#I was just thinking while walking past the bookshelves

[drastrochris]

So, A.J. Hackwith's The Library of the Unwritten series.

Goncharov.

WTF happens in the library of unwritten stories when the internet steals all the stories that were never written about Goncharov and writes them all? Are entire shelves just vanishing as people shit-post the story into existence? Are entire shelves just appearing as people shit-post half-thought contradictions that will never be finished?

[hyperactively-me]

Okay But this scenario:

(Y/N) and King! Ghost: *making out behind a bookcase in the royal library*

Soap, walking in the library: Your Majesty?

(Y/N): *shoves Simon off of her* it’s soap!

Simon, still holding onto her hips: Ow :(

(Y/N): *whispering* what’s soap going to think if he finds the king like this with me?

Simon: hmmm…lucky king?

(Y/N): *starts slapping his arm with one hand while she uses the other to readjust her dress.* SIMON!

teehee, this is a good one!! thank you for the idea 🙏

You were supposed to be studying right now, but Simon had other plans in mind. The plans in mind included being pressed up against the side of a bookshelf in the far corner of the royal library. A few books had fallen off the shelf when he walked you backwards until you hit the wooden obstacle, and he took the liberty of basically placing his whole body weight up against you as he pawed at you. 

You had tried to protest at first, saying how inappropriate this was, but as soon as he put his lips on yours, you were a goner.

"Si- Simon, not now," you scold as you grip your book tighter, his fingers caressing your cheeks gently.

You had gotten up to go find another book, searching through the bookshelves methodically. Simon was trailing behind you like a lost puppy, fingers grazing your waist every time you stopped.

"Really, I'm busy," you say, not as firm this time as he starts to squeeze your flesh. You try so hard to ignore it, but you're slowly giving in.

"Are you?"

He grasps your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, pulling your gaze away from the spines of books.

"Y- yes?" you squeak, your focus being pulled solely towards Simon.

Before you know it, he's kissing you, pulling your body flush against his. He had rucked your dress up, palming and squeezing your ass as he swallowed your kisses with his tongue. You groan lightly as you push yourself on him, his large hand grabbing your hips, trying to yank you against his thigh. 

A small moan escapes your throat as he kneads your skin, tongue shoved deep inside your velvety mouth. 

"Your majesty?" a voice calls out. Soap's voice. Oh fuck.

Immediately you start to shove Simon off you, pushing him back with all the strength you could muster up. He tilts his body in an instant, shielding you from view from the direction of the voice, just in case. You try to push him off again, but he refuses to let go, hands still firmly fastened on your hips. 

"What is Soap gonna think if he finds us like this?" you whisper yell, gripping onto his arm.

"Hmm...lucky king?" he responds quietly as he licks his lips, the lilt in his voice borderline cocky. 

Your mouth falls open at his response, and with feigned anger, you slap his bicep to let go of you.

"Simon! Now is not the time for jokes," you reprimand, your face growing warm, swatting his arm like an angered cat. 

"'S not a joke, but okay," he smirks at you, giving your ass a final squeeze before backing off. 

You smooth out your dress and hair as fast as you can, making sure you look presentable enough. Simon, the lucky bastard, looked perfectly normal. Clothes all in place, save for his slightly messy hair. He could write it off so easily as just forgetting to comb his hair, though. Why does he look so fucking perfect all the time, you think to yourself. 

"How do I look?" you whisper, patting your dress down a final time.

"Fuckable."

You just stand there. Horny fucking bastard. If your cheeks weren't warm before, they were on fire now. And his words definitely don't stop you from feeling a certain wetness between your thighs. You clear your throat loudly as you turn to move towards Soap's voice. 

"Goodbye, Simon," you say brushing past him, clutching onto your dress so you can speed walk away to Soap. 

Eh, she'll get used to that, he thinks to himself with a smirk, following behind you.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[lady-of-tearshed]

Overprotective bat

Azriel x pregnant!reader

Summary: You really need to make your mate understand that you need some alone time...

Warning: Talk of pregnancy

Word count: 807

You stroke your now slightly swollen womb as you walk between the tall rows of bookshelves of the Town House, the place you and Azriel now call home. Rhysand and Feyre gifted you this magnificent residence as a mating ceremony present, since the both of them were now spending most of their time at the River House since the birth of Nyx anyway. You halt and smile in contentment when you finally pick up the book you were looking for. You spin around, and almost suffer from a heart attack when you face your mate, who had most certainly been following you for… Mother knows how long.

“Az… you scared me.” You sigh as you regain your calm, placing a hand on your chest. He smiles and places both his large hands on your small baby bump. He stares into your eyes and smiles, apologetically. “Sorry… I thought you had heard me.” You chuckle slightly and slowly make your way out of your personal library, heading for the long velvet couch. It wasn’t surprising that you hadn’t heard your mate following you, he always accidentally managed to startle you, thanks to his skills as a spymaster. 

You lay your back against the armrest, comfortably settling down on the couch. Your mate finds his way between your legs, laying his cheek where their babe was growing up, his hands back on your stomach as if they were pulled by some kind of magnetic force. You start reading, trying to concentrate through your mate whispering sweet nothings to their unborn child. “Az… weren’t you… supposed to meet Cassian or something tonight?” You start off, trying to sound… polite and unbothered by his permanent presence since the beginning of your pregnancy.

It’s not that it bothered you, not really. In fact, you always enjoyed your mate’s presence, you always would but… since the past few months, you barely have been able to enjoy some alone time out of when you were in the bathroom. Even then, he would have to check up on you to make sure you weren’t struggling with morning sickness. You just… missed having some tranquility. You already had to spend every minute of your existence with a baby growing inside of you, at least until its birth, and with Az constantly glued to you… It sometimes felt overwhelming.

“I thought you didn’t feel like going?” “Well… I thought you could go without me, you know.” He lifts his head from your stomach and looks up at you, brows furrowed in confusion. “By myself?” He asks as if I was talking to him in a foreign language he couldn’t seem to decode. 

You smile gently, and stroke his cheek. “Yeah, by yourself. It would… maybe it would do you some good to have some boys time. It’s been a while, I’m sure Cassian would agree on that.” “Mh. Cass can always wait, my pregnant woman needs me… baby too.” He places a kiss on your stomach, and gets back to his previous position. 

You sigh and bite your lip. “Az… I meant that maybe it would do me some good to just… breathe a little… for more than five minutes in the bathroom..?” I talked gently, stroking his hair. His eyes shot back up to me in an unreadable expression… “Yeah?” “Yeah…” You answer him back, giving him a soft apologetic grin.

He pauses, thinking, then gets up from the couch. He bends over, placing a hand beside your face on the armrest before kissing your lips softly, a small grin plastered on his delicious lips. “Alright, then. I’ll be back in an hour or two. You’ll both stay all safe, warm, and cozy until I get back to cuddle you… right?” Azriel knew and understood that you needed some alone time. You always have needed time away from everyone from time to time, and he realized that his protective Illyrian instincts had probably made it hard for you to have it. 

You smile and give him another peck before he leans away. “Alright, we’ll both wait for you and stay really safe in the warmth of our home until you get back…” He chuckles slightly, before winnowing away to meet Cassian, who would have to understand that he would need to get back in not more than two hours at max. 

You sigh in relief, drowning in the love and passion of your book for the following hours. You were glad and extremely grateful to have a mate, a partner who listens, understands, and fulfills your every need. Even if he sometimes needed to compromise on his own desires. You giggle as you gently poke at the shadow that stayed, enveloping the top of your belly, and can’t help but think of how amazing your mate already was as a father to your child…   

[starlitmark]

Summary: Both being in the NSFW content creation sphere, you and Yunho find a mutually beneficial piece of content to film. Pairing: NSFW Audio Creator!Yunho x Only Fans Creator!reader Tropes: Adult Content creator au, friends with benefits au Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Warnings: language, the reader is smaller than Yunho by a good amount Smut Warnings: recorded sex, blindfolding, auralism, protected sex, implications of a hand kink, use of the name “daddy”, pet names, nipple play, clitoral stimulation, ripping clothing Word Count: 2,416 Host Tag: @sanjoongie @thelargefrye February Filth Masterlist Before You Interact

Listen to ♡ Often by The Weekend

“You’re sure you’re not going to get kidnapped?” Yeri checks for the tenth time.

“I’m sure!” You laugh, “This isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve talked with him before, too, several times. You know Yunho and I are friends.”

Yeri’s jaw falls to the floor. You meet her eyes through your mirror after you finish fixing your makeup. You look at her as if you’ve just said the most mundane sentence in the world. On the other hand, she looks as if you just told her you’re not actually who you told her you are.

“You mean to tell me–”

“I haven’t fucked him. Not in the literal sense, at least.” You explain, “We’ve fucked around in DMs before a few times but nothing in person yet. We’re genuinely friends, too, it’s not just about our jobs. He’s seen me. I’ve seen him. We’re both being safe. Now go back to your own apartment unless you want to witness something you probably don’t want to.”

She shakes her head and scrunches her nose. You laugh at her action and start walking her toward your front door. You start to pull your door open to let her out when she starts to sound like a broken record.

“Seriously, if you think he might–”

She’s cut off by someone clearing their throat. She turns around, and you look up. He’s right in the doorway, looking devastatingly handsome. Yeri buttons her lip and slips past him. You bid her goodbye as she’s already halfway to the elevator.

“Come on in.” You smile at the tall man, moving to let him in.

“It’s nice to see you in person finally.” He smiles

You nod, mouth suddenly dry, “I hope it wasn’t too bad of a trip here.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “It was actually really nice. It’s beautiful out.”

You’ve been friends online for a while now, and this sudden awkward tension is almost suffocating. Yunho smiles at you and takes your hand in his. You look at your connected hands before looking back up to his face. You’ve seen him before in pictures you exchanged in the past. Some of them are more distracting than others. Seeing him in person seems to create a whole new level of devastation for your panties and your heart at the same time.

He drops your hand and leans against a bookshelf at the edge of your entryway. He’s nearly the same height as it. You need a stool to reach the top shelf of it. Now you take in just how tall he is. You knew he was tall. Knowing a fact versus seeing it is so different. You already know his cock is big too. You’ve been blessed to see it several times. Your mind starts to wander to your activities planned for the afternoon.

“You okay?” Yunho’s eyes fill with concern, “If you don’t want to do anything, we don’t have to. We can just hang out.”

“No, no,” you chuckle, “I just forgot how… big you are…” You admit.

Yunho smirks as he leans over you while leaning against the bookshelves. You gulp at the sight.

“Did you, sweetheart?”

Fuck.

Your mouth goes dry again, trying to find a proper response. You knew damn well what the plan was walking into today. Both of you had planned out the entire scene in depth to ensure safety and quality content for your followers. Hearing his voice, seeing that stupidly hot smirk, everything about him renders you speechless.

“Sweetheart?” He calls again, “You still with me?”

You nod, “Just… thinking…”

“About?” He leans in close enough that you can feel his breath against your lips.

“We have a bit of content to film, and–” You stop yourself and stare at his lips for a moment.

“And?” He questions.

Your gaze stays fixated on his lips, “And… I fucking need you right now.”

Yunho doesn’t waste a moment closing the gap between you. The way he pulls you tight against him, combined with the heat of the kiss, makes your knees buckle. You stand there for a while, just kissing him. Your neck hurts a bit from stretching up to reach him, though you’re sure he is hurting more from craning down. By the time you pull away, your lips are puffy and wet with spit. His aren’t in much better condition; he has a bit of your lipgloss smeared near his own lips.

“Is your camera all set up?” He asks, his voice slightly raspier than earlier.

“Mm,” you hum, “You’re okay with your face being on camera?”

“We already talked about that.” He reminds you, “It’s okay. My face isn’t fully a secret to my audience.”

You take his hand in yours again and guide him toward your room. As you had told him before, your camera is already set up in front of your bed. You reach over and press record before you even say another word to him. As much as you’d love to get wrecked by him now, you know the goal is to get content. Your high-quality microphone is already connected and tested to ensure it gets the best recording it can. After all, it’s not just being uploaded to your Only Fans. The audio from today is being edited and uploaded to Yunho’s NSFW audio subscription as well. Short free clips are going to be posted on both of your Twitter accounts in addition to helping with the traction. Before you get in the view of the camera, you slip your shorts off from under your oversized T-shirt. Per the agreed-upon scene, you’re playing the role of his pretty little stay-at-home girlfriend and won’t be needing pants if you’re at home all day.

“You ready, princess?”

You know he’s put on his acting, but he still searches for any uncertainty in your eyes.

“I’m ready, Daddy.” you respond, voice sweet and needy.

Despite neither of you truly having a daddy kink, you both agreed to that title for Yunho to both protect his identity and play into the content you both know people want. You sit on the side of your bed and look up at him with wide, faux-innocent eyes. Yunho hums and leans down to cage you against the bed. One hand slips back a bit to grab a silk tie just behind you. He pulls it off of the bed and leans back a bit to hold it between you.

“We’re gonna play a little game, okay?”

You nod, “Will I get to feel you?”

“Oh, sweetheart, you’ll feel me. You just won’t see a damn thing.”

Yunho leans forward again and kisses you sloppily. The wet sounds of your kiss are enough to make you rub your thighs together. He, of course, notices it and grips your thigh with his other hand. Massaging the flesh, he pushes your oversized shirt up to expose your soaked panties. He guides you back further until you’re nearly laid down. He drops the tie just long enough to pull the shirt off of your body. You’re only left in your panties while he’s fully clothed. That doesn’t last long, though. He pulls his own shirt off. You appreciate his toned body and end up fixated on the noticeable bulge under his sweats. You gulp before meeting his eyes again.

“Can’t I suck you off for a bit? I wanna be a good girl for you.”

Yunho gives you an endearing smile, holding your chin in his hand, “That’s so sweet of you, baby. As much as Daddy would love that, I have other plans for us today. I’m gonna blindfold you now, okay? You know our cues.”

“Colors, if I can speak. If not, two taps for a break and three for a full stop.”

He kisses you again, “That’s my girl.”

