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dragonmurray · 8 months

Text

Childish Games

Pairing - Loki x F Reader

In which a bet made amongst avengers junior agents leads you to finally confronting your feelings for Loki.

Warnings - smut

“What is it you want Price?” You asked the young agent as you stood in the training room of the Avengers compound. You had just completed a round of training with a group of first years, looking to work their way up in to the field and join the ranks of full agents.

You were already there. Having excelled in all fields, you were now working with the Avengers and actively joining missions. You had quarters in the Tower and there was never any doubt that you belonged there.

“Actually it’s what I can do for you Agent. It hasn’t gone unnoticed you know” said the cocky agent. He stood next to you, arms folded across his chest, smirking down at you as you gathered the last of the equipment from the floor, ready to head home for the evening.

“Please get to your point faster Price, we all have places to be” you couldn’t wait to get back to the Tower. To sneak in to the library and catch a certain god reading. How you loved when he would read to you and tell stories of his youth. You had struck up quite a friendship. Though your heart ached for more.

“You are alone agent y/n, there’s no Mr Agent waiting for you at the tower. You never date. I bet it’s been years since you’ve been kissed. Let me change that” he gripped your arm pulling you upwards in an attempt to bring his mouth to yours. Before he could get close to your face his arm was twisted enough to bend, his legs buckling and an undignified scream escaping his lips.

“Touch me again Price and I will break you, limb by limb, molecule by molecule, until there is nothing left of you but ash and unkissable dust. Now tell me, what the hell are you doing?” You pressed him further into the cold stone floor of the training room, your knee in his spine.

Suddenly the doors to the training room flew open. Loki entered, dragging an equally terrified female trainee behind him.

“Ah, I see I am too late to rescue you Agent. Have you heard what the children are up to?” His voice dripping with malice, sending a shiver down your spine. Did nothing sound bad from his mouth?

You looked at him with confusion as you buried your feelings, once again.

“It seems they have a game being played, they each have avengers assigned to them to try and seduce into bed. This poor thing here, picked me. A clear mistake on her part. I would never lower myself to such a level”. He glared at the trainee behind him, pushing her over to her friend on the floor as you stood up. Price letting out a relived cry.

Loki’s words stung. You knew he was a God. A God couldn’t be with a mortal, why would he try.

“Spill it Price, tell me everything” you sighed. Moving to stand next to Loki, looking down at the two agents like disappointed teachers.

“It’s just a bit of fun, seeing how far we could get before the end of the year. We’ve only got 2 weeks left and you’re the only two left not to crack. You’ve never been seen with anyone so we figured we had to try” he whined rubbing his bruised arm, and ego.

“So this is all because we’re the only avengers not throwing ourselves around? Although I am surprised at Steve” you shrugged.

“He caved pretty quickly, Janine dressed up in a 40s uniform and he kissed her then cried, it was pretty sad actually” said the female agent, she looked down as she mumbled.

Loki stepped forward “I see. Well, we disappoint you then. And it’s off to bed for you two. Goodnight agents, we will leave this little failed operation between ourselves, for now” he glowered down at the two.

As he was talking, an idea was forming in your head. Slowly working it’s way to the surface.

“You know, we could end this now Loki. Take ourselves off the game cards” you said.

He slowly turned to you, his eyes shimmering with confusion.

“I mean, I don’t know about you but I don’t like being cornered by idiots. I also don’t like the reputation of never being kissed. Which isn’t true by the way” you glared at Price.

The two agents on the floor stood up, thinking they were about to win big and compete their score cards. But, before they could straighten, Loki took two strides across the room taking your face in his hands and bringing your mouths together.

You stumbled but his hand reached behind your back pressing you against him, hard. He tilted his head, his tongue asking permission to enter your mouth which you granted, still too shocked as your arms hung in the air unsure how to react.

As his tongue slid against yours, you melted. Your hands went to his chest, gripping his shirt. He moaned in to your mouth pulling you even closer to him. As if nothing was good enough, as if he needed to be one with you.

The two agents stood dumbfounded. As moans started to fill the room they made their hasty escape. Either way they had lost this round.

As the training room door slammed shut you pulled backwards gasping for breath and sanity.

“I… we… I mean..” you stuttered, with no idea what you were even trying to say.

Loki gave you a devilish smile. “Oh agent, I couldn’t agree more” he pulled you back to him slamming your lips together as you both gasped. Gripping each other and pulling at each other’s clothes.

He pushed you backwards until you hit the locker wall, instantly gripping your thighs to wrap them around his waist. You opened up for him, grinding on to him. Incoherent mumbles leaving your mouth.

“I had always pictured our first time being slow, meticulous on my part Agent, but I fear I am past the point of no return. I need to be inside you, now, I have already waited too long to show you how I feel” Loki growled into your ear as he placed kisses down your neck. Your head falling back in ecstasy.

“I didn’t hear a lot of that, my head is swimming. But if I’m correct, then take me Loki, now, please” you sighed.

A green glow worked it’s way across your bodies as your clothes melted away. His cock pressing against your dripping core as the barriers between you disappeared. You took his face in your hands forcing him to look into your eyes.

“Loki, I need you to know. To me you are always worthy. I will always chose you” overwhelmed with emotions you poured your heart out as a million fantasies finally came true.

Loki’s eyes blazed in to yours with so much emotion you couldn’t comprehend.

“Y/n. I have waited eternity for you, and I will spend eternity worshipping you”

With his declaration he pushed inside you. Both of your crying out in pleasure as he set a steady pace. You had never felt anything like this and could do nothing more than grip his shoulders as the pleasure built inside you.

He picked up the pace, burying his head in your shoulder. Kissing and biting as he speared in to you. You couldn’t hold it any longer, your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train and you screamed his name.

Loki gripped your hair to slam your mouths together as he emptied himself inside you. Both of your breaths mingling as you tried to steady your heart rates.

His forehead rested on yours as he slowly withdrew from you, setting your shaking legs on the ground but not letting you go incase you fell. The green glow clothes you both again and you held on to each other. Emotions whirling around you.

Doubt started to creep in. Was this all a heat of the moment scenario? Would he move on to the next conquest? Loki saw your eyes change and tilted your chin up to meet his eyes.

“Take my hand Agent. We are going to my chambers and we will not leave until I have worshipped every inch of your body and proved to you that you are mine” he kissed your hand and started walked towards the door pulling you with him.

A cracking sound filled the room as Tony’s voice came over the intercom “Does no one in this compound care about the cameras? My eyes are burned. Also I erased it, you’re welcome kids”

#loki smut #loki #loki god of mischief #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki of asgard #loki x you #loki x y/n

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kenny-the-ken · 1 year

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Mary Jane

Yes you seen the GIF right... but he is gonna touch them.

Sorry, I couldn't help myself!

This is a smut, so if you're a minor, STOP READING PLEASE!!

Enjoy guys, I really put a lot of work into this fic, I was TW//SA//TW when I was 16 and I still struggle with it so I hope you guys like it, I really worked hard on it. ALL AGED UP

The sound of bubbling echoed around the room as you inhaled the dense cloud of smoke that was contained in the glass, lifting the bowl and firing tube out of the glass bong and inhaling the smoke in one long breath.

You were sitting on Kenny's bed in his cold, damp bedroom, coughing as you exhaled the smoke, your boyfriend laughing at you.

"Hey! You coughed when you hit it too!" You exclaimed, waving your hands as you spoke.

You felt a pair of arms wrap lazily around your waist, a mop of blonde hair resting against your shoulder, leaving a trail of wet kisses along your neck.

"You know... sex always feels better when you're stoned." Kenny whispered into your ear, his teeth nipping at your lobe.

"Hmm, I do know that, you tell me every time we smoke up." You tease, leaning against his subtle touches.

"I just can't help myself babe, you're sitting here in nothing but one of my band shirts and your panties, which I bet are dripping for me already. Plus... we've got the whole place to ourselves, so you can be as loud as you want, Princess." His voice was husky, his hand moving under the hem of your shirt, cold, calloused hands cupping your breast, his thumb and forefinger pinching and rolling over your nipple. And your gasp was audible, which made Kenny smirk.

"You like that, huh?" His mouth was now attached against your neck once more, this time rougher, he licked and then began sucking and nipping at your sweet spot, a few breathy moans catching in the back of your throat.

"Kenny!" You gasped once more as his hands wrapped around you once more, flipping you over on your back as he hovered over you.

"So flustered already, baby." He cooed, standing tall above you before leaning down to capture your lips in a heated kiss, he wanted you, and you were so eager to please him, seeing as he pleased you all the time.

Your hands were tangled in his soft locks of hair, tugging gently making Kenny let out a small moan, both your tongues fighting desperately for dominance, Kenny would always win, but it was fun to make him work for it.

You knew every inch and turn of your boyfriends body, and he knew yours, you had started off as friends, then one drunken night when you were both sixteen you both hooked up, it was the talk of the school, then you both became friends with benefits, till neither of you could deny your feelings any longer, and you became a couple.

You both broke away for air, as Kenny winked at you, a smirk plastered on his face, as he began moving down your body, taking his band shirt off your small frame. You lay beneath him, his mouth all over your breasts, from teasing and nipping at your nipples, to leaving dark bruises for only him to see, he loved every second, your moans and whines feeding his growing erection.

"P-please, Kenny." You whispered, as he detached his mouth from your breast with an audible pop noise.

"Use your words, baby. If you want me to touch you, you only have to ask." He replied, and you felt dizzy, he really knew how to get you hot and bothered and by god did he love it.

"Please, Kenny. Touch me please." You pleaded with him, your eyes wide and doe like as he stared down at you.

"That's all you needed to say, Princess." Kenny replied and in only swift motion pulled your pink lace panties down your legs, throwing them to an unknown corner of the room, his head now between your legs.

"Open wider for me, baby." He said with a smirk, his hands on your legs as he spread them wider, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you down the bed towards him, his tongue getting to work on you.

"Fuck, Kenny!" You moaned out, he was good, and he knew he was, his tongue circled your clit at a steady pace, sucking gently to increase your pleasure as your back arched, hands desperately gripping the bed sheets beneath you, your head bent back as the moans shamelessly escaped your mouth.

"Hmm, so pretty." Kenny said, his tongue meeting your entrance as he pushed his tongue as far as he could inside you, it was electric, your senses heightened, and you craved more of him, you craved all of him.

"I need you, Ken." And that was all he needed to hear, he stripped quickly, his cock rock solid against and dripping with pre cum.

It was now your time to tease, you rose from where you were lay, your legs shaky and weak as you got off the bed.

"It's only fair that I return the favour." And Kenny knew exactly what you meant.

"You're just so needy for my cock, aren't you baby?" He growled pushing you to the floor on your knees in front of him.

"Such a good girl. You can take it all, right?" He teased, and you cut his flirting dead, kitten licking the pre cum from the tip of his dick, your cheeks hollowing as you took him almost fully in your mouth, the sounds your mouth was making were obscene, and Kenny's eyes were fixed on you, watching you bob up on down obediently on his cock, and fuck your mouth felt incredible.

"Fuck, baby. I'm gonna speed it up a little, that okay?" Kenny asked, rising from the bed to stand towered above you, you hummed in response, that being all the conformation he needed, his hands groping your hair, tugging your head back and forward a bit quicker than you were going, your hands placed on his thighs to steady yourself as he began fucking your face, the moans slipping from his lips.

Then Kenny moved away from you, a smirk on his face.

"Get on the bed, Princess, let me fuck you like a whore." And his wish was your command, you quickly sat on the edge of the bed, awaiting his instructions.

He sat down next to you, pulling you on top of his lap as he gripped the base of his cock, a groan and a gasp escaping both of you as you began to sink down on his cock.

