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easy-there-leftovers · 4 months ago

Text

A Question Unasked

Written with season 1 Spencer in mind

Summary: In which your ambitious, workaholic nature makes Spencer wonder if you've got a crush on Hotch. This slight hitch in his plan causes him to miss a few signs.

[A/N]: Can be seen as a filler from Spencer's perspective of certain scenarios from "Mixed Messages" and a prequel to "As Cool As I Think I Am", but can also just be a standalone

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! (mentored by Hotch!) reader | cw: slight spoilers for s1e04, allusion to inappropriate workplace dynamics (it's not true, relax lol), slight description of canon-typical violence, mildly inaccurate timeframe | word count: 4k

Spencer looks up from his endless stacks of files on his desk to look at the girl on the other side of his desk. Only a single carpeted walkway really separating them.

He could easily just get up and walk right to her. Ask the burning question that's been on his mind since the Arizona case, but he can't.

Why is that?

He's been your friend for a while, and he's known you for a while longer.

With his eidetic memory, he remembers so clearly when you first started working together. He remembers your starched blazer and pressed blouse, a stark contrast to his swimming-in-sweaters look, and how that alone let anyone know that you were serious about uniform and protocol.

You were, without a shadow of a doubt, one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen, and a fresh graduate just like him.

You were smart, beautiful, and started working at the BAU as early as he did.

And because you were new and young, one of the senior agents had been assigned to supervise your progress. So much like how he was mentored by Gideon, you had been mentored by the unit chief himself; Aaron Hotchner.

He'd like to think that he learned a lot from Gideon. He wasn't the type to hold his hand throughout a case, which he is thankful for, but he had been there to encourage him to think more outside the box. To let his mind be more flexible and creative. To see things from every conceivable angle. Leaving no stone unturned.

He supposed you learned a lot from Hotch as well. With your calm exterior, polite demeanor, and calculating mind that occasionally colored your less polite vocabulary-- He didn't know what Aaron must've been like in his junior years, but he supposed that having you as his colleague was essentially the same experience.

What he does know, however, is how close you are to your boss. Or is it your work?

Either way, you being glued to your work almost always meant that you were glued to him by proxy. You two being the first ones in and the last ones out showed that you spent three-percent more of your time with each other than the rest of the team, and two-percent more than with him.

Granted that had changed as of late, but still!

That didn't leave him a lot of time to ask you if---

"Dr. Reid, if you keep staring at me, I don't think you'll be able to finish your action reports on time." You had said without lifting your eyes from your folder.

Having been caught, he cleared his throat with a small 'sorry,' and directed his head back down to his still endless stack of files. The action earning a couple of chuckles from the bullpen where the rest of your colleagues had certainly seen, or at least heard, the exchange.

Not long after however, he saw Hotch from the corner of his eye lean over the railing outside his office. Calling for you both to meet him inside with his usual stern expression.

Spencer noticed how you got up, eyes still zeroed in on one of your files, and continued on your way up and into the unit chief's open door.

A clear sign that you had been invited there often enough that you didn't need to see where you were going.

You expected it.

He sighs and makes his way into the office as well. Dreading what the meeting could even be for, though he's confident he hasn't done anything wrong.

***

"As you might have noticed in our previous cases, I've paired you two to work on the more analytical aspects of it together. With these changes, we've been able to work twice as fast, and we’re thankful for the help."

Whatever Spencer had been expecting, it was not this. His raised eyebrows evidently agreed with him.

It wasn't everyday that Hotch complimented someone like this, much less in the proper environment. And if your respectful posture, but shining eyes in slight pride were anything to go off of, this was something new for you too.

As he was about to voice his thoughts, you had spoken up.

"Sir, Dr. Reid's knowledge in a wide array of subjects has certainly helped with our investigations. Though I'm afraid I haven't done much aside from ensuring it's accuracy and-"

"No! I mean--," He looked to see you already looking at him in slight confusion before continuing.

"She's been a huge help so far and has allowed me to exchange ideas with her to build a more accurate profile. Not to mention that her ability to mediate between departments has been beneficial to gaining access to pertinent information! So I think she's done plenty for the investigations as well." His voice dwindles as he realizes he's rambling on praises and he suddenly feels warm under the scrutiny of both his boss and his colleague.

He just didn't want anyone thinking you weren't doing anything by being humble. Especially since you're both so young.

Thankfully, it's Hotch who speaks up again after a beat.

"So what I'm hearing is that you're both satisfied with this arrangement?"

You both nod carefully and he smiles a small smile at that.

"Then we'll be carrying on with this pairing into the foreseeable future. Should there be any concerns about this arrangement, see to it that it goes through me. We can't afford to lose either of you." He says it with a finality that prompts both Spencer and you to leave with a nod, but the thought is instantly corrected when he speaks again.

"Oh and agent?" He looks only at you, but Spencer looks back as well out of instinct. "A private word, if you please."

Spencer sees you nod without a second thought and he takes it as his cue to hurriedly leave.

***

It hasn't been that long, Spencer argues with himself, since he left the unit chief's office. The blinds aren't drawn, he would know since he'd been looking at them periodically, so he also knows that nothing untoward is happening.

Yet something is bothering him about it.

From his position on his desk, he can see you and Hotch discussing something on his table very seriously, but he also sees how your eyes rarely leave the face of your superior. He can't quite see your expression due to the distance and the light, but he has this sinking feeling that it's a lot like the one from earlier.

He scoffs at the thought. If he wasn't thinking so rationally, he would've thought-

"Does she like Hotch?"

"Who likes Hotch?"

The new voice makes him whip his head back so fast to see Morgan with a confused face. Upon further examination, he sees him holding something that was definitely supposed to be flicked at him if he hadn't been caught so off guard.

He internally debates to voice his opinion, but he does anyway.

"Do you think that she likes Hotch?" He gestures with his eyes to their supervisor's office.

"You're asking me if I think 'little miss perfect' has a crush on a man that's hitched?" Derek echoes back with the use of your nickname. One that he coined as a playful jab at your no-frills behavior.

Spencer cringes when he hears it back though. He didn't ask this to get you in trouble, but it might come across that way now.

"Who has a crush on married man?" Elle joins in, and he only shrinks into his seat more.

"I'm not asking if she has a crush on him! I just want to know if she might like him and--what it is that she likes about him..."

The two exchange looks before looking back at him. Fully knowing that that's not the reason why he's asking, but they humor him anyway.

"Reid, what makes you think she likes him and not literally anyone else?"

"Well. there's her preference for prolonged eye-contact, a common indicator of interest for one. Her being in constant proximity to him, a sign that shows comfort in certain contexts, and then there's the amount of time they spend together."

The last one might be a bit of a reach, considering how you all work in the same area, but at this point he just wanted someone to tell him that he was either absolutely right, or crazy.

"Kid, that's crazy."

Duly noted.

"I'll say.” Elle chuckles out her response. “I haven't thought about it all, but those signs don't really mean anything. It just sounds like she has a habit of looking at whoever's talking to her." She notes, sharing her experience of being on the receiving end of your rather intense gaze.

His other friend adds onto that.

"And the whole closeness thing? You've seen her, she's like a computer with the way she works. She's a workaholic. And Hotch is another. It's just math, Reid."

Spencer furrows his eyes at the man's statement but before he can ask further, he sees you coming out of the office and staring at the small crowd that has now formed at his desk.

"Is something going on here?" You ask with tense brows. Eyes flickering to and fro.

He couldn't really think of something on the spot, but thankfully Derek had one at the ready. "Was just caught trying add my stack on to pretty boy's plate."

He sees you let out a small 'hm,' and you eventually turn your back to them to reach your desk.

He sighs in relief as he feels a firm pat on his back from Morgan.

"Next time, try looking at what she does when you're the one talking." He says before leaving to go to his own desk as well.

Spencer doesn't know what good that would do, especially now that he's worried one of his colleagues have caught wind of him liking you, but he at least takes note of it.

--------

He does not, in fact, take note of it until very later.

The team had been called to San Diego to deal with someone they had been calling, "The Tommy Killer." An unsub that had a preference for gluing his victims' eyes open.

As they were reviewing the scene in the jet, they had noticed a few stanzas of a literary work had been left behind at the scene.

"It's a ballad from the late 1600s. A Dialogue Betwixt Death and a Lady." Spencer had mentioned from where he stood.

"A 17th Century ballad?" Morgan had asked him incredulously from his seat, but it’s you who answers.

"One where a woman tries to bribe Death with all that she has in exchange for a little more time to live. Naturally, he doesn't allow it. Claiming that she was undeserving of an exception that even kings were denied of."

Spencer looks up from his own copy to see you still looking at your own from beside Hotch. With your brows furrowing in thought, he almost sees the actual gears in your brain turning.

"So what, are we looking at a literature professor of some kind?" Elle asks which immediately perks him right up.

"Well, actually anyone with access to the internet today. You should see what comes up when you type in the word, "Death" into a search engine." He laughed absentmindedly.

"Reid, no wonder you can't get a date."

Morgan's words made him frown, but he brushes it off.

Hotch, as previously discussed, then called on for the both of you to look deeper into the messages. To see if there was anything new that could be inferred.

He nods at him, and looks up. Expecting you to still be looking at Hotch as well.

Instead, your eyes meet his, but you quickly look back onto your file.

Reid thinks it's just a coincidence.

***

"Creepy, huh?" JJ had asked you two as she approached where transcripts of the written messages were tacked onto a board.

Spencer had been focusing so hard that he was caught off gaurd by her sudden appearance. Fully expecting the area to just be for you and him so he told her what first came to mind.

"Actually, conversations between Death and his victims was a fairly popular literary and artistic theme throughout the Renaissance."

Though perhaps the delivery wasn't as as good as he thought it was as JJ only stared back at him with an unreadable expression.

He thought it was interesting, really, but he supposed his slight stutter and breathy laugh at the end must have distracted her from his point.

He turned to look at you for help, but you too had been focusing on the messages and wouldn't be available to do that. So he just agreed with JJ’s sentiment, which seemed to be enough for her to leave.

He sighed out in relief.

"The lady never answers. Have you noticed it yet, Dr. Reid?" You turn to him as you ask.

He immediately refocuses on to the case and tries his best to reply after his prior blunder. "Oh uh-- Right, the dialogue in the ballad seems to be fractured. Well, it's more of a monologue than a dialogue seeing that there is no exchange of information."

A small smile graces your lips at that, and you gesture with a nod to go report your findings.

"So it is. Let's get going."

He follows you to where Hotch and Elle were discussing the sexual aspect of the crime and sees you take your place next to your mentor. The same position you were in when he was blowing out his birthday candles, as he also inserts himself into the discussion.

"Sir, we believe what the unsub has written at the scenes are most of the first three verses of the same ballad." You deliver, prompting your mentor to raise his brow at that.

"Most of?"

"Yeah, it's only one side of the conversation." Spencer adds. "There's no betwixt." He takes pride in your shared effort, which makes itself known by the smile that adorns his face.

Unfortunately, his satisfaction, isn't met with a positive reaction either as he sees Elle desperately trying not to make eye-contact, and your supervisor staring at him very pointedly.

He's thankful though at the little chuckle that you quickly try to hide behind a cough and a cover of your mouth to appear more professional. Quickly looking down at the ground.

He's happy that at least someone thought his joke was well-placed.

He continues to explain your theory about how the Lady in the narrative never answers, and that's enough for both Hotch and Elle to at least think about it.

Their attention is quickly stolen away however at an incoming call about a failed attempt nearby the precinct.

Quickly excusing themselves to get onto the scene as soon as possible, you see them call Gideon on their way out. Watching them as they leave the department doors.

But Spencer keeps his eyes on you as the thought just dawns on him.

You were the first one on the team to laugh at his jokes.

***

The more cases he works for the BAU, the more he realizes how much of his work isn't theoretical anymore. He feels it in the weariness in his eyes, the weight on his chest, and the shake of his hands.

Or maybe the shake is from the cold.

After all, he had dressed for the warm, California air. So now that he was in the cool, air-conditioned jet, he was seriously regretting not packing a sweater, at the very least.

He makes his way to the back of the aircraft after another successful investigation, and that's where sees you.

You had opted to shed your typically structured blazer on the seat beside you, leaving you in a softer blouse, both in color and form, that made everyone around you know that you were officially off duty.

It's a nice look on you, he thinks. A slight departure from your usually stern and hardened exterior. He wouldn't mind seeing a more relaxed version of you every once in a while.

A version of you that looked more your age and not constantly under the pressure of doing well.

He momentarily wonders if that's part of your mentor's influence as well.

He freezes a bit, as if catching himself in some depraved daydream, and takes a few steps back to return to the more vacant areas of the craft.

Before he can get any further though, you see him and beckon for him to come over with a tired wave of your hand.

"How's the flight treating you, Dr. Reid?" You ask, drowsiness lacing your tone as he sits on the seat opposite of you.

"Oh, it's the same as always, I guess. A little colder than usual, but that's to be expected. By the way, we’re actually lucky that we haven't experienced some semblance of turbulence yet on our flights, considering that the likelihood of it has increased by seventeen-percent in the last decade."

You laugh at that. "You really know just what to say, huh?"

He doesn't see it as funny as you do, so it seems. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you or--" "There's no need to apologize, sir. I find everything you have to say interesting, whether you mean it to or not."

He stays silent at that, suddenly nervous, and tries to make himself comfortable. He does so in the hopes that he can finally steel himself to ask you that question.

He talked to Elle earlier when they were waiting for the unsub's call. Asked her if she thought it was weird that he knew what he knew, and if it had anything to do with his inability to get a date. She had reasoned with him that it was because he didn't ask, but it couldn't be that simple, could it?

He mulls it over in his head before sighing. Opting to give up and just wait for a more opportune time.

Besides, jury’s still out that you could very well be pining over his boss.

The action, however, seems to remind you of something.

"Before I forget," You look into your baggage, rummaging around before finally finding what it was you were looking for.

You ask him to close his eyes, which he obediently does, and you place a thick rectangular box into his awaiting lap.

The sudden shift in weight causes his eyes to open, and he is certainly surprised to see what was on there.

"What is this?"

"It's your birthday. There wasn't a good time to give it to you, so might as well."

He takes the box into his hands and shakes it a little.

From the sound alone, or near lack thereof, there could be a multitude of things inside it. He looks at you questioningly and you only smile and gesture for him to open it.

He takes his time in doing so, and he doesn't know how or why, but he finds your reactions to his movements much more amusing than whatever could be in the box. As if you were more excited for him.

He finally peers into the now open box to see some sort of purple cloth. A ribbon of geometric designs cutting through its middle and he stares at it in wonder.

"It's a scarf!"

You smile at him, and he was thankful that the rest of the team were either asleep or just not paying attention as it allowed the both of you to savor the moment with at least some semblance of privacy.

"I've noticed that you had a tendency to wear a lot of layers. I wasn't sure if it was because you were cold, or you just liked dressing that way, so I made an educated guess and got you something practical."

And just like that, he's over the moon.

He immediately goes to put it on with a wide smile, paying no mind that it paired so badly with the short sleeves of his button up.

Not that he would know, nor care.

And just when he had been feeling cold earlier too! "Thank you so much. This means a lot to me, especially since you don't usually give gifts."

You shake your head. "I don't, but it's not everyday one spends their twenty-fourth at the BAU."

He continues to observe the cloth that now hung around him. Smoothing his hands over it as he does with an expression unreadable to you.

You worry a bit and hurriedly mention, "I'm sorry if it isn't your color. I see purple show up on your mismatched socks more than any other color, so I just assumed. If it's any consolation, purple is a great color to contrast the warmer hues in brown eyes?"

He flushes at your admission, but matches your urgency to set you straight. "No! Please, I actually really like it-- It's beautiful."

You breathe out a sigh in relief and nod slowly at that.

"Speaking of the color, did you know the origin of purple dye is actually quite fascinating?" His voice filled with enthusiasm. With his eyes, bright, and filled with a child-like fascination that makes your chest feel warm at the sight.

"Historically, purple dye was incredibly rare and valuable, which is why it became associated with royalty and nobility. The earliest known purple dye, known as Tyrian purple, was produced by the ancient Phoenicians around 1200 BC. It was derived from the secretions of a particular type of sea snail, the bolinus brandaris, found in the Mediterranean Sea."

He paused for a moment, wondering if he was boring you, but sees that you're still very much paying attention to him.

"The process to obtain this dye was incredibly labor-intensive and complex. It required thousands of these sea snails to produce just a small amount of dye. The snails would then be collected and left to decompose in large vats. After several days, a gland from the snail was extracted and crushed to produce a purple mucus. This mucus would then be exposed to sunlight, undergoing a chemical reaction that transformed it into the deep, rich purple dye we commonly associate with our modern day equivalent."

As he kept going, he suddenly remembered what Morgan had told him all those weeks ago.

"Next time, try looking at what she does when you're the one talking."

So he does just that.

He observes the way that your shoulders are more relaxed, how your eyes never stray from him, and how the small upturned curve of your lip makes itself known as you rest your cheek onto your propped up fist.

How he has your undivided attention and yet you don't even look the least bit bored of what he has to say. Only silently appreciating and subtly nodding along with the slow blink of your eyelids.

All clear signs of unguarded comfort, and or interest, in his presence.

Had you really been looking at him like that all this time?

Now the idea of you liking your boss seems silly. Especially when you’re looking at him the way he imagines himself looking at you.

"I did know that, actually, Dr. Reid. At the time, Tyrian purple wasn't only desirable for its rarity, people said it was also incredibly lightfast. That it was resistant to fading under the sun and the weather. Not to mention all that hard work that just to get a single gram of it. Then again, modern studies do claim that its lightfastness was, in fact, not an accurate feature as it's color diminished when it was exposed to light and UV radiation."

You laughed a little again, as if remembering some anecdote, and that sound was steadily becoming one of his favorite sounds. Following only after your speaking voice.

"Fortunately for you, doctor, I could only afford a synthetically purple-dyed scarf. Though that means that you won't ever have to worry about it fading under the sun."

Hands up in faux surrender, you give him a tired smile that he returns with one of his own.

A calming silence enveloped the both of you as you continue to bask in each other's presence.

At some point you doze off, draping your blazer on top of yourself to shield yourself from the cold, and that's when he starts considering Elle's words again.

"Do you ever ask anyone out?"

"No,"

"That's why you can't get a date."

He nods to himself, and reclines a little more into his seat. Snuggling into his new scarf that still has the faintest smell of you.

Maybe he will ask you out on a a date later.

_____________________________

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #criminal mins fanfic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x mentored by hotch! reader

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itsonlydana · 5 months ago

Note

Hey hey, saw ur requests were open for Thranduil and knew I needed to submit something!

Could you do a Thranduil x fem human reader where she braids her hair without knowing the significance for elves? They both have feelings for each other but neither has said anything, supper fluffy ending y’know?

Thank you in advance and have a great day!! :))

Beautiful misunderstandings | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem human!reader 👑

You simply wanted to accept an invitation to a celebration, but something about you makes the elves literally drop at your feet. Can Thranduil resolve this misunderstanding, or will he be affected as well?

tags/warnings: just lots and lots of fluff, no warnings

word count: 3,6k

an: to be honest, most of what i wrote is my own headcanons because i did not find lots about hair culture with the elves.. so please: educate me! Are there some hcs in the fandom? :)

+ masterlist + rules + 🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

The forests of Greenwood greet you with open flames of torches licking up their hot tongues against the dark skies, coloring the path the horse trots along in their amber lights and the wooden smoke that fills the air. Evenly distributed along the pathway they light up just enough of Greenwood that it doesn't take away from the sight that awaits you at the end, where the trees give way to an equally decorated bridge and the foliage thins out enough for you to take in the tall arches framing the open doors of the Great Elvenking's halls.

You have already been a guest for many of Thranduil's festivities ever since he established trading relations with your small fisher town. Due to the bond that twirls around the two of you in some unfathomable and complex manner, you also know that nothing he ever does is anything but grande and imposing.

Still, you can't help but push your lower lip in between your teeth.

Not once have you gotten the impression of standing out more than the difference in race and status already marked as obvious factors, neither Thranduil nor his elves treated you like you felt right now:

Completely out of your known waters.

