#I had a RIDICULOUS struggle trying to get that eye photo

[melit0n]

Heard we were doing some Orb Posting! I think I'm a bit late, but we ball

[bleedingoptimism]

Eddie was ugly when he was a kid. Ugly with a capital U. And not like, his peers said he was, so he thought he was ugly, but he really wasn’t, no. He was UGLY. Big bottomless eyes, a big round nose, big mouth, full lips, small face, and with his head shaved even his ears looked too big. Plus he was thin and long-limbed... He looked like a bug! He was U-G-L-Y

But it’s okay. It’s just a universal truth and not a problem anymore because he grew up. And he grew into the too-big features that made him look bad. Now they are part of his charm. He grew up and he looks good now, and he knows it. His big dark eyes, his round nose, and his plump lips are attractive features now. 

The thing is, it didn’t bother him then, and it doesn’t bother him now. It’s an inconsequential matter, laughable really. So why is he wrestling Steve Harrington in his living room to stop him from looking at the photo he found while cleaning up Wayne’s trailer? Who knows, maybe, and just maybe he doesn’t want to hear Steve call him ugly. Maybe he’s vain like that. Maybe he doesn’t want the most beautiful boy he’s ever met to think he’s ugly. Maybe he doesn’t need confirmation that Steve will never notice him like that because he’s so out of his league they are not even playing the same sport. Not that Eddie knows anything about sports. Whatever.

Steve had come over to help him move out. He is moving in with Jeff to a tiny place that’s closer to college and Eddie had wanted to surprise Wayne by giving him back his room and leaving it spotless and fit for a grown man. And Steve had kindly offered to help when he’d told him about it.

They were just finishing up boxing some books when a photo fell out of an old copy of Moby Dick. Why was it there in the first place?! Eddie’s eyes had gone wide when he saw it was a ridiculous photo of him, standing straight and with a huge smile on his face hanging on to a pass-me-down backpack on his first day of school. He’d dived to the floor to try and grab it but when Steve saw he didn’t want him to see what it was…

Steve wanted to know what it was now, obviously.

He took the photo and ran back to the living room, screaming and laughing with Eddie close behind as he screamed bloody murder and jumped on top of him, clinging to his back. Steve stopped just long enough not to let him fall but then started running again trying to shake him off. Eddie let himself fall off Steve and grabbed him by the waist, pulling him close to him to try to grab the photo that Steve, giggling uncontrollably, was keeping at arm's length.

Eventually, when their lungs couldn’t get enough air, they stopped struggling and sighed in unison, which prompted another laughing fit. And then, Steve looked at the photo, with Eddie still holding onto him from behind, looking over his shoulder.

When he saw the picture again Eddie flinched waiting for Steve’s laugh. And laugh he did but not meanly, instead he said,

“Oh my god, Eddie you were so cute!” 

“Shut up. No, I wasn’t” he answered with a scoff. Then, and just then, he noticed the position they were in. How close he was standing to Steve. He swallowed loudly and looked at Steve, to see if he noticed too, to see if he’d pull away.

But Steve was smiling at the photo, biting his lip and letting little giggles escape from time to time, “You were!” he insists. 

Eddie laughs, “Dude, stop I was not. You don’t have to mean about it” starting to get a little annoyed but Steve shakes his head looking way too sincere.

“You are not serious,” Eddie frowns searching his eyes which are still looking at the picture, “Look at my tiny face and the ears!” He says exasperated.

Steve chuckles again, “I know, they are huge! And the eyes! Oh my god- You looked like a bug Eddie-!” he laughs, and yep. There it is. Eddie thinks bitterly- “You were so pretty!” Steve exclaims actually cooing at him.

And wait- 

“You are ridiculous” Eddie laughs and Steve finally turns to look at him and notices how close they are. He blushes furiously and Eddie is so close to his face that he can feel the heat on his cheeks now. Eddie removes his hands from Steve’s waist so he doesn’t feel trapped by him, but moves his face a fraction closer and smirks flirtingly at him, “Were?” he asks.

Steve blinks at him and Eddie can feel his eyes moving across his face as if it were a caress. He looks at his eyes, his nose, his jaw, his lips, he swallows and his eyelids fall a little before he looks back up at Eddie’s eyes and smiles shyly before he says, “Are. You are pretty.” and Eddie closes the distance between them. 

💋

a drink? ☕🥐💕

[sp0o0kylights]

I once had to pose in a ton of photos for a friend's AP photography final back in high school so may I present to you:

Steve Harrington, who gave in to Robin's begging that he act as her weird art model for her senior year portfolio (the same one her teacher is encouraging her to bat out of the ballpark and enter into contests.) 

She's doing a whole thing on fashion, subcultures and sexuality using photos and collaged poetry, a project that has Steve trying on different outfits and posing in different places. 

"This might help me land a scholarship, Dingus." She hisses while she's got him bent over her bathtub, spraying parts of his hair blue with wash-out dye.

Steve, soulmate and best friend extraordinaire, goes through it all with minimal (for him) bitching, even if the goth outfit feels absolutely ridiculous, and the 'geek' photoshoot downright laughable.

He starts to have fun when she has him mimic Nancy's straight laced, all A's good girl aura, and equally has a blast with the country look (he has no idea where Robin got a miniature horse but it conned him for every piece of food he had on him and then some.) 

The final piece is the one they're struggling with, the one Robin's now (fake) dying his hair partially blue for. 

A few hours later and he's dressed up once again in a studded leather jacket, the tightest jeans he owns ringed with belts, and combat boots.

 Robin had even talked him into letting her use eyelash glue to attach a few metal studs on his face--two acting as an eyebrow piercing and one on his nose. 

The looks he drew took a minute to get used too when all was said and done, Robin dragging him around Hawkins while she tried to find the 'perfect backdrop' but he's not gonna lie. 

He kinda enjoys being punk Steve.

That is, until Robin has him posing in an alleyway and Eddie Munson comes around the corner, jaw right about falling to the floor.

Even better? 

Eddie doesn't recognize him. 

Not at first, when he siddles up to Steve, nodding to the handkerchief in Steve's back pocket and then flicking the pink triangle pin on his jacket with a finger. 

Steve owes Jonathan a bottle of his father's best alcohol for giving him enough knowledge to get through the music razing Eddie subjects him too, and Steve's all too happy to play the part of punk asshole to Munson's music-snob metalhead.

It's not until Eddies playing with his hair and Robin gives in to letting him have a quick break from the shoot that he gives up the ghost, leaning in to whisper in Eddie's ear. 

"Gotta say, Munson," Steve all but purrs."I wasn't expecting you to fall for the Harrington Charm that fast."

"What?" Eddie asks, jerking his head back to look at him with wide eyes. 

Maybe it's the outfit giving him the extra ounce of courage, but Steve likes to think more that it gives him the freedom to lean forward and brush their lips together. 

Eddie doesn't return it, but that's alright. 

Steve's played this game enough to know that it was merely a hook for a real kiss. 

"Okay." Robin says, annoyed, camera at her side. "Steve, I'm happy that you're finally exploring that repressed as fuck homosexuality we keep arguing about, I really am, but I have to get this last photo!" 

He ignores her, instead nudging Eddie's shoulders.

"Care to pose with me?" Steve asks, grinning. He can tell Eddie still isn't sure if this is a joke, that he's seconds from running, and reaches out to tug on his black handkerchief. "Get Robin her photo, and then talk about this after, Mr. S&M."

Eddie flushes scarlet, but after some reassurance (and wheelding) from Robin, finally agrees. 

(Later, he agrees to a date, which Steve also credits the outfit for.

Even if Robin demands half the credit.) 

[neteyamslovrr]

Okay Ao'nung falls in love with Sully na'vi fem Reader who is albino and doesn't know why but catches himself staring at them at every chance he gets because he's never seen anyone like her before and his friends say something rude but he shuts that down quickly and is immediately trying to court her and Reader is surprised because no one at her old village showed an interest in her (she's the oldest Sully kid) and he's genuinely surprised because who wouldn't want to court someone so gorgeous (I haven't seen any fics of albino na'vi reader) fluffy ending!

PEARL

summary: you never received much romantic attention in your clan, so the least you expected was the son of the metkayina to get violent for you.

contents: 1.7k words, fem!sullyreader, swearing, fighting, bullying, wee bit of angst, fluffy ending

authors note: thankyou for always interacting bae i love u and this req. hopefully it is good <3 i lowkey struggled lmao. ALSO this photo of him woof woof

You were different. You knew that. Everyone around you knew that. Your skin was pale, derived of the usual blue, eyes, and hair so light that it glimmered in the sunlight. A sight to behold, ‘Eywa knew the world needed your light.’ As your father said.

 You were the first one of your people to look like this. Mo’at assumed it was because your father was born of the sky-people, but it was just an appearance level change, you were the same as everyone else in the inside, so people treated you as such.

You were treated just like everyone, never excluded, ridiculed, or made fun of. Well, who would do that to the daughter of Toruk Makto. Though, you noticed as you got older that the Omaticaya men never looked at you the way they would look at your friends, no googly eyes were sent your way or efforts of courtship. No late night walks or little gifts. Your love life was barren, no sprout or seedling of love budding in sight.

So, when your family up and left your home, everything you ever knew. You expected one thing to be the same. That there would be no mate waiting for you in your new home, just as there wasn’t one in your old home.

Ao’nung noticed the commotion that was emerging at the shores of his village, the sounds of horns blaring as the hunters started to come in from the sea. His curiosity bested him as his body moved unconsciously to investigate. Only to be met with the Toruk Makto and his family begging for refuge.

Their skin was a darker blue, figures lean and tails small and weak. What would they bring here that would benefit the clan at all? He thought to himself, they were weak, useless.

He focused on the intense conversation between the pairs of parents. Tension so strong it could have been pierced with a spear. But a spear didn’t break the tension surrounding Ao’nung. No. It was him catching sight of you.

It was like his body went into shock, a current running through him from head to toe. His brain felt as if it was buzzing, the only thought was of you. His father told him once about this feeling he got when he first saw his mother. Was this the feeling? Was the feeling meant to be towards a forest freak?

You were so different. Different to his people, different to your people. You were truly a sight to behold. Like a beautiful pearl, that was hiding amongst the depths of blue coral. He felt his world shatter as he saw you, your beauty was truly memorizing. It didn’t matter if your arms and tail were weak, he needed to get to know you.

You had been at the village for a month or so now. It was nothing like home, the sand felt weird on your feet, the water was never the same temperature, and the people never stopped staring. Something you missed so dearly from home is even if you were different, you were still Omaticaya. Here you weren’t Metkayina, you barely looked Na’vi to them. So all it ended in was occasion ridicule from the teenage boys when your younger brothers weren’t around to protect you.

Though in the time you had been here. You had grown closer to the chief’s son, Ao’nung. He made it a commitment to talk to you every day, whether it was small talk, or a late night walk. You couldn’t tell when you started to develop feelings for him. You assumed you only did because he was the first person who ever showed you the courtesy of manners, even if he was hostile to your brothers. He became someone who you could be with, to protect yourself from the teenage ridicule.  

In your month, you had found yourself a favourite spot to sit and look at the waves. Resting yourself against a tall tree, bark itchy against your soft back as you dig your toes into the sand below you. Still trying to get used to the odd texture. It was somewhat peaceful, the sound of the waves. Not as calming as the sounds of rain in the forest, pitter pattering on the leaves. But it was still peaceful.

However, it was short-lived. The sounds of waves being crushed by the sounds of quiet mutterings behind you.

“Is she sick? She isn’t even the same as her family of freaks?”

“She reflects in the sun dude! That’s so fucked up.”

“She’s barely Na’vi she’s basically a vvrtep” The statements were followed with a couple of quiet chuckles. You wondered if they knew you could hear them. They probably relished in it honestly.

Though you tried to not let the comments get to you, they pained you to hear. It hurt to hear such degradation. Pushing the tears back until the suffocated you, is what it felt like to act tough in front of them.

But the quiet mutters and chuckles suddenly turned into loud thumps and yells as commotion started to brew behind you.

“Y’know what’s fucked up? Your face after I beat you shitless.” Scurrying from your spot you watched the fight in front of you. There was Ao’nung, riled up and furious, beating his friends face in after he mocked you.

“Brother what is wrong with you?!” His friend hysterically questioned as he fought off Ao’nung’s fists, getting one punch straight to the Ao’nung’s nose.

“You do not speak of her like that.” Ao’nung was seething, his words coming out as a hiss spitting in his friend’s face. As he was now being held back by his other friend, fists drenched in the blood of his ‘friend.’

“Oh, fuck me! Bit hypocritical you skxwang! Did her skin blind you and make you go insane?!” Ao’nung hissed in his face, spitting blood at him.

You were watching in horror. The bloody mess of these men was almost nauseating to look at as you realised this was because of you. The feeling of dread overcame you as your clouded mind drowned out their boisterous yelling. You held onto the fabric of your shirt, fiddling with the beads as you stared towards the men, not focused on anything but a overwhelming feeling of guilt.

“If you like that freak so much, why don’t you go and talk to her. She must be so charmed by you beating the shit out of me Ao’nung.” Leaving Ao’nung in a huff his friends bashed shoulders as they walked past him back to the village to get help.

Ao’nung was now only focused on the way your body awkwardly swayed as you stared towards him. Truthfully, he came over to talk to you. He wanted to gift you this bracelet he had hand woven with a small pearl intertwined in the rope, so he could say it was beautiful and reminded him of you. Yet he feels as if he had messed up any chance he had of being flirtatious with you, after he is covered in the blood of a friend.

“Ao’nung.” It was a meek whisper, it scratched as it came out of your throat. Not able to create eye-contact with him. His stare still being too intimidating, the way it made your heart flutter.

“Yes.” He breathed it out, as if he had just exhaled a breath after being under water for hours. His voice begging for you to look up at him.

“Are you alright?” Gaining the courage to look up at his bruised face you wince. His nose was bleeding as his lip was slightly split. His friend can obviously punch.

“I’m fine Y/N.” He smiled down at you, looking at the way your eyes poured out concern the more you assessed his injuries.

“You are stupid. Let them talk. You talk just like them.” Tone harsh as if you were scolding a child. In response, he sulked like a child pouting his lips.

“They were being rude. I can’t let people talk about the one I admire like that. It’s not what a good mate would do.” As he let out his last sentence he fiddled with the bracelet he knotted around his loincloth, so he didn’t lose it.

You were puzzled. Good mate? Was he interested in you? Were his efforts romantic not just the obscure kindness?

“What do mean by that Ao’nung?” Your eyes followed his hand as he placed the bracelet in your hands. His fingertips were rough, they felt as if they were burning, setting your heart ablaze as he gazed at you.

“I’ve always thought pearls were beautiful, just like you.” He was never this nervous, the cocky smirk he usually adorned was wiped off his face as he nervously awaited your response.

“I’m not beautiful Ao’nung we both know that.” He shook his head as he continued to tie the bracelet around your wrist, making sure to linger his fingers on your skin as often as he could.

“You are the most beautiful woman I think I’ve ever seen, you are more gorgeous than any woman in this village.” He was holding onto your hands as if you’d fly away if he let go.

“No one’s ever said that to me before.” Ao’nung was bewildered, it was shocking to him. But he tried to not let his shock ruin the intense stare he was giving you, trying to convey the most sincerity as possible.

“Then I’ll happily be the first. And I’ll be the one calling you beautiful forever, if you accept my courting gift.” He waited eagerly for your response, it felt as if time was dragging along. His heart constricting the longer you were silent.

“Of course, I do. The bracelet is as stunning as you, how could I reject the man who stood up to be against his friends.”

“Yeah you’d have to be pretty stupid.” You scowled and gave him a playful pinch. “Ow! Y/N!”

“You ruined the moment!”

“I’ll ruin the moment more by kissing you with my bloody face!” You squealed in disgust as you shook your head.

“Absolutely not. Come with me, I’ll clean you up.” He followed you swiftly, making sure to intertwine his fingers in with yours.

“Yes ma’am.”

thankyou so much for reading lovelies <333 interacting is super duper appreciated have a great day/night <333 I'd love to see you follow ╰⁠(⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠╯

[jiyascepter]

A Carnival Serenade

Masterlist

Want to be added to my taglist? Here!

Pairing: Loki x f!reader

Words: 915

Warnings/Content: pure fluff, grumpy x sunshine, cranky loki, teasing, reader is shorter than loki, est. relationship | lmk if there's more

Synopsis: A cheerful reader drags reluctant Loki into the chaos of a city carnival. Amidst cotton candy clouds, carnival games, and a spontaneous photo booth moment, unexpected sparks of affection and mischief intertwine, revealing that Loki has more to him under his stoic exterior.

A/N: I had so much fun writing this! Please pardon me, but this short is clichéd 😶‍🌫️

"Come on Loki!! Keep up with me!!" You shouted, turning back to see the grumpy God you had dragged with you to the city carnival that you absolutely loved to go to every year. Amazing food and games—why not?

Loki walked over to you with slow, reluctant steps to show his disinterest. He was judging—not you, but the people around him. His disgust for midgardians used to heighten whenever he used to go out with you. To his surprise, you take hold of his arm and start to drag him through the crowd. It was secretly funny to him to see such a little girl try to pull his tall, godly self.

"I fail to comprehend why you insist on subjecting me to this... spectacle," Loki grumbled, eyeing the vibrant chaos around you both.

"Come on, Loki! Lighten up a bit! Carnivals are all about fun and joy!" You chirped, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

Loki sighed, resigned to his fate, as you practically skipped towards the entrance. The carnival was a riot of colors, with  the scent of popcorn and cotton candy lingering in the air. His eyes squinted against the bright lights.

You stop at a cotton candy cart, where you buy an oversized, pink cloud of sugar. You draw up your hand near his lips. "Here, try some! It's like eating a piece of happiness!" Loki raises his eyebrow, his hands crossed, as he leans in to take a small bite.

