#there is of course a chance I could be wrong

[wizzperrrs]

choso kamo is a one pump chump. prove me wrong.

you two ended up just a little tipsy at a college party of someone’s house, leading to the both of you ending up in a guest room the host introduced you both to before you had gotten intoxicated.

you were so busy kissing him and devouring eachother, not even being aware of the both of you guys’ surroundings.

the music was blasting, lights flickered everywhere, people screaming and having fun while dancing.

meanwhile you two were on the couch, the make out session heated and intimate.

you pulled him up to a guest room, locking the door behind you both.

you push him against the door, hands on his chest.

“i-i.. what’re you doing?—” he asks confused, his deep voice so soft and gentle yet rough at the same time. you had no words to describe how sexy this man was.

choso gazes at you with submit in his eyes, but also dedication.. and.. fear?

“what’re you nervous about, cho’?”

“i-i’m not nervous about anything, what do you mean?”

“you know what i mean. you’re shaking. what’s wrong, honey? tell me.”

he gulps, looking to the side and fidgeting, “i.. i want to have sex with you,” he whispers, awkwardly standing tall.

“..you sure?” you want to make sure he’s comfortable, because from the looks of it, he looks terrified.

choso nods, before you look down at his sweats, he’s rock hard. that was enough for you.

a few minutes go by, and you push him on the bed, immediately climbing on top.

“w-wait, no, i want to fuck you,” he frantically grabbed your waist.

“cho’, you’re worrying me here. you’re shaking like i’m gonna kill you.” you chuckle, but still genuinely worried about him.

“please, let me do it. i promise i’ll be good, just let me try.” he stares into your eyes with gentleness but also lust.

“..okay. but take your time, ‘kay?”

he flips you both around in no time, making you yelp all of a sudden, and he leans in to your neck, spreading kisses all over.

you run fingers in his hair, the soft, luscious and black locks gently brushing through.

he pulls away, sitting up and pulling down his pants. from his boxers, you could already tell he’s huge.

he pulls down his boxers next, his cock swinging out and slapping his stomach.

“mmgh..” he whimpers ever so slightly from the air touching his red and warm cock, begging for pleasure. he’s trying hard not to touch it.

by now you already took off your bottoms by yourself as well. you didn’t want him to worry about what was turning you off or not, but in reality, nothing about him turns you off.

“just.. spread your legs for me..” he gently assists you in pulling your legs apart, revealing your wet and begging cunt.

he moves to be more comfortable, hands planted beside each side of your head on the bed to keep him focused.

he uses one of his hands to guide his cock to your pussy, and he takes a deep breath.

“go ahead cho’. i want you to make me cum.”

he nods, nervous, but slips his tip in, sucking in a sharp inhale.

he closes his eyes shut, pushing through the tightness, almost painful grip of your pussy.

he’s not even fully inside before suddenly his legs shake…

he came inside. already.

“f-fuuck! fuck, i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to do that, shit—”

he moans, dipping his head down in embarrassment but pleasure.

that’s when you came to realisation. “choso, are you a virgin?”

choso lifts his head up again, humiliation and nervousness in his face. “um.. yes… but i promise i’ll learn for you, please give me a chance—”

you suddenly laugh quietly. “choso, it’s okay. you’re good, just go slow, okay? cumming that quick is normal, especially as a virgin. you got it.”

“o-okay. yeah, i got it, i got it…” he looks back down at your spilling cunt from his warm, thick seed.

after a while, he’s gotten a rhythmical and heavy, quick pace, fucking into you like a rabbit.

“y-you feel amazing, fuck, i could be here forever. a-agh, don’t tighten up on me like that, i’ll cum too early,” he’s just yapping but of course his sexy voice makes up for it, so you just let him.

after riding out both of you guys’ orgasms, he looks you dead in the eye.

“..can you ride me?”

written by @wizzperrrs on tumblr don’t translate, plagiarise, copy, nor rewrite.

[anto-pops]

That Sebastian head canon post was incredible! I loved hearing your thoughts and find them very fitting. Any chance you could whip one out for our other snake boy, the Ominis Gaunt as well? 👀

I’m such a fan of your work! (Asking anonymously because I’m shy af- you’re amazing!)

It would be my absolute pleasure 😌💕 These are so much fun to come up with !

↓↓ OMINIS GAUNT HEADCANONS ↓↓

SFW

Ominis is incredibly reserved and calculated with his words and his actions, and that facet of his character amplifies tenfold when it comes to you. He never wants to say or do the wrong thing, so coming across as stoic is always the better option in his mind.

He's more of a listener than a talker, going above and beyond to recall every shred of information you share with him to the point where you're convinced he has a perfect memory.

This is definitely a widely accepted headcanon, but in lieu of not being able to see, the rest of his senses are sharper than the average persons.

That means he's a master eavesdropper– especially if he ever hears you speaking to another man.

If/when the two of you start officially dating, Ominis is old fashioned in the sense that he takes things slow and is the human embodiment of the word 'chivalrous'.

E.g.; escorting you to your classes or back to your dorm, pulling your chair out for you, helping you to put on your robe or coat, and always taking it upon himself to pay for drinks/meals.

You fell first but he fell harder.

It takes him a while to fully wrap his head around the fact that you genuinely like him, and he's annoyingly slow to open up to you (enough so that you're convinced he's just too nice to tell you to bugger off) but once he comes to terms with everything and grows to trust you, he reveals a softer, needier side of himself that makes you love him that much more.

Before you, Ominis had no interest in dating. I'm pretty sure if anyone was ever brave enough to ask him out or confess, he just spun on his heel and walked away without saying anything.

His idea of flirting with you is to give backhanded compliments and lowkey insult you 👀

E.g.; "Surprisingly, I can tolerate you longer than most people" or if he catches wind of you flirting with someone else, "How droll... I didn't take you as the kind of person to settle for mediocrity"

He's WITTY. Good lord did this man invent the phrase 'sassy man apocalypse'– his tongue is so sharp that sometimes you can't help but feel bad for whoever is on the receiving end of his attitude. He shamelessly hits below the belt and Does Not Care who he offends in the process.

