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msmk11 · 24 days

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Congratulations: You Like James Potter

James Potter x fem!reader

Word count: 4k

CW: Idiots in love, kissing, unbearable fluff

Summary: Clothes are a game changer when it comes to feelings. Who would've thought?

A/n: Happy Wednesday everyone! I hope you are having a lovely week. Currently I am in the midst of finals week, so I am stressing! That's why I pulled this out of my drive instead of writing something new. I hope you enjoy my loves :)

The cold stone of the dorm seeps through your socks as you pace back and forth across the width of the room. Although you love Hogwarts, winters are never kind inside a large castle with no insulation.

Usually when this happens, you go roast in front of the fire or take a long, hot shower. However, seeing that you have plans to go to the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin game in ten minutes with Lily, Dorcas, Remus, and Peter, those options are out of the question. You go and stand in front of your chest again, looking at the various sweaters and sweatshirts packed for the colder weather. Despite having so many options, none look warm enough, or let’s be honest, cute enough, to wear to the game today. As you stare at your trunk with a sigh, you hear the door to your room open behind you.

“Are you almost ready to go?” You hear Lily ask.

You turn to her with a glum look on your face, “Not yet. I don’t know what to wear!”

She comes to stand beside you, “Babe, wear one of the many sweatshirts you have sitting in your trunk.”

“But none of them feel right!” You whine.

“Then take something from one of our trunks,” she suggests.

“I already looked.” You say, collapsing onto my bed.

“Well you better figure it out in the next five minutes. If not, we’re leaving without you.”

“I know, I know. I promise I’ll make a decision.”

You hear her leave the room as the door thuds behind her.

As you lay on your soft bed, engulfed by your comforter, you wish you could just wear it outside to the pitch. Dreaming about such a reality where that could actually happen, you realize that although you can’t carry your comforter around, you can think of something that is likely just as comfortable. One of Remus’ sweaters. You throw your shoes on and barrel down the stairs into the common area. You see your friends waiting for you.

“Are you finally ready?” Lily asks again.

“No, but go on without me. I finally figured out what I want to wear but I’ll meet you guys there,” you reply.

“Okay, we’ll save you a seat,” She says.

Once they’re out of the room, you take two steps at a time up to Remus’ room that he shares with Sirius, James, and Peter. You walk to the far right corner where his stuff is and open the trunk. The angels seem to sing from above as you feast your eyes upon the millions of big, wooly sweaters sitting before you. You see a nice brown one, something that will go perfectly with your blue jeans, and pull it on. You are instantly engulfed by the warmness and sigh with relief. You go and stand in front of the full length mirror against the wall. As you check your appearance and smooth out your hair, you see a flash of red out of the corner of your eye. The flash of red turns out to be none other than one of James Potter’s many quidditch jumpers. Slightly curious, you take the sweater off and put on the sweatshirt. You are pleasantly surprised to find that it is somehow even more comfortable than Moony’s sweater. Plus, it’s perfect to wear to the quidditch game. You go to stand in front of the mirror again and are taken aback slightly by how nicely the red pops against your skin. Satisfied with your appearance, and also feeling incredibly cozy, you rush down to the quidditch pitch, a few minutes before the game starts. You find Lily, Dorcas, Remus, and Peter in the crowd.

“Hey,” you huff, as you sit down next to Remus.

“Hey, see you finally found something to wear,” he replies.

“Only took her a million years,” Peter teases.

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck off,” you retort, swatting him on the back of the head.

“Hey, I thought you didn’t want to wear any of our stuff?” Lily asks.

“I’m not?” you answer, confused.

“But isn’t that Marlene’s sweatshirt?”

“No, that’s what I’m wearing” Dorcas says, unzipping her black winter coat to reveal her girlfriend’s hoodie.

“Then whose is that?” Lily questions.

Before you can answer, the crowd starts cheering as both teams walk out onto the pitch. Madam Hooch’s voice bellows outward as she asks the captains to shake hands. From the Gryffindor team, James steps forward, and from Slytherin, Lucius Malfoy. The two shake hands then return to their respective teams. They kick off from the ground as the quaffle is thrown into the air and the game begins. Although you’ve seen plenty of quidditch games in your time at Hogwarts, you never cease to be amazed at the agility with which James and Marlene are able to move on their brooms and toss the quaffle between them. Likewise, you are always impressed by Sirius’ strength as a beater and his ability to aim the bludgers at other players perfectly. Within minutes, Gryffindor is winning thirty to ten. The lion’s side of the stadium is screaming as James speeds down the field, heading towards the goal posts yet again. With a quick throw, he tosses the ball through the far left hoop, scoring the team another ten points. We all cheer loudly. He looks to our section and winks, blowing a kiss to his fans. From behind you hear a few sighs and giggles. You turn to see three girls in your year, two from Ravenclaw and one from Hufflepuff, swooning over James’ flirtations. You slightly roll your eyes and huff fondly at James’ fan club.

Your staring must not have been too discreet because a few moments later, you hear loud whispers from behind.

“And why is she wearing his sweatshirt?”

“They’re not dating are they?”

“They better not, James is mine.”

“Anyways, he could do so much better than her.”

“Yeah, she’s so ugly.”

Confused as to how they know you’re wearing James’ hoodie, you pull on the sleeve, shifting it so you can look at the back. In big, gold letters you see the word “Potter” printed across.

You simply sigh before getting up and moving down next to Lily on the other end.

Just as soon as you get settled, Lily turns and says to me, “Wait, turn around. Why are you wearing Potter’s sweatshirt?”

“Merlin, does everyone have a problem with it?” you ask loudly.

Dorcas, Peter, and Remus all look your way in slight surprise.

“No, sorry. I was just wondering.” Lily answers softly.

Dorcas grabs my hand, “hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah m’fine. It’s just that those three girls,” you point to them, “are bitching about the fact that I’m wearing James’ jersey. Apparently, he’s their man, so how dare I.”

“Just ignore them,” Peter tells me. “They’re just jealous that-”

He suddenly stops, a slightly horrified look on his face.

“Jealous about what?” you implore.

“That they’re not as cool as you!” Remus interjects.

Curious as to what Peter was going to say, but too tired to bother to ask more you simply scoff, “Right, thanks guys.”

“You know what, the cold be damned, since they’re giving you shit for wearing Potter’s hoodie, I’m gonna show mine off too.” Dorcas announces. She unzips her black jacket and sets it beside her. The bright red hoodie she has on is identical to the one I’m wearing except it says “McKinnon” in big gold letters across the back.

“Me too” Remus proudly declares, pulling off his sweater to reveal another bright red hoodie, with the word “Black” on it.

“But since you are both dating Sirius and Marlene, won’t it make it seem more likely that I’m dating James?” you ask.

“Is that so bad?” Lily says to me.

You’re about to declare that yes, that is in fact bad, when it dawns on you, “N-no… I guess not.”

You turn back to the game, slightly in a daze, unaware of the pointed looks shared amongst your friends.

*****

About an hour later, the game is uncomfortably close with the score being Gryffindor: one hundred and Slytherin: ninety. As you watch Marlene dart towards the hoops you hear shouts that the seekers have caught sight of the snitch. It’s a close race as flashes of green and red blur by. We cheer loudly, urging on our team. Within a minute the snitch is caught by Gryffindor. We erupt loudly, celebrating our victory. You watch as the teams land on the ground. More specifically, you watch as James jumps off his broom and runs towards his teammates. You watch the way his black hair shines against the bright sun, how his cheeks are rosy from the cold but also from the rush of winning, how even through his sweater, you can see the definition of his muscles as he lifts the seeker into the air. You begin to realize that maybe the reason you didn’t find it so bad that people thought you were James’ girlfriend was because…

Merlin. You have feelings for James.

The world seems to go quiet for a moment, and there’s a sort of ringing in your ears, at the realization.

“Hey! Are you coming?” Lily asks.

You look up from your spot to see that Remus, Dorcas and Peter have disappeared down into the crowd surrounding the team and that Lily is near the edge of the bleachers, waiting to go join them.

You shake your head, “Yeah, sorry.”

You get up and follow behind her, feeling a little queasy at the thought of seeing James up close.

The crowd is wild as people scream congratulations at the team and hug their friends. In the middle you see James, Sirius and Marlene beaming as they eat up the attention. Marlene has her arm around Dorcas’ waist, unafraid to show off the girl she loves. Though Sirius is a loud person, he is a quiet lover and merely grips Remus’ hand beneath his sweatshirt while he talks to others.

Lily grabs your hand and drags you towards the rest of your friends, “come on, you really are slow today.”

“W-wait Lily, no I,” but before you can resist, you’ve approached the rest of the group. Too afraid to face James first you turn and engulf Sirius in a hug, “nice work today Black! I just love to see Slytherin eat shit.”

Sirius gives you a huge grin, “what can I say, it’s one of my favorite pastimes.”

You then turn to Marlene and squeal, “Marls! You killed it out there. You and James were just so fast, I don’t know how you do it!”

“Natural talent” she brags.

You laugh and begin to turn away when you bump right into someone’s chest. They grab your shoulders, “woah there, careful.”

You look up to see James towering above you.

“Hey, Potter” you say, your voice softening.

“Hey, darling. Enjoy the game?” He asks, a small smile on his face.

His smile, it makes your heart melt. And the term of endearment, one he has always used, suddenly makes you flustered. You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. You look down at the turf to avoid his noticing and dig your shoe into the ground, “yeah, it was great! You guys did great!”

To your relief, the crowd starts to disperse and the team starts to walk towards the locker rooms.

“Well, uh, see you in a bit. At the party sometime I suppose.” You tell him, before walking off towards the castle.

“Yeah, see ya.” He says quietly.

You only make it a few steps before you hear him call your name. Your heart beats a little faster as you turn back towards him, “Is that my sweatshirt?”

You cringe inwardly as you walk back towards him, “Oh, yeah, sorry. I should’ve asked. I was just cold and nothing in my closet looked appealing. I’ll go put it right back when I get back to the tower.”

“No, don’t. It looks good on you.” He answers.

You feel butterflies in your stomach, “oh, okay. Thanks. And really, nice job today.”

You turn back around and run to catch up to your friends.

*****

When we get back to the castle you immediately go up to your room and collapse onto your bed. All of these new emotions leave you feeling confused, nervous, and exhausted. You decide that maybe you shouldn’t go to the party and should instead just sleep away your racing thoughts…. Suddenly, you feel two plops down next to you onto your bed.

“What are you guys doing?” You mumble.

“We’ll explain when Marlene gets back.” Dorcas responds.

Not even a few minutes later, the door opens and Marlene comes in, throwing herself on the bed.

“Right, I’m here,” she says, out of breath.

“Did you run here?” Lily asks.

“Of course! We have very important business to attend to.”

“We told you to be discreet!” Dorcas scolds.

“I just told James it was a fashion emergency!” Marlene protests.

