#that's how you do a beautiful forward upright spin

[edgecallskating]

Feeling classic today. What a perfect reminder that a simple element expressed beautifully is just as interesting a novel or difficult one. Mirai Nagasu On Golden Pond EX, US Nationals 2014

[tookhimtomypenthouse]

Hate Yourself - Chapter One

series warnings: female!reader x oliver quick, past/implied felix x oliver, dub-con, stalker behavior, voyeurism, degradation, dacryphilia, bloodplay, gaslighting, manipulation, untagged story elements (the warnings aren't exhaustive!), DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT bbgirl

summary: you’re hired as a maid after Oliver comes to own Saltburn, and find your employer to be very invested in your work

minors dni!

Your palms felt sweaty as you gripped your bags, staring into the massive gates of the mansion. You were tempted to turn around and run as the grandiosity of the building overwhelmed you. It felt like the iron jaws of the gate could open and eat you at any moment. Your torment was short-lived, however, as the creaky gates opened as you nudged them forward. Just beyond the courtyard, imposing wood doors awaited. Gravel crunched underfoot as you made your way over to them. Just before you could knock upon the doors, they swung open to reveal a graying, stern man.

"Welcome to Saltburn, miss." The man gives you a tight smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You must be the new housekeeper?"

"Yes, that would be me," you laugh awkwardly, unsure of what to say next. 

"Lovely to meet you. My name is Duncan, head butler. Anthony will take your bags to your quarters. Come, and I'll show you around the grounds." You set your bags down and hurry after Duncan, who, despite his age, has a considerable stride. 

Each room in the house seemed grander than the next. The soft autumn sunlight pouring in from the floor-to-ceiling windows illuminated the formal dining room. Sheer red curtains floated elegantly to the sides, fluttering as you swished by. 

"Wow," you breathe out as you catch a glimpse of the massive garden. You can't help but gape at the massive hedges that seem to form a huge wall of green or at the multiple elegant fountains spraying in the air. "The grounds are so beautiful."

Duncan casts a fleeting glance through the window and continues on with the tour. Your head spins as you try to remember all the rooms and build a mental map of the estate, but the rooms seem to never stop coming. You are lost in the task when you finally arrive in the master bedroom.

"Here is the master bedroom," Duncan says, startling you out of your trance. The room is grand, with large wooden furniture and sumptuous fabrics and paintings. The closet door is ajar, revealing a closet full of crisp suits and hanging shirts without a single wrinkle. Expensive ties are neatly tucked into an organizer above a row of pristine dress shoes. "Sir Oliver is particular about how this room is made up, but Lyuba will teach you the specifics later."

You give him a nod, soaking in the finery and sheer wealth of this place. It's a far cry from the squatty brick council house you grew up in. The momentary thought of home makes your eyes prickle. You push the thought away and follow Duncan as he continues. Tears won't help you navigate the maze that is Saltburn. 

~

You flop into your bed with a deep sigh. The rest of the day passed so quickly as Lyuba, the woman whose job you were taking over, taught you the ins and outs of the job. When you close your eyes, you swear you can still see towels and sheets being folded. Lyuba was impressed at the speed at which you picked up the proper technique for all the linens, but you were no match for her practiced hands. It would take some time before you perfectly replace the experienced housekeeper. No use worrying about it now, you thought as you slipped towards sleep. The room you had in the servant's quarter of the estate was still larger than any you'd ever stayed in.

Right before sleep could overtake you, you heard a loud creaking sound. Icy fear flooded into your chest as you bolted upright. Your eyes weren't adjusted to the room's darkness, but it didn't stop you from frantically peering into the dark for the source. Through the shadows, you couldn't make out anything specific. After a few moments, you noticed that your door was open a crack. Did I leave it open? You aren't sure if you did. Your furiously pounding heart starts to slow, and you rise out of bed to close it. It is an old house, right? Surely some shifting floorboards or creaking of the structure caused the sound. Must've forgotten to shut the door, too. You chided yourself for getting so worked up over the noise. Fears soothed, you climbed back into bed and dozed off.

~

"Not so much water," warned Lyuba as you went to lift the mop out of the bucket. You quickly wrung the mophead out a bit more before starting on the tiled floor. You and Lyuba cleaned one of the guest bathrooms mostly in silence, only interrupted when she caught a mistake you were making. You turn to see Lyuba's snowy white bun bobbing in time with her careful movements. The older woman was only going to stay to teach you until the end of the week before she embarked on her retirement. You were at first shocked to find she was the only maid for the sprawling estate, but you quickly realized why.

This place is a fucking ghost town.

It had been three days since your arrival, but you had only glimpsed the owner of this place a handful of times. He was the only actual resident, not counting the help. Oliver Quick was his name, according to Duncan. You were debating whether to ask Lyuba more or let the mystery about the man of the house linger.

Curiosity won.

"Lyuba," you started cautiously, "what is the owner like?" You notice her movement halt with your question.

"Why?" Her response comes almost as an accusation. She turns fully to face you, and her face searches yours carefully. 

"Oh, I just was wondering because I've hardly seen him," you reply, unsure of how to respond.

Lyuba shuffles close to you until you are nearly touching. She gently grabs your wrist. "Strange. Be careful, girl," she whispers in a gentle tone. "I worked for the family before him," she continues, hushed and serious as the grave, "and then he swoops in and inherits that place." She drops your wrist and stares into your eyes intently. "Practically a stranger when he-"

"Hello." You and Lyuba jump as you see a man leaning against the doorframe.

"H-hi," you stutter, taken by surprise. His eyes meet yours, and you're drawn in by the shocking blueness of them.

"My name is Oliver," he offers, "and you must be Lyuba's replacement?" A small smile makes its way across his face. 

"Yes," you breathe out and offer him your name. Your surprise at being interrupted fades, and you finally take him in. He wears a fine button-down shirt and slacks, his hair combed back without a single strand out of place. You suddenly feel shabby in your black uniform dress and messy hair. You flick your wet hands behind your back to try and appear more together. His unnerving gaze has you self-conscious.

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm sure Lyuba has taught you all you need to know." His eyes dart to her briefly but soon return to you. He stretches in the doorway, and you can't help but see the muscles of his arms under the thin cotton of the shirt. "It's nice to have a new face around."

"Ah," you splutter, face hot. "I'm sure it is." You can't help but feel skittish as he watches you return to your work. He'd always made himself scarce before today, so his presence feels overwhelming so near to you.

"We have much to do," cuts in Lyuba, her annoyance clear, "and we need to finish, sir." She turns her back to him and returns to her cleaning. 

"Of course," replies Oliver, lifting his hands in a gesture of resignation. "Don't stop on my account. I wouldn't dare interrupt her training." He backs out of the bathroom, but not before throwing you a small wink. 

You shake your head and return to your work. Lyuba's hushed condemnation and Oliver's surprise entrance have you cleaning in silence. You could practically taste the animosity between the two of them but get the sense you won't get much more out of Lyuba today. Instead, you pass the day with the gnawing feeling that you're missing something very important.

[mendeshoney]

if you're still interested writing from the drunken confession prompt can you pls do "I can't wait for the room to stop spinning, so I can focus on your face again." With barzy but with the reader being the drunken one pls 😭

3.) "I can't wait for the room to stop spinning, so I can focus on your face again." with Mathew Barzal

"What the hell, Sydney?" Mat practically barks out, his hands shooting forward so he can steady you when Sydney all but dumps you into his arms.

You're absolutely wasted.

And it's not even one in the afternoon.

Sydney rolls her eyes, and from behind her, Mat can see her husband and his teammate, Marty, rolling his own eyes at his wife's lack of coordination. "Will you relax? She's fiiiiine!"

At Sydney's tone, and your sudden lack off coordination, Mat frowns, tightening his grip to keep you upright. "You two said you were going for brunch."

His tone is slightly accusatory, and it makes you scrunch your nose up in dissatisfaction. "We did!" You all but whine, and Marty sighs from his doorway.

"They went to that one café with the bottomless mimosas." Marty explains, barely breaking a sweat as he helps to keep his wife standing.

"They were amaaazing!" Sydney gushes, and you giggle from within his embrace.

"Sooo delicious!" You agree, and Marty sighs.

"She's been fine since I picked her up," his teammate tells him, "No nausea or sickness or anything, but I brought her straight home before these two could start brunch hopping."

Mat nods, letting out a small breath as he glances down at you, an amused smile crossing his lips when he finds you already looking at him with those big, beautiful eyes of yours and a toothy grin.

"Thanks man," Mat says, quickly shaking his teammates hand before pointing a finger at his wife. "And you! No more brunch."

Sydney whines a little more as Marty drags his wife back towards their car. Mat shuts the door behind him, turning to you and laughing a little when he finds you're still looking at him with that same grin.

"How are you feeling, princess?" He asks softly, brushing some hair out of your face.

You shrug, eyelids blinking slowly at his face. "Fine," you say, then frown a little, "A bit dizzy, I think."

Mat frowns now too, carefully putting one arm behind your back and the other behind your knees before lifting you bridal style. "Let's get you some water then."

"Mkay," you say dismissively, humming quietly to yourself as Mat walks you both toward the kitchen. He can feel your eyes glued to his face as he goes, and he hides the smirk threatening to cross his face.

He places you on top of the kitchen island, careful as he steps back, and he sees you blink at him, smiling, before your eyes blow wide and then squeeze shut, your body swaying a little.

"Whoa there," he says, placing his hands on either side of your face, steadying you, watching as your eyes do that slow blinking thing again. "Are you okay?"

"Mhm," you say, eyes still shut. "A little bit more dizzy."

"From me carrying you?" He assumes.

You try to shake your head, but Mat's hands keep you still. "Dunno baby."

"How many mimosas did you have?" He asks through a laugh, thumbs rubbing gently at your cheek bones.

"Can't count now, baby," you say, "trying not to be dizzy."

"I'm sorry princess," he says, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I didn't mean to make it worse."

Your mouth opens like you're going to say something, but then it closes again, and your mouth forms a little pout, and he swears he can start to see tears beginning to coat your lashes.

He presses forward, hands still steady and holding your face. "Baby? What's wrong?"

"Too dizzy to open my eyes, room's spinning," your voice wobbles the way it does when you're about to start crying, and Mat can feel himself start to panic.

"Do you want water?" He asks, "I can get you water but I'd have to move to the sink."

"No, I don't want that." You pout more, and Mat's heart starts to fracture.

He presses another kiss to your forehead. "What do you want then?"

"Wanna look at your face."

It's quiet for a second, and then your words click in his head, and Mat starts to laugh. "What?"

"Wanna see you," you explain. "But I'm worried if I open my eyes, I won't be."

"Cause you're too dizzy?" He manages to ask through his chuckling.

You nod slowly, and then the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes start to disappear, and a small, pleased smile crosses your lips, posture straightening a little.

"I can't wait for the room to stop spinning, so I can focus on your face again." You declare happily.

It only makes him laugh more, and he presses his palms into your cheeks a little, delighting in the way they squish a little and your mouth exaggerates the pout that forms.

"Why do you want to see my face?" He asks playfully.

"S' pretty," you manage to say through the squish. "And I love it, love you."

"I love you too, princess." Mat punctuates his statement with a kiss to your squished up lips, then slowly lowers his hands from your face to your shoulders. "Now, how about that water? And some Advil. Definitely Advil."

[thus-spoke-lo]

cw: angst, alcohol

“What are you doing out here all by your lonesome, gorgeous?”

Your eyes fell shut and a groan started to settle in your chest.

Sanji.

You turned, grimaced, showed him the bottle of alcohol in your hand. “Processing.”

Sanji grinned as he sat next to you, his shoulder brushing yours as he settled in. His long legs extended through the railing, draped over the side of the ship. He lit the cigarette that dangled precariously between his lips, and stared out at the water.

“It’s alright,” he said. “We all have our ways.”

To cope, you finished in your head.

You wanted to ask Sanji not to tell, to let you keep your one secret to yourself. No one needed to know about you and your secret bottle of amber liquid, and the grief that you shared together on sleepless nights.

But something in the way he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his mouth upturned slightly as he blew his smoke into the air, said he’d die before he’d let a secret of yours pass from his lips into the ether.

“So, processing what, exactly?” he asked after a few moments had passed.

“I dunno.” You used your sleeve to wipe an errant dribble of liquid from your chin. “Loss. Loneliness. All the things in between.”

You waited for the inevitable Sanji-esque response—why were you lonely when he was right there? How could you feel empty when he would make you feel whole? But he only nodded wordlessly in agreement, and tilted his head back to gaze at the sky.

You sat together in the stillness of the night. The air was cool, enough to wash over you and make your skin prickle every now and again. The stars made glittering pinpricks on the water, as you watched the waves dance in the distance.

“Aren’t you cold?” he finally asked, not waiting for you to answer before he draped his jacket over your shoulders.

You took a swig from your bottle. “S’keeping me warm so far.”

He sighed and stubbed out his cigarette. “Come on, want me to make you something to eat?”

You nodded, your head starting to feel disconnected from the rest of you, just the way you intended.

Sanji held out his hand to help you up. You took it without much thought, and pitched forward into him as the deck started to spin; your liquid comfort had permeated your bones more than you’d thought.

