#crimson & clover ask

[thesistersarcheron]

Pairings: Elriel, background Feysand Rating: E Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Murder, Attempted Kidnapping, Inappropriate Erections, BDSM, Blood Kink, Title from a Taylor Swift Song, Elain rips out a man’s throat with her bare hands and that’s a turn-on for Azriel Summary: When a stranger tries to kidnap Nyx during an outing to the park, Elain reacts the same way she did that day on the battlefield: by going for the throat. Azriel distracts her in the aftermath. ——— Find more on my masterlist or read this fic on AO3!

Azriel was at the window in Rhysand’s office, looking out at the garden behind the River House and idly listening to his brothers talking, when Feyre shrieked.

Blood, his shadows whispered. Death.

He turned—and Rhys was gone, winnowing to his mate’s side at the sound of her scream. The wards pulled at Azriel as he tried to do the same, a dozen spiderwebs made of magic strong as steel caging him in. He cursed them and pushed off the window’s ledge, running, chasing the sound of growing panic out of the study and down the hall with Cassian hot on his heels.

Rhys was already there, his back to them, reaching for Feyre.

And as Azriel took in the scene, he realized that she was right to scream, because there, in the wide-open doorway where Elain stood with Nyx…

Azriel saw red, but it wasn’t the glow of Cassian’s Siphons guiding him to a fight. It wasn’t his fury blinding him.

No.

It wasn’t fury. He locked that away, deeper and more primal than his usual icy rage, because he could not waste his time or energy sating it when Elain—

Truth-Teller’s hilt was cold in his palm, the metal biting into skin, and he savored the pain. The clarity it brought.

Because Elain was covered with blood.

She was soaked in it, her pretty blue dress dyed purple and her fine winter coat drenched up to the elbow. It had splashed up onto her neck, her face, painting her cheeks crimson and plastering a lock of hair to her temple. A thick, wet droplet of it was still beaded in the bow of her lip, threatening to slip down onto her tongue.

And Nyx— Nyx’s little wings were similarly covered in gore, the back of his woolen onesie speckled with red.

Cold, murderous darkness billowed out in warning waves from Rhys, staining the sunny afternoon with night. The ground rumbled dangerously with every step he took toward Elain, his hands outstretched to take his son.

But Elain only trembled, clutching her one-year-old nephew closer to her chest as his parents tried to coax her into letting go.

“He’s fine,” she murmured miserably, and Feyre gave up on taking Nyx and wrapped her arms around her sister and her son together. “He’s not hurt.”

Feyre made a low, relieved noise, her head dropping onto Elain’s shoulder. “Are you? What happened?”

Azriel watched, his shadows investigating the small dribbles of blood pooling on the floor beneath Elain, but she said nothing. Her eyes went distant, though, and Feyre inhaled sharply, her knuckles turning white where they clutched Elain’s sodden coat.

And whatever she saw, she shared with her mate, because when Rhys turned back to them, his eyes were devoid of stars. In their place, only calculating fury remained.

“Stay with them,” he ordered. His wings unfurled, he snapped his fingers, and his fine, formal jacket and trousers were replaced by a familiar set of leathers.

Cassian cursed at the sight of them.

Azriel forced himself to stop staring at Elain, to stop drinking in the sight of the blood on her throat, to take a step toward the door. Whatever had happened, whatever threat was coming, he needed to go with Rhys, to investigate— His shadows were already snaking out into Velaris, past the citizens gasping and gaping at the sudden darkness their High Lord brought down on them in search of—

A bit of night-dark power slammed the door shut and the heavy, magical lock thudded home. Rhys blocked his path.

“Stay with her,” he said again, and this time it was less an order than…

“Guard the estate,” he said, the reasoning flimsy, transparent, as if Feyre alone weren’t powerful and pissed enough to protect her family, her son.

Azriel looked at him. His brother's teeth were still bared with fury, that dangerous corona of darkness still wreathed him, but in his eyes, in that knowing look…

Permission.

“We need to clean you two up,” Cassian was saying somewhere above Elain’s head. His hand was firm on her back, sturdy and comforting and warmed by the glowing Siphon atop it. “Warm you up, get a little something to eat.”

But Elain didn’t want to let go of Nyx, still feeling the grabbing, tearing hands on her arms, trying to take the baby from her. She still burned with anger, her teeth still felt sharp and dangerous in her mouth, her nails—sticky and wet as they were—as good as claws.

Nyx hiccuped, and she knew it was the prelude to a tantrum. She couldn’t blame him; his wings were all wet and cold, his dear papa had appeared and left just as quickly without so much as ruffling his hair, and now his uncle was staring down at him with a frown carved into his face while his mama rubbed a firm hand up and down his back.

“Elain.”

That voice… Elain had missed that voice.

“Give me the baby.”

Elain sniffled, but Nyxie whined again, squirming. And how could she say no to that voice? She buried her nose in the baby’s inky black hair, kissed his forehead one more time, and gently lifted him out of the cleverly tied sash that secured him to her. Her hands itched once Azriel took the baby, aching to snatch him back, but his dark eyes met hers over the tips of Nyx’s wings.

He shook his head. She fisted her hands together and curled them over her heart.

Azriel gave Nyx a quick once-over—no damage, no injuries, and Elain could have burst with pride at the impressed look he gave her—and handed him to Feyre. His arm curled around her, his hand resting at the small of her back.

“Come with me.”

[jojameswinter]

I think show Kie has been shown to be forgiving even to a fault, especially with JJ, and also welcomes JJ interfering in past parental conflicts! (When he says Anna was bluffing, when she asks him to back her up about the gold in their kitchen, when they’re stealing food from the wreck)

I think it could be read as more of a “this guy hasn’t been raised to have good social instincts” rather than a betrayal. Just two cents and a possible read! Especially since JJ has been raised to forgive horrible treatment endlessly he has no frame of reference for a child making boundaries.

OOH I love this insight!!!! You're right, he definitely doesn't shy away from the conflict, shown again at the end of the season 3 when he's telling them off about Kie and Kitty Hawk. That kitchen scene was SO - the fact he was even there was just...so boyfriend, omg SKDJFLKJ

I subscribe to the theme that JJ doesn't really know (or thinks he doesn't know) how family dynamics work considering his own severe dysfunction and trauma. And trying to navigate someone else's trauma with their parents is very tricky. I think he'd worry (and is worried in the fic) that he's not equipped, though he's trying his best.

It is SO INTERESTING to me how both JJ and Kie kind of fold sometimes when it comes to conflict with their own parents, but when it comes to defending the other to each of their parents? WATCH OUT!!!! OH I'M ACTUALLY SO FERAL RN THINKING ABOUT IT TY FOR SPARKING THIS SPIRAL!!!! SO MANY THINGS TO THINK ABOUT!!!

[koneko-pi]

Ooh, can I get 8,31,32,41, and 47 for Silver Season please? ^^

Of course, Laura! Here we go!!

8. What song would make a great fic (to either write or read)?

Music is ALWAYS involved in my writing. Almost all of my fanfics, or at least specific moments in them, had a song/theme played while I wrote it. So, I have a LOT of songs to pick from here XD

But right off the top of my head, I would go with "8 letters" by Why Don't We

(And I could go into heavy detail as to why, but not right now (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ )

31. What’s your ideal fic length to write?

I have recently gotten into the habit of writing whatever feels right, so if it is as long as it is, then so be it. I do, however, like to make my chapters at LEAST 3k while oneshots at LEAST 2k

32. What’s your ideal fic length to read?

While I don't mind how short it it I do get easily overwhelmed by very long chapters

( 〃．．) so I like reading around 2-3k perchapters. And that doesn't mean I won't read longer chapters! It will just take me longer...

41. Link a fic that made you think, “Wow, I want to write like that.”

HONESTLY, in the Black Clover fandom, it's ANY of @thoughtfullyrainynightmare works. The way she describes her scenes is amazing. It's not just telling you what the characters are seeing or the setting. Her writing creates an atmosphere I LOVE. Like I'm there feeling what's happening, not just seeing

There's another creator who writes for another fandom i really admire, but i won't get into them ^^'

47. If [Silver Season] was a pair of shoes, what kind would it be? Describe the shoes.

Why describe when I have the power of google on my side

[tempestuous-lush]

Since your like...so far off from Canon. Is Chibs going to marry this Shiv chick and get busy? Is Jax going to have another kid like he did with Tara?

I need to know !

I am so far off from Canon for sure. 😂

Shiv and Chibs have a major plot point coming up in the next couple of chapters related to that so I won’t say too much there. BUT, the other one won’t happen for a few so I’ll go ahead and say it. Jax and Trouble will have a kid at some point.

All of that to say: I KNOW I am slow to post.

Next week is finals though and once those are done, I will have so much more time on my hands for writing and this story will come along in my winter break. Thank you for hanging in there with me. It means a lot you enjoy it.