It’s for the camera, you know that. Still, it doesn’t stop you from nearly melting at the praise. He takes the black silk tie and carefully secures it around your head, checking to make sure it’s not too loose or tight. You feel him guide you to lie down on your bed and push your thighs apart to be flat across the bed as well. Every sound sounds so vivid. The soft sound of his hands moving across the bedding, the gentle sounds of his breath by your ear, even the light creaking of your bed as he puts his full body weight on it. A gasp escapes your lips as he leaves more wet kisses along your throat. The noises he makes as he kisses you while letting his hands wander are enough to make your panties even more soaked than they previously were.

“You’re so jumpy, baby.” He chuckles, “Relax, let me make you feel good.”

“Daddy,” you whine, bucking your hips when his hand trails along your inner thigh.

“Yes, princess?”

You gasp when his kisses reach your chest, “Need–” 

You let out a broken whine when he wraps his lips around one of your nipples. His fingers lightly trail up and down your thighs, intentionally skipping over the place you need him most. Each time you buck your hips toward his touch, he lightly nips at your chest. The lack of vision only heightens your other senses more. Each time he so much as grazes your body, you jolt in reaction. Each word he says and each noise he makes sends you into another plane of existence.

You feel his body pull away from you, leaving behind a waft of his addictive scent. You feel as he pulls your panties to the side and strokes through your folds. The squelching sounds that come from your lower lips are loud. Each rub against your clit, each time his pretty, long fingers push into you, you feel yourself crave him more. He fucks you on his fingers for a while. His thumb presses perfectly against your clit while two of his other fingers thrust in and out of you at a pace that makes you see stars. His unoccupied hand holds one of your thighs down. His fingers dig into your skin in a way that may leave bruises, not that you mind at all.

“You hear that, sweetheart? You’re so fucking wet. What’s got you such a wreck? Hmm?”

“Daddy, I– fuck! Everything, it’s everything!”

“Everything? It’s how you keep whining and moaning while I finger your pretty little pussy, the way I’m speaking to you, the fact that you can’t see a damn thing. You’re at my mercy, sweetheart.”

You want to close your thighs so badly due to the amount of pleasure you’re feeling. A light slap on your thigh stops your action. A moment later, Yunho pulls his fingers from inside you, and you feel his weight lift off of the bed. The sound of foil ripping fills the space, followed by a low, growly groan. Though you can’t see it, you know Yunho kept his promise to put a condom on.

“Daddy,” your voice wavers with uncertainty.

You feel his hand rest against your waist, “It’s okay, princess. Daddy didn’t leave you all alone. I’m right here.”

The small gesture of reassurance makes your heart flutter for a brief moment. You feel the bed sink again and feel his bare skin against yours. He places a sweet kiss against your lips and whispers a quick check-in.

“You want Daddy to fuck you now?”

“Please, want Daddy’s cock, please.” You whine.

You feel the head of his cock rubs through your folds a few times before pushing in. Your panties are still pushed to the side, though they aren’t terribly in the way. Yunho continues to shower you with filthy comments and praises. Your hands fly forward and feel their way to his hair. Pulling him forward more, you pull him into another sloppy kiss. His thrusts are loud, and the squelching sound of your pussy is louder than it was with just his fingers. Your moans are muffled slightly by his kisses, but still, they’re loud. The fact that you can’t see anything makes it hard to know exactly what is happening.

“Wanna see you.” You request.

“My princess wants to see me now? I thought you liked not knowing what’s coming.” He teases.

“I- I do, but I wanna see Daddy now. Please?”

Yunho gives a particularly punctuated thrust, “Alright, princess, pick up your head a little, and I’ll take it off.”

You do as he says, and light floods your field of view a split second later. It takes a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the light. Once they do, you’re met with the sight of Yunho above you, sat up straight on his knees as he thrusts into you. He has a heated, lust-driven look in his eyes that brings you closer to your orgasm.

“Are you attached to these panties, baby?”

You shake your head at his question. A moment later, the telltale sign of clothing ripping fills the room. You break eye contact for a moment to see that he ripped the seat of your panties and was seconds away from ripping the waistband, too. Yunho smirked at you and leaned in close to your ear.

“I’ll buy you a new pair later, or I’ll pay for you to get some new ones.”

“Daddy, wanna– gonna–”

You’re not on Earth anymore. Your mind is so far gone, lost in the obsession you’ve discovered you have with his voice and the filthy, debauched noises being created in the space. In all honesty, you didn’t even process what he just said to you. All you can think about is the fact that you’re mere moments from your orgasm.

“Pretty baby wants to cum?” He asks, gripping onto your now bare hips.

“Please,” small tears form in your eyes, “Please, please!”

Yunho smirks at you again, “Cum.”

Your orgasm rips through you, stronger than anything you’ve ever felt before. Yunho’s thrusts grow stronger and faster. As you ride out your high, he reaches his own. He releases his load into the condom with a loud groan. His eyebrows furrowed together while his eyes remain locked on your own. You both start to fall from cloud nine around the same moment. Yunho leans down to hover above you and places a small kiss against your collarbone.

“You did such a good job, pretty girl. I’m so proud of you.”

That last comment wasn’t for the camera. That was specifically for you.

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[poraphia]

"The Battle of His Teal Hoodie."

➵ PAIRING! cc!wilbur x student!reader

➵ CREATING! 10.5.23 | 751 words

➵ CONTAINING! oversized hoodie, facetime calls, reader is a university student

➵ SAYING! literally so self-indulgent. ive been studying for like an hour straight in the library and im still THINKING ABOUT THAT HOODIE BRO IM GONNA GET IT ONE DAY WATCH BARKABRKARK btw if u wanna be in my taglist feel free to message me okay mwa mwa enjoy

——————•°•✿•°•——————•

When your boyfriend is over six foot and has an entire collection of merch where his name is plastered over cozy polyester hoodies,

you bet your sweet ass I was going to steal at least five of them.

College life wasn’t as romanticized as I thought it would be. Sure, the warmth of a coffee during a chilly morning while endlessly typing on my laptop sounded good on paper, but I guess I forgot to mention the endless due dates and upcoming exams I had to study for. I found myself buried in the corner of the university’s library on the quietest floor. I looked through my schedule, crossing out any assignments I already completed and also checking back on my classes to see if I needed to make any event adjustments.

My eyes felt heavy as I took another gulp of my caffeinated drink. My headphones shielded my ears comfortably as gentle sounds of a guitar strumming and a buttery voice filled my senses. A deep sigh escaped my nostrils before I sat back in my seat, slightly rolling away from the desk I was sitting at.

Bzzz! Bzzz!

I looked over to my phone on my desk before picking it up. I was welcomed by a picture of Wil with lipstick marks all over his face. Smiling, I swiped open the call to see my beautiful boyfriend walking around the busy streets of Brighton. I propped my phone up against my laptop to give him a full angle of me and the bookshelves behind me.

“Hey, darling, I missed you!” He smiled brightly.

“I missed you too, Wil. How was studio recording?” I asked. I pushed my laptop a little further back to make space in between me and my notebook. I took a colorful highlighter and started to go over my notes as he spoke.

“Studio was fine. We’re almost done recording a whole song for the new EP, so that should be exciting.” He chuckled. “I’m just heading over to Tom’s until you get out of school. Do you wanna get some lunch together after I pick you up?”

“Yeah, I could go for a sandwich and pretzel honestly.” I smiled, imagining the salty and buttery taste of the pretzel in my mouth already.

“Sounds good,” he confirmed. He took a glance of me briefly before doing a double take. “Hey, what are you wearing?” He asked. He held his phone closer to his face, only giving me an angle of his mess of curly hair and forehead.

“Hmm?” I hummed. “I’m just wearing my usual clothes.” I answered, oblivious.

“Now you’re just lying to me!” He laughed. “I see you smiling! Go on, stand up and let me that hoodie.”

With a defeated sigh, I stood up with my back nearly against the bookshelves so he could get a full angle of my outfit. I was wearing white tennis shoes, black shorts, but most distinctly of all, I was wearing Wil’s teal hoodie from his “Wilbur Soot ‘96” collection. The hoodie was nearly two sizes bigger than me with the sleeves going past my fingertips and my shorts just barely showing from how long the article of clothing was.

“Mhm,” he hummed. “So you decided to steal my merch, huh?”

“It’s comfy!” I exclaimed, hugging myself with the long sleeves wrapped around my waist. “Plus it smells like you, and it has your name on it! Wearing this is like screaming I’m the best partner Mr. Soot could ever ask for!” I went over and picked up my phone before holding it above my head.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He chuckled. “I’m going to steal that back once I pick you up.” He threatened, waving his finger into the camera.

“Over my dead body.” I stuck my tongue out at him. Wil scoffs, holding his hand to his chest as if offended.

“Oh, we’re going to brawl, just you wait.” He held his camera close to his eyes before bringing his lips to the camera. “Love you though!” Before I could say anything else, he hung on me.

I stared down at my phone. I smiled, tilting my head a little as I fiddled with the strings of my— or rather— Wil’s hoodie.

Maybe I should run to the gym a bit after class as a warmup.

——————•°•✿•°•——————•

a / n ~ hiii hope u enjoyed! reblogs, replies, and likes are super appreciated! im almost at 200 followers and im so excited!! seriously, i wanna get to know my followers better so if anyone wants to be an anon or just drop a hello please feel free :)

[madaqueue]

Practice Makes Perfect | Chapter 7

synopsis: you and yuji have been best friends basically as long as you can remember, and you made a promise to each other to stay friends and help each other be the best versions of yourselves for your future partners. but will things change when yuji finally starts looking for a relationship?

pairing: yuji itadori (18+) x f!reader

themes/content: modern college au (characters aged up to 18+). language, fluff, angst. alcohol consumption, jealousy, kissing (x megumi). 18+, MDNI

word count: 1.8k

a/n: guys i'm still trying to write the last chapter for this series rn bc i got hit with mad writers block but aaAAH she's comin along

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

You’re back in Yuji’s dorm building, but this time your back faces the familiar room. He had just waved goodbye, whispering “Go get ‘em, tiger,” as he shot fake finger guns at you before shutting the door to his room. Now it was just you alone in the hallway, facing the construction paper cutout of “Megumi” that was taped to the door in front of you. You hesitantly raise your fist out before knocking.

A soft voice from inside yells out, “One second!” through the door before it swings open. In front of you stands the dark-haired boy, once again wearing a black t-shirt and black jeans. “Hey, it’s good to see you,” he says sweetly as his eyes meet yours. “You ready to go?”

“Yep!” you chirp. The warm scent of his cologne hits your nose as he steps next to you. You suddenly feel nervous, not sure if it’s because of the man standing to your side or the one who you just left. You push the feeling down as you walk to the cafe.

–

The space is warm, the hum of espresso makers and piano music filling your ears. The walls are adorned in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, warm light casting over everything from the chandelier above.

With a mug in each hand, Megumi leads you to a table in the middle of the cafe. He sets one down in front of you with your latte and his, with plain black coffee, next to him.

“This place is beautiful,” you note, eyes glancing around the room taking it all in. “How did you find it?”

“One of my friends, Maki, suggested I try it,” he responds, taking a sip from his coffee. “She said it fit my ‘vibe’ or something,” he chuckles. “So, what do you have to study while we’re here?”

“I have a bit of bio to work on, but honestly, I’m just here for the company,” you try to say as nonchalantly as possible as you pull your laptop out of your backpack and set it on the table in front of you. You catch Megumi smiling out of the corner of your eye.

“Speaking of company,” he begins as he pulls a notebook out of his bag, “how do you and Yuji know each other?”

There it is. You were waiting for this question on the way over, but Megumi seemed to avoid the topic entirely. You knew he saw you with Yuji, and now you have to come clean. But what, exactly, is there to come clean about?

“We’re childhood friends,” you state. It’s not technically a lie, but it certainly doesn’t explain the complicated relationship you’ve developed with him over the past few weeks.

“Mhm,” Megumi hums quizzically. You could tell he wants to ask more, yet he doesn’t pry.

Silence falls between the two of you for a moment, and something about it makes you feel comfortable sharing more. “We met when we were kids, and as we grew up we were inseparable. He’s…” you pause, thinking about the weight of the words you’re about to say, “my best friend.” You sigh.

“But…?” Megumi guides, a small grin forming on one side of his mouth.

“But now it’s…weird,” you follow.

“Well, Yuji’s a pretty weird guy, and I’ve only known him a semester,” he agrees with a chuckle.

Something about Megumi puts you at ease. You feel comfortable sharing things with him you never thought you’d say out loud, which is why you continue explaining. “Yuji and I kissed,” you blurt out. “But now he has feelings for someone else, and I don’t know how I feel about him, and everything’s just messed up.” You put your head into your hands.

Megumi pauses for a moment, trying to think of what to say. “Oof,” is all he gets out.

“‘Oof’ indeed,” you chuckle through your palms. Suddenly, you lift your head up to meet eyes with the boy across from you. “Hey, please don’t tell Yuji I said any of that?” you plead, realizing the sensitive nature of what you just shared with him.

“My lips are sealed,” he responds through a smile, “as long as you get the next round of coffees.”

“Deal,” you agree, a grin spreading across your face.

This feels…easy. Talking to Megumi feels like how you and Yuji used to be, before all this emotional gunk got in the way.

The conversation flows smoothly as the two of you work through all of your studying for the next week, spending nearly the entire day in the warm cafe. By the time you leave, the sun has set and the sky is orange and purple as dusk settles over campus. Megumi asks to walk you home and you agree, thanking him for the kind gesture.

When you get back to your dorm, the caffeine from the coffees you were chugging all day finally wears off as you crash into your bed, the smell of detergent still lingering on your freshly-washed comforter as you settle under it.

–

The next week breezes by, especially since you finished all of your work at the cafe with Megumi over the weekend. You start looking forward to your biology class because you know it means you’ll get to see him. For a few hours each week, you get to watch his hands as he sketches page after page, sometimes of animals, sometimes of buildings, sometimes of you. Whenever you’re included in his drawings, he tears the page out and gives it to you without a second thought.

The two of you also started spending more time together outside of class trying out new cafes, especially after you found out Megumi was very particular about his coffee.