Ominis' love languages are definitely words of affirmation and physical touch (eventually).

His home life was famously Not Good, so he didn't often hear anything positive about himself from his parents, nor did they ever go out of their way to make his life easier. When you take it upon yourself to tell him "You look handsome today" or "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me" or "You're so smart, Ominis" he sort of turns into a stammering, blushing mess.

As for physical touch, it's something he grows to accept and appreciate.

In the beginning, he definitely flinches when you brush your arm against his or make contact with him in any way, because he's never been on the receiving end of a tender, affectionate touch.

Of course that changes after a while.

Eventually, he loves when you touch him (or vice versa). Be it casually or in a more romantic way, it doesn't matter. It's his way of 'seeing' you (the softness of your fingertips, the warmth of your palms, the texture of your hair)

The dude also shamelessly loves to smell you. He'll bury his nose in the top of your head, or against your neck, or he'll bring your wrist to his face just so he can get a whiff of your perfume or soap.

Ominis has a bad habit of emotionally shutting down during arguments because he knows he has a tendency to take things too far. He might slip up and say something he can't take back, so the silent treatment will inevitably rear its ugly head in the wake of your disagreements, and it infuriates you to no end.

On the other hand, if you find yourself being disrespected or at odds with someone else, Ominis works quietly behind the scenes to make the offensive party miserable. He ensures that they fall from grace publicly so that no one is unaware of their social blunders. He's ruthless, cold, and conniving (a true Slytherin prodigy).

He's a sappy drunk. Sentimental, poetic, and the total opposite of poised. He stumbles a lot more, slouches violently, and rocks a permanent goofy grin for the entire night before he inevitably passes out at the table.

Adamantly REFUSES to introduce you to his family. Not that you push for it, by any means. But post-Hogwarts when the two of you are moving on in life together, he makes it abundantly clear that you're his family now, and he has no intention of mixing his bright future with his dark past.

Always lets you vent about your troubles without interrupting, then dryly states that you're "overreacting". It takes him a while to figure out that sometimes girls just want to rant without being given a solution.

Ominis is a shameless gossip. With all the eavesdropping he does around school, he knows everything and is not afraid to drop drama bombs wherever he goes. He's usually pretty graceful about it, though, but still... don't share secrets in the halls when he's around.

Will sleep anywhere. On the floor, propped against a wall, in a faraway corner in the library, it doesn't matter. If it's a surface he can lean against or lay on, he'll nap there.

He's wickedly smart and gets good marks in all of his classes, but he's forever embarrassed by his less than stellar grade in Potion's.

Refuses to ride a broom. Ever. Sebastian convinced him once by promising to keep him steady, then failed spectacularly and let him fall eight feet into a bush. Ominis holds it against him for the rest of his life.

He's a wonderful dancer but doesn't like to do it (his parents forced him to learn when he was younger, but his instructor was a wretched old hag who had an affinity for slapping the backs of his calves and his arms with a ruler)

NSFW

Once you and Ominis start having sex, he tends to be a little more dominant in bed

Not in the alpha-male, 50 Shades of Grey type way, though. It's more along the lines of him setting the pace because he's emotionally constipated and isn't used to being intimate with anyone like this.

He has to control the dynamic as much as possible so he doesn't panic and run off in the middle of everything.

Loves to have his hands on you the entire time you're fucking. Always 100% in contact with you somehow, some way, otherwise it's just not the same.

Eventually grows to greatly enjoy the process of power bottoming.

He still feels in control of everything, but he gets the luxury of feeling your legs tremble on either side of him, gets to plant his hands on your hips to guide you, and gets to relish in the sensation of your breasts being crushed against his chest when you inevitably collapse from exertion.

Ominis won't even think of satisfying himself in bed until you're taken care of. This man is not a selfish lover.

Your couplings with him are understandably exploratory and a tad awkward in the beginning, but over time and with enough practice, he ends up becoming something of a sexual savant.

It probably has to do with how he relies on the sounds you make and the way you feel. He's an observant lover, and you're absolutely ecstatic about it.

Even though he's blind, he'll still get flustered and turn around out of respect for you if you start to change in front of him.

"You can't even see anything, Ominis."

"So? I'm not tactless– unlike you. You're not even the least bit ashamed to be stripping bare in front of a poor, unassuming blind man."

Puberty helps him shine in a way that makes you drool: he was always taller than you, but his shoulders fill out and bring attention to his cinched waist. His hands are large but adorned with long, skinny fingers that you can't help but define as dainty. His legs go on for miles, and he's well versed in sliding them between your knees to part your thighs skillfully. He's lithely muscled– not too buff or too scrawny– but tastefully fit.

He's aaaall about that gentle morning intimacy. Lazy kisses, cuddling, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck to surround himself with your scent.

This one is kind of crazy, but I don't think Ominis would be beyond rousing you from your sleep to fuck... like, if he has an itch he wants to scratch, he will absolutely wake you up with his fingers against your folds, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear to get you to blearily spread your legs for him.

Might even dabble in somnophilia if you gave him the green light ahead of time.

When he gets into one of his Moods™, it's like a switch gets flipped. His caring, softer persona disappears and ends up replaced by a domineering one that makes your toes curl.

E.g.; "I can feel your breathing picking up... you like this, don't you?" and "Don't you dare try to hold back those noises– I want to hear you."

BIG brat vs. brat tamer vibes (once he's more confident in himself later in life)

If you've gone and frustrated him, be prepared for him to bully you. I'm talking overstimulation– or worse– giving you just enough to leave you a writhing, panting, needy mess. You want more, but he has the self-restraint of a god damn Saint and will wait for you to beg.

NOOOOO BREEDING KINK HERE !!

Ominis is too paranoid about his lineage and what continuing his bloodline might mean for you, so he's incredibly careful when it comes to finishing inside of you.

