#half of that is spite towards the book

[michelle-is-writing]

Wedding Mornings, Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.2k~

As a child, I always wondered if I would ever find the right person for me. Having no luck to find such a person as a teenager, I ended up wondering if I would even find a husband, better yet, my soul mate. In years to come, I would start to believe that I would be alone forever.

However, once I moved to Washington DC and found a job at the Melvin Gelvin library, I soon befriended a man that visited there a lot. I had seen him in the research section before, but he never came up to my desk for help. I thought he was cute, in all honesty, but I didn't want to come off as too confident and go up to him to see if he needed help when I never did that with anyone else in the library.

So, the one day he did come up to me and ask me where to find a book I had seen him take out many times, I smiled and nodded before helping him find the book. He was nervous asking me his question, and I couldn't help but be a little nervous as well. Although, once we found the encyclopedia for Philosophy, he introduced himself as Spencer Reid, and I couldn't help but rejoice as my name fell from my lips in return. Finally, I got to learn the name of the man who I had shared glances with so many times, yet, we never interacted - up until then.

After that, it felt like a free-game. Anytime Spencer came into the library, he was asking me for books that I knew very well he was aware of where they would be. In spite of this, I always helped him, and after he checked out the third book I had seen him read many times before, Spencer finally asked me out for coffee.

Unfortunately, our date kept getting postponed because of Spencer's job. At first, I thought he was backing out in regret since it had already taken him so long to ask me out in first place. However, once we did go on that date, I discovered that that wasn't even a tiny fraction as to why he kept rescheduling. As soon as I found out that Spencer held such a huge responsibility with a job that relied on him to capture mass murderers and kidnappers, I found myself in complete admiration for him. Not to mention the fact that all of the science books he had been checking out weren't for class or education - he already earned his degrees in those fields beforehand.

Now that I have a dazzling ring on my finger, I'm even happier that I was patient in waiting for Spencer to finally make it to our date. I knew how long I waited for that coffee shop date he promised - six-whole-weeks. However, I never knew how long I was waiting for a man like Spencer to make his way into my life until I found out how much I truly loved him. Through saying those three words that are often said too much, I discovered that I had waited my entire life to find Spencer, and when he proposed to me in Rossi's garden one late night, I found out that Spencer truly felt the same way.

Soon enough, the months before our wedding slowly passed until the brightest week of our lives came up, and once that started, it was like everything was going at twice the speed it should have been going. All of my bridesmaids (JJ, Emily, (f/n), and Penelope) ran around like chickens with their heads cut off while Spencer's groomsmen (Derek, Aaron, and Rossi) did the same. Even during the morning of my wedding, everyone was running around to get things done while I just stayed in my bride's quarter's kitchen and did the same thing I did every other morning.

"I'm just saying," Penelope starts, watching as I pour freshly made coffee into a mug for Spencer. "It's bad luck for a groom to see the bride before the wedding!" She reminds me, causing me to smile.

"I thought that was only if the bride was wearing her dress," I point out, adding more sugar than actual coffee into the mug. "And, besides," I add, giving the coffee one last stir before placing the spoon down on the counter. I have no idea how Spencer can drink this stuff with nearly half of the mug filled with sugar.

Turning toward Penelope with the steaming mug in hand, my eyes quickly catch onto the expertly made bouquet in her hands, every flower I wanted beautifully bundled together with a gorgeous (f/c) bow wrapped around the stems. How is she so good at any creative thing she does?

"I've made Spencer his coffee every morning since our first day living together, Pen," I tell her, smiling as I think about the fond memory. Sometimes he'll make me a cup too if I haven't done so myself. "I don't want to miss a day because of some old, wise tale that's probably been taken out of its original context," I add, slightly smirking as I know that's the truth. Once the words leave my mouth, Penelope can't resist the smile the makes it's way onto her lips as she shakes her head.

"Well, I don't think anything I say is going to stop you," She notes, earning a head nod back from me. She's right. Nothing is going to make me halt in my actions of bringing Spencer his coffee - not even a silly little fairytale.

Heading out of the hotel room in only my silk pajamas that match the rest of the girls' clothes, I find myself walking across the hall with my heart pounding in my chest. It's strange to just now realize that today is the official start of my forever. It's a fantastic feeling, but at the same time, it's giving me a high that I feel like I can't come down from. It's a dangerous, yet blissful thing.

Just as I round the corner to walk to the other end of the hall, my eyes quickly catch onto a familiar figure leaving his hotel room. There's no way I could ever forget those brunet curls or the slender body of the man I love. Although, what is a bit odd is that he's currently carrying a coffee mug of his own. I guess he didn't think that I'd stick to what we've always done.

"Good morning, handsome," I greet Spencer, causing him to lightly jump before turning around and seeing me. Once his eyes land on my pajama covered figure, he visibly calms down with a small sigh and smile.

"I wanted to go and see you, but the guys wouldn't let me. So, I had to sneak out," Spencer explains with a shake of his head, making me laugh. Just as I do that, Spencer's whole demeanor changes as if he's softening up. His tense shoulders loosen while his posture relaxes a bit, another sigh leaving his slightly smiling lips as he does so. He looks calmer than any other time I can remember.

"You... you look amazing," he compliments me, causing me to blush with a wide smile. My hair is an absolute mess right now, a majority of it up in a clip as I haven't brushed it yet. Not to mention my face doesn't even have a touch of makeup on it and I'm still in pajamas - there's nothing about me that says "amazing" right now. I don't know how Spencer can say such things.

"Thank you, baby," I tell him, taking a few steps forward before planting a kiss to his cheek. Despite today being the day of our wedding, Spencer's cheeks turn to light pink in response to my lips touching them as they always do, and I can't help but smile as I see the rose color take over his skin. Despite what some people say, I truly believe there's a good chance it will always be this way.

"I made you coffee for this morning," I tell him, gesturing to the steaming mug in my hand. "But I didn't know you made your own already," I further add, watching as the corner of Spencer's lip quirks up. Is he surprised that I would do this?

"Actually," he starts, holding the cup out to me. "I made this for you - that's why I was heading out of the room so I could go and give it to you," Spencer explains, trading mugs with me as a bright smile takes over his face. "I'm glad that we both had the same idea."

Smiling back, I nod before taking a sip from the cup of coffee Spencer made me, Spencer following in suit with the cup that I made him. We both let out a small, satisfied groan as the taste of coffee reaches our lips.

"You always manage to make my coffee perfect," Spencer points out, making my heart clench. He's so adorable, and he doesn't even realize it.

"And I'll never forget it, love, not for a long time," I tell him, leaning closer to kiss his cheek. However, before I can do so, Spencer takes the chance to wrap his free arm around me and pull me against him. Now satisfied, Spencer gives off a small hum before leaning down and pressing his lips to mine. In his arms, I feel the happiest I've felt this morning, and with the events of today being added in, I am more than ecstatic right now. Making coffee for Spencer every morning for the rest of my life is only a small fraction of what our marriage is going to be, and I can't help but look forward to doing it.

"I'm so glad we're doing this," Spencer confesses, pulling away from my lips to rest his nose against mine. Smiling, I gently sigh as I feel his hand on my waist sliding underneath my pajama top and onto my skin. His touch is so gentle that I could almost mistake it for a cloud touching me. "I've waited so long for this."

"I wish we would've done it sooner," I admit, nuzzling the side of my face into Spencer's soft sleep shirt. "Then I could've been Mrs. Reid for a long time now," I point out, turning my eyes up to the smiling man holding me.

"I do like the sound of that," Spencer murmurs, smirking as he leans farther down to press his lips to my neck. "Misses Reid," He slowly says my new title, each syllable rolling off his tongue smoothly. Even before we were engaged, he would jokingly call me that, but now that I'm actually Mrs. Reid, my love for the name has only grown.

With that, Spencer and I connect our lips in another sweet kiss while holding each other close. In his arms, I feel the warmest and happiest I have ever been. Nothing could ruin this moment between us. It's simply too perfect.

"Stop making out in the hallway! You'll be doing enough of that later!" A stern voice interrupts us, causing Spencer and me to look over to the hotel room door he stepped out of a few seconds ago. Hanging out of the empty doorway is Derek who's smirking with an accusing eyebrow. "Isn't it bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony?"

"Actually, Derek, it's only bad luck if-" Spencer argues Derek just as another voice cuts in.

"What are you two doing?!" A shout sounds throughout the hall, the tone full of Penelope Garcia's typical sassiness. Immediately, both of our heads shoot toward the end of the hall where the spunky blonde stomps toward us. "What have you two been doing?!"

"Derek, help us," I beg, turning my head back to Spencer's best man. Instead of doing what I actually asked, Derek laughs and shakes his head while holding his hands up.

"Oh no," he starts, "I'm not suffering at the hands of the woman behind you."

"Yeah," Penelope states, matter-of-factly. "I would be scared too if I were you, missy," just as soon as the words leave her lips, Penelope puts her hand on my arm and practically drags me out of Spencer's arms while Derek does the same to Spencer, both mindful of the mugs in our hands.

"You can see your beautiful bride in a couple of hours," Derek assures my soon-to-be-husband while he gives me one last kiss. As soon as his lips touch mine, I realize this is the last kiss before the one kiss we get to share that marks our forever with each other. Plus, I have no doubt that our friends will be cheering and teasing us as we do so - just like Derek and Penelope do right now. Just at the single thought, I can hardly wait.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds oneshot #Spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n

[solurae]

four eyes (more to love underneath the frames) — PT.1

HELLO!!! okok the prologue received some good reception so i will!!! be continuing the series :3c THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE NICE COMMENTS AND REBLOGS AND OHHHH MY GOD THE MOTHER OF NERD!MIGUEL @nymphomatique REBLOGGED MY PROLOGUE (i could die happy) ty for the food and the inspiration to start this series!!!

i’m still the process of setting up my tumblr because my ass made this my secondary blog (but idek if that changes anything… i don’t think) OH AND YES THERE IS NOW A TAG FOR THE SERIES! ALSO PLSPLSPLS DON’T BE AFRAID TO SEND THROUGH ASKS FOR DRABBLES OR REQUESTS OR ANYTHING REALLY!!! i’m more than happy to feed us both hehe

tw/cw: mmmm not any i can think of (FIXING ANY GRAMMATICAL ERRORS AFTER POSTING BECAUSE I’M COOL)

PROLOGUE?! < <

“sorry students, the projector is currently out of order so i’d like for all of you to just go through the powerpoint on your own. feel free to come up and ask questions.” the professor sighs as he closes his laptop and settles down onto his desk, the chatter of other students and laptop keyboards create the perfect white noise for your 8AM lecture.

you weren’t really that keen on studying this period anyway so you’ll just get it done later but god he looked so much better up close. why did miguel have to be so fucking dorky and hot and cool all at fucking once? it bothered you that miguel has never spoken to you. ever. but with that in mind, no one would ever think of the effect this nerd had on you, not even the nerd himself.

“oi mate, mandem depending on you to pass this class.” you shake your head after you’re slightly shoved to the side of your desk by none other than your best friend bad influence. hobie, hobie, hobie… you groan as you look his way, legs propped up on the desk as if he’s completely unaware that he’s in an lecture hall. next to him is peter, trying to shove hobie’s legs off the table for fear of accidentally hitting miguel who was seated right infront of you.

peter and hobie were the angel and devil on your shoulder that manifested into your closest friends. it was so hard to make friends (partially because you weren’t interested in anyone aside from miguel) and that everyone in your class were already in tight knit friend groups, and it was clear they all wanted to keep it that way with the silent treatment and one-sided conversations. but that didn’t matter. what did matter was that neither of them were taking this class seriously.

hobie - for god knows what reason - just took the class for fun. well, hobie took it out of spite. he said and you quote, “it is my take on deconstructing the stereotypes and preconceptions of particular social groups alongside us punks that dictate that we lack the desire and strive for academic feats”. and you know what? for someone who likes to laze around and count the panels of wood used on the ceiling for half the lecture, his high grades put his narrow-minded folks to shame. oh and peter? although he couldn’t afford to skip his classes, he did anyway. mary jane, MJ - the mother to his children, as he calls her - is in the humanities elective they both share. and peter might as well skip that class instead of looking at MJ as if she invented humanities. you don’t know how watching you and hobie bicker was a better investment of peter’s time but no one was complaining. someone had to remind the both of you of operation miguel mutation, or in other words, get his gaze out of his books and onto your face.

“so much for wanting to prove the world wrong when you’re relying on someone else to do it for you”, you scoffed at hobie, pretending to brush dust off your shoulders. he chuckled, “i just wanted to know how it feels to be those good for nothing, narcissistic capitalists, is all”. you shoved him so hard it rattled your seats and you didn’t even realise you accidentally kicked miguel’s seat until his cold hard gaze towards you even made hobie look like an art piece in the middle of rendering.

“can i help you?”, fuuuuuuck off. he sounds so fucking hot. insanely hot.

his large pitch black frames could never obstruct how chiseled miguel was, he had angular features such as his nose, his jawline and even his cupid’s bow. but these features were softened with warm red eyes and wisps of his hair coming down to frame his forehead. o’hara’s face overall was slightly scrunched, his hand gripped onto the fold away desk while he faced you, his casual attire in sweats could barely hide his build. his mouth was slightly open, the very tip of his fangs making themselves known. he was definitely a specimen, a gorgeous specimen for lack of better word. you didn’t even realise you were staring at miguel until he raised his eyebrow and glanced over at hobie, then over to peter who was just happily content watching your unplanned, unconventional first meeting.

“oh. um, no?”, you were still confused why miguel (the man you’ve been trying to get the attention of ever since the first inkling of a feeling), suddenly turned around and spoke to you—

“excuse me, may i ask that you don’t disrupt your peers during class? i’m watching you too, brown.” if your teacher scolding you like a wack ass boy in year 9 wasn’t enough to make you embarrassed, your quick descent into realising that you quite literally pushed yourself - pushed miguel, rather - to make the first move. in the worst fucking way possible. you ducked your head a bit in an attempt to avoid the gazes of your classmates only to find your shoe jammed between the gap next to miguel’s seat, missing his elbow by a mere few centimetres.

you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

so much for devising a plan to properly introduce yourself by actually trying in class by answering the lecturers questions, to the point miguel can’t help but wonder that there is in fact competition. aware of his competitive nature, miguel would try to get ahead of you or widen that gap but then realise he was all wrong from the moment you’d tap his shoulder for a question you pretend to not understand, to look as if you’re struggling so much miguel can ignore his own studies for a little while to help you. men are stupid after all. miguel doesn’t apply here but being an outcast adjacent of the entire university has its benefits, in a way where it benefits your elaborate plan from stroking miguel’s ego by helping you, to ever so slightly become more and more interested in you. once you slowly ease into getting out of pretending to be an academic victim and miguel finds the joy in being academically challenged by the one girl who braved the odds and approach the mysterious mutant, he’d ask to you to meet at the cafeteria or the library. it didn’t matter. you would then, finally then, be in miguel’s line of sight.

