#i need to draw her in the funeral fit

[cirr0stratus]

she’s so pretty i’m screaming

[patheticbatman]

I haven't seen any posts about this yet but l've seen some fan art that makes me feel this needs to be said:

Don't forget Leah Sava Jeffries has darker skin when making Annabeth Chase fan art!

She is much closer to Lupita Nyong'o than Zoe Kravitz when it comes to shading, reflection, and complementary color usage :).

Lighting for dark skin is different on light skin. Light skin gets changed by lighting, and dark skin reflects the lighting. Below is a lovely shot of Nyong'o's character from Wakanda Forever in mourning. The filmmakers emphasize the umber qualities of her skin in contrast to the funereal white and (arguably harsh) light across her shoulder below.

Try to pick spots that aren't directly in or near the light, and try mixing 3 or more! You can put it into a color mixer online, or even color pick, lower the opacity, and lay the shades over each other until you find one that fits. And of course, the more 'realistic' you want to go with shading and lighting, the more shades you're going to want to be able to explore vivaciously :D.

Let's take a look at the same 3 beautiful actresses I mentioned at the beginning, with a bad color picked area and a better-ish color picked area. (Please keep in mind, these are not perfect comparisons, as I was not able to find pictures of all 3 actresses under the same kind of lighting.)

Kravitz's has a clear difference between the two, but they aren't too far apart, in comparison to Nyong’o’s and Jeffries’s. Note the dullness in the poorly picked shades as opposed to the better ones. Also keep in mind that while Kravitz has a rosy undertone (at least in that picture - it’s from The Batman, which has stylized coloring) Nyong’o has a slight cool undertone (I can’t pin down quite what, but the picture is definitely not stylized like Kravitz’s).

Jeffries runs more ochre or russet, but neither of those are pink. They are more red than terracotta or umber, but to call Jeffries’s face rosy would be wrong. Err more towards the golden when drawing her.

^^saved an image from a writing tutorial long ago, but can’t seem to find it. If someone recognizes it, I’ll link it. EDIT: it’s from this post. Thanks @autumnrowancollector ! <3

And also, the darker skin gets, the less likely warm undertones are going to appear. Don't be afraid to use blue or purple or even green on occasion!

Additionally, cool lighting on dark skin is always a win imo.

(I was going to use that picture of Jeffries as Annabeth by the lightning bolt, but then I realized the lighting on her face doesn’t quite match up with where it should hit from that angle, and I realized they kind of just turned everything bluer, so screenshot time!)

(Also if you want another really great live action example, check out anything Aldis Hodge is in, like Leverage and Black Adam)(and of course there’s Spiderverse <3 but I want to post pictures of Hodge)

Now, to here’s a list of more experienced people’s advice:

Black facial features & hair

Shading digitally for a (somewhat) monotone Black character

Stylistic choices and places to start looking for inspiration (besides a search engine).

Coloring Black people’s lips

A better coloration tutorial

Also a nice tutorial for Indigenous skin tones, just in case yall want to draw Piper or use this information for other dark skinned characters :).

EDIT: Some actresses who are closer in skintone to use for Annabeth, provided by the lovely @blackfemmecharacterdependency ! If you can’t find a reference for Jeffries in a specific lighting, maybe check out these ladies’ pictures! It’s a reblog, so scroll down.

TLDR: Don’t make Annabeth pink and pale, make her dark and golden.

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (28) Empty

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 28)

Summary: Will Rosie be able to keep her secret from her parents until the big day?

Twenty-Eight Years Old

Seen in hindsight, the trip to Greece was a catalyst of what came later. On our last evening, Timothy and I had dinner at an almost empty restaurant on the cliffs of Fira. The sun was about to set, and the sea was bathed in colours of gold. When Timothy took my hands in his and asked me to marry him, it really was the perfect ending. Cliché, perhaps, but who cares? Luckily, he hadn’t bought the rings at one of the ridiculous jewellers on the island but brought them with him from London. (I said yes, by the way.)

***

As if faith wanted me to keep my secret from my parents, they were away on a three-week trip to New Zealand when we arrived back in London. I called Dee before I went to Baker Street to collect mail and check the fridge for outdated milk and decayed body parts. She had closed for the day, but when I called with my inquiry, she was instantly intrigued and asked me to pop into 221A before I left.

It was strange to see someone else living at Nana’s. Her old furniture had been donated to second-hand shops, new wallpaper, art, and futuristically designed chairs, tables and shelves made 221A look like something taken out of Star Trek or whatever. The kitchen and bathroom were recognisable with bits and bobs I remembered. Nana’s oven mittens, the kitchen utensils and the wallpaper. Over the kitchen table was a big photo of Nana.

“I’ve made some sketches for you,” Dee said after she’d inquired about the trip. “One on each shoulder, yes?”

She showed me her drawings and after some discussion, she made the adjustments I wanted. 

“See you tomorrow at six,” Dee said when I left. 

“Can’t wait!” I retorted excitedly.

***

Dee’s Den was everything you don’t expect a tattoo-studio to be. (At least if you’ve never set foot in one.) Airy, spacious and clean in the extreme. The first time I entered, I felt I needed to take my shoes off.

“No customer of mine will suffer from an infection. I’ve seen enough of that shit,” Dee said gravely.

Her improved sketches had been coloured when I arrived the next day, and they looked even better than I’d dreamt of. The tattoos would adorn each shoulder. One red poppy on the left, and a bee on the right. A t-shirt would cover them, and by the time Dad and Papa were back, they would’ve healed properly so I didn’t need to wrap them in plastic, and the soreness would be gone. I hoped to keep them a secret until the wedding day. My dress would be sleeveless and make sure to show off the tribute to my beloved parents.

***

We decided on a May wedding, and it was Dee’s idea to check if the venue from Nana’s funeral was available.

“She would’ve been so pleased that you all had some good memories from that place. Dancing and laughing, celebrating love.”

Both me and Timothy loved the idea, and we were in luck. Normally, the place needed to be booked at least a year and a half in advance, when it came to weddings, but they’d had a cancellation due to a broken engagement. Nine months to prepare.

***

I chose Liwia as my maid of honour. We had stayed in touch over the years, and she adored my parents, after they’d given her shelter when she needed it in the middle of her teens. Bella had been switched for Iris. They’d been together almost eight years, and Iris was six months pregnant with their first child. An unknown donor was the father.

“I’ve been meaning to ask if you were traumatised when you stayed with us,” I said on the final fitting of our dresses.

“What do you mean?” Liwia asked, clearly puzzled.

“Board games,” I explained dryly.

She laughed wholeheartedly and admitted that she’d never played Scrabble, Cluedo, orMonopoly, but stuck to chess and card games.

“Wise choice,” I retorted with a grin. “Though I have experienced knights, queens and bishops being thrown across 221B.”

***

My uncles picked me up at the salon where I’d been styled and dressed. Uncle Myc cocked an eyebrow when he saw my tattoos, but he was unable to hide how moved he was by this permanent gesture. Uncle Greg…well, he wasn’t that subtle, and needed a stern talking to from his husband to avoid ruining my dress and hair when he teared up and embraced me.

“You’re going to destroy them with this, love,” uncle Greg murmured.

I hadn’t been nervous before, but when the familiar place came into sight, my palms started to sweat, and my heart pounded in my chest. Inside, Timothy and my parents waited. The most important people in the world, apart from the men helping me out of the car. I kissed them and let them go in first to find their seats. One of the staff stood waiting for me to open the door once I’d decided to enter.

For a while I just stood there, my head blessfully empty. And then out of nowhere a wave of emotions washed over me. The memories of all the preparations and anxiety of the last week, regarding the flowers, the last seat arrangements we had to change the day prior, one of my shoes that disappeared without a trace… 

“Come on, Watson. You can do this,” I interrupted myself, using Papa’s former name on me to get me out of the unending loop of trifles and keep me focused.

I nodded to the man by the door who opened it for me, and I slowly made my way down the corridor to where Dad and Papa waited. They stood hand in hand outside the door to the ceremony room and turned abruptly when they heard my heels on the wooden floor.

“You look…”

“Oh, Bee…”

They were both teary-eyed, which didn’t bode well. I hoped they’d piled up with tissues, because this well would not be emptied any time soon.

With my heels on, I was the height of Dad. I seldom wore high-heeled shoes, so it was an alien feeling to stand face to face with him, literally speaking.

“You look gorgeous, sweetheart,” he whispered in my ear when he hugged me.

“Thank you,” I said and turned to Papa.

He’d frozen and he blinked profusely. Dad looked worried at him. He still hadn’t seen the tattoos. Papa’s eyes darted between them, clearly shocked to the core. I took his hand and squeezed it.

“Do you like them?” I asked quietly.

“Like what?” Dad inquired; his eyes hadn’t left Papa’s face during all of this.

“Look at me, Dad,” I said and finally he saw what Papa had seen minutes ago.

“Oh, my god,” he said and covered his mouth with his hand. “Rosie.”

“They are…” Papa clearly knew but was too shaken to believe what he’d deduced.

“Yes, Papa. They are. My tribute, homage, or whatever you want to call it. To you and Dad. To show you and everyone how much you mean to me. Dee made them while you were away. You have no idea how proud I am that I’ve managed to keep it a secret until now.”

Finally, out of his daze, Papa cupped my face and kissed my forehead and cheeks, careful not to disturb my hair or makeup.

“My precious girl,” he murmured. “I love you.”

“Stop! You’re making me cry,” I protested and tried my best to stay composed.

Dad sniffled and batted his eyes with a handkerchief.

“I’m never going to survive this day,” he muttered.

“John!” Papa exclaimed. “Don’t you dare.”

I knew I had to take the lead, or we would be stranded outside that door forever.

“Come on. The game is afoot,” I teased.

Also available on AO3

YES, there will be a continuation tomorrow.

This is also my entry for this month's Sherlock Challenge and the prompt ink.

@calaisreno @sherlockchallenge @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @raina-at

More tags in the replies

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part Seven)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Virgin! Reader

Warning: Smut, Age-Gap, Daddy Issues

Notes: This will not be a love story. It will be dark, twisted and kinky. Cillian is portrayed as totally off cannon.

Several days later...

The somber air in the church gradually dissipated once the ceremony concluded. You stood beside Cillian, watching as mourners filed out, many offering condolences and sharing memories of the deceased. Although still dressed in black, an undercurrent of sexual tension simmered beneath the surface, drawing the two of you closer together.

As the last of the guests departed, the group gathered in the reception hall attached to the church. Cillian offered you a glass of wine, which you accepted hesitantly just as your stepfather approached.

"Don't give her too much to drink or I will be in the doghouse with Sarah," Frank said, trying to lighten the mood after the saddened events took place.

"You worry too much, man. Last, I have checked, she was already nineteen. Besides, we're here to celebrate the life of our dearly departed, so I am sure Sarah will understand," Cillian retorted, chuckling.

Frank shook his head, knowing well that there would never be a perfect balance when it came to dealing with a stepfamily dynamic like this.

"She is nineteen, but she is still my stepdaughter," Frank exclaimed while Cillian raised his brow in mock disapproval, sipping his wine just as his brother disappeared into the crowd to spend some time with his parents.

"I fucking hate funerals," Cillian muttered, casting a longing glance at the bar.

You looked down at your glass, still not quite sure if you should continue drinking it. But the mood had changed slightly from solemnity to resignation, and it seemed fitting to carry on with the day's activities.

Seeing Cillian's discomfort, you offered him your glass, suggesting he could finish it instead. He flashed you a grateful smile and took a swig before placing the glass back on the table.

"I have never been to a funeral, you know," you pointed out to him

casually, your tone light-hearted as you attempted to break the awkward silence that had settled upon the two of you.

Cillian shook his head in response, taking another sip of his wine, the glass of which was almost empty. "Funerals can be depressing affairs," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "But then again, they serve as a reminder of our own mortality and they most certainly become more frequent events as you get older," he explained while staring into the crowd. 

You nodded, understanding that he was struggling with the loss of his aunt, who had played a significant role in both of his and your stepfather's lives.

"So, we will be staying at your holiday house tonight," you then mentioned to him casually, changing the subject back to less somber matters.

Cillian raised an eyebrow at you, slightly surprised by your forwardness. "Well, yes..." he replied, his voice a mix of curiosity and apprehension. 

 "Don't you think that this will be weird, us being in the same house together for the weekend, with your wife and my parents?"you questioned Cillian with a hint of concern in your voice.

Cillian shrugged casually, appearing unfazed by the idea. "It won't be a problem. We all know each other, and no one knows about us. We just need to make sure that we keep it that way," Cillian pointed out and, despite his seemingly nonchalant attitude, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of nervousness.

"So your wife has absolutely no idea that you are sleeping with me?" you asked, testing the waters.

"No, she doesn't," Cillian confirmed confidently, taking another sip of his wine. 

"That's good," you nodded, thinking of the consequences if anyone were to find out. It wasn't something you wanted, but somehow, being with Cillian felt wrong yet irresistible.

"Do you mind me asking though, are you still being intimate with her seeing that you are having sex with me almost every second day now?"

he blurted out suddenly, his voice lowered, almost as if he was afraid someone might overhear. It was almost like you had too much to drink which, considering that this was your third glass, was probably the case.

Cillian chuckled softly, his eyes darkening with lust and desire. "Why do you ask? Are you jealous?" he wanted to know, and you shook your head, biting your lip nervously.

"No. I am just curious," you said as you felt a warm sensation rush through your body.

"I just want to know how you manage to juggle your relationship with Danielle and our affair, at the same time," you pointed out, causing Cillian to sigh.

"Truth be told, it's complicated," he admitted quietly, his gaze piercing yours. "We still have sex occasionally, but we barely talk anymore. Our marriage is just going through the motions," he admitted you nodded slowly, processing the information. 

"It's like living with a stranger sometimes," he continued, his eyes boring into yours and you understood that their marriage was a facade, a front put up for appearances. And it made you feel a mixture of pity and arousal for Cillian, caught in a loveless union while pursuing an illicit affair with you.

"I don't want to lose my family," he said softly, a pleading note in his voice. "But I also can't stop myself from wanting you," Cillian then explained and you took a deep breath, understanding the complexity of their situation.

"You see, you make me feel alive in a way that Danielle doesn't anymore," he confessed, his voice filled with desperation while you felt the heat rising within you. You leaned closer to him, your heart pounding fiercely in your chest.

"Then why don't we go somewhere private, where no one will disturb us?" you suggested in a low voice, daringly bold.

Cillian glanced around, making sure nobody was nearby. Satisfied, he smiled, his hand reaching out to brush the hair away from your face gently.

"I know just the place. Come on," he whispered, a spark of desire burning brightly in his eyes.

You nodded, feeling the butterflies in your stomach take flight as you followed him towards the back entrance of the function hall. 

"Where are we going?" you asked, your heart racing wildly in anticipation. The thrill of secretly meeting your lover behind closed doors was exhilarating, leaving you craving more.

Cillian led you through a maze of corridors, the dimly lit walls adding to the sense of intrigue and desire. He stopped outside a door, its keyhole marked with a sign that said, "Staff Only".

"This is a place I used to hide in during Sunday mass, especially when I was too hungover to face my parents," Cillian chuckled as he opened the door, revealing the small space within. With a slight laugh, he turned on the lights, illuminating the small, dimly lit room.

"Goodness me, you are such a naughty boy," you teased him, causing him to laugh some more.

"I've always had a thing for this place," Cillian explained, leading you inside. "It used to be a storage room for the church with a ton of books inside," he pointed out as you stepped inside the dark room, letting your eyes adjust to the dim lighting.

Intrigued, you looked around, noticing a dusty couch against one wall, a small wooden table, and various storage boxes scattered across the floor.

"Come on, take off your panties. We have to be quick," Cillian said, his voice husky with desire.

Shaking with anticipation, you swiftly reached beneath your skirt and pulled them down.

"Give them to me," Cillian ordered, taking them gently from your trembling hands. He inspected them intently, his eyes lingering on the delicate lace covering your private parts.

"Why am I giving you my panties? Am I going to get them back?" you wondered aloud, referring to your lost panties.

Cillian laughed softly, his eyes dancing with mischief. "No," he said before trailing his hands over the soft skin beneath your skirt.

"No?" you asked surprised and Cillian chuckled again, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

"No, because I want my cum to leak down your thighs for the rest of the evening," he replied, his voice deeper than ever.

"You do realise that we are still at church, right?" you giggled as his words sank in and a shiver ran down your spine, your heart racing faster than ever.

"Yes, but we've already sinned, so none of this matters," Cillian told you as he pushed you gently toward the storage box closest to the door, encouraging you to sit down on it. He followed suit, positioning himself between your legs, his hands gently cupping your hips.

The air in the small room was filled with tension, almost palpable. Your body felt alive with excitement, your breath coming in shallow gasps.

He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his suit pants revealing his hard cock.

"Spread your legs like a good girl for me," he demanded confidently, his eyes piercing into yours. You complied eagerly, lifting your skirt to expose your bare ass, while your heart raced with excitement.

Gripping your waist, Cillian pulled you closer, bringing your mouth to his ear. "Are you ready for this?" he asked, his voice deep and commanding.

You nodded frantically, your cheeks flushed with anticipation.

Without further ado, Cillian lifted your leg, positioning it over his shoulder.

He expertly guided your foot with his strong hands, spreading your legs even wider, leaving you completely exposed.

