#some of the most haunting smiles you have ever drawn

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

✨️1K Followers Celebration Day 6: Seventeen bias wrecker - Dino✨️

Affect

AN: This has been in my drafts for 600 years because those clips of him from In The Soop still haunt me. I just think it's funny that because it took me so long to get to this, we got even more shirtless Dino in the gym content recently. Clearly a sign from the universe to finish this lmao. I was going to go on a whole unhinged rant about him but, I'll spare you all. We're all going to ignore that 1. his is the longest so far and 2. I've written the most for him out of every idol, thanks.

Synopsis: You thought working out with Chan would be a fun, productive way to spend time together. However, you're sorely unprepared for just how distracting he can be.

Heads up: Lee Chan x Fem! Reader, friends to lovers of sorts, Reader going through it because of her attraction to Chan, praise kink (f. receiving), Chan being a menace, technically public sex I guess (they fuck in the gym but, no one catches them and it's not brought up as a concern), hair pulling, dirty talk, petnames used for Reader, nipple play (f. receiving), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex, Reader cries a little and creampie.

Word count: 4138

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You knew you were doomed the moment you saw Chan in his workout clothing. His shirt sticking to his torso and practically acting like a second skin. You're sure if you looked hard enough, you could see the outlines of his nipples. His shorts were worse, somehow. Beckoning you to look at his toned thighs and zero in on how they hugged his ass.

Today is going to be more challenging than you anticipated.

"So, where do you want to start?" He asks, snapping you out of so blatantly ogling one of your closest friends. God, what're you thinking? You're here to spend time with him. Not think about how broad his shoulders are and just how muscular his ass would feel if you gave it a squeeze or five.

"You're the gym expert. You tell me," You pray to whichever deity is listening that Chan mistakes the delicate quality in your voice for anything other than how much just seeing him dressed like this affects you.

His laugh is boisterous and fills you with so much warmth, turning the already present butterflies in your stomach into dragons. One person shouldn't have this much power over you.

"I better not hear any complaining then," he responds with a wide smile, his eyes crinkling with mirth. Yeah, maybe being alone with the man you're borderline in love with isn't the wisest decision you've ever made, but it's too late now. You resist the scowl that wants to make itself known on your face when you invision a knowing Soonyoung in your mind. He's the one who suggested this to begin with. You're definitely going to be having some words with him the next time you see him, that evil man. He knew exactly what he was doing.

You severely underestimated how much worse this could get. You thought just seeing him in his tight-fitting gym attire was enough to fog up your brain but, that was before you heard the noises.

Lee Chan is a vocal man in all areas of life. Well, all areas of life that you've experienced him in. He's always talking, laughing, yelling at points, singing, sometimes rapping to fill the silence, and a million other things. The point being, Chan is not a quiet man. So, it shouldn't take you by surprise that he's vocal while he's working out too.

Still, the quiet grunts that fall from his lips and fill the otherwise relatively silent gym when he lifts weights causes your heart to beat wildly in your chest. The drawn-out groans when he finishes a set or stretches out his muscles might be the worst. Coupled with the way he grits his jaw and his face contorts when he's lifting, it's frankly a miracle you haven't spontaneously combusted.

However, as you stand and watch him while he illustrates how he wants you to lift these weights to your absolute horror and mortification, you realise you're getting wet. Not only that, but a barely there ache is beginning to make itself known between your thighs.

You're sure your face is radiating enough heat to power a small apartment building. You're really getting this worked up just watching him work out? What in the world is wrong with you? Are you truly this needy? You definitely need to call Soonyoung after this and yell at him until you're hoarse.

"Do you want to try now?" Chan asks you, kind eyes focused on you. You really might be the world's worst friend.

"Yeah, sure," you respond, pulling yourself together as best as you can given that you're unravelling at the seams. The weights aren't too heavy. You test them in your hold momentarily before imitating Chan's movements. There's a slight burn in your biceps but, otherwise you feel fine. It feels good, even. The slight burn fueling you.

"That's my girl,"

Oh.

Oh no.

That's all it takes for you to falter. Your mind suddenly completely forgetting the motions for the exercise you watched minutes ago.

"You were doing good just now but, try doing it this way," he says, standing up from where he'd been seated to watch you. His hands correcting your hold on the weights and the positioning of your arms. Every brush of his fingers on your skin leaves electricity in their wake. Fuck. Fuck this is bad. This is so bad.

Trying to remember how to be a normal human being, you nod at his words. Following his guidance and resuming the exercise precisely how he showed you now that your brain is semi-functional again.

"There you go. Good job," perhaps you should be a little more concerned about just how much his praise increases your pulse and worsens the way your panties are already sticking to you, but that's a thought for examining on another day. You can only handle so much right now.

"How about some pull-ups next?"

"Chan, do I strike you as the kind of person even capable of doing a single pull-up?"

"You could learn today,"

When all you respond with is a stone faced expression, he seems to get the message loud and clear, "Okay, fine. I'll do pull-ups and you do squats. How does that sound?"

"Now you're speaking my language,"

On the ever growing list of 'things you're violently unprepared for today', the next to be added is Chan just casually taking off his shirt. That stops you dead in your tracks. Your lips parting as his bare back comes into your line of sight. You thought it was broad before, but now? Seeing it completely bare? Broad feels like too simplistic of a word to describe it.

You knew, logically, that Chan was ripped. You've seen his arms, paying special attention to them more times than you care to admit. All of the guys work out regularly, and most of them mention Chan as one of the more dedicated members of the group when it came to hitting the gym.

You knew all of that, and yet, seeing the evidence a mere few metres in front of your very eyes leaves you speechless and stunned. Chan must notice your blatantly staring because he turns to look at you over his shoulder, "Is everything okay?"

You must struggle to come up with a believable response too long because he both looks and sounds panicked as he continues on, "Shit, did I make you uncomfortable? I should've asked if you were okay with me taking my shirt off. I'm sorry."

His panic must be infectious because you soon find yourself in a similar state, "No, no, Chan, it's okay. You did nothing wrong. I don't mind you being shirtless," quite the opposite actually, and that's the issue, but you decide to keep that bit to yourself.

"Are you sure? I really don't mind putting it back on if it's a problem,"

"Yes, I'm sure. It's really not a big deal,"

He looks unsure briefly but seems to accept your words. Giving you a nod before turning back to face the pull-up bar and begin his routine. You barely register the faint sting in your thighs from how deeply your nails are clawing into them. Eagle eyes drinking in as much as you can of every muscle contraction of his back. Your panties growing uncomfortably wet now as your ears are assaulted with grunts louder than the ones before.

You need to take a cold shower that lasts hours after this. At least you have a good month's worth of masturbation material now, so there's that.

Chan finishes his set far quicker than you would've liked. Sweat drenching his handsome face and droplets running down his jaw, his neck, his collarbones, his pecs until they disappear into the waistband of his shorts. Would it be so horrible to admit that you'd love to see just where those droplets wind up? That you'd happily follow their path with your tongue instead of your eyes?

"Hey, is everything okay?" Chan asks, dropkicking you out of your obscene thoughts.

"Ye-Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"It's just um you haven't really moved, and you've been kind of...staring at me?"

Oh no. Oh god, he noticed. No fucking shit he noticed you've probably been staring at him with all of the subtly of a rhino in a tea shop. Why did you have to make a day meant to be catching up with a friend so fucking weird.

"I-sorry. You're just distracting," is what comes out of your mouth in your blind panic.

"Distracting?" He asks, titling his head, "I'm distracting? Distracting how?"

By being shirtless, with all of the noises you've been making all day, by touching me, by telling me what a good job I've been doing, by just existing in the same space as me - are all of the thoughts that spring up in your mind. All the thoughts you show a great deal of restraint in not word vomiting out at him.

To your absolute mortification, an expression akin to understanding dawns on Chan's face. You've never wanted the Earth to spilt open and swallow you whole more than in this moment.

"Oh, I'm distracting huh?" Chan asks with a grin a touch too arrogant for you, taking a step towards you.

"No! It's not - I'm not - I wasn't - it wasn't like that," you stutter out, growing ever more flustered as a shirtless, sweaty Chan invades your space.

"It wasn't like what exactly?" He asks, mischief shining clear as day in his typically warm eyes.

Before you can consciously think about it, you find yourself stepping backwards. Much to the amusement of the man you're not sure if you want to kiss or throttle in front of you.

You decide to abandon the route you were on and attempt another one, "I'm sorry for staring at you."

"You don't have to apologise," Chan waves you off, "But I do want to know why you were staring,"

It's clear as day to anyone with basic critical thinking skills why you were so laser focused on his stupid back and shoulders. He just wants you to say it. You never took Chan for the humiliation type.

"You know why," you mutter, leaning against the wall that you had no idea you'd even gotten so close to. You suppose your brain is too preoccupied with trying to keep your friendship from going up into flames.

"I don't. You have to tell me," You really want to punch that shit eating grin off of his face. Your adrenaline spiking as he takes another step towards you.

"You're really annoying, you know that?"

"I've heard that once or twice over the years. Still doesn't answer my question though,"

"I think you're attractive, okay?" You finally blurt out. Looking at everything but him in the gym. Studiously focused on one of the treadmills in towards the back, over his shoulder.

"Aw, I'm flattered," he responds, so close to you now that all you'd have to do is reach out, and you'd be touching his bare chest. You have a feeling this isn't going to bode well for you.

"Whatever. You got the answer you wanted. Are you happy now?"

"You know, for being one of the smartest women I know, you're pretty dense," he responds dryly.

"What? Hey!"

"Do you really think I'd react this way to anyone saying they think I'm hot? Do I really have to spell it out for you?"

All you can do is owlishly blink at him. His words washing over you, trying your hardest to digest what he just said to you.

"I think you might have to spell it out for me, yeah," you mutter more breathlessly than you care to admit. It certainly doesn't become any easier to breathe when Chan is fully in your space, crowding you against the gym wall. His scent flooding your system, worsening the wetness between your thighs and muddling your mind even more.

"Is this okay?" He whispers, mere centimetres away from your mouth. His eyes considerably darker than they were minutes ago.

"Yes,"

"May I kiss you?"

"Yes," if anyone asks, you don't sound needy in the slightest when you reply to him.

You quickly learn that Lee Chan, as with many other facets of his life, excels in kissing you until you can think of nothing but, him. Not your mind has been anywhere else for the past few hours to begin with.

Your hands make themselves at home on his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle there as you pour what feels like centuries worth of yearning into this kiss.

"May I touch you?" He mutters against your mouth and, you wonder why he'd ever stop kissing you to ask such a stupid question.

"Yes, Chan. You can do whatever you want. I don't care," you rush out in response, dragging his mouth back to yours to feed into what is quickly becoming your newest addiction.

With your green light, his hands drift towards your oversized shirt. Smiling against your mouth when you shudder from the brief brushes of his fingertips along your abdomen while he toys with the hem of your shirt.

"I didn't think you'd be one to tease," you say.

"Have you thought about me like this often?" You really had to be so weak for such an insufferable man huh.

You choose to kiss him instead of replying, tugging on his hair in retaliation for the grin you know is on his face. Luckily for you, Chan seems to have had his fill of toying with you for now. Shoving your shirt upwards, pulling away from you briefly to tug it off of you fully.

He just stares at you. Want clear as day in his eyes as he watches your chest rise and fall and how your sports bra outlines your hardened nipples. You find yourself growing a little self-conscious under his heavy gaze. You hadn't picked your outfit with the goal of winding up like this in mind.

"You're staring," you finally find the courage to say, pushing down every instinct to cross your arms over your chest.

"Just returning the favour," he quips back, jumping back into action and acquainting himself with your throat. You can't help the moans and throaty gasps that leave your lips as his kisses and nips at your sensitive skin, exploiting every weak spot he can find. One of his hands reaching down to fondle your breast, running his thumb over your nipple through the fabric of your bra.

All you can manage to do is lean against the wall for stability. Every kiss and lick and squeeze sending lightning down your spine straight to your clit. You wouldn't be surprised if your legging were wet, too, at this point.

"You're so responsive," he whispers against your neck. Given how quietly he said it, you're not sure whether he meant to verbalise that thought or not, but you can't think to respond when he pushes your bra up.

He dots kisses along your breasts. Each press of his lips bringing him closer and closer to one of your nipples before he envelopes one into his warm mouth. He seems intent to wring every noise, every reaction out of you that he possibly can. Teasingly running his teeth along the sensitive bud, smiling when you arch into his touch. His nimble fingers find themselves at the waistband of your leggings. Slipping into them and pulling a particularly loud gasp from you when they come into contact with your more than likely ruined panties.

Your face burns when Chan's expression morphs into one of surprise, his fingers running along your panty covered slit as if to affirm to himself you're really this wet already.

"I didn't realise I had such a strong effect on you," he says against your breast, his voice gravelly, "Fuck, you're already so wet."

A strangled moan is all you can offer when he finds your swollen clit.

"Poor baby. Don't worry, I'll take care of you. Just need to get you out of these," he says, kneeling in front of you and pulling your leggings and panties down. You kick off your shoes impatiently to help ease the process, leaving you almost fully naked.

"I can't believe you're this wet when I haven't even touched you properly," he says, sounding genuinely amazed. Intense gaze focused on your swollen, slick slit. Lifting one of your legs and letting it rest over one of his shoulders.

Anticipation settles in your gut as Chan makes himself comfortable between your thighs. Your hips jolting into him when he experimentally touches you once more, completely bare this time. Your wetness generously coating his thick fingers. Your eyes flutter shut as he shifts closer, goosebumps rising all over your body when his warm breaths hit you.

His first lap of you is messy and passionate. A muffled groan is your only warning before he grips your thigh and all but shoves his face into you. One of your hands fists his hair, not sure if you want him even closer or whether you need a minute from the sensations wreaking your system.

"Ch-Chan ah god," you cry out, your hold on his hair worsening. He doesn't seem to mind all that much, however. Intently focused on grinding your pussy against tongue until you fall into pieces for him.

With his mouth latched onto your clit, he teases your entrance with two of his fingers and you feel faint. His eyes find yours momentarily, looking at you through his hair as he checks for any signs of discomfort or reservations. Watching your face while he slowly sinks his fingers into you. His cock leaking even more when your warm, wet walls squeeze his fingers for dear life. He's so fucked.

The stretch his fingers provide requires some adjusting to, and Chan catches onto that. Focusing his attention back on your clit and providing some distraction while you get used to his fingers.

The wall behind you is proving to be extremely helpful. You're sure you would've crumpled onto the floor by now with the way Chan is determined to devour you whole and his fingers curl inside of you. Embarrassment warming your face as the squelching sounds of your wetness and his fingers moving inside of you hit your ears. Those sounds are accompanied by louder moans and whimpers from you when his fingers strike gold. Finding your weak spot and going for the kill.

He exploits your weaknesses gleefully, assaulting the spot over and over again while he continues his ministrations on your clit. It's no wonder your orgasm doesn't take long to slam into you. Watery cries of his name and jumbled curses echoing throughout the empty gym. You're sure you're hurting him from how fiercely you're gripping his hair. You couldn't remember the last time you'd cum this hard. Sagging against the wall when the most intense parts of it subside.

Chan presses one last kiss to your pussy before easing his fingers out of you. Standing up on unsteady legs, cupping your jaw and slamming his mouth against yours. The taste of yourself on his tongue further fueling the fog clouding your mind. Desperate hands dragging him closer to you, revelling in his closeness and the firmness of his body against your own.

"If I knew you tasted this good, I would've offered to eat you out a long time ago," he says when you shift to litter kisses on his jaw.

"If I knew you did it so well, I would've let you," you respond with an easy smile. However, any humour in your tone dissipates when you register his cock pressing against your thigh. Scorching and heavy even through the material of his shorts. Fuck.

Your mouth finds his once more. Teeth and tongue clashing with one another as he grinds himself against you, groaning into you.

"Chan, please," you whine.

"Hmm? Please, what?" You're not sure if he's genuinely too disoriented to understand what you're asking of him or if he wants you to beg. Either way, you've long since abandoned any semblance of pride.

"Please fuck me,"

His eyes shut briefly, and you watch the way his jaw clenches, "You're going to be the death of me."

If you weren't aching and noticeably empty, you might've giggled at his words. Watching him shove his shorts and underwear down his thick, muscular thighs through lidded eyes. A fresh wave of wetness gushes out of you when his cock springs free. Of course his cock would look mouthwatering too. Of course.

"You really do like to stare, huh?" he muses, stepping closer to you. Hoisting one of your legs over his elbow.

"Sh-Shut up," you stutter, fingernails digging into his biceps as he drags his cock along your pussy. His cock glistening with your arousal in no time.

"That's not nice," he faux pouts, nudging your entrance with his tip. Your knees almost buckle underneath you. A moan bubbling out of just from him toying with you.

"Chan, please. I want it. I want you, please-"

You're promptly cut off when he pushes inside of you. If you thought the stretch provided by his fingers was overwhelming, the girth of cock brings tears to your eyes. Your strained gasps and his restrained groans intertwining.

Is it possible to cum just from being so full? Lee Chan might just help you answer that question. You're not sure you've ever felt so full and stretched out in your entire life. A few stray tears running down your face already.

"Are you okay?" He asks, looking just as wrecked and overwhelmed as you feel. He's practically vibrating from the effort not to move. His cock pulsing inside of you.

"Ye-Yeah. It doesn't hurt. You can move," you respond. It's now or never.