“if this is your way of trying to get into my pants, i’m not interested.”

papers were stuffed into bags and the squeaking of chairs reverberated the lecture theatre. people were making their way to their next class while peter, hobie and yourself shared looks of disbelief, disgust, along with hobie’s infamous expression that scream the words i fucking told you so.

what the fuck? what the actual fuck was that?

o’hara didn’t miss a beat and swivelled around to start packing his belongings, completely unaware of how his response alone completely changed and destroyed all prior preconceptions about this man - or boy as you would now call him - turns out being smart never stopped anyone from being dickhead.

you felt like you just failed a quiz you didn’t know that was happening, despite being prepared to ace it.

it wasn’t like you to fail, however. especially not to him.

[ 🩷 — TAGS! @angelicful @lilipads @zaunsin @m4dyy @okkotszn @rhythmloid @cosmicbarstardust @thespaceinbetweennothing @cu1tvenus @huniedeux @oharasfilipinawife @ilovemuppets @loonalockley ] feel free to comment if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

#🥽 — four eyes! #miguel o'hara #i love miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #atsv miguel #atsv #atsv x reader #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #GRRRR MIGUEL MIGUEL MIGUEL #miguel fanfic #<nerd!miguel3

[ishcliff]

the more of moby dick i read, the more i think it's kind of interesting that a lot of the criticism i see for canto V is actually in the ways where it's an extremely faithful adaptation in spirit.

dante seems to be intended to be the book!ishmael to ishmael's book!ahab. dante is the inquisitive one to ishmael's cold dismissal, and they are the one who is drawn into the tale of the hardened, half-mad sailor whose pain is immeasurable at the hands of an entity that stole something important from her. they are the narrator and the witness to the rest of the crew contemplating the safety of their lives with her at the helm of this journey.

in limbus, the journey meanders a bit and explores how people live and die on the great lake. culture and worldbuilding are a focal point, to a degree – if anything, i think even more time should have been spent exploring what it means to live in such an environment.

this meandering of course echoes moby dick. one of the main themes of the novel is how it's human nature to rebel against the cold, harsh, uncaring realities of the world. some people like to joke about it, but the pages on pages spent detailing the structure of ships and the mechanics of the whaling industry is entirely related to the plot. in fact, i would go as far as to say they are one of the most important parts of it.

these ships exist in spite of the ease of simply staying on land, making the unsurvivable survivable. the whaling industry is representative of the collective growth of humans in a technological sense, as whales were integral to many aspects of modernization.

compare this to the laws of the lake – the ways in which nature, the world, or god in moby dick ultimately cannot be defied, even with the power of human nature. as ishmael says, human logic does not apply to these rules. and, said rather than shown, each part of the lake possesses its own culture and identity relative to the others based around that region's specific almighty laws.

the collective whole of the great lake divided into smaller sections resembles the way moby dick is often referred to as "the great (us)american novel". moby dick is also about the importance of diversity, and goes to great lengths to celebrate the different cultures of each state or even city meaningful time is spent in. it's a character study, where the united states itself is the character, and the ways in which social expectations divide but also unite others. and, unfortunately, defiance of that order has its own consequences.

despite the title of the novel, the whale itself is not the focal point of the story; the actual encounter is towards the very end of the book, and is written in a few paragraphs. of course, this echoes the nature of the dungeon at the end of the canto, where we finally get what we were under the impression we'd get.

i dunno. i think it kinda fucking rules, tbh, and is an extremely creative way to adapt the story while staying true to limbus's setting and main idea/message.

in a way, canto V is secretly something of a "fix-it fic" for moby dick's ahab, but in ishmael's name.

this post is getting pretty long for something i didn't intend to be a more formally structured analysis, but i have been thinking about it for a while. so for now, cheers, and PLEASE share your own thoughts!

#lcb ishmael #limbus company meta

[ytsunodabrainrotbaybee]

Honey, If You Stay, I’ll Be Forgiven

-> Famous Last Words by My Chemical Romance

Verstappen x Reader, in which they were once karting rivals. A long time ago.

Snow falls outside, just on the other side of the window you slouch against. Shadows cast themselves against the pages of your book.

A coffee sits on the table in front of you stopped letting off steam a few minutes ago. The half drank peppermint mocha tastes great, the book in your hands is just a little bit more interesting.

Across the shop, just missing you when he walked in, Max pays for his own coffee. Probably the first time back after the end of his F1 season.

Your eyes follow him. All the way until the two of you make eye contact.

He breaks eye contact as soon as he sees you.

You turn back to your book, and your cold coffee.

Nearly too engrossed in your book, you almost don’t notice another coffee cup setting itself on the table across from you. The chair pulls out and the man imposing himself on your time alone finally grabs your attention.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he says. His eyes are joking, his tone doesn’t agree. He sounds almost accusing. In spite of the faint smile on his face.

“Sorry, I’m not doing autographs right now,” you spare him a glance before looking back at your book.

Banter still comes naturally. The two of you got on because of it. A similar humor, dry and sarcastic. Got on like fire on trees. That’s what your family would always say. Fought like cats and dogs, absolutely adored each other until-

“You could be a driver,” he pushes your book down out of your face, “signing plenty of autographs yourself.”

The question he meant to ask is thick in the air. You gave him no excuse when you quit. Neither of you can even recall the last words you said to him.

“But I’m not.”

You try. You ignore his eyes. You debate some cold remark, something to push him out. Even sitting in front of him brought you back.

“I used to think about us.”

You want to shut him down, thinking hard about getting up and leaving him in the shop. Leaving him in the dark. Separating yourself even further from the dream you once had. The dream that you would be reminded of, every time your joints ache in the cold.

His hand covers yours, “I’m not mad.”

His voice is a whisper. You stare down at your hand. The one pained at the contact.

“I couldn’t have continued if I wanted to,” your fingers slip through his by then.

“Why not? You were-“

“I was injured, Max.”

“Was it that bad?”

You pull your hand back, flexing your fingers under the table. “Everything hurts, my joints, my doctor said I’m well on my way to developing some form of arthritis.”

You pause for a beat. If anyone knew how devastating news like that could be for a kid with the dreams you had, it would be Max.

“I couldn’t admit it.”

You look back up at him. His expression is blank. His mouth open and close, not really finding anything to say.

“I’m also prone to dislocating joints. They’re all stiff, but hyper-mobile at the same time it’s- it’s super weird.”

You deflect into a joking tone. Maybe a conversation change could follow.

“What about we go for a drive,” he cocks his head toward his car, the Aston Martin he’d been bringing around, “change the subject.”

“Mine isn’t as fast,” yours parked two spots down. A stock early 2000s Mustang wouldn’t touch his Valkyrie.

“It’s not a race,” he says, standing up and holding a hand out to you, “just a drive. Take the lead?”

You grab his hand, you use him to steady yourself as you stand. Mild relief from sitting on the hard coffee shop chairs is overwhelmed by the stiff joints adjusting to being forced back into use.

The two of you walk out. In your separate cars, you make eye contact. Just like you used to before cart races as children.

Your dreams as a child came crashing down around you, but you could build them back up, just adjusted. With Max hopefully staying in your life, maybe he could help.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #chronic pain reader #Verstappen x reader #Verstappen x rival reader #max x childhood friend #mv1 #mv33

[weemssapphic]

What about Larissa taking the reader to a pumpkin patch and they just have fun all day and get apple cider and pumpkin spice donuts!! And then they get home and put on a horror flic, and the reader swears they aren’t scared but they can’t fool Larissa at all, so she puts something else on? 😋😋I thought it was such a good idea and I would have done something like this myself but you are such a talented writer, I would love to see something like this from you!

A/N: Hello hello! Thank you so so much 🥺 that is very sweet. I thought this would be appropriate for October so I tried to get it done in a timely fashion. I really hope you enjoy 🥺 also... happy Friday the 13th! 👻

we fell in love in october

Larissa Weems x f!reader

Larissa takes you on a sweet autumn date to a pumpkin patch - fluff ensues.

Words: ~2.9k | ao3 link in title

Leaves fell from the tree outside the window, hues of brown, deep red, muted orange coloring the evening sky in their descent. Blown away by a crisp breeze that carried the sounds of students laughing and chatting on their way inside for dinner as the sky slowly turned darker, dusk settling over Nevermore Academy.

The crackling of the fireplace and the clacking of Larissa’s keyboard served as background noise as you lounged on the couch in your girlfriend’s office, engrossed in your copy of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. You and Larissa had been together for a few months now, and it had turned into an unspoken ritual that you would pop by after work more afternoons than not to keep Larissa company as she finished up her emails, before sharing a glass of wine and some takeout and basking in each other’s company.

Today was no different. Your ears perked up when you heard the tell-tale sound of Larissa’s laptop shutting, and you set your book aside as you heard her footsteps approach. Within moments she came into view, rounding the couch and placing two fingers under your chin to gently lift your head towards hers. Soft, warm lips pressed against your own, and you could feel her smile into the kiss as she soothed her tongue along the seam of your lips. You parted them to allow her to lick gently into your mouth, sighing as her tongue began to dance with yours, every movement languid and loving.

“Hello, darling. Thank you for waiting for me,” she whispered against your lips as the two of you parted for air - you would never tire of her dulcet tones, her voice like music to your ears.

“Hi,” you said with a grin, patting the space next to you. Larissa sat down and you immediately snuggled into her, allowing her to wrap her arms around your waist and rest her chin on your head. “You’re done with work?”

“I’m all yours,” Larissa replied with a chuckle, pressing her lips to your temple - it made you shiver.

“Mmh… Do you think you could be all mine on Friday as well?” You bit your lip, watching Larissa carefully - in spite of her constant reassurance that she enjoyed spending time with you, you still sometimes felt like you were asking a lot. You knew how seriously the principal took her work, but you’d come up with the best date idea and it would be a shame to let the opportunity pass you by.

To your relief, Larissa’s face lit up with a teasing smirk. “I think I could be,” she purred. “Did you have something planned for Friday?”

“Well… This Friday is Friday the 13th… And it’s October! That’s kind of a special occasion. So I was thinking we could maybe go to a pumpkin patch together and have a date-day?” You looked up at Larissa through your lashes with your best pleading pout, watching her lips curl slowly into a soft smile.

“Hmmm,” Larissa hummed, tapping a manicured finger against her chin in thought. “What do you say I work a half-day on Friday and pick you up around noon?”

“Really?” You could feel your limbs start to tingle with excitement. “Can we?”

“Of course,” Larissa said with a chuckle, cupping your cheek. “There’s a little farm near Jericho that has a pumpkin patch around this time of year. I haven’t been but I have heard quite a few students rave about it.”

“Deal,” you said, your words turning into a squeal as Larissa began to pepper your face with kisses, before pressing her lips to yours. You melted into the kiss, as you always did, feeling her warm breath against your lips as she let out a contented sigh.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Friday morning was spent choosing an outfit - you settled on an orange knit sweater, jeans, and loafers, and took to lounging around as you waited for Larissa to pick you up.

She was, of course, punctual as always - the doorbell rang at 12 on the dot, and you shot up from the couch to answer the door.

Larissa greeted you with a soft, gentle kiss, one hand settling on your hip. “You look beautiful. Are you ready to go, my love?”

Blushing at the compliment, you nodded. “Yep, I just need my keys.” You turned to grab your keys and your bag from the little table next to the door, and allowed Larissa to lead you out to her car with her hand on the small of your back.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Nothing in your life thus far could compare to the feeling of holding Larissa’s hand in public. Her fingers curled around your own, her warm palm fitting perfectly against yours like a puzzle piece. Today was no different as the two of you ambled hand in hand towards the little farm, only briefly letting go so you could pay for your entry. 

“I don’t think I’ve done something like this since I was a teenager.” Larissa sighed wistfully as she looked around, her lips curled up into a soft smile.

“It’s beautiful here,” you breathed, taking in your surroundings.

The highlight of the festival was, of course, the farm’s pumpkin patch - massive orange, white, even green pumpkins nestled amongst bales of hay - resting against the backdrop of a picturesque forest, with leaves turned brown and orange. Across from the pumpkin patch was a corn maze - you could hear the giggles and screams of children flitting between the corn stalks. 

“Are we gonna carve pumpkins for Halloween this year?” you asked suddenly.

Larissa’s face broke out into a splitting grin. “I would love that,” she admitted. “Would you like to pick some?”

You nodded eagerly, spending the better part of the next half hour roaming through the pumpkin patch, picking up various pumpkins and handing them off to Larissa for inspection. She watched the entire time with an amused grin on her face, finally helping you settle on not two but four medium-sized, orange pumpkins (one for each of you, and then extras in case you messed up). 

After helping you carry the pumpkins to her car, Larissa nudged you and pointed to a small, fenced in area in the distance. “I think they have a petting zoo.”

You could hardly contain the squeal of delight that left your throat at the mere thought, and you dragged Larissa over to the petting zoo.

“Oh, look, you can feed them!” You pointed to the little machines with animal feed, making your way over and purchasing a cupful. The alpacas situated nearest you began to flock around the fence, sticking their head over the top and eyeing you eagerly. 

“You wanna try?” you asked, offering the cup to Larissa - she removed her glove and reached out her hand for you to pour a bit of the food in her waiting palm. She stepped up to the fence, glancing nervously in your direction as she stuck out her hand. Her face contorted in surprise as one of the alpacas began to nuzzle her palm, inhaling the feed within seconds.

“It tickles,” she said, quickly retracting her palm as you began to laugh.

“Here, let me try.” You poured some feed in your hand and offered it to a different alpaca, gasping and jumping back a bit. “Shit, you’re right, it does tickle,” you said with a giggle, shaking your hand to get rid of the funny feeling.

“How about we see the goats instead?” you suggested. With a reproachful glance at the alpacas, still gathered around the fence and staring the two of you down, Larissa agreed and followed you to the goat’s pen. There was a little latched door in the fence and you let yourself in, Larissa following behind you - albeit somewhat reluctantly. 

The goats could smell the food in your cup and some ambled over immediately. You leant down towards a small goat with a black head and white legs, offering it a handful of feed. It felt much less ticklish than feeding the alpacas, and you handed Larissa the cup so that you could use your other hand to gently pet the goats.

