#I am cautiously open to the idea of a quiet room

[entitled-fangirl]

A beautiful thing to picture, indeed.

Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Benedict finds himself speechless at the model in his art class. The two later meet, and he realizes maybe she's what he wants.

A/N: Give my man Benedict some LOVEEEE

Masterlist

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Benedict sat down and readied his canvas for his art class to begin.

His new found friends leaned over leaned over as the Bridgerton sat down, "Teacher said we were studying dresses today."

"Dresses?" Benedict asked with his usual smirk. 

"Yeah. Said something about capturing the flow of 'em. Whatever that means."

"The flow of-" Benedict paused as the door opened and out walked a small figure.

A beautiful model in a thin silk dress. 

She scanned the room with nervous eyes. After all, the room was full of eager men who wished to picture her frame.

Benedict felt breath leave his lungs.

A beautiful thing to picture, indeed.

The teacher took the model's hand gently and led her to the middle of the room. "Alright, gentlemen," he called loudly. "Today we shall be focusing on the flow of fabric. Really pay attention to the detail. I want to feel like I can reach out and touch the fabric in your sketches."

The teacher then turned to the girl, "Miss Hemmings, are you ready?"

The girl scanned the room one more time in nervousness, before it set on Benedict. Her nervous eyes relaxed for just a moment before moving away from him to look at the other men. Her voice was meek and quiet, "Yes. I… I believe I am."

The man nodded, "Alright. Pick a direction to look, and I'll situate you from there."

She took a deep breath and scanned the room once more. Once her gaze settled on Benedict, as it had done before, she stopped. "I believe here should suffice?"

Benedict gave a smirk and couldn't look away. She was captivating.

The teacher then reached down, fluffed out her dress just barely, and stood. He turned to face his eager students, "Begin."

And there she was, under a spotlight in a room full of men who were now beginning to sketch her.

And she had to stay still.

Now that all eyes were on her, she decided looking towards Benedict was a bad idea.

He was to always be looking at her. He was sketching her, after all.

And the wall above him was too dark to be anything enjoyable to watch for the next few hours. But she did so. For the first hour anyway.

Eventually, she couldn't help but let her gaze fall to the Bridgerton. He was deep in focus now.

So much so, that he didn't feel her gaze until the third time he had glanced up at her.

He paused involuntarily at the eye contact. He felt the smallest of smiles graze his face.

Her cheeks heated to a violent shade of red. And she couldn't hide it.

She broke the eye contact, looking back up at the wall to avoid accidentally moving and messing up all the other sketches.

But every now and then, she would allow herself to take in the sight of the Bridgerton earnest at work.

A beautiful thing to picture, indeed.

…

The second the class was called to a close, Miss Hemmings completely disappeared.

It confused Benedict.

He had been comparing his finished portrait to her, and had looked up and she was gone.

No matter.

She's just a model. 

That's what he told himself, at least.

…

Benedict Bridgerton was making his way downtown, eager to purchase more charcoal for his sketching endeavors.

He hardly heard the sound that was coming from the nearby alleyway.

But he did.

He paused in his step and turned his head in its direction.

Sounded like a woman's voice.

He began to cautiously walk down said alleyway with a low voice, "Hello? Anyone there?"

He rounded the corner and stopped at the sight.

A woman was practically pinned against the wall by a man much bigger than her.

His hand was wandering down her dress and began to lift the hem of it.

Tears filled her eyes as she tried to push him away with quiet pleads.

"Hey!" Benedict yelled. "What are you doing?"

The man turned his head in his direction and scoffed, "This Miss was being tempting to the gentlemen that walk these streets. But when I tried to take the temptation…" he grabbed at her jaw and growled in her ear, "… She refuses me."

Benedict took a few more steps closer with his hands out, "Leave the lady be, sir."

The man moved away from the woman and the wall, now interested in Benedict, "And tell me, what will you do about it?"

Benedict took a breath and courageously stepped forward, "I'm Anthony Bridgerton, the Viscount you hear of so often. I suggest you step away from the woman and continue your day. Sir." He said through gritted teeth.

The man paused, "Bridgerton?"

Benedict nodded.

"Ah," the man feigned happiness. "Lord Bridgerton, of course. My apologies. I had no idea she was yours, my Lord."

"'Tis alright." Benedict said. "You may correct your mistake now."

The man nodded, "And so I shall. Good day, sir."

And with that, the man left.

Benedict watched him round the corner before immediately rushing to the woman, "Are you well?" He asked in a hushed tone.

The woman looked up.

Benedict let out a breath.

The model.

She looked down again to wipe the tears from her face, "Lord Bridgerton. I apologize. I… I did not… I didn't mean…"

Benedict felt himself smiling, "Please. Please calm yourself. It's alright. You owe me nothing."

She felt herself take a few steady breaths before she looked up again. Her eyes now focused on his and her face morphed into shock, "You?"

He actually let out a chuckle, "Me? Yes. I'm afraid so. Apparently, I just couldn't let you go, huh?"

She smiled and relaxed. "I suppose I truly owe you gratitude."

He shook his head, "No. Please."

"I do, my Lord." She insisted.

He looked off in thought and smiled. His gaze turned back to her, "Tell me your name."

She paused a moment at his request. "Y/N Hemmings, sir."

His smile grew as he took her hand and kissed the back of it. "A pleasure, truly. I'm afraid you have occupied all of my thoughts since the last time I saw you."

She smiled, "You're simply an artist who is immersed with his work, my Lord. That is all."

Benedict nodded, "Tell me what you were doing alone out here?"

She sighed, "I… I make runs here for the upper class who don't wish to be seen in such… slums. They pay me to do so."

He feels his jaw go slack just a bit, "You come to dangerous areas to make extra money?"

She nods, "I have a younger brother to take care of, my Lord. He is everything to me."

He shakes his head in disbelief, "You're a mysterious thing, aren't you?" 

She lets out a laugh, "Not as mysterious as you, sir. A Viscount taking artistic classes? Don't you have higher duties? I don't imagine they have time for such… fulfilling things?"

He offers his arm to her, "Then perhaps I may tell you something?"

She took his arm with a curious grin, "You may."

He leans down to her ear, "I am not the Viscount."

She tried to pull away in shock, but he held her arm tightly. "You are not Lord Anthony Bridgerton?"

He laughed out, "No. Heavens no."

She cautiously leaned in, "Who are you, then?"

He smiled, "I am Benedict Bridgerton, the second son residing in Aubrey Hall. I didn't completely lie to you. I am indeed a Bridgerton."

She stepped with him down the alleyway now, "I see. I suppose that makes more sense."

Benedict stops walking as they near the road, "May I be frank with you, Miss Hemmings?"

She tilted her head, "Yes, sir."

"You are the most fascinating creature I've ever seen."

She felt her cheeks grow warm, "Oh. I… what a most welcome compliment, Sir."

He smiles, "I do hope there is no man I must fight for the right to your hand."

She felt her mouth dry. "What?"

"Your hand," he smiled. "Do you have a suitor?"

"Me?" She gasped out. "Me? No. I don't… I've never had suitors."

He nods and smiles wider, "Then may I be the first, Miss Hemmings?"

She considers his words. A Bridgerton. A high ranking family with wealth and charm.

But more importantly, a most dashing artist as a potential husband.

"Only if I may see the sketch you designed of me all those days ago."

He lets out a laugh, "Oh, darling, nothing I sketch would be even close enough to capturing your beauty onto the paper. Even the greatest artist can do no such task. It is meant to be enjoyed in the moment."

She nodded in thought, "Then you must call me Y/N. And you must continue to sketch me until you get it right."

He tilts his head, "But I've just claimed it's impossible to do."

She smiled, "Then we have no excuse to not be near each other, it seems."

Benedict grinned brightly and leaned in, "I suppose you're right. But you have to call me by my own name."

She let out a breath, "I shall do so."

"Excellent. Most excellent." Benedict said as they walked out onto the busy street.

A wife of his own? Benedict thought. That's something he always pictured as a boy.

And as he looked down at her, he realized it was a most beautiful thing to picture, indeed.

..............................................................

[miumura]

DANGEROUS ──── TAESAN ⋆.

"JUST MAKING MEMORIES" is something Taesan sent to you over text before he bolted out of the door. He knew he might get into trouble for sneaking out, but none of that mattered—he needed to see you. Trouble could wait; reuniting with you couldn’t.

PAIRING best friend!taesan x gn!reader GENRE fluff ∿ accidental confession ∿ WARNINGS inspired from “Dangerous” by BOYNEXTDOOR ,, one curse word ,, that is all i believe !! WORD COUNT 1.7K+ ( 1745 )

NEW MESSAGE taesan’s part has been stuck in my head so i had to write him to this ^^ i def have this song and mv on loop - it’s such a fun one !! so you can bet i ran to write this ASAP 🫡 shows that i am soso excited for their comeback :] !!

♫ ──── I never cross the line, trust me 𓂃 ⭑

Taesan had to be extra quiet tonight—he couldn’t afford to get caught by his parents, especially at this hour. But, he prided himself on being skilled at sneaking out, having done it countless times before. This wasn’t his first rodeo, and tonight, he was determined it wouldn’t be the night he finally slipped up.

Moving swiftly but cautiously across the creaky wooden floor, he kept his gaze fixed between his parents' room and the exit. His heart raced when he found himself in front of their door, which he slightly cracked open to confirm they were asleep. Sure enough, the car keys rested right where he expected—on the nightstand beside his father.

Taesan hesitated for a split second before slipping in, his steps light as air. He reached for the keys, careful not to disturb the silent house or the sleeping figure. With a smooth motion, he grasped the keys without causing a single jingle. Without wasting a second, he darted back towards the entrance, his light footsteps barely audible, a small grin tugging at his lips.

So far, everything was going according to plan.

Maybe telling Taesan you were finally back from your two-week trip at 2 A.M. wasn’t the brightest idea. If you had known he’d spam you with texts filled with excitement and then decide to show up at your place right in the middle of your unpacking, you might’ve held off on sharing the news. But truth be told, you were just as eager to talk to him. After spending weeks messaging back and forth, you couldn’t resist letting him know you were home—especially with him counting down the days until your return like a personal calendar.

Even when you tried to convince him to wait just a few more hours to meet, Taesan was already set on seeing you right then and there. There was no talking him out of it.

He just couldn’t wait to see you again.

“Hey, I’m here!!!!” Your phone buzzed with a notification as you were halfway through putting away your clothes, causing you to chuckle.

You debated ignoring Taesan for a bit longer to tease him, but when his texts quickly escalated to threats of ringing your doorbell—fully aware that your parents were likely fast asleep—you had no choice but to give in.

Dropping the shirt in your hand, you rushed down the stairs, determined to stop him. When you opened the door, you were greeted by Taesan’s slight smirk, which soon blossomed into a wide grin. Before you could even say anything, he swept you into a tight hug, holding you close as you instantly melted into his embrace.

You hadn’t realized just how much you missed his hugs until now.

Finally breaking from his embrace, you took a moment to study the familiar features you had only seen through FaceTime. It hit you that this moment was real—you were finally back, standing in front of Taesan again. Your eyes soon trailed down to his outfit, and you couldn’t help but let out a series of small chuckles.

“Did you roll out of bed when I texted you?” you teased, pointing at his pants, which were covered in random, colorful designs.

He followed your gaze and stared at his pants—decorated with bizarre patterns you couldn’t even describe. Taesan let out a laugh, though his slightly flushed cheeks and the way he scratched the back of his neck betrayed his embarrassment.

“Hey, to be fair, you texted me at two in the morning.”

“You could’ve worn jeans or something,” you quipped.

“At least I put on a hoodie—besides, you're in pajamas too!” he pointed out, causing you to giggle as he finally noticed.

“Not as weird as yours,” you shrugged. “Anyway, it was nice seeing you—you should go back now.”

You gave him a slight push toward the direction of his house, but Taesan didn't budge, instead staying put with an odd grin that sent a chill down your spine.

“Not yet,” he said, pulling out car keys from his pocket and jingling them in front of you. Your eyes widened in disbelief as you glanced over his shoulder, spotting something you should’ve noticed earlier—his parents' car, parked right there. You whipped your head back to Taesan, who let out a laugh at your reaction.

“So, you’re telling me, not only did you sneak out, but you took their car too?!” you exclaimed.

“Technically, it’s supposed to be my car too, so… why can’t I?” he shrugged, still grinning like he hadn't just committed a minor crime (dramatic much?).

“You’re going to get into trouble, Taesan,” you warned, though you couldn’t help but smile at his boldness. This was classic Taesan—reckless, spontaneous, and a little too daring for his own good.

“Not if we don’t get caught,” he smirked.

“What do you mean we—” Before you could finish your sentence, Taesan grabbed your arm and pulled you toward the car. Without much choice, you found yourself sliding into the passenger seat, watching him confidently start up the engine. You shot him a side-eye as the car turned on loudly.

“You’re not going to drag me into your mess if you get into trouble… are you?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“That won’t happen, don’t worry,” he said with a grin, glancing over at you. His casual reassurance didn’t ease your nerves, but something about his energy made you believe him. Even though this seemed reckless and dangerous, there was something thrilling about it, something that made you forget to be cautious.

“Even if it does happen… this better be worth it,” you muttered, glancing at him as he pulled away from your house.

“Making demands now?” Taesan snickered, his hand reaching for the volume knob as he slowly turned up the music you both liked. You hummed along with the familiar melody as he drove, and soon you began to recognize where you were headed.