The elvish customs were far too many for you to know them all and you always try your best to consider all and everything that you've learned in the two summers you could consider yourself an acquaintance to Thranduil. Whatever form this acquaintanceship took on is another worry, or rather, another unknown that you can't exactly express to anyone.

It's nearly as confusing as the steps of the dance you studied in your room before you left this morning, a step forward and two back, Thranduil asking you to accompany him to his dances but never dancing with you.

Tonight, you want to change this predicament of always ending up in the arms of another elf while the one you yearned for watches from the sidelines! You didn't work this hard for the fabric that hugs your figure in a beautiful dress for nothing and even if the fabric isn't as shiny or light as the dresses the elves wear and the stitches marked your fingertips with the evidence of the labor and long nights, you are proud of the garment.

The wind plays in the hem as you emerge from the guarded forest and its thick and dense foliage and it winds itself around your legs after you dismount your horse. A quick kiss to his muzzle, followed by an exhale of warm, familiar breath and you hesitantly let a servant take him away, mumbling a soft "Thank you" while you stay where you are and watch until they disappear around a tree.

Nervously you start walking up to the bridge, the reckless water under it crashing against the stone walls and it goes along with the blood that pumps high and fast through your body and rushes in your ears. The atmosphere is loaded, sizzling under the nearly suffocating heat that's only bearable in the cool shadows of the palace in front of you so you don't waste another second.

You brush off the hood of your riding coat, smoothing out some fly-away hairs that escaped the braid you carefully weaved earlier this day as you duck your head in reverence to be allowed in these sacred halls.

Whispers catch up to you from outside, a breeze dancing through leaves.

When you lift your chin again, you find that it's not the air affecting nature but rather your presence halting nearly all the elves that gathered on the first bridge inside the caves.

They say elves are graceful and purposeful in their movements – the way dozens of eyes are locked onto you and lips move in not-so-silent murmurs defiles that claim though.

It's nothing you haven't encountered before, the talks behind your back that came along with Thranduil's attention shining down on you like the sun – hot, engulfing you completely and rendering you breathless as well as a bit sweaty at times whenever he looks at you, and you learned how to handle it. His attention brought forth a lot of awareness of his folk to the woman who visits Thranduil just as often as he rides into your town and becomes the topic of conversations for weeks. What's a girl to do except accept that a King never comes alone?

You're used to elves watching you, most of them in respect. Thranduil's authority radiates onto you, as well as the protection that he swore would lay upon you as long as he's there to give out orders.

The first elf whose eyes you questioningly meet drops to his knees in the same instant, barely a breath of time passing by.

A gasp leaves your throat.

Words do not follow. They remain echoing in your head, pushed back by the spectacle that spread before you like wildfire. Too fast, too much.

Within seconds of you entering, the buzz of lowered voices dies down as elf after elf either bows or completely meets the ground they are standing on. The spectacle is confusing and throws you completely off; this reaction is nowhere near what you've experienced before and you do the first thing that comes to mind to handle this totally unsuspected confrontation of elves bowing to you, a human from no known family and nothing to your name other than the weight it carries on Thranduil's tongue.

The only thing you manage to stammer is: "Good evening," and a high-pitched, "Thank you?" before you take your legs into your hand and dash over the bridge.

Thoughts as unstoppable as you run through your mind while you navigate the curving halls of the underground palace, the stonewalls not cool enough to diminish the heat that sits low in your neck, growing the longer you think about all that has happened between Thranduil and you and how it's not much more than nothing but a close alliance of human and elf.

One that you hope would take on a different turn, because some of the actions by Thranduil could be considered friendlier than one would treat an ally or friend. You think back to all the gifts you have received, the white gems for example that, barely bigger than your nails but woven into the upper part of your braid, reflect the light and throw silver dots against the walls that lead you to the point Thranduil had asked you to meet him in one of his many letters.

The route involves more encounters with more elves, some bow more subtly, their hands on their chest in a greeting that you do know, and some others, mostly those who've already fallen in barrels of wine and are less sophisticated in their movements in their drunken state who repeat the word "bereth" as if it's a prayer in a language that's far beyond you to make out right now.

At the end of the hallway, you make out the back of a familiar blonde and even from afar you notice the resemblance that Thranduil's silver circlet has to the silver ribbon you have woven into your hair in a similar way and height how his circlet would look placed on your head.

Is this what brought such uproar to the elves? Have you accidentally copied their king?

"Thranduil!" you call out, his name lacking any title though not out of disrespect. You have the highest respect for the King of the Elves and slip a "Your Majesty" rather often into conversations because you know how much he favors his name from your tongue and teasing him like that brings a joy to you that you can't explain anyway else then:

Hearing him laugh and smile or roll his eyes at your antics fuels the love you harbor for him.

Now is not the time for teasing chit-chat, you are desperate to find out if you have actually misstepped by presenting his gifts like this at a festival that's solely about him.

He turns at the sound of your voice and, oh lord, even his eyes widen as soon as they land on you and you want to perish rather than step any closer but the hurry in your legs and the nervousness in your stomach makes it impossible to do anything else but run to the one soul in this world that brings you comfort.

You arrive at a full stop, and your heels would have stirred up dust if you were a mare.

Now it's not only Thranduil's eyes that seem to have developed an inability to stray farther than your head; his mouth falls open as well and he makes no effort to close it again. The fact that this behavior is completely ungracious and ill-mannered has apparently not dawned on him yet. The longer you spend helplessly looking up at him, you swear you can see most of his thoughts visibly inching away behind that baffled expression.

At first, there's nothing.

Then some clarity returns into the blue eyes you love so much and Thranduil exhales a quiet: "Berio nin."

Now, that's Sindarin you've heard before – that the context he has said these words were moments when he playfully begged the Valar to aid him with you tormented him in some way throws you off your balance even more and you take a step back.

"I did not–" you start and raise a hand to wave it at all of you, "This, I had no idea. Did I offend you? Or the elves?"

"Offend?" Thranduil asks bewildered.

"Well, the way they reacted. I wasn't sure," you laugh distraught. Thranduil's eyebrows instantly furrow, and you're quick to follow up: "Not in a bad way!" you explain and he loosens up, "They, um, they bowed? And some may have fallen to the ground?"

"Ah," he chuckles and his reaction calms you a bit. He could've been screaming or throwing you out. If he's laughing this can't be that big of a serious misstep. Thranduil looks at you through lowered lashes and runs his tongue over his teeth, a smile threatening to break through the serious expression he tries to obtain. "I believe a conversation and education is in order. If you would follow me to have this conversation somewhere else," he says and holds out his arm for you to grab.

He leads you around a corner and another one, walking swiftly yet seemingly in no hurry until Thranduil opens a door and quickly pulls you inside the room.

Candles littered all around light up what you immediately understand to be his private chambers, the many robes you recognize, the colorful falcons with shimmering scented oils and shells full of jewelry, pearls, gems, and rings in gold and silver. There, right where Thranduil stops in front of you to block out your view, you take a peek at a giant bed behind flowy white curtains.

You blush.

Even more so when you see Thranduil blush as well. His eyes return to your hair again, just like he had on the short walk to these chambers; tilting his head down to you as if some magical force bound him to staring at you in a manner he hadn't done before.

"You are my guest so I see it to be my responsibility to clear up what may have been a–" he pauses and his eyelashes flutter as he thinks of a fitting word, "a misapprehension. Not that you could have possibly known the outcome of what you doubtlessly suspected to be a kind gesture."

You nervously cross your arms behind your back, intertwining your fingers so you do not meddle or ruffle the carefully layered fabrics of your dress. "I solemnly swear I was not up for any mockery."

His eyes widen again. "I would not have accused you of such!"

You tilt your head in confusion and bite down on your lip, ungraceful as well and a habit you should definitely quit, especially in the company of a King.

"What was it that startled the elves?" You think back to the way Thranduil had reacted, the wide-blown eyes, the pink lips formed to a delicate 'o' – "As well as you, Thranduil. You couldn't even get a word out except for a prayer." You let out a single laugh to cover up your embarrassment.

The elf lifts his chin higher as if that could prevent you from noticing the blush deepening, growing much more red than just a delicate pink that stands out from his ivory skin but not much that it couldn't be interpreted as a light intoxication of either wine or fresh air.

"I do not remember that," he lies with a dismissive voice. "Anyway, let me clarify the current dilemma instead of wasting time discussing the past."

"Definitely not that far back that you could count it as 'the past' but sure," you sigh and decide to ignore the glare he sends you as you confront his very unsubtle passive- aggressive change of topic from him to you. Thranduil had centuries of building up a thickheadedness to lead the Woodland Realm and you had mere months on your hands in trying to push a way through it.

"Well, the behavior my folk portrayed was simply said the respect they pay for any honorable and eminent," Thranduil says, not batting an eye over the unbelievable words that come out of his mouth.

"What?" Your voice is nothing but a high squeal, "Why would they do that? They know I'm just a human!"

Thranduil scoffs, "Just a human, she says. Do not dismiss yourself in any way and most definitely not as just a human. Humans are such fascinating creatures, all those feelings compressed into an ephemeral life and bodies that endure pain and even if you waste away to dust you try to mark down your existence into every stone that you touch." Before you can burst into tears at his rather sentimental and emotional view of your people, he continues in a tone more factual: "To answer your question– you conveyed that I was courting you and they simply knew there would be grave consequences if they did not respect my intended."

All the air left your body in a singular exhale, thus leaving you to grasp at the few thoughts that stayed through the cut-off of oxygen. Not that they were any good.

Courting you? Being his intended?

You can only stare at him aghast.

"But– courting? You weren't, we weren't– there was no courting!" you stammer.

The world is reeling.

Black spots dance in the corner of your sight.

It takes all your focus to stand still and not sway back and forth, giving in to the abrupt slide downward reality has suddenly become.

"No," Thranduil says.

A part of you withers at the finality of the statement because of course, he, Great Elvenking Thranduil, would never be caught courting a human. The absurdity of it must be why he was laughing earlier, praying to the Valar to become a witness of what must be your greatest humiliation.

"No, there was. I was simply waiting for your realization as well as acceptance to officially proclaim it."

Now it's your mouth that falls open without any strength left to prevent it.

Thranduil swallows, hard, his jaw set tightly and his eyes fixating on you. "All that I did, and thought to do, was in prospect of taking you as my betrothed," he states; the smallest of quivers underlining the massive impact this admission causes to him. He lifts one hand to his chest, pressing his knuckles against the fabric where underneath his heart lays. "I ache to love, treasure, and worship you. Every second of all the days I may have the pleasure of your company in my life or it shall be colorless from now on."

His eyes glitter, the endless blues of the sky, affection burning in them like the sun, broadening your horizon of what you believed love to be and there is no doubt in your mind that Thranduil's words are nothing but the truth. Confounding as that truth should be, it is that – certainty.

A smile breaks on your face, watery and wet as tears of pure happiness spill onto your cheeks and even if your heart has been on the tip of your tongue at every word you have ever said to him and in every glance that you have ever directed in his way, the need to validate his revelation.

You step carefully step closer and the hem of your dress brushes against his gowns as you close the bit of distance. Thranduil watches cautiously, leaving his hand against his heart, and only tips his chin down to follow you until you step into his personal space. The whole regal and stoic image he portrays even after confessing his love passionately mere seconds ago breaks as you feel his wavering breath and you swear you can hear the loud pounding of his battered-yet-strong heart.

"Is it my hair?" you ask quietly and catch him off-guard.

Thranduil smiles and his chest heaves in a deep inhale of air. "Yes," he laughs in an exhale, "Do you wish to know how you managed to completely dismantle me? Rob me of all powers?"

You nod once and one hand of his comes to rest on your shoulder from where he leads you to a silver basin standing in a corner decorated with more oils and vines climbing the stone walls.

The sight that the clear water inside it shows you, Thranduil standing behind you, more than slightly taller, brings a warmness to your cheeks. Even if the prospect of his image finding a constant in your life from now on is undeniable, you're not sure if you will ever get satiated by it.

Thranduil slowly reaches the elaborate braid you are so proud of despite the public tumult it had caused. "There are many things sacred to my folk and hair –" he starts and lets his fingers travel the length of free-falling hair, "holds the memories of our history, our connection to the Eldar and kemen – the earth. We do not cut it but rather let it grow to pay our respects to Eru for his creation, the natural and untouched world, flows in us all. It bears the marks of our ancestry though many cultures convey their personal history in many different ways."

You listen intently, trying not to get distracted by Thranduil's hands smoothing your hair and the deep rumble of his voice wrapping around his language that pulls you into a trance.

"Among us Sindar, we wave our customs into the very strands of this sacred hair. Our warriors, for instance, adorn themselves with tightly woven braids, serving not only as protection in battle but as a testament to their strength and unwavering discipline."

"The intricate and jeweled braids you wear," Thranduil's fingers glide along the white gems, thus nudging them against your head, "they speak volumes of noble heritage and high standing. Even if you do not have royal blood in your family, a braid like this will be more convincing to the contrary."

You blush as you realize how you unknowingly changed your entire status.

"By adorning your hair with the jewels I bestowed upon you, you declare to all my claim upon you," Thranduil chuckles and meets your eyes in the water, "Braids are the essence of our heritage, denoting rank and occupation, and they speak volumes in courtship."

"Oh," you say, "I knew Elves court through gifts. Would I have known this…"

Thranduil shakes his head, smiling widely as he continues playing with your hair, "You say that but not once have you realized all that I have given to you were of my pursuit."

"Well, I– this wasn't… I thought you were being nice," you sputter and grow even redder in the face.

"Unbelievably rude and ungracious to consider me ni–" he interrupts himself and shivers, "No I will not speak in such obscene language." Thranduil raises an eyebrow before returning his attention to the lesson in courting, "Through these intricate weavings, we convey our intentions and the profound depth of our bonds. While dalliances are not uncommon, my folk only marry once in their life."

"Love is eternal and unwavering, and each twist in our braids declares the union of our souls. By weaving your hopes and pleas for reciprocation into your hair, you speak a silent yet powerful language. The braid you chose, resembling my crown and adorned with my jewels and a silver ribbon akin to my own hair, could not have delivered a clearer message."

"So I basically lied to your elves," you pull a face in shame, "Great."

"You may call it a lie," Thranduil says slowly and his hands travel to rest on your shoulders. You lean into the gentle pull and let him turn you around so that you are face-to-face again. There is a dedication in his eyes, a look of hunger and yearning, "Or," his voice sounds even deeper and reverberates through your entire body, zipping up your spine that you automatically straighten, "You allow me to present our courtship openly if a deeper connection is what you desire to form between us."

Your heart thumps in your chest, double the tempo that one would call normal and it only speeds up when Thranduil cups your face in his hand and his fingertips graze the silver ribbon that sits tightly against your head.

"Allow me," he repeats, quieter.

"Your word and the world will know you are mine," he pleads.

You waste not a second to ponder over what your heart already decided. "I allow it."

©itsonlydana 2024, character art by MiracleAna on Devianart

#📁files: thranduil fanfics #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x reader #thranduil oropherion #thranduil x you #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x you #king thranduil

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naffeclipse · 1 month ago

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I have read all your non-human reader fics and unreasonable amount over. I am begging you with the small peice of soul I have left. If you drop a non-human oneshot or even js an IDEA for a fic or a oneshot I will devour that like I haven't been fed in years. (I love non-human readers so much its addicting.)

Hm, okay! I have an idea or two, and centaurs have been on the brain, so you're getting that.

You are a deer centaur. You're graceful and quick as you prance through meadows and wave through trees effortlessly. Humans rarely travel this far, but you've noticed two beings of metal that sometimes move through here, guiding humans to the other side of your vast wild lands. You hardly ever let them see you for a moment that's not simply your tail-end as you bound away, but they sometimes stop and stare as you go.

You grow used to seeing them, the brothers. The one has a visage like a sun with beams surrounding his head and the other wears a cap over his moon-crescent face. Their jackets are leather, the ones hunters like to wear. One wears old yellow and the other wears dark gray. The colors make them stand out, unlike the hunters.

They're quiet, unlike the noisy humans that stomp and travel through with their hand carts and whining cattle. When they return without people to guide them, they sometimes sit under the shade of a tree and rest for a moment. You nearly stepped on the sunny one when you were plucking flowers in the meadow and jerked upright to see his wide eyes staring up at you, his mouth agape in awe and shock from where he had been resting on the grass. He tried to say something but you ran away before he could.

The other caught you off guard when you were slipping to the creek. You found him downstream a few yards away, washing his hands and scrubbing dirt from the jolts of his wrists. You were too thirsty to turn away from a cool drink. His head lifted and he froze while you knelt down on your four legs and cupped your hands together to fill them with the creek water. He said not a word before you finished gulping and dripping water on your bare chest. He tried to when you got back on your hooves. You didn't catch whatever he said.

The season changes, and you wonder why you haven't seen the brothers for some time. All the grass has dripped into gold and the heat of the day has eased while the nights become blissfully cool. Do those kind of metal creatures get sick? Did they decide they were tired of guiding humans? You stray closer and closer to the wagon-rutted path they take between the trees, but you neither hear nor see signs of them. That's too bad. You continue jumping over ferns and galloping through open fields, ignoring that slight pang in your chest. You spend your days eating wild apples and carefully removing ripe berries from thorny veins.

Until you notice, during one munch under an apple tree, the glint of something silver like teeth in the shade of trees on the far end of the meadow. Your floppy ears swivel. You stop chewing.

Then a report of a gun explodes your senses. Two shots in the same thunderous cry. Pain sears through the meat of your back right flank and the soft point between your shoulder and your chest. You nearly buckle before scrambling upright and bolting. You hear curses and shouts. Hunters. Their jackets are brown and camouflage.

Blood trails behind you, marking every half-wilted leave and mud-dark trail. You stumble. Your mind is caught stiffly in the combined panic and shock of pain, and you collapse onto the path that bears wheel marks from wagons. You have to get up. You writhe, kicking up stones and dust, but you don't find a way to return to your hooves.

Then you hear voices. Your vision blurs and your panic spills out into a bleat from your lips before someone softly shushes you. Your skull is taken in gentle, metal hands. A cool touch falls to your lower half's ribs, and you feel sticky and hot with blood. A voice asks what happened. Something gives way within you. Refuge. Exhaustion sinks into your eyes, and you falter into the darkness.

When you wake, it's warm. You blearily realize you can smell something strange and sharp, like the medicinal herbs you collect to prevent invention, but it's smothered under something. Your head is cradled by a soft pillow. Slowly, you realize walls surround you, and it looks terribly similar to the log cabin you once followed the brothers to one season just to see where they ended up when they weren't roaming.

You're sprawled upon a cool, open floor with a sheet underneath you. Your fingers explore gingerly and find bandages around your shoulder and your flank, your tan fur clean of blood. You jerk upright before you hear "I'd take it easy. You lost a lot of blood."

You twist your head to find one of the brothers sitting on the floor beside the pillow you were just lying on. His half-moon face regards you quietly. Through an entryway, the other brother emerges and you flinch at his arrival. His eyes widen before his mouth splits in relief.

"Oh! Good, you're awake. You gave us quite the fright."

Pain dully throbs underneath the bandages, but you realize you're not going anywhere anytime soon, even if your instinct screams at you to flee. The brothers gently sit beside you and tell you their names. Sun and Moon. You regard them in the way you would regard a snake in your path, but they don't hiss or rattle. Instead, they chuckle and ask you in a dozen different ways if you're alright, and what happened. By the storms in their faces, you figure they can guess.

Sun gives you a cup of water, and Moon asks if he can check your bandages. You shift anxiously, almost spilling your drink while he gently peals back the sticky, ruddy-stained patches to see the sizeable hole blown into your lower half. You would have bled to death. You would have been someone's trophy.

"You're safe with us." Sun gently takes the cup from your trembling hand before you spill anymore. "You can rest as long as you like."

"I want to leave. Now," you say, and even when you try to kick up and get back upright, you only manage to interrupt Moon while he's stuffing cleaning herbs against your bullet wound. You gasp and then yelp from the searing pain of jostling your tender injuries.

"Don't move," Moon growls once. "You're going to start bleeding again if you keep that up."

It's enough to make your ears flatten and you freeze.

"He's right." Sun nods, understanding concern coating his expression. "You can't leave like this. I promise it'll only be so long as you need to recover."