Larissa watched you fondly, holding the cup of feed just out of reach of the eager animals.

“You’re cute, you know that?” she murmured. You looked up, blushing profusely and smiling shyly. 

“Give me your hand.” You reached out and Larissa placed her hand in yours, cocking her head and watching with wide, curious eyes as you rested her hand on the goat’s back, holding it as you guided her to stroke its fur. 

Larissa’s gaze never left your face, her eyes sparkling with admiration, watching you delight in being able to pet the animals. It wasn’t her favorite pastime in the world, but getting to see you so joyful was more than enough for her to be having a good time.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

“Let’s go sit down for a bit,” Larissa suggested, giving your hand a squeeze before gently tugging you in the direction of a couple of wooden stands in the distance. 

You agreed, and the two of you came to a stop in front of a stand selling apple cider.

“Would you like some?” Larissa asked, already reaching for her purse.

“Is that even a question?” you teased.

Larissa paid for your drinks and the two of you took a seat at a wooden picnic table nearby. You took a sip of the warm apple cider, moaning as the taste exploded on your tongue, and Larissa raised an eyebrow at you.

“What? Does that turn you on?” you purred, taking another sip and moaning even louder this time. Larissa laughed and shook her head, a blush creeping up her cheeks. 

“Hush and drink up,” she murmured.

Your eyes scanned the area you were sitting in, lighting up as they landed on a donut stand. “Riss, do you want a donut?”

Larissa nodded between sips of apple cider.

“What kind?”

“You pick.”

You ambled over to the donut stand, returning a few minutes later with two pumpkin spice donuts and handing one to your girlfriend, before settling on the bench across from her.

“Of course you would get pumpkin spice,” Larissa teased, chuckling as she accepted the donut from you.

“I don’t appreciate your tone,” you said with a laugh.

Larissa huffed, taking a bite of the donut regardless and letting out a moan of her own - you began to laugh harder and Larissa joined in, her eyes crinkling at the outer edges and her face scrunching up in glee. 

The two of you ate in amicable silence, savoring the donuts and each other’s presence and basking in a surprisingly warm fall day.

“Maybe we could go on the hayride before we go home?” you suggested shyly as Larissa placed the last piece of her donut into her mouth. Her eyes went wide and she nodded, her cheeks puffed out with food. You laughed and Larissa’s face turned pink as she swallowed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, you’re just very adorable,” you said with a grin, earning you an eye roll and a light, playful slap from your girlfriend. She always said she hated when you called her adorable, but she would blush and smile every single time, so you would keep doing it. 

“Call me adorable again and we aren’t going on that hayride,” she mumbled with a soft smile, her eyes sparkling in the low light of the afternoon sun.

Ten minutes later, you were sitting in a wagon with Larissa to your left, the sun slowly beginning its descent in the sky and casting a golden glow over the blonde. Your surroundings were picturesque, but all you could focus on was the stunning woman next to you. It seemed your sentiments were returned, for Larissa’s eyes - flooded with warmth and affection - never left your own. Her right arm was wrapped snugly around your shoulders as her left hand rested on your thigh, her thumb rubbing absentminded circles over your jeans. 

“Rissa?”

“Yes, darling?”

“I love you.”

A beaming smile spread across the blonde’s face and she ducked her head, leaning in until her lips were inches away from yours. “I love you, too,” she whispered against your lips, before closing the gap to kiss you. The kiss was soft, and tender - it made your heart flutter and your stomach flip as the last rays of the sun enveloped the two of you in a warm glow.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

“Can we watch a horror movie?” you asked as you stepped through the threshold of Larissa’s apartment after the short drive back from the pumpkin patch. The two of you left the pumpkins outside the door for later.

The blonde raised an eyebrow at you, her expression nothing short of skeptical as she slipped out of her heels and removed her coat. “Are you sure? Don’t you remember what happened the last time we watched a horror movie together?”

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you’re talking about,” you replied airily, kicking off your shoes and tossing your bag on the floor. Of course you knew what she was talking about - you’d gotten so panicked that, during one particularly gruesome jump-scare, you’d thrown the popcorn bowl at the tv. Larissa had found stray pieces of popcorn underneath her couch for weeks after.

“Whatever you want, my dear,” Larissa said with a teasing grin, pressing a kiss to your forehead, before ushering you in the direction of her bedroom. “Let’s get changed first, hmm?”

Being that you spent so much time at Larissa’s, you had a few spare changes of clothes for when you’d spontaneously decide to stay the night - but you still preferred to wear your girlfriend’s clothes whenever possible. They smelled like her, and they were big and soft and somehow just way comfier than your own.

Tonight, you opted for a pair of leggings and an old t-shirt of Larissa’s, while she went for a sage green, silk camisole top and a white cardigan, paired with matching sweatpants. Larissa stepped behind you as you got changed, helping you pull the t-shirt over your head - you shivered as her fingers brushed teasingly down your abdomen, before splaying out over your stomach and pulling you flush against her.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered softly into your hair, pressing her lips to the crown of your head. You could feel yourself blush and you spun around in her arms, wrapping your own arms around her neck and pulling her in for a languid kiss. 

Larissa reached around you, flicking off the light in her bedroom and guiding you back out into the living room, her lips still pressed against yours until the backs of your knees hit the couch.

“Hot chocolate?” she breathed against your lips.

You nodded gratefully, curling up on the couch as Larissa disappeared into the kitchen - returning shortly after with two mugs of hot chocolate.

“Would you like anything else?”

“Nope, thanks.” You accepted one of the mugs - it warmed your hands, and the huge pile of marshmallows on top made you giggle.

Larissa settled beside you, wrapping an arm securely around your shoulders and pulling you into her. “Is The Conjuring alright?” she asked as she began to flick through Netflix. 

“Yes! I love Vera Farmiga!”

Larissa chuckled and pressed play, wiggling her hips a bit to get comfy.

You tried to be brave, you really did. But every slight change in the music made your muscles tense, your entire body flinching so bad that you had to place your mug on the coffee table.

“Are you alright, dove?” Larissa whispered, directly into your ear - you hadn’t expected it and you jumped in surprise, your heart pounding viciously. When you turned your head to look at your girlfriend, she was smirking, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

“I’m fine,” you squeaked. 

Larissa knew you like she knew the back of her own hand - somehow, she’d been able to read you like a book from day one. She snorted and set her own mug down, pausing the movie and wrapping both arms around your waist. You melted into her touch immediately - warm, comforting, safe. Your heartbeat began to slow and you let out a nervous giggle. “Okay, I’m not fine. But we can keep watching it if you want!”

“Hmm… I think I’d rather you feel comfortable with what we watch.” Larissa pressed her lips to yours, her hands stroking up and down your sides. “How about we put something else on?”

Biting your lip, you nodded and accepted the remote from Larissa. Some dumb, silly comedy like The Heat would be good, you thought.

“Come here,” Larissa murmured, patting her lap. You curled up on the couch, resting your head on her thighs. Her hand immediately settled on your head and began to stroke your hair, her nails lightly scratching at your scalp and making you shiver.

“Sorry,” you whispered timidly, peeking up at Larissa through your lashes.

Larissa looked down at you with a confused smile, brushing a strand of hair off your forehead. “Sorry for what, darling?”

“Suggesting we watch a scary movie and not being able to finish it.” You felt your cheeks flush and hid your face in her lap - then you felt Larissa’s lips on your head. “That’s not something you need to apologize for. I promise.”

You peeked up again to see Larissa beaming lovingly down at you, and you sighed in relief, snuggling closer and allowing her to continue stroking your hair as the two of you watched the movie. The perfect ending to a perfect day.

x

-> some activities (HELLO, PETTING ZOO, ANYONE?) based super loosely on a fall festival/pumpkin patch I visited in 2019 with my best friend, near Nashville, TN - one of my fondest memories! hmu if you want to see a picture of me with a goat <3

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[eggymf-archived]

forever and always

ft. sebastian sallow with f!reader (one-shot)

themes: angst, fluff, childhood friends to lovers, porn with plot, slow burn, mutual pining, hurt to comfort, aged-up characters (21+), reader is not mc

warning: nsfw, smut, not spoiler-free, loss of virginity, mild depictions of injury, unedited, not proofread

summary: both you and sebastian are aurors who had just completed a mission. however, sebastian was wounded in the process, and the two of you decided to stay in an inn for the night to treat his wounds and get some rest. unfortunately, there’s only one vacant room left with one bed.

word count: 5.2k

a/n: didn’t expect it to turn out pretty long, but i’ll just casually drop this load of filth right here. 

masterlist || AO3 cross-post

“What in Merlin’s name were you thinking?!”

Sebastian winced as you cleaned a nasty gash on his chest with a soft cloth soaked in Wiggenweld Potion. In that moment, he wasn’t exactly sure which was worse: the physical stinging pain on his chest, your scalding tone, or the fact that you being angry somehow made you a bit more attractive than usual (not that you weren’t in the first place). You pointed your wand at his wound, muttering an unfamiliar spell: the wound stitched itself back with a translucent, silver thread coming from the tip of your wand. He gave you an appreciative grin while you glowered at him half-heartedly.

“The next time you pull that sort of stunt ever again, I will NOT help you with your wounds, Sebastian!” you huffed angrily, placing the soiled cloth into a bowl filled with water. You headed towards the bathroom to clean up while Sebastian stared at your retreating figure, a fond smile gracing his lips.

It has always been like this eversince the two of you became friends: kind and gentle (Y/N) always worrying about his wellbeing and being a mother hen whenever he got hurt. You’ve been friends with him and Anne eversince early childhood: the three of you were born in Feldcroft and have been living there for as long as you could remember, while Ominis joined your little group during your first year in Hogwarts. All four of you were sorted into Slytherin and were inseparable as a group. Throughout your years as friends, you were aware of Sebastian's penchant for getting himself into trouble and danger, and with how reckless he gets, you made it one of your many missions to study all sorts of healing spells out of concern for the boy. You always looked out for all of your friends, especially Sebastian. It was an oath you had personally took upon yourself.

However, Sebastian's friendship with you wasn’t always smooth. 

The end of 4th year was the start of the worst of his Hogwarts years: with Anne being cursed, Sebastian wasn’t the best person to interact with in general. You tried to help Anne of course, conniving with Sebastian by sneaking into the restricted section together with him and retrieving book after book. You had also asked your mother, who was a healer, to help with Anne's case. Unfortunately, you ended up on the receiving end of Sebastian's misplaced anger when you delivered the grave news he wasn’t ready to hear.

“I'm sorry, Sebastian. My mother tried everything. Anne can't be healed.”

“How could you say that, (Y/N)?! It’s either you’re not trying enough, or you don’t care about Anne enough!”

“That’s not--”

“I'd rather be with someone who’ll be more useful in finding a cure. So, if you’d excuse me, I have a book to read.”

He despised himself for saying such things, but his pride was a difficult pill to swallow. He steered clear from you during 5th year, opting to befriend the new 5th year student instead. It was all for Anne - he thought that the mysterious new student would be the key to finding the cure that Anne needs. At least, that’s what he merely tells himself out of his own miserable denial: during his absence from your life, it was rumored that you had began dating Garreth Weasley, so he decided to date the new student out of spite. It hurt him a lot: seeing you give the same warmth towards Garreth. But of course, being the insufferable prick he was at that time, he’d maintain the façade and pride of being in a relationship with the strongest student in their year.

Then everything just spirals out of control eversince he went into Salazar Slytherin's scriptorium. He had already lost you to someone else, and to further add fuel to the fire, he lost himself to his own madness, ended up murdering his uncle in the heat of the moment, his twin sister refuses to talk to him, his brother-like friendship with Ominis became strained, and his “significant other” breaks up with him after the school year when they no longer needed him. 

He deserved it all - he was stubborn, manipulative, and cruel. He couldn’t argue with that fact, yet you still took him in without any hesitation despite everything he had done.

It was during the first summer that he didn’t have Anne nor his uncle around - the time when he was graced with a slight glimmer of hope in making things right. Ominis was with him in their cottage in Feldcroft as usual, casually reading a book with his wand while lounging on one of the vacant beds. Sebastian was about to prepare their dinner when someone knocked on the door. Upon opening it, Sebastian was shocked to see you standing before him, holding a small pot of warm food.

“... Thought the two of you might be hungry, so I made extra.”

Sebastian teared up.

“(Y/N), I-”

You merely shook your head.

“Eat. We can talk all about it tomorrow,” you said, handing over the pot to Sebastian. “Also, I’m sorry about what happened.”

Sebastian watched you as you headed back to your home. He glanced at the pot he was holding, his heart twisting with both guilt and a slight relief. You had extended an olive branch towards him even if he was supposed to be the one who had to do it, and he felt ashamed yet thankful at the same time. Needless to say, Ominis was rather confused with Sebastian’s behavior, who was sniffling while eating their dinner that evening.

The brunette male chuckled to himself at the fond memory, but was soon snapped out of his reverie when he heard footsteps towards him. You grabbed a blanket and one of the pillows, heading over to the furniture-less spot in the room. 

“You’re sleeping on the floor?” Sebastian bemusedly asked.

“Why yes, I am. You need the bed more than I do. You’re hurt.”

“I was hurt, (Y/N), but I’m fine now thanks to you. We’ve always shared beds when we had sleepovers, so what’s the fuss now?”

“We were children back then, Sebastian. I'm actually a grown woman now, in case you haven’t noticed?”

“Well then, I'll sleep on the floor instead. Can’t have a grown woman sleeping on the floor now, can I?”

You sighed in exasperation, slightly throwing your hands up in disbelief as Sebastian stood up, striding towards you. 

“It’s either I sleep on the floor, or you sleep on the bed with me,” he interrupted before you could even protest against him. You swore you saw his lip twitch slightly into a teasing smirk, causing you to shoot him an irritated glare.

“OW!”

Sebastian rubbed the spot on his arm you just violently pinched, a grin still gracing his face triumphantly regardless of the pain as you sat on the other side of the bed. You were blushing furiously, grumbling about how stupidly inconvenient it was that the current room they were staying in for the night was the only vacant room left in this inn while Sebastian plopped right onto his side of the king-sized bed.

The night was still young, but the both of you were too exhausted with your recently finished mission of retrieving several smuggled dark artifacts from dark wizards. Sebastian was lying face up, staring at the decrepit ceiling of the room while you were laying on your side with your back facing him, quickly falling into a deep slumber due to fatigue. He turned towards you, staring at your back as his mind wandered back to what had occurred earlier.

