rock hard.

He groaned out and pulled me into a rough kiss that had our teeth clashing together. We continued to make out as my hands went back to his hair, pulling lightly now and again. When he finally pulled away we were both breathing heavily. "You know your a teas right?"

"What do you mean?" I asked turning my head in confusion.

"This damn jacket. Last I checked you were The Cleaners Princess anymore." He whispered in his rough voice. He leaned forward a bit to nip at my neck.

"Maybe I miss being your princess."

"Well, I may just have some great news, there is an audition for that exact spot." He whispered pulling jacket from my shoulders slowly.

"What do I have to do?"

'Make the king feel good." I knew immediately what that meant, and slid from the couch to the ground letting out a small sound of pain when I hit the ground. "Careful babe. You will be making those sounds a bit later."

I reached forward and undid his pants and with his help pulled his jeans and boxers. His length stood tall and hard in front of me, the head an angry red. I looked up at him as he gave me a nod and I reached forward. As my hand wrapped around he moaned out. I ran my hand up and down it a bit before Kenny grabbed me by the hair. You better get sucking baby."

He lead me with my hair as my mouth wrapped around his tip. I recognized the taste, witch caused me to moan out, making him moan from the feeling. He lead me up and down for a bit, and I could feel him trying not to thrust up. "Fuck it." He mumbled pulling me off him and yanking me to his lap. He reached up and didn't even Try taking my shirt and bra off before he just ripped it. "Get your god damn pants off." He growled into my ear. I stood up quickly pulling them off, and when I looked back Kenny was waiting.

I crawled back into his lap, making him hold my hips. "Rode me slut." He whispered, making me shudder. He hadn't prepared me at all, so as I snuck down I could tell I was tight, but clearly didn't care. Once I bottomed out is at for a moment, trying to catch my breath. He leans forward his breath on my ear. "Bounce bitch."

Immediate I started riding him like I would die if I stoped. "Fuck, Kenny!" I moaned as I bounced. I get his mouth take one of my buds into his mouth as he sucked harshly.

"Let's use the right name. You've done this before." He said sternly. I could feel my climax coming, and knew he wouldn't let me off that easy.

"Fuck Daddy! I'm so close please!" I moaned as I tried to keep up my pace, slamming down on his Enyo match his thrust.

"Fuck do it princess." He encouraged making me shudder as I came. My body practically going limp. He pushed me forward off of his lap to the ground and positioned his dock in my face as he started to jerk off. I watched as he got closer, and stuck out my tongue as he came all over my face. Neither of us moved for a moment before Kenny pulled my back up, my legs shaking as I got up. He reached over and grabbed some blanket and used it to wipe us both off.

"House keeping is going to hate you." I mumbled my eyes already feeling heavy.

"I think I'll survive." He said pulling me closer. Did this mean we still liked each other? I pushed the thought away, just wanting Kenny to hold me as I slept.

AN: I really liked writing this and though about make a full series about it. Would any read it if I did?

#fanfiction #kenny omega #kenny omega smut #The young Bucks #kenny omega x reader #smut #Kenny omega is daddy

[btsinwonderland]

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 2: Potions Class

A Loki fanfiction!

Previous Chapter --- Next Chapter

Full Chapter List

-----------------------------

“Freya!” a booming voice called your name from the courtyard.

You turned around with your books in hand and walked towards Professor Odinson. His cropped blonde hair shone in the sunlight as he gave you a winning smile. You had to admit that he was handsome in a knightly sort of way.

“Yes, professor?”

“You’re headed to potions class, right?”

“Yes…” you said, looking at him suspiciously when he reached into his pockets.

He took out a small blue envelope with the words “Loki Laufeyson” in swirling black ink across the paper. Your heart stuttered as you wondered what Professor Odinson wanted. He smiled at you again, in a requesting sort of way, and your stomach clenched. “Freya, would you do me a favour and pass this along to Lo-Professor Laufeyson after class?”

“Why can’t you?” You blurted out. Your face flushed as you apologized.

He laughed and rested a large hand on your shoulder. “I know it’s strange. But I can only entrust this task to you. My brother is…well, I don’t think he will want to speak with me yet. So I must make this request of you. No questions asked.”

You sighed. “Yes, professor,” you mumbled, taking the envelope and putting it inside your textbook.

He smiled at you and sent you on your way. “Ten points for Hufflepuff!” He called behind you.

You walked down the stairs into the dark hall that led to the potions classroom. Most of the class was seated and as soon as you entered, the doors slammed shut behind you. You nearly jumped a foot in the air from the sound. Professor Laufeyson was at the front of the room, smiling at your dread.

“Note that I will not hesitate to shut the door on anyone, regardless of where they are standing. So do be on time,” he said to the class, eyes glancing at you briefly. “Broken noses are such a bother.”