He sticks his nose up as he tries to hide the disgust on his face. “Yuck,” he mutters as he swallows, setting the mug down.

“No good?” you ask, putting your hand over your mouth as you try to hide your giggle. He just shakes his head in response. “Well my latte is delicious,” you respond with a smirk as you take a sip.

“How can you even say that?” he frowns. “That stuff is all sweetener, and you know it.”

“Mmm maybe, but I like things a little sweet,” you hum. You reach your hands across the table to pinch his cheeks, molding his frown into a forced smile. “And I bet you’d like it too, if you gave it a try.” He swats your hands away with a chuckle.

Things are…easy. Yet, for some stupid reason, you still find yourself thinking of Yuji, especially during these lull periods where you let your thoughts get quiet. It’s not like he’s gone, or even that he hasn’t texted you (because he certainly has, mostly pictures of his gross meals like fried rice with jam or a boxed mac n cheese he made using vanilla coffee creamer). It’s more that you are struggling to figure out what to say to him. How are you supposed to explain whatever these feelings are to someone you aren’t even dating that you know has feelings for someone else?

–

“Are you doing anything tonight?” Megumi asks. You’re both packing up your stuff after your Friday biology class. “I got invited to this off-campus party and I was wondering if you’d want to go with me?” he turns to face you. You don’t sense any hint of nervousness in his voice, as if asking was second nature. He had really grown comfortable around you.

“I’d love to,” you respond with a smile. “Meet at my place at 8:00?”

“Sounds perfect,” he grins as you both turn to walk out of the lecture hall.

–

Walking into a party with Megumi is definitely a new experience. For one, you were never a huge party-goer, so the loud music and conversations are an adjustment. Second, this is the first time you and Megumi have gone somewhere together. Sure you had studied plenty of times, but this feels like something else.

Truthfully, you don’t know what you and Megumi are to each other. Your relationship feels comfortable, like you’ve been friends for years, but sometimes you say something and you swear you catch him blushing.

It doesn’t matter, you try to mentally pep-talk yourself, tonight I’m just here to have fun.

The two of you step through the front door as the smell of stale beer hits your nose and the bass from the music causes your chest to vibrate. You tug on the bottom of your black dress as you gaze down at the tennis shoes you paired it with, hoping you don’t look too out of place. Looking up, you scan across the room for a familiar face but find none; luckily, Megumi waves at his friends and grabs your hand, guiding you to the middle of the dance floor.

You dance together for a while before one of his friends, who he introduces as Toge, comes back and hands you both full cups. The new white-haired boy pulls down the top of what looks to be a custom-made hoodie before chugging his drink. Megumi looks at you and knocks the top of his glass against yours before he moves it up to his lips. You follow his lead, taking in gulps of what tastes like the cheapest beer you’ve ever had. Both of you finish your drinks at the same time, the liquid sending shivers down your body as you smile up at Megumi.

The night continues smoothly, Toge coming back with drinks every so often as you let the music course through you while moving your body to the pounding rhythms. You slowly get to meet Megumi’s friends as you shout your introductions over the blasting noise around you. You are having…fun? You never saw yourself enjoying parties, but here you are, getting the college experience.

Suddenly, Megumi taps your shoulder. You turn to look up at him, but his eyes are focused on something behind you. Spinning around on your toes, you see why he got your attention: Yuji.

He’s standing on the other side of the crowded dance floor, one arm leaning against the wall. And below his arm, is a girl.

She has shoulder length brown hair and is wearing a dark blue dress that seems like it was made for her. This has to be her, you think. Dammit, did she have to be gorgeous, too?

For a moment, all you can do is stare, your eyes going back and forth between the two of them. You watch as Yuji says something and she shoves him in the chest, a laugh never leaving her lips. Your eyes start to water as you try to blink the tears away. No, no, no, this isn’t happening. You’re supposed to be having fun. This isn’t fun. Megumi sees your body tense and he places a hand on your shoulder, trying to get your attention back.

Suddenly, Yuji’s eyes meet yours from across the room. Your stomach drops, and you’re not sure if it’s the butterflies or the jealousy bubbling up inside of you. Before you can even think, you turn to face Megumi, hoping Yuji is still watching. You move your arms around his neck as you lean up to kiss him.

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

[sexualtensiongrowing21]

“You owe me.” “I owe you $20 not a day of pretending to date you to get him off your back.”

Isaac Lahey X Reader

TW; Mentions of physical abuse. 

Word Count: 819

Part two

You have looked in the locker room, the art room and outside in the quad and still can’t find him. You  woke up this morning, put on the cutest outfit you own and spent extra time on your hair and came up with the best plan.. There is no chance he will say no… Right? 

As you walk into the library you finally spot the messy mop of dirty blonde hair. 

“Isaac! Isaac!” You whisper shout as you walk over to where he is sitting in the ground leaning against one of the bookshelves. You don’t know why this wasn’t the first place you looked. This has always been a safe space for Isaac to come to when he needed to get away.

“Y/N! Y/N!” he whispers, shouts back successfully, mocking me with a cocky grin on his lips. 

Laughing, You walk over and drop my bag next to him and it’s a quiet thump. “I had the most perfect idea, and before you say ‘no’ just hear me out?” You ask with a pleading look on your face. Isaac eyes you suspiciously and slowly nods his head for you to continue. 

Isaac and you have been friends since we were six. Your moms were best friends and would force you two to hangout with each other all the time. Even when he thought girls had cooties. He has always been my favorite person and you did everything you could to protect him. When he would get picked on in school you would tell off anyone who was mean to him. When he would get hurt on the playground you would be the first one to help him clean and bandage his wounds. When his mom died and he started coming to school with bruises and cuts that he refused to explain to you, you made sure that your window was always cracked and unlocked for him to climb through.

He said he always felt safe when he was with you. And since you couldn’t do anything about his dad hurting him, you did the best thing you could think of. You were always there for him. He was your best friend after all. 

“So you know how Matt won’t leave me alone? How he asks me out every time he sees me?” You ask nervously while nibbling slightly on your lip. 

Still looking at you with suspicion he shakes his head yes. “Well I was thinking that maybe. You would pretend to be my boyfriend. Just for a day to get him off my back.” You rushed out. Anxious to see his reaction. 

He’s quiet for a moment, before looking at you like you’ve lost my mind. “Are you crazy? He will never believe that.” He laughs nervously. 

Turning towards him you put my hands together and begged the dirty blonde next to you. “Please Isaac. Please, please. I know this will work and you’re my best friend, who better to pretend to date than you?” 

He rolls his eyes “Why can't you ask Scott?” 

“It’s more believable if it’s you. I mean we’ve been best friends forever, half the school thinks there is something going on between us anyways.” You say with a roll of your eyes. 

It's true. Since Isaac and you have been friends for so long, everyone is always bothering you two about when you're going to start dating. It's not that you don't like Isaac that way. You do. You love him, and he has told you he loves you too. But you both agreed that you should stay friends. You are both too important for the other to lose. 

Isaac looks at you seriously. “I don’t think this is a good idea, Y/N.” 

“I really didn't want to do this… But you owe me Isaac Lahey.” His seriousness drops into a look of guilt.  

He did owe you. After he was turned by Derek, and after he accidentally attacked you, you stayed at Dereks with him for weeks, until he found his anchor. Which by the way he still hasn't told you what it is. 

He sighs in defeat. “I meant I owe you $20 not a day of pretending to date you to get him off your back.” Isaac has never been able to say no to your pouty face, and with everything you did for him in the past he grudgingly agrees. 

“Fine, I will help you. Just know that I think this is a horrible idea.” He states with a half smile. Your smile on the other hand is wide and excited. You throw your arms around him in excitement. “Thank you! Thank you!” you cheer, kissing his cheek. 

“Tomorrow, be ready!” You yell getting up and walking out of the library. As he watches you walk away all Isaac can think about is how screwed he is to fake date the love of his life.

*If you’re interested in being on my taglist, please let me know!*

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Masterlist

[lunerium]

Hello dear person. I hope I don't bother you… I come messaging you because I have no one else to talk to about it … I came to really like the couple between Ciel and Sebastian but it's hard to find content about them And I did not read the manga yet I wanted to know if there was Sebaciel content in the public arc school ? And if according to you, what was the arc that had the best content about them ?

Hello again, @canonicallytrue heh. I'm sorry I haven't answered all your asks, but finally, I've had some time to start writing.

I answered your question about which arc had the most sebaciel in it, in this post.

But your question about the sebaciel moments in the public school arc did catch my eye. After all, the new season is still being released, and there are many sebaciel moments that we have yet to see.

Their "first meeting" is notably Sebaciel. Sebastian is completely in his role as "Professor Michaelis", and pretends that it is the first time he has seen Ciel. It is an amusing interaction between the two because they are just going to pretend they don't know each other. Also, the fact that this entire arc is filled with shojo tropes, and this is one of the first shojo moments we see. Where the heroine falls, and the love interest offers a helping hand.

Onto the next moment, or rather, moments. We have their late-night rendez vous. They are so intimate, so clandestine, that perhaps even a rumor got spread that Phantomhive was always in Mr. Michaelis' office late at night. I would give anything to know what the students truly thought about that.

First, this rather erotic pose Ciel does for Sebastian. He got a little too caught up in his role as a student, he refers to him as a professor even in private, heh. The pose he is doing, as if attempting to seduce him, doesn't help much either.

Adding this little exchange between the two. And yes, Yana surrounded them in shojo bubbles :)

A Sebaciel moment that became iconic throughout the fandom: The Library Scene. The famous moment where Sebastian urgently pinned Ciel against the bookshelves, late at night, while covering his mouth. Not only that, but the scene right before that, where Sebastian carefully sneaks a secret note to Ciel while he is teaching the class. A moment truly worthy of a romance novel.

Onto our next moment: When Ciel "thanked" Sebastian for recommending him to the team. Yes, Professor Michaelis recommended Ciel to the team, and Ciel had to thank him. But was it truly necessary to create a whole shojo scene? Ciel runs into Sebastian's arms like two lovers seeing each other after being apart for a long time, the way he so genuinely smiles, and lightly blushes. Also, the shojo bubbles all around them. Yana intended to make them canon from the very start. Those two students walking past them must've thought these two had a romantic affair going on.

The way Sebastian so tenderly and lovingly looked at Ciel here, with genuine affection. This was not acted. This was truly romantic. And also, he carried him bridal style all across the field, while letting Ciel rest his head on his shoulder. I screamed a little during this scene.

Sebastian, again, looked at Ciel with the most tender eyes. And then, he made his pastries. He truly was showing his romantic side a little too much in this arc, huh. Pastry-making and acts of service are his love language. Even Ciel is impressed at Sebastian's efficiency, but Sebastian only wants to see a smile on his master's face <3

The last and most cathartic Sebaciel moment of all, is when Sebastian absolutely loses it over thinking that Undertaker might steal Ciel away from him. Just the thought of it, he was losing it. He even imagined Ciel being stolen by the Undertaker like his damsel in distress, surrounded by rose petals. And then he admits to Ciel, that the thought of him getting stolen away is just something that he cannot afford. He cannot even afford to fathom it. He has gone completely and obsessively feral over Ciel, to the point of delirium.

And that concludes this little blog, I hope these Sebaciel moments made your day :) Bonus:

The Season 4 ED, although not part of the school arc by itself, it is part of the fourth season. I will never grow tired of it. It is just so romantically beautiful.

[moodyhaaze]

❛ when you run into your ex… ❜ pt2 — younger bros

synopsis. it’s been years since you’ve seen your ex. but on an excursion to your hometown in the human world with your boy, you run into them…

tags. headcanon | slightly NSFW | gn!mc

< part 1 - older bros | part 3 - dateables >

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚

— 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐍

I think would be pretty stoic about it because he knows you’re his. Doesn’t feel the need to even spare a glance at your ex… Until they do something stupid like approach you and place a hand on your arm. Then Satan is stood between the two of you telling them to fuck off. He gets pretty mad pretty quickly, saying things like “Touch them again and you’re dead!” while his horns begin to peak through his hair. It takes all of your strength and persuasive abilities to convince Satan to leave with you, but you’re finally able to get out of there with no bloodshed. Once you’re home Satan drags you to his room, pressing you against his bookshelves smothering you with kisses. “I won’t let them touch you again. Only I’m allowed to touch you. Tell me, tell me only I’m allowed to touch you…” Proceeds to plow you until you’re numb and can only think of him.

— 𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐎

just laughs. He keeps looking them up and down and can’t help but laugh. “This—” he says, pointing his finger at them, “This is your ex? Look at them, absolutely horrendous!” Asmo’s really playing it up, though, only because he’s actually incredibly pissed and doesn’t want to show it. He knows it’s a waste of time to get into an altercation because there’s better things to do with his time, but the longer he looks at them, the angrier he gets. “I can’t believe they had their filthy hands all over my precious darling. How disgusting,” He mumbles through gritted teeth. It’s rare to see Asmo worked up like this, but it’s oh so hot when he is. But to spare the bloodshed, you grab his hand and pull him the opposite direction. The look on his face is still pretty serious as you’re walking away, so you ask him if he’s okay. “Oh, of course I’m fine!” At least it seems he’s back to his normal bubbly self, “But I want us to stop by the shops and pick out a new lipstick for me. I want the prettiest shade we can find! Because tonight I’m going to be marking what’s mine.” His last few words spill with a certain venom that make a heat grow between your thighs. Asmo’s not letting you out of his sight today.

— 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐋

couldn’t care less. Honestly. He is yours and you are is, he knows this and that’s enough for him. I think the only problem that could arise is if your ex tried to touch you. Then, all hell breaks loose. Other than that, he’s chill, though he really doesn’t want you talking to them nor does he want to. Beel won’t admit this, but what bothers him the most is the thought of somebody else having previously been intimate with you. But that just means he needs to make sure you never want to be with anyone else ever again. “Babe, I’m hungry,” Beel says, grabbing hold of your hand and pulling you the opposite direction the two of you were walking. You insist on continuing the way you were already headed, mentioning the countless restaurants and food stands on the way. “No, I said I’m hungry.” Get ready to have your legs shaking and mind go numb for the next few hours.