Obviously accidents happen, though, and in those rare occurrences, he turns into a fraught mess. He'll apologize profusely, rake his hands through his hair hard enough to pull strands free, and shut down emotionally despite your reassurances that "It's fine" and "You have nothing to be sorry for"

He isn't really big into PDA, but he has his moments where despite the crowds or individuals around you both, he'll duck down to give you a steamy, propriety kiss.

(He usually does that when he gets the impression that people are leering at you)

It takes a while for him to warm up to the idea, but after you tell him that you think it's arousing for him to speak Parseltongue in bed, he'll slowly integrate it into his late night trysts with you.

It's never full blown monologues delivered in the language of snakes– more so whispered praises and long, drawn out declarations of love and reverence.

Loses his fucking mind the first time you think to put his cock in your mouth. Goes cross-eyed, grabs at anything he can, and struggles to hold himself back from thrusting down your throat.

Ominis is big into aftercare. He always makes sure to clean you up, gather you in his arms, and pepper you with kisses and stroke your hair once he's done breaking your back making love to you.

[kortac-sweetheart]

thinkin abt raven hybrid simon today :) (i can’t find ravens intimidating sorry they are such cute sweetie pies and i adore them too)

yes simon knows that he’s smart but if anyone ever tried to make him do little “party tricks” to prove his intelligence there’s a 50/50 chance of him attempting to blind them

however that doesn’t apply to you at all. (of course)

yeah you’re just too shy around him usually, when he’s in his human form you seldom look him in the eye at all. instead choosing to simply look, everywhere BUT him, in fact. but the moment he’s in raven form you’re all over him. gently petting him and caressing his downy feathers oh so gently it hurts his heart. quietly cooing and admiring him saying how “handsome” and “smart” he is, and it has him nuzzling his head into your palm in return.

for you he’d even do the most inane “party tricks” to make you happy, yes he will solve that puzzle and he’ll use the stick to push the treat to the other end of the tube like all the other ravens do. anything to see that radiant smile of yours that he’d never see otherwise.

he never cared much for the taste of “trail mix” ever but when you’re feeding it to him out of the palm of your hand, well who is he to complain?

don’t get him wrong, he loves it. adores all of it, there is almost nothing he could ask for from you, almost.

you don’t know that the same simon riley you’re intimidated by on the daily basis is the same raven you’re fawning over daily as well.

it kills him inside y’know? absolutely does to see you so proudly show off the latest necklace you’ve got recently. a clean and minimal one, consisting of a single sleek ebony feather attached to a silver chain. a feather that’s his.

[hdudz]

Fratboy! Gojo x Meangirl! Reader

Two of the biggest bops ever. You always find him in every single room you go to, he’s always unserious and goofy, being a clown-at first it was kinda funny, but now it’s just annoying- you hate that fuckboy facade he puts on. He would probably-no DEFINITELY- be a loser if it wasn’t for his good looks. He was trying to hit on you a year ago but you rejected him and how dare YOU reject THE Gojo Satoru.

He’s been a dick since, making jokes about you, pulling pranks, following you around. His whole fanbase hated you, because as much as they were glad that you rejected him, you couldn’t reject HIM. Very controversial.

“Well if it isn’t the meanest girl ever? You have so many bodies you could have just let me fuck you” he says while hovering over your locker while you’re putting on lip gloss “It’s rich coming from you, Satoru-you might have STDs or something- never crossed your mind, golden boy? giggle” you say, shutting your locker and turning around to face him “You’re so mean, you know that? grin I’ll give you such a good time you just have to give in chuckle I’m doing you a favour you know, every girl would dream of this but you’re so spoiled aren’t you?” At that you raise an eyebrow, you turn around and start walking away-swaying your hips and making your light pink skirt lightly rise up “Oh my god, you just never give up do you? sigh If you weren’t such a dick maybe I would’ve considered that… Do you really think I would let you hit after what you’ve done?” You halt your steps, and turn around to face him clearly irritated, you scrunch your nose at him and pucker your lips signaling a pout “I couldn’t take the heartbreak baby, sigh That’s just how much I like you yeah? pleading tone Please baby give me one chance” his hands come together as if begging you with his pretty rosy lips coming into a pout, getting on his knees. “Get up you- gasp Oh my god- whispering-yelling What the fuck is wrong with you?! I’m not gonna fuck you Gojo!” You say as you urge him to get up from the floor, in the middle of the corridor “Of course you’re not baby smirk Cause I’m gonna fuck you” he winks at you, while getting up “You’re sick” you murmur as you walk away.

[justafewberries]

i've been trying to pinpoint why haydove does not work for me, and I think it's john steinbeck's fault. In his book East of Eden, Steinbeck writes about a relationship between two characters, Aron and Abra. (Warning for heavy East of Eden spoilers)

Aron represents Abel. He embodies everything good. He is handsome, kind, and pure, and he believes the best in people. He builds them up in his mind to be perfect. Essentially, he puts them on a pedestal. To him, they can do no wrong.

He constructs an image of college, and when he goes to school, he finds he hates it because it is different than how he pictured it to be, and he wants to return home. He grieves his mistake and isolates himself. He wants to become a priest, yet he is uncomfortable when told a woman who runs a brothel attends his services. To him, the church is a pure place, where everyone is free of sin. That is how he goes about life— he creates perfect images of people that are not true.

He constructs an idea of his own mother, whom he believes to be dead, as a golden woman, a woman who has never sinned in her life. When he finds out she is alive and runs a brothel, he enlists in the army and gets himself killed. He cannot cope with the fact the images he has built of these people are not the truth.

As a child, he falls in love with a girl named Abra. Abra's namesake is a quote from a novel:

Abra was ready ere I called her name; And though I called another, Abra came.

It is revealed later that Abra's father wanted a boy, so when she was born a girl, he felt he had called for someone else, and she arrived. Hence why he named her Abra, but Aron does this, too. He calls for Abra, but he does not call for the true Abra. He "called another", as in, the idealized version of her.

Aron spends his life pining after Abra. They grow up together, but around his teenage years, he says he wants to be a priest. He crafts this image of her as a pure woman. When he goes off to the college that he found he hated, he begins to write to Abra. He sends her salacious letters, dripping with want and desire based on how perfect she is. He crafts her to be this woman she is not. He believes that she is composed of only goodness.