This will take weeks to heal if not months. You hardly belong in a close-quarters house, much less in the care of two machines, but they hum and gently tend to you until you stop fidgeting and accept pills from a little pale bottle. The pain slips away, but so do you as Sun's fingers gently brush your floppy ears and chat quietly about illegal hunters in this area. Moon shifts his attention to your shoulder. You wince when he touches it, and he apologizes. There's a blood stain on the pillow you're resting on. You let him inspect the wound before he softly touches your arm and tells you to get some rest. It will help you heal.

And that's how you spend most of the season in the care of Sun and Moon.

#buckshot season #<< au title for now #deer centaur!reader #sun #moon #astroandthestars #naff writing

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beegomess · 1 month ago

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T.N. || Can you be my sister?

Summary: On a hot summer day, you find yourself alone in the family mansion, accompanied by Theodore, your boyfriend, and your little sister Sofie, who is eager to learn spells before entering Hogwarts. After a magical experiment that ends in a comic accident, the trio comes together in an afternoon of the girls... and a Theo. Warnings: none

Open orders!

The sun rose strong that summer morning, filling the mansion's garden with a vibrant light, despite the gentle breeze that blew through the trees. The heat persisted, and the shadows of the trees seemed more and more inviting. The garden, meticulously cared for, exhibited perfectly arranged flowers, symmetrical bushes and a fountain that twinkled under the sunlight.

You were alone in the mansion, while your family was traveling, when Theodore, your boyfriend, arrived at the door, accompanied by Sofie, your 11-year-old little sister. The little one, always excited in her presence, could barely contain the enthusiasm when she saw her. Since he had lost his mother and was at the mercy of his father's constant bad mood, the environment in the Nott mansion was gloomy, almost suffocating. The garden there, which was once colorful and vibrant, had become gray, devoid of the life that Sofie wanted so much. She also had few friends and almost no female figures around.

Since you and Theodore started dating, however, everything has changed for Sofie. She quickly began to see you as the sister she never had. At events and meetings, she always looked for you, seeking refuge in your company, and loved when you could spend some time together. Her presence brought color and lightness to her world, something she seemed to desperately yearn for.

That morning, Sofie almost dragged Theodore by the arm to you, her face illuminated with excitement.

- It's going to be fun! - she insisted, gently pushing Theodore towards the garden. - We can play outside!

You smiled at the scene. Despite pretending to be bothered, Theodore had a visible affection for his sister, and it was easy to see how attached she was to you. Soon, the three were in the garden, and Sofie, with bright eyes, looked around, full of expectation.

- Theo, you have to teach me something! - the girl asked, her eyes shining with expectation. - I'm going to Hogwarts in a few days, I want to get there knowing cool spells!

You cast a suspicious look at Theodore. Teaching spells to an 11-year-old child, you thought, already predicting that it wouldn't end well.

- I don't know if that's a good idea... - you warned, but Theodore just shrugged, a carefree smile forming on his face.

- I'll teach you something simple, no big deal. - he said, pulling the wand. - Sofie, pay attention. I'll teach you "Depulso".

- Depulso? Theo, that's kind of aggressive for a child... - you started, but he was already turning to his sister.

- It's not that dangerous, trust me. - Theodore replied with a wink. - Besides, she needs to learn to deal with spells a little more... practical.

You just shook your head, but approached, ready to intervene if necessary.

Sofie, always quick to learn, took the concept quickly. With her eyes wide and her wand in her fist, she was ready to try the spell.

- Depulso! - she exclaimed with determination, pointing the wand at a nearby stone, which was thrown away.

- Very well! - Theodore praised, satisfied.

The girl was clearly proud of herself, but, amid the excitement, her focus faltered. In the next movement, while turning the wand distractedly, he unintentionally pointed directly at Theodore.

- Depulso! - she said again, not realizing what she was doing.

You barely had time to react before seeing Theodore being thrown back hard, right against one of the biggest trees in the garden. He hit his back on his torso with a dull sound, and for a moment, everything seemed to stop.

Sofie turned pale, her eyes full of shock and terror.

- Theo! I... I didn't want to! - she screamed, dropping her wand and running towards her.

- Sofie, calm down. - you said, bending down to be at her height and putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. - He'll be fine.

With Sofie a little calmer, you went to Theodore, who was slowly recomposing himself. He rubbed his back with a grimace of pain.

- I warned you... - you said in a light tone, extending your hand to help him get up.

- Yes, yes, you warned... - Theodore murmured, accepting his help and getting up with difficulty. - But it's still impressive. She learned fast.

- Too fast, by the way. - you commented, looking at the little one who, still worried, watched everything with wide eyes.

The sky was already dark when you finally collected yourself into the mansion. Theodore, lying in his bed, tried to move as little as possible. Each movement seemed to cause a new wave of pain, and his ribs, where he had hit the tree, were painfully swollen and purple.

- You should have been more careful. - you said while preparing an ice pack to relieve his pain. - You know Sofie still doesn't have that much control.

- I thought she could handle it well... maybe I underestimated the power of the spell. - Theodore replied, trying to hide the discomfort in his voice.

As you put the ice against his ribs, a slight moan escaped, and he tried his best to maintain his posture.

It was at that moment that the bedroom door opened slowly, revealing a hesitant Sofie. His eyes were full of worry, and the guilt was evident on his face. She entered silently, looking at Theodore with a mixture of sadness and remorse.

- Theo, I'm sorry... - she murmured, approaching the bed. - I... I didn't want to hurt you.

Theodore forced a smile, trying his best to hide the pain.

- It's okay, Sofie. I'm... I'm fine. - He said, his voice failing slightly.

You watched the scene with a tender smile. It was obvious that Theodore was lying, but the intention was clear: he didn't want Sofie to feel worse than she already was.

- Are you in pain? - the girl asked, her eyes wide and sincere.

- No, no...- Theodore lied, the persistent smile.

Sofie, however, seemed unconvinced. She looked at you and then at Theodore, before muttering:

- I'll stay here for a while, just to make sure you'll be fine.

With a resigned sigh, Theodore did not stop her, and Sofie sat in the chair of her dressing table, watching carefully as you finished fixing the ice pack on Theodore's ribs.

- You have a huge stain here. - you commented, lifting his shirt enough to see the bruise that spread through his ribs.

Theodore just moaned in response. While you were packing the ice pack, he took a piece of paper from the bedside table and, with difficulty, wrote a few quick words. You read the note and, without saying anything, smiled slightly.

"I'm dying of pain, I need something stronger"

Sofie yawned once more, her eyes filling with sleep.

- Your brother will be fine, I promise. - you said softly, going to her. - But I think it's time for you to sleep.

She agreed with her head, no longer having the strength to protest. You took her in your lap gently, and Theodore watched her with an affectionate look. With her falling asleep in your arms, you took her to the next room, where you put her on the bed carefully, covering her with the light blanket.

The next morning, the sun did not enter through the curtains, and the heat of the previous day seemed to have given a small truce while the rain fell heavily outside. Theodore was still in bed, motionless, but with a look that showed that he was feeling a little better, although the pain was still evident on his face.

You moved slowly, wanting to avoid any sudden movement that could cause Theodore discomfort, and got up from the bed in silence. He watched you with a faint smile, still half asleep, and nodded lightly.

- Good morning. How are you feeling? - you asked, leaning over to give a soft kiss on your forehead.

- As if he had been hit by a spell. - Theodore replied with a slight humor in his voice, despite the pain, and you laughed softly.

Theodore was sitting on the bed, trying to settle down while you passed a medicine over the large purple bruise that spread down your back. He moaned softly at every touch, but tried to keep his composure.

It was at that moment that the door opened slowly, and Sofie, still in pajamas and with disheveled hair, appeared with a worried expression. She hesitated a little before entering the room, looking at her brother with eyes full of guilt.

- Theo? Are you... better? - she asked shyly, taking small steps towards the bed.

Theodore, when he saw her, smiled tenderly, although the pain was still evident on his face.

- Yes, I am, Sofie. - He tried to look convincing, but he couldn't completely hide the discomfort. - Nothing I can't stand.

Sofie climbed into bed carefully and sat next to him, watching the bruise on Theodore's back while you finished passing the medicine.

- I'm sorry about yesterday... - she murmured, her eyes still full of remorse.

Theodore laughed softly, but soon regretted it when the pain made him shrink.

- It's okay, I was a terrible teacher. - He looked at Sofie with a tired smile. - But don't worry, I'll still teach you more things... but maybe something less destructive.

- Do you promise? - Sofie asked, already with a glow of expectation in her eyes.

- I promise. - Theodore said, with a soft nod.

As soon as Sofie looked around her room and saw more clearly the items on her dressing table, her eyes shone with curiosity. The perfume bottles and delicate combs caught his attention. She cheered up instantly and, with quick steps, ran to the chair, sitting facing the mirror.

- Can you do a hairstyle on me? - she asked, her pleading eyes reflected in the mirror while she fixed her hair with her small hands.

- Of course. - you replied with an affectionate smile as you approached, taking a delicate comb from the dressing table. - Let's see what we can do with these curls.

Sofie laughed excitedly, and while you carefully began to braid and fix her hair, Theodore just watched from the bed with an amused look, still trying to stay still.

Sofie smiled broadly at the mirror, visibly excited by the prospect of spending the day by her side. After braiding your hair with colored ribbons, you decided to enjoy the rest of the day with light and fun activities.

You watched Sofie's favorite movies, those with magical adventures and enchanted creatures that made your eyes shine. With each exciting scene, she looked at you with a huge smile, commenting on what she liked and what she hoped to find at Hogwarts.

- Will I learn spells to talk to animals like them? - she asked at one point, pointing to the screen.

- Maybe not in the first year, but maybe one day? - you answered with an encouraging tone.

After a few movies, you went to the kitchen to decorate cookies. Sofie plunged headlong into the task, spreading colorful coverage on all sides, while you laughed at the disastrous attempts to draw shapes. In the end, half of the cookies seemed more fun than perfect, but that didn't matter. What was worth was the laughter and the light moment they shared.

Back in the room, Sofie got excited about the idea of doing makeup, so you decided to try different colors and styles. Colored powder, shiny lipstick and sparkling eye shadow were soon scattered on the dressing table while one made up the other. She laughed out loud every time she missed a line or exaggerated the color, and you had fun following her tireless energy.

- Look how it turned out, Theo! - Sofie exclaimed, turning to her brother in bed, who pretended to be amazed.

The day passed quickly between laughter, jokes and colorful sweets. The connection between you and Sofie grew with each activity, and Theodore, even in pain, seemed happy to see the two having so much fun. It was one of those simple but special days that would be kept in the memory with affection.

____________________________

masterlist

xoxo, bee🫶🏼✨

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bubsmiraculousau · 3 months ago

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These are my OT5 brainstorm pages. Elaborations on how I got to these below! I reference concept pages so if you see any pictures you don't recognize that's why. <3

First up is Cat Noir who I think is already perfect lmao. For my version though I wanted to lean closer to his PV design because I love it, like his larger triangle nose (you can't really see it at the angle in my drawing but it's there I swear!), the bigger bell, the more elaborate belt, etc.... so basically everything ... just in my style instead.

With my designs I think that whenever someone transforms into their miraculous persona it's based on what they think a hero looks like or what they think is cool. I think Adrien reads a lot of comic books and is a fan of characters like Batman (relatable for him LOL), Catwoman, and Nightwing, so his suit reflects that kind of vibe.

Extra: I decided that Ladybug and Cat Noir's masks go all the way up their foreheads because it looks nicer in my 2D style with their bangs haha.

Next up is the one and only Ladybug! Unpopular opinion but I actually like the all red suit! My hypothetical series would be a webcomic, and I feel like in action scenes the red differentiates her from Cat Noir esp at a distance, and more red style keeps their color ratios even.

I like the ladybug designs with a bunch of black sections they're very cute! Just not for my au. (I think it's just me but I find drawing the ladybug designs with inverted red dots to feel sacrilegious in a way,,, just my neurodivergent brain lol)

And I am a long ribbons truther, I love them and they can be very expressive. Also I knew I wanted Marinette to have a more vertical circular eye shape because her shape vibe is definitely a circle (Adrien's is triangle) and it reminded me of the eyes for the main girl in princess jellyfish (I've never seen it, love the style tho)

Her hair is a more bright blue to contrast her hair against her suit, and make her look more cartoonish. I imagine her idea of a superhero comes from kids shows and some magical girl anime. So her hair has a plastic shiny texture to it because when she thinks 'superhero' she thinks of kids toys. Also I just like color! The blue kinda gives comic spiderman vibes imo (the version with the light blue instead of the navy)

Queen Bee definitely changed the most throughout the design process. I really like her in-show design so I just tweaked it to be more my vibe. Adding a crown because she's a Queen.

Something that I've noticed is that Alya and Chloe actually share a lot of traits (There's even some old concept notes where I believe Alya and Chloe either switch names or roles at some point?? The miraculous concept info rabbit hole is real y'all) and I think this comes through in their final designs.

Like they both share a middle part, which bothers me for some reason, so I decided to give Chloe a little Ariana Grande side part into a ponytail.

I wanted each character to have a cool little piece on their costume, so I tried these little hip things to make her more commanding and girlboss, but currently her weapon is similar to ladybug's (but more like one of those hair ties w the little disco balls on them) and it would sit on her hip and would clash w her hip thingies, so I just decided to make her weapon the hip things instead, combining the two.

Something else that bothered me a lot was that Rena was the only one with white on her costume. Everyone has black but she's the only one with white... my brain says that this cannot be. So I tried to give Bee some fun white fuzzy bits but the texture just was too different...

And then I had the mega-brain idea to make her hair white to tie in the white from Rena. Her and Cat Noir both having blonde hair irked me as well LOL so this hit two birds with one stone. I wanted her hair to be sharper and more aggressively drill shaped because of her abrasive personality haha.

After that, is Carapace. I had an idea for him from the start because I felt like his in-show design just doesn't match his personality... I couldn't make his outfit all loose because I wanted to stick generally to the miraculous suit formula, but I feel like 'skin tight suit' just isn't his vibe. So he has a kind of hammer pants situation.

I think they capture Carapace's b-boy ninja turtle vibe while still looking like a miraculous outfit. Though I decided later that I wanted the pants to be a lighter color for contrast and the visor to be white (to tie in that Rena Rouge white).

Lastly is Miss Rena! Something that bothered me (back on the similarities to Chloe) was that they both have ponytails (yes I know I'm crazy). Even though they have very different textures I just wanted each of them to be distinct from each other. So I put her hair down and just dramatized her regular hairstyle.

Also her and Queen Bee both have black gloves to their upper arms, which, you guessed it, bothered me. So I shortened Rena's to just reach her elbow.

I wanted her to look like a magic-man, her illusion powers evoke a showmanship energy to me. I imagine her and Cat Noir are quite the dramatic theater kid-esque duo.

So, for drama I tried some flowy arm bits, which I think ended up just looking a little strange, so I'll pocket that idea for something else. Then, I tried to add her coattail from the show, but it ended up looking a little frumpy, not the drama I wanted.

I ended up making her coat more triangular in the front, to give off the vibe of a magician's vest, and changed it to solider red/orange double coattails, which I think makes her more magic-man-ish. And I think the white ends made it too busy.

So those are my hero designs! I'm still working out Hawkmoth and Mayura, esp Hawkmoth because I am not good at drawing masculine older men...

If y'all want LESS of the artistic process let a girl know lol! I know some ppl like it but this is very long,,, all my drawings will not have text this long! thx for reading if you did tho xx

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foreverisntenough · 2 months ago

Text

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 2 - Wine & Tequila | ‘Act II’

word count - 10.8k

That night at the villa unfolded like a watercolor painting, the colors of the evening blurring and blending together under the influence of laughter, music, and the heady warmth of too much wine. The luxurious Greek coastline stretched out below, a glittering ribbon of blue under the starlit sky, but the true magic was in the villa itself, where the night seemed to pulse with an energy that was as intoxicating as the drinks that flowed freely. You were surrounded by British boys and your best friend, their faces flushed with joy, eyes bright with the kind of happiness that only seems to exist in these rare, perfect moments. The terrace was alive with the sound of their laughter, the clink of glasses, and the murmur of conversations that felt endless and full of possibility. The air was thick with the scent of the sea, mingling with the sweetness of jasmine that climbed the stone walls of the villa, creating a heady mix that made everything feel just a little bit more surreal, a little bit more dreamlike. You found yourself drawn to Jude, who was leaning against the edge of the terrace, the warm light casting soft shadows across his face. He looked like he belonged here, in this place where the earth met the sky, as though he had stepped straight out of one of the myths that clung to the ancient stones of the island. His presence was magnetic, pulling you toward him with a force that felt as natural as breathing. With every glass of wine, every shared smile, you felt yourself slipping further into something you couldn’t quite name. You moved closer, the warmth of the alcohol in your veins giving you the courage to flirt, to let the banter between you and Jude to flow as easily as the wine. Your conversations were light, playful, but beneath the surface, there was something more—a spark that ignited every time your eyes met, a connection that grew with each passing moment. As the night deepened, the villa around you seemed to fade, the world shrinking to just the two of you. You couldn’t stop the way your heart fluttered every time Jude laughed, a low, rich sound that seemed to wrap around you like the night itself. You found yourself watching the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the way he leaned in just a little closer with every word, as if he was as drawn to you as you were to him. You shared another drink, and with it, the distance between you seemed to dissolve completely. The night carried on, and so did your dance—a dance of words and glances, of light touches and shared secrets whispered in the dark. By the time the first hints of dawn began to touch the horizon, you knew you were in trouble. You could feel it in the way your heart leapt when Jude leaned in close to whisper something in your ear, in the way your pulse raced when his hand lingered on the small of your back. The world around you was starting to blur at the edges, the villa, the sea, the night—all of it fading into the background as you stood together, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. Jude reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle, almost reverent. The gesture was so simple, so intimate, that it took your breath away.

You and Jude decided to sneak away from everyone after this dance was dragging on too long. Not a word shared. You just both felt you wanted to be alone away from all the chatter and curious eyes. You descended down a massive staircase from the villa nestled up in a clif down to the shore line. The sun in its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of pink and orange as you wandered down to the beach, a bottle of wine clutched in your hand.

“You look good tonight, did I tell you that?” Jude asked you softly trailing behind you, getting lost in the vision of you, having a hard time focusing on the steep stairs.

“Yeah, you did but you can always tell me more than once.” You turned around with a gentle smile that had Jude taken aback by how naturally gorgeous you were. It wasn’t like your carefully curated instagram that he had coyly stalked not only today but had since he had seen Whitney post you ages ago. You weren’t trying. This was beautiful in an organic way. He almost preferred it…almost although the bikini pictures weren’t exactly a turn off.

“You just got my mind and my heart fucking racing the past couple days. You do something to me.” Jude admitted against his will swayed by the amount of drinks he’d had as you made it towards the bottom of the stairs.

“I thought you’d like this one. What do you think?” You asked, spinning for him. The moon catching on the gold buckles of your Christopher Esber mini dress and the highlights of your skin.

“Yeah, thought right. Looks unreal on you.” Jude cooed. The villa’s laughter and music fading into the background as you finally stepped onto the sand, leaving only the sound of the waves lapping against the shore. The soft crunch of sand beneath your feet was quiet as you made your way closer to the water's edge.

“Wouldn’t look better on your floor?” You cheekily joked recalling his words the other night. It was a bit forward but you two didn’t really have to be subtle anymore.

“You’re funny, you know.” Jude told you as he watched you slightly stumble to a quiet spot near the water’s edge, where the sea kissed the shore in a gentle, rhythmic dance. Jude plopped down first and held his hand out to help you come sit with him. You sank down onto the ground, the warmth of the day still lingering in the sand beneath you. The air was salty and sweet, tinged with the fragrance of wildflowers that grew along the cliffs, mingling with the rich scent of the wine as you uncorked the bottle.

“Yeah? I just like to see you smile so if I have to pull out some jokes it’s for my own benefit.” You smiled gently at him. You weren’t actively trying to be funny but getting Jude to give you that million dollar devastatingly handsome smile was a welcomed response.

“Like it that much? Wow…” He flashed that very smile you adored so much to you.