"It's excessively sweet," he remarks. "Yeah, isn't it amazing?" you beam up at him, and Loki struggles to oppose a smile. You notice that, but decide not to tease the grumbling god for now. You both continued exploring the place, pulling Loki from one attraction to another. Loki glanced at you from time to time, secretly admiring how excited you became with every little thing.

"Let's get matching face paint, Loki! It'll be like a secret bonding ritual," she suggested with a wide grin.

He huffs. "I'm not getting that," he says, before you give him that sweet look of yours that was absolutely irresistible to him. He complies and you chuckle, admiring how he always used to impassively try new things with you.

"I look no less than a jester," he complains after the artist draws a small heart with an arrow on his face and yours. "You look absolutely sweet to me," you say, leaning in to place a soft peck on his cheek.

That's what drove his body to absolutely melt for you.

He won't show it, but he was almost enchanted by this small showcase of physical affection you displaced. And he wanted more, but he couldn't ask for a kiss in this rushed place.

The night progressed, filled with laughter, rides, and carnival games. You even won a stuffed animal at the ring toss, holding it up triumphantly. "And a little plushie for my God of Mischief," you teased, earning a faint smirk from him. He loved it whenever you used to address him by his title.

You both wandered through the carnival hand in hand, and you stopped in front of a photo booth. "What do you say Loki? Care for a picture?" And before he could even grumble about it being a childish endeavour, you ran inside the closed booth, giggling excitedly. He follows after you, scoffing as he takes a seat beside you, facing the camera.

"Ridiculous. I have no interest in such frivolous displays." You jokingly pout at him, "Come on, just one for me, okay? Now suggest a pose." He sighs and thinks for a moment, then it strikes him.

"How about...a...kiss on the cheek? I've seen youngsters do it..."

To your amazement, his voice sounded surprisingly shy. Of course he was shy; he rarely asked for physical affection. You raise an eyebrow and softly chuckle, "Really? Loki, the God of Mischief, suggesting a pose involving physical affection? This is a rare sight." Loki scowled, attempting to salvage his composure. "It's merely for the sake of a photograph. Don't read too much into it."

You chuckle again. "Sure, then let's go with your pose then. Who would've thought you were into these cute and sentimental gestures?" You lean in, but struggle a bit to reach Loki's elevated height while sitting.

"You're too short for me, darling," he says, a tease of mischief in his voice, and he was grinning. Dissatisfied with the lack of intimacy, he couldn't resist the urge to take matters into his own hands—quite literally. With an unexpected swiftness, he picks you up and places you on his lap, and you couldn't help but blush at this sudden turn of events.

"There, much better," Loki muttered, his stoic expression tinged with a rare hint of amusement. Now that you were comfortably settled on his lap, he tilted his head to the side, inviting the cheek kiss rather demandingly. You smile, wrap your arms around his neck, and press a rather sweet kiss on his cheek. A subtle warmth enveloped the god, contrasting with the usual cool facade he wore. In that fleeting moment, the touch of your lips sparked an unexpected sensation—a mixture of surprise and an unfamiliar tenderness. Loki, who was quick to dismiss such feelings, couldn't deny the subtle flutter in his chest. He felt an air of brief vulnerability.

The camera captures the sweet moment, which not only showcases your cute pose but also the playful dynamic of your unlikely pair.

[dittanyinbloom]

Baby Fever

Ominis Gaunt x Fem!MC. 11 years after the events of fifth year. Could been seen as a final part to Note Taking. But trilogy is so sweet I didn’t want to include smut.

Summary: Anne is struggling after the birth of her child, and Sebastian has too many kids of his own to give Anne the proper care she needs. Sebastian calls on you for help, but your husband Ominis insists on coming along despite his affinity for children. 13.3k long so grab some tea besties.

Warnings: 9.5k of fluff and angst and Ominis healing from childhood trauma and then about 3.5k of smut. Breeding kink but like- it’s sweet I swear. Maybe a bit of cockwarming thrown in there (Sorry, Jesus. I’ll repent later). Minors DNI!

.🍼🌿🍼

Y/N,

I hate to do this while business is booming for you, or should I say blooming? Sorry. I need a bit of humor whenever I can get it. Anne is not doing well since having the baby. She’s been on bed rest and she’s a complete mess. I can imagine you ridiculing me, but I am allowed to say such things. She is my twin after all.

Her husband still isn’t back from that work trip. My wife has been asking around the Ministry for me, but no one knows anything. He wouldn’t have missed the birth of their daughter. And she’s four days old now, the cutest thing, by the way. She's starting to look just like Anne’s baby photos.

Anyway, I’m getting off track here. Sorry if this letter is scattered. I’ve got all four of my kids here with me. Their mother has to work while I’m taking off time to look after Anne. Obviously, someone has to earn money for the abundance of school robes we’ll be paying for in the very near future. They can’t be home alone with the youngest being only one. He’s walking now! Have I told you yet? Well, standing and wobbling. He’s getting there. Gonna be the next Slytherin Quidditch Captain in no time.

All this is to say, I need some help here with Anne. Helping her and taking care of her newborn is a two-person job. My kids make it a three-person job. I’m drowning a bit in diapers and screams and tears. Think everyone here has had a tantrum today alone, including me.

Needing your help desperately, my dear sister-in-law of mine. Don’t let Ominis roll his eyes when you read him that bit. He is my brother, blood be damned.

Sincerely,

Your Most Handsome Brother-in-law

S.S.

P!S! Please for the love of Merlin, bring washcloths. Between everything I’m trying to keep up with laundry and it’s simply impossible.

You glanced over the top of the letter once you were done reading it aloud. Contrary to Sebastian’s predictions, Ominis was not rolling his eyes. In fact, he looked forlorn and pale. Not only was he worried about Anne’s safety considering her poor condition after having the child, but he was no doubt worrying about Anne’s husband who was actually quite a lovely bloke. He fit in just right with Anne and Sebastian, and he very quickly grew on Ominis despite his attempts to keep the jokester at bay. In his eyes, Ominis had enough of that energy with Sebastian and Anne, who had been handling her curse greatly in the last few years and was back to her wild self, until the pregnancy complications that is.

What Ominis refused to acknowledge was that Anne’s husband didn’t have the mischief or malice of Sebastian and Anne. He was just a golden, loveable, arguably dopey guy. His love for Anne was so pure. He bawled multiple times on their wedding day. Being gone for so long during the latter days of Anne’s pregnancy was unlike him. And to miss the birth of his firstborn child, and likely their only considering the complications, was beyond excusable. Not that he would even try to excuse it because he was truly that honest of a man!

And then there was Anne, the most heartbreaking part of the letter. The doctors had her on bed rest seemingly indefinitely. She spent the last two months of her pregnancy in that dreary bedroom. When her husband was forced onto his work trip a week and a half ago, you closed up your magical plant shop and stayed by her side until the baby was born. A girl. She was born healthy with the cutest button nose. You held her for hours after she was born while the healers and Sebastian all huddled around Anne in worry.

Once Anne was safe and resting, Sebastian had tiredly collapsed on the couch next to you. You hadn’t seen him that exhausted since you were teens still in school, causing mayhem that affected yourselves more than others. His wife had been watching over all four of their kids all day so that Sebastian could spend that moment with his twin. You put the baby girl in her uncle’s arms and the two fell right asleep just like that.

It had only been a few days, but you were wanting so desperately to get back to the little girl. And while Sebastian’s kids were a handful, to say the very least, you wanted to see them as well. You had done your fair share of babysitting those mongrels, so they were quite attached to you. Their obsession with you and inclination to always come visit and run up and down the hall of your home was actually welcomed, as crazy as that sounded.

By the time you realized you loved children and wanted some of your own, you were already deeply devoted to Ominis. Because of his past, he wasn’t too enthusiastic about having children of his own. That was fine. Sebastian seemed set on having plenty for everyone.

Ominis stood from his velvet armchair and announced, “I’ll grab the washcloths.”

“Ominis, you do not have to go.”

He had stopped in the middle of the hall to ponder it. His head shook in disapproval. “I’m going to look after Anne. You’ll look after the baby. Sebastian will pack up the Quidditch team and head home so that Anne can rest in a peaceful house. Does that sound like a plan?”

You met him in the hallway and took his hands in yours. Butterfly-soft kisses were left on his knuckles. You spoke firmly and slowly to make your point. “You do not have to go with me to Anne’s. I can take care of both. It’s okay.”

“Don’t insult me,” Ominis insisted with a harsh whisper. “I won’t faint at the sight of a child, and if Anne needs me, I will be by her side. She is my sister.”

You chuckle, lightening the room for a moment, “Oh, so Anne is your sister, but you can’t admit Sebastian is your brother.”

“That’s because Anne is my sister through and through, but Sebastian can’t just claim such a title just because his kids call you Auntie. Such a thing has to be earned! Bestowed upon!”

“Okay, okay,” you giggled and smoothed his shirt across his shoulders to calm him. “You know he only says it at this point because it gets a rise out of you. And perhaps that’s why I bring it up too. You’re cute when you go red.”

“Oh, well thank you for adding to the stress,” Ominis shortly huffed in annoyance then turned to the bathroom to grab your house’s supply of washcloths.

Usually, he went along with your playful tones unless he was really out of sorts. You frown and follow right at his heels into the bathroom. “Sweetheart, we are all stressed. I’m sorry to make light of things in such dark times, but you always say you enjoy my light. I’m only trying to help you feel better.”

“I know. But right now-“ Ominis pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can I just be alone for a moment? Why don’t you go pack up those strawberries for Sebastian’s kids? You know we won’t finish them before they go bad if they stay in our kitchen.”

With your head hung low, you trudged to the kitchen and began to ransack your cupboards for potential meals. If things were really as bad as Sebastian made them seem, he likely didn’t have time to cook properly for the kids, Anne, and even himself. A few sandwiches and the berries would make a healthy enough lunch. If Ominis was truly planning to go with you, Sebastian really could head home for a break like Ominis suggested. Sebastian could no doubt figure out dinner for his kids at his own home with the stress of Anne and the newborn off his shoulders.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” that was Ominis leaning against the doorframe to your tiny kitchen. He looked exhausted as though he fought some great battle during his moments of solitude in the bathroom. He hated this side of himself, the one that could be so cruel. With his history and his trauma from his childhood, you didn’t ever fault him for being triggered.

The entire friend group was blissful until Sebastian started having kids with his wife, which was only a year or two into having your adult jobs after graduating from Hogwarts. Ominis had gotten used to them, slightly, but now with Anne having a child, he felt like he couldn’t turn in any direction without feeling an immense guilt.

“That was hardly snapping,” you kept up your light tone. It wasn’t an act. You really weren’t fazed by his behavior. These were stressful times for everyone. “You’ve bitten me before, so I think I got off a bit lucky this time.”

His cheeks turned a light shade of pink. After all these years, you could still fluster him. It was actually one of your favorite pastimes. How much teasing could Ominis handle? You were always itching to find out.

“That- that was one time. And you- you said you liked it,” Ominis straightened from his lean against the doorframe as he stammered on, “And that was different.”

“I did like it,” you reassured him. Memories of that night fluttered back. The sting in your shoulder. The cold from the blood dripping down. Tasting metallic on his lips afterward… “Maybe if you would bite me more, I wouldn’t have to keep pressing your buttons to see which one ignites that side of you.”

Ominis rubbed his face as though he was tired of your antics, but his cheeks turning a deeper shade, nearly all red now, told you all you needed to know. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

“Didn’t I just admit to doing it on purpose?”

Ominis could hear the knife come out into the cutting board. He tilted his head. “What have you been up to in here? Thought you were going to grab the strawberries.”

“Sandwiches for everyone. Doubt Sebastian has had time to make lunch yet. I’d rather make them here than amid whatever chaos is happening there.”

Then Ominis was behind you, gently placing a hand on your shoulder to map out where you were. It glided down to the small of your back and then snakes around the front, his other joining as his body pressed into yours from behind. His chin rested on your shoulder. His chest rumbled against your back as he spoke, “Forgive me for taking my stress out on you?”

“You hardly said anything, Ominis. There is nothing to forgive.”

His lips pressed right at the back of your jaw where it met your ear. “Maybe I’m asking in advance for tonight.” Then his mouth opened. His teeth grazed your skin so lightly you thought you imagined it. And then, rather evilly in your opinion, Ominis stepped back and released his hold on you. “Hurry up with those sandwiches. I’m going to handle a few things before the trip, but I’ll be waiting by the fireplace to floo by the time you are done in here.”

Sure enough, your husband was waiting for you patiently at your fireplace after you finished packaging up the lunches. He held out a hand to steady you as you stepped up on the brick, hardly a necessary gesture, but he was being extra sweet with you while he still could.

“I put a closed sign out on the shop,” he sounded almost formal about it.

“Thank you,” you breathed out in gratitude, “I completely forgot.”

“That Alihotsy is getting a bit big for the nursery. It’s extending across the walkway. Startled me for a second.”

“Sorry. Yes. That fellow from Honeydukes is meant to come by sometime this week for it. I’ll have to write him to explain that we are looking after Anne. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if we dropped it by late at night on his doorstep?”

“Maybe tomorrow night. We’ll be too tired after this.”

You chuckled and shook your head. “You always talk me into being lazy with you. Promise you won’t talk me out of it tomorrow too?”

“I would like its leaves out of the walking path, so I promise, tomorrow night we can take it to him. I won’t drag you to bed too early.”

“But I do look forward to ending up in bed with you after.” And with that, you threw down the floo power and were transported to Anne’s bungalow in Feldcroft. Upon entering, the first thing you noticed was the noise. There was a baby crying, kids screaming, and footsteps pounding around on the hardwood floor.

“I said to get that thing out of here!” That was Sebastian, sounding exasperated.

“I can’t catch it!” His oldest child, who was seven going into eight now, whined back.

“Then chase it out the door! It can’t be in here. It- oh! Y/N. Thank Merlin you’re here. Popped in at an awful time. Sorry for the mess.” Sebastian, while cradling his youngest in his arms, a baby who was about a year old now, kicked a few toys out of the way so you could step off the edge of the fireplace.

“Auntie Y/N!” Three children trapped you with hugs from all around. Then behind you, Ominis popped up in the fireplace and the three were rushing to embrace him as well.

You chuckled and put a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder to ask, “Seb, why is there a chicken on the couch.”

“It’s on the-?” Sebastian turned and started to wave the brown chicken off of his sister’s couch. “Shoo! Shoo! You are lucky I haven’t cooked you yet!”

You rolled your eyes and pulled out your wand. “Levioso. Accio.” The brown chicken squirmed in your arm, but you held it at your hip and then turned to the three kids with an eyebrow raised. “Who brought a chicken in the house while Auntie Anne isn’t feeling well?”

None of the kids said a word, but the two oldest shoved each other while they all stared at the floor in shame. You sighed and said, “If you go and collect all the toys in the house and put them in the diaper bag, I will give you the surprise I brought.”

The kids lit up. Their guilt long forgotten.

“A surprise?!”

“What is it?”

“Ah, ah, ah. Pick up your toys first.” Then the three of them were off collecting the messing they made and putting it in their youngest sibling’s enchanted diaper bag.

You put the chicken in the backyard and came back to see Sebastian and Ominis having a chat on the couch while the baby while trying to pull itself up on the side to join in. Ominis flinched when the baby grabbed his pant leg. You were quick to dive down and pick the little one up, grunting as you did so.

“My oh my, you have gotten big! What are they feeding you? Rocks?”

“That one’s gonna win the World Cup. I just know it. Gonna be the best Beater there is.” Sebastian played with the baby’s chunky ankles while you held it. It cooed back at him as if it understood and agreed.

You laughed and moved the baby to your hip to then use your free hand to touch Ominis’s shoulder. “You wanna go check on Anne while we set up the picnic for the kids outside?”

Ominis nodded and stood up to leave. He seemed thankful to have an excuse not to join the chaotic lunch plans.

Sebastian smiled wide. “Am I hearing this right? You brought lunch?”

“Just some sandwiches and strawberries. Figured you hadn’t had the time.”

With an exasperated sigh, Sebastian leaned his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. “You thought right. It’s been… a lot. The baby is sleeping now, I mean, the other baby, the newborn, Anne’s baby.” Sebastian paused for a second then whispered, “That’s still so crazy for me to say. I’m so happy for her.”

“You and your cousin are going to be the best of friends!” You told the one-year-old on your hip. So close in age. How fun! They’ll only be a year apart at Hogwarts. Bet they’ll get into even more trouble than we did.”

Sebastian covered his face and groaned. “Merlin, don’t say that. They already make me crazy as it is. Can’t imagine how I’d handle them being as wild as us.”

“Sebastian, there was a chicken on the couch when I got here. You may want to mentally prepare yourself for all sorts of Hogwarts shenanigans.”

Meanwhile, Ominis was knocking on Anne’s bedroom door and waiting to hear her voice before letting himself in. Sebastian’s kids were still being rather loud, but the decibel levels had greatly depleted. Ominis shut the door gently, but firmly, hoping to trap out any further noise. Their little feet could still be heard scampering about the echoey wooden floors as they searched for their abundance of toys to put away.

“Thought you two must have arrived,” Anne sounded exhausted. Ominis’s heart immediately ripped in two. He hadn’t heard her voice so raspy since they were teens. Anne had mostly healed from her curse. At around the ten-year mark, she decided she wanted to try for a child. She and her husband were happy and head over heels in love. They just wanted one child to share the love with. The risk was great with Anne’s past, but she didn’t want some retched curse to stop her from living her life the way she dreamed.

“And it was a good thing we did. Sebastian’s kids were terrorizing your home.”

Anne laughed at that, though it was quiet and airy. “They are just playing, Ominis. That’s why kids do. Not a dull day around here lately, that’s for sure.”

“Still, I’m sure you could rest better if it was quiet.” Ominis took a step to the right, meaning to meet her at her bedside.

“Wait-,” Anne croaked out, causing Ominis to freeze. “The bassinet is on this side. Come around to the other.”