“Easy there, beautiful, don’t hurt yourself,” he murmured as he stood you upright and wrapped an arm around your waist, as he steered you towards the kitchen. You held onto his jacket with one hand, and wrapped your other arm, still clinging to your bottle, around his lithe waist. You stumbled along to the galley, taking in deep breaths of him as you walked; he smelled of some spiced cologne and sweet baked goods, and you wondered if he’d always smelled like this, or if it was somehow just for you and only you on this very night.

He sat you down at the dining table, giving your shoulder a squeeze before he headed behind the counter. You laid your head down on the cool wood, watching him sideways as he began to work. There was something so artful about him as he moved through the kitchen. His hands operated with elegance and precision, every movement mapped out ten steps ahead of the next, a graceful dance that he’d done a thousand times over and would do a thousand times more.

You would never admit to him, not in a hundred lifetimes, not even with a sword to your throat, but you sometimes wondered how those long fingers would feel exploring the expanse of your form. Delicately tracing the lines of your neck, soft strokes down your arm, fingers intertwined with yours. You wondered if he would touch you with the same grace and splendor that you witnessed in the kitchen, or would he have saved the pinnacle of his artistic brilliance just for your body.

“Your dinner, my darling.”

Your meanderings were cut mercifully short as he appeared next to you, a plate stacked with cheese, bread, and fruits set down in front of you.

“Eat up, my dear. That should soak up the alcohol nicely.”

You quickly dug in, popping an apple slice into your mouth. You groaned an embarrassingly ecstatic groan; everything tasted better when you were tipsy, but this was especially revelatory.

You glanced over and saw Sanji observing you quietly, his head resting on his chin, a soft smile on his lips.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” you asked between bites.

“No, my sweet, I made this just for you.”

“Oh.” You stared down at the plate, the perfect slices of fruit, the expertly browned slices of bread. All for you. “Well thank you.”

You took a few more bites, feeling unnerved as Sanji bore a hole through your skull with his stare. You turned to him. “What?”

“Oh nothing,” he said through a dreamy smile. “You’re always cute, but you’re even cuter when you’re a little drunk. And the cutest when you’re eating my food.”

You chuckled through your discomfort. “I’m glad you think so.”

You could hear the soft sounds of his breathing, only interrupted by the chewing of your food. It was cliche, as many things often were, but you could almost taste his affection for you in every bite—it was in the perfect rosettes of butter on the plate, in the neatly sliced fruit, in the artfully arranged cheeses. It was all there, all the love in the world that you needed.

“Do you like it here?” he asked, as he swirled his finger across the wood grained tabletop.

You tilted your head. “What do you mean?”

“You said earlier you were processing. You seemed so sad. I’m just… wondering if you like it here.”

You turned in your seat to face him. “Of course I do. I couldn’t ask for a better group of people to go to the new world with. There’s just… people I miss. People I love. People I’ll probably never see again. And no matter how much I love you all, it won’t take away that hurt.”

“I think we all miss someone,” he said, reaching in his pocket for a cigarette, before pausing and placing it back. “All the people who changed us. People who saved our lives even when we maybe didn’t deserve it.”

“It’s just hard. I like to hold out hope that I’ll make it back there one day. But—” The end of your sentence stuck in your throat like too much dry bread, and hot tears rolled down your cheeks.

It hurt. Being surrounded by so much love and affection and comraderie but still feeling so utterly alone. Your heart ached for the love you missed from family and your limbs longed for the specters of warm embraces from now-distant friends. Who knew if you’d ever make it back to them one day—and if you did, who knew if they’d still be the same people as when you left, or if the cruelty of the world had changed them, too.

You wiped at your face with the sleeve of Sanji’s jacket, still precariously placed on your shoulders. You must have looked a mess. If Sanji were a worse man (and he very often was), he’d probably think you were stunning in your melancholy—tears clinging to your lashes, lips pouty and cheeks puffy, chest heaving as your tried to catch your breath between sobs.

Suddenly a warm hand took yours. He gripped you softly, delicately, like you’d break into a million pieces if he squeezed too hard.

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better, my sweet?” he implored.

The way he rubbed the inside of your palm with his thumb, the way he shifted in his seat, the way his breath hitched in his throat as he asked—it wasn’t just a question.

It was an invitation.

You hesitated as you laced your fingers with his, studying the contours of his wrist, wondering what would come tumbling out of your mouth if you let the words form. What is it that you even wanted?

Touch.

Bodies tangled in sheets. Hands exploring every inch of each other. Hot breath on your neck, soft lips on your skin.

Closeness.

Warmth. Above all else, you wanted warmth.

You slowly slid your hand away from his, placing it in your lap. “Dessert, maybe? Something chocolate?”

He paused, started to open his mouth, then shut it, letting out a hiss between his teeth.

“Of course, my dear,” he said, with a smile you knew was forced, and a tone of disappointment that was achingly palpable. “Anything for you.”

You laid your head back down and watched him saunter back into the kitchen, your eyes half-lidded as he swiftly pulled out baking sheets and pans, deftly moving in the small space. You tapped the empty liquor bottle with your fingertips, and wished you still had something left to drink as your buzz was steadily wearing off; Sanji surely wouldn’t mind if you got a little tipsier, maybe even fall-down drunk. He’d probably make sure you were well-hydrated, maybe help you to bed, tell you how beautiful you looked all disheveled and half-coherent, make sure you were warm and comfortable.

You’d probably beg him to come to bed with you, to lend you his body heat; it surely wouldn’t take much convincing to lure him under the covers with you. Maybe he’d even let you fall asleep on his chest, lulled into dreamless slumber by the thrumming of his heart.

Sanji looked over now and again and smiled at you, as he hummed some song you’d never heard before. Perhaps you should have accepted his invitation after all, as you sank deeper into loneliness despite his company, and maybe one day you would; you suspected there was no expiration on his offer. But for the moment, this was the all the warmth you needed.

Just you and the cook and the taste of love on your tongue.

[countrymusiclover]

14 - Best Birthday Gift

Part 15

The Texas Tire Family

Tags just ask - @supernaturalgirl30 @bvbwestfall @bubble-blu @patriciaplictisita @liesanddreams

Pushing open the bedroom door in our apartment I smiled brightly seeing that my husband was still peacefully asleep in our bed. He was doing his best to earn more money since Dale was getting tired of running his shop. I could tell that he was interested in opening up a tire shop since he was looking to work for Mandy’s dad. “Georgie, I have a surprise for you. Wake up sleepy head. I made some waffles.”

“Oh hey babe…you didn’t have to make me breakfast in bed.” He rolled over onto his side so he was facing me. His hair was a mess more than its usual curly mess and he still had his sleepy morning voice.

Sitting the tray down on the bed he scooted over where we could both sit on the bed. “Well I think that my husband and father to my two beautiful children should be treated well on his birthday. Especially when he is turning eighteen years old. That is a big deal.”

“Oh man I totally forgot. You are the best Y/n.” He sat upright starting to quickly dive into eating the waffles and bacon. Laying my head against his shoulder I smiled watching him for a few minutes. I would be turning eighteen in two months so then we would both be adults.

He turned his head holding out the fork feeding me a piece of waffle talking with his mouth full of food. “So what are we gonna do today. Movies or something?”

“I was thinking dinner at the Mexican place. I convinced Meemaw to make you some of your favorite foods for tomorrow night and let the kids help her make it. But tonight I want it to just be us.” I explained leaning forward pressing my lips onto his.

He moved his freehand up to rest against my cheek drawing me in closer to kiss him. He smiled, breaking it when we heard some tiny feet running towards our bedroom. “That sounds perfect, darlin’.”

“Hi daddy!” Aurora and Evelyn both giggled running inside climbing up onto the bed. The pair tackled their father in hugs and kisses almost every morning but this time they were longer since I said it was his birthday.

He made them both giggle and cackle their heads off when he tickled the crap out of them singing a song that he was taught as a child. “The stars at night are big and bright deep in the heart of the Texas. The prairie sky is wide and hot deep in the heart of Texas…remember always four claps never three.” I smiled knowing that no matter how old they are we could never stay mad at them. Our girls would be our whole world.

“What exactly were you two thinking. Stealing the truck and driving through downtown!” I raised my voice at our two daughters sitting in the lobby chairs of where the guys worked at.

Aurora raised her hand trying to say something but she had nothing. “Mom I, we just wanted to see Uncle Sheldon and Aunt Amy.”

“So you didn’t think to wake us and up ask could we take you!” I shouted at her.

Evelyn jumped backwards in her chair whimpering at my raised tone. I never ever really yelled at them until right now. “You guys were too busy with the new baby…”

Georgie turned his head in our direction. He was leaning his back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest frustrated with them. “Well that doesn’t excuse what you two did. You two aren’t allowed to watch tv for two weeks when we get back home and no random trips to Dairy Queen either. You both understand that?”

“I’ll ride back with Penny and Montana. I think it’s better if you have them with you.” Spinning around on my feet I crossed my arms over my chest. He nodded, staring down at me, handing me my jacket that I had thrown off terrified that they were injured when we first came inside.

Penny came inside from one of the doors waving to us when she walked up. “Hey, I can follow you guys home. You know, keep an eye on them if you want. That way you two aren’t worried about little Montana.”

“Uh thanks Penny. That’s great.” I responded following her outside watching our daughters climb in the backseat of her car. Georgie and I went to his truck with me carrying Montana in my arms. Shutting the passenger door with my right hand I cradled my son in my arm’s just watching him sleep like his daddy until what Eve said came back to my mind. “Do you think that Eve was right…that we are focusing too much on this little guy?”

Georgie sent me a look having one hand on the steering wheel. “In his defense he ain’t even one year old yet. So they have nothing to be jealous about.”

“Don’t act like you don’t think about it. Remember when growing up with Sheldon you and Missy always felt left out or ignored. I don’t want anything like that to happen to our girls.” Glancing in his direction we stopped at a red light where he rested his freehand to my cheek being able to tell it was worrying me.

“Hey, stop worrying about it. They are old enough to know that we have to give him extra attention right now since he is a baby. We won’t do what my parents did to them. I promise.” He vowed simply before we made the rest of the drive back to our place. The girls were sent off to their room leaving us alone laying in our bedroom watching Montana sleep in the crib.

Laying my head on Georgie’s chest where he wrapped his arms around my waist. “Even though I am angry at them I can’t stay mad at them forever. Honestly we couldn’t even make it an hour without them on your birthday once.”

“You’re right about that, darlin’. He replied, kissing me gently where I ran one hand through his curly hair remembering his eighteenth birthday.

We entered the restaurant where I was wearing a dark green dress and a Jean jacket thrown over it. I had some ankle brown boots on it. Georgie had on some jeans with a red shirt and we had Connie watching the kids for us. “You really didn’t have to take me out tonight. Especially since we are having dinner with my family tomorrow.”

“Georgie, don’t worry. You deserve to have some fun on your birthday. You only turn eighteen once in your life so let me treat you.” I shrug my shoulders, forking some of his chimechonga since we decided to split just one.

He smiled, shoving some food in his mouth pointing the fork end at me. “It is weird though by this point Eve would have been starting a food fight.”

“Oh right. Remember the time when Aurora decided to stick the cheese sticks in her mouth and pretended to be a walrus. I almost spit out my food that night.”

Georgie snorted, picturing the memory. “The victory dances that they would do when they managed to beat us at bowling when they can use the bumpers…huh crap Y/n. I think we have to head home.”

“You’re missing them too don’t you?” He nodded to my question where I grabbed my coat following him toward the door throwing some money down on the table. He pushed open the door to Meemaw’s house seeing that the girls were passed out under some blankets on the couch meaning that his meemaw was asleep in her own room.

He leaned his elbows on the back of the couch smiling down at the little angels. “Thank you for taking me out for Mexican. But I just want to stay right here. These two make my birthday great.” He kissed me slowly and I smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too and happy birthday.” Laying my head on his shoulder I smiled Intertwining our hands together. “They really are the best thing to ever happen to you and me.”

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[zorosleftshoe]

Can you do one where reader & Colby are travelling and reader can't fall asleep and Colby helps her fall asleep?

Of course!

Pairing: Colby Brock x reader

Warnings: one swear word

The snow came down furiously outside as I wrapped my arms tightly around my middle. The atmosphere of the cozy cabin that Colby and I had escaped away to for the weekend doing little to ease the worry that clouded my mind and blurred my judgement. Colby stood with his back to me as he hummed what sounded like a melodious tune. My heart fluttered at the sound. So warm and inviting.

The forecast had called for a nasty blizzard but Colby had been determined to not let it ruin our anniversary weekend. “Blizzard be damned” he had said. The smell of fettuccine floated through the air reminding me of the scenes in those movies where the steam hugs your nostrils and I giggle lightly causing Colby to turn his attention towards me.

“What’s got you so tickled, my love?” I turn away from the threatening snow and make my way towards the man I love before wrapping my arms tightly around his middle and resting my head between his shoulder blades. “Just the aroma of the food. I had a silly thought.” He rubs my arm gently before digging in his pocket for a moment and finally pulling out a shiny penny. “Penny for your thoughts?” I take the penny from between his fingers and press it between my own before kissing his cheek lightly.

