#Set Of Book Holders For Library

[buckyseternaldoll]

Every Inch, Every Corner

—based on this ask by @iamthatonefangirl ❤️‍🔥

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: New apartment. Three bedrooms. One goal: christen every inch of it. You thought Bucky bought this place for comfort. He had other intentions.

Disclaimer: 18+ (mdni!), explicit smut content, p in v, masturbation, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, edging, creampie, exhibitionism/voyeuristic risk, soft dom!Bucky, praise kink, mild dirty talk, domestic setting, emotional sex, Alpine the cat, idk what else?

Author's Note: I hope I did justice with what Bri requested. Comments, likes, reblogs are always much appreciated! 💜

It was nearly noon by the time the last of the movers left, their heavy boots thudding down the hallway and fading into silence. You stood in the middle of your new apartment—three bedrooms, three bathrooms, a real kitchen you could twirl in, and a living room so spacious you could finally host friends without having someone sit on your laundry basket.

The entire place was a mess of half-labeled boxes, suitcases with open zippers, a rolled-up rug leaning against the hallway wall, and a fresh pile of discarded tape and bubble wrap. But it was yours. Yours and Bucky’s.

“I’m thinking… sofa right here,” you said, stepping toward the living room, bare feet brushing over the cool hardwood floor. “With that emerald velvet cover I showed you—remember? And maybe a gold standing lamp in the corner to match the kitchen handles. Not too shiny, but enough to make it pop.”

Bucky leaned against the wall just a few steps behind you, arms crossed, tight blue shirt stretched deliciously over his chest. He wasn’t really listening—not to your decor ideas, anyway. Not when you were wearing that little pink tank top that clung to your chest with no bra underneath, the softest curve of your nipples visible through the fabric. And those black biker shorts? They hugged your ass like a second skin. He had a hard time deciding if you were giving him a tour or a tease.

“You’re really into gold accents lately,” he murmured, eyes trained shamelessly on your backside as you bent slightly to peek inside an open box labeled BOOKS & IDK STUFFS??

You straightened with a proud smile. “Classy but warm,” you replied, oblivious to the tension building behind you. “And I was thinking of calling the big bedroom ours, the medium one the library-slash-guest room, and the small one can be Alpine’s.”

As if summoned, the little white cat padded out from behind a stack of flattened cardboard, hopping gracefully onto the only unboxed chair you’d brought from the old apartment. She blinked slowly at Bucky like she knew exactly what was about to happen and wanted no part in it.

You turned again, all smiles, hands on your hips. “I can’t wait to christen the place.”

Bucky blinked. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “You know, get everything set up. Little finishing touches. Candle holders. Floating shelves. Just need a few trips to IKEA, and—why are you smiling like that?”

He didn’t answer right away. That cheeky grin spread wider across his face—the same one he wore when you caught him stashing Oreos under the bed or trying to convince Alpine to wear a tiny shield-shaped collar tag.

You followed his gaze… down.

Oh.

There was a very obvious tent in his jeans.

Your lips parted in a half-laugh, half-gasp. “Bucky.”

He shrugged, unrepentant. “When you said ‘christen the place,’ that’s not exactly what I thought you meant.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You love it,” he smirked, pushing off the wall. He closed the distance between you in just a few steps, hands ghosting over your hips before settling firmly on your waist. “Doll, you walk around here in this outfit, looking all glowy and excited like this is Christmas morning, and expect me not to pop a boner?”

You opened your mouth to respond but were interrupted when his fingers dipped down, teasing the waistband of your shorts. He didn’t pull—yet. Just teased. Just tested the way your breath hitched and your lips twitched like you were trying not to grin.

“I was gonna wait,” he whispered, his voice a little lower now, right at the shell of your ear. “But you’re making it real hard.”

“Bucky, we haven’t even unpacked.”

“You want me to wait until the couch is in place? That’s cruel,” he grinned.

You tried to stay strong, but the way his warm hands slipped around to cup your ass… the way he kissed the side of your neck so tenderly, then pulled back with a half-growl when your body arched into him?

Yeah, you were already melting.

“Fine,” you whispered, breath shaky. “But only a quick one. We have a whole apartment to—oh.”

His fingers slid beneath the waistband now, down past the stretch of your shorts, past the soft pink lace of your panties. He found your folds instantly, already slick with anticipation.

“Already soaked, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing yours. “So much for a quick one.”

You gasped as he rubbed slow, deliberate circles over your clit, the wet sounds obscene in the open space of the bare apartment. Alpine jumped off the chair with a soft mrrp, tail flicking as she trotted out of the room like she couldn’t deal with her humans being horny again.

Your hands flew to Bucky’s shoulders, gripping the thick muscle through his shirt for support. “God, your fingers—Bucky…”

He groaned at the way you whispered his name like a prayer. His metal hand held you steady at the hip while the other worked you open, one finger sliding in, then another, curling just right.

The heat built too fast. You buried your face in his neck, whining into his skin, hips rocking forward against his palm.

He pulled back just a little. “Wanna make you come with my fingers,” he rasped. “Right here. First thing we do in this place.”

You did. And you did—trembling, clutching him, jaw slack as your body tightened and released in wave after wave of sharp, burning pleasure.

Before you even came down from it, he gently pulled his fingers from you, brought them to his mouth, and sucked them clean. “Fuck, doll. That taste might be my new favorite part of the house.”

You dropped to your knees before he could even finish his sentence.

His eyes darkened instantly. “Oh, you’re gonna—fuck—”

You didn’t give him time to talk. You reached for his belt, made quick work of his fly, and tugged his jeans and boxers down enough for his cock to spring free. Already flushed, hard, leaking at the tip.

“Jesus,” he hissed as you licked a stripe up his length. “You’re killing me.”

“Good,” you muttered, then took him into your mouth—slow at first, then deeper, letting your tongue drag along the underside of his cock. His hand fisted in your hair, not pushing, just grounding himself. His breath stuttered, hips barely moving, eyes locked on yours as you looked up and moaned around him.

“Fuck—shit, sweetheart, I’m—” He tried to warn you, but you didn’t stop. You wanted it. Every twitch, every ragged breath, every drop.

He came with a groan, head falling back, his hand tightening just enough in your hair to anchor himself as he pulsed on your tongue.

When you finally pulled back, lips glistening and panting softly, he stared at you like you’d just performed a miracle.

“Okay,” you grinned breathlessly, tucking him back into his jeans. “Now that’s a proper christening.”

—

Your legs were still shaking slightly when you peeled yourself off the floor, using the edge of a nearby box to steady yourself. You hadn’t even made it an hour into moving day and already Bucky had you wrecked—with nothing but his fingers and that damn smirk.

You tried to recover. Really, you did. Tugging your tank top back down, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand like it would hide the fact you just sucked your boyfriend off in the living room of your new apartment. Alpine was nowhere in sight—probably off in a box somewhere judging you silently.

“I was saying before you got all handsy,” you muttered, voice still hoarse, “I think we can keep the island clean, but maybe hang some open shelves overhead. Keep the kitchen looking open. You can reach high stuff—tall freak.”

Bucky’s footsteps padded slowly behind you as you stepped into the kitchen. The place was bright, spacious, with pale wood floors and a long marble island in the center. You ran your hand over the smooth surface, picturing where the bar stools would go.

“Still thinking about shelving, huh?” he murmured behind you.

You didn’t even have time to turn. His hands wrapped around your waist, then slid lower, over your hips, his front pressing against your back.

“I just sucked you off,” you laughed, playfully exasperated. “Shouldn’t you be in a coma or something?”

“You’re in that little pink tank, no panties now, talking about where to put gold accents while strutting around like that—and you think I’m the problem?”

You tried to twist out of his grip, half-giggling. “Let me finish my sentence for once—”

But he cut you off with a sharp tug at your hips, bending you over the kitchen island with such ease you gasped. Your bare thighs hit the cool stone surface, and you shivered. He stepped behind you again, hands firm as he spread your legs wider.

“Bucky—”

“You said you wanted to christen the place,” he said, voice gravelly now, deep and hungry. “I’m just getting to the kitchen.”

You tried to turn, but then his hand slid between your legs—again. You were still soaked from earlier. Maybe even wetter now.

“Fuck,” he hissed, running two fingers through your slick folds. “You’re dripping, sweetheart.”

“God—just fuck me already,” you whined.

“Oh? Bossy all of a sudden.”

He didn’t need more convincing. His jeans were halfway down in seconds, boxers shoved just low enough to free his cock. He grabbed your ass with both hands, kneading, spreading, teasing you with the head of his cock—sliding it through your folds but not giving you what you needed yet.

“Bucky.”

That one-word plea did it.

He pushed in slow, and you cried out, hands scrambling for purchase on the cold marble, back arching. He was big, thick, and filled you just right—especially from this angle, deep and perfect.

“Fuck—feels so fucking good,” he groaned, already starting to move, one hand pressing down between your shoulder blades to keep you bent, the other gripping your waist tight.

Your moans bounced off the bare walls, echoing in the empty space. The slap of skin meeting skin filled the air. Bucky pounded into you hard, rougher than earlier, like he couldn’t get enough. You weren’t sure if he was trying to break the kitchen in or break you.

“Listen to how wet you are,” he grunted. “Dripping all over our brand new kitchen.”

You whimpered into your arm, half-embarrassed, half turned on beyond reason.

He leaned down, chest pressed against your back, whispering into your ear as he thrust deep. “You’re gonna think of this every time you come in here. Every time you cook something, stand right here—gonna remember how I bent you over and made you scream.”

You were already close. He knew it. He felt the way your walls fluttered around him, the way your moans climbed higher with every thrust.

Then he reached down and rubbed your clit with his vibranium fingers, just the right pressure.

That was it.

You came with a sharp cry, gripping the countertop, knees threatening to buckle. He groaned behind you, pushed in deep one final time, and came with you—filling you while muttering your name like it was the only word he knew.

—

You stayed like that for a few seconds, both of you panting, still joined, sticky and ruined against the counter. Then—

Ding-dong.

Your eyes snapped open. “Shit.”

Bucky laughed softly, pulling out with a quiet hiss, already tucking himself away. “You order lunch?”

“Maybe…” You wobbled as you tried to stand, legs still trembling. “You were busy. I got hungry.”

“Hungry, huh?” he teased, helping you straighten. “Not just for me?”

You shoved him lightly, making your way toward the door while trying to fix your hair. “Shut up and go get the food.”

By the time you’d grabbed napkins and water bottles, Bucky returned with a brown paper bag and a smug grin. “Chicken pesto sandwiches. And cookies.”

You grinned, reaching for the sandwich. “See? I knew you were good for something.”

You perched on one of the stools by the island, now finally used for its actual purpose. You’d thrown your panties back on, too lazy to reach for your shorts, but the tank still hung loose on your sticky skin. Bucky sat beside you, still in his tight shirt, hair slightly mussed.

You took one bite and groaned in delight. “God, food after sex? Everything tastes ten times better.”

Bucky hummed. “Yeah. Tastes even better when you’re sitting there all cute with my cum still inside you.”

You nearly choked on your sandwich. “James!”

He only smirked. “Just saying. You look good.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you knew that tone. Mischief.

You caught the gleam in his eye just a second too late—his vibranium hand slid over your thigh, fingers brushing between your legs. You tensed.

“Don’t.”

“Why not?” He traced over the damp lace of your panties. “You’re already wet again, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitched. “We’re eating.”

“And I’m multitasking,” he whispered, leaning closer to nibble at your earlobe.

His fingers circled slowly, deliberately. You clenched your thighs around his hand, but he was relentless—teasing your folds through the fabric, the cold metal making your whole body twitch.

“I swear to God, if I drop this sandwich—”

“You’ll still be satisfied.”

—

You couldn’t focus after lunch. Not really.

Your legs still felt a little unsteady, thighs sore in the best way, and every time you tried to sit still, you felt the soft pulse of oversensitivity between your legs—courtesy of your boyfriend’s vibranium fingers and very distracting cock.

So you wandered. You peeked into the second bedroom while Bucky cleaned up the wrappers. This one already had a bed frame dragged in, your slightly worn daybed from the old apartment sitting in the middle of the room under the window. The room was bare, boxes scattered around labeled LINENS and GUEST STUFFS, but the late afternoon sun made it glow.

You sat down with a soft huff, fingers tracing the stitching of the mattress. “Maybe this could be the reading room. Get one of those old-school lamps. A rug. Big bookshelf right here.”

Bucky leaned against the doorframe behind you, drying his hands with a paper towel. “Mm. Reading room, huh?”

You nodded. “Or an office.”

He tilted his head. “Or…”

You arched a brow.

He stepped closer, slow and calm, like a man on a mission. “Could be the place I sit down and watch you ride me for a while.”

You tried to fight your smile. Failed. “Oh, so now you’re christening the guest room too?”

“I said I’d break in every inch of this place,” he murmured, voice softer now as he came to stand between your legs. “Not my fault you brought in a perfectly good excuse to sit down.”

His hands found your waist again, warm and steady. You let your own drift down to his hips, fingers brushing over the hem of his shirt.

“Okay,” you breathed. “Then sit.”

He obeyed.

He sat back against the armrest of the daybed, legs spread just enough to invite you in—half lounging like it was a couch, but the mattress beneath him creaked faintly like it knew what was coming.

You climbed into his lap, facing him. His hands immediately went to your thighs, dragging them apart so you could straddle him fully, knees braced on either side of his legs. His gaze never left yours as you reached for the hem of your tank top and slowly pulled it off over your head.

“Jesus, baby…” he whispered, eyes dragging down to your bare chest.

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him—slow and deep—while his hands moved to tug your panties down. They caught around one ankle before you kicked them off.

Then it was just you. Naked, flushed, and needy, sinking down onto him inch by inch, gasping into his mouth as he filled you.

It was slower this time. Softer. No frantic pounding or growled teasing—just the quiet rhythm of your bodies finding each other again. You rode him with long, rolling movements, arms draped over his shoulders, hips tilting just right to drag friction along your clit.

Bucky held you like you were fragile. Like he was scared he might break you if he moved too fast. His mouth was everywhere—your neck, your collarbone, the soft swell of your breasts. You lost track of how many times he whispered “so beautiful,” or how tight he held your waist when you clenched around him and moaned.

At one point, Alpine trotted in, hopped up onto a box, and stared. You caught her in your peripheral vision and burst out laughing—halfway through a slow grind, no less.

“Oh my God,” you giggled. “She’s judging us.”

Bucky laughed, breathless, still inside you. “She’s gonna need therapy.”

“She’s your cat.”

“And she’ll be traumatized by you,” he smirked, tilting up to kiss you again.

You came like that. Laughing, gasping, forehead pressed to his, walls fluttering around him as his hands gripped your hips tighter. He followed with a quiet, guttural moan, holding you close as he spilled into you again, hips twitching beneath yours.

You slumped against him afterward, sweaty and blissed out, your heart pounding against his chest.

“Library room, huh?” he murmured into your hair.

“Still calling it that,” you mumbled. “We’ll just… clean the daybed later.”

—

You’d meant to take a break after that one. You really did.

But then you passed the smallest room—the one you’d casually declared “Alpine’s room”—and paused in the doorway. There was nothing inside but a few scattered boxes and that massive window. The glass stretched wide, overlooking the apartment complex across the park. From here, you could clearly see rows of other windows. Some had blinds. Some didn’t.

The thrill hit first. The subtle spike of adrenaline, the heat curling low in your belly.

And Bucky… Bucky noticed your pause.

“You’re thinking something dirty again,” he murmured behind you.

“Maybe.”

“Tell me.”

You stepped inside, hands skimming the windowsill. “If someone were watching, they’d see everything.”

He came up behind you—now shirtless, jeans undone. “Curtains drawn across,” he noted. “But not fully.”

Your heart pounded.

“Bucky—”

He spun you gently, kissed you fast and hungry, then turned you again, guiding you to lean forward until your bare chest pressed to the cool glass.

“This what you want?” he whispered, voice darker now. “Want someone to see what I do to you?”

You whimpered. “They might. Anyone could be—”

“Exactly.”

He stripped what little you had left—your panties had already been tossed, and now his jeans and boxers hit the floor. You were both fully naked. Vulnerable. Lit by daylight and nothing else.

You braced your hands against the window frame, legs parted, heart pounding. Bucky lined up behind you, hands firm on your waist—and slid into you from behind in one smooth, delicious thrust.

You gasped—partly from the stretch, partly from the rush.

He was deeper than before like this. Every push of his hips rocked you forward against the glass, your nipples dragged across the cold surface, breath fogging up your little corner.

“Oh my God—” you whined. “Bucky—”

“Tell me what they’d see,” he growled into your ear. “If they looked up right now.”

“Y-you—fucking me—”

“Harder.”

You choked on a moan. “Fucking me like—like I’m yours.”

“You are mine,” he gritted out, hand tangling in your hair to keep you still as he thrust harder, faster. “Let them fucking watch.”

Your eyes rolled back. He felt wild behind you—possessive, untamed, feral in the best way. You were dizzy with pleasure, heat building fast, moans bouncing off the windows.

You came with a broken cry, pressed against the glass like a framed piece of art—frozen in that perfect moment of filthy bliss.

Bucky wasn’t far behind, groaning deep as he emptied inside you again, teeth grazing the back of your shoulder as he shuddered through his release.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Then you felt it—Alpine brushing past your leg.

You both looked down, wide-eyed. She sat in the doorway, blinking innocently.

“I think she’s following the tour,” you mumbled breathlessly.

Bucky wheezed a laugh, forehead resting on your shoulder. “We’re the worst parents.”