This makes Abra uncomfortable. She confesses to Lee that she fears Aron does not love her, but the perfect idea of her:

“’Course I like him. I’m going to be his wife. But I want him to like me too. And how can he, if he doesn’t know anything about me? I used to think he knew me. Now I’m not sure he ever did.” “Maybe he’s going through a hard time that isn’t permanent. You’re a smart girl—very smart. Is it pretty hard trying to live up to the one—in your skin?” “I’m always afraid he’ll see something in me that isn’t in the one he made up. I’ll get mad or I’ll smell bad—or something else. He’ll find out.” “Maybe not,” said Lee. “But it must be hard living the Lily Maid, the Goddess-Virgin, and the other all at once. Humans just do smell bad sometimes.” She moved toward the table. “Lee, I wish—” “Don’t spill flour on my floor,” he said. “What do you wish?” “It’s from my figuring out. I think Aron, when he didn’t have a mother—why, he made her everything good he could think of.” “That might be. And then you think he dumped it all on you.” She stared at him and her fingers wandered delicately up and down the blade of the knife. “And you wish you could find some way to dump it all back.” “Yes.” “Suppose he wouldn’t like you then?” “I’d rather take a chance on that,” she said. “I’d rather be myself.”

She continues on to talk about the letters, and how Aron has fabricated an image that overlooks all the bad she could do:

“No. When he had all that about going into the church and not getting married, I tried to fight with him, but he wouldn’t.” “Not get married to you? I can’t imagine that.” “Cal, he writes me love letters now—only they aren’t to me.” “Then who are they to?” “It’s like they were to—himself.”

And when she finally burns his letters, she says this to Lee:

“I burned all of Aron’s letters.” “Did he do bad things to you?” “No. I guess not. Lately I never felt good enough. I always wanted to explain to him that I was not good.” “And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good. Is that it?” “I guess so. Maybe that’s it.”

And they break up. Abra felt suffocated by the Perfect Image Aron created. Essentially, Aron called Abra's name, but another came. The real Abra, not the image he crafted in her likeness.

And Haymitch does the same thing to Lenore Dove.

From the moment we meet Lenore Dove, Haymitch tells us how he's afraid of her doing something rebellious:

“That’s a raven. The bird from my name poem,” she says softly. “It’s the biggest songbird there is.” “He’s an impressive fellow,” I observe. “She is. She’s smart as a whip, too. Did you know they use logic to solve things?” “Got me beat there,” I have to admit. “And nobody tells them what to say. That bird is who I want to be when I grow up. Someone who says whatever they think is right, no matter what.” No matter what. That’s the part I’m worried about. That she might be saying something rash. Or even doing something beyond dangerous words.

Haymitch has seen the orange paint on the flint striker, the orange of her lips, and the orange on her nails. She has already rebelled by the time he leaves for the reaping. In fact he knows she has rebelled as a child, and it's important enough for him to press her on it:

It was her, though. Both times. I know it in my heart, even though she’s never quite admitted it to me or her uncles. She says all the Covey girls are a mystery, it’s half their charm. When I press her, she just laughs and says if it’s true, that information could put me in danger, and if it’s false, what does it matter? “Didn’t do much good anyway, did it? Clay’s dead and the reaping’s alive and well.” Since that year, she’s had a clean record.

He's convinced that she doesn't make trouble any more. He's convinced that she doesn't rebel:

Comments like that make me feel like she’s still got the potential to make trouble, and that side of her is just laying low.

He has crafted this image of a reformed girl. He believes in the Perfect Image of her. He cannot believe that she would rebel again. In the phone call scene, he does not believe she sang to be rebellious. He believes, first, it was his doing:

“Arrested you? When? What for?” Is this because I just joked about the Peacekeepers buying white liquor? Are they taking out my waywardness on her?

And even after he's told, it's still not rebellion, rather, her trying to get herself killed:

“You? It’s entirely my fault you’re there! And I know I’m why you got that score. I as good as killed you, and that’s not something I can live with.” And so she’s doing what she can to get herself killed? Now I’m mad.

And even still, he doesn't believe it was rebellion or a conspiracy to draw up attention:

It’s not like she’s part of some big conspiracy, so, hopefully, they won’t use methods to force her to talk.

Even in the reaping scene, his first instinct is to stop her from rebelling, not to help her free Woodbine:

This will not end well. Should I get in there? Pull Lenore Dove away? Or will I only make the situation worse? I feel like my knees are glued to the ground.

Rebellion does not work with the Perfect Image he has crafted of her. It cannot be true, because to him, she has a clean record. That part of her is in the past.

Abra, too, felt that Aron once knew her. Haymitch knew Lenore Dove, too, but he has crafted this Perfect Image of her. Her actions do not align with what he tells us. He does not know of her current rebellion, and rebellion worries him:

She worries me, and I’m an Abernathy.

Abra grows to feel trapped by the Perfect Image Aron created. She feels she cannot act. She must hold her breath, she must be conscious of how she smells, she cannot do anything bad, else risk the image Aron has created of her. She knows he loves the image, not her.

So when Haymitch insists she has a clean record, she has the potential to rebel but hasn't, and we know that isn't true from the orange paint on her finger nails alone, that she has continued to rebel, it's him painting this Perfect Image of Lenore Dove.

He does not love her, he loves the image of her. The non-rebellious, sometimes impulsive but never on a rebellious level, girl. Not the Lenore Dove we get to know through Maysilee or even the scenes she, herself, is in.

In his time away at the Games, just like Aron's time away at college, he thinks about his girl. He crafts this image of her more solidly. It's why she feels so dead-wife. Everything comes back to her. The bunnies, the mockingjays, the angels, the silk scarves, the bird songs, the flowers, the porcupines, etc.

He forgoes planning to think of her, escaping into the comfort of the perfect image of her, as Aron did Abra. Aron refused to go out or meet people. He would picture Abra, write to her. It became his only hobby:

I should be planning my strategy in the arena, but I just keep thinking about Lenore Dove, and how much I love her, and wondering if she’s home by now and how she’s doing.