Colby had noticed not long after we started dating that occasionally my mind would drift. Much to his dismay, he often had no clue in telling where it had gone, which led to what he called ‘the penny method’. He began to carry around shiny pennies in his pocket and when I got that distant look in my eye he would pull one out and ask the infamous question, “penny for your thoughts?”

I smile at the memory before releasing my grip on him and twirling around. The sweet melody of “Sign Your Name” begins to play from the radio that resides in the corner of the room and I outreach my hand towards the tall brunette boy.

“May I have this dance?” A blush creeps onto his cheeks as he throws the towel that was slung on his shoulder onto the counter and takes my hand. “I’d rather be in hell, with you Baby, than in cool Heaven,” I serenade him softly as we spin around the room holding tightly to one another. “Can I say I want you to be my lady?” Colby let’s out a roaring laugh before dipping me.

“I love you.” He lifts me upright as his hand moves from my waist to rest against my neck just right so his thumb can caress the line of my jaw. “So much.” Without another word I lean forward and catch his lips in a sweet kiss. He taste of cream and honey. Cream from the sauce he had been previously cooking and honey from chapstick he had snuck from my purse when I wasn’t looking. I inhale deeply and relax into his touch. He reluctantly pulls away as the smell of burning noodles hits our nostrils. “Shit!”

The rest of the night is spent cuddled up next to one another watching a variety of movies. From Terminator to Beauty and the Beast. As the last movie is ending I begrudgingly glance towards the patio doors and notice how the snow is piling up. My heart begins to race at the sight and I turn to Colby who is already passed out on the couch. Not wanting to wake him up, I grab an extra blanket and use it to cover Colby up before moving to the bedroom.

I toss and turn for what seems like hours. With a heavy sigh I toss the blanket off my bare legs and make my way to the living room where Colby is still sleeping. He stirs lightly when I kneel in front of him but doesn’t wake up.

“Colby.” I say softly poking his shoulder. “Please wake up. I need you.” He mumbled something incoherent and I groan. “Colby!” He jolts awake at the sudden sound and looks around frantically before meeting my eyes.

“Baby! What’s wrong?” His face was covered in a sheet of worry as he held tightly to my hands.

“I can’t sleep.” He relaxed under my gaze and pulled me into his side before covering us up. He began to lightly sing “time after time” knowing it was one of my favorite ballads and soon my eyelids were dropping as his fingers tangled carelessly in my hair.

“I love you.” Whispered so softly I almost missed it as I drifted off into a peaceful slumber cuddled up into the side of the man I love.

[echotunes]

Flowers and Frights

pinch hit for @kaije224 for @mcyt-summer-of-yuri!! here's bagina taking a walk in a field of flowers yippee <3 with no incidents whatsoever

“This place is so pretty,” Tina marvels.

“Yeah!” Bagi grins, feline ears flicking. “Yeah, I thought it was cool, I thought you would like to see.”

They’re in a field of flowers, a meadow of colours stretching in all directions, further than Tina can see. She doesn’t even know what some of these flowers are! But they’re all pretty, and Bagi decided to take her here, and that’s so, so cool… There’s a bird singing somewhere, and sometimes a light breeze stirs the high grass. The scent of flowers is everywhere. It’s… peaceful. It’s nice.

And it’s not a date. It’s not! Bagi just asked Tina to go for a walk together. In this beautiful place that just so happens to be very far away from Spawn, so it’s unlikely they’ll run into anyone else. Just the two of them. But it’s not a date. Because neither of them said it was a date. And a date would be, like, a commitment, kind of! And this isn’t that. Not yet.

(Not that Tina doesn’t want to go on a date with her! She’d love to go on a date! But if this were a date, then that would involve thinking about the fact that Bagi doesn’t know about all of Tina’s… stuff, yet. Like the whole… demon thing. Stuff that she should probably really be aware of before they start moving towards any sort of relationship with each other, because that’s kind of important info.

But it’s fine! Tina will get to it, eventually. Once she’s got it all figured out herself. And has a way to tell Bagi about it. But since this isn’t a date, it’s okay! It’s just a walk. A beautiful walk, even. And—)

“Which way do you wanna go?” Bagi asks, startling Tina out of her thoughts.

Tina blinks. “Um! Uh…” She spins around. “I mean, do you wanna… go… in any direction? In particular?” They’re all the same, right? Is Bagi expecting her to decide? Is it rude of Tina to be asking Bagi for her opinion if Bagi already asked her for hers? Oh, she’s terrible at this, oh no.

“I don’t mind!” Bagi shrugs. “Ah… we can go this way!” She starts off in a random direction, sweeping her coat around her as she goes.

…Almost immediately, before Tina can even begin to catch up, Bagi steps into an unseen hole in the ground, yelping as she flails. Tina stops herself from sighing dreamily (because Bagi is the coolest person she’s ever met, but come on, that’s just cute), and instead laughs as she hurries forward to offer her her arm, and Bagi takes it to pull herself upright with an awkward little smile that Tina easily returns.

They walk for a little while – Tina mostly lets Bagi ramble, about the clues about the Federation and the mysteries of the island she’s been investigating recently (really, she’s so smart, how does she do it) and just about what she did yesterday, and Tina tells her about her own day in turn, and tries not to get too distracted by how much this feels like it could be a date. Because it’s not one. She’s established that.

And then—Tina doesn’t know how, maybe they just got distracted, maybe she was too intent on listening to Bagi and looking at the flowers to notice – but Bagi lets out a yelp of half-pain, half-surprise, and when Tina whirls around to look, there’s a zombie in a golden helmet right behind them, and it’s sunk its teeth into the shoulder of Bagi’s coat.

Bagi swears at it, something in Portuguese that Tina doesn’t understand and she doesn’t have time to look at her translator for, but she gets the gist of it well enough as she’s fumbling for her sword. She finally finds it (stupid not to have left it in her hotbar, why isn’t she being more careful, that’s so risky) and draws it in a flash; but before she can do anything, Bagi is whirling around, and then there’s a loud clang and the zombie is crumpling to the ground.

Adrenaline coursing through her veins, Tina thrusts the sword downwards, plunging it into the zombie’s chest – “leave her alone!” – and then the zombie is dissolving in a puff of smoke, leaving nothing but a pile of rotten flesh and a golden helmet, now dented with the vague shape of a frying pan, behind.

“Oh my god.” Now that Tina has time to look at her properly, she sees Bagi’s tail is bristled, white fur standing on end and making it look all puffy; and her ears were leaned back, though now they relax as the danger has passed, and Bagi takes a deep breath. “That—oh my god.”

She doubles over, and for a moment, Tina is worried that Bagi is injured somehow, and is going to need help; but then she straightens back up, or at least tries to, and Tina can see that she’s bent over with silent laughter, gasping for breath, so she lets herself relax.

“That was—oh my god, Tina—” Bagi is audibly giggling now, and Tina lets herself join in – because the way Bagi’s tail is all puffed up is kind of funny now that the adrenaline shock is over, and it was just a zombie, and it’s all okay, it’s fine, it’s okay.

“It was just a zombie.” Bagi pauses to wipes a tear of laughter from her eye. “That’s so embarrassing, what the hell. Thank you for saving me, Tina.”

“I didn’t do that much,” Tina protests, though something inside her is glowing at the praise. “I mean, you saved yourself, really, I just, like, finished it off.” The moment is replaying in her mind now – what if Bagi thinks it’s weird what she hissed at the zombie before killing it? She was just acting on instinct, her instinct to protect the people she loves because she has to be a good demon, but…

Wow, Tina is a mess today. Gosh. Being alone with Bagi will do that to her, she guesses.

“Thank you anyway.” Bagi grins, and fixes her frying pan back to her belt. “Let’s keep going?”

“Yeah!” Tina smiles, and now that the moment is over, she’s feeling a lot less nervous – so maybe it is okay. “Yeah, okay.”

Bagi holds out her hand, and Tina has to stop herself from actually squeaking out loud, because oh gosh, okay, okay, okay—

“Okay!” she bursts out, and Bagi laughs, and Tina inches her hand forward far enough to slip her fingers between hers, and then Bagi is pulling her along through the flowers, and this is so—so overwhelming, but in the best way, and Tina feels a little giddy as they go. She’s so lucky. Even if this isn't a date. Definitely not.

[mothgodofchaos]

could you do illinois x fem!reader

you get home from work. As you cook for dinner, you put it on plate, all the sudden illinois came home, he came to you that you felt dizzy, you honestly fainted that illinois catches you, he carry you to bedroom, everything is gonna be fine

(hope you will write it, thanks and have a good day)

Catch

I was trying to think of a specific way to make this for femme reader, so apologies if this isn't truly femme. But I actually had something similar happen to me recently. Yes, I am okay, don't worry about it.

Illinois x F!Reader, TW: passing out Words: 692

It had been a long day, and you hadn’t really made sure you were taking care of yourself. Your boss had been harping on you for not getting enough work done, so you had worked through your lunch break. You were really only running on your morning coffee and spite when you pulled into the driveway. There wasn’t much time to relax as you knew that Illinois was going to be home soon, and you wanted to make sure dinner was ready. Sure, you both work really hard, but he had been away on another expedition and you wanted to make an apology for not being able to pick him up from the airport. 

Quickly throwing together dinner made your head spin a little, reassuring yourself that you’d sit down shortly. You kicked off your heels into the dining room, feet aching from the long day of working in the office. Your balance wavered for just a moment, making sure that you caught yourself on something other than the hot stove.

The sound of tires on the asphalt outside sent your heart beating a little bit faster in excitement, looking out the window to see him climbing out the back of a taxi. Luckily, dinner was just about finished. You turned off the burners, stirring the pan once more as the jingle of keys behind you alert to his entrance. 

“I’m home, treasure! Oh, you make me dinner, babygirl~?"

Your head whips around, albeit too quickly when he enters the kitchen. You watch his smirk turn into panic as you lose your balance, vision turning black as your body goes limp. He manages to dive forward fast enough to keep you from hitting the floor, scooping you up into his arms. He moves you to the couch, elevating your feet up, cushioning around you as he makes sure you’re still breathing. 

Honestly, if you had been one of his working partners, he’d be a little bit more worried. But he kept you safe, at home, with your pup. Nugget comes over, greeting him excitedly before he turns his attention to you, head underneath Illinois’ arm, snoot poking through the gap. Illy sets Nugget up on the couch with you, grabbing you some water from the kitchen.

Your head is gently moved into his lap, still making sure you’re flat. You have no idea how long you were out for, but a golden snoot nosing at your hand for pets is the first thing you register when you regain consciousness. Illy’s hands, gloves long removed, combs through your hair as you rest in his lap. His smile returns, gentle and caring instead of his usual flirtatious and smug. 

“Good morning, sweetheart? My babygirl get so excited to see me that you’re gonna start fainting on me~?”

His tone is teasing, but you can still hear the underlying tone of concern as he brushes the hair out of your face, gently easing you up so you’re sitting in his lap, head resting back on his shoulder as his arms keep you upright. With one of his hands, he grabs your water, helping you take small sips through the straw as he keeps you steady.

“I didn’t mean to! I’ve been busy today, my boss made me work through my lunch…”

“Have you not eaten yet today? Have you drank any water?”

“...no…”

He sighs lovingly exasperatedly.

“Sweetheart, I need you to be taking care of yourself. Can’t have my precious treasure turn into a pile of dust. Not when you can be beautiful and gleaming. But, I’m home now. I’ll talk to your boss since you mentioned him overworking y’all before.”

“Don’t do that, that- I’ll be fine…”

“Clearly not, because you just fainted into my arms the moment I step through the door. I hope you don’t plan on making a habit out of that~”

A kiss to your temple reassures he’s not mad at you, just understandably concerned. You’ll be snuggling there for a while. Perhaps if he’s charming enough, he’ll convince you to take a sick day. Just a day of him taking care of you, just what the doctor ordered.

[dearbaji]

Primal Need (Draken x Reader SMUT)

Requested!

CW: Smut, breeding, creampie, mirror sex, established relationship, 1176 words, 18+

Draken watched as you slathered your legs in lotion. He’s been laying in bed, observing you ever since you stepped out of the shower. The way your hands moved over your skin, the shine that was left behind, he wished it were him. Your hands caressing him or him rubbing your legs, either way he’d be satisfied. The towel around you starts to slip off but you fix it before it falls completely. He catches a glimpse of your hips, cursing under his breath as you start to cover up again. You spray perfume on your pulse points, pulling the towel down a bit to spray between your breasts. The smell of the perfume mixed with the lotion and your barely covered body makes his head spin, but he likes it. All he can think about is you.

He finally gets out of bed and walks over to you. Every fiber of his being was begging him to breed you. Draken takes a finger and lightly tugs at the top of the towel between your shoulder blades, making the towel drop off of your body. Startled, you turn around only to be met with his torso. Before you can look up, he softly grabs your chin with his thumb and index finger. He tilts your head up, saying “you’re driving me crazy, lovebug.” His tall frame dips down to meet your lips. When he pulls you closer to him, you could feel how hard he was getting through his shorts. Detaching himself from your lips, he places open mouth kisses and bites across your shoulders. He lingers over the space between your collarbones, breathing in the scent of your skin along with the perfume. “You like it that much?” you ask, bringing a hand up to ruffle his hair. He hums and stands back up to his full height. “Let me try something, I think you’ll like it,” he says, pulling you closer to him by your hips.