And thank you for the ask. 🖤🖤🖤

[astral-catastrophe]

I’m normal over my links I promise

[staceymcgillicuddy]

WIP Meme

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Tagged by @foxylibrarian - thank you, bb! I have been sleeping all day and now I am restless, so!

hellcheertrucker

HellcheerKinkMeme23

hellcheer-summer

Hellcheer-Munch

Hellcheer-college

Jopper-Meh

Hellcheerington-idea

Tagging @pipergirl17, @khaleesa (since you said you were maybe inspired again!), @deliriumsdelight7, @justhere4thevibez, @blondiest, @cunninghamchrissie aaaaaaand anyone else who is writing shit and hasn't been tagged!

[cuppakasha]

in your carolinda playlist, do you think there’s any song (or songs, that thing’s impressively long) that perfectly fits/describes the story you’re going for?

Good question! I feel I should apologize for the length lol; I like to compile tons of songs for playlists since I throw it on shuffle to not mess with it when I get sucked into writing (y'know, when I don't have a hyperfixation on one song for hours xD). That being said:

The best song that encapsulates the story (as of now): Wolf Like Me ft. Shovels & Rope

You didn't ask for it but here are some other songs that are really good fits if you're wanting to parse it down:

Some Carol-Specific Songs: White Collar Whiskey, Lilith, and pretty much everything by Daughter on the list

Some Linda-Specific Songs: Sinister Kid, Heaven's Got a Back Door, She's My Religion, and everything by Perma on the list I think fits Linda and Leo pretty well

Some Songs For Both: Seether, Mona Lisa, Face To Face

[planetsandthefates]

insane how much i love the great war now when the first time i listened to it i didnt really Vibe with it (i never disliked it tho it was just a little bit of a grower for me lol) but now it's become one of my most listened to songs from midnights lol

[pomefioredove]

could you perchance do a part two to the yuu getting sold to the highest bidder? like how would that characters treat them if they actually get them? sorry if this doesnt make sence!! but thank uu!! ^_^

more than happy to! <3 I'm writing this as a follow up/pt. 2 to this post but if you'd like something different don't be shy! I love getting requests

summary: joining their dorms + wearing the uniforms (for some). a proper ending to this type of post: short fics characters: trey, cater, leona, rook, idia, lilia, malleus additional info: yuu is gender neutral, rook is weird, both fem and masc french words are used during rook's part but reader is still gn, I need to replay book 2 to get leona's voice down, Idia being fun to write, maybe a little ooc

If you thought it was bad before, the news that Malleus intended to marry you made everything about twenty times more chaotic. Bids were upped to insurmountable sums, rumors were spread like the plague, fights were raging through campus as the deadline to donate approached. Even Crowley was starting to feel a little antsy, despite all of the brand new amenities he had already ordered for his office.

Finally, the day came. The announcement was held in the courtyard, where just about any student who had stakes in the matter had shirked whatever after-school responsibilities they had to gather. The prefect themselves was nowhere to be found, though only few noticed their absence.

"Maybe it'll be nice," you say to your direbeast companion, the both of you tucked away in a dark corner at Ramshackle.

"It'll definitely beat living in this dump. You think they got good food in Diasomnia?" Grim murmurs.

You grimace. "Uh... sure. I can't imagine they wouldn't, right?"

Crowley clears his throat, pulling a thin, delicate envelope out of his coat pocket while the crowd eagerly watches on. He takes his sweet time opening it, much to everyone's utter dismay, and when he finally withdraws the contents the entire courtyard falls quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

"And our winner is..."

Trey and Cater's Ending

"Cater Diamond and Trey Clover!"

Everyone stops dead and turns to the back of the crowd. There's a certain sense of unity that, for a brief moment, everyone can feel in the form of a single thought: Them, of all people?

Cater, ever the people-person, can already tell what's on everyone's minds. "What can I say? I run a mean social media campaign. I had some sick infographics,"

Trey can only smile and shrug at the growing disdain coming from the other students, most of which from his own housewarden, who is s currently turning a lovely shade of crimson.

"...Right. Well, the prefect will be ready for you shortly," Crowley says, folding the envelope and setting it back in his pocket. "I trust your housewarden will help you sort out the details."

Riddle looks more like he's about to start throttling them.

"Nah, it's cool. We got this," Cater smiles, though he's only half paying attention as he posts an update to Magicam. "The prefect is in great hands. Right, guys?"

Ace and Deuce shrug. Not the best outcome, not the worst, and either way it's still their friend coming to stay with them. Riddle is gritting his teeth so hard you could practically hear them grinding from Ramshackle.

"Was anyone going to tell me you two had pitched in, as well? Or was it a surprise?"

Trey smiles, almost nervously. "Well-"

"We were only giving the dorm a better chance. It's basic statistics- more Heartslabyul names in the hat, more of a chance one of us will be drawn, y'know?" Cater beams. "No disrespect, of course."

"None whatsoever," Riddle hisses back.

---

"And you're sure he's not really mad?" you ask, trailing behind the two third years.

It had been almost an hour since you'd updated your Magicam feed and read the announcement firsthand, but the shock is still wearing off.

Cater scoffs. "Whaaaat? No, he's totally cool about it,"

"Well. Now he is, anyway," Trey murmurs back. "But he certainly won't kick you out. As long as you're in the dorm uniform, you're one of us. He's just upset we went behind his back."

"...Understandable,"

Cater holds the door open for you, letting you inside to see a precariously placed mannequin with a dorm uniform in your size already on it. You hate to admit it, but it's lovely.

"Riddle had one ready. You know, just in case," Trey says, gesturing you forward. "And don't worry, we'll all be taking it easy on you while you adjust."

You run your fingers down the durable fabric. "Hm. Thanks,"

"You should get changed, I need a post to commemorate the moment," Cater says, beaming. "And I kindaaaa want to rub it in for everyone else who lost out on the best giveaway ever."

Leona's Ending

"Leona Kingscholar! Please... be responsible. Ruggie, I hope you'll keep an eye out for the prefect,"

Ruggie rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything. Leona, who had been absent-mindedly picking his teeth before the big announcement, flashes a big smirk to the audience while swaggering to the front of it.

"Well, well. Look who's come in first place, after all. What, didn't think I'd bother to try?"

Vil grimaces, crossing his arms. "Is there a point to this?"

"Obviously. I'm showing off," he rolls his eyes. "I guess I'll be seeing the rest of you lot around my territory a lot more, then?"

He snickers and then disappears back inside the building. Ruggie can only shrug at the disgruntled crowd before tailing after him.

---

"Well, that felt nice," Leona sighs, stretching out on one of the lounge chairs. "Pity that I couldn't see the lizard's reaction, but I'm sure we'll get to that eventually."

You're sitting at the table across from him, playing cards with a very invested Ruggie. You raise an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Malleus," Ruggie mutters, shuffling his cards around in his hand.

"It's never a party without him, right? He was probably off cowering somewhere with his tail behind his legs," Leona chuckles, picking his teeth again. "But everyone else's faces just about made up for it."

"Whatever," Ruggie grumbles. "I'm all in."

Though you're not exactly invested in the game anymore. You set down your cards, much to Ruggie's dismay, and stand over Leona with your hands on your hips.

"I hope you know that I won't be one of your errand runners for you. I've done enough of that with Crowley,"

He pauses, sharp eyes scanning you over. "You certainly know how to rain on someone's parade,"

"This is not a parade. This is my sanity we're talking about,"

"Tch. And what're you gonna do? Run away?" Leona rolls his eyes. "Hide in the jungle? Maybe you can take Ruggie with you and make it a party!"

"Hey, leave me out of this," the aforementioned says, shuffling the deck.

You stand your ground, though you don't know what else to say. Eventually, Leona sighs.

"Fine. I won't make you do anything you don't want to if you're just going to whine about it,"

He pauses, and a small smirk crosses his face. "But you'll at least have to wear the uniform. I need the satisfaction of seeing the look on everyone else's faces."

You smile triumphantly, and sit back down across from Ruggie for another round while Leona watches on, pretending not to care about the game.

It could be better, but it could also be worse.

Plus, something about that smile of his let on more than just a little self-satisfaction.

This could definitely be interesting...

Rook's Ending

"...Ah. Rook Hunt!" Crowley says, folding the paper back in his pocket and leaning down to whisper to Azul in the front row. "Tell the prefect I said good luck."

At the heart of the crowd, Vil turns to Rook, hands on his hips. "Rook..."

"Ah, magnifique! How happy I am, my heart could weep for joy!" he says, completely ignoring whatever disappointed comment Vil was about to unleash. "I must run to my prize at once, there's not a moment to lose!"

Vil grimaces as Rook bounds off into the school, moving so swiftly that he cuts through the crowd of confused (and mildly concerned) students like an arrow.

As always, Rook is genuine with his words- he truly feels as if his own heart is about to leap out of his chest and race him towards Ramshackle.

What a chance, what an opportunity! Not only to be close to someone he has his own private fan club for, but to truly, finally possess beauty in physical form. He would display you on a shelf if it were feasible.

The idea so overwhelms him with joy that you barely had time to ask what was going on before you suddenly found yourself sitting beside him in the Pomefiore lounge as he smooths out the crinkles in your new uniform.

He murmurs under his breath, kneeling before you while inspecting the uniform. "Magnifique, joli, belle, quelle beauté, une rose parfaite..."

...Leaving you in a torn state of embarrassment and shyness. You look across the room to Vil for help, and he rolls his eyes.