“What can I say? I think you’re very pretty and I’m very funny so it’s a good match.” You babbled a little drunkenly. Jude’s eyes filled with adoration you didn’t catch. Without a word, he grabbed your chin gently and swiftly in what felt like slow motion pulled you towards him. His lips brushing yours in a tender, almost hesitant kiss. It was a kiss full of longing, as if he was trying to pour all the unsaid words and hidden feelings into this single, fleeting moment. It was slow, soft, a little drunk, and perfect. You smiled. Your lips curling and inadvertently peeling off his. He kissed you again, more deeply this time, with a passion that caught you by surprise, as if he couldn’t get enough of you, as if he had been holding back for far too long but then he pulled back abruptly, his breath shallow, his eyes searching yours with a mix of apology and worry.

"Shit. I'm sorry.” He murmured, his voice barely a whisper over the sound of the waves. "I didn’t mean to be so forward. I just... I got caught up." It wasn’t that he was drunk, which he was but it was more that he just didn’t even know he was going to kiss you. It was instinctual and magnetic. You blinked up at him, a soft giggle escaping your lips, a sound light and airy against the heavy backdrop of the night. Your fingers found their way to his cheek, and you smiled, leaning in to kiss him again, more confidently this time.

“It’s okay, Jude.” You whispered, your lips brushing against his as you spoke. “You can kiss me whenever you want.” You smiled bigger, grabbing both his biceps, giving them a gentle reassuring squeeze. His hesitation melted away in an instant, replaced by a smile that mirrored your own, full of relief and something much deeper. He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as if he never wanted to let go. You kissed him back with all the reassurance you could muster, pouring everything you felt into the kiss—the warmth, the comfort, the unspoken promises. You had brought down a bottle of wine with you. You poured yourselves each a glass, two that Jude had carried down for you, the deep red liquid catching the last light of the day, turning it to molten gold. Jude took his glass, your fingers brushing in a way that sent a thrill through you, a shiver of excitement that had nothing to do with the cool evening breeze. You clinked your glasses together, a soft, lazy toast to the moment, to the perfect simplicity of sitting on a beach in Greece with nothing but time stretching ahead of you. The first sip was rich and full-bodied, the taste of it lingering on your tongue like a promise. It was a wine meant to be savored, but with each sip, the edges of the world seemed to soften, and you found yourself sinking into a delicious, wine-induced haze.

“You know wine?” Jude asked you with another flash of his smile. He shuffled in his place turning his body more towards yours.

“I should say yes.” You shrugged after your admission. Jude raised his brows looking for more information. Your words were clearly laced with more. “My dad’s into it.” You vaguely explained not really providing any further clarity.

“What’s he like?” Jude attempted to learn a little more about you with a question but you didn’t think you wanted to talk about your family with him, especially not right now.

“No, don’t start on all that.” You sympathetically smiled appreciating the ask but unwilling to delve further.

“Well… fine, answer me about wine then.” Jude threw you an accepting smile that made you wish you were willing to open up to him. You felt you could. You trusted him but you didn’t trust yourself not to get yourself in too deep. You almost hated how comfortable he made you.

“Yeah, I mean I enjoy it as much as the next person… we… or my family like own a big winery in France or whatever, it’s a whole big thing.” You babbled giving him a small nugget of information about your family background but brushed it off burying it with nonchalance.

“Sorry?” Jude muttered between a hearty laugh that sent an ache through your chest. A big winery in France wasn’t all that clear but your casualty about it made him know there was more beneath the surface. Your lifestyle was very clearly one of luxury, there was nothing casual about it. He figured he’d ask another time. He kissed his teeth. “You and Whitney just really run the show, huh?” He teased you, nudging his knee against yours.

“Daddy’s money isn’t exactly running the show, is it?” You sighed with an insincere smile. You and Whitney had met at uni and bonded over similar interests but your commonality of similar childhoods glued you together for life. It was an upbringing of getting gifts in exchange for your parent’s presence. No matter how grandiose the present was, it was never exactly enough to mask what you really longed for. And while you didnt take your life's comforts for granite, it felt hollow. It did also mean that it wasn’t exactly new for you to take off work to galavant off to Europe to stay in a villa on a whim. In a bizarre world you actually had some similar experiences to Jude; unlimited credit cards, no supervision and unrealistic body standards but Jude seemed to be enjoying his circumstances more than you ever did but who were you to complain about the predicament.

“Nah, I’m obviously joking.” He squeezed his hand right above your knee. “You said you work, yeah? Remind me what you do?” Jude turned to you entirely, genuinely more interested in what you did for work than anyone ever had been.

“Art galleries.” You quietly answered him, not really sure your job would be of any interest to a footballer. It was important to you but depending on the person some found it mundane or pretentious.

“Meaning…” He laughed, waving you on to continue to tell him more. His eyes sparkled in the falling night.

“I curate art galleries.” You bashfully explained a bit more with a shy smile. It didn’t feel like he was pulling teeth by any means but Jude could tell you were holding back in the conversation.

“That’s kind of mad, you know.” Jude told you. He reached his hands out and placed them on your shoulders and turned you towards him more since you had been apprehensive to do so.

“Is it? You ever been to an exhibit you liked?” You asked Jude. His willingness to listen to you and inquire more made you feel a little giddy. You got caught in the excitement and asked a question Jude wasn’t exactly ready for.

“Erm… An exhibit might be a stretch. I have some field trips I enjoyed.” Jude laughed with a shrug. You scooted towards him and with a smirk he pulled you further into him, getting you to sit in between his legs. Your back to his chest once again encased in his scent.

“Oh Jude… We have to get you out! We’ll do wine and an exhibit one time.” You giggled, settling further into his embrace.

“You’ll have to help culture me, angel.” Jude cooed. His words warming your heart.

“You’re cultured Jude.” You smiled, turning your head back to him slightly to catch a warm glint in his eyes looking down at you.

“Yeah but in a different way. Forced to learn Spanish in my 20s isn’t much culture.” He laughed humorously belittling himself.

“Just ignoring your family background, living in other countries, and playing international football but sure. Think you're getting any good?” You asked him. He kissed your temple appreciating you acknowledging him. “Big duo lingo boy?” You giggled.

“Ha I wish. I have to go in person to class unless I’m on the road.” He reflected on his progress with a sigh. “Nah, well… maybe it depends. The more I drink the better I think I get.” He hummed resting his chin on your shoulder tucking his face into the nap of your neck.

“Go on…Háblame bebé.” You turned to look back at his gorgeous face as his hand moved to lay over your stomach whilst his fingers played with the gold metal ring details of your dress.

“¿Tú hablas español?” He asked in blur of a Madrid and Birmingham accent smashed together.

“Un poco, no muy bien, pero me va bien con los idiomas.” You stumbled through your words trying to recall the language you’d learned in school.

“Eres interesante, ¿sabes?” He spoke faster than you anticipated. Maybe he knew the language better than he led on but his accent and the wine had you struggling to keep up.

“This is hurting my brain, I’m bowing out. I haven’t spoken Spanish in a minute.” You giggled, settling back against his chest.

“You sounded good.” Jude complimented you kissing your hair with a hum.

“Yeah? Well neither of us are Spanish so who are we to say?” You took a sip of your wine before nestling the base of your wine glass back into the sand beside you ensuring it wouldn’t spill.

“Nah, you sound good. I like your voice.” Jude cooed gently. He kissed your hair again. You weren't sure he even knew he was doing it so you let it go on without saying a word but each time he did it your body relaxed more.

“Oof really? I’m always one of those people that when I hear it back in a video it’s just the worst.” You winced a little hearing anyone, but specifically him, saying they liked your voice.

“No, trust me… as someone who has heard it first hand a lot lately. Like a lot, you don’t shut up.” Jude teased squeezing you a little. You hummed feigning offense by his jab. ‘Nah, It’s perfect.” He further explained. You questioned him with an inquisitive glare. “You moaning my name in my ear is perfection.” Jude groaned a little remembering it, moving to come kiss your neck. You couldn’t see but his eyes went wide after the words fell out of his mouth. Did he really just say that out loud? Maybe he was more drunk than he thought or maybe he liked you more than he knew. He couldn’t see but you gave him a smug eye roll. You talked about everything and nothing, your conversation flowing as smoothly as the wine. The sky deepened to indigo, stars beginning to flicker into existence above you, and with every glass, you felt the space between you shrink. The wine made you bold, your laughter louder, your smile softer as you leaned into him, the warmth of Jude’s body seeping into yours. The banter was easy, playful, but beneath it was something more—a current of unspoken tension, of desire that swirled between you with every glance and every touch. The wine was loosening your tongue, your inhibitions slipping away with each sip, and you found yourself telling him things you might not have otherwise—secrets, dreams, the kind of thoughts that only come out under the influence of too much good wine and the spell of a Greek night. Jude listened with that same lazy smile, his eyes dark and knowing as he leaned closer, his hands finding their way around you. It was a delicious warmth that mingled with the wine, making you dizzy in the best possible way. As the bottle emptied, the world around you seemed to blur, the stars above spinning in a slow, languid dance. The wine was doing its work, pulling you closer, making everything feel just a little bit more intense, a little bit more real. The waves continued their gentle rhythm, a lullaby that matched the pounding of your heart as you turned to face him fully, your lips curving into a smile that was both shy and bold. There was a moment of silence, the air thick with anticipation, before Jude leaned in around you, his lips finding yours in a kiss that tasted of wine and salt and the sea. It was slow, languid, a kiss that felt like it had all the time in the world. You melted into him, the wine making everything feel softer, more intense, as if the whole world had narrowed to this one perfect moment on the beach, with the stars above and the sea at your feet. In a fell swoop, your back was pressed against the sand, Jude hovering over you, his arms placed beside your head. “Fuck, you’re so sexy.” Jude groaned looking down at you as he began to pull your dress up your body. You arched your back letting him take it off entirely. You helped him rip it off before guiding his hand back to your now exposed body, causing you to let out a moan at the touch. He had you, hook, line, and sinker with your eyes pooling with lewd desires. You placed your hand on the nape of his neck, tugging at his hair, as he lowered his head, placing kisses along your collarbones and chest. You buried your face on his biceps to muffle yourself as he began to play with your nipples, pinching the hardened buds while he sucked the curve of your shoulders.

“What if someone sees us?” You asked Jude apprehensively when you felt an ocean breeze hit your skin and your now wet core, reminding you of your state. Although, your lust-induced mind hoped he would be able to come up with something to convince you.

“You’ll just have to be a little quiet f’me then, yeah?” He cooed licking on the spot behind your ear as he tugged on your nipple, making you shiver not sure if you could keep to what you were about to agree to. You nodded anyway, impatient for his touch you’d been craving.

“Jude” You gasped into his mouth. He immediately pulled away from you and kissed his teeth in an effort to reprimand you for making noise. You mouthed a ‘sorry.’

“I’m all yours tonight, baby if you can stay quiet, yeah?” Jude cooed before crashing back into a kiss. Kissing Jude felt different tonight. Maybe it was the build up of tension throughout the holiday or maybe it was the thrill of knowing you could get caught fucking him down on the beach. Jude wielded his dominance over you fervently, he pinned your arms above your head, his lips never leaving yours longer than a second to breathe. His perfect pouty lips traveled down to your tits. You whimpered as you felt his lips come around your nipples. He sucked on the left one, brushing his warm tongue left and right before tugging on it with his teeth. The level of arousement in you was getting higher and higher and the familiar knot forming at the pit of your stomach was starting to form. The prominence of his cock burrowed between your spread legs, rubbing against your clit and making you thrust your hips further into him for friction. He let his hand come to knead your exposed tits, the wisp of his breath tingled down your body as he kissed your skin, tying a knot in your core. Swifty he rid you of the only bit of clothing you had on left. A minuscule thong, he threw to the side with no care. “So fucking wet f’me already.”’ He mused as he kissed your pelvic bone, letting his finger drag through your folds gathering up your slick. The request to stay quiet gone out the window in minutes. Swiftly he moved his finger up and into your mouth. Your tongue obediently swirling around him. ”‘Who made you this wet, huh?” Jude smugly asked you.

“You, oh my god you.” You whimpered as he kissed the inside of your thigh. When his lips finally began kissing your clit your hips bucked upwards involuntarily. Your fingers gripped his hair. He sucked harshly on your sensitive clit. You had no control as you writhed underneath him. You had been dreaming of this. His mouth on you sent a shot of ecstasy through you. You felt dizzy from the wine but more so from him. “Fuck Jude!’ You whined as he pushed not one but two fingers into your pussy. His tongue fluttering over your swollen bundle of nerves. Your walls welcomed the pressure of his intrusion. Your eyes shutting in rapture at his pace. You couldn’t stop your body from involuntarily grinding against him. You couldn’t stop yourself. He curled his fingers further inside, finding your g spot fast, refusing to let up. You rode his fingers, your moans only getting louder as he worked in tandem with his tongue toying with your clit. You let out a soft cry as you rocked your hips up onto his hand.

“So good f’me.” He looked up at you, a wet smirk on his lips breathing hot air into your cunt, a coil winding in your stomach. Almost immediately you felt your orgasm come crashing over you. Your body shaking as his tongue continued to assault your clit rhythmically. “Cum f’me. That’s it angel. Good girl.” You looked down at Jude as you came, his eyes filled with hungry lust, his face buried deep in your pussy, the moon beginning to shine down on you both. The iridescent ocean in the background played a symphony harmonious to your moans and his filthy slurps dragging out your high. Jude slowly pulled his fingers from inside but still softly stroking though your folds when he finally emerged from your legs to breathe. It was a deliciously lewd sight. Your slick dribbled down his chin. You giggled in pure ecstasy as your thumb swiped to catch the wetness.

“Can you… Can you please fuck me.” You begged him desperate for more of him. In the darkening night Jude flashed a devious but excitedly childish smile watching you tug down his trousers and allow his enormous cock to spring free. He groaned between the swift motions slowly aligning his cock with your core and sliding into you. You both gasped at the contact. He moved slowly inch by inch letting you adjust to his size but he just wanted to get as deep as possible. You felt better than before. His thick cock hit your g spot almost immediately once he was in. He felt so deep and the stretch of him being back inside you had your mind turn to complete mush. You lost any control you had when he was fully inside. The force and pace of his thrusts increased and so did the volume of both your moans.

“You’re such a good girl, so fucking wet for me.” He said hearing the sounds of your slick as he dragged his cock slowly out of you and watched himself push all the way back thrusting harder. Your legs wrapped around him tightly as you let one of your heels drag down his muscular back. You were whining in pleasure. Your lips parted gasping at the sensation of him. You both were moaning inexplicable phrases of praise and adoration. You were completely obsessed with each other and how good the sex was only amplified it. You could feel another orgasm fast approaching.

“Please, please, please keep going.” You whimpered, feeling him continue to drill into you, the sand shifting beneath you with every rough thrust. You were getting lost in the pleasure that he was giving you while he was just as infatuated by your body and the sounds you were making had him fighting to not cum.

“Fuck, baby, feel so good. You’re gonna make me cum.” Jude grunted watching you quiver under him. The intensity of his fucking truly was overwhelming and became even more so when his hand dropped to rub harsh circles on your clit between your bodies. He let his spit drop down onto your throbbing pussy. You squeezed your eyes tight. Your mind was complete mush with every stroke seeming to hit deeper. “So close, angel. Cum with me. Will you cum with me?” Jude heaved, picking up your leg, draping it over his shoulder, kissing your ankle. You could only manage a nod. You let your head drop back letting out a sinful moan as he managed to hit even deeper inside of you. His whole length repeatedly hitting your g spot. Suddenly he felt an even more arduous determination to fuck into you like you’d never felt before. Jude bit his lip and with a devilish glint in his eye he watched you fall apart on his cock. Your pussy tightening impossibly around him.

“Jude… Jude… I’m gonna cum. Fuck!” You cried feeling like you were going to black out. Your body trembled as you squirted messily onto him and his cock. Pussy gushing around his thick girth in uncontrollable squirts. The release caused your body to shudder, your head pushing backwards with force, you were moaning his name senselessly.

“Fuck, fuck!” He cried out. “Baby I gotta cum. Fuck! Let me cum inside, please.” He was at his limit desperate to release. You could only nod again, you were in the pull and you didn’t want him to pull out. This felt too good. His harsh movements began to a halt as he buried himself deeper inside you. Pumping you full of his cum while pressing his lips to yours. You both laid into each other's sweaty bodies, foreheads resting on the other. His cock was soaked in your slick as he carefully and gently removed it as you both came down. Beneath the dark azure sky of a secluded Greek beach, the world seemed to hold its breath. The sun hung low, casting a golden glow over the sands that stretched like a whisper between the cliffs and the sea. The waves lapped gently against the shore, their rhythm a soft invitation, a lullaby that melted away the rest of the world. “Holy shit, angel.” Jude groaned, exhausted. You giggled as he rolled off you and pulled you into his body again, his laughter quick to follow yours. Jude’s hands traced the curve of your back, his touch like a brushstroke against your skin, each movement deliberate, reverent. You responded with a soft sigh, your fingers gripping his hair holding him to you. The salt-kissed breeze caressed your bare skin as your bodies entwined, a dance of want and need that was as old as the earth itself. Your breath hitched as Jude’s lips found the hollow of your neck, his touch both tender and urgent. Each kiss was like a drop of honey, sweet and languid. The sand beneath you was cool, grounding you even as you lost yourselves in each other. When you finally came to, breathless and spent the first stars were beginning to twinkle. You let the cool night air wash over you, the beach your publicly private haven. The sand, the sea, the sky were all witnesses to a moment that was at once primal and profound, a memory etched into the very fabric of the earth.

“I think we’ve been here for hours… I mean, is that the same star we've been staring at, or have we just been spinning around?" You giggled a little delirious from the sex and the wine.

"I think it’s the wine that’s spinning, not us. But who knows? Maybe the stars decided to join us." Jude smirked at you, moving you to settle more on his chest as he rubbed his hands over your warm skin.

"Maybe they did. It feels like we’re the only ones in the world right now." Your voice was soft paired with the waves hitting the shore as you shuffled nuzzling your face against his strong chest.

"Yeah? I don’t think I’d want it any other way. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so… what’s the word… content? Maybe that’s just the wine talking though." Jude laughed at himself. He was struggling to find his words and he wasn’t sure if it was the wine, the sex, or frankly, he was a little nervous that it may have been just you.

"Or maybe it’s me. I’m pretty great company, you know." You giggled and the sound rifled through Jude’s heart. It was like you were reading his inner most terrifying thoughts.

"I won’t argue with that. But honestly, you’re… different Y/N. Like, in a good way. You make everything feel lighter, like I could drift away if you weren’t holding me down." Jude laughed cautiously. His eyes had a warm front but there was a fear behind them that you were unable to see.

“Are you trying to say I keep you grounded, Judey? Because I can be a lot of things, but ‘grounded’ isn’t usually one of them." You playfully nudged him with a childish nickname that he normally hated and yet he didn’t even bat an eye when you said it.

“No, I mean it. There’s something about you… the way you laugh, the way you look at me like you’re figuring me out. It’s… I don’t know, refreshing Y/N." Jude told you sincerely the laughter disappearing from the night air. Jude was cautious around people especially since he had catapulted into fame. He trusted his gut and he trusted that it felt as if you really liked him for him, not for entity Jude Bellingham.

"You’re not so bad yourself. You’ve got that whole cocky confident athlete thing going on… But then you smile, and it’s like—bam! Everything changes." You blushed slightly wiggling against him to sit up to take a much needed sip of wine feeling incredibly parched by the serious undertone of this conversation.

"And how do you feel about that? About me changing things?" Jude leaned closer. His voice dropped low. A shiver ran up your spine along with Judes hand tracing up the protruding bones.

"It scares me a little… I won’t lie but I think I like it. I think. I like you… ” You confessed unexpectedly and uninhibitedly. You met his gaze, your voice almost a whisper. Jude shifting from this media persona to someone you were actually interested in made you very worried. “You know, like in a fun friend way.” You tried to rectify your admission. You didn’t want to fall for him and you certainly didn’t want to admit to it.

"Yeah, sure. That’s good, angel. I like you too you know in a ‘fun friend way.’” He mocked you with a pinch to your side. “A lot more than I expected.” Jude admitted himself, sitting up and wrapping his arms around your naked body. You shouldn’t have felt this comfortable completely bare on a beach but you did with him.