You lift your head up to look at your three roommates, “what are you lot talking about?”

They share a look amongst each other and suddenly sit up very seriously.

Lily pulls you up into a sitting position as well.

“Shall I start?” Marlene questions.

The two nod their heads, “Right. Well, congratulations, you have feelings for James Potter!”

Your heart drops, “What? No I don’t. What are you talking about?”

“Ah yes, denial,” Dorcas says smartly.

“We were expecting this,” Lily adds.

“I’m sorry, you were expecting this?”

“Yes. It’s been very clear to all of us that you have feelings for James. We just didn’t know how long it would take you to realize. It seems today is the day.”

“B-but, how? I’ve never once thought about James as anything besides my friend until now.”

“She admits it!” Marlene cheers.

Dorcas glares at her slightly, “It’s okay, love. Sometimes we can’t see what’s right in front of us. That’s what happened to me with Marlene, remember?”

You think back to how the two used to interact before they were dating. They were always close and very touchy. You often caught Marlene looking longingly after Dorcas and remember Dorcas always being jealous of Marlene’s other girlfriends.

“But you two were so obvious!” You proclaim.

“So are you and James,” Lily tells me kindly.

“Does that mean he knows?” You nearly shriek.

Marlene takes your hand lovingly, “No, of course not. James is a lot of things, but observant is not one of them.”

You let out a sigh of relief. But then a wave of panic brushes over you, “What am I supposed to do? I can’t even act normal around him now that I know. I just feel all sweaty and nervous!”

“Just be yourself. He already likes you for you.” Dorcas says warmly.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Honey, when have you ever known James Potter to be subtle about anything? He’s always trying to do everything to get your attention. You just aren’t always paying attention.”

You huff and fall back onto your bed, “Merlin, I hate feelings. I wish things could just go back to the way things were.”

Lily grabs your arm and pulls you back up, “well, seeing as things can’t, let’s make the most of it.”

You give her a questioning look.

“The reason Marlene rushed back up here so fast is because we knew you would need all three of us helping you once you realized your feelings.”

“Yeah, no offense, you’re a bit hopeless when it comes to dating.” Marlene says bluntly.

You smack her arm, “that’s not helpful.”

“Everything will be fine” Dorcas tells you, “now let’s get you dressed for the party. You have a certain Mr. Potter to impress.”

*****

An hour later, the four of you are dressed and ready to go. Your friends have put quite the ensemble together, dressing you in a red, cropped sweater with a pair of dark blue mom jeans that supposedly “make your ass look amazing” (according to Marlene) and gold jewelry. After you told them that James said you looked good in his sweatshirt, they decided that your outfit needed to remind him of it (hence the gold and red). Lily is wearing an adorable green sweater dress with brown boots and her hair is pulled back with a clip. Marlene has on black leather pants and a long sleeve, pink, sheer shirt with only her nipples covered. Dorcas is wearing a blue crop top with an open back, black jeans, and combat boots.

“Guys, we look hot.” Lily announces.

“Hell yeah we do,” Marlene agrees.

“I’m sure Mary will love it,” Dorcas teases.

Lily blushes a bright scarlett, “you really think?”

“Absolutely. You look killer, babe.” You tell her.

“You too, Mrs. Potter,” she says, winking.

You roll your eyes at her before taking a deep breath and staring in the mirror one last time, “right, let’s get this over with.”

“Oh yes, let’s get through this terrible party.” Marlene jokes.

We walk down into the common room where music is blaring and people are spread about talking, laughing, and dancing. As we weave through the crowd of people, Dorcas and Marlene are pulled into a conversation with a Ravenclaw friend from potions class. Lily soon leaves you too, after checking that you are okay, to go and flirt with Mary.

Trying to calm your nerves, you grab a bottle of firewhiskey and plop yourself down onto one of the red couches pushed out of the way.

“Did your fashion emergency get solved?”

You jump a mile at the voice coming from behind. You turn to see James leaning over the couch, smirking.

“The what?” You stutter out.

“Marlene said there was a fashion emergency? Was it solved?”

“Oh! Right. Uh, yeah. Lily had simply no idea what to wear to the party. And that’s very important, you see, because she’s trying to impress Mary.”

He leans closer to me, “I think it's working.”

The smell of his cologne wafts to your nose. You can barely breathe as you turn to look to where he’s pointing.

Despite your anxiousness, you can’t help but smile proudly as you see Lily kissing Mary.

You cough awkwardly, “clothes can be a game changer.”

He looks at you intensely, “yeah they can.”

You think about his sweatshirt from earlier. How he liked it, how it made you feel all safe and cozy, how it made you realize your feelings for him.

“You know, speaking of clothes. I need to give you your sweatshirt back, now that I’m done wearing it.”

“I told you you could hang on to it,” he insists.

“But you’ll want to have it for your future partner.” You say quietly.

“What?” He asks you.

You clear your throat, “oh uh, earlier, when I was wearing your sweatshirt, some girls thought I was your girlfriend, because I guess that’s a thing a boyfriend would do- let them wear his clothes. So, of course, you need to have it so you can give it to your actual partner… when you get one. You know, they seemed pretty interested in you, I’m sure I can point them out if you’re interested. They’re pretty too, so…”

You look up at James to see a pained look on his face.

“Hey, are you okay?”

His voice sounds strained as he says, “yeah. I’ll just go take that sweatshirt off your hands then.”

A lump forms in your throat as you nod.

It seems pretty clear to you that James doesn’t like you.

We walk through the crowd and up to your doom. The door shuts behind us and James stays near the doorway as you go to grab his hoodie from the edge of your bed where you put it, neatly folded. You turn to give it to him but his hands remain at his sides.

“James, your hoodie?”

“Was it really that unbearable for you, for people to think that you’re my girlfriend, that you refuse to hang onto it?”

“James, what?”

“Look, I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this, but I just can’t help it. I want people to think you’re my girlfriend. Because, I like you. I do. And I’m sorry, I know this ruins things, and I know you don’t feel the same, but I can’t keep hiding it any longer.”

You drop the sweatshirt and walk towards James quickly.

“You mean it?”

He nods.

Slowly, you reach your hand out and cup his cheek. You stroke your thumb across his jawline, studying every feature of his face from his hazel eyes, to the slight smile lines around his mouth, and the soft pink of his lips.

“James, I feel the exact same way about you. It took me a bit longer to realize than you, but I do. I really care about you.”

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that” he tells me.

Suddenly, he turns you around and pushes you up against the stone wall, “can I kiss you?”

You nod before he catches your lips between his. He tastes like chapstick and mint gum and it’s simply perfect.

You tangle your hands in his already tangled black hair as he grips his hands on your waist.

Eventually, we pull away.

“Maybe we should go back down to the party. People might be wondering where their star player is.” You tease.

“I’ll only agree if you put that hoodie back on. I want to show you off.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, “fine, but turn around.”

He turns around while you change out of your sweater back into his sweatshirt.

“Okay, you’re good to look now.”

He turns around with a huge grin on his face, “my don’t you just look ravishing, darling. I declare you shall never wear anything but my clothes ever again.”

You walk forward and pull him into a hug, “fine by me. I’ve never been more comfortable in my entire life.”

He goes to pull you in for another kiss but you stop him, “later,” you whisper in his ear, winking.

You giddily turn around and quickly escape the room. He chases after you.

Before we enter the common room, you grab his hand tightly. He squeezes it back. As we walk towards our friends, you feel some people staring at the two of you. When we approach Remus, Sirius, Peter, Lily, Dorcas, and Marlene they are beaming like idiots.

“Soooooo…. You two, huh?” Sirius smirks suggestively.

James shoves him slightly, yet still has a goofy grin on his face, “piss off.”

“I’m just glad we don’t have to watch them pine over each other anymore” Peter says, relieved.

“No, but now we have to watch them be all lovey dovey,” complains Lily.

“As if we didn’t just see you getting it on with Mary,” you retort.

“Touché.”

“Wait, so are you two… official?” Dorcas enquires.

We look at each other. “I guess we didn’t officially establish that.” You answer.

“Hold on,” James says to you, letting go of your hand.

He jumps up onto the table, “excuse me, may I have everyone’s attention.”

The room quiets as they all turn to look at him.

“Oh no,” you sigh.

“I have a question to ask a very special someone and I want you all here to witness it!” He turns to you with a huge smile on his face, “darling, sweetheart, apple of my eye, will you go out with me?”

You feel the eyes of dozens of people on you. You even feel the glare of many girls you know would kill to be you right now. Yet even then, nothing can bother you. Because when looking at James, you see nothing else.

“Yes! I’ll go out with you James!” You respond, giggling. He jumps off the table and pulls you in for a kiss. The room cheers loudly.

Safe to say we were the talk of the school for a week.

#marauders fanfiction #james potter x you #marauders fandom #james potter x reader #james potter fluff

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redbleedingrose · 5 months

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Girl Dad!Cassian x reader Headcanons

A/N: I love me some girl dad Bat boys and Vanserra bros. TBH all the ACOTAR males would make incredible girl dads and I was just thinking about Cassian today. Anyway, this is for @augustinerose I know that it has been tough recently, so I hope this made you smile. <3

Cassian is a girls girl. He LOVES his daughter, and wants his babe to be able to express herself in any way she wants. So he def lets his daughter paint his nails pink and purple, and grins so wide when she smacks a kiss onto his cheek calling him pretty. And he takes real good care to paint her nails all nice and clean.

Cass is also happy to let his pretty princess put some makeup on him, with the blue eyeshadow and red lips. Male is not even the slightest bit embarrassed when you walk into your home to find him sitting on the floor so that your daughter can reach his face, six bows of all colors in his hair that is half braided and half curled, with your reddest shade of lipstick being smeared all over him. The guilty look from your babe stealing your makeup is too cute, and you settle down into Cass’ lap and ask her to do your hair and makeup too.

He would die for this child, and do practically anything to see a smile on her face, so he is gonna wear the purple tutu and tiara for his girl, and he is absolutely gonna have his pinky pointing out while he sips water from a tiny princess tea cup cuz his baby girl scolded him for not using "proper etticuite daddy."

Occasionally, she can also rope in Az and Rhys and they might roll their eyes and moan and groan, but they are gonna do anything for that little girl because they adore her and she is the only baby girl in the family so far. They spoil her like no other. You had to practically ban Rhys from getting her anymore dresses because there was no more storage in your home, and you nearly threw him into the Sidra when he offered to add another room to your home so he could fill it up with more jewelry and shoes and tutus for the “night court princess”

And on starfall, she does little dance routines for the whole family but she willet all shy about dancing her little ballerina routine in front everyone in the inner circle, so he helps her out and dances by her side even getting on his tippy toes despite everyone is snickering at him, this big burly male twirling around with his muscled arms pointed to the sky with his "mini me"

He loves pretending to chomp and eat her ruddy cheeks because it makes her cackle from deep in her tummy, and he is always blowing raspberries into her chubby belly. Don’t even get me started on those chunky thighs, and stinky feet. Cass wants to cry every single time he thinks about his pretty princess growing up. He wants her to stay young forever, to never worry about a single thing, to make sure that he can always watch over her and protect her.