As his hard cock pressed against your wet entrance, your whole body trembled with anticipation. "Tell me how much you want it," he commanded, a smirk playing on his lips.

"I want it so bad!" you cried out, your voice quivering with need.

Cillian chuckled darkly, his gaze burning into yours.

"Good girl, now you need to be quiet, hmm. Your parents are just next door and so are mine," he whispered, his lips inches away from yours.

Your heart hammered in your chest, the anticipation building as he leaned in to kiss you gently. His tongue teased your lips, enticing you to open for him.

Your body responded instinctively, opening up to him as he explored your mouth with his tongue, moaning softly when he slid his fingers between your labia, finding you wet and ready.

"That's a good girl," he whispered hoarsely, his voice full of lust. Your heart raced wildly, but you couldn't help but revel in the feeling of being wanted, desired, and touched in ways you'd only dreamt of.

Slowly, Cillian lowered his cock towards your entrance, his movements purposeful and controlled. As he began to penetrate you, your body tensed with anticipation, feeling the first thrusts deep within you.

You moaned softly, welcoming his cock into your tight passage. Cillian held your hips firmly, his eyes locked onto yours, giving you all the control you needed.

"Fuck, that feels so good!" you cried out, unable to contain your excitement.

He grinned wickedly, increasing the tempo of his thrusts. "That's right, let it out. You feel so tight, just like I imagined," he whispered, his breath hot against your neck.

"Oh, God! Don't stop," you pleaded, your body arching into his. The intensity of the pleasure was unlike anything you'd ever experienced, and the knowledge that Cillian was the source of such ecstasy left you yearning for more.

"I am sure God can hear you baby," Cillian groaned deeply, driving his cock harder into your body. "Your cunt is so hot and wet, it feels amazing," he growled, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you down. Your own fingers dug into his shoulders, desperate for any semblance of control.

Cillian held your hips, pushing himself deeper into you, making you moan loudly in pleasure. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, mirroring your own.

"You are taking me so well, even in this holy place" he growled, gripping your hips harder, plunging his cock deeper into your wetness. You clenched your muscles around him, eliciting a low moan from his throat. Your entire body tingled with the exquisite sensation of being filled and claimed by Cillian.

"Now, are you going to take my cum like a good girl?" Cillian murmured against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Yes, yes, please! Please, fill me with your cum!" you whimpered, your body writhing in sheer ecstasy.

Cillian growled, his thrusts becoming even more forceful. "That's it, you're such a dirty little slut!" he whispered harshly, his voice gravelly with passion. Your pussy gripped him tightly, your cries growing louder as your orgasm approached.

"Please, don't stop! I'm so close!" you begged, your fingers digging into his shoulders. Cillian growled, picking up the pace, his thrusts deeper and faster.

"Take it all, baby! Let go!" he groaned, filling you with his cum.

You screamed out in ecstasy, your body trembling with pleasure as he emptied himself into you. Cillian continued to hold you tightly, kissing you tenderly, his hot breath caressing your cheek.

"Thank you, baby. I think I needed this," he whispered softly, a soft smile playing on his lips as he helped you to stand up.

As you stood, your knees slightly wobbly from the intense experience, you couldn't help but marvel at the way Cillian had taken control of the situation. His dominance had been both exhilarating and incredibly arousing, leaving you craving more.

Gently, he helped you pull your skirt back into place before tucking your underwear into his suit jacket. 

"Now let's get back to the wake, shall we?" Cillian suggested, his voice deceptively casual. "You wouldn't want your family to worry about you," he then teased, and you nodded, still somewhat shaken from the intensity of what had just happened.

***

As you walked through the gathering, your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you indeed felt Cillian's cum run down your thighs It was an odd mix of shame and thrill that coursed through your veins, knowing that your parents were mere steps away. Your heart raced, and you found yourself glancing discreetly at Cillian by your side, who looked equally smug with satisfaction.

"Where did you go?" your mother asked, standing next to Cillian's wife Danielle, her brow furrowed with concern. She glanced subtly at Cillian, who gave her a reassuring smile.

"We just got ourselves a drink," Cillian explained smoothly, his tone nonchalant while you tried to deal with the stickiness between your legs. 

"Really? Then what took you so long?" Sarah questioned curiously; her eyebrows raised.

"Well, you know how it is. The bar tends to get busy," Cillian answered lightly, giving you a sidelong glance and, luckily for you, this was enough explanation to satisfy your mother's curiosity while Danielle leaned in and gave Cillian a tender kiss.

"You don't have a silly little crush on my husband, do you?" she then asked bluntly, seeing how you were always somewhat smitten by Cillian's presence.

"Me? A crush on Cillian?" you stammered, trying to hide your embarrassment. "Oh, I... It's nothing like that. He's family and more than twice my age," you forced a laugh, feeling your face flush with heat. Danielle narrowed her eyes, studying you closely while Cillian furrowed his eyebrows in dislike of your comment.

"Relax Y/N. I was just joking," Danielle told you, a small smile curling her lips and just as Danielle and her mother had a quiet chuckle, your cheeks flushed once again, remembering the intimate encounter you had with Cillian just minutes earlier. 

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[bullet-prooflove]

In The Dark - Connor Rhodes x Reader

Tagging: @cosmic-psychickitty @brianbabygirlzvonecek @ikbenplant @rosaliedepp @mrspeacem1nusone @thebewingedjewelcat @htariq @sowrongitslottie @readingbookelf @earthtolottie @crazy4chickennuggets @cixrosie @halsteadloversworld @i-spaced-sorry @1234-angelika @wolfers-stuff @voidsteffy @formulapierre @aaronhtchnrs @mysoulisasunflower @luckyladycreator2 @kabloswrld @xoxabs88xox @evee87 @celilice1 @colin-donnell13 KatLuke25 @one-sweet-gubler @wooshwastaken @anime-weeb-4-life @99-reasons-to-live @legit9thlunaticwarrior @hrandomthoughts @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @witches-unruly-heart @infinity-mars @hermionelove @cupids-lover @emma-dawson @telepathay @upsteadlogic @laylasbunbunny @lelaart @genius2050 @iworldlywriter @ritasantosworld @nu1freakshow @kylieramey @nothinbtannika @samanthaofanarchy

Connor was sitting in the dark, he sagged in one of the dining room chairs, nursing a crystal tumbler of top shelf whisky in his right hand. The distant light from the moon illuminated his face as he stared out of the window and over the city, he had called home over the past few years.

It was his father’s funeral tomorrow and the event weighted on him, he was supposed to stand up and deliver a eulogy, but he hadn’t even begun to write it. Every time he tried to commit the words to paper, he ended up scribbling them out because the truth was, he didn’t know what to say about his father.

His eyes were stinging, the chasm of grief beckoning him closer towards the edge. He could sit here and drown himself again, the way he had last night and the night before, but he knew that was a slippery slope. He knew the stats when it came to physicians with substance abuse issues, he knew if he didn’t deal with this then he was at risk of becoming one of them. He didn’t know what to do anymore, what to feel, what to think. Every time he thought of his father, he saw that corpse laid out in the hospital bed, it wasn’t his father, not really, it was just an empty shell, an echo of the man that used to exist.

His father had been larger than life, calculated and overbearing but in the end, there had been something there between the two of them. The possibility of mending their fractured relationship. Then it was gone, swept away by the selfishness of a woman who he had slept with over a year ago, one with the inability to let go.  

He heard the apartment door click open behind him and he knew you were home. He didn’t call out to you; he couldn’t bring himself to. Instead, he listened to the sound of your footsteps as you padded through the apartment. He lost track for a moment, retreating into his own thoughts once more. It was the warmth of your hand on his shoulder that brought him back, it was such a gentle touch, the sweep of your thumb over the nape of his neck. He tipped his head back, his eyes closed as he allowed himself to languish in it. Your lips brushed his forehead, a featherlight caress and he needed more. He needed the press of you against him, the physicality of your reassurance.

“Come here.” He whispered, drawing you into his lap.

You fit against him perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle. He buried his face into the curve of your throat, his lips brushing over your skin as he spoke.

“I never told her about you.” He mumbled, as he wrapped his arms around you and cradled you close. “She thought he was the thing that was keeping us apart.”

“Connor…” You begin but he shook his head.

“I don’t regret it.” He told you. “And that’s the thing that kills me. If I had to do it again I would because him I can live without, but you…”

He trails off because a life without you is unimaginable. He simply can’t fathom it. He knows if he’d told Ava he was seeing you, it would be a different funeral he’d be attending. He thought he’d sensed the danger even then. When he looks back at his own behaviour he sees it, dates outside the hospital, never letting slip that he was taken, never texting you in her presence just in case she picked up a hint. He must have known something on a subconscious level.

“You are not responsible for what happened to your father.” You tell him, your fingers combing through his hair tenderly. It’s a gesture you know he finds soothing; you feel the tension in his shoulders begin to relax a little as he sighs.

“I just needed to hear that.” He whispers into the darkness. “I just needed to hear that it wasn’t my fault.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[aislynn-wiley1999]

Wandering Eyes

Summary: Aislynn goes to the Yule Ball with Sebastian, but her eyes keep wandering to another boy across the room.

Chapter 19 of my Fic “Three Headed Serpent” which can be found here on AO3 :)

Content: Alcohol, mention of sex, forced kissing, angst, jealousy.

Word Count: 2.2k

Imelda is fretting by her bed, occasionally holding pieces of jewelry up to me for an opinion as she tries to match things to her dress. I occasionally nod, not really paying attention to her vain worries as she hastily plans her outfit for the Yule Ball. I organized my attire last week, not wanting the very thing Imelda is going through to consume me at the last moment.

“You’re acting as if the ball is your funeral, Aislynn,” Imelda states, still rummaging through her jewelry case. A sour look goes across my face at her words. I was trying to be excited, I really was, but I could not convince myself of the emotion. Things should be better this year than last year. I have a date, a dress that I did not throw together at the last second, and two idiot boys will not have a jealous filled spat in the hallway because of me. So why was I not excited?

“I just think I’m regretting not having experienced more of these events,” I tell Imelda, pressing a smile to my face to mask my apathetic feelings. She shrugs, buying my excuse. “They are only really fun when you’re older. My first few balls were awkward and full of puffy dresses and boys who were too scared to ask for a dance. Thank Merlin, someone decent has asked me this year.”

Imelda had been asked a week or two ago by another boy in Slytherin, someone I really only knew in passing, named Luther. I hadn’t even known that she fancied him, but Imelda had been trying out many different boys since the start of the term. Always searching for one more interesting, more handsome than the last. Luther, who was tall with jet black hair, seemed to at least fall into the latter category.

“Luther is certainly handsome,” I say, trying to get her to talk about him so that I don’t have to comment on her jewelry anymore. Imelda beams, clearly pleased with the boy she has snatched up as a date for tonight.

“Isn’t he? I finally got a good one,” she says, holding a pair of earrings up to her ears. “What do you think of these?”

Looking at the earrings in depth, I smile and nod. They were pretty, everything she had shown me was pretty. “Are you going to get ready soon?” I ask, wanting an excuse to start getting my hair ready.

“I think I need to, it’s almost four o’clock, we have to be ready in a few hours,” she says. “Can you help me with my hair?”

I grin. “Of course, only if you help me with mine.”

Imelda throws her head back in a laugh. “Deal. Not like you have much hair to work with, anyways.”

—-----------------------------------------------

In the small mirror in our room, Imelda admires her final form before we depart to the hall. She looks lovely, dressed in a purple gown with enough gold jewelry to draw anyone’s eyes towards her. I plaited her hair, coiling it at the nape of her neck, and she has rouge on her face so that she constantly looks like she’s blushing.

“God, I look pretty,” she says, clearly pleased with the end goal. “You want a go with the mirror?”

Stepping aside, she allows me to gaze at myself in the small looking glass. I barely recognize myself, the girl in the mirror is such a stark contrast to my normal sullen self. The dress, dark blue with black lace, is more beautiful than I could have imagined. My hair, which has grown over time, sits a bit past my shoulders. Imelda masterfully pulled back the scrawny pieces in the front, twisting them and pinning them away from my face. I allowed her to apply the tiniest bit of rouge to my face, causing me to glow pink.

The real star is the jewelry I wear. Silver earrings, dangling with a pearl at my lobe. And my necklace. The very necklace Sebastian gave me, over a year ago. It was the one silver necklace I had, and it seemed fitting to allow him to see me in it. Looking at it, sitting against my chest, all I could notice was the small phrase carved in braille. What it meant to me, and how it could only be interpreted by one.

Pushing the thought away, I smile at myself in the mirror. Imelda is behind me, grinning, clearly pleased with her work. “You look absolutely ravishing. Sebastian will probably eat you alive.”

I have to force myself to not drop the smile on my face. I was not upset about going with Sebastian, but I knew to him it meant something different than it did to me. It meant lust, sex, courting, my lips on his. And I didn’t want that, any of it, anymore.

Imelda makes a comment regarding the time, and she pulls me away from the mirror. “We must go now, it started fifteen minutes ago, and I don’t want Luther to wait on me!” I let her drag me out of the room and through the common room towards the hall, where our dates planned to meet us.

I spot Sebastian before he spots me, and I can’t help but still admire how much effort he is willing to put into himself for fancier events. Dressed in all black, his hair less messy than usual, he looks handsome. He is handsome. And when he turns and spots me, it all almost seems like it’s going to be okay.

He looks as though he has been petrified, his body still as his eyes take me in. Mouth agape, he starts to walk towards where Imelda and I are, his pace hurried. Once he is a few feet from us he stops, and just admires me. Admires my dress, my hair, my shining face, the shy smile I give him. And even though Sebastian is just my friend, and I want nothing more from him, I eagerly take his hand when he offers it to me.

Waving quickly at Imelda, I let Sebastian pull me into the hall. “You look beautiful, Aislynn,” he tells me, his voice deep and hushed. “Want to get a drink?”

I nod and allow him to steer me towards the tables full of food and drinks. He pours us two glasses of some red liquid, and then quickly pops out a flask and pours something stronger into them. I drink, the flavor of the alcohol being masked by something pleasant and sweet. My eyes scan the room, pausing on Poppy and Garreth, and I smile. Despite not wanting to pursue each other romantically, the two still enjoy each other’s company and came together as friends for the night. I keep my eyes moving, trying to see who all is here, before pausing again when I see a patch on blonde hair.

Ominous is seated, alone, at a table in the corner. I try not to stare at him for too long, but I can’t help it. Since our last meeting on my birthday, I have longed to talk to him again. Aout anything or about nothing, but just to hear his voice. It was driving me mad, and I don’t even know why.

I am drawn away from Ominis when Sebastian plucks my cup from my hand and hauls me out to the dance floor. I let him grip my waist, placing my hands on his shoulders, and allow him to pull me close to him. The music is slow, but loud enough that people cannot hear what he is saying to me.

“I feel as though I have never seen another woman when I look at you. You are the prized possession to have at this ball,” he says, his voice ragged in my ear. “What I would not do to be alone with you at this moment.”

I don’t even know what to say in response to these things. His bold, unashamed comments only make me blush in embarrassment. I don’t want him to say these things to me, especially not while Ominis is in my direct line of sight. I gaze at him from across the room, before mumbling a quick thank you to Sebastian. My eyes can’t seem to leave the boy across the room, the one who can’t meet my stare.

The song ends and I start to pull myself away from Sebastian, my eyes still on Ominis. When Sebastian sees my face, he starts to follow my eyes to where they are directed. I look away, not wanting to be caught staring at his friend, but I am too late. He sees exactly who I am fixated on, and his expression sours.

“Am I not suitable company for you?” he says, his tone showing that he is hurt. I shake my head quickly, a fake smile on my lips. “Sorry,” I tell him, “I think I just zoned out for a bit. You look wonderful tonight.”

That last bit seems to do the trick, his smug grin emerging and the upset look fading on his face. Music starts again, another song to sway to, and he pulls me close again. I allow him to lead me all across the dance floor, my dress swirling each time we turn.

“Aislynn,” he says, his voice a whisper again. I pull my head back slightly to look at him, waiting for his response. But instead of saying anything, Sebastian seizes the opportunity to crash his lips onto mine.

Jerking my head away with a gasp, I stare at him wide eyed. “What are you doing?” I say, glancing around at the few heads that have turned towards us. “It’s fine,” Sebastian says, “I don’t care if they see us.” As he moves his head closer again, I force myself to break away from his embrace.

“I care!” I all but yelled. “I don’t want people to see, I don’t want to do that!”

The last statement almost seems to slap him across the face, but I don’t care. I stand there, a good foot or two in between us, and glare at him. I turn my head to where Ominis had been sitting, but find him gone. Looking around, I don’t see him anywhere.

Turning my attention back to the boy in front of me, I give him one final look of anger before leaving him during the middle of the song. Picking up my skirts, I stomp out of the room and into the hallway. I head towards the one place I think that Ominis could be, the one place we got to for solitude and relaxation.

The door to the Undercroft opens with a creak, potentially alerting anyone inside that someone is there. I step into the room, and sure enough he is there waiting to be found.

Ominous is seated at the piano, no noise coming out of it. He doesn’t turn his head or even lift it when I walk in, despite the sound of my heeled shoes giving me away. I stand, watching him stay still, and open my mouth to speak.

But he beats me to it. “You need not check up on me. It’s not fair to Sebastian that you left him to see me.”