You took a seat beside Pom, a seventh year Ravenclaw, and placed your textbooks on the table. She smiled at you as both of you took out your feathered quills and inkwells. You opened up your notebook and hoped that Professor Laufeyson’s class would not screw up your good standing for the N.E.W.T.S., though it was inscrutable what sort of curriculum the man would present. Anything would be better than Rattowl...right?

Professor Laufeyson shed his cloak to reveal muggle clothes underneath. Your breath caught in your throat. They looked good...distractingly good.

You lived as a muggle in foster care until an owl had landed right on your head on your eleventh birthday and dropped a letter in your hands. From then on, it was magical history. However, it was so rare to see a witch or wizard in muggle clothing, you could not help but stare.

He wore a form fitting gray shirt, with a thin black tie and black trousers. You ran your gaze down his body to his silver belt buckle when a vivid image of him unbuckling it with his slender fingers flashed before your eyes. A heated ripple ran down your chest. You blinked several times and looked back at his face. He was looking right at you. Was that a ghost of a smile on his lips? You blushed and looked down at your notes. Luckily your dark skin hid your flush from plain sight, though the room grew incrementally hotter.

“Advanced potions are not for the weak,” he began, rolling his sleeves up and standing at his podium. “You may have come to believe that conjuring a few ingredients together in the correct quantities is what it takes to create extraordinary brews and concoctions. This is not true. Potions require more than wand flicking and sheer force of will,” he said. He waved a hand and a dark green swirl of light emerged from it. A cauldron suddenly appeared on the table beside the podium, and tubes of ingredients floated over from the shelves behind him. The class gasped in wonder, as he could use magic this way without his wand. “It requires intelligence, focus, and an unyielding mind,” he continued. A vial of pink liquid he poured into the cauldron caused it to bubble, then the room began to lower in temperature. Frost formed at the edge of your textbooks. You breathed out and saw the vapour of your breath in front of you. Once again, the students, including you, clapped.

You had never seen a display so fantastic in all your lectures. Your stomach dropped as you realized this would be the toughest class of them all.

Freya.

Your thoughts shifted back to the dream. You pictured him in the darkness, calling your name. There was something about the way he had said your name that stuck in your mind. So you did all you could to push it out of your thoughts.

“He’s kind of handsome, isn’t he?” Pom said under her breath as you both took notes. She giggled and focused back on her papers. “Though I heard that he’s got quite a past - been to Azkaban, apparently.”

You looked at Pom, trying to contain the surprise on your face. She continued, “Killian told Jatin, who told me he’s-”

“Am I interrupting, ladies?”

You looked at him, standing at the podium. His eyes were light, but his expression was stern, as if you only had to poke him further to reveal the wrath just under the surface. You both vigorously shook your heads and stopped talking. He continued his lecture.

There was a fluidity to his movements, the way he stood and the way he carried himself that nearly bordered on arrogance but somehow felt unquestionable. It was a regality that felt familiar to you, and then it hit you. His motions were similar to Headmistress Frigga. There was an air of royalty about him. However, it was not the same warm and kind disposition that she carried. Professor Laufeyson carried something darker with him. His very presence was a mystery. His aura pulled you in the deeper you looked into it; an ever-growing vacuum, and you feared getting too close.

Class was finished before you knew it and you nearly stepped out the door before you remembered the blue envelope in your textbook. You turned back and searched for him, but he had already disappeared. There was a curved stone staircase that led up the tower to his office. You took a deep breath and climbed up the stairs.

A series of arched windows passed you by. Cloudy skies awaited you outside and you wondered if it might rain. The rainfall did wonders to calm your nerves.

Once you reached the large wooden door of his office, you heard voices from inside.

“You’ll never find what you’re looking for!” grumbled a voice. It was not the professor, but you almost recognized it.

Then you heard Professor Laufeyson’s voice. “Shut it, you old fool. Odin’s time is almost- “

The doors rushed open and the tall figure of Professor Laufeyson stared down at you. “What are you doing?” He said, his eyes darkened. The easy going composure he kept in class wore thin on his face now.

You tried very hard not to stare at your feet, but the weight of his glare was immense. It was as if all the wonder of his presence during his lecture had dissipated into a cold shadow. “I-I was supposed to give you this, Professor Laufeyson.” You presented him with the envelope and tried very hard not to tremble.

Suddenly, the professor smiled, and the shadow disappeared - or so it seemed. He picked the envelope from your hand and gestured you inside. “Please come in, how kind of you to deliver my mail.”