Oh, right. Ominis swallowed thickly. He had forgotten about Anne’s baby for a moment. The room was so peaceful. It was hard to believe a child was in here with them. “Right, sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, Min,” Anne reassured as Ominis walked around to the other side of the bed. “Just didn’t want to bump into it and wake her. She’ll be hungry when she wakes up.” Which was Anne’s way of gently warning him that the baby was probably going to cry for food soon that way he didn’t panic when he heard it.

Ominis cautiously sat on the side of Anne’s bed and asked, “Anything I can get for you? I’m here to look out for you, and Y/N is going to look out for the baby once she feeds Sebastian and the kids and sends them home.”

“Honestly, I was dying of boredom before you came in. Just you being here is enough.” Anne placed her hand over Ominis’s and squeezed. “And how is my Y/N doing? How’s the shop coming along?”

There was a thankful sigh of relief from Ominis’s lips at the subject change. He could talk about you and the shop for hours. “We’re loving it. She put me to work though with all the upkeep. I’m regretting cutting back my hours at the Ministry. At least they didn’t make me sweep.”

Anne’s soft chuckle sounded much closer to her normal self this time. Ominis let some of the tension in his shoulders release from knowing Anne wasn’t feeling too much pain at the moment.

“You know, they would take you back full-time in a heartbeat if you offered.”

“No, no,” Ominis quickly backtracked with a smile, “No, trust me, being at the shop is a walk in the park in comparison to the Ministry’s paperwork. The half of my week there is like a vacation. Besides, it’s right next door to the house. No travel sickness. And the greenhouse smells lovely. Much better to work in than those dingy offices.”

“Hey now, don’t talk bad on those dingy offices. I can’t wait to get back to them in a few weeks. I’ve already planned on how to reorganize mine. Bit of spring cleaning.”

Whatever was going on with Anne, Ominis had assumed it was to do with the curse. Hearing her so confidently say she would be back to work soon made Ominis tilt his head in confusion. Was she being her stubborn self, or were things not as bad as Sebastian’s letter made it seem. It was always hard to tell with the twins. Anne played everything off as fine, but Sebastian acted like Anne’s paper cuts were life-threatening.

“Planning to get back there so soon? Well, don’t strain yourself. The office will still be just as meek and dusty no matter how long you wait.”

“Suppose so. Might be nice to spend some extra time just with her.” Ominis couldn’t see it, of course, but he knew Anne was referring to the baby in the bassinet on the other side of the bed.

There was a soft knock on the door, and with Anne’s approval, you cracked the door open just enough to peek your head in. “Up for a few visitors? The kids want to say goodbye one by one. I’m including Sebastian in that category too, of course.”

“Hey!” Could slightly be heard from the hallway.

Then, one at a time, you allowed the kids to give their Auntie Anne a kiss goodbye. Lastly, Sebastian went in with his youngest in his arms. Anne chuckled at the red stains on the baby’s hands and shirt from the strawberries. She could picture how it probably mashed the berry in its hand before shoving it in its mouth and likely missing its mouth entirely so that the strawberry ended up mostly on the ground. Her heart tinged a bit. She wished she could have joined them for lunch and not been forced to stay in her tiny bedroom.

“Get some rest,” Sebastian mumbled as he kissed her forehead.

“You too,” Anne replied. “Thank you for looking out for me these past couple of days, but go home and relax. Ominis and Y/N will take good care of us here.”

Then Ominis felt a hand on his shoulder. By the way it lightly massaged him, he instantly knew it was his wife. She leaned in close to whisper to him, “I’m going to walk Seb and the kids home to make sure none of them wander off. They’re a bit ornery today. Will you be okay without me?”

A pang of guilt stabbed him in the stomach. Ominis hated that he was the one you were worried about leaving while Anne was quite literally bedridden. It was embarrassing that you felt as though you needed to check in with him before taking a quick walk just a few houses down to Sebastian’s place. His…affinity to kids was bad, he knew that, he knew that you knew that and that’s why you were being overly protective. Still, it hurt his ego just a bit.

“Take your time. We’ll be okay here,” Ominis whispered back, trying his best not to sound short. If there was any uneasiness in his tone, he knew you would drop everything to comfort him. That couldn’t happen now. Sebastian might have needed your help walking the kids back, but Ominis knew that it was partially an excuse on your part to spend more time with them. He didn’t want to take that from you.

The baby, well, Anne’s baby was sleeping anyway. Sebastian’s was blowing raspberries while Anne was cooing a goodbye to it.

He waited until he heard the front door close to admit to Anne, “You asked how she’s doing… I don’t think she’s happy.”

“With the store?” There was a hint of terror in her voice as if Anne feared it was something worse.

After a moment of silence, Ominis shook his head no. “I can tell she wants more. She grew up in a big family and then Hogwarts was always just as loud and chaotic. At first, I think she appreciated the peace and quiet after we got our house, but lately… Lately, I wake up in the middle of the night and she’s gone. She goes and falls asleep by the gramophone in the living room as if she needs the noise for comfort.”

A gentle hand touched his shoulder as Anne said, “Oh, Ominis…”

“I think she would be happier if she were with someone that could provide what she wanted, but she’d never admit that.”

“No, she wouldn’t. I know you can’t see the way she looks at you, but you’re her world. Don’t ever even suggest such a thing to her. It would shatter her. She is happy with you, just you. We’ve talked about it before, she and I. She is content with being an aunt to Sebastian’s kids, and now my girl. Please don’t worry over this in the slightest.”

Anne’s comfort eased his pain, but the guilt of it all still weighed him down. They chatted for a while about Sebastian’s wife and her exciting job until you made it back to the house. You leaned against the doorframe of the bedroom and listened to the two old friends talk for a while before interrupting, “Do you want to have a bath while I change your sheets for you, Anne?”

“Is that your way of saying I smell?”

“Your hair is a bit of a mess,” you joked as you walked up to her side of the bed and gently moved the bassinet so that you could help Anne up.

At the sound of shuffling and Anne wincing, Ominis offered, “Do you want me to-“

“It’s alright,” you said, suspiciously quick. “Us girls have got this. I’ll just set Anne up in the bath. Do you want to start removing the blankets?”

Ominis stood from the bed and started to remove the covers at your request, albeit a bit reluctantly due to his confusion and frustration. Why didn’t you let him carry Anne to the bathroom? It wasn’t like the intimacy mattered. He couldn’t see.

Wordlessly, he carried the laundry to the back porch and then felt through the linen closet for another set. The two of you met back in Anne’s room at the same time. You kissed his cheek and took the fitted sheet from him to start unfolding it. That was the only covering you managed to get on before the baby stirred in the bassinet. It started to cry out, loud and demanding. Ominis flinched and clutched the blanket he was holding while you scooped the baby up in your arms.

“Oh, that sounds like a hungry cry,” Your voice was soft and unfazed by the cries. “Come on. To the kitchen, we go. I’m going to show your Uncle Omi how to make a bottle for you.”

Ominis tensed at that. “Why? I thought we agreed that I take care of Anne and you take care of…her.”

“If we really are going to be here the next few days helping out, you might as well learn.” You didn’t say anything more as you headed to the kitchen. It was up to Ominis whether or not he followed.

And follow he did with a heavy sigh. Anne’s kitchen was far more spacious than your own. He still hadn’t mapped out where everything was since it all seemed to spread apart. There was even room under the south-facing window for a breakfast nook area that had the perfect view of Feldcroft. You stared out at it wistfully. Down the way a bit, you could make out Sebastian’s two oldest digging away in their front yard. They had told you on the walk back that they had been trying to dig to the center of the earth. You had laughed and told them they would need a pretty long ladder, but you didn’t discourage their determination.

“Do you want to hold her while I grab the-“

“Just tell me where it is,” Ominis insisted, sounding a bit exasperated. His heated tone made you giggle. When you first met him, he used to always be on edge like this. There was a cold exterior about him that was snappy and sarcastic. In his defense, Sebastian was putting him through a lot at the time with his unforgiving plight to find a cure for Anne. But you didn’t mind it then just like you didn’t mind it now. Ominis was complicated, and that’s what drew you in.

“A step forward and to your left. Should be a cylinder tin on the second shelf of the cupboard.” Your direction was easy to understand and deeply appreciated.

Sometimes at work with the Ministry, Ominis would ask something like, “Which one?” Only for his coworker to inevitably reply something stupid like, “The green one.” He never had to prod you for more information. If only he could bring you everywhere to direct him like this. Though, maybe not while you held a crying baby in your arms.

“I’m putting an empty bottle right beside the tin here. But first, we need to set up the kettle.”

“Are we making tea for Anne?” This he was familiar with even in Anne’s kitchen. Ominis made quick work of taking the kettle from the stove and filling it in the sink.

“Just heating up the water a bit. Not too hot. I’ll show you how to check the temperature after we’re done. While that’s heating, you can measure the power. There should already be a scooper in the tin. Two scoops should be plenty. She’s still so tiny.” You took a moment to admire the baby girl in your arms. She really was the spitting image of Anne.

While you rocked her to soothe her cries, Ominis poured two scoops of the formula into the bottle and tried not to grimace at the sour smell of it. Now he understood why babies smelled the way they did. It was a mix of this awful powdered milk and the starchiness of baby powder. Very off-putting and unpleasant.

“Water should be warm enough now. I’ll tell you when to stop pouring. Go slow,” you directed. You stopped him just at just a quarter full and reached to touch the bottle to feel how hot the water was. “Just a splash of cold water and that should be perfect.” Ominis brought the bottle to the sink and literally just let the smallest splash into it. You giggled and prompted, “Okay, maybe two splashes.”

Next, you handed him a clean top for the bottle which he took a moment to stir on straight then asked, “Are we done here?” in a very bored tone.

You smiled as you shook your head and clicked your tongue. “Always so impatient, my love. The powder needs to be mixed in. You’ll have to shake the bottle and-“ Ominis started shaking the bottle immediately, wanting to get this over with. Formula sprayed out of the nipple and got on the kitchen floor, Ominis’s hair, and your face. He froze, realizing his mistake.

Your laughter was so intense that you doubled over, clutching the baby to your chest so that you wouldn’t drop her during your fit. Ominis was blushing, but the sound of your laughter made him smile sheepishly.

“I am an idiot,” he proclaimed.

“Yes, yes your are. You have to cover the tip of the nipple.”

“Excuse me?” Ominis sounded almost offended. You laughed harder, not being able to take much more of this.

“That’s what the rubber part of the top of the bottle is called! It’s not like I came up with it!” After taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you reached over and placed Ominis’s finger over the tip of the bottle. “Okay, now you can shake it without making it rain indoors.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled shyly.

“I love you,” you answered.

Once the formula was mixed up, it was time to test the temperature. “This part is simple. Hold out your wrist,” you told him. When he did, you guided his hand that was holding the bottle to dab the slightest bit of formula on his inner wrist. “Do you feel that?”

A flash of uncertainty washed over his features. “Yes, but how do I know if it’s right?”

You held out your wrist, lighting bumping it to his so he knew where you were. “Let me feel and I’ll tell you.”

The fingers of his free hand drifted across the palm of your open one, acting as if he wasn’t sure where your wrist was. You had a smug smile knowing it was all for show. You had made your movements very clear. He only wanted to touch your hand, but you weren’t about to call him out on that. The bottle dipped to let a drip fall on your wrist. It was like warm. Not too cold that the powder didn’t mix in properly, and not too hot that it would hurt the baby.

“This is perfect. You want to test it on your wrist again so you can remember this temperature for next time?”

He snorted and insisted there wouldn’t be a next time, but he tested the formula on his wrist once more and looked rather deep in thought as if trying to memorize the feeling. You kissed his cheek and thanked him while taking the bottle. A weight lifted off Ominis’s shoulders when the baby stopped crying in your arms. He let out a heavy sigh.

“Glad that’s over.”

“Well, get used to it because it’ll probably happen every four hours or so.”

That statement did not spark joy for Ominis, but you hadn’t been trying to. It was the truth. This was the reality of helping out Anne right now: a crying newborn.

“Let’s go check on Anne in the bath.” Now that was a statement Ominis didn’t mind. You followed him down the hallway and stood at his side while he knocked on the bathroom door.

“How are you doing, Annie?” He asked in a soft tone.

“Just fine, Min! I’ll be getting out soon. How’s the baby?”

“Ominis made her a bottle!” You cut in proudly.

Anne paused a moment then asked, “‘S it poisoned?”

Ominis rolled his eyes while you responded, “No! I watched him like a hawk. I promise! He did great!”

Anne’s laughter echoed in the bathroom. “Well, then thank you, Ominis!”

In the living room, you nestled in on the couch, using the armrest to support your elbow. Holding the baby in the kitchen that whole time had made you ache. She wasn’t heavy either, maybe six pounds at the most. You couldn’t fathom how Sebastian held his youngest all day. That baby was huge!

“Anything I can get you?” Ominis was hovering over you from behind the couch. His hand was resting on the back of it and his fingers were reaching up to brush your shoulder. It was clear he wanted to touch you, but you were holding a baby and that terrified him.

“Maybe turn on a bit of music? There’s a very fancy-looking phonograph sitting in the far corner on your left. It’s begging to be played.”

Your wish seemed to be his command. Ominis brought out his wand and used his sensing charm before pointing it precisely at the phonograph. The needle reset itself on the record and began to play a beautiful sonata. It started out with a feathery light piano that was quickly joined by a set of strings. You weren’t well versed enough in muggle music to know if it was a violin or cello, but its tender tones took the lead of the song while the piano supported the beat and background. There was just a hint of a wind instrument harmonizing with the main melody of the strings. It wasn’t prominent enough to tell if it was a flute, or perhaps a panpipe…

“Come sit by me,” you requested dreamily.

With the music and the airy sound of your voice, Ominis was lost in the moment. He kissed the top of your head then walked around the front of the couch to be next to you. The string instrument started to swell. His hand rested on your knee as he sat down and immediately inched higher and higher until his forearm bumped your elbow and he briefly wondered why your elbow was sticking out like that.

Reality came hurtling back like a bludger. His hand jolted off you as if your skin burned him. He had forgotten about the baby being fed in your arms.

Ominis hoped you hadn’t even noticed his slip up, that you were too lost in feeding the child. With the way you were talking to it, Ominis felt as though he was in the clear. You were commenting on how the baby’s hand was curling around your ring finger. It seemed to like the smooth texture of your wedding band.

“You trying to steal my ring, little one? Four days old and your mommy has already trained you to be her little niffler? Well, I’m very sorry. You can’t have my wedding ring. I love it too much. You can have your own if you choose to get married one day.”

“Anna and Sebastian are probably competing to see who can have the most mischievous child,” Ominis said mostly to himself since he assumed you were lost in your own little world.

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” you joked in return. “And you can put your hand on my thigh if you would like. It is not going to offend the baby.”

Sometimes he hated how in tune you were with him. Ominis put a hand back just below your knee and squeezed to show his annoyance with you, a move he often did to fluster you and keep your teasing mouth quiet.

The move was not working out in his favor while you were holding the baby, however. You gossiped to her, “Oh, Uncle Ominis is mad at me for some reason. I’m in such big trouble. He’s got the grumpy pout. I think he’s feeling a bit bashful that I called him out, what do you think?”

A loud thud sounded from the bathroom. Ominis was standing in a flash. You dropped the bottle beside you on the couch to grab him by the shirt, insisting, “You take the baby! I’ll go get her!”

A look of annoyance washed over Ominis's face and he defied your request, “Are you insane? Just let me-“

“She’s going to want it to be me, not you.”

For the first time since your school days, he bitterly reminded you, “I’m blind! It’s not like I’ll see anything!”

You were standing now, matching his volume. “She’ll just want a woman there that understands-“

“I’ve known her a lot longer than you have! She’s a sister to me, I understand her perfectly! She-“

“She’s still bleeding,” you whispered through your teeth, “You know, down there. That’s why she’s been on bed rest. They had to give her muggle stitches.”

Ominis paled and swallowed quickly. He had assumed Anne was hurting from the curse. The last thing on his mind was average birthing complications. “Oh.”

“Sit down on the couch and put your elbow on the armrest,” you insisted in a very angry tone that you only ever used on Sebastian when he was stepping out of line, which was very, very rare these days. Hearing you so angry sent a shiver down Ominis’s spine. He sat, but panic was bubbling to his surface when he realized why you told him to put his elbow on the armrest.

“My love, please, I’m sorry, I can’t- Don’t make me-“

“It’s a newborn, Ominis! She isn’t going to remember this moment! You can’t possibly do anything wrong. Just feed her the rest of the bottle!” Your screaming made Ominis snap his mouth shut.

You leaned down and put the baby, who was now crying from her bottle being ripped from her and all the commotion, into his arms with a gentleness that shocked Ominis. How you went from screaming at him to carefully making sure the baby’s head was supported on his arm just right, he would never know. The bottle was picked up from where it had rolled to the other side of the couch and put firmly in Ominis’s hand with a bit more fire to your placement this time around.

“Feed her. She can’t cry if there is a bottle in her mouth. Relax your shoulders. I’ll only be gone a minute.”

Then your footsteps were fading. Ominis couldn’t stop his entire body from shaking. The baby was still crying, and although the only other sound in the house was the soft piano and strings coming from the phonograph, Ominis was overwhelmed to the point of shock. The baby weighed in his arms, but not nearly as much as he expected it to. He had held Sebastian’s firstborn twice: once when it was a month old and then one other time when it had just started crawling. Sebastian’s baby was never as feather-light as the dainty little thing crying in his arms now. It didn’t even stretch across Ominis’s chest. Tiny little feet were kicking his right arm that had been white-knuckling the bottle. They were covered in fuzzy knit socks that felt soft and plush against his arm with each weak kick.

The baby seemed to kick some sense into Ominis because he realized it would stop crying if he would just hurry up and give it the bottle. At first, he tried placing it in the baby’s flailing hands, but it wouldn’t take it from him. Was holding a bottle not something babies could do for themselves? He was pretty sure Sebastian was able to hand his youngest a bottle and walk away. Why didn’t this one know what to do?!