“I do not want to be with Sebastian right now,” I say, the words feeling truthful and coming out confidently. At this statement, Ominous lifts his head and angles it towards me. “He is your date tonight, is he not?”

There is this feeling inside me, drawn out by the question he asks me, and things seem to build up inside and erupt like a dam in my mind. “You should have asked me,” I all but blurted out.

Now his head is facing mine entirely, his expression a mix of shock and confusion. “We were not speaking until a few weeks ago, and he had asked you by…”

“Last year, then. You should have asked me last year. Why didn’t you?” I press into him, all but demanding he answer my question. Ominis sighed, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “He was going to.”

“But he didn’t.”

I watch as Ominis opens his mouth, and then shuts it again. He can’t seem to come up with a suitable response for a moment. “I know that you two are in love, and that is why I have distanced myself.”

It takes everything in my power not to laugh at his statement. “In love?” I scoff. “I am not in love with Sebastian, I can assure you.”

Ominis’ eyebrows knit themselves in confusion. “I don’t… he- he wrote to me, and…” The words seem to stumble out, not making any real sense to me. “I don’t even know what to believe anymore, from either of you.”

“If Sebastian has told you otherwise, it’s a lie.” The words sounded harsh coming out of my mouth, but they needed to be said. “I am not in love with him.”

“I- I have put my feelings aside for a long time, Aislynn. You need not spare them now,” he says, choking out the words. He almost seems like he is trying to convince himself that what I say is false, that I am the one who is lying to him. “Sebastian loves you.”

“What do I care about that if I don’t love him?” I scoff, my words cold. I watch as Ominis tries to compose himself, his mind clearly racing from the conversation. He is running a hand through his hair, making it lose its normally perfect shape.

“But he loves you… don’t you get it?” he finally breathes out, expression crazed as he pants. I shake my head, picking my skirt up. His denial, his belief that he must sacrifice for Sebastian, it’s too much for me.

“Believe what you want. But I am down here with you right now, and he is alone upstairs,” I say, my voice low and calculated. I don’t give him a chance to respond as I hoist my skirt up and march out of the room, not allowing myself a moment of regret until I am halfway down the hallway on my way back to my dorm.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Birthday to Remember

Summary: You're birthday celebration is crashed by an unexpected guest. (Steve Rogers)

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, fingering, flirting, public canoodles

Note: @punishmepunisher said Evans was rocking a suburban dad who drinks applebee's margaritas and listens to Jimmy Buffett so this happened.

Please enjoy and let me know what you think. Please also reblog because it's a lot longer than I intended.

You laugh over the rim of your appletini. The overly sweet drink goes down too easy as Charlotte calls for another round. It’s not exactly the thirtieth birthday you dreamed of, but you can’t complain for the company.

It’s almost fitting as you enter your third decade, the downhome atmosphere of the Applebee’s; the staticy classic rock buzzing from the speakers, televisions playing sports games over the bar, where men in golf shirts and khakis nurse Heinekins and cheer on their favourite batters. The old jokes don’t stop as Charlotte and Tatiana hide behind the few months until they cross the line of the big three-o.

“You think you can handle another round, grandma?” Tat giggles as she looks around for the waiter.

“Shut up,” you grumble and roll your eyes, “just you wait, you’ll regret it.”

“She’s getting cranky in her old age,” Charlotte cracks and drains the last of her pina colada.

You harrumph and cross your arms as you sit back against the plastic cushion. The waiter stops by as Tat calls for another order.

“I shouldn’t have trusted you two with planning this,” you bemoan, “I mean, really?”

“Oh, come on, you said no clubs,” Charlotte taunts, “so we went with something more your speed.”

“Let me guess, we’re hitting the funeral home next?” You scoff.

“That’s next year,” Tat cackles.

You shake your head and sit through their roast, the waiter bringing you a second appletini as you thank them. You’re gonna need at least half a dozen to get through the night, especially with these two.

The bright green liquid dwindles as you gulp it down eagerly, listening to Charlotte chatter about her new Tinder match. A cute redhead she claims. You haven’t had much luck on the app despite her many flings. You feel as if you’re doing something wrong and Tat is once more in her on-and-off hookup with her old college roommate.

As you’re ready for a third, pondering changing up the flavour, a sudden lull goes up as the crackle of a sparkler breaks the din. Several waiters approach singing happy birthday as you cringe and sink down in your seat. Charlotte and Tatiana join in out of tune, drawing out the song annoyingly as the cake is placed on the table before you.

You growl before you blow out the candles and the servers proclaim you next drink on the house. You smile and thank them, holding back your humiliation and ordering one of the blue drinks on special.

“Right,” you say as you’re finally left to wallow with your so-called friends, “I’m gonna break the seal.”

“Already? Oh, shoot, there goes her bladder, we should’ve brought the depends,” Tat jokes and you give her another snarl.

You leave them to their laughter as you climb down from the booth and head towards the signs beside the kitchen. You take your time, hiding in the stall as the alcohol flows into your veins and gives a bit of a tint to your vision. You wash your hands and stare at your reflection.

You don’t look older. You don’t feel it either. Thirty isn’t so bad. Give it a couple years and your few strands of grey will be streaks. You twist off the tap and yank out some paper towel to dry off.

It’s a bit louder as you come out into the restaurant. The bar’s growing raucous as bottles clink onto the wood top and the avid ball fans cheer for their team in the ninth inning. As you pass behind the stools, a body stumbles into you as he slides off a tall stool.

A large hand catches your lower back, steadying you before retracting abruptly.

“Oop, sorry about that, I didn’t see ya there,” the man takes a step back, resting his hand on the leather of his vacated seat, “oh, you’re the birthday girl, huh?”

“Oh, uh,” you glance over at Charlotte and Tat as they speak over the table, slurping from their thin straws, “yeah, my friends are a bit dramatic.”

“Here, let me buy you a drink,” he offers.

“Oh, no, no, that’s fine. It’s nice of you but–”

“I insist, come on,” he waves to the bartender, “what are you drinking?”

“Really, I can’t, I gotta get back to my friends,” you insist.

“Bah, make them wait, they don’t seem to miss you,” he peeks at them over his shoulder, “Steve, by the way.”

You nod, uncertain about the man. He’s older than you. Forty at least judging from the patches of silver at his temples that weave back into his golden hair. Even so, he’s not bad looking.

You return your name, another wary look to your table, and you fold your hands anxiously.

“Another margarita,” he orders over the bar and turns to you, “well?”

“Um, vodka soda,” you say, sticking to the same liquor. If you don’t feel your age, you definitely feel the alcohol.

“Here, all yours,” he pats the stool and steps away as the bartender begins his mixing.

“No, it’s fine–”

“I insist,” he points to the seat, his voice firm, fatherly almost, “sit.”

You hold back a sigh and step on the crossbar and haul yourself up. He stands beside you, his elbow on the bar as he digs out his wallet. He pays as your drinks are set down and tells the bartender to keep the change.

“You’re too nice,” you say, “buying a complete stranger a drink.”

“Stranger? I know your name, you know mine,” he says smoothly.

“Right,” you put your fingers on the cold glass, “I guess.”

“So, how old are you now? Wait, wait,” he raises his large hands, “let me guess,” he taps his chin as he thinks, eyes roving over you, “twenty-three?”

You nearly choke as you suck on the straw and scoff, “try again.”

“Hmmm, up or down?” he asks. You point at the ceiling and his brows shoot up, “oh, I see, aging gracefully.” He pauses to drink from the tall green neck of his beer bottle, “Twenty-five?”

You shake your head and give him a doubtful look, “you don’t have to lie, it’s not working.”

“Twenty-six?” He tries again, the same glower aimed back at him, “no? Shit, uh,” he hooks his thumb in his belt and hovers his glass before his lips. He squints at you and takes a slow drink, popping his lips off the rim as he thinks, “don’t tell me you’re thirty.”

You nod, “yep, thirty.”

“Jeez, well, you look good for thirty, trust me, I know,” he chuckles, “damn, I’m old.”

“Are you?” You wonder.

“Take a guess,” he leans on the bar as he crosses one foot over the other.

“I don’t want to,” you say, “I wouldn’t want to offend you.”

“What? Come on, I can’t look that old, I’m sure you can get it.”

“Steve,” you pluck his name out of your mind after a moment of grasping, “I don’t know.”

“Come on,” he goads.

You press your lips together and take another sip. You peer over at Charlotte and Tatianna. They’ve noticed and they’re watching none too subtly.

“I should get back to my friends,” you say again.

“You guess my age and you can go,” he says, “so?”

“Uh, I don’t know… thirty?” You utter weakly.

He laughs, “be serious,” he slides closer, brushing against your legs.

“Forty,” you resign in a stony voice.

His cheek ticks, “warmer.”

“Okay, er, forty-two?”

“Getting there,” he tilts his head.

“Higher or lower?” You ask impatiently and slide to the edge of the stool, wanting to get back to the table. 

“Higher,” his tone rolls in his throat smokily.

“Um, forty-five?” You bluster helplessly.

“Bingo,” he wiggles his glass at you, “fifteen years, huh? Not that much but enough.”

“Sure,” you say, confused, “well, I–”

“Hey,” Charlotte interrupts, “hate to butt in but we were getting a bit antsy so we cut the cake.”

“Here,” Tatiana hands you a plate with a slice, then offers another to Steve, “we figured we bring you some.”

“I’m coming back, it’s–”

“Thanks,” Steve takes it and sets down his drink, “you guys have some wild plans for the rest of the night?”

Tat gives a prolonged glance in his direction before her and Charlotte share a coded look, “well, that’s the thing. I have a girl waiting for me at my apartment and Char here has a guy blowing up her phone, but our friend, single as the day she was born.”

“Tat,” you hiss under your breath as Steve laughs.

“And she’s thirty. Tick tock,” Charlotte adds, “she won’t be able to score a sexy older man for much longer.”

“Shut up,” you growl.

“So, we’ve had our cake and ate it too,” Charlotte smirks, “so the table is all yours.”

You blink at her as you try not to seethe in anger. 

“Go on, enjoy the rest of your birthday, babe,” Tat adds as she adjusts her purse, “we’re just gonna share a cab.”

‘I hate you,’ you mouth over your glass before you take another drink.

They giggle and give a wave, “see you later, you can tell us all about it tomorrow,” Charlotte chimes as they strut away.

You gulp down the last of the bitter vodka soda and place it on the bar, “well, that was not uncomfortable at all. I’m gonna go grab my things and disappear.”

“Wait,” he says as you drop off the stool, your plate nearly toppling out of your hand, “you gotta have your cake. It’s your birthday.”

“I… guess,” you bite your lip, “but you don’t have to–”

“I think it’s pretty obvious that I want to,” he says, “so?”

You feel bad saying no, even if you’re uncertain about him. He’s friendly enough but you don’t exactly go for the suburban Applebee local. He did buy you a drink though so the least you can do is be polite.

“Sure,” you say, “I can’t eat all that cake alone.”

He grins and turns back for his margarita. You lead him to the table and sidle onto the bench. He slides in beside you to your surprise as you set down your plate. He’s close as he sits next to you and settles in.

“I prefer vanilla,” he says as he jabs his fork into the chocolate sponge.

“I don’t mind either,” you say as you mirror him. This is going to be an awkward night. Charlotte and Tatianna are going to pay.

“So, you must be from town?” he asks before taking a bite.

“Yeah, east end,” you answer.

“Ah, I live up in Chester,” he swallows, “pretty tame over there.”

“That’s close,” you say awkwardly, never very good at the whole conversation with a stranger thing.

“I look like the type, eh?” He glances down at his striped golf shirt.

“I didn’t think about it,” you lie, focusing on your cake as sweat beads on your scalp. He smells like bergamot and citrus,

“You don’t have to lie to me,” he says as he stretches his arm behind your head, his fork clinking against the plate.

“I’m not,” you reach for the forgotten blue cocktail you ordered before your venture to the toilets, “really.”

“So what do you do? You seem like a teacher type.”

“I do? Didn’t you think I was twenty-three?”

“Well, now I know you’re not. Maybe you’re a lawyer? You like to argue.”

“I’m not arguing,” you stop yourself, leaving the last bit of your slice untouched as you twirl your fork nervously, “I work in curriculum development. Not quite a teacher.”

“Ah, I knew it was something like that,” he puts his fork down on his empty plate and takes a napkin to wipe his lips, crumpling it up and tossing it with the silver. “You must work hard, no time for guys?”

“Just haven’t gotten to that,” you shrug as his arm falls onto your shoulder. You wriggle and try to shrug him off, “it’s warm in here,” you fan yourself as the fork shakes in your hand.

“Well, you’re damn hot, aren’t you?” he purrs as he leans in.

“Wha– I– Can you back up?” you choke out, “please.”

“Come on, baby, just a little fun for your birthday,” he turns towards you on the seat, blocking out the restaurant with his shoulders.

“Okay, no, you’re too–”

He shoves his hands between your legs and you gasp, clamping your thighs around his fingers.

“Hey,” you grab his wrist, “don’t do that–”

He curls his arm around your head and smothers your mouth with his other hand. You murmur into his palm as he forces his hands up to the seam of your leggings. Your eyes round as heat surrounds the pressure of his rough touch. His breath fills the tight space as he pulls your against him.

You’re almost in his lap as he places his chin on top of your head, hugging you to him as he rocks his hand. It’s painful as the coil winds within, the weight of his hand against your clit twists it tighter and tighter. You garble as he shakes your whole body with his rhythm and hushes you.

“Doesn’t that feel good, honey? Hm?” he keeps two fingers against your folds as he presses the heel of his hand against your bud, “fuck, I feel you getting wet through these things.”

You whimper as you latch onto his thick forearm, his scent drowning you as the alcohol laces through your hazy mind. He moves his fingers up and down, tracing the seam and pushes on the stitches with his nail. The fabric split and he tears the hole a little at a time.

You tremble as you claw at him, begging him in muffled sniffles to stop. He feels along the edge of your panties and inches them aside, delving between your wet lips. You bat your lashes in horror as he coos at you under his breath.

“Fuck, you are wet, honey, hm? You like being my little slut. With all these people around too…” he dips his fingers into you, wiggling his hand against your clit as he curls his knuckles, “yeah, you’re gonna cum already, aren’t you?”

The noise all around blurs; voices, the radio, the television, and the clatter of plates from behind the kitchen doors. You suck in air as your eyes roll back, the tingle spreading across your thighs as your hips rock without thinking. He squeezes as the fire bloom and smatters across your pelvis, an orgasm spiking against your will.

You puff against his hand as you squeeze his wrist and shudder through your climax. He eases you through, your walls twitching around him in rebellion. Slowly, he slips out and lets you go. You pants as you brace yourself against the cushion as he untangles his arm form your neck.

He puts his elbow on the table and admires his glistening fingers. You reach between your legs to feel the tear in your leggings, your cunt tender to the touch. He winks at you as he licks his fingers and pushes them into his mouth with a hum.

He pulls them out in a deliberate motion, “tasty,” he smirks and turns his hand, checking the time on his watch, “damn, I told the wife I’d be home at ten.”

You gape at him as he takes a deep swig from the curved glass and slides off the seat. You quiver as you sit up, watching him dumbly as you try to understand what just happened.

“See ya, honey,” he waves with the two fingers he just fucked you with, “happy birthday.”

[galaxythreads]

The live action ATLA is amazing. 9.5/10. I didn't love everything about it, but there are so so so so many good parts and I'm so glad that Netflix decided to make this. I've seen a lot of weird criticism from long time fans and maybe I just haven't been in the fandom long enough, but. I absolutely think it's worth giving a watch if you go in with a semi blank slate. The Netlfix series is not trying to be an exact scene by scene remake of the show.

The thing about it that you have to remember when you go in is that they said they were going to change the tone of the show, and they did, and it works! It's not the same. It's not a comedy. It's funny, but it's not a comedy. Character motivations were changed to fit the darker theme. It's using Avatar as source material and intends to be an adaption, not a reconstruction of the series.

Katara is much more traumatized about her mom's death, which made sense! She was murdered in front of her. She's afraid to take on a maternal role because of that. She's quieter and softer because she's afraid and she's healing from her mother's murder. Katara in the series made sense, too, but I feel like someone looked at her and went! Wait. Smol child is maybe...not okay??? I have faith they will build her up as the seasons progress if they continue.

Hakoda is disappointed in Sokka barely passing his trial. Makes sense! They're at war! Sokka has to take care of the village, of course Hakoda has high expectations for him. And the thing is--Hakoda still trusted Sokka with the responsibility of the village anyway, so his disappointment in Sokka's trial didn't stop his faith in his son. And honestly, I think it's fine that Hakoda is not a perfect parent who never makes mistakes. Parents rant about their kids to their friends all the time. It's healthy because they're not doing it in front of, or to, their kid. Hakoda didn't know Sokka was listening. So. Idk. Sokka doesn't go through his misogyny is bad actually arc, and while I missed it, I thought he functioned really well in this story without it. And for the record!!!! Sokka STILL makes stupid jokes the entire season. He didn't lose his sense of humor.

Aang feeling so much guilt about leaving? Yep! I can vibe with that. I missed his innocence and playfulness, but I feel like this wasn't a bad take on the character either. He was still playful, but in the world they live in, it would make sense that he feels terrible for leaving. And everyone they encounter takes it upon them to rub it in his face so why wouldn't he feel bad or out of place?? Especially after Bumi. Everyone says he needs to face this alone, and Aang learning that he doesn't have to?? Powerful!! Is it the same arc as s1 of the show? No! It's not supposed to be!