You almost got hit by a slicing spell - the spell that Sebastian had voluntarily shielded you from at the very last minute. And there you were, chiding him about almost getting killed for saving you. 

Sebastian's fist clenched in silent worry as his eyes remained glued to your sleeping form. The thought of you being fatally injured or worse was undoubtedly his worst fear in this line of work - the both of you being Aurors and as a duo in assigned missions certainly had its perks, but a part of him couldn’t bear to stomach that you, his beloved (Y/N), always had death looming over you. You never were the combative type - you were a healer, not a soldier, yet regardless of that, you’d still accompany him to the ends of the earth to at least make sure he’s alive. It brought a twinge of pain within his chest the more he thought about all that you’ve done, and he hopes that he’d be blessed enough to repay you for your never-ending grace towards him.

Thankfully, your friendship with Sebastian had been mended for the most part these past few years. The bond was fixed somehow, yes - but it was never fully intact. Despite the both of you constantly being in each other’s company because of work, it’s as if you’re always separated from him by some sort of distance he couldn’t quite explain. Even within this small room, Sebastian feels a wash of longing despite you just being an arm’s length away from him. Is it because of the guilt of him pushing you away in the past; the fear of hurting you once again; or the fact that the both of you are always mere inches away from death so there’s no guarantee if one of you would be even alive the next day? 

Several soft sniffles could be heard from you as you shifted around, turning to face him.

“(Y/N)...?”

No response. Sebastian scooted slightly closer, finding a glistening wet trail at your nose bridge. Hesitancy took a hold on him - you were crying in your sleep. He hated seeing that more than anything, and that hate was further amplified by the fact that he didn’t know how to even help you with it without transgressing the invisible emotional boundaries between you and him. He placed his hand on your arm, causing you to stir from your slumber, your eyelids fluttering open.

“Seb...?”

His breath hitched at the old childhood nickname: you hadn’t called him that eversince he pushed you away. Gone were his reservations of keeping a respectable emotional distance from you - not when you said his name in such a soft, vulnerable tone after so long. Warmth enveloped you, snapping you out of your sleepiness. Sebastian had wrapped an arm over you, his palm resting at the back of your head as he pushed you closer towards him. You were about to protest against his actions and push him away, until he murmured his long-repressed wishes in a broken, pleading manner.

“Please just- Let’s stay like this. Even for a while. Merlin, I missed you so much, (Y/N). Please...”

You couldn’t say no to that. Hell, you could never say no to him. 

You succumb to the comfort and safety given by the man you’ve always loved eversince the both of you were children, reciprocating the hug by wrapping an arm around his waist while burying your face into his chest. You recalled the innocent sleepovers that you, Sebastian, Anne, and Ominis usually had back in the Sallow’s cottage - they were truly gems of memories that you held dear in your heart: the times when your circle was still intact, carefree, and blissful. Sebastian would often hug you like this especially when you had nightmares, and his warmth often lulled you into the best, uninterrupted slumbers. You could’ve cried in relief being in his arms once again, but you decided against it. 

He didn’t need any more sources of problems: not when he’s still in a turmoil of guilt, trauma, and the incapability of forgiving himself for what he did as a naïve teenage boy. You would’ve felt horrible if you were to sandwich your pent-up romantic feelings for him into the fray. Sometimes you wished you could rid him from all of this pain deep down, but alas, your healing prowess is only applicable to physical wounds, not mental and emotional ones.

This moment, however, albeit it being a moment of vulnerability with the both of you just lying in each other’s arms, it was truly a test of both of your mental and emotional fortitude. Both of your respective scents engulfed each other’s senses: dizzyingly pleasant, familiar, and comforting, driving you both closer and closer to the edge of self-control. The questions that raced within Sebastian's mind earlier were now getting less and less hazy as he looked at your once tear-stricken face, cupping it while his thumb gave featherlike caresses on your cheek. 

Yes, he felt guilty for pushing you away in the past. Yes, he feared breaking your heart once again. Yes, he feared your possible untimely death that could happen anytime. But that’s not the primary source of his painful longing this entire time. 

It was because he loves you from the start: heads over heels in love to the point he’d unconsciously steer you away from anything that would be cruel enough to steal the light that gave you so much life. He wanted to protect you from everything that would reduce you into ruins - most especially himself. He loves you to the point where it hurts. 

But with you staring at his eyes with the same sense of brokenness and unspoken yearnings, the bubbling desire he had feared and suppressed had finally broken through the walls of his self-control.

He captured your lips with his, inhibitions evidently thrown out of the window as you returned the kiss with equal fervor. Sebastian felt his mind blank out as the kiss became more and more frantic, desperately pulling you in closer to feel you against his body. You gasped for air as the both of you pulled away, gazing at each other’s blown-out eyes. Sebastian trailed his thumb on your lips, admiring your messily breathless and dazed form - even in such an unkempt state, you were still so fucking beautiful.

“This is your last chance to stop me, (Y/N),” Sebastian murmured with a hint of seriousness in his tone. “I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself if we continue.”

You leaned towards him, giving him a peck of reassurance on his red, flushed lips.

“Then don’t,” you breathed out.

Sebastian felt his last remaining trace of self-doubt disintegrate as soon as you whispered those saccharine words with so much pent-up desire. He smiled, gently locking his lips upon yours once more, relishing in your addicting taste. Having you in his arms like this felt so right - you were so utterly pliant, obedient, and needy for him. His hand reached the back of your head, yanking your hair to expose your dainty neck, peppering kisses along your jugular. Your felt yourself shudder, closing your eyes as you indulged in Sebastian's ministrations. 

You yelped as Sebastian climbed on top of you, not breaking the onslaught of his desperate, wet, open-mouthed kisses on your poor neck. He wedged his knee in between your legs, prying them apart. A mewl tore out of your mouth as he nipped on your neck, suckling on the spot and leaving a blooming, purplish red mark on your once unblemished skin. Sebastian growled as he began unbuttoning your blouse while you sat up to meet his lips in yet another fiery kiss, ridding him of his top as well with shaky, eager hands. 

Sebastian yanked the undone clothing off your frame, baring you topless before his hungry gaze. He attached his mouth on your chest right below your clavicle while you straddled him, his arm wrapping around your waist in response to keep you firmly in place. Voluntarily, you maneuvered your hips in a slow, grinding manner on the painfully obvious tent on his pants, earning a pleasured hiss from the brunette as your lips descended upon his, tongues melding with each other in an open-mouthed kiss.

“F-Fuck (Y/N)...!” he panted in between exchanges of depraved kisses, gripping your waist as you pushed yourself down harder on him, controlling the movement of your hips to a faster pace. You let out a shaky groan, feeling the agonizing texture of your growingly wet undergarments sticking on your sensitive core. The aching between your legs grew hot and unbearable, and this was barely even the start of the sheer debauchery the both of you were going to partake in for the night.

Sebastian left a trail of kisses downwards from your lips all the way to your chest while removing your bra in the process. Your chest heaved in pleasure as he took one of your nipples to his mouth, swirling his tongue on the sensitive nub while his other free hand pinched and twisted the other. A cry of pleasure erupted from your bitten-red lips as he gently gave the nub a gentle bite and soothing the pain off by smoothing his tongue and giving it a teasing suck. Sebastian smirked as you let out another loud moan while he gave your other nipple the similar brutal yet pleasurable treatment. At this point, he felt his pants getting soaked from the outside, causing his still concealed member to twitch in anticipation as he felt beads of precum leaking from his tip. Despite the layers of clothing still separating your core from his member, he still felt how deliciously wet you are for him, and he wondered how soaked you truly are beneath all that remaining clothing left. The thought alone made him salivate.

He liked this. He liked having this particular sort of power over you - you had no choice but to just keep taking all the pleasure he’s inflicting upon your sensitively submissive body. A sense of impatience soon took a hold of him, causing him to throw you on the bed, frantically unbuttoning your pants and pulling the garment off your body harshly. Your face flushed in shame at the sudden exposure, instinctively shutting your legs close. A glint of possessiveness was evident in Sebastian's eyes as he pried your legs apart, staring at your translucent, soaked-through undergarments. 

Your heart was thrumming frenziedly in your chest both out of embarrassment and want, covering your poor blushing face as Sebastian peeled the last remaining article of clothing away from your body. He firmly kept your legs apart as he brought his face closer to your wet aching core, watching it clench around nothingness. Sebastian's brain was completely fried, taking in both the heady scent and lewd sight of your most delicate spot. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet.” he rasped, spreading the lips of your pussy before licking a long, wet stripe along your slit. Your back arched, your mouth hanging ajar in a silent moan as heightened pleasures consumed your being for the very first time.

“So fucking sexy.” 

Lick.

“So fucking good for me.”

Sebastian kept murmuring praises in between licks, the sinful sounds of slurping, mewls, and groans filling the room as he licked up your honeypot like a starved man. Your legs trembled as he continued his relentless actions, alternating from licking and prodding at your weeping hole using solely his tongue. You felt a single digit rub against your slit, coating itself with your essence before slipping inside your cavern.

However, you let out a hiss of pain, causing Sebastian to abruptly stop. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. The question itself made you blush.

“I don’t really know how to say this but...”

“But...?”

“... It’s my first time, so...” you meekly said, avoiding eye contact from the half-naked male in front of you. Sebastian's eyes widened in realization.

Oh. You’re a virgin.

That fact alone caused a switch to flip within the male as his eyes darkened with carnal desire.

Animalistic, feral thoughts consumed Sebastian as he spat on your hole aggressively, the lewd action causing you to whimper in delight. He slowly reinserted his finger inside your tight hole, his hot breath fanning over your clitoris as he partook an experimental lick on the sensitive bud. You writhed instinctively, a pleasantly fiery and toe-curling sensation coursing through your veins as you sobbed in pleasure. The mild pain was slowly subsiding as your body responded to the intensity of his foreplay. You were absolutely dripping, and the sheets you laid on now had a wet patch of your juices. One of your hands attempted to grip Sebastian's hair to pry him off your delicate spots, but he had caught your wrist before you could do so, pinning it down on the bed harshly as he continued the deliciously brutal abuse of your pussy and clitoris using his fingers and tongue. He inserted another finger, groaning at how tight your walls felt around his digits. 

Oh, to have his cock inside you - the thought alone made Sebastian rut his hips while he relentlessly flicked his tongue against your sensitive pearl.

Your throat felt dry as you moaned uncontrollably, tears prickling your eyes as your pleasure-driven sobs and cries egged Sebastian to his hasten his pacing, causing your insides to twitch in profane delight. He curled his fingers upwards and suckle on the ball of nerve, occasionally swirling his tongue around it. Your legs began to shudder violently at the frenzy of pleasure coursing through your stimulated body, your toes curling as you cried pathetically, begging Sebastian to slow down his ministrations - a request which fell into deaf ears.

And just like that, you had your very first orgasm. 

Tremors coursed throughout your body as you came down from your high as Sebastian slowly retracted his fingers from your pussy, staring into your eyes as he licked the soaked digits - a sight that made your already abused pussy clench wantonly. He got off the bed, his hands reaching for the waistband of his pants as he unbuttoned it, pulling the article of clothing off along with his underwear. Your eyes remained fixed on his as he climbs back on top of you, resting your eagle-spread thighs on his as he prodded the blunt head of his cock on your virgin hole. You gasped at the sensation as he teasingly rubbed the tip along your slit, juices trickling down from your hole. Curiously, you looked down at his appendage with bleary, pleasure-filled eyes.

Oh Merlin. He's fucking girthy.

You swore you almost drooled at the sight despite the worry at the back of your mind if his cock would even fit in your tight virgin hole. Sebastian leaned in for an oddly gentle kiss despite his prior eagerness and vigor. He languidly licks and suckles on your tongue, grinding his cock on your bare pussy as he groped one of your breasts and trailed his other hand on your thigh. You felt so fucking sensitive under him, your body twitching in delight as you received his raw, carnal adoration. 

Sebastian, however, was having second thoughts deep down hence the sudden gentleness. He was sure his cock was going to fucking break you with how insanely tight you are, and he didn’t want both of your first times to just be about his own pleasure alone. With how utterly feral he was in the moment, he doesn’t trust himself enough to not go ballistic the moment his cock is completely sheathed within your warmth. Prying his lips away from yours, he nuzzled the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent.

“Get on top of me,” he whispered, giving a brief peck on the damp, sweaty skin of your neck. Sebastian sat beside you, his back leaning against the headboard of the bed, snaking an arm around your waist as you straddled him. The both of you gazed at each other, eyes filled with both lust and love, leaning in for another breathy exchange of kisses.

“I love you, (Y/N). I love you so fucking much.”

Sebastian’s frantic, whispered confession against your lips made your heart soar as you sighed against his plump lips, cupping his cheek as he stared into your (e/c) eyes.

“I love you too, Seb. I’m all yours. Only yours.”

Sebastian hummed in response as he nuzzled your neck. He reached for his thick, leaking appendage as you raised your hips, placing your hands on his broad shoulders to stabilize yourself. He spat on his hand and coated his member with his saliva before rubbing the glistening red tip along your slit to further lubricate it as much as he could. He looked up at you, while you meekly nodded in approval. He positioned the head towards your hole while you lowered yourself slowly, engulfing him within your delicate, wet flower.

You gasped in both pain and pleasure as his cock split you open, burying itself inside your pussy inch by inch while Sebastian’s breath quickened, his hands gripping your hips almost painfully as his self-control threatened to slip away with how heavenly your walls felt. His eyebrows furrowed in both concentration and intense pleasure - it took all of his remaining willpower to not thrust himself up into your warm, inviting hole as he peppered your exposed skin with kisses, mapping his hands across every inch of your exposed skin as he steadied his breathing. You let out a cry of pleasure the moment you buried his cock all the way to the hilt, his smooth tip kissing your cervix.

You gave an experimental roll with your hips, causing a whimper to erupt from your lips while Sebastian’s breath hitched in response, bringing his hands to grip the curves of your ass. He guided your hips in a slow, grinding motion, allowing you to get accustomed to his size. The initial burning sensation of the intrusion was melting away as your body succumbed into the pleasure, your juices flowing from your hole the more stimulation you received. You reached for your clitoris, gently rubbing it as you threw your head back, gasping at the amplified sensations that made your thighs quiver in delight.

Sebastian bit his lip at the sight of you pleasuring yourself while he guided your hips, the shameless image burned in his memory for good. You started bouncing up and down his cock - a telltale sign that the pain had already dissipated as you began to lose yourself into lustful desire. Instinctively, he bucked his hips up, earning an eager whine  followed by a string of pleasure-drunk babbles from your lips as you rubbed your clit harder.