After you nod, he brings you over to the full length mirror in your room. When you see how naked you are compared to his half dressed body, you try to move out of the view. “No, stay here. There’s nothing to be shy about,” he encourages you, turning you around to face the mirror. “You are incredibly beautiful.” He kisses down your neck while holding your arms. As he goes lower you turn back to face him, leaning up to kiss him back. He was so entranced by your everything, he didn’t even notice you pulling down his shorts. They pool at his ankles and he kicks them off, never separating from you. His hands drag down your backside to your thighs, motioning for you to turn around. Once you do, he kisses below your ear. “I want you to watch everything, ok?” You nod, not entirely knowing what he meant.

He spreads your legs with his feet, entering you in one swift motion. As he pushes forward, you let out a yelp and look down. Draken snakes his hand over your neck, using his fingers to tilt your head back up. “I said watch baby, now pay attention.” You look at both of you in the reflection, eyes mainly focused on him. The way his brows furrowed as he looked down to where he disappeared inside of you, the flex of his abdomen as he moved his hips, the sweat starting to surface all over his body, all of it made your body heat up. Your eyes trail down to his veiny hands gripping your arms by your side to keep you upright. He grunts, making you look back up at his face. His eyes meet yours in the mirror, his mouth agape and eyebrows drawn together in a frown, though he wasn’t angry. A particularly rough stroke makes your knees buckle. Draken doesn’t let you fall. Instead, he helps you to the floor.

You’re on your hands and knees with his hands gripping your hips. He starts to move again, but now that you’re more comfortable, you decide to help him a little. You push your hips back toward him and look in the mirror again. He’s looking at you, smirking while guiding your hips back onto his length. Draken speeds up, making your hands fly back to his. His nails dig into your skin as he watches your chest bounce in the mirror. “Ah Draken, slow down- it’s too much,” you plead. Each thrust makes you take in a breath, your moans and requests come out in stutters. Despite your state, he doesn’t slow down, keeping his fast pace to bring you both to the edge. “W-wait, where are you gonna- haah,” you try to speak. “Either I come inside of you or you don’t come at all.”

Draken knew he was partially telling the truth. Whether he came inside of you tonight or not, he wanted to see you come, to watch your face contort in pleasure because of him. Your acceptance comes out as a string of moans and whimpers. "You're so soft," he says, struggling to hang on. As much as he wants you to come together, the way your walls keep squeezing him makes him want to release right then and there. He can feel your walls flutter, and the way your hips are lifting, trying to separate yourself from him; he knows you're starting to come. He sits you up so you're leaning on him and thrusts slower, bringing a hand around your thigh to rub circles on your clit. You cry out, legs attempting to close as you come. "Keep your legs open baby, I'm not done with you yet." Draken pries your thighs apart and pushes your back down toward the floor. He moves your head so you can still see your reflection.

"Look at us babe, see how we just fit together?" he says, quickening his pace again. You can't even think, you're so overstimulated. "Haah, haah, Draken please-" "Please what baby? Use your words." You attempt to speak again, but he just feels too good, it's almost painful. His hips move erratically as he comes, your second high also washing over you. You feel thick ropes of cum shoot inside of your cervix. Draken bottoms out, leaning over to press his chest against your back. "I love you," he softly speaks into your ear. "I love you too."

He pulls out, rolling over next to you. As you catch your breath, he drapes his arm around you. “Babe let me go, I have to shower again” “no you don’t,” he protests, tightening his arms around you. He buries his head in the crook of your neck and breathes. "Are you smelling me?" you ask. "Yeah, why not, you smell incredible." He starts kissing down your shoulders and you start laughing. "Again Ken? Really?" "Mhmm." You turn to face him, moving his hair from his face. "Meet me in the shower?" He quickly kissed your lips, letting you get up before following you into the bathroom.

Rules

[starlightsoulwriting]

Ghost-Blood//Revenant: 4

Khonshu, Marc Spector, Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

AO3

other chapters

Rating: PG-13/T, for cursing and later violence

Warnings: None

Summary: A calm before the storm.

A/n: Ice skating Steven lives in my head rent free now and I’ll make it everyone else’s problems. I just think he deserves it.

“Steven I’m going to fall, I swear to god.” Your voice strained against the bounds of your throat from the uncertainty in your mind, and the chill in the air around you, heartbeat fast in your ribs. You hated the cold. You hated ice, almost as much as you hated cars and large bodies of water. You swallowed. This sucked, this fucking suck, what the fuck were you thinking? “Why did I think this was a good idea?” You breathed, knees wobbling over the ice skates underneath you. “Who the fuck decided this was fun.”

The cold of the room bit stinging patches into your cheeks as your hands clutched the outer railings tight, looking straight forward at Steven, who wasn’t taking your grumbling personally at all, both of you ignoring the other people passing by as they continued on their fun, somehow staying upright despite the fact that they had knives strapped to their fucking shoes.

“Even if you fall, I’ll help you back up, yeah?” Steven smiled wide, wrapped up in a light blue Columbia sweater you’d stolen from your old room-mate, who’d stolen it from her boyfriend, and that now Steven had stolen from you, not seeming to mind the way the sleeves hung over his hands. “And if you still decide you hate it, we can just go for a walk in the park instead.”

He reached out for your hands, slowly prying them from the rails, and started skating backwards to lead you around the rink. He was graceful on the ice, somehow, even if he fell on his face on solid, normal pavement. How the hell did that work?

And you’d let him talk you into this, because he enjoyed it. Even though you were terrified, breathing shallow as you slowly started skating forward on uncertain legs.

“See, it’s not that bad, innit?” He said after a moment of you awkwardly shuffling forward with him practically pulling you along, your hands claiming at his wrists.

“Just wait until I fall and get a bloody nose from this, Grant.” You hissed, eyes on the ground. “Just what I need when Doctor Jackson comes back from his dig tomorrow.”

“You would still be beautiful.” Steven squeezed your hands encouragingly, something you’d grown to appreciate deeply being able to see him in person again after four months long distance. “Jackson wont know what hit him either way.”

You gave him a deadpan stare, and blinked. “I was more concerned about having to work on painkillers, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

But then he beamed at you with that laugh, and your heart swelled, thrumming to a steady rhythm of gooey emotion. He let go of your right hand but held onto your left, still, and moved so he skated beside you rather than in front, now that you had a bit of confidence on your feet.

Even though you were absolutely holding him back from his real fun, being dead weight and all.

“There you go!” He squeezed your hand again, and you warmed despite the cold of the room. “You are doing so well, love.”

Love. An endearment he used often, but still made your insides squiggly every time.

“Yup.” You forced out and almost fell, but Steven’s hold on you never faltered. “They should put me on the olympic team. Can’t waste my talents.”

“Oh yeah, it wouldn’t even be fair.” He nudged you with his shoulder, forcing you to spin your other arm out in awkward flailing circles to keep your balance with an embarrassing squeak. “They’d have to invent a new medal and everything.”

“Yeah?” You quirked your lips into a smile. “What would that be? Platinum?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of the cutest, most brilliant competitor ever seen, but platinum works just as well, I suppose.”

“Oh my god.” You stopped yourself halfway to a snort of laughter, grabbing ahold of his arm proper as you doubled over in an undignified fit. “You’re so fucking corny I can’t believe this.”

“All a part of the Grant signature charm. Just - just gets me all the ladies.” He had to hold back a laugh as he said it, and it was just about the best sound in the world. He’s so fucking cute.

You giggled, ducking your head and looking away.

But then your foot hit the ice wrong, sending you reeling, grabbing onto Steven tighter, but all that managed to do was drag him down onto the ice with you, landing you both flat on your ass with a smack, and your breath left you all at once and panic seized through you for no discernable reason.

Ow.

Steven didn’t look bothered in the least, smiling through what was surely a painful landing, and looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky despite the fact you’d just made him crash and burn.

You huffed, heart squeezing tight in your chest, squeezing his arm for support as you stood back up. “Alright, ladies man, I think I’ve earned some hot chocolate, you coming?”

“Of course.”

---

That night you dreamt of ice, the kind that comes in thick sheets that you can skate on, and that was exactly what you were doing, laughing with someone else as the bracing wind blew through your pretty dark hair.

Had your hair always looked like this? Well, in the dream it had, even though you were certain something about it was incorrect, if it was the color that was throwing you, or the texture or length.

Still, the you in the dream didn’t ponder the state of your hair, simply enjoying the way the snow blew past you and to the trees beyond, gathering speed as you careened toward an untouched section of ice, farther and farther away from the boy behind you, laughing all the way, eager to practice the jumps you’d been practicing back at the real rink back in town.

You leaped.

But you landed wrong, your ice skate crashing through the ice and causing the surface to shatter, leaving you with just a split second view of panicked blue eyes on the boy’s face before you fell into the freezing water.

In the shock of it all, you inhale water into your lungs, the white-hot burn of the cold hitting your whole body at once.

There was no Knight to even try to save you, this time.

You wake with a start, not even able to be comforted by Steven’s presence. It was still too soon to move in, and he was too afraid to sleep around you, anyway…

You sighed, sitting up and ducking your head between your knees.

Was it too much to ask that one of you get a decent night’s fucking sleep, for once?

---

Arthur Harrow was a busy man. Working to build a better world made certain of it - between the smaller aspects of helping the community, and the larger ones of finding the scarab that would lead to Ammit’s tomb.

As such, delegating was necessary.

Although now he somewhat regretted assigning this task to someone who he only spoke to once a month - Emmet really was a lovely man, but perhaps he took instruction too literally at times.

“I have an update on that curator you told me to keep an eye on.” They handed him a tablet, and he read through it absently as he gardened.

“That’s not -” He stopped himself mid-sentence before he got into the finer details of art conservatorship again, closing his eyes for a split second and shook his head. It didn’t matter one way or another what your exact title was, so he went back to reading, and then stilled. “She’s moved to London.”

How strange. She seemed attached to New York.

“And she’s working with Jackson.” Emmet added just as Arthur got to that point in the only two-paragraph long update he’d written.

Jackson. Arthur recognized the name - he presided over some of the dig sites that had the best chance of containing the scarab, if it was still buried.

It was precisely the kind of person someone working for Khonshu would want to get close to. Added with the sudden move, and the way Khonshu had insisted he save you - singled you out, even going so far as to open a portal and risk the attention of the others so he could pull you out of the flaming car before you burned all those years ago - well, that made a very clear picture in his mind as to what was going on.

Peculiar that Khonshu would pick someone with no fighting experience. But perhaps that wasn’t the kind of help the god needed at the moment.

“Call Doctor Jackson’s assistant,” Arthur looked to Emmet. “Let them know I’ll be stopping by to donate to their collection.”

[middleearthpixie]

In Vino Veritas

Armitage Summer Splash #5 ~ Courtesy of @lathalea and @fizzyxcustard!💜💜

Trope: Drunken Admission of Feelings

Quote: “I cannot believe you did that.”

RA Character: Guy of Gisborne 

Pairings: Guy of Gisborne x OC Isabella 

Warnings: Drunk Guy

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,861

~~**~~

He saw two of her. 

Not that it was a terrible thing, mind you, for Isabella was an utterly lovely woman, especially with the fire glinting along the strands of her dark red hair, which made it look as alive as those flames. The wild curls fell about her face and with each movement, they shifted this way and that. Oh, she was a striking woman, indeed and he’d have to be mad to complain about seeing two of her. 

That is, if there were two of her. Unfortunately, a bit too much wine was the cause of his seeing double and while she was a thing of beauty, he could certainly do without the room tilting the way it kept doing. Left. Right. Forward. Back. Blast it all, there was no rhyme nor reason to the pitch. He tried to guess which way it would lean next, only to find he’d guessed poorly. He stumbled more than once, and every time he did and tried to right himself, he only served to make matters worse and stumble in the other direction instead. It was a good thing she’d set the fire on his hearth for him, if he’d tried, he’d have burned both himself and his home to the ground. 

She’d seen him home from her tavern, insisted upon making certain he arrived without incident and in one piece. It was not the first time, but it was also something he did rarely, for he dislike giving up any modicum of control, no matter for how short a time period. But he’d needed this escape this night, had needed to just lose himself, even for just a bit. And he’d needed to be fussed over the way Isabella would fuss over him. He would hear about it the next time he paid a visit to the Wild Gander Tavern, but he didn't mind her scolding him, either. He knew, despite her aggravation with him, underneath was concern for him and it was rare for anyone to show concern for him. She should only know how he treasured it.

How he treasured her as well.

He tripped over his own two feet trying to make it from the table upon which he leaned to the chair in which he wished to sit. His right boot caught the heel of his left, he stumbled, and veered sharply left. He’d probably have gone headfirst into the hearth, had she not snagged him by the elbow to halt his progress.

“Take care,” her voice was soft, but brooked no argument, “I’ve no desire to burn alive because you knock the fire from its grate. Now, will you please heed me and sit?”

He scowled. “I tried to sit.”

“So I saw. Allow me to help you.”

He nodded, offering no resistance as she helped him straightened, then with her hand on his arm and the other firmly against the small of his back, she guided him to the chair that he’d aimed for the first time. 