When she was a newborn, he would steal her from the bassinet and take her on flights, wrapping her tiny wings into a wooly blanket to make sure they stay warm and cozy, and he would spend hours just flying around and telling her stories about his life, and stories about you. His favorite topic to talk about to her while she snoozes away is how much he loves you and how much he loves her. His obsession with his girls is truly a next level of adoration.

Ugh AND he loves cutting up fruit for her, and she just walks around munching on it with her tiny fist around the fruit and juices smeared across her cheeks. An he is always so gentle about wiping away the juices with a wet rag, having her sitting on the counter with her tiny legs swinging back and forth kicking his corded thighs while he cleans her ups and smooches her ruddy cheeks when he is done

Let us also discuss how Cassian learned how to braid hair by the Valkaryie warriors, and so he is the expert when it comes to doing her hair. Male can do twists and plaits so fast and instinctually, its insane. Most days, you have him doing your own hair. Oh, and she was born with a TUFT of hair that he would play with to soothe her. It is thick and dark just like his, and curls at the end, and he thinks it is one of his favorite features that he passed on to her.

OOOHHHH and imagine him teaching her to fly when she finally has the strength to control those muscles. She is all frustrated with fat tears rolling down her ruddy cheeks cuz “is too hard daddy” and he is down on one knee in front of her, rubbing his large hands over her tiny shoulders hushing her little cries, “s’okay baby, you’re right, it is hard,” and he smooches her cheek and pulls back to stare into her big eyes, “but you know what sweet girl? You can do it. It might take some time and practice, like most things do, but you will do it. And I will be here every step of the way, ‘kay?” And she sniffles, rubbing her tears away with a tiny fist and snuggles into his big chest while nodding.

Every birthday, he buys her a bouquet of flowers. And he also buys you a bouquet of flowers, making sure to thank you for the best gift he has ever received.

Okay maybe I will add more to this later, but this all I got for now, I hope you enjoyed!!!

#girl dad!cassian x reader #Girl dad!Cass x reader #girl dad!cassian #girl dad!Cassian acotar #girl dad!Cass #cassian acotar #general cassian #cassian x reader #girl dad cassian #pre-girl dad!Cassian #cassian fanfic #cassian fanfiction #acotar #acotar fanfic

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lovebotmo · 5 months

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like the movies

chapter four - the feathered visitor

series masterlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader

wc: 1675

author's note: so so grateful that you guys are enjoying the story so far!!! its been incredible to be inspired and motivated when it comes to writing. i appreciate those who let me know they want to be on the taglist - lmk if anyone else wants to be added!!!

also if i missed someone my apologies!!! first time putting a tag list together hehe

song inspiration: how sweet it is (to be loved by you) by marvin gaye

Clambering into the compartment containing your friends after separating from Theo, you are greeted with expectant silence. Ten eyes peer at you with varying emotions; curiosity, caution, surprise, excitement, and intrigue all seem to swim in the faces of your dear friends.

Slapping your hands onto your knees, you smile nervously at them. “Well, what is it?”

“Don’t keep us waiting!” urges Hannah, who’s practically vibrating with excitement. “What was that all about? Running after Nott of all people.”

Your brows furrow unconsciously, “What d’you mean?”

Ginny laughs at your apparent confusion. “Nuh uh, Y/n. We all saw you go after Nott, no need to be coy now.” She winks cheekily at you. “Are you two seeing each other?”

You sputter at her brashness, “Me and Theo? There’s—”

“It’s Theo now, is it?” Padma asks. “When did he become Theo, eh?” Padma nudges your shoulder with her own.

“Oh, shove it, Pads!” You could practically feel the red rising in your face and neck at the undivided attention now being paid to your very short, tiny, essentially minimal interaction with a male specimen. You felt like a research subject whenever your friends interrogated you like this. “I was just worried Theo was going to miss the train—a very normal thing to be worried about considering he’s my potion partner and I bloody well can’t use his brain if he’s stranded in Hogsmeade! Besides,” you said, pulling at the sleeves of your wooly sweater, “that fight between Malfoy and him looked downright awful.” At that, the girls abruptly halted their aggressive probing, uneasily remembering the spat that had taken place very publicly in The Three Broomsticks. All, except for Luna, who continued to peer at you with that typical all-knowing, dreamy look of hers that seemed to suggest she knew better.

As if there’s anything going on between Theo and me. I barely know the guy…or almost barely know him…kind of know him?

Shaking the disorganized thoughts from your head, you turned to the girls to continue the conversation that had abruptly stopped at the tavern. A train ride filled with trolley sweets, gossip, and uncontrollable laughter soon led to your arrival at Hogwarts, just in time for the evening meal.

Retiring to your room shortly after dinner, you found that your housemates’ beds were empty. You guess that they were likely meandering around the grounds before curfew. You savored the silence and stillness of the room. However, all too soon, it was interrupted by an odd sort of sound.

Clink.

At first you ignored it, thinking something had just shifted in your room.

Clink…Clink.

This time, your eyes swept across the room, searching for whatever could be causing that sound. It didn’t sound like a water drip, someone in heels, or even coins moving around in a coin purse.

Clinkclinkclinkclink!

As the sound increased in volume and frequency, you realized it was coming from the window of all places, even though you were elevated relatively high in the tower containing your bedchamber. That is to say, no person could have been outside your room without the aid of a broom or the flying charm. You cursed under your breathe that the window was glazed, meaning you couldn’t see what lay on the other side. Undergoing a momentary crisis of whether you should open the window, you decided in a split-second to just open it and hope for the best. However, you made sure to grab your wand.

Can’t be too careful now, can we, Y/n?

Your hand grasped at the brass handle, quickly swinging the frame open. An autumnal evening gust of wind greeted you, along with something else.

What the fuck.

Perching on your windowsill, was a quaint tawny owl peering at you rather oddly. The bird cocked its brown and white feathered head as you did the same.

What the devil is a bloody owl doing up here? “I don’t suppose you intended to come up here, did you?” Looking at the owl, you noticed it was clutching something in its claws, a small parcel of sorts. “Is that for me?”

As if answering, the owl flew past you and landed on your desk. Its head cocked once more as if wondering whether you were going to join it or not. Realizing you were standing dumbly in front of the window and letting all the warm air out, you shut it. You did not lock it, however, anticipating that your feathered friend would be departing shortly.

You joined the owl at your desk, sitting in your chair. You were now eye level with the mysterious bird, its dark eyes gazing into your own.

“May I?” you inquired, gesturing towards the little package in its clutches. The fowl relented, gently releasing it onto the wood of your desk. Before allowing yourself to rip into the bundle, you pulled out a small cannister of crickets you kept in one of your desk drawers for when you visited your own owl in the aviary. Lightly placing it in front of the owl, you allowed it to treat itself while opening the unknown gift.

Inside, you found a small package of caramel creams, just like those you had gifted to Mr. Flume a few short hours ago.

“How…?” You looked to the bird who was still pleasing itself with your offering of crickets.

You couldn’t begin to wonder at who would have known to gift you that particular candy, who would have noticed your quick interaction among the thick throng of students that had filled Honeydukes earlier. No one had stood out to you in the little time you had spent in the candy store, wholly preoccupied with your candy exchange.

Where could they have even bought it from? It’s not like Mr. Flume even stocks this specific sweet, no matter how much I may beg the man to.

“You must have been flying for ages to bring these to me, I reckon.”

“Hoot.”

Laughing at the short, clipped response of the owl, your eyes noticed a small piece of parchment paper within the parcel. Grasping and opening it quickly, your eyes were met with the same script you had seen on the previous note that had accompanied the moly bouquet currently residing on your nightstand. Once more, the note was succinct and saccharine.

Y/n,

Sweets for you, sweetheart.

Yours,

Teddy

“Seems your owner fancies me,” you said to the owl as you carefully refolded the note. “I don’t suppose you would be able to give me a clue as to who they are?”

“Hoot.”

Sighing, you replied, “Alright, alright. I won’t badger you for answers.” You rose from your chair, intending to allow the plumed messenger to return to the aviary. The bird flew from its perch on your desk to your shoulder, its head gently rubbing against your cheek. You smiled at the little show of affection. Once more, you opened your window, allowing your avian visitor to rejoin the skies. Looking back at the caramel creams and clutching the note to your chest, a warm feeling began to leak out of your heart. Whoever your admirer was, he was rather…sweet.

A few caramel creams later, you were sprawled on your bed and surrounded by your friends as you recounted the entire rendezvous with the tawny owl. You shared the sweets among your friends, but you kept the contents of the note to yourself. Your friends had already seen the first note and none of them had recognized the handwriting. There was no harm done, really.

Besides, you thought, it’s kind of nice to keep something between just me and this elusive ‘Teddy.’

“You didn’t recognize the owl, did you?” asked Ginny. “Godric knows everybody can tell when I’ve sent an owl. That bloody bird, Errol, is hard to miss.” She gives you a vexed look that makes you chuckle.

“No, it looked like any other owl I’d have seen in the aviary. Anyway, there are hundreds of owls here, they’re not exactly easy to differentiate.”

“Well,” Padma says, “at the very least, we know that your little admirer is a third year or older.”

Hannah’s face shows her confusion, “How do you figure?”

“They were in Honeydukes, weren’t they?” Padma shrugs, “Whoever he is, he has to be, at minimum, thirteen years old to go to Hogsmeade.”

Groaning, you flop back onto your bed, hands covering your face in dismay. “Blimey, I hadn’t even considered it might be someone younger than me. What if it is a third year? Fucking hell, I’ll never be able to live it down.”

Moving your hands from your face, Hermione smiles gently at you. “If it is a third year, which I seriously doubt, you’ll be gentle in letting them down. No big deal.”

“I’d be a laughingstock, ‘Mione,” you say grumpily.

“No, you won’t, Y/n,” replies Hannah. “Besides, it’s just the six of us that knows, right?”

“About that…” Ginny looks at you sheepishly. “I may or may not have possibly, accidentally let it slip when I was perhaps…potentially talking with Lavender…”

The redhead’s confession gets you to shoot up quickly from your horizontal position. “You did what?” You toss at a pillow at her, which, with her incredible athleticism, she easily intercepts. You frown. “Lavender is possibly the worst gossip I’ve ever met. I’d be surprised if Filch didn’t know about it.”

“It was an accident, promise!” Ginny exclaims, “Lavender asked if you were seeing anybody—I think she’s interested in Lee Jordan—so, I suppose she was trying to determine whether or not you were—”

“Ginny.”

“…Yes, Y/n?”

“I’m going to give you until the count of three.”

“Count of three—what for?”

“One.”

“Oh please, Y/n. I didn’t mean to—”

“Two.”