Ominis was ready to give up, but he didn’t know how to move the baby properly or where to put it even if he had the nerve. The couch? Would it roll off? The floor? Surely that wasn’t appropriate.

“Fine! Fine,” Ominis grumbled. He set the bottle between his legs and then hesitantly touched the baby's chest and glided up to feel where its mouth was. The thing was so tiny, and even though Ominis was holding it, he still expected it to take longer to find its mouth. But before he could pull away, the baby sucked his pointer finger in and bit down. It might have not had any teeth, but its gums were still brutal!

“Ow!” Ominis hissed and yanked his finger away from the little gremlin. He shook his hand with a dramatic flair to lessen the hurt. The baby went right back to crying. “That was uncalled for.”

Finally, Ominis was able to get the bottle in the baby’s mouth. There was an annoying squeak from it sucking on the rubber, but other than that the living room had turned back to its peaceful state. The record on the phonograph was playing a more upbeat tune. All was well.

Meanwhile, you had sprinted into the bathroom panicked and breathing heavily. Anne was lying on her back near the sink, about a meter from the tub.

“Anne!” You gasped and hurried over to her.

“Oh, hey,” Anne laughed lightly, not acting injured in the slightest. “How was your domestic disagreement? I have never heard you two argue like that. It was quite entertaining.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Mostly just embarrassed. I slipped while I was brushing my teeth. Wasn’t even walking or anything, just tumbled over for no reason. Held onto the sink though, so it wasn’t too bad.”

“You need help up?”

“Yeah. My hip is pretty sore, as if it wasn’t bad enough down there already,” Anne always kept a light tone to not worry others. You understood the sentiment. She didn’t want to be treated like a child or hovered over. Sebastian used to do that to her constantly, he had gotten a lot calmer over the years, but Anne hadn’t learned to get rid of her coping mechanisms yet.

“Let me dry the floor then I’ll help you up. Looks like a hurricane happened in here. Were you playing with the bath bubbles?” You joked to put her at ease.

She sighed gratefully for your calm nature. “Maybe. It had been a while since I’ve had a bubble bath. Might have got a bit carried away.”

You dramatically dragged a towel along the floor at the edge of the tub and asked, “A bit?”

It took some patience, but you managed to get Anne to her bed. There was still only the fitted sheet in place, so you added the bedding around her and made a point to tuck her in so tight that she couldn’t even wiggle. She shoved your hands away, laughing at your antics. The two of you chatted for a bit about your new plant shop and whether or not you missed working at the Ministry.

In the living room, the light squeaking of the bottle stopped. Ominis frowned in confusion. He could feel that there was still a bit of liquid sloshing around in the glass. Would the baby start crying again? Why had it stopped eating? Fearing the worst, he set the bottle down on the couch beside him and then leaned his ear in close to make sure the baby was still breathing. He placed his hand over its chest to feel the rise and fall. The tip of his middle finger touched its chin and the bottom of his hand was over its stomach. How could something be so small?

The baby’s hands latched onto his, one grabbing his thumb and the other his pinky, holding Ominis against its chest. Ominis blushed at the contact. The hands were soft and oh, so tiny. It could hardly clasp his thumb properly. Its breathing started to slow. The record on the phonograph came to an end, leaving a soft scratching sound to fill the room.

“Alright then,” his voice was but a whisper so that he wouldn’t disrupt the tranquil atmosphere of the room. Having his hand cradled like that made his heart clench tightly and painfully. The baby’s little cotton clothes were slightly wet around its neck from the formula, but other than that, Ominis didn’t mind that his hand was trapped.

His own breathing started to slow for the first time since arriving at Anne’s place.

A few moments later, you had been sent by Anne to collect her child. She wanted to snuggle with the baby while they both had a nap. The fiasco in the bathroom had worn her out.

The last thing you expected to see was a soft smile on Ominis’s lips while he seemed to be resting. The baby was pulled in close to his chest and was clutching into Ominis’s hand. They both looked fast asleep. The sight filled you with warmth. Your eyes softened, and you nearly wanted to shed a tear. Instead of disrupting them right away, you turned off the phonograph that had been playing nothing and washed the unfinished bottle in the kitchen sink.

When it came time to finally collect the baby from Ominis, you felt slightly guilty for dragging it out for so long. He just looked so precious holding a child. It was doing things to you, making you yearn for things you had sworn off thinking about.

With the utmost care, you reached to scoop the baby out of Ominis’s arms. His left arm tightened around the child, drawing her closer to his chest.

“Don’t,” he whispered.

That was…odd. Was he talking in his sleep? You couldn’t recall Ominis ever doing such a thing.

“It’s just me, love. I’ve come to relieve you from your babysitting duties. Sorry it took me so long.”

You tried going in for the exchange again, but Ominis insisted, “Just another moment, please. Just one moment.” His voice was breaking. It was clear now he hadn’t been sleeping at all to begin with because a tear escaped from the corner of his eye. It had been quite some time since you had seen Ominis in such a fragile state. When he would open up about his family and his childhood, sometimes he would get quiet like this. In those times, he had held onto you like you were driftwood in an ocean of terror he was drowning in. The way he was cradling the baby so close to his chest now meant he was anchoring to her at this moment. You couldn’t bring yourself to take her from him, even if the baby’s young mother was wanting to see her.

The only thing you could do was sit beside him on the couch. Your head rested on his shoulder and your hand rubbed in soft patterns across his arm. A few moments later, you had to tell him, “Anne sent me to collect the baby.”

Ominis nodded and softly said, “We shouldn’t keep her waiting any longer then. You can- you can take her now.”

There was a tense static in the room. The last thing you wanted to do was end this moment. Even with Sebastian’s for at born, Ominis had never asked to hold them, let alone hold them longer the few times he had been forced to.

“Why don’t you just carry her to the bedroom for me, hm?”

That was not what Ominis wanted to hear. His eyes widened with fear. “I can’t I- I don’t know how to.”

“It’ll be alright,” you were already adjusting his left arm so that he was providing better support underneath her as you spoke, “Just support her bum here. You can use your other arm too if you’re unsure. Just bring that one to cover here and- There. Now you’ve got a very good hold on her. After you get up from the couch just put it right back there where I showed you. I’ll lead you to the bedroom. Come along, now.”

Before he had time to come up with an excuse, you were dragging him up from the couch and guiding him to Anne’s room. Usually, he hated being guided places unless the situation was dire or he was in a big crowd. Sometimes people at work would try and guide from around the building. He took a bit of offense to it. If he ever needed a guide, he could just use his wand!

But now he was holding this tiny little thing in his arms, and it was alive and depending on him not to trip or bump into something. Without fighting it, Ominis let you hold his elbow and guide him across Anne’s house to the master bedroom. You had him sit in an armchair in the corner of the room as you joked with Anne, “You said, ‘Bring the baby’, and I wasn’t sure which one so naturally… I brought both.”

“You two look good like that. With her,” Anne commented as you put your hand on Ominis’s shoulder.

You were thankful Ominis couldn’t see your flush or the warning look you gave Anne. Around Ominis, you tried your hardest to avoid the topic of starting a family of your own. Your mother mentioned it every time the two of you visited her. She wanted grandkids. Usually, Anne and Sebastian were safe to converse with because they knew Ominis as well as you did. A comment like that almost felt out of character for Anne, especially since she was so protective of Ominis.

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Ominis replied smoothly.

“Have you burped her yet?”

“Have I what?”

You laughed and patted Ominis on the shoulder. “That can get messy. Why don’t we let Anne do that, hm?”

“I can do it,” he offered quickly. “Just tell me how, and I can do it.”

You draped a towel over his shoulder and directed him to lay the baby against it. It didn’t take long to burp her. Ominis winced at the wet gurgling by his ear and the pungent, sour smell of the formula coming back tenfold. You giggled at his reaction and seemed to be cleaning up the baby’s face so that Ominis could go back to snuggling her.

“I’m glad you two are getting along. I’d hoped you would. After all, she’s named after you.”

A beat of silence dragged by before Ominis was able to ask, “What?”

“My little Minnie. Cute, don’t you think?” Anne smiled softly. “You were always there for me when Sebastian and I had our falling out. I appreciate you and I’m thankful for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Minnie is such a sweet name,” you commented once you realized Ominis was too stunned to respond. “Perfect for this sweet little girl.”

A couple of hours went by while you and Anne chatted. Ominis didn’t move from the armchair with Minnie and never once complained about his arm going numb from holding her.

Went you stood up so go start something for dinner, an Apparation crack sounded from outside. All three of you were alert and tense, wondering who it could be. You brought out your wand and headed to the front door, but it burst open before you had the chance to get there.

“Anne?!” The desperate cry of her husband called through the house. His heavy footsteps sprinted for the bedroom. Blood and scrapes littered his face and his hair and clothes were in disarray and even looked a bit singed. “Are you alright?” He raced to embrace her.

“You’ll have to give her up now, my love,” you whispered in Ominis’s ear while Anne and her husband reunited.

With a heavy sigh, Ominis stood from the armchair and approached the side of the bed Anne’s husband was standing on. He tearfully took Minnie from Ominis then looked at Anne in disbelief.

“She looks just like you.”

Sebastian’s wife was standing in the entryway, looking just as disheveled as Anne’s husband. While you and Ominis left the bedroom to give the new family some privacy, Sebastian’s wife explained, “There was a dragon attack that led to a cave-in. He was trapped for nearly a week.”

“Lucky you were able to find him. You’re amazing, honestly. Are you okay? Do you need anything? The both of you look like you got in a fistfight with the dragon!” You told her.

“Nearly did! Its tail swung at me at one point. It’s been an eventful day. All that’s on my mind is getting home to the kids and Sebastian.”

“We’ll be heading home as well, I think. Stay safe.”

With her gone, you cleaned up a few things around Anne’s house. Ominis tagged along on your cleaning spree, but he was nearly silent while doing so. You worried today might have been too much for him, but you would decide you would wait to check on him until after getting him to the comfort of your own home.

“You can floo first, Ominis! I’ll be right behind you. I’m just going to throw this blanket in the laundry bin.”

He was gone in a smokey, green flash. As promised, you traveled just a moment later. You hardly had a second to focus on the blur of your living room before a pair of hands were haphazardly dragging you forward until a rather demanding set of lips landed over yours. In his defense, Ominis had warned you earlier that day that he would be taking his stress out on you.

“What a lovely welcome home,” you comment when he pulls away, thinking it would end there.

His voice was a bit raspy in your ear, “Tell me what you’ve been wanting, and I’ll give it to you.” And although the sound of his voice was arousing, you could tell he wasn’t talking about anything sexual. There was a pointed annoyance in his tone. The unspoken dream you’ve been trying to keep to yourself secret all these years seemed to be weighing down on the both of you.

“Ominis, I don’t expect that of you. Is this because of what Anne said about us looking good with a baby? She was only teasing, Ominis. You know I would never ask that if you.”

Lips started to trail down your neck, tasting you. Between kisses, Ominis was whispering, “So good to me. Trying to hide her desires. It’s okay. I want it too.”

“What do you mean?” You managed out between gasps. His hands were exploring every inch of your body as if he didn’t already have you memorized. It took all of your willpower to restrain yourself and pull away from him because he seemed as though he was going to continue on without clarifying if you weren’t going to make him.

He groaned as if he was the one losing out on pleasure by you pulling away. “Want it too. Wanna give you a baby,” he whined softly. The words shocked you enough that your hold weakened. Ominis took the opportunity to lean back in, but you put your hands on his shoulders to hold him at bay.

“I think you caught an illness while at Anne’s,” you say in a worried tone. The back of your fingers pressed to his forehead. “Yup, just as I suspected. You have a bad case of baby fever. I think a good night's rest will be just the cure.”

Rolling his eyes at your antics, Ominis insisted, “I’ve thought about this before, and I know you want one. I don’t need sight to know how you feel about Sebastian’s kids. You are always coming up with excuses to be with them longer. It’s okay. I’m not going to be angry if you admit it. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy. I’m happy with you. I don’t need anything more. I would never ask for anything more.”

Ominis rested his forehead against yours. “I know you would never dare to ask. That’s why I’m offering.”

“And you’ll regret offering such things in the morning,” you reminded him.

“No, I won’t.”

“I know holding Minnie was overwhelming for you, but don’t let those new emotions cloud your judgment. You’ve never wanted kids before this. Just think for a moment and-“

“I have thought about it, many times. Maybe I’ve been apprehensive to the idea, but that was before. I thought it wasn’t possible for me to connect with children, that I wouldn’t be able to care for them the way a parent should. I thought I’d be cold and distant like my parents, so I didn’t want to bring a child into this world for them to feel alone and unwanted. But now, with her, I was able to care, to- to…”

“To love?” you offered

“Please say you believe me,” he sounded so lost and broken.

Your hands cupped his cheeks as you wiped away his tears of frustration. “I believe you. I never doubted that you wouldn’t be able to love our child if we had one. I just assumed you didn’t dare to let yourself try because of your parents. I love you, Ominis. Of course I want to have your children. I want them to be just as stubborn, but just as caring as you. I want them to have your sarcastic wit but also your devoted loyalty. It’s something I’ve thought about endlessly, so don’t think I’m turning you down when I ask for you to think on it just a while longer. Let the emotions from today come back down. I’ll make us dinner, we’ll go to bed. Then, whenever you are ready to talk about this, we will.”

Ominis managed to look disappointed but grateful at the same time. “I’ll think on it.”

And think on it he did, or simmer was a closer description. While you were in the kitchen, he pretended to read with his wand. There was a moment of uncertainty when he thought about how holding Minnie had made him feel. Would he be able to connect like that with his own child? But then again, how could he not? His own child would be half you, and he loved every part of you, even the side of you that thought you knew what was best for him by making him sit with his thoughts.

After a while, you brought him a cup of tea and kissed his temple. Ominis mumbled a thank you and continued to pretend to read. He could tell by the way you lingered in the doorway as you left the living room that you had used the tea as an excuse to check in on him. Instead of clueing you into his thoughts, he remained aloof and sipped his tea without showing any emotion positive or negative. The last thing he wanted was to hear you ramble about how he wasn’t in the right headspace to know what he truly wanted.

What he wanted was to be buried deep in you as he came. He wanted to, for once, not ruin his adrenaline rush by pulling out at the last second. He wanted you to have his child. He wanted a family with you, and he didn’t want to waste another second before starting it. This was something he should have done years ago.

“Dinner is ready,” you announced. There was a tremor in your voice as though you were nervous to speak to him. You spent the last thirty minutes hiding in the kitchen and wondering if he was cross with you since he hardly spoke at all when you brought him tea.

“It smells lovely in here.” Ominis played along with you, pretending not to notice your slip-up.

“Thank you. What were you reading?”

“A book that Sebastian’s wife recommended about keeping dragons.”

“That sounds intriguing.”

“It is.”

And that was all you got out of him. Ominis finished his food before you then disappeared to the kitchen to do the dishes while you sat in silence at the dining table. The wine wasn’t strong enough to keep your mind from worrying. How long would things be like this? Usually, Ominis was easy to get through to, so your arguments never lasted long. Would this remain an unspoken thing in your marriage for years to come? Forever?

You tiptoed into the kitchen with your empty plate. Ominis had done most of the dishes except for a single pan and the plate and fork in your hands. Even though you were trying to be as quiet as a mouse, Ominis held his open hand out in your direction and said, “Your plate.”

Reluctantly, you handed him the dirty dish. “Thank you for cleaning.”

“You cooked, so I cleaned. No reason to thank me. It’s only fair.”

“You’re right,” you whispered quietly.

Ominis raised his brow. “What? No comeback? No telling me how wrong I am for not accepting your gratitude? No making me think about it before I decide I want to do the dishes?”

“So you are mad at me!” You said it like it was an accusation. “I knew it. You’re being ridiculous! I’m only asking you to think on this before you decide!”

“You think I haven’t thought about it? Nearly ten years of marriage and you don’t think I fantasize about what it would feel like to hold you while my child is growing inside you?” He dried his hands on a dishrag and then leaned against the counter, looking exasperated. His volume hadn’t matched yours yet. He was holding back.

“You don’t have to do this just because it’s something I want!”

“Just because I’m scared doesn’t mean I don’t want it too!” His yell seemed to echo in the tiny kitchen.

After a second of trying to remind yourself how to breathe, you felt horrible for letting it escalate so far. Hearing Ominis was scared just made you want to comfort him. You spoke softly, “Ominis-“

“No, don’t do that. Don’t pity me and try to comfort me. Don’t use that as an excuse for us not to do this. Either you want us to have a child, or you don’t. I need you to be fully in on this as well. I’ll need you to show me how to make a bottle a few more times, how to change a diaper, and how to hold them properly. I need you to be patient with me, but I don’t want you to pity me. Is that understood?”

“I understand.” His words started to sink in. He seemed satisfied with your agreeability and turned back to the sink to finish the last two dishes. When the water cut off, you were still frozen in the center of your kitchen and trying to figure out if this was all real or a fever dream.

Ominis was humming a melody that had been playing earlier on Anne’s phonograph as he put away the pan he cleaned last. When he passed you by, a hand reached out to touch you. It dragged across your stomach to your hip and squeezed.

“If you are feeling against the idea any sort of way, now might be your last chance to speak up,” he warned, “I won’t be able to hold back tonight with this on my mind.”

“Don’t hold back-“ Was all he needed to hear before you were backed up against the kitchen counter with his lips how and heavy on yours. His approach was usually far more gentle. The two of you could kiss for hours before he’d even cop a feel. Now his hands were unbuttoning your clothes at your waistline and tugging the fabric down with haste.

This is what you’ve been dreaming of. Only a handful of times had Ominis ever devoured you in such a way. Things were more heated when the two of you were younger, exploring each other, and having uncontrollable urges. Since marriage, Ominis had calmed in that sense. You lived together, so he had the ability to take his time and appreciate every inch of you. It was always about bringing you pleasure as many times as the night would allow. Tonight was a stark contrast to those gentle touches.