Chan starts off very slowly. Letting you grow accustomed to his girth with every drag of him along your walls. Muttering quiet praises into your neck about how well you're doing, how good you feel, and how you're taking him so well. His words prompting you to clench around him and gush around him.

"Chan, faster, please. You can move faster. It's okay, I can take it," you whine. You feel like you're going to lose your mind if he keeps thrusting so slowly. His consideration is sweet. Really, it is, but it's torturous too. From the way he seems to be restraining himself, you assume the feeling is mutual.

Something snaps in him then. His eyes more feral than they were moments ago as he picks up his pace considerably. The sounds of your wetness and skin slapping against skin mingling with your respective noises of pleasure.

"Taking my cock like such a good girl," he groans into your shoulder, sliding impossibly deeper into you when he angles himself a little differently than before.

Perhaps he's noticed the way his praise impacts you. His filthy mouth not stopping.

"Look, baby," he mutters lowly into your ear, "I want you to look at how well your pussy takes me,"

You can't find it in you to disobey. Chasing the high of being his good girl. So, you glance downwards. Your cheeks heating up as you watch him fuck into you and the way you're being split open by him. You never thought the sight of yourself being fucked would garner such a strong reaction from you but, you've been learning quite a bit about yourself today.

"It's hot, isn't it?" He asks, a moan falling from his lips when you tighten around him, "So hot watching me fuck this pretty pussy of yours."

You've never cum just from penetration but, Chan is proving himself to be head and shoulders above every other man you've slept with. You're completely and utterly caught off guard when you cum for a second time and, Chan seems to be too. Startled, wide eyes watching you shatter in front and around him for a second time. Ever the caring gentleman as he soothes and fucks you through it.

You're barely coherent when Chan's pitchy moans of your name register to your mind and you feel his warm, thick cum flood your awaiting pussy. His hips weakly twitching into yours with ever spurt of his cum inside of you.

Honestly, it's a wonder both of you are still standing. Barely, but you're standing. Leaning into each other and the trusty wall for support as you come back to yourselves.

"If working out with you always ends up like this, we should work out together more often," he says, kissing your neck and shoulder lazily.

You really just had to fall for one of the most eye roll inducing men you've ever met, huh.

#lee chan smut #dino smut #seventeen smut #seventeen dino smut #dino seventeen smut #chan smut #chan seventeen smut #seventeen chan smut #1k followers celebration day 6 #1k followers celebration #1k followers milestone

[slvt4lanadelrey]

The pretty firefighter | Tara Carpenter

Warnings: mature themes, kissing, hot Sam, Tara being a teddy-bear

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

I know I said I wasn't going to do anymore Tara fics for a little while, but the ideas just came to me 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ plus I want to make this more of a series than just a couple one-shots

Your finger ran up and down Tara's revealed waist, teasing your finger pad across the soft skin below. Most of your mornings went like this, well, ever since you and Tara became official. It had been a few weeks, you weren't exactly counting, since Tara popped the big question. The following days were a lot for you, you met all her friends: in a more formal way, Sam took a liking to you actually quite fast; she knew you had good intentions with her sister, most of all she didn't believe someone who looked and acted like you could ever be someone like ghostface.

The sunlight that seeped through Tara's apartment window, it gently glazed her face; her freckles were flawless, she looked like a goddess of some sorts. When you spent the first night with Tara you were freaked out, she slept with a smile on her face. When you asked Sam about it she told you that her sister has never done that, that her sister actually slept with her mouth wide open. Further investigation and you found that she would only smile if her arms were wrapped around your body; one night you needed to use the restroom desperately, so you switched your body with a Teddy; within moments her face was drawn in a frown, stirring awake whilst groaning about you leaving her.

It was endearing, having someone so attached to you. Of all people it could have been, it was Tara Carpenter, which was the biggest brag in history.

Currently, you were dying of heat stroke, not literally. The sun was pressed into your body, a thin layer of sweat glossing over your skin.

You'd called out for Tara a couple times, begging for the girl to wake up. She didn't. Her lips were once again drawn into a smile, her dimples haunting you in the current moment. Her breath was fanning over your cheek, her face inches away from your own.

"Tara, please." The sweat trickled further down your skin, the fact you were wearing one of her hoodies just added to the burning heat.

She hummed, nuzzling closer to you. It was like God was testing you, would you choose to meet your own needs, rip off your hoodie to get some air on your body or, let your beautiful girlfriend sleep beside you.

You acted swiftly, nudging out of her grasp and replacing your body with her hoodie. Considering it smelt like you, she felt none the wiser about the sudden plushness of your body.

You sighed, the fan air finally meeting your skin and cooling your whole body.

You left her room, not bothering to close the door; second guessing the loudness that may erupt from it closing.

Sam was sitting on the dining table, tapping widely at her phone.

"Morning." You mumbled out to her, slipping into the chair in front of her. She didn't look up, continuing to press her fingers into the screen; face scrunched in annoyance.

"It's one." She retorted, a little snap in her voice. She looked restless, tired with droopy eyes. She sighed out, finally pressed her phone onto the table.

"Me and Tara went to bed late." You awkwardly explained, smiling at the older girl in front of you. "We were—"

"I heard." She stated, her face scrunched; now in disgust. You perused your lips, face beating red.

You groaned, Sam smiling at how embarrassed you were.

"Who did you hear?" You asked, tilted your head up to meet her eyes. She groaned back at you, now uncomfortable with the conversation.

"Does it matter? It sounded like a bad porno." She grumbled, crossing her arms in dismay. You giggled, somehow finding the situation entertaining.

"For my ego? Absolutely." You declared, looking at her with a deadly glare.

She sighed, rolled her head down a little, disgusting herself with the admission.

"Tara."

You pressed your fist in the air, releasing a howl at the obvious win.

"Sam! Stop hogging MY girlfriend." Tara screamed from her bedroom, assumingly her face pressed into the softener at how her words were muffled.

Sam clicked her tongue, rolling her eyes at her younger sister.

"She isn't yours, she's my friend too." Sam started back, snapping back at the moody brunette; Tara was well known for being an absolute menace when she was tired.

"She is mine, get your own."

You smiled, sinking into the chair with a feeling almost as good as ecstasy running through your veins. Tara was very open with stating that the two of you were in a relationship, showing you off to anyone who would listen.

"Y/n?" Tara whined through the apartment, shuffling off her bed.

"Who do you prefer? Me or Sam?" You stared at both of them. Sam didn't look bothered, hoping you'd pick Tara so her sister would stop complaining. Tara watched you like an Eagle, like this decision would decide whether you'd end up being her wife, or her worst enemy.

"Uh.—" you stumbled, unable to decide whether you want to piss off Tara or let her have a win. Just like God was enjoying the little show, Quinn walked out with a haze full stare. She stared unblinking at the loud commotion that happened outside her bedroom.

"Quinn. I chose Quinn." You breathed out, smiling at both Carpenter sisters.

Exactly like what your niece would do, she stopped her foot and ran into her bedroom; swinging the door shut but before it could collide with the hinges, she gently pressed it shut.

"What did I win?" Quinn asked, placing the whole jug of orange juice to her lips. Sam cringed at the sight, knowing she just poured herself a glass full.

"My heart."

When you reentered Tara's room she was facing away from the door and towards the window. You hunched down beside her, kissing the cornering of her lips.

"Morning, baby." You mumbled, hoping to drag Tara out of her salty mood. She grumbled, stuffing her smiling filled face into her cushion.

"You came into the wrong room, Quinn's next door." Tara grunted out, her body being pulled into your embrace. You hummed, playing with her hair. She couldn't deny the sleepy state you lulled her in, everytime you'd play with her hair It would end up in her sleeping into your chest

"You can't just-" she yawned, then blushed in embarrassment, you giggled at how adorable she was. You kissed her cheek, smiling into her neck.

"Okay, I've already planned our day." Tara pushed away from you, taking your hand in her own. The two of you led on your backs, looking at the ceiling as she spoke.

"You've already met my friends, you've won all their hearts." Tara said, not that impressed with how you had a toll on people, such a people pleasure she said.

"Mindy loves you, Ethan thinks you're cool, Quinn probably has a crush on you, and Chad already knew you." Tara nodded, counting all the memories in her brain.

You played with her fingers, making them bend at your will. You were focused on what she was saying, taking in all the information.

"And what does Tara think about me? I think I have a crush on her, she's really cute, and hot, and just so fucking sexy." She slapped your stomach, giggling into your neck when she turned around.

"Tara thinks you're okay." You gasped, being dramatic.

"Damn. I may just have to run to Quinn then, I won't bark up the wrong tree." Tara gripped your waist, pulling you into her.

"Absolutely not." She pressed her lips to yours, holding you in a blissful kiss.

"Actually, I just asked Tara and she liked you too. I think you two should get married." You hummed, kissing her once again.

"One day maybe." She flashed a prize winning smile, nodding in agreement. Maybe you were rushing your relationship, but who would stop something that was so good?

"Okay, Baby, I get it, you like me too." You giggled, Tara pressing feverish kisses along your collarbone, up your neck and across your jaw.

"Lets just have-" you shushed her, pressing a final kiss to her lips.

"Nope. Sex ban for a few—" Her baby brown eyes looked into yours, pleading with you. You bit your lip, tilting your head to the side.

"For a few hours."

Tara groaned, rolling off the bed, heading towards the bathroom; pulling you with her.

"Before you interrupted me with all your seductress ways. Travis, I haven't met him yet." You gulped down your saliva, knowing full well Tara won't like the guy.

Travis was one of your better friends, you met him a few years prior. It was pretty obvious the guy had a crush on you, but you explained to him that nothing would happen; he was a gentleman of course, and said it was fine and he wasn't willing to lose you as a friend. Nothing about the fleeting crush was said, but here and there he would drop some hints that the crush was still festering.

"He's busy today." Tara whipped her head out of the shower curtain, her eyebrows creased at the obvious lie.

"I asked him a few days ago if he was free, he said he'd move some things around. We're meeting him at three." She scrubbed her scalp, cleaning off the soap.

"Oh? He did. I didn't know." She could feel you were nervous, you suddenly didn't want to chat which was very odd.

You carried on to brush your teeth, not daring to make eye contact with Tara.

"Okay—" Tara's hand was placed on your thighs as she drove to your desired destination. She quickly glanced at you, biting her lip before expressing her feelings.

"There's no need to be worried, babe, I'm not going to be mean or anything. Anika's talked very highly of Travis, I'm sure I'll love him." You smiled, nodding your head.

"I know you will, I'm not worried." Once again, you lied through your teeth. She didn't press any further, she just kept mental notes of everything.

"You ready?"

#jenna ortega #jennaortega #tara carpenter #vada cavell #lorraine day #lgbt #wlw #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x fem #tara carpenter x fem!

[blithesharem]

ITS LOVING LUCIFER HOURS

SPICY/GNReader

It was indescribable torture.

Lucifer liked to think he was a rather simple demon. He didn’t have many needs. He wanted his brothers to be safe and happy. He wanted Diavolo to have what he needed to succeed. Perhaps his greatest luxuries were a nice Demonus or a rare record. No, Lucifer had never been one to spend time on frivolities, even when he’d been an angel.

Then he met you.

And now his days are filled with a constant, aggravating, gnawing need. A need to hear your voice. To see your smile. To feel your breath dance over his knuckles when you sit beside him and give a hard exhale that you think is covering up the fact that you are laughing. When you’re gone he finds himself fixated, wondering what you would think or say at every moment of his day. His thoughts wander to the things he wants to share with you, debating with himself what will make you beam and what will earn a crinkle of your nose. When you return, his thoughts run mad with the furious goal of finding any excuse at all to touch you.

He had foolishly thought that once you returned his feelings, the madness would fade, or at least become manageable. A laughable hope, looking back now. His starvation has only grown deeper, until he found himself unable to resist ravishing you at the end of the night like a demon much younger and less refined than he.

Watching you quiver for him. The flush of your chest after he’s played you to orgasm like the most supple instrument. The sweetness of your moans, a sound he would put to vinyl and play over and over again if he could. Perhaps he will one day. Play it while he does his paperwork. Perhaps he would be more productive than now, when in silence his thoughts rifle through the most lewd images that have ever haunted him in his many years.

That one he’s going to blame on being a demon.

When you’re together, it feels like you’re two planets locked in orbit of one another, circling in a maddening dance for lack of a star. He would claim that you were his sun around which he now orbits, but he knows better than to suggest such a thing to you. You claim to be just as infatuated with him, but Lucifer can’t imagine that’s true. Surely if you were as crazed as he, neither of you would ever be able to get a thing done.

He fantasizes constantly about taking you away somewhere. Not forever, of course. In truth, he loves watching his brothers with you. He loves how happy you make them, how gentle you are with their moods, the way you effortlessly orchestrate a room to ensure everyone is at peace. Despite his occasional selfish desires, he’d never try to keep you away from them forever.

Now for a week or two. Maybe a month. Yes, he’d absolutely do that.

Go somewhere just the two of you, where he can release his restraint and worship you as you deserve and as he desires. He’d spend hours just touching you, learning every freckle, every tiny scar, what places make you gasp and which make you moan. And then he’d fuck you. He’d fuck you until the madness sated and he could enjoy holding you close and rocking into you slowly, squeezing your hand together and finally telling you exactly what you mean to him as he fills you again and again.

Ah. There he goes again. Drawn into the fantasies that play on loop in his mind.

Lucifer sets down his pen and drops his head back, rubbing his eyes and giving a long exhale.

Indescribable torture.

“Luc?”

He starts at your voice, dropping his hand to see you hovering at his office door with a concerned frown on your face.

“What’s wrong? Are you tired?” you ask him, your concern so genuine, so adoring, it physically aches in his chest. For a long moment he just looks at you, drinking you in. When he speaks it is softly, the words barely audible where you stand.

“Come in, my love. And close the door.”

.

@spicymoodle @brainrot-crttv it won't let me tag you for some reason wtf

#obey me lucifer

[tears0fsatan]

                ♰          ・        𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒, 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔!

✦ ⊹ ˚˖ warnings... yokai m!reader, kitsune!barbatos, established relationship though not specified what type of relationship you have with him, literally just domestic fluff and cuddling really lol

 :¨·.·¨ ♥︎  a.n... lowkey inspired by this extremely hot fic on ao3 but i thought i'd flip the concept on its head and make this wholesome <3 also just a fair warning i only did some light research on yokais and kitsunes so if i got some things wrong i apologise 🙏

 #﹏𖣠ㅤHEART SHAPED HICKIES MASTERLISTㅤ. . . ㅤ !! ( ☠️ )

a shiver shot down your spine despite all feeling in your apparition having been numb since your rebirth, somehow the chilly autumn air of october was the only thing that could bypass your incapability to feel. the one fault that haunted you for centuries to come, the one thing that made you an outcast in your family of fellow yokais, something that made you seek out a different path from your peers.

rather than cause torment or chaos with humans, you chose to live peacefully among them, following their daily routines and such for the rest of your days. you blended in well, no human had ever detected the fact that you weren't like them, that you weren't technically alive. for the most part, you lived in the shadows, maintaining as much distance from people as to not raise suspicions as you could while also keeping a good relationship with those near you.

somewhere along your journey, you encountered another supernatural who believed in the same thing as you did, only he didn't hop around from city to city as often as you did. had it not been for the brief run in at the local supermarket, you wouldn't have met barbatos, a run of the mill kitsune.

at first, he had been apprehensive, naturally. he didn't know whether to determine you a threat or a foe and his sharp, analytical eyes didn't help the intimidation that he exuded. it took a lot of brief interactions before he finally deemed you harmless, merely a yokai who was trying to live a peaceful life of his own. from then on, it was easier to get closer to him to the point that the two of you began living together.

"are you cold again?" a calm voice called out from somewhere in front of you and suddenly the chill you felt melted away, your attention stolen by the green haired kitsune watching you from the doorway that lead to the kitchen with a small smile on his lips, steam from what you knew was tea in the cup he held faded into the air. behind him, you could see his nine fluffy tails waving about, content and free, sheltered away from the prying eyes of curious humans.

"barbatos!" you cried out in pure joy, wasting no time to run towards him and the heat that rolled off of him in waves like sand on a hot summer day. he opened his arms with practiced grace, keeping his tea off to the side as to not let even a single drop spill and accepted your embrace as if he had been expecting it the entire day.

the warmth spread all throughout your body as his lithe arm circled your waist, keeping you close and in the centre of his body warmth just like he knew you needed. a content sigh escaped your lips and you burrowed impossibly closer into him, lapping up the comfort he offered you like a moth drawn to a flame.

"why don't we go inside, hm? it'll be much warmer than the entryway." he offered, the hot breath of his whisper tickled your ear just like his aimlessly swaying tails tickled the back of your hand. you nodded against the crux of his shoulder, inhaling the earthy herbal scent of his tea blends that clung to him that always managed to relax you. limp and pliant in his arms, you let the kitsune guide you inside, manoeuvring you with so much care and tenderness you couldn't help but melt into him.

the soft cushion of the couch gave weight beneath you as the two of you got comfortable on the sofa, still in anothers arm. the cold from your walk that stuck to your skin quickly faded away, overtaken by barbatos's affection and the coziness of the home you two built together. a sigh of content slipped your lips, worming impossibly closer to the kitsune and sucking up all the love he had bared for you out in the open.

lost in the bliss of the strong arms wrapped around you, you hadn't realised that your form had begun to lose its solidity, the energy that kept up your humanly appearance slowly dwindling away. little by little, you began to slip through barbatos, drawn to get to the centre of the heat source like a starved man being lured in by the scent of good food.