“For the love of Merlin—”

“Three.” At your last count, you sprint at the girl who starts to run from you as you chase her with your wand. She sharts to shriek with laughter, dashing as far from your incurrent wrath as possible.

“You’re going to get it, Weasley!”

taglist: @melllinaa, @randomgurl2326, @lovelyygirl8, @abaker74, @mypolicemanharryyy, @vanevafu, @laceandsuch, @agent-tempest, @themarauderswife7 & @adoraspace

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beom-s-author · 2 months

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txt reactions- they called you clingy pt.2 hyung line

Warnings: fluff,angst, comforting words, comfort zone,

Choi Soobin

You were at the street. Wandering around to ease your memory when you heard his words. You sighed as you feel the light rain is making you wet. You were shivering with the cold and cursing at yourself why didn't you wear more wooly clothes. Your hands are trembling and your fingertips are getting pink with the cold air. You blew some hot air from your lips to them. You called your best friend. She immediately picked up the phone and you asked for a night to stay at her house. She accepted it instantly and you made your way towards at her house while putting your phone to vibrate. You didn't want to hear any kind of comment or request from Soobin now. As you reached at her house, you throw your shoes and bag to the corner and sit on the couch. Your friend can easily say you're upset. You didn't say anything except ' I'm fine ' towards her. Already her phone filled with Soobin's textes. He was curious and anxious where you are and what are you doing. Your friend texted back as 'She is fine. Just need some space and a conversation which is going to soothe her.' Soobin felt ease a bit with her text. You were safe. But he couldn't stay at your dorm without your sunshine voice and cuddles. He takes his coat and leaves the dorm. He immediately reached at your friend's house and knocked the door. Your friend opened the door with shocked and wide eyes. In the middle of the night, he came this place with heavy rain and cold air for you. He reached her livingroom and saw you. You were sitting on the couch. You wrre wearing his hoodie which is always on the counter or your first shelf. Your cheeks are stained with mascara. He turns towards you and hold your hands. "I know this time, I messed up, but I can guarantee that I will make this up to you honey. You are not clingy. I was just furious and stressed with comeback events. I will make it up to you. I am sorry." He wiped your cheeks with his sweatshirt's sleeves. He put a big smile on his face like he always did. You smiled also. "Please talk with me when you feel low. I don't want you to distract yourself from the things Soob. I love you." Soobin smiled at your encouraging words and also at your lovely words. "I love you too. Let's go. We should continue our movie night,right?" He smiled at you while taking your coat from the couch.

Choi Yeonjun

You were at the park. Sitting on the bench and thinking about how did you end it like this. You were tired and confused like how you couldn't manage your works and your relationship. You sighs with the feeling of heartbroken. You sniffed while hiding your sobs. You stared at the floor and hide your face between your cold hands. Your eyes are burning with tears which are threating you to fall. You sniffed again and you felt a touch on your shoulder. You fliched and looked over. Yeonjun was there. "Jun?" "I know I don't have any right to blame you about this. You were also too busy with your actions and I am proud of you how can you manage them without draining energy or being depressive. I am sorry hun. I messed up this time. Please forgive me. I shouldn't yell at you like that and I won't do it again. Promise." You smiled at his voice and words. You wiped your tears while nodding at him. He slowly hugged you and kissed the top of your head. You both started walking towards your dorm. "I am also sorry Jun. I couldn't find out that you are under pressure and also stressed. I was busy with my works and I totally forget about your mood. I made fault also. So if we are clear about our things, can we promise that we will talk how we will feel about? Pinky promise?" Yeonjun smiles at your words and pulls you for a big hug. "Promise honey. Now we should go to home. I will make it up how much we lose time without each other's comfort and big hugs. I can't say no to your cupcakes also." You both giggled while walking towards at your dorm. Now all the things are clear.

Choi Beomgyu

You were out of your dorm and wandering around with your broken tears and little sobs. You rushed with your belongings to your best friend's cafe. You arrived with minutes. The weather was cold and windy. Your hair is all messed up. Your eyes are puffy and your nose is kinda pink with cheeks which are stained with tear and mascara. You sat on a chair and ordered a hot chocolate. You gulped with your broken heart and tangled thoughts. You tried to ease a bit but you were too stressed with the feeling of him breaking up with you. You felt humilated because of he insulted your job and your status. Yes, he was an idol but it couldn't bring a fact your job is not important. You both have too much responsibilities that your job is requesting. But you always respected them and gave him enough space. But he got tired from your actions and called you clingy. You were trembling while crying and sipping your hot chocolate. Your thoughs are all over the place and making your mood down. And your phone is already turned off. You didn't mind to be alone. But you couldn't understand still how did he tell you this. He should be aware how you are caring your job. But he wasn't aware of it. You sighed and wiped your tears. Your friend saw you from away and got near you. You sniffed and looked at her. She smiled upsetly and leaned a hand for you. You smiled softly at her. You both went to her house. You were still crying with uncomfortable feelings how make he felt you. You sniffed and cried and sobbed all night until You got too tired and fell asleep. Your friend texted at Beomgyu to tell him you are at her place and being safe. Beomgyu couldn't manage how to feel. He grabs his wallet and coat. He runs her dorm and knocks the door. She slowly opens the door for him. He looks at the inside of the house. You were laying down on the couch and sleeping softly. Your best friend covered you with a blanket and gave you a soft pillow to sleep. He can feel how much tired you are. He sat near of you and stroked your hair. He pulled out some hair on your forehead which is making you uncomfortable. He smiled at you and started whispering. "Sorry princess. I couldn't find out how much I hurt you. It won't happen again. I know how much your work is important and also how much you love it. I am sorry. I was a jerk to speak at you like this. I will make it up to you when you are all awake again. But now my princess is sleeping. I love you honey." He put a soft kiss on your forehead while lefting your friend's dorm with relief.

I hope you guys are liking my posts :( I am newbee so sorry for my grammer mistakes and also short stories ☺️

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luvfy0dor · 7 months

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Hello there ! I find your writing lovely and I saw that you were asking for some ideas.... its been kinda cold and rainy lately and I was wondering.. what about fyodor and the reader staying under the blankets and cuddling to stay warm... (and allowing him to get some rest) ...

"I Want Your Dreary Mondays" Fyodor Dostoevsky x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; None, just fluff!!

Description; Cuddling with Fyodor! It's kinda short, but I think it hits all the important points!

A/n; Man it has been so rainy lately for me, too. It makes me so tired all the time like it gets hard keeping my eyes open after noon tbh and it just puts me in a mood 💔

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Your eyes opened to a slight darkness rather than the usual sunshine that peeked through your windows each morning. The cold air matched the dreary mood that came from the lack of natural light combined with the pitter patter of the rain outside. You blinked a few times, still not fully awakening but yawning and stretching as well as you could while staying under the blankets. The feeling of your lover breathing against your neck didn't contribute to your warmth very much, making you shiver a little bit whenever the chilly air hit your skin.

His wooly sweater though, on the other hand, did you some justice. You tugged the covers over your shoulder and snuggled right on up to your lover, his eyebrows furrowing a bit before he wakes up, looking down at you. He was clearly still sleepy and dazed, his eyes squinted with drowsiness. "Are you cold?" He whispers, cuddling right back into you. His bony hands ran up and down your back and sides as he rests his head in between your shoulder and neck. You nod, humming in response as you slide your hands up the back of his sweater in attempt to warm them up.

He sharply inhales when he feels how frigid your hands were, his back arching slightly away from your touch. "You weren't lying, my love." He says, right before prying one of your hands from his back and holding it in his own. He gives it a soft squeeze, his head still in the crook of your neck as he inhales your familiar scent. You squeeze it back and snuggle up to him, peppering soft, chaste kisses along his neck. His cheeks visibly grew pinker, even if it was only in the slightest, you could still tell. Even the most minute change in his demeanor or appearance would not go unnoticed by you, and the same goes for him. He knew you like the back of his hand, and even though he wasn't the best at showing it all of the time, he noticed all the small things just like you did.

He noticed your sleepiness before you did sometimes, scooching closer to you so you could rest your head on his shoulder. He noticed discomfort, guiding you away from a situation as discreetly as possible. Most of the time he even knew what question you were going to ask before you even opened your mouth, having an answer prepared for you. He is a very observant man, or maybe your just very obvious? Perhaps it was a combination of both.

In this very moment, Fyodor could tell you didn't want him to leave the warmth of your bed. He quickly realized that your kisses were an attempt at coaxing him into cuddling with you without explicitly asking. He grinned a bit before sitting up, escaping your hold and yawning. You gave him a perplexed and disgruntled look before grabbing his hand again. "Hey, you can't just leave! I'll freeze, Fedya, do you want me to die?" You say, pulling the blankets up to your face, trying to replace the heat from Fyodors body. "You're not going to freeze to death, it's not cold enough for that." He deadpans, holding onto your hand.

"Well if I won't die then I'll suffer. I'll suffer this harsh, harsh weather all alone." You say. He quietly scoffs, moving his hair out of his face. "You'll be fine." He says, kissing your forehead quickly before getting out of bed, fully removing the blanket from his lap, immediately shivering. "Look at you, you're freezing, Fedya. Get back in bed." You say, tossing the blanket back over his body and hugging onto his midsection before he lays back down.

"I was far from freezing." He murmurs. "But since you're so insistent, I guess I'll entertain your request this once." His voice is soft and quiet, the man already becoming drowsy again. You smile in accomplishment, rubbing his back with a grin. "Mhm, you should take a break from working anyway. You overwork yourself a lot." You whisper. He hums in response before replying. "Yes, I agree, but one day it'll be worth the while, my love. We'll be able to live the best life possible, I promise." He mumbles, his hair tickling your skin. You nod, twirling some of the strands around your finger. "But still...one day won't hurt, I promise." You quietly speak before the both of you fall asleep together, limbs entangled under the warm blanket; safe from the cold rainy weather on the outside.

A/n; me when I post ❤️💞😻💖 Anyways you guys life update I gotta take a full chapter of notes tonight because they're due tomorrow so thrilled u guys so thrilled

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prodigaldaughteralice · 3 months

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So, I was tipped off a while ago by a post that’s probably still in my queue (I have a long reblog queue u_u;; ) that a few words were changed in the US edition of Monstrous Regiment. As it’s my favourite Discworld book, and I’d only ever read the US edition, I tracked down a second-hand UK first edition online and had a re-read as soon as it came, with my battered old US edition next to me so I could check when anything pinged me as ‘off’. Here’s what I found, not counting minor UK->US spelling changes like turning “girlie” into “girly”.

(There may be more that I missed, I didn’t have both copies open the whole time, but I’m pretty familiar with this book. As my sister teased me about when I mentioned I’d done this comparison, I did have it in my bed for several years as a teenager so I could reread it whenever my insomnia was hitting particularly hard.)

Spoilers from here on out, of course.