— 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐄

is possessive and isn’t afraid to show it. He’s too tired for theatrics like some of his brothers, so he keeps his hatred a little more low key. Like Beel, Belphie knows that you two belong together, so he has no fear of a past lover coming to sweep you away. So instead of wasting time with a brawl, an argument, or a grand show, Belphie simply grabs your arm and tugs you away as he shoots a deathly glare at your ex. You explain to him that it was rude to abruptly rip you away from your conversation, but Belphie shoots back, “So what? Why waste your time with them? We’re going home.” You try to argue but Belphie simply ignores you and continues to drag you back to the House. Once inside, your brought to the attic and guided towards the bed where Belphie barely gives you enough time to kick your shoes off before throwing himself over you for an impromptu nap. You shout at him to at least let you get comfortable, but he instead nuzzles into you, his arms snaked around your shoulders possessively. “You’re mine. You don’t get to waste our time together on your ex. We’re staying here in bed until I feel like you understand.” You figured that was the end of it, until you felt something hard against your thigh.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚

© moodyhaaze | 07•10•23 — do not repost, modify, plagiarize, or translate my writings. likes + reblogs appreciated.

cross posted to ao3.

[jinxxangel13]

Phantom of the Night

Chapter 2

This will be a 141/female oc, with possible variations down the line depending on the route I take with a pairing.

Thank you everyone for being so patient with me! This story has been a struggle for me to get going because I have so many ideas in within the plot but had no idea where to begin. A close friend recommended some ideas, and I think it's finally starting to come together.

[To help with the setup of kit's office, I spent a few hours throwing ideas around before I settled on this layout, but don't worry about the measurements!]

Hope you enjoy!

~Masterlist~ -Prev- -Next-

The first few days went by with no problem as Kit made herself scarce anywhere except in the medical bay, where she reorganized the whole wing to best suit how she works. Throughout the time spent setting up, she helped with the minor injuries from training missions on and off base, which helped to keep her fairly occupied.

Her new office was fairly large, bigger than she thought she'd need but it would come in handy for all of the tasks she’d taken over. Two bullet proof glass windows stood at the back of the room behind her desk, the glass starting at the middle of the wall and allowing natural light to brighten the room during the day. Her desk was an L-shape in a deep mahogany color, 2 monitors next to each other, and a multitude of files across the side of it. There were a few filing cabinets in the back corner of the room, nearest the desk to hold any extra medical files that hadn't made it to archive before Kit got on base, but she would get to it eventually. The only other things in the room were a few empty bookshelves on the right wall with a single coffee maker, a small coffee table next to the door with a couch against the same wall, and a minifridge with a double sink next to it. 

Everything was falling into place how she liked it, and it was coming along nicely.

It was a little bit after midnight on Kit’s 5th day at the new base and she was just finishing moving her files and papers around her desk when she heard a knock on her door.

“Come in.” Kit called out, not even looking up as she continued her filing, rearranging her new teams’ files to a separate smaller drawer that she locked just as her office door opened.

She heard heavy footsteps walk into the room, and upon not hearing the door click shut, Kit looked up to see none other than Captain John Price.

“How can I help you, Captain?” Kit straightened up her posture instinctually, fixing her lab coat to not be as bunched and wrinkled as it was previously.

Price tilted his head slightly as he looked around the room, letting the door softly click shut behind him.

“Just comin’ to see how you’re settlin’ in the new office. It looks nice.”

Kit smiled at the man, crossing the room to the coffee maker on the bookshelf and picking up two mugs.

“Thank you, sir. It’s a process, but I enjoy it.” She handed him a mug, not adding anything into either of them before going back to her desk. “Fresh pot, by the way.”

He thanked her before sitting in the chair across from her desk.

“Did you need something, Price? I’d have thought you’d be in bed by now with how late it is.”

He chuckled, the gruff sound causing Kit to give him a gentle smile.

“No, don’t need anything, kid. Just been a while since I’ve seen you, Vera.”

Bright silver eyes clashed with knowing blue ones, conversation being passed between the pair without a word being uttered. Kit sighed as she looked back down to her coffee mug.

“I know. I’m sorry about that, John. Been busy for Laswell for the past few years, you know how it is with her.” Kit shrugged as she looked back up to Price. “You look good, John.”

“You too, Vera. It’s good to see you again. Glad Laswell finally took me up on gettin’ you on the task force, been beggin’ her for a few years now” John set his now empty mug down on the desk in front of him.

She let out a soft laugh, placing her mug down and crossing her hands on top of her desk.

“Why did you ask for me? Out of everyone you’ve met, why me?”

Kit was genuinely confused on her transfer. She had been content being a solo operator for Laswell for the past few years, working without a team most times unless being lent to a task force or other Military group. This was the first time since meeting Laswell that she had been signed on for a permanent spot on a task force.

“Cause we need ya’ here with us. The missions we’ve been workin’ on lately are your expertise, Vera. I need your help.”

“But why sign me on? You know just as well as I do that this is new for all of us; me on a force, and you with a field medic.” Kit tightened her grip on her own hands before relaxing them.

“Look, Kit. We’ve worked together many times, and I like to think we work well together. I trust you to do this job, and I trust you with my team. Why would I get someone else when you’re here?” Price had leaned forward, elbows on his knees to try to get her to understand.

“What am I even doing here? The only thing I know of is that you tracked down General Ghorbani a couple months back and got rid of him.”

Price sighed, running his hands over his face.

“Which is why I need your help. One of his men took up the mantle. Majar Hassan Zyani.”

Kit’s silver eyes widened before she closed them, rubbing her temples roughly.

“Shit.”

Price hummed in retaliation.

“Shit indeed. We gotta find ‘em.”

She sighed, leaning back in her chair and covering her face with her hands.

“This isn’t going to be easy, but I’ll do what I can. Got any updates on his whereabouts?”

John Price handed a manilla folder to her, one she didn’t even realize he had in his hand-probably from lack of sleep.

She took the folder and started flipping through it, her mind automatically running through the words and translating the multiple languages across the pages. The details weren’t great, but it looked like Laswell was able to track his movements over the past few weeks.

“For old time’s sake, isn’t it, John?”

“Al Mazrah.”

The two of them make eye contact; furrowed brows, stressed frowns and exhausted expressions mirrored one another. This was not going to be easy. It was going to be rough, strenuous, and most likely traumatizing, but that’s what was expected from the job. 

“When do we start?”

Price’s eyes snapped to her, a smile working its way on his face as Kit tried to lighten the mood.

“Come on. Laswell is waiting for us in debrief.” He stood up, holding his arm out to her.

Kit laughs, shutting down both computer monitors and grabbing the file before joining him at the door. She took a hold of his left elbow with her hand after locking her office door behind them, and allowing him to lead her to Station Chief Kate Laswell’s office a few buildings away.

The two of them caught up on some minor details since the last time they had seen each other a few years back: new countries visited, favorite foods in said places, and a few hobbies picked up in their time off. Before long, though, the pair stopped in front of the same meeting room that Kit was introduced to the team in.

Price knocked on the door, waiting for the familiar voice to call back before he entered the room, Kit in tow with him to shut the door.

“Glad to see you both. I’m not going to sugarcoat this; it’s not looking good.” Was the only thing Laswell said before the three of them started going through piles of papers stacked across the oval table.

[sebastianswallows]

A new family — Chapter 2

— PAIRING: dark!Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

— SYNOPSIS: Ominis gets tired of his family and how miserable life is with them after he graduates. So he follows Sebastian's example for once, and kills them in cold blood. Now that he has the mansion to himself, he discovers he would still like to have a family, but one of his own making.

— WARNINGS: none, just Omi being sneaky

— WORDCOUNT: 2k

— TAGLIST: @littletealight @skarathewitch

“This is a pretty impressive place…”

“Is it? I never noticed.”

“You’re just being facetious now.”

“I assure you, I’m not.”

When she arrived at the mansion via floo, Ominis was there to greet her. The fireplace in the living room was large enough for her to stand in. The elves carried her suitcase upstairs while Ominis served her mint lemonade to clear her throat after the powdery journey. Then, he led her on a tour of the place.

He could tell from her tone of voice that she liked it. This was probably on the grander side of things compared to what she was used to. It was curious, walking ahead of her and hearing the subtle ways her voice changed when she looked up or behind her as he described each room, gawking, he imagined, in a bit of wonder.

Gaunt manor was not the greatest wizarding residence by far, ranking far below what the Blacks and Malfoys owned. The family was past its golden years and in this generation had fallen, befittingly, to silver, thanks to his father’s unwise spending and his mother’s rash investment choices. Marvolo, the celebrated son, was even worse at managing expenses than their parents were.

Ominis didn’t use to care. It could all turn to dust as far as he was concerned. But now that he was on course to being the sole inheritor (once he resolved the Marvolo issue), he found himself being a bit more interested.

So it soothed him somewhat to hear his friend so impressed with the estate.

“You can stay however long you wish, you know,” he smiled, turning his head toward her as he led her up the stairs.

“What about your parents?” she asked.

“Oh, they’ve been gone for over a week already. If they were going to return, I’m sure they would have by now.”

“Don’t you think you should go looking for them?”

“No,” he said coolly. “Why?”

“Right… I forgot how you felt about them.”

“It’s not about how I felt about them,” he pressed, stopping at the top of the stairs. “It’s how they were.”

“Or how they are?”

He paused, privately embarrased by how he almost gave himself away. Did Sebastian ever slip up like this?

“Well, right now they are not here, so it’s irrelevant.” Before she could read too much into his words, he changed his tone and smiled. “Come, I’ll show you to your bedroom.”

There were many rooms to choose from, but he gave her a suite right next to his, on the eastern side of the house. It caught the first light in the morning and was quite dark at night, perfect for a restful stay. What he didn’t mention was that there was a little door blended into the wallpaper that connected her room to his.

“The elves must’ve brought your luggage here by now.”

“They have,” she said with a bright smile as she walked around the room. “But, Ominis, you know I could make do with a little cupboard to live in…”

“Nonsense,” he grinned. “You’re my guest, and I want you to feel welcome. Now, make yourself comfortable and afterwards I’ll show you the grounds outside. We can have lunch there too.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll be in the living room.”

The ticking of the grandfather clock mounted above the fireplace filled the silence while he waited for her. He’d already told the elves to prepare a lunch for two at the large table on the veranda near the rose garden, and had given them a plan for the whole next week filled with the dishes he knew she liked. Every meal, every sweet, even the drinks, all were chosen from her favourites. The bookshelves in the reading room as well were stocked with her favourite books, and as he picked them, he’d taken the liberty to bring out some of his father’s hidden studies on dark magic.

It was a subject he had long avoided, although over the years it became impossible to escape the teachings of his parents, especially those that were enforced on him. He’d tried to forget all the curses, the jinxes and hexes they’d taught him, and now he strove to remember them.

Something had always felt wasted about his childhood, and he used to think that was because of how unhappy he was around his family — and what a tragedy that was all on its own, to not feel safe at home, among his only flesh and blood — but now Ominis began to think it was because of his repressions. He’d rejected dark magic because they liked it, he willed himself to be the opposite of his tormentors, and fashioned himself into someone who was a stranger to them… but also to himself.

How many opportunities had he missed out on by forcing himself into a wilful mental construction, a fake persona, an act of escapism? How many adventures, how much fun, how much exploration of the magic and the literature that existed, even in the small world of his childhood, had he kicked away from himself out of fear? He had been — and still felt himself as being — so concerned with the notion of regret, of mistakes, of needless trouble, that he had forgotten to live. Now, he found himself with no life at all.

“That’s about to change,” he said to himself as he waited quietly in the armchair for his friend to come down the stairs. “It might feel like it’s too late, but it isn’t. It’s never too late.”

“What isn’t too late?” she asked breathlessly as she stepped into the living room.

“Lunch,” he smiled, getting up from the armchair with a spring in his step. “With me, outside.”

“The room is lovely, by the way. Thank you,” she said as she came closer. “I’m ready now”

Ominis closed the distance and took her hand, hearing a little gasp escape her. “This way.”

He led her out through another door, opposite to the main entrance, into a hallway that opened to a pair of glass doors. Ominis could feel the sunlight streaming on his face as they approached and passed through it out onto the grounds. This was the back of the house, with a little maze of hedges and a fountain with a statue of a serpent in the middle.

“That over there is supposed to be a basilisk,” he said. “By the sound of it, it’s turned on.”

“Turned on?”

“It’s streaming water from its mouth, is it not?”

“Oh,” she giggled. “Yes, it is.”

A smile curved Ominis’ lips, and he held her hand tighter.

He didn’t even need the wand to show him the way, he knew it by heart. Going around, he walked with her to the front, where the gravel turned to a neat cobblestone path.

“You can see the forest far to the right,” he said without turning. “Where my parents disappeared.”

“What is in those woods?” she asked quietly.

“Old oaks and beech trees. And a few wild animals too. Foxes, deer, wolves, and boars mostly…”

“Do you think that’s what happened to them?”

“Possibly. They’re just as likely to have tripped on an overgrown tree root as to have been mauled by a boar,” he shrugged.

She knew how he felt about his parents, and most importantly knew why. Every summer was a reminder, when her letters never reached him and she spent the months wondering how he was. She had come to fear his parents almost as much as he did.

It gave some comfort now to Ominis that he didn’t have to hide his indifference toward their deaths, even if it was for a reason she did not yet suspect. So he walked forward with her hand in his and showed her around the other side of the mansion.

“This is where the greenhouse is,” he said, pointing vaguely ahead. “It is connected to the house.”

“It looks lovely!”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he chuckled. “We grow some poisonous plants there, so be wary. But it is otherwise a comfortable spot, especially in winter. Makes for good reading.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she grinned. “Although I’m not sure I will still be here come winter.”

“We’ll see about that,” he smirked, his face turning toward her slightly. “Now, we come to the best part.”

A bit toward the right from where they started, behind a certain angle of the house, was a little flower garden enclosed by stout green shrubs. A few fruit trees grew there too, apples and cherries heavy with fruit. Songbirds rested in their branches. But what dominated the field were waves and waves of white roses.