He puts her no where near strangers, no where near crowds, only where he believes she would be safe:

I allow myself a moment with Lenore Dove, imagining her in the Meadow among her flock of geese or watching me on the ancient television Tam Amber manages to keep functional. Not on the square, where anyone can gather to see huge projections of the Games, but privately in the Covey’s funny, crooked house. Forbidden by her uncles to leave. Distraught, but unbruised, unbeaten, unbroken, and safe at home.

He credits his own resourcefulness to her:

I press my lips to the flint striker, hoping Lenore Dove sees me, knows this is a thank-you to her for saving me from the mutts.

He becomes sad when her gift becomes useless, despite needing to survive in a death match game:

Almost makes me sad, seeing Lenore Dove’s gift become obsolete so quickly.

His all-consuming idealization of her overshadows the fact he's currently being hunted. He is preoccupied with this perfect image of her every second he is at his version of Aron's college.

I reach for Lenore Dove for solace, knowing she must be keeping vigil at her television set, living through my last hours with me. It’s much worse for her, really. The helplessness. Thinking of her watching me makes me want to be brave, or at least appear to be.

All he can do is obsess over her. And yet, he doesn't know she does the things that worry him.

It is natural to remember someone through rose-colored glasses, like how Katniss remembers Peeta in d13, but when the "Perfect Image" of Peeta falls, they work through it. However, Katniss develops this image after Peeta is taken from her, not while she's lying with her lips on his neck under a raven's tree. He has the rose-colored image of her before she's even taken from him.

And it wouldn't work. Just like Abra and Aron, their relationship would suffocate both of them. The pedestal would fall.

He called Lenore Dove's name, and another came.

Lenore Dove was ready ere I called her name; And though I called another, Lenore Dove came.

[lilangelbuds]

Any chance we can get another dads best friend and daughter behind dads back? 🥺

The room was dimly lit, the soft hum of the air conditioner blending with the muffled sounds of the TV in the living room. She stood there, her heart racing, her back pressed against the cool wall of the hallway. His hand, large and warm, slid up her thigh beneath the hem of her shorts, his breath hot against her ear.

"Your dad’s just downstairs," he whispered, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down her spine.

"I know," she breathed, her voice trembling with both fear and excitement. Her fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. "That’s what makes this so… wrong."

He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that made her knees weak. His other hand cupped her face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. "You sure you want this?" he asked, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip.

She nodded, her breath hitching as his lips descended on hers. The kiss was slow at first, teasing, but it quickly turned hungry. His tongue slid against hers, and she moaned softly, her hands moving to grip his shoulders.

His hands were everywhere, exploring her body with a urgency that left her gasping for air. He pulled her closer, his hips pressing against hers, and she could feel the hard length of him through his jeans. Her body responded instinctively, arching into him, craving more.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. She bit her lip to stifle a moan, her fingers tangling in his hair. "We shouldn’t be doing this," she whispered, though her body was betraying her words.

"Then tell me to stop," he murmured against her skin, his hand sliding up under her shirt to cup her breast.

She didn’t. Instead, she pulled him closer, her hips grinding against his. He groaned, his fingers finding the clasp of her bra and releasing it with ease. His hands were warm and rough against her bare skin, and she arched into his touch, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

He took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking and teasing it until she was squirming against him. Her hands found their way to his belt, fumbling with the buckle until it came undone. He stepped back for a moment, just long enough to kick off his jeans, and then he was on her again, his hands lifting her up and pressing her against the wall.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he positioned himself at her entrance. He paused, his eyes locking with hers, and she could see the hunger in them, mixed with something darker, something forbidden.

"Last chance," he growled, his voice thick with desire.

She shook her head, her hips rocking against him, urging him on. "Don’t stop," she begged, and with a low groan, he thrust into her, burying himself to the hilt.

She gasped, her head falling back against the wall as he began to move, his hips slamming into hers with a rhythm that left her breathless. His hands gripped her hips, holding her in place as he fucked her hard and deep, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

"Oh God," she moaned, her voice barely above a whisper. Her nails dug into his back, leaving marks as she clung to him, her body trembling with need.

He growled in response, his lips crashing down on hers in a kiss that was almost violent in its intensity. His tongue plunged into her mouth, mimicking the rhythm of his hips, and she moaned into the kiss, her body tightening around him.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his voice thick with lust. He shifted slightly, angling his hips so that each thrust hit that spot inside her that made her see stars.

She cried out, her body convulsing as her orgasm crashed over her. He didn’t stop, his movements becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. "Come on, baby," she whispered, her voice shaky.

With a guttural groan, he buried himself deep inside her, his body shuddering as he came. She held him close, her fingers stroking his back as he slowly came down from his high.

For a moment, they stayed like that, pressed together in the dimly lit hallway, their breaths mingling in the silence. Then, slowly, he pulled out of her, setting her back on her feet. He reached for his jeans, pulling them back on while she adjusted her clothes, her hands shaking slightly.

"Your dad’s still downstairs," he reminded her, his voice soft.

"I know," she replied, her voice just as quiet. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. "We need to be careful."

He nodded, his eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite place. "We will be," he promised, though the look in his eyes said otherwise.

She turned to leave, but his hand caught hers, pulling her back for one last, lingering kiss. When he finally let her go, she slipped back down the hallway, her body still humming with the aftershocks of what they’d just done.

As she reached the top of the stairs, she paused, glancing back at him one last time. He was still standing there, watching her with that same intense gaze that made her stomach flip.

"Be careful," he mouthed, and she nodded, her heart pounding in her chest as she descended the stairs, trying to act as if nothing had happened.

But as she reached the bottom, she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. Because she knew this was far from over.

[atreeinthemoonlight]

Robert was a terrible king by nearly every metric, and his death directly preceded one of the most destructive conflicts in history. Given that, it’s not surprising that some people start looking backward for alternative outcomes, especially ones that never had the chance to fail.