When you finally arrived at the familiar, secluded spot, a smile crept onto your face. It was the hangout place—the place. It wasn’t anything extraordinary, just an old rooftop in an abandoned part of town, but it held so many memories for you both. Hours spent talking under the stars, laughing about nothing, escaping reality together—it was your safe haven.

“I missed this place,” you quietly exclaimed, staring out of the window as nostalgia washed over you.

“I’m glad you do,” Taesan replied, pulling the car into a spot nearby and shutting off the engine. He turned to you with a soft smile. “It was boring without you here.”

“I would’ve expected so,” you teased with a grin, pushing the car door open and stepping outside. Taesan shook his head at your comment, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You both started walking along the rocky path, the crunching sound beneath your feet breaking the quiet, but in a way that felt calming. As you neared the old, cracked steps leading to the rooftop, Taesan reached for your hand, his familiar words slipping out as if by instinct, “Watch your steps.”

He always said it every time, a small gesture of care that never failed to warm you inside. You gave his hand a small squeeze in response, feeling a comfort that only Taesan could bring—a comfort that had remained constant even after weeks of distance.

It didn’t take long for you two to reach the rooftop, and you couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief when you saw that the mat you’d left last time was still there. With a soft sigh, you sat down, sinking into the familiar comfort of the spot. Taesan followed suit, settling down beside you.

You both gazed up at the night sky. Though it wasn’t lit up with as many stars as usual, the cool, crisp breeze seemed to make up for it.

You two chatted for what seemed like for decades, with the amount of endless topics you two managed to bring up. As much as you wished for this moment to last forever, your mind somehow went back to the thought of what time it could be.

“It’s probably so late right now,” you mumbled, still not bothering to check your phone for the time. “You really shouldn’t have stayed up.”

“Why not?”

“I told you I’d be back late,” you replied, turning to glance at him. “You shouldn’t have waited.”

“I still wanted to see you,” Taesan said without hesitation.

“Why?” you asked, your voice quieter now, more curious than anything.

“Because I like you.”

His words hung in the air for a few seconds, both of you processing what he had just said. Taesan’s eyes widened slightly as if the confession had slipped out by accident, and the shock that hit both of you was almost palpable. Neither of you spoke at first, the cool breeze suddenly feeling much more intense as you stared at him in surprise.

Neither of you could find the words to say next. Taesan turned his head slightly, eyes flicking to the ground as if it could offer him an escape from the awkwardness that had suddenly settled between you. His hands fidgeted with the edge of his hoodie, a nervous habit you’d seen before, though it had never felt so intense.

You stared at him, trying to make sense of what just happened. The cool breeze brushed against your skin, and yet, your body felt warmer. You wanted to say something—anything—but the words were lodged in your throat, stuck between surprise and the realization that this wasn’t just a passing comment.

His confession was still hanging in the air, echoing in the silence between you two.

Taesan shifted uncomfortably, his gaze still fixed on the ground. He finally took a deep breath, but even then, his words faltered. “Uh, I didn’t—” he started, then stopped, his face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and uncertainty.

You swallowed, trying to calm the sudden rush of emotions that had washed over you.

"You know... Taesan, I feel—" you began, but your words were suddenly interrupted by a loud buzzing from Taesan's pocket. He immediately reached for his phone, and both of you glanced down at the screen. The name "Dad" lit up brightly, sending a jolt of panic through the air.

Both your eyes widened in unison as reality hit. Taesan's face that was once filled with anticipation became paled, and you could feel the tension shift.

There was a brief, terrifying silence before he muttered,

"Oh fuck."

💬 : prepare for more bnd works ( hopefully ) i love them sm

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[icejjfishesz]

001. ༺...OR JUST LOOK LIKE ONE༻∘

summary: after getting unexpectedly left by your roommate, you find yourself in need of a replacement.

contents: reader is down bad. paige in a situationship. kinda angsty.

previous. next. masterlist.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

the apartment is a lot quieter without tina. she made a lot of noise. you could still vaguely hear her terrible singing as she’d shower, cook, or clean; how she’d wake up early in the morning to make elbarote breakfasts that caused pots and pans to fall…very often; and the fact that she’d watch anything on her phone at max volume. 

in retrospect, she was kind of annoying.

but she was nice and you lived with her for almost a year. you’d gotten so used to her. 

but now, it’s quiet. and the only thoughts you had were thoughts of not being able to afford rent next month. luckily, sean, your best friend knows basically everyone on campus and kindly agreed to ask around for you.

you’re in your car after stopping to get fast food. you shove a few fries in your month as sean shuffles through his phone to show his instagram conversation with a potential roommate for you.

“okay, so…” sean shoves his phone in your face. “this…is ellie. she’s looking for a roommate and –– ”

“i slept with her…” you mumble after seeing the username. “didn’t end so well…”

“damn…okay, next.” he swipes through his phone again. “okay…this is emily. she’s a straight a student and wants to know if you’re okay with pets?”

you hum. “what kind of pet?”

“um…let’s see.” he shuffles through the text conversation and chuckles. “oh, a twelve inch snake?”

“no thank you…”

“aw, really? it’s kinda cute actually…”

“nope.”

“okay, next candidate.” he takes a big bite of his burger, chews for a while then takes a sip of his drink before he slides through his phone again. “alright, we have paige…it seems like she’s coming from a similar situation to you. roommate kicked her out after getting married at 19…yikes.”

you peer over at his phone. “give her my number…”

“already trying to sleep with her too?” sean snorts and you roll your eyes. 

“so that i can text her about the place, idiot.” 

“oh, yeah…” he taps on his phone a few more times and then you feel your phone vibrate.

FROM: PAIGE

hi

i got ur number from sean

you’re looking for a roommate?

TO: PAIGE

yes!! 

just have a few questions first

FROM: PAIGE

like what?

TO: PAIGE

do u smoke?

or own a ten inch snake?

and do u wash ur dishes?

FROM: PAIGE

nope

no??

yes

TO: PAIGE

*address*

are you able to come over tomorrow?

FROM: PAIGE

yes

what time?

TO: PAIGE

whatever works

FROM: PAIGE

i’ll come over around 12:30 then?

you smile at sean, relaxing for the first time since tina moved out. “thank you so much, sean. seriously.”

“hey, i would’ve let you stay with me but i live in a tiny ass dorm so…” he chuckles. “besides, if you became homeless, where am i supposed to go when my roommate need the room to fuck his boyfriend?”

you snicker. “good point. is it really that bad, though?”

“they’re like feral rabbits…” he mutters.

the next day, you hear a knock at the door at 12:27. she’s punctual, that’s a good sign. you open the door, breath catching in your throat when you see her. she smiled at you and you died a little. 

damn, why didn’t sean tell you that she looked like that?

she’s tall, definitely athletic by build, pretty eyes, and a warm smile. you’re fucked.

“hey, i’m paige.” she holds her hand out for you to shake and you have to physically refrain from shuddering. hello, paige. her voice…welcoming and warm, you hand to clear your throat to stop yourself from screaming.

it’s a great terrible idea to fuck your roomate. you remind yourself over and over again as  you take her hand, tell her your name which she already knew, and invite her into your apartment.

“nice place…” she steps inside cautiously. 

“thanks.” you stop yourself from checking her out any longer, not wanting to be creepy. stop being fucking creepy.

she looks around, you’d just finished cleaning. 

“so you’re an athlete?” you clear your throat, trying to politely strike up conversation.

“yeah, basketball.”

you internally groan at the slight smile she gives you when she answers your question.

“that’s –– ” hot. “cool.” 

she nods, turning to face you. “so is there anything i should know before i agree to move in?”

“oh…well, my best friend sean comes over sometimes. he sleeps on the couch occasionally but he’s really clean and respectful.” she nods, not looking bothered by that information. “and, um…i’m gay if that sort of thing bothers you…”

she snickers, shaking her head to herself. “doesn’t bother me at all…”

“oh? are you…?” “yeah.”

damnit. she looks like that and she likes girls? you’re so fucked.

“what about you?”

“what about me?” she licks her lips.

“anything i should know about you before i give you the key.”

“well, i’m kind of in…a relationship. kind of, not really.” fuck, that sounds complicated. too complicated. “it’s…i dunno…but, uh, she might come over if that’s okay?”

you swallow thickly, yes that sucks goodbye!!  “no, i get it…no problem as long as you pay your rent on time.” you die a little on the inside again.

she smiles again, it’s painfully beautiful. “i can definitely do that.”

you hand her the key and clear your throat again. “alright, roomie.”

[urfavfakeblonde]

can u write a smut where fem reader is a virgin and stiles is some what experienced and stiles goes slow with her??

ₛₜᵤdy ₛₑₛₛᵢₒₙ

hi!! yes <3 thank you so much for requesting love

Stiles Stilinski x fem!reader

warnings: lots of foreplay!! fuffly, fingering, HEAVY makeouts oml, game sex??? idk lol, p n v, virgin!fem!reader, implied!experineced!Stiles

mdni

I cautiously walk up the steps to his house, nervous fingers picking at my chipped nail polish. I take a deep breath as I knock on the door lightly, my other hand fiddling with the ends of my hair. It's just a study session, stop shaking. At least that's what I tell myself before the door opens softly, and I'm face to face with Stiles. He smiles at me, and I almost forget how to breath. "Hi," I say with a smile, eyes avoiding his gaze. He moves to the side to let me in, responding with a 'Hey'.

"Thanks for coming over," he says, closing the door gently. My mind is swirling with thoughts, emotions-- and honestly, I don't know how I'm going to get through this evening. "I'm pretty sure you understand English a lot more than I do," he remarks, turning around to face my timid figure. I smile, blush creeping onto my cheeks. "I don't know about that," I giggle, looking around the house as if I hadn't been here before. But before, I mean that was just a pack meeting, this--this is more than that.

Well, not really, were just studying, but this is the first time it's just been me and Stiles. Alone.

I follow him up the stairs, and into his bedroom. "Where's your dad?" I question, setting my bag down beside his bed. "Work," he replies, sitting at his desk, shoving aside all his crime papers. I nod, even though he can't see me, and look around his room. A simple grey wallpaper, the typical teenage boy posters; half-made bed, a lamp, and of course-- lots and lots of papers. Eventually, we sit on the floor, looking through my notes, (because stiles didn't take any) and write his English paper. "Okay, I'll quiz you. What's a Caesura?" Stiles thinks for a moment, staring up at the ceiling as he lies on his back. "When the punctuation is in the middle of the poem before the line ends?" He finally says, glancing up at me. I smile and nod, flipping to the next flashcard.

"Okay, what's a Syntax?" He looks back up at the ceiling and furrows his brows. "No clue," He utters, sitting upright. "It's the-" suddenly he takes the flashcards out of my hand as I give him a confused look. "I was gonna tell you what it was," I say, sighing. He looks at me, and I feel my heart flutter. Pink starts rising into my cheeks again as he holds the flashcard in front of him. "Tell me what it is," he asks. "Why? You're the one who needs the help Stiles-" he cuts me off by shushing my lips with his finger. My heart literally skips a beat as he slowly drags it down, my lip following obediently. He moves his finger back to the flashcard, an action that he believed to be nothing but innocent. He asked me something again, but I continued to stare at him, specifically his hand. "Y/n?" He asks, shifting his head to capture my eyes again. This stopped me from zoning out; quietly clearing my throat. "Sorry," I mumble while my fingers pick away my nail polish again. "What's a Syntax?" He asks again, eyes boring into mine. "The way the piece is structured," I say as he smiles. It's quiet for a moment, and when my eyes lift up, my gaze is locked with his.

"I have an idea," he says, standing up. He reaches his hand out for mine, and I take it hesitantly. "You've been helping me, it's only fair I help you." He says, pulling me to my feet. When I'm up, I notice how close I am to him, especially that he hasn't let go of my hand. I swallow hard, trying my best to maintain eye contact with him. "We'll play a game; you ask me questions and every time I get one right you have to take off one of your clothes," he whispers softly. My eyes widen, and I feel my heart starting to beat faster. "And if you get it wrong?" I whisper back, leaning in closer. He just smiles as he dips his head, connecting his lips with mine.

I cannot believe this is happening to me. I am fucking kissing Stiles Stilinski, my crush since elementary school and God does it feel just how I always imagined it would. The kiss is gentle, caring. I pull back slowly as I make eye contact with him again. I swallow hard and feel my hands start to shake a little in his soft hands. "Um, I've never really...kissed anyone before. Well, before now," I whisper, nervous beyond belief. He just smiles and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "See? You teach me, I'll teach you." He gives me a comforting smile before cupping his hand behind the base of my neck, pulling me in for another kiss. This time, it's more feverent, hurried. Like he was going to lose me if he stops. I learn as he kissed, opening my mouth enough for his tongue to slip in, a gentle hum coming from my throat.

My hands, more comfortable now, move up to dance through his dark hair, nails gently scratching his scalp. He was taller than me, causing my head to have to lean up just to kiss him, but it felt magical. I felt safe in his hold, rough, but gentle hands tilting my head up to meet his kiss. He pulled away enough to kiss down my jaw, down to my neck as my head tilts back with eyes closed. My fingers continue to dance through his hair, a soft whine releasing from my mouth when he found my sweet spot. I felt him smirk against my neck, mouth traveling back up to meet my mouth again. He moves me backwards, letting us fall softly on the mattress. He kissed back down my jaw again, but further this time as he reached my collarbone. He sucked a hickey on the side, causing my core to ache and clench around nothing. "fuck sti," I whine, letting my hands fall to his biceps. He liked the nickname--I could tell; a soft smile forming on his kissed lips as he rested above me.