You reluctantly stepped inside and looked around. There were tall shelves filled completely with vials, bottles, jars, and cauldrons with all sorts of exotic ingredients. There was barely any wall space save for a section to the right of his gigantic oak desk, where the paintings of previous professors hung. Most of the old professors were snoring away in their chairs or staring into space absentmindedly. There was one painting with an empty chair that bore the name “Hubert Rattowl” below its wooden frame. You wondered where the old man was and that was when you realized it was his voice which you heard earlier.

Before you could think on it deeper, you noticed that there was a separate door behind the coat rack that must lead to his private chambers. You wondered what his room would be like. Would he keep anything that would reveal his personality? You quickly glanced at him as he put away some papers on his desk. His hands were slender and long, yet underneath his seemingly lean frame you could see the muscles of his forearms.

You wondered what his bed might be like. Satin or cotton sheets? Did he prefer the coolness of an open window or the warmth of a fire on his bare skin? A vivid image of you naked on your back with him crawling on top of you flashed before your eyes and you were so startled that you flinched. The back of your hand hit the edge of his desk. There was a chipped section of wood which dug into your skin.

He turned to you from behind his desk. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine!” You said, too cheerfully, and noticed that your hand was bleeding.

He saw it, put the envelope down and reached over to take your hand. “My dear, humility will get you nowhere.”

You froze when he held your hand in his. He waved his free hand and the same green aura emitted as a drawer opened and a small jar floated over to you. Once he opened it, you saw a yellowish cream that he hooked a finger into. He looked at you and you nearly gasped at how blue his eyes looked from up close. “This may sting slightly, but it’s better than what they have in the infirmary,” he said with a wink.

You nodded and flinched slightly as the cold cream touched your skin. He was so gentle as he smoothed it over and around the cut. His fingers worked accurately and quickly.

“Shall I assume it was Thor who put you up to the task of delivering me the letter?” He said as he continued to hold your hand in place and conjure a stack of bandages on the table.

You looked from the bandages to his face. “Yes,” you said meekly.

“My brother, predictable as ever,” he said. His eyes hardened, but you pretended not to notice.

“There you go, Miss Eves,” he said, letting you slip your hand out of his grip. You felt yourself do it slower than was appropriate, as you looked into his dark blue eyes. He raised his eyebrow. “I would have asked you to sit and catch me up on all the Hogwarts gossip, but seeing as you’ve injured yourself, I shall not keep you,” he said.

Please do. “I apologize, professor, I can be a bit clumsy on occasion,” you said.

He smirked and looked you in the eyes. “Why do I doubt it’s only on occasion?”

You smiled at the tease. “Thank you for the bandage, sir,” you said. And turned to leave.

“Miss Eves?”

You turned around and he glanced down at your books, which were still on top of his desk. The embarrassment you already felt could have filled the Great Hall. You quickly walked over, grabbed them and thanked him for reminding you. He chuckled as you left.

***

“It was mortifying!” You said to Valkyrie as you both tried to make your goblets disappear.

“Evanesco!” You said with a flick of your wand. The bottom half of the goblet disappeared, leaving a cup that looked like it was floating.

Valkyrie did the same, and the top half of her cup disappeared, leaving the bronze stem visible.

Footsteps approached. “Together, you both might make one competent witch,” Professor Sif said as she walked by. “Try again.”

Valkyrie rolled her eyes. “Someone’s in a mood again,” she said, glaring at Professor Sif’s back. “Odinson probably turned her down for the tenth time.”

“Shh! She’ll hear you…” you said, glancing at Professor Sif. Her face was drawn into a serious expression that almost invited provocation. As you and Valkyrie worked, you brought up what Pom said about Professor Laufeyson’s apparent background.

Valkyrie suddenly looked troubled and focused extra hard on her goblet. “I talked to Killian this morning. He told me who they’re saying Professor Laufeyson’s biological father was.”

“Who?”

“The Dark One,” she said, looking down.

You dropped your wand and the entire class looked at the both of you.

The rest of the lecture was spent practicing in silence as a response to the raging glare Professor Sif gave you and Valkyrie. She also decided to give all of you a ten-page assignment on the history of disappearing spells. It was one of her more generous moods.

Everyone groaned, and she crossed her arms, chin held high. “Transfiguration requires a knowledge of the spells, perhaps then one of you will finally make an entire goblet disappear. Now off with you lot!”

You and Valkyrie rolled your eyes at each other and quickly shuffled out of the classroom. Both of you fell into step together. You spoke first. “He’s the Dark One’s son?”

Valkyrie shrugged. “It sounded just as crazy to me. Let’s ask Mo tomorrow. That boy knows everything about everyone,” she said.

“Good thing he’s our friend,” you said with a laugh.