"you're like my personal weighted blanket." your mumble elicited a soft, airy chuckle from above. he didn't reply, merely stroking your hair while avoiding reaching too far so his hand wouldn't go through while his other hand drew random shapes on your back, fingers dancing on the edge of your clothes. "well this personal heater will always welcome you at the door during autumn if it means i can get this sort of treatment afterwards."

© 2023 TEARS0FSATAN. please don’t translate, modify, repost or plagiarise my works anywhere.

#៹ ࣪˖. 🎧 light mode﹒☆ #៹ ࣪˖. 🎧 special﹒🂾 #obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me barbatos #obey me x reader #obey me x gn reader #obey me x male reader #obey me x you #obey me fluff #barbatos #barbatos x reader #barabatos x gn reader #barbatos x male reader #barbatos x you #barbatos fluff #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #not beta'd im eepy

[fernandezology]

gavi fluff watching a horror movie <333333

late night confessions - pablo gavi

pairing: pablo gavi x reader

author’s note: sorry this took awhile,but thank you for request! got a little carried away with this one and gave it a little twist. the end is purposefully like that to indicate she fell asleep. i hope you will like it<3

word count: 1,7 k

some people love to consume fear.

it was no secret you were one of them ever since… well ever since you can remember. you would hide in closets to scare your family,and when you would play hide and seek with your friends- it was a real nightmare to find you. nobody really had a clue from where did this love for fear came from.

you craved all kinds of frightening experiences. at the same time, fear is not exactly a positive emotion. trembling while darkness pushes in around us- this is not a feeling we would describe as pleasant. then,what is it about fear that you are so drawn to? most of people go to great lengths to avoid it. what better time to get scared than in the spookiest time of the year?

all of this began on halloween of 2014. haunted theme park opened near your city and, of course, you begged your parents to let you go. they let you go since they thought some of your older friends will be there too. all of you loved to watch american horror story,but to be fair the majority of them watched it because of evan peters. who could blame them? it’s hard to resist a man who looks like he didn’t sleep in thousand years.

looking back on this, some of your friends were confused when you showed them picture of pablo since he doesn’t have any dark circles. other than watching american horror story,you also loved to read stephen king. you upgraded on him after you read everything that r.l. stine published.

horror is designed to make one afraid because it is advantageous to our survival. the main reason all of you wanted to visit this theme park it is because one of scary houses was based from murder house in american horror story. who could resist experiencing that fear first hand? certainly not you. if you only knew how real horrifying that night is gonna get,you would never go anywhere near that cursed place.

one of your friends was nowhere to be seen. none of you wanted to admit it, but you started to panic. luckily, your instincts were telling you something went terribly wrong here because she wasn’t really type to scare anyone. you were looking everywhere and asking people did they see her.

and then it happened.

someone was walking towards her near exit and grabbed her hand. no running,no drama.

and then she tapped you on shoulder. turns out she was waiting on her revenge to scare you. it was a relief she was safe, but you couldn’t see horrors the way you used to before. you stopped watching them completely and for some reason you couldn’t go to sleep without checking is everything locked multiple times.

old habits die hard and to this day you still did this every night,without exception. pablo didn’t see it as anything unusual because he had no clue about the backstory. one night two of you decided to watch something on netflix. both of you are always so indecisive when it comes to choosing a movie,so you decided to use “suprise me” feature. it was safe to say that this wasn’t maybe the best idea. watching the shining on stormy night? not really what you had in mind,but you didn’t wanna say anything because there was certain advantages. shamelessly snuggling to him? perfect. pretending you fell asleep so he can carry you to bed? sounds like you have a plan b.

you couldn’t help but smile when you saw him frowning while he pressed play. he always asked so many questions while watching and it was very annoying to everyone around him,but you didn’t mind it.

“why would they agree to be in the middle of nowhere? someone will kill them,this is so predictable. is that what happens at the end?”

“just watch and you will understand.”

“can i ask you in case i don’t understand?”

“of course. you would ask anyway”,you said jokingly hoping he keeps asking to keep you distracted from the fact you are watching a horror after so many years.

to your suprise,he didn’t ask that many questions as he usually does. is this really that one time he decides to be quiet,you thought to yourself.

luckily for you,his silence didn’t last long.

“what does REDRUM means?”

“it’s murder backwards.”

“wait,from where did that bruise came from? did his dad really hit him? why are we watching this again?”

“it wasn’t his dad his time,but he did break his arm while trying to discipline him. if you are scared we can just turn it off and go to bed.”

“no,i’m not scared but i think you are and this is how you are trying to lure me in.”

you had no intention of turning to plan b,but maybe it was time. even though he said this jokingly,this was your chance to escape.

“i think i’m going to bed,but you are free to continue watching this- i’m not luring you.”

“wait are you angry at me or something? what’s wrong?”

you continued to walk to your room,pretending you didn’t hear him. it felt so wrong because after all,he never ignored you. and who likes to be ignored? you were hoping he is not gonna think too much of it and assume you just didn’t hear him.

you should’ve known him better by now because is so attentive about you. of course he is gonna come to you. that is pablo you fell in love with.

“what’s wrong,did i say something?”

“no,you didn’t- i just wanted to go to sleep.”

“you can’t fool me. i know that look and obviously something happened,but for the life of me i can’t figure out what is it.”

“i promise you,it’s nothing. could you come here and play with my hair?”

“anything for you princesa.”

part of you wanted to finally tell him this and the other part of you didn’t want to disturb this peaceful silence while he was pushing your hair behind ear. you closed your eyes,hoping this is how you are gonna fall asleep.

“aha! i think i know what it is. it’s because you were annoyed with how much i’m talking during the movie. i’m so sorry-“

“you are annoying,but i love every second of it.”

“so it’s not that? then i really don’t know what it is,can you please tell me? you already know i will annoy you until you give up and tell me.”

“in that case,i have to accept defeat. i don’t wanna tell you because it’s a bit embarrassing and honestly,i don’t think i’ve told this to anyone.”

“i won’t pressure if you don’t want to say it but whenever you are ready,i’m here to listen. trust has to be earned and i don’t expect you to tell me everything,but i hope you know you and your secrets are safe with me.”

“of course i trust you,please don’t even think it’s about that at all. you already did more than enough to earn my trust and love. it’s just hard to talk about this,even though it’s always in the back of my mind,somehow i don’t think about it that often as i used to.”

despite popular belief,he can be calm,composed and a good listener. he was all ears and nodded,encouraging you to continue. there is no easy way to say this,other than to rip off the band-aid.

“you were right- i was luring you to go to bed. it’s because i didn’t want to watch horror,since i didn’t watch any horror in years.”

“that’s nothing to be embarrassed about. why didn’t you just say you don’t want to watch it?”

“to be fair,you did a decent job of distracting me with questions. i thought i’m over it,but it turns out i’m not really. these movies just remind me of that period when someone almost kidnapped one of my friends.”

“oh… i didn’t expect that. how did that even happen?”

“it happened on halloween when we went to a theme park. mainly because of a haunted house that was like one from american horror story. all of a sudden she was nowhere to be seen and we thought she isn’t type to scare anyone- that was more my style. then i saw someone identical to her near the exit. someone grabbed her hand and walked out with her and grabbed her hand. it looked completely normal. no running,no drama. turns out that wasn’t her,she was just waiting on her turn to scare me.

“i can’t even imagine how scary that must’ve been. luckily it wasn’t her and all of you are okay.”

“yeah,but it made me think how many people get kidnapped and no one suspects a thing. you never know what’s happening around you for sure. and it didn’t help that at that time i was reading and watching horrors.”

“i would never connect you to horrors honestly,it could be because you are a complete opposite- a dream.”

“cliché. but i love it.”

“and i love you.”

“i love you too. now if you wanna play fair,you have to tell me one secret.”

“okay,but you have to promise you won’t laugh.”

“i will try.”

“i used to be terrified of the gremlins and i thought they will come to my room after midnight.”

“that’s reasonable,even i hated them. “

“no way,you are fearless. you are just saying it so we can be afraid together.”

“no,i’m serious! and besides,there is no such thing as being afraid when i’m with you.”

“so you won’t check are doors locked million times anymore?”

“i will try not to,but you know how they say: old habits die hard.”

“now it makes sense why you do that,i didn’t come off as unusual because i didn’t know the backstory.”

“now you know.”

“and now you know there is nothing you should be embarrassed or afraid to tell me. even if you want me to check are there any gremlins under bed. “

“deal.”

“i love when we have these late night talks,but i can see you are on the verge of falling asleep. buenas noches,te amo princesa. “

#pablo gavi #pablo gavi imagine #pablo gavi fluff #pablo gavi x reader #barcelona #football imagines #football one shots

[handsome-wise-strong]

I think that's why Im (if not most of us are) drawn to lucemond, its so angst filled. The doomed pair, because we know if their houses weren't so poisoned from the inside, they could've been THE duo of the series.

Sure, maybe they still would've been enemies, but it could've been resolved differently. Many possibilities that the lucemond fandom gets to explore.

Insert some trauma experience or whatever cause its GoT, boom. 'If we die, we die together', or some round about way of 'you fight good'.

Also, like REALLY AEMOND. BLUE. OUT OF ALL THE COLORS YOU CHOSE LUKES COLOR?! Okay, we get it. Do not separate.

See that’s my thing, anon! There are so many possibilities you could imagine for Luke and Aemond. So many different roads for them to have gone down instead of the one they did… but on the other hand, was there ever really any hope for them? Let’s take a look at who they parallel, shall we?

Luke and Aemond are pretty much married in the tradition of their house. (Be delusional with me here for a moment) Not much is known about traditional Valyrian wedding ceremonies except that the couples are wed by blood and fire. Luke and Aemond spilled each other’s blood in the presence of fire. This is a very obvious parallel to both Rhaenyra/Daemon and Rhaenyra/Alicent, especially the latter, because they do the same thing their sons had just moments after the fact.

But on the note of Luke and Aemond being practically wed in that sense, then it’s only natural to compare them to other married couples of their house. That’s where more obvious parallels come into play. Targaryen men have a bad habit of killing their spouses (either intentionally or unintentionally) and Aemond falls prey to that habit as well. Daemon kills Rhea Royce intentionally. Daemon kills Laena Velaryon unintentionally. Viserys kills Aemma Arryn, both a mix of intentionally and unintentionally. And Aemond kills Lucerys both intentionally and unintentionally. The parallel is made stronger by the fact that both Luke and Laena were killed by Vhagar. Daemon, Viserys, and Aemond all sharing looks of horror and disbelief after their spouses die also makes this all the more strong. Once you notice it you can’t unsee it!!

Let’s talk more parallels. Lucemond are pretty much a Daemyra duplicate. Luke being like his mother, the younger of the pair, always being watched by his uncle and in turn, always looking back at his uncle. Luke and Rhaenyra both watch their uncles spar with intrigue. Aemond and Daemon both desire their younger nephew/niece. (I want you to put out your eye. Give me your eye or I will take it / I want Rhaenyra, I’ll take her as she is) Aemond and Daemon both look miserable when seeing Luke and Rhaenyra interact with their betrothed partners — which links directly into Lucemond paralleling Rhaenyra/Alicent as well, as Alicent also looks miserable and furious watching Rhaenyra and her betrothed dance. Alicent gives Rhaenyra a scar, Lucerys gives Aemond a scar. A bit haunting is the Rhaenyra line to Alicent, “I want to fly with you on dragonback,” which we see Lucemond do later on as Aemond chases him across Shipbreaker Bay. A scene which links them directly to another couple again, Daemon and Laena! The scenes are so similar and so different, and it’s eerie seeing Luke and Laena both look back over their shoulders at their partners, Luke with horror and fear and Laena with amusement. Daemon and Aemond move the exact same way, leaning back on their dragons carefreely with smiles on their faces.

Smaller Lucemond parallels to other couples include Rhaenyra/Harwin. Luke giving a shit-eating grin to Aemond with a pig between them, and Harwin giving the exact same look to Rhaenyra, again with a pig there! Harwin calling Rhaenyra boy, and Aemond calling Luke boy.

Why have them parallel so many other canon couples or implied romantically connected characters if they were not meant to be seen as the same? Why have Luke say the line, “I am not free to marry, I am already betrothed.” while looking directly at Aemond if they were not meant to be seen as a married couple?

In conclusion, what I’m trying to say is that this story has been told a thousand times over in the asoiaf universe and in House Targaryen in particular. Lucemond was always going to be a tragic story. But that’s what makes them so beautiful and compelling to me. Their inherently doomed narrative is also probably why so many others were drawn to them like we were, anon! And why so many wonderful and creative fics revolve around their dynamic.

I say keep ‘em coming! I personally can’t get enough of them.

#anon #lucemond #this is a bit messy but i had to get it out #they make me so crazy #i speak only the TRUTH

[writtenontheport]

The Haunted Boy and His Ghostly Girlfriend

Pt. 1: Finding Common Ground in Communication!!

(Prologue) (pt. 2)

Anthony Lockwood x fem Reader

Warnings/Tags: A bit of a story-building instalment, Slow (?) burn, Meet cute, Reader is literally a ghost 💀, Whenever Reader’s mute basically story wise because it’s from Lockwood’s POV, No use of (y/n), Vague descriptions of reader being a jewel and a gem, this part is plot relevant I promise 😭, pulling some of this out of my ass IM SORRYYYY, I had to make it work somehow…, not much rom or com in this one, more plot and lore and scheming

Notes: I’ll have you know I literally was cross referencing stuff from the wiki, the books, and then the show to try and figure out how tf to write this 😭 There are FOUR drafts of what this scene could have looked like and this is what I had to settle on 😭 Please suspend your disbelief!!

Summary: Lockwood and co. make an astounding discovery about their newest friend, and they are all happy about this for completely different reasons. Lockwood’s reason? Well, he just heard the voice of the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

Word Count: 1.4k+

“Lucy? George? I think I found her,” Lockwood calls down the hatch, leaning on the pushed up door with a wrist resting on the hilt of his rapier. He sends you a charming smile, and revels in the small one you return. Underneath you both, you hear Lucy and George scramble up the ladder.

Lockwood found you in the house’s attic surrounded by haphazard stacks of sideways furniture, old mirrors, and dated portraits. There was the odd box or few sprawled about; big and small and gigantic, but just about everything was covered in cobwebs except for the window. Moonlight filters in and passes through you from the drawn curtains, framing you a sparkling jewel amongst the mess and clutter of the attic. Lockwood found it hard to tear his eyes away from you, but not out of fear, no.

Like a jewel glimmering in the darkness, you were beautiful and ethereal in all the ways Lockwood hadn’t imagined people could be; dead or alive. Sat on the windowsill with a weariness gleaming in your eyes, you didn’t quite scare Lockwood as much as you enchanted him.

“Lockwood? Did you—“ Lucy says, popping her head up through the open hatch. Her breath catches when she sees you, and you send her a wary smile as she climbs into the attic.

“Is she there, Lucy?” George calls from the ladder, a supply bag on his shoulder. Your eyes drop to the open hatch, but focus back on Lockwood when he leans down to take the bag from George and help him up.

“Yeah, she’s… right here.” Lucy whispers, sounding like she just ran a marathon. Lockwood resonates with that feeling. He looks back up at you and wills his heart to quiet down where it’s beating against his ribcage and slamming into the bones.

George turns around slowly, eyes finding you where you’re laying along the windowsill. You look tired and defeated, a deepness about your eyes that screams of exhaustion. It makes Lockwood’s heart seize as George whispers to him and Lucy, “Have you found her source yet?”

Before anyone can answer, your mouth opens and you soundlessly begin to speak; Lucy perks up and her eyes light. “Where is it?”

Your ghostly hand points to a corner near the window, mimicking a small box as you soundlessly explain to Lucy where and what it was. She nods, determined, as she steps over a few relics and cobwebs along the floor.

“A necklace in an ornate box,” She says aloud, using her rapier to cut away some of the cobwebs. “Definitely over here, but it’s been a few years since you’ve seen it?”

You nod and say something only Lucy can hear, but George follows along and begins helping her dig about. Lockwood steps forward to face you, feeling more and more breathless with every step. He honestly doesn’t know what he’s doing, so he instead says the first thing that comes to mind when you peer at him curiously.

“When we find it, we’ll have to secure it for a bit while we bring you home. You won’t be able to do anything while we have your source contained, but it won’t be long, I promise,” He tries to say reassuringly.

You give him a wary frown with your brows furrowed and lips pursed thin. You open your mouth to say something, but pause to think about it further. From here, Lockwood can see even stray strands of your hair and the bat of your lashes, so lifelike even in the blur of ectoplasm. Weakly, you shrug, not meeting his eyes.

“I promise you, we won’t keep you there forever. We just need to transfer your source.”

From behind him, Lockwood can hear George and Lucy whispering before Lucy comes up beside him. She’s got her hand on the hilt of her rapier out of instinct, but it’s rested and loose.

“We just want to keep you company while Pepper’s away,” Lucy explains, eyes flitting between you, Lockwood, and George. “She asked us to keep you company, and it’s easier to take you home with your source contained.”

You seem to say something in argument, but Lucy’s smile doesn’t falter so Lockwood takes it as a good sign. Somehow even with your face scrunched up, you looked absolutely enchanting in the moonlight. Lockwood was starting to wonder if this was a type three ability.