Zuko's actor was perfectly cast. That boy IS Zuko. The scence at the end of e6 made me cry because it was so powerful with the 41st, and that felt so EARNED after episodes of watching Zuko's crew despise him to suddenly realizing the only reason they're alive is because of him and realizing it's an honor to shelter him. Zuko drawing Aang to pin him on his disaster wall was amazing. Him getting hit by some random woman for attacking Aang? Amazing. Him sitting next to Iroh during Lu Ten's funeral? So soft. The Agni Kai really rubbed people the wrong way, but I think it was interesting that they decided to have Zuko showing compassion be the root of Ozai's anger. He showed compassion to the 41st, he shows compassion to his father, and when Ozai has defeated him, he has him on the ground and could walk away, and he chooses to burn his face. It's not exactly the same as the show, but again, it's not intending to be.

Azula being here was interesting. I don't know if I loved Zhao being incapable of doing anything without her, but it works for what it is. Zhao is intended to be annoying and he was! So. 10/10. She cried when Zuko got his scar! Ozai playing the long hand of terrible abusive tactics made me want to bite him. Because Ozai doesn't care about Zuko. He uh. Made that pretty clear when he banished him and then at the end when he's explicitly told Zuko might have died at Agna Qel'a and he's like ????????? Am I supposed to care??? We've gotten rid of weakness. So??? Like he used Zuko to force Azula to become more ruthless. He used Zuko to shape her. I do hope we get more exploration of Ty Lee and Mai so they aren't Faceless Blorb Friends, but I just don't think there was really time in s1.

The parts they chose to remove and add into the story was interesting. You got to explore the story for the first time again. I definitely think both versions have merit and are deeply enjoyable, I just don't think you should go in expecting it to be exactly the same thing? I was happy to see a new take on the story, but that might be because I knew that it was going to be darker and the characters would adapt to that. I do hope we can get more of the vibe of the show's humor in season 2 if we get season 2, and Katara feels little more like her show-counter part because I missed her, but honestly, I do recommend to a friend.

Or at the very least, if you absolutely refuse to watch it, PLEASE go watch the last 1/2 of episode 6 with Zuko and the 41st because I CANNOT.

+THEY ACTUALLY PRONOUCED EVERYONE'S NAMES CORRECTLY #bareMinimumAward

[panda-writes-kpop]

A/N: Happy Halloween!! I'm spending my day in classes and then doing homework afterward 🥲 but at least I'll get to dress up and be comfortable for one of my favorite holidays of the year! 💖

TW: Physical and emotional bullying, specifics about reader's talents and background are given, kinda sad but kinda happy(?)

Acknowledgments: Inspired by the Wednesday Netflix show (yes, I've been holding this fic for a WHILE it was too perfect for Halloween), and the following works by my friends inspired the universe and its characters: @kingmaker-a Ecdysis, You're A Keeper, and Logistics of a Cat; @foolish-sparrow Felix Votum; and @sanccharine mishaps gone right series, and @neon-city-dreams for being awesome <3

Summary: Your bad relationship with your peers causes you to come face-to-face with one of the most brilliant Ravenclaws, Dami. You're afraid that she's just as judgmental as the rest, but through time, she proves to be one of the most important people in your life.

♡ Masterlist ♡

"Hey, give it back!"

You tried reasoning with the young Slytherin members, but nothing worked. Perhaps being more strict would do the job?

The eldest boy sticks his tongue out at you as he tosses your art notebook to the shorter, younger boy.

"Let's see what kind of weird things the muggle writes in here."

You wince as he starts to flip through the book. After going through a few pages, he laughs before pointing at a drawing of yours.

"Wow, you really are obsessed with that Lee Dami girl, huh? You wouldn't mind if I told her that on your behalf, right?"

The youngest boy runs into the Great Hall as the oldest laughs like a wild maniac. You nervously bite your lip before running after the shortest boy.

"Yeah, go get 'em, squirt!" The eldest boy teases as your legs fail to carry you remotely close to the young boy.

He stops at the Ravenclaw table, right where Dami is seated. You try to, as calmly as you can after running what feels like an Olympic marathon, approach the table and remain calm.

"Hey, Dami, you wanna see something neat?"

You cringe as the boy hands her the notebook. She carefully handles the notebook before looking up at the boy.

"Is this yours? Why are you handing it to me?"

"No, it's theirs." The boy points over his shoulder at you, and you do your best to calmly wave as you try to tame the wild beast that is your rapidly beating heart.

"Then why do I have it?" Dami nonchalantly asks, and a few Ravenclaws around her giggle at the boy in front of you.

His ears turn red as he huffs and slightly turns toward you. You brace for impact as he storms towards you, but you're surprised when he puts on a brave smile and harshly wraps an arm around you.

"Tell her this is one big misunderstanding and that she can look through the notebook, alright," The boy loudly says before leaning closer to you, "otherwise I'll make the rest of your stay at Hogwarts a living hell."

You nervously laugh before slapping the boy's back as friendly as you can appear to be.

"Of course she can look through it!" You say through gritted teeth, and the boy shoots you a deadly glare before you push yourself away from him. 

Dami looks at you for confirmation, and you feel your face heat up as you nod at her.

You start mentally planning your funeral as soon as Dami touches the cover. You might as well make plans to move to Africa, where no one knows who you are or what your face looks like.

Perhaps that wouldn't be the best idea since you weren't the most multilingual person, so America would be a better fit, right? You could send an owl to your parents, and they'd figure out the details for you! That'd be great because the Wizarding school there is just as good as Hogwarts, plus you'll never have to face Dami again after she ultimately rejects you because what reasonable person would want a loser like you who can't actually verbalize their feelings and instead draws them from every possible angle and OH MY GOD SHE THINKS YOU ARE A STALKER YOU NEED TO VACATE THE AREA IMMEDIATELY WHAT ARE YOU DOING-

"I-"

Dami pauses after she closes the back of the book. You say a prayer to as many deities and saints that you know as you hope that she'll reject you kindly and you can instead live out your days at Hogwarts in shame without having to move to another country.

She looks up at you before a prominent pink blush settles on her cheeks. She clears her throat before readjusting her glasses as your tormentor closes in on Dami.

"So, what did you think? That art is so stalker-ish and lame, right? You'd never want to be with someone like that, huh."

He triumphantly folds his arms as Dami's sweet, deep voice hits your ears.

"I think it's sweet."

"What?" The boy says in utter shock as his eyes are nearly about to widen past their capabilities.

"What?" You softly repeat as you feel lightheaded.

No, she was supposed to reject you and laugh at you, right? When was this a part of the horrid fantasy that you created 30 seconds ago?

More importantly, when did the room start spinning?

The last thing you remember was Dami calling out your name as you felt your body being tugged towards the floor.

~

Although your confession wasn’t anything like your dreams, it managed to land you in Dami’s favor, and now you’re on a date with the girl who you’ve been endlessly doodling in your notebook.

This moment, you decided, was one of two things.

Option A.) A cruel joke by the universe, in which one of your peers would jump out of a nearby bush with one of those muggle recording devices, and your life would return back to normalcy.

Or Option B.) You’re somehow dreaming still, and you probably need to see the headmistress because dozing off like this isn’t good for your health or your grades, and you know what your mother will say when your grades start to slip-

“Hey, are you alright? You’ve been staring off in the distance for a while…”

Dami calmly observes you as you nervously shift on the picnic blanket.

“I’m okay… I think.”

You mentally scold yourself before nervously playing with a strand of your hair. Dami sweetly laughs before placing a hand on your shoulder. That part of your body heats up, and your internal body temperature rises about 5 degrees as you feel yourself start to sweat.

What a pair the two of you were.

The brilliant scholar, the one who was a prodigy at everything she tried. The radiant Ravenclaw who managed to excel in every subject and charmed her peers and professors along the way.

And then there was you, the tortured artist. The mockery of your peers was a constant negative force in your life, and you always had your head in a sketchbook or notebook.

She was the strong sunshine, constant and unwavering, and you were a waning moon, ready to disappear to make room for something greater.

Yeah, this was definitely a pity date.

“Are you sure you’re feeling well-”

Dami’s ever-so-gentle with you, as if every last word would break your body like a glass figurine shattering when it hits the floor. You’re scared, sure, but you’re not that much of a wimp, right?

“Dami, I-” You pause to chew on your lip before gently reaching for her. “I really like you, and I’m scared of ruining this date because I think that you think that I’m a freak, just like everyone else does!”

You slap your hand over your mouth as Dami begins to rub your back. You bow your head in shame as you feel her free hand touch your extended hand.

“I don’t think you’re anything like the other kids say you are. That’s why I wanted to come out here with you. I want to find out who you truly are,” She offers you a warm smile as you dare to look up at her, “and if it makes any difference, I really like you too.”

“You do?” A sea of hopefulness floats into your voice as you tentatively smile.

“I do.”

Your eyes widen, and you let go of her hand before wrapping both arms around her. Dami looks startled for a moment before she laughs and wraps her arms around you.

Maybe this year would be different, just like your mother had said.

~

“Do you have the notes for Potions?”

“You weren’t paying attention?” Dami teasingly asks Lia before sorting through the books in her arms. “Color me surprised.”

“Don’t give me the third degree. Ryujin already did that.” Lia scoffs as Dami hands her a few sheets of paper from a book.

“Ryujin sleeps in class almost every day.”

“That’s what I said!” Lia exclaims before quickly looking at Dami’s notes. “My god, you really do take detailed notes.”

“I do my best work in class.” Dami shrugs before looking out at the courtyard. “Do you have Potions today?”

“Unfortunately, yes, but I-” Lia pauses when Dami sticks her arm out in front of both of them. “What is it?”

“Hold my things.” Dami hands her books to a skeptical Lia, who sends Dami a quizzical look until she looks out into the courtyard.

“Oh shit, that’s-”

“Uh-huh.” Dami pulls up her sleeves before grabbing her wand. “That’s why I’m going to interfere.”

“Before they hurt someone?”

“Before someone else jumps in.” Dami corrects as Lia’s eyes widen.

“Are you referring to SuA and Siyeon?”

“Who else would I be referring to?” Dami sighs before walking away. “Make sure nobody tries to jump in, alright? I need to handle this myself.”

“To prove that you’re a good girlfriend?” Lia jokes as Dami walks towards the scene in the courtyard.

“Funny, Lia.” Dami mumbles as she approaches the scene unfolding in front of her.

~

When you were younger, the teasing and bullying from your peers would bother you to no end. You’d sob in the arms of your friends and Dami every time they decided to mess with you.

Now? They were just an annoyance to you.

“Please give it back…” You hopelessly say as you watch two of your peers hold your books hostage ten feet in the air.

“And why would I do that?”

Because you’re not a total bitch?

“C’mon, don’t you have anything better to do?” Exasperated, you pull out your wand as they both chuckle.

“Oh, what are you gonna do, summon your Patronus?” One teases as the other laughs.

You bow your head in shame before putting your wand away.

“That’s what I thought, you pathetic waste of-”

“What are the two of you doing?” 

Your head snaps up as you make eye contact with Dami.

Thank goodness!

“Dami!” One of the students squeaks out before running off, and the other slowly lowers your things towards the ground.

“You’re no fun.” They say before throwing your stuff on the ground.

Your eyes widen as you quickly gather your things from the ground.

“You’re sick!” Lia yells from the side as the other student rolls their eyes.

“We were just joking around, right?” They shoot daggers at you, and you shiver under their glare.

“Ahem.” 

You pause as you hear heels click behind you.

“Headmistress BoA, I-”

“My office. Now.” She calmly says, and the student bows their head before walking away. “Oh, and if you track down your friend before I get back, I won’t make you clean out the Hippogriff cages.”

You dare to look at the student who’s walking much faster now, and you find yourself laughing as you gather your things and yourself off of the ground.

“Are you alright?” She gently asks before placing a hand on your back. “They gave you back all of your things, right?”

You swiftly look through your things before nodding.

“Thank you again, Headmistress.” You quietly say as Dami makes her way to your side. “Thanks for saving my ass… again.”

Dami wraps an arm around your shoulders to comfort you before leaning into you.

“I’d happily step in any time.”

Headmistress BoA gently smiles at the two of you before taking a step back.

“I’m glad you have someone like Dami looking out for you,” She says before waving Lia over, “and it seems that you’ve managed to charm quite a few other students as well.”

“Oh, I…” You bite your lip before staring at the ground. “I don’t think I’d call myself charming.”

“Dami would agree to disagree!” Lia teases, which causes Dami to blush, and you to laugh.

“Well, I will leave the three of you to your studies. If there’s anything I can do, please, don’t be afraid to-”

“Headmistress, you’ve already done so much for me…” You softly interrupt her before looking over to Dami. “for us. I don’t think I can thank you enough.”

~

After you and Dami were close and became ‘more than friends’, the torture that you experienced only multiplied. It went beyond verbal teasing and the occasional shove or someone stealing your notebooks.

It wouldn’t be a day at Hogwarts if you weren’t shoved into a wall and had your face shoved into your food. It got so bad that you ended up confessing to your mother, and when she confronted the Headmistress, they couldn’t find anyone who would talk about the bullying besides you.

You tried to take it on the chin, but after one particularly rough day, you broke down in tears and had enough of their teasing. You stopped reacting to their normal shenanigans, which encouraged them to go farther.

You were walking to The Great Hall while admiring the architecture. You had enjoyed your class, which was mostly because you didn’t have to use your wand all day. It wasn’t a secret that you weren’t the best spellcaster, but you could easily outbrew anyone in Potions and you knew what made the plants grow faster in Herbology. 

You were happy because you were to see Dami, and your day was always better when you saw her. In your ignorant bliss, you had failed to notice the snickering students who were holding a pot of honey above your head with their wands.

You had opened the doors to The Great Hall, and everyone in the world seemed to be looking at you when your assailants launched their attacks.

You screamed when the honey fell onto you, and the force threw you to the ground. You managed to push yourself out of the way of the falling pot before it hit the ground.

All of the students outside of the hall were laughing at you, and from what you could see, a good amount of students were laughing in the dining hall.

You immediately started crying before getting up and running away from the dining hall. You didn’t care that you left your things behind, but it didn’t matter since they were probably ruined anyway.

You didn’t stop running until you had reached a bathroom far from the living quarters and The Great Hall. You closed the door, and you fell back against the nearest wall before burying your head in your arms.

A gentle knock at the door manages to disturb your pity party.

“Leave me alone…” You weakly mumble, and you curse yourself for being so weak, just as your peers had said.

“Are you in here?” Dami asks, and you sniffle before answering.

“You should’ve started with your name.” You say before managing to let out a broken chuckle. “The door’s unlocked.”

The door creaks when it is opened, and Dami files in before shutting it.

“My God…” She mumbles before grabbing a washcloth from beside the sink.

Dami puts the stopper in the sink, and she fills the sink with water before running the washcloth under the faucet.

She offers you the washcloth, and your shaking hand reaches out for it before you stop.

“Do you mind if you-”

“No, of course not.” Dami answers before shutting the faucet off. 

She sits next to you with the washcloth in her hands.

“Can I touch you?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” You softly say before lifting your head up.

Dami gently begins to rub the honey away by starting with your face. After she finishes with one side, she switches hands, and her right hands cleans your face as the other holds the clean part of your cheek.

“I’m so sorry that this happened to you…” Dami mutters as she gently strokes your cheek with her thumb. “How does this continue to happen?”

“I’m an easy target. I’m useless with my wand, I can’t fly on a broomstick, and I don’t know how to talk to people.” You exasperatedly say.

“But there’s so much that you can do. You’re brilliant with Potions and Herbology.” She compliments you before continuing on. “You’re creative, much more than I am, and you’re kind to everyone, even if they’re not kind to you back.”

“You see the good in everyone, Dami.” You lovingly look at her as she smiles.

“I see the good in you because everyone, including yourself,” She sternly says the last part, “refuses to. Someone has to take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“You can, but it doesn’t hurt to rely on others.” Dami wistfully says before pulling her right hand away from your face “Let me clean the washcloth, and I’ll work on your arms, alright?”

“Okay.” You feel better as Dami stands and walks over to the sink. 

You like the quiet bliss that is between the two of you. No one may understand why the brilliant scholar loves the tortured artist, but you’re starting to get it now.

Suddenly, the door slams open and you jump before curling up into yourself. Dami looks up from the sink before a sour look settles on her face.

“Headmistress BoA…”

“What is going on here?” She sternly says before glancing at you before looking back at Dami. “Did you… were you a part of this, Ms. Lee?”

“I didn’t do-”

“She was trying to help!” You exclaim before tears fall from your eyes. “Please don’t make her go.”

“Are you sure Ms. Lee wasn’t-”

“She wouldn’t hurt me!” You yell before quickly standing up.

You try to take a step forward, but your knees wobble and you fall on the ground.

“My love-” Dami immediately drops the washcloth in the water before placing a hand on your knee. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“No,” You shake your head before placing one of your hands on hers, “I’m alright.”

“Ah, I see what’s going on here.” A glint of mischief appears in the Headmistress’ eyes before she chuckles and smiles. “Clean up, change your clothes, and head to my office once you’re done. I’ll set dinner aside for both of you, and we can chat about finally putting an end to this mess.”