Once you both came out of the hall that led to the Transfiguration classroom, you saw a figure with locks of black hair that almost made you stop in your tracks. His blue eyes passed over you inconsequentially, as if you were an anonymous student, as he continued walking towards Professor Sif’s office. Both you and Valkyrie turned your heads to watch him glide down the hall.

“Wonder what that’s about,” Valkyrie said.

You tried not to be bothered by the fact he did not notice you. It was a stupid and silly thought you pushed deep down and away.

“So, what was your dream about? Was it the glowing thing in the lake again?” Valkyrie said.

You sighed as the memory of the dream resurfaced. His screams echoed in your mind. “It was sort of the same...but I saw him, Valkyrie. I saw Professor Laufeyson.” You led her to a secluded area by the trees. “I think I saw him die.” You left out the part where he said your name. It was too strange. The thought of Professor Laufeyson saying your name at all sounded quite embarrassing and ridiculous.

Valkyrie’s eyes widened. “Holy shit! You have to tell someone, it’s way over my pay grade,” she said. She looked up at the sky and tilted her head. “What were those things? Zombies?”

You shook your head. “They seemed similar, but I don’t think so…They were something else.”

Valkyrie looked thoughtful. “Remember that time we snuck into the restricted section of the library?”

You smiled. “Oh my god, and Skurge almost saw us!”

“And we had to hide in that damned cabinet for two hours! My legs were so numb I never thought I’d walk again…” she said, and started to laugh.

“And you nearly gave us away, scratching at the damn door!”

“I was marking our secret hiding spot! For future generations of troublemakers to be inspired.” She glanced at you, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “There might be something there.”

“We couldn’t do it again!”

“Why not?”

You shuffled your feet. “What if we get caught this time? They could expel us.”

Valkyrie put her hands on your shoulders. “All I’m sayin’ is that your answers could be in there.”

You smiled. “I’m going to go see Professor Heimdall. He’ll know what to do,” you said.

“Alright, bet you five sickles he’ll already know what’s on your mind.”

“I’m not betting against that!” You said, giggling.

Eventually, both of you split off as Valkyrie went to Quidditch practice and you went to see Professor Heimdall. The trip took you longer than usual. Two sets of stairs changed on you, and it led you on a dash across the fifth floor and then back down to the third floor before you could get to the divination tower. But you eventually made it to the classroom, where the air smelled of peppermint tea leaves and pipe smoke.

“Come in,” Professor Heimdall’s deep voice said before you even knocked on the door of his office.

You opened it and walked inside. Today it smelled of lemon tea, which he sipped on as he graded assignments. You saw the grade in red just below his quill on a student’s assignment; the poor kid was not passing this one. Divination was not for everyone.

“Sit, would you like some tea?” he said.

You nodded and set your books down on the table. He reached behind him and placed a black mug on the desk. The scent of warm lemon tea permeated through the air and you inhaled it deeply as he slid the mug in front of you. “Thank you.” You took a sip. “I suppose you already know why I’m here?” You said with a smile.

He chuckled. “Freya, I am not a mind reader. The gift of divination is just that, a gift. Gifts do not always come when we want them to.” He paused to take a drink. “You have had a vision, haven’t you?”

You set the cup down and rested your thumb on the rim. “I...don’t know.” You explained your dream to him, from the lake to the pale bodies that attacked Professor Laufeyson. Once again you refrained from mentioning anything about your name being uttered. When you completed your recount, you sat back and sat on your hands, waiting.

Professor Heimdall looked at you with those glowing orange eyes, as if he looked right through you. Perhaps he did. You looked back at him and saw the minute changes of expression in his eyes, inscrutable to most. First he was serious, then he grew pensive. As the silence extended, there was a slip of fear that disappeared behind the two blazing suns. He took a deep breath, his voice deepened to almost a growl. “Do not go near that man Freya.”

“What?” You nearly tipped your cup, spilling a drop of tea on the table.

He folded his hands in front of him on the desk and looked at you sternly. “Keep up with your classes, but keep your distance. Professor Laufeyson is a dangerous man.”

You drew your eyebrows together in a confused expression. “But - he’s the one that’s in danger. I saw him die!”

“You don’t know what you saw. You’re not in control of your dreams. Perhaps it was just that.”

Heat flushed your cheeks. “I know what I saw.”

Professor Heimdall grew more fierce. “Do you do the extra homework I assign you? Do you meditate in the dream trance like I told you?”

You remained silent, trying not to look like a pouty child.

“So you are not in control of anything, Freya. You have a gift, which you waste by not harnessing it. Then you have a nightmare and come to me for an explanation that is not there,” he said. His face was so still it could have been cut from rock.

You stared at him, an incredulous expression on your face. He sighed and leaned forward on his elbows. “Because I care, and because most of this information is of public record - to those who know where to look - I will tell you of his origin.”