"What did you expect?” You laughed softly and a little nervously. You raised your brow at him wondering if you were supposed to be offended or not.

"Honestly? I didn’t expect you to be so… easy to talk to. So easy to want more of. I didn’t expect to be so interested.” Jude shrugged, taking his eyes off you and looking out into the blurred, dark, and distant horizon with a serious glare. He wasn’t sure what he thought he was saying but it felt vulnerable.

"I didn’t expect any of this either. But here we are, a little tipsy, a little reckless… and maybe that’s okay.” You turned and kissed his shoulder behind you. “So did you know I was coming on this holiday or was I just a pleasant surprise?” You giggled and reached up to cup his cheek to get him to look at you. You wanted him to know it was okay to just talk right now. You weren’t clinging to every word like it was bible.

"Yeah, it feels more than okay. Maybe it’s exactly what I need." Jude admitted looking down at you. He kissed the inside of your wrist holding his face. “I heard you’d be here. You were a big part of a pretty enticing holiday package I’ll be honest.” He shook his head very confused at how you were getting him to tell you all this.

“Oh…” You whispered inquisitively. You laid back down tangled together on the beach. The night was still warm, and you could feel the breeze brushing over your skin as you rested against Jude’s chest, both of you catching your breath. Jude shifted under you, his fingers lazily tracing circles on your arm. There was a comfortable silence, but you could sense something was on his mind. You glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. "What’s going on in that head of yours?" You asked him, seeing as he just stopped talking moments ago.

“I, uh… I should probably tell you something. It’s kinda dumb, but I feel like you should know.” He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering with a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability. Your curiosity piqued, you shifted onto your side to face him fully, your chin resting on his chest.

“Okay, sounds interesting.” You wanted to laugh but you also wanted him to share with you. He let out a low, almost nervous chuckle, avoiding your eyes for a second before finally meeting them.

“I’ve, uh... I’ve seen your Instagram. A lot. Like, I’ve gone through it more times than I care to admit.” He sheepishly told you. You blinked, surprised by the confession, but a grin immediately spread across your face.

"Wait, what?" You almost giggled but refrained, needing more. Jude groaned softly, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Yeah, it’s embarrassing. I could probably tell you your Instagram handle backwards at this point, that’s how many times I’ve typed it in my search bar.” He ran his hand over his face. You laughed softly, teasing as you traced your fingers along his chest.

“So, what, you’ve seen all the bikini pictures? The selfies? All the nights out?” You giggled recalling some of your frequently posted content tropes. He groaned again, rolling his eyes with a sheepish grin.

“Yes, all of it. Every single post. All the nights out… in very tiny tiny skirts by the way.” He admitted with a sigh. You sat up slightly, still grinning.

“And you didn’t like one single post? Not one! Because I’m pretty sure I would’ve noticed. Wow…” You cheekily smiled at him with some self satisfaction knowing he had been snooping around but you noticed your teasing wasn’t being received all that well so you dropped it and moved to place your hand on his leg, swiping your thumb over his knee a few times “Wait… how long has this been going on?” You mused with real curiosity. You felt like you would’ve seen it an account with millions upon millions of followers was in your likes or story views. Jude propped himself up on one elbow, giving you a lopsided smile.

“A while. I told you , you were part of why I agreed to come on the trip to Greece in the first place. I knew you’d be here, and, well… I wanted to meet you, not just admire from afar.” He gently explained. Your teasing expression fell and softened as his words settled in.

“Really?” You almost pouted but didn’t want to patronize him.

“Yeah.” His voice was low, a little rough with emotion. “I didn’t know when I’d have the chance otherwise. I’d heard Whitney and Trent talk about you, and then I saw you and then I didn’t want to miss the chance. I wanted to know if you were the same girl I’d been looking at through my phone.” He confessed. You felt a sudden warmth spread through your chest, your heart skipping a beat.

“And now?” You smiled. Jude reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as he gazed at you.

“Yeah, think I prefer knowing you in real life.” He smiled back at you leaning forwards to rest his forehead against yours. You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, the teasing gone, replaced by something deeper.

"Well," you murmured against his lips, "guess that makes two of us." You cooed as your lips met once more in a soft, lingering kiss, the kind that made the world around you fade into the background, leaving only the warmth of your connection and the sweet promise of something more.

“You’re not talking to Y/N right?” Jude sheepishly asked Trent’s brother, Marcel after you had snuck back up to everyone at the villa. Your disappearance was definitely noticed but not harped upon. Jude had taken a seat next to Marcel on the lawn.

“Nah mate, told you. It was just like a one off no big deal.” Marcel brushed him off with a wave of his hand. Marcel shot him a look of confusion. He assumed that was a given. Sure you were flirty by nature but it was clear you were into Jude. Jude had known and heard about you and Marcel and it didn’t bother him, not a bit. He just wanted to know where things stood and he was too juvenile to ask you. He didn’t want you to know he cared that much. He wasn’t supposed to care despite him not needing to.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sound.” Jude didn’t look at him, he kept his eyes locked on you as you moved, swaying in a hug with Whitney. You didn’t tell her the finer details of what just ensued down on the beach but you said you just wanted to ‘have some fun alone’ and you assumed she would understand. Jude began to smile seeing one pull on your face.

“Uhh ohhh. I see now. So you’re into herrrr, huh?” Marcel’s eyebrows raised interested watching Jude almost pout looking at you. He thought you were a sweet girl, fun, and a good time but he wasn’t trying to take anything more from it. Jude had thought he felt just the same until now.

“I don’t know if that’s the word. Just sussing her out.” Jude sighed, shifting to look back at him. ”Mate my heads a mess. It wasn’t exactly my plan for the holiday. She’s cool, you know?” He looked at Marcel hoping he wouldn’t take the piss and would maybe understand Jude’s confusion.

“Yeah cool, course, bro. Not the first thing that comes to mind when I look at her but...” Marcel started laughing Jude joined in. He jokingly shoved at him amidst the laughter. Your looks often were the first thing people, particularly men, seemed to notice.

“It’s maybe not the first thing I thought either. She’s so leng bro but also as much like I hate to say this because I know it sounds fucked up but she’s a lot smarter than I thought she might be.” Jude explained with a tinge of guilt in his voice.

“That is fucked up. I think meeting her as Whit’s friend I wasn’t expecting anything but. Whitney’s not exactly stupid.” Marcel laughed humorously criticizing Jude’s shallow expectations.

“No... no, she’s not. Stupid for being with Trentski for sure but otherwise no.” Jude continued laughing. It was apparent once all the boys in Trents life had met Whitney that she was more quick witted than her appearance might have had them assuming. They all gave Trent shit upon this discovery for him punching above his weight class. Although you were proving to be just as much of a heavyweight as she was.

“Bro’s fucking punching. For life as well, he’s locked in now” Marcel laughed both at his brother’s ability to pull a girl like Whitney but also the fact that he had fallen into a wildly serious and committed relationship.

“Definitely mad that it all came from some holiday.” Jude laughed along with him. “Maybe Y/N’s not a monogamous girl though like Whit. I don’t know her that well.” Jude threw a thought out he really had no interest in entertaining but in hopes it would help not ruin Marcel’s perception of him. He also didn’t want to end up looking like a simp the way Trent did after a holiday.

“Doubtful bro but I’m not gonna say no either.” Marcel laughed with a tinge of real disbelief in Jude’s sentiment he didn't feel comfortable with. Jude’s lack of sincerity in saying you may be a more than one man girl didn’t sit right with him. “I mean it’s not all that far fetched for you to end up the same though.” Marcel tried to switch the direction of the conversation to another possibility far from the one of sharing you.

“Eh… I mean she’s sick. I like her but she lives in New York and I… I don’t.” The reality of your fling with Jude loomed. He felt his heart sink a little.

“Didn’t stop them.” Marcel patted his knee and stood up. At the very same time Marcel was departing, you were walking by where they were sitting to head inside when Jude grabbed at you.

“You better be going to wait in my bed for me.” Jude cooed, his voice low and teasing as he traced his fingers lightly along your arm, stopping you in your tracks. You glanced down at him, meeting his gaze with a playful smile, swaying slightly on your feet. Lust was beginning to bubble in your chest. His other hand slid up your leg from your calf up your thigh.

“I will… in a bit.” You smiled with a wink. “I’ll meet you there, baby.” You flashed him a grin before turning away. You tailed Whitney inside to get more to drink which became a poor decision fast. Standing in the warm, flickering light of the villa's kitchen, you felt like you were floating on a cloud of tequila and laughter. Whitney and you were barely keeping your balance, your movements graceful in the way that only a couple of very drunk girls could manage. The bottle of Don Julio 42, so beautifully designed with its intricate patterns and rich amber hue, sat like a trophy on the counter between you. You admired it as though it were the most precious artifact in the world, your eyes glassy and your giggles louder than the music playing in the background. You reached for the bottle, struggling to pour more tequila into the pitcher while Whitney clutched a salt-rimmed glass, her fingers slipping and sliding over it like she was trying to grasp a slippery fish. You were both so thin, your alcohol tolerance barely holding up against the potent allure of the tequila. Every sip made your heads spin more delightfully, and your cheeks flushed with the heat of drunken exhilaration.

“Look at this,” Whitney said, her voice slurred and filled with admiration. “This bottle is like... a piece of art.” She cooed. You nodded, feeling the weight of the tequila in your veins, making you giddy and uninhibited. “It’s gorgeous. Like, if I could marry a bottle, it would be this one.” Whitney laughed, a joyous, carefree sound that mingled with the clinking of glasses. She leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief and inebriation. “So, what about Judey?” The question hit you like a splash of cold water, though it was anything but unwelcome. You felt a flush of warmth spreading through you, not just from the alcohol but from the thought of him. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile that was already tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“Oh, Jude,” You said, your voice a soft, dreamy sigh. “He’s... He’s Jude.” You sighed. “He’s so sweet. And there’s something... just sweet about him.” You said saying really nothing at all. You swayed slightly, your hand reaching for the bottle again, your fingers barely able to grasp it. Whitney, equally disoriented and amused, grinned at you with a knowing look.

“Really? You think so?” she asked, her tone playful and teasing. You pouted, taking a sip and letting the tequila warm you from the inside out.

“Yes, really. He’s like… sweet. I don’t even know how to explain it. It’s like... he’s so sweet, and... I don’t know. It’s just...” You babbled. Whitney laughed again, her laughter merging with yours, creating a symphony of drunken joy. You stumbled around the kitchen, your conversation growing more disjointed and incoherent as the tequila took hold. The world outside was a distant blur, and in that moment, it was just the two of you, tangled in a haze of tequila and unguarded confessions. As the night wore on and the tequila continued to flow, your words became less coherent, but the feeling of being carefree and in the moment remained. And amidst the drunken banter and endless giggles, the truth about Jude slipped out in the most vague and blissfully honest way possible. You two were absolutely housed. Whitney weighed exactly nothing, you, maybe a pound or two more than nothing. It wasn’t a hard task.

“Come on, drunk girl. Let’s go.” Trent sang coming into the kitchen wrapping his arms around Whitney. He lifted her effortlessly in his arms.The night spun faster as you struggled to maintain your own balance alone. Whitney wrapped herself around him ready for him to carry her to bed.

“Don’t you think Y/N should fuck Jude again?” Whitney slurred nuzzling into him. She had completely forgotten your sly insinuation after you had come up from the beach earlier.

“Yeah, baby. I think they’ll decide that though. Might’ve already happened, alright?” Trent gently spoke to her, shooting you a wink that made you laugh. ‘Such a gossip’ You mouthed to him. Trent took care of her and sometimes you envied having that person in your life. Whitney wanted that and you were fairly sure you didn’t but every so often it would ping in your chest maybe you just must’ve.

“Are you gonna fuck me, T baby?” Whitney slurred again, asking Trent as she kissed his neck like you weren’t there anymore.

“Nah, you and me are going to go have a cuddle.” Trent laughed, running his hand over her hair whilst trying to create some distance between them. “You’re good?” He cooed gently to you with a smile, watching you inflict a worse hangover on yourself finishing the rest of Whitney’s drink.

“All good. Thanks, T.” You smiled before heading down the hall very obviously towards Jude’s room and away from yours. Trent only able to laugh. The way Trent cared for Whitney with such tenderness and attention was maybe something you longed for, though you were unsure if you would ever allow yourself to truly desire it. It was a bittersweet realization. You watched them with a mix of admiration and longing, feeling the weight of your own unresolved desires. The Grecian air was still warm through the house as you stumbled into Jude's room, your head swimming with the dangerous mix of wine and tequila. The villa was dimly lit, the soft glow of the moon casting long shadows across the marble floors. You were giddy, feeling the alcohol loosen your limbs and lower your inhibitions. Jude had told you to go wait in his bed, a suggestion that seemed anything but innocent. You didn't think much of it as you peeled off your clothes, leaving a trail from the door to his bed. You stared in a mirror and sighed, catching a glimpse of yourself. You hope you looked good enough for him. Your momentary self reflection was short lived as you started laughing. Who were you kidding? He was lucky to have you in his bed. You took more than good care of yourself so you drunkenly skipped over to the bed with confidence and slipped under the covers, your bare skin immediately cooled by the soft sheets. Your head spun, but you felt comforted by the familiar scent of Jude on the pillow beside you. It smelled like a mix of salt, from the ocean air, and something distinctly him—a combination of woodsy cologne and sun-warmed skin. You curled up into a ball, letting the exhaustion take over. A bit later, Jude entered the room, a soft smile pulling at his lips as he saw you already nestled in his bed, asleep, your hair fanned out on his pillow. You looked so peaceful, your face relaxed in a way he rarely saw. He chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head. It was a sight he wouldn't have expected to find tonight, but there you were-completely naked and unapologetically in his space. He quietly got ready for bed, brushing his teeth and washing the last remnants of the night off his face. When he slid into bed next to you, he kissed you all over carefully. He wrapped his arms around you, feeling your soft, warm body press against his. You stirred slightly, your eyes fluttering open as you felt the weight of his arms around you. In your sleepy haze you were grabbing for more of him.

“Alright, c’mere.” Jude cooed softly with a breathy laugh and a kiss to your temple pulling you into him all the more. You were a clingy drunk and Jude had amplified it. Usually you used to push for drunk sex and you did with him that first night but you also just wanted him to hold you now

"Jude?" You murmured, your voice laced with sleep. “You took so long.” You pouted, smushing your face into his warm chiseled chest.

"Yeah, it's me.” He whispered back, his hand gently rubbing your back. You nuzzled closer to him, your lips brushing against his bare chest as you did. “I’m sorry, I’m here now, angel. Were you waiting for me?” He smuggly grinned loving the fact that you had been and you were so cuddly with him now because of it. He had just stayed up a bit later playing a few games of cards with some of the boys. It wasn’t actually that much later, you were just drunk.

“Yeah.” You said sadly with a dramatic frown. Jude was enjoying this. It was adorable, you showing him an incredibly more vulnerable side. “I wanted a kiss.” You confessed holding your pout. Your drunkenness allowing your true want to come spilling out. Your words slurring slightly from the alcohol and the sleep.

“Well you can come get one, baby. C’mere. I wanted a kiss too.” He cooed with a breathy laugh. His heart swelled at your admission. You seemed to always be so guarded, so careful to keep your emotions hidden away. But here, in this quiet, intimate moment, you were letting yourself be vulnerable with him. He tightened his hold on you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Too tired now.” You barely got out a whisper as sleep began to take over.

“Oh, okay.” He laughed more out right, wrapping his arms tightly around you. “I’m sorry. You can have a kiss whenever you want though. So you can get one whenever.” He smiled, pressing his lips to your hair once more. His voice was a low rumble in the dark room. You laid there in silence for a while, just holding each other, the rhythm of your breathing slowly syncing up. But then, from down the hall, you heard the unmistakable sounds of someone else in the villa having sex. Your eyes snapped open, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. You didn’t recognize the noise coming from down the hall though. You knew it wasn’t Whitney and Trent, unfortunately you knew that sound better than you’d like to. You glanced up at Jude, your mind suddenly connecting the dots.

“Wait you wanted to have sex.” You frowned feeling incredibly bad you let sleep and too much tequila probably derail what Jude thought he was walking into. You were trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. You felt horribly being in his bed now, like you should leave immediately.

“It’s okay, angel.” Jude chuckled, his chest vibrating under your cheek. You didn’t feel fully convinced. Your drunken mind twisted his words, making you feel insecure. You frowned, feeling a twinge of rejection.

“You don’t want to have sex with me?” You asked embarrassed and saddened. Jude watched your facial expression break, feeling hurt by his words. His heart ached reading your inner thoughts that were plastered across your face. He could hear your voice almost shake, the way you were almost pleading for him to want you. Jude immediately shook his head, his thumb brushing across your cheek.

“I do, trust me I really do but tomorrow.” He laughed very sure he would’ve liked that but Jude still wasn’t crazy knowing that you hadn’t remembered the first time. “I just want a cuddle from you. Do you want to have a cuddle with me?” He gently lifted your chin so you would look at him, his expression soft and sincere. You nodded. It did ping in your head that this was thoughtful just in the way Trent was to Whitney earlier but it was a fleeting thought. You were too drunk to hold onto it. “Thank you for getting naked for me though, that was really nice of you.” Jude laughed rubbing his hands over your body.

“I wanted you to like me.” You mumbled against his warm skin earnestly. You really felt like that was the only way he would like you.

“I like you with or without clothes.” Jude cooed with that same ache returning from before. His voice firm but kind. He didn’t like that, drunk or not, how you thought that was the only way he would like you.

“Really?” You meekly asked, picking your head up. You rested your chin on his chest. A sleepy smile pulling on your lips.

“Yeah. Course hard not to.” He told you honestly, kissing your forehead.

“I like you.” You unexpectedly admitted to him through your haze. Jude smiled more than happy hearing it, even though a part of him already knew it. You had tried to walk out of it on the beach but he knew it wasn’t in a ‘fun friend way.’

“I know. C’mere Angel.” He cooed, pulling you into a tight embrace, you were securely wrapped in his arms as if Jude could shield you from the world. Maybe Whitney was right. He was nicer than you thought. He swayed your body back and forth with his. He could feel you relax against him, your breathing evening out as you started to drift back to sleep. He pressed another kiss to your head, his heart swelling with affection. He was determined to show you that you didn't need to put up a front with him, that you were enough just as you were. And as he closed his eyes, holding you close, he knew he'd do whatever it took to prove that to you. Jude liked you a lot, more than he even thought. You’d been glued together the whole holiday. He wasn’t sure how to manage this and neither were you. Jude thought he’d see the trip out. You were attempting to keep your distance but failing miserably when he came up behind you in the kitchen pinning you against the counter top.

“You want to sit next to me for the movie?” Jude whispered to you, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. An unforeseen rainstorm shook up previous evening plans, the night shifting to an impromptu movie night.

“Depends. How close do I get to be to you?” You cooed trying to fight back a giggle feeling his hands run up and down your sides dragging your top up with his big hands.

“We can share a blanket. Can be however close you want.” Jude smiled, his lips curling against your skin. You pushed your back into his chest, Jude subtly peppering small kisses behind your ear for no one but you to notice.

“Perfect…” You cooed, keeping your eyes fixed ahead on the microwave. A bag of popcorn spinning around as you listened to the kernels pop inside. “And when the lights go out and my hands wander, is that going to be okay?” You asked Jude with a pur. You tilted your head to the side to give him more access to your neck.