—

You were both sticky and sweat-slicked, bodies glowing under the golden haze of late afternoon. And you definitely smelled like sex.

“Okay,” you panted, still catching your breath as Bucky tugged his jeans back up with a grunt. “We need a reset. Like—soap. And hot water. And at least one clean towel.”

He snorted softly, brushing your hair from your face. “You’re trying to say I stink?”

“I’m saying we both do. Filthy, filthy people.”

You padded toward the bathroom, laughing, Bucky following close behind with Alpine trotting at your ankles. She let out a low mrrrp as if to agree and then parked herself outside the door when you closed it.

The bathroom was echoey and bright, still bare aside from the installed glass shower. You flicked it on and stepped in first, gasping slightly at the rush of heat. Bucky followed, sliding the door closed behind him.

Steam quickly filled the space, and water ran in soft rivulets down his strong chest, highlighting every ridge and scar. You reached for the soap, but his hands caught your waist before you could.

“I’ll do it,” he said, voice soft now—none of the earlier grit, just warmth. “Turn around.”

You obeyed, facing the tiled wall as his hands, slow and reverent, moved over your skin with the lather. He massaged your shoulders first, easing out tension he himself had put there, before moving down your spine, over the curve of your hips.

You let your head fall back against his shoulder, a quiet sigh escaping. “I like this side of you.”

“What side?”

“The one that spoils me rotten.”

He chuckled, kissing your damp temple. “That’s every side, baby.”

You turned in his arms, arms winding around his neck. He blinked down at you—wet hair hanging in his face, lashes dripping, lips pink and parted.

You kissed him.

It was different than earlier. No rush. No game. Just the slow press of mouths under steaming water, the soft pull of hands over bare skin. When your fingers drifted down and found him half-hard again, he groaned into your mouth.

“Still got more in you?” you whispered.

“I always do for you.”

His hand slid between your thighs again, but this time it wasn’t rough or teasing—it was patient. Worshipful. He touched you like he was memorizing how you liked it, mapping your body with wet palms and slow circles.

You reached down at the same time, wrapping your hand around him. You stroked him in time with the rhythm he gave you, both of you gasping quietly, breathing each other in.

It didn’t take much. You were already sensitive, raw from the earlier rounds, and the intimacy only made it worse—better.

You came quietly this time, biting his shoulder as your body trembled. He followed not long after, pulsing in your hand with a low groan against your neck.

Afterward, you stayed in the spray, holding onto each other like you didn’t quite want to move yet. The water washed you clean, but the warmth between you stayed.

—

The mattress had no frame yet, but you didn’t care. It was huge, soft, and familiar—and right now, it looked like heaven.

You stepped out of the bathroom in just his old, oversized black shirt and a fresh pair of panties. Bucky was already on the bed, sprawled in nothing but a clean pair of black boxers, arms behind his head, hair damp and messy. He looked so relaxed, so at ease, like he belonged there. Like you belonged there.

Alpine was curled up at the edge of the bed, paws tucked under her body, dozing peacefully.

You crawled in beside him, sighing as the mattress dipped beneath you.

“Y’know,” you murmured, resting your chin on his bare chest, “this might actually feel like home.”

His hand slid up your back, fingers splayed between your shoulder blades. “It already is.”

You smiled. “Still have one more place to christen, though.”

He raised a brow. “Didn’t we already—”

“I meant,” you interrupted, swinging a leg over to straddle his hips, “the master bedroom.”

His grin returned slowly, sleepily. “Can’t argue with tradition.”

This time, he let you lead. You tugged his boxers down, letting him spring free beneath you. You rolled your hips slowly, teasing him along your folds before finally sinking down, eyes locked on his.

It was quiet.

The kind of quiet that wasn’t empty—but full. Full of love. Full of promises. Full of things left unspoken but understood between every slow thrust.

His hands cupped your waist gently, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts as you rode him with soft moans, letting your body melt into his.

“Fuck, you feel so good like this,” he whispered. “So warm. So close.”

You leaned down, foreheads brushing. “I love you.”

He pulled you down fully, wrapping his arms around you, whispering the words back into your skin again and again as you both moved together.

You came together that time—his name whispered into his mouth, your nails curling into his shoulders. He held you tight, keeping you wrapped in his warmth as your body trembled, riding out the waves.

You slumped against him afterward, breathing unevenly, your body boneless, skin damp with afterglow.

Bucky smoothed his palm along your spine, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You okay, baby?”

You hummed, half-asleep already. “Fine. Just… can’t move.”

He chuckled, low and smug. “I could go again.”

You groaned softly against his chest. “Of course you could.”

“Super soldier, sweetheart,” he said with a lazy grin. “Stamina for days.”

He paused, brushing a damp strand of hair from your cheek.

“But I’ll stop. ’Cause I know you need rest. You’re my priority, not my toy.”

Your chest tightened at that. That softness in his voice. The gentle weight of his arm holding you close.

“Good,” you whispered. “Because if you didn’t stop, I’d have to start planning your funeral.”

He laughed, kissed your hair again. “You’d miss me too much.”

You both lay there in the warmth of your new bed, the quiet settling around you like a blanket. Alpine stayed curled in her corner, purring faintly.

“You tired?” he asked, voice lower now.

“Mmm. Just resting.”

“You know we’ve got sunrise in a few hours.”

You smiled into his chest. “We’ve got one more spot left, huh?”

He grinned, voice dropping an octave. “The balcony?”

“Mmhm.”

“Doll,” he murmured, brushing a thumb along your jaw, “I can’t wait.”

—

The sky was just starting to blush pink by the time you stirred again—warm, tangled in sheets, sore in places you didn’t even know could get sore.

The clock read 5:27am.

Bucky was already awake.

He laid beside you, one arm curled under your body, watching the morning light creep across your skin. He was calm, quiet, but his fingers were gently tracing along the bare curve of your hip beneath his shirt. His shirt. The one you were still wearing. The only thing you were wearing.

“You awake, doll?”

You hummed, nuzzling into his chest. “Barely.”

He kissed your hairline, voice low and coaxing. “Sun’s coming up.”

You blinked lazily. “And?”

“And we’ve got a balcony with our name on it.”

Your breath caught—half from excitement, half from the memory of what he said yesterday. One more place to christen.

“You serious?” you mumbled.

“I brought a blanket,” he grinned.

You laughed under your breath. “God, you really are a menace.”

But you followed him anyway. Alpine blinked up at you from her perch by the window as if saying, Again? Really? before tucking her head back down.

You stepped out onto the balcony barefoot, the morning air sharp against your skin. It was quiet—too early for traffic, too late for late-night stragglers. The park below was still asleep, mist curling along the grass.

The breeze lifted the hem of Bucky’s blanket just as he dropped it onto the cushioned bench against the far wall. He turned to face you, fully naked, his metal hand catching the edge of your shirt and tugging it up and over your head in one smooth pull.

You stood there in nothing, nipples pebbling from the cold, your body on full display under the soft blue light of early morning.

Bucky looked at you like you were the only thing on earth that mattered.

“No one’s watching,” you whispered, just to test him.

“They could,” he murmured, stepping close. “That’s what makes it fun.”

You didn’t argue.

You kissed him, and that was it—hands flying, mouths desperate. He spun you, pressed your back to the railing, the metal cold on your spine. Your legs parted instinctively as he lifted you onto the edge, steadying you with both hands.

He slid into you with one smooth, deep thrust.

Your gasp was sharp, loud in the stillness of dawn. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he rocked into you, the angle perfect like this—your hips tilted back, legs wrapped around his waist, exposed to the world.

“Bucky—”

“You’re so fucking perfect like this,” he breathed. “Wide open, moaning my name—anyone looking out their window right now could see you. See how well I fuck you. How much you love it.”

You could barely speak. You gripped the rail behind you, trying to ground yourself as he thrust into you harder, deeper. His pace was steady but rough, claiming.

When he started to twitch inside you, you pushed gently on his chest. “Wait—wanna try something.”

He blinked, dazed and breathless. “Yeah?”

You dropped to your knees.

Right there. On your balcony. Naked. Dawn breaking behind you.

He hissed as you licked him clean of your arousal, sucking him back into your mouth slow, tongue swirling, moaning low in your throat just to watch him shudder.

His hands cradled your head. “Fuck, baby—fuck, you’re killing me—”

When he was close, you stood again—he caught you by the waist and bent you over the balcony railing.

Raw. Exposed. Anyone with binoculars would see your ass in the air and Bucky railing you from behind like he had a point to prove.

You moaned his name as he slammed into you, your voice echoing faintly off the buildings nearby.

You came with a cry, legs buckling, Bucky gritting out your name as he spilled inside you one last time.

He held you against him for a moment, chest to your back, both of you trembling.

The sun had fully broken over the horizon now, painting everything gold.

You turned your head just enough to meet his eyes.

“Okay,” you whispered, still panting, “now it’s christened.”

He smiled, kissed your shoulder, and wrapped the blanket around both of you. “Home sweet home.”

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

List of Random Things For Your Dark Academia Settings | For Writers

The Library 📚

Towering mahogany bookshelves filled with ancient leather-bound tomes

Antique globes and faded maps mounted on the walls

Heavy velvet drapes blocking out the sunlight

Ornate brass reading lamps casting a warm glow

The musty smell of old books permeating the air

The Study 🪶

A large oak desk strewn with papers, quills, and ink bottles

Walls lined with pinned insect specimens and anatomical drawings

An antique typewriter, its keys clacking softly

Stacks of well-worn leather journals and notebooks

A cabinet of curiosities filled with skulls, fossils, and scientific oddities

The Classroom 🎓

Rows of old wooden desks, surfaces scratched with generations of graffiti

A blackboard covered in elaborate chalk diagrams and Latin phrases

Dusty shelves holding jars of formaldehyde-preserved specimens

Antique microscopes and brass telescopes waiting to be used

The tick-tock of a grandfather clock counting down the minutes

The Dormitory 🕯️

A four-poster bed heaped with tattered quilts and faded velvet pillows

Parquet wood floors layered with antique persian rugs

Flickering candles in tarnished silver holders casting dancing shadows

A steamer trunk overflowing with vintage tweeds and wool knits

Tea-stained pages of love letters and poetry scattered on the nightstand

The Secret Society Meeting Room 🗝️

An imposing stone fireplace with Latin phrases carved into the mantel

Worn leather armchairs circled around a low table set with tarnished silver

The air thick with pipe smoke and burning incense

Shelves lined with ancient masks, ceremonial daggers, and dusty alchemical tomes

Shadows dancing on the tapestry-covered walls in the candlelight

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

GASP are my eyes deceiving me or is there a chapter of that beloved lando nerd series set to come out today!!????

(7) Too Much - Lando Norris

<word count - 8172>

Lando's feelings had been festering for a while now, and he was sure that it wouldn't be long before he caved and told you every intricate detail about how much he liked you. He had planned out monologue after monologue to say to you when he eventually plucked up the courage, but he always found himself chickening out at the last minute.

It nearly scared him with how many times he replayed your day off in his mind, those few precious hours that he spent with you had quickly become burned into the front of his brain and had stayed there like a scar. But, saying something didn't feel like something he was ready to do. Every time he came up with something to say, it didn't feel right. 

Plus, with your exams looming ever closer, he didn't want to add more to your plates. If you said yes, all he'd be able to think about is you and finally getting to be yours. If you said no, then he would be kicking himself for reading the situation wrong and ruining the friendship he so dearly cherished.

It was very easy for him to pick up on the clear signs of stress that you had been exhibiting over the past few weeks. You retreated to the library even more often than usual, you weren't as open to going out with him on the weekends, you didn't even pick up the phone half the time.

And, when you did, he couldn't get much out of you since you were so focused on your revision. at least the flashcard holder he had made when you nearly sliced your fingers off was getting used. He admired your work ethic, and he knew that he could never be as dedicated as you were, but that didn't stop him from worrying. There was every chance that you were pushing yourself way too far, and he was waiting to see you crash and burn.

It wasn't like that was what he was wanting, since all he ever wanted was the best for you, but he thought it was inevitable at this point.

You, on the other hand, weren't worried about your wellbeing in the slightest. All you were worried about was exams. Everything that you had learned throughout your time at high school had led up to this moment, and now you just had to put it all into practice.

Everyone was sure that you would fly through with no questions asked, since that was what you had always done. But there were always the demons in the back of your mind, telling you that this time would be different and that you wouldn't quite do as well as you were supposed to do.

Currently, you were sitting in the library with an earphone in the ear turned away from the librarian and your phone propped up in a book so that she couldn't see. You were cracking on with biology, finishing off another past paper.

You had been smashing them every time, but you were always scared of ruining that pattern on the day of the exam. Lando knew where you were, as he tended to, so he brought himself up to see you during the final half of lunch.

You were great to study with since you were so focused and wouldn't distract him, and he knew he would feel guilty if he distracted you and broke you out of your mindset. You didn't notice him at first, too engrossed in your revision to sense him.

Lando was a little stuck on what to do, not wanting to sit there like a lemon but also not wanting to be the thing to pull you out of your focus. "Hey," he quietly said, hoping to not startle you.

"Oh, hey. Didn't see you," you slightly smiled, but he could tell it was forced. It was that smile you did when you were trying to pretend like everything was fine and you were trying to get him not to ask what the matter was. You both knew it was futile, and he hated that you even made the effort to fool him.

"Have you had lunch?" he asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from your mouth. This was another one of your bad habits you displayed when you were stressed: you didn't eat. It wasn't that you were actively trying to starve yourself, but you often got so caught up with your work that taking care of yourself often went further down your list of priorities.

"No. Not hungry," you said, avoiding his gaze and focusing back on your paper. Lando knew you were stubborn, and he knew you would shrug him off at every given opportunity, but he wasn't going to let it slide that easily.

"Come on, we're going to get you some lunch." he said, his tone not leaving any room for argument. If you were wanting to be stubborn, then Lando could be too. Before you had a chance to protest, he had snagged your paper from in front of you and stuffed it into his bag.

The scowl that formed on your face was nothing short of adorable, but that wasn't meant to be what he was thinking about right now. "Let's go, or you'll just have to sit here and do nothing for the next half an hour. Choice is yours."

Huffing to yourself, you relented. If you sat there and weren't productive, you would be mad at yourself for the rest of the day. If anything, going with Lando was simply damage control. You were figuring out how to limit the amount of anxiety you'd be feeling later in the day.

"You go and find a bench outside, and I am going to go and get you some food from the canteen. Before you decide to have a hissy fit, I know you won't pick something good for you or filling enough, and I know what you like." he explained with a smug smirk.

Lando led you out of the library and downstairs to where all of the outdoor benches were, leaving you to sit down. One thing that you could never take away from Lando was that he was very good at caring for you. He somehow always knew exactly what you needed, even if you didn't ever want to admit it to yourself.

When he was like this, it always took you back to the day when you were sick. It was like doting on you like a mother hen came so naturally to him. You knew he'd be an amazing first boyfriend, since he was already acting like one. Caring, protective, a gentleman, handsome as ever - all of which being qualities that would be the perfect guy in your mind. 

All of it just made you like him more, but you didn't have the time or energy to put into a relationship right now.

Sometimes, it was like the two of you were just avoiding your relationship at all costs. In your heads, you both made excuses as to why it was a bad idea or why it wasn't the right time to start anything with each other. The longer you put it off, the more time ran out before you left school. Before you knew it, you'd both be out of highschool, then sixth form and straight to uni, both left thinking about the 'what ifs' and if you had let the love of your lives slip through your fingers. But those were some very deep thoughts for 16 year olds.

While you were stewing away with your thoughts, Lando made his return with a brown box of food for you. "I just got you a toastie and some chips. I know how you love those frozen, precut potatoes." he smiled, pushing the box towards you.

"Thanks," you weakly smiled, starting to pick at the chips. Lando's grin faltered as he saw how much your appetite had taken a hit during exam season. He knew it was normal for people to lose their appetite when they were feeling stressed, but he never saw you eat anything anymore. At least you were trying.

After a few minutes of silence, Lando spoke up. "How about we do something this weekend? We could go for lunch, take a walk in the park?" he suggested, watching a small frown come on your face. He was preparing for you to say no, and he was dreading it.

He knew it wasn't because you didn't want to spend time with him. Every second that you didn't spend revising was more stressful than the last, but he wasn't about to let you spend the entirety of your weekend holed up in your room. "Please?" he said, observing as you weighed the ideas up in your mind.

"We can go to the library." you stated, not leaving much room for argument. It wouldn't have been his first choice, his second, or even his third, but it would do for now. It was something, at least.

"The one in town?" he wanted to confirm, but he knew that you spent a lot of your time at the library, even on the weekends.

"Yeah, that one." you nodded, taking a small bite out of the toastie. It was as good as school food could get, but you did love it for some weird reason. On a normal day, you would have finished the whole thing and wished for more afterwards, but today you were struggling to get through any of it.

Finishing as much of it as you could, you passed the box to Lando. The boy had an appetite like you couldn't believe, and you knew he could polish it off with zero problems. He didn't want to eat it, but he knew you weren't going to and he didn't want to waste it.

As soon as he had taken the last bite, you stood up and were ready to go back to the library. "Hey, slow down." Lando laughed, tossing the box into a nearby bin. "Let's take it easy, OK?" he said, slowly taking you on the long route to the library.

Your teachers had made you all too aware of the signs and repercussions of burn-out, knowing that your brain couldn't handle the amount of information that you were trying to stuff into it for the prolonged amount of time that you were trying to do it over. Lando was feeling like he was at a loss the more he looked at you with how tired you always were.