If Rhaegar had won at the Trident and suppressed the rebellion, we’d likely see the opposite narrative emerge. Every time he made a questionable decision or when any crisis happened, related or not, people would invoke the memory of Robert: the bold rebel who fought for love, the wronged lord who might’ve changed everything. His legend would grow precisely because he never got far enough to disappoint anyone...though Rhaegar died early enough to avoid public failure, he still managed to let down the only people he was actually responsible for...

Rhaegar is considered a potentially good king not because of anything he actually governed,it’s all about who he’s being compared to. While he was alive, they compared him to Aerys.After he died, they compared him to Robert.Two of the worst kings in Westeros history,and against them, Rhaegar will always come out as “the good king who could have been.”

He liked reading, playing the harp, and quiet contemplation—unlike his mad king father, who was violent and cruel. Naturally, people idealize him as a “cultured and enlightened ruler.” This contrast makes it easy to overrate Rhaegar without actually examining his actions or judgment. He didn’t need to actually do much of anything—just not being Aerys was enough to make him a god in the eyes of many. Many readers don’t evaluate him by the standards of a statesman, but rather through the lens of a romance novel protagonist—Tragic, melancholic, always seeming to carry some secret burden,he gives off that aura that makes you want to get close, to ease his sorrow for him. Readers mistake that emotional pull—the desire to comfort him, to believe in him—for proof that Rhaegar must have had a grand plan, that he knew exactly what he was doing and would’ve succeeded if only he’d had the chance. Some readers even treat his extramarital affair with Lyanna as a qualification for being a good king—as if a male character who isn’t toxically masculine or boring must naturally be fit to rule.

But did the books even mention a single concrete example of him making sound political decisions or showing leadership in state affairs? Winning a tourney and enjoying books can qualify someone to govern a kingdom? Of course not.A tourney proves skill in combat, not military strategy.A love of reading might suggest a poetic soul, but it doesn’t mean he had a coherent political philosophy,vision or statecraft. Ruling a realm takes strategic thinking, political savvy, organizational competence, and a deep sense of responsibility—not a good harp solo or a brooding stare.

Unfortunately, many people mistake “prince-like charm” for actual kingly ability. Even if Rhaegar had lived, I still wouldn’t see him as a good king. The fact that “dying early” is considered both his greatest political achievement and most devastating kind of defeat says it all.

You don’t even need to bother wondering what would’ve happened if Rhaegar had won at the Trident—because he was never going to win.The idea of him winning is so far-fetched, I’d write my name backwards if it actually happened lol.

[cocogum]

Who is the Eliatrope Goddess's lover?

I seriously don't know what's going on with the wakfu team anymore. But especially with Tot.

Just when we thought we perfectly knew who the father of the eliatropes was, suddenly Tot comes barging in and flips everything upside down in his way. It's as if he expects us all to get used to this new additional detail that he added not too long ago and wants to see just how far he can go with screwing up THE LORE OF THE VERY BEGINNING OF THE KROSMOZ'S CREATION.

If you don't know what happened, let me summarize it in one line for you:

In a short clip of an interview, Tot mentions that the Great Dragon is NOT the father of Yugo and his siblings.

...

the fuck you mean he ain't the dad?

I don't think you realize just how massive this claim of his actually is. Like we're talking about ASTRONOMICALLY HUGE HERE.

You mean to tell me that the very same little tale I've been growing up with, the tale about how THE FREAKING KROSMOZ WAS CREATED, the Eliatrope goddess and the Great Dragon dancing together to make the Krosmoz and their children, WAS NOT TRUE!!?!?!?!?!?!?

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE GREAT DRAGON IS NOT THEIR BIOLOGICAL FATHER!?!??!!? WE LITERALLY SAW HIM DANCING WITH HER EVERYWHERE!!!!!

It took one interview...one interview from season 4 to see that what we've been growing with wasn't canon.

Or at least not canon to Tot!

He once mentioned in this other interview that when it comes to the lore of the Krosmoz, he focuses primarily on the relationships between the characters rather than the lore. He cares less about the actual worldbuilding and more about the topic of family.

Due to his disinterest for the worldbuilding, there's a huge chance he's wrong to claim that the Great Dragon is not the father. Even if he's one of Ankama's founders, that doesn't mean he's got everything figured out.

Not to mention that he even said in that very same interview that the Eliatrope goddess's flashback in season 4 with the other gods and the Great Dragon was a canon scene because he wanted to do more scenes that confirmed told events in the past.

So...which is it, Tot??

You're saying that the Great Dragon's dance with the Eliatrope goddess, SEEN IN SEASON 4, was canon but not the fact that he's the father of the eliatropes...???

Of course, saying that the Great Dragon is not the father only creates even more loopholes and inconsistencies in the lore.

Because of this frustrating issue that Tot has created for us (and, let's be honest here, on himself too), we need to gather everything we know about this situation, what works and what doesn't.

So let's see if taking out the Great Dragon from the family tree makes the slightest sense or not.

To do that, I divided the topic into three categories:

1. What we know about the Great Dragon.

2. Proof that the Great Dragon is the father.

3. Proof that the unnamed lover is the father.

I figured we could start with clearing out everything we know about the Great Dragon first before we move to the newest guy.

1. What we know about the Great Dragon.

We have been told numerous times that the universe was created by the goddess Eliatrope and the Great Dragon. They danced together, which resulted in the formation of the entire Krosmoz.

We know that when someone is capable of reciprocating genuine, pure love to a dragon, that dragon can produce a Dofus out of their love. The Great Dragon is known as the dragon of all dragons, which implies that the effect of pure love also occurred between the Eliatrope goddess and him, since their partnership had clearly been necessary to create the world while balancing Wakfu and Stasis.

It also made sense for the Great Dragon and the Goddess to produce more than just one dofus because they are the living embodiments of life and death itself. So to create the dofus, they would have to create the world first.

2. Proof that the Great Dragon is the father.

We have been told time and time again that the Great Goddess created the Krosmoz with the Great Dragon. We've seen them together in covers and even received a complete presentation on their current status.

Just look at this!! It explains word for word on which spectrum they stand on, being on complete opposite sides, as well as what location or realm belongs to them.