"K-Kenny." Your moans were breathy, and Kenny swore he'd never heard a better noise in all his life, he loved knowing that he could pleasure you, that he was the one who made you moan that way.

You were fully seated on his lap, his cock buried within you as you began to slowly ride him, your arms wrapped round his neck, his hands on your hips, his nails digging into your soft skin.

"Show me how much you love riding me. How much you enjoy taking me." And you were happy to oblige. You were riding him as best as you could, his own hips now moving to meet yours in perfect sync, pushing himself in harder, faster.

"Fuck, Kenny!" You moaned as he landed a hard spark on your ass, greedily kneading your ass cheek as he continued to plough his way into you.

"K-Ken, getting close." Was all you managed to pant out, your moans loud, your hands tugging at Kenny's hair, making him moan too in response.

"Me too, baby. We'll cum together, okay?" He managed, moans of your name escaping his parted lips.

You were both close, as Kenny flipped you over, you were on all fours, your face buried in the soft sheets as he slammed harder and faster into you, spanking your ass harder this time.

"I'm gonna-"

"Cum for me, slut." Kenny whispered, feeling your walls tightening around his cock which was beginning to twitch.

You came hard, and you swore you seen stars, you moaned Kenny's name as if his he was a god that you were praising to in the most sinful way imaginable.

"F-Fuck, y/n!" And with that Kenny's thrusts became sloppy as he pushed in deeply once more, his load painting your insides as he came with a long moan of your name.

He pulled out, panting as he lay beside you, pressing gentle kisses all over your face, before kissing you gently, lovingly.

"That was fucking incredible." You whispered, a smile on both your faces as you both gasped for air, your heartbeats beginning to slow.

"I love you, y/n."

"I love you too, Kenny."

And with that you both lay together, arms and legs wrapped round one another.

"I'm gonna jump in the shower, is that okay babe?" You asked Kenny, his grip on you tightening.

"You know, we could always shower together, saving water, helping the planet, I mean, it's our duty to protect it." He flirted, as he hit him playfully on the chest.

"We're only done fucking and you already want a round two?" You giggled, placing a kiss on your boyfriends lips, both of you smiling against each others lips.

"Babe, if I could be inside you all day, everyday, I would be! Is that even a question?" He teased further, both his hands coming up to grab your breasts, one in each hand as he hummed contentedly.

"You having fun?" You giggled, a blush on your cheeks at the attention he was giving you.

"Hmm, you know it, baby. Now hurry up and get into that shower, I'll remind you what it's like when I take you to orgasm more than once. I reckon you could handle another few, couldn't you?"

"Yes, Kenny." You replied, your cheeks scarlet red as he got up, slapping you on the ass.

"Now get in there so we can be dirty while we get clean."

And who were you to say no to your man?

#kenny mccormick #kenny mccormick smut #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny south park #stan south park #kyle south park #eric cartman #sp fanart #kyle brovlofski #stan marsh #kenny x reader #sp kenny #kenny

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oumaheroes · 9 months

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Do Not Go Gentle

Ériu

Albion

Alba

Warnings for death

--------

Cymru first dies crowded.

He is no stranger to death. It is all around him, every day- something as unavoidable and normal as children being born, or the weather changing in the sky. Lambs die. Birds die. Plants die- the earth turns over and around and things fall forever into the night, whether you understand why or not.

Their humans talk about death like an ending, an inevitable event that comes for them as though life is a rope forever pulling them forwards to a final stop, and Cymru watches from his safe distance as the years pass by hardly touching him. Although one day there will be an end for him, it is so long into the future, longer than any mortal lifespan, that it does not register with the same impact as it must do for them.

But Mama says that their people are right, and that he should listen more carefully.

‘Here.’ She calls him over to her one day, crouched low by a pond, hands cupped and close to her chest. She opens them as he approaches to reveal a small bird within. He cannot tell what kind it is- colours mutes and shape disguised by what he notices first and foremost.

It does not move.

‘Oh,’ He says, saddened. ‘Is it..?’

Mama gestures for him to hold out his hands. He does so, reluctantly, and she gently places the body within. The bird is young, almost old enough to leave the nest but not yet- downy feathers cover the few full, strong adult ones and circle around its neck like a torc. Its eyes are closed and bulging, its bones too loose when he shifts his hands underneath it.

Cymru wants to let go, but doesn’t. Knows he shouldn’t.

‘It was where it shouldn’t have been,’ Mama says. She picks up the bird between forefinger and thumb and turns it over by the head in Cymru’s hands, quick and rough, as if the bird is nothing more to her than a seed or a stone. The movement of it, the dead weight and wide angles, is wrong. She taps the downy feathers which are more numerous on the other side, ‘See here? These feathers are waterlogged. They collected the water and pulled it under, so that it couldn’t swim back up.’

Cymru feels sick. The bird feels dirty, unnatural in the way it lay in his palms, and he longs to throw it away and wipe his hands clean. But Mama is there, watching, and Cymru knows that his brothers would be as unaffected by it as she is.

‘Even if it could have swum to safety, it might have instead died in the fall. Or been caught by a larger bird, or animal. Might have died from sickness before it fell, or abandoned and starved by its parents.’ Mama’s voice is soft but she holds one hand under Cymru’s two, forcing him to look at what he holds. The bird’s head is too big, its beak too wide and closed eyes too round. He swallows back the whine in his throat, and the jerk of revulsion he wants to let out.

‘To live is to be lucky.’ Mama lifts up one of the small wings by the tip, almost adult feathers fanning like fingers, ‘There is no boundary we can cross to pass into safety, and no time limit to survive in order to avoid it. Death can happen at any time, for anything, and everything that lives today is luckier than it knows. One chance amongst thousands.’

Just as Cymru can handle holding the bird no longer, Mama takes it from him and lays it back in the shallows of the pond. It sits there, half submerged and glistening as Mama takes his hands and washes them, before drying them on her tunic.

‘Do not think, as all young things do, that your chances will never run out.’ She meets his eye, catching him by the chin and regarding him seriously, ‘It is just as easy for us to lose the piece of luck we have as the people we watch over. The only difference between us and them, is that we have a few guaranteed half chances to remind ourselves of how precious life is.’

There are fine lines around her eyes, strands of silver in her flame red hair, but her grip is tight, muscles of her arms strong. Cymru nods, and she softens.

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

‘There are so many people.’

On Alba’s shoulders, Cymru grips the wooden posts to keep them both steady. ‘I didn’t know there could even be so many.’

‘There will be more than this in a few days.’ Mama says.

On her knees, she finishes wrapping Albion to her back and glances up at Cymru and Alba where they stand atop the woodstore, peering over the mound’s defences. In the early morning light, shapes and activity emerge from the retreating shadows like a slow retreating tide. Down the hill, all around the base of the settlement, people are erecting temporary shelters and pitching their animals. Winter solstice is here, with its darkest and coldest of nights, but this year it is apparently a particularly special one.

Cymru doesn’t really understand why. Something about the stars, or the years. Or where the sun hits the ancient stones nearby as it rises and falls- a tradition older than even Mama, passed down from the people before her who stood the circles of stones so tall all over their islands. All Cymru knows is that it is busy, with more people than he has ever seen before going to and fro and glancing his way whenever he goes near them. When Cymru and his family had arrived to stay for the winter a few months ago, this mound had been nothing more than home to one clan. Now, the mound and the lands around it was home to people from at least seven.

Cymru’s eyes pass over all of them, stretched out to the lake on the horizon, his breath clouding in front of him like smoke.

Mama stands with a grunt, testing the weight and position of the wraps keeping Albion -still sleeping- securely in place, and clicks at them with her tongue to come down. ‘There is to be another King and his people arriving today.’ She licks her thumb and rubs a dark smudge of something off Alba’s cheek, ‘I have to meet him properly.’

This means that she will be gone for hours down in the new camp, learning and sharing whatever news this new group of people have to bring. Her children will need to stay away and represent their family on their own. Alba straightens, turning to seriously observe the longhouses and storage buildings as if searching for fault.

‘Ah, a keen guardsman I see before me.’ Mama strokes back Alba’s hair fondly, ‘Today, you can be off duty.’

Alba reddens and scowls, hunching his shoulders, ‘I didn’t do anything.’

Mama laughs through her nose, ‘Good, because we don’t need guards people up here. But we do need ambassadors down there.’ She takes Alba by the shoulders and steers him through the village to the open wooden gates leading to the descent. Their people move aside for them as they pass, Cymru trailing just behind her watching Albion’s fair head against her back.

They stop at the gate- thrown open wide- and move off to the side to let a hunter and his pelts go by: foxes, badgers, and deer.

‘You see those trees and lake?’ A sharp and dramatic turn of Alba to the right, Mama’s hands still about his shoulders.

He laughs, staggering on his feet, ‘Yes.’

‘Oh? What about that field?’ A sharp, wide twist to the left.

He laughs again, stumbling to right himself, ‘I see it.’

‘Good. Well, there are a lot of different children milling about now and they don’t all speak the same tongue. I need some very important people to mix them together and act as a bridge between everyone, in that such field or those such trees. Maybe a game that everyone can play; make them feel comfortable and united.’

‘You want us to play?’ Alba sounds offended, laughter vanishing immediately.

Mama inclines her head, ‘I want you to negotiate amity.’

Alba looks to the swarms of shelters and people, then back up at Mama, ‘…What?’

‘It’s important that everyone here feels part of the same thing.’ Mama says. She drums her fingers like spider legs, fluttering them onto the scarf around Alba’s neck, ‘That’s hard to do when you don’t speak the same language and you’re in a strange place. Not everyone travels like we do. For most, this will be their first time outside of everything that they know.’

Alba doesn’t say anything. He looks back down at the sprawling camp, his face away from Mama so only Cymru can see that he’s dissatisfied. Cymru feels guilty for some reason, although he doesn’t know why. There is something he is missing that Alba understands, and he wishes he were older to figure it out.

‘It is an important job,’ Mama tells them, ‘It is what we need to do. It is what I am doing with the Kings and Queens and priests; their sons and daughters are just as important. I cannot do all at once, but all should be done.’

Alba doesn’t reply. Mama eyes the crown of his head, then winks at Cymru. She lifts her hands from Alba’s shoulders to shift Albion higher, ‘Never mind. There are a lot of them, thinking about it properly. Too many, I think; maybe it’s best I do it.’

‘I can do it.’ Alba says instantly, ‘There aren’t that many.’

Mama pulls a face, conflicted, ‘I’m not sure, it will be difficult. I was wrong to ask you, it will take patience and good communica-‘

‘We can do that.’ Alba grabs Cymru’s hand and Cymru feels panicked. ‘I can take some and Cymru can take some others. We’ll find Ériu and get him to help too. We’ll do a different language each and get together that way.’

Mama tilts her head from side to side. ‘Perhaps that will work.’

‘It will.’

‘And what will you do if they don’t want to play the same thing?’

‘We can play different things between us.’

Cymru looks up at Mama, helplessly. He does not share Alba’s confidence; there are indeed so many people, so many children. How would he talk to them? What would he say?

‘And what if there are arguments?’

Alba frowns, considering his answer, ‘I’ll listen and try to fix it.’

‘How about if some children do not wish to play?’

Alba doesn’t know the answer to that one.

‘They don’t have to.’ Cymru suggests, ‘They can watch, if they want. Or join in later. I could look after those ones.’

He does not know what games or activities Alba is thinking of offering, but none that Cymru can imagine will be things he is good at. He cannot run very fast, nor throw as far as his brothers can. He cannot climb to the tallest branches, or hunt on his own. The idea of embarrassing his family, of damaging the way they are seen by their people, is more than he can bear.