A low sigh bubbled to his lips as he leaned heavily against her. She let out a soft grunt, but managed to hold him up. Perhaps now the spinning would stop. He let his eyes close. They stung with fatigue and closing them offered relief from that.

Unfortunately it also made the spinning far worse. 

He stumbled, only to have her suck in a sharp breath and tighten her hold on him to keep him upright. “Take care, Sir Guy,” she gritted. “You are quite heavy, you know.”

He forced his heavy lids to open just as Isabella went to work prying his fingers from the wine bottle. She freed it and tried to help him into the chair. “You should probably just go to sleep now. Hopefully, you will be sober come morning.”

“What are you—give me that back. I cannot believe you did that, taking a man’s drink from him. I’ve not finished with it yet,” he insisted, lunging for the bottle, only to have the room shift to the right on him. He stumbled, staggered into the chair he’d aimed for, and held onto it for dear life. “Stop moving the room on me, witch.”

“Call me witch again and I’ll brain you with this,” she shook the bottle at him, “and do not make me tell you again. And besides, this was my wine that you absconded with from my tavern and trust me, you’ve had more than enough.”

“Brain me. You would, wouldn’t you?” He managed to maneuver into the chair without missing the seat, and offered up a silent sigh of relief. The room didn't move quite so badly now. “Why are you even here?”

“Because I would have felt terrible, had something awful befallen you because you were too sotted to defend yourself, that’s why. Although,” she brushed a long, wayward curl out of her face, “it would serve you right. How much wine did you actually drink?”

He peered up at her. With the fire behind her, the glow about her was like an aura, giving her a mystical air that only added to her beauty. Her dark eyes glinted like polished onyx, her hair shimmered with copper and gold streaks. 

“More than I should have and you were right to take that bottle from me,” he admitted with a loose bob of his head. The movement made his gut twist, brought a sour taste flooding his mouth. He swallowed hard against it, willed the nausea into oblivion, and went still. 

“Do you wish me to leave,” she murmured, “so that you might get some sleep?”

“No. That—that won’t be necessary. I have no desire to move at the moment, and think it best if I remain perfectly still. When I do that, the room slows down some.”

“Slows down?” A furrow appeared between her delicately arched dark brows.

“Slows down.” He nodded, then held up a finger to spin in a wide circle. “Like this.”

The furrow smoothed, her forehead pale and unlined once more. She peered up at him, offering up an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Her dark eyes held his easily. She didn't fear him, the way so many others seemed to. She was kind to him, always had a bright smile or easy laugh and her laugh was melodic when it rang out. The sort of laugh that caused heads to swivel in her direction and smile, its infectiousness encouraging all around her to join, even if they hadn’t an inkling what was so amusing.

He found more and more excuses to linger in her tavern. To sit back in the far corner and simply watch her. She laughed easily, her teeth flashing in the candlelight night after night, and greeted her customers all by name. She was warm and ebullient, and people were just drawn to her. 

In short, she was everything he was not. 

But she never treated him as if he was unwelcome. She would take him to task if she saw him being what she felt was unnecessarily cruel or cold, and at first, her gall grated on him, but as time wore on, like water running endlessly over stone, his façade with her eroded until most of it washed away.

This wasn't the first time she’d seen him home, that she insisted on accompanying him because in his inebriated state, she told him calmly, anyone could happen upon him and rough him up. The fact that she actually cared enough to risk her own safety touched a part of him he thought was long dead. And when thy’d reached his humble dwelling, she’d insisted on coming in with him, to make certain he didn’t fall face down in the fire or worse. 

Now, he stared up at her, almost entranced by the way the firelight shone upon her hair. This was the first time he’d ever seen the glorious mass of curls let loose to spill down her back, to tumble over her shoulders. Normally, she wore it skinned back, tucked away to keep from falling in her eyes as she worked. And she should only know how many times he’d imagined coming up behind her and tugging the pins from it to sent it spilling like a river of fire down her back.

He had to tell her. Had to tell her the things he kept penned up inside him, the things he feared would frighten her or worse—would make her laugh at him. If he didn't now, when being fortified with wine also fortified him with courage, he would never be able to tell her. 

“You are so beautiful. Has anyone told you that?” He blurted it out without preamble and held his breath as she set the nearly-empty bottle on the table and came back to crouch before him. She lifted his right foot to unlace his boot, frowning as the leather cord gave her a fight.

“You are drunk and babbling,” she replied with a smile. “And even the ugliest of hags looks appealing when one’s senses are dulled by wine.”

“I am and I am, and that is true some of the time,” he agreed with an exaggerated bob of his head. “But not this time. I am in love with you, Belle. I am. And I have been for a very long time.” 

“You are no such thing.” She tugged the boot free, setting it alongside his chair. Resting her forearm against her thigh, she just gazed up at him. “I am not even so certain you like me most of the time.”

“Of course I like you, Bella. And it’s been far more than simply liking you for some time now, I’ve just have not the courage to say it sober. But now… now is different,” he told her, leaning closer, his elbow braced on his thigh. He saw only one of her now, thankfully, and he just wished to bend to her and kiss her full lips. To kiss her. And hold her. And carry her off to his bed. 

But, when he tried to do just that, to lean in for that kiss, the room sloped to his right and he started, grabbing the upholstered arm to steady himself. It wouldn’t do to topple out of the blasted chair and land on her. She was nearly a foot shorter and probably half his weight and he’d crush her into powder if he wasn't careful.

Her hand came to rest atop his forearm, a soft heat seeping into his arm, through leather, through the soft linen doublet he wore beneath his gambeson, into his skin. He yearned to cover that small hand with his, to curl his fingers about it and bring it to his lips. He wanted to trail kisses along her slender arm to where her shoulder curved into her neck, up toward her ear. He wanted to taste her lips for himself, to see if they were as sweet as they looked, as sweet as he dreamed they be. 

Somehow, he had the feeling his dreams wouldn’t come close to doing her justice.

His room felt decidedly warmer and he shifted to dispel some of the heat. It didn’t help all that much, as the fire crackling on the hearth had nothing to do with how warm he felt. That came entirely from within his own body. 

Her fingers tightened over his arm, but then she drew her hand from him. “That is because I do things such as this when you’ve had too much to drink. If I were not here, you’d be lying face down on the side of the road somewhere between my tavern and this house.”

He couldn’t help his grin. “You served me, so at its heart, my state is your doing.”

She let out a soft laugh that teased his ears with its silver melody. “I’ll remind you of that when I take your next bottle away from you.”

He sank back in his chair, crossing his arms as he lifted his left foot now. “Do so. I will remember this conversation.”

“You will not. You haven’t yet. You should only know how many nights you’ve pledged your love to me, Sir Guy, only to forget those words when the sun comes up the next morning.”

He shook his head. “Ah, there you are wrong, Bella. I speak true now, and come sunrise, I cower and hide from you, from my own feelings, because I know why you do this for me. I know why you come to my aid on nights such as this.”

“Is that so? Then why do I?”

“Because yours is a good heart. You pity a wretch like me.”

“You are, indeed, a wretch. And if I didn’t pity you, I shudder to think what would happen to you, staggering back from the tavern on your own. You’ve not many friends here, you know.”

He knew. He had no friends. And that was fine with him. He needed no one. He wanted no one.

Except her, that is.

He lurched forward and caught her by the hand before she could stand and turn to go. “I mean what I say, Bella. Stay with me. Pass the night with me. Let me show you now what I’ll not be able to put into words come the morrow.”

Her fingers curled about his, her hand a fraction of the size as his. He gazed down at it, her fingernails different lengths, ragged at their tips, her palm rough and dry. But as her hand lay again his, the heat returned with a vengeance, seeped into him, eased some of the haze wrapped tightly about his brain. He wanted to feel those hands on him, wanted to let his own roam over hers. It almost hurt, how much he wanted her. He’d never wanted a woman the way he wanted Isabella.

“Sir Guy,” she began, her husky voice low, her eyes wide and unblinking as she held his gaze, “you do not know what you’re saying.”

“I do know.” He closed his fingers about hers, brought her hand to his lips. Her palm was rough, by not so much the back of her hand. “I finally have the courage to say what I’ve felt for some time now, ever since you tossed me from your tavern into the rain.”

“I never tossed you. I was trying to close for the night and you refused to leave. I had no other choice.”

“And now you do.” He carefully rose onto unsteady legs and pulled on that hand. She pressed her lips together as he drew her near. A hint of honey teased his nose. She offered no resistance as he pulled her into his arms, flush against him, and bent to brush her lips with his. 

Hers were soft and sweet, tasting of claret and currants, and she didn’t fight him. His heart skipped a beat, his belly twisted into heady knots, as she parted her lips and the tip of her tongue traced along his bottom lip. He slid his arms about her waist, splayed his hands across her back, and couldn’t help but sigh as her fingers slid up into his hair, tingling along his scalp.

“Stay with me,” he whispered when she pulled back. “Don’t go, but share my bed with me if only for this one night.”

“Only for one night? Do you take me for a woman of no virtue?” A teasing smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “And think carefully before you answer, lest you wish me to geld you right here and now.”

“You would never do such a thing.”

“Are you so certain?”

As she spoke, she slid one hand between them, down into the darkness between his legs, and he jumped as she cupped it against him. A breathless laugh rose to his lips. “Take care, I’m rather fond of them, you know.”

“I’m sure I will be, too,” came her pert reply as she pressed up into him with a gentleness that sent a hint of fire ribboning through him. “Now, are you going to stand there, or are you going to sweep me up and take me to bed, where you’ll promise to make an honest woman of me?”

He pulled back to stare down at her. “Is that what you want?”

“I want you, Sir Guy. And I have for a very long time.” 

“Is that so?”

“Oh, yes,” she told him with a slow nod. “Have you seen me walk any other man home when they’ve had too much? Let them fall to ruffians. I cannot bring myself to care. But you? I’d fend them off with my bare hands to make certain you reached home safely.”

Then, she reached up to snake an arm about his neck, and when she pulled him down to meet her kiss, she whispered, “I do love you, you know. And I only hope you recall this conversation when you open sober eyes come the morning.”

“I will, love,” he whispered back, his lips brushing hers. “Promise.” 

Did you enjoy this?? If so, love it, comment, and/or reblog it! 💜💜💜

Taglist: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @ggfamert @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78

[tokoyamisstuff]

Scandal Ch. 1 - Loki x Reader

Summary: After your child is born a Frost Giant, your husband accuses you of infidelitiy, unaware about his own heritage...

Warnings: Pregnancy, Childbirth, Angst, Mild Cussing

Noteable: Takes place before Thor 1, Asgardian Fem! Reader

Words: ~1800

I Story Masterlist I General Masterlist I

It was as if your anchestors wanted to deliver a warning, for Asgard had never faced a storm matching this fateful afternoon.

The thunder swallowed all of your screams and cries, every curse you spoke with each contraction as the baby made it’s way into this world. All this time, your precious husband would never leave your side, letting you squeeze his hand as much as you needed.

“Only a little bit more, my Lady!” the midwife shoutet from between your legs, her tone calm yet cheerful. “I can already see the head!”

“I’m right here. You’re doing wonderful, my petal.” Loki was softly petting your hair, pressing a wet kiss into your forehead. “You are incredibly strong, Y/N. And I love you so much!”

Remaining collected was using up all of his energy at that very moment, you knew that much. Yet not even the God of Lies could hide all the helplessness and excitement stirring in his head at that very moment.

Being with the Prince of Asgard was just like in a dream.

Once you get to know him, that troublesome arrogant lone wolf turned into a smart, caring - and especially charming - prince. And hel, Loki treated you like a Queen.

All this pain you were experiencing right now would ultimately lead to the greatest bliss imagineable - just like it was with Loki.

Oh, how dearly you had fought, suffered, yearned for him, only to be rewarded with heartbreak and frustration. In between his feverishly chase for the throne and his rivalry with Thor, there was just no room for a loving relationship to grow.

The crushing weight of thinking himself unworthy for affection had made him cold and bitter over the millenias, telling himself the comforting lie that he was above all, born for a glorious purpose.

For the God of Mischief, whose kinsmen had always made him feel out of place or under-appreciated, the process of trusting had always been one step forward, three steps back.

But through your compassion, and with a great deal of patience and understanding, you slowly but steadily melted the ice around the prince’s heart.

Because deep inside, you always knew that it was worth it.

And today would be the peak of your romance: Your child would forever remind the Odinson that he belonged somewhere - right here, with you.

“It’s a boy!”

“A heir?!” Loki exclaimed, smothering your face in kisses. “Well done!”

You smiled weakly at his excitement, in between choked sobs. All that your exhausted self was able to process was the fact that your child is born - and you already loved him beyond reason.

“Where is he?!” you whimpered, unable to realize how the air in the room had shifted - for when the midwife touched the infant, she began to scream in agony.

“What’s wrong?!” Loki’s eyes were narrowing at the midwife that almost dropped his newborn, detecting some sort of burn wound on her palm. Quickly, she had covered the boy in a towel, aware that if any harm came over that baby, she was to die at the God of Mischief’s hands.

A flash of lightning was brightening the whole room, which had only been flooded by dim candle light until now.

Another one of the midwife’s screeched in terror, almost stumbling as she frantically erscaped your bedchamber. The adrenaline from birth and worry about your child sharpened your senses, yet concentration was almost impossible.