The first two are just kind of pointless? Changing “coprolite” to “coprolith”, which is just a less common word for the exact same thing, and changing “riff-riff-raff” to “riffraff” feels like they forgot Jackrum was playing drunk in that scene. Whatever. These don’t bother me.

There are a few UK->US type changes in the next one (“wooly vest” to “woolen undershirt”) which similarly feel pointless to me, but what really gets my goat is the last word. “The man’s bare chests,” plural, being changed to “the man’s bare chest”. Because that’s foreshadowing, but it’s not a giveaway, because on a heavier (cis) guy they do hang separate. It’s a nice little touch, and they took it out.

The next one is the one I’d been tipped off to, and it’s the change I’m the most annoyed about. “Turned her chair to the fire/around him the kitchen worked” -> “turned her chair to the fire/around her the kitchen worked.” I’m sure whatever editor changed it didn’t do so with any kind of malice or agenda, they just weren’t paying enough attention and thought they were fixing a continuity mistake, but it’s just such beautiful writing that they removed.

Because they’ve just had this incredible, delicate, vulnerable conversation about the girl Jackrum left behind him, and that that girl was him, and that he has a son out in Scratz and he doesn’t know what to do now that he’s leaving the army. Polly cries. And it’s Polly who suggests that he really can remain Jack Jackrum, he can go back to his son in medals and braid and be his father, and Jack gets to really settle in to the idea that he can be happy that way. Both those pronouns being “her” doesn’t feel wrong, necessarily; I always read it as Polly processing. But the switch between the two sentences is so beautiful. It’s a gentle closing of the conversation, it’s that girl being fully put behind him, and Sergeant Major Jack Jackrum (retired) getting to go on with his life.

The last one is just… odd. Inexplicable, and it’s the hardest to explain as just an editorial accident. They added a word that specifies something that was not previously specified. “One of them was Maladicta, in full uniform” becomes “one of them was Maladicta, in full female uniform.” I was thinking about it on this reread, and Mal is the only member of the squad who wasn’t publically outed at the Keep. Mal wasn’t involved in the actual raid— too busy gibbering and sucking on a sack of coffee beans— and at the trial Mal kind of stood in the back vibrating from caffeine overdose. Even Jackrum said “with vampires, who cares”. Only Polly knows about Maladicta.

And what that means is that Mal is the only member of the squad who could reasonably remain presenting as male in the army. Polly encourages a couple of young recruits in the very end that it’s their choice to enlist as men or as women, with Mal right beside her, and I think the original ambiguity there is really lovely— it doesn’t matter if Mal has an ‘a’ on the end at the moment, because Mal is there to help Polly fuck shit up, and that’s what matters. By adding the specificity, they just… took away a really nice bit of subtext, a really nice effect.

So yeah, I’m ticked off as a queer person about the (minor) subversion of the book’s general gender fuckery, but I’m almost more ticked off as a writer. Pratchett was so talented, and we talk about it a lot on a large scale of themes and motifs and characters, but he was also just so fantastic on a sentence to sentence level. This is craft! This is really beautiful, delicate writing, elegantly put together and perfected, and some US editors just. Took out some of it. And it’s still an incredible book! As I mentioned, I had it in my bed for years as a teenager so I could reread it over and over, it means a ton to me, it’s my favourite of his work and I love his work! But it hurts to see these little places where it was originally even better.

#discworld #terry pratchett #monstrous regiment #gnu terry pratchett #pd alice talks #edit: fixed a couple typoes in the image descriptions whoops

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juneknight · 8 months

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•.Be Lost.• 2

Chapter One | Chapter 1.5 | Chapter Two | Chapter 2.5

“You talk about them often enough. I feel like we should formally meet. What’s the equivalent of putting a face to a name, but with sex toys?” Marc asks, voice warm with mirth from the other end of the phone. It’s the only thing warm about living up here in the constant snowstorms. Your feet ache today from stomping around in the fields on the frozen earth. Even though Spring approaches on the calendar, you don’t yet feel it in the air.

You dread the thought of possibly having to delay your return home, to Marc, because of the weather.

Your box of sex toys (it’s a shoe box, yes, some nice Cat’s boots with steel in the toes and thick insulated soles, a half-size larger than usual to allow for thick wooly socks which you favored) sits on the bed. You no longer even owned the shoes, but the box was heavy, the lid bulging from two years of collecting an eclectic set of sex toys.

“I’ll show you. But I have rules,” you say, phone wedged between your shoulder and ear.

“I’m listening.” You can hear the smile in his voice, and it drives you nuts.

“One–absolutely no naming them. I’m serious. The last thing I want is to be trying to get off and remember that you named a certain dildo Colonel Mustard.”

“I’m more of a Professor Plum kind of guy anyway, but consider your objection noted.”

“No making fun of me of any kind. Not even light teasing.”

“Agreed.”

“And no questions.”

“That’s…yeah, I don’t think I can agree to that,” he says, surprising you given how amicable he’s been so far. “Can we agree on premeditated questions? Some basics that you answer for each of them?”

You purse your lips and sit down heavily on your bed. The box rattles beside you, lid almost coming off. “Depends on the questions, I guess.”

“When was the last time you used it, and your personal rating out of ten.”

You relax somewhat. Whatever you had been worried about Marc wanting to know—’gross, why that?’ or ‘who used that on you?’—disappears. Maybe it says something about the men you’ve been with lately that your first fear is that Marc will become jealous or judgemental. You should have known that Marc would be different. “Yeah, okay. That’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, voice growing firm. “I don’t want you to say something’s okay when it isn’t. That’s a big deal to me.”

“I’m sure, dad.”

Marc snorts. “Okay, champ. FaceTime. Let’s go.”

You press the button, and while it connects, you experience all five stages of grief, chewing on one of your thumbnails as you shift from one socked foot to the other. At last his face appears, and it’s like a punch to the gut. Marc is so handsome: his brows, the curve of his nose, his whiskey-warm eyes, the curls spilling onto his forehead. His hair is longer now than the last time you saw him, and it makes your heart clench. You find yourself smiling without meaning to.

“Hey, beautiful,” Marc says, eyes squinting with his smile. “Long time no see.”

“Too long,” you admit. You study the picture in the background, trying to piece together where he is in his apartment. Judging by the lighting (warm but dark) and the lamp in the background, he is in his bedroom. This is confirmed when he rolls over onto his side and props himself up onto his elbow on one of the fluffy pillows.

Once, you had gotten too drunk to drive home and Marc had let you sleep in his bed. You had spent the whole night rolling around on the soft sheets, breathing in his scent, aching but too guilty to touch yourself.

“You okay?” he asks, brows lifting. His mouth settles into a soft, more neutral position, like he is being careful not to convince you one way or another. His lips are so full and soft looking… “If you don’t want to do this, we can say forget it. I just like to know what my options are.”

His options—oh fuck.

Your face burns hot. You slap one palm against your cheek, feeling the heat your skin gives off, knowing that Marc is watching you (which makes your face burn all the hotter). Fuck, how can he just say stuff like that, calm and casual in his soft, warm voice? You think about turning the camera away for a moment just to catch your breath.

“You’re so shy right now,” Marc says, a hint of laughter in his voice. “God. It’s cute.”

“Quit,” you groan, parting your fingers so you can glare at the phone. His grin just grows. “I’m not shy, I have a strap-on.”

“If you think having six inches between your legs makes you immune to shyness, I’ve got news for you.”

“Is that all you’ve got? Six inches?”

“You want to see?” The way he raises his brow, the way he so expertly calls your bluff makes your thighs clench together. Like a great neon sign flashing behind your eyes right now are the words MARC’S COCK. You’ve never seen it, but you know Marc is well hung. You’ve seen him adjust his hard ons before—in the morning after waking up, during a particularly steamy scene on Netflix. The bulge in his sweats has made an appearance or two in your dreams, yes.

“Maybe,” you admit, wondering if he’ll show you. Right now. On FaceTime. Just whip his dick out for you to drool over.

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” he says, mouth quirking into a smirk. “But really. Go on. I have work in the morning, and I want to see every last toy.”

You bring out plenty of things that are “normal”. G-spot vibrators. Clitoral vibrators. Rabbit vibes, and pretty glass dildos. Most of the items get a high score—you have narrowed them down to your favorites. A natural selection amongst sex toys, if you will.

Sometimes you glance to Marc and get flustered at the solemn, studious expression on his face. He hangs on your every word, committing the things you say to memory. No man has ever given you attention the way Marc does: whole-heartedly. Singularly. Unconditionally.

Your throat gets choked up for a moment at the thought. God, you’re falling in love with him, you think in terror to yourself, as if you haven’t already. As if your knees aren’t skinned and palms bloody from the fall.

“You okay, honey?”

You jump a little, having gotten lost in your own thoughts. You clear your throat.

“Yeah, no, I’m good.” You pick up the next item, a candle. When he asks you what scent it is, you laugh a little. “The wax melts at a safe temperature for wax play. You know. Pouring wax on somebody.”

“Rate it.”

“It’s…maybe a four. May-be.”

Massage oil (8), cuffs (10), collapsible spreader bar (9), bite gag (5), blindfold (10), harness (7), all come and go. It is easier to continue once you get talking, and by the end you feel like late night Dr. Ruth.

At last, the box is empty.

“That’s all she wrote,” you tell Marc. He looks a little sleepy, though his eyes are still sharp where they focus on you, tracing over your features. He is quiet. You prod: “Well?”

“I’m going to have to use every last one on you,” he says, eyes on your own. “And until I can, I’m going to be thinking about you using every last one on yourself.”

His shoulder shifts, arm moving off screen—adjusting his hard cock.

“Fuck, Marc,” you sigh brokenly. “You can’t say shit like that.”

“That wasn’t one of your rules,” he says, eyes going heavy-lidded. You thought he was just adjusting himself, but the motion continues. Not enough for him to be full-fledged jerking off, but you think that’s he’s teasing himself. Massaging himself maybe. Your thighs squeeze together. Would he notice if you did the same? “Thank you for the show-and-tell. You’re such a good girl for me.”

You groan.

He laughs, the sound gentle and teasing. “That gets you, huh?”

“Don’t laugh at me,” you bark, endeavoring to cover your face as best as you can with one hand. The truth of his observation doesn’t matter; it’s the principle of the thing. Peeking through your fingers, you catch his expression, and your breath hitches. Marc looks at the phone screen with something unbearably tender in his eyes, something so terribly soft.

Marc looks at you like he loves you.

“Which one’s your favorite? Let me see it again.”

Your favorite. Hmm. You step back from your bed and look at the toys spread out so neatly, your brain turning over the question. All of them get you hot in one way or another, but there is one that stands out. You end up choosing a relatively simple rabbit vibrator. It’s ol’ Faithful; what else can you say?

“Is this what you grab when you want to blow your own mind, or is this what you grab any old night?”

“I want to blow my own mind every old night, Spector.”