You smile at the Headmistress before looking over to Dami.

“That’d be great, Headmistress. Thank you.”

~

You grab the key from your coat pocket as you climb the stairs with Dami and Lia by your side.

“Ugh, do I have to go to Potions?” Lia complains before sighing. “I’d much rather go to Defense Against the Dark Arts again then do this shit-”

“I’d trade you.” You mumble.

“How bad was class today?”

“I made a fool of myself, as per usual.” You groan as you remember your classmates’ teasing. “Another failure I will never live down.”

“Don’t let those Slytherins bother you-”

“-They were Ravenclaws.” You correct Lia before she pauses mid-step.

“What?”

“Yeah, I know. A lot of the physical teasing comes from Slytherins and Gryffindors, but I can’t count the times I’ve been harassed by Ravenclaws.” You bite your lip before Dami sets a gentle hand on your back. “You think they’d be nicer considering I am a Ravenclaw.”

“Don’t listen to them. They’re judgemental.” Dami reassures you.

“Even you?”

“I’ve learned better from people like you.” Dami honestly says as you reach the fourth floor.

“Well, I’ve got to grab the textbook from our dorms. I’ll see you tonight for dinner,” Lia says to Dami before turning to you, “and I will have a hundred and one questions about Potions to ask you.”

“I’ll do my best to help.” You gently smile before waving Lia off as she continues to climb the stairs.

You loop arms with Dami as you lead her to a locked room, far from prying eyes.

“How was Herbology?” Dami pushes back a strand of your hair before you unlock the door.

“Professor Im says I have a lot of potential in the field. She wants me to start looking into higher level classes for next year. So, it was as per usual. What about you?”

“Potions was simplistic, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, well, I-”

You open the door before gently nudging Dami.

“It’s okay, Dami, I know you’re good at it. You’re destined to be an Auror, I know.”

You mutter a soft ‘Lumos’, which sets the room alight with a soft glow.

“You’ve put up more art.” Dami notes as you set your books aside.

“What else do you think I do here?” You joke before grabbing your staple apron. “But I’m glad you noticed.”

“What are you going to work on?”

“Undecided… but maybe I just want to hang out with you.”

“Oh? Is that so?” 

You let go of Dami’s arm before grabbing her waist. She smiles before wrapping her arms around your torso.

“I-I am sorry.” Dami mutters as you pull her close.

“For what? None of this is your fault, Dami.”

“I just wish I could’ve done… more.”

“Don’t say things like that-”

“You’re planning about going back to the muggle world permanently after you’ve finished your education at Hogwarts, right?”

Your eyes widen as you let go and back away from Dami.

“Did my mom tell you that?”

“Your dad, actually.” Dami pauses for a beat before grabbing your hand. “When were you going to tell me about the fact that you’re taking muggle classes and classes here? Is bullying the reason why you’re going back to the muggle world?”

“Yeah, it is,” You mumble softly before squeezing her hand, “but I didn’t want to say anything, I know you wanted to be an Auror, you’d be brilliant and the best at it.”

“Why the muggle classes, though?”

“I’m a half-blood. It was my mom’s dream for me to go to Hogwarts, just as she did, and my dad… he’s a professor at a well-known university, so he agreed with my mother as long as I kept up with my muggle work.” You sigh before shaking your head. “Was my dad worried about me?”

“He thought you were making the wrong choice.” Dami explains.

“My dad loves you, and he wants what he thinks is best for me.”

“I want you to stay.” 

“You do?”

“Of course I do. As much as I want to be an Auror, I couldn’t imagine being there without you.” 

“That’s sweet of you to say…” You trail off. “But I don’t belong here. You know that, as do many of our peers.”

“They might not think you belong, but you’ll always belong with me.” Dami pulls you close before you rest your head on her frame. “At least think about it, my love. That’s all I can ask from you.”

“I will, dear, I promise.” You peck her cheek before grabbing a paint brush. “You can go back to the dorms and work in peace if you’d like. I’m going to play some music and-”

“-I’d much rather stay with you.”

[jellyfishvibes]

Khdr Keyblade thoughts So, as we know, dr characters are based on norse gods and i'm assume they keyblade they all wield is like starlight in that its a training keyblade that is a keychain given and not 'their' keyblade so based on said norse mythology dr character keyblade names/ideas

Odin - Odins named weapon is Gungnir, a spear that had runes carved into its tip, made by dwarves known as the Sons of Ivaldi

Xehanort - This man is not norse Eraqus - Neither is this guy

Hermod - Hermod has very little about him in the mythology that i found, he is a messenger and rides down to Hel and back to try and revive Baldr? He is given two rings a cloak to give to other people on that trip? got a theme of 9 going on with ring for 9 days to get to Hel and being given a ring that duplicates itself every 9 days making 8 new identical copies of itself, idk not alot here

Urd - One of the three Norns, specifically the one of the past, i would love to see a matching keyblade trio for these three (Skuld being the future and the one of the present usually being anglicized as Verdandi, and i don't think she has appeared yet) Strings of fate and weaving themes are big for all three along with the world tree Yggdrasil, but Urd specifically has a big connection to the well they water the tree with and live near, as its called the Well of Urd

Vor - From my quick research she might be the same as a valkyrie Geiravor who wields a spear but also has the winged horse imagery you could draw on, also i have found her name might mean oath and has associations with oaths and contracts, so something similar to oathkeeper maybe? something like Oathbreaker?

Bragi - (you know, before the plot happened) Is the god of poetry and also possibly music? also he has a rune on his tongue? he is characterized as the court poet of the aesir and something poetry based would fit, maybe in the form of a kenning as there is a dialogue where he explains them, you could also pull from the blood of Kvasir which is said to be the 'mead of poetry', also a great place to put a poetic irony name

Baldr - A Vala predicts his death, Vali's birth and the killing of Hoder and Frigg crying as a result, He has bad dreams and Odin goes to Hel to talk to a Vala about it, he forces her tell him who kills Baldr, who will avenge him and who will weep for him, He is given Draupnir (The ring that duplicates) on his funeral pire and Odin whispered something in his ear before hes pushed out to sea, a majority of him in the mythology is just about that one time he died, the easy target is something mistletoe themed but i am leaning more towards the 'everyone needed to weep to bring him back' theming, maybe with the 9 rings idk, the only name ideas i have are something along the lines of whispers or secrets to allude to the Odin secret thing, Murmured Mystery or something like that? (Fun fact his heartless is called Hringhorn, which is the name of Baldrs ship in mythology, making the final boss turns into a boat theme in Xehanorts life originate from Baldr)

Heimdall - Gjallarhorn is the horn that heralds the beginning of ragnarok and Gulltoppr is his golden mained horse, He is the protector of the Bifrost and has foresight and keen senses, notably his eyesight and hearing, there is a theory that Gjallarhorn could be translated as 'horn of the river Gjoll' a river that seperates the living and the dead, and also that the poem telling of where the horn is my not be referring to it but to Heimdall's hearing which may mean there could be a mirror between him and Odin, as Odin leaves his eye in Mimir's well for knowledge, Heimdall may have left his ear there, he is ripe for a foresight-didn't see his death coming poetic irony name and beyond that the god is very associated with gold so probably a good aspect to design with

Helgi - Helgi is a hero in mythology who falls in love with and marrys a valkyrie, Sigrun, due to slaying Hunding he gets the moniker 'Hunding's bane', he is killed by Sigrun's brother and there is a story after his death where he appears one night ontop of his burial mound to Sigrun, His hair covered with frost, his body covered with blood and his hands are wet, which he explains are becuase of all the tears she has shed for him, they spend the night together and he has to leave in the morning, she spend the rest of her life waiting for him again, which i latch onto cause a frost themed weapon for him would be a really cool contrast to his very classic norse hero design, also more easy valkyrie imagery to pull from aswell, having some thematic kind of match between his and Sigurn's keyblades would be cool

Hoder - The blind god who accidentally killed Baldr with something made of mistletoe (its said Loki made the mistletoe int a spear but Hoder shoots it like is an arrow so???), so also easy mistltoe imagery, he is also killed by Vali to avenge Baldr, depending on the version Hoder is either completely innocent and tricked into it by Loki or much less innocent and more active in the murder, one of the lines of translated poetry i latched onto was His hands he washed not, his hair he combed not, Till he bore to the bale-blaze Baldr's foe. A keyblade name along the lines of blood on hands/unable to wash away the sin would fit kh Hoder, or even a subversion of Destiny's Embrace, as she is kinda stuck in the fate of both her and her brothers death but goes along with it (she swung first) something like Cradle of Fate, or Destiny's Grasp, something that leans a little more negative (*Hoder and Kairi parallels in here about being tangled in fate and have destinys entwined with death, The Kai in Kairi means death after all)

Sigrun - Sigrun is a Valkyrie, she first meets Helgi when leading 9 other Valkyrie, his story happens, her brother tells him of what he did to Helgi and she curses him, forcing him to live in the woods and survive of carrion and she dies early of sadness and is reborn again as a Valkyrie, Her name aslo apparently means Victory Rune, valkyrie imagery? idk there isnt alot here, probably something matching Helgi tho (Its cute that in the like 1 cutscene we have of her and Helgi they pair up without words and seem to be besties/ always standing near each other)

Vala - A Vala was a norse woman with the ability to fortell the future and perform sorcery, often translated as "seeress", "prophetess", "staff bearer", "wise woman" and "sorceress", and the staff bearer in that group intrigues me, they are often connected to Freyja, thers not alot of stuff to work with beyond magic themeing unless you'd pice a specific Vala

Vali - Vali was a son of Odin and Baldrs brother, after Baldrs death he was born and grew to become an adult in one day to avenge him by killing Hoder and binding Loki in the entrails of his son, hes the god of flight and to symbolize this he has a cloak made of raven feathers that when raised looks like wings, very omen of death he is, theres not very much more about him beyond his role in the story of Baldrs death, this line Then did Váli | slaughter bonds twist Makes me think a name along the lines of Bond Breaker or Twist of Bonds might fit (i will note that hes the one who warns the group Hoder has disappeared, leading to Sigurn's, Helgi's and Heimdall's deaths by malificents hands)

Vidar - A god associated with vengance, he is fated in ragnarok to kill Fenrir to avenge his fathers, Odin's, death, he has the moniker "The Silent God" and it is mentioned that he is as powerful as Thor and that he has thick shoes? called 'the possessor of the iron shoe' which might be in reference to the description of him killing Fenrir putting emphisis on him using his foot to hold the dogs lower jaw open, fenrir is already a keyblade in the series and making his keyblade a match for it might be fun, Iron Soul or something along those lines might be a good name for it, i would fully lean into the shoe sole-soul pun for a name, and making a silver blade to Helgi's gold might parallel the kingdom key/kingdom key d duo, idk why they would parallel but like thats where my mind immedately goes (its interesting that both Vali and Vidar are fated to survive ragnarok and are in the group that survive malifcents attack, and the four in the attack are fated to die in mythology, Hoder obviously, Heimdall to Loki in ragnarok and Sigurn and Helgi both in their story, and possibly ragnarok cause i think the valkyrie and warriors of valhalla both fight in it)

[ravenssh1t]

Midnight Kisses - X.T.

telekenesis!reader, Wednesday’s twin!reader, gn!reader, mindreader!reader (lmao), fluffy, SFW

AN: hey beautiful people! this is my first fic that im acc publishing so please be kind. that being said i am always open to constructive criticism. if you enjoy this, please let me know, and if you’d like me to write more, or for other characters, just drop me a message or an ask! I will write for a whole plethora of characters so just let me know which characters and maybe a small prompt if you so desire!! i hope you enjoy!! <333

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I looked over at my alarm clock. The bright red number glared 00:34 back at me. I'd only been at Nevermore for a week or so, and already it was a torturous experience. The glares from Barclay and her minions, the rumours, everyone walking on eggshells around Wednesday and I. It's a miracle neither of us had pulled another 'piranha incident'. There was one thing that never seemed to care about the rumours though. Well, one person. Xavier Thorpe. 

Wednesday had met him before.  His godmother's funeral. Allegedly, she saved his life, which is rather unlike my dear sister. However, in the long run it's been rather helpful.

Since starting at Nevermore, I had only really become close to two people. If you could even call it close. Our new roommate, Enid. And Wednesday's old acquaintance, Xavier. 

Right now, I need a distraction. From the thoughts that clouded my mind and prevented the graceful release of sleep from my grasp. Enid, Wednesday and Thing were all asleep. I decided to head down to Xavier's dorm. Since Rowan was expelled (killed, left, whatever) I've ended up in Xavier's room a few times. Once for stalking purposes, once for homework, once for... well I'm not entirely sure how to define it. But I know that he's what I need right now. 

I crept out of the window, and distracted the housemaster with an illusion of a hamster that I know he loves. I crept up the stairs and knocked on Xavier's door. No answer. I knock again and poke my head in and softly say "Thorpe? You in here?" Nothing again. He must be in his art shed. 

The brisk walk through the grounds was not unwelcome. It gave me quiet. I saw the lights on in Xavier's shed and picked up my pace a little. Something about that man makes me feel a weird tingling in my stomach. It's a new unfeeling. But not unpleasant. 

He doesn't answer when I knock, but I can hear the not-so-delicate sound of Deftones playing through decrepit doors, so I doubt he heard me. I decide to just walk in, and he's got his back towards the door, so I just take a seat on one of the stools and watch him paint. Something about him seems to draw me in. I can't help but admire the way his hair looks in a messy bun with the front strands poking out. The way his tall stature towers over his canvas. His masterful hands sweep the paint in particular ways just to fit his liking. 

I accidentally knock over a plastic cup full of multicoloured paint brushes and he jumps and turns around swiftly and catches me and says “Jesus Christ, Y/N! Do you make a living out of scaring this shit out of people?” and I smirk and say “No, but that is the goal.” He scoffs at my retort and saunters over to me while he asks “What’s wrong?” 

“Who said there’s anything wrong?” I ask slightly bitterly albeit unintentionally.

“Drop the tough guy facade, we both know that Wednesday and Enid are asleep, so you found me. Now, what’s wrong?” Damn. He read me like a small children’s book. 

“I couldn’t sleep. Needed a distraction. For some reason my brain seems to find your company tolerable.” 

He decides to ignore the last statement and instead questions “Do you want to see my new painting?” 

“If I must.” 

We walk over to one of his canvases and he spins it round. It’s me. Well, my hand. My hand in the middle of culminating an illusion with my powers. The deep crimsons and maroons contrast against the vibrant scarlet just like they do in real life. He even got the rings I wear down to a T. 

It’s incredibly rare that I am rendered speechless. But alas, here I am. My mouth ever so slightly agape, mind void of all language. Just pure astonishment. He breaks me out of my trance by saying “Sorry. I know it’s a bit creepy. I can get rid of it if you want-”

“Xavier,” I interject. “It’s beautiful. I love it.”

He smiles at this and the tip of his nose and his cheeks turn a distinct rose-tinted pink. He lifts his hand over the portrait and animates the picture. It moves exactly as mine do. The astonishment I first felt came sweeping back over me like a tidal wave. “Thank you, Xavier. This is amazing.” 

“Amazing enough for a hug?” He questions boldly. 

“Fine.” My reluctance is entirely feigned because the one thing I need right now is a hug. He practically jogs over to me in excitement and wraps his long arms around me tightly. My head sits just at the nave of his chest and it feels like the final two puzzle pieces finally slotted together. “You can hug back, you know?” He (not so) subtly hints as his chin rests on the top of my head. “I know.” I grumble back stubbornly. I hesitantly wrap my arms around him. Oddly comforting. Something in me tells me this is exactly where I’m meant to be at this moment. I don’t notice myself relaxing into the embrace and tucking my head impossibly closer to his chest, but he does. “We can do this more often if you need it.” 

“I may just take you up on that, Thorpe.” We stay there for a few seconds longer, then he lets go, and I do too. I wander back over to the desk and take a seat on the oak plank. He follows me and leans over me to ‘grab a paintbrush’ or so he says. He gently places his hand on my hip as he does, and I feel my face flush bright pink. He catches this and says “Am I that good?” 

“You wish you had that effect on me, Thorpe.” 

“Oh, I know I do, Addams.”

“How’s that then?” I query, genuinely hoping he is completely oblivious to the way I feel about him. 

“You’re a dick to pretty much everyone here. But with me? You had a soft spot almost immediately. You blush every single time I touch you. You watch me paint for hours on end while pretending that you’re doing homework because you don’t want me to notice that you’re staring at me. It’s obvious!” He chuckles out the last statement with the cockiest smirk on his smug, beautiful face. 

“Well, what about you Mr Loner who can’t seem to want to spend enough time with me? You touch me every chance you get. You painted a picture of my hand for God’s sake!” It’s possible I may have gotten slightly defensive. 

“Y/N. I never said it was a bad thing.” He etched ever so much closer to me until he was only two inches away from my face. He placed his strong hands on my delicate shoulders and gazed into my eyes. “Can I kiss you?” Speechless once again. I try to force out something, anything coherent, but I just stammer silently. “Ok, answer me this,” He notices my nerves. “Do you want to kiss me?” 

‘Yes! Yes, Xavier Thorpe! Of course I want to kiss you! It’s my dream, my livelihood, my reason for being alive!’ is what I want to say. No. What I want to scream from the rooftops. But all that comes out is a hushed and hesitant “Yes.” 