Lando wanted to talk to you, to tell you to have a break before you had a breakdown, but he knew it would be futile. The best he could do was offer his company and take care of you the best he could. He also had his own exams to think about, though.

He was struggling to balance his worries for you combined with his own studies, since he needed good grades just as much as you did. Lando had never worked as hard as you had, he knew that, but it didn't mean he didn't want to do well. You had inspired him to be better, to try harder. His academics had become a lot more important to him since he had met you, even if it was better late than never. 

He was a bit stuck as to what to do with you as you sat back down in your chair in the library and expectantly looked at him. Right, your paper. Retrieving the papers out of his bag, he handed the slightly crumpled sheets to you. "Please don't work too hard..." he mumbled, knowing that you weren't going to listen.

This was how he spent the coming days: following you to the library like a lost puppy, forcing you to eat something by taking your revision off of you. It felt like the best he could do given the situation. Finally, Saturday rolled around and his mum dropped him off at the library.

He had told her how much pressure you were putting on yourself, and she tried to get him to worry less about you and more about his own exams. Lando was finally doing well for once, and he didn't want to ruin it when it finally counted.

His predicted grades had increased massively since he had met you, and he knew he could actually achieve them. So, he was currently walking on the very fine line between making his complete academic comeback and keeping your sanity somewhat stable.

Lando knew that you would have already gotten there early so that you could cram in some extra revision, so he decided to head straight in instead of bothering to message you and ask if you were there yet.

Just as suspected, you were at your usual table in the corner, headphones on and pen scribbling across your past paper. "Hey," he whispered so that he wouldn't disturb the other library-goers.

You sent him a small smile, but he felt like it got smaller each time he saw it. It was like the spark you always had was dimmed, and he was trying to find a way to reignite it to the fire that used to burn in your eyes.

You didn't say anything for about an hour, and Lando had had it. "Come on, we're going." he said, standing up to pack his stuff up. He wasn't going to get anything done while you were sat there looking miserable, anyway.

"Why?"

"Because you need a break and I know you won't have one unless I make you." Lando sighed, a hint of pleading in his eyes. He was right. He was completely right. You needed a break, and it was becoming painfully obvious that you needed a break.

You didn't feel like yourself anymore. You barely slept because you were so worried about your impending exams. You barely ate because the nervousness kept gnawing away at you. You barely even enjoyed spending time with Lando anymore, and that was really saying something.

If you were being honest, Lando was the only thing keeping you going. He was always there with a smile and he knew exactly what to do to make you feel better. Nobody knew you quite like he did, and it was rather impressive.

Despite what your brain was telling you to do, you caved and packed your things away. The almost smug grin that crossed Lando's face never failed to make your heart skip a beat. "Where are we going?" you asked once you had left the library.

"We are going to the park and you are going to relax. Simple." he told you, his tone leaving no room for argument. You didn't really have the energy to fight with him either - your brain was completely fried.

Lando was glad that you weren't arguing with him, your stubbornness waning ever so slightly. Leading you through town and into the local park, he located a bench and sat the two of you down on it. "So, talk to me, how are you? And don't lie to me, you know I know you better than that." he teased. You were slightly annoyed by how well he knew you, but you also were smarter than to lie to his face.

"I'm just stressed. GCSEs are big things, you know? Sixth form depends on this and universities look at them too. There's a lot riding on this. And Miss Kennedy has that stupid recap test on Monday, which is ridiculous to get us to do now, of all times." you huffed, and you were absolutely adorable. 

"You do realise that a silly little maths test is nothing to you?" Lando said, trying to boost your confidence. He knew you had the tendency to make things seem bigger than they were, and it's not like the mini maths test was going to throw everything into jeopardy. 

"Yeah but it's just extra stress that I don't need." you grumbled, looking down at your feet while you subconsciously rubbed at the scars on your finger, which was a habit that you had picked up since the accident. 

"I know you want to do well, and I know you will, but you can't keep pushing yourself like this. It's just not good for you." Lando softly said, hoping that him of all people would be able to get through to you. You stayed silent, which was a good sign. You were thinking.

"You're so clever that you can literally be whoever you want to be. And, on the very, very off chance that things don't go 100% as you want it, then your school record will more than make up for it. You'll always be the smartest to me, no matter what." he continued, and you still didn't say anything. He was finally making progress. 

"If you want, we can bunk sixth form and go traveling and have a blast. Just you and me, and we can do whatever." he laughed, nudging you. Was he laying it on way too thickly? Yes. Yes he was. But did he even care? No.

"Oh yeah? You and me on a world tour, causing trouble and taking names?" you giggled, and God was it good to hear that sound again. It was so sickly sweet like honey, but it was as addictive as a drug. Rays of your personality were seeping through the cracks of the revision wall you had built that was now crumbling, and he was loving every minute of it. 

"Damn right," Lando laughed back, and the two of you spent the rest of the time just sitting and talking. It was just like old times, where you were able to sit and talk about everything and nothing as the time effortlessly passed by. 

There was no one that he felt more comfortable with, and moments like these reminded him why he like you so much. The main reason was something he had picked up very early in your relationship: you didn't care that he was Lando Norris.

Everyone at school had a preconceived notion about who he was meant to be, but you didn't seem to care. Everything that you had heard about him or had seen of him wasn't something you associated with the real him.

At the same time, you were thinking all the way back to when you first met Lando. You were so convinced that the version you saw was just a character that he had tailored to you so that he could get what he wanted from you. You really thought he was the big bad you had always seen him as around school, but the realisation that it was all real had taken such a massive weight off of your shoulders.  

You were both so good with each other, but time was running out. You didn't know if you would be going to the same sixth form, or if Lando would be going at all. He was considering different options depending on the grades that he got. It could have been over just as quickly as you had finally settled again. 

Monday had rolled around, and the tension that you had lost by talking things out with Lando over the weekend had come back, and stronger than ever. You knew it hadn't gone well the second that you handed the paper in to Miss Kennedy. Lando thought you were just being silly, that you were panicking like you normally did. 

In his opinion, you were going to get an A* and everything would be fine. You knew different, and you had never felt this level of dread before. As suspected, things were not fine as they always tended to be. 

Miss Kennedy handed you back your paper later in the week, and you had never felt so useless in your life. 50%. That was a C. You had never gotten a C. Your confidence had already been rocky as of recent, and this didn't help. 'See me after class, please.'  Miss Kennedy had scrawled on the top of your paper next to the grade.

Lando kept quiet next to you, his eyes darting between the paper and your face. He saw the tears welling up in your eyes, and all he wanted to do was pull you into his arms and never let you go. It was like you were his piece of fine China, and there was no better way to keep you safe than wrapping you in bubble wrap and keeping you all for himself. 

After the bell had rung to signal the end of lesson, Lando walked out with Max, who was asking if he was coming down to the football field for a quick match over break, but he said no and covered it by saying that he wanted to talk to Miss Kennedy about a practice question that he had done once you were gone.  

Once the door had closed and Lando was leaning against the wall outside as he waited for you. Miss Kennedy focused all of her attention on you. "I'm not mad, I'm not disappointed, I'm just worried. That grade isn't because you don't know what you're doing, and it has no reflection on what you are going to achieve in your exams."

"That grade isn't because you've been complacent or because you've gotten lazy. That grade is because your brain physically can't keep going at the rate you're going at. A lot of us are worried about you." she said, watching the silent tears run down your cheeks.

"I promise I tried..." you said, your voice cracking as all of the stress overwhelmed you and hit you all at once.

"I know you did, love. I know you did. You are putting way too much pressure on yourself, and it's as plain as day." she sighed, hating the sight of her best student in a long time breaking down in front of her. 

Meanwhile, while Lando was stood there, he heard footsteps at the other end of the corridor. Turning his head to the side, he saw Max coming back towards the classroom.

He tried to formulate an excuse in his head, knowing that he couldn't risk Max making assumptions about the two of you. There was no way in hell that he was allowing things to go back to the way they were - he couldn't lose you again. 

It hurt him to remember how horrific that period of time was. The endless teasing, the lack of you in his life, the way it felt to see you cry into his mum's arms on your doorstep. "Hey mate, what are you doing?" Max asked, going to open the door to the room.

"Hey, don't. Just wait." Lando said, trying not to rouse suspicion. Max knew him better than that and raised an eyebrow at him. 

"I was only going to get my pencil- oh. I see." Max smirked, spotting you through the window while Miss Kennedy spoke to you. "Waiting for your girlfriend, Norris?" he teased, and the bite in his tone was something that Lando hadn't missed. 

"I swear to God if you start this again, Max. I just need to talk to Miss about something I didn't understand on the homework, OK?" Lando sighed, and he watched as Max softened slightly. He knew the boy was an absolute arsehole 99% of the time, but there was the niceness that came to the fore 1% of the time. Lando had known Max since they were little, so he knew what his friend was like. 

He wasn't a bad guy deep down, he just lacked the common sense and the brain function that was supposed to tell him that the things he said were hurtful. But, his complete disregard of social cues were what made him popular. Lando because of his face and his boyish charm as well as his ability to kick a ball around a field, Max because he was a dick. No wonder they were such good friends.

"Look, man. I know we take the piss, but it's so painfully obvious that you like her. A lot." Max said, sounding a lot more sincere than Lando had ever heard him. "Whether you like it or not, you've just got to go for it. She's all yours, trust me. You've just got to ask." he continued, the sincerity disappearing as soon as the words had left his mouth. "And maybe you'll finally get to kiss a girl," he laughed, pivoting to walk back down the corridor. 

Lando should have known that the probity wouldn't last long. It wasn't like Max could say much, all he had done was kiss a girl at a party, and he had been too chicken shit to say anything to her afterwards. "Grab my pencil while you're with Y/N- I mean talking to Miss Kennedy!" he hollered down the corridor, before disappearing out of sight. 

Lando shifted on the wall outside, and Miss Kennedy spotted him out of the corner of her eye. She had been conspiring for a long time about the status of yours and Lando's relationship, but there wasn't much speculation to be had. It was laid out for her, plain and simple. 

She wasn't really allowed to hug you with the possible threat of it being deemed inappropriate, but she was also aware of the fact that neither you or Lando would say anything. All it took would be the wrong person to walk by, but all she saw was a young lady with the whole world ahead of her but too much stress shackling her down and taking away her ability to be the shining star she was.

Lando sighed as he saw Miss Kennedy hug you, just like he had when his mum had hugged you all that time ago. Yet again, he was an outside looking in as you cried in someone's arms when he so badly longed for them to be his own. 

"Is Lando waiting for you or is he waiting for me?" Miss Kennedy chuckled as she saw him still there, watching your encounter. You gave her a small smile as you stepped out of the hug, and that was all she needed to know. "I'll leave you two be," she said, departing the room and giving Lando a look that told him it was his turn to do the consoling. 

The second that he could, he was through the door and had crossed the room in a few paces. "Hey... it's OK, it doesn't matter," he whispered in your ear, wrapping his arms around you while he let you rest your weight on him. He was desperately trying to come up with a way to get you see that everything was going to be fine and that you were worrying over nothing, but even Lando didn't know what would do it. 

It was like you were an Olympic swimmer who had suddenly started stressing out about a county swim meet - there was no doubt you'd be the best there, but you were still letting it get to your head. Lando wondered what made you so stressed out, because there were plenty of smart people like you who weren't worried about the exams at all. 

The best conclusion he had ever come to was that you were just so hellbent on doing well that you put too much pressure on yourself. He always thought that there was more under the surface, but he never had any evidence to back it up. Lando felt like a detective, but instead of solving murders, he was trying to get to the bottom of the mysterious case of your lack of self belief. 

"I messed up..." you mumbled into his chest. 

"I know, but it's fine. You're still amazing, you're still the smartest person I know. This is just a one off," he rambled, pulling anything out of his mind that could possibly make you feel better.  "You're a star."

"But what if I'm not? What if it's all just been plain sailing because it's not as hard as GCSE and I'm not actually that good and now it's hard, I'm just shit and-" you breathlessly rattled out, and Lando wasn't having anything.

There was no way in hell that he was going to stand there and listen to you say that about yourself, absolutely no way. He was not going to let the beautiful, funny, genius girl that he was so irrevocably obsessed with talk about herself like that. 

"No. Stop it." he firmly said, pulling back so that he could look you in the eyes. They were glossed over with unshed tears, a bit like how some vases marble. The colours in your irises were almost distorted against the pearly whites of your eyes. He wiped away the tears that were trickling down your cheeks with his blazer sleeve, but they were replaced just as quickly.

"I am not listening to any more of that shit, OK? You are so clever, but somehow you are also really dumb if you think that you aren't going to get the best grades." he said, and he was well aware that he was being a bit too harsh. But being soft with you clearly wasn't working. 

"How do you know that?" you countered, and now he was getting frustrated. He was struggling to stop himself from snapping at you, so much so that he failed. 

"Listen to yourself! This is the first bad grade that you've ever gotten, which isn't even that bad, and you're acting like it's the end of the world!" Lando raved, and he instantly regretted it. He was beyond annoyed that you were completely unable to give yourself any credit for anything you ever did.

Even when he first met you it was blaringly obvious how you didn't see value in anything but perfection when it came to yourself and the standards you held yourself to. He'd never met anyone so obsessed with faultlessness. He just hated how much you put yourself down.

You were the sun that lit up his day, but all you saw yourself as was the dying embers of a small star, slowly fading out of existence as the gas ran out. He felt bad for getting angry, but you were practically his world. Everything he did, he did with you in mind.

Every time he revised, he thought of how proud you would be that he was actually doing work. Every time he played football with his friends or for the team, he thought about the smile on your face as you sat in the stands as you watched him. Every time he thought about the future, you were right there with him.  

He thought that he might love you too much, but he wasn't even sure if what he felt for you was love. He didn't know what love was, which was expected at his bold age of 16. He was only used to fleeting crushes that he would never do anything about, but here he was. 

"OK, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." he doubled back, softening instantly when he saw the look on your face. You knew he didn't mean it, but it didn't make it hurt any less. As much as you hated to admit it to yourself, you knew that it was true. Lando was right. It wasn't the end of the world. 

You had just gotten so used to being the best that you kept putting mountains of pressure on yourself to maintain the standard. "C'mere..." he mumbled, bringing you back into his embrace. "I just get so frustrated when you don't see how brilliant you are."

The two of you stayed there, his chin on your head as you were snuggled into his chest with his hand roaming randomly around your back. Lando couldn't tell you how long had passed, and you couldn't tell him either, but it still didn't seem like enough time when the bell rang. 

"Can I walk you?" he asked, preparing for you to shoot the idea down and say no. The last thing you needed right now was to face the wrath of the other kids in your year because of being near Lando. But, spending time with him was worth it. 

"Sure," you smiled, wiping the final remnants of tears away from your face and trying to ignore the red rings that would undoubtedly be around your eyes. 

"Spanish, yeah?" he asked, although he already knew. He was in chemistry in the science block next door, and you were so close to leaving school that he didn't really care about being a minute or two late to class. Before you left, he went to retrieve Max's pencil as they were in the same class and he could give it back to him. 

He saw the looks that people gave you in the halls, but none of them dared to say anything. They knew they would get an earful from Lando if he were to catch them talking about you, and that was something they were all keen to avoid. 

Once Lando had dropped you and started briskly walking to chemistry. And that was when you saw it. Well, her. Lilly. 

She hadn't been in for a few days, but after Lando had fully rejected her countless times, she had stopped trying. She had also stopped hassling you completely. Even in class, she didn't speak to you. It was for the best for both of you. She had finally accepted, albeit begrudgingly, that Lando had chosen you, and someone hadn't fallen for her fakery. 

When Lando walked into chemistry and handed Max his pencil, his friend was back to being sincere, for at least a few moments. "How was your talk with Miss Kennedy?" he teased again, but he was lacking the malice this time around. 

"Fine. I think I've sorted it." Lando played along, leaning against Max's desk while the last few students trickled in. He put the pencil down, just to make a point that he had gotten it. 

"Maybe you'll finally get laid." Max laughed, unable to stop himself from going back into the horny teenage boy mentality. 

"I'll get laid before you will, and that is a promise. You're too much of a dick." 

"More like I've got too much dick." Max retorted, and Lando looked horrified with a mix of disgust yet hidden amusement. He was more mature than Max, and he did find his remark somewhat funny, but he wasn't giving him the satisfaction. 

Before Lando could respond, he heard his teacher snap at him from the front of the room. "Lando, you've had all break to chat, get to your seat." she said. If only she knew that he had spent his break doing anything but chatting to Max. He had spent it with his favourite person. 

The lesson was only revision, and he knew most of it from being taught it by you. It was the same rinse and repeat with most of his lessons, and he struggled to understand how good you were at teaching him. Maybe it was just because he could listen to you all day, and paying attention to you was one of his most developed talents. 

The next week came, and it was finally time for you to leave high school officially for study leave throughout the exam period. You were all piled into the hall, sat in rows like sardines as you looked at the whiteboard.

The teachers gave a few different but wildly boring speeches, and all Lando could focus on was you. You were sat to his left and on the row in front of him, ready with your pens in your hand for people to sign your leavers shirt. 

You were one of those people who everyone knew, but likely had never spoken to you during their time through high school. After a particularly boring talk from your headteacher about being upstanding citizens and the importance of working hard, you were allowed to go and mingle. 

You had gotten your shirt signed by all of the people you wanted to remember, like your friends and your teachers. You were standing in the corner, waiting for Lando to come over after everyone had gotten what they wanted from him. 

It made you smile, for some reason. He had everyone in the palm of his hand, even though he could be a jerk at times, just like his friends. He grinned, wrote stupid messages on his friends shirts, just signed his name on the people who just wanted their shirt signed by Lando Norris. 

A tap on the shoulder put you out of your thoughts. Turning to the side, you saw Lilly. "Erm... hi?" you said, failing at hiding the confusion sparked by her presence.

"I... I... look, I'm sorry, OK?" she said, and she actually look... sincere? She didn't seem like she was lying, it didn't seem like her usual act. "I was awful to you, and it's all because I was jealous. You do dumb shit when you really like someone," she mumbled, as if she was scared of anyone hearing her apologise. 

"I... wow. Thank you for the apology." was all you were able to say. You had so many questions, but you had the feeling that her guard would go straight up at any sign of resistance from you. "I'd be pretty upset if the guy I liked was wanting someone else too."

"You're really lucky." she said, the flash of jealousy in her eyes was easy to spot. "Please could you sign my shirt?" she blurted out, and you knew it was her attempt at making amends. You weren't going to kick her while she was down, so you signed your name on her back, complete with a note that you weren't sure she'd ever read. 

Just as she had signed your shirt as well and you were just stood with each other, Lando saw the obnoxiously blonde hair out of the corner of his eyes and strode over at once. "Hey, no." you said to him, and that was all it took to disarm him. 

He knew you were saying 'no' to his thought that Lilly was here for one final jab at you, but she meekly smiled at you and walked off. "She just... apologised." you told him, and his jaw fell slack even at the notion that Lilly had the capability to apologise. 

"Yeah, and pigs can fly," he scoffed, thinking that you were just trying to be nice and avoid any sort of negative feelings. 

"No, seriously. Look," you told him, turning around and pointing in the general area of where Lilly had signed your shirt. Her name was there in pink sharpie, and she had written a note to you too. 'I didn't mean any of it. You're not a friendless, doormat kiss ass. You're pretty cool - Lilly x'

"Well that is something I never thought I would ever see," Lando said, shaking his head. "And now, it is my turn." 

He took your orange coloured pen and found a pretty empty spot on your left shoulder blade to write on. He was writing for a pretty long time considering the limited space and that most people just signed their names and moved on, but you didn't expect much different. "Read it when you get home." he instructed. 

"Turn around," you told him, and he knew it was his turn. There wasn't much space on him, since so many people had wanted to put their name on him. There was the most space on his right sleeve, so that would just have to do.

You also wrote a note on him. "Read it when you get home," you mimicked, and all he could do was chuckle. You could always make his heart do somersaults and get his stomach to turn itself into knots with the simplest things. 

"How are you getting home?" he asked, slipping his leavers hoodie over his head as he saw people filtering out of the main doors for one final time. He hoped you'd say that you were walking, or that you were getting the bus so that he could take you home. 

"My grandma is coming to get me," you said, and that was not the answer he was wanting. But, he would have to deal with it. 

"I'll see you in maths, OK? Don't work too hard." he instructed. 

"Me? Work too hard? Never!" you cackled as you walked away from him. Damnit, you always had to make him smile, even when he was being serious.

---

Your grandma had dropped you off home and left, leaving you in the empty house as usual. The first thing you did was take off your leavers shirt so that you could see what Lando had written on the back. His handwriting seemed to have gotten worse since your days of plagiarising it, but maybe that was because he was writing standing up. 

'You may not always believe in yourself, but I always will. You're always going to be a superstar to me, no matter what happens. If there's anyone who can do this, it's you. Always here if you need me, nerd. Never forget that.' he had written. 

For some reason, his words made you emotional. You had never had someone so firm in their belief in you other than teachers. Lando genuinely thought you could do it, and that meant more to you than you could ever express. That boy was something else. 

---

Lando and his family had gone out for dinner after they had picked him up for school to celebrate him leaving, and he was waiting until he got home to read what you had written about him. He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, looking a the writing on his sleeve.

'We've been through it, haven't we Norris? But, for some reason, you just won't give up. I told you to work harder to get an A, and you did. I guess I won't have to tell you to go harder after all ;)' you had written.

Lando felt his cheeks redden at the note, a sudden wave of embarrassment washing over him. He don't know what possessed him to say that to you on your second proper conversation, and he hadn't been reminded of it until now. He was glad you had taken it in good spirit, or else he would have been in very different standings with you right now. 

Even after all that, he hadn't given up. You knew it, and so did he. But you were worth the relentless pursuit. You were worth everything he had to give. And that was how he knew he had to do something that he had been contemplating since he realised he liked you.

--- 

A week had passed by, and it was finally time for your first ever GCSE exam: maths. Both you and Lando walked side by side, only stopping just before you went into the exam hall. "This is piss easy, yes? You're amazing, you're unstoppable, maths is your thing." Lando encouraged, and you felt a boost of confidence. 

The two of you sat in your seats, and the invigilator told you that you could start. Even looking at the first page made you feel sick to your stomach, but you remembered Lando's words. You remembered standing in the class after Mrs Kennedy had left while he told you everything you needed to hear, you remembered his little pep talk that he had given before you went in. 

You could picture the note that he had written for you in your mind so clearly, so you were able to keep calm and crack on. 

Lando got to the question about cumulative frequency, and he remembered to plot against the end point - just like you had told him during your first ever conversation. He was able to finish the paper with time to spare and check through his answers, all because you had taught him the best ways to do things. 

Exams came and went, and it was finally time for a week long break before another 2 weeks of exams. Only then could you have your 11 weeks of summer. You and Lando had just come out of physics paper one, and were heading into town to get a milkshake and take a stroll through the park to celebrate making the halfway point. 

You were happy to have a break, but Lando was nearly sweating due to how nervous he was. Because he was going to have a conversation with you. A conversation that he had thought long and hard about having. A conversation that he had been wanting to have with you for a long while. 

Lando was going to ask you to prom. It was scheduled to be after your GCSEs were over, and you had told him a bit about the dress shopping experience. But, he had been desperate to ask you, and he was finally going to do it. You sat down at the cafe that had the best milkshakes in town, and he went to order and pay for both of them. It was a habit that he had, and it was just his instinct. 

Once you had been served your shakes and you were talking about one of your Spanish exams, Lando interrupted you. "Can I ask you something?" he asked, his heart pounding in his chest. Was he really doing this right now? Was he actually asking the girl that he'd been pining over for ages to prom?

"Sure," you said, skeptical yet curious. 

"OK, so... erm... wow... so..." he stuttered. The words were right on the tip of his tongue, but something in his head wasn't allowing them to spill past his lips.

"Hey, what's-"

"Will you go to prom with me?" he blurted out, watching as your eyes widened and the goofiest smile spread across your face. That was when he knew it was all worth it. That smile, that light in your eyes told him everything he needed to know. 

"I... oh my God... yes. Fucking hell, Lando. Yes." you gushed, containing the squeal of excitement that wasn't suitable for a cafe environment. You didn't even take any time to think about it, and you didn't need to. Saying no was never an option. You couldn't believe it. After all this time, after all you had been through, after all you had said, he was asking you to prom. 

Could it have been as a friend? Yes, there was every chance that it could have been, but you knew it wasn't. Lando fucking Norris had just asked you to go to prom. The guy who had once been the schools most popular, who you had once thought of as a massive dickhead, the one who you were terrified to be seen with had just asked you to prom, and there was no version in any timeline in any universe where you said no. 

"As my date, yeah?" he asked, just to confirm. He had finally asked you, and he wasn't having it be as friends. Whatever chemistry that was bubbling between the two of you was never anything friendly.

"Of course I will, there's nothing I'd like more," you giggled, the smile on your face was absolutely infectious. That gorgeous smile that he would move mountains to get a glimpse of was on full display, and it was all because of him. All because he had finally plucked up the courage to do something he should have done a very long time ago. 

Getting here had taken you a while, but that didn't matter to either of you now. You weren't stressing yourself out to the point of it being unhealthy, exams were almost over, and you were going to prom. Together. 

"So am I meeting you there or...?" you trailed off, not sure on how this was going to work. 

"I want to go with you. I'm borrowing some fancy car off one of my dad's friends, so I can pick you up if you haven't arranged anything?" 

"Now that sounds like a plan," you smiled. You could just picture it now: Lando looking unbelievably handsome in his suit while you enjoyed your first outing with romantic intent. It was better late than never.

Lando's heart was soaring. He was going to get to spend his prom night with you as his date, and he had no doubt that you were going to be the most breathtaking thing that he had ever laid his eyes on. Lando could finally keep you all to himself, all his and no one else's. 

Things were all falling into place, and he wouldn't change it for the world.

A/N - Your eyes do not deceive you! Finally, after 7 whole parts of this, after around 48k words and a whole lot of teasing, they have finally crossed the platonic/romantic line. Let me know what you would like to see in part 8 of this series! I'd really appreciate it if you could give this a reblog. <3

Also, this is very loosely based off of a song that I am obsessed with by a man that I am obsessed with called Alfie Jukes. The song 'Too Much' is off of his new EP (All Dressed Up For Nothing), and I will definitely be writing something based off of the EP like I did with Five Seconds Flat (I know it's not finished, I'm getting there). Go listen to Alfie Jukes, Eyes Wide has me in a chokehold. Anyway, thank you so much for reading and have a wonderful day/night. Love y'all 💖

|masterlist|the full series|

[faeriichaii]

Heyyy, I hope you are doing alright!

I wanted to request a kinda mean but later soft Thranduil x Shy Fem!Reader smut ♡ in which the Reader loves to read and sneaks into a forbidden part of the library and gets caught by Thranduil ;) ♡

Bookworm ~ Thranduil x Fem!Shy!Elf!Reader

A/N: Omg never did I ever expect to see a Thranduil request (even more shocking that it is a smut request🤭) But sure, I can do that for you <33 (Ngl I was very scared about writing this cause Thranduil is like such a hard character for me to write but I obv still appreciate it when I get him requested <33)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: Smut (MDNI), unprotected sex, bj ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 3k ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes <33 ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Hiril vuin ~ My Lady ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Meleth Nin ~ My Love ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Agórel vae ~ You did well ࿐ྂ

Summary: Legolas let the secret of a restricted area in the library slip, which makes you of course very curious. So after deciding to enter the forbidden part, you get caught by none other than the elven king himself.

Enjoying the serene chirping of the birds, you turned the page of your book. You sat under a tree in the beautiful garden of Mirkwood. The book in your hand only had a few pages left and you just had to know how the story of the princess goes. Does she get her happy end or does the prince of hearts decide to take her down? You don’t know yet, however you are very keen to find it out. A soft gasp left your lips, as your book was taken out of your hands. “Isn’t this one of the books in the restricted area?” Legolas asked, as he turned the book around to quickly skim over the summary. His finger was still placed between the pages, in order to not make you lose the spot you have last read. He once did it by accident and he still hasn’t really recovered from the hell that you let loose upon him.

“Restricted area? I never saw a restricted area.” You said, as you stood up from your place on the ground and snatched the book out of Legolas’ grasp. “I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it.” The prince began to walk away from you, however you couldn’t just let him go after he dropped this very important secret. “Wait Legolas! You can’t just walk away now. Where is this restricted area?” A sigh left his lips as you stood beside him and looked up at him with your big eyes. “My father would kill you if he spots you in there (Y/N). It really isn’t even worth it. The only person who walks in there is him and I sometimes join him, and let me tell you, the books are mostly on history about middle earth and nothing special.” He tried to reason with you, but you were insisting on finding this so-called restricted section.

“Legolas, we have been friends for more than just centuries, you do know me and you certainly know that I know the layout of the library better than anybody else. So how come I have never seen the restricted area?” Legolas stopped walking, which made you also stop in your tracks. “There is a mechanism to it. You have to pull a lever in order to open the restricted area and enter it. But (Y/N)…” He turned towards you and grabbed your shoulders tightly. “You really can’t enter. If my father finds out, that you have been in the restricted area, then he will certainly send you far away or set an even worse punishment upon you.” His worried eyes locked onto your own. You gave him a reassuring smile, before shaking his hands off from your shoulders. “Don’t worry, I will not go in there. I promise.” What the prince didn’t saw, were your crossed fingers, that were hidden away in the pages of the book you now desperately wanted to return to the library.

After you said your goodbyes to Legolas, you decided to take a detour to the library. Just to put away the book you still held onto tightly. No other reason. Opening the big wooden doors, you walked towards the designated shelf and put away the book. Turning around, you scanned the whole room for any kind of lever. You walked towards the few golden candle holders, that were attached to the wall. Letting your fingers graze over the cold metal, you carefully tried to pull it, however it didn’t budge. A sigh left your lips as you continued to stroll around the library. You have been walking around for quite some time, until you noticed a little shelf that is tucked into the corner of the room. Examining it, you decided to try and search through the books, if they possibly could be the lever, you have been searching for.

Your eyes focused on a dark green book. The golden edges almost seemed to glow, as you let your fingers trail over the intricate design. Gently pulling on the book out of the shelf, you heard a click. The shelf started to move to your right, opening a small staircase to you. A smile spread across your lips, as you decide to walk down the few steps. Your eyes widened at the few shelves, that lined the stone walls of the small room. Each of the shelves were filled with various books and scrolls, some even in a language you can’t read. ‘How to Brew the Perfect Concoction’ or ‘Middle Earth: Past, Present and Future’ were only a few of the titles you have read on the spines. You took out a dark blue book, dusted it off and read the title. ‘The Golden Egg: A Guide for Dragons’. You didn’t even know that there was a book, explaining how to care for dragons. Putting it back on the shelf, you continued to stroll around the room. Time flew by quickly, as you read various pages of different books, and scrolls, until you found one you really wanted to take back upstairs. Tucking it in your small bag, you walk back up the stairs, pulled the lever that was attached to the wall and walked out. It only took you a few steps until you realized that the king himself was browsing through a shelf that was a little too close to the opening of the restricted area. His eyebrow raised, as he spotted you walk out of the direction of the small shelf. A blush dusted your cheeks, as you quickly did a curtsy and muttered a ‘My King’ in greeting. He mustered you from head to toe, until he noticed the small book that was peeking out from your bag.

You were ready to quickly exit the library, until Thranduil began to talk. “You did not perhaps take a book from a shelf you are not supposed to touch?” He asked, almost daring you to lie to him. The blush on your cheeks intensified, as you looked up at him. “I don’t think I understand, my king. I just took this book from a shelf that I have inspected earlier.” His eyes moved from your own, towards your bag again. “Well, I do hope so. If you would ever enter places, you are not meant to be in, than you will leave me with no choice but to set a punishment upon you.” He spoke, authority dripping with each word. A shudder spread through your body, as your mind registered his words. “Of course, my king. I would never do such a thing.” You smiled softly at him, before politely curtsying and leaving him be in the library. After walking through the big wooden doors, you let out a deep breath you didn’t even knew you were holding. Hopefully the book will be worth the trouble.

A few days passed and you devoured each and every single word, that was written on the pages. Hence you were once again standing in the middle of the restricted area, searching for another book to pass your time. You were at the furthest corner of the room, intensely reading a scroll, that you have found, until you heard the sound of the shelf moving. How come the shelf is moving? Your eyes widened, as the sound of footsteps walking down the stairs echoed throughout the room. Quickly shoving the scroll back into the shelf, you hid behind the burgundy armchair, that was tucked in a neat corner of the room. Holding your breath, you watched as Legolas entered the room together with his father.

“Why are we down here father?” The prince asked, as he let his fingertips glide over some of the dusty books. “We need to search for a scroll. It should be wrapped with a red ribbon around it.” A shudder went down your spine, as you spotted the red ribbon you have removed earlier from the scroll on the ground. In the exact same moment, Legolas picked it up from the floor and wrapped it around the scroll you carelessly shoved into the shelf. “I think I have found it.” He said and presented the item to his father. The king raised an eyebrow at the unravelled scroll. “Did you start reading it already?” “No, not yet.” Legolas answered, wrapping the ribbon around the paper and walking towards the stairs, in order to leave the room. He tilted his head, as he noticed that his father didn’t follow him. “Do you need something else?” “Yes, but you can already start reading the scroll if you want.” Thranduil said, his eyes still carefully scanning the room. Your head was ducked, in order to not get spotted by his hawk-like gaze.

The fading footsteps of Legolas leaving the room made you feel a little bit more relieved. However, you still felt Thranduils looming presence in the small space. “There is no need to continue hiding Hiril vuin.” His voice still seemed a little too far away for him to have spotted you. “You think I didn’t know you took the book from this very room?” Steps slowly started to approach your hiding location, making you duck even further behind the armchair. “I was the one who sorted through the books and scrolls and decided if they would be fit for this restricted area of the library. You weren’t even supposed to know of its existence. So how exactly did you find this room?” His feet stopped in front of the burgundy armchair. “And how dare you lie to me and still hide away like a little mouse.” A shameful blush dusted your cheeks, as you slowly stood up from your position on the floor. “My king, I can explain-“ He waved his hand, signalling you to stop talking. His eyes were filled with rage, as he deeply looked into your own ones. “You lied and now expect me to listen to your pathetic excuse?” You swallowed thickly, looking down at your feet. “You leave me with no other choice but to banish you.” “Banish me?” Your head whipped up, eyes wide and lips parted. Your heart beat faster and faster, as the punishment of your actions settled into your brain.

“Please my king, don’t banish me! I will do any other punishment that you are willing to put me through, but I am begging you, don’t banish me from Mirkwood.” Hands clasped in front of you, you fell down on your knees in front of him. Tears were lining your vision as slight panic settled into your body. You can’t get banished. You have family and friends in Mirkwood and where else are you supposed to go? The king raised an eyebrow, as you kneeled in front of him, pleading him for mercy. “You are willing to do anything?” You quickly nodded at his question. Hope filled your mind and soul as you stood up from the ground. Thranduil took a step closer to you. His right hand wiped a tear away, that escaped your eyes. Heat spread through your body at the realization of your close proximity.

“Show me how much you want my forgiveness.” He whispered, his fingers holding onto your chin. A shaky breath left your lips, as you let your eyes trail down to his own. The magnetic pull towards him was almost unbearable. The urge to just put your lips over his own and entangling your hands in his hair driving you crazy. You looked back up into his eyes, that were glistening over with unspoken want. Grasping his shirt, you quickly pulled him down, encasing his lips with your own. His hands held onto your waist, pulling you closer. You let your hands slowly trail from his chest to his neck, as you opened your mouth, letting your tongue entangle with his in a passionate kiss.

Thranduil separated from you. Your cheeks were bright red, as you took a few breaths to relax from the heated kiss. “Can’t you take more than a mere kiss Hiril vuin?” His head tilted to the side, as mockery dripped from every word he muttered. A huff left your lips. “I can take more than you think.” And with that you pulled him down once more, kissing him even more feverously than before. His grasp on you tightened, as he approached the armchair. Parting from you, he sat down on the plush furniture. His legs were slightly spread, as his arms leaned on the armrests. Your eyes trailed his form, until they stopped at the slight tent, that seemed to grow in his pants.

“Let’s see how well you listen to my orders now. Take off your clothes.” Your hands went to your shoulders. Fingers grazing over the fabric, you took your time pulling the sleeves off of your body. Your dress gently slid down your body, as it pooled on the ground. Eyes still focused on the king who sat in the armchair, you hooked your fingers into your panties. Pulling them down, you stepped out of the pile of clothes and began to approach Thranduil.   

His eyes trailed over your body, leaving a hot trail as they go. Your walls clenched around nothing, as you inspected him. “What do you wish me to do next my king?” A chuckle left his lips. His fingers motioning you over. “I want you to prove your statement. You said you can take more than I think, so I want to see how much you can really take.” Thranduil unbuttoned his pants, lifted his hips from the chair and discarded the garment on the ground. His cock was long and thick. A soft gasp left your lips. You moved down on your knees in front of him, your mouth mere inches away from his tip. “My king, will you allow me to take a taste?” Innocence laced your voice, as you looked at him through your lashes. He nodded at your suggestion.

At the approval, you wrapped your hand around his base. Your mouth encased his red tip, gently sucking on it. A shuddered breath came from Thranduil, as he held onto the back of your head with one hand, making you moan softly at his touch. You took more of him into your mouth, gagging slightly at the process. Your tongue stroked the vein of his cock as you slowly started to bop your head up and down, hand covering the part of him that didn’t fit into your mouth. Groans could be heard from the elven king, as his piercing eyes stared at how well you took him with your mouth. Your walls clenched around nothing and you could feel your wetness almost drip onto the floor. Craving to be touched, you let your free hand wander to your clit. “Don’t you dare touch yourself.” Retreating your hand from yourself, you let out a sad whine. Thranduils hand pulled on your hair gently. You let his cock go with a ‘plop’ and tilted your head to the side, awaiting your new order. “Sit down.” He said, patting his thighs.

Standing up from the ground, you placed your legs on each side of his. Cold air hit your dripping core, making you gasp. Thranduils hands grasped your hips tightly as the tip of his cock grazed your swollen clit. A whine escaped your lips at the intimate touch. “I want you to ride me. Work for it and earn your orgasm.” His lips brushed against your ear. You took his cock into your hands and aligned it with your entrance. Slowly you sank down, the feeling of the stretch making you part your lips in a silent cry. A groan from Thranduils lips bounced off the walls. You tightly held onto his shoulders, as you let yourself settle down and embrace his sheer size inside you completely. He was longer and thicker than you expected. After a few seconds of letting your pussy adjust to his size, you started to slowly move up and down. The elven kings hand trailed up your body, to grasp your boobs and twirl your nipples between his fingers.

Moaning at the feeling of his cock hitting your cervix and completely filling you up, you connected your lips to his. The wet squelching sound of your pussy filled the small restricted area of the library. A familiar warmth spread through your lower region. Thranduil detached himself from your lips and leaned towards your ear. “Are you really already close? Is my cock so satisfying to you?” He gently bit into your elven ear, making you gasp out loudly. Your walls squeezed him tightly, welcoming him even deeper into your core. The king let his hand travel down your body, his fingertips gently leaving a trail. He drew circles on your swollen clit, making you arch your back.

The knot tightened, as your walls clenched on his dick. “Don’t cum yet. You have to wait. After all, it is still a punishment.” A whine left your lips at his words, only wishing to let the orgasm wash over you. “Please.” You begged him, as he even start to move his hips upwards, matching your rhythm. “What do you want Hiril vuin? Use your words.” “Please Thranduil, let me cum.” The sound of his name leaving your lips makes his dick twitch inside you. His hand grabbed your chin and pulled you in for another quick kiss. The heat that travels through your body is unbearable, as you try to hold back your orgasm. “You can cum Meleth Nin.” And with that, the knot unravelled and you came, squeezing his dick inside you. His big hands moved towards your hips, shoving you up and down on his dick at a relentless pace. Whining at the overstimulation, you buried your head in his neck. After a few more thrusts, you felt his cock twitch, as he filled you up with his seed.

He continued to move inside you for a few more times, before pulling out. His cum mixed with your own slowly started to trickle out of your core. “Agórel vae Meleth Nin.” Thranduil held your warm face in his hand, thumb drawing circles onto your cheek. He gave you a gentle kiss on the lips. “Do you still wish to banish me my king?” You asked him, arms wrapped around his neck. “I think you proved that you definitely deserve my forgiveness Hiril vuin.”

[pastafossa]

"Love Leaves A Mark" (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic, Pure Fluff)

I've been working on this for a bit to celebrate the release of our older Born Again!Era Matt, and happily I can say this one's now done, which means I can finish up another little oneshot I have and then get back around to The Red Thread's next chapter. This is written with TRT!Reader in mind, but I also tried to write it vaguely so it's easy enough to enjoy even if you haven't read that massive saga. Also if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Wordcount: 3.8k

Warnings for this fic: None that I know of, they're just being cute and in love as they grow old together. There ARE some vague physical changes described that are standard in aging but that feels pretty normal.

Fic Summary: You and Matt are growing older together, and you're both loving every second of it, including the physical changes that come with it.

“Did you get more toothpaste today?” you called sleepily, lifting one leg to idly scratch at your calf with your foot. You worked your toothbrush over to the other side of your mouth, wrinkling your nose at the taste. Nine years you’d been using your husband’s toothpaste and you’d never gotten used to the flavor, or lack thereof. You’d be damned if you didn’t use it regardless, though. “And Mini’s food?”

“Picked up both.” The low rumble of his voice was sleepy and distracted as it drifted out of the bedroom. Outside the little brownstone you both now called home, the snow continued to fall in thick, heavy flakes, muffling the roar of the wind and the few cars still out on the street despite the late hour and travel ban. You were grateful for that storm. In all the time you’d been with him you’d never had a problem with the Devil’s nightly rounds. Loving Matt meant loving Daredevil, too. But you still treasured evenings like these when he was able to stay in with you, your purring, cuddly husband happily playing the role of your favorite blanket. “I may have also stopped at the bookstore and gotten you something on the way home.”

You paused, shifting your gaze meaningfully toward the open bathroom doorway. You probed curiously at the psychic connection between you, a subtle attempt to discern what it was he’d picked up for you. All you got was a playful nudge back. He didn’t even have to try all that hard anymore, smoothly deflecting you with all the ease of swatting away a pillow.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart.” His voice was an amused whisper in your mind. “You’ll have to figure it out the old-fashioned way.” 

You scrubbed faster at your teeth, grinning at his laugh in the other room. 

“I don’t know how you have any gums left considering how often you do that,” he mused as you leaned down to rinse your mouth out. You quickly shoved your toothbrush back into the penguin-shaped toothbrush holder before flipping off the light and padding out of the bathroom. 

“The benefits of genetic tampering,” you said dryly, joining him in the bedroom. He was already settled into bed, sitting up with his back against the headboard, a well-worn book beneath his hand. Down atop his blanket-covered feet, a large, round black void of fur had arranged itself into a perfect circle, no head or tail to be seen. Matt tipped his head as he tracked your eager circling of the room, the barest little smirk quirking his lips. You scanned around for anything new, hunting along the walls and the bookshelves that had managed to migrate their way into the bedroom once your shared office slash library had gotten too full. Books had a tendency to breed like rabbits between you and Matt. “Where?” “Your nightstand. I figured you’d probably want to dive in.”

You darted over towards your nightstand.

“No way,” you breathed, sitting down on your side of the bed and snatching up the first of the three new hardbacks he’d placed on your nightstand. “This one—I thought it was going to take another week at least before they released it. How did you…?” “I kept checking with Hanna every time I passed by her bookstore.” He cleared his throat as you flipped open your new copy of Dante’s Divine Comedy to a random page, the much-loved scent of new paper and ink filling your nose. “Eventually she took pity on me and finally let me buy this one early with cash. Although she wasn’t sure why you wanted this one when you have so many other translations already.” 

“It’s Palma’s new translation,” you murmured distractedly, dragging your finger down the flowing lines of poetry, your eyes skimming rapidly over the page. You could already spot some of the changes. “I have the first translation he did of the Inferno, but this is the first time he’s done the entirety of the Divine Comedy, and he’s tweaked his previous translation. It’s supposed to mimic the rhyming scheme Dante created more closely. Not easy when you’re shifting it from Italian to English. Dad’s going to have kittens when he hears the Devil got me my copy before he got his.”

Even without looking at him, you could feel Matt’s smug satisfaction. “You should call him so I can hear him swear.” “Call him yourself if you want to rub it in.” You snorted in amusement at Matt’s neverending desire to goad your adoptive father Ciro, who admittedly had a habit of goading back. At the very least their jabs had become less hostile over the years, the two of them now closer to sparring partners than actual enemies. You leaned over to look at the other two books Matt had gotten you, your brows shooting up. “And you got me Emily Wilson’s translations of the Illiad and the Odyssey? You’re spoiling me, husband dearest.” “You said last month you were thinking about picking them both up. I figured I’d check if they were there.” There was a rustle of blankets behind you, and a slightly irritated, ‘mrrp?’, presumably as Matt adjusted his feet beneath the fuzzy black hole curled up atop them. “Consider it an early anniversary gift.” “Not that I’m not grateful, but you and I both know it’s January, dear.” You set Dante back down atop the stack of books before swiveling on the bed to face Matt. You started crawling across the mountain of blankets and silk sheets toward his grinning form. “Our anniversary is months away.” “The anniversary of our first kiss, then.” His smile only grew wider when you reached him and threw your leg over him to sit astride his waist. It was something he welcomed as he always did, his hands setting aside his book immediately in favor of you. He slid his palms warmly up and down the fleece covering your thighs, pausing here and there to knead at the muscle just because he could. It never seemed to matter that he’d touched you a thousand times before. He treated every moment like this as if it were the first. “A few hardbacks are the least you deserve.” “Lines like that make me want to marry you.” You sighed, draping your arms comfortably over his broad shoulders, lifting one hand to idly card your fingers through his dark hair. He hummed beneath your touch, tilting his head openly into the fond drag of your fingers like a big cat. “Buying a woman hardbacks? In this economy? Put a ring on me, Mr. Murdock.”

“Now Mrs. Murdock, how would your husband feel about you saying things like that?” His voice was a playful purr, words thick and glutted thanks to the drag of your nails. You were pretty sure his eyes had rolled back behind his closed eyes. “He’d, mmm, hunt me down until his dying breath if I laid so much as a finger on you. As for me, my wife is… not inclined to let me go gently.” 

“You’re goddamn right I’m not.” You sprawled out against his chest, dipping your head. He met you halfway, touching his lips to yours. You gave him a warm, lazy kiss, faint traces of copper and cinnamon passed from his smiling mouth to yours. The familiar taste of him, the softness of his skin, the sweet warmth of his breath in your mouth soothed you in a way little else could, and you drew him deep into you on a slow inhale, humming against his lips. His chest rumbled contentedly beneath you in response, his hands sliding up from your thighs to squeeze and rub affectionately your hips. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

“Never,” he murmured against your mouth, chasing after you to steal another kiss when you tried to lift your head. You ran your fingers through his hair again, sighing at the soft, playful brush of his tongue against your lips, giving it a mischievous nip of your own that made him rumble another pleased noise beneath you. His voice dropped further, all lazy warmth and possessive hunger, shades of the Devil coloring the edges like a painter’s brush. “Mm, my wife, all mine.”                                     “Your wife,” you agreed fondly. “One who’s cut people before and will happily do it again if it keeps you safe.”

“Your services are very much appreciated.”

“They should be since I fully intend to sit in a pair of rocking chairs with you one day in our old age.” You brought your hand around to scratch your fingers lightly through the coarseness of his beard, making him groan breathlessly in delight, his back arching just a little beneath you. He’d been letting his beard grow in for the past week or so. You were unsure if it was by choice or if it was simply that he’d felt too busy to take the time to shave. It had been a while since you’d last seen him with a full beard, though, a few years at least. And to your pleasant surprise, there were a few changes. Your fingers petted curiously over the small patches of silver scattered around. “I’ve even kept you alive long enough that you’ve got grey here in your beard now. That’s new.” His brows rose in surprise, his eyes fluttering open where they’d fallen closed. “Really?”

“Yup. It’s very handsome.” You stroked at the prickly grey strands before your hands slid back and up to his temples, tracing the few strands of grey there just as affectionately. His cheeks had even turned the tiniest bit pink at your praise. “Some here, too. Just a little at your temples. You gonna be my silver fox, Matt?” “I guess so. That’s what I get for letting you pet all the color out over nine years.” He heaved a great sigh beneath you as if his care sheet instructions didn’t specify he get at least ten minutes of petting each day, without which he would wilt away. “You made me look old.” “Oh please. You don’t look old. You look human.” Your fingers left his hair so you could poke him pointedly in the chest. He threw you a wounded look, all furrowed brow and big sad eyes that you weren’t falling for even a little. “Also, you gave yourself those grey hairs, thank you very much. You’re the most stressed man I’ve ever met. Half of what you put yourself through would have turned anyone else’s hair white by now.”

“Fine. I’ll admit that I may have done… a few things that were somewhat stress—” “Got a building dropped on you. Fought Nobu in tissue paper. Got shot in the head. Used a neti pot to snort some fucking rusty tap water full of amoebas and tiny shrimp—”

“That last one still really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“You have no idea. One day I’m going to kiss you and taste brain shrimp, I just know it.”

He snorted. “You say that like I don’t have my own list of all the things you’ve done that have almost given me a heart attack.”

“Alright, so my list is also… a bit long.” You tilted your head, watching his eyes shift absently around. After so many years with you, he was no longer self-conscious about letting you watch his eyes this closely, much to your delight. In the low light of the bedroom, his eyes were a soft, dark brown rather than the green or grey they could shift to during the day. Beautiful as always, especially with the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes, lines that now seemed permanent even when he wasn’t smiling. You brushed your thumb over a few of those lines, your playful tone falling away into something more serious. “What if I like it, though? These parts of you that are getting older? Like these laugh lines.”

He furrowed his brow pitifully. “Now you’re telling me I’m wrinkly, too?”

“Oh, fuck you!” you huffed, his body shaking beneath you as he laughed. “You know that’s not what I meant. Stop deflecting, I’m serious.”

“I’m know you are, even if you’re telling me I’m a grey, grizzled, wrinkled husk.” He groaned theatrically, rolling his head back. “You should just bury me if I’m that old.”

“Not a chance. Not when I love everything I’m seeing. Like these…” 

You leaned in and planted a kiss on the laugh lines in question, feeling them grow deeper under your lips as he smiled.

“And these…”

Another kiss, this time against one of the grey patches in his beard, making him sigh. 

“...and goddamn do I love all this, too,” you murmured, sitting back so you could drag your hands hungrily down the front of him. There was no part of him you didn’t love, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t just a little obsessed with the dark hair now edging up past his shirt collar—so much of it now that he’d finally given up on shaving his chest and let it all grow back—and the slightly thicker lines of his abdomen and hips, both of them a touch softer than they had been almost a decade ago when you’d first met him. You’d know; you’d been laying on him almost every night for most of that decade, barring a few rough patches and business trips.

“Mrs. Murdock,” he breathed in feigned shock, as if he wasn’t aware of exactly how much you enjoyed both his chest hair and the whole of his body from top to bottom, “are you insinuating something about me?” “You mean like insinuating I’m the reason you now eat regularly and aren’t so dehydrated that I can practically draw a map of your veins by sight?” You squeezed at the meat of his abdomen and hips greedily, your voice growing smug as you kneaded at him. Your touch made him chuckle and squirm beneath you, only drawing more protests from the cat trying to sleep on top of his feet. “Yes. Yes, I am. You’re welcome for the health, by the way. You’re aging like a fine wine, husband dearest. And it makes me happy.” 

His face softened at that, one hand leaving your hips to lay against your sternum. “If your heart wasn’t beating so steadily, I’d say you were just trying to flatter me,” he mused. “But… me getting older really is making you happy, isn’t it?”

“It is. I…” 

You paused for a moment, struggling to put into words what you were feeling. His hand at your hip edged up under your shirt until he could rub his thumb soothingly at your skin, content to wait while you figured out how to say what you wanted to say.

“I think it’s that… there was a time when I wasn’t sure if you’d live long enough for me to see you grow old with me.” You cupped his face in your hands, treasuring the way his eyes fell slowly closed and he leaned into your touch so openly, so easily. It had taken so much work to get him here, where he felt comfortable accepting your love and your affection, but it had been worth every ounce of effort. You traced over his laugh lines again with your thumbs before skipping down to the faint smile lines at the corners of his mouth, a mouth that pursed to kiss your thumb when you swept one over his lips. “But you did. I’m getting to see it. That’s special to me. I want to see that… that you’re still alive, that you’re living long enough for these things to happen. I want to see all these little grey hairs, and wrinkles, and the way your body has gotten a bit softer, because every little piece of you that gets older represents a moment I didn’t know if I’d get with you.”

He drew in a shaky breath before his eyes fluttered slowly open again. And in the dark of his eyes there was such a reverent joy, such a bone-deep love filling their depths that it almost took your breath away. You’d never tire of seeing it, even if you both lived for another fifty, another hundred, another thousand years, joined in this lifetime and in whatever came next. Religion had nothing on being loved fully, wholly by Matt. 

“I could say the same thing about you,” he breathed, his hand at your sternum sliding up to cradle your neck, thumb sweeping gently over the thin skin above your pulse. He pressed just a little, just enough to tug your skin back and forth. A moment later, he tugged you in until he could feather a kiss against your pulse where his thumb had been, lingering there as you nuzzled into his dark hair. “And spots like right here.”

“What’s changed there?” 

“The texture of your skin. How much it moves when I touch it. I like to think,” he whispered against your throat, “that your skin’s a little looser here now, more worn in, because I’ve stroked at it so much that I’ve changed you permanently. It’s a sign of just how much I’ve touched you, how many times you’ve trusted me and let me put my hands here. It’s never mattered to you how scarred those hands were, how covered in blood. You let my love leave a mark.”

He tightened his other hand against your hip next, taking hold of the curves that had changed as you’d journeyed through the years with him. “And you’re softer now, too, just like me.” From there he smoothed his hand affectionately upwards over your ribs and up past your breasts, mapping over all of the places your body had begun to show your age like his: stretchmarks and small wrinkles where once skin had been smooth and tight, scars from old battles now faded and ragged with time. The journey his hand took was made with reverence, tender and heavy with intent, his smile so very soft and almost… wondrous. “I may not be able to see you, but I can feel you growing old with me, too, sweetheart. More curves, a few wrinkles. It’s like I can feel your body sinking deeper and deeper into a life with me.”

“That’s what happens when love winds up being your gravity.” You leaned in to kiss his forehead lines. “A decade of being drawn in by you.”

“Mhm. And up here.” He shifted his hand at your throat to cup your face like you had his, his thumb tracing the corners of your eyes. “Laugh lines. Because our life’s made you laugh so much that it changed you. They weren’t there the first time I put my hands here. But they are now. Signs of how happy you are with me. And there are more every year, because you… love me enough to stay.”

“Hey, my Devil-Man,” you whispered, tilting his head up until your forehead could meet yours. He didn’t bother to hide the vulnerability in his eyes, this old wound of his. It was mostly mended now, when it came to you, but sometimes that furrowed scar inside his heart still made him ache. “Do you need me to remind you again? I’m not going anywhere, husband of mine. There’s nowhere you’ll go that I won’t follow.”

“I know.” His eyes fluttered as you stroked at his skin. His arms left your face until he could wind them tighter around you, pulling you in tight against him until his every breath became yours. That seemed to settle him some, the weight of you against his chest, especially when you dropped your head to his shoulder, nuzzling in against his neck. “That’s… that’s just it. With me, you see… moments you didn’t think you’d have because you didn’t think I’d make it. And I didn’t think I’d have this with you, either. A home, wrinkles, greying hair. Not because I didn’t think you’d live long enough, but… but because I never thought I’d find someone who could love me enough to stay this long. To love me this long. Long enough that I could feel you grow old with me.”

“Loving you has never been a chore, Matt.” You breathed in the scent of his skin, soap and the faint copper of blood, traces of cinnamon and just him. It was a scent you knew better than your own. You  lifted your hand to run your knuckles down his cheek, tracking your way through his greying beard, hoping that your touch would help your words sink in. He slid his hands up under the back of your shirt to drag his palms smoothly down your back, comforting himself with the feel of your skin as he tilted his head, listening to your heartbeat. It wasn’t because he thought you were lying, that much you knew. But he’d told you once he found the truth soothing when hearing something that might make him feel otherwise vulnerable. Something like this, this old wound of his, absolutely qualified. “And it never will be, no matter what comes at us. If you need me to remind you of that every day, I will. I’ll tell you that over and over again, until the day we die and get buried in matching coffins.”

“The same coffin,” he said quietly, tipping his head to nuzzle at your temple. “There’s a reason we took ‘Till death do we part’ out of our vows. No parting, even in death.” 

“Do they even sell double coffins? If so, I’m down.” “Even if they don’t, I’ll tell Foggy to make sure I end up in yours with you.” “I think I should end up in yours.” “Why?” “Because everyone will just assume your coffin’s extra heavy due to your goddamn audacity.” He burst out laughing beneath you, his body shaking and almost throwing you off him entirely. “I’m just saying,” you continued, trying not to grin as he choked out more laughter, “you live your life in a very particular way, man without fear. ‘Christ, why is his coffin so heavy?’ And our friends can just say, ‘well, you know, it’s Matt Murdock’ and it’ll explain everything. No one will notice me shoved in underneath you so you can lay on top of me forever.” 

“It’s a date,” he said, still huffing in amusement. A pointed paw tapped at your back before starting a walk up your spine. “Speaking of which, looks like someone’s eager to get in on the cuddling.” “Behold, offer to cuddle and both Matts will appear,” you snorted as roughly twenty pounds of scarred black cat trod his way stubbornly up and onto your shoulder, rasping out an indignant meow that sounded like he’d been smoking a pack a day for the past seven years, because how dare the two of you do this without inviting him. “I’m about to be sandwiched, I think. Hello, Mini-Matt.”

Sure enough, Matt’s smaller clone enthusiastically rammed his head against your temple, making you grunt, before doing the same to Matt’s chin. He was already purring like an old motorcycle engine in a request to get in on what seemed like a nice, cozy cuddle pile, as if Matt would ever turn the cat down. Sure enough, Matt leaned in, planting a kiss to Mini’s big fuzzy forehead before turning and laying a much gentler kiss on yours as Mini draped himself over your shoulder, stretching one paw out to pat Matt's face. “Something tells me you don’t mind, though.”

“Not even a little.” 

[germiyahu]

Actually don't listen to me. I'm an impulse buyer with credit cards. You want a nice looking pitcher and basin to perform the hand washing mitzvot? That's an excellent opportunity to go thrifting! You might even find Judaica there, like a Chanukkiyya perhaps?

You don't want to wait 8 years for Shabbat candles to arrive from Israel? Ask your rabbi! When I asked her if you can reuse a Havdalah candle, she sensed I was worried about the cost of buying all these candles and said her shul has tons of extras.

You absolutely do need a Chumash, a Tanakh, and probably a study Bible too... but Sefaria has all that and more! Especially the Talmud and other Rabbinic sources! It literally blows my mind that this site exists and is free.

But what about all the books on Jewish history and philosophy? What about textbooks for Modern and Biblical Hebrew? See if there are scanned versions online, or go to your local library. Invest in notecards, you're going to want to write down prayers and such, this will especially help if you don't own the books you're studying from.

It's a good idea to have a Siddur, but your shul will most definitely have their own, and as others have told me, you can ask your Rabbi if you can borrow one to take home (make sure to treat it with reverence).

If you want to start baking Challah and are living on your own, or maybe in a dorm room, see if there are community cooking spaces so you don't have to buy your own materials, or just ask your parents if they can gift you some kitchenware because "You want to get into baking."

You literally don't need anything other than a cup that you think is pretty and has meaning to you for the Kiddush. And don't splurge, I've seen hundreds of very attractive Kiddush sets and candle holders and all that for modest prices.

And take it slowly! Don't buy everything at once. We're nowhere near close to Chanukka right now, so don't even put that in your mind. If you want to acquire holiday items, focus on Pesach and worry about other festivals in their due time, let your wallet recover a little. This also goes for Shabbat! You don't need a pristine set of everything all at once, I'm just an idiot. You can slowly build up your perfect beautiful intricate table as the months go by.

[simmerkate]

Dark Academia Clutter

✨ Base Game Compatible 🎨 Maxis Match-Friendly 📁 6 New Objects | Custom Meshes | High Detail

📅 Early Access Available Now🔓 Public Release: April 19th

Bring a touch of mystery, intellect, and vintage charm into your Sims’ world with this moody and elegant collection. Ideal for libraries, study rooms, secret society halls, or historical homes.

Included Items:

🌍 Old Globe

Earth-toned vintage globe with a deep wooden base

Adds scholarly vibes to any corner

🎨 Dark Academia Wall Art

3 framed paintings: florals, a dreamy storm cloud, and vintage botanicals

Baroque-style black frames for that gothic gallery look

🔭 Old Telescope

Antique brass telescope on a wood tripod

For the celestial scholar or curious dreamer

🕯️ Gothic Candle

Slim taper candle in a wrought iron holder

Perfect moody lighting for long nights of study

📖 Ancient Book

Two variations in green and brown leather

Intricate runes and latches for a magical, mysterious feel

✒️ Ink Well and Feather

Black ink pot with a dark quill

A must-have for any writer, alchemist, or spell-caster⚠️ Polycount NoticeMost items in this set are low poly and optimized for gameplay. However, please note:

🔭 Old Telescope – High Poly (~5k+ polys)Use with caution on lower-end systems or if you’re running lots of high-poly CC. It’s best suited for storytelling, screenshots, or decorative builds. 🔓 Public Release: April 19th Patreon (xx) ad-free

Socials

Follow me for updates, sneak peeks, and more custom content!

Instagram: @SimmerKatex

Facebook: facebook.com/simmerkate

Website: www.simmerkate.com

CurseForge: SimmerKate

[comparativelysuperlative]

No, the Hachette v. Internet Archive decision is gross for a completely different set of reasons.

The Second Circuit ruled that the Free Internet Library (letting you read e-books, but only as many as they or their partner libraries had physical copies of un-checked-out that day) was illegal copyright infringement because it was:

Non-commercial (asking for donations wasn't a problem); but

Not transformative at all (they're using the copyrighted text itself, to communicate the same thing as the original author, etc); and

Distributing the entire text, rather than quoting excerpts or whatever; and

Supplanting the copyright holder's version in the same market, specifically including the pros and cons to the public and the authors if doing this became widespread.

(These are the standard factors for fair use, and it sure does look like the court accurately described how they apply here. It wasn't wrong on the law. But.)

You know what else does all of those things? Me handing you a physical book! If lots of people lend their books around, people might borrow them instead of buying more. And obviously the copy I gave you has the entire text expressing the original author's ideas and all that.

Sharing a specific copy you own is allowed, but only because there's an exception written into the law. (17 USC 109(a)). Without that, it would be distributing copyrighted material and apparently wouldn't be fair use.

Anyway, I'm taking Hachette as confirmation that the publishing industry would ban libraries if they could. That's not at risk of actually happening, because there are laws on the books. But all those dire consequences to copyright holders, and definitely all those fair use legal factors, if they're true of the Free Internet Library they're also true of the Regular Library.

[eviemonroeer]

The Monroe Effect: Chapter 4

Set during Season 5, Episode 5 of ER. Yes I did skip Episode 4 on purpose; that will happen with a couple episodes. Spoilers if you haven't seen the show. I really like this episode, so I hope you do too.

Warnings: alcohol use, mentions of drug use and vomit, language

WC: 3.k

ER story belongs to original creators, just adding on my own original charter.

Taglist: @pleasecallmeunhinged, @rainmg, @arigoldsblog, @queenslandlover-93, and @hagarsays

Main Story: prev | next

Snapshots: prev | next

Today had been long and with it being Halloween, that meant it felt longer than usual. I was more than ready to get home. I grabbed my stuff from the lounge and clocked out, walking by admit on the way out to grab a handful of candy before I went to catch the train. 

              “Hey Evie, do you mind sitting here until Randi gets here?” Jerry asked. “I’ve got to get home to help my mom. Candy emergency.” 

              I sighed, really regretting clocking out now. “Sure Jerry.” I sat down at admit, praying nothing crazy would happen in the next thirty minutes. But knowing Randi, it might be forty-five. A few minutes into my desk duty, the phone rang. 

“ER.” I stated, impatient to get out of here and get on with my night; leave the ER before it got to weird. 

              “Evie?” 

              I raised an eyebrow and shifted my purse and jacket. “Carter? I thought you went back to the dorms?” 

              “I did. But I forgot some stuff I need to go over for my presentation tomorrow in my locker. Would you mind bringing it to me?” 

              “Sure. What am I looking for?” 

              “It’s a manila folder full of patient notes. I thought I grabbed them all, but I only have three.”

              “One manila folder coming right up.” 

              “Thank you so much. Do you mind meeting me at my dorm?” 

              “Can do. See you soon.” 

              A few minutes of digging through Carter’s locker after Randi finally arrived, and I found the folder he needed. A train ride later and I was walking through the Northwestern campus. The night was quiet for the most part, just the occasional student running by wearing a costume, probably on the way to some party. It was cool; it reminded me of where I was not that long ago. 

              I could tell I was at the dorms based on the blaring music, coming from inside; Lucy had mentioned earlier they were having a party. I rounded the corner and was glad to see I was arriving just as Carter was. He was walking back with a student, most likely from the library, based on the contents in his hands. He tilted his head up at me, acknowledging my arrival as the student next to him badgered on. 

“Looks like the party’s up and running.” I said with a laugh as we reached the bottom of the stairs. We all looked up just in time to see a burning chair come careening over the balcony and rolling down the steps. Carter stepped in front of me as the thing came to a stop in front of us. “What the hell?” I asked, looking at him. He shook he head and started for the building, a pissed off look on his face. 

              Once we were inside, he walked straight for the fire extinguisher, handing me his stack of books as he removed it from its holder and kept going, this time up to the second floor. The music was even louder up here, obviously the main hub of the party. Students were everywhere in an assortment of costumes. Everything from a bride to the least creative: scrubs. They were dancing, making out, and even smoking from a bong. Carter walked through them all, determined and angry. That’s when I recognized Lucy in a skating waitress outfit. 

              “Dr. Carter!” She exclaimed, obviously drunk. “Party picked up. The booze is right there.” She pointed over to a table and I was half tempted to grab a drink. Carter just stared at her for a moment, before venturing outside to the balcony, giving a group of guys the extinguisher he had gotten. “Hey! Evie! What are you doing here?” 

              “I was bringing Carter some work stuff.” 

              “Ah, to bad. I thought you were here to take the stick out of his ass.” 

              A laugh burst out of me, but I tried to play it off as a scoff. I eyed the aforementioned man as he returned from outside and made his way over to the sound system. He reminded me of a disappointed dad. He turned off the music to the outrage of the students. “Okay, kids, that’s it. Party’s over.” He declared, standing on a nearby chair. “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.” 

              “What’s up?” Lucy asked. “Were we too loud?” 

              “No, the furniture was too on fire.” He scoffed as he stepped down and put a hand on my lower back, leading me towards the exit. Before we could get too far though, I shot a hand out by the table and retrieved a bottle of booze. 

              “Oh really? I’m sorry.” 

              “I’ll be in my room, studying.” 

              “Happy Halloween.” Lucy called out as he led me around the corner and back out into the hall. 

              “What the hell were they thinking?” He muttered, continuing to lead me. 

              “Oh, come on Carter, they’re students. Med students at that. They just wanted to have a little fun.” 

              “A little fun?” He scoffed, retrieving his keys from his pocket, and unlocking his door. “You call that a little fun?” He gestured for me to go inside, which I did, setting his books on the desk by the door. 

“Wow, Dr. Carter is such a party pooper.”  I let out a laugh and sat down on Carter’s bed, crossing my legs. 

              “These kids are crazy.” 

              “And you were them, what, just a couple years ago?” 

              “I didn’t light chairs on fire and throw them off the balcony.” 

              “You got me there.” I went to untwist the top of the bottle off, thankfully finding the seal unbroken. I brought the bottle up to my lips and took a drink. Regretting swallowing, I cringed at the taste. “God that’s disgusting.” I offered the bottle up to Carter. 

              “You just said it was bad.” He laughed. 

              “It’s cheap liquor for college students, of course it’s bad.” Carter rolled his eyes and took the bottle from me, taking a quick swig. He coughed at the taste before handing it back to me. “Did you get your research done for your presentation?” I asked him, taking another drink. 

              “Yeah. Thanks for bringing this by the way.” He said, holding up the folder.

              “No problem. Not like I had any plans tonight. Besides, I haven’t been in a boy’s dorm room in years. I was curious. Glad to see things haven’t changed much.” I took another swig, trying not to breathe and force it down. 

              “How many boy’s dorm rooms have you been in?” 

              “Enough.”

              Carter laughed, shaking his head as he came to sit down next to me. “I just learn new things about you everyday Evie Monroe.” 

              “Yeah, and what’s that? 

              “That you were a tease in college.” 

              I scoffed, pushing him over as he laughed. “I was not a tease. Let’s just say I had a healthy extracurricular life.” 

              “Extracurricular, huh?” Carter asked, moving in closely next to me. “What kind of extracurriculars?” 

              “Oh, you know...... Football. Basketball. And there was that one time with soccer.” 

              “Guess you broke a lot of hearts.” He said, his voice becoming low as he stared at me. I felt a shiver go up my spine and it wasn’t from the booze. 

              “I guess you could say that.” 

              “Any med students?” His head dropped down as he slowly came closer. 

              “Maybe. Maybe not.” 

              “What about doctors?” His hand came up to my face, his thumb gently caressing my cheek.

              “Oh, but doctors are troublemakers.” 

              “Are we?”

              I nodded my head and bit my lip. Carter’s gaze darkened and he licked his lips, leaning in more. He was so close I could feel his breath, my heart pounding inside my chest. I went to grab his face, wanting him to just kiss me already, completely forgetting I still had a hold on the neck of the bottle. 

Well, not anymore.

              “Shit!” I exclaimed and jumped up, the alcohol spilling on both of us as the moment broke. “I’m sorry. Did I get your bed wet?”  

              “No, it’s okay. I think our clothes got the brunt of it.” He said, standing. “I’ll get you something to wear.” He tossed a towel at me, before going over to his dresser. I dried everything off the best I could. “Here.” Carter held out a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. 

              “Thanks.” I said, trying to smile, even though I could still feel the heat throughout my body. We just stood there, staring at each other. I looked down, the wetness from the liquor still soaking through. “You mind turning around?” 

              “Oh yeah, sorry.” Carter swallowed and nodded, his face growing red, before turning and facing the wall. “Do you mind to?” He asked. 

“Sure.” I sighed and sat the new clothes on the bed, as I turned towards the wall. I looped my fingers into my jeans before pulling them down. The alcohol had soaked through to the skin, so everything was unwearable. I used the towel to wipe myself off the best I could, before slipping the sweats onto my naked skin. Next came the shirt. If I was no longer wearing underwear, I might as well not wear a bra. The oversized shirt felt soft on my skin. It was a well-loved Northwestern shirt, grey with faded purple letters. 

              “Everything okay?” He asked. I smiled and wrapped my clothes together. 

              “Yeah. I’m decent. You?” 

“Yeah.” We both turned around and Carter’s hands went into his sweat’s pockets as he looked me up and down.

“I look ridiculous, don’t I?” 

              “No!” He said quickly. He cleared his throat. “It suits you.” 

              I smiled at him, my cheeks getting warm again. I walked over to his desk, setting my clothes in the chair and picking up the folder. “So, do you want some practice with your presentation?” 

              “Sure.” He said, taking his hands out of his pocket and crossing his arms. I opened the folder and walked back over to the bed, sitting down, and propping myself up on the headboard, looking through the papers. Carter was hesitant for a moment, before walking over to the other side and joining me on the small bed. It was quiet for a moment, us looking at each other, before I finally cleared my throat.

              “Where do we begin?” 

      

         A loud knock started to pull me from sleep. 

              I don’t remember when I laid down, but it felt nice. A pair of arms was wrapped around me, holding me close in a comfortable embrace. My leg wrapped tighter around the other person, and I ground my hips into them, earning a groan. They were semi-hard against my thigh. 

              The loud knock kept happening. And this time, I could make out a voice. 

              “Dr. Carter! Wake up, Dr. Carter!” 

              “Go away.” He groaned, pulling me in tighter as I nuzzled into his chest, his beard scratching against my forehead. 

              “Dr. Carter! I need your help! Please, wake up!”

              Carter groaned and finally unwrapped himself from me, getting out of bed and stomping to the door. In my haze, I sat up as the door flew open. “What?!” He exclaimed. Lucy opened her mouth to say something when she spotted me on the bed. I could see it took her brain a moment to register before she turned back to Carter. 

              “Willie’s passed out on the couch in the lounge and won’t wake up.” 

              That woke both of us up immediately. I got out of bed fast, following Carter and Lucy back to the lounge. By the time we got there, a small crowd had gathered. “Okay, everybody, back off.” Carter instructed. “Give him some air.” He went over to the couch and kneeled down next to the younger guy. “Anybody call 911?”

              “I did, Dr. Carter.” Another student said. 

              “Come on, Willie, wake up.” He said, holding the boy’s head as he shook him. I pushed through the other kids and came around the other side of the couch. I put my fingers on his neck. 

              “I got a weak carotid pulse.” I informed him. 

              “Yeah, but he’ s not breathing.” Carter pinched his nose and opened his mouth before beginning CPR. A few puffs in and there was a retching sound. The others groaned as Carter pulled off, grabbing a nearby bottle of alcohol to wash out his mouth as I turned the kid on his side. 

              “Can I do anything?” Lucy asked. “What can I do?” 

              “He vomited. That’s-that’s, that’s good right?” Another student asked. 

              “No that’s bad.” I answered as the sound of sirens started to be heard. I kept the kid turned as he continue to retch. “If he vomits and it gets down in his lungs, he could die of aspiration pneumonia.” Lucy reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet as Carter started breaths again. 

              “Alright, his parents live in Downer’s Grove. Here.” she said, giving the card out. “Call them, give them a call.”    

              “We’re up here, second floor!” I heard someone shout out on the balcony. I noticed something poking out of the kid’s pocket and pulled it out. I groaned. 

              “It’s X. Liquid ecstasy.” 

              “What is that?” Lucy asked. 

              “It’s like a narcotic.” Carter told her. “Did anyone else take it?” 

              “I don’t know. I didn’t even know Willie took it.” 

              “Branch took some earlier.” Another student replied. 

              “I can’t leave Willie.” Carter exclaimed in between breaths. 

              “I’ll go.” Lucy offered and skated away. 

              Seconds later, the paramedics showed up and Carter filled them in on the situation. Willie ended up needing to be intubated and if I had to bet, this Branch kid was going to need it also. Carter grabbed another intubation kit from their pack and headed off to find the other boy, with me right on his tail. We found Lucy in the hall. 

              “Where is he?” Carter asked. 

              “Ah, his roommate said he went to take a shower. How’s Willie?” 

              “Paramedics intubated him.” I explained as Carter led us towards the men’s shower room. 

              “Liquid ecstasy?” Lucy questioned. “These guys are med students. You’d think they’d know better.” 

              “Yeah, you would.” Carter huffed before pushing open the door. “Branch? Branch?” The water was running as we rounded the sink barrier, finding the kid passed out on the tile, halfway out of the shower. Carter groaned and stepped over him, turning off the shower head. He stepped back out and we both kneeled down on the ground, pulling the kids out as we worked wordlessly in tandem, just like we did in the ER. I felt his neck. 

              “No pulse. Starting compressions.”

              “Dammit!” Carter yelled and reached for the intubation kit. 

              “Lucy, go find the paramedics.” I instructed as he stuck the tube down the kids throat and pumped an epi through the tube. Lucy took off out of the bathroom and we took turns, Carter breathing into the tube before I resumed chest compressions, switching off as we waited for help to arrive.

      

        The doors to the ER burst open as Carter and I led the two gurneys inside. “Branch Crockett and Willie Goldman, ages 22 and 23.” Carter began explaining to the staff. “Mixed overdose of alcohol and GHB. Willie is intubated from a respiratory arrest. Branch came back with epi after a full arrest.” 

              “What? A little late-night club-hopping?” Connie asked, taking over bagging the patient for me as I moved around to Carter’s side of the gurney. 

              “No.” I sighed. “Med school Halloween party.” 

              “Alright, everybody.” Carter groaned as we grabbed ahold of the blanket. “On my count. One, two, three.” We lifted, getting him placed on the hospital gurney so the paramedics could move out of the way. “CBC, ABG, lytes, blood alcohol, tox screen, and a 12-lead. Evie, call respiratory for a vent.” I nodded and walked over to the phone. 

              “Somebody should call his parents.” Connie said. 

              “Lucy can do that.” 

              “I wanted to help.” The med student stated, already putting on gloves. 

              “You’re drunk. You don’t belong here. Now, get out.” 

              Although Carter’s words were harsh, he was also kind of right. I sighed and turned back to the phone, dialing the extension for respiratory. Thankfully in the end, the boys were stabilized and moved up to beds in the ICU. I walked over to the admit desk and slouched into the chair, putting my head in my hands. 

              “What’s with the get up?” I looked up at Randi, who had a smirk on her face as she chewed her gum. I looked down and sighed. “Which man does that belong to?” 

              “Evie?” 

              Just great. Randi turned as Carter walked up to us. He had changed into a green scrub top after his shirt was soaked from the shower. His hair was even still a little wet. Randi looked both of us up and down, before raising an eyebrow to me and walking away. 

              “I’m so sorry this happened.” He said, putting his hands in his pockets. 

              “It’s alright. What’s Halloween without a little crazy, huh?” 

              “Let me get a cab and we can head back to the dorm. You have to get your stuff, right?”

              I nodded and Carter headed over to the phone. The cab arrived not to long after and the ride to the dorm was quiet. As we rounded the corner to the building, we stopped, spotting Lucy sitting on the front steps. “Hey, Dr Carter. Evie.” 

              “Hi Lucy.” I said. Carter put a hand on the small of my back before putting a key in my back pocket. 

              “I’ll be right there.” He whispered. I nodded and walked up the stairs, passing Lucy and giving her a pitying look. 

I went inside and up to Carter’s floor, dragging my feet. I opened up his door and the exhaustion washed over me. The bed looked to inviting. By the time I heard the door open again, I was already laying down, eyes closed. I heard a soft chuckle and the click of the lock, followed by the lamp turning off. I felt a dip in the bed before Carter wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close. I snuggled into the pillow and sighed, the adrenaline of the evening slipping away as we both passed out. 

[rodolfoparras]

its all fun and games thinking about price until you start thinking about Dragon!Price. What id let that dragon man do to me is horrifying. He'd be so warm and cozy! But also so so so possessive of you! Someone flirts, say goodbye to your ability to walk and say hello to a bunch of marks 👍

Thinking about Price being known as the mean old dragon living in the mountains and all the villagers fear him, have tried to defeat him only to end up dead and those who’ve managed to survive haven’t been able to tell the tale from the sheer shock of surviving the event. One day someone as adventurous or rather someone as foolish as you sets out to meet this dragon only to discover him tucked away in some corner of his cave while baring his claws at you, in an attempt to defend himself.

However you don’t take out your sword to hurt him, matter of fact you sit down on the cold concrete floor, pushing a small offering his way without coming any closer.

You read in one of the ancient books hidden away in the library that if you want to build a connection with a dragon you should try handing it an offer.

Although he’s in his dragon form you can see the confused look on his face, the slight tilt to his head and how his whiskers sway in the air before he approaches closer.

The smell of smoke becomes much prominent, dust raising from the ground as he moves his large body before he swiftly takes the offering in his mouth and quickly returns to his original spot .

He turns to meet your gaze only to see the soft smile on your face as you continue to sit in place.

This goes on for days, weeks, months, you’ll walk all the way to the mountain where the mean old dragon resides bring him offering before leaving for the night.

Despite taking up a dragon form he’s more human than you thought. You see the way his eyes light up when you bring him the fruit he likes, you see the curl of his lip, the smoke coming out his nostrils as if huffing when you reprimand him for eating so quick (you’re just trying to make sure he doesn’t get sick from the way he’s basically inhaling his offerings)

You even see the way he’s grown accustomed to you, sure he won’t try to approach but at least he no longer bares his claws at you.

It’s safe to say that you’ve formed some type of bond with the mean old dragon.

You don’t mention this routine to anyone, keeping it all under wraps while continuously visiting the him so it comes as a surprise when you arrive one day with offerings in your hand only to be met with the sight of the dragon bleeding out.

You drop the basket in hand, red apples falling to the floor and the loud thudding sound catches the dragons attention.

Before you know of it the dragon is lunging at you, only to narrowly miss when you roll away in the last second.

“Hey hey it’s me it’s me” you try to explain but the dragon doesn’t seem to care as it launches another attack your way. This time he manages to get in a scratch but even then you keep your sword tucked away, still trying to talk some sense into the dragon.

“Hey hey look,” you say as you take the sword out of its holder and slide it over to where he stands.

At first you can’t see his reaction, face obscured by the cloud of smoke coming from his nose but when you do you see his head tilted just the same as when you first met him in this cave.

“See? I won’t hurt you” you say with a soft smile on your face even going as far as raising your hands in the air.

The dragon's gaze drops from your face down to the ground and when you follow his eyes you see your own blood dripping down.

“Oh” you say gaze glued back to the dragon again “just a minor scratch dont worry about it” minor was an understatement but despite your blury eyes and the nasoua bubbling up in your gut you make your way over to him.

“You’re hurt too” you say as if the dragon could understand you “let me check on it?”

The dragon doesn’t respond but doesn’t move away either as you steadily approach.

You continue to keep your hands up in the air, soft smile still glued to your face doing your best to be as reassuring as possible as you approach him on shaky legs.

When you go to take a closer look, you see the many scales on his underbelly ripped away and a foreign object jammed into it.

“What happened?” You say to yourself before looking up at the dragon again. “I’m going to try to take it out alright? You say pointing to the wound in hopes of making yourself understood.

Once again the dragon doesn’t respond but doesn’t move away either when you approach.

“Good boy” you whisper to yourself and for the first time since you’ve been visiting this dragon you get a proper look at the many scale that decorate his skin. Although most of them are soaked in blood you can see the gold color that coats them and hues of orange and red scattered about on them. You careful reach a hand out ,neck uncomfortably cranking up to meet the dragons gaze, so far he hasn’t moved away yet and you take it as a positive sign as you grab ahold of the sword and slowly but surely start pulling it out of his underbelly.

The dragon roars not out of fear but out of pain as you continue to pull the sword out of him.

“I know I know just give me a second” you say under a shaky breath using all your strength to finally pull it out of him

Immediately he slumps down, wings protectively covering his lower half as he lets out a sound that is something like a mix of pain and relief. Behind him you see the skeletal remains of what must’ve been a person tempting fate and with the dragons blood on your hands, it’s hard to feel bad for the dead man.

You carefully sit down too and make quick work of ripping a piece of your shirt to use as gauze all while the dragon continues to watch you.

Once you’re all cleaned and wrapped up you smile up at him, and once again he just stares at you without giving much of a response.

“We’re okay”

The two of you continue to be okay days weeks and months after that event.

You even seem to grow closer, and at some point the dragon allows you to touch him. Sure it may be to only attended to minor injuries but progress is still progress.

However it all takes a turn when you go to visit him like you usually do, with a basket of apples in hand and a soft smile on your face that quickly drops along with the basket as you take in the sight of the dragon charging towards you. 

You don’t even have time to react before the dragon is just a hair away from your face and you close your eyes out of instinct , as a frightful sound tumbles past your lips.

However the frightened look quickly turns into one of confusion when you notice that the dragon hasn’t attacked you yet and when you open your eyes you don’t see the mean old dragon standing in front of you but instead it’s a man, completely nude and staring at you with the most beautiful pair of cerulean eyes you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Why do you smell like someone else?”

Spitball w/ me?

[reine-du-sourire]

A Perfectly Good Reason

“Xuan-Xuan.”

“Go away,” He Xuan says, without looking up from his phone. He’s tucked away in a library corner, eating cheap ramen and scrolling through an e-copy of a book that he’d been wanting to finish for at least a week. Technically, students aren’t supposed to eat in the library, but there are certain rules you don’t really want to enforce upon a 'Ghost King'.

Speaking of 'Ghost Kings'…

A muffled curse from He Xuan as the village idiot (okay, classmate) (okay, debt holder) (okay, occasional friend, but that is a very infrequent occasional) drapes himself over He Xuan’s shoulders and almost spills his ramen. 

“What do you want now?”

“Nice of you to notice me. Anywayyyyy…” Hua Cheng’s voice lengthens to a drawl; he reaches for a loose lock of hair from He Xuan’s ponytail and idly begins to play with it. “You know the student clubs lists that just came out?”

“Of course I do. They’re pinned up in the main hallway. What about them? And stop touching my hair.”

“Did you happen to see a certain name omitted from a certain list?”

“Oh, that.” He Xuan still doesn’t look up from his phone. “Have you considered that there might be a perfectly good reason why he hasn’t been chosen for the Cooking Club, Chengzhu?”

Hua Cheng does not budge. “I don’t need to consider anything. I practically own this school. Especially-” he tugs at his classmate’s hair again- “you.”

“How could I forget.”

“Besides, just think how upset Gege is right now! He had his heart set on joining the Cooking Club! I consoled him, of course, saying it was all a typographical mistake and of course he made it in. All you need to do is-”

“I know my way around a firewall, thank you very much. I don’t need instructions from you. And if you don’t stop pulling my hair I’m not going to help you at all.”

And so Hua Cheng waits patiently, resting his chin on He Xuan’s shoulder to watch him work. Black Water Sinking Ships- every good hacker has an alias, and He Xuan’s more than merely good. It’s short work, this, almost insultingly easy. He doesn’t even need the program he wrote himself- Nether Water Manor, he calls it. Restricted faculty documents blossom over the screen within seconds. Tap-tap, swipe, a few keys, and finished. 

He Xuan transfers his phone to his left hand so as to reach his ramen better with his right, and holds up his phone so Hua Cheng can see the results. “There. You owe me lunch for a week.”

“Perfect.” Hua Cheng grins with delight and grabs the phone. “Yes. Oh, he’s going to be so happy. I can’t wait to tell him. Wait. Why isn’t his name on top of the list?”

“Because the names are in alphabetical order. You want this to look like an outside job?”

“Yes, actually. I want those idiots to see exactly what happens when-”

“You are unbelievable sometimes.” He Xuan pulls his phone back and resumes tapping. “There. Now it’s two weeks.”

Hua Cheng tugs at the ponytail, for a change. He Xuan makes a noise not unlike an irritated cat and swats his hand away.