“Oh, Ominis,” she said with wonder. “It’s so beautiful.”

They slowed their pacing as they approached, and he took the time to feel her hand in his. It was warm, and soft, and his began to sweat, but he could not let go.

The rose garden was not as well tended as it should have been. His parents didn’t think it a priority. It was a wild and thorny growth, coiled and dangerous, but Ominis was still fond of it. It was mostly tended to by the elves, and primarily at his instruction.

“Careful you don’t get pricked,” he said, squeezing her hand as they got closer.

“Don’t worry,” he heard her grin. “I’ve been through worse than a flower garden.”

“Not a Gaunt one, I’m sure,” he smirked.

“You’re not that scary, Omi,” she said fondly, turning toward him. The scent of roses surrounded them now.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm…”

“How long do you plan to stay?” he suddenly asked.

They stopped in front of a large rose bush and she let go of his hand so that she could touch them, smell them, feel their velvety petals.

“Not very long,” she said. “I wouldn’t like to impose.”

“It’s no imposition,” said Ominis, stepping closer. “On the contrary… I want you here.”

“Really?” she asked innocently, turning toward him. “What for?”

“For company?” he offered. “For companionship? For…”

“You miss Hogwarts, don’t you?” she grinned.

“I miss you.”

She said nothing, and for a moment the breath froze in his lungs. He had said too much… But then, her fingers curled around his own again and she held his cold hand in hers.

“I’ve missed you too,” she said closely. The intimacy of it made him flush.

“I… I’m glad to hear that,” he grinned.

“Are you?”

Holding her hand, he stepped closer. “Stay longer,” said Ominis. He could feel her breath fan on his neck. “Stay the whole summer, and even longer than that.”

“Why?” she asked quietly.

“I never want to miss you again.”

“Ominis…”

“I know it’s a bit unexpected coming from me. I was always a bit of a cold fish, wasn’t I?”

“No…”

“Not hot-blooded like Sebastian, right?”

“No, that’s not —”

“I’m all alone in this house,” he said. “But I don’t regret that my family disappeared. I don’t expect they’ll appear again, and if they do you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

“I know,” she said. “I trust you.”

“But I don’t want to live here alone. If I want to spend my days with anyone, it’s with you.”

“I… I don’t know…”

“You don’t have to say anything now. I just told you so that you know where I stand.”

She said nothing. Although he couldn’t see her face, he could feel her hand getting damp in his grasp, could feel the hints of nervous trembling and excitement. It said more than her face or her words ever could.

“And if you change your mind at any point… If Sebastian ever writes back,” he said with a light smirk, “then you are free to leave. And, of course, to return.”

He knew what she was thinking. Sebastian would only get in touch with her when he wanted something — that’s what he always did. And by leaving the door open for her to return, Ominis already placed into her mind the inevitability that, should Sebastian show interest in her again, it would not be long-lived…

His fingers squeezed her hand.

“Let’s go have lunch,” he smiled, pulling her with him toward the veranda.

She followed with a light step and a tight, warm grip.

[queen--of--shadows]

Healing Shadows: Part 1

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader is a gifted surgical healer and water bender. Rhysand needs her help when he finds out about Feyre’s risky pregnancy. Azriel finds out reader is his mate. 

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,317

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

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Part 1: Hopeless

It was a frigid, cold winter day in Velaris. Growing up in the beautiful town of night and stars, you were accustomed to the changing seasons but hated winter the most. As you stood in the back of the clinic, warming your hands by the fireplace, you heard the front door swing open; the bells hung on the back of the door knocking against each other violently. “Madja, please, I need your help,” a deep, rich voice echoed throughout the clinic. A voice you had never heard before, but laced with concern and panic, you couldn’t help but creep behind one of the bookshelves and pretend to stay busy as you eavesdropped on the conversation.

“She won’t be able to pass him naturally. I’ve spent every single day over the past few weeks trying to find a solution, but I can’t find a way out of this. Please, Madja. I need something. I need some kind of hope or some answer. There has to be some option.” Grabbing a few books to reshelve, you turned a corner, and your knees almost buckled on themselves.

Standing at the front of the clinic with his hands on Madja’s shoulders was none other than Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court. You immediately recognized his blazing purple eyes, the power thrumming from him and into your very bones. You weren’t one to be easily intimidated, so you kept your focus on the books in your hands and began reshelving. Madja looked over her shoulder, trying to get your attention, but you ignored her. She knew you didn’t like people knowing about your powers, even if it was the High Lord. “I’m sorry, Rhys. I am out of ideas and don’t know what else to do. Y/N and I will do some more research tonight, but I can’t promise anything. We’ve already looked through all our books, but we will look once more. I will try my best, but the High Lady needs you now more than ever; please, go attend to her, and we will try to figure something out.” Rhysand held his stare but finally nodded, disappointment and sadness apparent in those beautiful violet eyes. He stalked out of the clinic, and Madja quickly locked the door behind him.

“What was that all about?” you asked, trying to sound as uninterested and nonchalant as possible, like it was anyone other than the High Lord who just blasted through the front door.

“The High Lady is pregnant. She was in her Illyrian form when her child was formed, and I went to see her a few weeks ago to check on the child. He has wings.”

You didn’t need more information to determine how dangerous the High Lady’s pregnancy was.

“I know you don’t want anyone to know about your gift, but you saw how distraught Rhysand was. I’ve been taking care of him and his brothers for centuries. It would mean a lot to me if you would just consider helping him and Feyre. They would be eternally grateful.” Madja’s words hung in the silent air, and her pleading gaze meant she wanted an answer sooner rather than later.

“I’ll think about it tonight. I can’t promise anything, but… he did seem really worried. I can’t imagine what he must be going through. I’ll have an answer for you by the morning.”

Madja left, and you stayed back to finish cleaning up. Again the front door swung wide open. You jumped and let out a scream, shaken out of your thoughts of the High Lord and Lady. Turning around with the broom in your hand, you took a defensive stance, only to face Rhysand. His raven black hair was ruffled, wings spread out, and violet eyes burning into your own. Neither of you said anything for a few seconds, so you decided to break the silence.

“I was just--” he started. “Madja isn’t here; she left a while ago,” you sputtered out at the same time as him.

Rhys walked over to you, keeping a few paces in between the both of you. “My apologies. I’m Rhysand,” he said, offering a gentle smile and his hand.

“Lord Rhysand, I’m Y/N.”

“Please, call me Rhys. Are you a friend of Madja’s? I’ve never seen you around before.” Appreciating his calm demeanor, you replied, “Yes, I’ve known of Madja for quite some time. I was born and raised in Velaris, actually. I’ve been interested in healing and her knowledge of medicine, so I started as an apprentice here last summer and have been working with her since then. I overheard your conversation earlier; I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Is the High Lady doing alright?”

His smile quickly vanished, replaced with a frown and furrowed brows. “Feyre is…I’m scared.” The concern and fear in his eyes returned. “She doesn’t know, but she won’t be able to pass the baby naturally with its wings. Madja says there’s nothing she can do for her. Shifting into her Illyrian form is too risky, and Madja doesn’t know how to cut into her belly without risking either of their lives. I’m hopeless,” he finished, unknowingly pacing around the room. Madja’s request from earlier still rang in your ears. You had said that you would have an answer for her by the morning, but Rhysand’s words tore at your heart. You didn’t want anyone to know about your surgical knowledge or healing powers, but you empathized with his feeling of helplessness.

Half human and half fae, you had spent years studying in the human realms before even approaching Madja, learning about surgical techniques and spending countless hours operating on cadavers that people had offered once they passed. You were forever grateful for their sacrifice long after they were gone; without them, you wouldn’t have mastered the skills you were now equipped with. You had never performed an actual surgery, let alone on a fae. Another reason you didn’t want Madja telling people of your skills-- you weren’t confident enough yet to go through with them. “Is everything alright, Y/N?” Rhys’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Yes, sorry. Everything is okay; I think maybe more than okay.” A grin slowly etched your face, and Rhys’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I want to be honest, but I don’t want to get your hopes up, Rhys. Nobody knows this except Madja, so I would appreciate your discretion. I studied surgical techniques for years in the human realms. My mother was human and passed away years ago after an accident. She needed a surgeon, but there were none easily accessible to us. After she passed, I promised to learn as much as I could. I’ve worked on cadavers before and am very familiar with pregnant females, but I’ve never performed surgery before, and I’m not 100% confident in my abilities. If you and Feyre want to take the chance, I would be more than willing to perform Feyre’s surgery. I know this is a big decision and not something to take lightly, but Madja told me there are not many options. Please take all the time you need and talk it over with her.”

A tear slipped out of Rhys’s eyes, and he rushed over to grab your shoulders, just like he had with Madja. “Thank you, Y/N. Thank you for trusting me with this information. Let me talk to Feyre and see what she says. I’ll stop by tomorrow morning to let you know, but I think this will be our best bet. Thank you.”  

Rhys rushed out of the clinic. You didn’t realize how tightly you had been gripping the broom this entire time, and your jaw was clenched so tight that an ache seared through your teeth. What did I just get myself into, you thought to yourself as you locked the clinic door behind you and walked back home.

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[kodaiki]

꒰ 4:46 P.M. ꒱ ❛ bokuto kotaro x reader ༉‧₊˚✧

it’d been twenty minutes since bokuto had noticed you walk into the library. the library was not a place he frequented often but with the results from his last exam and the verbal harassment from kuroo to go, he found himself sitting at one of those one-person seat/desks.

but then you walked in.

was he even studying anyway? closing his textbook, he slides it into his backpack before slinging the bag over his shoulder.

he probably shouldn’t be acting this creepy, especially at the fact that he doesn’t know you. well, he recognizes you from his literature course (it’s a core course he has to take in order to graduate) and it’d be a lie if he said he didn’t think you were the most gorgeous person he laid eyes on.

finding you settled in a spot between bookshelves, currently fiddling through the books on one of them, he finds his chance. lightly clearing his throat, bokuto walks by you and situates himself in a spot so he’s just next to you, only facing the opposite bookcase. 

bokuto hopes he’s appearing nonchalant as he cups his chin with his palm, occasionally humming at he skims the wide collection of books. yup, totally nonchalant.

while to you, he’s hoping he looks like he’s deep in thought, pondering over a book to read, he’s really gathering his thoughts about the best way to approach you without sounding weird. he knows you’re the best in his class. it’s clear as day by the way from just a row behind you, he can see the giant red ‘A’ on all your papers. you participate in class regularly and everything that seems to escape your lips is thoughtful in some way regarding whatever topic you’re discussing.

you’re way out his league.

but it doesn’t hurt to try and woo you with his social skills.

“ehm, do you need…help?” a voice behind him brings him out of his thoughts and he quickly whips his head around at the sound.

by his presence, your journey to search for whatever book seemed to have ended. feeling his cheeks flush under your gaze, he profusely shakes his head.

“no! er, no,” he lower his voice when he realizes he might’ve spoke too loudly, “i just love reading and i’m looking for my next…read…”

bokuto’s voice falls nearing the end of his sentence at the way your face twists into…confusion? amusement? he can’t tell.

“uh-huh,” you nod along with what he’s saying, taking a peek over his shoulder at the ‘collection’ he was looking at.

“i’ve actually read most of these,” he boasts, but the blush on his cheeks fails to subside. 

“…really.” your voice is lowering more and more with each statement of his and he thinks you catch his bluff.

“really! this…perso-author,” blindly, he reaches behind him for a random book. skipping past the title, he reads out the author’s name, “E. L. James? One of my favorites.”

that about does it for you.

the stoic expression on your face breaks as does your voice as laughs erupt out of your mouth.

bokuto’s…confused, to say the least.

what…what’s going on?

“please, i hope you’re not serious,” you gasp between laughs, wiping a stray tear from the corner of your eye. 

slumping forward in defeat, bokuto frowns. how’d you find out so quickly? did he choose an awful writer?

“i thought it was weird enough seeing a guy looking at ‘erotic romance novel’ shelf in the library but calling the author of 50 Shades your favorite? i knew it had to be some sort of prank.”

“oh,” bokuto says blankly, looking down at the book where the title was typed. ah, now he gets it. “it wasn’t a prank,” he murmurs.

at your confused head tilt, he continues, “i just wanted to impress you since i know you’re into reading.”

he’s expecting you to get freaked out and excuse yourself and probably never frequent that library again (bo, there’s one library on campus, what’re you talking about?). but to his surprise, you grin.

“wait, you’re that guy from my lit class! you compared hamlet to the lion king!”

to be fair, akaashi helped bokuto out with that assignment so whatever words he spewed out of his mouth were half of akaashi’s knowledge and half of bokuto’s bullshit. he didn’t even get a very good grade. but the C+ on his paper after seeing the way you smile at him about it looks like a golden A right about now.

“yeah…that was me.”

“you’re explanation could’ve had some work but i really enjoyed it. maybe over coffee, we can talk about it?”

oh.

OH!

“yes!” he just about exclaims, gripping onto your shoulders. “i mean,” he quickly lets go, rubbing a hand behind his neck, “sure, i guess i could go for some coffee.”

as bokuto leaves the library with you on the way to the coffee shop, he can’t help but thank the professor who gave him a D on his last exam and kuroo who wouldn’t stop bothering about studying. but above all, he thanks E.L. James for making it all possible.

✿ reblogs and interaction always appreciated !! ✿

[fallinforerling]

have you met before? | chapter 2 - eh

ೃ⁀➷ erling's masterlist 

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A couple of days passed by, and you found yourself missing Alfie’s presence in the early hours of the shift. His bad jokes or anecdotes were entertaining to listen to while you gave the shop the last touches for the rest of the day; now that you didnʼt have them, you were really bored. 

Well, at least you had Thomas to keep you company, but even he got sick and couldn’t make it to the shop these past few days. 

So here you are, all alone, with only the books to keep you company. 

You were restocking the bookshelves, thinking hard and deep about which books you’d “borrow” to take home. It was a silly game that you had with yourself since it was obvious that you were keeping them to yourself. None of the previously “borrowed” books made it back to the shop. Just as you were about to take the few ones you liked, the doorbell rang.