“Oh f-fuck! You feel so good. Please, please- Just like that...!”

Despite your wanton pleas, Sebastian lifted you off his lap, causing you to whine at the absence of his cock inside you. You were suddenly pushed down the mattress rather harshly, a gasp escaping from your lips as Sebastian grabbed one of your ankles, throwing your leg above his shoulder while his other hand had two of your wrists pinned right above your head. He slammed his cock back inside your pussy, the both of you groaning in unison at the delicious friction. 

Passionate moans spilled from your lips as Sebastian rammed his hips  against yours, setting a viciously mind-melting pace. The squelching sounds of your bodily fluids alongside the repetitive slapping of wet skin caused your head to spin in delight, your mind in a mania of sinful indulgence. You were utterly helpless and at his mercy, and you fucking loved it. Sebastian's eyes drank the sight before him: your naked body covered with a sheen of sweat, skin littered with multiple hickeys, bitten-red lips, a fucked-out expression, and your legs spread out nice and wide just for him. Only him.

Sebastian freed your wrists, leaning back as his fingers grazed against your swollen-red pearl, rubbing it in circles. A high-pitched whine bubbled from your lips as your hands gripped the sheets, your knuckles turning white. As soon as he started the onslaught of his rough thrusts once again, your mind blanked out as his cock head brushed against a certain, spongy spot within your pussy. 

“Fuck! R-right there!” you cried out, your chest heaving in desperation as you clawed at his arm. Your thighs began to quiver once again, causing Sebastian to smirk knowingly as your eyes rolled back in sheer unadulterated bliss. 

“Please, please- oh fuck, Sebastian!” you babbled, drool trickling down your chin mindlessly as your remaining bits of sanity began to slip away. Sebastian chuckled darkly at your depravity, leaning forward to brutally assault your poor neck with marks once again.

“Go on, pretty girl. Cum for me,” he groaned against your ear, causing a high-pitched moan to suddenly erupt from your throat. Your walls tightened around his member as he growled, rubbing your clit as you rode your high. Globs of your essence spilled from your hole, coating Sebastian’s cock with a translucent, milky substance. 

Despite just having your release, Sebastian was still slamming his cock in and out of your hole, chasing his high while continuing with the abuse of your sensitive spots. Your eyes rolled back as one of his hands wrapped around your neck in a gentle grip, broken whimpers escaping your lips. Sebastian groaned as you gasped for air while tears of pleasure ran down your flushed cheeks - the debauched image of you so utterly broken and cock-drunk solely for him caused his member to twitch inside you as he quickened his pace, tipping him closer and closer to the edge.

“F-fuck, I’m close! Where do you want it?” he hissed through gritted teeth. You pulled him closer, resting your forehead against his as you locked your legs around his waist. He groaned, gazing straight into your eyes as he approached his climax, burying his cock all the way inside your pussy.

Sebastian let out a long, guttural moan, his eyes never leaving yours as his shaft spurted his seed deep inside you. Your walls clenched and twitched as Sebastian slowed his pace, milking any remaining globs of his cum from his cock. The both of you were panting, foreheads pressed together and staring each other with fucked-out yet loving expressions. 

Sebastian reluctantly pulled his now softening member out of your hole, causing you to mewl in response. He laid down beside you, the both of you staring at the ceiling, panting in exhaustion. You felt his hot cum trickle down from your wrecked hole, causing you to blush in realization at what had transpired between you both. 

Shyly, you glanced at Sebastian, who was still panting slightly, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. He got up, giving you a peck on the forehead, before heading towards the bathroom while you remain in your spot. Sebastian returned from the bathroom with a wet towel at hand, voluntarily wiping any filth away from your prior activities with him while looking at each other with adoration. You intended to at least fix the sheets for the both of you. However, a painful sensation coursed through your inner thighs as you tried to move.

“...Uh, Seb? Could you please pass me my wand?” you asked, feeling guilty that you couldn’t be much of service to him in this little aftercare session. Sebastian quirked an eyebrow - your wand was right at the bedside table not far from you. You felt your face burn as he gives you a questioning look, silently demanding for an explanation for your peculiar request.

“... I can’t feel my legs.”

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow x reader smut #sebastian sallow oneshot #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x f!reader #hogwarts legacy one shot #hogwarts legacy sebastian #hogwarts legacy

[chai-berries]

what starbucks™ drinks are the tlou girls ordering?

ellie has had a frappuccino once even though joel said it’s “not really coffee” (she ordered it just to spite him) only to fucking hate it so she gets random shit but when she needs energy she gets cold brews for sure with extra cream

dina is smart and knows what she likes and what will wake her up — she gets a vanilla latte with an alternative milk ;)

abby says she’s an expresso shots/black coffee all the way but she does enjoy a refresher or a tea with fruit in it on some occasions

abby would totally steal a drink of ur frappe three seconds after teasing you for liking it

out of all of them i think ellie would collect the state cups. she’s so serious about it too like it’s the first thing she HAS to do when y’all enter another state. what a weirdo. she’s just like me!!!

ellie is a chronic straw chewer and those straws look fucked up when she’s done with them. imagine: absentmindedly playing a video game or something and she’s already bouncing her leg. you let it go on for a lil longer before removing the straw and putting your lips against hers. it pauses all her movements.

ellie has adhd (cmon now) and likes studying in the coffee shop cause she can people watch when she’s bored. she has a few pages in her art book of some of the regulars that come in

abby has a routine of surprising you at work with your favorite drink and a pastry on her days off where you still have work. all the people at your job (mostly the older women) think it’s “just the sweetest thing”

abby will NOT study in the coffee shop. she likes it to be completely silent or have light music playing in the background. she doesn’t get much done in a crowded starbucks. especially when you’re playing footsie with her as you innocently drink your chai tea. she loves you but this anatomy exam is like half her grade!!! don’t worry she makes up for it later ;)

dina would have a nice tumbler collection. they’re usually full of only ice water though. you know she stays hydrated!

dina is the only one that actually uses the point system. she will honestly go crazy when she gets a free drink. this is her only flaw (but it’s not really cause i do this… it’s normal right??)

starbucks was ironically how you and dina met. you were there studying or if you’re being honest taking study breaks in between playing games on your phone. it was raining and all you hear is the squeak of her sneakers before she’s asking to share your table with you. she’s the prettiest person you’ve ever seen and you barely let out a sound, nodding your head towards the chair she had her hand on. love drunk already.

original post here

#☕️🧜‍♀️☕️🧜‍♀️☕️🧜‍♀️ #what is everyone’s drink? mine is cold brews or dirty chai #abby anderson x reader #abby brainrot era #ellie williams x reader #dina nolastname x reader #dina tlou x reader #mads’ headcanons #tlou x reader #i <3 starbucks!!! #just gotta buy uggs and an infinity scarf and i’ll be a millennial in the early 2010s #dina woodward x reader

[senqv]

HOUSE OF KINGS.

blue lock ! royal / fantasy au series featuring : michael kaiser x fem! reader

warning(s) : 1k , none this one is quite cute , lmk if there are any !!

TWO. THE WRATH SING, O GODDESS

the next time you see him, you are seated in the windowed alcove of the palace library, hidden behind the imposing shelves of mahogany wood. you could feel the thick knitted blankets and fox furs beneath your thighs, a fluffy cushion left of your waist.

you leaned against the window, ornate and elegant, cut in frames to let in squares of golden sun. the smooth cover of the book is familiar under your fingerpads, a beloved relic from your father. even with your gaze cast towards the window, you could envision the wine-dark cover in your hands, embossed with a deep gold; the methodical lettering forming words that you could recite like water spilling down the rumbling falls.

faintly, suddenly, like a whisper in the wind, the air changed. the soft hum of divinity, maybe, but you could not have known what that was. it only felt stronger as golden hair came into vision, reflecting off the glass planes of the windows. you blinked, straightening your back. you had thought it to be a trick of the light, but it was apparent how real he was with each languid step he took, steady and sure.

kaiser was not a god, but you can scarcely imagine anything more perfect than him. wherever he went, he drew everything to him like a great flame. and although your spitefulness refused to let you look at him, it could not be helped how your gaze traced his features reflected on the window, the brightness of his hair so lustrous it was lit from within, the steady curve of his face, and the arc of his rose-coloured lips.

you hear his feet stop before you, and his mouth opens, poised and self-assured. "this place belongs to me."

he was referring to this cosy little alcove, and you chide yourself for not noticing how personalised this place was, blanketed in wools and the highest quality of furs and goose-feathered pillows.

only then you look back at him, features screwed with slight displeasure. under his pointed stare, you swing your legs down from the wood carved into the window to face him properly, freeing up half the space. "this is a library. it doesn't belong to anyone," you say with narrowed eyes.

he looks almost like he can't believe the words coming out of your mouth. his arms move to cross over his chest. "the gods have decreed me to be emperor of kings. everything that treads the ground will belong to me one day." he does not say it boastfully, or arrogantly. it is fact to him as much as the stars circle the sky each night.

your lips twitch in search of a response, "not yet," you say weakly, and you stare into the endless blue of his eyes. your tone is stronger; "you are no emperor yet. you have no right to ask me to leave."

that surprised him. he tilts his head at you curiously, like a little sparrow. you may be the daughter of nobility, but he is the prince. he probably had all the rights in the world and more. like a tamed beast, he sits down next to you. he smells of roses and white jasmine, and you dare not to turn your head, glancing at him nervously from the corner of your eye. his gaze darts to your hand.

he shifts again, pressing his head on your shoulder as you fight down a flinch. a strand of hair falls over his eyes, and he blows it away with a huff. cerulean eyes stare up at you intently. like this, he reminds you of those sleek felines in the estate.

"read to me." it was a command, but the way he said it did not feel like one. to you, it was soft but distinct, easy as how one would utter their own name.

your mouth feels parched, but still, you crack the book open, the pages yellowed from their age. the familiar words ease you slightly, and your voice hangs in the air like the willows over a curving pond.

'the wrath sing, o goddess, of peleus' son

achilles'

his eyelashes flutter like the wings of a butterfly, fanning against his cheeks. he blinks slowly, relaxed. your gaze darts from the book to him like a school of fish in the water, but you hardly need to reference the pages, the words carved into your heart like a searing iron.

his golden hair curls around his head, the longer strands pooling at the dips of his collarbone and down the edge of your own shoulder. it drew your eye, glimmering like starlight, so bright against the sun the locks glowed white. carelessly, your fingers smooth over a strand of hair covering the side of his face, flipping the ends up to marvel at the way they lit up in the light. you had no sooner realised your mistake than when his jewelled eyes darted towards you, causing you to release his hair with a jerk of your hand. "i'm sorry, i didn't -"

he silences you with a yawn, pink tongue flashing against white teeth. his lashes flutter again, shifting his head closer to you. then, his eyes close with sleep. it's almost cute, in a way. you know that he is not actually asleep, but you also realise this is his way of permitting you to continue.

hesitantly, your fingers twitch in longing, at his unavoidable beauty, written by the poets. you wipe your hands harshly on your skirt, fearful that the beading sweat might stick to his glorious hair. with trembling hands, your fingers card through the streaming gold strands, smoothing over the top of his head. he makes a soft sound of pleasure, which makes you smile slightly.

you tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, and you can't help but think that his beauty is fine as a girl's. his lashes open again, jade white skin parting to reveal the hanging jewels of his eyes, a shifting, dazzling blue.

his eyes crinkle a secretive smile. under the light of the sun, you smile back.

#— HOUSE OF KINGS. #michael kaiser #blue lock #bllk #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader

[another-lost-mc]

MICHAEL x gn!Reader | 1.3k words | SFW

Content: Michael has a lot of secrets when he sneaks his way into the Devildom. He's determined to figure out your secrets too, but he's not prepared for what he finds.

Warnings: Spoilers for NB HM L20. Established relationship pre-Nightbringer. Mildly suggestive content. Angst with an ambiguously hopeful ending.

A/N: The implications of Lesson 20 are haunting me. I fudged some of the details and filled in some gaps with my own headcanons because who really knows what’s going on? (Not me.)

There’s something odd about you that Michael can’t quite put his finger on.

He came all this way to the Devildom wearing a false face just to see Lucifer and his fallen brothers again. He didn’t know what to expect when he arrived—he certainly didn’t expect Satan, but that wasn’t the only surprise. He was afraid they’d be monstrous, fully embracing their new demonic natures and indulging in sin. He was concerned that perhaps they suffered devastating wounds from the fall—ones that can’t be seen with the naked eye but cut through the heart just as deep, similar to the ones he bears now too.

What he found instead was family. Their unbreakable loyalty to each other, their love that forged the path that started all this, their unmatched stubbornness to seek out the happiness they want. He wishes it were with him, but perhaps one day he can accept this.

He didn’t expect to meet Solomon or the strange human sorcerer Solomon calls his apprentice. You’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing, if Michael ever saw one. His brothers are drawn to you. Damn it all—they all are. How can you bewitch them so effortlessly?

He feels some spiteful satisfaction when he realizes that the depth of their love for you is not reciprocated. You keep them at arm’s length, skirting away from their flirtatious gestures and denying their obvious attempts to woo you. You treat them like family but he can tell by their poorly-concealed disappointment that they long for something more. 

There's a brief moment when he thinks Solomon might be your lover instead, but that’s also proven false. He lingers near Cocytus Hall discreetly to observe you—both of you—but he sees no proof that you’re more than friends living as roommates together in the Devildom.

Tonight he hides in one of the hallways near your shared accommodations with the pesky sorcerer. His enhanced hearing allows him to eavesdrop on your conversation, but it’s hardly needed right now. The muffled sounds of your fight with Solomon echo down the hall. Solomon sounds exasperated and you eventually fling the door open and storm towards the exit. He leaves a few minutes later, grumbling to himself about needing a stiff drink.

Once you're both gone, Michael lets himself inside and begins his investigation. Your accommodations are comfortable despite the faint scent of whatever Solomon last cooked in your shared kitchen. The sitting room is comfortable and clean, but it's too clean. Immaculate. Neither of you spend much time here.

The first closed door he opens leads him to your bedroom. He can detect the faint scent of the fragrance you like to wear, and some of your clothes are strewn across the floor. The bed is sloppily made, but it feels more welcoming than any of the other rooms he’s inspected so far.

There’s nothing unexpected or suspicious on the shelves. Your nightstand is bare except for a lamp and half-empty box of tissues. The small drawer underneath is slightly ajar, and he tugs on the handle. At first it appears empty except for a book, but he hears something rattle at the bottom of the drawer. He picks up the book and stares at the D.D.D. hidden underneath it.