"Ask away," he whispers, leaving sloppy, wet kisses all over my neck. In a way, it was all almost too overwhelming, but somehow it felt like it was supposed to happen. I couldn't focus, not with my core aching, legs moving softly as if to get some release. "What's a -fuck,-an enjambment," I ask, hands roaming his body. "Mhm," he kisses my collarbone again softly, lips trailing to my ear. "When the line ends with no punctation," he says, smirking as I nod. He lets his fingers dance under the hem of my shirt. He slowly peels it off, letting it slide over my head before throwing it on the floor somewhere behind him. He's quick to kiss my stomach, my body arching up into his gentle touch. "Next," he whispers, kissing the tops of my breasts. My breathing intensifies, hands running through his hair again. "How do you spell philanthropy," I ask, my teeth catching my lower lip. He looks up at me and grins, as he licks his lips. "If you wanted me to take my shirt off, all you had to do was ask," he chuckles, leveling his face above mine. "That's not how the game works, " I giggle, running hands down his arms. "I bet you don't even know how to spell that," he smiles, taking off his shirt.

The navy-blue cloths fall onto the floor with a quiet, thump as he repositions himself above me. "But you wouldn't know if I was right, would you?" I playfully ask, biting my lip. He chuckles softly, catching my lips in a kiss once again. My fingers trace his stomach, soft enough to make him shiver. "What's a metaphor?" I ask as he looks down at me. "A figure of speech when a word or phrase is applied to an object or action that has no real relation to the word," He answers proudly. This time, his fingers dance under the hem of my jeans, before his fingers undid the brass button and zipper. He helps me drag them down, before adding them to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. "Fuck," he whispers under his breath, eyes taking in the thin white panties that so effortlessly match with the bra. I bite my lip, trying to overcome my nerves. My body wants to close up, run away but I can't bring myself to do it. Not when he's looking at my body like he wants to fuck me till morning.

His fingers hover above the straps along my hips before lifting them up slowly before letting them snap back against my skin. I gasp, the wetness in my panties growing larger, it was almost embarrassing. "How do you spell rhythm?" I ask, a grin forming on my face. He rolls his eyes, kissing my stomach. "r-y-t-h-m-n," he answers, confident in his answer. I giggle and shake my head, "r-h-y-t-h-m-n," I say, watching as he sighs in defeat. He slips off his jeans, throwing them in the darkness somewhere. "Okay, I see how it is ms. I'magoodspeller," he says, messing with the straps of my bra. My face starts to flush, the realization that this answer could leave me bare in front of him.

"How do you spell Indispensable?" I stay silent. I have no fucking clue how to spell that word. Fuck. "I-n-d-i-s-p-e-n-s-i-b-l-e?" I answer. "Wait no, it's with an "a"! I-n-d-i-s-p-e-n-s-a-b-l-e!" I say quickly, trying to retract my previous answer. "You got it wrong the first time, no take backs," He chuckles, hands slowly lifting down the straps to my bra before reaching behind my back to unclasp it. It lays limp until he slides it off my arms; perky nipples on display as goosebumps litter my body. He lets his eyes linger for a moment, admiring the sight before him. "Fuck you're pretty," he whispers, his rough hand moving up to massage the soft flesh. I bite my lip, watching as he leans down, pausing for a moment before taking the bud into his mouth. "Oh shit," I whine, my hands returning into his dark hair once again-this time pulling and tugging. He swirls his tongue around before sucking it gently to let it go with a soft pop! He kisses between my breasts, taking the other bud into his mouth to give it the same attention.

My body arched up into him, my clothed clit brushing against his hard erection in his boxers. "Please Stiles..." I whine, my core pulsing at the lack of attention. "I know, I know," he whispers, sucking onto that sweet spot once again. His hand finally travels lower, antagonizingly slow I might add, as he slips his fingers over my white, lacy panties. He begins to rub small circles over my clit, kissing my neck, jaw and chest as I arch into his touch. He brings his lips back up to mine, accepting my moans as he fastens his pace. My legs wrap around his torso, my aching and empty hole begging to be fucked for the first time. "Sti-I, fuck, please-" I whimper, head thrown back in ecstasy. God if he can do this with just his fingers-no his hand, then fuck. The wet patch in my panties begins to grow, fingers rubbing fast and small circles around my bud. "please, please, please...fuck sti!" I moan, hips moving back and forth to fasten the rhythm of his hand.

Suddenly, he slips his fingers into my panties, letting a digit slip into my sopping hole. I moan loudly into his mouth as he kisses me, letting another digit in to fuck me softly. My body starts to shake from the overwhelming feeling, the band breaking as he curls his fingers into my G-spot. My mouth opens as a loud moan escapes me, body shaking as he slips his tongue into my mouth, fingers riding out my high. "That's it, I've got you," he coo's, kissing my neck as my body settles down the shaking. I close my eyes, sweaty body breathing heavily against his chest. I feel him slip my panties off, throwing them in the pile of jeans and shirts. "You okay?" He asks, caressing my face softly. I nod, licking my lips. "I want more," I whisper. "Please." He smiles at my question throwing off his boxers. "Whatever you want," he answers, kissing my cheek. He leans over to his drawer, grabbing a condom as he slides it over his length. He leans down to kiss me as he moves his hands under my legs, bending them forward as he pushes into me. I let a satisfied whine out into his mouth, the feeling of him inside me already feeling so good. He kisses me deeply, letting his tongue explore my mouth. He starts slow, letting his forehead connect with mine, heavy breaths coming from our mouths.

"Fuck you're amazing," he groans, pushing out slow before bottoming out quickly. This let moans come as they will, back arching off the bed, and the steady shaking from my legs to make it all feel so lifechanging. It didn't take long before I felt the cord in me about to break again, my hands cupping his neck as I moaned out soft praises. "Sti-" I whine, met with a groan from his lips. "Fuck, I know, me too-" he says, fastening his pace. My legs began to shake once again, breathing becoming heavier than before. "Fuck, please Sti-oh shit," I moan, hips meeting his thrusts. The cord finally snapped, body arching up off the bed as Stiles kisses my neck again. "Fuck," he groans, pulling out quickly to release in the condom. He lays next to me, tracing my stomach softly. "Are you okay?" He whispers, sitting up. I nod and smile, glancing at him. He smiles back, going to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and return with a wet rag. He drags it across my body, soaking up the sweat and spit from his kisses. "You wanna stay the night?" I nod as he leans down to kiss me.

[chamomiletealeaf]

Sweet as Pie

Chapter 3

a/n: I'm having such bad writers block for this story guys but I kinda like this idea. It's just more of Simon being in awe of you from afar because I'm not sure how to move on with the story yet so this is kind of a filler chapter I guess? Idk, but hope you guys enjoy it anyway!

-

Simon found himself falling asleep faster, easier, and more soundly each night, and he didn't know why. It definitely wasn't because his mind is filled with thoughts of you rather than the horrors he's witnessed on the battlefield, right? No, that would be crazy. It's not like he had a little big crush on you or anything... Right?

Simon decided to take a walk the morning after you visited him to learn more about the area. It was truly beautiful. The lake was sound and quiet and there was a light breeze swaying the trees above him. In a way the lake was like Simon. Dark, looks dangerous and cold from afar, but once you get your feet in the water it's warmer than it ever could have appeared. The area was nice. Simon can't remember the last time he enjoyed what he was looking at, other than yesterday and the day before that when he first saw you.

With his hands in his jacket pocket, he slowly and carefully roamed the area by his house. He found a hiking trail and decided to follow it, purposely taking the direction he knew your house was by, but he would never admit that to himself.

As he followed the narrow dirt path, he heard a faint sound coming from nearby where your house would be. His curious ears perked up and followed the sound cautiously. As he inched further up the road, he heard that the sounds coming from your house was music. This part of the road passed right behind your house, which gave him the perfect view of your living room, where you were watering your house plants and singing your heart out to whatever song you had on your record player. He didn't care whether or not you were good or bad at singing. What mattered to him was that he was looking at you. Simon had tunnel vision take over him as his eyes softened and lips parted slightly in awe. You seemed to have that effect on him.

His honey-colored eyes fixated on the way you swayed to the music while you reached up with a green mini watering can to water the plants you seemed to treat as your own children. He watched you through the window standing in the middle of the narrow dirt road as if he was in a trance as you smiled and sang along, looking so peaceful, warm, and joyful. You were so unreal. So genuine. So, sweet. And he wanted nothing more than to feel that warmth you exhumed infiltrate his cold soul like an infection, lighting up every shadowed corner of his heart in a way he never thought possible.

Simon only saw you through your tiny, cracked open living room window, and he never wanted to look at anything else ever again. As you continued to dance and sing along to your music, you turned your body to face the plants by the window, preparing to water them next, and you froze when you saw Simon outside standing on the dirt road.

Simon snapped out of his hypnotic state when you made eye contact with him and felt a chill run down his spine from realization.

Fuck, what am I doing? I probably look like a creep he thought, and he turned his head down to look at his feet as he tried to hurry on his way.

You noticed his sudden movement and watched him fade from view from where he stood in the frame of the window. You quickly placed the watering can down and ran to the window. You quickly threw it open and called out to him, trying to catch him before he got too far away.

"Hey honey bunch! Where you off to?" You called out to him, leaning out the window with that smile he loved so much that melted him like a popsicle on black pavement in the middle of July.

Honey bunch, Simon thought to himself.

He turned around and looked at you, then immediately looked away, feeling his cheeks heat up and turn into that shade of pink you always seemed to cause. God why was this happening to him? Why is he blushing like a school girl?

"Oh hey, uh, sorry I didn't mean to stare at you like that." He apologized softly, bringing his hand up to rub his neck as he avoided your eyes.

"Oh don't you worry about that. Anyone would stare at a crazy girl like me frolickin' around like that." You reassured him with a laugh.

The soft wind kissed your skin and caused your hair to blow so angelically. It nearly made Simon sick. You looked straight out of a fairy tale with the way you leaned out the window frame and the way the strap of your dress was centimeters away from falling down your shoulder.

You stared at each other for a second in comfortable silence with the faint sounds of your record player playing as white noise in the moment. It felt so easy with you.

"You know, a little bit further down to the left on the bank of the lake, there's the biggest, most gorgeous willow tree you'll ever see. Can't miss it. It's been there for lord knows how long. Makes a real nice sittin' spot." You inform him, hoping to make his walk a little more interesting. But little do you know, nothing will be more interesting to him than you.

"That sounds nice, thank you." He says.

"You want me to show you?" You ask with a smile.

Simon wants to say no. He's not used to company. He likes being alone. But there's something about you he just can't resist.

After a pause of silence between you two, you retreat a little and start to move out of the window frame.

"It's ok if not-" You start to say, embarrassed of your boldness, but Simon cuts you off.

"I'd love that." He says a bit too enthusiastically, realizing he's scaring you off.

You lean back out the window and smile at him.

"Ok. One sec. Wait right there." You say, and then you were gone from the window.

Simon stands there waiting patiently for you, and then he straightens up when he sees you appear from behind your house, walking towards him on the path.

And of course, you had on your white cardigan he loved on you so much.

You caught up to him and he got a whiff of your hair. You smelled like fresh peaches and apples, which had just in this moment become Simon's favorite fruits, because he associated them with you now.

You walked up to his side and smiled, and he smiled back down at you. God you were so cute.

"C'mon hun, right down here." You motion to the road in front of you, and Simon secretly hoped that this would be the first of many walks you two would take together.

And as the two of you conversed and laughed on the way to the willow tree, and as hands occasionally brushed against each other, Simon found himself feeling something he hadn't felt in years.

Simon Riley felt joy.

taglist: @pussypinkbarbie @thatonepupkai

[bellaxgiornata]

This is sort of a headcanon one but also a bit like the title one too I guess?

I’m curious how Matt and reader (from whichever of your stories you think fits best) would react getting back to find a raccoon has gotten into some alcohol and they now have a random drunk raccoon in their apartment?

Honestly I have no explanation for why I’m asking this, I just thought it would be hilarious to find out how they would react. I also have no idea if alcohol harms raccoons but for the purpose of fun, let’s assume the raccoon is completely unharmed, just intoxicated

(Yeah idk 😂. Have fun figuring this one out)

I am so sorry for the delayed response to this one (and the others I still have from my follower celebration, which I promise I will get to them all at some point, I have not forgotten)!

I've also been internally dying every time I read this one because it screams FFTD Matt and Reader. Like, I have no idea how a raccoon makes it up to the sixth floor of an apartment in Hell's Kitchen, but I don't care because I love this so let's go with it!

Headcannon is below the cut as usual!

Matt and Reader are coming home from a night at Josie's where they'd been drinking with their friends. Both of them definitely have had a couple of drinks and are feeling a little buzzed.

The entire way up the elevator to their floor, Matt is being a little handsy and whispering his usual flirty comments into Reader's ear. Her body's reaction to him as per usual is further riling Matt up.

But when they finally step into the apartment, Matt sobers up a little bit because he notices something is off. Something doesn't smell right and he hears noises that don't appear to be coming from where Mittens is sitting in his cat tree.

Reader immediately catches onto the way his demeanor has changed and asks him what's going on, but he only holds up a hand to quiet her and whispers, "Stay here."

Matt gradually makes his way down the entry hall, his head shifting back and forth as he tries to focus his inebriated senses on whatever is happening.

Eventually he stops by the leather couch, a look of sheer confusion on his face that Reader can see from the bright light of the billboard across the street.

When she asks what's going on, Matt slowly replies, "I...think there's a raccoon in the kitchen. And it-" he stops to audibly sniff, "-smells like it's gotten into the beer."