Still, the words she was yelling as she ran down the hall send a shiver down your spine:

“It’s a monster.”

Your head was spinning as you rushed into an upright position, with two nurses pressing you onto the bed again. “Milady, you need to rest! It’s still too early!”

“What is wrong with my child?!?” you desperately screamed, kicking with your legs to free yourself from their hold. “Give it to me!”

Their expressions were too much to bear. Your head was spinning, seeing pity mixing up with disgust and anger in their eyes.

“Enough!” Loki finally broke his own silence, his mind having been occupied with all the horror scenarios one could think about.

Walking up to the midwife carrying the infant, he demanded seeing it. “Your highness, don’t-” yet the midwife’s beg was for naught.

Yes, everything will be alright. Loki will take care of it, like he always does. After all, he’s your savior, your hero, the love of your life...

Gently and insecure, your husband cradled the newborn in his arms - a sight to behold. And the baby’s strong cries assured you that it was at least alive.

However, as soon as he dared to unwrap the towel, revealing it’s face, Loki’s heartbeat completely stopped for a second. His trembling lip began to shake, mouth widely agape as he took in the child’s form.

For a brief moment, his mind was completely blank. All emotion dropped from his face before taking in a complete different demeanour.

“Wha-” you wouldn’t dare ending that sentence when your husband’s furious eyes met yours.

The air was so thick, you thought not even Thor’s hammer could break it. Clearly ritten on Loki’s usual unreadable face were so many emotions at once:

Aversion, fury, incredible sorrow...all directed towards you? The child?

Impossible.

Loki Odinson loved you more than anything in this world, this was the only thing you had always been sure he wasn’t lying about.

“From all the people I expected to betray me...” His voice was hoarse, as if the ache in his heart was wrapping around his throat. “Why did it have to be you?”

You could feel the horrendous aura, a wave of sadness and despair coming from your husband. Seeing him like this was like torture.

“What- what do you mean, darling-”

“Don’t fucking call me that, you harlot!” That was surely not the first time your lover had raised your voice against you - he could be a bit difficult at times, obviously.

But this time was different somehow. It sounded so...ultimate.

And the Loki you knew would never use such harsh words against you!

“Please, I beg of you...just let me see my baby!” Everything was just too much for you, almost to the point of passing out. 

And the man did as you pleaded, almost shoving the child into your arms. “There, have your bastard! And make sure to never show your filthy faces to me ever again!”

With that, he stormed out of the room, leaving you with those strange nurses looking at you like you’ve just commited an unforgiveable crime.

There was no use in overthinking this. He’ll come back like he always did. You can work this out, whatever it is - even if you are gonna be mad for a very long time, making such a fuss and then disappearing instead of taking care of you, the mother of his child.

Out of a whim, you decided to finally observe the little being you’ve been waiting for all those months.

A loud gasp escaped your mouth as you realized just why everyone was so worked up about that little boy. Yet the sound you made was solely surprised - not a hint of fear or rejection laced your voice.

It was a beautiful baby boy, little fists balled to the air as if he was searching for the warmth of his parents - though his skin was in the shade of a dark blue. When you dared running your hand over the deep lines and ridges on his body, the stinging pain of frostbite immediately stung your fingertips. His eyes snapped open, looking at you with black irises through red scleras.

You knew the meaning of this, even though you didn’t understand how this was possible: This child was a biological Frost Giant. A small one, but nonetheless.

A curse? Was someone trying to play your family dirty? No. If that was the case, the child wouldn’t also have actual powers together with the appearance.

Just how long have those tears been running down your cheeks in thick streams already? You wouldn’t know.

Only one thing came as clear as daylight to you: You loved this baby, more than anything in this world. And no matter the hardships that came along with it - you would protect him, no matter what!

“He’s magnificent...” you sniffled, pecking some quick kisses onto his small body before the cold could hurt you. “I love you so, so much...!”

Not minding the judging looks of the nurses, let alone wondering about the consequences, resolve was starting to give you new strenght.

The boy got a grasp on your finger, and instead of your skin freezing off as expected, your magic allowed him to the boy to finally disguise itself as one of you. How was this even possible? Well, this is probably the first time something like this ever happened, so no one could prepare you for what to expect with this child.

They all say that birth was an impactful event - but nothing could’ve prepared you for everything that you had to endure on this day.

Yet nothing could’ve stopped you from believing that this child was the greatest blessing that ever came over you.

Now you only had to convince your husband of that very fact...

“Y/N Y/L/N!” the guard wouldn’t even bother adressing you with your full title as his harsh voice woke you up. When had you drifted away into slumber anyway? You were probably way more worn out than you wanted to admit...

Your eyes immediately snapped open, heart skipping a beat until you saw that your son was still sleeping soundly right next to you. Stroking his cheek as he smiled up to you, it almost made you forget about that burdensome situation.

“Hey!” Protectingly, you were holding onto your child for dear life as the guard approached both of you. “I have an important message to deliver!”

You scowled, almost like an animal mother protecting their offsprings with baring teeth, even though you knew in that state you would be completely and utterly helpless. “Why now? What could be more important than the well-being of my child?”

The answer let your blood run cold:

“I am here to announce that Lady Y/N Y/L/N has to face a trial in front of the Allfather. The following crimes she is being accused of: Infidelity, collaboration with the enemy and trying to sneak one of them into our glorious kingdom.”

[fruitcoops]

Hi, Eve

Rose here from yesterday, thank you very much for the Birthday message, I wasn't expecting you to read it let alone reply but I was looking for Coops kids Birthday fluff specifically. It doesn't matter if you don't have time however as I don't want to be a bother.

Hello Rose, and happy (belated) 20th birthday! Sorry for the wait--I really wanted to get this one right to celebrate such an important number. I hope your day was absolutely fantastic! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but Stella is an OC

Combined with asks for Sirius lightly making fun of Remus' accent and Remus yelling at a game show (@nazar4114)

“Medusa!” Stella shouted with all the force in her thirteen-year-old lungs. Remus leaned forward on the couch. “Medusa!”

The front door opened with a creak. “I’m h—”

“Yes!” they cheered in unison as Nicole answered correctly. Remus turned and gave Stella a double high-five, feeling his heart squeeze at the vivid joy on her round face. “Good guess.”

“I knew she was gonna get it,” Stella said with a pump of her fist as she turned back to the show and folded her legs underneath her.

“Gonna,” a familiar deep voice mimicked from the doorway. Paper bags rustled before footsteps stopped behind the couch; Remus tilted his chin up without sparing a glance, and Sirius pressed a laugh-laced kiss to his cheek before dropping one on Stella’s head as well. “You sound too much like your dad.”

“Love you, too,” Remus said wryly.

“I’ll take ‘Myths and Moths’ for 400, please.” Nicole’s voice snapped his attention back to the screen, and Stella narrowed her eyes.

“Daily Double!” the automated voice announced. Stella gasped; Remus bit his lower lip. “This mythical shield was wielded by Athena, and is sometimes said to be made of goat skin.”

“Aegis,” Stella whispered, then raised her voice. “It’s the Aegis, Nicole. You know this.”

“We know you do,” Remus said, scooting forward. “You just guessed whose head is on it.”

Nicole’s buzzer went off with two seconds to spare. “What is the Aegis?”

“Hell yeah!” Stella whooped.

Remus turned to her and raised his eyebrows. “Excuse you.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you two going to do this the whole afternoon?” Sirius asked from the kitchen, obviously amused. “We might need to get the neighbors some noise-cancelling headphones.”

Stella blew a dark lock of hair out of her eyes as she flopped her head back. “It’s almost final Jeopardy, papa. We have, like, ten minutes.”

Sirius blinked at her, then shook his head. “I swear you two share genes.”

“Ope, you caught me,” Remus said over the noise of the commercial break. “When I was 20 and had literally never left Wisconsin, I went and had a secret kid in Maine who looks terribly like you just so that someone would watch Jeopardy reruns with me thirteen years later. Oops.”

“It’s the truth,” Stella said with great gravity. “I remember.”

“Mon dieu,” Sirius muttered, though he couldn’t keep a smile down. He had never been able to hide around Stella, not once in the three years since they had adopted her. It was one of the things Remus loved most about him. “By the way, nobody under the age of fourteen is allowed in the kitchen for the next…hour. Ish.”

Stella squirmed around until she could rest her arms on the back of the couch. “What if I get thirsty?”

“I’m sure you can invoke birthday privileges and ask your dad to get something for you.”

“Birthday privileges?” Remus scoffed. “Nobody in this house has a birthday today. Yours was last month, and mine’s in March.”

“It’s my birthday,” Stella said.

“What? No, it’s not.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“Your birthday is in June.”

“It’s today.”

“Or maybe July?”

“It’s today, in December, when there’s snow,” she insisted, throwing herself back against the pillows. “Come on, dad, that’s not funny anymore.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Is somebody too old to find their poor old dad amusing now? Can you go back to being twelve so somebody will laugh at my jokes again? I know, I know, we're super lame compared to all your friends’ parents—”

“So lame,” Sirius agreed from the kitchen.

“—but I like to think we get one more year of pre-teen cuteness before the teen angst takes over.”

Stella sat up again with a groan. Looking at her, Remus saw a mix of himself and Sirius that had always baffled him, considering they had adopted her comparatively late in her life; beneath it was something uniquely Stella. Maybe it was her double-jointed elbows, or the board-straightness of her hair next to their curls, but there was no mistaking that she was her own person through and through. He loved that about her. “I’m not going to be a terrible teenager.”

Sirius poked his head around the edge of the kitchen—his nose was adorned with a smudge of flour. “Can I record that for future use?”

“Non.”

“Ooo, using the French,” Remus hissed. “That transformation is already beginning.”

“It’s not like you were bad teenagers, right?” She settled upside-down on the couch with her flamingo-patterned socks high in the air.

“I almost convinced Grandma to let me dye my hair blue, but otherwise I was pretty good.”

“I was terrible,” Sirius laughed. “I didn’t talk to anybody for a solid three years.”

Stella frowned. “How? I think I’d die if I did that.”

“He’s stubborn,” Remus stage-whispered.

“I heard that.”

Stella suppressed her laughter as best she could, but she was about as good at hiding her emotions around them as Sirius was. She didn’t really giggle—the amount her voice had deepened over the past three years always gave Remus whiplash—but her laugh had the same cadence as it did the first day they heard it. While Stella had been quiet at first, it only took love and time to bring her out of her shell. Within a year she settled into their lives like she was always meant to be there.

A thoughtful look crossed her face. “This is my last year before high school.”

“Does it feel different?”

“Not really.” She paused, then shrugged. “And a little. I don’t feel older. It just feels like there’s stuff I won’t get to do anymore.”

“And a lot more you will get to do.” Sirius left his dishtowel on the counter before joining them on Stella’s other side. “You can drive soon, you’ll get a longer curfew, you get more freedom…”

“I guess.”

“What are you going to miss?” Remus asked as she toyed with the hem of her shirt. It was a basic Lions FAN jersey; he was fairly sure she bought it to be ironic. That, and she only wore one of theirs if she was upset with the other, or if one needed a boost at a game.

“I dunno.” A few beats of silence passed. “My classmates. My team. It feels like everything’s going to turn upside down.”

“You can still keep in touch with your friends, and I bet your team won’t be too different,” Sirius said quietly. “Even if it does, that doesn’t mean you have to give all of them up. People change in different ways. They come and go on their own time.”

“There’s going to be a lot of upside-downs over the next couple years, kid.” Remus offered her a smile. “But you’re going to be just fine.”

“You two sound like such dads right now.”

“This might shock you, but that’s because we are.”

The corner of her mouth tugged up and she lolled her head to the side to look at Sirius. “Is the cake done?”

“Fifteen more minutes.”

“Will you watch final Jeopardy with us?”

“What’s the category?”

“US Presidents.”

Sirius exhaled through his nose, but nodded. She grinned and turned herself upright to snuggle against his arm. “You just enjoy watching me lose.”

---------------------------

“Alright, is everyone ready?” Sirius called from the kitchen.

“On three,” Remus said, raising his phone camera. “One, two, three!”

“Happy birthday to you,” over a dozen voices sang. They were off-tempo and so out of key the composer was probably spinning in his grave, but Stella’s clear joy didn’t waver for a millisecond even as her cheeks reddened. “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Stella, happy birthday to you!”

Finn, of course, dragged out the last note. So did Leo, Logan, Kasey, James, Lily, and Talker in varying degrees of awful harmony attempts. It was terrible, and beautiful. “Make a wish,” Sirius said softly as he set the cake down and stepped back. His eyes were the brightest quicksilver Remus had seen in many moons.

Stella closed her eyes, took a breath, and blew as hard as she could—the entire room erupted into cheers when all the candles went out. She was laughing and blushing at the same time when Remus turned the lights back on, though the humor won out in the end and she helped pass plates of cake to her many aunts and uncles. Like every year prior, Regulus managed to smear a bit of frosting on her chin, only to immediately deny it with great offense when she noticed. It was becoming a bit of a tradition—one that Remus never grew tired of.