“What, that he’s the Dark One’s son?” You blurted out.

If Heimdall was surprised, he did not give it away. “I see you students are far more privy to scandalous information than I had initially thought,” he said, taking a sip from his cup. “When Odin fought the powers of darkness nearly a century ago, he fought the Dark One, known to a select few as Farbauti. Many fear speaking his name, but he is long dead. To fear the name only increases fear of the thing itself. Farbauti had two children, one died alongside him in battle. The other was Loki. He was an infant that Odin found in the ruins of Farbauti’s castle. The other wizards wished to slay the child; they wanted to cleanse the world of anything related to the Dark One.”

You barely breathed at the thought of several adult wizards wanting to kill a child.

“But Odin did not believe in infanticide. Instead, he took the child to raise as his own and to show the world that evil is not in the blood but in the actions of the person. However, when Loki grew up, he displayed much of the...unique abilities his birth father had. He was drawn to dark magic, and in his youth he found several Farbauti loyalists and went into league with them. Loki was in Azkaban for one year as a teenager, they only released him on account of him being a minor.”

“W-why was he sent there?”

Heimdall’s eyes were grave. “He killed someone. A close friend of his father’s.”

Your skin erupted into gooseflesh as a shiver ran through you. A sense of dread coloured your vision.

“So you see why I ask that you leave him be?” Heimdall said.

Emotions raged inside you, both frustration and fear. Even if Professor Heimdall was right, were you the judge and executioner of this case? Perhaps you would not be the one to kill Professor Laufeyson, but was your inaction not an act of murder in itself?

You straightened in your chair and said, “but sir, what if what I saw was real? What if I’ve seen his death?”

Professor Heimdall tightened his grip on his mug. “Then I suppose he deserves it.”

#loki #loki x reader #loki fics #loki (marvel) #loki fanfiction #loki imagine #loki series #mcu loki #loki of asgard #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki layfeyson x reader #hogwarts au #thor odinson #valkyrie #Professor Loki #loki moodboard #loki of hogwarts #norse mythology

[sheerfreesia007]

Halloween Costumes Headcannons **Thirsty**

Mitch - Cop His shock is visible from across the room. He's leaning against the wall as if his sole job was to hold it up and when he sees you walk into the party his posture straightens almost immediately. You smirk to yourself as you greet people you know making your way around the party towards the open bar. You pour yourself a drink in a red solo cup and move to turn around and see if he'd left his spot. But before you could move you felt a body pressed up against your back and smelt Mitch's subtle cologne. "So how much jail time would I get for assaulting a police officer, officer?" He husks out into your ear making you shiver against him. You grinned at his approval of your halloween costume that you had agonized over which one to get, finally choosing on the tight revealing police officer costume. "Minimum 5 years but if you're good we'll let you out early." You purr to him and feel his erection twitch against your ass. "It'd so be worth it. The things I wanna do to you baby girl." He growled out into your ear before nipping at your lobe. "Show me Rapp." You gasp out as you lean back into him resting your head back on his shoulder. "But you just got here." He says softly. "Don't care lets go." You say quickly before grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the party and towards your apartment.

Marcus - Witch He tries his damned hardest to keep his gaze above your shoulders. But fuck is it hard. A witch's costume should not be that revealing. His eyes dart around the office and he can see that most of the other ladies in the office had opted for costumes similar to yours. Sarah was dressed as nurse with too short white dress, Diane was dressed as firefighter with a bright red crop top and suspenders attached to cut off jean shorts, and Leigh was dressed as a zombie with ripped and torn clothing that left nothing to the imagination. But while the other ladies all wore revealing clothing it was only your costume that had seemed to entrance Marcus. Your low cut dress revealed far more skin of your chest than Marcus had ever seen on you and he had seen you go undercover as a prostitute back in your earlier force days. And the hem of the dress was pulled up high to the middle of your thighs before it fell longer in the back revealing more of your shapely legs. Who knew he would find calf muscles attractive. Just then he felt a presence next to him and he turned to face your beaming smile. "Isnt this great?! Everyone's able to let loose for once." You said happily as you stood close to him. Marcus stifled his groan when his eyes fell to the tops of breasts that were on display and framed by pretty purple fabric. You cleared your throat and Marcus' eyes darted to yours to only see the satisfied smirk and dancing eyes of yours. "Like something you see Pike?" You purred softly to him and Marcus gulped watching as you stepped impossibly closer. "I-I don't what you're talking about." He answered quickly. "Shame, I guess I'll have to find another victim to put under my spell." You teased before looking around the room as if searching for a victim. Marcus gripped your elbow firmly in his hand making you look up at him shocked. "Don't you dare." He hissed out and you smirked up at him. "I've put a spell on you." You sung softly to him and you began to slowly and unnoticeably lead him out the room.