Completely shocked, Reader cautiously hurries down the hall over to Matt in the living room, flipping on the lights as she goes. She spots Mittens in the top of his cat tree by the window first, noticing how he's sitting pin straight with his ears back and focused on something in the kitchen.

When she slowly turns to follow both Matt and Mittens' gaze, she spots a chubby raccoon sitting on the kitchen counter and partially leaning against the opened jar of trail mix she just made yesterday for Matt, looking as if he's struggling to hold himself upright. On the floor in front of the fridge, there are two empty bottles of beer.

"Oh no," Reader mutters, which immediately has Matt asking what's going on. "He definitely drank some of your beer, Matt. And he's--he's eating your trail mix..."

Matt's expression immediately changes to something dark and serious. "I'm sorry, he's eating my what?"

Before Reader can respond, Matt's hands are on her shoulders and he's ushering her back away from the kitchen. "Take Mittens," Matt orders her, "and get in the bedroom. Let me deal with this."

"What're you going to do?" Reader asks, scrambling to grab a confused Mittens out of the cat tree.

"I'm getting that thing out of here and saving my trail mix," he answers, heading over towards the closet with his suit.

"Matt," Reader says, eyes going wide as she backs into the bedroom with Mittens in her arms, "please tell me you're not about to beat up the poor drunk raccoon for eating your trail mix."

Matt stops in front of his steamer trunk and glances back towards Reader and Mittens, a scandalized look on his face. "Of course not, but I'm also not about to approach a drunk raccoon without any sort of protection on. I'm not crazy."

Reader slips into the bedroom with Mittens in her arms, sliding the door shut after herself as she shakes her head, whispering under her breath, "So help any man, woman, or drunk raccoon that gets between the Devil and his trail mix."

"I heard that!" Matt shouts back.

Moral of the story, don't touch Matty's trail mix. He'd even fight a drunk raccoon for it--and honestly, I'd love to see an inebriated Daredevil wrestle a drunk raccoon away from his trail mix and out of the roof access door. Though...I'm not sure how clean that jar of trail mix would be now after tiny little raccoon hands were all up in it...

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Some ideas for option 2

Rewind! Reader was experiencing sudden bursts of pain and went to the doctor alone, only to stumble up on Mr Sinister out of his disguise

Causing reader to have to run for their damn life as Mr Sinister tries catching them, maybe even gets close to actually catching them before reader either finds a way to slip away or something something Devine interference-

Cube anon

You'd been feeling sicker lately.

A lot sicker, actually.

Kevin had had to take you home about two weeks ago, seeing you about to pass out and struggling to move without stopping in pain. They'd been kind enough to stay over at your apartment, fixing you dinner amd feeding you and keeping a wet towel presses to your forehead and talking to some some their friends while you were trying to keep the worst of the pain at bay.

It was agony.

Your nails felt like they were on fire, the nailbeds raw and red and stinging sharply. Your mouth ached, your teeth hurt when you touched them and your gums felt sore and bled at any hars touches. Even your bones felt exhausted, like they were shifting under your skin. Your entire body felt feverish and cold and you couldn't stay warm enough or keep cool enough.

It felt like H*ll.

Which led you to here, the old clinic, looking for your old doctor.

The doors creaked as you peeked through them, your boots clacking loudly on the tiled floor. The air smelt of chemicals and cleaning supplies, the shadows seemed too dark and too deep, and each noise and echo made you shiver even more...

But you eventually came across a room, where you saw a shadowy figure waiting.

You hesitated.

It didn't.

"Why, child... come back so soon?"

Your spine goes rigid, feeling like ice filled each crac and joint.

"My my... yes... Reader, correct? It's been quite some time since we last met, face to face~" It loomed in the dark confines of the room, seeming to grow bigger and bigger with each word.

"..."

You couldn't squeeze anything past your throat. Whatever this was... it wasn't good...

"Cat got your tongue~? Hmmm... Always were such an antsy little thing~ But I fixed most of your flaws, my dear... Now... why don't you come closer, so Dr. Essex can fix this, too?"

You didn't waste a minute turning tail and running, panting and heart going a mile a minute as you fled from the dark being chasing behind you. You could hear it's cackle echo all around you, the darkness humming with malevolence. This... thing... wanted to hurt you. It might even kill you, if it had it's way.

You can't let it get it's hands on you.

You grab a bottle of rubbing alcohol as you run, clutching it tightly to your chest as you turn down a hall... Right into a dead end.

You freeze. You can feel the darkness writhing with something, the evil lurking within it...

And then hands are clutching at you, trying to drag you in.

You scream, kicking and thrashing, fighting as best you can against the demon trying to drag you under, bit all it does is make you feel weaker, your head fuzzing with fever. You shake, tears starting to slip down your cheeks.

You can't die here. You can't be taken to God knows where bu this creature. You can't leave Kevin- What would they think? That you abandoned them? That you were ungrateful? Or assume you weren't worth it? Simply forget about you? You yelled at the thought, crying out in despair.

You couldn't disappear like this.

In a shaky twist of the cap, you open the bottle of alcohol-

Then splash it in the creature's eyes, earning am enraged shriek as it releases you, scrambling at its eyes and cursing.

You don't think twice, running past it and down the next hall, making your way into the lobby-

And then you're pushing through the door, running as fast as you can, trying not to collapse on the pavement as you go back home...

It's quiet, when you enter your home.

You feel a sense of unease, stepping forward cautiously, worried, feeling like a naughty child about to be caught sneaking out...

But then you see Kevin, their back facing you, their front hidden from sight, the light from the TV casting their form in shadow.

"K-Kevin-" you start, "K-Kevin, I, I saw something- I'm so sorry, I swear I wasn't leaving you, I'm not going to leave again, we, we just need to hide, fast- Kevin, it's after me- it was horrifying, like- like some undead vampire, or, or some demon- God, I'm so sorry-"

"WhAt did you say you saw?"

You pause.

Something doesn't seem right...

"It, it looked like a being made of, like, shadows. It's face was as pale as death, or a corpse, and it's eyes, Kevin, they were blood red! It's teeth- oh f*ck it's teeth-! They were like needles- It was waiting there, it was after me, I'm so sorry Kevin, but you need to get out of here, before it comes after you-!"

"I'm not going anywhere, kit-cat." Their neck cracks, the snapping noise echoing in the silence.

"All of this time... all of this effort... And he StiLl found you... WhY?! WHY CoULdN'T hE LeAvE yOu ALoNe?!" Their body seems to shift, their form lengthening, growing taller, the skin becoming pale and their bones popping and shifting.

"K-Kevin...?"

The being stills...

Then it turns to face you, and you feel your heart sink to your stomach.

That... is that...

"I'm so sorry, kit-cat... I tried... but it isn't safe here anymore..." The being twitches, then steps closer.

You take a step back.

And it's eyes, bright and hollow and piercing, seem to widen.

"Kit-cat... it's okay... It's me, Kevin. I'm your friend, remember?" it croons softly, smiling at you as though trying to reassure you.

All you can do is shake uncontrollably, starting to hyperventilate. Your hands hurt, your head hurts, your mouth your teeth your eyes your back-

A screech comes out as you double over, clawing at your arms as deep agony rocks your core. You feel tears falling down your cheeks as you cry, hiccups sobs pouring out as the pain only gets worse. You dig your nails in deeper, only to feel sharp pain like daggers stabbing your skin. You glance down, breath shaking-

And see sharpened nails, curved and razor-sharpz covered in smears of dark red.

Your breath hitches, and you shakily stare up at the form of the creature you'd called Kevin. They're frozen, staring at you, shock soon turning to worry.

"Sweetie-!? Shhh, shhh, it's okay, let's calm down, okay? It's gonna be okay, just take a deep breath. See? In, and out. Come on, please, breath kitten, it's gonna be okay-"

You fall backwards, scrambling across the floor, until your back is against the wall. Your heart is beating too fast, your ribs hurt, your mouth is on fire, your teeth burn, your skin crawls, you're shaking and you can't stop-!

A hand comes near you and you scream, nails clawing into your arms and belly, bloody smears starting to stain your clothes. The being (Kevin?) took a step back, stuttering, lost on what to say-

"Reader. Stop hurting yourself. Now."

You freeze up, then slowly turn to look at the screen of the TV.

There, staring back at you, are the X-Men, eyes set on you, watching.

Your ears rush with blood, your mind going into a blind panic as the f*cking TV starts talking at you, the voices swelling as you cry out, tearing at your arms and head and trying to make everything stop-!

The room pops with noise, a loud static and blinding light-

And there's more distorted beings in there, towering over you, looking down, seeing you.

You can't make your legs get up, can't stop them as they come closer, Kevin trying to talk to you as arms and hands reach out, wrapping around your limbs and holding you down-

"Shhhh, it's gonna be okay, kid, yer gonna be okay-"

"Shhh, sweetie, it'll only take a minute-"

"Be gentle, don't hurt them-!"

"Take a deep breath, IN! Then out-"

"Let's calm you down, sweetheart-"

You hear the pop of something small, and try to twist your head around to see it. No matter how hard you thrash you can't free yourself, the grips on you too firm and your limbs held tightly. You see the light glint off something sharp-

"Shhhh, don't look, look over this way-"

And then there's a sharp prick in your arm, then the world starts to... tilt...

"Hey... that's it, sweetie... You're doing so well... Hmmmm, you feeling tired?" A hand is in your hair, smoothing it down and rubbing it lightly, massaging warmth into your chilled skin.

"Good job, kit, ya did real good. Let's get ya up and get ya situated-" Arms are wrapped around you, warm and strong and firm, sitting you up, wrapping around you, then hauling you into a careful hold, the limbs wrapped tight around you.

"Oh, kit-cat, it's okay. Shhhh... I know, I know it hurts so much, and everything is too much right now, and all you wanna do is take a nice, big nap. Why don't you close your eyes for a bit, hmmm~? That's it, you're safe, just relax..." Something is rubbing your back, making small circles and kneading the cold flesh through the wet fabric, causing the muscles to un-tense amd loosen...

"Shhhh... You're so good, kitten... Look at you, you took the medicine so well... You're just feeling tired, aren't you? So so tired... Shhhhh... Just rest~ We'll take care of everything~♡"

Your body is covered in something thick and soft, the arms around you keeping you tucked into their chest... Your head feels thick, your ache melting and waning under the medicine, tugging you down into blissful, quiet, warm darkness...

"Okay, team... let's go home~♡"

( @thewickedweiner @sugar-soda @weebwholovesuchihasasuke )

[son-of-a-ghost]

Care (Jeff the Killer x reader smut)

A/N Yeah, I haven’t written shit to post since early high school and I just graduated college.  This doesn’t make sense, but I had a good time writing it, so I’m sharing it with the void that is Tumblr.  Maybe someone will like it, idk.  

I am also aware that this is bad.  Shush.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Jeff, please!”

You called out, begging for him to slow down, but the killer didn’t slow down.  He kept up his brutal pace, pounding into your pussy with a vigor he usually reserved for murder.  Groans and growls escaped his lips, emanating from his chest.  

“Huh-huh too much!” you whined out again, and this time he snapped up his head to look into your eyes.  Piercing blue eyes clouded with lust stared deep into your soul, wild and out-of-touch with reality.  

Suddenly, it was like a switch flipped and he remembered where he was and who he was with.  He slowed his pace.

“Sorry, love, you just feel so good.  Do you need a break?”  He questioned, panting to regain his breath and composure.

You nodded a response, taking a deep breath of relief when he pulled out of you.  Every muscle ached and you had no idea how long you and him had been at it, you just know that it was becoming too overstimulating.  Jeff straddled your thighs, leaning down to kiss your lips, hands running through your hair to comb out any knots.  

Exhausted, you kiss him back, relaxing into his kisses and touch.  Despite how rough he can be during sex, these moments of kindness and compassion when he realizes he took it too far are part of what keeps bringing you back to his room night after night, begging for him to ravage you.  

Soon, your exhaustion took over your body and you fell asleep, Jeff still kissing your lips until he realized you were asleep.  He moved off your body to hold you while you slept, pulling a blanket up over both of you.  Subconsciously, you snuggled closer to him and he smiled; a real smile.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next night, Jeff wasn’t surprised to once again hear a quiet tapping at his door.  He already knew you were behind it, but what he wasn’t ready to see was instead of you being extremely turned on and needing him, your face was instead streaked with tears and you sniffled.

“What’s up?” he tried to casually say, but the concern colored his voice more than he would have liked to let on as he opened the door further to let you in.  

“LJ is a goddamn jerk, that’s what’s up,” you sniffled again.  

“He fucking stole my rabbit stuffed animal, and yeah, I know it’s so stupid to have it but forgive me that I have something from my childhood before this fucking place.  And he won’t give it back!”  Anger filled your voice as you relayed this short story to Jeff, plopping yourself onto his bed.  

He was a little stunned.  You had never come to him with a problem before.  Usually he saw you as a confident person who wasn’t afraid of any of the weirdos and demons that called the forest home.  Yet, here you sat in his bedroom, crying over a stuffed animal.  He was unsure of what to do, but what he did know was that this was something serious.  And he wasn't very good with seriousness.  

“Uh… uhm, do you want me to get you a new one?”  Jeff offered awkwardly.  In response, you wrapped your arms around yourself and hugged yourself.  A sniffle escaped your nose, followed by a quiet, “No.”  

Jeff walked to his bed and cautiously sat down next to you.  “Why can’t you get it back?  You’ve never been afraid of any of us before.”  

“I’m not fucking scared, I just can’t find it in LJ’s stupid carnival.  It could be anywhere.”  