"I coulda get used 'ta this!" Grim shouts, lounging on a nearby silk pillow with a mouthfull of pâté. Two freshman are tediously brushing his fur with the nicest set of combs you've ever seen.

"Comfortable?" You ask, only a little sarcastic.

"Uh-huh! Ya know, when I found out the winner was Rook, of all people, I was a little worried. But this is way nicer than collecting dust in Ramshackle!"

You couldn't have said it better yourself.

Rook smiles. "Tsk, tsk. I would never let anyone harm a single hair on your precious head,"

The question is directed to Grim, but he looks straight at you when he says it. "Like a delicate porcelain doll, I will handle you with the utmost care,"

You're not exactly sure what you had been envisioning- maybe he'd release you on a remote island and hunt you for sport?- but this had far exceeded any of your expectations.

Though his gaze is as unsettling as ever, and any hopes of personal space are gone out the ornate glass windows, his usual guarded demeanor had softened just the tiniest bit.

It was unnerving. But nice, in a way.

"Mon trickster, this is just the beginning for us. We have many shining days ahead, and I plan on spending every beautiful breath of them with you. Do you hunt?"

"Oh, sevens," Vil murmurs.

Unfortunately for Vil, Rook's smile is contagious and you can't help encouraging him. Just this once. "Not usually, no,"

"A merveilleuse opportunity! I will teach you all I have learned, then. Ah, this reminds me of a poem I wrote for this exact occasion!"

He may or may not be watching you sleep tonight. Hopefully you're the kind of person who can live with that.

Idia's Ending

LOL. Normies.

Look at them, crowding around like a bunch of sheep. As if anyone has a real chance. SMH.

I knew it was pointless to begin with, but getting into Crowley's banking account and seeing the bids... now I feel lame for even trying at all.

That money could've gone to some new parts. I've been itching to build another PC...

The door flies open, slamming against the wall behind it so loudly that even if Idia wasn't completely absorbed in watching the announcement on his biggest monitor, he would've jumped anyway.

He whirls around in his chair, wide-eyed and shaking like a prey animal, expecting to see some high level boss or classic horror game antag waiting for him.

Instead, it's Ortho. "Idy! You'll never believe-"

"Geez, Ortho, you nearly killed me. And I don't have any extra lives this time," Idia says, spinning back around to face his screen. "Something wrong?"

"Actually, I have some really great news! Wanna guess what it is?"

Idia grumbles, powering off his computer. "Nah, not in the mood,"

Ortho's brow furrows as he catches a fleeting glimpse of the camera feed playing over his brother's screen before it flickers to black. "You've been watching the announcement on the courtyard cam footage?"

"No! I mean- well, I was just curious," Idia says. "I watched for like two minutes. Who even cares about this thing, anyway?"

"Well-"

"I mean, it was a game over from the start. Taking on the highest level bosses at our school with my measly stats? Forget it,"

"But Idia-"

"Who even cares where the prefect ends up, anyway? I doubt they'd wanna be trapped in a basement like this for all eternity,"

"Idia!" Ortho shouts, loud enough to shake his brother from his ensuing pity party. Idia can only stare as he moves to the side, revealing a rather surprised looking you, dressed in the dorm uniform, behind him.

"Idia, you won!"

And then he dies.

That's what he thinks, anyway. Really, Idia goes into a state of complete shock and blacks out so hard that, for a moment, the blinding light shining through his eyelids feels like the light at the end of the tunnel.

"Is he okay?" you ask, tentatively watching as Ortho clicks off the small light he'd been shining in his brother's eyes.

"He's displaying symptoms of a panic attack. Don't worry, he gets them quite frequently,"

A distant groaning pulls the both of you back into the present moment and you watch Idia slowly rise.

"His heart rate has steadied to 70 BPM," Ortho says. You raise an eyebrow. "That's normal. Idia, can you hear us?"

He takes a long moment to respond.

"This isn't real. I'm sleep-deprived from my last speed run and now I'm hallucinating. There's no way,"

You look between the two brothers. This hasn't exactly gotten off to a stellar start.

"Your vitals are normal, although you're lacking Vitamin C. Might I suggest having a fruit cup while we talk?" Ortho asks. Idia shakes his head. "Yuu? Snack?"

"I could go for something,"

Ortho hovers out of the room, leaving the two of you alone. You're too nervous (or is he too nervous?) to ask to sit, so you stand over him while he practically rocks back and forth. His face is so red and hot with embarrassment you could cook an egg on it.

"Um..."

He mumbles back. "Just pretend I'm not here. IK you probably wanted one of those epic SSR students to pull you, I don't blame you for being disappointed,"

He talks so fast and quiet it's hard to make out what he's saying... but you get the gist of it.

"Hey, don't put words in my mouth. This is a hell of a lot better than it could have been,"

He seems to genuinely consider your words for a moment before you're interrupted by Ortho coming back with snacks.

Idia is back on high alert the second he's returned. "This doesn't make sense. I got into Crowley's online bank info and saw all the bids, I wasn't even close to the top five. How?"

"Oh, easy!" Ortho chirps. "I simply rewired funds from Crowley's bank account to up your offer!"

"You... took money out of his account and sent it back to him?"

"Clever," you murmur.

Idia grumbles. "I guess that's not technically stealing... fine. But why? I thought I told you not to bother!"

"My user intel indicates that the prefect is very popular amongst the student body. Their top three descriptors are helpful, kind, and friendly! I thought you two might be able to practice your social skills together... Perhaps you could show them around the dorm as a starting point?"

You turn around to look at Idia, who's sheet-white. Nonetheless... he sighs and stands, muttering a quick "Let's get this over with,"

You watch, as still as stone, as he stops in the doorway and turns to look at you from over his shoulder, his face and hair a pleasant shade of pink.

"Well? Are you coming?"

Lilia's Ending

"And our winner... is... hm. I don't even remember seeing this one in the pile," Crowley grumbles, scratching his head under his hat. "Um, Lilia Vanrouge!"

Silver is the first to look at him. "Fa-Lilia, I thought we talked about this,"

Lilia, currently hovering in the shade of one of the courtyard's signature apple trees, simply shrugs. As if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Oh, we did. I really thought about what you said, about the prefect's freedom, and I decided that you're right! But how could I guarantee their safety from everyone else?"

Silver groans (which turns into a yawn) and Lilia puts on his best cute look as everyone else in the audience turns to him.

Crowley clears his throat. "The prefect will be ready for your-"

"Oh, no need! Thank you, though," he says, and then disappears into the building.

---

You've been distracting yourself by counting cobwebs for far too long, as evident by your headache and the taste of dust on your tongue.

You turn to look at Grim. "Should be over by now. I'm surprised I haven't heard anything yet,"

"Surprised, you say?"

No matter how many times he does that, you're never quite prepared.

You jump, nearly hitting your head against the table you'd been taking refuge under. Grim yowls, clawing into your sleeve (and just barely missing the tender flesh on your arm, thank goodness), and you both stare at the fae ahead of you.

Lilia is sitting on the table, hanging his head upside down and staring right at you. Grim mumbles.

"Don't even tell me. I'm out!"

Lilia waves him goodbye as he makes a swift exit, and then turns back to you.

"I have a secret. Wanna guess?"

You're a little curious (aren't you always when it comes to him?) but that isn't enough to overpower your rising dread.

"No,"

"Aw. Really? I'm sure you'll like it,"

"Definitely not, then,"

He slinks off the table and lies on the floor, cupping his face in his palms and kicking his legs back and forth.

It would be amusing if you weren't so sure of what he's about to say.

"Well, despite your best efforts, I'm not surprised at all. But Malleus couldn't even come here to get me himself?" you sigh.

Lilia tilts his head to the side. "Now, why would he do that?"

There's something written within the margins of his tone that makes your eyes lower at him. Something he's keeping from you.

"...Well... he did win, didn't he?"

"Oh, my. You were hoping for Malleus to win? Now I'm sure we both feel silly,"

You raise an eyebrow. "Hoping is... a strong word. But I was expecting it, yes. So he didn't win?"

"No, dear, Malleus is not the winner,"

"Then... who is?"

Lilia gives you a sweet, self-satisfied grin, his fangs glinting. "You're looking at him,"

Ah.

If there's one thing Lilia Vanrouge is good at, it's surprising you. No matter how stoic you act, no matter how clever you are, he always manages to catch you off guard.

This might take the cake, though.

"I didn't even know-"

"No. Initially, I wasn't going to. But Silver and I... we had a long talk about valuing your freedom and independence, and thus I so valiantly threw myself into the flames to save you from becoming someone's slave," he pauses to smile. "Chivalrous, yes?"

"...Charming," you mutter. "But what was that thing about-"

"Oh, yes. Don't worry, you'll be treated as any other student at Diasomnia. In fact, I'm sure we already have some uniforms in your size!"

"This is... quite the turn of events,"

"Ah, isn't it? I haven't felt this elated in... well... a long time," he grins. "Come along, now. I plan on treating you to a hearty welcome dinner!"

You can only grimace at that.

Malleus' Ending

During all of the confusion, the fighting, the rumors that shook the school, no one, again, had remembered to invite Malleus Draconia to the announcement.

Not that it mattered. Not this time.