Cymru worries that Mama will see through his selfish suggestion but she smiles at them both. ‘Wonderful ideas,’ she says. She bends to brush down Cymru’s front and slides her fingers under his scarf to the fat, gold torc at his neck, ‘What clever ambassadors I have.’

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

It works out better than Cymru expected.

Alba does the talking, as Cymru thought that he would. He moves amongst the groups, collecting children as he goes and directing them all to the field away from the campsites as Cymru follows at his side. Most they ask choose to join in, eager to be away from the tedium of moving and the tense atmosphere of being somewhere unfamiliar. Some have been walking all night but still want to come.

It is awkward, at first. Cymru does not know what to do with himself, does not know how to begin when people know who he is but don’t know him at all. But then he speaks to one girl on his own, hands shaking, then another. Then a boy, taller than he is, who grins down at him and follows where Cymru points him without question. Alba finds an empty pig’s bladder and blows it up, and before too long there is shrieking and running and Cymru forgets himself amongst it all.

Ériu runs over to join them with some older children not long later, fresh from hunting and eager to take part.

‘What else?’

A good while later, the poor pig’s bladder lays between their feet, finally deflated after numerous games kicked about the open field.

‘I’ll find another bladder. I’m sure there are lots going spare.’

Ériu shakes his head, ‘No, it’s getting boring.’

‘Chase, then? “It”, or something.’

Ériu makes a face, ‘I don’t want to do any more running.’ Cymru heartily agrees. ‘What about stories?’

Alba snorts, ‘How will that work if they can’t all understand it.’

‘We can translate.’

‘That’s just stupid.’

‘You’re stupid.’

‘How about the lake.’ Cymru cuts in quickly. The human children are close by, some running about on their own and others beginning to drift and talk in clumps. ‘We can slide on the ice and have races. Less running and we can use a rock instead of a bladder.’

Ériu looks at Alba, who avoids his eye to look down at Cymru. He then turns to observe the lake behind him. It is a cloudy day and the lake’s surface is dark, swallowing the reflections of the hills behind it so that it seems bottomless.

After a moment, Alba turns back, ‘Not a bad idea. Men were out there yesterday and it’s still cold today. Ice should be solid but we’ll need to get someone to check before we tell the others to follow us. One of the taller hunters; if he says it’s safe, we go.’

Ériu doesn’t seem convinced. ‘With all of us at the same time though? It might crack.’

‘There were deer on it the other day.’

‘That was the other day. It was sunny yesterday and what if the sun comes out again?’

Alba tuts and throws his hands up. Cymru knows that Alba will not take them on to the lake unless he was sure it will hold them, and also knows that Ériu will worry regardless of what Alba tries.

‘Hide and seek in the trees.’ He offers, ‘No one has to run, or talk to each other, and even the smaller ones can join in. And the hunts have already happened today,’ he adds for Ériu, ‘So the forest should be clear of anything dangerous.’

Cymru is satisfied when Ériu relaxes and Alba grins, impressed, ‘Yeah. That’ll do.’

A mad dash for the trees, Alba counting loudly at the edge in a mixture of languages, 1 2 3 in one and 4 5 6 in another.

With the field, campsite, and lake working as their designated hiding area, Cymru watches children scatter as Alba’s counting begins, his back to them. Cymru waits for them to clear and settle, keeping an ear on Alba’s voice, and searches for somewhere unique.

He knows not to stray too far. Mama has told them many stories of children who have become turned around forever by ancient trees, too confused and lost in the press of their trunks to ever find their way home again. The fae live within and they are tricky, fickle things- eager and hungry for wayward travellers. Everything can look the same if you’re not careful, Mama says, fae or not, so always find somewhere high above the treeline and keep it in sight when you walk somewhere new.

Luckily, there is a lot here to choose from- lake, hills. Cymru chooses the largest hill that crests over the trees to be his marker and begins.

The woods breathe. Whispered wind in the empty boughs of trees follow him above the high laughter of children, the hollow thumps of their feet on the forest’s earthen floor.

There is too much to choose from, yet also not much at all. Cymru is proud of himself when he finds a shallow cave, the top most rocks mossy and topped with a small, wizened tree, but several pairs of eyes already blink out at him from the mouth and so moves on quietly. The slope of a small hill has several bushes, but others have got to them first. Feet dangle overhead from branches he cannot reach, and some lay as half hidden shapes under old leaves, laying themselves down flat and still in the earth. One Cymru finds in the hollow of a fallen tree, and the tall girl presses a finger to her lips with eyes that plead with him to leave her there alone.

Far away, Alba stops counting and Cymru runs.

He jumps down a slope but at the bottom the hill with which he is marking his direction falls out of his sight so he scrabbles back up. He is tempted to press himself into its bank like some other children he’s seen, but he knows that Alba- keen, observant eyes- will find him. He wants to not be found first, wants to be good at the game he’s suggested- wants to win.

He hears running, hears footsteps come closer, and a mix of frustration and shame brings tears to his eyes.

Then, as he stands frozen and unsure, his mind blank, he spots a burrow. It is narrow, a stretched oval under the roots of an old tree which cover the entrance. Small and dark, it looks like a squeeze even for him but the leaves around it are undisturbed and a cobweb spans the top corner, from one root to the base of some nettles. Noone else has found it yet. Cymru sprints to it with relief.

He goes head first, arms brushing away more cobwebs that wait inside. The dirt floor of the burrow, damp at the entrance, dries the further he goes in and the air is cool and still. He is in to his chest when he catches it- the smell of animals, musky and heavy. He cannot tell how old this burrow is; it hasn’t been used long enough for the cobwebs to form, at least.

Cymru hesitates.

Then, he hears the shouts of Alba’s first victim, a cry of wounded glee, and he makes up his mind. It’s tight. He has to wiggle on his belly to go in further, the space too tight for him to crawl on hands and knees. He can feel his feet sticking out, kicking freely as he shifts, but he finds purchase on a root and, with one last firm kick, he is fully inside.

The earth holds him still. He breathes in, slowly, carefully, and feels the walls around him push back on all sides. His heartbeat slows as he relaxes and then all he can hear is himself, the outside world muffled and removed and distant. Inside the burrow it is silent, with no breeze or movement apart from himself.

It is a comforting feeling, to be contained so completely. He wonders if this is how babies feel, inside their mothers as they grow. Wonders if he had ever felt this way before, when he was wherever he had come from. Maybe he’d come from a burrow such as this, pushed up from the earth once fully grown and ready to be found by Mama. He cannot see how far ahead the burrow continues but when he stretches his arms out ahead, he meets nothing but air. Satisfied, he lays his head on his outstretched arms and closes his eyes.

Time passes. Then more.

Cymru can sometimes hear children, shouting and screeching as they’re found and Alba gives chase. He hears Ériu once, cackling and stomping somewhere nearby. Someone comes near enough to Cymru’s tree that he can feel them, the earth vibrating gently with each footfall as the muted sound reverberates through the ground. But no one finds him, and slowly but surely the sounds of the other children in this area of the forest soften, before disappearing altogether.

‘Ris!’

Then he jolts, hitting his head in the dark.

It is later. He knows this because he needs to relieve himself, and because his arm is numb underneath his head. One or both must have woken him.

He stretches as much as he can, and yawns, wiggling his fingers to relieve the needles that spike through. He wonders what is for dinner tonight, for surely it must be time for something to eat. From outside, there are voices.

At first, he doesn’t know what they are saying. They’re faint, far away. Then-

‘Ris!’

He thinks he hears Alba.

Then again-

‘Ris! Come out!’

Ériu.

If Cymru strains he can hear several more voices, all calling for him. The game must be over. Far from feeling elated though, he feels panic.

The children- he can hear them now, louder- call for him as ‘Cymru’, his true name. But his brothers call for him by the name which Mama gave him. It is a name that no one but family knows, a name that is just for himself, not for who he is, and his brothers using it means that something is wrong.

The thud of someone running, then Ériu is closer. He screams Cymru’s name, breathless as though he is running, and there’s a sharp edge of fear to his voice that Cymru has never heard before.

Cymru’s stomach goes cold. Ériu‘s fear flows into him and his mind works fast. How long has he been gone? How long have his brothers been looking? Mama is going to be so angry; he hopes that his brothers haven’t gone to her yet.

His brother’s voice grows quieter, he is moving away. The wrong way.

‘Ériu! Wait!’

Quickly, Cymru tries to push himself backwards. His hands slip on the walls, dirt crumbling into his eyes, his mouth, and he coughs. He tries again.

And again.

Each time, his hands slip. They cannot hold the force his arms need to move his body backwards. He tries, the floor, the ceiling. Tries with his feet, toes digging into the earth and smacking against the sides. Knees to floor, elbows to walls and hands everywhere at once but nothing gives. He is stuck. The more he wiggles, the more he can feel himself slip further inside, and mounting terror soon overwhelms him to leave him sobbing.

‘Alba! Alba, I’m here!’

His heart pounds like a drum in his hearts, blood rushing to his face, his neck. He wants to get out. He doesn’t care that Mama will know; he wants her to find him. Even if she drags him out in front of everyone he doesn’t care, he wants to go home. The walls around him grow tighter, the darkness blacker, and Cymru fights for breath and he chokes against tightening lungs.

‘ADAIR! PADARN! Help!’

As he struggles, he hears movement from within the dark. Something soft at first, a rustle under his crying, but then there’s a growl- warm breath on his knuckles, something wet dripping onto his split skin.

He is where he doesn’t belong, Cymru realises the moment before pain hits. He is a creature that is not where it should be, and what is going to learn the truth of what comes next.

He closes his eyes, crosses his arms across his face, and screams.

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

He wakes to white hot fire.

It is all over him- his chest, his neck, his arms. A burning, searing agony that rips a cry from him as he twists, the darkness swimming and churning.

‘Shhhh, shhh my love.’

Cymru hears Mama. He feels her touch him, gentle and light on his shoulder but his skin shreds itself anew at the pressure and he arches away. He cannot see, cannot think- the pain is too great. Life has returned to a body that is not ready, a soul to a house it cannot call home. Cymru pushes his head back against whatever lies underneath it as the walls of his mind close in, biting down on a life too new to taste.

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

When he awakes next, the shapes can move.

The agony is duller, arms stiff and wooden when he moves them.

‘Don’t.’ Ériu says. He sounds scared, nervous. In front of something he doesn’t understand, ‘Don’t touch it.’

Fingers on his chest, something cool laid over his eyes. Albion laughs in the background at the bray of a goat, and Cymru slips away.

When he returns to himself fully, confused and tired, he finds that it is Spring.

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

Cymru does not consider himself a cautious man.

He is wary, as any living thing is, but not foolishly so. Life and death come together, he understands, and the possibility of death will not keep him from living. He has suffered many worse deaths than his first, and more of the same. Burning, beheading, quartering- so many terrible ways that man imagine death for themselves, on top of all the organic riches that nature provides.

He does not fear the ground, nor the dark. Not like Alba and the endless deep, nor Ériu and his complicated feelings. Still, Cymru knows himself to be changed.

Sometimes, when the voices around him are too loud, or the tensions in the air too high, Cymru feels the edges of his mind grow dark. Invisible earthen walls press closer on all sides, his breathing tightens, his heart races, and he finds himself walking- up up up. Up into the sky, up to the tallest thing he can see, where the world can swing freely under his feet and the ground cannot swallow him. Back where he should be and where he is safe, above the earth with nothing but the airy sky around him.

There are times when he does not even know what he is doing until he is up there- the sun sinking lower in the sky when before it had been morning. Sometimes, he takes himself before he needs to go, knowing what will come if he doesn’t. The world changes, humans move in with their cement and brick, but there are always places left for him to go. Untouched hikes, lonely crags of his northern mountains where humans fear to walk lest they become lost and topple off the sharp, unseen edge. Cymru knows his lands like he knows his people, knows them more than he knows himself, and knows that his land will always hold some places hidden, just for him.