You turned with a smile on your lips, ready to welcome the new customer, when you saw the most tall, blonde, and intimidating man you’d ever seen in your life. He looked back at you with a small grin, unsure of what to do next while you kept staring at him, surprised by his physique. 

Stop, you’re being rude. 

“Welcome! May I help you?” You said, recovering from his presence. You walked behind the counter, dropping the books on a nearby stool while feeling nervous all of the sudden. 

The only thing that came to mind as you tilted your head to look at him was that he was really tall.

“Do you have cream cheese croissants, by any chance?” His voice, although deep, was very soothing. His accent reminded you of a Nordic country. It reminded you of Alfie. 

“I do! Freshly baked, may I add.” You pointed to the section where the croissants were. “I just got them out the oven like… twenty minutes ago.” 

“That’s bloody amazing. I’ll take two, please.” You smiled when he kind of cursed, but his whole attitude was so relaxed that you didn’t mind. It seemed like he didn’t even realize what he said. “Oh, and a cappuccino if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Please! Sit while I make that coffee for you.” You couldn’t help but shoot him a tiny glance as you intentionally picked the best croissants for him. He was also really cute. “Anything else?” 

“Uhm, cookies?” He said it like a question, making you giggle when he noticed it as well. “I mean, yeah, cookies. Do you have butter cookies?” 

“Good choice! They’re the most popular around here. Those are actually still in the oven… If you don’t mind waiting a bit for them.”

“I’ll wait as long as you want. Don’t worry about that.” 

And he’s nice as well? Damn, what a catch. 

“Great! Let me make that cappuccino.” Why were you feeling nervous? He was just another customer. 

A really cute, tall, handsome, blonde, customer that won’t stop looking at you, but that’s all. 

“Are you new in town?” He asked all of the sudden, surprising you a bit as you put the cup down in front of him. 

“I am, yeah.” You smiled when your eyes met, his lips already in a half-smile. “It’s been kinda difficult, but I really like Manchester. It helps that I have my little shop to keep me occupied.” 

“It’s not easy to come from a foreign country, but hey, I actually love Manchester too. It’s a bit boring when I don’t have anything to do in my free time, but it is what it is.” He took the cup, giving it a sip before resuming his chat. “Do you have friends?”

“No, no I don’t.” That was something you were really shy about. But again, you weren’t a very out-going person. “It’s very difficult to make friends, especially since I’m always in the shop.” 

He was about to answer when the alarm for the cookies rang inside the kitchen, startling you both. 

“I should get that. The cookies are on their way.” 

“Sure, take your time.” 

And you did. You took various trays full of different cookies, but even after you put them on new ones to take out and restock, you stood there, red-faced and timid about the absolute cutie that was sitting there, drinking his coffee and making small talk with you. Was he flirting or just being nice? It might be the latter, but you couldn’t help to smile at the possibility of him being a bit interested in you. 

You should stop reading so many romance books. It was rotting your brain. 

“Focus…” You whispered, taking the tray of butter cookies first before going back outside. “Here they are!” You carefully put it on the counter, showing him the contents. “How many did you want?” 

“Can I have ten?” His eyes didn’t leave your face, even when you moved around to find a bag. When you were just finishing the packaging, he stood up. “Can I also have your number with that order?” 

“My… number?” Ohmygodohmygodohmygod????

“It’s okay if you don’t want to…” He blushed a bit, and then you knew you’d regret not giving this man your number. 

“I’ll give it to you if you promise to show me around Manchester.” 

“Sounds like a deal.” 

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“Oh, my dear! And he asked for your number right away? He must be really enchanted by you. But again, who wouldn’t be? You’re a very gorgeous young lady.” Thomas was laughing as loudly as he could, enjoying a little bit too much the story of how Erling (and yes, you knew his name) asked for your number a couple of days ago. 

You were very embarrassed about the fact that the only person who was trustworthy enough to know your business was your regular customer, Thomas, who was also a sixty year old man, but you didn’t actually mind. He always gave incredible advice. 

“Yeah— We’ve been texting back and forth for a few days. I’m nervous every time I open the shop. I feel like he’s going to appear out of nowhere.” You took a deep breath, washing another cup in the sink while Thomas sat on the counter. “Do you think it’s dumb?” 

“Feeling anxious? Of course not, angel. And why on earth hasn’t he asked you out yet? Or even visited you?” You refused to laugh at his annoyed expression. 

“He’s been working a lot…” 

“Oh, yeah? And what does that lad do anyway?” 

“I dunno… He mentioned something sport related but I’m not really sure about what his role is.” You signed. “What am I gonna do, Tom? What if he’s a douche?” 

“Well, if he…” His advice was cut off by the doorbell. You both looked up, the conversation dying instantly at the sight of Erling standing there, like a few days ago, seeming unsure but with the same sweet smile that you liked from the first moment you saw him. “Fucking hell…” Thomas whispered, taking you away from the daydreaming. 

“Erling!” You fixed your hair out of habit. You felt your hands shaking just a bit as he approached both of you. 

“Hey… Sorry I didn’t stop by earlier in the week; I was a bit busy.” His voice was as soothing as you remembered. Lovely. 

You opened your mouth to reply, but Thomas’ laugh made it impossible. 

“The hell you were! Fucking shit, it’s a pleasure to see you, lad.” He tapped Erling’s shoulder with a heavy hand, looking from him to you like he couldn’t believe his own eyes. “Bloody hell, darling. When were you going to mention that you know Erling fucking Haaland?” 

“W-what?” You couldn’t hide your confusion, even if you tried to. Did Thomas knew Erling? Was his last name Haaland? Why did that ring a bell?

“Uh, nice to meet you too, mate. How’s everything going?” Even though Erling’s eyes showed surprise at Thomas’ obvious recognition, he played it cool. He accepted the old man’s hand and shook it with the strength and confidence of someone who is used to it. 

“This is unbelievable, really.” Thomas looked starstruck. Who was this guy?

“Well, I didn’t know you two knew each other?” It wasn’t actually a statement. You were asking. 

“Not at all. But I sure know this lad’s skills. Fucking beast on the pitch.” Thomas shook his head one more time before getting up from the stool. “I might be back in twenty. Are you going to still be around by then?”

“Of course, sir.” Erling’s tone was as calm as it gets. When Thomas got out of the shop, he turned to face you again, his eyes seeming to say a silent apology for whatever that was. “Happens from time to time.”

“What? Getting recognized by strangers?” You jokingly said, unsure of what to expect next. “Are you… famous or something like that?”

Erling shrugged, taking a seat on Thomas’ previous stool.

“You could say that. It’s what comes with my job.”

“Which is…?” You couldn’t handle the suspense.

“Football player.” He smiled, apparently used to dropping that bomb on people. “But I’m glad you didn’t know that.”

“Woah.” You smiled back, slightly shocked by the fact that the cute guy who asked for your number was an actual celebrity whose existence you had no idea of. “Kinda explains why you’re so fit.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you wanted to die. “I mean, you know, so muscular? Not that I really got my attention on that particular aspect, but... I should shut up.”

He looked at you like you were the most amusing person to ever walk on Earth, and then he laughed so hard you started to giggle from how contagious it was.

“No worries. I don’t mind you noticing those things about me.” He leaned a bit on the counter. “I was actually coming to see if you wanted to have dinner tonight?”

Oh. Oh, wow. It’s really happening. 

“Of course I do.” The smile you gave him almost broke your face in half. “What time?”

“Eight?” 

“Sounds like a deal.”

“Sounds like a date.” Oh. 

“A date it is.” 

And just as you were about to say something dumb for how much stuff was going on inside your head, the doorbell rang again, and Thomas was back.

“Got time to sign an old man’s jersey?”

You both laughed at the sight of him out of breath, holding two football shirts with a tight grip. 

“I sure do.” Erling stretched his hand to him, and Thomas gave him the t-shirts with such enthusiasm that your heart melted a bit. 

He was a fan.

“Thank you for doing this.” You whispered when he leaned again on the counter, taking the sharpie you gave him and carefully signing the shirts. 

“It’s not a problem.” 

Wasn’t he sweet? 

You had to restrain yourself from sighing like a schoolgirl with her first crush as he gave the shirts back to Thomas, chatting a little while before leaving, not before giving you a kiss on the cheek that made you a bit weak on the knees.

“So?” Oh, Thomas. You big old gossip. 

“I have a date tonight.”

You wouldn't have thought it was possible for a man like Thomas to scream that high, but he did, and you didn’t stop laughing for at least twenty minutes.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ * ERLING’S TAGLIST

@questionable-behaviour | @koufaxx | @xjval | @nikki01234 | @evarasworld | @kynykyny | @alleyahah | @444pantheress | @football4life9 | @f1lover55 | @frankcastleonlyfans | @ironmaiden1313 | @pizzapie349

[adore-laur]

FAÇADE

— a lustful enemies to lovers au set in the 1880’s 📖

I

Blair Lancaster unabashedly loathes Mr. Styles. 

He always licks his slender index finger before flipping the weathered pages of a romance novel. She internally sympathizes with whoever is doomed to take home the book that had been in his filthy grasp. 

He loudly clears his throat in the hushed space of the library far too often for her liking. She is beginning to wonder if he caught the fatal consumption disease and has a secret scheme to spread it across the city. 

He viciously studies her and the other women like a predatory bird hunting its unguarded prey. She compares his calloused hands to the talons of a hawk and his blatant staring to their beady little eyes. 

Perhaps Blair does not entirely loathe him. The feeling is more akin to a deep-rooted dislike for the man who supervises the alcove filled with women crammed around a small, oval table. No seats are provided, leaving them to stand on their aching feet for an unsuitable number of hours. 

At the public library in Boston, New York, women are strictly required to segregate themselves from the men by sitting in the alcove if they wish to read books or write letters. Reading, however, proves rather bland when they are all given books about how a lady should properly act or ones that revoltingly mock their intellect. 

Yet there is a more covert reason why they are confined to the alcove. 

Library loafers is the coined term. Women have only recently been allowed access to the library, and there is a concern that they may be in danger from the men who lurk and loiter around the bookshelves and desks, leering at young ladies who just want the freedom of absorbing printed imagination. 

The hickory walls are decorated with paintings of foreground femininity, yet the intended purpose is a façade. 

See, the nook is still visible to other sections of the library. It resembles a shadowbox for the male gaze or a stage of sorts so they can observe the moral spectacle of well-behaved women. That is why Blair Lancaster detests the man sitting on his chair, more like a throne, flicking through pages of a far more exciting story than the one she holds. Mr. Styles is the one who polices their behavior, making sure no one is stepping out of line or provocatively reading something they are not supposed to. 

Well, Blair enjoys pushing that limit every once in a while out of sheer apathy. 

Whenever the book she reads starts to bore her to death, she ponders ways to aggravate him. In the past, she sighed dramatically after turning each page for ten whole minutes until he had to snap his fingers, warning her to stop. She has also pretended to fall asleep with her head on the table, purposely reaching her arm out to knock the book onto the floor with a loud thump, resulting in him huffing and picking it up for her. In one instance, she purposely gave herself a paper cut and dripped blood onto the first page of the book she was given so it would have to be thrown out. She could tell by the look on Mr. Styles' face that he knew she had only done it to be a pain in the neck. 

Today, she decides to clear her throat every time he does. Only four other women are in the room, and Blair knows they like it when she breaks the quietness to bring entertainment to the dull atmosphere. 

"Enough," Mr. Styles commands after her third act of mimicry. 

She smirks and continues reading the same sentence repeatedly until she becomes bored. After a few minutes pass, he clears his throat again, and she does the same. 

"Ms. Lancaster, may I have a word with you?" 

Blair subtly rolls her eyes. She hates it when he treats her like a schoolgirl in detention, lecturing and speaking down to her as if she is inferior. 

"What is it, Mr. Styles?" she asks as she walks over to him, feigning innocence to pester him even more. 

He stares at her intensely. "Do you fancy being expelled from this library?" 

"I think there is something in my throat," she says with a dramatic pout. "The book I was given is quite dusty." 

He hums monotonously. "I must say, that was a terrible fib. I expected a better excuse from you." 

Blair's lips twitch as she fixes the collar of her dress. "I do not fib, Mr. Styles. Allergies are dreadful this time of year, have you not heard? Or maybe you and I have caught…” She leans forward to theatrically whisper, “The consumption disease." 

"Your hands fidget when you lie." With an unimpressed look, he jerks his chin toward the table. "Behave. Otherwise, you will be kicked out." 

The conversation, if it could even be called that, dies quickly as Blair returns to her spot. Her remaining time in the alcove causes drooping eyes and raw, bitten nails. There is nothing she could possibly do to make time pass any faster, so she watches the grandfather clock until it chimes when the small hand ticks to the number twelve. Blair promised her father she would be home for lunchtime, so she sets the book she only read two pages of in the wooden bin, then gives Mr. Styles an icy glare before leaving the library. 

On her stroll home, she reminisces about every encounter with him today. Every facial expression and unspoken word that was told with each glimpse. She buries the invasive thoughts that dangerously cross the streets of her mind. However, at dusk, he creeps in her brain's crevices like noxious venom. When her satin curtains are drawn, and the burning sun says its farewell, Blair cannot help but think about him after she blows out the candles beside her bed. 

His eyes of marjoram green that cast her discreet glances only she noticed. She wonders if she will ever get close enough to find specks of gold in them or if they crinkle when he laughs, lighting up with radiance that has never been revealed to her. There is a chance they soften when he reads a particularly romantic line in a novel, perhaps of a private touch or confession of love. 

His long fingers that flip through the worn pages of said novels. Blair wonders how they would feel slowly trailing along her arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake, or how they would feel in her mouth, the pad of his thumb erotically settled between her teeth. There is a possibility they would stretch inside another part of her body so deeply that her entire soul would ache with pleasure. 

His pink lips that pout and glisten in the sunlight filtered through the clerestory windows of the library. She wonders how they would form around certain words or if they feel as soft as they look, pillowy and sweet if she were to taste them. She will not taste them, but it is nice to dream about the flawless physicality of a man such as himself. 

Mr. Styles may be unbearable and shrouded with arrogance, but that does not dismiss his obvious allure. He is nothing but a pretty face that haunts her at nightfall, hung high in the gallery of her mind like the moon in the starlit sky. 