“I’d encourage it, mine are.” Jude cooed, letting his hands wrap around you entirely. They dropped down your stomach to come and play with the drawstring on your shorts. A shiver ran up your spine with the microwave beginning to beep dragging you out from the moment of sheer bliss feeling Judes hands on you. The living room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the flickering screen as a movie played out in front of you all. The large, comfortable couch was crowded with friends, everyone lounging with drinks in hand, half-watching the film and half-whispering in quiet conversations. You and Jude were sitting together on one end of the couch, your bodies intertwined under the blanket Jude promised. The night had been filled with laughter and teasing, but now, in the softness of the late hour, there was a fragile tension between you. You felt the warmth of Jude almost beneath you. The movie droned on, but your mind was elsewhere—on the way his arm rested around your shoulders, his fingers slowly stroking your skin. Jude could feel the heat radiating from your skin. His heart seemed to beat a little faster whenever you shifted, brushing against him even more. You glanced at him, catching the subtle way his eyes flicked toward you before quickly returning to the screen. You had been so courageous in the kitchen but now surrounded by everyone else under the warm blue light of the screen, despite the cover of the blanket, you felt more exposed than ever. You were nervous on how to navigate this. It wasn’t the physical touch that made you nervous but the comfort you felt with him. Somehow this public cuddle felt far more intimate than sex. It was a dance, this game of touches and stolen glances, a wordless conversation filled with question marks and ellipses. The anticipation was electric, crackling in the small space between you. As the movie rolled on, Jude shifted slightly, his arm moving in what seemed like a casual gesture at first but he was throwing caution to the wind. He wanted you closer to him. He gripped your arm and pulled you into him with a hum. It sent a rush of warmth through you. You were so thankful he made the move. Your heart thudded in your chest as you leaned against his chest feeling the strength and warmth of him even through the fabric of his shirt. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you couldn’t focus on anything but the feel of his hand resting against you, the quiet weight of it grounding you in this tender, tentative moment. You leaned into him more, enough to send a clear message. Jude responded in kind, his body relaxing into your, his fingers tracing small, gentle circles on your skin. The touch was soft, almost shy, as if he was testing your reaction, afraid to push too far, but eager to deepen the connection. Your head found its way to rest against his chest. His heartbeat was steady and strong beneath your ear, a comforting rhythm that made you feel safe, as though you were in your own little world, separate from the rest of the group. You could feel the rise and fall of his breath, the way it seemed to catch slightly when you moved, the way it synced with your own.

“What’s happening?” One of the boys asked, breaking the spell as they tried to follow the plot of the movie. You lifted your head slightly, still close to Jude but now aware of the world around you again. You hadn’t been paying attention to the screen at all, lost in the quiet, courageous touches you were exchanging. Jude’s hand stilled on you, dragging your body tighter into him, inadvertently and unintentionally protecting you from reality.

“Honestly, no idea,” Jude said softly, his voice low, meant only for you to hear. His breath was warm against your temple, and the sound of his voice so close made your heart skip. You smiled, your lips brushing against the fabric of his shirt.

“Me neither.” You whispered back, your hand moving to rest lightly on his chest, just over his heart. “But I think I like this better.” Jude’s arm tightened slightly around you, a subtle but unmistakable affirmation.

“Yeah.” He murmured, his lips grazing your hair, the touch so light you almost thought you imagined it. “Me too.” He cooed. You stayed like that, wrapped in the tender warmth of each other, the movie long forgotten as you cuddled closer, the touches growing less tentative, more confident. Jude’s hand slipped down your arm, his fingers intertwined with yours, holding you close in a way that felt both protective and intimate. You began to doze off after the movie ended, comforted by him. The boys had queued up the sequel, all of them entranced by a film series getting lost in the next movie. It was well into the morning, the rain had long gone and you were practically on top of Jude at this point. “Going to sleep, angel?” Jude whispered to you.

“Hmmm? What is this the 4th?” You asked Jude after you heard the theme music for the series began again.

“Nah, only the third.” He whispered kissing your temple with a cheeky smile watching you cuddling up to him more. “Want me to bring you to my room?” Jude offered.

“No, I just want to stay right here. Is that okay?” You asked him quietly, not able to even pick your head up, you were so tired. You were exhausted but you were so cozy with him you didn’t want to be apart. Not even a bed could be better.

“Yeah, course, you’re good, angel.” He smiled, pulling you tighter to him, resting his chin on your head after a subtle kiss. It wasn’t long before you fell asleep completely in Jude’s arms as the third movie rolled on.

“Judey, Judey, Judeyy.” Whitney teased from across the room. She sat up in Trent’s arms with a smug smile. As she sang the nickname that bothered him so much poking fun at Jude’s affection towards you it pinged in his head that he really didn’t mind when you had said it just the same earlier. He flipped her off and put his arm back around you where he wanted it.

•

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part - Chapter 3 - Mr. Madrid xx

#jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham

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hometoursandotherstuff · 4 months ago

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Little fairy tale castle built in 1976 in Lafayette, PA was the height of style in the 70s, but it's very dated, now. IMO, the 70s were a pretty tacky period in decor. They're asking $1.16M for the 4bd, 5ba home. What do you think?

I prefer gryphons to the common lion statues.

The entrance hall is grand and has elements of English Tudor style, as well as castle. I like the way the lamps simulate torches and the ceiling with the medieval chandelier is amazing. Plus, the sweeping stairs and tile floors look good. I would want to repaint it, but it would take $ to brighten this up.

Love the iron gate to the sitting room. The home has the elements of a large castle and it's beautifully done.

The sitting room is elegant with 2 steps down to the sunken space.

Beautiful fireplace and windows, all on a smaller scale. Love the wood ceiling and chandelier, too.

Very large dining room. Nice chandelier, but no wainscoting or fireplace, plain ceiling.

This is where we get into the 70s style. The colors were orange, green and yellowish gold. So, the kitchen has the original dark cabinetry, there's the orange hood w/a royal crest over the cook top and cool orange sinks. The brown & orange tile floor ties it in.

They changed out the counters b/c they're granite. You can see the stained glass cabinet doors and decorative panels on the fridge. I think I would put one of those Knight statues in here with a tray, so he looks like a butler or something campy like that. d

Large casual dining area is nice. It has a whole wall fireplace. I actually like this space better than the formal dining room. Note the little dragons on the medieval chandelier.

Very dated and original wallpaper and lighting. You can either embrace this home, and just brighten it up a little, or renovate it.

Check out the original avocado toilet and sink.

Now up on the 2nd level, we have a rec room with window seats, on one side. By the looks of the overhead fixture, there was a pool table in here.

On this side of the rail, step down to the sunken bar area, the epitome of 70s entertaining. You've got a stone fireplace area for guests to gather, and a wet bar with the decorative panels and popular plaid wallpaper. Plus, note that there's also a stepdown to the sunken bar.

This is the door to the primary chamber.

They emptied it, but it's royal purple and spacious. There's also a small fireplace and closets with mirrors. I tried to get tinted mirror strips off my wall when I had the house- they were on the sides of a stone fireplace and would not budge. I finally covered them w/simulated stained glass.

Across a small purple hallway is the primary bath.

Variety of fixtures- funky black tub, orange sink, black toilet and bidet. It looks like everything has its own room, too.

Now, this suite has a purple theme.

Check out the 3 pc. bath. I'm colorblind when it comes to distinguishing gray and orchid. Is the sink purple?

Very large attic for lots of storage.

There's a beautiful free-form pool outside.

The grounds are very pretty.

.79 acre lot, beautifully landscaped.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/4127-Presidential-Dr-Lafayette-Hill-PA-19444/10072422_zpid/

#mid century modern homes #fairy tale homes #castle homes #english tudor #time capsules #houses #house tours #home tour

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girlkisser13 · 4 months ago

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dionysus cabin headcanons

children of dionysus

• HUGE theater kids.

• being highly emotional, wine children make great actors.

• they throw the best parties.

• they have extra beds in their cabin for people who pass out and can't handle their liquor.

• when one of them is upset, others around them get upset too, due to dionysus having influence on the mind.

• they hate the indoors and prefer open spaces.

• even when sober, they can't pass a breathalyzer test because they naturally have the scent of wine on them.

• they are all great cooks and know which wine to pair with each meal.

• they are all very good at directions and are rarely lost (a blessing from their stepmother).

• gender fluidity is common with dionysus kids.

• they all have thick, curly hair and strange color eyes.

• they are prone to depression and anger and are often bipolar.

• daughters of dionysus are rare so they are as powerful as big three kids (canon in the myths).

• they are harder to charmspeak due to their connection with the states of mind.

• arguments last for months because anger runs in their blood and the wine influence makes it worse.

• when they’re sad, they can make vines wilt by just looking at them.

• on very rare occasions, wine children can be born with the ability to affect another's mental state temporarily.

• this ability makes them feared by many, because they can cause hysteria and hallucinations, but they are also sought out by some suffering from depression or anxiety to help relax them.

• they get really thirsty really easily. they always have a bottle of water on hand.

• they are able to recognize all kinds of alcohol with just a sniff, but they all hate wine-tasting.

• they can automatically tell if a beverage has been tampered with, laced with something unwanted or if the ingredients used to make said alcohol are not safe for consumption.

cabin exterior

• the cabin is draped in grapevines and ivy, with the plants growing in a seemingly chaotic yet aesthetically pleasing manner.

• the exterior features vibrant and rich colors like deep purples, greens, and golds. they are reminiscent of a vineyard in full bloom.

• their cabin has a rustic, almost ancient greek villa vibe, with wooden beams, stone walls, and terracotta roof tiles.

• strings of fairy lights, lanterns, and other festive decorations hang around the cabin, creating a lively, celebratory atmosphere even when there's no party.

• comfortable outdoor furniture like hammocks, cushioned chairs, and wooden benches are scattered around for lounging and socializing.

• the doors in their cabin occasionally change colors and vines tend to move on their own.

cabin interior

• their cabin is almost entirely purple on the inside, which makes everything a little bit dark and dramatic. it's also usually very cool and damp inside- the perfect climate for storing wine.

• plush, comfortable furniture in rich fabrics and colors create a cozy yet opulent atmosphere. think velvet couches, silk cushions, and ornate rugs.

• they have a central bar area with stools and a variety of non-alcoholic drinks (and a secret stash of wine). nearby, they have a lounge area with low tables, bean bags, and cozy chairs for socializing and relaxing.

• soft, warm lighting from chandeliers, lanterns, and fairy lights create a magical, inviting ambiance. there are also be candles and fireflies in glass jars scattered around.

• the interior also features plenty of natural elements, like potted plants, hanging vines, and flowers. some walls might even have living plants growing on them.

• decorations include garlands, streamers, and masks hanging from the walls and the ceiling, giving the cabin a perpetual party vibe.

• the walls are adorned with art pieces, ranging from classical paintings to more whimsical, modern interpretations of dionysian myths. sculptures of satyrs, nymphs, and other mythological creatures are scattered around the cabin.

cabin traditions

• when a child of dionysus falls in love, it's a cabin tradition that they give their partner a hideous leopard print shirt.

• they put on regular plays, improv sessions, or storytelling nights, often featuring greek and roman myths and tales related to their father.

• new wine children undergo a playful initiation rite, involving a series of fun challenges and games, ending with a toast (with grape juice) welcoming them into the cabin.

• inspired by traditional wine-making, they hold an annual grape-crushing competition, with teams competing to crush the most grapes by stomping on them, followed by a big party to celebrate.

divider by @plutism

#percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #pjo #hoo #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #hoo fandom #pjo series #hoo series #pjo tv show #pjo disney+#pjo cabins #dionysus #bacchus #dionysus cabin #cabin twelve #cabin 12 #children of dionysus

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thealtoduck · 4 months ago

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Being a Son of Iris, headcanons…

PJO x Male Reader

Reference to possible: Travis Stoll x Son of Iris!Reader

Warnings: References to violence…

Summary: Just some headcanons for being the son of Iris, Goddess of the rainbow…

(A/n: I think I cursed myself with that poll about my draft fics because the progress on those ⬇️… but I hope you’ll like this good enough for now)

——

In the far left corner of the Hermes cabin is where the three Iris children, you, Butch and Blanche, had set up their own little area of a bunkbed and a matress all with colorful sheets.

That was until after the war when the three of you FINALLY got a cabin of your own.

The exterior was very simple and made of stone like an ancient greek temple. With carvings of Iris on the walls.

As soon as the cabin was declared finished, it gained an iridescent glow. Which most people assumed was a sign that Iris had blessed it and was satisfied with their work.

Above the door of the cabin where it says Cabin 14 there is also a giant opal placed on the wall, that glistens in all the rainbows colours.

One time the Hermes cabin stole the Opal as a prank but when the Iris cabin found out you were pissed and you and your siblings cursed cabin 11 to turn hot pink as revenge.

You, Butch and Blanche only changed it back after Chiron forced the Hermes cabin to apologise.

——

Speaking of the Hermes cabin, The Iris and Hermes kids have a bit of a rivalry since Hermes took over Iris duty as the messanger of the gods against her wishes. So the two cabins engage in a mostly friendly rivalry on a lot of occasions.

You personally have a rivalry with Travis Stoll, the two of you always competing about something, who’s the fastest, who’s the strongest, who’s the better fighter, who looks better in their swimming suit…

Your siblings tease you saying you’re both crushing on each other. You deny it saying: ”Ew, why would I like Travis and his dumb cute face”.

Meanwhile in Cabin 11, Travis: ”Gross, why would I like Y/n and his sorta hot body”.

——

The powers you as a child of Iris have are that:

You’re really fast runners and can run for a long time, Iris was the messenger of the gods for a reason.

You can cast colour related curses and change the colour of different things and objects. If someone pisses you off, hope they like having the most obnoxious blue hair colour in existence and having their cool black car turned baby pink.

You get free Iris messages.

You can generate small rainbows that can be used for shorter Iris messages.

You can make your whole or just parts of your body glow with the rainbows colours. Helps when you’re somewhere really dark.

More a general trait but when a child of Iris skin gets wet it turn iridescent.

——

Congrats! You’re probably one of Hera’s favourite cabin as Iris acts as her personal messenger and confidant.

You even received a ancient vase as a cabin warming present from her.

——

Beacuse of your cabin’s association with colours and rainbows a lot of campers say watching you and your siblings in battle is like watching the Powerpuff Girls.

You are occaisionally referred to by the other campers as ”The Powerpuff Cabin”. Which you and the others don’t mind, who wouldn’t wanna be compared to the Powerpuff Girls.

#percy jackson x male reader #percy jackson x male!reader #pjo x male reader #pjo x male!reader #travis stoll x male reader #travis stoll x male!reader #x male!reader #male reader #x male reader #percy jackson and the olympians x male reader #heroes of olympus x male reader #heroes of olympus x male!reader #son of iris!reader #son of iris #camp half blood x male reader

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cherryslyce · 1 year ago

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Amalfi Coast | Theodore Nott

Synopsis: The end of your years at Hogwarts brings about stirring changes: the unveiling of your betrothal to Theodore Nott and an all-expense getaway to Italy for alone time with your husband-to-be.

PAIRING: Theodore Nott x GN!Reader

WORD COUNT + NOTES: 4.5k. I am so weak for Theodore.

The shards of glimmering light that dance across the soft peaks of water distances away seem to speak to you as you drift into your thoughts. Crowded between cliff-hanging abodes and the frothing shore, you’ve never felt so insignificant until that moment.

Your hand absentmindedly brushes against the fine grains of sand below you, the microscopic beads emanating a pleasant warmth against your palm. You hear a soft thud from beside you just as a comforting presence graces you, the uncomfortable stir of disorientation washing away with the drag of the waves.

“The unit should be prepped soon. We can grab some food after Mitzy brings over our luggage.” Theodore’s smooth voice hums out, eyes clambering to drink in the sight of the sea as well.

You smile softly at the mention of the boy’s house-elf, remembering how she had been keen to help you pack for the trip. Nodding, you unconsciously shift closer to the boy as you glance at him, “Sounds like a plan.”

Theodore looks completely serene much to your confusion. A large part of you was grateful that Theodore was chosen to be your betrothed, but another chunk of your heart twinged painfully at the thought. It was no secret that Nott Sr. was a strict man, and you couldn’t help but spiral into a web of thoughts about how Theodore was likely forced into being with you.

It had only been a few months since you both graduated from Hogwarts, but you distinctly recall how close Theodore was to Millicent Bulstrode. Your brain sifted through your memories of the girl, remembering her calculative eyes and pin-straight posture.

You just hoped the girl wouldn’t hex you for swooping in and stealing her boyfriend.

You and Theodore weren’t exactly close friends, but you both sought out each other’s company during exam season, enjoying the comfortable routine of silence that you both fell into during those days. Outside of the library, interactions with the boy dwindled into nods and occasional smiles. Despite the distance between you both during school, you held onto hope that your familiarity with one another would serve as a stepping stone towards a smooth relationship.

Conversation with Theodore is sparse for the hours that follow, the both of you mulling over thoughts of pleasantries and faltering topics of chatter. The fervid wind settles the farther you trek from the shoreline, now teetering past assortments of clustered buildings, all mottled with bright colors.

Your wand presses stiffly against your side as you tuck it into the waistband of your bottoms, concealing it from view as you both approach a swarm of people. Theodore keeps beside you, donning black sunglasses that keeps his searching gaze hidden as you both bask in the foreign environment.

It was lively and bright, the antithesis to the perpetual gloom and blisters of humming that was encroached in every stone of Britain. White verandas and endless shrubbery adorned the collection of shops around you, catching your eyes every so often.

“Here we are.” Theodore mutters, throwing you a small smile as your mouth drops into a vague o-shape.

The restaurant is stretched open with white beams of wood streaming upward to a flat wooden ceiling, the entirety of the seating area is squared away by the side banisters instead of proper walls, letting in the cool wind and seaside view. Theodore steps forward to speak with the hostess, hand lifting up to tug off his sunglasses as a blanket of shade envelopes you both.

You’re entranced by Theodore’s rapid-fire speaking, wondering if he had chosen Italian for his language lessons in order to strengthen his friendship with Blaise. With Theodore’s fluency and the restaurant’s expansive array of tables, you’re both seated in a matter of minutes.

The speckless table cloth drapes past your legs like a waterfall, effectively providing a shield against the breeze as you take your spot across from Theodore. The boy plucks his menu up and shoots you an indecipherable look from above the booklet as you remain motionless, seeing as your elementary understanding of Italian begins and ends at Ciao and Grazie.

Theodore’s lips flicker up momentarily before he lays his menu down and shuffles it over to you, “Do you want pasta? Or salad? They also have pizza, if you prefer that.”

Your lips split into a small smile of relief, a warmth blossoming in your chest as the stiff atmosphere around you both seems to wash away. Theodore reads off of the entire menu for you, eyes occasionally shifting to your concentrated face as you pedal between a few options.

When you finally decide on a dish, Theodore offers you a light hum and shining eyes, paralyzing you for a few moments. Perhaps, and to your relief, your relationship could work out after all. You just needed to clear the air between you both first.

The meal continues on without a hitch, but you have to make a conscious effort to not stare at the boy in front of you when the sun begins to sink behind the basin of sea water.

The swirls of orange and pink of the sky illuminate his sharp features, complementing his already striking complexion. A tamed buzzing of conversation wafts through the air, spurring you to word-vomit the thoughts that were plaguing you since your first joint dinner with Theodore and his father weeks before.

“I’m sorry,” You begin, looking away from Theodore when he meets your gaze with furrowed eyebrows, “about our marriage.”

Silence ensues after your vague words, and when you finally work up the courage to glance back at Theodore, confusion settles into the etches of your mind as you see his frown and penitent gaze. You had expected false platitudes of reassurance, or bitter resignation—hell, maybe anger—but certainly not the look he was giving you right now.

Clearing your throat, you sit up and lean forward, “I mean, I know that you would rather not be betrothed to me, so I’m sorry. My parents are quite lenient people, so I should have fought against it since I know your heart belongs to someone else already.”

“What?” Theodore wheezes out, reeling back to process your words.

Feeling heat creep up your neck, you falter back with quiet words, “Maybe, if I had refused vehemently, my parents could have convinced your father to not force you. I just wanted to apologize because I don’t want any lingering awkwardness or expectations for each other.”

Before Theodore can respond, your waiter paces over, giving you a polite smile before turning to address Theodore. The boy in front of you distractedly answers the waiter, eyes flickering back to your rigid figure amidst his words.

Once the waiter parts from your tableside, leaving behind a quaint black tray for your sum, Theodore seems to fall into a silent daze as he robotically composes himself and leaves the money on the tray. When he pushes his chair back, you follow suit, ready to play catch up if he swept away and down into the streets without you.

To your muted surprise, Theodore stops by your side and holds out his hand for you to take. Hesitantly clasping his calloused hand in yours, you are only able to await his words with bated breath, distracting yourself by focusing on the feeling of his rings against your fingers.