“If we were caught out in the night with you, someone else might try to take your source. They might hide you away or destroy it if they catch you,” Lucy says gently, nodding out to the street visible from the window. Somewhere along the sidewalk, a ghostlamp is flickering in the distance. In the light of it, a stray agent or two was walking along the street. You seemed to think it over, frown ever present.

“You have my word as agency head; we won’t just keep you locked away.” Lockwood steps closer to the window as you squeeze yourself into one side far from them. He felt touched a bit at how you avoided them; likely you knew it was dangerous and didn’t want them hurt. Your eyes search his face for any hint of a lie, before you slump back into the window and look down onto the street.

Lucy seems to light up at whatever you say next, and gives Lockwood a discreet thumbs-up and impressed smirk. She turns to you, even though you aren’t looking at her, and says, “You won’t regret it.”

A silence settles between you as Lucy steps back to help George look for your source, sending Lockwood a significant look before she too disappears behind a few stacks of antiques. The room is filled with their whispering and bickering, as Lockwood tries not to let his eyes linger on you for too long.

You turn to him, and his heart stops when your lips upturn into a tiny smile. It’s terribly heartwarming how cozy you look in this cold air, and he almost wants to peel off his coat to give to you before realising you were what made it cold. You catch the aborted action with a grateful nod, tucking your lips in to hold a laugh. Not like he would have heard it (a damn shame it was) but he still found himself grinning.

“Almost forgot you probably don’t mind the cold,” He says cooly, watching you shrug. Your hand motions something in the air, before you give up and instead mime pulling a rapier from your hip.

“This old thing?” Lockwood asks, standing up to unsheathe it away from you. You nod and gesture to it again, miming a stab before a thumbs-up and a thumbs-down with (this is important to Lockwood) playful expressions that make his chest warm.

“I’m quite good, if that’s what you’re asking.” He makes a quick, but precise swing at a nearby cobweb and revels in the amusement shining on your face. “I have some newspaper clippings you can see once we bring you home.”

If you giggled there, he’s truly sad he couldn’t hear it. He goes to voice this befote George steps out from the corner with what looked to be a necklace in his hand. His jaw was slack in surprise, and he looked frozen to the spot with his eyes as wide as saucers. Behind him, Lucy was softly calling his name in concern with a hand on his shoulder.

Before Lockwood could ask him what was wrong, George says to you, “I think I heard you just now.”

Your eyes widen, as you sit straight up on the window and ask him a question Lockwood can’t hear. George’s eyes widen, and Lockwood feels his blood pounding in his ears in the silence.

“Lucy, did you hear them ask that?” George doesn’t turn around to face her, but she nods and gives a murmured reply. A glimmering jewel and chain shine in the same moonlight framing you— a gem in every which way.

The next thing that happens comes as a blur to Lockwood, who asks, as if in a trance, to borrow the necklace to hold. Your eyes follow the jewel as George passes it to him, everyone still bewildered and the air tense and cold.

“I don’t think it’ll work for you, Lockwood. You don’t have the talent to listen,” Lucy murmurs to him with a scrunched frown. Still, George passes it over.

“I have to at least try.” Lockwood gently wraps his fingers around the necklace, a bit of chain loose as he turns to you with a soft smile.

He fumbles for words like they’re caught on his tongue, before he simply settles on, “Hi.”

Even without being able to hear you, somewhere in his bones he can feel your words like a kind and fuzzy thought reply to him. It’s enough to have him grinning ear to ear, even if it doesn’t exactly help him understand what you’re saying. Your gaze grows a bit fond at that, and you say something Lucy catches that causes her to smile wide.

On the sidelines, George murmurs, “I can run so many tests.” Lucy smacks his shoulder at his tactlessness, but her smile is unfaltering. She pulls a small, glass case out and pops it open.

“Any last questions, Lockwood? I won’t ask you George because we’ll be here all night otherwise,” She hums, holding out the box.

Anthony’s grin widens and he asks elatedly, “What’s your name?”

Like all the things you will share with him in the future, your name etches itself into his memory, right beside where he will always hold dear your glittering smile.

A/N: I DON’T LIKE THIS PARTTT 😭 It had to be written though… I needed this piece to focus on the plot so I up the romcom in the next part UGH I JUST,,, I just wanna write the slice of life ok,,,, LIKE,,, Lockwood taking his ghost gf out on a mission and she has to save his self-destructive ass like… HELLO. I NEED THAT. My brain though is like “Nooooo… set up plot first bae 🥰☝️” LIKE THIS IS SO MEAN AND NECESSARY BUT SO MEANNNNN

ALSO!! I already posted this, but I went back, read the ending, and was like “No… :((( It no good fo me…” and retconned it AFTER I already posted it…. Yes I am silly, Yes I am incredibly nit-picky with my own writing 😞

Taglist 🏷️

@tangledinlove

@naive-daydreamer (thank you for the ideas!! and the original request!!)

#portie writes fanfic #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood x you

[collinrobinsonsglasses]

Hi I really liked ur too gentle to be a pirate slow burn for Izzy, and I wondered if you could do something similar but for steddyhands or ed teach

Blackbeard X Reader (GN)

This will be a series. A slow burn with Edward Teach before meeting Stede. Edward and Stede are end game, but it's fun to imagine what a relationship with younger Edward would have been like.

Home Sweet Home

Edward stood tall, the rough wood of the ship’s railing pressing against his chest as he leaned over the side, his gaze fixed on the distant silhouette of Bristol, his hometown. The salty sea air stirred, sending a cool breeze through his black beard and eliciting a shiver down his spine. Perhaps it was more than just the chill; his gaze drifted to the spot on the dock that haunted his nightmares– the very place where he had ended his father’s life many years ago. He had returned a few times since setting sail aboard The Ranger under Benjamin Hornigold, a fierce pirate captain who proved to be both lethal and a pain in Edward’s ass. He never looked forward to docking in his hometown, especially after his mother’s passing. For him, there was nothing left here anymore. 

He felt a large hand forcefully slap him on the back, and he turned to see Calico Jack at his side, his hair messily strung in a ponytail down his back. A large mustache graced his face, and a cocky grin spread across his features. 

“Blackie, I’m ready to blow off some steam tonight. Hornigold has been such a dick,” Calico Jack exclaimed, his voice laced with amusement as always. 

“Poor fucking Felix,” Edward whispered to himself, his thoughts dwelling on the torment the young cabin boy had endured that week. 

“Oh yeah. The crab thing?” Jack responded casually. “That was pretty fucked up.” 

A beat of silence hung between the two of them before Calico Jack continued, swiftly brushing past the memory of the live crab crawling its way through the boy’s stomach, ultimately killing him. 

“Luckily for you, I have the best cure for a shitty week: drinking and screwing.” 

That’s how Edward found himself in multiple rundown bars throughout Bristol, never once letting it slip to Jack that this was his hometown. Even though he considered Jack one of his closer shipmates, it was a common rule among pirates to keep your past to yourself. You never knew who might turn against you, or who you could truly trust. Ed had only a few drinks, determined to keep his wits sharp in this unsettling city. He let Jack believe he had been participating more heavily, knowing it was easy to deceive him, especially once he himself had started drinking. 

Jack chose the last bar of the night, hoping for better luck in his pursuits for sex than the previous establishments. Ed and Jack both entered, their attention immediately drawn to you, for different reasons. You were there, serving drinks with a forced smile, weariness evident in your demeanor as you interacted with the patrons. The moment Edward laid eyes on you, memories from the past flooded back, recalling the nights you had snuck away from home late at night, sharing secrets by the dock, and exploring the city together hand in hand. You were his childhood sweetheart, and even now, Edward couldn’t help but find you to be one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. 

However, he couldn’t ignore Jack’s predatory and intense stare directed at you, realizing that Jack also found you attractive. A surge of jealousy and protectiveness swept over Edward, despite nothing ever truly happening between the two of you. He didn’t like the idea of Calico Jack’s hands on you, especially considering where those hands had been. 

Edward kept his eyes fixed on you as you approached their table, noting the fleeting moment of recognition in your widened eyes before you composed yourself. “What are you two drinking tonight?” your voice reached him, and he allowed his gaze to momentarily drift away from your face, catching the expression on Jack’s features. Edward knew Jack well enough to anticipate that he was on the verge of saying something fucking stupid. 

“I think I’d like a taste of you, if that’s available,” Jack slurred drunkenly, reaching his hand to grab your waist. Edward watched intently as you gracefully dodged his advances, a flicker of annoyance crossing your features. 

Edward observed as you shot him a curious glance, your eyes transitioning into a look of cool calmness. Sliding one hand onto the table, you leaned in, tilting your head and offering Jack a wicked smile. “It’s available. But there’s only one small issue for you.” 

“What’s that?” Jack asked, his grin widening as his eyes roved over you from head to toe. Edward felt a knot tighten in his stomach at the interaction, a sense of unease settling over him. He considered how satisfying it would be to punch Jack in this moment for looking at you that way. But he knew he had to keep his cool; otherwise, he’d risk people discovering who he was. 

“I have standards,” you whispered in response, your eyes alight with amusement as you watched the smile drop from Jack’s face. 

“Just rum,” Edward cut in quickly, attempting to conceal a smile. 

“Rum it is,” you replied smoothly, before gracefully making your way back to the bar. Edward observed you with admiration, noticing how you seemed unfazed by Jack’s advances. 

Jack changed the subject quickly, as he tended to do whenever he was utterly rejected. Edward had seen this pattern throughout this whole night. As Jack prattled on about a prank he had pulled on one of their shipmates, Edward found himself drifting in thought, his gaze repeatedly drawn to you. Each time your eyes met, you exchanged warm smiles, a silent understanding passing between you. Jack appeared too intoxicated to notice these subtle interactions. 

When Jack excused himself, announcing loudly that he needed to whiz, Edward seized the opportunity to sidle up to the bar, eager to talk with you. Ed watched as your delicate hands expertly wiped down glasses, lost in the rhythm of your movements, until you noticed his presence and glanced up from your work. As your eyes met, Edward felt a silly smile spread across his face, a warmth flooding his chest as if he were a teenage boy again. 

“Edward Teach,” you sang softly, returning a calm smile to him while continuing your work. 

“Born on a beach,” Ed replied, his words sounding somewhat stupid to his own ears, until the sound of your laughter reached him. It was a beautiful sound, one he had forgotten in the midst of everything he had gone through since he left. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked curiously. 

Ed watched as your eyes briefly shifted down to focus on the glass you were holding. He couldn’t help but wonder if you felt the same nervousness he did at this unexpected encounter. It wasn’t like you to show vulnerability easily, always the stronger one between the two of them. Edward recalled how he had been an emotional child growing up, until his father had beaten that out of him. In contrast, you had always been his rock in Bristol, the one who kept him steady. Edward knew that your childhood had been as difficult as his, but you only ever mentioned it briefly in all the time he knew you. You had once opened up to him about your cruel sister and mother, with your father being the softener presence in your household. 

“Just passing through,” Edward replied, his eyes briefly flicking towards the door as a very drunk Jack stumbled back into the bar. “When are you finished with work?” 

“An hour or so,” you answered calmly, meeting his gaze before giving a weary glance towards Jack. 

“Meet me at our old spot once you’re done?” Edward suggested with a smile, sliding enough coins across the bar to cover their drinks and leaving a few extra for you. 

“It’s a date,” you replied teasingly. Edward felt his heart rate increase at your words, but he only responded with a wink. Quickly, he moved towards Jack in the doorway, attempting to usher him out onto the street and back to the ship. 

After dumping Jack’s drunken body back in his bunk, Edward made his way back to the shore, heading to a familiar spot under the docks. He settled onto the sand, his heart racing with anticipation as he eagerly turned his head towards any sound he thought might be you. As he waited, Edward tried to convince himself to play it cool, to show you how much he had changed since you last saw him. He wanted to prove he was different now, that he had grown and matured in his time at sea. 

Finally, you arrived, holding up a bottle of rum with a mischievous grin before settling onto the sand next to him. Your knee casually rested against his leg, and though you didn’t seem to notice, that physical touch consumed Edward’s attention until you began to speak. 

"Edward Teach," you whispered, gazing at him as if he wasn't really in front of you. "You finally grew up enough to grow a beard."

"Fuck off," Edward replied with a chuckle.

Your laughter echoed under the wooden slats of the dock. "You were always complaining about how you wanted a beard. You said that only real men were able to grow a beard, and you were ready to be a man."

Edward forced himself to roll his eyes, feigning annoyance at your teasing, though he secretly relished every moment of being next to you.

"I forgot you were such a dick."

"Well, it's good you came back, so I could remind you," you quipped, nudging your shoulder against him in a familiar gesture from your younger days.

How are you?" Edward whispered softly, his gaze filled with genuine concern, as if being in this spot had reminded him of all the shit you had both faced. 

Edward watched as your expression darkened at his question. "My dad is sick, so I'm taking care of him and trying to work enough to keep us going, but I’m doing well enough" you replied somberly. Despite your words, Edward sensed a hint of reassurance in your tone, as if you were trying to convince yourself that everything was indeed fine. 

Edward slid his fingers through yours, giving your hand a comforting squeeze, and you responded with a grateful smile at the gesture. Despite the warmth exchanged between you, Edward sensed that you weren't going to expand further on your life. 

You took a swig from the bottle of rum before handing it to him. "How about you, big bad pirate? You seem to be keeping great company," you remarked sarcastically, your expression indicating you were referring to the brief interaction you had with Jack. A feeling of embarrassment washed over him.

"Calico Jack is an ass, but he isn't that bad once you get to know him."

"Calico Jack?" you gawked at the name, finding it amusing. 

Edward realized it was a silly name. All pirates tend to pick ridiculous names for their alter ego. Edward included.

"Pirates tend to pick new names. It’s his alter egos, I guess," Edward explained, watching your eyes study his face intently.

A mischievous grin spread across your face. "What's your pirate name, Edward?"

"I would tell you if you weren't such a dick," Edward whispered back, leaning his face closely to yours. He knew you would laugh at him, especially after already teasing him about his beard.

Your fingers grasped his tighter, and you moved to perch on your knees, staring at him intently. "You have to tell me," you insisted, your smirk adding to the mischievous glint in your eyes. Edward's gaze shifted from your smirk to your lips, and he couldn't help but wonder how they would taste, whether they would feel as soft as he imagined against his own. Despite growing up together, he had never kissed you, but the thought had lingered in his mind as a distant fantasy.

As if realizing he had not responded and where he had been staring, Edward quickly succumbed to your question, hoping you hadn't read his thoughts. "Blackbeard," he whispered.

Your laughter rang out, just as he had anticipated, but it was music to his ears.

"I should have guessed," you replied with a giggle, running a finger gently across his chin. Edward felt a shift in the air, similar to what he felt before a storm, as he realized how close the two of you were now. "Blackbeard," you repeated softly, seeming to savor the name. He enjoyed hearing his new name on your tongue. "You really are a man now," you added, your eyes tracing his face.

Edward had to resist the urge to kiss you; every part of his body was screaming for you, yearning to show you how much of a man he had become. But he knew you deserved better than him. You always had. Kissing you right now would only complicate things, and you didn't deserve that with everything else you had going on. Instead, he bumped his shoulder against yours, echoing your earlier gesture.

You both stayed up talking the rest of the night, watching as the sun rose above the shoreline, until its golden rays crested the blue waters rolling before you both. Reluctantly, Edward made his way back to the ship, his hand wrapped in yours again, wishing he could hold onto it forever. He stopped at a place far enough away where he knew no one on The Ranger could see him.

"Are you ever coming back here?" you asked quietly. Edward saw the pain in your eyes and felt thankful that he hadn't kissed you; it might have been impossible to leave if he had.

"I don't know," Edward replied honestly.

He watched as your expression changed into an easy smile, knowing you had pushed down that other emotion that threatened to break through. He had seen you do that plenty of times growing up. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and his arms found your waist, squeezing you closely to him. He savored how your body felt against his, not knowing if this would be the last time he held you. You loosened your grip on him first, causing him to let you go, and you began making your way back to town. He watched as you walked away, feeling the tug in his heart to follow you, then you turned back towards him.

"I like the beard, Ed," you said, your eyes narrowing as if you were making a decision on whether to say something further. Then you spoke again. "Next time you come back, find me again." Before he could respond, you turned to walk again.

If he sailed here again, there was no doubt in his mind that he would go to any length to find you. He knew that fact even before you asked. He had left this life behind, but you were the one piece of the past he would relish in when he was back. As the ship set sail, instead of leaving his former home with relief like he expected, longing sat in his heart. He hoped Hornigold would choose to return to Bristol soon.

#ed teach x reader #edward teach x reader #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd x reader #ofmd fanfic #edward teach

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Soft Cuddles

Today is my wedding day, yes, really.

Whatever, here is today's Novemberstory because I am nothing if not obsessive <3

Characters: Glorfindel and a whole lot of other people

Words: 1 655

Warnings: many cuddles, little sad, cultural differences

Glorfindel had learned a good many things that others could never even imagine—he had wrestled a Balrog, he had known death and re-embodiment, and he had met the mighty Valar after the Great Sundering of the Doom of the Ñoldor.

Dark and terrible were many of his experiences and haunted his wisdom, but—on some days—he considered them a welcome price to pay for the immeasurably beautiful pieces of knowledge that were his own.

“Come here,” he whispered and slung his arms around Erestor who was in a particularly foul mood on this misty morning.

As soon as the solid warmth of his strong body seeped into the tender flesh and delicate bones of his lover, Glorfindel felt him relax against his chest and released a shivering, relieved sigh of his own.

“How did you—” Erestor murmured, ashamed now of a need he did not share with most of his peers.

“I once had the honour of watching over Eärendil,” the golden-haired revenant explained in soothing accents. “I myself was raised in a gaggle of elflings—kin and friends—and we grew too fast and were too carefree in our blessed serenity to ever cling to our parents overmuch.”

Picking his temperamental colleague up, Glorfindel carried him over to a window to cradle him on his lap while whispering his most precious confessions into his perfectly shaped ear.

“Eärendil was the first child I had seen in a long time, and he was different. He yearned to be held, carried, hugged, and Eru knows, I was eager and happy to comply. I seem to recall now that there must have been days when I did not set the boy down for a single moment—I’d even hide from his parents just so they could not snatch him away from me.” He gave a heavy sigh of regret and longing at the bittersweet memory of the soft hair and pealing laughter of his little protégé.

“Those were different times, and the safety of the Hidden Kingdom was a fraught, ever-threatened dream,” he went on in a voice that grew increasingly hollow with pain.

“Later, oh so much later, I came here to find that Elrond—my very own darling prince’s son—harboured much the same needs and desires as his father, and so did his children in turn.”

“Glorfindel,” Erestor gasped. “Are you telling me that you sneak around hugging not only children but grown Elves? Our Lord? His formidable sons? His noble daughter?”

Shrugging sheepishly, Glorfindel adjusted his hold on Erestor’s frame and settled his chin against the crown of his dark-haired head tenderly.

“I have the arms for that,” he said, a hint of insecurity and guilt sneaking into his tone. “You cannot imagine the relief and the joy I’ve drawn from the knowledge that the strong build that makes me an excellent fighter also allows me to offer comforting embraces. We all need redemption sometimes.”

“You are indeed very good at this,” Erestor mumbled sleepily. “I feel unafraid and soothed by the way you hold me tight. Maybe, we should make this a generally accepted behaviour, so you don’t have to do it in secret, and I don’t have to feel so embarrassed about enjoying hugs so much?”

“That is a stellar idea,” Glorfindel replied and smiled blissfully at the empty room.

“Safe travels!” Elladan and Elrohir stood at the gates, smiling brightly at Glorfindel as he led his horse by the reins.

“Erestor will be insufferable,” Arwen groaned, her beautiful face puckered with dread. “He always is when you’re away.”

Leaning closer to her until his cheek touched hers ever so lightly, Glorfindel whispered into her ear that she should try hugging him every now and then.

“Does he not smell like dust and death?” Elrohir joked but regained his composure immediately when a hard, unamused glare hit him.

Smiling wickedly, Arwen seemed to consider that new-found piece of information for a moment and then nodded slowly.

“Yes,” she said, “that, I can do. I remember quite well how you used to rock me in your arms, singing songs that were highly inappropriate but eminently entertaining for an elfling such as I was.”

“Don’t let your father hear you,” Glorfindel squeaked, and—sweeping the tall, graceful lady into his arms—he threw her into the air until she was breathless with laughter.

“You,” she wheezed, “are one of my best childhood memories.”

“And ours,” the twins added; they were checking Glorfindel’s pack and saddle like they always had, and he gave them the same serious, grateful smile they remembered from the time when he still had had to hold them aloft so they could tug at various straps and nod ponderously.

“Your childhood,” he replied as he hoisted himself onto the back of his trusty steed, “is one of my most cherished recollections as well. Be kind to Erestor, and I shall be back before you even have time to miss me.”

As he looked back at the proud descendants of his dearly missed Eärendil, his heart was full, and he whistled a wistful song as he rode out to honour a promise he had once given.

“Welcome to our—my father’s realm,” Legolas laughed, scratching his head sheepishly.

“Have you been back long?” Glorfindel asked, interested, and beamed when a burly, stout frame moved into view.

“The Lord of the Glittering Caves,” he exclaimed, genuinely happy to find Gimli in good health; they had conversed but very briefly before the Council in Imladris, but Glorfindel had listened to his tales with rapt interest.

At that time, he had also been invited to visit the Greenwood Realm—after the threatening shadow had been vanquished—and Glorfindel had ever been one to honour the word he had given.

The trees were different here, he thought, dark, old, and—if he was not very much mistaken—as ill-tempered as his very own lover could be at times.

“I shall have a small repast brought up,” Legolas cheered, excited to share the much-doubted and abnegated hospitality of his native kingdom with honoured guests.

Waiting in relaxed expectation, Glorfindel soon found out that Lord Gimli had as many questions about the Elven folk—he apparently only believed half of what Legolas told him on pure principle—as Glorfindel had about the elusive Khâzad.

“Are you all as stuffy as his father?” Gimli asked, jabbing a well-spiced drumstick forcefully into the quiet, fragrant night air. “I know my friend here is quite a jokester, but is the average Elf more like King Thranduil or more like Legolas?”

Glorfindel’s eyes grew round with surprise, and he cocked his head—making the small, festive bells braided into his hair jingle—and gave the matter some thought before answering.

“As you can clearly see,” he said, giving his hair another merry toss, “not all of us are very stern and dignified. As for the average elf—”

He fell silent and shuddered. “There—thankfully—is no such thing. I would say that King Thranduil can, at times, be the most formal and pompous of those who remain, but, then again, most of the High Lords and Ladies are undoubtedly very impressive.”

“Legolas—”

“Has time to become all that,” Glorfindel interrupted kindly. “At the same time, I’ve lived a very long time, and it has never happened for me, so don’t take my word for it.”

As the evening progressed, and the wine flowed, Glorfindel was soon overcome by a flood of longing when he thought of his loved ones in Imladris.

“Is he sad? Will he die now?” Gimli asked Legolas in a slightly alarmed tone.

“No,” Legolas laughed. “I dare say Lord Glorfindel is homesick.”

“Aren’t you pointy-eared tree-huggers always melancholy and yearning for some lost place?” Gimli commented dryly, scratching his beard and setting aside the wetting stone he had been passing over his axe in practised, regular movements.

“Can we help, Lord Glorfindel?” Legolas then inquired politely, ready to sneak into his father’s private reserve to fetch some of the rarer and more precious treats this Kingdom had to offer.

Startled by his words, Glorfindel was quick to wave aside their touching concerns.

“D’ya need a hug, Elf?” Gimli asked after having observed Glorfindel for a moment in contemplative silence. “I know your kind usually does not hold with that kind of physical affection—drastic, they’d call it, I am sure—but you look like you could do with one.”

To his surprise and delight, Glorfindel eagerly accepted that offer and extended his arms to welcome the strong, densely muscled arms that were slung around his midriff like ropes of braided steel.

“I…I find that I have been changed by the people around me,” he explained with an apologetic smile; even though he was not typically one to feel uncomfortable or even ashamed about the way he led his life, he felt nevertheless that he owed the prince of the realm an explanation for his highly unusual, nay even inappropriate, behaviour.

“Oh,” Legolas chuckled. “No need to justify this to me. After the tragic loss of my mother, my father would hug and cuddle me often, and I do not hesitate to admit that Gimli and I quite enjoy exchanging physical gestures of affection.”

“Skinny as a twig,” Gimli muttered good-humouredly. “All skin and bones.”

“Yes,” Legolas added, nodding wisely. “My dearest friend also insists on feeding me well—he is inordinately worried about my well-being.”

Eyebrows rising in bewilderment, Glorfindel wanted to object that—if anything—it was incumbent on Legolas to tend to the various vital needs of a being so woefully prone to illness and death, but his host almost imperceptibly shook his head.

“We all have our ways of expressing affection and support,” Legolas said and stretched out on the soft forest floor with a deep sigh. “And I, for one, think all of them are wonderful!”

Thank you so much for reading <3

-> Masterlist for November (by @cilil)

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #November #Nanowrimo2023 #Glorfindel #Elrond #Erestor #Glorestor #Elladan #Elrohir #Legolas #Gimli #Legolas x Gimli #Soft cuddles

[sequinsmile-x]

This is Our Place, We Make The Rules - Chapter 8 - All Nighter

A collection of non-sequential mini-fics and one-shots of Hotchniss and their life at home.

Chapter 8 - All Nighter

-x-

Hi friends,

My drive from my parents house to my place took 9 hours (twice as long as it should) today, and thinking of Hotchniss related fluff is the only thing that stopped me from losing my mind haha

So, this little mini-fic is born out of letting my mind wonder in standstill traffic <3 hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

-x-

Warnings: Insomnia, pregnancy

Words: 1.4k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He couldn’t sleep. 

He’d struggled with insomnia throughout his life, the inability to sleep something that had haunted him for as long as he could remember. When he was young it was born out of his fear of his father, unable to drift off when he knew his dad had been drinking. His violence was a shadow throughout his childhood home, and the father he could have been if he’d made different choices a ghost in every corner. 

By the time Aaron was an adult, he was used to functioning on less sleep than most people, which ended up being a helpful skill when it came to his chosen career. There were still times when he didn’t sleep at all, when a particular case would steal his ability to switch off leaving him lying next to Haley, listening to her breathing until the sun rose.

It only got worse after she died. Sleep and rest felt like luxuries he no longer deserved, and he couldn’t sleep even when he tried. Jack had slept in his bed with him for months, something both of them had drawn comfort from, and he laid there and listened to his son breathe much like he once had with Haley. In the end, it was Jack who had asked to sleep in his own bed, claiming he wanted to be brave ‘just like daddy.’

Aaron wished he felt brave, wished he could be the man his son thought he was, and that was exactly what had originally spurred him on to ask Emily out, to kiss her on the doorstep of her old apartment. 

He was brave, and it had brought him everything he had ever wanted and more. 

He smiles as he looks at his wife, able to pick out her features even in the dark of their bedroom. She was fast asleep and curled around his side, her head and hand on his chest. Her mouth was slightly open and there was a small patch of drool on his t-shirt, something he knew would embarrass her if she woke up and realised what had happened. She wasn’t a stranger to insomnia herself, and they had a long-standing agreement that if it got too bad they’d wake each other up, figure out which demon was keeping them awake and chase them away together. Even if he wanted to wake her up right now, he wouldn’t because she needed the rest. 

And he was sure there was some law somewhere about waking up your pregnant wife. 

She was only 7 weeks along and she was exhausted. She was tired all the time, which had more than once in the last few weeks led to her falling asleep on the jet. He knew she found it embarrassing, especially since they were keeping the pregnancy to themselves for now, but she always joked it was better, and easier to explain, than throwing up everywhere. 

He tugs her closer and he kisses the top of her head, breathing in deeply in the hope that he’ll overwhelm his senses with her, that he’ll somehow trick his brain into letting him sleep, that Emily simply being asleep on top of him would let him push past whatever was keeping him awake. 

He isn’t sure how much longer he lays there, but he eventually gives up, his frustration at the fact sleep was evading him overriding his desire to just lay there any longer. He’s careful as he slips out from under Emily and smiles when she doesn’t even flinch as he settles her on the mattress. He pulls the covers up, taking the time to tuck them around her in a way that would make her scowl at him if she was awake, and leans in to kiss her forehead. 

“Love you, sweetheart,” he whispers before he kisses her forehead again. 

He’s careful as he walks out of their bedroom, purposely avoiding floorboards he knew creaked, and gently closes the door behind him. He checks in on Jack as he walks past his room, taking the time to tuck him back in, his covers always inexplicably screwed up at the end of the bed, and kissing him on the forehead too before he heads down to the home office. 

Time drags on as he does paperwork. He rubs his eyes as he reads and re-reads the same documents, the information not quite filtering through to his brain as quickly as it usually would. He’s just about to make a coffee, give up on the pretence of getting any sleep at all that night, when the door to the office is pushed open. He looks up and smiles as Emily walks in, her hair and pyjamas rumbled, a bleary look in her eyes that tells him she has not been awake long at all.

“I thought I’d find you here,” she mumbles, blinking against the bright light in the room. 

“Sorry, baby,” he says, placing his paperwork down and pushing his chair slightly back as she walks towards him, “Did I wake you up?”

She shakes her head at him as she climbs into his lap, her side against his chest and her head against his neck. He wraps his arms around her to secure her in place and he kisses her temple. 

“No,” she says around a yawn as she places her hand on his wrist, “I woke up because I needed to pee, your damn kid is a pain in the ass already,” she jokes, her smile wide and sleepy as she looks up at him, “When you weren’t there I thought I’d come check on you,” she runs her thumb back and forth on his arm, feeling the soft hair there, the contrast of it and the strong muscles that rippled under his skin one of her favourite things, “You couldn’t sleep?”

He smiles and shakes his head, “No, I couldn’t.”

She furrows her brow, “You should have woken me up, honey,” she says, reaching up and running her fingers through his hair, making a point of scratching at his scalp. 

He clears his throat to suppress a smile, well aware if he even tried to explain that she’d been sleeping so deeply she’d drooled on him that he’d be in trouble, “You need your sleep, Em,” he says, stamping a kiss against her lips, “I think it’s frowned upon to wake up your sleeping, pregnant wife,” he says, kissing her again before he pulls back to look at her, “I think I’d lose all my ‘best husband’ awards.” 

She hums and presses her lips together to stop her smile, his dry sense of humour the way he could always make her laugh, something she had never seen coming when she first met him. 

“I’d appeal the decision for you,” she says, her expression turning serious again, “Do you know why you can’t sleep?”

He shakes his head, “Just one of those nights, I guess.” 

She smiles knowingly and rests her head on his shoulder, “Can I help?”

He kisses the side of her head, holding her even closer, “You always do.” 

She rolls her eyes at him, at the ridiculous cheesy things he always said that she insisted she didn’t like but not-so-secretly loves, “If we’re awake,” she says, leaning back to look at him, “We may as well go lay on the couch and watch a movie or something.” 

He frowns, “Sweetheart, you can go back to bed, I’m-”

She stands up and offers him her hand, cutting him off before he can refuse her company, “If you can’t wake up your pregnant wife, you can’t argue with her either.”

He raises an eyebrow at her but decides against protesting any further. Their alone time was limited, and he knew they’d only get less of it when the baby was born, so he nods and stands up, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as he lets her lead him to the living room. 

“Does being pregnant also mean you get to pick the movie?” 

She scoffs and links her arm through his, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. “Honey, I always pick the movie.” 

-x-

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[draguta]

.fairytale of new york | three.

pairing: professor!bucky x fem!reader

summary: a semester in new york. a handsome man in a bar. whiskey neat. to the lighthouse. christmas lights. this is the tale of a whirlwind romance. a forbidden fairytale. college au.

chapter word count: 3532

warnings: smut, 18+, minors dni, unprotected sex, age gap (reader 19, bucky 34), student/teacher relationship

a/n: not me adding in a little smut based on one of my actual fantasies (sex in a library honestly sounds like a dream to me).

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Bucky

Bucky was in an impossible position. His career had always been the most important thing to him, that was why he hadn’t had a relationship in nearly six years. It was the only thing he had ever focused on, always telling himself that everything else can wait. There had never been a point where he’d ever questioned his priority before. But now? Now he had a problem.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. The girl that had fallen into his lap when he had least expected it. The way that their encounter had occurred, the way that the coincidences seemed to simply pile up, made him think that it was something more. He felt drawn to her in a way that he’d never had with any other girl before. Her words spoken in the bar that very first night played on a loop in his brain during his waking hours, and the sight of her face as he brought her to finish on his tongue haunted his dreams each night.

He tried not to think about her, tried to avoid her. He kept himself distracted with work, with his colleagues, but every time he received a piece of work with her name written at the top in curled cursive letters, his mind snapped back to those memories.

He really was in trouble, but not in the way that he had originally thought. Not because there was the chance of them getting caught, but instead because he actually wanted to get to know her. Because he could see himself reading late at night with her cuddled up to his side. Because he could imagine waking her up in the morning with a kiss, making pancakes for her whilst she sat on the counter beside him with a cup of coffee, wearing his t-shirt from the night before.

It made no sense; he barely knew this girl. Sure, they’d had two incredible moments of intimacy together, moments that he would cherish, but he didn’t really know anything about her, besides the fact that she liked to read and that she wanted to be a writer some day. How could he possibly be feeling something for her already, even if it was miniscule.

“James.” The voice pulled Bucky out of his thoughts, and as he glanced up from his morning coffee he found Rhodey, one of the professors that worked under him in the English Department, taking a seat at the table that Bucky had found himself at during his lunch break.

“Rhodey,” he smiled. “Sorry, I was in my own little world there. What can I help you with?”

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Rhodey explained. “Do you have a student named Y/N?”

Y/N

Days passed by, which quickly turned into weeks. You found yourself getting into the swing of college, the nerves that you had felt upon first arriving now long gone. You had finally met all of your roommates, from the quiet and slightly moody MJ who was studying Biology, eccentric and slightly clumsy Kate who was studying Art, and finally Shuri, who had an incredible mind according to her professor, Professor Stark, Head of Physics.

Ever since that moment in Bucky’s office so many weeks ago you had kept your distance from him. You often found yourself sitting at the very back of the lecture hall for your three lectures per week, hid behind your laptop refusing to make eye contact, and went to Professor Rhodes, another professor in the English department if you had any questions about the material. Whilst Professor Rhodes seemed rather confused as to why you would go to him and not your own professor, he was always happy to help.

You were doing well in your classes, and had become close with Yelena and Wanda, who still remained your favourite people on campus. You did everything that you could to distract yourself from him, but nothing seemed to quell the aching that you had for him. It was like nothing you had experienced for a man before, and there ultimately seemed to be no stopping it.

When you had seen him in line at a coffee shop near campus one afternoon you had rushed out of the door without him even seeing you, trying desperately to swallow down the butterflies in the pit of your stomach. You’d caught him one morning outside of the lecture hall laughing happily with a red-headed professor, one that you recognized from Kate’s course brochure as the head of the Art department, Professor Romanoff. He had his head swung back in raucous laughter at something she had said, and you couldn’t ignore the pang of jealousy that rang through your chest at the sight. You had rushed home and emailed in sick that day.

No problem, Y/N. Are you ok? Do you need anything? Let me know - Bucky.

That had been the only correspondence you’d had with him since that day in his office. He had signed it Bucky, an email from his work address, and a small moment of panic came to you, but passed quickly when you double checked and realised that he had replied from his personal account instead.

Around three days after that you found yourself in the school library. Professor Rhodes had suggested the day before that an extracurricular analysis of one of your favourite books was a great way to hone your skills, so you had taken his advice and begun work on it. He had advised handing it into ‘Professor Barnes’ for extra credit but you couldn’t bear the thought of having to speak to him face-to-face again, even if you knew that it would happen eventually.

‘To the Lighthouse’ is Woolf’s most autobiographical work of fiction, drawing on her own childhood and family experiences in the 1890s and early 1900s.

You wrote quickly and carefully, your fingers running over the keys of your laptop as if it were muscle memory. ‘To the Lighthouse’ your favourite book, the copy on the table beside you the same one you’d had since a child, filled with annotations and highlights.

Note that the title, ‘To the Lighthouse’ could suggest a journey steadily progressing towards an end goal, but what the novel actually gives us is a narrative in which that journey ‘to the lighthouse’ is delayed until the end of the novel.

You took a sip of your tea, still hot from the shop on the corner of campus, checking back to the book to compare your notes to your analysis. It was dark in the library, late in the evening, and quiet, with few students still there studying due to the lateness of the hour. But this was where you were happiest, the most at peace.

In the final section, pointedly titled ‘The Lighthouse’, the preposition is dropped, but has the trip to the lighthouse really been achieved? It has, with the lighthouse simply resembling the goals that the children have for the future, not a tangible lighthouse to visit.

“Still working so late?”

It was a familiar voice that pulled you away from your work, away from the words of Virginia Woolf and back to reality. You swallowed but your throat was already dry from the thought of seeing him. Slowly you turned, coming face-to-face with Bucky. He was wearing a button-up shirt under a dark-blue blazer, a laptop bag draped over his shoulder, a pile of papers in his arms. He looked good - he always did.

“Just some extracurricular work,” you explained with a shrug. “Someone told me that it would be a good way to keep myself on track with my work, and maybe get some extra credit while I’m at it.”

He took a step forward, bringing a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Would that someone be Professor Rhodes?”

He slowly moved forward again until he was standing beside you by the desk.

“How did you know about that?” You asked slowly, your thumbs fiddling with each other in your lap awkwardly, nervously.

“We work in the same department, Y/N. You think he wouldn’t tell me that one of my students has been going to him for advice instead of me?” He pointed out, and you had to admit it made a lot of sense. You opened your mouth to speak, but Bucky beat you to it. “I get it, I really do. And if that’s what you have to do to feel more…comfortable, then I’m ok with that.”

You frowned, taking in the words that he had just said, letting their meaning sink in. He thought that you were more comfortable around Professor Rhodes because of everything that had transpired between you and Bucky.

“You think you make me uncomfortable?” You asked slowly, looking up at him. He shuffled awkwardly before finally perching on the seat beside you, planting down the pile of papers in his hand on the desk.

“T-That’s not what I meant,” he stuttered. “But I would understand if you did.”

A light laugh echoed around the library, quickly followed by a ‘shush’ from the librarian at the front desk. Bucky looked at you with a deep frown, clearly thinking you were completely mad.

“I don’t feel uncomfortable around you Bucky,” you explained. You lowered your voice slightly for fear of being overheard, moving closer to him as you spoke. “I was just worried about you getting in trouble.”

It was Bucky’s turn to laugh, a beaming smile on his face. It was nice, knowing that his smile was because of you, not some red-headed professor. “You don’t need to worry about me, doll,” he beamed. “I can look after myself. Now, let me have a look at this analysis you’re working on.”

The two of you sat there for the next few hours, Bucky reading over your shoulder as you wrote, pointing out errors or sentences that he thought could be expanded on. Your mind drifted back to the very first day of your course, his very first rule.

“One: I am here to support you, not do your work for you. I will not push you to the right answer. If you don’t know the answer, listen and study.”

It didn’t seem as though he was following his own rule as the two of you sat in that library. He was giving you hints, edging you in the right direction, even leaning over your shoulder to rewrite an entire sentence for you, which you were certain was completely against the rules that he had created for his class. But you didn’t care. He was with you again, even if it was in an academic sense. You could smell his scent once more, now close enough for it to engulf you again, the paper, the ink, the sandalwood, tobacco, leather, the vanilla, each one filling your nostrils, almost making you forget about the paper entirely. He placed a hand on the small of your back, leaning closer as he discussed a comparison paragraph between two characters, and you could help but clench your thighs at the contact. What you didn’t realise was that Bucky had noticed it, and a small smirk began to play at his lips.

“Out of curiosity,” he said suddenly after a few hours, leaning forward in his seat and leaning against the desk, placing a hand on the cover of your novel. “Why did you choose ‘To the Lighthouse’?”

“I first read it back in middle school, and I found it fascinating how it completely steered away from all of the literature that I’d read before from the same era,” you explained with a shrug. “Woolf used her own personal memories to create a story that is so intimate and poetic, and I just thought that was incredible.”

Bucky nodded slowly, his eyebrows raised in thought. “That’s a very analytic take on it,” he said, looking at you pointedly. “But what is the personal connection?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, leaning back in your chair and taking a sip of your tea, now cold.

“From experience, when someone has a favourite book, it’s usually because there is some kind of personal connection,” he urged. “Something that makes that story, that book, so important to the person. So what’s yours?”

You paused, shooting him a small smile before looking down at the cup in your hands. “Do you really want to know?” You asked quietly, and from the corner of your eye you saw him nod firmly. “That copy there was my grandma’s. It was her favourite book when I was growing up, and she always talked about it. I never read it, but after she died I found her copy.”

You spared a glance in his direction, but he didn’t speak, sitting patiently waiting for you to continue.

“It was filled with annotations that she’d made, and when I read it for the first time, it brought back so many memories,” you explained. “Every time I reached a part that she had talked about, or a paragraph that she had quoted, it felt as though she was with me at that moment. I began adding my own annotations to the same copy, started re-reading it over and over again to get that feeling back. After a while, it simply became my go-to book, the one that I always pick over anything else.”

You looked over at him when you had finished and found that he was smiling at you. It was a soft smile, understanding and perhaps a little sympathetic, and it made those butterflies in your stomach flutter to life once more. You wanted to pull him towards you, to kiss him and tell him how difficult it was to stay away from him. But you knew that you couldn’t - it was too risky.

“You know, this is my favourite book too,” he said eventually, lifting up your copy and flicking through the pages carefully. “It was the very first book that I ever studied, the one that made me find my passion for English and for writing. I owe my entire career to this book.”

You’d never had a conversation like this with him before, but you found that you were actually enjoying it. It was nice to know that he was someone outside of your professor, that you had so much in common with him.

“Looks like I picked a good book to analyse then,” you smiled, turning back to your laptop, trying to push away the smile that was threatening to spread across your face.

He leans forward to look over your shoulder once more, but this time it’s not the small of your back that his hand goes to. Instead, it finds its way to your thigh, squeezing gently at the flesh there as if asking if it was ok. Slowly you dipped your hand under the table, glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one was looking, interlacing your fingers with yours.

He leaned in close to you, his voice low, his cheek brushing against your shoulder.

“You’re dangerous,” he whispered. “You have no idea what you do to me. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Turning your head slightly you realised just how close you were, close enough that you could smell the coffee on his breath, and if you moved forward even just a few centimetres your lips would be connected.

“If I’m dangerous,” you whispered back, blinking at him slowly. “Then you’re irresistible.”

He twirled his hand around in yours, playing with your fingers, glancing down at your hand intertwined with his before glancing back up at you. You knew what was running through his mind - it was running through yours as well. You nodded, and he smiled back at you, rising to his feet, his hand never leaving yours as he led you away from the desk, leaving your computer and papers behind. He let go of your hand for only a second as you passed by the front desk, with him calling a ‘hello Maria’ to the librarian, before grabbing it again as soon as the pair of you were out of sight. He led you to the corner of the room and up the metal spiral staircase in the corner, one that was rarely used, leading to the section for the older books.

“No one comes up here, don’t worry,” he explained as he pulled you down a corridor, finally finding an aisle to his satisfaction and pulling you down it.

Within a moment he had slammed you against the bookcase, his lips crushing against yours, his hands sliding down to your thighs to help hoist you into the air, your legs wrapping around his waist as if it were habit.

You both knew that you didn’t have long, and so as your hands trailed down to his belt buckle, he did the same, undoing the button of your jeans and hoisting them down your thighs as you pulled his suit pants down to his knees. He was inside you within an instant, and you both groaned at the sensation of being connected once again, his forehead falling to rest on your shoulder as your hand reached out to grab onto the shelves beside you for support.

He began to thrust upwards, rough and quick, his hips snapping against yours in perfect rhythm. His hand tugged at your hair, revealing your throat to him, and he took it upon himself to latch his lips onto the skin just below your jaw, sucking and biting, before kissing it sweetly to null the pain.

“Tell me why I can’t stay away from you?” He mumbled against your skin. “Why can’t I stop thinking about you?”

“Me too, Bucky,” you whispered, gasping as he readjusted your hips, meaning that he hit your spot perfectly. “T-Think about you all the time.”

His thrusts became faster, messier. The bookcase rattled behind you, books falling from the shelves with each movement, but neither of you cared. You were simply chasing your highs, edging closer and closer to the fall. You wanted to fall with him, to feel him finish with you, at the same time. You slid your hand down his arm, finding his hand on your thigh, tangling your fingers with his, sweaty hands clasped together as you got closer and closer to ecstasy together.

“Stay with me tonight.” It wasn’t a request or a question, it was a command. He was telling you that you were staying with him even if you didn’t want to. Little did he know that was exactly what you wanted. You wanted to fall asleep on his chest, your skin sticking together, his spend dripping out of you onto his sheets.

The coil in your stomach snapped at the thought, and you leant forward, your teeth digging into his shoulder slightly as you tried desperately to swallow your screams from the bliss that took over your entire body., causing him to hiss at the slight pain. He finished at the same time, just as you had hoped for, the hot seed filling you up, certain to be dripping down your legs on the way back downstairs. He cursed, mumbling your name against your shoulder as he finished, his hips slowing to a stop. You were able to see his face this time, his lips parted slightly, eyes closed as if he were seeing heaven itself. You had never seen a sight more perfect.

The pair of you stayed like that for a moment simply catching your breaths before he finally pulled away, helping you down from your perch on the bookshelf.

“Did you really mean it?” You asked, buttoning up your jeans and looking back over to him as he tucked his shirt back into his trousers.

“What?” He asked with a frown, satisfied with his shirt, and moving on to wipe the fog from his glasses on his sleeve.

“When you asked me to stay with you tonight,” you explained slowly. It was very possible that he had simply said it in the heat of the moment, passion providing clouded judgement. But he paused, looking at you as if you had just said something idiotic.

“Of course I meant it.” He moved closer, placing his hands on your arms, and you took his glasses from him, slowly sliding them back onto his nose with a smile as he looked down at you. “I meant everything that I said. I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s really becoming a problem.”

“So first I’m dangerous, and now I’m a problem,” you laughed, sliding your hands around his neck as he slipped his own around your waist. “I don’t know if I should be insulted, professor.”

Bucky groaned, his eyes squinting and his mouth curling into a smirk, and you raised your eyebrow at the view. “So, you like it when I call you professor, do you?” You asked, wearing a matching smirk. “I’ll have to remember that.”

You reached up onto your tiptoes, and planted a sweet and tender kiss to his lips, before the pair of you made your way back down the staircase, hand-in-hand.

| @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer | @moonlightreader649 |

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes series #bucky series #bucky barnes angst #bucky angst #professor bucky #professor bucky barnes #marvel college au #marvel university au #marvel #marvel universe #marvel smut #mcu #bucky barnes au

[dellarosula]

╰ ✧ ˖ @dukemeropide asked:

[DRESS UP]

Wriothesley isn’t sure how he keeps running into Navia, but he thinks that this might be some trial from the stars, or the haunting of a man who had, in life, made so many stipulations for the Spina’s alliance with the Fortress that it had very nearly been a bad deal, now regretting in death that he had let the alliance happen at all. Whatever the case, drawn by red and gold, his eyes drift to her in the semi-circle of flashing kamera lights, then quickly snap away when he realizes who it is. But it’s too late, she’s seen him, and so he circles around to wait for her beneath an arrangement of paper parasols.

”You certainly know how to draw a crowd,” he comments in lieu of a greeting when she finally breaks away. The smile he wears is as polite and unflappable as ever. “I’d almost believe you set up the photoshoot yourself.”

If she had thought it a miracle to have witnessed Meropide's esteemed duke above the shore back home in Fontaine, then Navia stands sorely corrected.

She's almost certain that she imagines him among the sea of cheering faces and flashing lights. That, as she turns on her heel to throw a smile over her shoulder, he will have disappeared as though he were never truly there.

Which he does, at least somewhat, only to reappear once more just a bit further back from the crowd. Navia does her best not to let her surprise cloud her expression. Is he... waiting waiting for her?

Suddenly the golden warmth of a crowd's attention is no longer the most interesting thing on her plate.

So she turns back to her audience and sketches a small curtsey. With what feels like a hundred thank you's and perhaps double that in waves of her hand, Navia manages her escape.

And, much to her seemingly ever-growing surprise, Wriothesley remains. In the festival light he looks a little less pale, though it does precious little to make him appear any less out of place. What a wonder it would be to view him as a stranger, unaware of his residence and station. Would he blend in then, were she unknowing?

Navia decides it unlikely.

"I'm sure it's easy to forget considering my line of work, but I grew up a girl in Fontaine just like any other, you know. I knew the stage before my own name." Her defensiveness is playful, all her guard and suspicion of him left at home with their relationship as business partners. Most of it, at least.

"Of course, I've little time to entertain such things nowadays." Behind her, kamera flashes have begun again. Navia smiles to think of another in that spotlight--she had never been meant to remain in it. "Though it seems I haven't lost my touch if I could catch your eye."

#⸻ ✧ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 : ‘ tbd ’ . #dukemeropide #ghlanternrite2024 #i really gotta fill in my character tags good lord #anyway thank you for sending ree!! #i really love thinking abt navia's relationship with theater so a little self indulgence....whatever #anyways. squishes them in my hands like play doh :)

[oboy-me]

Hi! This is my first ever ask on one of these blogs, and I hope you’re still open to them at some point. But If you could get around to doing maybe a Possessive Levi x M!MC nsfw imagine, I think that might be pretty sweet. Like a soft-ish yandere scenario.

Hello anon, I'm honored that you chose to send me this ask! And just for you, I've done a little bit more than just an imagine; this one's gonna be a whole drabble! I may have ended up getting a little carried away with the length, but I wanted to make up for how long I've been gone, too. 💖

——————————————————————————————————————

▸▸ It was supposed to be his day with you; you two set aside some time to go check out a local arcade cabinet that had just been installed. When Mammon and Beelzebub show up to take you away from him though, he's in ruins. He's left to seethe, but this time alone gives him an idea...

——————————————————————————————————————

It just wasn't fair.

He knew you better than everyone else. He knew your favourite things to watch, your favourite things to eat, your favourite haunts, the little intricacies and quirks of your habits. He could recite from heart the episodes you love the most.

So why was it Mammon who got to touch you so intimately, and with such easily?

Fingers tipped with a deep blue nail polish dug deep into one of his plain pillows, knees drawn up tighter towards his chest to feel the compression of gryphons down on his body. Those honey-violet eyes of his stared at his D.D.D, missed message notifications practically staring him back down in turn.

It had only been a couple hours earlier. You were hanging out with Leviathan at a local arcade, invited by the Avatar of Envy to check out a cabinet that had just been installed that morning. It was all going so well, he felt so high on your smiles and laughter, he felt like he was actually able to make you happy. Then Mammon swooped in with Beelzebub at his back; they stole your attention away swiftly and firmly, and wouldn't give you a chance to decline before they dragged you off to do some stupid outing of theirs.

The memory played on loop made his blood boil hot, his chest tightening until it was a white-hot knot all throughout. It wasn't fair at all that they got to trample all over his day out with you, and that Mammon felt so bold as to slide his hand around your waist like he owned you. What was so special about Mammon — or the others for that matter — that let them be so close to you so effortlessly? Was it because he was some filthy shut-in otaku that you only hung out with to pity? … No. He wanted to have more faith in you than that.

Before he ended up spiraling again, he needed to watch something. Anything. His favourite anime streaming site had just announced an exclusive show premiering on their service solely, maybe he'd turn that on and just let himself get lost in a fantasy world where he didn't have to think about how deeply his heart ached for you, for your smile, and most of all, for your love.

The show he chose started off interestingly enough, being about a young man serving as the main protagonist, whose pet hog protected him as they traveled in search of answers to an old riddle; Levi loved to try and solve those types of plots before anything was confirmed or denied by the studio itself. As the episodes progressed though he took notice of one of the other protagonists — a rather reserved girl who seemed to very methodically work to charm the main character and kept the other love interests at bay out of a wicked sense of jealousy and possessiveness. Leviathan hadn't even realized how far he was leaned in as the episodes continued on to show this "yandere"-type girl cunningly maneuvering to curry favor with the male lead through both subtle and obvious shows of affection — all of her efforts culminating in a kabedon that won the young man's heart over in one fell swoop.

The girl… She was someone he could see himself being. Like her, he was viciously envious and upset that others were encroaching on the man he loved so dearly, and like her, he would do anything to earn the favor of that very same boyfriend. Though unlike her, he wasn't nearly as cunning or charismatic to pull off such clever stunts — but he was, if nothing else, very determined. Maybe he wasn't charismatic, but if he practiced and said the right things, you might be won over all the same.

So he planted a text message for you to read; a request to come to his room when you had the chance. Now that he'd asked you, there was no going back. He'd have to steel himself and make the move, just like in that anime — he had to channel that girl's bravery and charisma, her desire to win over the love of her life. So he waited and practiced the words he wanted to say over and over in his mind, out loud to nail the tone he wanted, eyes almost fixated on his D.D.D until he saw your message;

[ Okay, I'll be over in a moment. ]

This was it. This was his only chance; he rushed out of his seat and stood near the door poised and ready, he could only tell that it had swung open from seeing it with his own two eyes. If you said anything, he couldn't hear it over his heart drumming so loudly in his ears that he could not even hear his own shaky breathing. You had not even gotten past the door when he had closed the gap between you two, using his body to push you back, one hand of his reaching out to anchor down on the wall he'd backed you up against. In the same rush of movement his tail had lashed forth from hiding, snapped out in a way that would push the door shut with a flourish.

He had moved to kabedon you, just as he saw in the anime… and you had to admit, he had some fluid movement when doing so — enough so that it brought a rosy tint to your cheeks as you were surprised to see him being so bold.

"Y/N!" He gasped out, his face a bright scarlet as he fought the urge to crumple. You could see in the way his arms shook and his body trembled that he was fighting that desire to give up, to concede his defeat, to withdraw into himself and forget about what happened. Yet he didn't. Through a breath that was unsteady yet fighting so desperately to sound grounded and firm, he started to speak again.

"Y/N… I can't stand it any more… Seeing how Mammon handled you… I… I won't let that happen again! You… You're mine, you know that?!"

You froze at that, eyes widening at the spluttering declaration; this was a side of Levi you knew existed, but never had you heard him say it in such a firm, almost desperate manner.

"You… You be… belong to…" Then it was Levi's turn to stop mid-sentence, his chest practically seized up and unable to muster the courage to speak further. It was that familiar gaze of regret and shame in his eyes when he felt he had pushed too far, asked too much of you. His head sunk low, shoulders slouched for a moment, but on instinct you had reached out to grasp his chin, to raise his face right back up. It elicited a gasp out of the demon, his orange-violet eyes fixed upon your own now as his mind raced with questions — and desires.

"… To me…" Leviathan finally breathed out after a moment of tightness in his throat. His entire expression had melted with those two words into a mixture of rising passion and awe. Awe at you, his boyfriend, being so kind, so willing to go along with his outburst. It was such a strong wave of emotion that he had not even realized you pulled him closer for a kiss until your sweet lips had pressed to his own; when you had done this, there was no stopping the floodgates that opened in his mind. You were so close, so vulnerable, so very much his, and he wanted people to know it. He wanted his brothers to respect the fact that you were his, you were his handsome boyfriend, you were not to be claimed by anyone else.

Without thinking, his hands shot forward to grasp at your shirt and pull you in, breathless little gasps breaking the kiss before he lunged right back in for more. You encouraged him with how you wrapped your arms around his neck, gave him the subtle clues that you were willing to give yourself to him and fulfill those desires so clearly writ large in every action he took. You were relishing in this just as much as he was, and it led to you both having leaned in to one another until bodies were pressed flush and you could feel a noticeable throb against your belly. Leviathan's fantasies had been stewing in his mind for so long now, and in the heat of this moment threatened to boil over and completely consume any rational thought he had.

You smiled against his lips and decided to try and test just how sensitive he really was by smoothing one of your hands down the Avatar of Envy's back, down past his waist, to give his posterior a nice little squeeze. You expected the sharp inhaled gasp, but you weren't ready to hear the shuddering moan that wracked his chest, the sound like melting honey in your ears. It almost sounded as if he begged you for something, so you tried for another, almost kneading grope — and this time his whole body responded by rolling against yours, head thrown back and tail suddenly lashed upwards uncontrollably.

"Please!" Leviathan would gasp out, hands tensed on your shirt. "Please, do that again…! I want more… Please… Y/N…" The gasps he gave were choked, but more from how much pleasure was coursing through his veins, hazing his vision and his thoughts. You could tell he was lost in the moment, not a single care in the world for if he "deserved" such amazing sensations. You wanted to treat him for being so forward — he waited so patiently for you, he made his thoughts so clear to you, he only wanted you. Yet as you went for his belt you were stopped by a shaky hand, though Leviathan was quick to quell any concerns you had.

"Be... Before you do," the demon exhaled, his eyes shifting to watch your expression. "Can... Can I... nibble your neck...? Ju-Just a little..."

The question surprised you a little bit, yet you couldn't help but find it so endearing; here he was moments ago demanding that you were his, and now he was asking permission to claim a little bit of you. With a warm smile you gave him that permission, and found he only hesitated for a moment before he leaned in and pressed nervous lips and sharp canines to your neck. Leviathan's actions felt so gentle despite his explosive display of emotions, as if he were worshipping you, revering your body as something sacred despite the overwhelming need building in his chest.

The first nip was experimental, testing the waters against your skin. The second found more purchase near the artery in your neck, a gasp drawn against your throat as Leviathan froze and took it all in — the rapid rush of blood just inches below his lips was because of him. It was for him that your heart beat like so.

"I love you..." Leviathan would breathe out before taking another bite a little further down. "I love you... I love you so much..." A few more marks were left trailing down to your collarbone, but then he pulled away; the expression on his face could only be described as utterly consumed by lust, eyes soft and hazy and glistening in the light, lips parted with an awe-struck smile, scarlet spreading from his cheeks to his ears.

"Okay... I'm ready now," the demon would utter as he moved your hand back to his belt, a stuttering murmur escaping at the anticipation alone. "I... I wanted to leave those there... because I wanted others to know... Know that I'm the only one who gets to see you like this... who gets to be pampered like this... who... who..." His brain skipped a bit and he shuddered out a moan when white-hot flashes of pleasure washed over his nerves at the thought of what he would say next settled in.

"... Please don't be too gentle with me... I... I want all of you, Y/N... I've waited so long for this... to t-take you in like this... I, um... I've practiced a little for you... W-well a lot for you... I want to make you happy... in every single way... I want to be the only one wh-who can meet those needs... Okay?"

Leviathan was so wholly devoted to you, to your desires, and in a rush of courage brought on by all the positive reinforcement you had been giving he laid it all bare for you to take in. Despite letting you take the lead and be the one to dominate, you felt as though he was still actively feeding your own passion with the way he breathlessly uttered his affections for you from a chest gripped wholly by undying love.

You spared no time removing those layers of clothes from his body as you kept him pinned to the wall, your fingers deftly working to ease his entrance and prepare him. Your own dripping length was freed only when he was ready, and he squirmed and cried out in undiluted ecstasy when he finally got to feel you filling him up. The Avatar of Envy was so sensitive, so easy to react, you had to be careful not to overload him in the heat of the moment, but as soon as you started getting a rhythm going with your hips, a curious detail caught your eye.

As you fucked him there on that wall, his eyes were fixed upon the marks he left on your throat — as though he were admiring them, how they painted your pretty skin a bluish-red, how they announced so loud and proud who you chose to get so intimate with. He had even coiled his tail around your waist a couple times over, as if denying the chance to make any distance — he did not want you to stop, not for anything in the world.

"Y/N... Y/N..." Your name was a mantra on his tongue, spoken so sweetly, so desperately. Interlaced between each instance of your name was confessions of love, though mostly inaudible from how he mewled and moaned and cried out with each movement you made.

It did not take long at all for him to reach his climax, thick ropes of cum painting your shirt as his tail squeezed you gently and his body jerked and tensed from the sheer force of the release sending waves across his body. Yet he wouldn't let you stop, riding that climax through his tears and drooling just to see you to yours — only then did he slow down, mouth hung agape with a smile at the corners of his lips, eyes barely able to stay open.

"Thanks..." he exhaled after he was able to catch his breath, his voice so light and full of joy. He saw the confused look on your face and after a moment of processing it, realized he needed to continue. "F-for choosing me. For letting me be the one to experience this... It makes me so happy..."

The demon's arms would be thrown around your neck after he said that, his head lowered to nestle up against the marks he had left previously. It was so hard to believe that his little tactic worked, and that he had even gotten to enjoy the highs of personal intimacy with you for it too.

"Don't go doing this with anyone else, okay? Just... Just me. I don't want anyone else being able to see how beautiful you are covered in sweat like this..." After he mewled his reminder out on airy breaths, you felt him squirm on you a bit, still excited for more — still so pent up and ready for more. It was cute, you mused with a smile.

It was typical for Leviathan to go hours without messaging anyone, but when people caught on that you and him both had gone radio silent ever since you got back to the House of Lamentation earlier than everyone else, they couldn't help but wonder if you had stolen Levi away — though Asmodeus couldn't stop giggling to himself when he caught a very familiar scent wafting off of you both later.

And there we are! I hope I did your request justice dear anon; I got very, very excited to write this, so I made it a lot longer than I should have. Oops! But I hope I captured the essence of a soft but still possessive/obsessive Levi for you!

And to all who were waiting so patiently, hello! I'm back, so sorry for the wait!! 💖

#obey me leviathan #obey me leviathan smut #obey me levi x mc #obey me levi smut #obey me levi x reader #obey me levi x male mc

[redscrawl]

How It Ends- The Quarry

(#FFF234: how it ends) fandom: The Quarry characters: Kaitlyn, Dylan, Ryan, Abi, Laura, Max, Others (mentioned) warnings: canonical character death, grief/mourning, trauma, amputation, blood, injury, horror, dead bodies, tragedy words: 717 summary: The Quarry cast contemplates the events of the night while driving away from camp finally.

Guys I suddenly got inspired to write a random The Quarry fic because of @flashfictionfridayofficial

Ignore that my first published fanfic on here is this random, also i wrote this in like 30 minutes. I promise ill put my actual fanfic on here some day.

The sunlight turned the blood an angelic hue. An almost shimmering red popping against worn and beaten skin. 

Dappled golden rays shone down through the canopy of leaves, bathing them all in what they had most desperately craved all evening; light. After hours of searching, begging, and weeping for it, the end was not what they had expected. Things looked different in the light. The shadows cast by trees were less daunting, the wounds decorating their bodies were less intimidating. The losses were greater, more raw and piercing. Empty spots aching as daylight exposed them. 

 There was no great applause or lifting of a curtain. Nobody had come to tell them ‘Congratulations! You are still alive!’. Not even the cops had been called. It was just them and the crippling reality of the situation they had advanced and fallen victim to. Six remaining teenagers and the lingering stench of death. 

And so they piled into the dirty beat up van, quietly and routinely. The warm cracked leather seats welcoming them into its safe hold. None of them said anything as Kaitlyn assumed her role as the driver, Laura taking up the passenger seat. As the position’s honored title suggests, she clutched the bloody shotgun in her hands still, high alert on even as the van passed through the camp’s threshold. 

‘Hackett’s Quarry’ the sign read ‘What doesn't kill you, will make you stronger.’ 

Dylan was the only one to glance back, craning his sore neck to see the lodge. It was illuminated now through the gap in the trees, from here you could barely tell something amiss had ever happened there. It looked just as it had 24 hours ago, teeming with life and campers.

He almost thought maybe this had never happened. That this was just a dream, though the dull ache thrumming in the spot where his hand used to be suggested otherwise. 

Ryan looked over at Dylan, dried blood caking onto his face creating a texture like an old and cracked oil painting. His lips curled into a slight smile, Dylan smiled back. 

Silence laid steadily in the bumpy car ride to the main road, nobody wanted to speak about what had happened. No music played over the speakers, it felt wrong now to enjoy something while passing through the site of their most acute horror. 

Things would never be the same anymore, too many people had died, too many secrets never meant to see the light of day had been uncovered. There would be no more summer camp and no more Hackett’s Quarry. The empty seats and unclaimed luggage sitting in the van was a stark reminder of what was to haunt them for the rest of their lives. 

But for now they were okay, it was over, this was the end. 

The jostling of the uneven dirt turned into smooth pavement as they finally turned onto the main road. Everyone let out a subtle sigh of relief, they made it. Even Laura rested her arms, placing the gun on her thighs; she turned to check on Max, his face forlorn and distant.

Dylan was the first to break the silence. 

“Is it crazy if I somehow still have the Peanut Butter Butterpops theme stuck in my head?” His voice was weak but still rang out with the same sarcastic note as always. 

For a moment everyone stayed still, shocked that the long drawn out silence had ended. Everyone had been shaken out of their own stoic thoughts. Was it okay to laugh at a time like this? Was the question on every mind.

Kaitlyn decided it was.

Her chuckle was the first, a dry and heaving thing. Like all the weight of that night was being released through her vocal chords. She gasped, laughing from the pit of her stomach while clutching the grimy steering wheel. Dylan was next, then Abi and Ryan. Eventually even Laura and Max broke from their serious stare. 

The laughter continued for long and got louder as it went on. It all seemed so absurd to them now, like a cheesy movie they’d pay way too much to see at the local theater. 

Still smiling, Kaitlyn drove on chasing the horizon. Sun brimming over the edge like a promise.

This was the end.  

#The Quarry #max brinly #abigail blyg #dylan lenivy #The Quarry game #Supermassive Games #ryan ezrahler #the quarry fanfic #redscrawl #redscrawl fics #ao3 author #fanfiction #flash fic friday #flash fiction friday #laura kearney #kaitlyn ka #hacketts quarry

[aislynn-wiley1999]

The Duet

After her house loses a Quidditch match, Aislynn finds herself drawn to the Undercroft with promise of silence. Instead she finds Ominis, who has transfigured a piano.

A/N: Light angst and fluff. No heavy romance, but two people who can’t bring themselves to admit feelings.

Word Count: 2.4k

Chapter 7 of “Three Headed Serpent”, full fic found on AO3 here!

Slytherin’s were notorious for being sore losers and haughty winners. So when the first Quidditch game of the term saw the victory go to Ravenclaw and not them, the Slytherin student body sulked. Massively. Most of the older students, including Sebastian, headed off to Hogsmeade to drink away the shame they had. I had never known Sebastian to be a very humble person, so it was no surprise that he took the loss especially hard as the team’s keeper.

I had no desire to watch him, Imelda, and the other team members make fools of themselves in Hogsmeade, so I decided that my time was better spent doing some reading. Mind you, not reading for school. I had recently fallen into the trap of Jane Austen, and I needed to know if Mr. Darcy and Lizzie reconciled after his failed proposal. The common room was not an option, as those who could not go out and drink in public tended to mope about the common room and drink whatever shit brew they could find.

As I approach the entrance to the Undercroft, I thank my brain once again for not allowing me the courage to try out for Quidditch. I am not the least bit athletic and have no desire to be dodging and chasing things.

I creep into the dark room, but stop dead in my tracks when I register the noise. Except, ‘noise’ may be a cruel word for what I hear right now. The soft melody of a piano floats up through the room. Venturing further, I see the piano and its musician in a dark corner of the room, illuminated only by a few small candles.

Ominis is seated, his eyes closed in total concentration, playing the familiar melody with ease. The sight and sound merge into one of the most beautiful things I have ever beheld in my time at Hogwarts, and I am not eager to give myself away before he finishes. He looks angelic, like a being I have never before seen. The focus on his face is evident as he squeezes his eyes shut, playing the haunting tune.

I am mesmerized. I feel as though I have never heard music before hearing him play today, and like the music I will hear in future will not compare. His slender fingers move gracefully as he plays the last few bars. I watch as his hands pause on the keys before slowly lifting them away, sighing with triumph at his playing.

“That was beautiful,” I say. Perhaps beautiful was too plain a word for what it was. It’s clear that I have startled him with my words, as his head turns abruptly in the direction of my voice. I watch him for a moment, as he pants and drops his hands into his lap.

“I didn’t know you were down here,” he stammers out, as if he was disturbing me. “I can stop, if you plan on doing work.” The tips of his ears turn pink, made even more obvious by the candle light that flickered near him. I shake my head, before actually speaking.

“Ominis, it was beautiful. I- I don’t even know how else to describe the way it was.”

A small smile dances on his lips. “Thank you. It’s one of my favorites. The piece, I mean. It’s by-”

“Chopin,” we say at the same time, causing his smile to widen. “Do you play?” he asked me.

Gnawing on the inside of my cheek, I suppress a laugh. “Barely. Not since coming to Hogwarts, at least. I only really remember some of the etudes that were drilled into me during lessons.”

He scoots over on the piano bench. “Show me,” he says, more of a command than a suggestion. This time I let out a laugh. “Prepare to be utterly disappointed,” I say, grinning.

He shakes his head, still wearing a smile. “I promise, I will not be.”

I sit next to him on the bench, our legs touching and our shoulders pressing together. My mind races on what I should play, having not touched the keys for almost two years at this point. Settling on a Bach etude that I remember somewhat from my adolescence, I place my fingers on the keys.

This time it is noise that comes out of the piano. The etude is not one I have entirely memorized, and I have to pause a few times. In addition, wrong notes sour the melody and I can’t seem to decide if I want to play fast or slow. Thankfully the piece is short, and I find myself playing the last chord with a sense of relief.

I glance over, studying his face. He is wearing a crooked smile, perhaps trying to hide laughter. “Lovely,” he says, almost breathily.

I snort, releasing a giggle. “You are a horrible liar,” I tell him, leaning against him with my shoulder. “Don’t speak to me with poetry, I know that I am a horrendous piano player.” Another thought comes into mind, causing me to laugh. “Have you read Pride and Prejudice?”

Ominis shakes his head. “I feel awfully similar to Lizzie Bennet at this moment, she also can’t play the piano. In the book, she makes a fool of herself doing so in front of the man that is in love with her. I haven’t finished it yet, but I am certain that they will marry. We should try to find you a braille copy!” I say, laughing.

He doesn’t say anything back, and I look over expectantly. Ominis’ cheeks are a bright pink, as if I have said something to embarrass him. “Are you okay?” I ask him.

He nods, but doesn’t say anything just yet. I absentmindedly tap a few keys on the piano before thinking out loud. “I wish that my hands moved like yours on the piano.”

This causes him to speak. “Really, you were not bad at playing. I quite enjoyed it, you should play the next time all three of us are down here,” he says, kindly. He seems to think for a moment, unsure of if he should speak.

“Do you want to try something?” he asks, turning towards me a bit. My eyebrows raise slightly. “Ominis, I don’t think I have it in me to play a duet with you,” I say sheepishly. This earns a genuine laugh from him as he shakes his head. Standing up, he steps behind me on the bench before reaching his arms on either side of me to touch the keys.

“Put your hands on top of mine,” he tells me.

My hands obey his command, tentatively resting on top of his. His skin is soft and cold, his fingers long and graceful in comparison to mine, yet my hands feel on fire as they sit on his.

Ominis slowly starts to move his fingers on the keys, my hand mimicking his. He plays the same melody as before, albeit much slower. The room fills with nothing but music and the sound of our breathing, our breath almost in sync with each other. The piece is tragic and soft, and this moment feels far more intimate than anything else in my memory. His fingers are gentle, commanding perfection from the instrument.

When the piece finishes, we don’t move our hands away. I can feel his breath on the back of my head, how quick it is.

“I was right about you and your lovely playing,” he whispers into one of my ears. His voice sends a chill down my spine, and I instinctively lean back slightly into him.

“You really are a horrible liar,” I say back, my voice a low whisper. The room feels too silent now, just our breathing and the creak of the bench. He doesn’t respond, standing still against me. I notice that he has stayed stationary, despite being pressed against me. My mind races from this small contact, from the contact our hands still have. It frightens me.

I quickly lift my hands away from his, leaving his fingers alone on the keys. My hands feel cold, and I watch as he lifts his arms around me and moves away from my body.

“Why did you come down here?” he asks suddenly. I turn around to look at him, watching as he rubs the back of his neck with one hand. His other hand is absentmindedly flexing at his side, his fingers stretching and then creating a fist.

“I came down to read, to be alone. Or,” I say, trying to correct myself. “At least get away from the moping that was happening in the common room.”

He smiles. “Let me get out of your hair, give you quiet so you can read.”

“No! I mean… stay and play for me while I read. If you want,” I add, smiling at him. He looks unsure, but nods. I pick my book up from where I set it and look around for the sofa that I transfigured months ago. “Where is the sofa?” I ask him.

He turns, smiling mischievously. “Where do you think the piano came from?” he asks me knowingly. I laugh. “You prick! You transfigured my reading couch?”

He nods sheepishly. “I was going to change it back when I left, before you came back down.”

I shake my head. “No, leave it. The piano does so much more good for the room.”

Ominis smiles, before turning back to the piano. I watch his body rise and fall with a big breath, before I am floating as music fills the room once more.

#ominis x mc #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #fluff #light angst #idiots in love #harry potter

[thedo0zyslider]

Apologies And Much Needed Conversations - 2k words

Grian dies, and it's a death if pure karma. Which he deserves. He's not sure he deserves what comes after though.

A03 Link

Joel had been minding his own business, sitting on their little cliff edge as he usually did these days. Jimmy sat next to him, not really saying much. He made the occasional comment, but for the most part the two friends were just hanging around. Joel was getting bored at this point he really was. There was nothing to do when you were dead. Jimmy didn’t seem too bored though, the blonde seemingly intrigued by the chirping birds. He had been since the first day, when originally mentioned their strange singing patterns. 

His attention was soon drawn by movement off to the side. Joel looked over, a little curious, and was soon greeted with the sight of Bdubs. He hadn’t expected the man to return from his haunting so soon, thinking he’d be down there a week at best. Bdubs was absolutely fuming too, which was also unexpected. Beside him, Jimmy's attention shifted from the birds and turned to Bdubs as well. 

“Bdubs?” He asked, scooting away from Joel to sit beside the smaller, who was currently fumbling to find his own seat near the cliff. “What’s wrong?”

“Etho just teamed with Grian!” Bdubs almost yelled the words it, throwing his arms up in the air in frustration. Joel made a strangled noise in his throat. He didn’t know why Grian decided to team with Etho, he didn’t know why Grian did a lot of things. All he knew was that the avian had made a good choice in teammates, but the same couldn’t be said for Etho. Teaming up with the guy who killed your supposed wife and son was a very bad move, and it was going to leave Joel’s former soulbond with a lot of angry ghosts to deal with when he joined them all. 

Jimmy muttered words of sympathy, putting an arm around Bdubs. The smaller leaned into it with a huff, arms crossed above his chest and eyes fixed strongly on the grass. Joel moved to sit on Bdubs’s other side; not quite touching, but close enough for his presence to provide some comfort. 

It wasn’t long after that that the rest of the ghosts returned, Tango and Scar trailed on first, and Cleo followed behind them. Joel, figuring that something else interesting must have happened, move to stand closer to the little trio. 

"Grian slipped off skynet!" The zombie announced, failing horribly to hide the amusement in her voice. 

"He bloody WHAT?" Joel called, disbelief evident in his tone. Jimmy made some sort of strangled chirping sound, clearly struggling to find his words. 

"Yep!" Tango backed up Cleo, hands clasped behind his head. "We left right as he started slipping!" The blazeborn moved towards a still struggling Jimmy as he spoke, tail flicking around the canary left comfortingly. Tango leaned in, muttering softly to Jimmy, "I think that was some karma for you, birdie." Joel, who was close enough to hear, stifled an amused noise. 

Scar stood next to Cleo, a tense smile on his face. "He kinda deserved it." The brunette muttered, and Joel briefly remembered his panic attack from a week earlier. He and Jimmy would need to talk to Grian about that, wouldn't they? Because the avian sure as hell was gonna avoid that encounter as long as he could. 

They small group of ghosts, that really couldn't be called small anymore in Joel’s opinion since there were bloody eight of them now, shuffled towards the world spawn once more; waiting for Grian’s ever nearing arrival. The Clockers stayed back a bit though, and stood halfway in front of Scar as if shielding him. Skizz and Tango also stayed behind as well, both of them either fading into the back of Joel’s mind or naturally into the Clockers little group. 

Grian arrived with a cut off scream about five minutes after Cleo’s announcement, and he was the first one to spawn in standing since well…...well since Joel himself. Grian stumbled to keep his balance as he spawned in, arms and wings falling out almost wildly behind him. Though he was fumbling as soon as he regained proper balance, Joel and Jimmy both pouncing on their fellow Bad Boy. 

“You absolute buffoon!” Jimmy exclaimed, wrapping Grian in a hug despite his rather peeved tone. “You idiot!” 

“You're both idiots!” Joel suddenly grabbed the back of both of their heads, forcibly knocking them together. The two let out matching squawks of pain, which would be amusing in literally another situation and he was so going to make fun of them for it later. 

"Seriously, how do both of you fall off Skynet!?" He exclaimed, whacking both of them again for good measure. Jimmy just rubbed his forehead, wincing in pain and Grian blinked a few times. 

“It’s great to see you too, Joel.” The avian deadpanned, entirely avoiding the question. 

“My death was because I’m stupid, Grian’s was karma for laughing at it.” Jimmy huffed, moving to lightly elbow the newest ghost in the side. Grian just rolled his eyes at the taller blonde. Joel felt inclined to agree with that explanation, that was some pretty sweet karma indeed. He always liked a good bit of that, and Grian definitely deserved it by now, after four of these things. 

“Hi G!” BigB said, causing Joel to jump a little. He hadn’t seen him approach, but it made sense. Grian had allied with him after the Bad Boys crashed and burned. Beside him Grian smiled widely. “BigB!” 

“You did good man!” BigB smiled back, giving Grian a few hefty pats on the back. The blonde just laughed in return, and gave B a quick side hug. 

BigB drifted off after that, wandering over to Skizzle for a reason Joel didn't quite catch. Their friend's departure left all three Bad Boys sitting on the cliff's edge, and giving Grian a proper introduction to the designated sitting spot of this afterlife. 

During a brief moment of silence, Jimmy caught Joel's eyes, and nodded discreetly towards Grian. The avian looked zoned out, his eyes unfocused and his limbs fidgeting almost constantly. Joel nodded back to Jimmy a moment later, and wondered on the smoothest way to confront the metaphorical elephant in the room. 

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In all honesty, Grian should've paid more attention to Joel and Jimmy after he died. They were talking to him, and they did so for a good few hours, but the blonde wasn't really listening. His mind was elsewhere, and he only half listened to whatever Jimmy was talking about.

"Grian?" Joel asked it suddenly, cutting off their canary friend and fixing him with an intense gaze. Grian blinked out of his stupor, and gave his friend a look of mild curiosity.  

"Do you wanna like, talk to Scar or something mate?" Joel said carefully, casually, and the avian forgot how damn observant he could be sometimes. He guessed living alone in a death game did that to you, made you aware of all your surroundings because no one else would watch your back for you. It was a skill you never forgot either. Jimmy just gave Joel a look over Grian’s shoulder. 

He stiffened a little, and hoped it wasn’t enough to be noticeable. "Why do you ask?" Grian muttered, hands wringing around the fabric of his leather jacket. 

"He kinda…spawned in having a panic attack, and of course we asked why, so he told us er, how he died and all…." Jimmy piped up from his other side, and his stiffening was definitely notable now. 

"You also keep looking in his direction." Joel added, and Grian wanted to shrivel up and die a little. He'd been casting glances at the Clockers and Tango every few minutes, eyes always trained on Scar's figure, no matter how far away it was. He was sure the brunette could feel that he was being watched by now. 

When Joel seemingly had nothing more to point out, Jimmy spoke again. He seemed to sense Grian needed some reassurance, a topic that their brunette Bad Boy wasn't the most skilled at, bless him. "You can talk to uim, ya know? No one's gonna bite your head off." The canary said, resting a hand on his friend's shoulder for a split second. The avian just nodded in response. 

Grian shifted where he sat, feeling more antsy than he had a moment before. His two friends faded into the background of his head again, and his gaze remained focused on Scar, and the little group he was in. The urge, the all consuming need to speak to the man was getting worse by the minute, and it would be just Grian’s luck that the small group of four would seemingly cease their conversation and begin to split off. Or maybe not his luck, considering how he wasn’t sure to approach a situation that really needed some approaching. 

Cleo walked off, seemingly bored and wanting to go haunt some more living souls, the poor things. Tango followed happily, tail flicking against the usually flammable grass freely and shouting a loud goodbye to Skizz, one that was joyous and echoed nicely across the whole area. Bdubs followed a moment after, only halting to see if Scar would follow. 

Scar shook his head no, saying something to his brother with a…a sort of weary smile on his face. Bdubs flashed him a look, one Grian would discern from here, and waved goodbye for the time being. He ran off quickly, yelling for Cleo and Tango to slow down, to wait for him and that he had short legs and it wasn't fair that they could move faster than him. Beside him Joel let out a small snort of amusement, and leaned over to mutter something to Jimmy. That was the only time Bdubs had ever admitted to being short, let alone tried to use it in his favor.

 Scar watched them go for a moment, only turning away when the three had fully vanished back into the living realm. He turned to his side, and faced his gaze on Grian. It was the first time Scar had looked at him since the latter died. 

The brunette turned, moving towards the forest a little ways down the side of the mountain. Grian stood, feeling one of his two companions giving him an encouraging nudge, and hesitantly followed his old ally into the trees. 

He stayed a few paces behind Scar, uncertain if he should walk so close to him. The avian was a little nervous, he had to admit. He had no idea what he would even say, because what could he say, really? He could only give since little apologizes, one Scar had no right to believe anymore and couldn't be blamed if he didn't. 

They stopped walking when they were only a minute or so away from the main area of sorts. Grian thought it was that far at least, he'd zoned out a bit on the small journey there. Scar stood in front of him, looking like he was searching for words, or trying to think of some gesture to do. Grian beat him to the punch, and moved forward first. 

 The first thing Grian did was draw Scar into a hug. To his credit, Scar somehow managed not to flinch, only going a little rigid instead. If he did push Grian away, well the avian wouldn't blame him. 

"I'srry I'm sorry, I'm sorry Scar I'm so so sorry please-" Grian tried to stay calm, he really had, but he ended up babbled into Scars chest. His breath started to come out in gasps as fat, hot tears began to fall from his eyes. He shouldn’t cry and break down when trying to apologize. That was stupid. Because what did he have to cry over, he wasn't murdered like…like that. 

To his utter surprise, Scar moved to hold him back, resting his chin on the smaller head. He held onto the avian tightly, comforting and with none of the stiffness from moments prior. 

"It's okay, G, it's okay." He muttered, clutching the other to his chest. They ended up on the ground, Grian in Scar's lap as the taller muttered comforts into his hair. Occasionally, Scar's own, silent tears fell into the avian's blonde hair. He seemed to be avoiding doing much of his own crying, instead wanting to provide Grian comfort for the moment. If he guessed Scar had already shed some tears over this, he wouldn't be wrong. 

The avian's breathing began to slowly even out over the course of a few minutes, the comforting embrace doing its job perfectly. Only then did he feel Scar relax his hold on him, shifting till they were sitting in front of each other instead of well, on each other. His face felt dampened with tear tracks. 

"I'm sorry, I don’t know why I did that.." Grian muttered, shifting back towards his friend until he was being held again. Scar made a quiet, amused huff, and let the smaller sit in his arms again. 

"I figured it was the red life that made you do it," Scar said, rolling his eyes fondly as Grian buried his face into his chest. "Thinking back on it, you didn't really seem to be…there mentally." It made sense that Scar had taken time to think over the moment, as you had nothing to do in death. Nothing to do but sit in silence and process what had brought you there. It didn't mean the moment had stopped hurting though, just that the reason for it made more sense than it had before. 

"Until I was.." He trailed off, voice cracking a little. Scar held him tighter. 

"You don't have to say it, I know what you mean." The brunette muttered. Grian just hummed in response, blinking away the beginnings of new tears. The two faded into the silence slowly, Grian's small sniffles eventually quieting until they weren't there at all. He moved away eventually though, his messy wings sore and now starting to cause him a great deal of pain. Grian needed to take better care of them, really, he always let them deteriorate during these games. 

The avian began to preen his poor and tattered wings, listening to Scar quietly explain whatever story that came to his mind, but paying more attention than he has to Jimmy’s own rambling just an hour earlier. Again, he really had to pay his two allies more attention when he got back. 

His friend scooted to sit behind him and help with his task, hands moving to clean some harder to reach feathers. Scar kept talking, tone low and filling the silence as he always liked to do. The moment reminded him of some cool, early nights in the desert, of how they discussed whatever the day had wrought then and cleaned sand out of their own and each other's things they'd stopped doing that quickly though, because it was a desert and sand was literally everywhere. 

The only thing Grian had cared to clean was his clothes sometimes, when the sand got too irritating against his skin, and he kept preening his wings regularly. He'd had to do it so often back then, because again, sand, that it had been more efficient to teach Scar and have him help. Scar still remembered how to do it , and the chore was made faster than it usually was. 

"Wanna go haunt Etho?" Scar asked, beginning to get to his feat. He offered out a hand to Grian, flashing a smile no longer weary like it had been before. 

"Oh, you know I do!" Grian exclaimed, a mischievous grin spreading across his features. He took Scar's hand, stood up once more, and started running back towards where the rest of their friends resided. 

As soon as the two joined their fellow servermates they seemed to be back to normal, differences resolved. Grian still felt bad, he would for the rest of time, but now he knew Scar held no ill will over the death. That made it much easier to fall back into their familiar routine, and scare his unfairly tall friend with spooky ghost noises. 

Scar giggled, translucent form swatting at him lightly. Grian just dodged out of the way, and quickly moved to join their friends crowding around a certain masked, and still somehow living, man. Though Grian wasn’t sure he'd be living for too much longer, however ominous that might sound. 

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