He is a complicated façade. 

                                                II 

A spring thunderstorm has blown over the newspaper stands and matted down Blair's curls as she traverses up the slippery brick steps of the library again. Violent rain hits the cobblestone streets, which are filled with umbrellas over heads and coats over the less fortunate as they all maneuver to the closest shelter. 

Blair has forgone any protection from the storm, so she passes through the familiar threshold with a saturated dress and dripping strands of blonde hair that appear a shade darker due to their wetted state. As she looks around, she finds the library completely barren of townsfolk except for a stout man who bustles up to her and huffs a displeased breath when he sees the puddle of rainwater forming by her feet. She hopes he overlooks the trail of muddy footprints she left behind. 

"Good evening, Ms. Lancaster," he greets with a formal cap tip. "The unfortunate weather has sprung a leak in the alcove ceiling, so you will be relocated to the main room for the day." 

Blair nods, attempting to hide the eager smile that threatens to pull at her freckled cheeks. It will be alleviating to not have to tolerate being confined in a stodgy room with Mr. Styles. She prays she will have the whole room to herself so she can conceive a plan to sneakily grab a horror fiction book while the thunder rumbles outside. 

She follows the man who, if she remembers correctly, is the chimney sweeper usually found by the stone fireplace, soot dusting his forehead and coughing up a storm stronger than the one currently shaking the bookshelves. Speaking of which, the first thing Blair notices when she enters the candlelit room is that the bookshelves are all locked up with hexagonal metal cages. The flickering flames dance off them menacingly.

She furrows her eyebrows when the man's presence is no longer felt beside her. Then, she feels someone else's burning gaze. A sudden flash of lightning conducts her attention to the other side of the room, and simmering rage immediately courses through her veins. 

Mr. Styles is sitting on the windowsill with his legs crossed over one another. His jeweled fingers delicately hold a book as relentless rain pelts the windowpane behind him. He wears a silk shirt with small, puffed sleeves the color of ballet slippers—or perhaps the shade of the blush that spreads across his cheeks when Blair catches his not-so-subtle glance at her pebbled nipples under her soaked dress. 

Blair's first step toward him creates an echoing creak on the wooden floor. "What business do you have being here?" she asks bitterly. 

He smirks before licking his index finger and flipping the page of his book. "Have you forgotten that this is my place of work?" 

She swallows down disgust. "I would rather sit in the alcove and let the leakage slowly drown me than be here with you." 

He looks up amusedly, running his eyes across her figure. "From how you look like a sopping mess, it seems as though you already have." 

"A bit preposterous coming from a man with puffy princess sleeves." 

A hummed and humorless laugh sounds from his closed lips. A cup of tea is steaming on a porcelain saucer next to his thighs. The sight of the brown liquid coats her throat with warmth. 

Blair is quiet as she treads closer and walks her fingers along the top of the leather couch. The popping and hissing of the nearby fireplace fill the dead silence, its blazes of orange releasing glowing embers that beautifully fizzle out on the kindling. 

"I presumed you would be the only one here today," Mr. Styles mentions after an elongated and intimidating pause. 

Blair stands next to the fire, hoping it dries her dripping dress. "Yes, well, a thunderstorm is quintessential weather for reading. Is it not?" 

"I will not argue with you there." He stands, replacing his book with the saucer. "This tea is for you. I figured since you will be stuck with me in this room, I shall attempt to make it as pleasant as possible." 

She narrows her eyes suspiciously. "You made tea for me?" 

His throat bobs. "Walking here in the rain is the quickest way to become ill, Ms. Lancaster. You should know better." 

"Is it poisoned?" 

The click of Mr. Styles' boots becomes muffled once he steps on the oriental rug she stands on. "No. I am not as cynical as you make me out to be in your head." 

She pushes her wet bangs away from her forehead. "Do you know what is cynical?" 

"Divertis-moi, ange de la pluie."

Blair ignores his French, which she does not understand. She has heard him use the language countless times before if any immigrant women are misbehaving in the alcove. His fluency and intelligence spark envy, but she will never admit it to his face.

"It is cynical that I come here every day and do not have the freedom to read what I desire," she says firmly. "Some days, I do not want to read in my dreary bedroom, so I seek serenity in a library that does not even respect me. How cruel, yet I still come here for a view other than my pathetic lawn!"

All Mr. Styles does is clear his throat while setting the tea down on the fireplace mantel. Blair wants to pour the scalding liquid down the back of his neck. 

"What am I supposed to read if all the books I yearn for are locked away?" she adds defeatedly. 

He twists his rings and bobs his head to a red book on the couch. "I was instructed to provide The Scarlet Letter." 

Blair examines the chipped spine and faded cover. "I have not read that one yet."

"Veiled misogyny is what fills the pages. I find Hawthorne to be glorified as an author to a ridiculous degree." 

"How promising," she mutters. "I suppose it is better than reading about everything I should do for my dutiful husband when he returns from war." 

Mr. Styles looks at the floor and scrunches his nose before asking, "You have heard of Jane Austen, yes?" 

"What?" Blair blurts confusedly. "Of course, I have. No one captures blooming romance quite like her." 

"And did you see anyone else in the library when you arrived?" he questions further while taking a step closer. 

"N-no," she stutters, scanning the empty room. "Only the chimney sweeper." 

"Then follow me." 

In the blink of an eye, Mr. Styles is halfway up the spiral staircase in the corner that leads to a place Blair has never been allowed to discover. She carefully grabs the tea and a stray candelabra, then catches up to his long strides. Eventually, she is led to the top and down a dark, narrow aisle where books upon books line the walls. Some are even stacked high on the floor. 

Mr. Styles takes a silver key from his trouser pocket and unlocks a shelf on the left. He briefly peeks at her. "It will be our little secret, hmm?"

Blair marvels at the various romance and gothic titles that reveal themselves when she raises the flame. Wuthering Heights, Little Women, and Vanity Fair appear to have been gracefully worn over time and through use. 

"I was once told by the owner that there was nothing important up here," she tells him as her fingertips trace the spine of Persuasion. "I never quite believed him." 

Mr. Styles stands behind her. She can feel his steady breaths on her neck. "I apologize on behalf of him. He is not a charming man, that one." 

Clark Bennett is his name. A tall, middle-aged rich man who set the misogynistic rules in place. She sees him roam past the alcove on rare occasions, silently inspecting the women through his monocle. Never one to initiate conversation, yet always the one to give disapproving glances. It angers Blair how someone could be so despicable. The other women are too afraid to speak out about the abhorrent environment he has created. 

So, Blair turns around and looks at the man she despises but is the only one who seems to care about what she has to say. 

"Mr. Styles," she begins, lifting the candelabra to light his face, "I feel unbearably suffocated in a place meant for comfort. As a woman, I cannot even read in this library without arbitrary rules that bring me unfathomable misery and rage. Having to sit and read sentences with no emotional attachment to me is torturous. Surely, I do not sound ludicrous."

"You can call me Harry," he responds. 

She scoffs at his blatant disregard. "Did you listen to a word I said?" 

He nods. "Yes, Blair. I realize this world hinders your ability to prosper as a woman, but I cannot change the rules. I do not have the authority, so please accept my offer of letting you read something other than shameful, discriminatory novels. Is that all right with you?" 

She takes a sip of the herbal tea, now lukewarm, before saying, "Is this a trick to get me in trouble? I will not be fooled, Mr. Styles." 

"Harry," he corrects. "And no, I am not a scoundrel. There is no reason for me to con you." 

"There are plenty of reasons. Money and praise can make a man do evil things." 

"Do you take me for a man who would do evil things?" 

"Yes." She takes another sip. "I take every man for a schmuck. You are no exception." 

He leans his head against the bookshelf and smiles handsomely. "A schmuck?" he repeats humorously.

"A cretin," she continues, enjoying herself very much. "A muttonhead. Personally, I like to call men ratbags." 

Harry's eyes crinkle when he lets out a loud cackle. So they do crinkle. What a sight to behold! 

Blair blows a strand of hair out of her eye. "This is not a laughing matter." 

"Oh, but it is." He pushes his body off the shelf and towers over her. "You fascinate me with your unwavering temerity." 

"Is that why you stare at me in the alcove so often?" she daringly inquires. "Because I fascinate you?" 

Harry inhales slowly and deeply. In French, he says, "I stare at you because of your ethereal beauty. I cannot help but count the freckles on your cheeks or watch your eyelashes flutter as you flip through the pages of those terrible books. Does this answer your question, beloved blue eyes?"

Blair blinks twice, shaking her head. "You are speaking nonsense to me. I do not know any French." 

"I spoke the truth. That is all you need to know." 

She sets the tea and candelabra on the floor before smoothing her dress. "Anyway, I would very much like to read Jane Austen. There is only so much time in the day, yes?" 

"Of course," he whispers. "You seem particularly interested in Persuasion." 

"Is it good? I have not gotten around to reading it yet." 

Harry takes the book and offers it to her. "You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope," he quotes from memory. "That alone should convince you." 

Blair absentmindedly nods, becoming distracted by the gold necklace he wears. The pendant is a cross symbol, one relating to Christ. Her curiosity grows as it glimmers from the quivering candle flame beside her feet. 

She lays the cross on her open palm and asks, "Are you religious?" 

His sloped nose almost touches hers from close proximity. "Moderately. I sin, but I see no redemption in asking for forgiveness. I suppose you can interpret my level of religion however you may." 

She stares at his lips a second too long before meeting his eyes. "What sins do you commit?" 

He covers her hand with his own. Blair feels his calloused thumb brush over her knuckle. "My sins are sensuellement privé." 

"What does that mean?" 

"It means they are done in private, curious girl." 

Her skin grows warm. "Very well, then. I will not ask further questions." 

He removes his hand and locks the shelf as Blair picks up her tea and sets it on the flat surface of her new book. He clears his throat, but it does not bother her as much this time. 

"Let us read, shall we?" 

                                              III

The field of jasmine flowers is in full bloom, as is the month of May. 

Budding dogwood trees sway under the cloudy sky as Blair walks to her favorite open patch of land to sit against the tree trunk and read a book like she does every Friday afternoon. The bottom of her white dress skims the dirt path weaving throughout the flourishing meadow. Her lace parasol shields the top of her head in case the sun peeks out. 

She has been coming to the serene area for months, sometimes needing an escape from the four walls of her bedroom. She can bring the books she has received on her birthdays. Although she prefers to read in the library, she is slightly more fond of nature's quiet atmosphere. 

Once she arrives at her signature spot, where the line of dogwood trees provides the perfect amount of coverage over the jasmine bushes, she stops when she sees someone already there. 

Her blood boils. Mr. Styles, now known as Harry, is sitting against the gnarled trunk of her favorite tree with his ankles casually crossed while he reads from the book in his lap. He wears a ruffled, cream-colored blouse with a black vest over the silk fabric, and his matching flared trousers are provocatively tight against his muscular legs. 

His eyes shoot up from his book when a twig snaps underneath her feet. He then raises it to block his face, and Blair almost laughs at the childish action. She is seething with rage because how dare he invade the only place she can get much-needed peace and quiet? 

"What are you doing here?" she interrogates, a slight growl in the back of her throat. 

"Reading," Harry replies flatly, still not showing his face. 

"Yes, but why here? This is my spot." 

"I usually only come here on Wednesdays when I do not work, but I was told my help was not needed at the library today. So, here I am." 

Blair grinds her teeth. "Can you go elsewhere?" 

He sets his book down and glances behind each of his shoulders. "Did I miss a sign on my way here that said: Blair Lancaster's Designated Reading Spot?" 

She gives up arguing and sits against the prickly bush across from him. She is thankful he is not talkative, so finishing her book in his presence should not be a problem. 

After a few minutes of unpleasant silence, she feels his gaze on her, but when she looks up, his eyes dart back to the pages before him. She subtly tries to read the title, but his attractively large hand envelops the front. 

"The Portrait of a Lady," Harry murmurs as he noisily turns a page. 

Blair quirks an eyebrow. "Pardon me?" 

"The book in my hands," he says, finally showing her the cover. "It is the new novel written by Henry James." 

"I did not ask." 

He exhales a laugh through his nose. "Well, you keep looking at the cover, so I thought it would be gentlemanly to save you from straining your eyes so much. Getting cataracts at a young age would be no fun." 

Blair brushes off his sarcasm and opens her own book. Harry immediately leans forward and snatches it straight from her loose grip. 

"Give me that back!" she exclaims, her mouth parted in shock. 

He lifts it above his head and opens it. "What does the brash Blair Lancaster read when she is not provided chauvinist books in the alcove?" 

She stands and puts her hand on her hips. "That is nothing of concern to you." 

"Venus in Furs," he reads from the spine with a drawl and growing smirk. "This is quite an erotic choice, chérie." 

Her cheeks redden as he flips through the pages filled with risqué words of desire and submission. "Give me my book back, or I will scream until the flowers wilt." 

Harry ignores her as he dramatically reads, "And every man — I know this very well — as soon as he falls in love becomes weak, pliable, ridiculous. He puts himself into the woman's hands, kneels down before her. The only man whom I could love permanently would be he before whom I should have to kneel."

Blair takes the opportunity to yank her book from him while he is distracted by his immature ways. "I truly pity your wife and children for having to live with your irritating nature," she says exasperatedly. 

"I do not have a wife nor children, so you are wasting your time pitying the foolish illusion you have created in your head." 

"Well," she says with a bitter laugh, "it is no surprise that you are not married. I think I would burn myself alive if I had to share a life with you." 

"For someone who speaks so ignoble of me, you think about what it would be like to be around me quite often," he responds smugly. 

"You are an insufferable man, that is all." 

"Menteuse."

Blair draws her lips back in a snarl. "It is a terrible shame you have a handsome face that is nothing but a façade for who you actually are." 

Harry slowly stands and shoves his hands in his pockets. "And who am I, Blair?" 

She exhales and looks up at the wispy sky. "A lonely man who sits in the alcove and makes sure the women there are miserable. A boring man who does nothing but be a nuisance to everyone around him." 