Theodore leads you yards away from the restaurant, only falling to a halt once you both reach a secluded area beside a blocked-off cliffside. The sound of crashing waves tangles into the air as Theodore’s eyes run around your face for a few moments.

“Do you want to call this off?” Theodore whispers, eyes steely with resolution as his other hand moves to lightly grip your arm.

You gape at his blunt words, swallowing thickly as your gaze falls to the ground, “If that’s what you want.”

“But what do you want?” He mumbles, stepping closer to you as another chilly gust of wind flies around your unguarded figures.

Peering back up to him, you frown before divulging, “I don’t want to call it off.”

“Good. Me neither.” Theodore nods, eyes softening at your honesty.

“But what about Millicent?” You mutter, head tilting with visible perplexion. The poignant reminder of her existence evokes a storm of doubts in your veins, and your head starts spinning with the culmination of the day’s events.

Theodore cranes his head back to assess you as he plainly responds, “What about her?”

This time, it’s your turn to survey his confused face with a mirrored look, “What? She’s your girlfriend? I can’t in good conscience do that to someone, arranged or not.”

Theodore’s mouth parts as he stares at you, and for a moment you’re disconcerted by the thought that he perhaps only just remembered her, but then, the most remarkable thing happens—Theodore starts to chuckle. His shoulders quake faintly with every muffled sound, and after a few moments, he throws his head back to let it out toward the darkening sky.

Before you have a moment to question the boy’s sanity, he turns back to you with a wide grin, “Is that what you were talking about earlier? You caught me from left field. I was worried that you were displeased because your heart belonged to someone already.”

Seeing your inquiring eyes, he shuffles closer and shakes his head, “I’m not dating Millicent, silly one. Where’d you get that grand idea from?”

“You guys were always together, and all the rumors–” Your words come out borderline defensive, neck blazing from embarrassment.

Theodore huffs and squeezes your arm, softly cutting you off from your spiel, “Just rumors. I wouldn’t have agreed to any sort of arrangement if I was with someone else, my father knows that much.”

“Right, yeah. Sorry.” You nod, scratching at your neck to dispel the humiliation that would live on in your head until your last moments on Earth.

“Silly.” Theodore hums, letting go of your arm to tap at your forehead, “Let’s head to our place before we freeze, yeah?”

Your rental unit was quite spacious to your surprise, and you were almost too enraptured with touching every inch of furniture to notice that there was only one bed in the entire space. Almost.

Theodore is cognizant of the same dilemma, clicking his tongue dryly as he murmurs quietly under his breath.

“I can take the floor.” You speak up almost zealously, easily masking how the prospect of waking with a sore back was killing you on the inside. Theodore and you had barely started building a thin understanding for your relationship, and you’d be damned if a single bed would stir up tension again.

Theodore swivels to look at you, “No need, we can share the bed. If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll take the floor.” His voice leaves little room for argument, and he runs a hand through his locks as he nods reassuringly at you. You’re touched by his consideration and understanding, glad that you weren’t in such a position with someone like Crabbe or Goyle, both of whom would likely grunt inaudibly and leave you to your ministrations.

“Let’s share, then.” You concede, heart thrumming fervently in your chest.

Theodore smiles softly at you and beckons you closer as he sits down on the bed, hand reaching out for you as you slowly tread forward. When you gently place your hand in his, he gives a faint tug, eyes darting down to the empty spot beside him.

Once you’re snug on the plush mattress, you turn to him with a wry grin, “We’ve skipped pretty much every single conventional step to get here. From study partners to life partners.”

“I suppose you’re right,” the corner of his mouth slants up, “from barely knowing my name to taking my surname, hm? Quite unorthodox.”

Shaking your head, you flop back onto the bed, keenly aware of how Theodore tightens his hold on your hand as it begins to slip away. Peering up at him, you raise an eyebrow, “Who said I’m taking your last name, Nott? You’re taking mine.”

“Hyphenating, it is.” He murmurs as his eyes trail toward the balcony ways off across the room.

You chuckle and stare into the abyss of the dim ceiling, “Any excuse to have a ridiculously extensive name.”

“Never as ridiculous as Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.” He muses, slowly lowering himself to lay beside you.

A few tantalizing beats pass before your jumbled mind seems to take away any semblance of restraint from your mouth, “I never thought it would be you, to be frank.”

“Yeah?” Theodore hums, head now turned towards you.

Nodding, you run your free hand along the edge of the bed as you continue, “My parents had been considering Crabbe for a while. I mean, they know nothing about him, but I can just imagine how that dinner would have gone once they realized just who they were shipping me off to.”

Theodore continues to study you, hand squeezing yours again before he mumbles, “I knew it’d be you.”

Snapping your head to the side, your eyes widen at his hooded gaze, “Really?”

“My father knew it too. That I wouldn’t have anyone but you.” His admission knocks the wind from your lungs, and you almost want to throttle yourself off the bed to ensure that you weren’t dreaming.

“Yeah?” You ask dumbly, heart stuttering against your ribs.

Theodore shifts to lean on his elbow, bringing his face closer to yours as he whispers, “Want to know a secret?”

All you can do is nod, trying to blink away the dizziness coiling around your head from the close proximity.

He hums and slowly retracts his hand, bringing a finger to trail the bedding beside your shoulder, “I was the one to ask your parents for permission to court you. Now, I’m going to wash up first, I promise I won’t be long.”

Without a hitch, Theodore swiftly clambers off of the bed, leaving the mattress to gently recoil against your back as it expands to its original form. You’re only able to grapple for a coherent thought once the bathroom door shuts with a click, barring you from staring at Theodore in wonder.

Once you hear the stream of the shower head emit from the bathroom, you slowly prop yourself up and trudge towards the balcony, swinging the glass doors open and allowing the whistling wind to zip through the newly exposed aperture. The biting breeze nips at your cheeks as you stare into the sky, surveying all the twinkling stars as you recount the day’s events.

You aren’t exactly sure what you’re going to say to Theodore, or if you’re even going to be able to look him in the eyes once he emerges from the bathroom, but you supposed that the turn of events unfolded more pleasantly than you could have hoped.

The distant clamoring of partygoers ways away from the balcony lulls you into a loop of idle daydreams, and you aren’t sure how many minutes have passed since Theodore’s departure from your side, but the whirlwind of your elusive thoughts dissipates when a warm hand grazes your arm.

“You alright? I’ve been calling your name for a bit now.” Theodore mumbles, eyes glazed with worry as he searches your blank expression.

Blinking slowly, you nod and offer a faint smile, “Fine, just lost in my thoughts.”

“It’s a bit chilly out here,” He glances to his right, evidently hearing the faint pulsing of music as well, “why don’t we head in?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, smiling at him, “I’ll try not to wake you when I get out of the shower.”

As you make your way to weave around the boy, body feeling weightless despite the fatigue drenching your muscles, you can feel his eyes following you until you’re swallowed by the shadows of the room.

The numbing balm of the night’s wind melts away from your face as you peer up into the shower head. The swath of steam that swirls around your body, cloaking the mirrors and walls, seems to inhibit the taunts of your overactive brain.

Your getaway would continue for another week before you’d begin wedding arrangements, already feeling the splintering headache emerging at the thought of sitting down and picking between a plethora of cloth samples. Unions between pureblood families were a big deal for the elite circle of families as the event would serve as the perfect opportunity for pretense and business transactions between different houses.

When you crack the bathroom door open with a muffled pop, dismissing the rush of steam that flees hurriedly into the cool room, you vaguely make out the figure of Theodore propped up against the headboard. The hues of moonlight peek through the bare panes of your window, curtains swept aside, faintly illuminating the silhouette of the furniture.

“Still up?” You whisper, padding over to delicately arrange yourself beside the boy.

As you shuffle under the plush covers, dragging the edges under your arms, you turn to peer at Theodore’s profile, watching as his throat bobs down as he slowly turns to you.

“Didn’t want to sleep without you.” He mutters, slowly sinking to lay down beside you.

You suppress the tender smile threatening to peel across your face and nod, “I see. You’re not a restless sleeper, are you?”

“Are you?” He quietly intones, voice growing fainter as sleep begins to grip at his consciousness.

“No, I’m not.” You hum, resisting the urge to sweep your fingers forward in search of his, “Goodnight, Theodore.”

“Goodnight.”

You both fall asleep facing one another, inches apart as the glow of the moonlight chases away the gulfs of darkness that slink in the corners of your room. It is in this position that your slumber is torn away from you mere hours later, moonlight now dispersing into small shards that nearly blend away against the white covers.

The foggy film that clouds your senses and sight reel away as you hear a small grunt from beside you followed by incessant shifting. Blinking away your drowsiness, you slowly shift up to survey Theodore, slowly comprehending his distress.

Theodore huffs out, a muffled groan blooming into the quiet atmosphere around you. Carefully reaching over, you shake the boy’s arm, eyebrows furrowing when he simply shifts again.

“Theodore, hey,” You feebly call out, shaking his arm more frantically as he remains trapped in the desolate rapids of unconsciousness.

Leaning down you bring your other hand to softly pat his cheek, you wait with bated breath as his ministrations quell before ceasing entirely. Eyes now accustomed to the veil of midnight darkness, you see his eyes slowly blink open, a light sigh escaping his lips as he begins to claw back into reality.

“Hey, it’s alright, you’re alright,” You softly murmur, bringing your fingers up to gently card back his waves, any semblance of fatigue evaporating from your bones as you focus on comforting the boy.

Theodore brings his hand up to yours, eyes beginning to sluggishly droop again, “Y/N?”

“Hm?” You hum out, readjusting your position as sickly soreness jolts up your arm.

“I guess I am a restless sleeper.” He mumbles, nudging against his pillow before he emits another sigh. His voice rumbles lethargically, and you sense that he is about to slip away into slumber again when he tightens his hold on your hand.

“Hm. What’s up?” You whisper, moving to lay down as well.

Theodore is silent for a few seconds before he tersely whispers back, voice nearly drowned out by the thumping of your heart in your ears, “Can I hold you?”

You shift closer to the cocoon of warmth batting off of him, steadily bringing your arm to wrap around him, “Of course.”

Theodore wraps his arms around you and drags you towards him, a content hum buzzing from his throat as he tucks you under his chin. For the few grand moments that pass afterward, you are left to contemplate the consequences your position would entail for when the sun rose, and you fervently hoped that no awkwardness would ensue.

Your close proximity to Theodore allows you to hear the faint thumping of his heartbeat, now undeviating in its rhythm. Bringing your free hand forward, you tuck it in the nestle of warmth between your bodies, trying to conjure inklings of sleep as a dense pressure burrowed itself in your eyes.

The lull of concentration fades into blind navigation in the crevices of your mind, and when your pulsing thoughts dwindle to incomprehensible echoes, slumber greets you once again.

When your mind blisters into stark clarity, it is with recognition of the orange hues flashing in your vision and the traces of aimless lines on your back. Your body instinctively pines for the cushion of bliss that mutely calls for you: a mixture of aftershave and pear.

For a few moments, it is completely tranquil. Until you realize that your pillow had a heartbeat.

The revelation is enough to jumpstart the discombobulated wires of your brain. Your eyes crack open to greet the rays of light that crowd your vision, an unpleasant stinging causing you to squint as you huff out.

“Good morning.” Theodore’s voice is gravelly, barely above a whisper.

“Hi Theodore.” You mumble out, remaining motionless against him.

His chest vaguely rumbles and you feel him splay one his hands against your back, “Theo. Only my father and Blaise call me Theodore.”

“Blaise?” You tiredly repeat, cheek squishing against his shirt.

“At his insistence, honestly. He thinks it’s fun.” Theodore hums, and that reminder has your hazy brain blinking with a sudden memory.

“Wait. Theodora, right?” You raise your head up, a wide grin plastered on your face as you remember the one night when Blaise dragged him away from your study routine using that nickname.

Theodore blinks before he groans into the air, bringing one of his arms up to throw over his eyes as he grumbles, “Merlin, I was hoping you’d forget or even mishear that.”

“Oh, I almost did, but Blaise’s ruckus was far more interesting than a Potions essay.” Theodore hums tiredly at the mention, and his reaction only spurs you on, “So, does he make it a habit to say Theodora, or is Dora better?” You say cheekily, shrugging innocently when Theodore peers down at you with a playful glare.

“Enough about Blaise,” Theodore mumbles, poking your ribs with his fingers as he maneuvers to sit up, dragging you to lean into his side as he did so, “I have something planned for today.”

“You’re being frighteningly vague, should I be worried?” You hum, muffling a low yawn.

Theodore shakes his head and dryly huffs , “Actually, I was planning on testing a few levitating charms on you.” His fingers dance lightly against your back as his voice drops into a feathery tone, “Have some faith in me.”

“I trust you.” You murmur, exhaling through your nose in amusement before you grow serious, “Anyway, did you sleep okay?”

Theodore doesn’t answer you, and you slowly raise your eyes to meet his face in confusion, “Theo?”

“Hm?” He hums distractedly, face craning closer to yours as he seems to almost stare through you.

Your heart collapses into the void of your ribcage for a split second before it begins to thrust violently against your chest, spurring a sea of warmth up your neck and ears. Theodore’s eyes flicker across your face as his hands begin to absentmindedly draw patterns against your sides.

You aren’t sure you’re breathing properly. Or at all.

One of his hands trails up to your arm, sliding to rest on the junction between your neck and shoulder as he muses, “Before we get up and go on about our day, I have something for you.”

Your eyebrows wrinkle at his words, eyes not straying away from his unwavering gaze. This time, it’s you who gives a small hum, patiently waiting for his next words.

“Just a small gift,” He whispers, slowly slotting his other hand on the small of your back, “It’s been a long time coming, really.”

His eyes drop down to your lips and that’s all you really need before you’re leaning towards him with anticipation, hands steadying themselves on his chest. Theodore’s lips part and he gazes at you for confirmation, jaw clenching imperceptibly as words become lost between you both.

When you remain resolute, he swiftly connects his lips to yours, mouth moving feverishly against yours. His hands press against your body, keeping you grounded as he begins to lean over you, lips never ceasing in their frenzied dance against yours.

Grasping the sides of his neck, you tug him impossibly closer to you as he hovers over you, one of his hands moving to run soothingly along your waist.

A few more heated moments pass before the tug for air becomes too great to ignore, causing you to break away from him, head tilting to the side as your lungs tinge with a faint tightness. Theodore grunts at your escape, chasing after you as he tries to satiate his desire, only opting to leave heavy kisses against your cheek and jaw when you tap his neck.

Closing your eyes, you bring your fingers to card through his hair as you attempt to halt the dizzying stars spinning across your eyelids. Amidst your fruitless efforts, a sudden tug has your eyes flying open, a bemused hum echoing through the air once you realize Theodore is guiding you to sit up.

He remains silent as he glides down from the side of the bed, hand drifting to lace with yours as he pulls you to sit at the edge of the mattress. Reaching towards the bottom drawer of the white dresser, Theodore only briefly glances away as he fishes out a small velvet box.

“Theo?” You mumble, eyes widening as he drops down on both of his knees.

“Ring.” He answers quietly, deftly opening the box and pulling out a thin silver band.

He drops kisses to your knees as he gazes up towards you, bringing one of his hands forward in muted questioning. Smiling softly, you place your left hand in his outstretched one, holding your breath when he slips the ring onto your ring finger with ease.

His hand continues to hold yours, thumb rubbing against your skin as he stares at the band.

“Thank you.” He finally says, lifting his face up to survey yours, his position leaving him at your complete mercy.

Your hands instinctively reach out to cup his face, bringing him in for another kiss as a newfound contentment curls into your chest. Theodore remains on his knees as he leans forwards, hands chancing a light slide against your hips as he reciprocates your affection.

“Fuck, how mad do you think everyone will be if we just eloped?” He grunts out before diving forward again to meet your lips.

Pulling back with a small laugh, you shake your head, “My parents would have your head.”

“I’m willing to pay that price, love.” He grins against your lips, nose nudging against yours.

Patting his cheek, you narrow your eyes playfully, “Well I’m not, so behave.”

“Yes, dear.”

masterlist

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter imagine #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott imagines

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savi0rr · 7 months ago

Note

OMG OMG TYSM FOR THE HEADCANONS BEING USED 😭

I js have one itsy lil request, can we get one more with two of these?

Fem!reader who loves to follow Skipp, (father figure fr <3) always trying to do good but also not get caught when bad

Stone who follows fem!reader like a lost puppy, (🥺) loving following them around as watching as they screw up things or trip, ect ect..

Fem!reader who always gets flustered by flirts, but can flirt (mostly when drunk "drunk words, sober thoughts" fr 😭

Stone who loves to flirt, he can and DOES get all flustered when fem!reader tries to hug him and compliment him (NOT NSFW!!)

(I RLLY THINK UR GON GO FOR THE LAST TWO 💀)

-👻🐏 anon (? :D)

Flirty Words

Stone x Fem!Reader

a/n: HI 👻🐏!!! you’re actually super right about me doing the last two 💀 LMAO GUESS YOU’LL HAVE TO READ AND FIND OUT WHICH I PICKED

❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁

"Hey, pretty girl." Stone said as he shoved his hand into his vest, pulled out his bottle full of alcohol, and took a sip of it. You shivered to hear his voice, and your stomach turned. "Hi..." You muttered, blushing as you crossed your arms over your chest. "What are you doing?" Stone asked as he placed his bottle back into his vest and looked over your shoulder. "Just-- fixing Vinnie's shoes because she ripped them..." You muttered, feeling your body getting hot. "Oh…cool." Stone said as he flopped down next to you, tilting his head to the side. He ran his fingers through his hair. Your gaze wandered over to him before your eyes looked back at the shoe in your hands. Stone smirked. "What's wrong? Are you getting sick, pretty girl?" Stone asked as his smirk widened. He raised his hand to your forehead. "Or is it because you're getting all flustered by me?"

You felt your heart pounded. "Stop it...you know what you're doing..." You grumbled, feeling small as you pushed his hand away from your forehead. "Awh, why?" Stone said as he leaned closer to you. "Of course, I know what I'm doing." He said as he cocked his head to the side. He sat up straight.

"Have fun fixing the shoe, love." Stone groaned as he stood up and stretched his back. "Where are you going?" You asked, staring up at him, your eyebrows furrowed. "Pickpocketing, it's my turn." He rolled his eyes. You perked up. "Can I come?" You asked as you placed Vinnie's shoe down. "I thought you were fixing Vinnie's shoe?" Stone asked, raising his eyebrow. "It can wait." You said, tilting your head to the side as you smiled. Stone's face softens seeing your smile. "I mean...fine. Just follow me." Stone said before they both walked out of the slums.

❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁

You and Stone reached into different people's pockets and stole their wallets. Glazing the rich people's wrists and slipping their jewelry and watches off. "Hey! You little shits, giving me back my wallet and my wife's watch!" A rich man yelled at Stone and you. Both of you jumped before the two of you ran down the street and were chased by the rich man. You pulled Stone into an alleyway, the two of you hiding in the shadows. You wrapped your arms around Stone, pressing yourself against him so you wouldn't be seen.

Stone's back was against the wall as he stared at the entrance of the alleyway. He felt his face becoming flushed, his face changing to a red color. He gulped as he felt his heart pounding. Stone feared that you could hear and feel his heartbeat. Which you did. "Stone, you're heartbeat-" "Hush." He muttered as he covered your mouth. The darkness helps cover his flustered face from you, thank god.

"Ugh! Those little scraps...stealing everything!" The rich groaned as he looked around, before walking down the street. You and Stone watched the entrance, before letting out a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness we didn't get caught." You said as you stared up at him. "Yeah..." He said, looking down at you.

"..."

"Want to make out?" "STONE!" "I'm kidding!...kinda."

#x you #ramshackle x you #stone x reader ramshackle #ramshackle x reader #oneshot #fluff #stone x reader #silly #x reader #ramshackle stone #stone ramshackle #ramshackle

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cobaltperun · 7 months ago

Text

Woe out the Storm (14) - Eye of the Tiger

Wednesday Addams x female Reader

Summary: It took some time, but eventually you came to realize only Wednesday Addams could look at the raging storm of chaos and destruction and make a home out of it. Only she could listen to the cacophony of the roaring thunder and hear a melody.