Before you knew it, he had your panties around your ankles and was telling you to sit on the counter that he had just cleaned. You hopped up as told, but your position still didn’t have his approval. His fingers hooked under your knees and yanked so that your ass slid across the counter until it was nearly hanging off the edge. He smirked at the feeling of your heated core bumping into his dress pants.

“Right there. Stay right there on the edge for me.” And then he was sinking to his knees. His hands held your inner thighs to keep you from trying to close them, not that you would have.

His mouth was everywhere except the one place you wanted it so desperately. Your clit ached for attention. It seemed like Ominis would be taking his sweet time with you after all. This was usually welcomed attention, but tonight, you wanted him inside you more than anything. You didn’t even need to finish yourself as long as he spilled inside of you.

But even though your mind didn’t need an orgasm, that didn’t mean your body wasn’t craving it. Your hips bucked slightly when his nose nearly brushed against your clit. His hands held you down on the counter as he chuckled. The vibration of his laugh made you quiver.

“Don’t fall off the counter, now. Twisting your ankle won’t get you out of taking my cock. I’d just lay you on the bed and elevate your foot with pillows before filling you up.”

“Ominis,” your voice came out like you were scolding him. He’s spoken dirty before, but never quite like that.

“Just today you admitted in this very kitchen that you push my buttons on purpose to get me to snap and bite you, yet I’m the one being told off. And for what? Making sure my wife’s hypothetical, hurt ankle would be taken care of before I give her the child she so desperately wants?”

“I- oh-,” You lost your train of thought as his lips brushed against your clit before taking it in his mouth and sucking. The feeling was too much after waiting for so long. You squirmed again, this time to get away. The feeling in the pit of your stomach always felt better releasing when things had been slow and steady. Now, you could feel the tension building alarmingly fast.

Ominis took your hips trying to move as a sign of your eagerness. His tongue lapped up your wetness that had started to seep out. Then, it dipped inside of you and his nose rubbed against your clit. Your hands were gripping the edge of the counter to keep yourself from flying off.

Now you were saying his name like a prayer. Your breathy pleas were quite the opposite from how you had just scolded him a few moments ago. Hearing you pant and mumble his name made him smirk. You could feel the corner of his mouth rise slightly against you. That action was enough to send you over the edge, almost literally if Ominis hadn’t been holding you in place on the counter. He kept his tongue in place to feel you pulse around it, though he was careful not to overstimulate you and ruin your high. Only when the pulsations slowed to nearly an end did he pull back and stand up.

“Such a good girl for me. Coming on my tongue and sounding so sweet.” He kissed you with the taste of your juices still on his tongue. You hadn’t even dared to let go of the counter while Ominis got to work unbuttoning his own pants. “Was gonna wait to have you in the bedroom, but I don’t think I can.” And then, he was lined up at your entrance and pushing in.

His movements were slow as he took you in an all consuming kiss to distract you from the stretch. Normally, you could handle whatever Ominis threw at you. This time, you were sitting nearly upright because of how close Ominis held your for the kiss. The position made it hard to take him fully, at least in an enjoyable way. You tried leaning back, and while that did help things start to feel pleasurable, your hand had landed in a stick of butter. The plate clanked against the counter. You immediately cursed under your breath.

Ominis, having heard the plate, had the audacity to laugh at your demise. He pulled out and scolded you, “You aren’t making a mess of my clean kitchen, are you?”

“It seems like you’ll have to wait until we get to the bedroom after all, and now I’ve got to wash my hand as well!”

His hands didn’t leave you the entire time you stood at the sink to try and scrub away the slimy mess on your hand. Even while walking down the hallway his hands were at work taking off your shirt and throwing it who knows where. Needless to say, you were both naked by the time you made it to the bedroom.

Vibrations ran down your neck from his voice mumbling while his lips were against your skin. “Lay on the bed.”

You had expected his hands to be all over you again the moment your back landed on the mattress. Instead, Ominis felt around for the pillows at the head of the bed. He tapped your hip. “Lift up.”

It was hard to deny his odd request because of how deeply you loved when he got a bit bossy like this. You lifted your bum so that he could slide a few pillows under you. The gesture seemed sweet, but entirely unnecessary. You’d been married for nearly nine years now, it wasn’t like you were delicate in the bedroom.

“You’re very sweet, my love, but I don’t need this to be comfortable. You won’t break me.”

Ominis stilled. His hand rested on your thigh. It looked as though he was debating something. “It’s not… for your comfort.”

“Then why are you- oh.” You swallowed your words when it set in. Your hips were high in the air like this. Gravity would make the mess Ominis was about to make stay inside you instead of seeping out.

“But are you comfortable like this?” Ominis ran his hand from your hip to your breast. His hand squeezing around you was faint and soft, more akin to a tender caress instead of anything overtly sexual.

“Yes,” you earnestly answered.

“You might have to stay like this for quite some time,” Ominis leaned closer to your ear to whisper, “Can you handle that?”

You nodded, then felt stupid before replying verbally, “I’m comfortable like this. I can stay as long as you think it’s necessary for it to… set in.”

His hand moved from your breast to lay over your heartbeat for a moment. A satisfied smirk spread across his lips. “Your heart is racing.”

“I might be a bit excited.”

“Oh yeah?” Both his hands smoothed down your body until they rested on your hips. He got on his knees between your legs. “Is that what people are calling it these days?” His thumb messily rubbed over your clit then dipped down between your folds to feel the sticky arousal that had been leaking out of you since the kitchen. There wasn’t much of a rhythm to his movements because he was just wetting his hand so that he could lubricate himself, but still, his hand touching you there in any capacity made your breathing pick up.

You were mumbling his name all desperate and breathy. Ominis chuckled at how needy you sounded. Giving you what you were begging for, he lined himself up, which caused you to whimper even more because his tip dragged across your clit a few times before he found your entrance. As he started to sink in, you sighed in relief. This angle was much better than sitting on the counter. With surprising ease, he nearly bottomed out. There was just a pinch of tightness that made him still for a moment.

His lips were leaving tender kisses across your chest and neck while he let you adjust to the feeling. You were mumbling into his neck for him to move, to take you. Your neediness made him want to give in to those desires, but Ominis wanted to memorize everything about this moment. The smell of sweat and sex in the air was absolutely vile, but incredibly mouthwatering all the same. He could go deeper than he ever had before at this angle, but that area felt tight around his tip. Ominis pulled out slightly and thrust back in slowly, being careful not to go too far and hurt you.

“More,” you were begging, nearly crying in the crook of his shoulder.

Not being able to deny you a second longer, Ominis started to thrust his hips. It wasn’t shallow, but he still wouldn’t let himself go further than the two of you were used to. Your arms wrapped around him and your nails lightly skimmed across his shoulders. He shivered and his hips stuttered unevenly, accidentally driving deeper into you. Immediately, Ominis pulled back and whispered an apology in your ear, but you held tighter onto him.

“Again, do it again.”

A tentative hand brushed the hair off your forehead so Ominis could kiss it. He pushed in deeper, but deliberately slow so he could listen for any signs of discomfort. His thumb found your clit again, hoping to give you a bit of pleasure to combat the fullness. The second his thumb grazed over you, your walls convulsed around his cock and your body shook erratically.

Ominis felt his own waves of pleasure building. On instinct, he tried to pull out to finish on your stomach. Your thighs wrapped around his waist to hold him in place.

“Please, come inside me. I want to make you a daddy.”

Your words made the tips of his ears go red. But now that he wasn’t so lost in the moment, he remembered the whole point of the evening, why he had made you rest your hips on a pile of pillows, and why he was able to reach this deep inside you in the first place.

“Stop me if it hurts,” was all the warning Ominis could give before his hips started to rut against you, hitting as deep as his length would allow with every feverish thrust. His pelvis was hitting your clit each time, Turning you right back into a moaning mess beneath him.

“There, right there.”

His breath was hot and heavy on your neck, “Gonna fill you up with my seed, sweetheart. I’m gonna fuck you just like this twice a day with your hips all high and willing to take me until we find out it worked. And then, I’m going to keep coming in you every night after to celebrate. I’ll fill you up so good, that we won’t know if it’s my come or my child growing in you that’s making you bigger.”

Talking dirty wasn’t new for Ominis, but it was rarely obscene and never, ever like this. That with how deep and fast he was fucking you made you speechless, breathless, thoughtless. You couldn’t even see straight, so you just held onto him for dear life and panted, but no breath was deep enough to fill your lungs or call you down. The tension in your entire body builds to the point that your leg was cramping. You wrapped it around Omni’s leg just to ease the pressure, but Ominis saw that as you wanting him to go harder.

So he did. His hips snapped into you hysterically. You cried out in ecstasy as another orgasm hit you like a train.

His hips faltered and he groaned as he came while your walls relentlessly milked his cock. You couldn’t stop writhing beneath him. Feeling his warm spurts of come paint your walls and add pressure made your intense waves of pleasure drag out. Ominis was on his elbows and panting, his lips right above yours. You already couldn’t breathe, but you pulled him down for a kiss regardless.

“I love you,” he gasped as he pulled away from the kiss. “Was that okay? Are you hurting? Should I get you a-“

Ominis had started to move, but your arms wrapped tighter around him and your walls clenched around his length. “Don’t move yet. Stay. Just stay.”

Seeming to understand and reciprocate your need to be close, Ominis rested on an elbow and then used his other hand to caress your body as if you were made of glass. “I’m not going anywhere, love.”

The two of you laid like that for a while just playing with each other’s hair and whispering sweet nothings. Soon, Ominis started to get hard again inside of you. He slyly shifted his hips, but his excuse of getting more comfortable didn’t work on you.

“Ominis,” you whined in an exhausted tone. How was he ready to go again!?

His kisses on your neck paused while he laughed against your skin. “Well, I did say twice a day until we’re certain, didn’t I?”

[daytaker]

hii hellooo, may i request brothers with a clown core mc? their outfits most often being very colorful but their personality being the opposite? like somewhat cold and very blunt, not talking much and if talking then it’s about something mildly disturbing like murder investigations or an odd fascination with deadly diseases stuff like that

sorry that it’s extremely specific and thank you regardless _(┐「ε:)_

Clown Anon MCs - [ Clowncore MC | Death-Fixated Science Geek MC | LeVeyan Satanist MC ]

When you first arrived, no one was sure what to think. They looked you over. Your pink hair, your cyan shorts. A yellow T-shirt and rainbow suspenders. Gaudy makeup and adorable pink tennis shoes. Beaded bracelets and necklaces and colorful tights.

And a box of smokes in your back pocket.

"Welcome to the House of Lamentation," Lucifer says, gesturing grandly at the stately mansion ahead of you.

You say nothing. Instead, you pull out a cigarette and a lighter. Taking a drag, you lazily gaze at the house, then back at your host, who looks disgusted.

"Make sure you only do that outside," he says, nodding to the box of cigarettes in your hand.

You blow a puff of smoke in his face and start walking to the door, completely ignoring the sounds of Lucifer struggling to contain his rage.

"Why's it called that?" you finally ask as you stop at the front doors. "'House of Lamentation'?"

Lucifer, having composed himself by now, steps up beside you. "This is a replica of a house from the human world," he explains. "In it, an entire family was murdered; the parents, the servant, and six of their seven sons. The seventh--"

"Ohhh. This is the Sutton house," you say, nodding.

"Excuse me?"

"The Sutton house. Massachusetts, 1923. Elijah Sutton, oldest of seven sons, runs into the local tavern screaming that his servant killed the whole family and himself. Most folks today think it was Elijah who really did it. I know I do."

You take one more drag from your cigarette, then drop it on the ground and put it out with the heel of your shoe.

"So this is their house, huh? Sick."

---

It's breakfast on your second day in the Devildom. You took extra time to apply your godawful makeup this morning, and you're sure it shows, because the brothers keep glancing at you as if they're not quite sure what they should say.

"You talk to them, Mammon," mumbles Satan. "You're their babysitter."

"Ah... ahem." Mammon casts a glare at his brother, then looks at you. "So, uh... Human." You stare at him with a dead-eyed expression that seems to unnerve him even more. "...We're goin' to RAD today, and there's a couple a things you should know." You continue staring.

Mammon looks to his brothers for help, but they all avoid eye contact. "Uhhh... Just... try not to get eaten, 'kay? Lucifer'll be pissed if you die on my watch."

"Do demons eat people?" you ask. "Like, raw?"

"Sometimes! So don't mess around with 'em, got it?"

"That's gotta be messy as fuck."

"It is!"

"You got any photos?"

"....Eh?"

---

"So I get that you're the seven deadly sins," you say to Satan, sprawled out in an armchair in the library, "but like... is that all you guys got here?"

Satan, who had been minding his own business and innocently reading a book of curses, looks irritated. "Is that all of what?"

"I dunno. Bad shit shaped like people." You shrug. "Like, you got the Four Horsemen or somethin'?"

"Of course not," Satan snaps. "That would be ridiculous."

You shrug. "Embodiment of plague? Too ridiculous to believe. Embodiment of wrath? Well, obviously that's a thing."

---

"You have to make pacts with Lucifer and his brothers," Belphie urges you through the door. You stare at him, then take a drag from your cigarette. As long as Lucifer is occupied in the music room with that weird record, you're going to break every rule in this damn house.

"How am I supposed to do that? Am I gonna split up my soul Horcrux style? Give everybody a slice?"

Belphie stares at you for a few seconds. You don't realize how badly he wishes he could kill you in this moment. "Are you going to help me or not?"

You shrug. "What do I get out of it?"

He blinks at you in utter bewilderment. "You... make me happy?"

You stare at him. He stares at you. You stare at him. He continues to stare at you.

You head back down the stairs.

[mysteriesmuse]

Don’t Touch Anything

thinking abt Katsuki’s bae getting their nails done

you’ve had a long week and so you’ve decided to go treat yourself and go get your nails done. Katsuki thinks this is a good little get away and reprieve for you from your college classes. - he’s already thinking in the happy wife, happy life mindset.

being a new sidekick in the pro hero business he already makes a pretty decent salary, definitely way more than your little tutoring job through the uni.

so Bakugous decided to pay for your nails himself. he just wired it directly into your account. No asking, or anything. He. Just. Does. It. 👏 it’ll make you happy and it makes him feel good for doing that for you. ———

But Katsuki didn’t realize how hard it would be for you to do everything now. As soon as you get home it’s like your hands suddenly don’t work. I mean, yeah, he has to open up a jar of jelly for you. THATS NORMAL

but as the day goes on you’re struggling to do everything. you’re using him or Siri to type out messages to all your friends. and he’s just wondering HOW OFTEN DO YOU EARPHONES AND PONYTAIL TALK??!

Got him leaning into your shoulder, hair tickling your collarbone before his dandelion looking head pops up, staring at Jirou’s message in the group chat with wide eyes. “oi babe. Can I go to this concert with you?” “mhmm if you wanna. Text Jirou.” his tongues sticking out as he types out his own message to your friends dynamite fast.

—— that afternoon he notes that your studying is punctuated by lots of curses and the sound of a pen clattering to the floor every few minutes.

Katsuki keeps his fists in his pockets as he routinely walks past your room to glance at your fine ass leaning to grab your pen. But the way you’re careening off to the side about to topple to the floor, has his hero instincts itching and his hands twitching. Idiot, always making his damn heart race. —— Katsuki also can’t help but snicker as you walk around the house tapping your nails on everything. “ahem babe I’m on a meeting right now”

seriously you’re not even trying to resist the asmr

———— But there’s also PERKS

katsuki is enamored with your bright smile as you look down at your nails. AND your wild hand gestures have also only gotten more dramatic!! Katsuki Bakugou in love with a little lady doing jazz hands. . . . his family and friends would have Never thought it

He is also lovin’ the way you keep posing with your hands on your insta. you got him beaming down at your account on patrol and at work. The coffee cup photos, the touching the barrettes, the golden hour pics with the hand splayed on the exposed collarbones. (Which he takes for you.) The photos you drag him into: grabbing his chin to press a chin onto the apple of his cheek, linking pinkies, making those ridiculous heart hands 🫶 that you and every other girl on the planet is obsessed with.

Got him shocked at the new way you walk past him, tapping across the tables and countertops. and before you breeze past him you comb your fingers through his hair.

HE NEEDS MORE and when Katsuki gets what he wants he’ll inclines his head and let out a hum that vibrates through the air particles between y’all. makes him moan and groan. and all the tension in his muscles melt away as he sinks into you. The tip of his nose nuzzling the inside of your breast as a warm sigh fans over your skin.

. . . so yeah he’s definitely going to let you get your nails done again

[al-astakbar]

> title ☆ Where Silence Is Their Only Refuge

> summary ☆ The night before checking into your new unit, you meet a masked stranger at a bar who can't keep his eyes off you.

> pairing ☆ Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader ☆ word count [4.2k] ☆ warnings ☆ anal sex; leg riding; dirty talk; one night stand; clothed male, naked female (the mask stays ON)

> posted on ao3

a/n: i know i'm a thrawn blog but i had to get this out of my system

The first thing you notice is him. 

You clock him right away, first because he’s wearing a mask— a ridiculous black balaclava printed to look like a skull on the part that covers his nose and mouth and Covid is over so what is he even doing? He’s sitting at the far end of the bar. He has his hood up and a tumbler of whisky in front of him— and second, you can’t not notice how big he is. He’s hunched over, but that doesn’t really hide it, doesn’t do much to diminish the breadth of his chest and shoulders. 

You take a seat, order for yourself. Just need to relax, and this bar, the Green Door, is the perfect place to do that. It’s decorated like a speakeasy, and it’s busy, but not so crowded as to be claustrophobic. And it’s far enough from the base that you can come in here and not expect anyone to pay you much attention. 

Except for him. 

No one pays you any attention except for him. 