Jeff felt the anger building in his chest that LJ had done something that had upset y/n so much.  He stood wordlessly and began walking towards the door.  “Wait, where are you going?” you called after him.  “Out,” was his one word response.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat in your room alone, watching the tree line outside the house for any animals.  You couldn’t sleep, you were still riled up from the events of the day and couldn’t stand the thought of trying to sleep without your stuffed rabbit.  Another sniffle held back another round of tears.  

Tap, tap, tap…

A light knocking sounded from your door.  You debated not answering it; you didn’t really want to see anyone right now.  But when the knocking came again, a little louder, you moved to open the door.  

Standing outside was Jeff, a little bloody, but gently carrying something behind his back.  Wordlessly, he revealed what he had been hiding.  

Your rabbit!

A huge smile overtook your face as you grabbed it and held it to your face.  It didn’t smell quite right anymore, but it was definitely your stuffed rabbit.  After hugging the rabbit, you hugged Jeff with an intensity he had never experienced from you.  

“Thank you,” you whispered into his ear.  

“No problem,” was his muffled response as he buried his face into your neck.  

This hug didn’t end quickly, and soon Jeff began kissing your throat, leaving nips where he knew your sensitive spots were.  You whined softly each time.  

Releasing him, you made eye contact with him and dragged him backwards into your room.  He shut the door behind him, especially as his dick started to swell and he could feel your heart rate pick up.  

Inside your room, you paused his advances to put your stuffed rabbit on a chair, off the bed.  You didn’t want your precious stuffed animal to be anywhere near the two of you while you were being ~intimate.~

Jeff grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him when you turned around, kissing you roughly.  You giggled.

“You didn’t rescue my rabbit to get in my pants, did you?”  You questioned him.  

“Of course not,” Jeff laughed back.  “I did it because I care for you and this is something you were upset about.  I knew it meant a lot to you.”  

“...you care for me?”  You repeated.  “You’ve never said that before.”  

“Oh.  You think I let you into my room every night and let you sleep in my bed with my blankets and I don’t care about you?”  He questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

“I guess… yeah, that is what I kind of thought.”  

He shook his head.  “If I didn’t care about you, I would at the least kick you out of my room after I was done fucking your brains out.  Or leave you high and dry.”  

You whined, pouting.  “Ah, shush, I wouldn’t do that to you,” he responded to your pouting.  “Now, lay down.  I need you,” he commanded, pushing you towards the bed.  You laid down, giggling the whole time.  

[taro-bae]

hii!

thank you for taking my request about hotarubis love language! love it <3

i hope you don’t mind for a second request 🥹

can i have a scenario with subaru where s/o is sick but they are clingy 👀🙏

thank you for your time 🙏🙏

That's such a cute idea!

Tokyo Debunker is so underrated.

Question for everyone, who's your favourite character?

Subaru Kagami x sick!clingy!reader

Summary: Subaru finds out his s/o is sick and goes to check up on them. His s/o is very clingy when sick.

Notes/CW: gender neutral, reader not specified doesn't have to be MC, fluffy, comfort

Subaru is a very busy individual. He finds out you are sick from Haku telling him, he is very concerned. He is just waiting for a moment to have a break from his errands so he can go and check up on you. He leaves his dormitory heading straight in the direction of your room. Subaru is very worried, overthinking the situation and how you're keeping up as he walks.

Subaru arrives at your dorm, he pauses for a minute taking a deep breath collecting his thoughts to lifts his hand and knock on the door. "Um...dear, can I come in?" He says letting you kmow its him. You hear the knock occupying your attention. Once he hears your hoarse, raspy voice from the inside of the room he gently opens the door looking inside. He sees you lying on your bed clearly exhausted and tired as he walks closer cautiously. He takes in your condition as he sits down on the edge of the bed putting a slightly shaky hand to your forehead. You're clearly down with a fever from how hot your forehead feels on the skin of his hand.

He didn't expect you to reach out for his hand and hold it making his heart jump a little. He feels a little shy at the contact but the only thing he can think about right now is your well-being. He feels you holding onto his hand as you lie in bed occasionally shuddering. You squeeze his hand almost desperate for his support. Subaru puts his other hand over yours holding it gently in his grasp. His gaze is soft and worried as he tries to analyse your condition and what he should do. "Do you need anything...I could get you some tea?" He asks softly. You agree to his offer in a low, quiet voice. Subaru knows your tea preference off by heart, he brews it and returns to you as quickly as he can setting it beside you.

He wants to know how you are feeling, not only physically but what you think about him being here. "I'm not bothering you too much am I?", he asks quietly. When you reassure him you enjoy his presense he eases up holding your hand gently rubbing circles with his thumb to comfort you.

As he sits beside you he sees and feels you reach out trying to hold him closer. Your arms are shaky and weak as you cling to him. He freezes up a little but he can't deny you. Your hands grip his clothing, your body feeling sore and limp because of the illness. You whisper out a plea "stay with me...please". Subaru's gaze soften tugging a little at his heartstrings, he knows you need him near. He holds you closer letting you cling to him like he's your lifeline.

He wonders how you are doing emotionally right now feeling you cling. He's no stranger to bottling up emotions and he doesn't want you to do it to. He asks how you are feeling or what's on your mind. At some point you feel a little guilty for clinging to him so much, what if you get him sick or what if this bothers him. Subaru is suprised to hear a muttered apology falling from your lips, apology for clinging to him. "N-no, please do", he replies, the last thing he wants is for you to feel like a burden or embarrassed for your state. He holds you in a tight embrace letting you cling as desperately as you need. In a way he finds your clingingness very cute, while he himself feels wanted.

While your sick Subaru takes care of you in any way possible. Keeping track of how much you are drinking, if you have taken medication, if your condition is getting better or worse. He is very responsible so he makes sure to do anything he can to ensure you have a quick recovery.

(He's so sweet and pretty)

Stay healthy and hydrated babes!

[vickyvicarious]

Jonathan is really being very clear about his survival strategy today.

I began to fear as I wrote in this book that I was getting too diffuse; but now I am glad that I went into detail from the first, for there is something so strange about this place and all in it that I cannot but feel uneasy. [...] Let me be prosaic so far as facts can be; it will help me to bear up, and imagination must not run riot with me. If it does I am lost. Let me say at once how I stand—or seem to.

Write everything down in detail so that he can confirm it later. Already, several odd instances have happened, as well as him noting multiple times on different days that "the Count himself did x" which then supported his theory, confirmed today, that there are no servants here.

I started, for it amazed me that I had not seen him, since the reflection of the glass covered the whole room behind me. In starting I had cut myself slightly, but did not notice it at the moment. Having answered the Count's salutation, I turned to the glass again to see how I had been mistaken. This time there could be no error, for the man was close to me, and I could see him over my shoulder. But there was no reflection of him in the mirror! The whole room behind me was displayed; but there was no sign of a man in it, except myself.

When something weird happens, double-check to make sure you observed it correctly. In this case he checked back in his mirror and yes, there really was no reflection.

When I found that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feeling came over me. I rushed up and down the stairs, trying every door and peering out of every window I could find; but after a little the conviction of my helplessness overpowered all other feelings. When I look back after a few hours I think I must have been mad for the time, for I behaved much as a rat does in a trap. When, however, the conviction had come to me that I was helpless I sat down quietly—as quietly as I have ever done anything in my life—and began to think over what was best to be done. I am thinking still, and as yet have come to no definite conclusion. Of one thing only am I certain; that it is no use making my ideas known to the Count. He knows well that I am imprisoned; and as he has done it himself, and has doubtless his own motives for it, he would only deceive me if I trusted him fully with the facts. So far as I can see, my only plan will be to keep my knowledge and my fears to myself, and my eyes open. I am, I know, either being deceived, like a baby, by my own fears, or else I am in desperate straits; and if the latter be so, I need, and shall need, all my brains to get through.

A whole bunch going on here. His instinctive reaction is panic, but a type of panic that actually matches his character really well: being thorough, checking every possible option. But as soon as he can, he calms down and tries to think things through logically. His solution: keep quiet about it.

We saw this the other day in the caleche ride actually. Jonathan specifically said that he if he was right that the driver was deliberately delaying, then asking about it wouldn't help in any case. It's the same thing here: his own observations make it clear that Dracula is acting against him, and confronting him about it would only prompt him to lie. Worse, he may get more openly aggressive. Better to stay quiet and observant. Try to think clearly.

He did not come at once into the library, so I went cautiously to my own room and found him making the bed. This was odd, but only confirmed what I had all along thought—that there were no servants in the house. When later I saw him through the chink of the hinges of the door laying the table in the dining-room, I was assured of it; for if he does himself all these menial offices, surely it is proof that there is no one else to do them. This is a terrible thought; for if so, what does it mean that he could control the wolves, as he did, by only holding up his hand in silence. How was it that all the people at Bistritz and on the coach had some terrible fear for me? What meant the giving of the crucifix, of the garlic, of the wild rose, of the mountain ash? Bless that good, good woman who hung the crucifix round my neck! for it is a comfort and a strength to me whenever I touch it. It is odd that a thing which I have been taught to regard with disfavour and as idolatrous should in a time of loneliness and trouble be of help. Is it that there is something in the essence of the thing itself, or that it is a medium, a tangible help, in conveying memories of sympathy and comfort? Some time, if it may be, I must examine this matter and try to make up my mind about it. In the meantime I must find out all I can about Count Dracula, as it may help me to understand. To-night he may talk of himself, if I turn the conversation that way. I must be very careful, however, not to awake his suspicion.

Jonathan recontextualizes earlier incidents based on his current knowledge, and builds hypotheses about what might be going on. He doesn't immediately jump to conclusions but he also doesn't dismiss seemingly supernatural or superstitious elements, both helpful and harmful. He uses the fact that Dracula likes to talk to him in order to subtly gather information. He also is clear here that he doesn't immediately write down his suspicions. He's thought since the beginning that Dracula was alone here, but has confined himself to mentioning direct observations until he had firm enough evidence to confirm his theory. I think this is especially interesting in the context of things like him not mention outright that Dracula could beat him in a physical confrontation, or stuff like him not wandering the castle too far yesterday. He may well be thinking about what 'locked doors' mean with great worry immediately, but he doesn't act right away and doesn't tell his entire chain of thought to his journal. Later on when he may seem to jump to conclusions at times it's very possible that he's had theories percolating for a long time before mentioning them.

Above all he tries to operate under facts, and to keep calm and amass as much information as possible, while staying under the radar as much as possible.

[rileyglas]

Demonic Convergence - Pt. 3 - Dueling Practice

Hazbin Hotel OC Story x Alastor

Frustrated by Vexel and Alastor's constant power struggle, Althea suggests a friendly duel practice for the men to get more accustomed to each other's power. Two cocky, powerful sinners fighting for 'fun'. What could possibly go wrong? @laudrawin killed it once again with Vexel's part AND this chapters artwork - she perfectly captured the intensity of this 'friendly' battle.

Meet the OCs Pt. 1 - First Impressions Pt. 2 - A Cold WelcomePt. 2.5 - The Long Game

It’d been a few weeks since Vexel spoke with Althea. Plenty of things were in motion, however he wanted to make absolutely sure of the information he was given before dragging her and Alastor into the mess with the Vees. Things are starting to get serious and now, he has no choice but to reach out. He opens a portal on the roof of their hotel room, peeking his head around to find it empty. Guess I’ll just wait, he thinks to himself. He plops down to the bed and makes himself at home with Heniffer happily nestling on his chest.

A few quiet moments pass. Just when Vexel starts to feel himself relax, a voice cuts through the room, "You know if you wish to stay on my good side, the use of a door would be wise. Especially when it comes to making unannounced visits."  Alastor chirps behind a newspaper, annoyed. Having sensed someone in his room, he shadowed in moments earlier, sitting by the bayou in his chair. He crosses his legs, refusing to even look at the unwelcome guest.

"Use of a door would require interaction with those I don’t care to see. Where's Althea?" Vexel’s monotone tone fueled Alastor’s frustration, not to mention how he nonchalantly played with necromantic glyphs and runes without a care in the world. Alastor slams the paper to the table, voice dripping with static, "Is there something I can help you with? Something that will get you out of MY BED!" 

The necromancer chuckles darkly, "Bring me Althea, I just asked for it- Oh, wait, they let pets in the hotel? How amusing they give someone like you a bed.” A growl rumbles in Alastor’s throat but his smile never falters. With a snap of his fingers, a single black tentacle wraps around Vexel’s ankle and rips him down off the bed. The force sends Heniffer flying off his chest with a thud. The dark appendage retracts immediately as Alastor hums in amusement,  "What do you need with her?"

"Do not touch me -" Vexel grunts, laying on the floor for a moment before getting up. “- unless you want me to chain you to that pretty chair of yours…or send you away. And that would be me being polite." He shuffles to lean against the window pane. His tone drops slightly at the realization the demon could easily send him out of the window, "If you must know, we have a deal to talk about."

Alastor nods, containing any further hostility for the sake of keeping his word to Althea. He grins menacingly at the chicken, "She should be here shortly. In the meantime, mind your vermin. It would be a shame if Nifty had to take care of it." Heniffer walks past him with a hiss and a glare. Vexel smirks, “The great Radio Demon is all bark and no bite, isn’t he?”

"Hardly.” Alastor sneers, “I am merely respectful of Althea and her....ideas.  She seems to think you have potential of sorts. I, however, think you're only taking advantage of her kindness. I just hope she sees through this act of yours before things go too far." He stands from his chair, summoning a cup of tea and setting it within arms reach of Vexel, "Do not cross us. I have made a promise to not agitate the situation further but will step in if I need to." 