Francisco - Dia De Los Muertos “Mi Vida (my life), you look so fucking hot.” he grunted out softly as his hands gripped and bunched up the long black lace skirt of your dress. The material slid slowly up your legs and over your hips to bunch at your waist making you shiver. “Fuck you look so hot.” You gasp loudly as you feel his fingers swipe across your covered core and your body just melts underneath his attention. “You can thank Santiago later, he’s the one who said you’d appreciate this costume more than the other ones I had picked out.” you gasped out as your hands that were painted like bones came up to grip his shoulders. “Fuck that little shit. He knew it’d get me worked up at the party that I would have to do something.” Frankie grunted out as buried his face against the side of your neck trying to be mindful of the paint on your neck. “Mi vida I need to taste you while you’re in this costume. Por favor.” he pleads with you softly as he sinks to his knees in front of you. You gasp softly at the sight of him on his knees for you as your fingers card through his hair, your nails scrape along his scalp and he moans loudly as he buries his face against your cover core. Slipping a hand up the outer side of your leg he moves it to hook over his shoulder and your back leans back to press against the wall. “Fuck Frankie, please don’t tease.” you cry softly to him as your head falls back to thud against the wall. His fingers pull your panties to the side and his tongue flicks out against your folds making you groan loudly. “You’ve got to be quiet mi Vida.” he instructs you. You nod your head quickly and gasp as he once again buries his face in your core. Mewling softly your fingers resume their track through his hair as he works his mouth and tongue against you. Not long after you find yourself gasping for air and clutching at your skirt to keep it away from his face as you tumble over the edge of bliss. Frankie helps you come down from your high slowly and when he stands up he cups your face in his hands and presses a heated kiss to your lips before licking into your mouth. When the two of you go back out to the party Santiago calls out. “Oi! Couldn’t keep your hands off her could ya?” You frown over at him before looking at Frankie and chuckling softly. “What is it mi vida?” he asks and you lean up brushing your thumb against his lips. “You got some black lipstick on you.” you answer with a soft smirk.

Stiles - Inmate “You gonna cuff me officer? I’ve been a bad girl lately.” you husked into Stiles’ ear and felt him stiffen next to you as you leaned into him. He jerked around to look at you as well did Scott who had heard your words. The two of them stared at you in silent shock as they spotted the short tight orange jumpsuit you wore as your costume. Scott’s smirk was devious as he looked at first you and then turned to his best friend. Stiles just stood there with his mouth hanging open as he stared at you. Reaching forward you pressed your index finger to the underside of Stiles’ chin and closed it for him. Smirking sultrily at him you crossed your wrists in front of you and held them out to him. “Well officer?” you questioned. “Fuck me.” Stiles gasped out and his eyes widened before darting up to your face where he saw the wicked grin forming on your face. “That’s the plan Stilinski.” you teased around that wicked grin of yours. Stiles suddenly growled and grabbed the back of your head dragging you forward until his lips slanted across yours. You mewled against his mouth and pressed forward into him gripping onto his biceps for stability. Stiles backed you up against the wall and when you thought your head would connect with the wall his hand was there protecting you. “I’ll uh, I’ll just be over there Stiles.” Scott said quickly as he watched his best friend devouring you up against the wall. When Stiles pulled away he rested his forehead against yours. “I thought you were going to dress up as a cop like me?” he asked softly. You shrugged your shoulders and grinned up at him. “Lydia found this costume for me. Said it’d get a better reaction out of you.” you answered him just as breathless. “Fucking Lydia.” he grunted out as his hands came to grip tightly onto your hips and tugged you forward into him before he pressed you back into the wall. “No fucking Lydia. Fuck me.” you moaned out to him softly and he growled lowly in response. “Remind me to thank her for this.” he said and his finger came up and pulled at the collar of your costume.