Story warnings: Wednesday Addams, violence, slow burn

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part (Season 1 finale)

Word count: 4.5k

-It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight-

You took several deep breaths, red eyes glaring at Laurel and what you assumed was revived Crackstone. For a moment you felt your lightning growing stronger, almost overwhelming you, threatening to burst through. You’ve spent too much time in lightning form to get across the lake and you could feel control you had slipping as the colors around you began fading. You knew one thing, you needed to finish this fast.

Something red caught your attention and you looked closely to see a gash across Wednesday’s palm. There was dried blood on the side of her head as well. “Sorry I’m late,” you said as the two of you stood up and faced Laurel and Crackstone.

Laurel smirked lightly and walked over to the wall. “I didn’t think you’d show up Y/N, with the lake in your way and your fear of water, but, I prepared just in case,” she said and you saw a wide hose near the wall she was heading toward.

“Shit!” you didn’t need to think long to understand what that meant. You threw your knife toward her, only to suddenly feel strong pressure keeping you from moving.

You gritted your teeth as Crackstone lifted his staff, holding you and Wednesday in place. “You feral beasts have stood in my way for too long! Burn!” he hollered, sending a torrent of flames toward you and Wednesday.

You could have zapped away, freed yourself from his hold, but Wednesday was right behind you.

“Go,” Wednesday ordered you, yet you didn’t listen, you just surrounded the two of you with your lightning, weakening the flames and clashing with them. The heat was similar, red flames colliding with darker, but still red, lightning, made it almost impossible to withstand the heat.

“Too close,” you focused on expanding your lightning, on pushing It away from Wednesday and you until the energy within two forces of nature exploded and pushed the two of you and Crackstone back a few steps.

He didn’t look tired, while you just dropped to one knee, feeling the fatigue of staying in control sneak up on you.

“Here, this will cool you down,” Laurel laughed and the stream of water hit you and Wednesday at the same time.

“Salt!” you gasped, realizing it wasn’t just regular water, Laurel raised the salinity of it and likely added something to it to make it stick to your body like the paint did. You dropped down, clenching your fists as you struggled to hold the lightning in.

“Go ahead and discharge Y/N! Oh, sorry, you’d kill Wednesday if you did!” she laughed, soaking everything around you as well, she used up so much water it covered the entire floor up to your wrists.

“She’ll kill you too,” Wednesday threatened, kneeling down next to you, but luckily not touching you.

“Wednesday, run,” you hissed, unsure of how much time you had left until you’d either discharge or, even worse, shift.

“Lucifer’s mistress cannot run, beast,” Crackstone once again raised his staff, pinning the two of you down. “You’ll be buried beneath the stones, your bodies never to be found!” the whips of fire struck the ceiling, making pebbles fall from it as the old, fragile building began shaking under the pressure of his telekinesis and flames.

“Sweet dreams, Wednesday, Y/N,” Laurel taunted you as the two of them made their way outside.

You couldn’t fight it anymore, even if you could, there was no other way.

“You better hope this kills us!” even your voice was changing, growing deeper, more guttural and Wednesday saw you tensing, your body heating up so much steam was starting to come from the water beneath you despite Crackstone’s ability still holding the two of you down.

As the crypt began falling on the two of you, you broke through telekinesis and pulled Wednesday beneath you. Your eyes went from red to orange in a flash, the colors lost their intensity, the dim light became more than enough for you to see, the scent of candles, salt, smoke, of Wednesday, intensified, and you could feel your body shifting.

~X~

She wasn’t sure how much time passed, you pulled her so hard she briefly got dizzy and lost consciousness due to Laurel knocking her out with a shovel. So, Wednesday didn’t know how long ago Laurel and Crackstone left. As Wednesday slowly blinked, still disoriented from the building collapsing on the two of you she heard panting above her, angry, animalistic, no, beastly, breathing combined with low growls and intense buzzing of lightning all around her. Yet she didn’t feel it, she wasn’t electrocuted, it was as if her immediate surroundings were spared from the rage of lightning. And she forced herself to open her eyes, despite the throbbing pain in her head. She was met with the sight from her vision, the one she had when she touched Rowan, of the beast standing above her.

The orange and black fur, the mane, the large, sharp fangs that could easily pierce right through her, the paws that could easily rip someone in two, and the size of the beast… she couldn’t be sure from her position beneath it, but from her estimation it was nearly seven feet tall, and likely twice as long, tail excluded. A magnificent tiger stood above her, standing despite the roof of the building falling right on top of it, protecting her from the fallen debris and certain death. An explosion of lightning from the beast’s, no, your body destroyed everything around Wednesday, turning the stone of the crypt into pebbles and dust. Wednesday coughed at that and you looked down, your orange eyes staring wildly into her own.

How aware were you really? Was Faulkner right? “Y/N?” she tried, gauging your reaction. You growled, baring your teeth, but you didn’t attack her, you just stared down at her as if trying to recognize her. A few moments later Wednesday saw a glimmer of recognition in your eyes and you stepped away from her to make your way to the fallen knife you claimed as your own after Wednesday threw it at you. You bent down, taking it gently between your teeth, with your size you could easily swallow it, instead you went back to Wednesday and, as she sat up a bit, carefully placed the knife on top of her stomach. You nudged her arm toward it in a way that didn’t fit your size, so lightly she barely felt your fur brushing against her. You lay down, just waiting for Wednesday to get it together and get up.

Even in this form you were being you, making Wednesday wonder why you were ever afraid of shifting and losing control. “We need to get back to the school and stop Crackstone and Laurel,” she told you, though she guessed it was futile as you didn’t budge. The lightning coming out of your body wasn’t intense, it was coming out from your feet and tail, and a bit from your eyes and mouth when you opened it, but it didn’t indicate you were completely out of control. At least as far as Faulkner’s diary told her.

She sighed. All the power you had, and it would go to waste because Wednesday wasn’t sure how to direct it and you didn’t know how to either. Yet, as she turned to leave you blocked her path with your head and nudged her back, toward your back. You moved your head back slightly, motioning toward your back and Wednesday wasn’t sure if she was reading you right or not, but she placed her hand on your back, just behind the shoulder blades and you nodded.

“You want me to get on your back?” she asked and you nodded, almost sounding like you just huffed in confirmation.

Was that why you were lying down? So Wednesday could climb on top of you more easily. Because, as much as it annoyed her to admit that, she wouldn’t be able to climb on your back with your current height if you were standing.

With some effort, because you were still a large beast even when you were lying down, she climbed onto your back and grabbed onto your mane, realizing that you were an amur tiger, instead of one of the other subspecies. Wednesday wasn’t sure if grabbing onto your mane would set you off, or if you would get aggressive, but there wasn’t anything else she could hold on to. And from the looks of it you didn’t mind, as you got up and jumped over the remaining walls of the crypt.

Wednesday used to ride on Kitty’s back as a child, but Kitty was more like a house cat compared to you and the force of the jump took her by surprise. Luckily, you stopped, turning your head to check on her.

Ridiculous lightning beast.

At least act like an uncontrollable beast, you were more like an oversized pet than anything else right now.

“I’m fine, go,” she told you and you tilted your head. Was your ability to understand human speech disappearing, because Wednesday was sure you somewhat understood a more complex sentence mere moments ago. She pointed toward Nevermore and before she could even say one word you took off, not sprinting, but still running in the direction she wanted you to.

You reached the lake and Wednesday thought you’d stop, that this was as far as she’d get, with no boat she had no hopes of catching up to Crackstone and Laurel. Her eyes widened when a ball of orange lightning formed ahead of you, and then another further ahead, she watched, her fingers digging into your mane as you created more and more balls of lightning above the lake, and then you jumped on the one closest to you.

The ball dispersed when you touched it, but it was enough for you to jump to the next one, not quite zapping, but moving along the lightning path forming as each lightning ball burst open. The long, powerful jumps, the control, the definitive lack of fear of water, it made her realize you weren’t entirely you in this form. At your core you were still you, but you were driven more by instincts than anything else, you were doing things Wednesday was sure you couldn’t do in your human form.

You landed on the shore with the grace only a cat could have and took a few steps before collapsing.

Wednesday climbed off you and knelt next to your head. “Y/N?” she called your name and you opened your eyes, blinking slowly before yawning. “You did enough,” she told you, and she believed that. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought it was reasonable to assume you used up a lot of energy to get across the lake twice. It wasn’t a small lake either.

You chuffed and nudged her lightly and even though she was running out of time Wednesday placed her hand on top of your head, just feeling the warm fur against her palm. And then, one small, harmless discharge later her hand fell on top of your head.

Your human head.

“What?!” you sat up abruptly, as if suddenly woken up from deep slumber. Maybe you were. You rubbed the top of your head. “Why would you hit me like that?” you whined and looked around. “What the? How did we…?”

Wednesday remained silent, stunned by your inability to remember what happened.

“Did I shift?” you seemed to piece together the only possible way the two of you could have survived a building falling on top of you and then making your way across the lake. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” you looked her over, frantically searching for any injuries.

“Given the size of you you could have torn me in two,” Wednesday deadpanned, somewhat enjoying the way you stopped breathing at that revelation. “You were,” she wasn’t sure what word to use. “I wasn’t in danger,” she settled down on that, telling you what you likely needed to hear the most.

You let your head drop and sighed in relief. “That’s a relief,” you whispered, your body trembling slightly. It was clear to Wednesday that you were exhausted.

“You don’t remember anything?” she just had to ask.

You shook your head. “Bits and pieces at best, and even that is vague,” with a groan you managed to get back to your feet. “We need to get back to school,” you were struggling to even stand, and you still wanted to keep going?

Wednesday sighed and put your arm over her shoulders. “Come on,” you smiled apologetically and began walking with her help. Luckily, it didn’t take long for you to recover your energy. It must have been the shifting and switching between two and four legs that left you weaker than usual.

~X~

By the time you were about halfway to Nevermore you could walk on your own, which you figured was lucky, because you heard a werewolf howling and not all of them were friendly during full moon, especially during full blood moon. And you were still recovering, unsure if your lightning would be strong enough to deal with a werewolf.

You weren’t ready for a fight, but hopefully by the time you reach Nevermore you would be able to help Wednesday.

You heard the rustling of the leaves before you saw him and you couldn’t help but curse your luck as Tyler came from behind a tree.

“Laurel said you were dead,” the harmless, even kind of shy, barista was gone. All you saw was the killer terrorizing Jericho over the past few months.

“You must have been disappointed,” Wednesday glared at him.

“I was. I didn’t get to keep my promise and bring you the beast’s head. Now I can kill you both together,” he approached, walking like a predator that found his prey.

“This won’t end well for you,” Wednesday threatened, standing between him and you, and if she wasn’t standing between you and a monster that ripped people apart you would feel very happy. The problem was, she was standing between you and a monster that could rip her apart.

Lightning crackled around you and you were ready to move the moment Tyler did something, but you weren’t ready for his eyes bulging in an almost comical way. Truly, seeing the transformation take place was as horrifying as it was hilarious as his body grew and burst out of his clothes. Just how many articles of clothing did he ruin over the past few months?

Tyler roared and swiped his clawed hand up. He no longer needed Wednesday alive and she was still injured. So you grabbed her hand, pulling her back and taking the hit. The claws dug into your left shoulder, piercing the skin, but you managed to zap away, slamming into the nearby tree to avoid Tyler’s claws tearing your shoulder apart.

“Y/N!” you never wanted to hear Wednesday shouting your name like that.

Tyler growled, and you opened your eyes to see him standing above Wednesday. Why wasn’t she running, damn it? It wouldn’t help if she was alone, but you just needed a few seconds! You got up to your hands and knees, blood dripping onto the grass as rage ignited the lightning within you, the fatigue seemed to be burnt through, it was as if you suddenly got a second wind. “Tyler!” you yelled, getting his attention, he turned to face you, roaring as you got to your feet and charged at him, your body engulfed in lightning as his clawed hand collided with your fist. He stepped back, roaring in pain as your lightning electrocuted him.

You were ready to keep going, when something similar to a werewolf flew into Tyler, tackled him to the ground and slammed him into a tree.

“Holy shit,” you weren’t even that angry anymore, just impressed by what just happened.

“Enid?” Wednesday guessed as she took a better look at the werewolf that had now turned around to face you.

“Enid?!” you turned to Wednesday in disbelief, before taking a better look. The hair, the slightly smaller size, her eyes, and that ‘I did it’ look on her face confirmed it. “Hell yeah! That’s the way!” you pumped your fist up.

“Enid!” Wednesday was the first to notice Tyler getting up.

“We got this! Just go!” you threw a knife toward Tyler, zapping toward it and kicking his arm away before he could hit Enid. And to prove the two of you were a fairly decent team Enid immediately took a chance and kicked Tyler away. “Right, Enid?” you smirked at the girl that finally got to wolf out.

Enid nodded, offering you a wolfish smirk, and bumping her clawed fist/paw with your own.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw Wednesday nodding reluctantly. She was needed at the school, and you and Enid could handle Tyler. “Be careful,” she told the two of you, though you could hear the unspoken threat in her voice as she said that. Be careful, or I’ll make you regret it.

Well, that was how Wednesday was.

Tyler got up, furiously glaring at the two of you. You could feel your lightning growing weaker, the adrenaline was fading away and you felt your body growing numb from overuse. Usually, your body would be the first to give out, but this time you were close to depleting all your reserves. At least you didn’t have to worry about losing control and shifting, you doubted you had enough power left to do it.

“I was confident while Wednesday was here, but I’m running low. I can’t do much more than provide support. Sorry about that,” you apologized, you’d make sure Enid wouldn’t get seriously injured, actually, you’d try to make sure she doesn’t get hit at all, but it was a fight, you couldn’t guarantee that.

Enid nodded, charging at Tyler. He raised his arm up, ready to slam her down when she approached, but you zapped to the side of him and hit him with a lightning strike from about a dozen feet away. It wasn’t strong enough to hurt him, but it stunned him, allowing Enid to tackle him and cut him with her claws.

You landed on the ground and put your hands down on it. “Enid! Get back!” the moment she heard you, Enid jumped away from Tyler. As he sat up you sent lightning through the ground, making it burst through it just underneath him. One more. You had one good strike left, and you’d have to make it count.

Tyler roared in pain, his skin smoking as he fled into the woods. Enid gave chase, knowing you couldn’t let him escape. You couldn’t let him go after Wednesday. You were about to go after him as well, but your vison got blurry, and you had to lean against a tree for a moment. One more attack. You had to make it count.

With a growl that sounded a lot more like that of a tiger you pushed your body to move, running after Enid and Tyler. If only you knew exactly where they were. You heard a whine to your left and rushed there, but all you saw was Enid on the ground, bleeding. You ran toward her, and that moment of lowering your guard cost you, as Tyler grabbed you from behind and slammed you onto the ground. With wind knocked out of your lungs you could only gasp as he pressed his claws against your chest. Any moment now he’d pierce through your skin and kill you. And he was enjoying it, you could see it on his face, in his eyes. Was this what Wednesday saw in her vision?

“You… made her worry,” you gasped, the need to survive overpowering the exhaustion. And your lightning turned orange once again.

~X~

You roared, paralyzing the enemy above you. It was weak, unable to hold you down. So easy to push off without even using lightning. Barely three seconds after you shifted the positions were changed. You pressed your paw against the struggling monster, its claws bouncing off your lightning covered legs and chest. You roared and lightning burst through you, destroying the branches above you.

The monster looked afraid, whining weakly as your own claws came out, covered in lightning. They pierced and burnt through the monster’s skin. There wasn’t even any blood there, the wounds closing because of the heat right away.

An unfamiliar loud and sharp sound pierced through your ears and you felt pain in your right shoulder. It wasn’t covered by lightning before, but now it was. It hurt, something was stuck in your body. So, you magnetized it and pushed it out. It was small, round, but it still caused you pain.

“Get away from my son!” you didn’t understand what those sounds meant, but they came from the human holding something in his hands. He was shaking, frightened, but he wasn’t backing away.

You stepped away from the enemy beneath you, slowly stalking toward the human. You weren’t in a rush. If they ran, you’d just go after them.

You heard the monster getting up, and it jumped toward you from behind. You just growled, creating two orbs of lightning and slamming them into the monster. Smoke came from its body, and it fell to the ground, unmoving and changing back into its human form.

“Tyler!” the man cried out and looked like her wanted to run toward the monster.

You roared, warning the man to stay put. It wouldn’t be long now.

Screaming in fear he tried to attack you again. But you recognized the sharp sounds this time, and destroyed those pesky round things with your lightning before they could reach you.

Something else came between you and the man. A canine creature that didn’t give any signs that it wanted a fight. It whined, as if calling you. The creature smelled familiar and you stopped. Curious to see what it would do. Something else came along. A severed body part that moved, that was alive. It approached you, tapping the ground in front of you.

The sounds meant nothing to you, but deep down there was something nostalgic about it.

Something. A place. Room. Two humans and the hand. You.

You lowered your head to the ground, lightning backing away from it so it wouldn’t hurt the hand in front of you. You nudged him with your head, and he grabbed on, climbing to the top of your head much to your surprise. You shook your head to shake him off, but as he kept clinging you wondered how you knew the hand was a he? He kept tapping something on the top of your head, and you still didn’t understand.

It didn’t matter. The sound was bringing you back. Thing. This was Thing! Not some random hand, he was a friend. So was the werewolf. Enid. She wolfed out. She fought with you to stop Tyler. To protect Wednesday.

Wednesday. She was at school. You needed to get to her.

~X~

You growled, shifting back and falling down to the ground, panting as you clutched at the grass in front of you. You had no idea what just happened, but Enid, still in her werewolf form, stumbled toward you and transformed back into her human form. Thing just patted your hand and then moved to comfort her as well.

“I’m going back to school, Wednesday might still need help,” you stumbled back to your feet and took your jacket off, covering Enid’s body.

“Yeah, go get her. We’ll be fine,” Enid encouraged you and Thing gave you a thumbs up.

You nodded and, though it was a struggle, began making your way back to Nevermore.

What would you even accomplish when you got there? Did you even have it in you to fight anymore? You doubted you did, but you were betting on adrenaline to give you that one last push if Wednesday needed you. Because you’d be damned if something happened to her while you were lying around and resting.

You managed to reach the pentagon, but you severely overestimated your abilities, by the time you got there you couldn’t even stand properly, let alone fight. You tried to zap to Wednesday, to get her away from Crackstone as he pinned her down with his telekinesis, but you just dropped to your knees, unable to produce a single spark. “Come on, come on, damn it,” but your body wouldn’t move.

Especially when you saw Bianca stabbing Crackstone. Was it over? You watched in horror as the man’s wound regenerated and he easily threw Bianca to the side and while Wednesday got up and tried to stab him with a broken blade he managed to push back against her with his telekinesis.

And the world around you went black.

~X~

Wednesday tried to push through, to break through the man’s defense, but her blade wouldn’t go through. And then a burst of lightning and a tiger paw swiped between her and Crackstone, ripping off both of his arms and leaving him wide open for Wednesday to pierce his heart.

Wednesday took a few steps back as the resurrected man let out a chilling, inhuman cry and vanished in dust and smoke. She took a couple of deep breaths, it was over.

“Wednesday get back! Stay away from Y/N!” Bianca’s warning caught her by surprise. Why? You just helped her once again. And then she heard a roar that sent shivers down her spine, a roar that froze her in place in a way that was so instinctual, so primal, she barely even remembered reading about the ability of the tiger’s roar to paralyze the prey. She thought she experienced fear when she saw Crackstone in her vision, but this was much deeper, this struck fear into her heart and bones, into her entire being. She blinked a few times, searching for you in the quad and there you were, ready to pounce and tear through anyone who approached you.

Wednesday’s eyes widened as she took in your appearance, you were still a tiger, but you were almost entirely covered in lightning. All the reason, all the control you had, it was gone, all that was left was the wild beast. This wasn’t the tiger that protected her from the building falling on top of you two, this was what you were afraid of, what Faulkner described in his diary, this was the lightning beast that was driven by instinct that couldn’t be reasoned with.

A/N: Well, one chapter to go people!

Reader: I can't shift! I'll hurt someone!

Reader (beast-form) with Wednesday: