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gallusrostromegalus · 10 months

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If you are still taking questions, could I ask about Uryuu? Or Mizuiro, I have always loved him and wanted to see more of him.

The day after The Stabbing Incident in which Ichigo's Shinigami Powers were activated, Lunchtime:

"Rukia!" Ichigo called from the door. "We got a club meeting!"

"What? Oh, right!" She giggled, all bubbly persona, which immediately vanished in the hall "-You signed me up for a club? Ichigo, you know I don't have time for extracurriculars!"

"Calm down, this one doesn't assign homework. We just meet on the roof for lunch." He explained, marching resolutely against the stream of traffic in the hall.

"Oh? Up to something illicit are you?" Rukia teased, ducking behind him to avoid being swept away.

"Nah, we just meet on the roof so Kon can join us." Ichigo shrugged kicking open the door to the roof.

" 'SUP NERDS!" Ichigo bellowed affectionately at the gaggle of teenagers already assembled on the roof. "Okay Rukia, this is the "I Can See Ghosts And It fucking Sucks Club", guys, this is Rukia."

"Hi miss Rukia!" Waved a readheaded girt that puberty had hit like a truck.

"-Rukia is a shinigami like the freak that used to live in my dad's attic, and last night one of those bigass monster ghosts attacked my fuckin' house and Rukia kinda accidentally-on-purpose stabbed me and now I got fuckin' shinigami powers, which is mostly being able to ditch my body and summon a bigass sword to kill the monster ghosts with."

Those assembled stared at him in silence.

There was a rattle and Kon appeared at the top of the chain-link fence around the roof. "You know Ichigo, I think I know why your Literature class grades suck." the cat sighed. "Rukia got injured and used her magic sword to transfer her powers to Ichigo to fight off the hollow, and accidentally gave him too much and now she's stuck here until the Shinigami skills bleed back out of Ichigo."

"Ohhhhh..." the group nodded.

"-By stabbing me." Added Ichigo. "I feel like the stabbing part is being lowballed here."

"Welp. time to reset the counter." Sighed a lightly disheveled young man with brown hair, and the youthful looking lad with black hair beside him opened his laptop, typed for a few seconds and then turned the screen to show the group a digital counter that read

DAYS SINCE OUR LAST SUPERNATURAL NONSENSE AND/OR GRIEVOUS BODILY INJURY: 0

Previous streak: 17.324 Days.

"Thanks. Very helpful." Sighed Ichigo. "Tweedle Dee and tweedle Dumbass here are Mizurio and Keigo."

Ichigo pointed to the brunette. "Keigo here comes from a long-ass line of psychics and has been documenting every instance of supernatural activity in Karkura town going back to the middle ages since he was like. Ten? Don't let the fact that he's deliberately failing out of school fool you, he's probably the world's most brilliant moron."

"Iiiiiichigoooo, why you gotta make me sound like a loser in front of the actual-factual ghost girl?" Keigo whined.

"I'll stop making you sound like a loser when you stop being a loser." Ichigo huffed, and pointed to the black-haired youth beside him. "Babyface McGee here is Mizurio, he's our other technology geek, and he can cast Summon Gun."

"Pleasure to meet you Miss Rukia!" Mizurio said, extending his hand politely. "If you need some armament against the- what did you say they were called? Hollows? - I can provide you with something. First one's on the house, as my Uncle says."

"Oh!" Laughed Rukia. "By 'summon gun' you mean you have a way of purchasing weapons! I thought for a second you had the magical ability to spontaneously manifest guns or something ridiculous like that!"

The group collectively grimaced at her, except for the silent Giant, who was too busy snuggling Kon.

"Have you ever fired a weapon like a handgun Miss Rukia?" Mizurio asked holding his hand up beside his head, as though holding up an invisible object.

"Uh." Said Rukia, staring at his hand. ""...No."

"In that case I'm going to reccomend a Glock-17 lightweight pistol-" Mizurio nodded, and a small, bright blue light ignited in his palm, swirling and drawing Reishi into it, forming a physical object.

"-it's very reliable and easy to sight accurately, and doesn't have much of a kickback so I'm confident you'll only need a little practice to be able to handle it reliably!" He smiled cheerfully as the object finished manifesting in his hand, and he easily unloaded it with a practiced motion, set the saftey out of habit and offered it to Rukia to inspect.

"UH." Said Rukia, recoiling from the weapon with alarm.

"Oh don't worry!" Mizurio chirped. "Any gun that I make- And I make them, not summon them- has infinite ammo once the clip is loaded, and it's perfectly effective against hollows! You'll be perfectly fine using it!"

"I- You- I mean-" Rukia sputtered, staring wide-eyed at the gun. "-Did you. Learn? to do this?"

"Hm-..." Mizurio frowned at the gun. "Well, I've gotten better at it over time, but it's not like anyone taught me, if that's what you mean."

"Uh-huh." Rukia nodded, teeth bared in an attempt at a smile that completely failed. "You. Uh. You got any German ancestry?"

"Oh, I wouldn't know!" Mizurio laughed. "I don't actually know who my father is, and I strongly suspect he doesn't know his father either! Why?"

"...Mizurio, I think you're a Quincy."

---

Downstairs in the lunchtime meeting of the Karkura High School Crafts Club, Uryuu Ishida sneezed in the middle of a demonstration of different stitch types, and knocked over a large bottle of glitter, coating the entire room.

"...That's a bad omen if I ever saw one." Muttered one of the girls, sparkling.

---

"What's a Quincy?" Mizurio asked.

"It's a- Okay, before I start an explanation, is there anyone else here with weird supernatural powers?" Rukia asked.

There was a whirl of energy behind her and she turned to see the Silent Giant that had been cradling Kon had manifested a strange, sleek armor over his right arm. Kon was still cradled like a very spoiled infant in his left arm, purring.

"Hi. I'm Sado Yasutora, but I go by Chad." he spoke, voice barely above a mumble as he cautiously peeked up at Rukia through his bangs. "This is my punchin' arm."

"...Great." Whimpered Rukia.

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #Bleach #bleach fanfic #ishida uryuu #ichigo kurosaki #Mizurio Kojima #Keigo Asano #chad yasutora #Making Mizurio the most found-in-a-taco-bell-dumpster Quincy ever is so fun

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echo-goes-mmm · 2 months

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Moonflower #12

Masterpost

Warnings: none

It wasn’t like a revel. Kit knew it wouldn’t be, especially after Iris’s brief etiquette lesson, but he didn’t really have anything else to compare it to.

He should really stop comparing human customs to his own.

The music was slow and soft, stringed instruments in the background as people milled about.

Servants in smart black suits carried trays of tall narrow glasses, all full of fizzy wine.

Iris delicately plucked a glass off a tray, but she didn’t take a sip.

“The trick is not to drink,” she whispered with a smile, “but to look like you are.”

She handed him the glass and took another.

“Good evening, your majesty,” greeted a woman in a blue-green dress. Her makeup was garish, in Kit’s opinion.

“Hello, Lady Selina. How is your cousin, Mark? Recovering well?”

Lady Selina tossed her blonde hair a bit, and the twitch of Iris’s mouth told him this was both an annoyance and an amusement.

“Our cousin is doing just fine.”

“Wonderful. Have you met Kit yet?” Iris gestured to him, and Selina’s haughty gaze looked him up and down.

“I haven’t. I’ve just heard rumors. Does it speak?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do,” said Kit, and Iris covered her laugh with a delicate cough.

“How novel,” said Selina to Iris, completely dismissing him. “Speaking of novel, your dress is… interesting. It took me a moment to realize it was meant to be the colors of a sunset. Did your seamstress’s apprentice make it?”

Kit internally bristled. He liked Mira; who was straightforward but not rude with how she ordered him to move and stand. She was kind under her gruffness, and her work was excellent.

Selina was just being difficult.

“Mm, isn’t it lovely? Mira’s work is truly beautiful,” airily replied Iris, deliberately maneuvering around the insults.

“Your dress is so pretty too, ma’am,” said Kit, his voice innocent and his eyes big and dumb. He cocked his head, looking Selina’s outfit up and down. “I didn’t know humans could make faux silk. It surely looks almost like the real thing!”

Selina blinked, bewildered and offended, and Iris smiled with condescension.

Kit was very pleased with himself. He did not say anything untrue (he was unaware if fake silk did exist, but surely it would look real if it did). His words were carefully chosen to clearly appear as an unintentional insult, and Selina fell for it.

“Isn’t he adorable?” Iris playfully ruffled his hair, like he was a particularly cute animal that didn’t know what it was saying. “So sweet.”

“Uh- yes-,” stammered Selina. “So cute. If you’ll excuse me, your grace.”

Selina fled, in as much as slowly walking away could be fleeing, to a group of other nobles. She was flushed, and Kit could hear her whispering to her new companions about the conversation.

“How upset is she?” murmured Iris to him as she waved to a Lord.

“Very,” he whispered back.

Iris smiled, and Kit decided to boldly make fun of Selina.

“Does this look like fake silk to you?” he whined, in a copy of her voice.

Iris glanced over her shoulder, and sure enough, Selina was clutching the fabric of her dress, desperately showing it to another Lady. Her lips moved just out of sync with Kit’s mimicry.

Iris couldn’t help but laugh. “You sound just like her,” she giggled.

Kit smiled. “I can do more, if you like.” As a fae, mimicry came easy to him, and if it made Iris laugh he was happy fool around with it.

“Not here,” she said, still grinning. “But maybe later.”

___________________

Kit was getting used to the rhythm of the party when Mistress sent him over to the dessert table to get her some of the miniature tarts.

Unfortunately for him, a gaggle of young women were interested in chatting.

“Hello,” said one, who looked like she was putting on a brave face. “Are you really a faerie?”

It was an unnecessary question. Anyone who looked at him could see he was not human.

“Yes,” he said, a bit confused.

The girls giggled with each other.

“Can you do magic?” another piped up.

“Uh, yes.” Kit knew what question was coming next, and his mind whirled to list what he could do in his condition that would please them.

The last legs of sunlight still streamed through the nearby windows, amber and glowing.

“Would you like to see?” he offered.

The girls nodded eagerly, and Kit put down the plate he was carrying.

“Just a moment,” he said, watching the beams of light fall.

He shot out a hand to catch a sunbeam, and the girls gasped as the light filled his cupped hands.

Catching a sunbeam was child’s play, but it looked impressive enough to the young women.

They ooh-ed and ahh-ed at the light winding around his hand as he turned the beam over and over in his palm.

“Can I touch it?” asked the brave one, her face in awe.

“It will shatter,” he explained. “They’re delicate. But you can feel how warm it is if you hold your hand above it.”

He held it out to the group, and they took turns feeling the heat and cooing.

“Are you girls having fun?” asked Iris from behind, and the young women turned and curtsied.

“Oh yes,” said one of them, “Kit was showing us magic.”

“Was he?” Iris’s gaze turned on him.

“Um, yes.” Kit let the sunbeam drop and it made a tiny sound like broken glass on the floor as it dispersed.

The girls giggled again, and Kit felt more like the butt of a joke he didn’t understand. An innocent one, probably, but still.

The women walked off together, whispering to each other and laughing, and Iris fondly watched them go.

“I think they were trying to flirt with you,” she said.

“You think so?” He didn’t get that impression, but Kit wasn’t exactly around younger humans often.

Iris shrugged.

Kit handed her the plate of treats he’d picked out for her. “I thought they might be making fun, at the end,” he muttered.

“I doubt it, but maybe.” She took a small bite of a strawberry tart. “I didn’t have many friends when I was a teenager, so I can’t say for sure.” Iris hummed, enjoying the tart. “I'm pretty sure they think you’re cute, though.”

Kit felt weird about a bunch of adolescents finding him attractive. “I’m an adult,” he said. “Isn’t that obvious?”

“Of course it is. It’s just a teenager thing, I suppose. Having crushes on grownups. I wouldn’t think anything of it.”

“As you say, Mistress,” he agreed. He picked up a chocolate tart from the table, tasting it. A faint burn of salt lingered on his tongue, but it felt more like a hint of spice than pain. It paired well with the sweetness and faint bitterness of the dessert.

“At least your magic is coming back, Right?”

Kit hesitated. “Catching sunbeams is barely magic,” he mumbled.

“Oh.”

He didn’t feel tired, which was a good sign.

Maybe… maybe after the party he could practice. Try and push his limit.

Kit ate the rest of the tart, joining Iris back into the crowd.

His magic could surely only get better from here. At least, until winter came again.

taglist: @paintedpigeon1 @cupcakes-and-pain @loserwithsyle @cepheusgalaxy @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @virtualbreadtale

#Iris: teenagers am i right? Kit: whats a teenager #this one took forever to figure out #also i probably need to make a list of all the very minor characters so i can keep them all straight #my writing #whump #slavery whump #moonflower series #fae whumpee #royal caretaker

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shyvioletcat · 1 year

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AELIN WEEK: DAY TWO

~ Love Language ~

A/N: We all know that at least one of Aelin’s love languages is physical touch so this DEFINITELY counts. Okay, so this is a another part of I Wish You Would which was meant to be a oneshot but now it’s not. It’s not as good as the first, I will admit, but I think it passes.

CW: Smut 18+, a couple of swears.

~~~~~

Rowan was steadily making his way through his third round of edits on his latest book. It was the fifth instalment for his current series and his deadline for submission was starting to get uncomfortably close. He’d been distracted or maybe it could be said one singular distraction instead, not at all an unpleasant one. Aelin was the best kind of distraction he could ever ask for.

Since their… unexpected and explosive tryst at the pop culture convention they’d found more than enough excuses to be together. Some might call it strange how easily they slotted into each other’s lives. All that animosity turned into something just as burning and passionate, but with far better benefits. To Rowan it felt as natural as breathing to be with Aelin like this. He thought the feelings he’d been harbouring were one sided and that Aelin had truly hated him. When it came to light that all her petty quips and barbed words had come from the denial of her own feelings, that had been the best day of Rowan’s life. Since then they had barely spent any time apart, taking the time to explore many aspects of their new relationship. Some aspects they explored more often and thoroughly than others, frequently in his bed or hers. He wouldn’t deny that their chemistry was out of this world.

With eyes fixed on the computer screen he startled as Aelin burst into his study, dressed in one of his hoodies and not much else from what he could tell. That golden hair of her’s was loose, but still messy, like she’d been running her hands through it. What caught Rowan’s eye was the open book she had pressed to her chest. It was one of his.

“It’s me,” she said a bit breathlessly like she’d run from whatever reading nook she’d emerged from. About a week ago she’d turned in her very final draft of her latest book, she currently had all the time in the world to do as she wished. She’d chosen to binge read his books. “It’s me.”

When she repeated those two words and Rowan still had no idea what she was talking about he laughed softly. “What is?”

Aelin rushed forward, holding out the book so it flopped under the weight of all those pages. “This,” she pointed to the black letters on the cream coloured pages. “In here, this character is me.”

He might have been affronted by the physical disrespect being inflicted on his book if he hadn’t just been drastically called out. Rowan turned his office chair with a deliberate slowness, like he was trying to buy himself some time. An unasked for favour from his unconscious mind. “Huh?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Mr Three Time Orynth Bestseller Author Whitethorn,” Aelin was back to hugging the book against her chest. “I’m vain enough to recognise my own imitation.”

Rowan tried his best just to shrug it off. “Maybe your vanity is seeing something that’s not there.”

Turquoise eyes narrowed at him, but rather than arguing the point she started leafing through the pages of his book. And then she cleared her throat.

“She stood there, blue eyes shining with ire as the bright light of the twin suns that caught the golden highlights in her hair. This woman was ready to fight and wouldn’t back down.” Aelin’s eyes left the page and they fixed on him. “Should I keep going or should I dive into the description of her stunning body?”

“You don’t even have blue eyes,” Rowan defended. “And every second female protagonist has blonde hair. More than that even.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, walking forward and pointing the book at him instead of an accusing finger. “My eyes are a shade of blue, you can’t fool me.”

“Fool you into what exactly?” Rowan said, tilting his head up to look at her.

“This is me.” Aelin all but slammed the book onto his desk.

That move had her leaning forward a little, making the hoodie gape at her thighs. Rowan couldn’t resist, his hand reached out, fingers splaying across her soft skin. The touch weakened some of Aelin’s swaggering and she stepped a tiny bit closer so that his hand could slip just a fraction higher.

“You can prove nothing,” Rowan insisted. “And don’t act like you haven’t done the exact same thing.”

The smallest hint of colour bloomed on her cheeks and she crossed her arms defensively. “No, I have not.”

Rowan grinned, his hand sliding down to the sensitive skin behind her knee. It made her squirm. Or maybe that was because he’d turned the tables on her.

“You don’t think I’ve noticed your penchant for silver haired male love interests popping up in your books.” Rowan pulled on her knee, making Aelin stumble forward but he steadied her with the other hand landing on her hip.

“I’ll have you know,” Aelin’s mouth twisted as she tried to hide her smile, “that it is a very popular hair colour for male characters in fantasy.”

Rowan’s voice was full of humoured incredulousness. “Is it?”

Aelin was close enough now that he could rest his chin on her stomach, to look up at her face that was continuing to flush.

“Yes.” She untucked one hand and started counting. “We’ve got Geralt, Thranduil, Legolas…” then her face brightened with a new thought. “One of your kick-ass women is named Ayla, how thinly veiled is that comparison?”

“And there’s the guy you straight up named after a tree with green eyes. But you did change the eye colour there, though,” Rowan added.

“But my point is,” Aelin said, choosing to ignore him now that she was thoroughly ratted out. “You did it too.”

Rowan smirked up at her, pulling on her hip so she swayed. “I didn’t deny it.”

“You… no you just evaded.” Aelin poked him in the chest to prove her point.

Rowan felt his expression turn smug, catching that hand before she could poke him again. “Just think, if you had read my books to begin with you could have figured out my crush a long time ago. You could have saved yourself a lot of frustration and all that extra brain power that went into that teasing of yours.”

“But that would have been a lot less fun,” Aelin’s voice turned sultry and she stepped closer on her own, her free hand reaching for his neck. “Okay, but consider. Would our first time been *that good without all that tension.”

She drew out the last three words.

Rowan nodded, kissing the fingers of the hand he still held. “You have a point. I did enjoy hearing how much you wanted it.”

He heard Aelin’s breath hitch and her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red.

“I never would have gotten that out of you in any other scenario,” Rowan said confidently, squeezing her hip for emphasis. “You’re so godsdamned stubborn and I love it.”

That had Aelin grinning. She stepped out of his grasp and she waltzed over to one of his floor to ceiling bookcases running her fingers along the spines. “So, we both did it.”

“It would seem so,” Rowan said, swivelling in his chair to follow her movements.

“Also seems like we’ve been falling for each other longer than we care to admit,” Aelin mused. “It’s got me thinking.”

Rowan leaned back as far as his office chair would allow him. “About?”

Aelin sent him a sly smile before she turned around completely and gave him the opportunity to admire her long legs. He was so distracted he didn’t notice she had a book in her hands until she started reading. ““Please,” she breathed, fingers digging into his lower back for emphasis. His low groan was his only answer as he hoisted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, letting him carry her not to the bed, but to the wall, and the sensation of the cool wood against her back compared to the heat and hardness of him pushing into her front.”

When she was done, Aelin just looked at him for a long moment. Then she very deliberately put the book back on the shelf, exactly where she’d got it from.

“So we’ve established that Celaena is me,” something mischievous glinted in Aelin’s eye as she referred to the character from the book she’d just read from, the prequel of the one she’d rushed in with in the first place. “Does that mean this is a little fantasy of yours? For me?”

Now it was Rowan’s turn to blush. “Um… maybe?”

Aelin laughed in triumph. “That’s a yes!”

Her laughter and his embarrassment had him out of his chair and closing the distance between them. He crowded her against the shelving and the laughing turned into giggles. That sound utterly undid him and he was powerless to stop the way his body was drawn to her. Aelin was looking up at him, her eyes wide and expectant—just waiting for him to just do something.

“You eased your tension with your teasing and taunting,” Rowan said, leaning in a little further. “I had to find another avenue.”

He dragged his hand down the bookcase, right next to Aelin’s body but he made sure not to touch her. She watched fingers dragged over the spines, pages and wood, then as they stopped right text to her hip.

“So what will it be, Aelin?” Rowan said, bringing their faces within an inch of each other. “Will you go back and read my book, or shall I convince you to stay with me for a while?”

Aelin tipped her head up so that their lips almost brushed. “I might be able to be convinced.”

“How shall I do it? Words or with my tongue and teeth?” He accentuated that question by closing the distance and pressed a biting kiss to Aelin’s bottom lip. She’d had so much fun quoting his books, he might as well start quoting hers. That line had always been a particular favourite of his.

Her answering moan was beautiful, and it spiked the arousal that was already coursing through him. There would be no way in hell he’d be able to go back to writing without fucking her first. Aelin would take hold of every thought and moment, and he’d probably just end up typing her name over and over again. And it wasn’t like she didn’t already occupy every other waking thought, but with this need consuming him Rowan would be utterly useless.

“Yeah, that,” Aelin said breathlessly. “Your mouth is what I want, Rowan.”

“Your pleasure is mine, princess,” he told her, another quote, which she traded in kind.

“Do your worst, Prince.”

Aelin laughed breathlessly as Rowan brought their bodies flush, with a rough tug on her hips and his lips descended to her neck. That sound was cut short when his teeth dragged over her neck, replacing the soft press of his lips. Aelin moulded into him and Rowan used that to his advantage. With hands on her waist he guided her backwards, until her back was resting on the step ladder he used to reach the books on the upper shelves. Aelin had gushed over it when she’d first seen it, told him she was getting jealous of his library. She was about to enjoy it for an entirely different reason.

Rowan lifted her just a little, so she could perch on one of the flat steps. It took half a second for her to realise what Rowan was doing, and the way he dropped to his knees was the final confirmation. He ran his hands up and down Aelin’s calves, watching as confidence and lust spread through her—her chin lifted, a pointed foot leading her leg over his shoulder as her arms twined upwards to hold onto the ladder. She looked like a god ready to be worshipped.

As promised, his tongue and teeth teased a course up her leg. Aelin’s composure was lasting but he didn’t miss the way her body shuddered when his fingers hooked into the waistband of her underwear and dragged them down her legs. As his lips travelled higher still, Rowan pushed the hem of his hoodie up. The tension between them went taut, Aelin waiting for him to do something and Rowan considering when he’d put her out of her misery.

He didn’t have the care to wait. Three more kisses up her thigh and then Rowan had her moaning on his tongue. As often as they had found themselves in scenes like this, Rowan was still discovering how he could get Aelin to unravel under his ministrations. So he catalogued every sound, each little moan and sigh as he worked the apex of her thighs. Rowan made note of how Aelin’s fingers tightened in his hair when he flicked his tongue over her clit, the way her leg shook when he sucked hard. And the way her whole body shuddered when he bit at delicate skin.

“Oh, fuck me,” Aelin groaned. “How are—oh!”

A flat lick of his tongue had Aelin writhing and Rowan could tell she was close. He’d learned that much, he could feel it in the way her body was as tight as a drawn bow string. It wouldn’t take much more for her to break. And he needed it.

He swirled his tongue around her clit and that was all it took. Aelin moaned, the sound coming from deep within her throat. Her body shook from pleasure, and she clung to the ladder like a lifeline. Rowan didn’t stop moving until she did, praising her with soft kisses on her thighs.

“Gods, Rowan,” Aelin panted as he stood to his full height. “This might be my new favourite piece of furniture.”

Rowan might have joined in with her laughter if he hadn’t been painfully hard. Watching her come without him was both a curse and a blessing. It was as hot as hell but left him wanting her even more. Aelin must have caught onto his dilemma because this time it was her reaching out to pull him forward by his hips, no hesitation before her hand slipped into his sweats. His hand that slammed into the books by her head nearly sent them flying.

“That feels good,” he groaned, loving the way her hand dragged over the length of him.

“Where do you want me?” Aelin breathed, her lips hot on his neck.

The bedroom was too far, and three out of four walls in this room were covered in books, the last had his desk blocking the way. It was hard to think straight with Aelin’s hands on him, but he needed to answer her question. There was an armchair in the corner where he liked to read. That would be his best option.

Rowan gathered Aelin into his arms and carried her over to that chair, falling into it bringing her with him. They wasted no time, as soon as he was down Rowan slipped a hand under the hoodie, feeling the soft skin beneath. He groaned when he found out she wore absolutely nothing beneath, Aelin swallowing the sound with a kiss.

She started moving on him, grinding down on his hard cock. Rowan’s head fell back, his breath falling into rhythm with Aelin’s movements. “I gotta have you.”

“I know.” Aelin pushed off him, standing between his spread knees. Her hands gripped the bottom of the hoodie, pulling it up slowly.

It was tortuous, watching the revelation inch by inch. Rowan palmed himself through his pants trying to ease some of the strain. When Aelin stood before him, utterly naked and beautiful, Rowan started to ask himself how he got so lucky.

She lent forward, hands bracing on the chair arms. “Am I going to have to dash to the bedroom for a condom, or…”

“Desk drawer,” Rowan nearly barked.

Aelin smirked at his tone, and while she strutted over there Rowan took the opportunity to get rid of his own clothes. He only got as far as ridding himself of his t-shirt and lost sight of her as he pulled it over his head. Just like magic, when his vision was a haze of black cotton, she seemed to appear right in front of him. The foil package was ripped open and the next thing he knew Aelin was kissing him, pulling his pants down just far enough to free his cock.

“Ready, there handsome?” Aelin teased, always ready to unleash some of her sass. It was one of the things that he’d come to really enjoy about her. His brain was currently too lust addled to give that idea some proper thought. If he considered it for long he might say something that might be considered a little preemptive.

“When it comes to you, always,” Rowan said instead.

Aelin went to lower herself into his lap when he stopped her, with broad hands on her waist. She looked annoyed and confused, until Rowan urged her to turn around. He kept one hand on her hip to guide her and the other ran up the bare skin of her back to the nape of her neck. Aelin arched into his touch, sighing heavily at the first brush of the head of his cock through her folds.

“Please, Rowan,” Aelin gasped. “I know you need me.”

Those words were his undoing and he tugged Aelin into his lap, fully seating himself inside her. They both moaned at that blissful, intimate contact, the feeling was something Rowan would never tire of. Aelin lay back on his chest, a hand sliding into his hair to give her something to hold on to. Rowan wasn’t idle either, touching everywhere he could reach before resting on her breasts.

“Gods, yes,” Aelin breathed as he started to play with her hardened nipples.

“You’re perfect,” Rowan said onto her skin, twisting a bud between his fingers—just shy of pain.

His reward was a sudden jerk of Aelin’s hips and a sharp tug to the strands of his hair. Once she started moving, she couldn’t stop. Rowan timed his thrusts with the rolling grind of Aelin’s body—kissing her shoulder, her neck. Neither of them could keep quiet and the room filled with their sounds of pleasure. Rowan felt her inner wall tighten around him, making him bite down on the soft skin at the juncture on her neck and shoulder.

“Don’t draw it out, I won’t last,” Aelin told him.

That was more than enough reason for Rowan to take what he needed, that of course included Aelin coming on his cock. A hand snaked over her body, down her toned stomach right to where he knew his touch would make her come undone. Rowan’s finger drew quick circles around her clit, making Aelin cry out over and over again until she finished on a throaty moan.

Rowan kept her steady, chasing his own high with languid thrust as he helped Aelin ride out hers. He let go, release rushing through him, his body sinking into the plush armchair as his cock stopped pulsing. Aelin was limp against him and the sounds of her soft breaths is what brought him back to the present.

Aelin hummed, the sound was one of contentment. “I think I just got some inspiration for my new book.”

Rowan’s laughter shook both of them. “Will you dedicate it to me so when your next heroine gets laid in a library your readers know who to thank?”

“That’s not such a bad idea,” Aelin said. “Everyone should know just how lucky you are.”

With a hand on her chin, Rowan tilted her face so he could kiss her—long enough that Aelin was breathless when they stopped. He took a moment just to appreciate how truly lucky he was to have this beautiful woman to call his. A thumb brushed along Aelin’s cheek and Rowan kissed her again, then said, “I’ll be sure to do the same.”

~~~~~

Tags: @fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @galyxsy // @tangledraysofsunshine // @highqueenofelfhame // @3am-reading // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @aelinfire-bringer // @nalgenewhore // @highladyofthesith // @http-itsrebecca // @sleep-and-books // @alifletcher2012 // @westofmoon // @sleeping-and-books // @ttakeitbacknoww // @armixers-unite // @mariamuses // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen // @velarian-trash // @queenofxhearts // @heroesofterrasen // @highladyofstoriesandmusic // @empire-of-wildfire // @camerooonchiu // @crackedship // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books // @yourwhisperingshadows // @thesirenwashere // @tswaney17 // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper // @cat5313 // @judelovescardan // @flowerspringsea // @chaoticskyy // @the-regal-warrior // @fanfictrash3000 // @blueeyes425 // @starseternalnighttriumphant // @bamchickawowow // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda // @flora-and-fae // @thereaderandfangirl // @illyrian-bookworm // @chemicha // @meltalgel // @gay-book-nerd // @that-odd-puzzle-piece // @i-love-all-books // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @hizqueen4life // @the-third-me // @1islessthan3books // @bestmelle // @cursebreaker29 // @b00kworm // @superspiritfestival // @aesthetics-11 // @maastrash // @mynewdreamwasyou // @the-last-apprentice // @charincharge // @firestarsandseneschals // @scarznstars // @absolute-dissapointment // @thesurielships // @df3ndyr // @trinitybailey2003 // @gwynethhberdara // @booknerdproblems // @larisssss // @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves // @rolltide7 // @scandinavianromantic // @tillyrubes10 // @starwarsslytherin // @minaidss // @paytin77 // @jesstargaryenqueen // @anntheintrovert // @starbornvalkyrie // @loudphantomdragon // @woollycat22 // @claralady // @perseusannabeth // @fangirlprincess09 // @maddymelv // @sierrareads // @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx // @jlinez // @lysandra-ghost-leopard // @rowaelinismyotp // @pullnpeeltwizzlers // @anne-reads // @jadeaffliction // @gracie-rosee // @elriel4life // @rowaelinrambling // @tothestarswholistentodreamers // @thenerdandfandoms // @castielspelvis // @swankii-art-teacher // @grandma-noob-lord // @vanzetanze // @highlady-brittney // @story-scribbler // @linguine-panini // @pastasiren // @surielandiareendgame // @silentquartz // @live-the-fangirl-life // @whimsicallyreading // @goddess-aelin // @littleboxofthunder // @empress-ofbloodshed // @booksbqueen // @rowanwhitethornisbae // @charlizeed // @feysand-loml // @aelin-queen-of-terrasen // @alyx801 // @amandaswallowtail // @louiseleblancdiggory // @abookishfreak // @danibutterr // @thegreyj // @lizzyfirebringer // @endlessdaydream // @magnifique1807 // @s-uppertime // @rowaelinscourt

#aelinweek #aelinweek2023 #rowaelin fanfiction #i wish you would #it's a oneshot is the biggest lie of my life

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wellgoslowly · 1 year

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#1: unrequited love (& other cliches)

“I guess I’ll just take the consolation prize, but what the fuck was that look in your eyes… I don’t want us to just be friends”

In which Anthony Lockwood realizes that he is in love with Lucy Carlyle (and in which Linnie makes quite a few references to the movie Flipped)

“Lockwood, it’s ok to admit that you’re jealous.”

Lockwood rolled his eyes, crossing his long arms in a totally not defensive manner. “George, you’re being ridiculous. I am not jealous, I just don’t understand what’s taking so long.”

George scoffed. “Right, ok. Look, glaring daggers at that poor guy talking to Lucy isn’t going to make the conversation go any faster, I promise.” Lockwood scoffed, but he knew George was right- about the glaring, that is. He had, in fact, been staring a hole through the jacket of one of the Tendys agents that Barnes had called in for assistance on this particular case. His name was Jack, and Lockwood had thought he was a rather upstanding young agent. Until now.

But George was wrong about the “jealousy” thing. He had to be. There was no reason why Lockwood would be jealous of Jack. And yet, he couldn’t help but feel something coil in his chest as he watched Lucy (his Lucy, a traitorous part of his brain whispered) laughing with him. He watched as her eyes lit up at something Jack had said, watched as her face flushed from the laughter and how her hair fell in front of her face as she doubled over.

What was she laughing about?

How could she stand there, and laugh, and look so beautiful?

His fingers twitched as Lucy responded to whatever Jack was saying, causing Jack to laugh. They looked good together, and if Lockwood didn’t have this heaviness weighing down his chest at the mere sight of them, he might’ve allowed himself to be happy at Lucy potentially finding someone. She deserved someone like Jack, someone nice and uniformed and financially stable. Someone better than him. And still, he couldn’t help feeling sick to his stomach.

“At this point, Lockwood, I don’t really know if you’re really that oblivious, or if you’re just being deliberately thick.” George’s voice cut through his thoughts, wrenching his mind away from Jack and Lucy. “I- what are you talking about?” Lockwood asked, turning to look at his best friend. George was smirking, scoffing at Lockwood’s question. “I guess you’re just that oblivious.” He snorted before taking a sip from his water bottle. Lockwood’s brows furrowed as he crossed his arms in a defensive position. “What are you talking about, George?” Lockwood asked, confusion evident on his face.

“I’m talking about you being in love with our resident Listener, Lockwood.” George said, stating it as if it was a fact that everyone who possessed any common sense was privy to know. “I- what are you.. George it’s not like that… I- She is my employee.” Lockwood desperately sputtered out. George burst into laughter.

“Wow, you’re worse than I thought!” George howled, causing Lucy and Jack to look over towards their direction. Lucy cocked an eyebrow in question, and Lockwood waved his hand, trying to say “don’t worry about it, I’ll tell you that George just said I’m in love with you later”. She nodded, turning back to Jack and another boy in regular clothes who had joined them.

“Lockwood, everyone can see the way you two look at each other. You’re honestly not fooling anyone.” Lockwood’s cheeks burned as he tried to find an appropriate way to deny George’s claims. The only thing that he managed to say was “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” George snorted and muttered a “yeah, right.”

They lapsed into an awkward silence, George trying to keep himself from saying anything else and Lockwood hearing George’s words echoing in his brain. “Everyone can see the way you two look at each other.” Sure, Lockwood had a crush. That much he knew. He wasn’t that oblivious. But it was just that: a crush. A small, one-sided attraction that definitely did not lead to him imagining waking up with Lucy Carlyle in his arms when he was hit with that familiar late-night loneliness almost every night. But Lockwood had caught himself early, within hours of meeting Lucy, and he promised himself that he wouldn’t let himself fall in love with the brown-haired girl that had taken up residency in his attic.

“What- what are you talking about?” Lockwood asked before he could stop himself. He expected George to laugh again, but his best friend just turned to face him with a soft smile and playful annoyance in his eyes. “It’s obvious to everyone that you’re gone for each other.” Lockwood chuckled.

“Look, I know that I have a- a crush on Lucy, but… there’s no way she feels anything for me.” George opened his mouth to respond, but then Lucy was laughing again, and Lockwood looked over to see her extending a hand to grasp Jack’s shoulder, trying to use it to keep herself up. And that was when Lockwood decided that he was far too hungry to wait for Lucy to finish up this conversation and that they needed to leave now.

As he started walking over to Lucy, he could vaguely hear George asking him what he was doing, but he genuinely couldn’t care less. All he could really think of was the fact that he wanted to get Lucy and go home, and that was exactly what he intended to do.

Lucy looked up as Lockwood walked near to them, offering him a soft smile. “Hey, Luce.” He said as he reached her. “Are you about ready to go?” His question came out harsher than he had intended, and he could see Lucy’s brows furrow slightly at his tone. “Uh, yeah. I was just talking with Jack and his boyfriend- they were actually just talking about a chippy nearby that they liked. I didn’t know if you wanted to eat out or go back home.” Lockwood flushed. George snorted beside him. Lockwood fought the urge to bang his head against a wall- he had misread the situation terribly. He knew he was never going to live this down.

The five of them: Lockwood, Lucy, George, Jack, and Tristan (Jack’s very kind boyfriend), eventually decided that they would go to the restaurant together as a celebration for a job well done. As they walked, Jack and Tristan ended up in the front with George, talking about various historical topics that Lockwood and Lucy only had extremely vague knowledge about, leaving them to trail behind.

“Lockwood?” Lucy asked, breaking the silence between the two of them. “Yeah, Luce?” He responded, turning to look at her as they walked. “Are you- are you ok?” Lucy asked softly, as if she was trying to make sure the question wouldn’t hurt him. Lockwood cocked his head. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just- you seemed a little… off when you came over to Jack, Tristan, and I. I just wanted to make sure you were ok.” Lockwood’s heart practically stopped beating. He could lie. It would be easy, and he was pretty good at it. But then he looked at Lucy again, so openly concerned that something was wrong, and he knew that there was no way he could tell this girl anything but the truth.

“Oh, yeah, I was just- a little jealous, I guess?” He saw her eyes as they widened in shock, and he knew he had to cover up the meaning behind his words. “I mean, I haven’t seen you laugh like that- ever. And I pride myself in being extremely funny.” Lucy nodded slowly in understanding, letting out a soft “oh”. And then the silence was back, but not for long.

As soon as Lockwood had noticed that Lucy had seemed the slightest bit cold, he had been thinking of scenarios that would end with her wearing his coat. “Luce, do you want my coat?” He asked softly, watching as Lucy clutched her arms to try and suppress shivering. “No, I’m fine Lockwood. Thank you though.” She said, turning to him with a small smile. He rolled his eyes. “Luce, you’re shivering.” He said, starting to slip the sleeves off of his arms.

Lucy started to protest, but Lockwood wouldn’t listen as he took off his coat and draped it over her arms. After some fighting to give it back, Lucy eventually admitted defeat with a reluctant “thank you”, causing Lockwood to laugh softly. “I don’t know why you’re so upset, it looks better on you than it does me.” That made Lucy chuckle, and Lockwood reveled in the sound. “I look like 2 children in a trench coat.” Lucy replied. “Exactly- when I wear it I look like 3 children.” And then Lucy laughed, full and gasping for breath, and Lockwood’s breath stopped in his throat.

That was when he knew that George was right about one thing. He was disgustingly, head over heels, irrevocably in love with Lucy Carlyle. There was no way that she felt the same way, but if her laugh was to be his consolation prize for falling in love with someone he could never have, he’d take it any day. He’d just force himself to ignore any hidden meanings that he could find within the looks she gave him. He could do that, for his Lucy.

How could she stand there and laugh and look so beautiful, indeed?

tags for people who were interested!

@tangledinlove @sas37868 @biscuitrule @queenophelia

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inairbinad · 11 months

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Steve's Got a Date With a Vampire! (2)

part two of seven (I added a lil epilogue) Read on AO3 | [Part One] warnings: just y'know, blood. it might be rated explicit but we are far from that point.

Steve was sweating. Partly because it was already hot in Hawkins (despite the fact that it wasn’t even June yet), and partly because he was spending his afternoon watching Eddie Munson lounge shirtless by his pool.

Normally, he’d have hogged the pool to himself and Robin if he thought he could get away with it, just for the peace and quiet. But Dustin insisted on Steve’s throwing a pool party, and then he’d insisted harder on Eddie being invited.

Steve saw right through Dustin’s little matchmaking games, but he didn’t put much stock in them. It’s not like he wouldn’t have invited Eddie anyway. And it certainly wasn’t as if just being thrown together by Dustin’s meddling would make Eddie see Steve as anything more than a friend at best, a former enemy at worst. Unfortunately.

Eddie showed up to the party with Nancy, and they both immediately set up beneath Steve’s best patio umbrella. The two of them were growing increasingly inseparable these days, like they were competing with Steve and Robin for the codependency award of 1986. Or at least, Steve hoped that was all it was. He couldn’t help but wonder if Eddie had moved on to crushing on Nance now that all of his speeches about how she and Steve were true love had so obviously not panned out.

The thought twisted in Steve’s gut unpleasantly.

He’s not yours, idiot, Steve told himself as he went inside to try to get his shit together. He grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge, pressed one to the back of his neck to feel the cold relief of it, and swore to himself that he could act fucking normal.

That went out the window when Steve went back outside, and Eddie started stripping. What made it worse was that Eddie seemed to wait for Steve’s approach before he peeled his t-shirt off, then smirked in Steve’s direction.

So he was in the mood to torture Steve some more today. Great. Steve squared his shoulders and walked over to offer Nance and Eddie each a beer.

“Glad you guys came,” Steve greeted them with the best charming smile he could muster. Nancy took her can with a little nod in thanks, but Eddie just looked down at Steve’s hand, then bit down on a smile.

“Not much point in my drinking that,” Eddie pointed out, extending his fangs for good measure.

“Oh, shit.” Steve wanted to kick himself for being so clueless. “Right. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Harrington,” Eddie laughed and threw an arm around Steve’s bare shoulders. The contact was searing, despite how cool Eddie’s skin was. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

“Sure,” Steve coughed. He deliberately avoided Nancy’s eye by popping the tab open on his own beer and taking a sip himself. “Let me know if I can get you anything…else.”

Nancy tried to hide a laugh behind a cough, but Steve heard how it sounded like he was offering himself up as a cocktail for Eddie without any of her help. He was going to need an exit plan before he made any more of a fool of himself.

Steve could have sworn he used to be good at flirting. He didn’t know why Eddie made him feel like his tongue was three sizes too big for his mouth, and like any words that managed to come tumbling out wouldn’t make any sense.

Maybe it was the way Eddie leaned into Steve’s ear and murmured, “I’m sure you’d taste very sweet, Stevie, but I’m good.”

Steve didn’t even know if he managed to squeak out an excuse, let alone how, but eventually he ran back to where things were safe near Robin.

“You look like you’re going to spontaneously combust.” Robin openly laughed at him, immediately proving it wasn’t as safe with her as Steve thought.

“Shut up,” he muttered, upset more with himself than Robin. “I don’t know why I’m so bad at this all of a sudden.”

“All of a sudden?” Robin asked, eyebrows shooting up beneath her bangs. “Need I remind you of the copious amounts of ‘You Suck’ tallies last summer? Or the final big one, when you tried to hit on me?”

“Oh my god,” Steve groaned. “For the last time, I was high.”

“I have a theory, actually,” Robin said, ignoring him completely. “I think your capacity to flirt well was directly correlated to how much of an asshole you were. Now that you’re all nice and sweet—“ Steve visibly flinched when she said that word in such close succession to Eddie practically purring it in his ear, “you just lack the skills to woo anyone.”

“That is the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Steve said without missing a beat. Robin just shrugged.

“Prove me wrong, then.”

Steve sulked in his chair for a while, trying to come up with a plan to do just that. He could always go for a swim and deliberately walk past Eddie on his way out of the pool, shirtless, sun kissed, wet and in no rush to find a towel. It seemed a little basic, but Steve figured it was worth a shot. It would get him warmed up, anyway.

By the time Steve worked up the determination to do it, though, Eddie beat him to the punch. Just as the sun dipped low enough in the sky to not shine directly on the back yard anymore, Eddie emerged from under the umbrella and dove headfirst into the deep end. When he came back up for air, he was soaked through and looked more beautiful than any work of art Steve had ever seen.

Steve couldn’t tear his eyes off of the way Eddie’s muscles moved as he pushed his now drenched hair out of his face and smiled dangerously in the direction of the boys playing Marco Polo.

“You’re in for it now, kiddos,” Eddie warned them before showing off some impressive swimming skills to zero in on Lucas, who laughed with such delight as Eddie chased him around the pool it made Steve’s heart clench.

“I’ll get us more beer,” Robin said right away, reading Steve’s pout without difficulty. He grunted out a thanks and went back to brainstorming how to stop getting trounced in a sport he used to be the king of.

The problem, Steve was starting to realize, was that he was more invested in this than Eddie was, in terms of the outcome. Steve used to enjoy flirting for the hell of it, sure, but this ran deeper. This time he had feelings for Eddie, intense and real in a way that Steve could hardly grapple with. If this was all just a game to Eddie, Steve wasn’t sure he could bear to play it.

No sooner than he had the thought, Eddie glanced over his shoulder in Steve’s direction, laughing and carefree as he played with the kids. The way Eddie’s smile softened into something fond when his eyes landed on Steve made him decide that maybe the risk was worth it.

Just as Robin returned with another, Steve finished his drink and shook out his shoulders. He had to make an effort at least. He was a jock, after all. He wasn’t going to take a loss lying down.

So he dove into the pool and joined the game.

It took about fifteen minutes before Steve really found his opportunity to put some points back on the board. Tired of Marco Polo, the kids suggested a new game they called ‘Noodle Jousting,’ that needed someone to be the horse, and for their partner to ride their shoulders and try to knock an opposing rider off of their horse with a pool noodle.

It was ridiculous, and it was perfect. Steve paddled up behind Eddie, making as little noise or disturbance in the water as he could, until he could grapple onto the bottom of the pool with his toes, standing just behind Eddie’s shoulder.

“What are you up to, Harrington?” Eddie asked without turning. Steve should have known there was no such thing as sneaking up on a vampire, but he shrugged it off and pressed on. He leaned in closer, nearly resting his chin on top of Eddie’s shoulder.

“I say we team up and kick their asses,” Steve murmured in Eddie’s ear. Steve felt Eddie’s shoulders lift as he huffed out a laugh without responding otherwise. So Steve pushed in a fraction closer, resting a hand on Eddie’s lower back under the surface of the water. “What do you say, partner?”

Steve felt like he’d won the lottery when Eddie’s breath hitched, just barely. Eddie turned his head to face Steve, until their noses almost touched.

“Oh, I’m in,” he agreed with a wicked smile.

No one noticed their alliance until after everyone else had already paired off.

“Hey!” Mike was the first to complain. “You two can’t be a team. You’ll crush us!”

“That’s not a very sportsmanlike spirit, Wheeler,” Eddie chastised.

“You’ve got super strength! And Steve’s a grown man! It’s an unfair advantage,” Mike whined. “Back me up, Dustin?”

All Dustin could manage was a gleeful smile at the development between Steve and Eddie, though, and Mike ended up turning to Lucas for help.

“It is kind of lopsided,” Lucas shrugged.

“Do you want to play like men?” Eddie challenged them. “Or boys?”

Lucas and Mike exchanged a glance at that, unsure how to answer. If Eddie was a godly role model to them before, it had only multiplied since he turned into a cool mythical creature. Steve hid his smile behind Eddie’s shoulder.

“We can take ‘em,” Will spoke up, sounding confident and giving Mike’s arm a reassuring pat. Only at Will’s urging did Mike seem to accept his fate. Lucas didn’t seem all that invested either way, so the matter was settled.

Max—not yet healed enough to swim, but more than happy to judge—offered to referee the whole affair. Her eyesight was well-recovered enough to judge other people’s idiocy, she was happy to report. She made El swear not to cheat using her powers, and Eddie swear not to be too strong or fast, if he could help it. Then the partners were set—Steve and Eddie, Will and Mike, Lucas and Dustin, El and Erica, Nancy and Robin—but that didn’t mean there wasn’t still bickering between partners about who was a horse and who was a rider.

“So I’m riding you, right?” Steve guessed, entirely intentional in his phrasing. Eddie only smirked back at him.

“I don’t know, Stevie, you look like a bottom to me.”

Steve felt the very fibers of his muscles sing as he took that line in stride. He finally felt like he was loosening up into their banter.

“Pretty sure that still means I’d be riding you,” Steve quipped with a wink. Even Eddie, king of the smooth talkers, didn’t seem to have a comeback for that one. As he opened and closed his mouth without speaking several times, Steve took his advantage and ran with it. He reached out and squeezed Eddie’s bicep, fluttering his lashes a little as he spoke. “Besides, I’m flexible. And you’re definitely stronger.”

“I—“ Eddie stared at Steve’s hand, still wrapped around his arm. Steve made sure to let his fingers drag across Eddie’s skin as he slowly let go, reveling in Eddie’s stutter. “Alright.”

Practically soaring on that victory alone, Steve didn’t give a single fuck about the jousting, but it did end up being pretty fun. Everyone got their turns, eliminating other pairs tournament style. Steve had extra fun knocking Nancy off of Robin’s shoulders, based on how Robin flipped him off alone.

It was almost sunset by the time there were only two pairs left. Eddie and Steve—who was managing to get through this just fine, despite how Eddie’s iron grip on his thighs left a crackling thrum beneath Steve’s skin—versus Lucas and Dustin. Even though Dustin was short in stature, he had the strength of an ox. He was like a tank beneath Lucas, who was nimble and athletic as hell. They’d been knocking off opponents with little fanfare this entire time.

They went through several rounds of Steve and Lucas swatting at each other to no avail. Once, Dustin kicked out a leg and tried to trip Eddie as they passed, and Eddie cried foul while Dustin wore a face that was the picture of innocence. Since it happened entirely underwater, no one impartial could confirm or deny that Dustin had done it. So they went again.

“We’ve got this one,” Steve told Eddie as he gave his scalp a little scratch. He sensed Eddie’s eyes peering up at him. “I can feel it.”

“Is that your best jock pep talk?” Eddie chuckled, and Steve rode the wave of Eddie’s laughter as his shoulders hitched again. He folded himself farther forward so he could see Eddie’s face.

“I could do a little cheer, if you prefer,” Steve offered with a smile.

Eddie bit down on a smile. “That won’t be necessary.”

Eddie gave the outside of Steve’s leg a slap and then, completely to Steve’s astonishment, Eddie bit down on the sensitive flesh of Steve’s thigh. Despite the fact that it was barely above his knee and how it hardly left a mark, the gentle scrape of Eddie’s teeth flustered Steve enough that Lucas had no trouble toppling him off of Eddie’s shoulders. He went tumbling into the water with a splash, still dazed.

Lucas and Dustin did a victory lap while Steve shook the excess water out of his hair and tried to process what the fuck just happened.

Eddie swam over with an apologetic yet smug grin, and Steve realized what game Eddie had been trying to win all along. Eddie didn’t care if they lost the joust, he just wanted to win the war of teasing Steve out of whatever wits he had left.

“You—“ Steve stuttered, incredulous, even though he knew he’d have done the same thing if he’d thought of it.

Eddie’s eyes widened with glee as he realized Steve wasn’t going to back down now. Steve advanced on Eddie, slowly at first, and then launched forward at just the right moment to dunk Eddie’s head beneath the water. Eddie was quick to wrap his arms around Steve’s waist and drag him down with him.

They play wrestled underwater, a tangle of limbs and silent, bubbling giggles between them, before they floated back to the surface. They emerged as a picturesque cliche—breathless and entirely too close to one another.

Steve could see a certain hunger in Eddie’s eyes, and he wondered if maybe this wasn’t a fruitless flirtation after all.

“If you wanted us to lose, all you had to do was ask,” Steve said, before leaning in a fraction further. “I can be very obedient.”

Steve took in every intricate detail of the effect that comment had on Eddie’s face. It was like watching a movie play out across his features—and a dirty one at that. Eddie’s thick eyelashes blinked around his rapidly darkening gaze, and his lips pursed ever so slightly as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. Eddie laughed like he couldn’t quite believe his ears. Steve couldn’t quite believe his mouth, but pride surged through him anyway. Steve had created that look, and it didn’t even take a whole lot of effort.

But then Eddie pulled away, so far out of Steve’s space that he felt the emptiness like an ache. Eddie fixed him with a look that would have made Steve fall over, if he weren’t currently buoyed by the pool’s water.

“Game on, Stevie,” Eddie said like a promise before climbing out of the pool and giving his hair a shake. Steve couldn’t help but watch the cascade of it in the fading daylight. Eddie grabbed a towel, turned to Nancy and said, “Swimming sure does make me hungry.”

Then he tossed a wink in Steve’s direction before he pranced in the house and disappeared.

Despite the cool water, Steve felt his whole chest flush. He scrambled out of the pool and over to Robin’s side.

“Maybe I was wrong,” Robin admitted once Steve was beside her. “That was quite a show.”

Steve chewed his cheek, eager to take the win, but instinctively knowing that he didn’t have it in hand yet. “I don’t think the show’s over, quite yet.”

Robin opened her mouth, probably to ask why, but she was cut off as Eddie made his way back out onto the patio with a snack.

Already sucking it between his perfectly stained-red lips, Eddie had a popsicle.

Made out of blood.

Steve thought he might pass out as he watched Eddie—still not really dried off at all—sprawl out on his lounge chair again. He left one leg to dangle over the side, and crooked the other up perfectly casually at the knee so that he could rest his elbow there. The whole posture looked conveniently comfortable to hold the blood popsicle up his mouth, like maybe he’d planned the whole thing.

Eddie didn’t even bother to look in Steve’s direction, without a doubt already knowing that Steve would be watching (and in danger of dropping dead right there on the patio). Eddie took his time savoring it, before he finally hollowed out his cheeks as he sucked most of the popsicle into his mouth in one go.

That was the moment he turned to make direct eye contact with Steve.

Steve was both entirely too aware of his body, and completely unaware of how to actually use it to either run away or jump on Eddie right then and there. He felt a little faint when Eddie fluttered his eyelashes for effect. Then he bit the tip off the popsicle and smiled wide, showing off his bloodstained fangs for all to see. For Steve to see.

It was completely obscene, disgusting even, and Steve had never been more turned on in his life.

Robin patted his shoulder like she was trying to comfort him, but Steve could very clearly hear her laughing at him, too. He just couldn’t see it, because his eyes were still glued to Eddie, and Eddie’s were glued to him.

“Well,” Robin chuckled. “At least you tried.”

———

Once everyone had their fill of pool games and goddamn popsicles, they moved inside and turned Steve’s living room into a makeshift movie theater. Steve put as much distance between himself and Eddie as he could manage, unable to take anymore of Eddie’s ace cards tonight. The more Steve thought about it, the more bewildered he became over the forethought and effort it must have taken Eddie to show up to his house with a blood popsicle at the ready. Eddie must have kept it in his back pocket for hours, waiting for the perfect moment to use it and turn Steve to mush.

That kind of planning didn’t scream “harmless flirting” to Steve anymore, but he wasn’t sure he could quite trust his own deduction skills at the moment. He still felt like most of his own blood was somewhere very south of his brain.

So Steve planted himself in the corner of the room where Eddie wasn’t in his direct eye line, trying to think things through without getting distracted. But there was nothing for it. Unable to pay a lick of attention to whatever movie they were even watching, Steve retreated to the kitchen to try and clear his head.

Steve felt Eddie’s eyes on him as he left with a hurried excuse about making more popcorn. Instead of actually moving to do anything a good host might, though, Steve shuffled right up to the patio doors and thunked his head against cool glass. He stared out at the now serene and undisturbed water of the pool, wishing he could have a little bit of that calm for himself.

“You swore you wouldn’t make any more popcorn once Mike and Dustin started throwing it at each other, if I recall,” Robin said from behind him.

Steve snorted, barely even remembering making that threat about half an hour before. It was only half-hearted, more out of habit than any real intention. He felt Robin come up beside him and rest her fingers against the back of his neck to give him a reassuring little squeeze. He twisted to look at her with a grateful little smile.

“That feels nice, thanks,” Steve hummed. They stayed like that for a few moments, with Robin gently massaging some of the tension out of his shoulders and just letting Steve decompress for a minute. Robin always knew exactly when and how to calm him down, somehow. “I’m such a goner, Robs.”

“I know, dingus,” she soothed.

They were both startled out of the moment of peace when Dustin came stomping in after them. He settled in on Steve’s other side and somehow managed to yell while still whispering. “Why are you in here sulking instead of trying to get your man?”

“What are you even talking about, Henderson?” Steve sighed, but he was unsure why he was bothering trying to dodge the question at this point.

“Generally when someone flirts with you as much as Eddie does,” Dustin poked Steve in the chest to illustrate his point, “you’re supposed to make a move.”

Feeling unsure of himself, after having just lost his mind somewhere out in the pool, Steve chewed his lip and questioned whether that was actually the case here or not.

“Are we sure that’s what this is?” Steve asked both of them, desperate for reassurance but also kind of hoping they’d tell him he was nuts and Eddie was just messing around. It would be easier that way—easier if it was just Eddie torturing Steve a little bit as payback for years of King Steve torturing, well, not Eddie specifically, but people like him. It would hurt if that was the case, but Steve could accept that kind of karma, he thought. “I mean. He flirts with everybody. It’s just how he is.”

Dustin scoffed and Robin just stared at him with something like pity mixed with affection on her features.

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” she said, then patted his cheek.

“Fuck off,” Steve batted back with no real bite. “I’m serious.”

Robin sighed, apparently disappointed that Steve was going to need to have this explained to him, but she tried anyway.

“I mean, yeah, he’s a flirt,” she began, waving her hands about like she always did when she was trying to make a point. “But holy shit, Steve, how can you not know that—” she paused to point outside, like the patio would forever be remembered as the place where Eddie sucked off a popsicle for him, “—was different?”

“He isn’t like this with everyone,” Dustin continued the argument, apparently resolute not to elaborate further on what he’d just seen outside. Steve was grateful for that much. “He’s pulling out stops like he would if you were a goddamn campaign he was planning. That takes effort.”

“I don’t know—“

“You better do something, Steve Harrington,” Dustin’s face grew stone-cold serious as he cut Steve off. “If you lead him on I will have to hurt you.”

Steve didn’t doubt that for a second, so he got his hackles raised a little bit. Did Dustin even care if Eddie was leading Steve on? Or was Steve always meant to be the bad guy?

“Look, I didn’t tell you about my little crush for you to harass me about it,” Steve managed to grind out through his teeth. “Or threaten me over it.”

Dustin narrowed his eyes at Steve slightly, but seemed to catch on to what Steve was feeling, because he said, “I cannot believe the display you two have put on all day and neither of you has made out with the other one yet. I’ll get you two together if it kills me.”

Then he marched back off to the living room like a man on a mission.

“You told Dustin?” Robin whispered, incredulous at that little bit of information Steve had let slip. “Shit, you’ve got it bad if you’d subject yourself to that on purpose.”

“What does that mean? I told him in a moment of weakness,” Steve explained, not sure what she was getting at. “He thought I hated Eddie.”

“Or—and hear me out—“ Robin stared right at him, “you knew exactly how he’d stick his nose in the middle of your business, and you were looking for his help.”

“I—“ Steve opened his mouth to defend himself, but even if he hadn’t done it consciously, he knew Robin was probably right. He went back to pouting instead of admitting that he agreed, feeling pathetic that he’d enlisted Dustin’s help at all.

“Dustin was watching you two all day,” Robin informed him with a soft laugh. Steve wouldn’t have known if a three-headed demogorgon was watching them, because he had a laser focus on Eddie alone. “He looked like he was going to plotz he’s so happy.”

“Pluhts?” Steve asked.

“Plotz,” Robin nodded. “Burst. Explode. Expire from the sheer joy of his two favorite people getting together.”

“We’re not getting together,” Steve groaned stubbornly and moved over to dig his hidden pint of Ben and Jerry’s out of the freezer for them to commiserate over. Instead, the first thing he saw was the rest of Eddie’s collection of blood popsicles.

Robin snorted, and Steve wasn’t sure he could survive much more of this.

[PART THREE]

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #dani's drafts #vampire!eddie #steve's got a date

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not-so-lost-after-all · 3 months

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"So... you like him now? My brother?"

"Of course I do, my heart," she laughs, not sensing the trap, "he looks and acts so much like you."

"Yes. It's just that he's still alive. He could warm you up in the night. He could give you children." He's not broken is left unsaid.

---

This is "angst with happy happy ending" ficlet inspired by headcanon by @spacebarbarianweird

Astarion has a twin brother which, you can guess, is a mortal and his feelings are complicated. Needless to say, you can listen to El Tango de Roxanne while reading this.

---

He loves his brother, he truly does. Dalar is his twin, the other half of... whatever is left of his soul. The apple in their mother's eye. The one who has never been the problem child. The perfect brother who never gave up on finding out what happened to Astarion. He's also unquestionably... alive.

Dalar is, amongst other things, a constant reminder of what could have been. Of the roads not taken and now lost forever for an undead. Of a lifetime of regret. His brother is so content and collected, always has been. Sometimes, just sometimes Astarion looks at him and wants to scream.

It's especially bad tonight. The buzzing of the tavern only causes him headache. Tavira, his little princess, is having good time being the heart of the celebration. He can see she's tipsy already, smiling at everyone, touching men deliberately.

Astarion is not jealous, not really. He remembers how she reacted when she told him about Halsin's proposal and he simply joked about it and gave her a free pass. The hurt in her eyes that he misread her so badly. The sadness when she realized he really still sees all the others including her as only thinking with what's between their legs, constantly trying the scratch an itch.

(“I don't understand what you want from me, Tavira. Whatever you're going to do with Halsin, enjoy. It doesn't concern me.” She closed her eyes, praying to the gods to give her strenght. “If we're to be a couple, it does concern you,” she hissed. “I'm not interested in what Halsin has to offer. I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression,” she finished, defeated.)

He really thought he lost her in that moment.

So he wasn't jealous about the others. But right now, Tavira is laughing at whatever his brother is telling her and they start dancing with no care in the the world. A cold wave goes through his body. It's not the first time it crossed his mind, of course. In his head he knows it's stupid to feel this way. Tavira and his brother knew each other before and they didn't click this way. And yet... Dalar is in so many ways his imagine in the mirror. Or rather, Astarion is the broken mirror Dalar is looking into.

He grunts and can't take it anymore. The fresh air outside the tavern is soothing and Astarion decides to hunt tonight. I doesn't take long before one unfortunate fool tries to rob him...

He returns shortly before dawn and doesn't really want to see Tavira but it's not like he has much of a choice. Hells bellow, he's in such a state of mind that he pictures himself entering the room and seeing Dalar there in his place in her bed. He's not sure whether the dark bile inside him would take over and he'd kill them both or he'd start breaking things and howl like a wounded animal if that were ever the case. But of course, it's just her sleeping peacefully when he sneaks into their room.

Astarion positions himself next to her as he always does, trying not to wake her up. Tavira moves anyway, without opening her eyes, she lays her head on his chest. On his shirt which is stained with still wet blood. On his body which still reeks of fresh blood, still warmer than usual but its temperature quickly dropping again. The black abyss in his stomach is already calling to him again a he feels only revulsion right know.

He hasn't touch her yet and she raises her head to look at him. “Are you hungry, Starlight?” Her voice is unmistakably soft. If only she didn't know him so well and just for this moment he hates her for that. Of course he's hungry, he always is. He simply shook his head of deflected with a joke the last few times she offered her blood, so she knew something was wrong.

He is so tired, so he simply tells the truth. “Yes. But my hunger also isn't yours to deal with although you insist otherwise.” He shakes his head and changes subject before she has a chance to protest. "So... you like him now? My brother?"

"Of course I do, my heart," she laughs, not sensing the trap, "he looks and acts so much like you."

"Yes. It's just that he's still alive. He could warm you up in the night. He could give you children." He's not broken is left unsaid.

There's alarm in her eyes now as she lays her fingers to his cheek. “Perhaps. But his touches are foreign, you know. And he's so dull compared to you. You still think I could find yourself lacking but I know why I love you. With your sharp tongue and quips and loyalty and your scars. You,” she kisses the corner of his mouth and a silent sigh escapes him.

Tavira lays her head on his chest again and he starts playing with her hair. He could almost hear her thoughts racing.

“We're going to Waterdeep first, that's our biggest change. Gale would be happy to help. If not him, then Halsin and the druids might know how to help you and the others. Evermeet is also the place to go when you are searching for magical solutions. You can still get all you want, just not today.”

There's a ray of light peeking from the blinders on the windows but for the first time in weeks, Astarion realizes it doesn't fill him with regret or fear. That is a dream that may or not may not come true. But what he desires the most is right here in this room and at least for this moment, it's more than enough.

#astarion #hurting myself again #my writing #astarion x tav

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sokkastyles · 10 months

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So that post is a reply to this one, for context. This is the reblog that I was talking about.

And this is a reblog of the above reblog.

I remember reading and deciding not to engage with the original post because I find the interpretation of Ty Lee as a super-smart weaponized femininity girlboss mastermind to be...annoying. Which is not to say that Ty Lee is dumb, but Ty Lee's constant adoration of Azula is a defense mechanism, not a manipulation tactic. It's the coping mechanism of an abuse victim, and Ty Lee breaking free to save Mai is something she's shown to be just as confused by as Azula, because it's a victim who's been finally pushed to the breaking point. I'm not trying to diminish Ty Lee's strength, and this is a minor nitpick, but I get annoyed when people think that feminine or kind girls have to be secret masterminds to be worthwhile. Of course Ty Lee is deliberately saying things that she knows Azula wants to hear for her own protection, but to describe it as manipulation implies that Ty Lee has power over Azula, when it's Ty Lee using a defense mechanism to maintain a relationship that hurts her. See Azula slut-shaming Ty Lee at the party and Ty Lee protecting herself by offering to teach Azula how to flirt, which Azula treats dismissively even as she enjoys the attention being back on her. Ty Lee does what a lot of people who are in these kinds of relationships wind up doing, which is give Azula constant positive feedback to avoid being a target of her, or at least, to avoid being a bigger target, because Azula is still cruel to Ty Lee, but less when Ty Lee is validating her. But Ty Lee admits in the comics that she is still afraid of Azula, so her fawning is less a manipulation and more a survival tactic. She's not trying to control Azula, she's trying to minimize the abuse.

Anyways, I am laughing at the claim that Azula said trust was for fools because she just loved Mai and Ty Lee so much and realized that was a mistake and is now lamenting it. You can only interpret it that way if you ignore that she said this in response to Ursa saying "all your life you've used fear to control people, like your friends Mai and Ty Lee." Azula is not lamenting the trust she put in her friends, she is explaining why she cannot and has never relied on trust, and justifying that in the face of the vision of her mother telling her what she knows is true deep down, that she drove her friends away because she never loved them. Controlling people through fear is what she has always done, throughout the show, in every relationship she has. Azula also further says to her mother "even you fear me," to prove this point. This also gets to the heart of why she could never connect to her mother and believed that her mother did not love her, because she believed that her mother feared her and therefore was someone to be controlled (which is why we see her as a child lying to her mother and resenting her mother trying to correct her behavior, and ignoring Ursa's teaching in favor of pleasing her more powerful father, who was the one with the control.

"Not one of them tries to return the counseling she gave them." Give me a break. Azula does not give counseling in "The Beach," she makes dismissive armchair analysis and then makes it about herself and how she's better than them ("I don't have sob stories like all of you") and then admits her own trauma in the least vulnerable way possible ("I don't care"; "she was right of course") while making sure she still keeps everyone else at a distance and under control. They don't reach out to her because she doesn't want them to and she's just belittled them in really cruel and personal ways. Like, tell me you don't have friends in real life without telling me. Or tell me you're really confused about why no one wants to be around you, if you genuinely do not understand why Azula's friends don't respond to her kindly here.

I like how this person does the "Oh, but they just don't appreciate what a good friend she is" and then backtracks into the "but she doesn't know how else to be" song and dance. I mean, sure, but so what? An abusive person who acts abusively because that's all they know how to do is still an abusive person.

And the claim that Azula was so blindsided because she genuinely thought she was being a good friend is BS, because we already know why she was blindsided. She tells us.

Azula: I never expected this from you. The thing I don't understand is "Why?". Why would you do it? You know the consequences.

Mai: I guess you just don't know people as well as you think you do. You miscalculated. I love Zuko more than I fear you.

Azula: No, you miscalculated! You should have feared me more!

And then after Ty Lee chi blocks her:

Ty Lee: [Runs to a shocked Mai, shaking her from her stupor.] Come on! Let's get out of here!

Azula: [Still on the ground; angrily.] You're both fools!

Which echoes the conversation with her mother later. She explicitly tells Mai that she was blindsided because Mai "knew the consequences." Not because she thinks her relationship with Mai is so strong, but because she thinks Mai is afraid of being punished for not obeying. This is exactly what she says to her mother, that fear and control are the only way to maintain relationships, and trust is for fools, echoed in her saying that Mai and Ty Lee are fools for acting out of love - Mai for Zuko and Ty Lee for Mai - rather than fear of Azula.

And the thing is, this isn't like, a minor quarrel where Azula just didn't realize what she was asking Mai to do might be something she would disagree with. Azula %100 expected Mai to sit there and watch her boyfriend die because Azula thought she had her that much under control that it didn't matter to Azula how Mai felt about it. This shows you exactly how much Azula values and cares about Mai as a person rather than a drone she can control. That is to say, not at all.

I wish we could move past the idea that Azula understands people because she's superficially smart. She's able to read and exploit people's weaknesses, true, but when it comes to what really motivates them, she does not understand at all, because she has fundamentally rejected love and trust in favor of controlling through fear. And that is impossible to do to another person unless you have dehumanized them first. So no, Azula does not understand Mai and Ty Lee, nor her brother, nor her mother. She doesn't even understand herself. That's the whole point, the whole tragedy of it.

Like, honey, Azula ain't gonna make healthy new friendships if we all just continue to deny why those friendships were unhealthy to begin with.

#azula #zuko #mai #ty lee #the discourse

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lighttailoring · 2 months

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Mr Cereal Korn + 5, 7, 8, 21 for the character ask game!

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

Roman by Eugene McGuinness!

This song was taken off Spotify for some unfathomable reason so it's not on my playlist any more but to me this is Syril's Song and nothing can change my mind. Every lyric just fits. Also Eugene McGuinness should have been a megastar of the 00s indie-pop scene & not a day goes by when I'm not mad about him staying as obscure as he did

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

I love how we all collectively latched onto him being *canonically 35 years old* in Season One. He's our washed up emotionally stunted millennial baby man and that's final <3

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

I know I have ranted to you about this before (sorry) but I hate the "incel" stuff. Syril is an entirely different flavour of freak. He doesn't hit any of the beats of an "incel" character (like say Xander from Buffy). He's like, the absolute opposite of someone who's constantly trying to get laid - he is SO fucking uptight he's practically snapping in two. I can kind of see him as maybe one of those "nofap" idiots but again I think his motivations would be *so* much more unhinged than wanting to Attract High Value Women. He's like... a priest, to me. One of those ones who loves Jesus a little *too* much. Like, I'm a keero through and through but even when he's creeping around outside Dedra's work I genuinely don't think he understands what's driving that behaviour because he's always denied himself in service of being a Good Boy and that's SO MUCH MORE JUICY than him just being some 4chan guy.

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

I love to Put Him In Stressful Situations. Like I have a great deal of affection for him but writing him in total despair and forced to make impossible choices is very fun for me. I don't like to deliberately make him look stupid (he can of course make a fool of himself). Like the previous question - it's so much more fun, personally, for me to put him in the spiritual equivalent of predicament bondage than just to point and laugh at him.

#*looks nervously at ao3 account*#yeah I just think of him like a priest. I definitely havent put any more thought into it than that #syril karn #syrilposting #monsieur cereal korn

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fanficshiddles · 2 years

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The God, The Devil and The Lover, One Shot

Thank you for the prompt. Squealed a little when I saw this one! Hope you’re feeling better, too! mirkwoodshewolf submitted: The god, the devil, and the lover. Okay I’m thinking something domestic like Loki oc AND MATT MURDOCK. Like maybe our two boys taking care of reader while she’s very sick (I got the Covid over the weekend but I’m doing better now) I’m talking full on fluff. As much as I admire your smut fics, we need MORE FLUFF. And after seeing how you incorporated Matt Murdock in one of your fics it REALLY hit home just how much chemistry/rivalry the boys can have with OC.

Lorna groaned as she slid off her bed and started hobbling her way towards the door. But of course, she didn’t get very far before she was face to face with two chests, looking up, she gave a sheepish smile.

‘Darling, we thought you were sleeping so we left you in peace.’ Loki said as he put his arm around her for support.

‘You should’ve shouted if you wanted something.’ Matt said as he smoothed a hand down her hair.

‘I’m ok… I just wanted to go to the kitchen and get some water.’ Lorna tried to sound ok, but she wasn’t fooling anyone, especially not Loki and Matt. Her very over protective, yet caring and loving, boyfriends.

‘Come on, back to bed. Loki will get you your water.’ Matt said firmly as he scooped Lorna up into his arms and carried her back to bed.

Loki scowled at Matt, who just smirked upon feeling the hate radiating from Loki’s eyes into the back of his head.

‘I just want to get back to normal.’ Lorna whined as she was tucked back into bed.

‘I know, lovely. But it will take time to get your strength back. You just need to rest for now, let your body fight it off. Plenty of sleep will help that.’ Matt got comfortable on the bed next to her, leaning against the headboard.

Lorna snuggled into him as he stroked her hair softly, making her melt.

Loki returned swiftly with a glass of water. He had to hold back an annoyed grunt upon seeing the annoying devil snuggling with his loved one already.

But there was room for him at the other side of her, so Loki carefully joined them on the bed. Lorna loved being between them both, feeling so safe and secure.

They took turns stroking her hair, caressing her softly. Kissing her head and cheeks lots too, while a mindless programme was on in the background.

‘You need to let us look after you, darling. Ask when you need something. You know we will do anything for you.’ Loki said softly, stroking her arm.

‘I know… Thank you both.’ She said quietly, just feeling rather content in the moment.

Loki picked up a book and started reading to her, knowing how much she loved to just listen to him read. His voice was so soothing, apart from when he would often deliberately speak in a seductive tone, always making her squirm, but he knew this wasn’t the time for that.

She soon fell asleep between her two protector boyfriends. They stayed with her for most of the evening, only leaving to go to the bathroom and get themselves ready for bed. Then they were back with her, holding her and making sure she knew they were always there for her.

In the morning when she woke, she was feeling quite a bit better. Still not quite one hundred percent, but certainly over the worst of it and on the mend.

Loki and Matt were still asleep, so she slipped out of bed quietly to go to the bathroom and to brush her teeth. She was just finished when they both walked in, looking concerned. But they relaxed when they saw she was ok.

‘You look a bit better.’ Loki said as he put his palm to her forehead.

She smiled. ‘I am feeling a lot better. I really need a bath though, I think that will help.’

‘One bath, coming up.’ Matt said as he rushed to the tub and began running it, adding plenty of bubble bath.

‘I’m sure I’ll manage on my own.’ Lorna laughed lightly as Loki gently began removing her pyjamas for her.

‘No need when you have us.’ Loki grinned at her and kissed the tip of her nose, then her forehead, making her heart swell with happiness.

Matt took her hand and helped her into the tub. She let out a small groan as the warm water lapped at her skin and instantly soothed her achey bones. She sank back and sighed in contentment.

Loki and Matt both knelt down at either side of the bath tub, they had deliberately picked a house where the bath was in the middle of the bathroom so they could both pamper her together when the time arose. And this was one of those times.

She tried to playfully bat their hands away when they started washing her hair and body for her, but they growled at her in warning to behave.

Loki deliberately tickled her sides as he innocently washed her, but she could tell by the mischievous smirk that he was doing it on purpose.

‘Now, Loki. We both know how ticklish she is, be nice.’ Matt said in warning, yet with a smirk of his own as he rinsed her hair.

Loki just continued to smirk as his hand slipped down her leg and he tickled her foot, making her kick out and splash water about. Matt then couldn’t resist tickling her neck, making her squeak and try to protect said neck by scrunching her shoulder up.

‘Hey! Don’t be mean you two, I’m ill.’ She groaned with a laugh.

Matt chuckled and gently stroked her hair. ‘You said you were feeling better, and you were only saying yesterday that you were fine.’

Lorna huffed under her breath, making the men both laugh. But she knew how mean they could actually be, how often they would torture her. Whether with tickling or other means… They did play nice and after she enjoyed her bath, they dried her off with a big warm towel before marching her back to bed.

‘I’m feeling much better, I don’t need to go back to bed.’ She groaned.

‘You still need to take it easy.’ Loki said firmly as he tucked her back into bed.

‘As much as I hate to agree with Loki Poki, he’s right.’ Matt winked at her.

Loki glared at him and flicked his hand, using his magic to send Matt flying out the bedroom door. That slammed shut too.

‘Loki.’ Lorna said low and gave him a look.

‘What?’ Loki asked innocently.

‘You know.’ She laughed and hit his arm playfully.

‘Fine.’ Loki huffed and had the door open again, but not before jumping into bed right next to her so that Matt couldn’t retaliate without risk of hurting her.

Matt stormed back in, looking like he really was ready for a fight. But he was annoyed that Loki knew him too well, too. And he couldn’t do anything without hurting Lorna. So he just eyed him with a glare and stalked around the bed to get in at the other side.

‘Remind me to take you away somewhere he will never find us once you are better.’ Matt grumbled and tried to slip his arms around Lorna to pull her into him. But Loki also had his arms around her and wasn’t letting her go.

‘I will always find you.’ Loki growled.

Lorna just rolled her eyes as she found herself squashed completely between the two of them. She was glad she was genuinely feeling a lot better, since their competitive egos had risen for now. But deep down, she secretly liked it. The fact that two incredible beings would fight over her, and both loved her enough to deal with one another, even though they really didn’t like each other.

It was worth being squashed for.

#Loki #tom hiddleston #charlie cox #daredevil #matt murdock #one shot #prompt

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dupliciti · 24 days

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chrysanthemum , gladiolus & peony c:

botanical headcanons // @raytm

chrysanthemum : how does your muse express romantic love ? how do they feel about love as a concept ?

i've talked to you a little bit about it. let's see if i can explain it more coherently

i'll preface by talking about his view on love. it's been skewed as he's gotten closer to the Elation and since becoming a masked fool. the belief that love is silly, truly foolish because it can lead to heartbreak (ie falling out of love, getting broken up with, something happening to the other person, infatuation being viewed as something to tease, etc.) does rest in his mind. though, he's not really the type of guy to blatantly making fun of someone for being in love. sampo's tolerant in that regard.

it's nice being cared for, he can't deny that, but the issue he tends to run into is taking into account the other person holistically. he's happy with what he's able to do for himself, can bring about his own elation. loving someone, romantic or otherwise means that he no longer can place attention only on himself, there's a conscious decision to pay attention to someone else's needs. if it were as simple as just being able to make someone smile or laugh then he'd be great at that but he knows that the commitment aspect clashes with his lifestyle

when he is in love, whether he realizes it or not, he does pay attention to that person more. poke even more fun at them, but keep it on the harmless side. teasing and flirtation are closely linked. the other might think he's being more of a nuisance, but what else is he supposed to do? he tends to give gifts, things that reminds him of the other person in some manner. touch is more deliberate, gaze longing. there's also some tells - blushing and laughing around that person a little more.

gladiolus : describe a moment from your muse’s life that they will never forget .

Twin daggers disappear with a flash of light, his hand raising to wipe a trickle of blood away from his cheek. He hopes the cut won't scar, his face the money maker for him when charm isn't enough. Cough tickles his throat, harsh enough to rumble in his chest. Mercenary had been laughing too hard to cope with the uphill climb he just finished. Fellows in the party he'd infiltrated were long dead, && the ones who thought of him as an easy target met their demise by his blades.

❝ Isn't this what you wanted, Sampo ? Didn't you have fun ? ❞

&& like this it's solidified, he'd done as the Laughter had asked for. A spot of fun for a trade of infectious enthusiasm. Kirjo isn't sure that he lucked out. There's no sense in dignifying the Aeon with a response, they reside in his mind anyways. But the object in question doesn't exist, at least not physically. The people he's been tasked with hunting down made it abundantly clear that there had never been a price to fetch, only a threat that their world would plunge into a war with any outside influence. Sick prank on the new Emanator that will potentially cost him his head. It matters not, for he needs to return to his new friends at the Tavern, many who too have their own bounties.

peony : what would a ‘ happy life ’ look like in your muse’s eyes ?

haha... so i've talked about the difference between elation and happiness a few times, but the context here is a bit different. i really do think he knows himself well enough that so long as he's able to keep having fun in the way that he does it, mellowing out more and more where he doesn't feel the pressure of aha or the Tavern is a start. but letting himself form attachments, such as his attachment with belobog and the people there, that would fulfill the companionship side that he's be a bit detached from fellow Fools aren't his friends, he knows that. but at least in a place like belobog, he can find some friends or the closest things to friends since he's still a criminal and a con artist at the end of the day.

#( ◇ ⁿᵒ ᶜᵃˢʰ┊ ask; )#raytm #( ◇ ᵐʸ ᵈᵉᵃʳ ᵃᵘᵈⁱᵉⁿᶜᵉ┊ ooc; )#long post

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syrupwit · 2 years

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oh i'd LOVE to see 'Any fool can get into an ocean / But it takes a Goddess / To get out of one' for sigrun/velanna??

Hi, thank you, Rosella! This is a great prompt for this pairing, and I... have gone and written fluffy, barely-shippy gen about seasickness with it. But! The ocean is in there!

Under the cut, please find ~419 words of Sigrun/Velanna, or Sigrun & Velanna, for @dadrunkwriting.

Sigrun loves the ocean. She loves sailing, too; the Warden-Commander called her a born sailor. That’s fortunate, since it’s a while to Brandel’s Reach. These children of noble vassals have got to stop getting themselves ransomed.

“This,” Velanna informs her when she’s able to speak without groaning, “is unfair.”

“You’re not the only one who got seasick.” Sigrun surveys the deck, bouncing on her heels a little. “Look at Oghren over there! Actually, don’t. He’s having a bad time.”

Velanna keeps her eyes squeezed shut. She’s all huddled in her cloak and damp with sea spray; it’s cute, since she’s stopped looking quite so green. “I didn’t mean seasickness. I mean how you like everything. There should be at least one thing up here that you hate, some feature of the surface that you think is irredeemably awful.”

Sigrun thinks. “Well, I’m not real big on the sky?”

Velanna cracks one eye. “Hm.”

“I’m looking forward to the sunset tonight, though. And the stars…”

Velanna grunts and puts her face in her knees. “This journey is going to be insufferable.”

Sigrun laughs. “What, because I’m not seasick? I’m being very nice, Velanna. If I were the sick one, you’d be mocking me, not trying to cheer me up.”

“I would not!”

“Nathaniel!” says Sigrun, as he strides by confidently. Nathaniel is also a born sailor. “Wouldn’t Velanna be way worse to me if I were the seasick one?”

Nathaniel stops just long enough to regard them, and says, “I don’t know. You’re being rather annoying.” He continues on his way to confer with the Warden-Commander, who is standing at the bow, contemplating the horizon.

“Ugh, fine.” Sigrun turns back to Velanna. “Sorry. I guess I am being a little smug.”

Velanna grumbles something into her knees.

“What was that?”

Without raising her head, but louder, and deliberately without inflection: “I said I accept your apology.”

“Aww.” Sigrun has a flash of inspiration. “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I’m almost definitely going to try to drink seawater later.”

Velanna looks up, aghast. “No! You’ll get sick!”

“I’ll just go swimming, then? And if I happen to swallow some salty, salty water…”

“There’s something wrong with you,” Velanna protests, but she’s definitely not looking green anymore. When Sigrun starts talking about her other swimming plans, Velanna actually stands up to argue with her, and by the time the Warden-Commander calls them forward to update them on the plan once they arrive, she’s pretty much gotten her sea legs.

#rosella-writes #dadwc #dadwc fill

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cyantomatos · 2 years

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On The Way To Happiness

Pairing: Jack Daniels/Agent Whiskey x f!Reader Word Count: 800 Warnings: Talk of death, allusions to drinking, Whiskey needs therapy Summary: After his wife died, Jack decided he wasn’t supposed to be happy. Notes: Listen, I’m not saying this is good, but I had a dream about him last night and my brain conjured some real emotions and I had to write it.

He doesn’t deserve you. He knows he doesn’t, he’s done too many bad things and hurt too many good people to deserve being anywhere near your light.

You, of course, pay zero attention to what he thinks he deserves.

It’s just flirting at first. You’re cute and new and endearingly innocent, and it’s practically a given that Jack finds himself leaning against your desk and flashing that smile that gets him everywhere. There’s a betting pool going on how fast it takes Agent Whiskey, known flirt and all-around scoundrel, to get into the new analyst’s pants.

Everyone loses, as it turns out.

The furthest bet is a month, a generous dark-horse of a bet that still ends up being too soon. You aren’t one to be wooed that easily, as he finds out.

Somewhere, though, it becomes more than just flirting. It becomes honest requests for dates and deliberating over what color roses to get you and nervously adjusting his tie in the rear-view mirror before he picks you up. It becomes an honest-to-goodness shy request from the notoriously smooth Jack Daniels to give you a good-night kiss when he drops you at your door and wondering when he’ll see you again before he’s back to his car. It becomes movie nights on your couch where he spends more time admiring the way you look when you laugh than he does actually paying attention to the movie.

It becomes guilt perched on his shoulder and draped around his neck every time he remembers the last time he felt like this.

After his wife died, Jack decided he wasn’t supposed to be happy. Happiness was sitting at the bottom of a grave in a cherry-wood casket he picked out through tears at 19. Love was sitting in his bedside drawer wrapped around a gold ring he hadn’t had the strength to look at in years. Forgetting was a siren song at the bottle of his namesake that he visited more than his wife’s grave.

He’d sworn never to forget her, and loving someone else even more than twenty years later felt closer to forgetting than he would like.

You knew about his wife and unborn child, it was one of the things you were briefed on for your job. It was a potential weakness for Jack, and part of your job was making sure those weaknesses never got in the way of his job.

You weren’t told about the guilt he carried like it was his duty, although you could guess at that.

Regardless of the guilt, you managed to worm your way into his heart. Jack tried to tell himself it was only temporary, you were just a very pretty distraction, but eventually the promises to himself that it wouldn’t last long became flimsier and flimsier.

He knew within the first year that he wanted to marry you. It felt wrong, thinking about picking out a ring when the first one he’d picked out was sitting under a tombstone marked “loving wife”, but it was too soon to get one anyway. He wasn’t even sure you wanted to shackle yourself to his baggage for the rest of your life, considering where it got the last one to do that.

And then you proposed to him before he could work up the courage.

Two years in, when he’d finally decided to start trying to slyly figure out your ring size, you looked up at him in the light of a black and white movie and said, “Marry me, Jack.”

He’d have been a fool to say no.

There were still nights where he woke up with the sound of gunshots ringing in his ears and the smell of her blood overwhelming him. There were days where he told himself he should have left long before now, you were better off without him and he knew it, he was just too selfish to let you go. You moved in and filled his house with light and life and most days he could convince himself it was ok to be happy. The days that he couldn’t, you were there to love him anyway.

Three years in, two months before your wedding, he took you to her grave. You’d never asked, never took his reluctance as a sign of how he felt about you.

He brought daisies and told you how she’d loved them. He read you the poem etched in stone that she had loved and cried when he spoke to her about you. You told her how much you loved him, and how good a man he was despite what he thought of himself.

You held his hand as you left the cemetery, and for the first time Jack started to think it just might be ok for him to be happy.

Taglist: @knivesareout @writeforfandoms @gorgeousgrogu @leto-duke @xoxabs88xox @kirsteng42 @hauntedmama @urofficial-cyberslut @marvelousmermaid @tanzthompson @lowlights @dobbyjen @tanzthompson

Join my taglist here!

#jack daniels #Agent Whiskey #jack daniels x f!reader #agent whiskey x f!reader #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey x you

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theygotlost · 1 year

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ok ive been thinking about something and it might be controversial but hear me out. i make a lot of "yaoi gay sex penis laugh now" jokes about gk but can we please discuss the relationship between tsurumi and his subordinates with more nuance than "lol they are all so gay for him!!!! XD"? hold on this has gotten pretty long im putting it under the cut

i want to refer back to that anonymous essay i rbed the other day cause they got it exactly right.

tsurumi is manipulating and taking advantage of deeply traumatized young men by filling a role of support and affirmation that the rest of the government/society has failed to provide. he is deliberately making these vulnerable, unstable people grow attached to him so that they will easily do his bidding, his "dirty work". he explains as much himself. even tsukishima, who seems like the most "normal" member of the 7th division, has been manipulated into being so fiercely loyal that he was ready to injure or even kill a 9 months pregnant woman on tsurumi's orders.

even worse are the cases of koito and usami, who were CHILDREN when tsurumi first began manipulating them. usami was even his own STUDENT. they've both developed an almost psychosexual obsession with him that gets more insidious the more you think about it. while I wouldn't go so far as to call tsurumi a blatant sexual predator, he is certainly exploiting and enabling this type of relationship because it benefits him to have his officers be in love with him. usami especially just makes me really sad more than anything else.

that's why I feel like "shipping" any of these characters, tsukishima, usami, koito, ogata, or whoever else, with tsurumi is entirely missing the point. like these relationship dynamics should be explored, sure, and there's certainly a lot to say about each one. but if your takeaway from these interactions is "wouldn't it be awesome if they kissed?" then you haven't been paying attention.

just like I've said about gul dukat during the height of my ds9 posting, the fact that his behavior is so believable in its maliciousness is what makes him a compelling villain who is fun to hate. when I see people posting like "omgggg tsurumi is so sexy i love him heehee!!!!" it feels like they have fallen victim to the exact same manipulation as the rest of his officers. I'm not saying you're not allowed to find him attractive or whatever, I'm just saying that his tactics are so effective they are working on you the viewer, even though you're real and he's not. idk, something to think about.

"but austin, didn't you just say a few days ago that you're entertained by toxic messy unwholesome relationships, or in your words, 'evil gay sex'? seems like these relationships are pretty toxic, aren't you being a hypocrite?" you fool. evil gay sex is fun when both parties are on EQUAL FOOTING. when they are both equally fucked up and equally hostile toward each other. MUTUALLY ASSURED DESTRUCTION. by definition, it is the POWER IMBALANCE between tsurumi and his subordinates that makes the whole thing so disturbing. the toxicity doesn't go both ways here; tsurumi is completely in control. hopefully you see the difference. this isn't like, a callout post or anything, just a thought

#gk #ive rewritten this like 100 times and kept drafting it i hope it makes sense

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livebloggingmydescentintomadness · 3 years

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Are you a serious cockles shipper, or do you just do it for fun? No hate either way lol just wondering

okay i’m putting this under a readmore because it’s embarrassing to talk about in front of 20k people. this is my cockles manifesto:

i am, as a rule, not into rpf shipping. i have no problem with people who are, it just feels kind of weird and invasive to me so i generally avoid it.

however, i have been here since 2012, and the sheer level of unabashed shenanigans that have been beamed into my eyeballs, paired with my intuitive understanding of body language, have convinced me that misha and jensen do in fact have a private romantic/sexual relationship.

BUT i have to make it clear that i don’t mean that in a “cheating on their wives” way, but in a polyamory way - which isn’t much of a stretch, considering that we know misha and his wife are poly, and vicki literally wrote ‘the threesome’s handbook’. almost every single cockles shipper loves vicki and danneel, we are not about disrespecting or hating them whatsoever.

now, i KNOW that saying that i believe the actors who portray my otp are in a secret relationship makes me sound insane, believe me i’m aware of that, but i’m not saying it lightly or without evidence. those of us who’ve been around a while know that it’s treated as basically an open secret in the spn fandom and among the spn cast, who very frequently make comments and allusions to them being together. jared has made SO many comments that people make posts collecting them, like this one and this one. like i said, it’s basically an open secret (like that time the show said “they’re a couple in real life”). here’s some Highly Suspicious Stuff: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14/15, 16, 17, 18, 19/20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43

i mean...

but it’s important to make clear that if either of them EVER seemed uncomfortable with us shipping them and making jokes and comments, i would absolutely stop. i respect them and i don’t ever want to make them feel creeped out or like their privacy is violated. but the thing is, they not just ‘not uncomfortable’, they very deliberately egg us on. misha loves to make ‘cockles’ puns, they happily do silly photo ops implying they’re together, and they both love to post photos of themselves together, knowing quite well how we go crazy for it.

like the above selfie, where they posed chest to chest, and this actual ‘anniversary’ photo jensen posted, celebrating ten years of the first time he took misha out to dinner, actually tracking down the same restaurant and the same table.

or these really adorable photos of the boat trip they took with both their families:

and of course the beloved sunset photo:

every time they have a panel together (which usually only happens at the yearly roman convention known as jibcon), their antics get wilder. the first time i went “wait...” was in 2013, when they dry-humped onstage.

and by 2019, we have jensen eagerly throwing himself down on the stage (to reenact a scene between castiel and sam) so misha could get on top of him and mime choking him, and then pretty obviously getting a boner because of it (video). oh and i can’t possibly leave out the kissing (bonus gifs, and more), or the panel where jensen got drunk and opened his pants to show misha his underwear.

their body language around each other is so different from how they are around anyone else (except their wives). like, you can see how jensen and jared love each other and what good friends they are by how they play off each other and have an easy camaraderie, but as soon as jensen gets around misha, he can’t take his eyes off him. he stares, he giggles like a fool over not-that-funny jokes (we call it his unicorn laugh), he looks absolutely besotted, and they’re constantly gravitating to each other and touching each other in really intimate ways: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20

honestly, there have been so many Shenanigans over the last 12 years that i can’t even remember them all, or find them all in my archives. there’s been clothes sharing/swapping, there’s jensen’s inexplicable kink for misha’s bad accents, the time misha reenacted the fake orgasm scene from when harry met sally and jensen, um, liked it (bonus), their matching bracelets and rings (and another ring), how very enthusiastic jensen is about calling misha “dmitri”, how jensen grumpily insists he can’t remember last week but jumps at the chance to tell the story of how he met misha and the first time he went to dinner with misha and misha told the server to bring them “the three least ordered dishes on the menu” (seriously, they tell the story of how they met all the time), the number of times they’ve been suspiciously late to their autograph and photo op sessions...

here’s some more adorable:

gag reel compilation

resume battle

“i love you”

best moments compilation

really bad dancing

gently bullying

jensen praising misha

jensen gushing over misha

lowkey hand-holding

“i’d take jensen home”

bickering

the time misha tried to sneak up but jensen could see him in the monitor

knock knock

supportive jensen

“you drew the black penis?”

destiel or cockles??

bowtie adjusting

jensen losing his fucking mind over meeting a dog named misha

whatever this is??

some sdcc shenanigans

shenanigans

“aloha, cowboy”

when jensen pied misha

“dapper as always”

the way jensen likes being bossed around... (bonus angle)

that time jensen tried to facetime misha so he could participate in a panel

“who said it” game

misha gazing at jensen

stuck in the space pants together

2011 jibcon highlights

blowing a kiss

jensen straddling misha on set

that time misha accidentally (?) tweeted out a cockles post,

jensen elbowing jared because he wants to play foosball opposite misha

the mirroring compilation

“who doesn’t love freckles?”

jensen falls over laughing because misha is wearing socks

the infamous reverse french mistake edit

jensen asked misha to autograph his sign

that time they showed up wearing the same suit

cute whispering and giggling

jensen calling misha his ‘pebble’

“how are you?” compilation

jensen brought a shirt to give to misha

“he’s like a little puppy”/”he’s like a little teddy bear”

jensen’s accent kink reappears / and again

"jensen’s the horse”/”my kids have seen jensen having sex many times”

“so it’s like football...”

jensen reminiscing on when they met

and look, despite all that, it’s honestly not about fantasizing about two hot guys fucking, or anything sexual at all. whatever they actually are, they love each other, they make each other happy, and getting to see it makes me happy. it’s something good in the world, these two sweet idiots loving each other and letting us see the fact that they love each other.

so, uh, i guess to answer your question, i’m serious. but i do try not to cross the line between what happens publicly and what’s private. from what’s shown in public, i draw these conclusions, because, well,

#*tugs collar*#this is a normal thing to spend a few hours doing right? sure why not #whenever people try to shame me i'm just like 'i know more than you'#cockles #anonymous #ask #cockles manifesto

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