He puts his long pointer finger under my chin and lifts my head towards his face so I have no choice but to stare into his beautiful green eyes once again. “Speak up, sweetheart.” If he wasn’t standing in between my legs right now, I would be forcing them closed. “Yes, you dick.” I force out, it comes out slightly louder than I expected, but the excitement is evident in my voice. “Then can I kiss you?” 

“Yes.” I assert firmly this time. 

His hands move down to my hips, and he squeezes them gently. He leans down and pecks me on the cheek, then the lips. Feeling unsatisfied, a sudden overwhelming confidence regains control of me. I wrap my hands around the back of his neck and suggest that “If you’re going to kiss me, you should at least do it properly.” He smirks again. God, he loves doing that. If it wasn’t so attractive I might just complain about it. “Like this?” He asks, grasping my hips harder this time and before I know it, our lips collide again. This time, it’s not as soft and fast-lived. It’s passionate, deep. If I thought the hug felt like two puzzle pieces fitting together, this is ,oh, so much better. Our lips move together in perfect harmony. My hand moves up into his hair, and I tug it gently, which covets a deep groan from the bottom of his throat into my mouth. I had never heard such a beautiful noise in my life. 

He pulled away softly. “Yeah. Like that.” I mutter breathlessly. 

“Thought so. Let’s go back to my dorm.” Yet another bold move from him. 

“I’m not that easy, Thorpe.” 

“No, idiot. You’re staying in my dorm tonight. You’ll sleep better.” 

That makes me smile. “Okay,” I accept. “but I expect more kisses.” 

“You read my mind, Y/N.” Oh, the irony.

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Benjamin Effect - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / Fem!OC (Kate Benjamin-Mitchell)

Length: 3.2k

Warnings: (Childhood) Enemies to Lovers; Mentions of Goose and Carole; Angst; Feelings of Abandonment; Tension; Strained Relationships; Daddy Issues; Questionable Decisions; Age-Gap (about eight years), but Everyone is Very Much Adult; Female OC with Physical Description

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: With Maverick and Penny's wedding drawing closer, Rooster is called upon to convince Maverick and Penny's first daughter, Kate, to come around to the idea. Of course, Rooster and Kate have their own history to work through and Kate is definitely not going to make it easy for him.

Note: Amelia is Maverick's biological daughter in this too. Kate is about eight years younger than Rooster, but is very much an adult. She's in her late 20s and Rooster is in his mid/late 30s.

Part 2

Master List

Rooster should have known that Maverick had an ulterior motive for taking him out to dinner.

If Maverick wanted to just hang out and catch up without any additional bullshit, he would have simply set up the grill and they would have shared a few beers outside on the back porch. But buying him dinner at a restaurant was a move that Maverick played when Bradley was young and easily swayed by the promise of French fries and ice cream sundaes. And, apparently, now too.

“You want me to do what?” Rooster asked his godfather, staring over at Maverick incredulously.

“I need your help in getting Kate to talk to me again,” Maverick explained casually.

“Kate? Your daughter Kate?”

Kate, who went by Katie as a kid, was Maverick and Penny’s daughter from one of their previous will-they-won’t-they situations. She was a surprise addition to the family and a near-death sentence for Maverick when Admiral Benjamin, Penny’s dad, found out about her. But by the time that Kate was born, Penny and Maverick were both completely dedicated to co-parenting.

So, why did Maverick need his help with getting Kate to talk to him again? And why did Maverick think that Bradley of all people would be a good candidate for that job?

Bradley and Kate were never close.

There was several years difference between them—probably eight or so, if Bradley did the math right. And Bradley thought that she was a whiny brat whenever their paths crossed as kids. She was always upset whenever Maverick and Bradley did something together without her and she complained until she got her way, which Maverick always gave her in the end.

The last time that Bradley saw Kate, it was at his mom’s funeral. And he hadn’t heard from her since the paper pulling incident. That was eighteen, nearly nineteen, years ago now. For fuck’s sake, he just found out that she went by Kate now instead of Katie.

“Yeah, you remember her, right?” Maverick asked, folding his arms underneath him.

“I mean, yeah, but why do you need my help?” Rooster inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“She doesn’t . . .” Maverick started to explain but then he trailed off. Maverick sighed, rubbing his face tiredly, before turning back to Rooster. “I wasn’t the best dad for her. I wasn’t around and I didn’t make the right efforts when I needed to because I got caught up in my own demons and fears. And she—and I understand why—hasn’t forgiven me for any of it.”

“I’m still missing the part where I fit into this whole scheme,” Rooster replied honestly.

“I’m hoping that since the two of us started to reconcile and address what happened in the past with our relationship, that you could help me do the same with Kate. To at least help me show her that I’ve changed and I’m taking my personal relationships seriously.”

“So, you want me to help you steal an F-14 to patch things up with your daughter?” Rooster asked sarcastically, earning a sigh from Maverick.

“No, I just . . . maybe just talk with her about what we worked through. I’m prepared to do all of the talking and amending on my own, but I need help convincing her to talk to me in the first place,” Maverick explained softly to Rooster. “She just shuts down every time that I try to make amends or bring up the past.” 

“So, that’s why you took me out here?” Rooster asked, glancing down at his plate. “To try and bribe me to help your daughter talk to you again?”

“You love the French fries here,” Maverick pointed out, earning an incredulous look from Rooster.

“I did when I was nine,” Rooster corrected Maverick.

“Bradley,” Maverick stated, trying to get the conversation back on track, “will you help me? Or at least just try? If she doesn’t come around to you, then she doesn’t come around to you, and that’s fine. I just . . . I want to try to make things right with her. Before Penny and I get married.”

Rooster could hear the sincerity dripping from every word that Maverick spoke. And he recognized the borderline desperation in Maverick’s eyes. And as Maverick’s best man, this seemed to fit into his promise to help Maverick with wedding preparations.

And maybe Rooster did really like the fries here and the special sauce that they always came with.

“I feel like I’m going to regret this,” Rooster groaned, lowering his head for a moment. “But, sure. I’ll try and help you. I’ll be your wingman with this.”

“Thank you, Bradley,” Maverick stated sincerely, smiling softly. “It means the world to me, really. And Penny too.”

“Can it count as your wedding present then?”

~~~~~

Kate Benjamin wasn’t exactly the warmest or friendliest person by her own admission.

She took after her grandfather, retired Admiral John “Pike” Benjamin, more than her mom in that regard. Penny could talk and comfort any person off the street. And Penny gave people the benefit of the doubt, believing that people changed and second chances were only fair.

Kate did not share her mother’s forgiving disposition.

People could change. People did change. But that didn’t mean that Kate was willing to forgive, forget, and sing kumbaya with them afterwards. Second chances were earned, not given. And Pete Mitchell was on his seventh or so chance in Kate Benjamin’s book.

“I just don’t understand why he’s so suddenly interested in settling down,” Kate complained over the phone to Amelia as she sat in rush hour traffic.

“He’s retired now,” Amelia pointed out, sitting up in her bedroom.

“So, he’s bored? That’s why he wants to marry Mom?” Kate huffed, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. “Bullshit, is what I say.”

“He seems really sincere this time,” Amelia replied calmly, shrugging her shoulders.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Amelia didn’t respond for a moment and Kate could hear a background conversation between Amelia and their mom. Kate waited patiently, staring at the same blue Honda that she’d been stuck behind for what felt like hours when Amelia returned to the call.

“Mom wants to know how far you are from home.”

“Around forty-five minutes. Give or take. Are Grammie and Pop there?”

“Yeah, they flew in this morning. And Maverick and Rooster are joining us for dinner.”

“Rooster?” Kate repeated, clearly confused. “Who the hell is Rooster?”

“Bradley,” Amelia translated for her sister.  

“So, they’re talking again?” Kate muttered gruffly.

Kate remembered Bradley. She remembered how he called her a brat. And she remembered telling him that his name was stupid in retaliation. And Kate stood by that sentiment. ‘Bradley Bradshaw’ was one of the most ridiculous names that she had ever heard in her life. It wasn’t quite Philip Philips, but it was damn close.

“How in the hell did he get . . . never mind, because I don’t care,” Kate cut herself off.

“Mom also told me to tell you to be on your best behavior.”

“I’m always on my best behavior, Ames,” Kate insisted innocently, though her smirk betrayed her words. “Tell Mom that everything’s going to be fine.”

“I will. See you soon, Kate.”

“Bye, Ames.”

Amelia hung up the phone and Kate switched back to the radio while she inched through traffic.

So much for a quiet family dinner with her mom, sister, and grandparents after a long week of work. But she knew that she was going to have to get used to Maverick —if he wanted the title ‘Dad,’ he was going to have to earn it—and Rooster too.

~~~~~

Rooster sat in Penny’s backyard with Amelia, Grammie Joan, and Pike, which is what everyone except for his immediate family called him, while Maverick and Penny went to pick up dinner.

“You’re a Lieutenant Commander?” Pike asked Rooster, leaning back in his chair.

“Yes, sir. Got promoted after that mission with Mav.”

“A well-earned one then,” Pike mused grimly, glancing over at the Kawasaki. “Maverick told me what he could about the mission. You’re either really smart, or have a lot of dumb luck, kid.”

“Or both.”

“Or both,” Pike echoed, nodding along. “And you just transferred back to North Island then?”

“Yeah, I was stationed out at Oceana most recently, but after the mission, I thought that it was finally time to return to the West Coast, so I put in the request and it was approved. And now I’m working as an instructor out here.”

“How many years are left on your contract?”

“Two and a half,” Rooster replied, doing the math in his head.

“And do you think that you’ll stay on after that’s up?”

“Don’t know,” Rooster answered honestly. “I’ll have to see what life looks like then.”

“Smart. Focus on what’s right in front of you,” Pike agreed, nodding curtly.

“Kate’s home!” Amelia exclaimed when she spotted Kate’s car pull into the driveway.

Without another word, Amelia stood up from the table and hurried around the gate. Grammie Joan smiled when she heard the two sisters reunite from the other side of the fence and shuffled down to Rooster and Pike’s side of the table.

“Have you met our Kate?” Grammie Joan asked Rooster, sitting beside her husband.

“Back when we were both kids, but not for a long time,” Rooster answered honestly.

“She’s grown into quite the firecracker,” Pike chuckled, waiting patiently for his two granddaughters to return. “Her mother says that she takes after me. Maverick seemed to agree with Penny, though he didn’t say it to my face.”

“I think that he still gets flashbacks about the ass chewings you gave him in the eighties and nineties,” Rooster joked, taking a sip of his beer.

“Which time?” Pike asked, seemingly amused.

“Oh, be nice, John. You know that if Kate sees you giving Maverick a hard time, she’s going to give him an even worse time,” Grammie Joan replied knowingly, shooting her husband a look. “And I’m not sure that Maverick can survive the two of you at the same time.”

“Well, if he’s going to finally marry into this family, he’s going to have to learn,” Pike pointed out gruffly.

“Don’t hold onto the past, John. That flyover business was so long ago,” Joan dismissed with a wave of her hand. “It was before the girls were born. Let it go.”

“Rooster?” Pike asked, out to prove a point.

“Yes, sir?”

“Have you ever done a high-speed pass over an air traffic control tower?”

“Never as the pilot, no.”

“What about a high-speed pass over an admiral’s daughter? You’ve ever done that, Rooster?”

“No, sir.”

“See?” Pike told his wife, who shook her head at him again. “Not normal conduct.”

“Oh, get over it, John.”

The back door opened, cutting off Pike and Joan’s back and forth. Amelia trotted down the stairs first with Kate Benjamin—or Katie Mitchell, which is what she went by the last time that Bradley was around her—close behind.

But the woman that stepped out of the house was not anything like Rooster expected.

Kate seemed to be a perfect mix of her parents. Her hair was dark, like Maverick’s, but wavy, like Penny’s. Her smile was far too mischievous to come from Penny, but Kate walked with Penny’s seemingly flawless grace. And when they locked eyes, Rooster realized that Kate seemed to have inherited her mom’s captivating gaze.

He subconsciously straightened his back a bit as Kate walked past him.

Kate greeted her grandmother first with a hug and a kiss on the cheek before greeting her grandfather in the same fashion. And when she straightened up, the breeze blew the scent of her shampoo—which was something sweet and flowery—in his direction and let the subtle natural highlights in her hair to catch the sunlight.

A sharp pinch in Rooster’s side caused him to whirl around to spot an annoyed Amelia.

“Stop staring at my sister like that,” Amelia stated quietly, looking disgusted. “We eat out here.” 

“I wasn’t staring.”

“Yes, you were.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You’re a horrible liar,” Amelia replied, ending the argument.

“How was the drive?” Pike asked Kate, who missed all of Rooster and Amelia’s conversation.

“Not too bad. Traffic, but what else did I expect?” Kate joked, moving to take the seat across from Amelia. “How was your flight in?”

“Not too bad.”

“Maverick was a gentleman and picked us up from the airport,” Joan replied with a kind smile.

Joan was clearly trying to put in a good word for Maverick with Kate, probably under the direction of Penny. Rooster, however, didn’t miss the grimace on Kate’s face at the mention of Maverick. Joan simply smiled wider and gestured over to Rooster.

“And you remember Bradley, right, Kate?”

“Yes,” Kate replied, reluctantly turning to Bradley. “Though I hear that you go by Rooster now.”

“I do,” Rooster agreed, nodding along. “And I hear that you go by Kate now.”

“I do,” Kate returned, looking bored with him.

“You heading home to your apartment tonight?” Pike questioned his granddaughter, ending Kate and Rooster’s staring contest.

“No, I’ll stay the night. We’re supposed to do some errands tomorrow morning for the wedding.”

“Have you met any nice men recently, Kate?” Grammie Joan asked her eldest granddaughter.

Kate immediately grimaced at her grandmother’s question. Amelia snuck a giggle until Kate kicked her shin under the table.

“No, Grammie.”

“Don’t pressure her, Joan,” Pike grunted, leaning back in his chair. “Better that she’s single and working hard at a good paying job than wasting her time with some no-good dumbass freeloader.”

“Yes, but this wedding planning has me thinking about the girls’ weddings,” Joan replied wistfully.

“Here we go,” Amelia murmured under her breath.

“One wedding at a time, Grammie,” Kate reminded Joan gently. “How is the wedding planning going around here anyways?"

"It's not,” Amelia answered, sharing an amused look with Rooster. “Mom’s mostly busy with the bar and Maverick doesn’t want to make any decisions without her approval. And he’s still trying to move all of his stuff over here.”

“He’s living here now?” Kate asked, immediately on the defensive. “At the house?”

“No, he’s rooming with Rooster for now.”

“Oh.” Kate’s gaze flickered over to Rooster, causing him to subconsciously straighten up again. She seemed to study him for a moment before asking, “How’s that going then?”

“It’s going well,” Rooster replied, trying to keep Maverick in a good light.

“So, he’s living in Miramar full time then?” Kate asked, still analytical.

“Mostly. He has the hangar out in Nevada, but he’s here more.”

“Lovely,” Kate replied dryly.

“Speaking of Maverick, I believe that’s them,” Pike stated, glancing down the driveway.

Kate got up and headed inside and Amelia followed after her sister. Penny and Maverick stepped inside and Kate hurried into her mom’s waiting arms. Penny squeezed Kate to her chest while Maverick stood behind them, smiling at their interaction.

“Oh, I’m so happy that you’re back home,” Penny breathed out.

“I’m not that far away, Mom,” Kate reminded Penny softly. “But it’s nice to be home.”

“How was the drive?” Penny asked Kate, letting go of her eldest daughter.

“Not too bad.”

“Good.” Penny turned to Maverick, who was clearly waiting for some kind of acknowledgement from his daughter. “Aren’t you going to greet your dad, Kate?”

“Maverick,” Kate greeted him stiffly, unwilling to call him ‘Dad.’

“It’s good to see you, Kate,” Maverick returned quietly, clearly subdued.

“Likewise.”

“Help him with the food, please, Kate,” Penny told her eldest daughter.

Kate took one of the bags from Maverick and quickly moved to put distance between them. Penny and Maverick shared a look before following Kate out into the backyard again. Amelia carried out some plates and utensils while Kate pulled out the takeout boxes.

“Amelia, can you grab the wooden spoons for the salad?” Penny questioned, glancing over the table.

“I’ll do it,” Rooster offered immediately, standing up. “You need anything else?”

“No, I think we’re all set. Thank you, Rooster,” Penny replied with a smile.

Rooster nodded, glanced over at Kate, before he headed inside. Maverick was in the kitchen, putting away some extra plates and pulling a few drinks out of the fridge.

“How did it go with Kate?” Rooster asked, opening drawers to look for wooden spoons. Maverick sighed, causing Rooster to pick his head up. “That bad, huh?”

“Could have been better,” Maverick sighed, grabbing some beers from the fridge. “But I suppose that it could have been much worse too.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Rooster glanced out the window, watching as Kate talked with her sister and her mom. Catching himself staring at her again, Rooster turned back to Maverick, who seemed to be unaware of Rooster’s sudden staring problem.

And that was good. For Rooster’s personal safety.

“Did she at least acknowledge your existence?”

“Only when prompted.” Maverick shook his head at himself. “I guess I’ll have to just keep trying to make things right with her.”

“I don’t think that she’ll make it easy for you.”