“Noted. But you’re not pouring hot wax on yourself every old night,” he says. It is utterly distracting how his shoulder still tenses periodically, hand moving off-screen. You spend an inordinate amount of time watching those small muscles flex, trying to recreate the image of what his hand must be doing in your mind. “What is it about this one? What do you like about it?”

“I like that it fills me up,” you admit. It is a little easier to talk when you’re so distracted by him. “I like that I can use it without hands. Sometimes I put the spreader bar on and bind my hands to the headboard so I can feel like—”

Marc’s arm has stopped moving. His eyes are sharp, burning hot, like iron from the furnace. How voice is quiet but brooks no room for avoiding the question when he asks: “So you can feel like what, baby?”

“I…I don’t know,” you say. It isn’t a lie, either. You aren’t sure where the sentence was heading, and so much about your relationship with being submissive eludes you when you try to put it into words. You chew on the inside of your cheek while you think, and Marc is utterly quiet and still while you contemplate. “Like…like I’m suffering for somebody. Like my pleasure belongs to somebody else. Whoever tied me up. I don’t know.”

Marc nods a little, quiet for a moment himself. “From now on, it belongs to me, yeah? Even if you’re the one tying yourself up—you’ll be doing it because I tell you to, alright? And you’ll be doing it safely. It’s dangerous to tie yourself up when you’re alone. That’s not like my good girl. I don’t want to hear you doing that again.”

“Sorry,” you whisper. You kneel on the floor, bed too covered in toys to lay on. You rest your head against the edge of the mattress, adjusting the phone so that he can still see your face.

“I’ll forgive you when I hear that you won’t do it anymore,” he says. His hand is moving again. Maybe he is jerking off. “Promise me.”

“I won’t tie myself up when I’m alone. I promise.”

Marc lets out a breath, a literal sigh of relief. His eyes go squinty as he smiles, pride evident in the curve of his lips. “There’s my good girl.”

You groan again, turning to bury your face in the mattress.

“Are you on the floor right now?” he laughs.

You groan in an affirmative.

“Kneeling for me?”

You hadn’t intended it that way, but now that he says it, you realize that you are. You nod your head, face still hidden.

“Thighs apart?”

You peek an eye at him and hope he can tell that you’re scowling. Determined to follow his rules (even if your sex positively aches between your thighs) you shift your legs apart.

“You make me feel so powerful,” he says, voice a little shaky. His eyes are looking just off screen, like he can’t make eye-contact with you right now. “Kneeling for me, following my orders. So powerful. But so, so small. You know that? Because you’ve got me wrapped around your finger. And I like it.”

“I like it too,” you murmur, head a little foggy.

“Why?”

“It feels real safe,” you admit. “Like you’ll take care of me. Like you’d never have me do something that might hurt me or embarrass myself.”

“I wouldn’t, baby, I swear I wouldn’t,” he says. Then he sighs. “You’re driving me fucking crazy. I’m jerking off twice a day just to function.”

“Marc,” you say, your voice literally shaking. “Are you—right now?”

He hums and lets his arm grow bolder. The motion is unmistakable now. Marc Spector is masturbating on the phone with you—because of you. The knowledge is like an electric zap that you feel from your head to your toes. Is his dick out? Does he have a hand beneath his sweats? All of this is too much; your own hand falls between your thighs.

“At-at,” says Marc. His shoulder stops moving. “No touching yourself.”

“What?” you whine. “That’s not fair!”

“I stopped too!”

“You’ve been jerking off for twenty minutes though, you owe me!”

“That’s not how this works,” he laughs. “Not to mention, there isn’t a chance in hell you’d last twenty minutes even if I did let you touch yourself. No—we’re going to wait.”

“Til when?”

“Spring. The first time I hear you cum, it’s going to be with my fingers tucked inside you. I want to kiss you and swallow every sound.”

“Then can we hang up?” you ask, shifting on your knees. “I need to touch myself.”

“Use your cute little vibrator,” he murmurs. You both hang up.

He’s right. There’s no way you could have lasted twenty minutes when you barely make it to two.

Spring is never going to come.

Except it does. Of course it does. There is still the occasional snowstorm, but they are irregular enough that you are no longer needed. You book a flight back home, and send Marc a screenshot of your ticket.

I’ll pick you up.

The thought makes your belly flip with nerves. You decide that as eager as you are to see Marc, you are just as anxious too. You would rather prolong it a fraction more, would rather it took place on more familiar turf (outside your apartment rather than the strange unfamiliar-familiarity of an airport). So instead you tell him to meet you back at your apartment. If he brings some basic groceries, bonus points for him.

Though planes don’t often make you nervous anymore, you find yourself gripping your folded hands so tight that you leave marks from your fingernails. What are you doing, agreeing to have sex with Marc? This could ruin everything: your most valuable friendship. The one person in the world who had stuck beside you through thick and thin, even when you had lost people you thought you’d die without.

Even more frightening: what if everything goes right?

Landed, see you soon!! You hope that your exclamation points cover up your anxiety.

Don’t be nervous, he sends back. Fuck.

The Uber is the longest of your life, familiar scenery passing by as you leave the airport and enter the city you’ve called home for so many years. The city where you met Marc. The city where you meet him again and again in the spring, like Persephone coming home. It always happens like this too.

The Uber pulls up to the curb outside your apartment, and Marc is sitting there on the steps. Today is only different because he’s pacing—maybe you aren’t the only one who’s nervous. He’s dressed for spring in just a light jacket, t-shirt, and his jeans. He doesn’t recognize the car when it pulls up, but he recognizes you in the passenger seat. God. His face lights up. Marc goes to the car door and opens it for you, draws you out and into his arms. The first hug he always gives you is bone crushing. He lifts you off the ground and twirls you in his arms before helping you regain your footing.

“Long time, no see,” he says—like always.

“Too long,” you say, clinging to him.

“Uh. Don’t forget your bags,” your Uber driver calls through the open window.

“I got them,” says Marc. He insists on carrying them inside and up the stairs—nice to see that the elevator is still out of order even after the winter. On the way up, Marc fills you in an the uneventful time he spent popping into your apartment every other day to collect your mail, to dust, to water your plants.

You wonder if he slept in your bed. If he laid amongst the scent of you and wanted to touch himself, like you had that night you were too drunk to drive home from his place. You hope that he did—you hope that he touched himself. You—

“Bed,” he says, giving you a jumpscare. At the wide-eyed expression on your face, he misunderstands. “Not for sex! Just—your exhausted. That’s what you get for taking such an early flight. You should nap. Then we should get dinner, my treat. Then we should—”

“Talk.”

“Exactly.”

At his mention of it, your exhaustion (which you had been adamantly pushing back with nerves and adrenalin) resurfaces. He’s right; you always take the earliest flights you can manage, to get home as soon as possible, and yes you arrive to the airport way too early. You’re a woman with anxiety; it’s a given. But the last thing you want to do right now is part ways with Marc. A part of you believes that if he leaves, then you might chicken out. You might never let him back in…

“Stay?” you ask.

“For a nap?” he wonders, mouth stretching in a grin that reeks of fondness for you.

“Sure.”

“In your bed?”

You swallow past the sudden knot in your throat. Fuck, it feels so real. You’re going to have Marc in your bed tonight—for more than just a nap. You push the thoughts away with violence, feeling the way heat rises in your face at the thought alone. Come on, get it together! The way you’re pining for this guy is ridiculous, like you’re a virgin on her wedding night!

Fuck, but can you help it?

“Just sleep,” Marc says, interrupting your spiraling. “Then, dinner. Then…we’ll talk.”

Something inside you relaxes, your shoulders drifting away from where they had been climbing to your ears. Just sleep. You can do that. You’re certainly exhausted enough. A trail of you is formed throughout the apartment: your keys left in the dish by the door, shoes toed off at the shoe-rack, suitcase left haphazardly outside your bedroom door.

Inside, your room is as pristine as you had left it. The sheets are fresh. You have suddenly never been more tired in your life. Taking the last few steps to your bed—a full, larger than the twin you had suffered on during the winter—you collapse on top of the blankets. Who needs to be underneath them? You’re tired enough to sleep just like this.

But Marc pulls the blankets and the sheets back, working them free from beneath your body. He tucks you in, and he climbs into the bed on the other side. Peeking one eye open, you see that he is on his side, watching you. He grins when he catches you looking.

“Sleep tight,” he says sweetly.

God, you do.

When you wake up, the shadows have changed on the wall. It is early evening, your sleep schedule properly fucked. Marc has come to spoon you sometime during your sleep, and you relish the feel of his strong arm looped around your waist, his warm chest pressed flush against your back. The both of you had fallen asleep in your jeans and socks, and neither one cared. For a moment, you let yourself lay there, enjoying the intimacy. It’s easy to pretend you are lovers when he holds you like this.

Then his nose brushes a line up the side of your neck and his breath is hot against your ear as he whispers: “Sleep good?”

“Holy shit, I didn’t know you were awake.”

He snickers, unapologetic.

“Yes,” you say, twisting in his arms. “I slept great. But now I’m starv—...ing.”

As soon as you had turned in his arms, Marc’s eyes had gone molten. Outside, a car alarm goes off. There are horns honking. Someone plays music, but it doesn’t matter. Inside you room, the only sound is the heaving of near-silent breaths as you both lean precariously over the ledge of friendship—whatever rests below, who knows!

“I’m hungry too,” he says, innuendo in his words. His hand on your back traces a line down to the curve of your hip and then up to your ribs. His thumb barely brushes the space beneath your bra. He whispers your name.

He kisses you, a soft press of lips on lips. Again, heads tilted a little differently. Again, noses brushing in a way that has him smiling against your mouth. You part for a single heartbeat before he is leaning back in and kissing you deeper, tasting the seam of your lips with his tongue. Eager, you part your mouth and let him in. Fuck the uncomfortable angle of your neck—you’re kissing Marc Spector.

And God, what a kiss it is. He explores you in a way you hadn’t been explored before. Oh yes, you’d been plundered: had men whose tongues were like their cocks, thrusting away at your mouth, no finesse, no savoring of the moment. Marc kisses you like this is the first and last time he might get to. He traces the line of your teeth with his tongue. He softly nips your bottom lip. He coaxes your tongue into his mouth just to suck at it sweetly. Never have you felt so worshiped from a single kiss—nor so aroused.

Your hips rock against him, finding that he is already erect. You manage to loop one leg around his waist before he breaks the kiss, laughing breathlessly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he teases.

“Aren’t we—?” you blink.

“I said dinner first.”

“But I’m hungry,” you remind him, arching your back to drag your sex over his hard cock. You’ll never forget the sight of his eyes rolling back, his mouth going a little slack as he takes a shuddering breath.

He rolls you over and straddles your hips, hands finding your wrists and pinning you to the bed. His cock tents the seam of his jeans. Like this, you suddenly feel so small. Something inside you gets small and soft and says, ‘Be good for him. Do as he wants.’ You have long come to terms with the instincts inside you that make you crave this, knowing that they do not make you less of a modern woman but God, it’s still so embarrassing how easily you want to fold!