Harry steps forward and jerks his chin up like he's desperate for a challenge. "Go on." 

"I detest you." She leans in close so he hears every word. "Every dratted thing you do or say gets under my skin." 

He quickly glances at her mouth. "Do you use such foul language around your mother, Ms. Lancaster?" 

She clenches her jaw and turns around, beginning to walk down the path she came from. "You make me furious!" 

His footsteps in the weeds get closer, so she speeds up. Even the sound of his boots stomping on the plush grass aggravates her. The way he can never let her have the last word, or how his eyes tell a different story than what comes out of his pretty mouth, will be the death of her. 

Blair thinks she is far enough away from him, but suddenly, two large hands clasp onto her hips and stop her in her tracks. Her book falls to the ground, and she is left breathless. 

"If I make you furious," Harry murmurs deeply in her ear, "then you make me a fucking madman." 

His chest is pressed against her back as they inhale and exhale heavily, butterflies flying around the flowers and hidden cicadas chirping in the meadow. 

"You test my patience, and I pretend it provokes me," he continues, flexing his hands. "It does the opposite, Blair. It makes me lust for you." 

She lets Harry's confession seep into her skin like pleasurable poison. "I... you are reprehensible. I cannot stand it when you tell such insolent lies." 

He presses his nose into her neck. "You render me weak. I think about you until I ache." 

Blair swallows roughly when his damp lips trail along her pulse point. "Every word that leaves your mouth is concocted to debilitate me." 

"Your blue eyes are an ocean I would gladly drown in." 

Her knees almost give out, but she persists. "I will stuff my book down your throat if you do not stop blathering." 

"You would like that, I reckon."

"Jesus wept, I hate you!" she shouts as she releases herself from his spell and continues walking. 

He grips her wrist and spins her around. "Look at me when you say you hate me." 

"I hate" — Blair points her finger at his chest — "you." 

Harry takes three of her fingers and brings them up to her bottom lip. "These," he whispers, eyes locked onto her mouth. "I could write endless poetry about them." 

"Stop it this instant." 

He moves one of her fingers to trace the freckles dotting the apples of her cheeks. "The most marvelous constellations should be envious of these." 

Her eyes soften, much to her distaste. "Please," she says, not knowing how she intends the word to come across. 

"Tell me what you want, mon rêve céleste." 

"I want you to shut your mouth." 

His knuckles brush her collarbone. "Do you? Or do you want me to use my mouth for something else?" 

Blair steps away from him. "How dare you assume that!" 

"Quit looking at my lips, then." 

"I am not! Quit analyzing me!" 

"Your cheeks are pink. Why is that?" 

She feels like fire is encompassing her. "Because..."

Harry bends down slightly to be at eye level with her. "Look at me, Blair." 

Her walls crumble at that moment when she sees nothing but lustful hunger in his eyes. She gives in because if she goes down, let it be in a blaze of flaming desire. She cannot bear the thought of not touching him at least once in her lifetime, as much as she hates to admit the fact. 

Blair unclasps the button by her cleavage, never breaking eye contact with him as his posture straightens and his prurient gaze gradually lowers. She maneuvers the dress over and down her shoulders, letting the loose garment pool at her feet. Harry drops to his knees before her, pulling down her chemise and gently removing her ivory-colored slippers. 

"Lie down," he commands gruffly.

She obeys, the budding flowers surrounding her naked body as her blonde hair fans out on the grass. 

Harry spreads her legs open and places his forearms next to them. "How do you need me, Blair?"

"Your fingers," she responds. "Please. I need them inside of me." 

He tuts mockingly. "Not even a minute ago, you were telling me I was reprehensible, but now you beg like a whore." 

She should slap him for his degrading language, but it only fuels her internal fire. Her hips desperately lift to meet his knuckle running along her inner thigh, and he moves it up even further until it reaches the coarse hair growing around her pelvis. She is already dripping with arousal. His fingers are so close to where she needs them most.

"Harry," she says breathlessly, her body writhing when his mouth brushes her clit. "God, just touch me. I beg of you." 

"Say my name like that again, and I will do whatever you ask of me, darling." 

"Harry," she moans while arching her back. 

His fingers finally stretch her open, two knuckles deep in her pulsating walls, creating a burning sensation throughout her body. She had dreamed about how deep they would go, curling and thrusting to bring her inconceivable pleasure. It feels better than she imagined, and she sees stars as his thumb applies pressure to her clit. 

"Blair." Harry uses his free hand to grasp her jaw. She opens her eyes and gets lost in his fervent gaze. "Who else has touched you? Hmm? Tell me." 

He hits a particularly deep spot that has her whining like a pleading idiot. "M-many others, however, they all left me empty and unsatisfied." 

"Did they make you wet?" He presses his warm hand against her lower stomach. "Did they leave you with a lingering ache right here?" 

"No, but do you know why?" she responds, the pressure of his hand unraveling the knot of her forthcoming orgasm. 

"Tell me all your secrets, flower." 

"They never used their mouths," she admits. Harry looks up with impure eyes and runs his tongue over his bottom lip. "Fingers can only provide so much pleasure, but a pair of pink lips like yours could make me fall apart completely." 

"Is that right?" he breathes out. 

She bites her lip with a blissful smile. "There is only one way to find out, yes?" 

"I suppose so." 

He takes his fingers out and spreads her thighs further open, her arousal sticking to her sweaty skin. The second his tongue licks a long stripe from her opening to her clit, Blair cries out for all the birds and bugs to hear. He laps up her wetness like sweet syrup on a delectable dessert. He kisses and nips in all the right places like he has known her body for ages, latching and sucking her most sensitive areas until she is clenching around nothing. Low, guttural groans and whimpers leave him when she grants him a raspy moan and hooks her legs around his body. 

"I need— I have to release, Harry. It aches." 

He hovers over her and rubs slow circles onto her lower stomach. "Let me see your eyes while you fall apart from underneath me." 

Blair looks at him as his words push her off the edge. She releases, her body trembling and twitching from the strength of it. Harry sits back on his knees, untying the frilly bow from his blouse and using it to clean the remaining arousal around her inner thighs. After that, Blair stands on shaky legs, panting with tingling skin as Harry grabs her chemise and dress and helps her put them on. 

"Do you still hate me?" he whispers in her ear, clasping her buttons gently. Blair can hear the smug smile in his voice. 

"Maybe a bit less than yesterday." 

His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. "What if I did this?" She is taken aback when he kisses her deeply, holding the sides of her neck and making her stumble a bit from the forceful passion. "Blair?" he says as he pulls away. "How do you feel now?" 

"I dislike you." Another kiss, one that sends heat spreading across her entire body as butterflies go wild in her stomach. She pulls away this time and tries not to show how fond she is of him. "All right, I tolerate you." 

One more long kiss, ending in several pecks until she lets a smile take over her flushed face. "Je changerai d'avis un jour." (I will change your mind one day.)

Blair groans. "Will you ever tell me what you are saying?" 

"No need." His thumb strokes her cheekbone. "I can always teach you." 

"Pardon?"

"At the library," Harry elaborates softly. "I give French lessons every Monday in the study room. There should be some time slots open if that is of any interest to you." 

She contemplates briefly before saying, "I think it would be an adequate way to spend my day rather than in the alcove." 

Harry whistles and looks around incredulously. "Is Blair Lancaster admitting she would not mind spending time with me? Am I dreaming? Have I lost my bloody mind in this meadow?" 

"Enough," she mutters. Her protest ends in a squeal when Harry slightly nips at her neck. "Stop it! That tickles!" 

He grins like a fool and bends down to pluck a jasmine flower from the cluster surrounding her feet. He then grabs Venus in Furs and flips through it for a minute until he stops at a specific page toward the end. Blair watches him lay the flower horizontally, the thin stem acting as an underline for a quote. 

~ 

You have corrupted my imagination

and inflamed my blood.

~

[dailyunstableeve]

I'm here

Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

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TW: Angst, mention of mental illnesses, self-harms, self sabotaging, feeling hopeless, Eating disorder, some ptsd mention, blood, sharp object, some swearings, a few use of Y/N because I love how Hobie addressed name to mean he cares about you, huge amount of self destruct

A/n: I tried to write this based on my experience of my mental health, I always fight it through the episodes myself so I thought why not stay delulu and write one that would make me feel I'm strong when I needed comfort, with fictional characters. This is for comfort purposes ❤️

Words: 1.2k

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It's another messy night for you, you trapped yourself in your dark messy room. Clothes are all over the floor, your books shatter around your bookshelves, your make-up table is filled with many different sizes of bottles, you can't tell which one is make-up and which one is your meds. You're all curled up in your bed, tears rolling down your face with a blade that you've hid very well that no one found it, in your hand. No one has ever found the blade, you hid it in a place that no one would look at, the small space in your bed frame, not even Hobie.

Today is a fucked up day, you were bullied in school, you have many friends but none really stood up for you because they are also friends with the bullies. The bullies were your friends too, they used to be so kind and caring until a bitch joined and made everyone turn against you because you're an easy target.

You've returned home, finding out your parents are out for holidays, they can't bring you along because you have school.

You tried to dial Hobie first but he isn't picking up, and here you are, on your bed, crying with the blade in your hand. The more you cry, the more disappointed you are to yourself so you slided the blade on your arm, the more you're mad at yourself the more you cut. Your bed sheet is also a mess now, a whole puddle of blood stained on the bed. If anyone walked in and you weren't holding the blade, they might just think your period stained it.

Your arm starts to have the chills of burning, it hurts but it feels good at the same time, as if the pain in your heart is transferred to your arms, it eases the pain.

An hour passes, you stop crying but you start to feel light-headed, your vision is turning more blurry as it should be. You forgot that you haven't eaten a meal at all for the past 15 hours ever since you woke up, all you did was drink water, hoping that just by drinking it will stop the growling but it only makes you more hungry but you don't care. Together with your blood continuing to drip out from your wound arm, you might just die of blood loss.

"Oi, what the fuck you're doing?" Hearing the tone of speaking, you know it's Hobie but you already lost the strength to do anything at the moment.

"Answer me!" The first thing Hobie did was to take the blade away from you, he cupped his hand on your face, trying to take a better look at you, you look so drained.

Hobie tried to carry you but then his hand ran through your wet bed sheet that's stained with blood.

"You can't be serious," he grabbed your arm, you tried to pull back but what strength do you still have? "Why did you do this?" He called your name, demanding an answer from you while he tried to press on the wound to stop the bleeding.

"Goddammit Y/N," Hobie's voice cracked a little. He's close to just bursting into tears because it breaks his heart to see you like this.

A lifeless purpose body.

It's also the first time you've seen Hobie like this. You didn't mean to hurt him, didn't mean for him to see you like this. You thought Hobie won't appear because he didn't answer your calls so you sabotage yourself.

"I'm sorry," you were finally able to have the words fall out your mouth, the moment you did, you started to cry, tears rolling down your cheeks again.

Let's say it's the love you have for Hobie, that you don't want to see him getting worried and sad about you so you decided to speak again, and try to make him not to worry about it even though you know he will end up worrying.

"Shh, it's alright luv, I'm here now," Hobie quickly hugged you, caressingly your hair to calm you down.

Now that there's someone you truly love is here with you, you feel safe, that you just let out all of your tears. You gripped on his jacket so hard as your tears wetted his shirt and Hobie didn't even complain about it.

"I got you luv, you're safe now," Hobie whispered.

After you've stopped crying, Hobie carried you to the bathroom and washed up your cuts and gave you his freshly washed clothes. At first he was just planning to have a normal sleepover because he knows your parents won't be home for a few days, maybe two weeks, so he wanted to make sure you're alright and he also promised your parents to look after you. Forgot to mention Hobie is the favorite child in this household after you.

"Feeling better?" Hobie passed you a glass of cold water, since you love any drink that's cold.

You took the drink from Hobie and slowly nodded while you looked at your bandaged arms, how long would it take for it to color red again?

"Y/N" Hobie squaded down in front of you, turning your attention to him fully instead of your arm, "I love you, you got it?"

You nodded, you never questioned Hobie's love for you.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Hobie held your hand, kissing on it.

"It's them, they turned everyone on me, no one talks to me at all, everywhere I got was nothing but judgy eyes," you cried.

You would scream at yourself to stop being a crybaby but the person you love and feel safe around is in front of you, you wouldn't want to hold in your true feelings.

"Want me to pick you tomorrow?" Hobie looked at you, with the eyes that just demanded you to say yes because you can't deny him and you know it would be great for you.

"Sure, but what if the teachers saw you?" You softly chuckled because whenever Hobie shows up at your school to pick you up, there will be some teachers chasing Hobie away from the school and he would have to wait for you at other places.

"Don't worry about it, because you're going to show them off that you have a cool boyfriend and I would show them my grumpy face so they will back off from you," Hobie starts to make funny faces and you laugh along with it, "a smile suit you more, luv."

"Thank you, Hobie."

With Hobie around, he surely made you feel that you belong.

Hobie definitely cleans up your room and changes your bed sheet while he pushes you to take a shower, he makes sure that you feel refreshed and happy the moment you step out from your shower.

Just like he promised, he did show up at your school's gate, this time he didn't get chased away by the teachers, instead the teachers just stood a few feets from him, eyeing on him but Hobie just doesn't care. Hobie waved his hand up high the moment he saw you, he would respect you if you weren't used to show affection in public so the first thing Hobie does is take your heavy bag from you and held your hand because he craves your touch (cuz his love language is physical touch)

When he saw your bullies, he would just give them a smug smile with a threading look, which scares your bullies.

"Thank you, Hobie."

"Anything for my cute luv," with a kiss on your face.

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A/n: stay delulu everyone ❤️ I'm just gonna say again, this is written based on my experience and of course I went through all of it myself with my maladaptive daydreaming except for me the bullying only stop when the truth of the bullies are out then I was out from the schools bullies list. To everyone who's also struggling with bullies, stay safe, find someone who you know will help you no matter what happened, even some adult doesn't care about it, but some still do, it's alright to ask for help ❤️ I may be not the best help you can get but I hope you find some comfort from this and take a good care of yourself, you deserve the world, not the world deserve you ❤️

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