You force a quick smile when you first look up to find him staring at you, figuring it’s just one of those awkward accidental eye contact moments. He probably came here to relax and people watch, like you did. To enjoy being alone in a crowd. But the second time you catch him, you’re in the midst of struggling your jacket off. His gaze fixes on you, holds yours intently even after you notice his interest, and you could swear his eyes flick down minutely to your tits, straining your shirt as you try to free your arms from your sleeves. 

A blush creeps up your neck -- not just because of the alcohol -- and interest takes hold and digs its claws into you. There’s black smudged all around his eyes. In fact, every inch of his skin is covered in some way. He’s even wearing gloves. 

You should just dismiss him as a weirdo. He obviously doesn’t want to be bothered. 

But for some reason you can’t stop looking over at him. You can tell yourself all you want that it’s simple curiosity.

Despite everything else there is to look at in this bar-- the ornate wood paneling, the old framed photos, the bottles of liquor on display, all the other people -- every circuit your gaze takes over the crowd ends at him. 

You shift in your seat, crossing and then recrossing your legs because suddenly you feel warm.

He gets up once to go to the restroom and you notice how tall he is. He threads through the high top tables, never quite touching anyone despite his broad shoulders. He moves gracefully, confidently. Like a predator.

Somehow, in over an hour and a half of sneaking glances, you never once see him take a sip of his drink. You can see that it’s emptying slowly. He orders another and that one gradually disappears too. 

Intrigue pulls at you, and below it, an undercurrent of desire. 

Who is he? You could leave with him. To your hotel room, or wherever he lives. It would be quick and hard and anonymous and exactly what you need. As soon as you allow yourself that one possibility, it’s like a switch flips and then you can’t stop thinking about pulling off his mask and kissing him. What it would feel like to be pinned under him, how big his hands would be on your waist--

He looks up, like he can feel the weight of your gaze on him, and there’s a glint in his eyes, like he can see every lurid fantasy racing through your mind.

You quickly busy yourself looking at nothing on your phone. 

Eventually, the five seats between you and him are all empty. A group of friends comes in and one of the girls asks you if you would mind moving so they could all sit together. No problem. You get up and they all sit down and then there’s only one seat left. The one next to the masked man. 

You almost don’t take it. Your drink is just melting ice at this point, and it’s getting late. You could just head back to your hotel room— you know you should, it’ll be an early morning for you tomorrow— but the draw is too strong. 

You look up as you pull the stool out, and find him staring right back. You give him a tight smile, suddenly flustered as you put your glass down on the bar. You don’t know why you brought it with you. 

“Sorry,” you say to him. “They all wanted to sit together.”

“‘s’alright.”

He’s British. That piques your interest even more. British means he almost certainly doesn’t work at the base, you’d have no risk of an awkward run-in when you check in with the unit tomorrow. Another reason you’d chosen this bar. 

He nods to your empty glass. “Buy you another one, doll?” 

His voice makes you melt. It’s low and gravelly, hoarse like he’s spent long stretches in silence with no one to talk to.  And it makes his offer of a drink seem like a much better idea than it actually is. “Um. Sure. Thanks.”

He flags down the bartender and orders a double bourbon for himself. “And for the lady…?” He prompts you.

“The same, please.” And why… “‘doll’?” You question the unusual term of endearment.

He looks you up and down, then shrugs his massive shoulders as if to prove his point. “You’re a little thing, aren’t you.”

You raise your glass to him once it’s placed in front of you. Maybe now you’ll actually get to see a glimpse of his face. “Thanks.” You repeat. He smells good, like freshly-milled lumber, strangely, and leather polish and gun oil and just a hint of floral shampoo.

He raises his glass too, and this close, you see his eyes are brown, verging on hazel. Framed by light lashes. Very pretty. 

Blushing. You’re blushing so hard and he doesn’t miss it. He clinks with you, and peels up the bottom edge of his mask-- god, his hands are big-- and drinks. His jaw is strong, his lips not too full. He might have scars, but you can’t quite tell in the dim lighting.

You look away quickly, feeling as though you’ve intruded on a private moment that wasn’t meant for you. You try to think of something to start a conversation. Anything, even as banal as -- “are you from around here?”

“No. You?”

“No.”

Beyond that, you don’t exchange two words. 

Sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, it’s even more evident how much bigger he is than you. Taller, broader. His baggy zip-up hoodie does little to conceal the bulk of his arms and back, and his legs-- fuck, his legs-- his legs are powerful and long, he’s got his knees jammed up against the bar. 

You can feel the tension he’s holding. Maybe he can’t think of anything to say either. Too quickly, you finish the drink he bought you, sitting with him in silence, your heart beating hard. 

“Well. Thanks for the drink.” You’re about to get up, and you wish you weren’t leaving alone. Something about this man makes your blood run hot, and all you’ve done is make eye contact and sit next to him. You hesitate, gathering your jacket and purse, the words on the tip of your tongue, until they come tumbling out and you can’t quite believe you actually say it. “I’m staying near here, it’s not too far.” Your eyes meet his. The meaning is clear.

He slugs back the rest of his drink and tosses some bills on the bar. “Lead the way, then.”

**

He’s on you the moment the door closes. He seems to be able to read exactly what you want, and is even more enthusiastic to give it to you. To hear your breath hitch, to feel your nails scrape across his back, to see pleasure written across your face. 

He slips one arm around your waist, his other hand at your hip. The closer he pulls you to him, the smaller and more delicate you feel, and it’s intoxicating. 

He’s already hard. You can feel the ridge of his erection, hot and straining against your stomach through layers of clothes. 

“That’s what I get for staring at you all night,” he rumbles. 

“And if I hadn’t sat next to you?”

He rasps a laugh. “Would’ve gone home alone and imagined it was you while I fucked my hand.”

You bite back a moan at the image. Of this man, needy and desperate, making himself come apart. He buries his still-masked face against your neck and gives a low, appreciative sound when he feels you open your legs wider so he can slot his knee between them. 

He’s so big. He has you up against the wall, nearly lifted off your feet as he tightens his grip on your waist. “That’s it, doll,” he urges you to grind on his thigh but you can’t get much leverage. You wrap your arms around his broad, muscled shoulders and he picks you up with one arm, carries you over to the couch. He lets himself fall backwards on it with you on top of him.

You brace your hands on his chest, just needing to feel him. Needing-- you hesitate, wanting to reach for his mask, searching his pretty, blond-lashed eyes for permission before you try anything.

“Nah. It’s not coming off.” He says, quiet but firm. 

You nod, then lean down and press your lips softly to where you think his mouth is. Too bad. You’d really wanted to kiss him. His hand plays at the hem of your shirt, and you get the message, quickly stripping it off along with your bra, too turned on and eager for him to be coy or shy about any of this. Next, your pants and underwear, which requires briefly standing up and all at once you’re completely bare in front of him, and he still has his gloves on.

He pats his leg, a wicked gleam in his eyes. The bulge in his trousers is even more pronounced now. You straddle him again, cupping his length through the fabric and he groans and rips off his gloves like he can’t stand not to touch you directly. He has rough, callused hands that he doesn’t apologize for, but his bare skin on yours sears your nerves, makes you grind your naked cunt down on his thigh. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?” 

“I do, actually. But you can tell me again if you want.”

That gets a low chuckle. “Cheeky.”

Every little bit of vulnerability you give him, he rewards twofold. He kneads your hip and thigh as you start to ride his leg, urging you to take what you need. With his other hand he’s palming himself through his trousers, rubbing slowly, clearly enjoying the show you’re putting on. When you reach down to play with your clit, his gaze follows, and he watches intently as you show him how you like it. But after a moment he catches your wrist, easily encircling it in his much larger hand.  

“What--?” You were just getting in a rhythm. You resist him, trying to pull away, but he tightens his grip, enough to warn you that he could take whatever he wanted, if he felt like it. 

“None of that yet. Want to see you cum just on my leg. Can you do that for me?” 

A powerful shock of need pulses through you, and you find yourself nodding because fuck, you’d do anything he asked right now. 

You reposition slightly for a better angle, it puts your breasts right in his face and he kisses them, masked. His breath is hot through the cloth. You start to roll your hips, you’re so slick and shaking and needy and wild. All focused on him, on the point where your bodies touch. 

“There’s a good girl.” His eyes and his tone soften, an intense mix of tender and feral.

You’re not sure if you are, but you want to hear him say it again all the same. “I’m leaving a wet spot on your pants.” 

“I know, I can feel you soaking through. Making a mess.” He gives a low hum of a growl-- something about how you smell bloody divine-- and then he’s practically tearing open his button and fly to free his cock.  

He shoves down the material more, gets his balls out too, and you swear your mouth starts watering. He’s hard, and thick, all heavy and flushed with arousal.

And it hits you all at once. The feeling like you’re spinning, unstable, everything out of control and shifting, all stemming from your insatiable need for each other, wedded with the reassurance that you’re safe right here. You’re safe with him. 

“You should fuck me in the ass.” You blurt out. 

The man’s eyes snap to yours. Then he nods slowly, his hand rubbing over the plump curve of your hip.  “One look at my cock and you decide you want it up your arse.” He laughs, a low, rough sound.

“If you don’t want to, I mean--”

“I do.” His fingers quest along the cleft of your ass, just firm enough not to tickle, then they dip in, brush over your rim. “Fuck, I do. Keep going, doll. Just need to get you ready.” You hear the click of a bottle. Lube. He must have brought it with him. And you feel the cool, viscous sensation there on your skin, trickling down, followed by his warm fingers. Very gently, they start to massage your hole. Just the outside. No hurry at all. You brace yourself with one hand on his chest, looking him straight in the eyes. Can’t tear yourself away, and he meets you there, equally entranced. You can tell his lips are parted beneath his mask. 

He presses one in, just a little, testing you. 

You grip fistfuls of his hoodie, because it feels so, so good but it’s tight, your muscles gripping hard. “It’s-- ah-- it’s been a while.”

“We’ll go slow.” 

He’s watching you closely, gauging your expressions. He’s careful. He works his finger past the first knuckle. Pushes it in, pulls it out. All gentle and slow and slick. 

Arousal superheats your skin, all from the intense sensation of his finger there, stimulating all those nerve endings, and the continuous, rocking pressure against your clit. He bounces his leg a little when you go still.

“You know what you like.” He says it with warm praise, arousal making his voice hoarse. “Yeah. You just-- you just keep rubbing that pretty little cunt on my leg, I can feel you, how wet you are. Keep yourself busy while I get your tight arse ready for my cock.”

His length twitches when he pushes a second finger into you and you moan. It twitches when you roll your hips against his thigh. He loves feeling the heat of you. 

Shivers of impending pleasure ripple over your skin. When you start to cum, he doesn’t let you bury your face in his shoulder, though you try. He needs to see you. His free hand comes to cradle the back of your neck, tangles in your hair, and every time you start to drift, he pulls you back with a firm grip. His eyes lock with yours. There’s precum leaking steadily from his tip. His breathing is ragged and his hips jerk up involuntarily when he feels you start to clench around him. “That’s it, doll,” he repeats, encouragement in the filthiest terms spills from his lips, and he pumps his fingers into you urging your hips down, harder. 

Any lingering doubts, any last shreds of self consciousness are swept aside from the way he looks at you. You hold his gaze as long as you can, even as your climax begins to wash over you, until it’s too much-- his fingers in you making it that much more intense-- and your mouth parts in a lurid moan as it pulls you under.

Your eyes slip closed. You hear yourself, and him, almost in awe, muttering oh, fuck as it takes you and sweeps you away and you’re whimpering, shuddering, all at his mercy.

He settles you against his broad chest as you come down. He tucks your head under his chin, pets your hair. His fingers are still -- in you. Another spasm goes through you, a wave of residual pleasure that feels almost too much. He starts to pull them out but you clench down hard, involuntarily. So he doesn’t. He pumps them in and out. Lazy. Slow. 

You sigh. “I know what I like,” you repeat back to him, and the reality of it solidifies. You do know what you like, and have for a while, and it’s not anything to be embarrassed about, no need to hide. This man seems more than happy to help you with it and for a terrifying moment you think you’ll never want to let him out of this room.  

“That you do,” he agrees. 

You nuzzle into his neck, your next words muffled. “Please don’t stop.”

“Alright. But we’ve got to turn you over.”

Once he helps you onto your stomach -- legs wide, doll, wider, that’s it -- he adds more lube and begins again, stroking and massaging your rim with the same fingers he’d used before, letting them catch at your rim, slip in. Out. Again.

Two go in easily enough, and deep, he pushes them in to the second knuckle so you feel the rest of his hand there, and then he’s on to a third. This one isn’t easy. His hand is big, his fingers are big. But there’s no way you’ll be able to take his cock if you can’t manage this and you desperately want his cock. Want to feel him splitting you open, want to feel his weight on top of you and he pushes in, every last inch. 

“You’ve got three now,” he says, his voice strained with desire. “Tell me how it feels.”

Amazing. Every push and pull sends a new pulse of arousal to your clit. Everything you can’t put into words, so you have to just say: “really--unnh--  really good. Big.” 

“My cock’s bigger.” He pumps his three fingers in, slick, stretching your straining hole. “Fuck, I’m so fucking hard.” Looking out the corner of your eye, you see him stroking himself. 

“Please…” 

“Ready for more?”

His fingers retreat— movement— swiftly he’s up, over you, bringing your hips to his— then the blunt head of his cock touches your hole. 

You stay as still as you can, you’re as open and relaxed for him as you can be, and there is still that sweet, agonizing pressure of the first inch of his thick, hard shaft pushing past the tight ring of muscle.

The room is mostly silent, broken only by his groan of satisfaction as he sinks into you. He has his hand on your lower back to steady you. To ground himself, too, and to feel how your back tenses with each small movement. He likes how he can feel you trembling with the effort of taking him, he likes seeing your ass stretched wider and wider around his cock, probably the biggest you’ve ever taken.

Slowly, patiently, he overcomes your body’s reluctance, though your lust-clouded mind has already raced far ahead of you; several times you push back to meet him, too eager, and it stings and he has to stop you, has to go still himself, keep himself under control and not just slam his hips forward. 

“Give us a moment, yeah? You’re so… bloody tight.”

You spread your legs further, but the pressure doesn’t abate, the man keeps rocking his hips shallowly, penetrating you deeper, opening you inch by aching inch, until his hips meet your ass and his heavy balls are pressed against your dripping, empty cunt. 

And then he starts to really fuck you. He rolls his hips, sending through you a sweet pang that makes your clit pulse, over-sensitive, still, from before. 

God, he’s going to wreck you. 

He feels huge inside you. Overwhelming and terrifying and— intimate. He lays his body over yours, presses his masked mouth to your neck, and you hear all his quiet moans and gasps that would otherwise be lost if he weren’t so close. He slips his arm underneath you and pulls you more upright, bringing your back to his chest. His hand covers your breast, rolling one nipple between his fingers, a little too hard, he wants that reaction from you, that little whimper at the jolt of pain, the way it makes you clamp down on him. He has his arm like a bar across your ribs, holding you to him, while his other hand ghosts down your stomach, finds your clit. Circles, then he curls two fingers into your swollen pussy and you see stars. 

“I can feel you getting even wetter, the more of my cock you take,” he says. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You can’t manage anything coherent, only gasps -- soft and rhythmic as he thrusts into you, his movements from behind pressing your mound to his palm.

All you can do is grip his forearms, cling to him for dear life. Pleasure coils again in your core and you can’t do anything to resist it, or him. That spiraling feeling hits you again, that this-- whatever it is-- feels so right, so natural. He fucks you like he knows you, like you’ve known each other for years, and it skews you off-axis because it can’t be right, you don’t even know his name--

Faster-- he rocks his fingers in and out of you, hitting your g-spot, rubbing your clit, his fat cock deep in your ass -- all combining into a sublime, mind-blanking ache.

He possesses you utterly. Every sense, every thought, every breath. 

Everything you do seems to enthrall him. He has only praise for you, though it’s all filth and delivered in a low, breathy growl. How you feel fucking incredible, your pussy so dripping wet, all from taking his cock, you take it so well, doll, come on, now, don’t hold back, want to feel you cum with my cock in your arse, that’s all you have to do-- 

Your hole is hot, slick, open as he reams you. At your center, a wave swells. Each slide and clench makes you feel it, makes your nipples tighten, your ass and pussy both squeezing helplessly with every stroke of his cock.

He chases those spasms, drilling you deep and hard.  

And he finally relinquishes what’s left of his self control. His hips snap to yours. The room is filled with ragged moans and the sound of his balls slapping wet and heavy against your pussy. Rough, wild thrusts make his girth feel unbearably massive. Pleasure gathers fast and deep like a tide, surging up, your entire body saturated with it and you’re crying out, nails raking down any part of him you can touch. 

This man-- this intimidating, masked giant of a stranger-- moans loudly as your climax tumbles him over the edge in your wake. 

“Oh --” he’s breathing hard, his words bitten back, helpless, “-- oh fuck.” 

Your legs shake as you ride it, still clenching and throbbing around his fingers and his cock. He spills, his hips jerking, cock twitching and flexing, filling you with sticky heat. He pumps his cum into you, slowing, filling, overflowing. You feel it slick and leaking. Down your ass and thighs and his balls even before he pulls out. 

He doesn’t stay long after. He fetches a wash cloth and warm water to clean up. There’s still a damp spot on his pants, which you feel oddly pleased about.

You catch an odd gleam in his eyes when he’s looking at your naked, sated body spread out on the couch, 

Lust, heat, pride accompanied by something like tenderness or longing, but you must be imagining that part. 

He kneels down next to you to put his gloves back on and you reach out, a little dazed, to play with the zip on his hoodie. His expression shifts to warning in an instant. Careful. Not the mask, not the hoodie. You pout. It feels like you’d barely gotten to touch him. His left sleeve rides up and you glimpse black ink. A sleeve tattoo, though you can’t make out the design. 