You argue instead, arching up to rub yourself against him, a spark in your eyes. A challenge. Marc’s own eyes narrow. He kneels up off of one of your legs, gripping your thigh to push it up-and-out, spreading you open for him, and God for a moment you think that you’ve convinced him, swayed him with just a wiggle of your hips, and the coming satisfaction will be (almost) as strong as your disappointment.

Instead, he brings his hand down on your pussy in a spank. You yelp. Muffled as it was through the denim, you could still feel the strength in his hand, and you are sensitive enough that it leaves you with a brief, stinging ache. He cups your sex with his palm, soothing it with the warmth of his hand.

“Dinner first. Where’s my good girl at? The girl who fell to her knees a thousand miles away without me even having to ask her, huh?”

You’d cover your face, if your hands were free. Suddenly you are shy and embarrassed at your own behavior. You don’t even allow yourself to rub up against his touch, light though it may be. Looking at him through your lashes, you say: “I’m sorry, I just…”

“You need it,” he says, thumb smoothing along the sensitive stretch of your inner thigh. “I understand, baby. Was I harsh?”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No sir,” you whisper shyly.

His grin is broad, beatific. It turns teasing almost right away. He leans down and brushes his nose against yours before releasing your wrists and rolling off of you.

“I want to be just friends for just a while longer,” he admits in a whisper. “Throughout dinner. There’s something important I need to tell you.”

#marc spector x reader

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writing-by-mimi · 2 years

Text

GN:MC! Un-sheeps Hc

Fandom: Obey Me!

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan.

Summary: In the Obey Me! Manga, Mc is a cute little sheep. (For real, if you haven't seen it, look at it. The team that put it together made Mc cute as fuck.) So what would our lovely, most eligible, Devildom men think when part of the magic oppressing Mc finally fades, but still leaves them far from normal? Humans don't have a cute little fluffy tail and a perfect set of fluffy ears...

Adult content. Read at your own risk. Not beta read.

💙Lucifer💙

• He had sent you grocery shopping in his stead. He was behind and the work pile was only getting bigger. You never minded before. He would send you with a neatly folded wad of Grimm, (worried if you should fall short or get more requests from his brothers) and you would always kindly return his change (though he would rather you keep it, but you always insisted on giving every unspent cent back.).

• So when he felt that familiar tug just a second before being summoned to your side, his heart sank. Most knew to leave you be, regardless of how they felt about the exchange program. Only a fool would try and harm you, but why else would you be summoning him? You weren't one to make a habit out of randomly calling him or his brothers to your side.

• On his guard for anything, as he would have no idea your situation, he found himself in the markets, amoung a crowd surrounding a figure on their knees trying desperately to cover themselves.

• Then he saw it. His pact mark on the figures spine, glowing brightly, sat at the base of the neck above his brothers. There was no other it could be. It was you.

• Acting quickly, he stepped from the crowd while removing his jacket. Placing it around you gently as he whispered your name, watching as you slowly opened your eyes and looked up to him. You were absolutely stunning.

• For a brief moment, he forgot where the two of you were. Caught up in looking at your face, eyes about to brim over with tears of embarrassment, pleading silently for help.

• Reaching his hand out and gently cupping your cheek, he couldn't stop the gentle reassurance that fell from his lips as he quickly teleported the both of you away from the crowd of shocked on lookers.

• He had chosen his room. It would be the safest place (other than the castle) for you, and offer you privacy while you adjusted.

• The primal feeling swelling in his chest was doing him no favors. You had a personality he was drawn to, it was why he had offered his pact to you after everything, but he had never thought of you as more than a sheep. He knew you were human...

• But seeing you sat on his bed, wearing nothing but his jacket...the fact that you had called him to help in your moment of need... the feeling in his chest was far more than pride...

• It was carnal desire to show you so many things.

• Stood in front of you, looking down to your face, he couldn't resist. Placing a slow kiss to your lips he almost wanted to sigh. Your lips were supple, warm, everything he had expected from the moment he saw your new form.

• If you were to ask him what happened between the kiss and now, he wouldn't know how to answer. One second he had heard you panting from just a simple kiss, now he was listening to your moans as he thrusted his cock in to you roughly, you still wore nothing but his jacket.

• He had missed it earlier, but you still held two attributes from your earlier form. Fluffy white sheep ears that would bounce everytime he thrusted into you, and a soft wooly puff ball of a tail that sat right above your butt (and it brought a small blush to his face every time he saw it. Especially when you would get excited, on account that it would essentially wiggle without your knowledge and give away just how excited you were about something. The fact you didn't have such control over your new body part was adorable, but he would rather die and have Mammon replace him than ever admit it outloud).

• Like the morning after incident. He had held your body next to his all night while you both slept. Your smaller body slotted against his, back to his chest making you the perfect little spoon. He had given you a kiss on the neck when you had awoken, only for your tail to start wiggling as your voice and face played as calm as possible. (Which wasn't all that calm, but you had been very sweet trying to pretend to be calm and unbothered, most likely trying to not make a big deal out of things. The pride in Lucifers chest going through the roof knowing how he really made you feel.)

• He truly hadn't meant to tease you further at breakfast. His brothers were already freaking out about your new form, one step closer to the full fledged human you were, and he had told them to leave his Darling alone. They had been poking and prodding and even petting your new soft floppy ears.... Your hands trying to hide your blush and hold your tail still when the words left his mouth excited him. You were excited about being with him and unable to contain it, body betraying you. It was quite the ego boost.

• Dresses you in clothing that truly points to how sweet and innocent you are, accentuating your little lamb attributes, almost taunting the whole Devildom and his father himself. He was always sure to make his point, that no one would touch his little lamb, or the big bad wolf would do more than knock some houses down.

• Oh, Lord Diavolo forgive him, the demon who thought the rules didn't apply to themselves had tried to prey upon his dearest little lamb. Your ears even shaking as you told the demon giving you a hard time to go away or you would call for him.

• In both of your defenses, you had been nothing but honest telling him that Lucifer would hurt the demon...it wasn't his fault nor yours the demon could not listen. Lucifer will absolutely demolish the demon in front of you. The sense of pride radiating from him as he proves that he can protect you, as the other demon spits and sputters and begs for mercy. But the demon will recieve none. He will be an example of what happens to those that may attempt to harm his precious little lamb.

• You may chastise him for what he did, absolutely destroying the demon and leaving pieces of him behind in the center of the campus at R.A.D., even some on your new clothes and on himself, but your ears flicking in rhythm with your cute little tail gave you away. Blood spattered on your outfit you received from him just makes you so much more tempting to him. A defenseless little lamb in love with a big bad demon, blood stained, but yet so innocent and pure.

• He would do much worse for you, little lamb.

💛Mammon💛

• You already have this demon emotionally fucked up. He loves ya, there ain't no denying that...but you're a sheep. If anyone ever figured it out, he be a laughing stock!! Lucifer and Lord Diavolo, even Barbatos say your human, but how can ya expect him to even remember that when all he's ever know ya as was a walking TV dinner for his kind?

• He had been in your room, watching shitty Devildom TV with ya to pass some down time. A way to just relax and zone out, but share the experience with another. It wasn't anything special, but it was just you and him. Quiet. Almost peaceful.

• Well, atleast it had been. He had stood to stretch, when all of a sudden your small sheep body slid off the couch and clung to his shin. You were trembling and whispering up to him that something was wrong.

• What the fuck do ya mean, wrong? Ya can't just say that shit to him and not explain, Mc.

• You say your body feels hot, tingles just under your wool and your almost to the point of pain. Pain? What the fuck would be happening to ya to be in pain?

• He gets his answer soon enough. A blinding light and a moment later, looking back toward you is a humanoid shape. Fluffy white ears twitching on top of your head...and is that a tail...oh fuck...that's your butt he can see? 100% is looking at your butt, but trying to be respectful. (It's not his fault Mc. He is a man starved when it comes to you and now your cute little naked butt is just...there. You'll have to forgive him)

• Doesn't fully register that you are naked, trembling, clinging to his leg. He knows you are. He can see ya...but his brain is just in over drive trying to make sure this is real.

• Your eyes are beautiful, looking up to him as the heat from your newly naked body radiates through his jeans. An fuck, Mc, why ya gotta look so pretty down their on the ground clinging to his leg? When you whisper his name he can feel his cock twitch in his pants.

• He knows why. His Greed for you. For your time, your affection, and now that ya had a humanoid body, the overwhelming urge ta throw ya back on your bed and show you every single thing he's ever felt about ya is getting hard to overlook.

• He didn't know when he transformed, all he knew was that feeling your hand in his as he helped you up sent a feeling he had been denying through his body. Love.

• An it scared the shit outta him.

• He hadn't meant ta call ya ugly while looking down at you, your hand still in his as you tried to cover yourself by standing as close as possible to him to block his view...but as soon as the words came outta his mouth you had dropped his hand an ran. Fuck. Why was telling ya the truth always so goddamn hard?

• And now here ya were, in a form that wouldn't make him a weirdo...an all he had done was make ya cry.

• He went to his room to get ya some clothes, but by time he got back, you were gone. He was freaking out. You just transformed, more vulnerable than the last form in his mind, crying and looking too damn adorable for anyone to handle.

• He spent hours trying to find you. He was about to cry himself. He took a chance and checked the only spot he hadn't. When ya first got here and weren't the shape you were supposed to be, your first night sleeping had been a doozy. Mammon was up all night looking for you, since he was responsible for ya...and he couldn't find ya. It wasn't until the alarm on the bed side table went off and ya crawled out from under the bed that he found ya and was able to relax himself.

• He even lifted up the bed... the one spot ya shoulda been if you were scared and hurt and you weren't there...

• It wasn't until dinner time he saw ya next. He hadn't dropped looking for you. He was going to come clean to his brothers about how he lost ya and needed their help desperately because of what happened. He didn't care if Lucifer strung him from the chandelier, he'd tie himself up if it meant they would help... but his heart almost stopped beating when he saw ya.

• You never looked at him. He wished ya would. Either you ran to Asmo, or he found ya, because the outfit you had on was made for you and your body. The only way you looked better was naked looking up at him... your voice was different, not as high pitched and small, but luscious and warm. You even apologized for looking different. Saying sorry for how ya were and promising you'd find a way back to your small sheep form.

• He couldn't stand it. He had to make it right. So when he threw himself across the table to capture your lips in a kiss he was ready for anything. He just didn't expect you to wrap your arms around him and kiss back. It hadn't lasted long, but damn, was it not enough, it may never be enough. Ya tasted perfect and the way your fluffy white ears fluttered when he pulled back from ya just sealed the deal for him. You had turned away blushing.

• Asmodeus tapped your knee and whispered out "I told you it's just because he's an idiot." As Lucifer grabbed him by the ear and pulled him from the table. "Tell Mc you love them, idiot." Lucifer grumbled quietly as he headed for his office, but no real malice in his voice.