“No, she won’t. But I’m not going to let that stop me.” Maverick turned around and squeezed Rooster’s shoulder, smiling up at him. “Thanks again for trying to help me out. With making amends with her. I really do appreciate it.”

“Yeah, of course, Mav,” Rooster replied quietly.

They walked outside together to join the Benjamin family for dinner. Rooster ended up seated next to Kate somehow but they didn’t really acknowledge each other. It wasn’t until the wedding got brought up by Joan that they even looked at each other.

Well, that Kate looked over at Rooster. He still seemed to have a bit of a staring problem.

“So, you’re Maverick’s best man then, Rooster?” Joan asked kindly, causing Rooster to nod.

“Yeah, I am.”

“And Kate and Amelia are both the maid of honor?”

“Yeah, we’re sharing the position,” Kate agreed, sharing a glance with her sister.

“Yeah, but I don’t know how much I’m going to be able to do to help because of school and everything,” Amelia replied, shrugging her shoulders.

“I can handle most of it,” Kate insisted, looking down at her plate. “The only big thing that I should need your physical presence for is the maid of honor dresses.”

“Either way, it seems that the five of you will be spending a lot of time together over the next few months,” Joan stated with a kind smile.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Rooster spoke up, earning a sharp, curious look from Kate. “And to getting to know you guys more.”

Kate tilted her chin up a bit, challenging as she met Rooster’s gaze again. Amelia glanced between the two of them and stuck her tongue out. Penny and Maverick also shared a look, but Maverick signaled to Penny that it would be fine.

“Yeah, it’s going to be a lot of fun,” Kate replied dryly.

Part 2

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Lost & Found - Chapter Nineteen.

Another chapter and wishes of a very happy Friday to my beautiful audience! :D

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen

Words - 3,763

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse.

4am. It was not a time Emma was used to seeing, unless she was up late being railed into a new shape by Guero, or enjoying the pleasures of partying. She knew Lee would be even less impressed, with how much she thrived upon a good night’s sleep. 

The very lady was waiting outside as they came out, Gilly yawning in the passenger seat. With their bags dumped in the back of her Escalade and Axl dropped next door for a stay with his uncle Tyrone (who proclaimed ‘imma spoil the dude to death, man!’) they climbed in, still half asleep. Since Emma had no passport or ID yet, Lee, Gilly and Guero were sharing the driving, just over three hours each to make the ten-and-a-half-hour journey rather than flying. 

“I feel bad, that we can’t fly and it’s because of me,” she huffed, Lee hitting the freeway, the engine roaring as the six hundred and eighty-two horses beneath the hood all charged to gallop. 

“How come you ain’t got that sorted yet?” Gilly asked, Emma sipping from her bottle of cherry Coke, burping quietly.  

“Because of a point Guero made,” she began, tightening the lid and placing it in her lap. “Since I’ve been a missing person, there’s obviously still a file open on me, one which will be closed when I show up. I’d likely have to be interviewed by the police over where I’ve been and who with for so long as well, too many questions would be asked.  

“If I ratted on Rocco, my worry about being snatched would turn into a worry about being shot in the head. I was going to go down the new identity route and buy fake documents, but depending on how all of this goes, I may not need to.” 

Lee looked at her in the rearview mirror, winking with a smile. “Here’s hoping, sugar.” She then paused before noting something glaring in similarity about the way all four had chosen to dress. “I can’t help but fuckin’ notice, I love the way all four of us try to look a little less like the tattooed reprobates that we are and instead, end up looking like the goddamned Addam’s Family.” 

Every single person within the car was donned in black, all of them beginning to laugh when they noticed that their attempt at semi-smartness had them appearing as if they were attending a funeral. 

“Goths R Us, man,” Gilly snorted with amusement, beginning to whistle the theme tune to the aforementioned family movie, Emma giving the double finger click at the required point, too.   

“Well, I gotta say it, sunshine. You suit being a redhead,” Lee then spoke, turning to look at her, thinking how pretty her bestie looked in the long, red wig with tumbling waves.  

“Doesn’t she, though?” Guero chimed, winking at Emma. “Maybe a little too much. Goddamn women, pulling some Jessica fucking Rabbit magic on a man." 

"What is it about you guys and that woman?" Lee cried, moving her car to the middle lane to overtake a slow-moving vehicle ahead. "She's a fuckin’ drawing!" 

"Yeah, and I'd nail her until I erased her, I swear to god," he chirped, Gilly busting into hysterics. 

"Same, bro. I'd fuck her until her colours ran!" Everyone fell apart in fits of laughter, Lee thinking that already it was more than worth her 3am start and missing her precious sleep for the sheer entertainment value alone. She wasn’t the only one glad of it, the comic relief provided by her boyfriend and Gilly just the thing Emma needed to take her mind off the fact that with every mile that passed, she was nearing the man she feared most.  

By the seven-hour point, Guero returned to her side in the back while Gilly took his turn behind the wheel, her nerves were palpable. Looking out of the window while gnawing on the side of her thumb, she saw a hand reach for hers in her peripherals, turning to watch Guero softly shake his head with a faint smile.  

“You’re stressing.” Pulling her hand away from her mouth, he grasped it in his, shifting over a little closer and wrapping his arm around her. “You gotta stop. Nothing bad is gonna happen.”  

“Easy to say that,” she muttered, leaning into him. 

“Yeah, it fucking is,” he snorted, kissing her head. “Cuz’ I’ll fucking finish him if he lays a finger on you, and you know this.” His hand tightened its grip on hers, his nostrils flaring a little. The rage towards Rocco still swirled just as tempestuously as ever, along with his already short fuse.  

He softened a little then, realising she likely didn’t need to hear it, or worry about him being able to hang onto his fiery temper. “I get it, you feeling nervous. It’ll be alright, though.”  

Nervous was somewhat of an understatement, Emma feeling like she wanted to throw up as Gilly parked outside the hotel just over three hours later.  

“So, what I’m thinking is that after talking to Obispo, these guys seemed to be enjoying everything the resort had to offer. Squash, golfing, casino, etc,” Lee began, after the guys had gone to check in. “Which means that I can hang around in the bar, keep an eye on the comings and goings of ‘em. Except, fuck. I don’t know what he fuckin’ looks like.”  

Emma pulled out her phone, calling up Google. As with a lot of notable members of the mafia, Vincent’s face was very easily accessible. Clicking on his mugshot from an arrest after a large shoot out he’d been arrested for his part in around a decade ago, she turned the screen. “Like that, but a little aged. He’s very distinctive.”  

Lee had already taken a good look at the hotel layout, scanning the pictures and seeing that from the large bar and restaurant area, the front desk and entrance was visible. She was entirely happy to play barfly with Gilly while Emma hid in her room. “Alright, and there’s my visual. He looks... intense.” 

That was one way to describe a man who had once chopped off someone’s feet and fed them to Diavolo, his Akita. “He is, he’s very formidable.” Her voice was small, the quietness of her tone reminding Lee of her demeanour back when they’d first met, minus the shaking and the stuttered words.  

Reaching for Emma’s hand, she cocked her head. “It’s fuckin’ gonna be fine. You forget I’m ex-military. I know how to run a fuckin’ smooth operation, sunshine.” She winked, Emma feeling at ease, squeezing her hand back before the arrival of Gilly and Guero parted them, hopping out of the car.  

“Lobby is all clear from anyone of the Italian American persuasion,” Gilly spoke, swinging his rucksack over his shoulder. “Let’s go.” Taking Guero’s hand, she gripped it tightly, adjusting her sunglasses before beginning to walk. She felt as if she had a serpent writhing around in her guts, some cold, spiny creature that thrashed angrily, her heartbeat escalating, expecting him to pop up at any moment and snatch her again. 

Heading in through the glass doors that slid open with a silky glide, her eyes were everywhere beneath her oversized aviators, Guero pulling her to the right, past the front desk and through to the safety of the ground floor hallway. Immediately, she felt herself unravel a little.  

“Okay, we’ll see you guys at some point, I guess. I will call with details from my little stakeout,” Lee spoke, she and Gilly continuing down the hall as Guero opened the door to their room. 

As soon as she was inside, she felt the creeping sensation at her back abate, yet she was a nervous mess, riddled with anxiety, wanting to go straight into her medication bottle and swallow back a couple of doses to calm herself. Taking more than her standard dose tended to have the opposite effect, though.  

Reaching for Guero, she wrapped herself around him, burying her face against the side of his neck. Safe person. Safe person scent. It transported her back to a time where he was the only person she’d trusted while in the thick of her anxious duress, but for that moment her body refused to comply with the logic her brain was desperately trying to convey.  

“Breathe, baby. It’s okay.” he told her, hands stroking her back, feeling her chest rising and falling rapidly against his, her heart pounding hard. He closed his eyes, arms tightening around her, a tide of anger rising within him. She’d worked so hard in the last near eleven months to recover, and now there she was again, trembling and frightened.  

The urge to go and wait outside of Rocco’s room and bypass the plan completely, to shoot him in the head as soon as he laid eyes on the vile, abusive, child trafficking, raping sack of shit who’d once again reduced his sweetheart to a nervous wreck was almost all encompassing. He knew though that would land them in the kind of trouble none of them would survive, taking out a mafia boss without the agreement of those who served under him.  

He couldn’t even imagine an alternative to Calabrese condoning the hit, or being told that the Romano family would handle it internally, should he be in complete agreement with the proposal they were bringing to him. None of them could live unless he died, and Emma? She’d be returned to Staten Island, with nobody to save her.  

The thought of being dead and her alone in the world had been on his mind so much, he’d even considered fleeing with her to Mexico, should things not go in the favour of the Mayans. He loved his club, but he wouldn’t be a sitting duck, waiting for the weight of the mafia to crush them.  

He believed in standing to fight, and his loyalty to the club tugged strongly at him, but he was smart enough not to remain on a sinking ship if he saw water beginning to pour in. He had not come to such a conclusion easily, either. His simple desire to survive outweighed anything else, now that it potentially could come down to that.   

Realising he was spiralling into his own thoughts, he shook himself from it all, being present for her, as he needed to be before anything else. Holding her close had begun to calm her, Emma finally straightening to kiss him, resting her forehead to his.  

“And I’m calmer now.” Her thumbs stroked over the flecks of stubble dotting his cheeks. “Thanks for always been so steadying when I need you to be.” 

Smiling, he kissed her again. “You’re welcome, and good. I fucking hate seeing you like that, all cuz’ of him.”  

Sucking in a breath over her teeth, she drew her shoulders up, the weight of her sigh tugging them down again. She hated feeling like that, too, everything rushing to the surface once more. “Let’s pray he isn’t going to be around much longer to do it, huh?”  

It went without saying, he thought. 

They hung around in the room for a few hours, Lee calling at just before seven, informing Emma that the mob guys had all just arrived in the bar for a drink, before being told by one of the staff that their cars were ready. With it looking like they were heading out elsewhere for the night, she was safe to go and eat dinner in the restaurant, a prospect that made her feel nervous, but that she participated in all the same. She changed into a long, tight grey dress, having to fend off Guero before they left. 

“What’s the matter with you?” she laughed upon sitting at the table, Lee virtually vibrating in her seat opposite. “You look a little jazzed, buddy.” 

“Been on the fuckin’ coffee all afternoon! Changed to sparkly water about halfway through, but I didn’t wanna get loaded propping up the bar and I think choosing to be caffeinated might’ve been a little bit of a fuckin’ mistake!” 

Gilly snorted with laughter, shaking his head. “Dude, I told you to get decaf.” 

“Can’t ever do that, fuckin’ decaf is bullshit! I’ll be fine, they gotta pool here and I brought my swimsuit. I’ll go swim it off, do some lengths, get all the energy out, y’know?”  

Her very wide-eyed demeanour had them in soft fits, Lee’s hand shaking upon her beer glass, making her food order at a hundred miles an hour to the entertained looking waiter.  

“And I gotta deal with this all night.” Gilly laughed, receiving an elbow from the hopped-up lady herself. She seemed to calm a little for eating, a firm but polite no given when the waiter asked them if they wanted coffee once they’d finished, calling it an evening at 10pm. Well, Lee and Gilly stayed up to see if Vincent returned back at a decent hour, but Emma and Guero headed straight back to their room. 

Opening the door for her, he gestured that she should enter first. “There, you get me being a gentleman just once, before I turn straight animal.” He smacked her ass, kicking the door shut, Emma removing her boots and socks. 

“Love, you’re always straight animal,” she purred, winking at him. He snaked his arms around her, moving her hair, softly biting the side of her neck with a playful growl. Those nibbles turned to kisses, hands pawing at her. Grasping his hoodie, she pulled it over his head, her nails gently raking down his chest as his mouth met hers, manoeuvring to the bed, pushing him onto it.  

“I have to take this off, my head is like a furnace.” Pulling off the wig, she unclipped her hair and let it tumble loose, messy waves framing her face, Guero sitting up to watch keenly as she began to lower her dress. The way his eyebrows rose significantly at the reveal of her black, diamond mesh underwear tugged at the corners of her mouth. 

“Wow. Get the fuck on me, right now.”  

Ahh, the desired effect.  

“Is that what you want, hmm?” 

His eyes swept her with desire, his cock beginning to harden at just the sight of her, nodding in response to her words. 

“Yeah, I know what you want,” she spoke, coming to sit astride him, pushing her fingers into his mouth, her nipples hard against his chest through the thin mesh of her bra. “You want to pin me down and fuck my tight little pussy until I gush all over your cock, don’t you? Mmm, I love it when you get me so wet that it starts running over my thighs, when you hold me down and pound me so hard, I get dizzy. Yeah, I love it like that.” She ran her tongue up the side of his neck, her hips beginning to gyrate, grinding herself against the big erection she felt tenting his jeans.  

He groaned barbarously around the suck upon her fingers, his teeth clamping in a hard bite, Emma pulling them from between his gorgeous lips before her mouth locked to his. Their kisses rained sensuality and steamy heat, Guero lying back on the bed, the feel of pristine hotel linens sumptuous against his bare back, hands travelling all over her as he moaned against her tongue.  

If there was a sweeter way to kill time, he was yet to experience it.  

Moving beneath her, his body topped hers, pressing her into the bed as his hands slid to make short work of her underwear, sitting up only to shed the remainder of his clothes before his mouth was on hers once more. He kissed her with all the love and heated desire he felt for her, hand trailing down her thigh as he shifted his weight a little, fingers skimming over the sumptuously dewy petals of her cunt. 

That first touch had her arching off the bed, her back bending like a crescent moon, her moan rich and full bodied, his thick, clever fingers spreading her wetness around, settling upon her clit and beginning to circle. His touch was so perfect, Emma mewling softly as she felt her core ache, his breaths heavy against her neck as he moved to kiss her elegant throat, a soft groan rumbling his as he pushed two fingers into her.   

“Oh god, you’re so fucking wet for me already.” He rumbled, his mouth finding hers, kissing her with all the heat of a furnace, those keen fingers seeking out her sweet spots. Focused rotations forced soft little exclamations from her, Guero drinking them down like wine as his lips locked with hers. “Yeah, that feel good, baby?” 

She couldn’t even form words, delight tumbling through her, merely uttering a soft little moan as her head fell back on the bed, his fingers entering, rotating, dragging back, moving his thumb to her clit to stroke it in perfect rhythm. It always boosted his ego a little, seeing how easily he could make her sail into bliss with just two fingers. 

It didn’t take long for him to kiss a sizzling path down her body, his mouth craving to be quenched with what drenched his fingers, removing them, sucking her wetness from them with a hungry grunt. He pushed her legs wider so she splayed for him, delving his tongue right into her folds, the syrupy wet of her pussy drenching his mouth.   

His tongue dragged her eagerly, long licks from her glossy opening to her clit making her very bones shudder in ecstasy, Guero groaning, watching her body undulate before him. The rolling heat of his tongue pressed flat as it circled her clit, sending waves of bliss through her, her little whimpers filling the air, his hands gripped at her waist as he felt her puddling against his tongue.  

She looked down, watching him do it, gasping, her fingers raking through his hair. “You look so fucking hot with a mouthful of my pussy.” 

He grinned against her, sucking on her clit. “And you look the same while you’re getting it ate, mamas.” He winked, closing his eyes, groaning as he took a mouthful of her, loving the feeling of her thighs skimming against his face as she writhed. 

He sucked upon her like ripe fruit, his groans deep, like boulders rolling over one another, the heat radiating up her spine as she panted, watching him tipping her further into mindlessness before her eyes closed and her head fell back. The flickers of the very tip of his tongue working in speed over her clit were too much, but not enough, her body shaking in response of being so lit up. It felt like an ice storm meeting magma, her body gleaming for him, Guero pushing his fingers back within her heat, burrowing deep. 

Placing a suck upon her clit, his cheeks hollowed, the pressure gentle at first, fingers circling her walls, entering her then with rapidity, that suck intensifying until he had her crying out softly. His hunger to devour had him tearing his fingers from her, covering her entire slit in the thirsty suck of his mouth, grunting against her folds as his tongue laved her incessantly.   

Reaching for his jeans, he undid them, sliding them and his boxers down, kicking himself out of them with impatience, the need to be within her rocketing through him. His heart thundered in his chest as anticipation skittered over him, kissing his way back to her mouth, lips meeting hers in a hot mesh of filthy indulgence, his words matching.   