Will you ever see him again? You study what you can see of him, trying to commit a faceless man to memory. His eyes, you’re sure you’d recognize. The mask, definitely. His hard-used, callused hands that suggest work as a laborer or something else outdoors. The breadth of his shoulders, his back, his height, his legs. There’s an assured swagger in the way he walks, you’d recognize that too, he carries himself like he knows exactly how big and strong he is and he has no qualms about using it to his advantage. 

As intrigued as you are, you doubt taking off his mask would reveal anything more than his face. He seems like someone who keeps secrets about the simplest things, and maintains them in distance and silence.

You sigh, and your onsetting disappointment must show because he cups your jaw, brushes his thumb over your lips. 

“Chin up, eh? Maybe we’ll run into each other again. Would be a shame not to taste your pussy.” 

You blush, but can’t help smiling. Then he’s up, out the door. Gone. 

You’d never even exchanged names.

[ravenmichaelisstuff]

"Better late than never" Part 10

Painting nails

Soap’s sister was constantly sending the Scot photos of nail art, she was really excited to start her own small nail studio and wanted to hear her brother’s opinion since he was the only one, other MacTavish that was into art. Soap loved every single design he got sent, but also didn’t have anything to compare it to. He struggled with giving an honest opinion or criticism because he couldn’t compare it with anything. 

He tried to paint his own nails but his right hand always looked way worse no matter how much he tried to steady his left hand. He would also scrape off the nail polish right after it dried since he liked to fidget with it. He needed a model.

His obvious first thought was Gaz since he seemed like the only person that would agree, but then Soap looked closer at the sergeant's hands and it was evident that Kyle’s way of dealing with stress was munching on his poor nails.

Asking Price wasn’t even an option. John was already walking on thin ice with the man after he found out about the mess he and Ghost made in the kitchen so he preferred not to bother the old man for a while.

He didn’t know Konig or Horangi long enough to ask the casually if they wanted to have their nails painted and he was also aware that Konig could bear his obnoxiousness only for a short period of time. He was never mad about it, Konig is always so nice to him but his social battery visibly drained faster when around loud people.

The only two remaining options he had were the cadets or Ghost, and even if he had higher chances of succeeding by asking a random rookie, he preferred to at least try to nag Ghost to let him do it. 

WWWWWWWWWWWW

Soap and Ghost were assigned an evening guard in one of the watch towers around the base. For Soap it was probably the most boring duty he could get. He hated watching over the empty fields for hours knowing damn well that nothing would happen. Not that he wanted the base to be attacked, he just wished he could be doing something more thrilling. 

Despite the fact that Ghost was usually rather content with guard duties, especially that as an officer he didn’t get it very often. For Ghost, it was an enjoyable task, especially with Soap. He was well aware that MacTavish was a ball of sparkling energy and sitting in one place wasn’t his dream activity. But it was nice to just have him at his side, bouncing leg and all. He wished he could put his hand on Johnny's thigh, not because it was annoying or anything like that. Quite the opposite actually, Ghost wished to feel the energy surging through his sergeant.

“Ghooost…I have a wee request fur ye” Said Soap in a small voice.

Ghost closed his eyes and took a deep breath, bracing for whatever ridiculous thing Soap had in mind. “What is it, sergeant?”

“Would ye let me paint yer nails?”

Ghost looked at Soap, brows pulled together under the mask. 

“Nothing too extreme Lt. I just want to mess with nail art a bit for my sister Blair- the one ah talked tae ye aboot.”

“You talk about all of your siblings, and I counted at least 3 sisters.”

“Ye counted well.” Soap smiled at the fact that Simon actually listened to his constant family gossip. “She is th’ one opening a nail salon. I wanted to send her a photo of nails done by me and I need a model. My left hand is tae shaky.” Soap looked at Ghost expectantly. “And if ye don’t want me to take a photo- I won’t. The experience alone will be-”

“Ok.”

“-enough– Wait, come again?”

“I said ‘Ok’, what are you deaf now?”

“A little bit, yes.” Soap chuckled to himself. “But ah just thought it will take more to convince ye.”

“You want me to change my mind, Johnny?” 

“Not at all, I will clam up now.” Soap focused on the field again, smiling to himself.

“I didn’t tell you to shut up, Johnny.” Mumbled Ghost after a while.

And Soap couldn’t help himself to not look at the man with sparkles in his eyes.

WWW

After Gaz and Gromsko came to switch shifts, Soap told Ghost to go to his room and wait for the Scot while he grabs all the things he needed.

So there Ghost was, standing in the middle of his own room not knowing what to do with himself and wondering why the fuck did he agree to this so quickly. It felt like his mouth had its own mind that wanted to desperately sabotage him.

It’s not like Ghost didn’t want to have his nails painted, the idea of it seemed appealing and there was a time when as a teenager he wanted to do it himself. His father wouldn’t look kindly at it so finally, he never did it.

And fuck, now his hands are scared and rough, the only thing they are good for is bringing people pain. He realized that he never took off his gloves near Soap, what if he sees his hands and thinks they are disgusting?

Ghost rubbed his gloved hands together, squeezing and pulling on every finger in a nervous manner.

The doors to his room opened.

“Ye have no idea how excited ah am, Lt.!” Soap’s voice pulled Ghost out of his mind. Johnny looked so… cheerful. It eased the lieutenant a bit.

“I can see you are.”

Soap tossed a bag on Ghost’s bed, it landed with a clattering sound. Soap followed after the bag.

“Come on Ghost, ye can’t change your mind now.” He tapped the space in front of him on the bed. 

They both ended up sitting crisscrossed on the bed, knees touching. In the space between them lay the bad with colourful nail polishes. It wasn’t a lot, but still way too much for someone who picked up nail art only for his sister.

Johnny cared so much for the interests of others.

Ghost kept his hands on his thighs, playing with a loose thread in his jeans. Soap reached out with an open hand for Ghost to put his palm in.

Soap noticed Ghost’s nervousness, he knew him long enough to see past the mask. He didn’t know the reason for the anxiety though. It didn’t matter because Soap made it his mission to make this experience soothing for Ghost, and he will cherish the moment Ghost takes off his gloves. He will cherish the trust Ghost gives him, more and more with each day they spend together. If only he will let him.

“There is no point in doing it if you don’t want to, Simon. I was joking with the ‘You can’t change your mind’. But I swear I will try my best if you allow me.”

A slightly jittery hand immediately appeared in his.

“I am not changing my mind.” Ghost whispered, looking at their hands.

“Good.” Soap squeezed Ghost’s hand and proceed to take off the gloves.

 Ghost held his breath when he realized that his hands were dirty- he didn’t have time to wash them after a mission. There was dirt and blood under his nails, a couple of cuts with already dried blood. Ghost couldn’t look at Soap, afraid of the look of repulsion.

“I should go wash my hands-” He wanted to get up, but the grip on his hand tightened.

He looked at Soap and instead of disgust, he saw pure adoration in the sergeant’s eyes. Johnny looked at his hands with so much warmth he was sure he could replace the sun.

“Don’t worry about it, I have antiseptic wipes.” Soap pulled them out of his pocket and started to carefully wipe Ghost’s hands.

Simon’s hands were scared and calloused- hands of a hard-working man, a soldier. His fingers were long, and some of them crocked slightly probably as the result of untreated fractured bones. There was the tiniest beauty mark at the base of his thumb that Soap uncovered from all the mess. His hands had a slight shake to them. But what’s most important- they fitted perfectly in Johnny’s and he loved them.

He didn’t realize when he started to rub soothing circles into Ghost’s palm. Soap looked at Ghost. The man had closed his eyes, trying to burn into his memory how Johnny’s hands feel on his- gentle and caring. Ghost forgot that touching people could feel like that.

Why did whatever they did always feel so different?

“Did ye think about what ye want me to do?” Soap broke the silence.

“Just black will be fine.” 

“Of course.” Soap chuckled. “What about black n’ white? Let a man go a little crazy, huh? I want to draw something.”

“Fine. Don’t you dare to draw a cock or anything stupid or I will put you on bathroom cleaning for a week.” Warned Ghost.

Soap snorted. “Not what ah had in plans at all.”

Soap got to work, he never worked on something this small so it wasn’t his best work, but he did what he could as well as he could. 

“Sorry.” Simon muttered noticing that the constant small tremble in his hands made Soap put nail polish on his skin.

“Nothin’ I can’t fix, don’t worry.” Soap nudged Ghost with his knee. “Are they always this shaky? Just asking.” But Soap was slightly concerned about it, Ghost saw that.

“No just…”

 It’s mostly like that because you are around, and I just don’t know what to do with myself sometimes. I am not used to touching, good touching. And now you are just here, so close. I don’t know how to deal with the constant desire to be near you. 

“...Stress I guess. Happens in our line of work.”

“I get that too sometimes, but people don’t notice. I am kind of fidgety all the time as if you didn’t notice.” 

“I can tell the difference.” 

Soap smiled. “Of course, you can.”

When Soap was done Ghost had his nails painted black with skulls on his thumbs and middle finders.

“In case ye want to flip someone the bird, ya’ know.”

Ghost smirked under the balaclava. “It’s… nice Johnny. Thank you.” he never thought that he will be able to admire his hands again. but there he was. “Are you taking the photo for your sister?”

“You ok with that?” John perked up.

“If it’s just my hands, I don’t think I mind your family.” 

Ghost is not getting rid of those nails until the nail polish doesn’t chip off on its own.

BONUS:

To Blair >:3

Soap: *sends the photo of Ghost’s nails”

Blair: No, put the nail polish away. I can’t have you out best me at yet another thing!

Soap: I just wanted to see how it is! What do you think?

Blair: It honestly looks great, better than my first attempt.

Blair:Wait- WHOSE HANDSOME HANDS ARE THOSE???

Blair:JOHN MACTAVISH WHO IS THAT???????

Blair: I AM TELLING MOM.

Soap: NO U DON’T YOU MUPPET IT’S MY FRIEND!

Blair: MHM Suuuuureee.

YOO! I might have gone a little bit overboard with this one but I got really into it. Really enjoyed it and I hope you will to. I love reading all the feedback <3 Prompt from @u5an5 <3 I would also like to thank all the amazing people that make art and expand my little stories. Makes my heart swell <333 there is a hashtag bltn soapghost fic where you should find most of the parts

[thegoldheartlocketandkey-blog]

911 Spoilers Season 3: You’ve been warned. 😅 Buddie Rewatch

Episode 15: Eddie Begins

Flash back to Shannon giving Birth to Christopher. Eddie being over whelmed with emotion and hesitant to cut the umbilical cord.

We meet Shannon’s Mom, and her history with Cancer.

We also learn about Eddie’s dad missing his birth and his sister’s birth because of work.

Shannon gifts Eddie his Saint Chritopher necklace.

Eddie wakes up from a state of unconsciousness and is trapped under ground pleading and screaming that he is still alive.

The 118 testing walkie talkies, it cuts to Eddie first outside with the hoses. Buck announcing company and Christopher and Carla walk in. He of course fails to do it into the walkie talkie. He repeats it back into the walkie and asks if he passed. Eddie walking in behind Bobby and gives a slight side eye.

Christopher calls for Eddie. Turns out Chris forgot to coordinate for show and tell and wants Eddie to tell his classmates how he got a silver star.

As soon as Chris hands over the silver star to Eddie, Eddie gets war flash backs, and Buck appears behind him asking about the star.

Buck asking Eddie if he ever just wears the star and how he would never take it off if he had a medal. Eddie snatching the star back from him in a light playful matter.

Buck asking if he can even tell the story about how he got it to a bunch of kids, Eddie not sure if that’s possible. Christopher being adorable and insisting, Eddie caving and the way Buck smiles as Eddie caves is adorable.  They are of course a foot from each other.

The bell rings and as they run off Eddie says I love you to Chris and Chris says it back.

Lost child: Buck screaming Aiden. Eddies being incredibly observant and finding where the kid may be. The kid being stuck in a ridiculously small pipe.

Eddie and Buck standing next to each other as they come up with a game plan to get the kid out of the well.

Lighting, a storm is brewing, and increasing the difficulty of the rescue. Eddie and Buck prepping to send down a radio, so that Aiden can hear them and know they are trying to help him.

Eddie taking over for the mom to speak to Hayden, letting him know they are coming down and do not be afraid.

Eddie volunteers to go down into rescue Hayden.

Flash back to Eddie and Shannon fighting about the fact that Eddie reenlisted. Eddie, claiming he needs to for the sake of the family and Shannon telling him that he’s made that decision alone. Eddie struggling to comfort a crying Christopher who is fighting to get away from him.  

Eddie being lowered into the hole and the radio cutting out. He can’t hear Bobby and Bobby can’t hear him. Eddie begins to dig in the direction of the kid. They lose the signal to the video.

Eddie found the kid and is trying to pull him up, but time has run out. Buck suggests giving Eddie a bit more time, but concerns over his well being causes the 118 to decide to pull him up.

As Eddie starts to pull Hayden up and out of the pipe, he is quickly and violently pulled up. Eddie struggles and attempts to pull the other direction, but has to cut himself off.

Buck announces to the team that he lost the weight on the rope. He pulls the rest of the rope out of the ground

Buck wanting to be the one to go down after Eddie, but Hen stating that that’s not going to happen, because they know he’d also cut the rope if anything were to happen.

Eddie is underground having a flash back. He’s talking to Shannon and Christopher on video chat. The connection is fuzzy and you can hear Shannon talk about needing to go see her mom. The connection drops.

They are flying over the Valley of Death. Injured soldier tells Eddie that his Saint Christopher necklace had fallen and the bond over having kids.

The helicopter they are in is shot down and Eddie wakes up to a lot of gun fire. He starts pulling people out of the helicopter to safety, and even pulls out the only dead body as they wait for rescue. Eddie is shot and as he starts to lose hope, he holds up a photo of Christopher and the Saint Christopher necklace, help finally arrives.

Eddie is home with the family, his Dad is proud of the silver star. His mom telling Eddie he’s given Chris the wrong kid of juice. Shannon trying to bring up moving to California for his mom. Eddie loses his cool and yells at Shannon. Eddie wakes up to Chris in his bed and being told that Shannon has left.

Eddie is conscious in the tunnel, and is able to grab hold of Hayden. Hayden finds Eddie’s saint Christopher necklace.  Chim making it down and finding both of them safely. Chim takes Hayden back up and as they are getting ready to send Eddie another line, lighting strikes and causes the equipment to collapse.

Eddie is buried alive and Buck imidetly distraught. Buck is on his hands and knees digging with his bare hands. Bobby tries to stop him and is pulling him up from the ground. Buck is fighting Bobby and throwing himself towards the ground screaming Eddie. Finally, Buck is pulled onto his back, he’s violently sobbing in the rain.

This is a relatively short clip and the devastation we see on Buck’s face is heart breaking. If it was not for Bobby trying to help him up, Buck would have continued to dig with his bare hands.

The scene cuts to Buck and Bobby inside. Buck wants to go out there to dig, even if that means with his bare hands. Everyone around him is aware of the possibility that Eddie is dead.

Eddie is screaming underground that he is alive.

Flash back to Eddie’s parents trying to convince him to leave Chris with them. Eddie doesn’t want that life for Christopher.

Eddie and Chirstopher discuss taking a trip an being excited together. They talk about how they missed each other and embrace in a hug.

Eddie is submerged underwater. Aimlessly swimming around, low on oxygen. Eddie losing consciousness again.

Flashes back to when Buck finds out he has a kid and how Buck loves kid and Eddie states he loves this one. The next flash back being Chritopher walking his helmet over to him during his firefighter ceremony, Buck is also in this flash back watching Chris.

The third clip is Christopher giggling with the 118. Eddie is sitting next to him as the team is laughing over some joke. The fourth clip is Chris riding along in the fire truck. The fifih clip is Christopher and Bobby hanging out together.

The sixth clip is Buck and Eddie hugging. The seventh clip is the 118 hugging. The eighth clip is Eddie hugging Bobby after Shannon’s passing.

The ninth clip is Buck and Eddie laughing and giving each other a fist bump. The tenth clip is Buck, Chris, and Eddie playing video games together, celebrating.

The eleventh clip is Buck and Christopher sitting together at a gathering at Eddie’s.

The twelfth clip is Eddie watching Chris gift a card to Buck. The thirteenth clip is the day of Shannon’s accident. Him crying in the ambulance and then gathering her belongings.

Montage of Chris and Eddie being together. Happy moments like Halloween, Chris in the Firetruck, Buck and Eddie and Chris seeing Santa from a safe distance.

Eddie and Chris exercising together, brushing their teeth and getting ready for the day together. Buck and Eddie catching Chris as he slides down the fire pole. Chris going to school. Eddie and Buck pushing Chris on a skate board. Eddie reading Chris a bed time story.  

Shannon telling Eddie that Chris needs him, flashes of more Chris moments. Eddie gains consciousness again and continues to swim. He surfaces to the top of a lake and is able to breath.

This montage of flash backs is done with Eddie narrating about found family and his love for Christopher and fighting for Christopher. The main character in these flash backs is Chris, but something that needs to be pointed out is how often Buck is in those clips as well. Yes, other members of the 118 are in those clips too, but not as much as Buck.

This moment is also very important to capture, because we all know what happens in Season 4. I’m not going to elaborate too much on what happens in Season 4 just yet, but they call back to this moment of Eddie being buried alive.

This moment is the moment that Eddie knew how important Buck to his life. Christopher being the most important person. Buck becoming someone who is always around and plays a huge role in Christopher’s life. Eddie has not made a connection that Buck could be a romantic interest. But the connection he did make is that this man deeply cares for his son. They are apart of a found family.

Buck is channeling anger, he is hyper focused, ready to find and dig Eddie out of the ground. They are ready to take action when Eddie appears out of no ware, looking like death, but triumphantly saying “It won’t be easy” before collapsing onto the floor. The 118 running over towards Eddie to pick him up. Bobby on one side and Buck on the other. Hen and Chim behind him.

Buck is staring at Eddie in bewilderment. Eddie is just gasping for air. Buck becoming really happy and laughing as they walk Eddie off the scene.