WE EVEN SAW THEM DANCE TOGETHER TO MAKE THE ELIATROPES LIKE-

How is he not the father!??!!?

This constant retelling of this cosmic dance was so repetitive and iconic that it just ingrained in our heads now, and we can't throw it out anymore for some mindless statement made by Tot in some random interview.

3. Proof that the unnamed lover is the father.

THE PROBLEM HERE, AS WE'VE SAID, is that Tot could have retconned the eliatropes from knowing who their father is.

In the Great Wave volume 2, Grougalorasalar says that he knows who Yugo and Adamai's father is but won't tell them his name.

Adamai looks just as curious as Yugo when he clearly used static in Season 1. And with the fact that he's been raised by Grougaloragran, we would immediately assume that he would know far more about their past than Yugo. But...that doesn't seem like that's the case here?

You'd think that having an eliatrope and a dragon as siblings wouldn't make you conclude that their father is the Great Dragon. But no. Apparently, this is not the path that we're taking for this. Apparently, the Great Dragon is not their father. Which means even Grougaloragran didn't know who their father was at such an old age. Given that Tot had declared that the Great Dragon wasn't their father in an interview and how Adamai did not retort back to Grougalorasalar, then the Great Dragon is strangely not the father. Even though Adamai and the rest of his dragon siblings are dragons. But okay.

So for the sake of the topic, let's say that the father is not the Great Dragon.

We've also learned from Grougalorasalar that the reason why we've never seen the Eliatrope goddess's lover was because he too had been imprisoned and taken away from her.

His disappearance could explain why we have never seen or heard about him before.

The only three people we know who might have seen him at least once in their lives were Qilby, Shinonome, and Nora.

Qilby and Shinonome, because they never forget their past lives. And I say Nora because she had been able to free her mother from the necromes with Efrim before joining her in the Inglorium to see her get rid of the gods, freeing her lover in the process. Efrim couldn't have known who their father was because he had been imprisoned by the necromes at that time.

In short, all we know about this unnamed lover is that he did not dance with the Eliatrope goddess, is powerful, can fight for himself, got imprisoned by the other gods to teach the Eliatrope goddess a lesson, unleashed his rage on the other gods, and managed to escape who knows where.

But when it comes to his character, we absolutely have nothing about him. We have only heard things about him. We haven't seen his face, heard his voice, what his personality is like, or even what his abilities are.

One thing we can contemplate more thoroughly, however, is comparing him to the Great Dragon.

Tot's claim that the Great Dragon wasn't the father suggests he wasn't present with the Eliatrope Goddess to create them. Unless...Tot meant he wasn't suitable father material.

He bluntly says in French that he's not part of the family, which did turn lots of heads around (including mine cuz again wtf-) but let's see what he meant by that. After all, plenty of fathers don't take care of their children in real life and leave it to the mothers.

Given this new point of view and how we still don't have enough information about the lover, I decided to theorize a bit in order to fill out some holes in this mess.

And honestly, I believe this could work.

It would make sense as to why the Goddess never talks about the Great Dragon. She never even mentions him or implies anything about him. She just makes it seem like the Great Dragon was never there in the first place.

I'm throwing this out in the open just because I think it could work: It's possible that the reason why the Great Dragon and the Goddess managed to make the Krosmoz and the eliatrope dofus together was out of necessity.

The first time it happened, they were surrounded by nothing. There were no planets, no stasis, no wakfu, no living entity besides them. One of them, or both of them, sympathized with each other's loneliness and decided to dance together to make something out of this empty void. The reason why it worked and they came up with the Krosmoz, was because they danced together of their own volition. They both wanted this and sympathized with each other because they had no one else to turn to at the time.

So if the Great Dragon is really not the Goddess's lover, that would mean that the Krosmoz had been created by a mutual agreement rather than by pure love.

The second time the dance happened was for the eliatrope dofus. This time, we know the Great Dragon didn't have to dance with her because he didn't necessarily love her, he just understood her.

Therefore, he might have helped her gain children because he felt like he owed her for giving him life around him. She did create the Krosmoz with him after all, so it's only fair that she gets to have what she wants in the world that they made together.

Because their relationship may be transactional at its very core, the connection between them worked once again, and the Goddess was able to have the children that she wanted.

All in all, with every scene that the Goddess has been in and the clues and hints of her and what the Great Dragon's interactions might have looked like, they seem to have been in an open relationship in my opinion. And there's something definitely weird about the Goddess of all people behaving this way.

But it's been over a million years since she has seen him, so we can't help but question what their relationship is supposed to be. Was this just a transactional relationship? Is this how they came to create the world and her children together?

When it comes to this theory, I think I do. Because it all comes down to the Great Dragon's frequent departures and comings.

He is notably absent at the beginning of her creation of the Krosmoz, seemingly having left her. In season 4, during her flashback, we see him return to help her create the Eliatrope race. This lends some credence to my theory that they were in an open relationship. His departure and return suggest a dynamic where he is fine with coming back only when she needs something. They danced together and forged the Dofus, but as soon as she achieved what she wanted, the Great Dragon left her again. Their relationship might indeed be quite open after all.

So in short, here's what we've got so far.

Proof that the Great Dragon is her lover:

1. When someone holds pure reciprocated love for a dragon, they always end up making a dofus. In this case, the Great Dragon and Great Goddess have danced TWO TIMES. To make anything at all, these two held pure love for each other.

2. He disappears and leaves the Great Goddess after the creation of the Krosmoz. In season 4, during her flashback, we see him return to help her create the Eliatrope race. 3. These eliatrope dofus don't just each have a dragon inside it, but eliatropes too.

Proof that the Great Dragon is not her lover:

1. Tot claimed that the Great Dragon was not the father in an interview.

2. Adamaï didn't seem like he knew who his and Yugo's father was when Grougalorasalar claimed he knew the truth. Adamai should have known who his father was because he had been taught his history by Grougaloragran.

3. The Great Dragon and the Eliatrope goddess likely had a transactional relationship, which may explain why they only interact when the Great Goddess wants to create something that requires the Great Dragon's assistance.