Vexel cautiously takes the cup, sniffing for any oddities before taking a sip and nodding as a thank you. "I may or may not. You see I've spoken to Vox - all three Vees, actually. They don't like you at all." He opens a tiny portal, his hand crossing it to get a spoon of sugar for his drink.

"Trying to play both sides of the field? Can't say I'm surprised in the slightest." Alastor stalks slowly towards Vexel. His growing demonic form makes the lights flicker throughout the room, "So you do intend on crossing us if you're cavorting with the Vees. That's all the reason I need to -"

Althea opens the door, "Alastor!" she yells, scolding the scene she sees before her. He quickly retracts, glaring at Vexel. "My dear we have a visitor." he says calmly before taking a seat by the fireplace across the room. 

"I was wondering when I would hear from you!" she bounces towards the man leaning against the window happily but stops to take a step back, "Sorry - personal space - I know...What do I owe the pleasure?"

"At last someone with a brain I can properly speak with." His eyes dart to Alastor before focusing back to her, "I've met the Vees, and they really believe I'm on their side. Oh and Heniffer wanted to see you too." The hen peaks from behind the necromancer, chirping and jumping to Althea’s arms. She lets out a quiet giggle as she pats its head adoringly. Vexel’s head turns to the Radio Demon, “Also it'd be nice not to be dropped on the floor like a ragdoll next time or be threatened when I'm proposing to be your undercover associate.” 

The demon scoffs and rolls his eyes, "Maybe lead with that information before announcing your communications with such company." Althea sets a loving hand on his shoulder and looks to Vexel, "Our history with the Vees is far from civil. You have to understand our apprehension when it comes to dealing with them in any form." She moves to the bed, setting Heniffer on a pillow for her to relax.  "They play dirty - What have they offered you in exchange for your alliance?"

"The ‘all powerful Vees’ offered me a seat with them. Just for the small price of using my power against him.” Vexel’s eyes shine for a moment, making Alastor’s fingertips grow numb. 

"Don't do that!" Both Alastor and Althea snap. 

“Apologies. It seems I can do it anytime, but I won't." His eyes go back to normal and Alastor shakes out his hands in annoyance. Vexel smirks, "I could reject their offer but I believe getting some extra knowledge would be more useful." He tilts his head, eyes burning into Althea, "Just say the word."

She clears her throat, "Any information is useful if it means keeping ahead of their plans. It's dangerous to get involved without getting tangled in their web. They're probably looking at you as merely a pet, only to be rid of you the second Alastor is out of the way. I wonder though..."

She begins to pace, Heniffer happily jumping down to shadow her, "They fear being overpowered...to not have control...you obviously can overtake Alastor with ease - " Alastor groans at the comment to which Althea holds a finger up, "- bare with me dear - is there a way you can train him to fight off your control? It would allow you to explore your abilities more, give Alastor a fighting chance should you ever need to prove yourself to the Vees, AND be a show of power on our end. If no one can control us then they'll be running with a tail between their legs."

Vexel follows her with his eyes. "I guess I can. I'm trying to outsmart them, no need to worry about me falling for any of their tricks." His stare moves to Alastor for a moment then back to her, "Mutual training sounds good. Do we need a safe word or will he accidentally pierce my heart before I can even say it? How far do they overpower you, Alastor?" 

Alastor sighs. He can't believe he's actually going along with this plan, but he'd do anything for Althea...and to get Vox off his ass. "Get each one alone and they do not stand a chance against me. However, as mentioned, they do not care about playing fair." He walks over to Althea, grabbing her shoulder to force her nervous pacing to stop, "If this training happens I want to use my full capacity and you shouldn't hold back either. I think for best results, Althea should overlook the sessions to ensure neither of us go too far."

"If they are weaker than you, then I should be able to control them as well." His eyebrow lifts again, "If they don't stand a chance, how come you haven't killed them already?" 

"Taking out an Overlord can cause quite a ripple in the hierarchy of Hell. Killing all three would do nothing but bring unwanted attention and danger to our doorstep." Althea takes Alastor's hand. Sensing his apprehension, she gives a reassuring squeeze before continuing, "Alastor has taken out many Overlords in the past. The only reason Valentino still breathes is because Al stopped me before I could finish the job. We don't know the repercussions of my power if I were to take a life and we don't wish to find out." 

A look of astonishment crosses Vexel’s face for a moment. "You escalated that far as an Overlord just by healing and getting contracts? I'm glad I don't underestimate you anymore. Though it seems the danger is already here. No offense, but Alastor here seems to be the life goal of Vox.”

"Damn, I save your ass and you still don’t have an ounce of trust." Althea mumbles, taking a seat by the table in front of the wooden bayou. If they were going to work together, she needed some level of respect and trust. Something she knows is going to be a slow process. Vexel snaps back, "This is Hell, Althea, sooner or later someone will stab you in the back. You’re here so obviously your intentions were not always good." 

"The system is flawed, don't assume my reasons for being here." Althea growls then points to Alastor with a shrug, "Him on the other hand? Serial killer." Alastor's toothy grin darkens with pride. She turns the focus back to the issue at hand, “Vox has eyes everywhere, we will need a place he cannot find us. Where do you suggest we train?"

Alastor walks over to the table, snapping his fingers to make a map of Pride City appear, "His cameras are usually on every corner along with his drones going where they please."

The necromancer approaches the table, focused on the map. "Any underground caverns? That's where I set my studio. It's quite silent and the worst thing that could happen is us provoking a light earthquake." 

She looks at Alastor, "Can you see if you can find a good area? Preferably one with enough room for your full form?" He nods in acknowledgement then turns his attention to Vexel, "No kidnapping, no mind control. I'll be back." he sneers before disappearing into his shadow.

Vexel can't help but let go a soft laugh at his words. "Alone at last." With Alastor gone, he feels free to wander the room, "Do I need to ask him for permission before having a private meeting next time? I suppose I need to make my intentions clear so your demon can breathe when you're left alone with the mighty necromancer." He chuckles.

She matches his amusement, giggling at his sudden, but welcome, change in demeanor. "He'll warm up. It's admittedly entertaining to see him squirm a little. He could use some humbling." Her eyes track him across the room, "He's just a little apprehensive. However I'm very much my own person and I extend you the freedom to visit whenever you please." she offers a small smile before turning to look out at the bayou, "Humor me, if I - er well we - weren't in the picture, would you have accepted Vox's offer to join them?" Curiosity always tends to get the best of her, but she enjoys exploring possibilities.

"They wouldn't have gotten in touch in the first place if it wasn't for your demon getting chained up." He tilts his head, questioning her sudden prodding, "If what you mean is - would I join them if I didn't owe you my life, the answer would still be no. Vox is loud and immature. Valentino's stare was uncomfortably predatory. Velvette seems smart though. If they're easy to control, power would be mine in no time, Velvette could have joined my plan, siding with the more powerful party. Hell would be ours, the end." 

"Hmph. Possibly." she breathes unsurprised by his absurd assumptions. She points to an armchair by the fireplace. "Please have a seat, make yourself comfortable." She stands to pour more tea, offering him another cup, "And don't be so confident in your 'take over Hell' plan. You forget who truly rules over the seven rings..." a shudder rolls across her shoulders, "...Lucifer. Fallen Angel, King of Hell. And a royal pain in my ass."

He takes the cup without hesitation, an unfamiliar ease taking over, "So Lucifer was real after all! And you're in touch with him? Why doesn't he get rid of the Vees for you? And I assume the pain isn't literal."

An uncomfortable laugh leaves her throat as she mumbles under her breath, "If he had it his way, it would be." her eyes widen in embarrassment for being so forward. She cooly tries to recover, “I mean...yes he is real and yes, he is Charlie's dad. He doesn't wish to get involved with anything unless it directly affects himself or his family.”

"Excuse me? Is he - bothering you?" Vexel took in her words but seemed to hang onto her discomfort towards Lucifer. His knuckles whiten with tension. Althea's face twists in shock at his sudden worry, "It's nothing I can't handle..." she sighs knowing there's no going back now, "But you wonder why Alastor is so apprehensive and jealous of you? The last two men who said they wanted to 'help' or 'team up' were Vox, who nearly killed me...and Lucifer...who seems to think my body is where his hands and lips belong."

She shrugs, both in indifference and to shake the chill that ran down her spine at the thought. He remains quiet. His eyes stare into her with something she's never seen from him before, though she can't put a finger on it, "I told you...things work differently here. And the system is...well it's fucked. Key reason Al and I have chosen to stay here and try to help Charlie with the hotel."

"Of fucking course, we're in Hell after all." He huffs with his own reminder, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Next time you find yourself stuck with him - I can only hope I’m there to help…Valentino had those eyes, too. Perverted, disgusting eyes. Perhaps this Hotel and my studio are the only safe places in Hell after all. It makes sense now - Alastor's overprotection I mean."

She hums with admiration at this new side of him, a soft smile curving her face, "You are a quick learner. Thank you Vexel." A ringing in her ears pulls her out of the sweet moment, "Ah and here he comes."

On queue Alastor’s shadow dances across the wall shortly followed by the demon materializing by her chair. "Oh good, still in one piece." He says half joking half serious. "I've found a decent cavern just below Cannibal Town. We can either portal, shadow, or need be, Rosie's Emporium has a cellar with a shared wall." He says boastfully, clearly happy with his find.

"Welcome back." Vexel’s body returns to its cold, tense state as he stands up and opens a portal, "Just for you to know, Alastor, I'm not a threat. You don’t need to worry about me.” Alastor shoots a confused glance at Althea. She chuckles, standing to place a kiss on his cheek, "You did great dear." she coos before bouncing through Vexel's portal into the cavern. 

A cool air stings her face the moment she enters. The glow emitting from the portal is just enough for her to see how large the cavern is. The ground seems clear and solid enough and there were only a few groups of stalactites decorating the ceiling above, "Holy shit Al - this place is huge. H-how has no one found this? It's perfect! Needs a little light but -" With an elegant move of his hand, Vexel sends necromantic bolts all around the cavern, leaving no corner without a teal light, "Until we can afford some candles, this will work. Are you joining us, deer man?"

"Woah - neat trick. Remind me to give you a call next time Vox takes out the power in the city." she teases. Alastor, refusing to use the portal, shadows in a few feet behind Vexel, "That's all necromancers are good for...tricks." With a snap of his fingers, a few chairs and a large table materialize from puffs of green smoke on one side of the cavern. He pulls a chair for Althea, locking eyes to Vexel, "Enlighten me, where exactly have you learned such a craft?"

The necromancer lifts his chin and crosses his arms with a subtle cockiness, "Living world. We had all the information, just lacked the magic touch. Once I got down here I gathered any new knowledge and made it happen. But hey, it's just a trick." 

Annoyed by the hostility the two men continue to brew, Althea scoffs, "Alright I think you two need to let off some steam. Heniffer dear, would you like to come sit with me while the boys get their frustrations out?" she pats at the chair to her right, "When I announce it's enough, you both will stop. I don't feel like dealing with the pain of healing just because you two can't get along."

The hen jumps off Vexel's head. Her body comically runs to Althea while her head follows with a small delay. "About time to put him in his place!" Vexel grunts through a wide grin, eyes glowing and threads of necromancy clinging to his body from thin air.

The Radio Demon swiftly moves to stand across from Vexel, "And what place is that, sir?" he begins to glow green as he summons smaller shadow minions who rush towards Vexel.

"As equals." He smirks, the skull hanging from his belt shines bright. His power begins to flow through his hair and body, eyes shining a bright teal. With a move of his hand, orbs appear and run to each of the demons. Within a moment the small shadows rot from the inside, “How rude using souls to fight for you!" 

Alastor’s fingertips become numb, quickly spreading to his wrists as necromantic threads start to embrace him. A feral snarl comes from Alastor, "Not going to be as easy this time." his body begins to contort into his full demon form. Althea can’t help but smile watching his eyes flash to dials and a red 'x' flickering on his forehead. “There you go, don’t hold back.” She eggs him on. He continues to grow as tentacles flail from his back, sparking with green power. The dark appendages bolt towards Vexel, swiping at his body and landing a few blows.

A portal forms beneath Vexel as the first tentacles make him fall. He appears suddenly behind Alastor while sending a couple glyphs and harmless bolts into his back, "I don't want this to be easy!"

The demon stumbles forward before swinging a large claw behind him. Static fills the air as red liquid begins spilling from his mouth, "Then you should start trying harder. You're supposed to be teaching me how to defend against you, not have a pillow fight." his other hand swings to the roof, breaking a few stalactites. They crash violently around Vexel. 

"EASY AL - Power only. Don't bring other elements into this!" Althea warns while giving Heniffer a few pats.

"Listen to your girl!" Vexel taunts. A glyph appears in front of him, forcing his body to swap places with Alastor, "This is practically child’s play!" His power begins growing across Alastor’s arms and legs. A chain appears in Vexel's hand, connecting him to Alastor who gradually feels the loss of control over his limbs.

"Put your energy in staying in your own head, not obliterating him. You might physically be more powerful but you're allowing him to break you through your mind. Focus!" Althea shouts, trying to keep the demon grounded in the fight. His confidence will always be his greatest weakness and right now he is showing it more than ever.

Alastor falls to his hands and knees from the pull. He shrinks slightly, still keeping his flashing eyes and extended antlers. "Let me turn up the heat then!" he shouts, sending a blazing ring of green flames around him and forward to knock his opponent back.

Vexel lifts a hand as a silent request for a moment to breathe after that hit, "What if you have to fight me and Vox all together?" 