He pulls his own D.D.D. from his pocket. The group chat with Simeon and Luke pings with a message you’ve just sent, something about picking up a surprise Luke baked for you.

If you have your D.D.D. with you now, then what device is this?

He picks it up carefully and inspects it, but his confusion grows even more. It’s a different size than the ones everyone else carries, and it doesn’t weigh the same, and the screen is scratched slightly. It looks worn, old, well-used. It has the wear-and-tear of someone who’s had it far longer than you’ve been in the Devildom if Solomon’s story about your arrival is to be believed.

He knows he can’t stay much longer. Solomon might be trying to drink himself into a stupor, but there’s no telling when you will return. That doesn’t stop him from sliding his finger along the side of the device until he finds the power button and turns it on. The KARASU OS logo flashes briefly on the screen, and even that looks different too. A small window for your passcode pops up, but Michael stares at the lock screen photo behind it. He would recognize that willow tree anywhere. He’s read underneath it, napped underneath it, and cried underneath it, because it’s in his private garden.

He should put this unwanted mystery back where he found it and leave, but he can't. An unfamiliar emotion makes his chest tighten. He feels compelled to keep looking. There’s an ominous feeling gnawing at his insides when his thumb hovers over the screen, but he taps the screen and unlocks the device. He’s not sure what worries him more: that your passcode is his birthday, or that he somehow knew it would be.

Sweat beads along his hairline and his throat feels bone-dry. He shouldn’t even be here but he can’t stop himself, not when your home screen photo is a picture of you and Luke in the kitchen of the Celestial Halls.

He taps quickly on the Messages app and picks one under his name at random. A video recording starts to play: this version of himself is in his bed in the Celestial Halls, lying comfortably against the pillows propped up against the headboard. He’s wearing linen sleep pants but no shirt, his long hair spilling loose across his bare shoulders.

“It’s late, little lamb. Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I thought I would look over some paperwork I neglected earlier. It turns out that I sleep poorly when you’re not here.”

“I’m glad it’s not just me. I miss you.”

“And I miss you. How soon do you think they’ll let you get away for another visit?”

“They might complain since I only just got back. Perhaps in a couple of weeks? That should give you time to come up with a reasonable excuse.”

“I can hardly wait.”

“Me too.”

“As much as I don’t want to cut our conversation short, you should try to rest.”

“I’ve been tossing and turning for the past two hours. I’m not sleepy.”

“Perhaps…hmm…would you like me to help you?”

“Oh, do you mean a lullaby? I love it when you sing.”

“I think I’d rather make you sing for me instead, little lamb. Go on and lay down for me. Let me see you—yes, like that, that’s perfect. Now, lift up your shirt and slide your fingers across your—”

He nearly drops the device when the front door opens and slams shut. There’s soft footfalls across the carpet in the sitting room and a soft, tired sigh. Yours. He needs to get out of here before you catch him. He scrambles to close the recording before shoving your spare D.D.D. back into the drawer. He disappears just as the doorknob starts to turn.

He stands in his temporary accommodations and his mind races. He’s stunned, paralyzed with so many questions and not enough answers. If he’s lucky, the device battery dies on its own before you notice it was tampered with.

He tries to dismiss this as a momentary distraction from the bigger issues at stake. He doesn’t want to imagine a version of himself that loves you so dearly, or what power would be strong enough to send you across time away from him, or what might prevent him from finding you—

He can't go down this path. He can’t afford to be sidetracked now. He’ll simply bury it with so many other secrets he’s forced to carry deep in his heart.

He won’t confront you about it. 

(He tries not to imagine what might happen if he does, good or bad.)

He refuses to dwell on it—not when you treat “Raphael” with kindness, and especially not when he notices the way your eyes look their brightest whenever his real name is mentioned.

When he returns home and considers the outlandish idea to attend RAD as himself, he’s tempted by selfish possibilities. He finally lets himself think of you once he’s alone in his garden, sitting underneath his favourite tree, and he smiles.

Obey Me! Masterlist

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me nightbringer spoilers #obey me michael #obey me michael x reader #michael x reader #obey me michael x mc #michael x mc #obey me michael x you #michael x you #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me fanfic #omswd fanfic #x reader #gn!reader

[candidateofloyalty]

In my mind the Persona trilogy protagonists are all top of their class but their methods and attitudes towards it vary wildly, so like Kotone was a decent student before coming to Tatsumi Port Island but then Mitsuru makes a comment about grades early on and Kotone dedicates herself to becoming top of the class without apparently trying just out of spite. She'll invite the group to Tartarus saying it's to train whoever isn't on the main fighting force but then she spends the whole time listening to audiobooks and vaguely waving her spear at shadows.

Makoto I think has mastered the art of putting in as little effort as possible for a grade. Does one class's homework in another class so he doesn't have to do it at home; half the time this is the period before the homework is due. He knows how to pad an essay and make it look like you're just being thorough about your research, netting you bonus points for less thought. It would be infuriating if he ever called anyone's attention to his scores but he's just coasting along.

Yu is a nerd. This kid organizes study sessions with his friends and takes notes in class and no one thinks twice about his grades because obviously.

Ren wanted to give off that impression when he first arrived at Shujin, visibly studying in the library and all, but he very quickly stops caring about that again now that he has friends and his reputation doesn't matter to him. What he also has is an excellent memory for trivia and a knack for bullshitting. He reads a book about shogi to try to impress Hifumi and two months later he finds a way to make a shogi analogy while explaining something in class that obscures the fact that he's parroting what the teacher just said. (This also drives Akechi crazy, because Akechi will painstakingly decide his stance through research and then Ren will go "well I don't know about that exact thing, but" and then somehow have an angle that Akechi didn't know about. Someday Ren will chain himself through three different fun facts and only hold back from a fourth when Akechi "jokingly" threatens to throttle him.)

#this post brought to you by getting thrown out of a fic every time a protagonist has less than perfect grades #i'm aware it's a valid way to play the game #but i must max out all my numbers right now #p3 #p4 #p5 #persona 3 #persona 4 #persona 5

[lady-rose-moon]

Understanding Home Alone || Loki x Reader || Secret Santa fic!!

A/N: hello everybody, this is my entry for @fictive-sl0th Secret Santa fics! My fic is for @cultofcarter, your request was so interesting and the Christmas movie idea was perfect! I went for a Christmas classic, however, I hope you don't mind.

Fic dedicated to: @cultofcarter

Word count: 1.6K

Contents: fluff, christmas movie commentary, slightly sad ending with hopeful meanings

PLEASE ENJOY AND HAVE A MERRY CHRISTMAS!

As December rolled around again, you were excited to finally spend it with the one you’d desired to for so long. Now that you had gotten over the nervousness of being in a relationship with the villain turned Avenger Loki Laufeyson, you were fully prepared to be the most annoying girlfriend in the history of girlfriends this Christmas season. The God of Mischief was no stranger to Christmas, he told you as much, expressing his sorrows for turning Yuletide into Christmas some years ago and you grinned at the idea of showing him movies dedicated to the Christmas Spirit.  

The morning your decision was put into the making, you’d managed to sneak into Loki’s bedroom and decorate his room with green decoration, including a small Christmas tree that you’d stolen from one of the floors of Avengers Compound. Tony wouldn’t miss it.  

“Loki!” you called out with a grin as he roused from his sleep, his ebony curls deliciously falling around his shoulders as he sat up in bed to stare at you tiredly. The moment he registered the difference in the room, he raised an eyebrow at you and you only smiled back innocently with a soft, “what?” 

“What have you done to my chambers?” the God demanded, looking around the room with a grimace as you shifted on your feet, unsure as to whether he was happy or unhappy. 

“Well... it’s Christmas time so I decided to decorate your room to have some fun for Christmas!” you replied with an uneasy smile, your body tense as you tried to figure out what the God in front of you was thinking to the redecorating. “I know you usually don’t dabble in the seasons but... it could be fun, just me and you watching movies and having Christmas cookies?” you added, gesturing to the tupperware full of Christmas cookies you’d baked a few hours earlier.  

The God of Mischief's lips twitched slightly as he took in the sight of you standing proudly next to your handiwork. It made sense that he wouldn't love the idea of something being changed in his personal space, but there was no denying that a part of that twitch was from a soft smile. His eyes drifted to the tupperware container and the cookies it held. 

 "You baked Christmas cookies?" he asked, a soft tone to his voice in spite of the amusement in his eyes. "And you said watching movies? What movie would we be watching?" 

Loki rolls his eyes, but he has to smile a little at the adorable attitude you have towards Christmas. It's a sweet, endearing trait that the God has noticed about you. 

He grabs the container of Christmas cookies by your side and takes a bite of one before he turns his attention to the movie you're putting on. "Fine, home alone can be fun," he says with a half-hearted shrug, though you have the feeling that he secretly loves the idea. 

You eagerly sat on the bed, Christmas cookies open between you and Loki as the movie began. When you looked over to Loki, you saw that he'd conjured up a book, his eyes flitting across the words then to the screen every so often. *That's fine*, you thought to yourself as you turned back to the TV, *at least he was spending time with you*. 

As the movie began, you bunched your legs up and hugged them, resting your chin on your knees with a contented sigh. All of this was so special to you, the tradition going back so far that you could barely remember the Christmas it started with your family. "Look whatcha did ya little jerk," you repeated the line with a grimace after Kevin spilled the milk over everything in the movie, grinning when Uncle Frank said it just seconds later, turning to Loki with delight, catching him watching the screen before his eyes darted down to his book. 

As you eat your Christmas cookies and watch the movie, Loki enjoys himself in his own way. He's watching both the movie and reading his book at once, only stopping when he wants to focus on one thing or another. 

Loki feels his eyes drift to you from time to time, as if he's drawn back to the sight of you every so often. Your adorable personality shines through in the small moments of interaction, and even though he may not show it, he's certainly having a great time. 

"Oh, darling! This movie isn't meant to be serious!" you tease, turning to him with a mischievous smile. He's so concerned and it brings a smile to your face, knowing to anybody else it would seem as if he doesn’t care. But with you? Yeah, you’re definitely his Achilles heel. "It's a comedy about a child getting into all sorts of hijinks!" 

You chuckle at him and nudge him playfully, grinning when he reacts accordingly. "It's called 'Home Alone', remember?" 

Loki huffed, leaning back against the wall, his eyes glued to the TV screen as Kevin explores the house alone. He didn't understand how a family could just leave and forget that their child was upstairs still, no alarm clock to wake him and Fuller had been moved so Kevin wouldn't have to sleep with a bed-wetter. Even with the annoying child across the road coming to annoy the leaving family, that made no excuse for someone checking for Kevin in the bus or in the airport!  

"Loki, come on," you chided with an affectionate smile, handing him a snowman cookie with a soft smile, "he's fine!" 

Continuing on with the movie, you watched Loki's reactions intently as the neighbour - the supposed antagonist - appeared in the shop, causing Kevin to retreat without paying for his toothbrush. "I'm a criminal," you whispered Kevin's line, grinning as Kevin said it seconds later then you smiled wider as Harry and Marv were seen in the van and almost hit Kevin. Loki flinches as the van stops just milliseconds before it could hit Kevin and then watches with bated breath as Kevin hides in the Nativity from the robbers.  

"For a Christmas movie, this has serious storytelling, why do they even care about the child?" Loki muttered to himself, a look of disbelief appearing on his face. 

"I feel like you have these moments where you think you're being all cold and logical, but then your heart just takes over and you're suddenly way more invested than you ever intended to be!" you tell Loki, poking him playfully. 

Loki watches the movie with intense interest, his eyes glued to the screen. He can't seem to take his eyes off the situation, a slight worry forming on his face. When the scene changes to the house full of "life", however, he is confused. When he sees inside, noticing that it was just a deception to scare away the robbers, he sighed in relief and whispered, "kid's a master of mischief." 

As the movie progresses and the pair of robbers break into the house, Loki is focused on the movie in a way you haven't seen him focused on anything so far. His eyes fill with tension as he watches Kevin set up his home alone booby traps, his brow furrowing in concern. When he looks away from the screen, he is visibly anxious in a way you haven't seen from him before. 

He turns to you but can't seem to ask any questions, his lips twitching slightly as his nerves get the better of him. "You... you think this kid needs help? Normal kids would never do this" he asks nervously. 

"It's exaggerated, Loki," you grinned with a shake of your head before you went quiet, watching the scene where Marv and Harry try to break in, laughing at all of the ways that they get hurt then when they get arrested, you looked over at him and whispered, "definitely took notes from your mischief, Mischief!" 

"You still gave him a run for his money, Loki, best believe you grew from your mistakes!" you whispered before you became transfixed with the screen again, watching Kevin reunite with his mother and you see Loki stiffen before a tear formed in his eye. You knew why. He missed his mother. He missed his family. You took that moment to snuggle in close to him and feel his heart beating beneath your ear, in this moment you were the only thing that existed to him. 

As you cuddle up against him and put an arm around the God, he leans his head against your shoulder with his eyes still glued to the screen. There has been plenty of times when you've known that Loki can act like a child, but this is something new altogether. You feel him lean against you more, and that tear still rests in his eyes as he's clearly reliving some memories. There is a sadness to the God as he remembers his home and family, and he rests his head against your chest, hoping to find some comfort in your embrace. 

You sat up, looking Loki in the eye before wiping the tear gently and whispering, “your mother waits for you in Asgard, Loki. When you have fulfilled your servitude here, she will be allowed to see you. It is only a matter of time.” 

With a gentle smile, Loki leaned into your touch and gazed up into your eyes while whispering, “merry Christmas, Y/N.” 

His words kept ringing in your mind, how sorrowful and lonely he felt. You knew that as long as he remained here on Earth, he would never truly be happy. 

“Merry Christmas, Loki,” you responded softly, feeling him shudder against you with sadness, pressing a kiss to the God’s forehead, “you’ll be able to show me Asgard soon.” 