One knock at Ramshackle's creaky door and you were suddenly in the depths of the forest around the school, admiring a crumbled stone structure.

"What was it?" you ask, turning to your walking companion.

Malleus smiles slightly. "I believe it was a wall. Fascinating, no? Since you have inhabited Ramshackle, I come here when I want to be alone,"

Ah, right. You'd almost forgotten that you'd made a home out of his ruins of preference.

Ramshackle was in a much better state than this, though. At least you had four walls and a roof over your head.

"Are you alone a lot these days?" you ask, rather absent-mindedly for such a heavy topic.

You're well aware of the answer already. No, of course not. Malleus is constantly surrounded, whether that be his friends, personal guard, mentors...

"Yes,"

Oh.

"I'm... sorry to hear that," it's all you can think to say.

Fae don't seem to know the conventions of human small talk. Or maybe that's just him. Not that you mind. "What about Silver, and Sebek, and Lilia...?"

"Fine companions," he crosses his arms. "I owe them a debt of gratitude. But being physically surrounded does not amount to closeness."

Oddly profound.

You can't help but relate, thinking back to everyone you know. Even with good intentions, they're still out there, bartering over your life.

"I'm glad you came and got me," you say, breaking the tense silence. "I was afraid you'd gone to that... announcement thing."

He raises an eyebrow. "The what?"

"...Never mind. I guess my point was that I've been feeling a little lonely lately, myself,"

Malleus is quiet for a moment, staring directly ahead at the mess of stones and moss that once made up a sturdy wall. Now crumbled, scattered across the ground.

And the, he smiles.

"Well, there is a solution to this trouble of ours. But I'd need your consent,"

What exactly is he getting at? You raise an eyebrow. "Go on,"

"I've been so preoccupied with the formalities that I haven't had the chance to ask you properly, yet. Lilia suggested I might have more success this way,"

He pauses, and then smiles. "I would like us to marry. Does this agree with you?"

You thought you might be stunned. Speechless, even. But the answer comes so naturally.

"Yes, it does,"

[jedi-enthusiast]

Vague Obi-Wan lore from Bloodshed, Crimson Clover shitpost:

-----

Obi-Wan, eyes glowing, in an empty room: *talking in some ancient language no one can understand*

Some Random Jedi: ...is that not...concerning?

Qui-Gon: Last night I caught him floating on the ceiling and chanting ritualistically. When I asked what he was doing he told me that Master Katri was teaching him an old Je'daii mantra...so I consider this an improvement.

Some Random Jedi: ...isn't she dead?

Qui-Gon: Yes, which is why I will not be asking again.

BONUS:

Dooku, who literally just wants to eat and go to bed: *walks into his Temple quarters*

Obi-Wan:

Ḩ̸̡̬̝̰̤̺̜͎̩̾͆̏̿̔̐̈́ȩ̸̨̛̫̟̟͕̲̭̻̖̘̘̀͊͂̕͜͝ͅl̴̛̞̘͙̲̪̭̟͓̳̳̟̀ĺ̶̛͎̲̩͔̋̋̎̇͐̿̏̽̍͒̍̎͝ȍ̸̱͚̮̤̩͖̰̣̔͗̾̍̏̆ ̶̡̛̠̞̝̻̖͔̜̫̈́͜M̷̧̗̜͕̘͈͙̠̜̼̔͊̎͋̓́̒ͅa̴̺̜̫̻̠̻̭̯͉̣͖̮̠͒ͅş̷̘͓͔̟͎̈́́̉t̷̩͔͓̳̠͈̩͇̖͈̯̰͛̆̄͂̓̏͝e̸̱̜̾r̴̛͍͙ ̸̛̟̞̠̺͓̙̩͒̍͝Ḋ̵̛̼̯̘̗̖͗͌̃͋̿͝o̸̢͕̜̭͎̫̙͌́̿͊̈͛ͅo̵̹̼͚̻̫͓̻̳̻̭̳̐̅̉͑͆̊͂̔k̶̡̨̳͓͎͖͉͔̟̹̪̼̣̎̈̈́̇̒̈́͌̀̀̌̿̑͘ū̶̬͎̀͒̊͑̽̀͘͝

Dooku, backing out the door: Nope...nope...not tonight...I'll room with Qui-Gon...just...hell no...

The real reason he was so ready to stab Obi-Wan in AotC

[jojameswinter]

Can’t believe I never noticed your the one who wrote i super hate (like) you! That is my favourite jiara fic! Also crimson and clover is amazing as well. Can we get a snippet of the next chapter hide 🙈

ANON OMG WE ARE VIBING!!!! I kid you not, I literally just the other day was thinking about this fic randomly! Jordan was my very brilliant beta for that fic, and I was just telling her that I was writing some jiara week stuff that had this vibe that I hadn't done in a bit! Then to come here and see this??? I am screaming!!! Thank you so much, this truly made my day! ❤️

Ah, I'm so happy c&c is resonating as well!!!! Let me see what I can dig up of part three! Very grateful for you! 🥹

No matter what’s collapsed, what stands in its place now, it’s there all the same – the dark corners, the lonely liquor. The what ifs, the blame, the stains – the despondence branded in his name. 

He imagines then, peering through liquid amber at the bottom of the shot glass swirling, circular. The familiar burn, the jolt he used to rely on. 

Before he was jolted back to life with a steady hand on his shoulder and a ‘hi.’ Before he’d held Kie on a dock, the shattered pieces of him finally put back together in her arms. Before I love you and a kiss had him shaken, staggering for breath but more alive than ever. 

There’s a price with that though, letting himself feel everything. And it’s his worst fear, the thing that sends him into a panic more than anything, when he thinks about who would likely be paying that price, who’d already suffered enough because of him. He wonders if it’s inevitable, if he’s just one or two choices away from finding himself with some other vice, peering into its depths – round and rattling, wishing to be numb again.

But to be alive like that, to feel everything – the way he does with Kiara–

[koneko-pi]

!!! oo Can I get Eros 3, Agape 1, Ludus 1 & 5, and Philautia 1 please? (If you don't want to answer all of them for any reason, feel free to leave it out! ^^ )

Thank you for asking!! I'll do them for Briar of course :')

Eros 3

How do they feel about public displays of romantic affection? Does it make them uncomfortable? How do they feel if a romantic partner kisses them in public?

Public displays of affection are one of the easiest ways to catch Briar off guard. Not only does she not expect them but does not actively seek this kind of love language out. While she would be grateful to them for showing off their love for her, she would be flustered and a little irritated it had happened. They'd get an ear full of her embarrassed ranting in private, but if they kept doing it she wouldn't fight them, as she knows they love her. They just better be ready for a lot of scolding.

Agape 1

Does your OC wish to make the world a better place? How far do they see that as being their responsibility? What lengths would they go to in order to help achieve this?

Once upon a time Briar fought hard for something she believed would better the future, going as far as to putting down her own family members when she thought it was the right thing to do. And although she did end up getting what she wanted, after watching where her choices have gotten her, and others, she has become a much more bitter person who doesn't like opening up to people. She still struggles a lot with the decisions she made in the past, feeling haunted by the result of them. She fights with herself sometimes wondering, if she was given the chance, if she would change the past.

Ludus 1

Does your OC have any particular favourite chat up lines? If not for themselves then perhaps ones they have suggested to a friend? How effective do these tend to be?

Flirting is something Briar is very bad at. Maybe in her younger years when she was more springy and energetic you'd catch her cat calling or whistling at men she found attractive. But as an adult she has to much on her plate to even think about how to court someone. So things like pickup lines are something she hasn't even thought about, though it can be amusing watching others give her advice. as she doesn't know how to take it; embarrassingly trying to pay attention and remember what people tell her as she tries to repeat the line.

Ludus 5

What seduction techniques are most likely to be effective when it comes to your OC? Are there some things guaranteed to get them going? Or are they immune to such things?

This is unfortunately one of Briar's weakest traits. She finds muscular people to be incredibly attractive, and so just revealing a little chest or arms tends to have a strong affect on her. She feels a little ashamed of being so shallow though and does her best to hide it, going out of her way to avoid people sometimes even. It's something I like to think about privately, as she grows as a better person she begins to see the things attractive in other people outside of their body type. It's one of the reasons I love her relationship with Nozel, she learned to love him for who he is, despite not being her "type".

Philautia 1

Does your OC have a healthy sense of their own worth and value? Or do they see themselves as failing to live up to their original potential? Perhaps they are convinced of their own sinful or inadequate nature?

This could be the fundamental question of Briars journey. From a young age Briar had to much put upon her shoulders be it expectations or work. She was given orders and she intern would follow them, thinking she was doing the right thing. But as she got older she began to question everything she knew, which created a deep rift inside her.

She absolutely feels like a failure because of things that she did or did not do in the past; she could save people, or got rid of the wrong people. Did she chose the wrong side in a time of fighting? Despite her many skills and looking impressive in the eyes of others Briar has very little self worth and often wonders why she, of all the people she knew, was the one who was still around. She often wishes she could just go to sleep and never wake up, but something inside her keeps her going, and she doesn't even know what that is.