I know what I would wish for, Remus thought as he looked around the table at their patchwork family. Celeste, Dumo, and his own parents had no doubt spoiled their first grandchild with ‘cusp of adulthood’ gifts, and Natalie and Lily would certainly steal her away after cake for some girl time. Finn and Logan would remain the fun uncles while Leo and Regulus kept their thrones as the cool uncles; Stella would interrogate Jules on the intricacies of high school for at least an hour before they destroyed everyone in a snowball fight. The world they built together had a place for everyone.

I would wish for this. This, for us, forever. It wasn’t a bad eternity to imagine.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Fever Dream

(Written for @sicktember prompt #1 - Fever! I finished it in time for the first but didn't have the energy to edit.)

--

Angels didn’t get sick, precisely

They didn’t have bodies that were, strictly speaking, physical, and therefore couldn’t harbor any of the illnesses that plagued mankind and other earthly creatures.

An angel could, however, burn through enough of his own grace that his corporation began to malfunction.

He would then, as it were, fall ill.

This happened to Aziraphale far more often than to other angels.

A weak constitution was the general explanation; too much time mucking about on the strange old planet, not enough time bathing in the glorious healing light of the celestial sphere.

When he was down on Earth, he was always prying, poking, trying new things, many of which had never been approved, could have any manner of ill effects. He knew he should show some proper restraint, withdraw a bit more from the world, but he couldn’t help himself.

And when he did return to huddle miserably in a recovery ward, waiting for the chills to pass and his temperature to stabilize, Gabriel would always visit, dropping broad hints about the pressures of fieldwork and the under appreciated glory of a solid administrative career. Offering all kinds of advice as to what, exactly, a proper angel would cut out of his life if he wished to better focus on his ordained duties.

And so, when the symptoms next came upon him—muscle aches, irritability, sweat and chills until he didn’t know if he was hot or cold—Aziraphale decided to wait it out on Earth. It would only take a few days to recover and, anyway, he had business to attend to. Important business that could not wait.

“Angel, are you sure you’re alright?” Crowley demanded, a glint of gold just visible between black lenses and furrowed brow.

“Yes, I’m perf—” he turned his head to cough lightly, but an odd spasm came over his throat, transforming it into something deep and hacking that left his ribs aching and his brow dripping with sweat. “…tickety-boo,” he muttered, turning back to his mug.

“Keep it down,” hissed the demon, glancing around the common room of the inn. Perhaps one or two people had glanced over, but nothing out of the ordinary. “People will think you have the plague.” The last two words he barely mouthed.

“My dear fellow, do be serious. I have hardly any symptoms of the plague.” Only the last part sounded more like sybtobs otha blayyyg.

He cleared his throat and tried to sniff, which started a complicated chain reaction that ended with a mouthful of what he hoped was spit.

As Aziraphale’s eyes went wide with alarm, Crowley quickly pulled out a deep red handkerchief, which the angel gratefully spat into. Unsure what to do next, Aziraphale folded it over and offered it back, but Crowley leaned away, face contorted in horror.

“Oh, ah… thank you, then?” He took a quick glance inside and immediately wished he hadn’t, grimacing at the color of what his body had produced.

“Just… just eat your soup,” Crowley muttered, waving a hand at the bowl he’d been toying with until it was hardly above room temperature.

Aziraphale had ordered it thinking a bit of warmth would be lovely, as he’d been shivering fit for midwinter morning. But after one mouthful, he’d found himself sweating, tugging at his collar to relieve some of the heat. Now he could feel the shivers coming on again, but he couldn’t warm it back up. Until the illness passed, any miracles would just make it worse.

“Right,” Crowley said as Aziraphale poked at something that might have been a parsnip. “I’m going to be out of town for the next few weeks. Temptations all up and down the continent. Might take the rest of the season. Unless…” Using that lilting voice that suggested a coin flip might be imminent.

“Mmmh.” Aziraphale looked mournfully into his beer, finally hazarding another sip. The taste of hops struck him at the back of the throat and he quickly expelled the rest back into the mug. “Sorry, m’dear. Not this time. I got…” he waved his hand, waiting for the rest of the words. They didn’t appear to be forthcoming. “Things,” he finally said. “In the city. Until at least…” He rubbed his forehead, but it was hard to think when it was so cold. He pulled his heavy coat back on, bundling up.

“Oh, well. Things. Obviously can’t take you away from things.” Aziraphale nodded miserably, trying to focus on his bowl. “Angel, look,” and as Crowley leaned close, there was something new in his voice, something that sounded rather like concern. “You sure you’re alright? I mean, there’s nothing… nobody…”

Aziraphale blinked, his eyes feeling… sticky. What was Crowley getting at? He should really be more direct, clever Serpent, it was hard enough to think in all this heat. He struggled out of his coat, dabbing uselessly at the sweat on his forehead.

“Oh for Satan’s—are you cursed?” He hissed the last word even softer than he’d said plague.

“No,” the angel said, resting his head on his hand until his neck recovered enough strength to hold it up again. “M’not. S’just… things!”

In his attempt to gesture with both hands, Aziraphale forgot one was already occupied and very nearly wound up face-first in the soup.

“Azir—!” Crowley rounded the table in an instant, tugging him upright again. “What has come over you?”

“S’rry. People staring? S’not… not… proper.”

“Angel, you’re—you’re burning up!”

“Not. S’cold.” Then an icy hand touched his forehead and cheek, and Aziraphale groaned, trying to pull away.

“What the Heaven is going on?”

“Toldya. Things. Illness. From… from…” he tried to gesture with one arm, but it weighed too much to lift. “Being a… bad angel…”

A heavy sigh. “C’mere, you.” Crowley hauled him to his feet.

Aziraphale was pleased to find he could stand, just that his spinning head and aching limbs made it unpleasant. He couldn’t remember where he was supposed to go, but there was something solid nearby to lean on and a hand on his waist, guiding him forward.

It wasn’t until they reached the stairs that he realized something wasn’t right. “Crowley! This is—we—we can’t—where—what are you—”

“I’ve got a room upstairs.”

Aziraphale squinted dimly towards the upper floor. “Yes…?”

“Yes. And you, Angel, are in need of a bed.”

But.

But it was improper! Scandalous, even, talking of rooms, and beds, or rooms andbeds, or any combination thereof, particularly in the singular form. What if someone saw? An angel and a demon, bad enough, but two allegedly respectable gentlemen?

Or, wait, was one of them currently presenting as a woman? Likely not Aziraphale, though he sometimes lost track, but Crowley, well, that could also be hard to tell, but he seemed to have a good amount of jewelry and no facial hair, so there was a chance.

Still, male or female, angel or human, there would be rumor, gossip, talk about the town! It would get back to Heaven! This was worse than being thought weak and improper, Gabriel would think him some sort of reprobate!

Crowley paused, one hand on a door. “This is me. Um. I’ll go back down if it makes you feel better.”

What? And have all the rumor with none of the satisfaction? The shame of spending a night in a demon’s bed without the pleasures—oh, he knew what Crowley got up to. One of the Seven Sins that was, and Aziraphale would not be tempted into joining. No, not he!

“Right. Nh. Going to help you out of some of these layers, then I’ll go.”

Go? Go?After Aziraphale had come all this way, come so very close? No, he’d spent centuries imagining how it would be, and he’d never be truly satisfied until he had a reality to compare it to. Aziraphale very much wanted to know what Crowley looked like while he slept.

Yes, Crowley, Sloth is one of the Seven Sins, a demon should know these things.

And while Aziraphale had the general idea clear enough, he still had questions. Did Crowley snore, or did he breathe softly? He certainly would sleep on his side, curled up, but how heavy would his head be, pillowed on Aziraphale’s chest? If they talked, would his words become slurred as he drifted off, or would he listen quietly while Aziraphale spoke, running his fingers through bright red hair?

Come to that, how did his hair feel, or his cheek, or his lips? Aziraphale hadn’t thought much about lips, generally, but now that Crowley was always hiding his eyes, well, they had become the focus of his face, and that presented fascinating possibilities, ones that Gabriel certainly wouldn’t approve of, but he’d always been too curious for his own good. And really, what was a harmless little experiment between—

Oh, good Lord, was Aziraphale talking out loud?

He clapped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide with horror.

But Crowley chuckled, resting a hand on his shoulder; in only his undershirt, he could feel it so clearly—ice cold, but not unpleasantly so. “Your secrets are safe, Angel. Lay down.”

Too embarrassed to object, Aziraphale crawled into the bed and let Crowley pull a blanket over him. “Keep that on, yeah?”

“S’hot,” the angel whined. His voice sounded very odd, slurred, weak. Perhaps that meant Crowley hadn’t understood his rambling before.

“I know. Just try.” Something cool and damp wiped his face and Aziraphale sighed with relief. “Has this happened before?”

“Mmmh. Over an’over an’over.” In Heaven, they would assign him a recovery room, to sit alone and reflect on what he’d done to earn himself the illness, on what he could do to better serve in the future. Gabriel always had good suggestions.

The being alone. That was the worst part. Hated that.

Crowley was talking. Something would be right there, beside the bed. That was probably important, but the angel was already asleep.

In Aziraphale’s dream, Gabriel told him over and over that he’d failed again, that this was his own fault, that he was a terrible angel who didn’t deserve… something.

Possibly anything.Again and again, the Archangel took everything he valued—his books, his sweets, his day at the theater, the beauty of the sunrise, the way humans smiled at each other after many days apart, and something else, something far more important, but the name was forbidden—

Again, something cool pressed to his forehead, his chest. Fingers raked through his hair, helping the sweat to evaporate. “See?” A voice murmured. “Better already.” But everything was getting grey and distant again.

Now Aziraphale was in a room, an enormous room, empty but somehow still cluttered. All the things he loved were here, hidden, and Gabriel ordered him to find them all or they’d be destroyed. He searched frantically, among endless piles of brown packages, and found most of them—books and smiles and sunrises—mixed in with kettles, mittens and (for some reason) cat whiskers. But the last thing, the final thing, the important thing was still missing, and the room grew hotter and hotter—

“Try this now.” Something supported Aziraphale’s back as he sat up, leaning against… a thing… a thing that meant warmth and safety. A mug pressed to his lips. He wasn’t sure what he drank, but it felt good. “Now let’s get you settled again.”

He didn’t go down easily, though, reaching and writhing, somehow grasping the safe thing, pulling it close. If he let it get away, Gabriel would destroy it.

“I see. Alright. You stay there.” Fingers through his hair again, more resting lightly on his shoulder. “I got you. Nothing’s going to—”

Reality tumbled away and he was falling, possibly Falling, the voices of Gabriel and Michael and Uriel all around him, insulting him, taunting him, asking him why he hadn’t filed form HX-3 in triplicate. He clung desperately to the thing he needed as the temperature rose, more voices joining in, every voice. The Hellfire licked at him, even as he trembled and shook uncontrollably. This was the end, he would die here, he’d never said—

“Crowley!” He called, desperate. “Crowley don’t—don’t leave me!”

The thing he held shifted, and now there were arms wrapped around him, protecting him. “There we are. Not going to leave.”

It was too hot to bear, but still he burrowed closer. “Crowley, please. I can’t—I—I need you!”

“Not going anywhere, Angel. Not ever.”

“Crowley!” The Hellfire burst within him, a flash of heat up and down his body, his limbs, his soul—

And then he was… exhausted.

The shaking faded, the heat and cold gone, though he still found himself covered in sweat. Nothing remained but a strange sense of calm.

Still clinging to his lifeline, Aziraphale drifted off into a proper restful sleep.

He opened his eyes to find the late evening sun slanting through an open window. The blanket was largely twisted around his legs and the bed below him was oddly hard and lumpy, even if it was nice—

“You’re looking better.”

Aziraphale scrambled up in horror to find that the thing he’d been laying on—clinging to for dear life—was six feet of rumpled, uncomfortable-looking demon. A demon he vaguely recalled saying some very revealing things to…

“Oh, good Lord.” Aziraphale’s face burned again, but not from fever. He covered, his eyes turning away. “Crowley—you—you—how—”

“Gah! M’sorry!” He heard Crowley push himself upright, sliding away. “I—I—I shouldn’t have—didn’t mean—”

No of course not. It wasn’t as though Crowley shared his strange desires, his secret obsessions, his awful curiosity. Crowley was a—a perfectly normal demon who would have no interest in prolonged contact, particularly with a most clingy, damaged angel…

“What must you think of me?” he moaned.

“Stupid, stupid demon,” Crowley grumbled. “I saw you panicking but I didn’t know—shouldn’t have assumed—”

“What is wrong with me?”

“Crossed a line, and—and now look—”

“I’m a terrible, foolish, needy…”

“Didn’t want to take advantage—I’m sorry!”

“I’m sorry! Wait…” That wasn’t right. Aziraphale cautiously lowered his hands to see Crowley sitting frozen with the glasses halfway to his face. “You’re sorry?”

“Mnh. Yeah. Cuz… cuz I’m the one who…” his eyes dropped. “You seemed upset. Scared. I just… I made it worse, didn’t I? Shoulda known you wouldn’t want…”

“But…” Aziraphale swallowed, trying to recall anything clearly. “I… I seem to remember… propositioning you. Repeatedly.”