Tequila - Cow (he’s bull) You grinned as you looked at yourself in the mirror. This was your last ditch effort to get Tequila to take you seriously when you flirt with him. If this didn’t work you were giving up on the clueless rodeo clown. Leaning forward you shifted the headband with your cow ears so that they sat correctly on your head. Champ had wanted to do a group halloween costume and had suggested Old McDonald’s Farm as the theme. He would of course be old McDonald and the rest of the field agents and Ginger would dress up as various animals and farm hands. You had thought Tequila would’ve chosen a farm hand like Whiskey had but when you had heard him going on and on about being a bull for his costume you had laughed because it was so fitting given his previous career. So you had conspired with Ginger to find you a costume that compliment his and imply you were a couple. Your main goal to clue Tequila in since he hadn’t picked up on any of the hints you had been giving him. When you walked into the bar that Champ had rented out for the Halloween party you grinned as you spotted Ginger dressed up at a horse before your eyes landed on Tequila standing next to her dressed up like a bull. He had done a really good job with finding black clothing but also the horns, and the large noticeable fake nose ring made you grin. Sidling up to him you watched as he turned and silently eyed your costume. You were dressed in a white shirt that you had painted with black large spots, as well as a short white tennis skirt that you had painted with black spots and black kitten heels. You had even fashioned a short white tail to the back of the skirt. “Well don’t you look moo-varlous!” Tequila said with a wide grin. Turning to him you smiled and flicked the fake nose ring and he jerked back slightly. “You’re just bull-tiful.” you teased back and watched as his eyes lit up in delight. He leaned closer to you and you felt your breath catch in your throat. “I know what this is.” he said softly to you and you tilted your head in curiosity. “What is it?” you asked hoping he would finally understand. “You’re trying to steal my title of best costume.” he said as he turned back to the bartender ordering another beer. You hung your head and knew you would have to be more direct with the clueless man. Reaching up you grabbing his chin between your thumb and index finger dragging it to face you. “No, I want to take the bull by the horns and show him how much I wanna be mounted.” you husked out to him before pressing your lips to his. Tequila didn’t move for a good few seconds and you began to feel unsure and as you pulled away he lunged at you nearly toppling the two of you to the ground. “You mean it?” he asked softly when he pulled away. “Of course I do idiot.” you scoffed at him and he pressed his lips to yours again. “Then let’s get outta here.” he begged you. “What about your title?” you teased him and he shook his head. “Don’t matter anymore.” he rushed out and began leading you out of the bar quickly.

Whiskey - Nurse “Well heeelllloooo nurse.” came the soft drawl of the field agent who had been tailing you ever since he almost barrelled into you in the hallway three weeks ago. You rolled your eyes and turned to face him on your bar stool. The little straw in your drink was clasped between your teeth and you silently surveyed him. He wasn’t dressed up in a costume for the halloween party that Statesman was throwing. “Did you wait all night to come here and say that?” you asked incredulously. His grin faltered a little bit and you smirked knowing you had tripped him up yet again. Running over the back of his neck he grimaced softly. “I might have.” he responded sheepishly and you couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. Smiling up at him you watched as his eyes focus on your fingers playing with the fake stethoscope hung around your neck. You watched as his eyes slowly trailed down to the deep v neck of your costume and he gulped silently. “Need me to take your temperature agent?” you asked sultrily and his eyes darted back up to yours. “Or do you have an ailment that needs attending?” you asked with a wicked grin spreading over your lips. “Hmmm, there’s something on me that needs attending honey.” he husked out as he stepped closer to you. Your hand fell from your neck and landed at his hip, your fingers curled into his belt loops and tugged him closer to you with a jerk of your hand. “I can take you back to my place and do a full check.” you suggested sultrily to him and he smirked down at you. “I’d like that very much nurse. Can never be too cautious with your health.” he rasped at you and you shifted upwards pressing your lips to his. You hummed when you tasted the whiskey on his lips before he pressed in closer to you and caged you up against the bar. “Let’s get outta here agent.” you gasped out to him once you pulled away for air.

Isaac - Little Red Riding Hood “Well if it isn’t little Red Riding Hood. What are you doing out and about? Don’t you know the big bad wolf is on the prowl tonight?” Isaac asked with a wicked smirk on his face as he leaned in close to you. You scoffed at him and rolled your eyes as you took a sip of your drink. “You know I’m not dressed like this for your benefit right? It’s only because Scott wanted to do a stupid group costume.” you bit out to the werewolf. You had to admit he looked hot in his fake werewolf costume and it didn’t help that you had always found yourself attracted to him even before the bite. But now that he had been bitten and his new cocky attitude had emerged it had been easy to curb your feelings, slightly. “Oh c’mon red we both know that you dressed up just for me since I’m your rival.” he said into your ear and you tried your hardest to stop the shiver running down your spine. “You mean villain?” you scoffed at him and he grinned at you again. “Now how could I be the villain when I’ll want to do is eat you up?” he asked in a low tone and your eyes darted over to his and saw the heated look of desire in them. “Scarf boy! Lay off Little Red!” came Stiles’ shout from across the room and you felt as if you could kiss the lanky young man for saving you from Isaac. Isaac growled lowly and you watched him shoot a glare at Stiles. “Maybe some other time wolfie.” you said sarcastically and Isaac turned back to you with another grin. “Oh there’ll definitely be another time Little Red.” he said sultrily and you stepped back slightly before he grinned and walked away from you.