[tempestuous-lush]

OOOOOEMMMMMMGEEEEE!!! I love love LOVE Chibs Telford!!! (Unpopular opinion but he's totally the hottest character on sons imo) So excited i found your story on this trek blog I follow.

Can I ask???? Why Shiv? Is it like her name or is it a nickname???

(OH AND I also totally love your Bucky story too, that one was HAWT)

I’m so happy you love him. I do too!

And I am eventually going to cover that in a chapter BUT, it is a nickname that she got in the early stages of her relationship with Chibs. ❤️

And thank you.

Bucky is definitely my original love.

But @ambassadortotrilliusprime (who might be the trek blog you follow) reignited my love of sons of anarchy and here we are.

[evermoresqueiswriting]

the great war

To that bloodshed, crimson clover Uh-huh, the worst was over My hand was the one you reached for All throughout the Great War Always remember Uh-huh, we're burned for better I vowed I would always be yours 'Cause we survived the Great War - The Great War, Midnights (3am Edition) - Taylor Swift

Series summary – Your summer vacation plans in New York did not include your mother leaving you in the middle of nowhere in the hands of the wine god, but it did for her. You were ready to act like a bitch about the whole thing, but then something, or rather someone, happened. Clarisse La Rue. For a few months, it was pure happiness and fun. 

It was quickly replaced with fear, anxiety and doom with the war against Kronos. Everything else had to be put on pause, like your silly platonic dates with Clarisse, replaced with strategy meetings. Because she clearly had her priorities, and it wasn’t your developing relationship. 

Happiness never lasts long in the lives of heroes, very few to none were met with a happy ending. Why would a bunch of kids be the exception? 

Warnings: fluff, tooth rotting fluff at the beginning, and then hopefully heavy angst hehe

Paring: clarisse la rue x f!reader

CHAPTERS LIST

enchanted: meeting clarisse la rue at camp, and trying your best to befriend her

dance the night: barbie date and a personal invitation from clarisse you can't refuse

riptide: going on the camp's field trip to olympus because clarisse asked you to, meeting your father and clarisse's father and also, there are new updates from camp - luke gone, and percy's arrival

seven: happens during the events of sea of monsters… to be updated!

[wedonthaveawhile]

Crimson and Clover

Garreth Weasley x MC (18+ only)

The Weasley's are known for their hospitality when it comes to those without a place to call home. In keeping with his family values, Garreth invites MC to the Weasley Christmas party, leading to some one-on-one time in the barn.

Tags: NSFW, aged-up characters, smut with plot, semi-public sex, dirty talk, oral sex, drunk sex, snowstorm, flirty Garreth, fluff, modern dating norms.

AO3 // Word count: 5.5k

The witch crunched over patches of frosty grass as she ascended the cracked cobblestone path to the Weasley cottage. She had a suspicion Garreth may have stretched the truth regarding the number of guests his family typically hosts over Christmas. His house was tiny. Undeniably adorable, with warm light spilling from frosted iron window frames, and crooked beams nestled between cobbled bricks, but it was definitely on the snug side.

A decent amount is what he’d told her when she’d interrogated him on the headcount. In hindsight, it was a very vague answer.

She probably should've kept her holiday plans—or lack thereof—to herself, considering his family's reputation for taking in students without a place to call home, but he’s so difficult to tune out when eagerly recounting one of his ridiculous anecdotes.

“—that’s when it dawned on me that I’d spiked the barrel with a tad too much firewhisky," Garreth had regaled, his hands waving dangerously close to the dormant devil snare. "Aunt Matilda is down for the count..."

His herbology partner stifled a laugh at the thought of their conjuration professor blackout drunk, only to be jolted into panic as Garreth's flailing hands nearly triggered a response from the roots.

"Garreth, will you focus!"

"Shit, my bad," he muttered, conjuring a beam of light to repel the advancing vines. “So anyway, we’re pretty sure Aunt Matilda’s dead at this point, but then she sits up and demands we bring her a man-”

A suppressed snort lodged in her throat and she promptly choked on it, triggering Garreth to erupt into a spirited cackle.

"Alright, my little seedlings," Professor Garlick began to softly chastise. "Let's ensure each leaf in this botanical cluster gets its chance to soak in the sunlight of knowledge without being overshadowed by the noise.”

They exchanged sheepish glances before refocusing their attention on their assignment.

“What about you, how was your Hallowe'en?” Garreth asked, brushing up the scattered soil on their table and sliding it into Duncan's bag.

“Peaceful. There were moments when it felt like I had the entire castle to myself, it was perfect." 

"Wait, you were here?" He swiped the back of his hand across his frown, smearing damp mud across his freckles. “Not typical for your watchdogs to let you roam alone, is it?” 

She nervously stole a glance across the table. Fortunately, both Sebastian and Ominis were too immersed in their own tasks to catch the jab. 

“Had I known, I would've persistently hounded you until you came to mine,” Garreth continued, “You could've witnessed drunk Professor Weasley in all her glory. Consider this an early Christmas invite."

"I appreciate it, but I actually love the calm during the holidays."

"Even over Christmas?" His brow furrowed as he struggled to grasp the idea of finding joy in silence. "What would you even do if you were on your own?"

She released a deep exhale as she contemplated her options, most scenarios revolving around the idea of staying in pyjamas all day. "I'd probably spend most of the day in bed—"

Garreth smirked, cleaning soil from his fingernails. "I could clear you a spot in mine."

She rolled her eyes, choosing to brush off his remark. He had a reputation for being a flirt but in the past few months he’d doubled down and the line was starting to blur between teasing and genuine intent.

Assuming the invitation was nothing more than a passing whim, she thought that would be the end of it, but she was mistaken. The occasional lingering glances they shared in passing—glances she typically tried to ignore—were now interpreted by him as an open invitation to approach. He relentlessly pestered her on whether she would be attending, shooting down each excuse with a stream of reasons why she should be there.

"Christmas is a family event, it would be strange for me to be there."

"Christmas at my house? Packed. Most of them? Total strangers."

"I'm dreadful at small talk. You'd have to stick to me like glue and handle all the mindless chatter."

"I'd do both of those things regardless."

She staved off his advances until early December when she ultimately surrendered just to put an end to his relentless pursuit. There were two weeks of holiday to enjoy, so giving him a few hours on Christmas Eve felt like a reasonable compromise. 

She released a shaky huff of breath, the warmth curling up and misting into the crisp air, before rapping her knuckles against the weathered door. After a series of muffled footsteps, it creaked open an inch and little fingers curled around the edge. A festive melody wafted through the hallway and spilt into the front garden. Through the narrow crack, a short, pudgy-face Garreth peered out.

"Hi there," she greeted with an awkward wave, her hand hesitating mid-air as the kid gawked up at her. "Is Garreth home?"

Following an uncooperative pause, a surge of relief rolled through her as the bug-eyed child was nudged aside, and the door swung open fully at the hands of her herbology partner.

There was an undeniable tightening in her chest at the sight of him in his party attire – a dark red shirt with sleeves pushed up to his elbows and a snug sweater vest layered over it. His unruly ginger hair had been somewhat tamed by a touch of pomade, but he’d mostly retained his customary wild waves. She attempted to toss out a snarky comment about his appearance, but an articulate sentence evaded her.

"Did you walk all the way from town?" he asked, leaning his head out the front door and tracking the trail of disturbed snow left by her footsteps. "We have a floo connection in our living room, you know. You could have come straight here."

"I felt awkward showing up in the middle of your house. I didn't want to get ambushed by a grandma."

Their eyes met and a brief silence hung between them until he blinked, "You returned an egg to a Hebridean black dragon on foot, but introducing yourself to Granny Meryl has you all nervous?"

"Mind if I come in?" she brushed off his question and crossed the uneven wooden threshold into the warmth of the hallway. He only half-turned to let her through, forcing her to brush up against him as she passed. It was going to be a long night.

Maybe he hadn't exaggerated the capacity of his house - the hallway alone was the size of the exterior. Bulky coats and scattered shoes adorned one side of the expansive hallway, while the aroma of festive spices wafted from the open living room door. Beyond it, she could hear a lively cluster of voices, more than she had expected. The concept of a bustling atmosphere rather than an intimate one managed to quell her nerves slightly.

"You're looking lovely," Garreth complimented as he took her coat and added it to the hectic mountain of others. When she turned to face him, he made no attempt to hide the fact that his eyes were wandering all over her, taking in the details of her emerald dress. "Did you put in all this effort for me?"

"No, it’s for Granny Meryl.”

Garreth groaned dramatically, tossing his head back as he led her into the living room. "Granny’s power of seduction knows no bounds.”

The interior of the cottage must have been expanded for the party, it felt like it went on forever as Garreth weaved them through the horde of inebriated partygoers. One of the perks of belonging to a pureblood family: The unrestricted use of transfiguration spells as the need arose.

They ducked past a drunk aunt merrily dancing on a table with a tie fastened around her forehead which took her way too long to realise was Professor Weasley. Securing a tankard of eggnog that leaned more towards pure brandy, they sank into one of the conjured sofas by the fireplace. She felt a flutter of unease as Garreth slouched a little too close on the worn-out crimson couch. The sagging base pressed their thighs together as it slanted inward, and his arm casually draped around the back of the sofa forced her to consciously resist leaning into him.