“Wanna spread those gorgeous legs and let me fuck you, huh? Is that what you want, for me to bury my big dick right up deep in this pretty little pussy, huh blue eyes?” Those words fuelled the epicentre of her bonfire, Emma nodding, their kisses scorching as he moved between her legs and glided into her, her walls tensing on his shaft, dragging a groan from the depths of him. He sat back on his heels, taking root in her, his eyes watching the sight of it, his cock sinking in and out, her wetness bathing him thickly. 

He fell to her then, the blinding need to chase the fire roaring through his veins consuming him, his flames catching at her edges as she wrapped her legs around him, their mouths meeting messily.   

“Oh god,” she gasped, clasping his face, seduced further by the look of dark lust pooling his near black eyes. “Fuck me, yeah, that’s it. Oh, fuck me!”   

And he did, pounding into her relentlessly, hitting her so deep, shocks skittered through her. He slowed then, wanting to make it last longer than the rampant charge his arousal was dictating, pulling himself back, thrusting a little shallower, almost retreating, slipping back deeply. His head dipped, sucking her nipples in turn, tongue circling them with a hungry grunt, his hands stroking paths of blissful heat up and down her thighs as his cock hit her deep, deep, deep.   

“Mmmm, fuck. You look so goddamn pretty, spread all around my dick. Got me so fucking drenched, beautiful.” he groaned, sitting back up again, the sight so steeped in erotic heat, he had to close his eyes for a moment, those tingles pulsing too rapidly, the desire to chase his release held fast, slowing, long lashes parting again as he stared down at her. “That feel good, huh?” 

“Oh, you’re fucking amazing!” she cried out, her body jolting when he brought his thumb to her clit, tight circles spreading glimmers through her, pleasure melting down her spine and puddling at her cunt, covering him further in her dew. She raised herself up on her elbows, her hips shunting against each of his thrusts, fucking him back with purpose as she let her gaze fall to watch it.  

He reached beneath her chin, making her focus on him, his forehead resting to hers as he stared at her with so much love, her heart felt full to burst. Stroking his face, she felt like she could see her entire future in the dark sparkle of his lust blown pupils, nuzzling him, whispering her love, sharing kisses steeped in sweet, yet burning heat.  

Her heart jolted suddenly with the weight of it, the realisation of exactly what she would lose if Vincent didn’t agree. He had to, because there was no way she would willingly or easily part from Guero now she’d finally found him. 

[quill2parchment]

In Light of You is a collection of Hinny moments that date post Battle of Hogwarts to pre In This Darkness. The complete series is now up on the FFT archives as well as on A03; however, I'm currently going through the chapters, making tiny edits to them, noticeable to probably nobody other than me. As I go through them though, I thought I'd also add a few of the pieces on here. So, without much further ado, here is Chapter 1 of In Light of You.

*Please note that this installment does contain slight smut towards the end. It also makes references to violent events that happened prior to the start of the story.

The-Boy-Who-Lives

Harry doesn’t do much talking in the days that follow the final battle. 

He doesn’t believe the words to fill the voids exist. And if they do, his mind is too muddled to think them up, so he doesn’t even try, letting silence wrap him up and take him whole. 

He wishes he could stop listening too, but that’s less so of an option. The noise around him continues. Everyone’s crying. Everyone’s lost someone.

It’s not over yet either. The Dark Lord is gone but the violence continues, fueled not by logic but by rage and hatred and fear.

On their second day back at the Burrow, Kingsley Shacklebolt comes to pay a visit. He sits with Harry, Ron, and Hermione and tells them, “We still need you.” 

When he’s gone, Hermione says, “We have to go back to Hogwarts and graduate.” 

Ron says, “What for? We’ve learned enough.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything at all. 

The days pass through them. They bury Fred Weasley. They bury Severus Snape. They bury Remus and Tonks Lupin. They bury Colin Creevey. Every day, several funerals to attend. They start to lose track of whose coffin they’re mourning over. The grief becomes a bundle thing living inside of them, a one-size-fits-all for all the ones they’ve lost. 

Late one afternoon, they’re all sitting around the kitchen table. Ron passes behind Ginny, his eyes catching sight of the shoulder that has accidentally been left bare by the thick cardigan she’d been wearing. “Shit, Ginny,” he says, his whole face pinched. “What happened to you there?”

Harry automatically lifts his gaze to meet hers. It’s a hot, summer day, even for June, and that should’ve been his first clue that she had wrapped herself to keep hidden, not warm. From where he’s sitting, he cannot confirm what it is that’s caught Ron’s attention, but the green shade that’s taken over his face tells him enough.

Ginny draws her cardigan back up and rolls her eyes before snapping sarcastically at her brother, “I’ve been dabbling in masochist foreplay, Ron, that’s what.” 

Harry doesn’t mean to laugh. She’s obviously been hurt, and there’s nothing funny about that. But Ginny’s sitting there, looking cheeky, and whole, and her.  She grins back at him and gives him a playful wink. 

They haven’t interacted much these past few weeks but when everyone falls asleep that night, Harry goes to her room, and she opens the door before he even knocks, like she’s been waiting for him all along. 

They sit in her bed, her facing away from him. He brings the strap of her tank-top down her arms, below her elbows, away from her wrists. She brings her hair forward, letting him see what he came to see. The scars on her back are red, angry lashes that contrast sharply against the softness of her skin. 

“They look ghastly,” says Ginny, not much bothered, “but not as ghastly as Carrow’s face whenever someone would mention your name. She was terrified of you, that dumb bitch.” 

He presses his lips to her back, tracing the scars with his lips, perfect roads on the hills he so loves, and he rides them up and down, through the bend of her shoulder blades, up the hard hills of her spine, down the soft dip of her shoulder-neck.

“You’re beautiful,” says Harry, finally finding words worthy to speak, something he can actually mean. “You’re so beautiful, Ginny.”

When she turns around to face him, her face is a deep frown, her brown eyes intense on him. For a moment, Harry thinks she might be angry with him, for leaving her then, for kissing her now. But Ginny leans forward to kiss him hard on the mouth, like she’s done waiting for him to come back. 

He doesn’t notice much when their clothes come off. All the while, she’s been dressing him with kisses that burn him whole. He gathers her beneath him, touching all of her, and it’s still not enough, never enough. She runs her hands down his chest, his arms, his back, her touch awakening the parts of him that had gone numb with war. 

He’s trembling above her, wanting her desperately. “I have never…” he says. 

Ginny kisses his neck, his jaw, his mouth. Her hand reaches below him to guide towards the place he would’ve found anyways but makes for a much sweeter find with her as his guide. The space between them ceases to exist, and Harry’s been dead before, but he’s never been outside of himself, not until he’s inside of her. 

“I love you, Harry,” Ginny tells him. “I love you, I love you, I love,” and she keeps saying it again and again and again, carving those three words deep into him, so that even when it’s over, it’s not really over, the feeling of her tattooed on every inch of his skin. 

For the first time in a long time, he’s no longer just someone who’s survived; he’s someone who lives. 

[ask-serendipity-sky]

My newest thoughts...

I've been doing some intense thinking while I've been away. While watching Jk's lastest live, everything got connected inside my brain.

So back on 7/7, I had some sort of epiphany while answering an ask and I came up with the following theory.

(I deleted the post because damn Dewunkim has gotten on my nerves and I saw her reblog it. So if anyone has this in their reblogs, could you all send it to me? Thaaanks!)

Anyway, this is what I remember thinking:

If Jikook is together, they were told to lay low because they don't want it to be known that Jk is gay. That would ruin his chance to become a superstar.

It wasn't for military enlistment purposes.

Jikook continues to be spotted in Korea but is not seen by international fans.

Jimin is queer but also Jk. Is it possible that the company retaliated because Jimin's album was queer coded and he has been queer coding his stuff since a while back?

I feel like the stuff that's been happening lately has been confirming my theory:

•Portrayal of Jk as a straight male in Seven mv.

Not much happening in that mv. Boring, tbh. No chemistry although I do think that Jk and Sohee are friends now but the romantic chemistry isn't there.

There is that also that disconnect where the more explicit lyrics dont match the mv.

"It's the way that we can ride" and it shows a spaghetti plate? I could have shown...other things.

The song has a funeral scene with Jk being funny in a coffin. Be for real.

With lyrics like that you could have a really sensual and sexual fun mv. Pillowtalk meets Butter. But we got a comedic mv instead.

So maybe Jk is has no problem singing sex songs and pronouns but he draws the line at physical contact?

And for the love of the gods, I can't possibly see a connection between this mv/song and Jimin. That's insulting to me.

A song about a straight guy singing to a girl is for Jimin? Not for me. Never. Don't insult jikook or Jimin like that. Not everything has to be connected.

•Jk's Weverse Interview

He states:

I saw sooo many jikookers saying that the company was imposing this image on Jk and poor Jk blah blah and a few days before his weverse interview, I told a friend "Maybe this is how he wants to be seen. As a het male."

And there is nothing wrong with that! He can be seen as straight cool sexy Jk. Let him be and stop making excuses for normal things.

But the main point to take from this is that he is on his way to being a superstar. Being boyffie to Jimin does not help so they had to hide that. Lay low.

Knowing what we know about Jimin and how private he is, I imagine he was totally on board with laying low for the eyes of international fans. He is also selfless to a fault and he would like to see Jk achieve his dreams. This I strongly believe.

And also, a real couple doesn't need an audience. They are not a spectacle. So laying low is a win win.

•Jk's weverse live on 21/7

Basically telling the fans that he will do as he pleases so get ready because he has grown.

He wants to be the superstar Jk and for people to recognize it. Being baby star candy will not get him the recognition.

I feel like Jk knows quite well of his popularity outside of Korea. Even if the stuff he releases is not liked in Korea, international fans will support it.

International fans need the provocative. They won't judge and scrutinize the way Korean fans do. In fact, he will be embraced and loved the more sex he sells.

He will up the fan service. Y/n rejoice!

And it's obvious that the main focus of his promo was not Korea.

The target is a western market where not being queer is more profitable. Where soft masculinity is laughed at.

He's letting the softies know. Take it as a warning, softies lol

People think that his tattoo doesn't fit with his words now but Jk has always been like this. He just wasn't vocal about it.

While his tattoo says that he rather be dead than cool, I feel Jk hasn't quite found himself yet and tries the things that he thinks will make him look cool while still remaining unbothered about being cool. But we know that's not true.

So for me, all of this also confirms that Jk knows exactly what he is doing. He knows how this looks and how this is playing out.

He knows about the business, even if he stated in his weverse interview that he leaves that to the pros. A guy thats been in this 10 years and he doesn't look into how his promo will play out? Not believable.

That sounded like damage control by the company to meeeeeee....

In terms of jikook: They seem to be fine. Jimin went to NY to support Jk but not Seven. He "forgot" his password. He was also letting the softies know that he won't post.

I cannot for the love of the gods come up with a theory on why Jk is ok with getting all this nice promo while Jimin got nothing.

The whole "he is doing it for both of them" doesn't really make sense to me. Maybe I'll get the answer to this in a dream or while answering a random post.

So obviously, the whole "they are laying low for military enlistment" never made sense to me. Who even came up with that?

And why are we repeating theories with absolutely nothing to back them up like the common taekooker?

Anyways, hope I made sense!

Ah, if you happen to find a blog out there in the wild where it sounds like me, that's because it is me. My thoughts are looser there. Don't say hi if you are going to bother me.

Oh, and hello. I guess I'm back.

[glazesunflower]

Taking Away Their Cuddling Privileges After A Bad Fight (Pt. 2)

Character: Hu Tao x Reader.

Warnings: Reader is GN. Hurt/comfort!

Notes: Writing for Hu Tao is always a pleasure, she's my favorite chaotic girl. I hope you all enjoy this !!

Part one, in case you're interested, is in (this link!).

Hu Tao would be relentless.

She would simply not accept you taking away her cuddles. She refuses.

The fight started as something silly, it usually does with Hu Tao. It’s no secret how much she likes to pull pranks, all the more so when it comes to you, for some reason you can’t explain.

If you asked Hu Tao, she would probably giggle, You’re just so fun to tease!

But what she wouldn’t tell you is that she knows she can be herself around you. She’s used to tiring people out, of them playing with her and following along with her jokes and quick remarks until they eventually grow out of them, grow out of her. But with you, as much as Hu Tao was scared of that happening as you two got closer, you simply never grew tired of her.

You continued on laughing with her, following her along with her jokes, even helping her pull a prank or two, basking in the way Hu Tao always feels so full of joy, her laugh bursting fireworks in the pitch of your stomach every time. No, you would tell her. I will never not find you delightful.

This time, however, Hu Tao went too far.

She took a harmless prank and chose the worst possible time for it.

The idea was to give you a little fright, nothing too serious. She attached several small fake spiders to a thin string, taped the string just above the door jamb and then shut the door behind her. She fit the spiders into the small space between the top of the door and the door jamb and patiently waited for you to arrive.

Unfortunately enough, you had a job interview that day. The serious and elegant interviewer grew pale as a ghost from the Funeral Parlor when he opened the door, the spiders falling down and effectively jumping at him. He left the scene altogether, not before showering you with colorful words and an all too hostile voice that made your heart sink, knowing you blew the interview long before it even happened.

You turned to Hu Tao and she felt the weight of a meteor fall on her shoulders. She knew how much that job meant to you. She approached you, her crimson eyes wearing a mirror of apologies. You weren’t harsh with her, you weren’t mean. You simply told her how disappointed you were, and how you wanted to be left alone for a while.

That, of course, meant no cuddles for the time being.

But then again, Hu Tao has always been relentless. Most of all when it comes to you.

She respected your boundaries the first couple of days. She’s a very affectionate person, she always needs to be touching you somehow to feel herself close to you, but she respected your wishes nonetheless.

By the fourth day, Hu Tao was positively exhausted from waiting. She decided to take matters into her own hands. If you wouldn't give her cuddles, she’ll have to get them herself.

This started a back and force of her trying to surprise you into giving her affection, and you effectively avoiding her to the best of your abilities.

She would jump on you when you least expect it, wrapping her arms around your waist, Got you!, before you gently push her off of you.

She would purposefully make you trip so she could catch you in her arms, her lips drawing a cheeky smile, Falling for me, are you?, before you untangled her arms from around you.

She would wait until your hands are occupied to run to you and smother you with a tight hug, Cuddle time!, and you’d have to wiggle your way out of her embrace, frowning, No cuddles, I’m still upset with you!

You even went as far as to start sleeping on the couch for the following days, since Hu Tao would waste no time wrapping herself around any inch of your skin she could get her hands on, legs intertwined together; and you’d feel bad to push her off of you gently, but she’s a strong girl and you really need to sort out your angry emotions before you can allow your daily life to go on as normal with her.

But even when you’re sleeping on the couch, you’d wake up to find her face nestled in the crook of your neck, breathing softly in her sleep, making herself a small place next to you on the couch, always searching for more ways to be close to you.

It’s not until the seventh day when something changes.

You’re in the kitchen making dinner when you hear the front door opening. You brace yourself, waiting for Hu Tao to sprint to you, arms open like she does every night. You keep waiting, but her bear hug never comes. Instead, you hear her footsteps leading her to the living room. You leave the lettuce you were cutting on the counter and follow the sound. Hu Tao is sitting on the couch, her crimson eyes overflowing with exhaustion.

You lean on the doorframe. “Had a long day?”

She immediately turns to you, quickly changing her expression into a cheerful one, her lips tugging at the corners. “Just the usual. But my day is a hundred times better now that I’m with you, hee-hee!”

You’ve been with her long enough to recognize the crease between her eyebrows, the way her playful smile doesn’t reach her eyes. You walk up to her, finding a spot on the couch by her side and gently holding the side of her face with your fingers.

“We had a fight, but that doesn’t mean you can’t come to me when you’re feeling down.” You softly brush her cheekbone with the pad of your thumb, watch her crimson eyes glisten under your gaze. “You know that, right?”

Hu Tao shakes her head slowly, locks of brown hair framing her face, darkening her expression. “It’s nothing new, really. I shouldn’t listen to them, I know. But I can’t help it sometimes. I'm an idiot.”

You feel your heart shatter at the sight, Hu Tao’s eyes glistening with unshed tears as the hurtful words the people of Liyue often say about her echoing in the vault of her chest. You’ve heard the rumors, and you know Hu Tao has heard them, too. You only wish people could be more accepting and less judging, especially towards the person you love most in the entirety of the world.

“Come here.” You gently tug at her, finding a comfortable spot on the couch, and she lets you guide her towards you. Hu Tao’s body falls into yours like a puzzle piece, like it’s the one place in the world where it truly belongs. “You shouldn't listen to them, yes. They don’t know you, how fun and smart you are. And don’t say that again, only I get to call you my idiot.”

Hu Tao slowly wraps her arms around your middle, tightening her grip on you ever so softly. She hides her face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. Her chest shudders with butterflies, “You said cuddles were banned.”

“I know what I said, but they’re allowed again.” You lose your fingers in her silky brown hair, softly massaging her scalp. You don’t miss the way Hu Tao sighs, melts into your touch, her warm breath tickling the skin on your neck. “I love you way more than I would’ve loved that job, you know?”

“You still love me?” Her voice comes out muffled by your skin, but you still make out every word, the uncharacteristically bashful ring to her voice.

“Until death do us part,” you whisper to her hair, and you’d swear you felt the way Hu Tao smiled against your skin.

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You can check more of my writing on (this link!). Thank you!