• And tell ya he did, he shouted it loud enough he was sure you'd hear it in the basement from the dining room as he was drug away. Lucifer informing him that they were going to have a conversation about how you needed to be treated.

• "I love you too!" Your voice had carried across the room and he squirmed him Lucifers grasp to look one last time at ya before being pulled through the door, his goofy smile being the last you saw until the next morning. Fuck, did he love ya.

• Lucifer tells him that even while he struggles with his own feelings and such, that he understands Mammon to a point, that he needs to be honest, because when he isn't just hurts you, and thats the last type of thing he ever wants to do to ya.

• This man is gonna stutter through sentences for weeks, but he WILL tell you all the time how much he loves you. Just don't tease him for sounding like Levi...

🧡Leviathan🧡

• The third born had been making bows for you. He had heard you and Asmodeus talking about things you could try to be fashionable, even as a sheep. His mind immediately went to Bows.

• Trying them on, all of them had fit perfectly. Clasp not pulling your wool or damaging it in any way. He even collected some orange ribbon and had it enchanted by Satan, a self tying bow. All you would have to do it's put it around yourself and it would perfectly fit to size and tie itself up with the remainder of the ribbon. It was genius and he was having Satan teach him the spell later.

• You had been testing it out when all of a sudden, a whine left you. Levi's face instantly turned red as he watched you carefully. One moment you had been a small 15 pound sheep... but now there was a naked body on its knees in his room...the self tying bow around its neck. Looking over your shoulder to him, you had a look of shock on your face as your hand went to the bow.

• Even pulling off the bow, you remained humanoid. Levi spotted your puff ball tail moving side to side quickly. "Levi, I'm not a sheep!" You squealed, throwing yourself onto him.

• Yall ever heard dialup? That's it. That his brain trying to piece everything together as he realizes you are naked on him. And your tail is doing a happy wiggle. He knows all about happy tail wiggles because his does it too when you two play games together.

• Somewhere during the dialup connection, his brain just went for a full reboot. Passing out on top of you in true anime fashion.

• Comes back to reality after a few minutes, but because of how weak you are from randomly transforming, you can't get him off of you. So the third born wakes up with you under him, flustered and...dare he say it...a...bit...horny?

• No.

• Surely not.

• He was Leviathan. People didn't get that way over him. Pushing up with his arms you let out a moan beneath him and wiggle just a bit. Ears twitching as your naked body rubbed against his.

• You finally get back to reality and get embarrassed. Covering yourself quickly and trying to squirm away, only to feel Levi's boner against your hip, causing you to freeze.

• "You're really pretty like this, Mc..." man is proud he got the words out without passing out again! Your tail wiggling that happy wag. "The prettiest in all of the Devildom..." His voice isn't more than a whisper, he's torn. He knows he should get off of you. Get you clothes and send you on your way...but your just so close. So pretty and your tail and ears...your turned on too, right?

• The Admiral of Hells Navy has joined the chat.

• Tilting your face up to his, he slowly moves in for a kiss. When you don't pull back, it's like a part of him breaks. All the emotions and reasons not to take you right here and now have flown the coop.

• Your soft moan into his lips is all it takes before he is taking his clothes off and moving you to his bed (worst bed on the planet, maybe he'll upgrade for ya mc...), and is running his hand down your body as his tail does its own happy little wag, but you can't see that right now, he thanks his lucky stars.

• Levi whispers every positive thing he's ever felt about you into your ear as he slowly and softly takes you until your body can give no more, only then fucking you hard and fast to find his own end while he over stimulates you with his cock. Kisses to the top of your head, and even on your new fluffy ears which make him smile as he covers both of you with the blanket.

• After you fall asleep in his arms will he realized he hasn't asked you out and will slowly freak out until you wake up, to which he will yell at the top of his lungs asking you out. (He wasn't meaning to be so loud, he was just trying his best for you...)

• When your poof ball tail wags faster than the speed of light, he feels a sense of calm. Of happiness. His own tail does its own happy dance as he walks you to breakfast the next day, dressed in his clothes.

The rest of the brothers and the royals are on the way! ;D

#Lucifer #mammon #Leviathan #leviathan x mc #obey me lucifer #obey me! lucifer #leviathan x reader #obey me! leviathan #obey me mammon #obey me! mammon #lucifer x mc #lucifer x reader #mammon x mc #mammon x reader #obey me #obey me!#obmswd #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date?

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stealingpotatoes · 4 months

Note

Honestly I think if your ghost crew ever met your ghost company then both sides would respectfully pull the wildest stunts (Wooly and Ezra? Absolutely insane duo. ((On the flip side: Hera and Cody talking about insane Jedi kanan and kenobi)))

[also I absolutely adore your art style! It reminds me of soft candies or like salt-water taffy- hope your having a fantastic day :]]

I'm gonna take myself round back and put myself down like a dog with rabies bc I thought you meant call of duty at first LOL

#also thank you!!!!! hope you're also having a fantastic day!!#thanks for the ask!

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cerise-on-top · 5 months

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Hello! Are you still writing hcs?

Graves with a spouse(writing this as a husband for him myself 🥰) who loves sewing and knitting, or some something amongst 'cozy hobbies' like embroidery, reading, poetry or baking. Just wondering How a relationship would be between them or how Graves would act.

Your writing is very lovely btw! I fell in love with it, very beautiful!

Hello! I am still writing HCs, it'll probably be a little bit longer until I take a proper break! That was a really cute request, I liked that one! Domestic and sweet stuff like that is always the best, so thank you for bestowing a request like that upon me! (❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡

Graves with a Spouse with Cozy Hobbies

As mentioned already, Graves loves feeling like the big, strong, useful man in the relationship, so he’d absolutely love you even more if you have “soft and cozy” hobbies like the ones you mentioned. While he is very much a talker, something like knitting can be done while holding a conversation, so he’ll definitely talk to you as you work on your next project. He thinks it’s really awesome, the way your hands move so quickly to create something like a sweater, a scarf, or even a plushie. You don’t really look at him, way too absorbed in your project and not wanting to make even a single mistake, but you still spend time with him. It’s ideal, he can tell you the newest, juiciest gossip among his Shadows while you make him the coziest sweater he’s ever seen. Lets you measure him, if you need and want to, because he really wants that sweater. You wanna put a cute little motif, like a cup of coffee on it as well? He’ll fall in love even more than before.

But even when he’s tired, he wants to spend his time with you. Instead of talking, he’ll lean against you and watch you crochet a bit before nodding off ever so slowly. It’s nice, it’s repetitive, for the most part, and it’s also quiet. By the time he wakes up he gets to see more of your beautiful creation, so that’s a big plus. And when he isn’t dozing off against you, he’s more than happy to hold your yarn and make it a bit longer when you need it. There’s something magical about watching you crochet. He had to crochet in elementary school, but, since he didn’t want to sit down for something like that, he wasn’t very good at it. His strengths always lied elsewhere, so it’s fascinating to him that you can sit in the same position for hours on end, barely moving, and still having fun. The only time he has to do that is when he’s filing reports, and afterwards he needs something to take his mind off of those.

Graves, every time he’s about to go out without you, will always ask you if you need anything from the arts and crafts stores, willing to buy you the loveliest fleece for felting if you ask him for it. Hell, if you want to sell your plushies, or your creations in general, he’s probably the best man to have on your side. Especially when it comes to plushies. Some of his Shadows have families with children, so he knows some of them would love your creations. Might sometimes ask you if you could knit or crochet a baby wooly hat for one of them, if you have the time, since his Shadows know you can be trusted with a task like that. You will always be reimbursed, either by his Shadows or by Graves himself. Sometimes he does like to gift his Shadows something you made and pretend they bought it. You’ll always get your money, but it might sometimes be out of Graves’ pocket.

He definitely likes the domesticity of it. He can go about his day, certain you won’t get hurt, unless you’re sewing or embroidering. But he’d never stop you from pursuing a craft like that. In fact, he’ll actively encourage you, always asking about your projects and wanting to know if he can help you in any way. He wants to see your embroidery, your crocheting, your sewing, as well, so he might gently pick it up from time to time, view it from every angle and give you feedback a la Graves, praising you like only he could.

When you’re a baker you can be sure he’ll taste test your stuff every single time. He has a bit of a sweet tooth, not too much, but he loves you, so he’s willing to eat everything you make. If you’re up making cookies, then he’ll help you by either buying you the best, most reliable hand mixer he can find, or by stirring the dough himself so your arms won’t get too tired. This he does under the condition that he gets to be the first person to try your cookies, your cake, your cobbler. He may not be the worst baker, but he can still learn a lot from you. That he does with all the love in the world, looking at you with an adoring expression as you put the baked goods in the oven, waiting for them to finish. Always has a big smile on his face when he watches you be this content with your life. While you wait for it to properly bake, he’d sometimes ask you to play card games with him. Always lets you win on purpose during those times since you always look so happy when you win. Afterwards he rewards you with a kiss.

While he may be everything but a fan of poetry, he can respect you being one. Will listen to everything you have to say about them, from your analyses to you reading one out loud. If you have a few poets you like especially well then Graves will bend his back trying to find beautiful anthologies of their works. Maybe some books with a few gold engravings that would look well on a shelf. He wants you to know that, despite him not being interested, he still supports you. While you’re reading a book, he might sneak up on you, startle you and then take you into his arms, trying to get you comfortable so you can continue to read. Might glance at your book from time to time to get a feeling for what you’re reading. If it’s something especially cheesy he might chuckle a bit and call you out on being a hopeless romantic, giving you a kiss to your nose afterwards.

Overall, he likes it. It’s nice, not having to worry about you going god knows where and ending up injured. Besides, he always has something nice to come home to, whether that be some beautiful embroidery of violets or a Sachertorte you made from scratch. Will always praise you for doing well, will always make sure you have the means to keep creating, baking and reading. Does his best to keep it that way as well, you’re his precious little darlin’ and you deserve the world and so much more in his eyes.

#cod #cod x reader #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #I know there are a lot of us who feel that way but I am one of the many people to have a love-hate relationship with Graves #would I beat the living daylights out of him if he ever talked to me? yes #would I also tend to his wounds if I found him injured and in pain? absolutely #he also sort of made me realise that a southern accent is actually kind of charming #apparently people from the south also grill religiously which is lovely since my parents do the same so I'm used to that #Graves is a stinker and I'd rather get pulped than admit I like him #even so it's lovely to see Graves' husband come here and tell me something cute and sweet! kudos to you for being open about him!#I used to hate him. then I struggled to hate him. now I hate him again but I'd put a Hatsune Miku bandaid on him if he cut himself #stupid idiot and yet I follow a few people on here who pretty much only post about Graves with a few others here and there #mans is an enigma to me I don't know what to make of him at all except he's kind of fun #good to see I get to write about him as well though!

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