Crowley’s face turned red, but he smiled. Not his confident swaggering smirk, but something awkward and genuine that Aziraphale hadn’t seen since Eden. “Not… repeatedly. N’I’d hardly call it… besides it was… you know. But!” His fingers twisted on the metal frames of his glasses. “But, look—I don’t—you aren’t responsible for—for the things you say when you’re sick, ‘specially things you don’t mean—and I—s’my responsibility not to—” He ducked his head even further. “Just wanted to help. Shouldn’t have assumed… that you meant… what I wanted…”

“What…” Aziraphale reached out but couldn’t quite touch him. “What you want?”

“Um.” Golden eyes flicked up. “You’re… not the only one who wondered about… the sleeping stuff. Who doesn’t like to be… alone.” He cleared his throat. “Or, at least, I thought—”

“I believe I told you I needed you.” His hand hovered over Crowley’s shoulder. “I meant that. Precisely the way you took it. I—I meant most of it.”

Crowley’s eyes blinked, very slowly.

And the next moment, they were swept into each other’s arms, Aziraphale once again clinging to his friend like a lifeline. “I don’t think you’re stupid,” he managed.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale pressed closer. “Thank you for staying.”

When they broke apart, Crowley was as bright red as Aziraphale had felt at the height of his fever, glasses back in place, staring fixedly at his own legs. “So. Mmmmh. Now what?”

Aziraphale considered that question more carefully than he’d ever considered anything.

“I think… I’m recovering…”

“S’good.” Crowley shifted as if to stand.

“…but still very tired. I should probably rest another night?”

“Yeah. Um. Yeah. Do you—I can go?”

“Do you have somewhere to be?” His heart started to fall, until Crowley shrugged.

“I do, but… not urgently.”

“If you have the time there’s… there’s something I’m curious about.”

“Well. Big fan of knowledge, me.”

Aziraphale carefully lay down again, keeping his arms wide. A moment later, Crowley took a deep breath, set aside his glasses and joined him.

It turned out that Crowley’s head on his chest was the perfect weight. That he did indeed curl up, though in the most convoluted ways. That in his sleep, Crowley’s breaths were gentle and soft, much like his hair, and he tried very much to keep talking on the edge of consciousness even when he didn’t have much to say.

As for the kissing, well—certain observations did not need to be made public.

(AO3 link later today...)

[jobean12-blog]

The Professor Is In

Pairing: Loki x reader

Word Count: 1,073

Summary: You’re a Med student in NYC and you meet someone unexpected. 

Author’s Note: This is for the HBC’s @the-th-horniest-book-club Long Distance Love Weekend and the prompt Professor AU. I got a lovely request for some Professor Loki and this was such a perfect time for it! Hope you like it! Thank you all so very much for reading! Much love always! ❤❤❤ Divider by the lovely @imerdwarf

Warnings: some light flirting and fun, lots of fluff :) 

The library is surprisingly quiet as you make your way through the rows of chairs and to your favorite table by the window. Your arms are laden with three large textbooks and your laptop and you can’t see your feet below you so when your toe catches on one of the chairs you don’t even have a chance to save yourself from falling.

Thankfully, an arm wraps around your waist and you’re pulled against something warm and hard. You grab onto his jacket and look up into the most beautiful green eyes, swirling with something akin to mischief.

“Thank you!” you breathe out. “I didn’t see that chair! Or you!” you laugh, quickly letting go of the bunched-up fabric between your fists.

You quickly look down, inwardly cringing when you realized you’ve wrinkled his jacket.

“I’m sorry about your…” you start.

“Don’t be silly darling. It’s not a concern at all,” he assures you before you can finish. “Are you alright?”

Long fingers tuck under your chin and lift your gaze. He raises a brow as he waits for your answer. Your mouth opens and closes until you finally blurt out, “I’m fine! Thanks to you of course!”

He smiles and for a moment you feel breathless, your hand reaching out to grab the edge of the table.

“Thank you again,” you mutter, gathering your things before turning on your heel and disappearing behind the tall bookshelves.

When you’re sure he’s out of sight you lean against the rows of bindings, the smell of old leather and dust lingering in the air. You let out an audible breath, leaning your head back and trying to shake the imagine of those eyes out of your mind.

It doesn’t work and when you finally make it safely to your favorite table and start to study you can’t concentrate. With a frustrated sigh you close your book and heave everything into your arms, meandering through the tables and chairs carefully and out the doors of the library.

Your feet carry you to your second favorite spot, the small coffee shop on the corner where you order something that will hopefully pull you out of your daze.

“Ah, so we meet again. Luckily, this time you’ve managed to stay upright!”

At the sound of his deep and smooth voice you spin around and come face to face with the same green eyes that are still lingering in your thoughts.

“Oh!” you say surprised, “right! Yes, that is good. Not as many chairs,” you joke, motioning to the tables in the shop.

He winks and turns to order his drink. You take that as your cue to leave but before you get very far strong but gentle fingers close around your arm.

“Would you like to have coffee with me?” he asks, his eyes bright.

Without thinking you reply with a quiet “yes,” and wait until he pays so you can find a seat. He escorts you to a small table by the window and pulls your chair out. You sit with a thump still feeling a bit enamored under his green-eyed gaze.

“I suppose now would be a good time to introduce myself,” he says, reaching out to take your hand. “Loki,” he murmurs then softly kisses your knuckles.

You can feel the heat rush over your skin and you bite your lip, smiling shyly while introducing yourself. The next hour goes by in easy conversation and some very serious flirting on Loki’s part. By the time he’s holding the shop door open and you walk out into the afternoon sun, your skin is already hot.

“I have somewhere to be darling but it was a pleasure sitting with you. I hope we can do it again soon.”

You watch him walk off, the white napkin you wrote your number on still visible between his fingers as he turns the corner.

Realizing you only have a half an hour before your Anatomy class you rush back to your apartment and get what you need before racing through campus and making it to the double doors of the lecture hall with only a minute to spare.

You push them open and inwardly groan when you see the only available seats are in the front row. Your books hit the desk with a loud bang and you sit, slumping down and wishing you were still at the coffee shop with Loki.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and you lift your eyes to the doorway as the man crowding your thoughts walks in. His gaze immediately finds you and he smiles, giving you a small nod before addressing the class.

You’re look of shock does nothing to deter him as he starts the lecture. He holds your attention for the entire hour and a half and you feel even more energized than when you walked in. He dismisses everyone but takes a few long strides in your direction as you’re packing your things.

“Hello darling. I was hoping you would be in my Anatomy section,” he confesses.

You give him a slightly confused look but smile in understanding when he continues.

“When we met in the library earlier I saw your textbook,” he explains. “There are three other sections but it seems like this is my lucky day.”

“I didn’t know you were a professor,” you murmur, deflating at the thought that you probably shouldn’t be seeing him anymore.

“Well, I’m really just helping out the University for the time being. Nothing is quite official,” he simpers, that familiar light of mischief dancing in his eyes.

You find yourself once again giving in to him.

“In that case…” you trail off, wondering if asking him to dinner would be too forward.

“In that case, I would love to take you to dinner tonight,” he says with a wink.

You giggle and throw your bag over your shoulder.

“I would love that Loki.”

He holds out his arm and you nestle your hand in the crook of his elbow, walking out of the hall and into the fading sun.

“What a beautiful evening,” he whispers. “I know this lovely spot that has outdoor seating in the back garden. How about I pick you up at 7?”

“That sounds perfect!” you exclaim, squeezing his arm.

“Wonderful my sweet,” he sings. “Now, let me walk you back to your apartment before I leave you to get ready.”

@book-dragon-13 @eurynome827​ @hiddles-rose​ @jewels2876​ @loricameback @lookiamtrying​ @marvelgirl7​ @nano--raptor​ @randomfandompenguin​ @starlightcrystalline​ @white-wolf1940​

[yoongiboongipoongi]

one night stand

REQUESTED by anon: ok ok can i request for a one night stand smut for cho seungyoun? thanks 😊

synopsis: the two of you get a lil too drunk and end up messing around in seungyoun’s bed. UNEDITED

pairing: dom!cho seungyoun x reader 

warnings: sub reader, cursing, drinking, unprotected sex? it’s not implied that they used protection but you can still imagine whatever you want lol

this is my very first request so i apologize if this isn’t good lol. smut starts under the read more line. lowercase intended 

the two of you weren’t dating, and you both considered each other as “acquaintances ”. however, the rest of your friends thought differently. literally anyone could see the sexual tension between the two of you. as yoomi, your closest friend, says: the two of you are going to start fucking any minute. seungyoun was a goofy kid that always cracked jokes with you, but there was always that one moment where silence enters and the two of you just awkwardly shift in your seats. 

“anda is our driver so let’s drink all we want tonight!” yoomi cheers and jumps up, acting crazy despite not even being at the club yet. you let out a small cheer after her and put down your makeup brush. you would usually put on fairly heavy makeup when you go to the club, but not when seungyoun was there. even though you consider him as a friend, it wouldn’t hurt to impress him at least a bit. you made sure your makeup was subtle but still showing your beautiful features. you put on light eyeshadow, eyeliner, blush, foundation, and your favorite lip tint. 

the colorful lights were spinning around as loud music played, you looked around your surroundings, seeing crowds of people having the time of their lives (cue the day6 music). 

you, anda, and yoomi went to the second floor to find your other friends. according to yoomi, seungyoun was going to be there too. you bit your lip in excitement and walked into the private room. your eyes wondered around the group of people and on the very right you saw him. he was wearing a white button down shirt, a few buttons undone, plain black pants, and a black denim jacket with graphic designs printed all over it. simple, but extremely hot. the way he was sitting already drove you crazy. he was laid back slightly, legs spread out. you could already imagine you sucking his big fat di- 

“y/n? come sit down!” yoomi pulls you to the seating area. you feel a bit flustered, and you leave a little imaginary slap on your face for letting yourself get carried away into the world of horniness. 

the rest of the time you spent there was full of dancing, drinking, and constant glances towards seungyoun. you just couldn’t help it. it’s HIS fault for looking that good. he seemed to notice your glances, without even turning your way. you could tell by his small smirks occasionally. 

after everyone had left the club, you stumbled outside and looked around for anda and yoomi. when you looked to your right, you sat yoomi stumbling around with her boyfriend. 

you called out to her, “hey yoomi! where’s anda?” 

“i don’t know! i think she got drunk this time. i told that hoe not to drink, fuck,” yoomi walked off into the distance clinging tightly on her boyfriend’s arm. 

you sighed and stood, waiting for absolutely nothing. 

“what are you doing, standing there?”  seungyoun walked beside you, confused. 

“uh? i don’t knowwww” your speech was weird because of the large amounts of alcohol. your cheeks were extremely pink. 

“you know i noticed you looking at me the whole time,” he chuckled. 

“it’s cause you’re really hot-” you slapped your hand over your mouth in surprise. if you were sober you would probably run away in embarrassment, but instead you giggled and said: “oopsy, didn’t mean to say that”.

he turned his head over to look at you with an unreadable expression. 

“you think i’m hot?” he slowly walks towards you, another smirk slowly building on his face. you giggle again and nod aggressively. you were definitely going to regret this in the morning. once he was close enough to you, he bent down to match you height and tilted his head slightly. 

having a slight pout on your face, you matched his actions and tilted your head in the same direction. you blinked slowly, still feeling drunk. you noticed he also had a slight blush on his face from the alcohol. 

he slowly moved his face closer to you, until you dived forwards into his lips. he was a bit taken aback, but he quickly adjusted and grabbed your waist. it went from 10 to 1000 quickly, but neither of you cared. both of you were expecting this to happen anyways.

his lips were now stained a bit from your lip tint, but that didn’t matter. the two of you continued sucking the hell out of each others lips, not caring that you were both making out in an alleyway by a club. both of you roamed each other’s bodies with your hands, knowing what’s about to happen later tonight. 

after being in the alleyway for who knows how long, you ended up in his bed an hour later. he was on top of you with both of his hands by your head. the two of you were breathing heavily, eyes both filled with lust. 

immediately the two of you started removing your clothes, too eager and impatient for the foreplay. seungyoun threw his clothing to the floor, not really caring where it lands. 

after the last article of clothing was removed, your hands went to grasp his shoulders, already dripping wet with excitement and arousal. 

he used two fingers to circle your clit the gradually enter you. thrusting his long fingers. you were squirming in pleasure, burying your head in the pillow you were laying against. 

“fuck you’re so wet already,” he spreads your legs and grips your thighs with his hands. 

“put it in already,” you whine. 

“if you say so,” your curses were cut off with a sharp gasp. he entered his cock into you and started thrusting. he was the perfect size for you, hitting all the right spots. you moaned in pleasure and grabbed the bedsheets. your back was arched, giving seungyoun a closer view of your boobs. he brought you closer to the wall and leaned your body against it, so instead of you laying down, you were sitting slightly upright. he kept thrusting wildly while sucking on your boobs, leaving hickies on them occasionally. 

you pulled on his hair, lost in pleasure. “i’m about to cum!” tears threatened to spill as you were approaching your high. your legs were begining to shake and you pulled seungyoun into a heated kiss. 

“fuck you feel so good around my cock,” he groans. 

“cum on my cock,” your eyes roll back, letting out a pathetic moan. both of you came at around the same time, seungyoun coming after thrusting wildly for a few more seconds. 

the regret will hit you in the morning, but hey, at least you got good dick.