She indulged in a few gulps of her festive brew, hoping it would work its magic in loosening her up. She wrinkled her nose at its sharp bite. "Did you have a hand in creating this? It's pure alcohol."

"No, I wasn’t allowed," Garreth sighed, his eyes momentarily losing focus as if lost in a painful memory. "Not after last time."

She wasn't sure if she wanted to dig deeper into that story, but her attention was snagged when something bounced off her leg.

"How many of these are siblings?" she questioned, observing another hyperactive child nearly tripping over her ankles in a rapid dash. For every ginger kid zipping around, a blonde or brunette was in hot pursuit. It became increasingly clear that the Weasleys had not only gathered their immediate family but also an assortment of additional strays.

"Too many. I have two older and three younger, though don’t ask me to distinguish them from my cousins because I’ve already had a bit of brandy and they all have the same face.”

“Yeah, your face.”

“The Weasley genes are strong.”

She gestured toward the gawky child she had encountered when she arrived, "Surely that one's a brother? I initially thought it was you at the door, and you'd had some of that defective potion again—the age-reversing one."

Garreth burst into laughter. "I'd forgotten about that."

“Didn't Sharp have to carry you around on his hip the entire day until it wore off?" 

"What a day," he reminisced, wiping a tear from his eye. "And by the way, that's not the same kid who opened the door for you."

"What?"

"I might still have some of that potion," he dismissed her confusion, pondering aloud with a distant look in his eyes. His hand suddenly clamped down on her knee, and he turned to her with pure glee. "Let’s put it in the eggnog."

“Garreth, no.”

"You two are absolutely delightful," an elderly wizard chimed in, swaying slightly as he gestured between the two of them before delving into a nostalgic tangent about him and his wife in their prime.

She noticed she had gradually surrendered to the sinking sofa and was practically nestled in the crook of the arm Garreth had draped across the backrest, while his other hand maintained a firm grip on her knee.

"No, that's not..." she stammered, elbowing him away. "He's just my herbology partner." 

“Sorry, dear?”

"She said I’m her life partner—" Garreth’s quip morphed into a yelp as her elbow found its way into his ribs.

After downing just enough alcohol to straddle the fine line between tipsy and outrageously tired, the incessant chatter in the room began to verge on overwhelming. Politely removing herself from a longwinded conversation they’d found themselves in with a rambling cousin, she slipped out into the empty hallway for a brief respite.

The main lights had been extinguished, casting the corridor in a warm glow from the floating candles scattered across high beams. She leaned back against the wall, eyes closed and absorbed the relative quiet.

The living room door scuffed against a rug, unleashing a burst of joyous music before clicking shut again. She'd chalk it up to the eggnog later, but the flickering light cast a shadow over Garreth’s gentle features, and something in her gut pulled taut.

"Are you stalking me, Weasley?" She arched an eyebrow, resisting the urge to give him a once-over.

"You did mention the only way I'd get you to come is if I stuck to you like glue," he pointed out, leaning against the wall beside her.

"Oh, fuck, did I say that?" she sighed, too tired to argue, and couldn't anyway because he was completely right. "I’m not running off, I just needed a breather."

"I didn't think you were, I just wanted to check in." He pushed himself off the wall and started pacing down the hall, brimming with too much energy to stand still. "If you need a real timeout, we could go for a walk and get lost in the snow… It’s nice and quiet out there, where sounds don't carry."

"You could phrase it in a way that doesn't sound like you're plotting my death."

"I'm ready and willing to escape these prying eyes if you are?"

She gave a nod of approval at his somewhat improved wording, then scolded herself as her slightly tipsy gaze ran down the length of his body. Her relief at his lack of comment shifted to a sense of surrender as he summoned their coats, keenly aware he would torment her with it if she declined.

Over the past hour, the snow had whipped up into a flurry, the cottage obscured in a dreamy haze as their steps left imprints on the path that weaved through the fields.

Garreth wrapped them up in a warming charm, the flakes melting into droplets before reaching their skin and trickling down the edges of the shield. It took the edge off the biting December breeze, though it fell short of providing any substantial warmth.

"What's with the feeble charm?" she shivered, answering her own question as she edged a little closer to Garreth, attempting to pilfer some body heat.

"No clue what you’re on about, I’m perfectly warm.”

"You're a liar," she declared. She had wrapped her sleeves around her fingers in an attempt to ward off the chill but let a hand emerge to press the back of it to his flushed cheek. He wasn't lying, his skin burned against her frozen fingers.

"Feel free to turn up the heat," he smirked, leaning into her touch. She thought it was an invitation to enhance the charm, but the laughter that followed his comment hinted at something more suggestive.

"You're the host—it's on you to keep me comfortable," She dropped her hand, noticing she had subconsciously homed in on the warmth radiating from his neck. 

He intercepted it before it could fall limply at her side, slowly intertwining their fingers. He gave her every opportunity to pull away, but she found herself not wanting to. 

"I'm glad you agreed to come," his voice stumbled for just a split second, but she caught it. Nerves. 

It was endearing—a crack in his self-assured armour that stirred a feeling she’d experienced before but had always buried away—When his face lit up as she laughed at one of his one-liners. When he’d pickpocket the last red velvet cookie for her from his Quidditch meetings. When he'd spot her in a bustling crowd, bump his shoulder into hers and walk her to class. 

"I'm glad you asked me a hundred and twelve times," she teased, knocking her elbow against his arm. She stole a glance back across the field to catch sight of the cottage. Despite feeling that they hadn't covered much ground, all she could discern beyond five feet was a swirl of snowflakes and shadows.

“Are you nervous?”

She snickered at his question, having weathered harsher conditions in far less pleasant company. "No, I'm fine. I like a good snowstorm."

“Well, there’s a barn up ahead if you want to take some shelter and see if it calms down before we head back.”

"A barn? Do you have cows?" Her excitement bubbled up, pushing aside any suspicion of his ulterior motives. "Or horses?"

"No, we have stables up the hill, but we rent them out to folks in the village. This is just a hay barn. Although, there's a rather charming tourist attraction inside the barn that I'd love to show you."

"You're quite eager to get me inside that barn."

He responded with a sheepish smile. "I assure you, I'm being genuine—no funny business... Unless you initiate it."

The snowfall was thickening, and she admired how effortlessly he steered them through it. The barn didn't slowly come into view—she blinked, and suddenly the red wooden structure was looming over them.

The silence closed in as Garreth slammed the door shut and blocked out the insistent howling of the wind. The hush was only disturbed by the rustle of loose straw stirred by gusts slipping through the cracks in the beams. He flicked his wand towards the loft, and the spell ignited rows of candles lining the rafters. The soft glow revealed stacks of hay bales towering toward the loft, casting stretched shadows on the dusty wooden floor.

"Isn't that a fire hazard?"

"Muggle-borns," he scoffed, as though the mere suggestion was ludicrous.

“So, where’s this tourist attraction?”

He responded with a nod, directing her attention behind her. In the heart of the hay barn, a solitary rope swing dangled from a sturdy support beam.

"Oh, shit!" She dashed toward it, gathering momentum, and caught the swing midway. The worn fibres felt abrasive against her palms as she let it bear her weight. Hooking her foot into the loop, she tilted her head back, swinging with a jumbled grace. She was sure she hadn't consumed enough eggnog to be drunk, but as she propelled herself into the air, her brain began doing cartwheels. She inhaled the earthy aroma of aged wood to ground herself.

Vibrations travelled across the beam and down through the rope as Garreth clambered up a wooden ladder into the loft. There was a moment of rustling and a few mumbled incantations before a triumphant, "Aha!"

He stumbled out from behind a barrel, wrestling with the cork on an unopened bottle of firewhisky. "One thing about having a large family," he began, attempting to mask the strain in his voice, "is that you have to get creative with your hiding places."

"So, this is where you stash your treasure? Good to know."

"Nope," the word was punctuated by a pop as the cork shot out, chipping a battered beam in the process. "This is where my brother stashes his treasure."

"Oh, so you’re that kind of brother. That makes so much sense.”

“What kind?”

“A nosy little shit.”

He raised his wand in response, and the swing slowly began to pull back. She kept her cool until she reached the point parallel to the beam, at which she let out a shriek as her stomach lurched, and she plummeted. As the swing's momentum slowed, she came to a halt breathless and laughing.

"Stop hoarding the loot," she scolded as she emerged at the top of the ladder, finding him comfortably settled against a wooden beam swigging the stolen whisky. She swept aside a few strands of straw with her foot before settling down beside him.

"Come and claim it," he goaded, holding the bottle aloft and swinging it between two fingers.

"I thought you said no funny business."

"Unless you initiated it," he reminded her, "I'm just offering you the chance to kick things off."

On any other day, she would have suppressed the ache to clamber onto his lap, but the combination of a light buzz from the alcohol and him looking like that had left her defenceless. She didn't stand a chance. She intercepted the bottle as he raised it to his lips, taking it from his grasp and straddling his thighs. He seemed caught off-guard as if he hadn't expected things to go this far.

“You've got the talk down, but when it comes to walking the walk, you seem a little skittish," she teased, savouring the sharp burn of the liquid as it coursed down her throat.