Alastor pauses in an attempt to catch his own breath. He sheds his jacket, gracefully brushing it off and tossing it to Althea. "One thing you'll learn about Vox, he won't even bother trying to fight when he has a pet to do it for him. Even if you're pinned down, the coward will leave you to die before stepping into a fight. Especially against us." 

Smokey green symbols emit from the demon and he fades into the shadows. They flood throughout the cavern, surrounding Vexel and hindering his ability to see. "You can control the dead, but can you control what you cannot see." his voice echoes off the cold walls.

"Can’t you see, that is my only worry -" Vexel closes his eyes as he gets up. His power transfers to Heniffer and she glows in the chair. He uses her eyes to get a better look around, "- I worry he wants to test me against you. He will ask me to control you." A portal opens under his feet, allowing him to reappear next to Althea. "But indeed, I can control what I can't see." His whole body charges, absorbing energy from his surroundings. He crouches, touching the floor as his magic looks for his objective - dead bodies buried within the ground around him. 

Black shadows sneak over Vexel's feet then climb up his legs with the weight of concrete. "There has to be a limit to your control, I just need to chip away until I find it." Alastor's laugh bounces around the room before he reappears in the middle of the cavern, "And he will never ask anything. You will be his pet and he will treat you as such. His ego is about as fragile as that screen head of his."

Althea watches Vexel who stays completely still. She realizes he is waiting for something, "No outside elements. He's frustrated. His mind is weak right now." she advises under her breath to him, half expecting him to ignore her. His threads find the demon once more and chains fall into his hands, "You enjoy talking about how I'll be a pet, yet I’m not the one wearing the harness." Vexel chuckles and pulls the chains connecting him to Alastor. 

Alastor's mind blurs, disorientating him. Not even gravity makes sense once his conscious is pushed to the back, unable to act on his own. With another yank he is pulled out of his shadow as if being fished out of thin air. Vexel guides him to stand in front of Althea. The demons once black and red eyes now glow a deep teal.

“Well your mind is weak, isn't it? You need to work on that." The necromancer approaches his new puppet, "Sing for me, radio man" He smirks through the command. A hum can be heard from Alastor’s chest. Althea stands from her seat, "Fight it Alastor - push him out. You control your soul, so fuckin act like it!" she yells, further trying to enrage him into power.

"Check this out, Althy -” Vexel laughs and covers his mouth, doing a classic puppet/puppeteer impression, “I actually think Vox is quite attractive and Vex is way better than me!" Alastor's voice speaks out with a wide, relaxed smile. He watches from the back of his mind, seeing everything through his eyes like a movie but unable to say or do anything - The fuck did he just call her? 

"Oh wow Vex, you really got him now. Hey, could you make him admit I'm always right?" she teases, purposely putting on a more flirtatious voice that Alastor hates. If pure ire wasn't flowing through him already, it was now. He feels himself trying to lunge back into his mind. He only needs a moment of control back, and right now he is fighting tooth and nail to get it.

Vexel keeps focused on him, realizing he's actually resisting. "Keep trying, demon, I have all the time in Hell.” His hair flows around him with such strength a whip of it could leave a red mark on anyones skin. Alastor’s voice rings out again, “You are always right, my dear. I'm a cocked up demon who should let others spend some time with you as well! Especially in private with Vex!" Vexel smirks, noticing Althea’s acting and going along with it.

That’s all it takes for Alastor to finally snap. He lunges past Vexel's control, eyes flashing from teal to a bright red. It only takes a moment for him to regain complete control out of pure rage, screaming as he comes back to his senses, "FUCK YOU!" 

Vexel turns being caught off guard, "F-fuck -"

A large, glowing red fist lands a full power hit against Vexel's cheek. Before his body has the chance to hit the ground, Alastor wraps a hand into his hair as a handle to throw him against the cavern wall. The sound of his skull cracking against the stone is deafening. 

"ENOUGH ALASTOR!" Althea rushes over, pushing him out of the way to make her way to Vexel. She stops short a few feet in fear of the possible retaliation. This is bad and doesn’t want to be at the brunt of a return attack. 

All orbs in the cavern vanish. The necromancer grunts after a few seconds, weakened from the blow. He feels all of his magic gone, causing even Heniffer to drop "dead". His eyes search frantically for Alastor in the darkness but all he can sense is Althea close by. As soon as he catches a solid breath, he casts a portal beneath himself to get back to his studio.

"Damn it!" Althea yells into the darkness. A hand wraps around her and within a second she's back in their room, "Wait - go get Heniffer." Alastor rolls his eyes at the request but complies, disappearing and reappearing with the limp skeleton chicken. 

Althea scoops her from him. She takes a deep breath to speak softly, "I'm not angry at you. We pushed you and I know it was hard, however lashing out physically was not necessary in the moment. You broke free of him, you need to hone in to how you did that." she rests Heniffer on the bed, "I think you should go to your tower. He won't want to see you after that and I know he's hurt pretty bad."

Without a word he leaves with a mix of anger and hurt in his eyes. Althea sits next to the chicken trying to figure out how to reach out to the necromancer. I know he can communicate or at least sense through Heniffer...Worth a shot... "Vexel? It's just me here. Please....let me heal you. I'm sorry..." her voice desperately calls out to him, defeated and embarrassed.

[raizeal]

What I Once Was

(Asra x Reader)

We all know Asra is very sweet and gentle. But what if he wasn't? In other words, my angst-driven mind came up with this idea because I love making myself SAD. But there will be romance. So enjoy being sad with me! (this will be a multi-part story, so consider this a prologue? Sort of.)

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Rain streaked down the window you looked out, perched on a chair in front of it. You had been sitting there for how long now? Minutes? Hours? You were unsure, unseeing eyes following the trails of water down the glass pane, almost as though they were mirroring the trails that were near dry on your chilled face. The shop was quiet, save for the single candle burning in the room, hungry flames licking up the wick. Every small noise you heard caused your ears to perk up, hopeful that the flippant magician had returned, only to sag further into the chair when you came to the realization that he was most likely not coming back. 

You had returned to the shop after a few hours, having gone to town to peruse the market for anything that may be useful to you throughout the week and were excited to show Asra your finds. You went to unlock the door, but your hand met no resistance, the door pushing open with a light touch. Finding this odd-you swore you remembered to lock up before leaving this morning-you cautiously entered the dark shop, eyes scanning the immediate area. Nothing seemed out of place, and there were no signs of any rummaging or forced entry. You began to brush off the situation as just a poor mistake you had made when a noise erupted from the back room, followed by hushed curses. 

Without thinking, you barged through the velvet curtain closing the back room off front the rest of the shop, coming face to face with an agitated looking Asra pouring over what appeared to be some sort of ancient text. Either he was too consumed in what was before him to notice you, or he simply just did not care to notice, because he did not look up from the scroll, even when you spoke. 

“Asra?” you asked, cautious. It was rare to see him so frustrated, and he could get testy when in this sort of state, so you weren’t too keen on setting him off. You set your bag with your market finds on the ground and slowly approached him. “Is something wrong?” Asra paused at your question, exhaling forcefully, his breath causing the hair in front of his eyes to flit before settling back in place. 

“Is something wrong?” he echoed, venom in his voice. This caused you to halt in place. He had never spoken with you in such a tone, always being very soft and caring in his words and actions. He kept his attention on the worn papers in front of him, not acknowledging your presence outside of echoing your question, before adding in a hushed tone, “it’s not like you could help with it, anyway.” Well now you knew something was wrong. It was rare to see him like this, but it was even more rare for him to belittle your ability to help him solve something. Asra was powerful-very powerful-but so were you. The two of you had worked together on things so many times that you could honestly say you had lost count. You took another step towards him, reaching out to rest the tips of your fingers on his shoulder. You felt him tense under your touch. 

“Asra,” you inhaled a steadying breath. “I’m sure whatever it is you’re looking for, having two sets of eyes searching instead of one would be more beneficial. Especially considering the state it seems to have you in.” When he merely sighed in response, you pushed a little further, slipping your hand down to reach for his. “Asra-”

“Please go.” The finality in his voice took you by surprise. He rose to his feet then, agitation seeming to roll off of him in palpable waves. You stayed rooted in front of him, causing him to glower at you. “If I am being entirely honest, you’re possibly the last person I want to see right now. So I would appreciate it if you would leave.” 

Whether it was indignation or stubbornness that guided your response, you were unsure. You crossed your arms and stared hard at the white haired magician before you. 

“This is my home, too, Asra. I have just as much right to be here as you do.” You threw your hands up in defeat, frustration washing over you. “What is your deal tonight? You’ve never acted like this.” With me, you mentally added, but figured those words were best left unsaid. 

Asra dug the heels of his palms in his eyes, as if rubbing them hard enough would make you disappear and chuckled darkly. 

“And who are you to say anything about how I’ve acted in the past? You don’t remember any of it, anything about me, about us!” He ground his teeth together, and you saw small sparks of magic flicker around his fingers as his temper rose. He fixed you with his intense stare. “It was a mistake to bring you back when you’re no longer you.” Before you could react to his words, he was sweeping the scrolls off of the small table in the room into a bag, slung it over his shoulder, and vanished from the room without uttering another word. 

The shock of it all sat heavy in your stomach like a lead ball. A mistake to bring you back? He had never implied at feeling that way; he was the first person you saw when you awoke, sheltered in his arms. He taught you everything, from how to speak to how to use and control your magic once again. And he was always so patient with you, so caring. You scrubbed at your eyes with the back of your hand, the telltale sting of tears burning the corners of your eyes. He wanted you gone, he made that very clear. And you had no idea where he had gone or how long he would be gone for, but you’re certain things would come to a head if he returned and you were still sitting there.

You forcibly hoisted yourself from the chair you had practically been cemented to and made your way to the upper level of the shop were the two of you lived. Used to live, soon, your thoughts interjected bitterly. You grabbed a linen bag and began blindly throwing things into it without paying much mind; a few spare sets of clothing, a bag of coins, and your prized tarot deck. Throwing a shawl over your shoulders, hurried footsteps carried you to the back door of the shop. The same door he had left you through only hours ago. Unsure of where to head, but knowing you needed to be anywhere but here, you headed out into the chilled Vesuvian evening, pulling the heavy door shut behind you.

[logolepzy]

༉‧₊˚. Baby, it's our love

pairing : derek morgan and spencer reid

genre : fluff / slight angst? perhaps a whump

word count : 1553

warnings / tags : fluff, angst, whump, established relationship, trans spencer reid, dysphoria, breakdown, drug mention, comfort, worried derek morgan

note : feedback and critique is always welcome!

“God this is-” Reid rants to himself as he tugs at various spots of his too-tight button-up, the fabric seemingly clinging to his torso like a corset. He had already spent 10 minutes working to get the fitting just right, concealing the bumps and the curves to the best of his ability, one good look in the mirror undoing every measure he had taken. All that could be seen now was the curves, his chest, it had all become obnoxious.

The flustered doctor begins to undo his buttons furiously, crumpling the top in his hands and tossing it to the wall. Goosebumps appeared as he stood defeated in his bathroom, with nothing left besides his binder and slacks. His breathing begins to pick up as he starts pacing the chilly tile floor, switching between randomly picking at his chest and flapping his hands anxiously. A clock was ticking down, he and Derek had always gotten ready alongside each other, matching the pace up until 8:30 AM when they would typically leave for work. The sound of jangling keys drags Spencer out of his panic, and he comes to the realization he is accomplishing nothing with this. It was time to go to work.

“Spence? You almost ready?” Derek questioned cautiously from the outside of the bathroom door. He was well aware of how peculiar his partner was of their punctuality, so he had already begun to assume something was seriously wrong. Shortly after, he hears Spencer scurry around the bathroom, clothes thrashing against the still air.

“I'm okay! Just give me a couple minutes” Spencer’s voice cracks as he pushes through teary eyes to fend off his boyfriend from entering and witnessing the embarrassment of his coming undone. The idea of being seen in a vulnerable state, a state of panic, was too much to bear. He pulls at his binder, attempting to release the pressure from his chest, finally allowing himself to breathe. Derek starts to walk away before he hears tiny sniffles coming from the bathroom, causing him to immediately return and press his ear to the door.

“Are you okay in there? What's going on?” Derek softly asks, his concerns beginning to grow rapidly. His mind automatically went to Dilaudid no matter how many attempts he made to reject the idea. The scenario of his boyfriend behind a locked door, sobbing and fighting himself was all too familiar. He shifted the doorknob ever so slightly, trying to gauge if it had actually been locked. Comfort flushed him once he managed to twist the handle. Still, his urgency persisted, causing him to fling the door open, spotting his slender, shaky partner cowering next to the tub, arms wrapped around him tightly, resembling a comforting embrace.

“I can't do it, I can't.” Spencer's voice trembles, shaking his head as he continues to grip his shoulders, covering what he can of his unsatisfactory appearance.

“Woah, woah, what's wrong?” He scans the room for a syringe or a vial, trying to multitask and keep his focus on Spencer. Treading lightly, he places a hand on his shoulder, using his thumb to stroke the shuddering skin beneath it.

“All of it! My clothes, nothing fits properly.”

“What do you mean? We double-checked last time we went clothes shopping.”

“No, no, not like that. My chest is showing so much.” Spencer shifts again, clinging to his shoulder blades at this point, shielding Derek from seeing more than necessary.

Derek quickly caught onto what was happening, sweeping Spencer’s shirt and dirty towels left on the floor, allowing him to scoot next to the distressed man. In times like these, he tended to stay quiet, allowing Spencer to fully detail how he was feeling. Conversations worked out better this way. Derek made sure to understand before he reacted. 