Raymond - Mechanic “And what is it you’re supposed to be?” you hear in his raspy British accent. Rolling your eyes as you turn you throw your arms out to your sides to show him your full costume. “Seriously Ray?” you asked on a scoff. His eyebrow quirks up as his eyes dance up and down your body clad in a pair of overalls with a red bandana tied around your hair and a pair of large gloves on your hands while a wrench, or what you think is a wrench sticks out of your pocket. When he doesn’t respond you huff at him and watch the smirk slip onto his face. “I’m a mechanic.” you said discouraged, you wondered if he was just teasing you once again or if he honestly didn’t get your costume. “Oh now I see it. A bit out of your scope of practice though isn’t it?” he asked softly and you furrow your eyebrows at him. “What do you mean? I work for Ros’ garage. I'm literally in that scope of practice.” you said confused and feeling exasperated by his teasing tone. “Well you’re an assistant to the boss of a garage. I’m pretty sure you have no clue what that tool in your pocket actually does.” he teased further as he stepped closer to you still with that insufferable smirk on his face. “Oh and like you do?” you asked huffily as your arms crossed over your chest in aggravation. “I know what that tool does. And better yet I know how to use another tool that you might be interested in.” he rasps out huskily to you and you feel the blush consume your cheeks as desire shoots straight down your spine. Leaning in closer to him you know you’re taking his bait but you can’t help it after so long you’ve wanted to act on these emotions and feelings that had developed ever since you met the Brit. “Hmmm, I might be interested. But that’s a big might.” you respond to him and he grins wolfishly at you making your breath catch in your throat. Feeling a surge of confidence you press your front to his and lean up into his face. “Gonna check under my hood for me huh Ray?” you whisper to him and suddenly his arms are around you caging you against his body and his lips are slanted against your own as he groans into your mouth. Your hands comes up to cup his cheeks and you whimper softly against him. “Jesus Ray! Why don’t you take her home before you give us all a show?!” calls out Mickey and you’re jerking away from Ray gasping for air to only see everyone eyeing you and your counterpart with gleeful expressions on their faces. Ray grabs a hold of your hand and nods his head at Mickey before dragging you from the room hurriedly. Once outside in the hall you press Ray up against the wall and lean up on tiptoe to press another heated chaste kiss to his lips. “You’re right I have no idea how to use the tool in my pocket.” you start to explain and one of your hands trails down from his chest to cup his erection against his pants. “But I do know how to use the one in your pocket.” you pur to him and he groans low in his throat before he’s pulling you out of Mickey’s house and towards his car.

Forrest - Not a costume but a newer dress The air is growing crisp and cool as you walk out of the general store. Autumn was quickly falling over Franklin County and you eagerly await for the leaves to begin changing and falling from the trees. Pulling your shawl further up your shoulders you smile as you pass Mr. Henry as you make your way down to the end of the line of shops. “Well look who we have here Forrest.” comes a familiar call and you look up to spot Howard and Forrest Bondurant stepping out of their car. Smiling kindly to them you stop not far from where Forrest leans against the side of the car watching you. “Hello boys. How are you this morning?” you ask politely. “Doing mighty fine now that we’ve seen you, aren’t we Forrest?” Howard replies teasing you and you shake your head at him. “That’s enough Howard, go get the supplies.” Forrest says gruffly and Howard wiggles his eyebrows at you before leaving to go to the shop. You shake your head at him as he passes you and you turn back to Forrest smiling softly at him. “Don’t let him get to you Forrest, he's only just teasing.” you say kindly before you step off the walkway in front of the shops. You don’t move much closer to him knowing that he’s not one for affection or any type of emotion really. “Is that a new dress?” he asks through a grunt and you feel your eyes widen slightly surprised by his attention to detail about you. You look down at your dress and your hand slides down the front of it smoothing the fabric. “Why yes it is. Thank you for noticing.” you say kindly as a blush spreads over your cheeks. You watch him step a little closer to you and you take in  breath and hold it wondering what he would do. “You look nice.” he grunts out and you can’t stop the wide happy smile that spreads over your lips. The blush that had formed over your cheeks grows in intensity at his words and you watch as he falters at your reaction to his words. “Thank you Forrest.” you breathe out softly and take a brave step closer to him resting a hand on his forearm gently. “That’s very kind of you.” you say warmly as your smile turns softer. “Will I see you at the gathering tonight?” you ask boldly and watch as his eyes widen a little. He grumbles softly and tilts his head down to the ground and fiddles with his hat. Smiling down at the ground in front of you you take a step back from him giving him the space he needed. “I’ll be seeing you Forrest.” you say softly before moving along down the road towards where you lived grinning softly to yourself.

#headcannons #mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #francisco catfish morales #francisco catfish morales x reader #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent tequila #agent tequila x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey #raymond smith x reader #raymond smith #forrest bondurant #forrest bondurant x reader