@lokisgoodgirl @lokisninerealms @slpnbty2001 @jennyggggrrr @hahaha12123445 @ozymdias @holdmytesseract @itsybitchylittlewitchy @lovingchoices14 @xorpsbane @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbs @nerdy-fangirl-65 @lonadane @silverfire475 @chantsdemarins @iamsherlocked1479 @kittiowolf210 @just-someone11 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loki-laufeyson-1054 @fictive-sl0th @coldnique @anukulee @eleniblue @asgards-princess-of-mischief

#loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston #loki fluff #loki laufeyson x reader #mcu loki #reblog please #tom hiddleston character x reader #loki hurt/comfort #loki x you #hot loki #FictiveSlothSecretSanta #Camilles Secret Santa #Secret Santa 2023

[bonefall]

could fern leaf be a former park cat or something that clear sky sends to spy on tall shadow & then defects? or, since she’s important to the rescue of star flower in the books, maybe she could be involved with one-eye somehow…? even though star flower is totally different now, so she doesn’t really Need rescuing from any situation she’s in that you’ve talked about so far. guess it depends on which aspects of the character best serve the story, and whether she would work better as part of DOTC proper or thunder’s SE

i also genuinely can’t remember if bb!clear sky’s original M.O. for his group is Tribe Cats Only, or if he is willing to take in anyone who kisses his ass enough. could make sense if fern leaf (or more accurately, any tom willing to vouch for her) appeals to clear sky enough. hell, maybe she could be a mole on one-eye’s behalf instead?

(Follow up ask to this post)

The new rub to the formation of the groups in BB is that there is two distinct cultures in the forest: Park Cats and Tribe Cats. They're divided by a language barrier, with the Park Cats speaking Parkmew and the Tribe cats speaking what we now call Old Tribemew.

So Clear Sky doesn't have the same "options" like canon. These ""rogues"" don't speak his language and he simply would not learn even if the chance was offered to him. It doesn't even really cross his mind that these are full people to reach out to; in his mind they're intruders. The flavor of bigotry in the modern era hasn't quite evolved yet, so he has the most straightforward kind of xenophobia you can imagine.

He only starts changing his mind after the First Battle, after his revelation, when he's back on his bullshit in Thunderstar's Justice. In my head it's kind of like... a mockery of Thunder Storm's way of life, that allowed him to live in defiance of him for so long. "See, now I do what you do. Since Gray Wing approved of you so much." kinda thing

There's two park cat groups; The River Kingdom, and The Wind Coalition.

The first conflict the Sun Trail Pioneers run into is with WindCo up on the moor, who chases them down into the forest! The Park cats who lived in the forest weren't united, just various individuals that had little "homestead" territories.

The conflicts with them start after the Shadow/Sky split that follows the death of Jagged Peak. Shadow's Clan moved eastward into the caves at Snakerocks, where no one bothered them, but Sky's Clan started getting hostile towards the little homesteads and pushing cats westward, back to the River Kingdom.

SO with that recap out of the way...

I have two and a half-ish cats already that I'm heavily interested in using to turn on Clear Sky for Thunder's Clan. So I'm not sure how to slot Fern Leaf in there.

1: Snake. Snake is the only cat in-canon who said that maybe Clear Sky shouldn't be their leader after letting One Eye into the Clan against all warnings, and then he gets DOGPILED for it, and the very next book shoves him into the arms of Slash to undermine the fact that they accidentally gave him a good fucking point.

I'm RIDICULOUSLY fond of him because of this. I love him out of spite. I've spoken before about how I plan for him to be a Tribe-descended cat, and a lot of that is because I want to keep his goon roles serving Clear Sky. One of which is that he is going to badly injure Sunlit Frost in the First Battle.

So thinking about it... it makes the most sense for Snake to turn on Clear Sky in Thunderstar's Justice. Still unsure when. But if I have any roles where a cat needs to get help, stop a battle, or call Clear Sky out for making a really bad decision, it's gotta be him.

I'll keep him in my hand for a while; this feels like a piece that will fall into place.

I'm also unsure of what family he's going into. I keep waffling on it. I'm leaning towards the Claw family and possibly the son of Fox, since he's going to be living a bit longer. He's going to be about the same age as Thunder Storm, maybe a bit older.

2: Red Claw Since Acorn Fur is now Acorn Swoop, and she's not nonsensically going to go join the guy who killed both of her parents because it would be too sad to go home where they're not alive, her love interest has to end up in Thunder's Clan.

I'm already pretty committed to making Petal into Petal Claw and Fox into Fox Claw, so it follows that Red Claw would be in the family. Thinking about it, maybe Red should be the son of Fox instead...

Especially because he could defect earlier. Moth Flight's Vision is totally overhauled anyway and I'm planning to shift a lot of the original plot to something for another character anyway...

Plus, enemies-to-lovers is fun and I haven't really had a chance to do it yet. Acorn Swoop is absolutely the kind of punk who would nab one of her worst enemy's best soldiers, and the type of nerd who would frame it like her biggest catch yet.

("OI THUNDER!! LOOKIE WHAT THE CAT DRAGGED IN")

And most relevantly... this is leaving Fern Leaf's backstory up in the air. Him leading a dog pack into the heart of camp and getting Beech and Frog killed is what kicked off the Bunny Bones plot of the original MFV that I like so much, and I feel like it's an important part of Fern Leaf.

So not only am I here planning Red Claw as a high priority for being someone to turn against Clear Sky, but also, he complicates Fern Leaf a bit.

Maybe I should step back a bit on the two and start from scratch with them, and replace their backstories with new ones that preserve the "emotional core." I'll have to think about it.

That 1/2 Cat: Alder or Birch The kits that are stolen from Misty, that queen who was murdered by Clear Sky and whose kits are given to Petal. In BB, that's something I want to examine for how fucked up it is. It becomes the basis of Kit Stealing later, an awful practice that the Clans will struggle with for many generations.

These ones are SUPER important, but I say 1/2 because it doesn't have to be Thunder's Clan they turn for. But I do want one of them to eventually learn their origin, and end up finding their family in River Kingdom or the Wind Coalition.

I mention them because I keep going back and forth on if they're going to get combined with other characters. Basically imagine me next to a big conspiracy chart and I'm connecting a big red line between possible plot threads back to Fern Leaf. Maybe her? Maybe she can be one of the stolen kits?

I could even make it so Birch is actually an older sibling, or a half-sibling, or one from the same litter who was saved... maybe even end up making it a litter of 4. Slots in well with her canon story, too, where she mentions her mother abandoned her.

The truth can be that it was a lie. Her mother didn't abandon her. One of them was murdered and the other was chased off.

And, of course, I could save her to be a "One Eye Cultist." None of my drafts so far have brought in any extra followers of One Eye who will follow him from place-to-place besides Star Flower herself. I would like to add some, and that's a fine place for Fern Leaf, but somehow I feel like I can do her better.

#better bones au #BB!DOTC #BB!Fern Leaf #also for the record I am both Very sorry and Not sorry that-- #--Acorn Swoop ended up changing so much from her mild-toned canon counterpart lmaooo #My lover showed me a clip of a british TV show with a character called Vyvyan ranting about bad sitcoms #RIGHT around the time I first designed her #Because I was yelling about the original arc and partner was like ''this is u (affectionate)'' #And somehow that evolved into an inside joke about Acorn Swoop and now I cannot unhear it #''being hungry makes me lose my easygoing approach to living with other cats'' #(THROWS A MOLOTOV AT SKY'S CLAN)

[fiddleabout]

chef au sneak peak part deux

“One of the guests,” he says.  “She asked to see you, said that she knows you.”

Beatrice blinks at him owlishly.  “Pardon?”

Ashish shrugs, looking stricken.  “The 10:30 at table seven,” he says, as if that explains anything.  

“Do you have a name?”  Beatrice fights the urge to pinch at the bridge of her nose to ward off the way frustration is building in her as much as confusion is.  Ava takes her frustration in stride these days, had done so even before they became-- whatever they are now, heated and physical and entwined in each other’s lives to a truly excessive degree that Beatrice cannot find it in herself to worry about-- but half of the staff crumple in the face of it.

“Oh,” Ashish says, suddenly fumbling for his notepad.  Beatrice swallows the sigh she wants to let out, because there’s no possible way that he actually wrote the name on a reservation down on his notepad.  “Um--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Beatrice says, as kindly as she can after watching him flip through the pad frantically.  “I’ll take a look.  Thank you.”

Ashish shoves the notepad back into his apron pocket, squeaks out something shrill and unintelligible, and immediately flees the vicinity.  Beatrice watches him go, letting out a heavy sigh.

“What was that?” Chanel appears at her elbow, a decanted bottle of wine in one hand and a chef’s knife in the other, one eyebrow flicked upwards.  

“I have no idea.”  Beatrice sighs again.  “He said table seven knows me.”

Chanel’s eyebrow flicks up higher.  “Expecting someone?”

She doesn’t wait for Beatrice to answer, shoving the wine into Beatrice’s hand and blindly handing the knife to Ava, who barely blinks at the interruption as she tastes one of the sauces and then yells for the saucier.  Beatrice watches, frozen, as Chanel weaves her way through the kitchen and pokes her head out the door into the main restaurant for a long moment and then turns back to face her.

“Fun-sized bag of springs, tall smokeshow with spectacular cheekbones?”

“You’re one to talk,” Michelle says as she bustles past Chanel, flicking the towel over her shoulder towards Chanel’s cheekbones on her way over to Ava.  

Camila and Lilith.  Lilith is here, at their restaurant, with her pastry chef, on a Thursday when her own is surely booked solid.  She left her own restaurant to come here.  

“Shit,” Beatrice mutters.  She tries to swallow the inexplicable panic rising in her chest-- Lilith is her best friend, there’s no reason she should be panicking at seeing her-- and glances at the clock.  It’s half past eleven and the restaurant is still almost completely full, an uncharacteristically busy Wednesday; this is the first break Beatrice has had since the dinner rush started.  

“You good?” Ava appears at Beatrice’s elbow, one eyebrow raised and a hand holding out a spoon towards Beatrice’s mouth.  “Here, taste this.”

Beatrice takes the spoon blindly.  It’s muhammara, delicious and one of her favorites but also very much not on the menu for the night, and the discomfort in her chest pivots immediately.

“Why--”

“It’s your favorite, and we had way too many walnuts.”  Ava shrugs, smiles, shoves the bowl of muhammara and piece of pita into Beatrice’s hands.  “Also, you didn’t eat before the dinner rush because we--”

“Thank you,” Beatrice hurries out, cutting Ava off before she can go into lurid detail about how they’d both forgotten to eat before it got busy because they were otherwise occupied by Ava bending Beatrice over her desk in her tiny office.  “But--”

“It took like five minutes,” Ava says with another shrug, intentionally casual in spite of the faint flush dusting over her cheeks and the fact that they both know that she’s lying.  

The twist of panic in Beatrice’s chest vanishes abruptly, because Ava made her muhammara in the middle of a busy night just so she would eat.  She wants to kiss her, wants to drag her back into her office and pick up where they left off when they were busy skipping the lull before the dinner rush; instead, all she can do is clutch the food Ava offered her and stare at her with wonder like she so often does, irrevocably and overwhelmingly charmed.

“Thank you,” Beatrice says softly.

“If you two are quite done.”  Chanel’s reclaimed her knife from where she’d handed it off to Ava and points at Ava and then Beatrice with it.  “Someone is asking for Beatrice outside.”

“What?” Ava’s eyebrows crease.

“Lilith is here,” Beatrice sighs out.  She busies herself with swiping a corner of the pita through the muhammara and shoving it into her mouth, as much to buy time as to deal with the fact that she’s realized suddenly that she is, in fact, starving. 

“Lilith?”  Ava says, straightening up as her eyes widen.

“Wait,” Chanel says.  “Do you mean Lilith as in the executive chef at Per Se?”

“I mean Lilith, Beatrice’s best friend,” Ava says, an almost indecipherable tinge of panic in her voice.

“Who is also the chef at Per Se, yes,” Beatrice says heavily.  

“Well, shit,” Chanel says.  She points at Beatrice with the knife again.  Six months ago, it would have irritated Beatrice, the casual way Chanel is pointing an incredibly sharp knife at her; now, she’s used to it, the way that Ava and Chanel both are prone to using knives as laser pointers.  “Is she here to shoot Ava?”

“Hey!”

“Potentially,” Beatrice says, sighing.  They haven’t told Chanel, not really, but she’s smart and obnoxiously perceptive, so it’s hardly surprising that she immediately assumes that Beatrice’s best friend is here to threaten her girlfriend with an early exit and a shallow grave.  

“Hey!” Ava says again.  “I could hold my own, you never know.”

“You can’t,” Beatrice says in unison with Chanel.  Ava glares at her, her fake indignation so endearing that Beatrice nearly gives up on trying to be professional when they’re in front of the staff, nearly kisses her.  Instead, she takes another bite of the muhammara, inelegant and oversized, before handing it back to Ava so she can dig her phone out of her pocket to text Lilith.

I can’t leave right now.  We’re swamped.  

A response pops up immediately.  Chickenshit, which means Lilith is in a good mood.  I can wait until you close up for the night.  And then: Don’t worry, we’ll tip your tiny little zoomer waiter heavy.

#posting this bc i made a deal (a bribe) #with the devil (tumblr user piratekane) #and im holding up my end of the bargain #writing tag #warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #no i do not know when the chapter will be done please do not ask

[captain-azoren]

Zuko doesn't hate Azula because she abused him. She isn't his abuser, Ozai is, and Zuko has never been scared of her or been reduced to tears by her, no matter how mean she's been to him. Hell, if she really WAS his abuser, she would have actually tormented him while he was back in the Fire Nation instead of being as chill with her brother as she was.

No, Zuko hates Azula out of envy. He always has and he still does to an extent. Zuko indicates as much when he compares Aang to Azula while he has him in Siege of the North.

"You're like my sister. Everything always came easy to her. She's a firebending protege, and everyone adores her. My father says she was born lucky; he says I was lucky to be born. I need don't need luck, though. I don't want it. I've always had to struggle and fight, and that's made me strong. That's made me who I am."

Notice he doesn't talk about how cruel she was towards him. Zuko covets the strength, the skill, the adoration, and the "love" from Ozai that Azula has. He believes it's unfair how she was lucky to be born a prodigy and how it all comes easy to her while he is made to struggle and suffer because he wasn't born so lucky. Zuko copes by telling himself that his struggle gives him a strength Azula doesn't have, without ever considering she may have her own struggles.

Even after he defects and rejects Ozai, Zuko can't help but resent Azula for being stronger than him, and instead of getting over those feelings, he looks forward to finally overcoming his sister who had always been the superior bender.

What's more, Iroh gets Zuko to learn lightning redirection by telling him it's something Azula doesn't know how to do, so there's that.

As much abuse as Zuko has been through because of Ozai, his anger and hatred towards Azula ultimately is for negative and misguided reasons which, unfortunately, I don't think Bryke or the show in general actually realize are toxic. Zuko is a victim, but he still has a victim complex and an inferiority complex that, while understandable, isn't excusable, yet the show ends up vindicating this toxic behavior anyway.