Eddie is at Chris’ show and tell, listening to Chris present about the silver star. Eddie tells a very toned-down version of the story of how he got the silver star.

Eddie show casing the only jewelry he walks around with, which is his Saint Christopher necklace. Ana asks if that is his good luck charm. Eddie responding with no, that Christopher is his good luck charm.

[mayakern]

now i’m curious what were ur fav MP goofs !!! :0

ok i have a 10 image limit and some of these are multi-image jokes so i’ll try to distill these as best i can. also these jokes are all from i think chapter 4 and later, where i really flourished my sense of humor more

1. marina’s high school crush/bff sharkwanda being a highly contentious contestant on a spoof of top model

this is specifically a spoof of the early seasons, which usually had an assessment within the first 2 or 3 episodes, including a weigh in. as much as i loved trashy tv, i always hated these moments so i thought it would be funny to have a literal shark and to have her be weighed against mostly average-sized humanoids because it would be ridiculous for anyone to expect a healthy shark to weigh the same amount as a human.

there were a couple other layers to this: george idolizing her as a strong, independent woman. george’s brother freaking out because sharkwanda just ate a man on camera and no one’s overly bothered by this. george chastising him for not realizing it was obviously fake/over dramatized for the ratings (and not examining that then this moment of “self empowerment” would also be fake). and then also i named her after a fish named wanda. except she’s a shark named wanda. she’s also the most beautiful and popular girl in the world and she wins her season and becomes a very successful model.

2. the tinsley family thanksgiving outfits. actually their themed outfits in general. i think shit like this is super cute and funny. i also just enjoy writing siblings who rib each other lovingly.

also the part of this where george’s mom has three eyes (she’s psychic) and her dad has no eyes, so her brother has two eyes and for all intents and purposes looks human, but he is a full blooded monster. early on i had some ideas for an off shoot chapter about eli and his struggles with his identity (being a monster but not looking like one and not feeling at home in either community), but it got scrapped for time and also because it felt like too close a parallel to mixed race people who pass as white and that’s not my story to tell.

3. sharkwanda’s cover (up) girl ad campaign during the superb owl half time show. some of this stuff was a bit on the nose, but there’s a line about sharkwanda finally having makeup that doesn’t melt off her face like hot cheese that i still like

4. this multi-strip joke where franny’s dad pulls a turkey out of a hat. just read it there’s nothing to explain lol

5. basically every part of the magic shop scene, but especially the part where percy meets franny’s dad for the first time during a very tense situation and franny’s dad is wearing a skeleton (this is a reference to ranma 1/2). and then also percy sits and there’s a whoopee cushion. it’s incredibly awkward and not exactly haha funny, but it simultaneously cuts and adds to the tension in a way that is very monsterpop.

6. human!franny getting ben a dog toy as his secret santa gift (he doesn’t own a dog) and then dropping it and then it making a horrific, shrill squeak when it bounces

7. the whole situation with chadler, his horrible christmas outfit, the marshmallow gun, and him taking sexy santa ben as prisoner.

8. ben, killed by glitter, soon to be avenged by his crush comrade (or not)

9. george being gifted a framed painting of a photo of herself, asleep during class, which she later carries into an actual museum and gets in trouble for because a guard thinks she stole a piece of art

10. the brotebook

this has been very long but i hope u enjoyed it

[writtengalaxies]

Characters: Heehoo

Word count: 629

Spicy Levels: Tame.

Author Notes: ....I blame @cookieface678 for the fact that I can now apparently write the wild man. I'm...just as surprised as y'all are.

The reason you were here in these woods was simple.

You were looking for a legend. Well, sort of a legend. A myth in part.

Honestly, okay, you were out here on a stupid dare from your friends in the middle of the night, looking for trouble.

See, you were the most comfortable with camping, having done it several times before, but most of your friends didn't understand what it was like to just disconnect from the internet. The idea gave several of them pause, and you couldn't really blame them. Why would they do that, if they didn't have to? There was safety in numbers, and you...

Well, you bragged that you've done solo camping trips where your phone was only maybe able to get any sort of signal in case of an emergency.

In hindsight, that wasn't the best idea, nor was it to agree, even jokingly, to it. At least they came with you, helped set up your camp, made sure they knew where you were, so if something terrible did happen, they wouldn't be combing the massive woods for days. Hopefully nothing would happen.

The second part of this was because you had overheard them talking about a local legend. A wild man in the woods.

"Some people say he used to be a god, some local nature deity forgotten by time. People keep saying they see him show up in different parts of the world."

"Oh, c'mon, that sounds like Bigfoot."

"But for real, I heard he's more like a cryptid, though! Because he's way too big to be a person."

You couldn't help yourself, the skeptical mind coming to the front over anything else. "Has anyone actually seen him or taken photos?"

"Photos of the Heehoo?" You had to struggle to not laugh at the ridiculousness of the name, with the weight in which they spoke it, like if they said the name, he'd appear.

"No one's seen it and lived!"

"Some people take photos, but they're so blurry you can't make out what's supposed to be on them."

You scoffed, and thus the dare was born.

Which is how it was nearly midnight as you sat by your crackling fire, enjoying the solitude of the woods. It was beautiful out here, the air just crisp enough that the fire was comfortable to sit near, the stars peeking through the canopy overhead. It was peaceful. But over time, you became...aware. The noises of insects quieted around you, the soft hooting of an owl going silent. Every nighttime woodland noise that is easy to dismiss when it becomes a quiet background song has faded back to nearly nothing. And you are aware.

Aware of eyes on you, watching you, tracking your movements. You really hope it's not a bear, because you did your best making sure your camp was safe from that, but versus a determined bear? You really couldn't do much. You listened, trying to track the movement right back, listening to how the underbrush shifted and sighed, the soft crunch of tiny twigs and the hush of pine needles...

And he stepped forward, on two legs but hunched forward, to use his arms as a support as he paused and leaned forward further. Scenting the air like a dog, dark eyes piercing. He is tall, and muscular, and inches closer to you, as though he's afraid you might run. He glances down at your fire, and the simple meal, then back at you. Somehow, impossibly, you find your voice.

"Would...would you like some?"

He nods, sitting quite politely, all things considered. With shaking hands, you offer him the simple campfire meal, and breath out an incredulous sigh.

"Are...are you...Heehoo?"

He grunts with a nod.

Well.

This was going to be a time.

[herrscherofmagic]

does anyone else get that weird feeling when you can look at a bajillion different art styles and go "yeah that's neat! love it! so cool!" and then as soon as you do absolutely any of your own drawing, there's just a constant alarm going off in your head saying "THIS IS INCORRECT AND IF YOU DON'T FIX IT, IT WILL LOOK TERRIBLE AND ANATOMICALLY INACCURATE" despite it being nothing different from all those other art styles you see and love??? like "uncanny valley" but w/ all your own artwork and almost all the time

like I was just thinking about this, because there's lots of awesome artists I follow on Instagram & Tumblr that have interesting styles that don't necessarily follow real-life human proportions. It's often different variants of anime art but that's not always the case, and across pretty much all these different styles you have different things like how the contours of the face are (i.e. chin, cheeks), or the size/spacing of eyes, or the way the mouth is drawn

but it's just occurred to me that whenever I draw, there's pretty much always a constant nagging feeling, that I have to fix every anatomical or rendering mistake and if I don't then it just won't look "right", and that's one of the biggest things that stops me from completing 99% of my art

like earlier today I posted a 10-minute sketch, and it was obviously not "good anatomy"- it was pure vibes, just drawing what felt right in the moment and immediately posting it without trying to correct anything at all. and as soon as I did it, it hit me- that was probably the first time I've ever just created a piece of art for fun with virtually zero concern about "accuracy". Everything else I ever work on is always constantly drawn-out and changed and modified endlessly because it never feels "correct" and I don't feel like I can proceed with it.

today I've spent more than 3 hours just practicing how to draw heads, and it was the same thing. I was doing okay, but it took ages to get through even the simple parts like drawing straight from an anatomy ref. and it drives me insane not just because of perfectionism or whatever... but the fact that there's not a single "correct" human figure.

There's a ton of natural variation in how people appear, that's why we're all unique ffs! Different people have differently-shaped faces, their noses look different, their cheeks are different, their foreheads can be different, the wrinkles or freckles or eyebrows or eye shape or X Y Z are all varied and unique among different people.

Of course there are certain basic proportions and principles, you don't put someone's eyes on the back of their head, but I know all the basic proportions at this point and I've made a ridiculous amount of figure drawings both live and from photo, quite literally hundreds of drawings ranging from 1-3 minute gestures all the way to 1-, 2-, 3-hour-long works.

So why is it that no matter who or what I draw there's always that piercing & uncanny feeling? that i'm never able to capture a likeness of someone whether real or fictional, whether I'm trying to draw realistically or stylized?? it feels like I'm still getting something fundamentally wrong all the time even when I've studied all the basics and so much more, and even when my own professors look at what I do and say it's correct.

it's probably the autism, since there's a ton of other things in life where I appreciate predictability and uniformity and certainty. math problems have correct answers, essays can have certain types of analysis, machines can be described in terms of mechanical principles. But art isn't like that, and I've had similar issues w/ my art classes before, I just never quite thought of it from this specific perspective. I knew I struggled with open-endedness in projects, but this feels like something even deeper and more infuriating than that >.>

going back to that sketch, I can look at it and see obvious simple mistakes that I didn't bother to fix because I kept it strictly to 10 minutes. the chin is an obvious one, for instance, and the eyes could be better too. but I don't want to go back to that artwork, partially because it's just a 10-min sketch and it's not really anything that profound, but also partially because even though I know I can make it better I'm scared that as soon as I start messing with it I'll never be able to look at it comfortably ever again because it'll always feel incorrect. Not incorrect because I didn't care but incorrect despite me caring so much. which feels so much worse than just making a silly mistake when you're drawing normally.

[b0r3dtod3ath]

“You won’t cry this time”

Tw: I think none; mention of alcohol (wine),

Word count: ~1,2k,

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“I have loved you ever since I’ve known you, y/n. I couldn't help it.” “oh no no no no no no” You muttered “You must hear me now and give me an answer because I cannot go like this any longer. What is this relationship? Because I don’t know if you love me. Maybe I’m not good enough and I'm not this great man and-” The man standing in front of you started hyperventilating “oh no no no. You're too good for me and I’m so grateful for you and I’m so proud of you. You just, you just need to give me time please.” “ Do you love me or not? Tell me!” he called out. His hair was a mess as opposed to how it looked when he had walked into your apartment. His now red face was covered in tears. It broke your heart but you really didn’t know how to answer. You would love to fall into his arms and tell him you loved him. Perhaps, there was something holding you back. This something was fear, fear of other people, media ruining your relationship. “Timmy I-I don’t think I know. Just please give me some time”.

You’ve met Timothee almost 6 months from that day. You worked on a movie together. As a director it was a great pleasure working with such an amazing actor. You loved it not only because of his talent but also you just enjoyed his company. He would always do everything to make your day better. He was truly your little sunshine that brightened your mood. Over time you two got really close to each other. During the break between shooting and doing press for the movie you remained really close. Texting each other, going out whenever you could. It was the last weekend before the premiere of the movie. All the interviews and smiling at the camera were about to start. You couldn’t say you hated it but most certainly you didn't love it.  

But there he was, a man who had just confessed his feelings. He didn’t want to listen to you - emotions took over his mind. All he could think about was to hide himself and never see you or any of your mutual friends again. You thought this evening would be just a nice time spent with him and some wine but it ended with you both crying while he’s trying to leave. “Please listen to me, Timmy please, I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this.” a hint of desperation in your voice “No, no, I have to go now” he was struggling to put on his jacket. He felt like he needed to exit your place as fast as he could. “Please just be careful while going home. Please don’t do anything stupid.”. He left you and all you could do was to worry about him. 

You two haven’t talked ever since. It made your heart ache. All you could think about was what will you tell him once everything regarding this movie will be over. Unfortunately, you both had to spend a lot of time together. It hurt you to see him with way less energy than he had before. He was constantly putting on a fake smile and telling everyone that he is fine. His closest friends knew about what happened between you two and reassured you that he is alright and safe. Timothee on the other hand, thought you were doing great and that this incident didn’t really affect you. Maybe it looked like it but it most certainly wasn't the truth. You tried to talk with him many times but he did his best to avoid you. It must have looked ridiculous to other people when he was quite literally running away from you.

Everyone from the cast, you as a scriptwriter and a director, and a few other people sat at a long table. Many journalists and reporters sat in front of you. All eyes on people that had created this movie. Everything was going smoothly. Everyone was getting equal attention and there was nothing to complain about. “I have a question to y/n” a quite short brunette stood up “So we have seen that your relationship with Timothee has developed a lot. There are a lot of photos of you two hanging out. You always seem to have fun together and everybody can feel the chemistry between you two.” you sighed and rubbed your eyes “So the question is: what is going on between you two? Are you two dating or like friends with benefits?” how could she ask something like this. You could feel everybody's eyes on you. You could see in the corner of your eye that Timothee was about to answer this question for you but you decided to be quicker. “I don't see in which way this question refers to the making of this movie or its plot or any of my other projects. I find it quite inappropriate because we are here to talk about the amazing work of so many talented people and not my personal life. I feel like there are more interesting questions to ask right now. Even tho I find this question really disrespectful the answer is no, there's nothing romantic between me and Timothee and before you ask there's nothing romantic between me and any of the cast. I hope this answer satisfies you and your boss. Do you have any other questions that don’t involve mine or any of the cast member’s personal life?” everyone was quiet because you weren’t really a person to talk back like that. “No-no thank you.” She quickly sat down and kept her mouth shut. You turned your head to Timmy and saw him smile at you. To this moment he has been avoiding you since that one evening. Not only did he look at you but also he smiled. You haven't seen that smile in a long time. Obviously it made you smile as well. “Alright, does anyone have any other questions?” asked one of the actresses to quickly fill the awkward silence and move on. 

Later that night you decided to call Timothee. Based on his behavior that day you were positive he will answer. So you sat at the edge of your bed, a bit tired, your phone on the speaker, “Timmy” on the display. It took a few moments but eventually he picked up. Before he could say anything you started “Hi, I would like to tell you about what I feel and figure out what is this relationship cause I want you to know that I think I actually love you.” the man wa too stunned to speak. “Are you there?” “Oh oh yea yea, Where would you like to meet? And when? Maybe a coffee or dinner?” “No, come to my hotel room if you can.” “Of course I can.”. After about fifteen minutes you heard a knock on your door. You opened it. There he was, tired but happy. “I bought wine, I hope I won't leave crying this time.” “I promise you, you won’t.”.

[takibikaen]

My top 5 Bleach women and why I love them: Part 2

If you haven't seen Part 1 of this, here's the link. https://www.tumblr.com/takibikaen/725767150684520448/my-top-5-bleach-women-and-why-i-love-them-part-1?source=share

2/5. Orihime Inoue ~ The Princess

Why?

She’s ridiculously quirky and really wholesome, which really added a layer of emotion to the series as the character who could be empathic with so many individuals. Her struggles and belief she builds within herself in her friends and Ichigo is beautiful to see through the show. She’s a human teenager who wasn’t built for fighting like her friends but she still tries her best to help out and genuinely has a good heart void of killing intent.

The Orihime/Riruka interaction is even wholesome when you find out Orihime calls Riruka multiple times after TYBW lmao

Showing compassion in front of those who wronged you or are against you is hard to do. For Orihime, it’s her nature to be kind and non-aggressive even to those who hurt her. It’s a sentiment that one would usually discard especially in a lot of shows. However, I see Orihime being this way as reaching out to them because she knows they’re hurting on the inside like Sora and Riruka, or that they need to load power over her like Loly.

Throughout those experiences, she’s been able to keep her compassionate nature even in the face of all this. Obviously, I could keep on harping on how this makes her stand out from multiple other characters, but I’ll try not to. Her Fullbring powers are to reject phenomenon and I see her nature as an symbol of that, where outside events don’t get to her even in dark times, that she keeps true to herself no mater what.

We As one: are not intertwined. As two: do not share the same form. Of the third: we simply don't have eyes. Of the fourth: we have no hope in that direction. At the fifth therein lies the heart. - Bleach Vol. 27

Ichigo’s conflict in the Arcancar Arc was centered around protecting his friends to the point that he wouldn’t trust them to fight with him or confide with them. Orihime also goes through something like this, which that she goes to Hueco Mundo without telling them, so Ulquiorra wouldn’t hurt them. However in her heart, she was glad Ichigo and others came for her and even had a moment where Ichigo’s mysterious Hollowifaction scared her. The very thing Ichigo strived work towards to protect her and those they loved.

I especially look towards her pacifist nature being clear when Grimmjow demands she heals Ichigo so Grimmjow can kill him at full power in a new fight. Complete opposite of Unohana learning healing Kido to extend her fights, right? That’s why it ends beautifully when Orihime realizes Ichigo’s Hollow power shouldn't get in the way of her trust in him to end the fight. She comes forth to listen to her heart and gets past the idea of no hope, the Hollow eyes she stared into, Ichigo’s masked form, and believes in those she cares about. She doesn’t despair.

To finish it off, her growth in the Fullbring arc is good to see pay off especially where she has faith in Ichigo to make it through, that she’ll heal him even if it gives him the opportunity to get hurt again. Plus, she even develops her Fullbring ability to the point where she can defend and reactively attack at the same time, thus keeping true to her nature while fighting back. Orihime is genuinely a character who I love from her quirky & kind nature but to also how human she is in dealing with things outside of her control, and her internal growth towards her friends.

Pink background art belongs to @rakusakugk on Twitter. High School Orihime art belongs to @srkbom108 on Twitter, and the black-white background art belongs to @Mak_ai_ on Twitter. Absolutely talented artists.

Sorry, but Tumblr only allows 30 photos per post so there's a Part 3 of this mini-series.

Check me out on Quora: https://www.quora.com/profile/Kirun-Uzumaki