Spencer lets out several shudders in random spurts, chest heavy with tears continuously rolling out of his puffy eyes. He relieves some burden by dropping his head on his partner’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut hoping that taking away one of his senses will bring him some serenity. They take in the silence for a few minutes, no words seeming necessary at the time.

“Your chest is fine, Spence.” Derek finally disrupts the quiet, attempting to settle the timid man based on what he knows. “Nobody at the BAU notices. All of them see you as a male.” He states with certainty.

“You can't know that.” Spencer choked up. The crying had died down, leaving him a sniffling snotty mess, only able to shakily mutter with his responses.

“I wouldn't tell you if I wasn't sure.” Derek lifts his hand to softly run his fingers through the agent’s ruffled locks, re-adjusting extremely displaced strands. He reaches up on the wall behind him, grabbing for the toilet paper roll, and tearing off a couple of squares to dab under Spencer’s nose. It hurt him to see the distress shown around the room, and the continuous sobbing from his partner. Something like this hadn't happened in a long time.

“That shirt looks normal most of the time. I don't understand why it looks that way today.” He huffed defeatedly.

“If it looks perfect for the majority of the time, your mind is probably playing tricks on you.”

“I know that. But I’m seeing it.”

“Well, I can't. I never see it. All I see is a good-looking FBI agent.” Spencer reluctantly chuckles at the compliment, Derek following after, a moment of silence falling once again.

“Maybe it's my binder.” 

“You think? I can buy you a new one.”

“It's okay, I got it.”

Spencer lifts his head from Derek’s shoulder, swiftly pushing himself from the icy tile to his feet to quickly resume getting ready.

“I’m so sorry. I know I made us late, just give me 5 minutes and I’ll be ready.” He mumbled as he wiped his misty face, hurrying out of the bathroom to search for a new shirt as quickly as he could. He rushes into their bedroom, immediately scanning the closet for something better, more loose. Derek trails behind him, placing himself in the doorway as Spencer frantically decides.

“Hey, hey. We don't have a case today, how about we just stay home?” Spencer furrows his eyebrows at the suggestion, stopping him in his tracks. “You can't just have a breakdown and clock in a few minutes after.”

Spencer wants to protest the idea of staying home today, but after putting some thought into it, the idea doesn't seem all too bad. He couldn't bear going to work feeling as if his colleagues would gawk at his figure, noting all the details they hadn't noticed before, analyzing the hidden meaning behind his chest seemingly growing overnight. He didn’t hyperfocus on these aspects frequently, being that he had mostly found peace with his appearance, but when a thought happened to appear, it took over almost completely. The option of staying home started to outweigh the routine of continuing to head to work, knowing a breakdown would creep up on him once more.

Reluctantly, Spencer draws back from the closet and steps back to settle himself at the edge of their bed, starting to ease up and ground himself.

“I’m so sorry. Honestly, I didn't mean to-”

“It's okay, Spence.” Derek cuts him off before he can begin an unneeded apology. “Let’s just take care of you today.” Spencer’s face blends into a peachy blush as he drops his head to rest in his hand, massaging his temples slowly to ease his sudden headache. Derek finally steps into the bedroom to take a seat next to his partner. He grabs hold of Spencer’s free hand, tracing his finger along each vein he could see protruding from the thin skin, then flipping it over to lace his fingers with the other’s, bringing it to his face as he places a gentle kiss where he previously traced.

Derek releases his hand, pushing himself off the edge of the bed to start making his way back out of the bedroom, allowing Spencer some time for himself. “Let me clean the living room and get some tea brewing. I'll call in for the both of us as well.” He always knew all the right things to say, exactly how to bring ease to the anxious doctor. And he does just that, heading to the kitchen to place a kettle on top of the stove, letting it come to a low boil while he sets chamomile tea bags into matching mugs. He dials Hotch’s number, ready with a detailed excuse in case the scenario of Hotch denying the request pops up.

Spencer falls back into the cushion-like mattress, arms sprawled out on each end of him. A warm blanket coddles his heart, overwhelming him with Derek’s delicate love. Although he was still frustrated and battling his mind on how he truly appeared to everyone else, it was tranquilizing the way Derek took such caution and care with his situation. Derek never pushed any information out of him, and he always listened intently whenever he gained some courage to explain. Now he’s going as far as to call off an entire day of work just to pay his attention entirely to his partner. The reality brings a wide, cheesy grin to the doctor’s face.

[diana-bookfairchild]

@prongsfoot-microfic May Day 29: Fog

Sirius grinned at James. “Ready, mate?”

James smiled cockily, an expression which Sirius wanted to kiss off of his best friend. He quickly shook off the impulse. That was an absolutely terrible idea. “Always am.” He said, as self-assured as ever.

“On three—” he started.

“Two—” James continued.

“One!” Both of them said together.

“Stupefy!” “Expelliarmus!” They cried at once, dodging the spell that came their way.

They duelled fast and furious, like always, and Sirius’ blood sang: this was what he was born to do – weaving in and out of spells, thinking hard for tactics, exchanging spell chains and combinations, especially with the person he loved most in the world was exhilarating and invigorating in the best of ways.

And both of them were excellent duellists.

Soon enough, the classroom was in disarray. Chairs had been thrown and had landed lopsided or broken, desks had been rammed into, there was syrup on the floor (James had conjured it as a follow up to his Tarantallegra: a fairly brilliant tactic he had to remember), cannonballs on the ground (his retaliation to Prongs’ Incendio which in hindsight might have been a bad idea to use at school), flamingoes (another of James’ transfigurations which he was unsure was purposeful or not) and James was shedding fur like mad (his reponse to the antlers he’d been given).

Sirius was lying on the floor, watching James predatorily advance with a smirk at his lips when in desperation he cried out, “Fumos!”

They’d learned the spell only yesterday. The room was immediately filled with a dense fog.

“Prongs?” He called immediately when he heard a groan. “You alright?” His wand was up in case this was a trick.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” his best friend sighed. “Truce?”

“Truce.”

Sirius advanced cautiously, stowing his wand in his pocket. They hadn’t learned the dissipation or wind spells, so he wasn’t really sure where to proceed. “I can’t see anything,” he complained petulantly.

“Yeah, now you know how I feel,” James replied wryly. “Blind as a bat, huh?” Sirius grinned guiltily of the reminder of when he’d teased him about his glasses.

All of a sudden, he knocked into a humanlike object radiating heat. In an attempt to prevent falling, they grabbed at each other, making their lips meet in the process, quite accidentally.

Sirius’ face flamed, something heavy in his heart. “Sorry about that, Prongs.” He said weakly.

“Are you, Padfoot?” Was James’ quiet reply. Not sure what that meant or how to respond, Sirius opened his mouth anyway, when James took his face in his hands and kissed him again.

Sirius gasped, before kissing back desperately, throwing his arms around his neck.

How long had he wanted to do this? He didn’t even remember when he’d first fallen in love with James. This was his best friend, the love of his life, whom he was kissing and Sirius savoured the moment and the sensation.

The fog cleared around them. James looked up at him, glasses tilted, smile mischievous. Sirius memorized this look.

“Hi, Sirius,” he said softly.

“Hey, James,” he said, equally soft. After a moment, they kissed again, clumsily, happily. “No more fog in duels?” He asked after they parted, right before they kissed again.

James laughed against his lips. “I think this ended up pretty well, but yeah. No more fog.”

[fleet-admiral-hiba]

Continuing on the different universes thing because I am losing it

These ideas will only get stranger so be prepared

Another universe but this time we are very hostile towards the harbinger?(s)

We are a bit older but not a fully grown adult, though I do wonder why we are so mad

Apologies if this was worded weirdly, I’m still in a bit of a haze

-Simon

I LOVE THIS. FERAL CHILD IS WHAT I WAS MISSING

STAY AWAY FROM ME

They were all curious now. Given the success of Dottore time-travelling experiment, they wanted to see more.

But they should have been careful what they had just wished for.

He managed to open a live field between the room and him, so they could see what he was seeing in real time.

He felt the familiar pull, and he went.

.

.

.

He landed in a place not to dissimilar from his universe, but there was something different... something far more sinister than he anticipated.

The land had an ominous sense to it.

Cautiously, he made his way inside the palace. It was... darker, frightening even. There was something wrong.

He spotted a figure darting through the halls, and he quickly stopped the attack.

He was shocked to see...you, or this version of you. Eyes wide and frenzied,you looked like you had been abandoned.

You continued to attack him, without succeding. But he never responded. He didn't want to harm you, he wanted to know why.

"Y/n" he said and you froze. Why did he know your name? Was he one of them?

"Get away from me" you shouted, wiggling in his grasp. You were terrified at the prospect of another round with them.

You said that out loud though, and he wanted to know. Who were those "them"?

"quiet down. Who are you talking about?" He said softly. You shook your head frantically, not falling for the trick, "pet look at me. Who are them?" He said.

Recognition sparked in your eyes, and you settled, if only for a moment. "The Harbingers. They have been...replaced with something sinister and they have been hurting me. I hid but it won't be long before they find me" you mumbled, dreading the moment he let you go.

You knew they felt the change, you knew they were coming.

He wanted to do more, but he was being pulled back. He tried, in vain, to stop the process. The last thing he saw was you running and something...words couldn't describe.

Back home, he was left mulling. Those...entities were just like them, but something was definitely wrong, unsettling.

They all appeared disconcerted. They felt in the bottom of the heart your last breath. It hurt more to know that those creatures resembling them were the last thing you saw.

[gucciwins]

For whatever reason I imagine bel sending something super cheesy for Harry on valentines (maybe even a grand gesture) to embarrass and tease him. She’s successful because his friends can stop teasing him ans he keeps blushing and bel teases him too 🤭🤭

happy valentine's day from harry and bel 🤍

+

Harry had planned a morning studio session with Tom and Tyler before he flew to Australia. He knew it was a day he wanted to spend with you but knew you’d be sleeping in for the morning until you got up to have your bath. When he arrived, he was surprised to see them all there waiting for him outside the doors. Even Mitch was early, which never happened. 

“Morning, why are you all outside?” Harry asks cautiously. 

Tom shrugs, “thought we’d wait for you.” 

Harry decides not to bother with them and heads inside. It’s quiet, but there sits Isabel, the receptionist of the studio, and he greets her good morning but continues on to his usual room. The three men follow closely behind, their phones in hand, and his jaw drops when he swings the door open. The studio is filled with what feels like hundreds of pink and red heart-shaped balloons. The floor is scattered with rose petals, and different bouquets of carnations and tulips sit on the couches. Harry picked up the pink carnations that caught his attention, and attached to them was a note. 

Feliz dia del amor!

Mi vida, hope you enjoy this sweet surprise. 

Love, 

Bel

Harry looks around, taking it all in. He can’t believe you would do this. He looks behind him to see Tom and Mitch recording him while Tyler steps around him to grab his phone, that caught his entire reaction. “Did you all know?” He breathes out. 

Mitch slaps Harry on the shoulder, “if I didn’t know she set this up, I would have thought you did it for us to show your love and appreciation.” 

Harry rolls his eyes because Mitch is not wrong. You had told him you had nothing planned, not a present or chocolate hidden in their home, and he knows because he snooped looking for any signs of a surprise. Turns out you outsmarted him and planned everything for the studio.

He decides to call you, hoping you answer, knowing you like to sleep in when you can, but to his surprise, you answer on the second ring. “Baby,” he breathes out, unsure what he wants to say, not that he has you on the line. 

“Take it you liked the surprise,” you laugh as the others in the studio begin to laugh at Harry’s silence. You get a message and see it’s Tyler sending you a photo of Harry staring at the decorated studio in awe. There are pink carnations in his hand. “I was tempted to stand outside with a boombox, but someone vetoed the idea,” you tease. 

Harry sighs, content picturing you outside with a boombox over your head as Franco De Vita’s song “Te Amo” plays. This grand gesture is not something he thought he’d ever receive in his life, but then again, he never thought he’d be lucky enough to love someone as much as he loves you. 

“I want to go home now,” he whines. 

You giggle, “do you want to guess where I am right now?” 

“In bed under our warm covers,” he mutters, picturing you perfectly, knowing he left you warm and bare under the covers after last night's celebrations. 

“Nuh-uh,” you sing song. “I’m in the bath.” Harry feels his pants tighten. “You left me that sweet rose bath bomb, and I had to put it to use. Now I’m all alone at home feeling a little needy and no one to take care of me,” you confess, feigning innocence. 

“Baby,” Harry whines. He’s tempted to run out of the studio and go home to take care of you. 

“Too bad you decided to work,” you remind him. “Those three are under instructions not allowing you to come home until you get some work done.” 

“You’re mean.” You both know he doesn’t mean in.

You laugh, and it’s music to his ears. “Next time, you should dedicate the whole day to me.”

Fuck. He knows he should have canceled. Now he’s going to sit here for hours with a hard-on, thinking about how you’re touching yourself when it should be him treating you with sensual and sweet touches until you’re screaming out his name.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Harry. I love you.” 

Harry sighs, knowing he’ll never get tired of hearing those sweet words. He’ll happily take all your teasing if it means he gets to have you. “I love you, baby.” 

He pockets his phone to see the three men staring at him until they burst laughing. “Damn Harry, maybe if you ask nicely, we’ll let you leave,” Tom teases. 

“I’ll take a kiss to consider it,” Tyler shrugs, puckering his lips. 

“You’re all dicks,” Harry tells them.

It only makes them laugh harder, and Harry knows that although he will be teased endlessly for the next few hours, you’re worth it.