Perched on the edge of perilous drops, his feet far above the floor below, Cymru feels more himself than he does anywhere else. For this, he knows he is luckier than most.

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

AN:

This came from a very old headcanon explored in Wind Walk, Afterlife, and even chapter 2 of this fic. I hope my Wales makes more sense to you now!

For anyone who had questions about Wales from Ériu’s chapter, you’ll just have to wait for the next update to see if you can unpick things 😉

As for their names: ‘Adair, Padarn, Ris’- the names I usually use for the British Isles siblings are actually newer than the time period I am writing this fic in. But, I wanted the affect of their human names to be used and so chose the closest approximations I could for them to still be recognisable.

Thanks for reading!

#aph wales #hws wales #hetalia #hws #aph scotland #aph ireland #hws scotland #hws ireland #aph brit bros #aph uk bros #hws british isles #historical hetalia #heroes writes #aph england

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harrylovesspaezle · 16 days

Text

There are currently protests at the UVA(university of Amsterdam)

150 arrests total, people being beaten up, the fucking military is there, my fucking friends are there.

Translation This feels like some sick dream. One moment there are images of a peaceful protest, a tent encampment with a library. There is food being shared, speeches given. Teachers are there to support. There is even a pet. The next moment it switches over. There is a group of men who out of nowhere attack on the protest. They are trying to light everything up with fireworks. The police looks at it and does nothing. 0 arrests. Panic starts: we need to protect ourselves. Barricades are being secured, stones are being ripped out of the ground, why? are they going to throw with them? no. they are writing out "free palestine" in the sand below it. People are tired, trying to sleep. And then the ME(riot police) arrive after all. Panic again, barricades secured, yowling police dogs. "we are peaceful, what are you?" Some sort of foam is being dispersed over the protesters. One of the barricades gets bulldozered over. The military police runs onto the island and starts hitting around them. People with bleeding heads are on the floor. At the other barricade there is people sitting. They are being beat up with batons and sticks. "we are peaceful, what are you?" One by one they are being pulled apart and dragged by their legs. The police mows tents over. The remaining protestors are standing, arms hooked together. "we are peaceful, what are you?" Even with all this violence, all this panic, there is organisation. Not by the police, but by the protesters. The police is just kind of standing there, staring. People are caring for each other. With hands raised people are asking for help, but there isn't any. Who's safety are they maintaining? Who are they protecting? There is a small group being formed. "we are following your instructions". The group gets brought to buses. 125 arrests. An institution that is responsible for teaching the younger generations, an institution with a place of authority and example, is choosing to fix conflict by using violence. Afterwards they dare to claim that you can say what you want, as long as it's peaceful. How ironic. It's almost funny. But it isn't.

by @/kakelversememes and @/amsterdam.encampment

#palestine #free palestine #UVA #student encampment #university protests #college protests #palestine protests #my post

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mrprettywhenhecries · 9 months

Text

i don’t think you notice (what you did to me) [b.h]

six. | i was made for lovin' you

Billy Hargrove ✘ Win Lewis (ofc)

⇾ w.c. 4.9k words ⇾ warning(s). canon x oc pairing, f!oc, underage drinking, smut, blowjobs (m!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, cream pies

[ masterlist ] [ win lewis bio ]

By the end of the week, if anyone had missed the memo that Win was officially dating Billy Hargrove, they had to be blind. Between their casual PDA in between classes, their not so clandestine lunch period makeout sessions, and the fact that he was now driving her to and from school, it had become painfully obvious.

“What’re you doing tonight?” Billy asked, leaning against the locker next to Win’s as she approached to stow her books from last period.

“Hmm, I dunno, probably finish some homework before going to bed early,” she teased, flashing him a cheeky grin.

“Very cute,” he snorted, not buying it, and Win laughed, shutting her locker door and stepping closer, lifting her chin to steal a kiss.

“Heather Holloway’s having a bonfire tonight. Wanna make an appearance?” she suggested with a half shrug and Billy slung his arm around her shoulders as he fell into step with her. “If it’s lame, we can bounce. My dad works nights, so we’d have the place to ourselves,” she offered.

“Sounds like a plan,” Billy replied, nodding to Tommy as they passed.

“Ugh, why do you hang around with him?” Win muttered only for Billy to shoot her a wry look.

“Cause he does what I say,” he shrugged and Win let out a disgusted groan, rolling her eyes.

“At least you’re honest.”

“Max better not be late, if she knows what’s good for her,” Billy said as they approached the Camaro. “She knows I hate waiting.”

“At least you’ll have good company,” Win teased, dropping her bag in the passenger seat. As she straightened, she happened to lock eyes with Tina as she passed, Vicki and Carol in tow. The three practically turned their noses up at her, Vicki glaring daggers. Win forced herself to hold their gaze, not wanting to appear weak, but it stung–not Vicki or Carol’s animosity–she really didn’t give a fuck about what they thought, but Tina, Tina stung. Of course Win knew she was a bit of a stuck up bitch, but she’d been the first person in Hawkins to talk to her.

Billy’s gruff voice pulled her from her thoughts as Max skated up, hopping off her skateboard and flipping it smoothly up into her hand.

“Took ya long enough. C’mon, we got shit to do.”

Max made a face at him as she pulled the back door open, jumping in before Billy could make another impatient remark.

“Don’t listen to him, we haven’t been waiting long,” Win assured her, climbing in as well.

“I don’t know how you put up with him,” Max huffed, rolling her eyes as she turned to look out the window.

Billy glared at her through the rear view mirror before peeling out, kicking up stones as his tires spun.

“There’s a few things inside I wanna grab before we go,” Billy said, throwing the car in park in front of a modest little place on Cherry and kicking his door open. Win followed him and Max, climbing the steps to the enclosed front porch.

“Mom, we’re home!” Max called flatly, instantly taking off toward her room as soon as they were inside and a woman stepped out of the kitchen to greet them. She had the same fiery hair and blue eyes as her daughter, but that’s wear the similarities ended, and she offered Win a hesitant smile as her gaze fell on her.

“You must be Win,” she said, hastily wiping her hands on the kitchen towel before reaching out to take Win’s hand.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Win answered, glancing at Billy who quickly averted his eyes, a faint pink hue dusting his cheeks. It seemed Max hadn’t been lying when she said he’d talked about her.

“Win, this is Susan,” Billy introduced, careful not to refer to her as his mother.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Win said, returning Susan’s smile.

“Susan, can you tell my dad I can’t watch Max tonight? We’ve got plans,” Billy said, keeping his expression carefully neutral, but Mrs. Hargrove was quick to assure him that it was alright, that they’d be staying in tonight and that he and Win should have fun.

“Great, thanks,” Billy said brusquely, grabbing Win’s wrist to pull her down the hall.

“Nice room,” she mused, stepping just inside as Billy strode to his closet with purpose.

“Thanks,” Billy muttered, shrugging off his jean jacket and pulling his t-shirt over his head.

Win’s brows rose as she watched him, itching to smooth her hands across his muscular back and feel his warm tan skin. Clearing her throat, she quickly tore her eyes away as he pulled a dark maroon shirt from its hanger and slung it on, buttoning the bottom few buttons and leaving the top half open.

As he finished getting ready, Win ambled around his room, taking in his sparse decor, letting her fingers run over the records stacked neatly by his stereo, and picking up the dog eared paperback on the table by his bed.

“You hungry?” Billy’s voice cut through her thoughts and Win looked up to find him adjusting the collar of his worn leather jacket.

“Yeah, I could eat,” she murmured, setting the book back down where she’d found it.

“Cool, let’s grab a bite before the party.”

––

By the time Win and Billy arrived at Heather’s, the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon and the party was already in full swing. Heather had a decent sized fire blazing in her backyard and several of their classmates lingered around it, beers in hand as they talked and laughed, their voices melting into the music playing from a boombox on the nearby deck table.

“Hargrove, you came!” Tommy called, raising his beer can as he caught sight of Billy. Carol stood at his side, arms crossed over her chest, against the chill in the autumn air. When she noticed Win, she rolled her eyes.

“Lewis, lookin’ good,” Tommy added with a grin and Win fought the urge to grimace in disgust.

“I want a drink,” she said, peeling away from Billy’s side to head toward the table, finding a couple large coolers stocked with ice cold beer. She grabbed two cans before ambling back toward where Billy stood with Tommy. Luckily, Tina and Vicki were nowhere to be seen.

“Thanks babe,” Billy murmured, accepting the beer before pulling her close to his side and cracking the can open one handed, his other hand slipping around her waist.

Win watched him take a long draw from the can, his adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow, before she too brought her can to her lips.

“Hey Win! Good to see you!” Heather exclaimed, joining them by the fire, the flickering light of the flames casting eerie shadows against her face.

“Hey, you too,” Win replied. She’d never really spoken much to Heather Holloway, they tended to run in different circles, but maybe that’s what she needed now—a different circle.

“Let’s play a party game, something to spice things up,” Tommy exclaimed loudly, crumpling the empty can in his hand and tossing it into the bonfire.

“Yeah, like Never Have I Ever,” Carol suggested, a wicked smirk gracing her pinched features.

“Oooh yeah, sounds like fun!” Heather exclaimed. “Think we need something stronger for this though,” she laughed, running over to grab the bottle of vodka on the table.

Win downed the rest of her beer before accepting the plastic cup of booze.

“Win, why don’t you go first?” Heather asked and Win grimaced.

“Uh, alright,” she murmured, watching the fire for a moment as she thought. “Never have I ever… gone cow tipping,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the most cliched country activity she could think of, wondering if anyone actually did that.

Billy let out a snort when Tommy chuckled, bringing his cup to his lips.

“Guess it’s my turn,” Tommy said, a grin spreading across his face.

“Never have I ever moved to a different state,” he said, raising his eyebrows at both Win and Billy.

“Very funny,” Win muttered, rolling her eyes, but taking a drink along with Billy.

“Hmm, never have I ever broken a law,” Heather said and once more both Win and Billy took a shot, Tommy joining them as well.

“You got that right, Hargrove!” he exclaimed, raising his hand for Billy to high five.

“My turn?” Carol asked and Win didn’t like the way she smirked as she deliberated. “Never have I ever stolen my friend’s date,” she said finally, her eyes flicking purposefully to Win’s.

Setting her jaw, Win didn’t move, and everyone’s heads swung toward her.

“Well?” Carol prompted expectantly, cocking an eyebrow at her.

“Can’t say I have,” Win replied with a shrug. “She’d have had to been my friend for that to be true.”

For a moment Win thought Carol was gunna come at her, the tension nearly suffocating, when suddenly Billy hefted her up, throwing her over his shoulder. “This party’s a major snorefest,” he announced loudly, tossing back the rest of the booze in his cup before striding toward the front yard.

Win could barely believe it, gaping back at the others as they retreated into the distance, bouncing against Billy’s shoulder with each step he took.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” she said as they were back in the Camaro and on their way down Win’s quiet street.

“Do what? That party was lame,” Billy insisted, glancing over at her.

“I can take care of myself.” Her muttered words sounded petulant and Win wished she could take them back.

“I know that,” Billy huffed, carefully not looking at her, his hands flexing on the wheel. “Besides, I wanted to get you alone. You’re way better company than those assholes,” he muttered.

Win smiled down at her hands, hoping he couldn’t see her expression in the dark as he pulled into her empty driveway.

“You hungry?” she asked, pulling her house key from her pocket.

“Fucking starved,” Billy replied, following her to the front door.

“I don’t know what all we have in the fridge, but I’m sure there’s something,” Win said, pushing the door open and gesturing him in, flicking on the light switch.

Billy ambled after her, letting his gaze roam the room almost curiously, a stark contrast to the bored way he usually took in his surroundings.

“Uhh, there’s not a lot in here that’s easy to make,” Win mused, shutting the fridge door with a frown. “I could probably make us some mac and cheese…”

At her words, Billy joined her in the kitchen, opening the fridge himself to have a look before checking the freezer. “There’s some frozen ground beef, I can make us some burgers to go with it,” he offered.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s not hard,” Billy snorted, raising an eyebrow at her as he pulled the package from the freezer. “Something tells me you’re not exactly at home in the kitchen,” he ventured, shrugging his leather jacket off, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Yeah, I’m a heinous cook, bite me,” Win replied, sticking her tongue out at him as she flipped on the radio on the counter before pulling out a skillet and a pot.

Billy chuckled, shaking his head ruefully, opening several cupboards in search of a microwave safe plate to defrost the meat on. “You should probably work on that, unless you plan on living off frozen dinners the rest of your life,” he teased.

“Maybe I’m planning on marrying a guy that can cook, how about that?” Win countered, planting her hands on her hips jauntily and Billy couldn’t help but laugh.

“Was that a proposal, Lewis?” he teased and Win felt her face flush, quickly turning away to turn the radio up when the song changed, the opening to Call Me by Blondie playing through the speakers.

“Oh, I love this song,” she exclaimed, moving her hips to the music, for a moment forgetting that Billy was standing there.

“Please don’t tell me you listen to this shit,” he snorted, only for Win to gasp at him.

“Take that back!” she exclaimed, giving his arm a playful smack. “Debbie Harry is my icon!”

“You’re kidding, right?” Billy scoffed, transferring the defrosted hamburger to the skillet. “Here I thought you had better taste than that,” he said, fighting back a grin as he held his hands up, preparing for another attack.

Win’s mouth fell open. “I like you, don’t I?” she countered, pinching his side. Billy laughed, squirming away from her fingers, and Win’s expression turned mischievous.

“Ticklish, are we?” she asked, doubling down and attacking his sides without remorse until Billy managed to grasp her wrists, spinning her and pinning her back against the counter as he caught his breath.

“You little brat!” Billy exclaimed, leaning in imposingly, but Win raised her chin in defiance, her lips parting expectantly.

“What’re you gunna do about it, Hargrove?” Before she could barely get the words out, Billy’s mouth was on hers, his tongue forcing its way between her teeth.

Win’s breath caught in her throat and she moaned, melting into him.

The loud sizzling from the stove broke the mood and Billy swore under his breath, reluctantly pulling away. “To be continued,” he drawled, winking at her before turning back to the skillet, seasoning the burgers before flipping them and adjusting the heat.

“You wanna fill this up with water?” he asked, handing Win the empty pot before grabbing the milk and butter from the fridge.

Win obeyed, setting the water on the stove and turning on the burner. “So, uhm, how’d you learn to do all this?” she asked, leaning against the counter to watch him, the music playing softly in the background.

“This ain’t nothing,” Billy snorted. “This is pretty simple shit.”

“I guess,” Win said, rolling her eyes. “But you know what I mean. How’d you learn how to cook?”

Billy let out a soft huff, keeping his eyes on the stove. “I kinda hadta learn how to take care of myself from a young age.”

“I’m sorry…” Win breathed.

You don’t have to apologize,” Billy said, cutting her off, finally looking up at her, a vulnerability in his blue eyes that she’d only caught a glimpse of once before.

Opening her mouth to say more, Billy once more interrupted her, clearing his throat. “The water’s boiling, we should finish up the macaroni.”

––

It wasn’t long before the food was ready and Win plopped down on the couch with Billy to eat, turning the tv on for a distraction.

“You still sure this is more fun than getting wasted at the bonfire?” Win asked, still finding it hard to believe he’d really rather be there with her.

Billy set his empty plate on the coffee table before taking hers from her hands and setting it aside. “I’m very sure,” he drawled, easing her to her back, his mouth finding hers as his hand slipped beneath her shirt, drawing a soft moan from her lips.

“Here,” she breathed, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it to the floor.

Billy smirked down at the sight of her, his hand reaching around behind her to unhook her bra. “That’s better,” he murmured, enveloping her breast with his hand, his fingers pinching and rolling, coaxing her nipple to stiffen while his mouth descended on her exposed neck.

“You look so fuckin’ cute on your back,” he growled against her skin, nipping at her collarbone as he pressed his knee between her thighs.

Win’s sharp gasp at the sudden pressure against her throbbing cunt brought a husky chuckle to Billy’s throat, his cock stirring in response, pressing almost painfully against the confines of his tight jeans.

“You should stay, with me, tonight,” Win gasped between Billy’s hungry kisses, her back arching into his touch. “It gets so lonely, and I have a hard time falling asleep in an empty house,” she murmured.

Billy pushed back to look down at her, blue eyes flashing in the darkness. “I don’t sleep a lot either these days,” he admitted, caressing her cheek, his thumb catching her bottom lip. “You know, I can think of some ways to wear you out,” he drawled.

“Oh really?” Win breathed, letting out a surprised yelp as he suddenly lifted her, one arm wrapping around her back while the other fit under her bent knees, carrying her easily to her bedroom.

“Really,” he answered, smirking as he dropped her atop her bed, kicking the door shut behind him.

Win gasped as she landed, bouncing slightly. Before she could formulate a response, Billy was already unbuttoning his shirt and toeing his boots off.

“Enjoying the view, Princess?” he chuckled when he caught her staring and Win quickly ducked her head as her face flared hotter, focusing on working her jeans down while she peered at him through her dyed blonde bangs.

“Didn’t think you flustered that easy,” Billy teased, dropping his jeans and hooking a finger under her chin, tilting her face up.

“I’m not flustered!” Win countered, her heart pounding in her ears as he eased his boxers down, letting his cock spring free, the weight of it making her mouth water. “ –I’ve just not gotten a good look at your dick yet,” she murmured, wetting her lips distractedly.

A proud grin tugged at Billy’s mouth and he stepped closer to the edge of the bed. “Well, what do you think?” he drawled.

Win crawled closer, taking a deep breath in through his nose as she wrapped her hand loosely around his length, her cunt aching as she caressed him. Billy’s breath hitched, catching in his throat as she touched him and his cock twitched eagerly in her hand.

“So sensitive,” she breathed, grinning at his reaction. Though he liked to play it cool, it was reassuring that deep down he might be as flustered as she was. “You have such a pretty cock,” Win murmured, leaning in to lap up the glistening bead of precum gathered at his tip. Slowly taking him into her mouth, her tongue traced the thick vein on the underside of his length as her eyes flicked up to his, looking incredibly sinful on all fours like that with his cock disappearing into her mouth.

“Oh fuck–” Billy grunted, bucking forward involuntarily, unable to stop himself. “Fuck, that feels good. Your mouth’s like heaven,” he growled as his tip hit the back of her throat and she gagged, his pubes tickling her nose.

Win merely moaned in response, gripping the base of his cock with one hand to hold him steady so he couldn’t take her by surprise again.

“Shit Win,” he gasped, tangling his fingers in her chin length hair, blunt fingernails scraping her scalp as she hollowed her cheeks to suck as she pulled back, her velvety tongue curling around him, caressing him with each bob of her head.

“If you keep that up–” Billy’s words cut off and he hastily pulled free of her mouth, his fist in her hair holding her still. “As much as I would love to cum down your throat, sweetheart, I wanna make you scream,” he growled, releasing her hair to wipe the drool from her chin with his thumb, the tenderness of his actions at odds with the harsh way the words left his mouth.

A thrill ran through Win and she scooted backwards atop the bed, giving him room to join her.

“Get those panties off, or I’m gunna have to rip ‘em off you,” he said, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“That actually sounds kinda hot,” Win laughed, laying back against her pillows, her arms resting behind her head, her posture just daring him to do it.

Billy’s eyes flashed at the challenge and he grabbed her by the ankles, yanking her back toward him. Win let out a shriek of laughter, but didn’t struggle, biting her lips as he clutched her underwear, his gaze boring into hers.

“You sure about that?” he drawled, hesitating, and Win nodded. Billy’s grin turned predatory and he gave a sharp tug, easily ripping the thin cotton from her body.

“Oh fuck–” Win breathed, heat rolling through her at the display.

“There, that’s better,” he purred, discarding the ruined garment and pulling her legs apart. “I wanna look at this pretty pussy.”

Win’s breath hitched as he slid a finger between her folds. “Sucking me off made you this wet?” he marveled, slipping a second finger in, stretching her around him.

“I told you you had a gorgeous cock,” Win teased, huffing a breathless laugh as his thick digits curled inside her, dragging against her spongy g-spot.

“Billy, stop teasing me,” she pouted, rolling her hips impatiently against the heel of his hand.

“You keep pouting like that and I’ll make you wait longer,” he taunted, pulling his fingers free with a wet squelch and taking a moment to study the silvery translucent strands that stretched between them.

“If you won’t get me off, I have other ways–” Win began, huffing indignantly until Billy pushed her back, crawling between her legs and grabbing her wrist as she reached toward her sex.

“Ah ah ah, you don’t get to touch yourself right now, that’s my job,” he growled, releasing her wrist and giving his cock a few strokes before teasing his swollen head between her folds. “You ready, baby?” he asked, taking her aback that he’d asked.

“I’m ready,” Win breathed, moaning as he pushed into her. He kept his head down, watching the spot where their bodies connected, her cunt sucking him in greedily, inch by slow inch, creaming rings around the base of his cock with each slow thrust.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Billy groaned, dropping his forehead against her shoulder, his necklace hovering over her chest, grazing her sternum lightly as it swung in time with his measured movements.

Each time his hips met hers with a soft smack of skin on skin, Win let out a soft moan, her hands sliding up his back, feeling every dip and swell of taut muscle stretched beneath his fevered skin. “Oh fuck,” she gasped, whining sharply, her fingers biting into his shoulders as he hit her cervix, bottoming out.

“You make such pretty sounds for me. Your daddy’s not home, you know. So, you don’t have to hold back,” Billy growled, thrusting into her harder, enough to make the bed frame squeak, her tiny frame rocking beneath him. “I meant it when I said I wanted to make you scream.”

Win’s lips twitched and she let her eyes flutter shut. “Kiss me,” she breathed, the warmth pooling low in her gut spreading outward, driving her to the precipice. Needing to feel all of him pressed against her, she tightened her hold on him and Billy obliged, a deep groan catching in his chest as his lips collided with hers, kissing her breathless as he pumped into her faster, a desperation in his movements that grew with each moment.

Something had changed–this wasn’t like the time they’d fucked in the back of his car, this felt different, and Win’s head swam as her pleasure crested, threatening to carry her away.

“Billy–!” she gasped, teetering on the edge. “Want–want you to cum inside,” she managed to get out, rolling her hips to meet his, angling him deeper.

Billy nodded, breathing heavily, his thrusts growing jerky, sloppy. “Fuck, I’m–” he cut off with a guttural growl, his cock swelling and spasming as he came, unable to hold back any longer, and it was only moments later that Win followed, crying out his name as he rode her through it, pumping her full.

When they finally stilled, Billy collapsed atop her, his chest heaving against hers and Win pressed her face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of his sweat and the lingering spicy smell of his cologne.

With a soft grunt, Billy rolled to his back, pulling out of her and Win whined at the loss, feeling his seed slowly rolling down her inner thigh.

“You were right, you knew exactly what I needed to wear me out,” she sighed contentedly, turning toward him to rest her cheek against his shoulder, draping her arm over him.

Billy chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “I know how to take care of you,” he murmured proudly, reaching for Win’s pack of cigarettes on the nightstand nearby.

“Open the window and share that with me,” she said, scooting closer to his side and Billy did as she asked, lighting the cigarette pinched between his teeth and blowing the smoke toward the window above her headboard.

Taking another pull, he offered it to her, wrapping his other arm around her back to hold her against him, though he knew he should be doing the opposite–disentangling himself and getting dressed. It was late, way past his curfew, but the feel of her warm body pressed against him was sweeter than the threat of his father’s wrath and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this relaxed.

“What was California like?” Win asked, her abrupt question taking him by surprise, and when Billy glanced down at her, he found her watching him.

“Warm,” he said, fighting a lump in his throat. “The sun was almost always shining. I used to spend a lot of time at the beach,” he continued, glancing away. “Then… things changed, and–” Billy hesitated, plucking the cigarette from her fingers to bring to his lips. “Well, let’s just say there was always plenty of shit to do to keep me outta the house,” he muttered, still feeling Win’s large doll-like eyes on him.

He could sense she was gearing up to ask a follow up question and he quickly changed the subject, not really wanting to dredge up shit from the past.

“How late does your dad work? He’s not gunna come home soon and catch me in bed with you, is he?” he asked, amusement dancing in his eyes as he remembered the look on her father’s face the first time they’d met. If he found them like this, he’d probably really freak.

“Nah, he works nights, so he won't be back til about six or seven,” Win answered.

Billy chanced a peek at her while he ashed the cigarette in the glass ashtray on her bedside table. “You don’t see him much,” he observed, a spike of jealousy pricking his stomach.

Win shook her head, reaching across him to steal the last few hits off the cigarette.

“Ever since my mum died, it’s been like this. Like he doesn’t wanna process shit, and he’d rather just throw himself into work or something, I dunno,” she muttered.

“I wish my dad was like that,” Billy murmured and Win’s brows drew down.

“Don’t say that.”

Billy huffed a humourless laugh, finally looking her in the eye. “I mean it,” he insisted. “If you knew my dad, you’d understand. If he disappeared tomorrow and I never saw him again, I wouldn’t shed a fuckin’ tear.”

Win nodded, finally understanding. With everything he’d said about his home life, things were beginning to make a lot of sense.

“Shit,” she suddenly hissed, catching sight of the time. “It’s way later than I thought–”

Billy cut her off, knowing she was about to ask if he needed to leave, and while he knew he probably should, he’d already made up his mind.

“It’s fine,” he said, a decisiveness to his voice that discouraged any argument. “Besides, your bed’s way more comfortable and there’s a smokin’ hot naked girl in it,” he added, his lips twitching as he ducked his head to steal a kiss.

“Charmer,” Win murmured, once more melting, deciding not to press the issue. It wasn’t like she wanted him to leave anyway.

Billy put out the spent cigarette and waved the smoke away before getting under the blankets and pulling Win closer, letting her meld against him, stifling a yawn behind her hand.

“Night Princess,” he murmured, but she was already drifting off.

––

The sound of her dad’s car pulling into the gravel drive woke Win and she blinked blearily, vaguely noticing the weak sunlight streaming through her window, which was still cracked open from the night before, the November morning air chilling her room.

Whining softly at the chill, she pulled the comforter up higher and rolled over, seeking Billy’s warmth. When her hand slid across the cold empty space next to her however, she bolted awake. Billy was nowhere to be found, his blankets thrown back as if he’d gotten up.

Crawling to the edge of the bed, she found the spot on the floor he’d left his boots empty as well and her fear of her father catching him there shifted to empty disappointment, her heart sinking, though she knew she was being irrational.

Laying back down with a huff, she stared at the ceiling, not bothering to shut her window. It almost felt like she’d only imagined falling asleep in Billy’s warm embrace, sleeping more soundly than she had since she’d moved to Hawkins. Turning her head to glance at her clock, a slip of paper on her bedside table caught her eye and she sat up to get a better look.

Billy’s hasty scrawl covered the scrap paper and Win couldn’t help but smile, hearing his voice in her head as she read his words.

Morning beautiful, Sorry I’m not there when you wake up. Thought it would be safer to leave before your dad gets home. Last night was fun. Slept better than I have in a while. I’ll call you later. —Billy P.S. you’re pretty cute when you’re sleeping, you actually look kind of innocent.

Suddenly feeling much lighter, Win flopped back into bed, holding Billy’s note to her chest as she fell back asleep, hoping his dad hadn’t noticed he’d been out all night.

⇾ taglist. @b1tchywheeler @wherethewitchersare @super-unpredictable98 @santacarlahorrorshow @oliver-sykes @elliethesuperfruitlover

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove fanfiction #oc: win lewis #otp: lewgrove #joz.fic #fic: i don't think you notice #dacre montgomery

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tetheredfeathers · 2 months

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"Cinna has draped me in a black gossamer gown; the corset pinches at my waist. I glide my hands over my curves, feeling the cold metal of the stones Cinna has adorned me with. The sheer net fabric cascades along my legs, parting at my thighs, leaving me ever so flimsy and vulnerable. I am a phoenix choking on its own ashes.

“Come on,” Cinna’s warm hands envelop my shoulders as he guides me out.

“Hi,” Peeta says with a shy smile.

He acts like a shy schoolboy talking to his crush for the first time, every time he sees me dressed up. Despite myself, I can't help but enjoy his bashfulness.

“Ready,” I ask, a faint smile tugging at my lips.

His slender fingers intertwine with my nimble hands, and I place our clasped hands over my chest, hoping to comfort him with the sound of my heart, just as he does for me when I lay my head on his chest.

In the center of the ballroom, a spacious dance floor beckons dancers to glide gracefully across its polished surface. The floor is surrounded by plush seating areas. The vast expanse of the ballroom is adorned with intricate details, from the elaborate chandeliers hanging from the ceiling to the gilded moldings that adorn the walls. Soft, ambient lighting casts a warm glow across the room. The ballroom, is beyond beautiful. I can't help but hate it though, they spend so much time and money on such useless affairs while we starve in our districts. I throw my arms around Peeta and let the slow rhythm of the music guide our movements, just as we're plunging ourselves into a warm world with nothing but each other's arms. A gruff voice startles me.

#ao3 fanfic #the hunger games katniss #everlark #katniss everdeen #the hunger games #hunger games #peeta mellark #thg fanfiction #thg series #hunger games in real life #the hunger games trilogy #the hunger games peeta #ao3 writer #ao3fic #fanfic #everlark fanfiction

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lullabyes22-blog · 6 months

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Compromised - A Mel x Silco Piece

Ch: 1 hits this weekend~

Snippet:

"You could," she stretches languidly, and the hem rides up her thighs, "join me."

"It will be hours before the party winds down."

"Not to sleep. Just to talk."

"About what?"

Silco sits, again, at the foot of the bed. It dips beneath his weight. The mattress, a wide affair, is more than big enough for the both of them.

His palm rests on her ankle. The touch, impersonal before, lingers. Emboldened by this small intimacy, Mel lets her fingers itsy-bitsy-spider up the cuff of his shirtsleeve. The weave is cool; the arm beneath deceptively lean in an armature of sinew and bone.

She thinks of the rapiers her mother kept on display in the gallery: honed, fine, deadly.

But a deft touch, she knows, can disarm even the sharpest blade.

"We could," she says, "talk about our itinerary. The island we'll be staying at is renowned for its beauty. There are waterfalls a stone's throw from our camp. And ruins, where the locals say the gods themselves used to frolic. Or the villa itself: supposedly designed to merge nature with civilization. The rooms are like gardens, each with their own sunrooms and fountains. All of it, with a view of the turquoise seas." She toys with his cuff, and watches his face. "I know you like the water."

"I'd like it better if I weren't sharing the villa with a half dozen coin-gorged parasites."

"Don't think of them," she says coaxingly. "Think of me. Think of you. Think of the possibilities."

"Their security detail? Paid for by my dime. Their staff? Paid for by yours. And the bill?" A scoff. "We're footing that together"

"It's a modest bill. Barely a pittance." Mel's fingertips skitter up his forearm. "Meanwhile, we'll have a wing entirely to ourselves The most luxurious in the villa. Its own beach, white as snow. Its own grotto, with a natural sauna. Its own garden, full of exotic blooms and birdsong."

"And mites, and mosquitoes, and yet more parasites."

She ignores that, continues to speak in that satiny tone she uses for closing deals. "At night, we could light the bonfire and dine beneath the stars. We could take the yawl out and anchor offshore." Her fingers creep higher, and so does her smile. "We'd make love on the deck, and listen to the sea, and make love again, and listen to the sea."

"And all our guests, with their telescopes, would watch, and lay bets on the size of my cock."

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #forward but never forget/xoxo #forward (never forget)/xoxo #arcane mel #mel medarda #melco #silco x mel #mel x silco #arcane zaun #arcane piltover

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celandeline · 4 months

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Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC (12)

When Venetia had given me the tour of the house and grounds, she barely even mentioned the tennis courts. I never expected to set foot on them - I don’t play tennis, Venetia doesn’t play tennis as far as I know - much less in black tie dinner wear, but here we are.

It’s two-versus-two, Felix and Oliver against Farleigh and Venetia, with myself acting as a referee from the side of the court, despite the fact that I don’t know any of the rules for tennis. Not that I really need to - everyone on the court is holding a bottle of something or other, and the game is slowly devolving into simply which team manages to hit the ball at all. I take a hearty swig from my own bottle of prosecco, and try not to laugh as Felix beams the ball right at his sister, hitting her in the arm.

The ball bounces off Venetia’s arm and shoots off towards the edge of the court. She scrunches her face up into an angry pout as she walks off, wobbling slightly on her polka-dotted platform heels as she does. “You never aim it at Farleigh.” She complains, serving the ball back over the net.

“Farleigh might actually hit it back.” Felix says, volleying the ball back over to his sister’s side.

True to Felix’s word, Farleigh swings long, batting the tennis ball back to the other side. Oliver barely manages to hit it, jumping with his racket extended up above him. It’s a little amusing to watch him try to keep up with Felix and Farleigh, considering that they both have a good 9-ish inches on him. I take another drink of my prosecco, letting the little bubbles pop against my tongue.

Oliver’s hit is weak, and Felix darts forward to help the ball over the net. He swings hard, and the ball whizzes between Venetia and Farleigh, slapping the ground on their side of the net before bouncing towards the back wall of the court.

“Another point down- what’s it now, five to one?” Felix gloats, retrieving his bottle of wine from the edge of the court and gulping it down like water.

Venetia throws both her hands in the air, one holding her tennis racket, and the other a bottle of rose, some of which sloshes out of the neck of the bottle and splashes onto the court. “I’m out!” She announces.

“Don’t be a sore loser, V.” Felix says, grinning as his sister wobbles off the court.

“You guys haven’t won yet.” Farleigh corrects him.

“Yet.” Oliver says, a little smirk playing on his lips.

Farleigh rolls his eyes behind his Dior sunglasses.

Venetia stops before me, holding out her racket. “Switch off with me Evie?” She asks.

“I’ve never played tennis before.” I say, taking her racket from her and standing up.

She snorts out a laugh. “You can’t be worse than me.”

She takes my spot, sitting up against the low stone wall that encircles the court, legs splayed out on the pavement. I kick off the heels I’d worn to dinner, and leave them with Venetia as I make my way over to Farleigh, bottle of prosecco in my left hand, a tennis racket in my right.

“Thank fucking god.” Farleigh says. “I need someone a little more sober than V if I’m going to win-”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.” I say, setting my bottle down near the net before turning to face Oliver and Felix. “I can’t promise that I’ll be better than V.”

Farleigh serves the ball, sending it flying over the net towards Oliver’s face. “It’s not that hard.” He says. “Just hit the ball.”

Oliver barely stops the ball from smacking him in the nose, and sends it in my direction. Bare feet slapping against the warm pavement, I run towards it. I swing, and thankfully the ball connects with my racket. It bounces away from me, headed right back to Oliver. Tucking my racket under my arm, I reach down and bunch the skirt of my dinner dress - an emerald green shimmery thing of Venetia’s - tying it into a knot by my thighs, effectively shortening it to a more athletic length.

We volley back and forth for a while, and I start to get the hang of it - if the ball bounces towards the left side of the court, it’s Farleigh’s problem, if it bounces to the right, it’s mine. It’s easy enough to chase after Oliver’s hits, and I’m lucky that Felix is only beaming it at Farleigh - there’s no way that I would be able to get after those, but Farleigh does well enough. What he lacks in talent he makes up for in height and athleticism.

Oliver bats the ball back over the net at me, and I send it back. Felix jumps forward to get it, and sends it towards Farleigh. I expect him to move after it, but he doesn’t, simply turning his head as he watches the ball sail past the lines marking the inside of the court. Out of bounds.

“Point for Farleigh and Evie!” Venetia crows, sticking her tongue out towards her brother.

Farleigh grins, and extends his hand for a high-five. I return his smile, and slap his hand.

And so it goes. In the end, Felix and Oliver still win - of course - but Farleigh and I manage to score a handful of points, capitalizing on how Felix doesn’t know how to hit the ball not with his full strength, and Oliver can’t hit it anywhere but the right side. We make an alright team, now that we’ve evened the playing field - or, at least, I think we have. He hasn’t called me a dog since that night he tried to hold my hand and I clawed into his leg, and the band-aid on his thigh is gone now. Didn’t even leave a scar.

Still, we lose in the end.

Racket tucked under my arm, I retrieve my bottle of prosecco, and gulp most of the contents down like water, ignoring the head rush. Farleigh looks just as sweaty as I feel, and as soon as I take the bottle away from my lips, he grabs it, finishing it off with just as much vigor as I drank. I untie the knot in my dress, and the fabric rolls down my legs again.

“You did pretty good.” Farleigh says, handing me back the empty bottle. “For someone who’s never played before.”

“Oh, yeah sure Farleigh, you can have the rest.” I snark. “Thank you for asking before you just snatched my bottle away.”

His only response is a grin and he pulls the tennis racket out from under my arm and starts back off the court, following Felix and Oliver back towards the house. He even has the audacity to blow me a kiss before he turns around. My stomach has the audacity to send a round of butterflies swirling around my guts.

I roll my eyes, and head to where Venetia and my shoes sit against the side of the court. Her eyes are barely open, and the hazy smile on her face tells me she’s absolutely wasted. With how much she drank at dinner, and the fact she never let go of her bottle of rose on the court, I’m not surprised.

“Hi baby.” I say, crouching down in front of her.

Her grin widens. “Hi Evie.” Her eyes flutter open wider. “You’re sweaty.”

“Sorry.” I say, taking hold of her arm in one hand and my shoes in the other and standing, tugging her upward with me. She rises on unsteady feet, the platform polka-dot heels not helping at all. I debate for a moment taking them off, but she’s already up.

She giggles as I loop her arm over my shoulders, and hold her by the waist. Her head falls against my shoulder, sunglasses crooked on her nose. “I saw Farleigh blow you a kiss.” She says.

“He’s a dick.” I say. I only sort of mean it - there’s no bite in my voice.

She nuzzles into my neck as I start us back towards the house. “You have to promise you won’t let him steal you away.” She says. “You’re not allowed to like him more than me.”

“I don’t think I could like anyone more than you.” I say, my lips brushing against her hair.

< previous part | next part >

#saltburn #farleigh start x reader #farleigh start x oc #farleigh x reader #farleigh start #saltburn x reader

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theogony · 7 months

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The Jesper Fahey Foolproof guide to getting your friends to fall in love™

written for the grishaverse big bang 2023 (@grishaversebigbang)! Pleasure to work on a lighthearted fic for a change of pace ^^ thank you sm to yaalni (@bloodyrakshasi ) for betaing the fic, and please go check the absolutely stunning works of accompanying artists :)

@intrgalartic (link to art here) @bubble--berry (link to art here) @jmie-draws (link to art here) @mitraavrs (link to art here)

"Wait, no, that’s it. That’s perfect,” Jesper says, and everyone turns to look at him. “What if we use like - what’s the term - reverse psychology?” Jesper pauses, for additional appropriate gravitas (as though everyone in the table isn’t already looking at him with varying degrees of shock, horror, or scheming.)

“What if we still say it straight - but to the opposite person - tell Inej that Kaz likes him and Kaz that Inej likes him,” he finishes, triumphant.

The table quiets down, before interrupting into a series of loud whispers borderlining on shouts, before quieting down again as everyone mulls over the idea.

All in all, Jesper thinks, it’s a pretty promising reaction.

When even the imminent departure of Inej cannot prompt either her or Kaz to confront their feelings and cross the invisible line the two of them have been toeing for entirely too long, Jesper and the rest of their friends decide to take matters into their own hands with the help of PowerPoint transitions, nosy partners, and perhaps the entirety of Ketterdam University.

Alternatively, the faked into dating AU, wherein Jesper learns that perhaps he's not as good a matchmaker as he thought he was.

read part of it under the cut! / ao3 link

The hallways part like a sea before them, whispers following them as the 6 (well 7 really, but no one's terrified of Wylan even with the rest of them surrounding him) skulking figures stalk down the hallway, leaving behind the principal's ajar door in their wake.

All in all, it's a pretty normal day for Kaz Brekker and the crows, really.

"You'd think we'd robbed the school ourselves at the rate the students are avoiding us."

Jesper laughs merrily, throwing a friendly arm over Inej's shoulder.

"Relax, Nej. Besides, it's not like you're going to be here in this shithole much longer anyway!"

Inej lets out a tinkling laugh, lips momentarily turning up at brief levity - before she purses them again, turning around to address the rest of them.

"Alright, enough moping around about inevitable change - don't think I've noticed some people in particular practically avoiding me since the trip was announced."

Though the rest of their group tries their level best (which is to say, not at all) to hide their snickers - it's pretty obvious who the message is directed at. After all, there's only one person whom Inej would never bother to hesitate to call out so publicly - only one person whom Inej would never forget to look out for.

To his own credit, Kaz looks away non committedly, before hefting his bag slightly higher.

"If you forget to collect your dance shoes from the studio, I don't even think I'd be able to stop Baghra from keeping you here."

Imej hums before walking next to him.

"Fair enough. But you know that I'd stay if you asked me to."

A tension fills between the two of them, filled with unspoken possibilities.

"I think I'd eventually learn how to handle my accounts on my own, thanks."

The both of them shrug, turning away from each other, though the tense look on both of their faces tells a very different story.

The fact of the matter is this - no matter how much Inej wishes, Kaz wouldn't dare take away everything Inej has worked for - even if that meant depriving them of something that both of them wanted so badly.

Eventually, Inej shakes herself and joins Kaz, currently facing forward, an impenetrable stone wall of emotion. Together, they tentatively begin talking again about a topic that's too quiet for the rest of them to hear and enclose themselves in a bubble of their own - disappearing into the winding hallways.

read the rest here!

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esthermitchell-author · 6 months

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This scene takes place in my GO fanfic novel, during the "block party" the Whickber Street Traders Association throws to celebrate surviving Hell's attack during the whole Second Coming incident. It's just such a powerful little scene, and I particularly loved how the end of it came out, so I thought I'd share... You enjoy (I'm back to work on more of the editing and additions for the novel). 😊

As they crossed the street to the café, Crowley caught sight of something he missed earlier. Tucked back into the alleyway alongside Marguerite's was what looked like a small shrine he was almost certain hadn't been there in the past. Curious, he detoured in that direction, coming to stand in front of what was definitely a shrine. On the wall, artistic hands had painted or chalked in renderings of what he had no doubt were someone's memories of the battle here on Earth. He flinched from the familiar sight of demons in all their war regalia, swarming through the streets of Soho. Rising in front of the terrible images was a small stone altar, with lit jar candles, surrounded by celllophane-wrapped arrangements of cut flowers, handmade cards, and little pieces of paper with prayers and memorials written on them.

His gut twisted and his eyes burned at the sight, and the simple knowledge of how strong humanity's faith in a better future always was. Regardless of the horrors they experienced, they still believed there was some great, cosmic force, some Providence, that would somehow salve all their worries, fears, and pains. They believed in God, or in many Gods, and their belief alone gave them strength to see through even the most terrifying atrocities existence could visit upon them.

"It's a memorial for the lost. We decided it was only right."

Nina's voice dragged his attention around, and he saw the sorrow and strength of humanity reflected in her expression as she came to stand beside him, looking down at the shrine. "We fared okay, here. I think that's because Whickber Street had Mr. Fell, and you. We had someplace safe to go, and people capable of giving us the means to protect ourselves. Overall, I think London fared better than anywhere else, because of Muriel. Don't know what they did, but they did something to the pipes, to the water. Made London safer."

Crowley blinked, impressed. He hadn't known the Scrivener had it in them. "Holy water. Amazing. That little Scrivener blessed all the water in London."

Nina shrugged. "Thought that might have been it. Whatever they did, London suffered a lot fewer losses than anywhere else. This memorial's for the rest of the world. A lot of people died, and I don't even know if anyone really understands why, Mr. Crowley."

A scoffing laugh slid loose from Crowley, even as a frown tugged at his face. "Not sure any of us really understands why, Nina. Just glad some of us understood why we couldn't let it happen."

"Yeah, I'll give you that one. For what it's worth," she touched a hand tentatively to his upper arm. "I'm glad Mr. Fell came back, and that the two of you worked things out. Mags and I worried about you, after he left."

Her words formed a lump in Crowley's throat. Aside from Aziraphale, he'd never had anyone worry about him, before. He had to admit, it felt kind of nice. Swallowing hard, he managed a hoarse, "Yeah. Thanks for that."

She withdrew her touch with a nod, then turned and went back to the café. Crowley stood there, staring at the proof of humanity's strength and resilience, as the sounds of the party washed over him. He was barely aware of the passage of time, except for the shifting of sound around him, and the eventual quiet -- or as quiet as a busy Soho street ever got in the daytime -- that indicated everyone had returned to their normal business.

Finally, feeling weary to his soul, he muttered a quiet "Sorry" and miracled in a single white stargazer lily, its roots sunk into the soil of a rainbow glazed clay pot. Aziraphale told him, back just before the Flood, that God created the rainbow as a never again type of promise. This seemed an appropriate time and place for another promise like that. If he ever had anything to say about it, humanity would never face this kind of horror show from Hell, again. He'd tear Hell down with his own two hands, first.

"It's lovely."

He turned at the quiet words, spoken in a soft voice as familiar as his own soul, to find Aziraphale seated on the bench across the alleyway, a small, sad smile on his angelic face and his hands folded in his lap as primly as ever.

Crowley winced. No one was supposed to see that. But, if anyone was going to, at least it was his angel. "Angel, I..."

Aziraphale rose from the bench with a small sigh and closed the distance between them, reaching out to take hold of his hand even as he rested his head lightly against Crowley's shoulder. "You don't need to explain, love. Let's just leave it at 'it's lovely'."

#Keep Calm an ❤️on. 🐍🪽❤️🏳️‍🌈#good omens #good omens fandom #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable husbands #azicrow #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable spouses #fanfic #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #go fanfic #go fandom

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verfound · 1 month

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WIP Wednesday: 04.17.2024

This was not supposed to be an entire series rewrite??? And it's not??? Sorta???

...anyway, we're Mystik Spiral Kitty Section, but we're thinking of changing our name.

It all came together so quickly after that.

While Rose was out, they hauled some equipment up to the roof: a drum kit that was hanging around the basement studio (that Jagged hadn’t actually used since the air had broken), Juleka’s bass, Luka’s favorite guitar, and a few amps. They spitballed ideas while Rose was gone, tossing around potential band names and set lists. When Rose finally came back, a mountain of a boy was lurking behind her.

“Ivan!” Marinette cried, her eyes widening in surprise. He waved sheepishly while he rubbed the back of his neck with his other hand, his eyes trained on the floor. His face looked flushed, but that could have been the heat. “You play?”

“…a bit, yeah,” he mumbled. “Myles says I’m good, but I think she’s biased.”

But as it turned out, Mylène wasn’t biased. Ivan was honestly, truly good.

“…this might actually work,” Luka said, nodding as Rose screamed a metal version of his dad’s first single into the mic. He turned to Marinette with a grin. “Sure you don’t want to join? We have a tambourine hanging around somewhere. Anyone can play a tambourine.”

“Weren’t the tambourine players mostly eye candy?” she asked, her nose scrunching adorably. He chuckled and shrugged, looking back at the little makeshift stage they had set up.

“Maybe,” he said. His smile softened. “Maybe I just like having you around. It could be something fun to do together, like Rose said. Maybe we’re all gonna suck and the band’s gonna need some eye candy to distract whoever’s watching from how bad we sound.”

Her eyes widened at the look he gave her, heat flooding her face. She turned back to the stage with a cough, shaking her head.

“I-impossible,” she said, sitting up straighter. “You can’t suck — you’re performing on a Jagged Stone album, Luka. You’re amazing.”

“That’s not skill, though,” he said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “That’s nepotism. You know there’s no way I’d be on the track if I wasn’t his kid.”

“Give yourself some credit,” she huffed. “XY being top of the charts? That’s nepotism. You know the only reason that idiot’s gotten anywhere is because his dad owns the label. You, though? Yeah, your dad being who he is helps, but you’re good, Luka. He wouldn’t let you play if you weren’t — you know it’s just as much about making himself look good as it is giving you a foot in the door.”

He couldn’t stop the little smile that quirked his lips as he glanced back at her.

“Not a big XY fan?” he asked, and she snorted as she tipped her head back. His smile grew a little at the indignant expression on her face.

“Please,” she tsked. “I like real musicians. Besides, I’m kinda over blonds.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but the song was wrapping up and Rose was calling for his attention again.

“So?” she asked, bouncing by the mic. “Is he in?”

He glanced back at Marinette, who was grinning at him as she nodded, and he sighed as he shrugged.

“Ok, if Ivan’s cool with it, I’m in,” he said, and Rose’s squeal — especially echoed back in the mic — was loud enough to make them both wince. She started jumping and turned to Juleka, throwing her arms around her neck and hopping onto her. Luka laughed as Ivan nodded, saying he was in, and whistled to catch Rose’s attention. “Ok, ok! Rose, since this is your band…what should we call ourselves, anyway?”

“How about…” Rose hummed, tapping on her chin as she looked up. She looked back at Luka with a manic grin, snapping her fingers. “Kitty Section! And I have just the song to debut at the festival!”

“…o…k,” Luka said, nodding. “I can roll with that. Heard weirder names. Do we even want to know what the song’s about?”

Rose’s grin was as dangerous as ever, her eyes lighting up in a way they had all learned to be wary of over the years.

“Unicorns.”

#wip wednesday #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain-cheng #luka couffaine #rose lavillant #juleka couffaine #ivan bruel #kitty section #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #wip fic #ver fic #all these signs #you know I love unicorns #they always make me feel better

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sunflowerabyss · 5 months

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The Phoenix Rises Chapter 2

Pairings: Older!Remus Lupin x Fem!Professor!Reader

A continuation of the Charms of Fate series.

Series Masterlist

Plot Summary: Starting your third year at Hogwarts as the Charms professor proves to be difficult without having Remus by your side as you face new and irritating challenges at work, as well as joining a secret society.

Warnings: none, I think

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The worn cobblestones of Grimmauld Place greeted Remus as he stepped out into the crisp night air, the hushed conversations from within lingering in the shadows. The imposing facade of the Black family home cast elongated shadows, a fitting metaphor for the decisions that now rested on Remus's shoulders. The cool breeze carried a sense of foreboding, mirroring the weight that settled within him.

"Remus," growled Alastor Moody from the doorway, his magical eye fixed on him, "you've got that contemplative look. Spit it out, lad. What's got you on edge?"

Remus sighed, "Just grappling with some difficult decisions, Alastor."

Moody grunted, his wooden leg thudding against the stone floor. "Decisions are like curses, Lupin—best dealt with head-on. None of that mulling about."

Remus nodded, acknowledging Moody's no-nonsense attitude. The gas lamps lining the narrow street cast pools of warm light, emphasizing the stark contrast between the illusion of normalcy and the clandestine discussions within.

Steeling himself, Remus returned to the dimly lit drawing-room, where Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes awaited him. Tonks, her hair changing color in a restless display, exchanged a concerned glance with Remus as he entered.

"The moment of truth, Remus," she whispered, her voice tinged with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Dumbledore's request lingered in the air like an unspoken spell as he turned his gaze towards Remus. Moody, standing by the fireplace, crossed his arms and grunted in a show of solidarity. The air inside the room hung heavy with tension, an unspoken understanding that decisions made here would shape the course of their fates.

Dumbledore spoke, his voice carrying a solemn weight, "My friends, we find ourselves at a pivotal juncture. The Dark Lord is regaining strength, and the need for unity has never been more crucial. We require additional recruits for the Order to stand against this impending darkness."

Moody nodded, his gaze unwavering. "The more, the better. We're spread thin as it is."

Dumbledore continued, throwing out names of potential recruits, his gaze eventually landing on Remus. "Remus, I believe Y/N, our esteemed Charms professor, possesses qualities that could be invaluable to our cause."

Remus's jaw tightened, and he interjected, "Albus, with all due respect, I've worked hard to keep Y/N away from the Dark Lord, from the Order. I won't involve her in this dangerous endeavor."

Moody snorted, a grizzled expression etched on his face. "Lupin, this ain't the time for coddling. We're at war, and every capable witch or wizard counts. No time to dilly dally around."

Tonks exchanged a knowing look with Remus, and Dumbledore's gaze remained unwavering. The room seemed to hold its breath as the weight of the decision loomed, shadows of allegiance stretching across their faces.

Finally, Remus spoke, his voice laden with the weight of his internal struggle. "I'll talk to her, Albus, but I cannot promise anything. I cannot willingly put her in harm's way."

Tonks nodded subtly, her eyes communicating a silent understanding. The Weasley couple exchanged a worried look, their hands tightly clasped.

Dumbledore nodded understandingly, his eyes reflecting a blend of empathy and determination. "Do what you must, Remus. Time is of the essence, and the threads of fate are already woven. May our choices be guided by the light that lingers even in the darkest of times."

Moody's gravelly voice broke the silence, "He's got a point, Lupin. Sacrifices need to be made, for the greater good."

Remus chose not to answer, frustration welling up in him. He felt a small hand land on his arm, and he looked down to see Tonks smiling up at him. She patted his arm twice before dropping it when he gave her an uneasy smile back.

Dumbledore shifted his focus to the Aurors and members of the Ministry who had joined the Order.

"I appreciate your dedication to the cause," Dumbledore addressed them, his tone carrying a sense of urgency. "We have received news that Harry Potter is facing a trial due to casting a spell in the presence of a Muggle. The Ministry believes it is essential to bring him in for questioning."

Kingsley Shacklebolt, Moody, and Tonks exchanged concerned glances, realizing the implications of Harry's situation. Sirius Black, standing at the periphery, listened intently, his expression reflecting worry for his godson.

"Dumbledore," Moody grunted, "we'll get the boy. When and where?"

Dumbledore nodded, "Tonight, at the Dursleys'. Ensure a swift and discreet operation. Harry's safety is of utmost importance."

Kingsley stepped forward, "Consider it done, Headmaster. We'll bring him to 12 Grimmauld Place.

As the members of the Order prepared to carry out their respective missions, the night seemed to hold secrets whispered on the breeze, secrets that now rested heavily on Remus's conscience. The journey ahead, fraught with uncertainty, stretched like an uncharted path, leaving Remus to deal with the shadows of allegiance and the choices that would determine the fate of those he held dear.

____________________________________________________

The week and a half leading up to Sunday evening had been a whirlwind of activity. Professor McGonagall had enlisted your help in preparing for the start of the school year at Hogwarts, and exhaustion had become a constant companion. As the deadline loomed closer, you couldn't ignore the growing chaos in your own classroom. With only a couple of days left before Hogwarts was back in full swing, you decided to dedicate Friday to transforming the space into an organized haven for learning.

The day was a blur of cleaning, rearranging furniture, decorating the walls with educational posters, and meticulously crafting lesson plans. By the time evening arrived, your classroom had undergone a remarkable metamorphosis. The tiredness in your bones, however, seemed to intensify.

With the work finally complete, you decided to indulge in a well-deserved break. A relaxing bath was in order. You filled the tub with warm water and added a soothing concoction to help ease the tension from your tired muscles. A book you had been longing to read found its way into your hands, accompanied by a few squares of Remus's secret stash of chocolate that you had sneakily acquired.

As you soaked in the comforting embrace of the bath, thoughts of Remus crept into your mind. You missed him terribly, the ache in your chest growing stronger with each passing day. It was challenging being away from him, especially after leaving him earlier that day. Last year's separation had been difficult enough, and the prospect of another school year apart weighed heavily on your heart. However, you knew the sacrifices were necessary. Staying at Hogwarts allowed you to earn a living and, more importantly, ensure Remus had access to the Wolfsbane potion.

With a reluctant sigh, you resolved to make the most of the situation. As you emerged from the bath, the comforting warmth clung to your skin. You dried off, slipping into comfortable clothes, including one of Remus's shirts that carried the familiar scent of his cologne. It provided a bittersweet solace, a tangible connection to the man you missed dearly.

Seated at your small kitchen table, you reached for parchment and a quill. The words flowed easily as you penned a letter to Remus, expressing the depth of your longing.

My Dearest Remus,

I hope this letter finds you well. It's been a whirlwind here at Hogwarts, with Professor McGonagall enlisting my help to prepare for the start of the new school year. The days have been long, and exhaustion has become a constant companion, but the satisfaction of contributing to the school's readiness has made it worthwhile.

Today, I dedicated the entire day to transform my classroom into an organized haven for learning. Cleaning, rearranging furniture, and decorating the walls occupied every moment. I've never been so exhausted in my life.

However, I can't escape the longing for your presence. The separation, no matter how long or short the time is, feels like an eternity. I miss you terribly, Remus. Leaving you again this year was difficult, and I can't wait to see you next weekend.

I apologize for not writing sooner. The days have been a blur, and time seems to slip away faster than I can catch it. Your understanding nature is always a source of comfort, and I appreciate the unwavering support you've always provided.

Know that you are in my heart, and I carry your love with me always.

Yours forever, Y/N

After signing the letter, you sealed it with a gentle press of wax, imprinting it with the Hogwarts crest. The owl cage sat nearby, and you summoned your loyal owl to deliver the heartfelt message to Remus, who resided down the road from the school. As the owl took flight, carrying your words to their intended recipient, you couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that lingered in the quiet room.

It was a lonely reminder of the sacrifice made for love, and as you sat alone with your thoughts, the small kitchen table bore witness to the love that transcended distance, expressed through ink on parchment.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #older!remus lupin #older!remus lupin x reader #order of the phoenix

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