His surprise vanished beneath a confident grin. "Skittish? I'm just savouring the moment." Though he sounded sure of himself, his eyes didn't quite meet hers as he reclaimed the bottle, taking a lingering sip.

Setting the glass down with a clink, he ran his hand up the length of her thigh. "I've got you all night, maybe I just want to take my time with you."

She attempted to mask her reaction to his expectations, but judging by the self-satisfied grin on his face, she didn't do a great job. "All night? This is news to me."

"Well, it's a blizzard," he remarked, tracing random patterns on the fabric of her dress. "I can't let you walk back to the village in this. I'm a gentleman."

"I thought your living room had a floo connection," she replied, feigning a mocking tone as she repeated his words back to him. 

“It’s one way.”

"Shut up," her laughter was stifled by a gust crashing against the barnyard doors. She jumped, suddenly aware anyone could walk in and catch him nestled between her legs.

"Don't look so frightened. Granny Meryl is much less likely to walk in on you screaming my name out here than in my bedroom."

She despised how much that stupid joke had turned her on, his words winding through her brain and choking out any thoughts that weren't focused on how close he was. Close enough to count each of his freckles, and how she wanted to kiss every one of them. "You seem pretty confident in your abilities."

He hummed, trailing his fingertips along her jaw. "If you're curious, all you have to do is ask."

Her fingers weaved through his hair as she kissed him. A satisfied sigh escaped her throat before she could stifle it, and her toes curled when he seized the opportunity to slide his tongue against hers. She rocked forward against his hips as he pulled her closer, shamelessly grinding against him.

"What do you want?" he whispered painfully soft, his fingers digging into the flesh of her thigh as he pulled her down, inviting her to feel more of him. He was thick and stiff between her thighs and when he rolled his hips up it sent a wave of sparks racing across her skin. 

"I want this off," she demanded, tugging impatiently at the hem of his shirt, aching for the absence of any fabric between them. He briefly tore his lips from her skin to wrench it off and fling it aside. Her hands trailed over the contours of his skin, firm beneath a satisfying layer of warmth and softness.

"Your turn," he whispered, moving with painstakingly slow precision as he started to unclasp the buttons of her dress. 

Timing couldn't have been more perfect, the snowstorm screamed through the cracks in the wood, but his skin was blazing against hers. Finding solace in the warmth, her freezing hands roamed across his body. Fumbling fingers traced a path downward, hungrily stumbling against his buttons.

"You haven't asked yet," he scolded, guiding her onto her back and settling between her parted legs. He took hold of her hands, rutting against them just once so she could feel how rock-hard he was before pinning them above her head with a sturdy hand. “I want to hear you ask for it.”

A surge of pride and a touch of defiance kept her from begging him to take her. After enduring months of chasing, the audacity for him to assume he would be in control of— 

“Can I?” His whispered words in her ear shattered any semblance of self-preservation. He used his free hand to tease the fabric at the neckline of her unfastened dress with delicate fingertips.

She nodded with more eagerness than she'd initially intended as he peeled the fabric down her body. "See how easy it is to ask for it?" he teased, his palm brushing faintly across the sensitive curve of her breasts. Goosebumps erupted across her skin as he flicked his tongue against her taut nipple before taking it in his mouth, his velvety hum vibrating against her skin.

"Garreth," she tried to sound stern, but it escaped as a needy gasp.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

Embarrassingly, a hushed whimper shot up her throat as the affectionate name slipped off his tongue.

"Let go of my hands," her nails traced a path down the nape of his neck as he instantly complied with her demand. Abandoning any pretence of playing coy, she added, "I want it, I want you. Please."

The carnal groan that she’d coaxed from him shuddered through her and pooled between her legs. His fingers trailed up her thigh and slipped under the elastic of her underwear, eliciting a strangled whimper as he exposed the sensitive bud between her legs.

"That's it, moan for me," his touch transitioned from oversensitive to pure bliss as began he circling her clit.

"So... bossy—" Her words melted away as he slid his finger through the gloss on her skin and pushed it inside her.

"It gets you wet though, doesn't it?" he murmured, his lips latching onto her neck. Her eyes fluttered shut, head tossing back as she surrendered to the sensation of him filling her up.

Her fingernails carved into the worn-down grooves of the wooden floor as she ground against his hand. His face faltered as if his brain had shattered at the sight of her riding his hand. "Fuck, keep moving just like that."

His erection strained against his underwear, protruding from his partially undone trousers. He scrambled to free it with one hand while dipping his head between her legs. His tongue circled her clit while his fingers quickened their pace. It was an onslaught - merciless and precise, sending deep waves of pleasure winding through her body. His hungry grunts prickled against her tender skin as he began using his free hand to touch himself.

"I’m right here, you should use me for that," she whispered, watching him pleasure himself through giddy eyes.

"Come on my face, and I’ll let you have it," he slung her thighs over his speckled shoulders and began to devour her. His hands grasped at her plump thighs, pulling her tight against his eager mouth. She could faintly hear herself whining—yes, please, and don't stop.

"Oh, fuck, Garreth please," she begged louder, a shockwave coursing through her body as his fingers found their way back inside her. She clutched at his thick hair, bucking her hips against his face. He groaned appreciatively, and that eager sound forced her over the edge, her orgasm striking her like lightning. He delved his tongue inside her as she lazily rutted against it, riding out the surges of euphoria.

“Look at you, following orders," he grinned, crawling up to cage her in his arms, claiming her lips with a rough kiss, "being so good for me." He spread her legs apart with his knees and directed his arousal between her thighs. His dick gently brushed against her, and she shivered at the heightened sensitivity. "Are you ready, or do you need a moment?"

“I’m ready,” she mumbled as he positioned himself at her entrance, pushing in inch by inch. It was painfully slow and taunting, and when she tried to grab his hip, he interlocked his fingers with hers and pinned it to the floorboards.

“You want more, sweetheart?”

She couldn’t do anything but nod. The way he stretched her out felt sinful, a delicious form of sweet agony. He was vocal, each measured thrust was met with a rough groan and the noise scrambled around in her wonderfully empty skull. She arched as he gave her everything he had, he seamlessly slid his arm into the space left behind with an intoxicating roll of his hips. 

"Right there, just like that," she whimpered as he struck a spot that sent shooting stars dancing across her vision.

His name dripped from her tongue like honey as he hit that spot again, driving him to thrust into her with increased force, each effort eliciting louder cries of his name.

"Oh, sweetheart, you feel like you were made for me." He came to a halt, buried to the hilt inside her as he worked a possessive love bite into her throat. "I've wanted this for so long," he confessed between each lingering suck, rocking his hips flush against hers. "Wanted you so bad. Fantasized about bending you over that herbology table. Making you scream."

She had never thought that words could bring her to the summit, especially not the words of Garreth Weasley who typically used them to irritate her. Yet, his rasping confessions were pushing her exceptionally close to the edge.

"Just—just.. stay like that," she pleaded. He was barely moving, but she felt on the verge of splintering apart from the way he was stretching her. His warm body pinned her helplessly to the ground and the unholy pressure of his cock deep inside her sent sparks radiating through her belly.

"You're trembling," he whispered as she fluttered around him. “You gonna come for me?”

"Yes," she whimpered, pulling him close for a kiss. He rocked into her and all she could do was moan as her orgasm slowly rolled through her body like a crashing wave. She had believed they were just two drunk friends giving in to some meaningless tension, but he was kissing her so slowly, stroking her face as he fucked her through each gentle pulse of her orgasm, and it was turning her to putty in his hands.

Wanting to contribute her share, she steadied her trembling legs and gave him a firm shove, rolling him onto his back. 

He quickly established a pace she had no control over, gripping her hips to keep her in place so there was nothing she could do but take it. His mouth enthusiastically explored her breasts, kissing and sucking until she felt light in the head. "Do you want it?" The crack in his voice was almost too much to bear. "Want me to come inside you?"

She ran her nails through his hair as his thrusts began to falter and fall out of rhythm. "I want you to come. Please, Garreth I want it." She whispered soft encouragements in his ear, needing him to be as stimulated as had been.

He mumbled her name against her throat, his hips slapping vigorously against her soaked thighs. His head fell back, fiery red hair clinging to his sweaty temples as he grunted with each rhythmic pulse. She nestled against his warm chest, listening to the thunderous pound of his heart as he released deep inside her.

He wrapped her in his arms, and they lay together for what felt like an eternity—his fingers gently trailing through her hair might have even lulled her to sleep for a few minutes before he eventually shifted to reach for his wand.

“Sorry," he told her without a trace of remorse, muttering a few charms to clean them both up.

Clarity slowly returned to her mind, and thoughts rushed in like an avalanche. Should she head home? Was he genuinely suggesting she stay the night? Sticking around for Christmas felt intrusive. Maybe she should muster the will to get dressed and leave—as soon as her legs felt like legs again.

Casting a sidelong glance at Garreth, he seemed to be experiencing the same inner turmoil as she was, absentmindedly picking at his wand while staring down at her. In an effort to dispel the tension, she sat up and delicately kissed the red lines she’d carved into his shoulders.