Zuko isn't some poor little baby that was tortured by his mean, cruel sister. He was a competitive hothead who was pitted against his sister by their abusive father and became bitter and angry when he could never get the better of her. It's not his fault, it's not her fault, but he isn't her victim in this scenario, and his hatred towards Azula is not justifiable the way it should be towards Ozai. What he actually hates her for isn't for any act of malice towards him, but for what she is and what she has.

Not to say Azula makes it easy. She's unapologetic about being superior and will rub Zuko's face in it, but Ozai made them rivals, and if Zuko insisted on fighting her and being her enemy every step of the way then she has little reason to pull her punches. I don't believe Azula was smug about being better than Zuko if he wasn't also as confrontational and belligerent as he is, always trying to prove himself better than her out if spite.

When Zuko finally has all that he thinks he wants in the first half of Book 3, when they aren't enemies, they actually get along.

#azula #zuko #atla #meta #Avatar the last airbender #avatar

[topguncortez]

Worth Fighting For | Maverick Mitchell

masterlist | One Year TG celebration

synopsis: Maverick can't help but fight for who he loves

word count: 2.5k

warnings: sexism, fighting, cursing, mentions of canon character death, oblivious friends to lovers

“Why should I have to respect her? She’s a-“

Maverick knew that it probably wasn’t a good idea to go to the O Club on a night after an exam.

He knew the whole place would be crawling with young pilots wanting to blow off steam from a stressful week of flights and studying for the exam. He also knew there would be a handful of spiteful pilots who were pissed about their exam grades. But there was no arguing a grade when every single question was multiple choice.

Maverick had a love-hate relationship with his position at top gun. He hated being chained to a classroom most days. He hated lecturing. He hated having to teach “by the book”. He hated having to answer to Ron Kerner of all people.

but he did love teaching young pilots and seeing them excel throughout the course. And he also loved getting to work with the love of his life day after day.

You and Maverick knew that there was no replacing your brother, Goose. You had been on the ground in the rec room hearing every single bit of the accident and had begged Viper to let you get on the rescue chopper. It was the worst day of your lives to go up to Carole’s door and tell her that her husband was dead. 

But before the accident, the two of you were never really close. You always saw Maverick as Goose’s annoying, hotshot best friend, and Maverick saw you as his RIO’s little sister. But after the accident, everything had changed. He had been driving your brother when he died, and you saved Maverick’s life in the middle of the Indian Ocean. Maverick had found the courage later that night to ask you out, but that dream was squashed when he saw Tom Kazansky leading you to his room. 

You didn’t know that Maverick had caught you that night, and he never did bring it up. The two of you both seemed to just brush off that night and continue on as best friends. Now, the two of you were both instructors at TopGun, alongside Ice and Slider. 

Even though you were one of the best pilots in the Navy, the Navy didn’t seem to treat you with that kind of respect. You were the same rank as your male counterparts and had higher ASVAB and GT scores. You also graduated top of your class at the Academy. You were almost as decorated, if not more decorated than Ice. . . but because you were a girl, everyone seemed to turn the other way. You tried your best to not let it bother you, rolling back your shoulders and keeping your head held high with confidence. But some days it got the better of you, and it would be clearly drawn across your face. 

“Ignore what that prick said to you. He’s just pissed ‘cause his boy failed the test,” Slider said to you, pushing a shot of tequila toward you. 

You sighed, “It’s not even the fact that Captain Holloway yelled at me, it’s the fact that he did it in front of Viper. And fucking Viper just stood there!” 

“Because he knows you can handle it,” Ice chimed, “He knows you can handle your own. You don’t need us for backup.” 

“Well, it would’ve been nice, assholes,” You chided and grabbed the shot in front of you. Maverick watched as you tilted your head back and downed it in one go. 

Everyone knew that having a legacy student in the class was going to cause some complications, but no one expected Captain Holloway to drive across base and demand to see the “half-wit instructor” who gave his son a failing grade on his exam. Iceman had originally stood up, preparing to take the fall for it, but you stood up instead, taking 100% accountability. Captain Holloway let you know how angry he was that his son had failed and was being kicked out of TopGun, his face growing red with anger and the vein in his forehead pulsing. But you just stood calmly, letting the old naval aviator get his frustration out. And when he was done yelling and insulting your intelligence, you handed him his son’s failed exam and the answer key, telling him to look through and see it for himself. 

“I think I’m gonna turn in,” You said, causing groans to arise from Slider and Iceman, “Yeah, yeah, cry me a damn river.” You slid out of the booth, and retrieved your wallet to toss a couple of bills on the table to cover your drinks, “It was nice gossiping with you ladies, but I am beat. I’ll see you Monday.” 

“Goodnight, Hawk,” Maverick said, as you turned to leave. You gave him a small smile before grabbing your cap and getting lost in the sea of naval officers. 

The booth was silent for just a moment, and Maverick looked down at the drink in front of him, until an ice cube hit him right in the forehead. He lifted his head up and furrowed his eyebrows at Slider, who had a guilty grin on his face. 

“What the fuck, Slider?” Maverick asked. 

“No, you what the fuck,” Slider said. 

“‘Goodnight, Hawk’?” Ice asked and Maverick looked at him confused, “She had an awful day and you say all of three words to her the whole night? What the hell is your deal?” 

Maverick rolled his eyes and sat back in the booth, “You said she had it handled, and she did. She didn’t need any additional sympathy.” 

“God, no wonder you couldn’t keep Charlie around,” Slider mumbled. 

Maverick scoffed, before downing his beer, “I’m getting another drink.” 

“Oh, me too?” Slider asked, holding up his rocks glass. 

“Suck my johnson, Kerner,” Maverick cursed as he left the two pilots in the booth. 

Maverick nodded to Tony as he bellied up at the bar, sliding his empty beer bottle across the dark wood. He knew that his feelings towards Hawk were very one-sided and that everyone could see it. Hell, even Charlie could see it for the short amount of time they were together. Maverick was always at your beck and call, always right by your side when you needed him. Charlie had confronted Maverick about it a couple of days before she left for DC. But there was nothing Maverick could do, you were Ice’s girl. . . well, as far as anyone knew, you were Ice’s girl. 

“Did you see Commander Bradshaw was here?” Maverick turned his head slightly, seeing two of his young pilots walking up to the bar, “Can’t believe she’d even come to a place like this.” 

The other pilot, a blonde one that Maverick couldn’t remember the name of, but didn’t like, smirked, “Of course, she’d be here. They gotta get her loosened up somehow.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Didn’t you see who she was with? Maverick, Slider, and Ice. . . It’s not rocket surgery to know how she got her job.” 

Maverick clenched his jaw as Tony set a fresh beer in front of him. He muttered thanks and slid some bills out of his wallet, still listening to the young pilots insult you. 

“Did you see the way she nearly cried today? God, I wish Viper would’ve fired her,” The Blonde pilot said, “She doesn’t know her shit. She’s slow in the air. She acts like a fucking twat anytime Maverick is-” 

Maverick slammed his beer bottle down, causing the two pilots to look at him. From across the bar, Slider and Ice turned their heads to see the showdown starting to happen. 

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Iceman muttered, seeing Maverick’s small frame try to square up to a taller pilot. 

“You two,” Maverick said, pointing between the two pilots, “Need to watch what you say about your commander.” 

The Blonde scoffed, “For what fucking reason? You clearly didn’t have a thing to say when Captain Holloway was ripping her a new one.” 

Maverick could feel the blood pulsing through his body as his hands started to shake with rage, “He’s her superior, you are not. You need to treat Commander Bradshaw with respect.”

“Why the fuck should I have to show her any respect? She’s a-” 

Nobody heard the last part of the blonde pilot’s sentence, because Maverick had punched him right in the jaw. Gasps were heard throughout the club as Maverick grabbed the pilot’s collar, and punched him again, a sickening crack filling the air. But the blonde didn’t stay down for long, reeling his head back and headbutting Maverick. Maverick groaned, lunging forward to throw another punch, but was held back by Ice. Slider grabbed the other pilot and pulled him away from the bar. 

“No more fucking scenes, Mitchell,” Ice muttered in his ear, dragging him towards the front door of the O Club. 

Maverick didn’t put up any protests as Ice put him in the car, and drove down the familiar streets to your house. Instead, Maverick looked down at his split knuckles and occasionally wiped away the blood falling from his nose. When the two of them arrived at your house, Ice told Maverick to stay in the car, as he jogged up to your front door. Maverick watched out the window as you came to the door, a smirk on your face, your body clad in a silk nightgown. Then he watched the smirk fall as Iceman pointed towards the passenger seat where Mav was at. He gave you a small wave, and you rolled your eyes, walking into your house. 

Ice jogged back to the car, and pulled open the passenger side door, “C’mon, she said she’ll fix you up.” Maverick just huffed and looked down at his hands, “Quit being a fucking toddler and get out of the car.” 

Maverick complied and got out of the car. He walked up the steps to your front door, finding it slightly ajar, and walked in. You were already laying out first aid supplies on the coffee table, and now you had a sheer robe covering your silk nightgown. Maverick felt bad as he shuffled his feet and sat down on your couch, already knowing this all too familiar drill. You sat down next to him, your knee gently brushing his khaki-clad thigh, as you grabbed his face and turned his head towards you. 

“What have I told you about getting into fights?” You asked. 

“It was for a good cause,” Maverick gave you that all too sweet signature smirk. But you saw right through it, just like your brother once had, “Some pilots were talking shit about you. I couldn’t just not do anything.” 

You nodded your head, reaching forward on the coffee table and getting a cotton ball. You doused it in hydrogen peroxide, then grabbed Maverick’s bloodied hand. He hissed as you touched the cleaning agent to the split skin. 

“You realize you can’t punch every aviator who says something bad about me,” You briefly glanced up from cleaning his hand, “It won’t end well for you.” 

“It’s a chance I’m willing to take.” 

“Well I’m not going to let you,” You sighed, putting the sullied cotton ball on a paper towel. You grabbed a roll of gauze and wrapped it around his hand. Maverick could tell that there was something you wanted to say. You and Goose were the exact same; clenching your jaw and letting out small sighs when there was something right on the tip of your tongue that you wanted to say. 

“Just say it,” Maverick said. 

You looked up at him for a moment and then back down at his hand, “I put in my resignation letter to Viper.” 

“What?” Maverick pulled his hand away from you, “Well. . . go take it back.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Yes, you can!” Maverick shouted, standing up from your couch, “I quit TopGun and came back, you surely can go take your resignation letter-” 

“I’m not going to,” You said calmly. You let out a deep breath and patted the spot next to you for Maverick to sit. He kept his emerald eyes on you as he sat back down. You grabbed his good hand, and held it in both of yours, “I am not going to take my resignation letter back. I realized today when Captain Holloway was yelling at me, that this isn’t what I want to do. I only took the job because it was what Goose wanted. He wanted to get first so he could get the teaching job and have something more permanent for Bradley and Carole. But teaching, being chained to a classroom? It’s just not me.” 

Maverick totally understood where you were coming from. He thought so many times about writing his resignation letter, but the one thing that stopped him was you and the feelings he had. But now, he wasn’t so sure if his love for teaching was enough to keep him at TopGun. 

“And, normally, I would never ask this of anyone, let alone a fucking guy,” You said and Maverick snapped his head towards you, “But. . . uh. . . come with me?” 

“What?” Maverick asked, his jaw slightly open in awe. 

“Come with me,” You said, “You hate teaching as much as I do and I don’t think that I-” 

You were cut off by Maverick’s lips on yours. You were frozen for only a split second before you kissed him back, your hands going to rest on his cheeks. He pulled back first for air, looking into those eyes that he had known to love so much. But then, it all came crashing down and Maverick realized what he had done. 

“Oh my god, Hawk,” Maverick said, getting up from the couch. You tried to ignore the pang in your chest as he walked to the other side of the room, “I’m so sorry. I know that you are with Ice and that was so-” 

“Wait, what? What did you just say?” 

“That I’m sorry.” 

“No, after that.” 

“You are with Ice.” 

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing at Maverick’s words. You had heard some ridiculous rumors about yourself, but this was definitely a new one. Maverick’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched tears fall down your cheeks as you clutched your belly from laughing so hard. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had seen you laugh like this, but it had to have been before Goose died. 

“Oh God, Maverick, you are so funny,” You said, wiping a tear from your eye, “Me? With Tom?” You shook your head as more giggles fell from your mouth. 

“But after the Indian Ocean-” 

“He had one of my gloves in his room, I went to get it back,” You said. 

“And tonight? That smirk on your face when he was at the door?” 

“I thought he was coming over to watch The Shinning again,” You shrugged, “He obsessed with it and is wearing out my damn tape.” 

Maverick cocked his head to the side, “So nothing is going on with you and Ice?” 

“Other than his obsession with VHS player.” 

“Oh God, I’m an idiot,” Maverick said, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, you are,” You responded, “Now come over here and kiss me again.”

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[buckybarnesss]

As the Christmas crawls towards us, what ridiculous, slightly horrifying holiday tradition do you think the Hales have?

I fully believe that Peter locks himself in the kitchen and just transforms into Sandra Lee (just doing vodka shots while baking), while Talia drives around the neighborhood to scope out everyone else's decorations so they can one-up them next year.

talia and peter are the most unhinged, competitive, gayle waters-waters, unholy abominations of the christmas spirit to unleash on beacon hills.

i refuse to believe otherwise. holidays are totally their thing and they are insane about it.

peter "two shots of vodka" hale makes gingerbread houses and eggnog.

talia plans the christmas card all year. she books a photographer months in advance because sears is for the poors.

peter will sabotage someone's christmas lights so only half of them work and he will watch from his car as the homeowner tries to figure out what happened.

peter has also popped more than one blow-up lawn decoration out of spite.

talia once stole someone's baby jesus after her sugar cookies were insulted at the holiday bake sale.

peter and talia draw up a seating chart and they have included both star signs and myers-briggs to justify it.

talia is that mom that personally gave her kid's teachers presents each year and peter brought his to die for cupcakes for class parties.

these two would rent a santa, create a winter wonderland on their property and let the neighborhood kids take pictures and give little goody bags.

they also did little things like popcorn strings for the tree and decorate it together.

talia kept every ornament the kids made in school and put them on the tree every year.

lastly derek got his own special birthday party so he didn't feel like he had to share with christmas. i feel like this was very important for talia to implement.

#my blog #thoughts on teen wolf #they would be so fucking extra #the hale family feels #growing up we had a house in the neighborhood that would do pictures with santa #they had a 'winter wonderland' type thing where you would pay like a dollar and they'd buy toys with the proceeds to donate for kids