“Two weeks, fine." Hua Cheng flicks at the ramen cup. "Now stop eating that cheap garbage.”

He Xuan tilts the last of the noodles into his mouth and swallows. “Then get me something better.”

[cardiac-agreste]

After working with other, extremely dedicated mods on this event, I'm so STOKED to share a preview of my work for @mlbigbang2024! This year, I'm taking "courtroom drama" out for a spin, in a manner of speaking. A Twelve Angry Holders, if you will. I will begin publishing it Jan 15!

Synopsis

In The Demon Takes Two Chairs, thanks to a shift in allegiance by Nathalie Sancoeur, Ladybug's team of holders has just defeated Hawkmoth. Now they must decide what to do with Mayura, who is being held prisoner by Bunnyx in her time burrow.

But a tense standoff between Gabriel and Argos revealed that Adrien is a sentimonster.

Ladybug feels overwhelmed by all her allies’ differing opinions. She sets out to convince them that Adrien Agreste’s only remaining quasi-family should be shown leniency.

As the team (very) vigorously debates Mme Sancoeur’s fate, old wounds and grievances are re-opened.

Perhaps most painful of all is that she hasn’t seen Chat Noir in days.

The other members of my team are artists @zambiv and @supergirl9130, and @uptoolateart, who is my beta reader.

Preview

Bedsprings shifted, and Rena finally scanned the rest of the room. Ladybug sat at the edge of Adrien’s bed, destruction spiraling out around her on the ground. Had she thrown a tantrum? There were books from Adrien’s second-floor library everywhere, ripped to shreds; his desk was upturned, monitors shattered; there were cracks in the walls from what must have been Tikki-powered punches.

Her friend and hero was hunched over like a solitary cypress tree, roots clinging desperately to the cliffside, bowed over the years into submission by ceaseless oceanic gusts. Its bark weathered and pale, its leaves disheveled and grasping for any stray light peeking through the storm clouds.

Ladybug held something small in her hands, passing it from one to the other.

Rena inhaled swiftly at the sight, and muscles in her chest fluttered in anticipation of whatever support her best friend would need. As she walked to the bed, she recognized it as Adrien: The Lego, one of Gabriel’s less-inspired marketing ploys. Her friend was being so gentle with it even though it had previously been the subject of two wide-ranging tirades. Marinette was taking the news worse than Alya had expected.

“Girl, let’s sneak in and put that on the floor in Lila’s house. Then she’ll step on it and hurt her foot.”

Threatening Lila with pain usually teased a smile out of Marinette no matter how down in the dumps she was, but not this time. This wasn’t good. Rena went and sat down beside Ladybug, shoulder to shoulder, willing her body heat to envelope her friend. “Hey…”

“Why would he do this to Adrien?” she whispered.

If Rena hadn’t been right next to her, she wouldn’t have heard it. She put her arm on her friend’s back and began rubbing softly. “What do you mean?”

“Adrien told his father he didn’t want to be a model anymore, and Gabriel retaliated by creating an AR version that anyone could manipulate. Do you think there were restrictions placed on the AI? What if some horny pervert had used it to make deep fakes? Do you think Gabriel even cared?

“And then there’s this. It’s cheap, mass-produced, plastic, and can be manipulated by a child. How could he think this was a good idea? How did Adrien feel about it? It’s like all Gabriel did was focused on controlling him…”

Ladybug shot to her feet and growled, hurling the toy across the room. “There’s a mini-fridge full of fucking camembert over there! I think I’d know if he liked camembert!”

Her voice reverberated in the room, and then near-silent but for some rustling around the corner near the skate ramps. The force of the throw had probably blown a few loose book pages around.

“No!” She sprinted across the room and retrieved the toy, stroking it and clutching it to her chest like a poultice intended to heal a broken heart, leaning over so her forehead pressed against the wall.

“Adrien…” She turned to Rena and asked, “Do you think he already knew? That he’s a…” Her eyes were brimming with a hope that was already being stabbed in the back. It seemed like Ladybug couldn’t even say it out loud. 

Without pausing, she answered her own question. “Of course he didn’t. This is Gabriel we’re talking about. If Adrien didn’t know his father was Hawkmoth, he wouldn’t have known this.

“And what am I going to do about Nathalie? This is…it’s too much for me.” Ladybug stumbled beforefalling to her knees, breath becoming ragged as her chin dipped to her chest.Her hands pressed to her temples, as if to wring the anxiety from her mind. “I can’t… how do I do that alone?”

Rena’s eyes burned as her friend fell apart before her. The revelation that Adrien was a sentimonster had hit her hard, too. But Rena was furious at someone else.

Why hadn’t Felix ever told Adrien the truth? Why hadn’t he told anyone that Gabriel Agreste was Hawkmoth? That bastard had toyed with Ladybug’s emotions, stole all the Miraculous, and set Paris on a collision course with Armageddon.

She clenched her fists. Everything in this room looked like a pressure release valve. Why not throw that chair through the window? Why not torch this place? It was likely Adrien would never want to be here once they found him and told him the truth. Because she, Nino, and Marinette weren’t Felix. Adrien was their brother.

Rena Rouge walked over to Ladybug and knelt beside her. “You’re right. This is too big for Ladybug alone. But Ladybug isn’t alone. She has me. And she has Pigella. And she has Purple Tigress. And Polymouse. Carapace is ride or die. She’s got her whole secret garden of flowers here.” She lowered her voice and looked around conspiratorially. “Though I’m not sure Nino would like being compared to a flower.”

This elicited a giggle from her friend.

[analog-autistic]

The Beast Children

Cookie Run Kingdom ocs and AU by yours trulyyyy :33

Designs might not be official, I’m not great at this </3 (especially strawberry creams outfit…)

lore and shit under the cut vvv

When the beasts were sealed away, and the power stored in their Souljams was taken, there was something left behind… little sparks of energy and power, that could be given life.

These sparks could not be given to the new Souljam holders, as they were still partially corrupt. But they could not be given to the Beasts, for fear it would give them power.

So the witches created five little cookies, infants, with the sparks.

These cookies were put into time bubbles, so that they would not age or grow- essentially putting them into cryo sleep.

—

One day, thousands of years later, the faeries of Beast-Yeast partially awoke the children, allowing them to grow and wake fully when they were ready. They called them the Beast Children, and raised them for a few years before Pure Vanilla took them in, as an attempt to keep the children away from the Silver Tree- away from the Beasts.

—

🫐🍡 Blueberry Mochi is just like their father, albeit weaker and more sympathetic. They love playing pranks, and are quickly learning how to use and control their powers. It’s rare to see them actually walking, as they usually float. They get along well with anyone who is willing to listen to the stories they create, but constantly apologize for rambling.

🍞🌾 Artisan Bread is more energetic than his mother, however still apathetic. He is the oldest of the group, and the most mature. He dislikes using his magic, but will if he needs to protect his siblings. He is very self conscious about his smile, and seeing him genuinely happy is a rare sight. He gets along with anyone who is willing to sit with him and listen to music.

👻🌶️ Ghost Pepper is less destructive than her father, but just as loud and chaotic. She is aggressive in everything, giving suffocating hugs and playful hits. Her head sets ablaze when she has extreme emotions, and has a summonable axe that is far too big for her to reasonably carry- but she does it anyway. She is the youngest in the group, and compensates for her small legs with her rollerskates. She gets along with anyone who will wrestle or spar with her.

🍓🍨 Strawberry Cream is a sleeping beauty like her mother, but when she does get up she is a wonderful artist. She can hover with her small wings, but she usually keeps them folded in since they don’t do much. She enjoys painting, sketching, sculpting, and is currently learning how to 3d model. She gets along with anyone who will look at her art.

🪨🍄‍🟫 Bitter Truffle is kinder than their father, and is selectively mute, only speaking with their siblings and a few other lucky cookies. She is the most protective of her siblings, despite them being the second youngest. She’s very intelligent, spending hours of each day in the Vanilla Castle’s library and studying with Custard Cookie III. They get along with anyone who will study with them or talk about their favorite books with them.

—

There are two things to always remember when speaking of them or interacting with them-

While their parents may be Beasts, they are still children.

And while they may be children, their parents are still Beasts.

[neverendinglabyrinth]

Analyzing 35 Portland Row:

Back at it with my set decoration posts, but lets overanalyze 35 Portland Row, shall we?

I love the way most of the house seems untouched, like it was frozen in time. Presumably, Lockwood never really "redesigned" the home from its original state, maybe a couple of changes here and there (which are more noticeable as we move on to other rooms) I say this, because of the contrast between pristine and messy in the areas.

The entryway:

I assume that the perspective pictures were taken as a way to assess how the set was going to look, in perspective 1 you can see the pillows on the bench missing, and in perspective 2 the clothing rack/hanger are completely missing.

On screen, we see that contrast I was talking about, you can see the way the clothes are almost stacked on that clothing rack (we can see George's coat, for example) I regard this as the kids respecting the space, since it is Lockwood's house they, most likely, don't want to trash it with their personal mess (or maybe George is the one that sets the 'mess-boundaries' to lighten the cleaning work).

On the other side of the spectrum we see the neat decorations and respected vases (respected as in, not using them as holders or trash bins) and the well cleaned masks and antiques hanging on the wall.

The Living Room:

This room is the "look how professional and neat we are" room, it is (by far) the cleanest one of them all, here is where they receive people and it is evident that they don't use it much by themselves, I know this because of the alarming lack of books laying around. I promise you, in Portland Row there are books EVERYWHERE.

Proof:

(these are just from the first couple episodes)

The Library:

I would argue that this is the "let's talk" room of the house, because it's the place where all of the information is. This is the room with the most "Lockwood flare", plus it's the perfect place for me to talk more about the messiness contrast.

In the scene where Lucy goes to talk to Lockwood, she has an apple core in her hand and this madwoman sets it ON THE TABLE (outrageous) but she looks for a spot where she wont ruin the table OR the books beside it. THE SELECTIVE MESS, PEOPLE! And Lockwood doesn't care, he just smiles, thankful.

Also there's a piano on the corner. (Hey! Locky, play Piano Man!)

The Kitchen:

Lockwood & Co's kitchen my beloved <3

By far my favorite room of the house, it is so cozy! From the spice rack, to the pot holders, to the kitchen utensils, the DETAILS. I'm in love, I love it.

And of course, the thinking cloth. The kitchen is the heart of Portland Row 35. And the crumbs on the table mean the world to me. LIKE DO YOU GET IT? DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE SIMBOLYSM OF CRUMBS ON THE TABLE?

I love kitchens, and I love set decor. That's all I have to say.

The Rooms:

Last sections of me nerding out about set decor, I promise!

Lockwood's Room:

It's safe to assume that Lockwood doesn't spend much time in his room, so it stays mostly neat. Probably only in use when he's sleeping or getting changed, and most of his time is spent in the library or in the kitchen with the others.

Lucy's Room:

Okay, this room is a set decor work of art. Why? Well, because it is a prime example of a characters personality shining through in a new space.

Not only does it show what it was before (a storage attic) but it also shows what it is now (a personal room) AT THE SAME TIME! You can see the way Lucy organizes everything contrasted with the way it was laid out before.

(look at the shopping bags she was carrying when talking to Kipps beside the bed, CONTINUITY!)

George's Room:

One thing about George is that he is way too excited about The Problem to care about actually cleaning and organizing his own room.

I think that his room is a physical representation of how his brain works. Books on the floor, papers stacked over anything, post it notes on the wall. You can just see the way his brain jumps from one thought to the other by the way his room is laid out!

The set decorator credits: JUDE FARR

So that's it! Im sure i missed a couple of things so if you want to add your observations, please do! And if i made any mistakes or incorrect assumptions I apologize, i am by no means and expert, I just like the subject.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Leyland Cecco at The Guardian:

There is only one building in North America, probably in the world, where one can browse bestsellers and children’s books by crossing an international border and then sit for an amateur theatre troupe in a regal opera house with each half of your body in two different countries. Standing near the Tomifobia River, a rushing body of water swollen from the spring melt, the Haskell Free Library and Opera House straddles the border of Canada and the US. Constructed more than a century ago as a deliberate rebuttal to borders and division, the imposing building split between Quebec and Vermont has become a beloved and fiercely protected part of communities in both countries. But in recent months, the library has become the latest casualty in the trans-border feud that has strained relations between the two nations. Peter Lépine began volunteering at the library 15 years ago after moving from Montreal, drawn to the creaky warren of rooms, each constructed from different types of wood. “I’ve loved it,” he says on an April morning. “I love books, I love the people and I love the quiet. And today, mercifully, it’s quiet.” For weeks, curious onlookers, outraged supporters and gaggles of media have descended on both Stanstead, Quebec, and Derby Line, Vermont, after US officials announced the main entrance to the library, which sits in Vermont, would soon be cut off to Canadians. They cited drug traffickers and smugglers “exploiting” the accessibility and said the closure meant “we are ending such exploitation by criminals and protecting Americans” without providing evidence. Under the new rules which go into effect in October, Canadians will need to go through a formal border crossing before entering the library. The news, met with disbelief from patrons and staff, followed a closely watched visit by the US secretary of homeland security, Kristi Noem, in March. Touring the library, Noem said “USA number one!” and then hopped over the black tape separating the two countries and said “51st state” when she landed in Canada. She repeated the joke – echoing Donald Trump’s recent fixation on annexing Canada – three times. “It was incredibly disrespectful,” said Lépine. “There’s no other way to describe it. And it really hurt.”

Since the start of his second term, Trump has questioned Canada’s viability as a nation, suggesting that it could become the 51st American state, and deriding the outgoing prime minister, Justin Trudeau, as a “governor”. He has also called the border an “imaginary line” and threatened to use economic force to crush Canada’s economy. The political theatre comes in stark contrast to a building meant to celebrate friendship and cooperation. Opened in 1904, before rules took effect that barred trans-border structures, the library and opera house were gifted by Martha Stewart Haskell, a Canadian philanthropist, and her son Horace. The aim was to gift something artistic to citizens of both countries for generations to come. When finished, the building housed a 500-seat opera house, complete with a dazzling chandelier and a curtain painted to resemble Venice’s grand canal – original items still in use today. Like the library below, the worn black tape running through the opera marks the international border.

[...] In recent days, US border officials installed a sign that warned only library card holders could cross and access the main entrance. Anyone else “will be arrested and face prosecution” at the hands of US officials. [...] Currently, to enter the library, Canadians must trek over mats placed atop a muddy lawn, following a set of arrows that lead the building’s former emergency exit. But the library’s management envisioned an accessible entrance along with sidewalks and a larger parking lot. “I have the resources to help because of the support of American and Canadian readers. The least I could do is give back,” Penny said. “Plus, it’s like giving the finger to the current administration: you close one door, we will open another one.” At the Haskell, patrons returning books throughout the morning all cite the shared sense of history, culture and values that have long undergirded the friendship between the two nations.

The Haskell Free Library and Opera House (Bibliothèque et salle d'opéra Haskell)-- which straddles Derby Line, Vermont, USA and Stanstead, Québec, Canada-- is caught between the crosshairs of Trump’s insane feud with Canada, as the Canadian entrance is being cut off.

See Also:

The Guardian: US blocks Canadian access to cross-border library, sparking outcry

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

The Sleepy Kitten Cafe 🐱💤 

(The Drakes Spoiled Brat. (im sorry dad))

Ill solidify an actual layout design later (since this will become a major setting for most of the fic) BUT for now you get a shitty collage design Edit- Fuck it I was gonna wait till post chapter 7 but I decided to publish now so here you go!

Info (may or may not become relevent in the fic, I just think is neat also for my own reference)

Located on The Narrows of Gotham city

All utensils and containers are thrifted so none of them match

Upstairs lounge is a mini library/book store

They sell baked goods and have a shitty service window where you can order diner style food/snacks

Regular game nights/other events (including jazz night which Tim vehelementaly refuses to attend)

Not uncommon for random strays to come hang out (no one tell their manager)

Have a photo wall of regular customers (it took several weeks of begging before Tim allowed Gwen to snap his pic and pin it up)

They have a whole buisness card holder on the counter people can advertise their shit

Owned by a former hippie from Washington and her husband from Sikkim

Almost gets robbed once a week but hey its Gotham, what can you do? (emphasis on almost)

Employees (named thus far, who I will also probably draw later)-

Gwen Parkins she/her- Main Barista Alans (Tims) BFF, utter sweetheart, but will cry if yelled at. Also plans like 80% of the work events. Wears clips in her hair that are "on theme" for whatever event is for the day (cat ones for work obvi) Never checks her bank account so doesnt notice Tim slipping in an extra 500-3k every month (tax free of course) and she ends up saving or donating half of it anyways. From the Narrows.

Zeek (Ezikel) Zoref he/they- Cook/Security Very open stoner, likes bullying his friends (kinda an asshole, but will apologize if too far), also loves Gotham for the fact he can and will fist fight customers given the oppertunity, and there are PLENTY of oppertunies. Carries around a bat. Almost became a Joker Goon out of nessesity but by sheer happenstance he tried robbing Alan who somehow got him an interview at the Cafe, even with zero experience. (Owes his life, but will never admit it) Allergic to mint and mourns mint gum everyday. From Crime Alley.

Obsidian Fowler they/them- Manager/Barista The reason shit gets done, newly recognized artist, meticiously does inventory because they find it fun. Gets stressed about hygine when his coworkers keep sneaking random strays in the cafe, but weak to begging. Did not give in when they brought in a Raccoon. Keeps offering Alan a job because "Please I cannot be the only competent member here" From Old Gotham.