"If you want this to be a one-time thing," he began, his voice carrying the same vulnerability she heard when he'd held her hand, "I can respect that, I'll take you home and everything between us is good. On the other hand, we could go pilfer a troll sack full of food, bring it to my bedroom, and just be humans together. What do you think?"

"How much is a troll sack?" she smirked, as she delicately brushed some sticky strands of hair away from his eyes.

"Enough to last a couple of days," his confidence began to seep back in as he flashed her a smile. "I don't have any plans for New Years, or you know, any of the days leading up to it."

Pretending to consider the proposition, she glanced at her reflection in a nearby bucket, using it to smooth out her hair. "I say we rejoin the party. I should probably make an effort to socialise if I’m going to be overstaying my welcome."

Authors note: If you're interested in the story behind Garreth turning himself into a baby, and subsequently carried around by Sharp all day, you can find "Baby Garreth, and where to find him" here.

[bloatedandalone04]

➪the one where ethan makes you playlist of songs that remind him of you. (requested)

Warnings: fluff, ethan being a cutie and having the biggest crush on you, non-ghostface ethan, more fluff

Word Count: 1.8k | Ethan Masterlist

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

Ethan couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this.

Well, he could as he was still young and it had only been a few years since he had been in middle school. Still, the small crushes he had back then were nothing compared to what he felt now. 

His brain felt fuzzy, his heart sped up whenever those eyes met his own, he would break out into a sweat when he felt the brush of skin on skin. He had never had it this bad before.

And you were to blame.

Your sweet smile, your kind eyes and your bright and carefree personality. How could he not instantly be drawn to you?

Ethan was developing a deep crush on you, and at a rapid pace. 

He sat in his room, his laptop playing some rock band from its place on his desk while he was across the room on his bed. His thumb was beginning to hurt from his countless hours of scrolling through Spotify, subconsciously adding random songs to a playlist - every song in which reminded him of you. 

Cloud 9 - Beach Bunny.

Crimson and Clover - Joan Jett & the Blackhearts.

Compass - The Neighbourhood. 

Someone to You - BANNERS.

The list just goes on and he only decided to stop when he saw how long it had gotten, the top of the playlist reading ‘67 songs, 4 hr 21 min’.

God, he felt like a kid again. 

His last crush was brutal. Ethan never found the courage to ask the cute girl in his homeroom out, making that story end before it ever even began. He never even spoke to her. 

Thankfully, that wasn’t the case with you. 

Not entirely, anyway. 

He talked to you almost everyday, and that in itself was an improvement from his last crush. He even went out on dates with you…sort of. Group outings with Tara, Chad, Mindy and Anika counted as dates, right?

Either way, it was another improvement. If there’s one thing high school taught him, it was that sitting around and waiting for people to come to him was borderline useless; insert the name of the crush he quickly forgot about upon meeting you.

You; the cute girl in his econ class.

You; his sister’s roommate.

You; the girl currently walking straight towards him. 

Shit.

“Hey, Ethan,” you greet in your usual cheery voice.

He smiles back, hoping that he hadn’t gotten too caught up in his thoughts to the point where he was staring at you. He hoped that you didn’t come over here to call him out on it. “Hey,” smooth.

You adjust the strap on your shoulder, tilting your head to the side as you ask, “What are you listening to?”

His brows furrowed before he realized that he still had his earbuds in. Now he knew why your voice sounded so muffled. 

Quickly pulling them out, he stuffs the wires away in his pocket as he shrugs. “Oh, um, nothing. Just a playlist I made,” he simply said, applauding himself for being able to sound so casual when his heart was beating a million miles a minute. 

You nod, looking down at the tiled floor of the hallway. “That’s cool,” you trail off, feeling like you were bothering him with your sudden presence. Maybe you were overthinking it, but the way he talked made you think you were interrupting something, whatever that something was. The last thing you wanted to do was bother him.

Unbeknownst to you, Ethan didn’t think you could ever bother him.

He sounded so closed off just because he was having a hard time coming up with words, the effect you had on him quickly beginning to take over his whole body.

“Um, well,” you murmur and back away, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment at the short lived conversation. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

Ethan’s eyes widened as he watched you turn around. He mentally kicked himself for being so monotone with you and giving you the wrong idea. Fuck, of course he’d accidentally give you the impression that he didn’t want to talk to you when it was actually the exact opposite. “Hey, wait,” he called out before he was able to fully think it through. You turned around, a small, confused smile on your lips. “I actually wanted to show you something. I made it last night.”

You raise one brow and walk back over to him. “You made it?”

He laughs awkwardly, shoving his phone in his pocket. “Yeah, I was bored,” he answered and tried to ignore the way his heart fluttered at the sound of your laugh. “Can I see your phone?”

“Um, yeah,” you grab your phone from your back pocket and hand it to him, confusion still evident on your face. “How are you going to show me what you made on my phone, though?”

He smiles to himself at your cluelessness, putting in your password - he still can’t believe you trusted him enough to give him that - and going onto the Spotify app. “It’s a playlist,” he tells you and your face heats up for the second time. 

“Oh…right,” you nod. “I knew that.”

Ethan shakes his head and hands you back your phone. “I made it for you,” he says. “It’s full of songs that remind me of you.” He hoped you wouldn’t find his words creepy or weird. What was he doing?

You take your phone, tearing your eyes away from his to look down at the screen. It showed a playlist on his account, simply titled ‘For Her’. “Oh, wow,” you say quietly, scrolling through the songs before tapping on the heart icon and saving it to your own account. “Thank you, that’s really sweet.”

His own face heats up in a blush, his eyes meeting yours once again. “No problem,” he says just as quietly. “I hope you like it.”

You smile at him. “I’m sure I will,” your eyes briefly look at his lips before you back away again. “I’m running late, but I promise I’ll listen to it later.”

“No rush,” he calls out as you give him a final smile before turning around the corner. 

It was then when he could finally breathe again. 

-

Ethan hadn’t seen you in a few days. You were busy with work and studying and he had more than a few assignments he had to catch up on. 

You stayed true to your promise and listened to the playlist. However, instead of just listening to a couple of the songs and skipping over others, you listened to every single one. Over and over again.

Thanks to the app’s friend activity being on, Ethan was able to see that you had the playlist on repeat ever since he gave it to you. 

An undeniable feeling of happiness consumed every inch of him, filling him with a sense of pride. He was happy to know that the three hours he spent putting that playlist together weren’t for nothing. 

Thank God for Spotify and it’s weird but very useful features. 

Another day or so goes by before he sees you again, a warm feeling washing over him as you give him a smile that takes up nearly your entire face. “Hey, Ethan!” You greet him like usual, but this time you catch him by surprise as your arms wrap around his shoulders in a hug. “Thanks so much for making me that playlist. Some of those songs are really good.” You wanted to say all of them were good, but also didn’t want to come off as being too forward. 

“I’m glad,” he returned the hug and had to force himself to pull away after a few seconds. “So, I take it you like it?” He knew you did but he also wanted to hear you say it as well. 

“Of course, I love it,” you reply, feeling shy all of a sudden. You weren’t dumb, you knew what 99% of the songs were about - if it wasn’t obvious enough. Each one gave you butterflies, as did the title of the list. 

For her.

You could kiss him right here and now.

 “Good, that’s good,” he says and you try to fight off your growing smile.

“There were some really romantic songs on there,” you trail off, hoping to anyone that was listening that you weren’t reading too much into things. You’d die of embarrassment if you were to confess your feelings to him and have him turn you down. You’d probably cry if he were to say he just saw you as a friend. 

Ethan leaned against the bricked wall of the university, his forearm keeping him balanced as he raised it just above his head. “Only some?” He teased, knowing damn well that all of the songs were romantic in one way or the other. 

Relief falls over you at his voice, his teasing grin only making you believe your suspicions even more. “Okay, maybe more than some,”

Ethan’s smirk turned into a boyish grin at the way your face began to tint red. “More like all of them,” he smoothly corrected you, not entirely sure where the sudden boost of confidence came from, but not wasting a second of it. “You know, I meant it when I said they reminded me of you.”

You feel your face flush at his words, tilting your head down to stop your growing grin. “Yeah, I know,”

Ethan felt like he could fall over at any given second and he was glad his arm was currently doing a very good job at keeping him up right. Still, before he could lose the courage he rarely ever felt, he inched closer to you as he says, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something,”

You don’t dare move or speak or breathe as you wait for him to continue, your eyes never leaving his. 

“We’ve been friends for a while now, and it’s been great. Really great,” he starts and waits for any indication that he should shut up before he ruins something good. When you only slowly nodded, he decided to just go for it. “But I want something more. And I want it with you.”

Your eyes flicker all over his face, butterflies begging to be set loose all over your body as you process his words. Even though you had a strong feeling that you already knew what his answer would be, you still ask, “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I really like you,” the butterflies had officially been released and your face heats up in both relief and happiness, overjoyed that your feelings weren’t one sided. “Would you like to go out with me?”

You refrain from screaming out a ‘yes’ and instead look down at the concrete you were both standing on. Slowly, you nod and don’t bother to fight off the smile growing on your face. “Yes,” you say and feel your heart skip a beat at the way his tense shoulders immediately lift, a grin taking over his own face. “Yes, I would like to go out with you.”