4. Their so-called pure love for each other was made out of understanding and sympathy for one another, which is why their dances always worked. They found a loophole in the rules of creation.

All in all, as much as I might believe my theory to make some kind of sense, I'm still very skeptical of this entire topic.

It's possible that Tot retracted his statement shortly after that small clip of the interview was released because a colleague pointed out his mistake. Tot has made errors in the past and has needed assistance with certain parts of the story due to the vastness of the Krosmoz lore. This potential mistake might mean that he only retconned the part where Yugo and Adamaï do not know that the Great Dragon is their father, rather than being unaware that some new character is their father.

Both sides are possible at this point.

[aliciasays]

Safe - Joel Miller x OFC - Chapter 7

*Chapter Warnings: SMUT*

Word Count: 2.1K

Status: Ongoing

I suck at writing smut, so be gentle with me— I TRIED, haha.

Chapter 7: I’m Yours

Penelope woke up with a start. She couldn’t remember falling asleep.

She sat up quickly in bed, and then immediately regretted it as a sharp tug came from her right side. She groaned, squinting in the darkness around her room— or what she thought was her room. Something was wrong though. Her bed was on the opposite side of the wall, the bedsheets were gray and not green, and the smell that was coming from her pillow: woody, musky, pine needles—

This isn’t my room, she panicked.

As her eyes adjusted in the dark, she realized that this was in fact, not her room. It was too gray, too neutral, bare and only housing the essentials. The bed only had two pillows, there was a pair of work boots on the floor by the door, and on the far corner, near a window, was what she could make out as a guitar leaning against the wall.

She was in Joel’s room, she had to be— it smelled like him.

But where was Joel?

Penelope didn’t give herself enough time to think as she threw the bedsheets away from body. The clock on the bedside table read 2:45 AM in angry red letters, making her curse as she quietly made her way out of the bedroom and downstairs.

The TV was on in the living room, the volume down to the lowest setting, and Penelope could make out a lump on the sofa covered up by a thin blanket. Slowly, she approached the back of the sofa, looking over and down to see Joel, fast asleep with one arm on his stomach, the other hanging off the sofa. She smiled softly at him, not wanting to disturb him, but of course Joel chose that moment to wake up, as if he had felt someone staring down at him.

”Hey,” Penelope said softly, almost shyly.

It took a moment for Joel to realize what was going on, but once the fuzziness of sleep cleared from his mind, he smiled up at Penelope.

”Hey,” he replied back, his voice a lower timber and thick with sleep, “what time is it?”

”Almost 3AM,” Penelope informed him, walking around the couch to stand in front of him.

”Shit,” Joel cursed, sitting up quickly and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Your dad’s gonna kill me.”

To that, Penelope laughed softly, taking a seat beside him.

”He hasn’t kicked your door down yet, so I think we’ll be alright.”

“I guess you’re right,” Joel sighed, “don’t wanna take my chances though— I’ll walk you home, let me go get your dress outta the dryer.”

Penelope frowned as she watched Joel get up from the sofa and go off to the laundry room to retrieve her now fully clean dress. She didn’t want to leave yet, but she tried to rationalize with herself that this was the smart thing to do. She didn’t want to seem too eager, too desperate… She didn’t want Joel to have that impression of her.

It was only their first time going out together anyways. There would be other dates…. She hoped.

Joel quickly came back with her dress, wordlessly handing her the soft bundle of white fabric. She looked up at him for a moment, her throat going dry. His hair was messy, his eyes dark, and the way his gray sweatpants hung low on his hips—

Fuck it.

She wasn’t sure what suddenly possessed her, but Penelope found herself standing up and reaching for the hem of the oversized t-shirt she was wearing. She kept her eyes on Joel as she slowly brought the shirt up her thighs, over her hips, and finally over her head. She stood before him in nothing but a pair of lacy white underwear, her hand going up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

He’d already seen her in nothing but a bra earlier, what would it hurt to just show him the whole package? He hadn’t shown much of a reaction earlier when he was patching her up, but right now, she could see his eyes trailing over her body almost hungrily.

Penelope smirked, turning away from him to reach down and grab her dress off the sofa. Before she could even grab her dress though, she saw Joel take a step toward her out of the corner of her eye. His hand reached out and took hold of her upper arm gently, turning her towards him and bringing her up against his chest. Penelope sucked in a breath as she stared up at him, her hands resting on his chest as Joel brought his hands to rest on her hips.

”I’m not… wrong about this, am I?” Joel almost whispered, looking down at her with soft brown eyes. “You feel the same way I do… right?”

Penelope felt herself melting into him, fisting the fabric of his shirt in one of her hands as she said, “I do.”

His lips were on her before Penelope could even blink.

The kiss was soft at first, almost as if Joel was scared he was going to push her away, but as Penelope fisted a hand into his hair, he went into a frenzy. His hands were suddenly all over her, Penelope clinging to him as if her life depended on it.

The kiss grew hurried, almost needy, his hands settling on her ass and pushing her up against him. She could feel just how hard he was underneath his gray sweatpants, the thought alone making her weak in the knees.

”I need you,” Joel mumbled against her lips, pulling away but only to kiss down her throat.

”I’m yours,” Penelope found herself panting.

Joel moaned into her neck, bringing his lips up to kiss right underneath her ear. He pulled her up against him, his hands cupping her ass and lifting her up so that she could wrap her legs around his waist. A flash of pain crossed Penelope’s features just then, the spot underneath her ribs starting to throb, but she just crashed her lips back down on Joel’s before he could notice.

She wasn’t about to let anything stop this.

Wordlessly he carried her up the stairs, Penelope hanging onto him and leaving feather light kisses on the side of his face.

Joel entered his room, closing the door behind him with his foot, and then carried Penelope over to his bed. He set her down gently on the center of his bed, climbing on top of her and being mindful of her injured side.

”Are you sure,” he asked softly, leaving a trail of kisses down her chest, stopping at her stomach.

Penelope craned her neck to look down at him, smiling as she brought her hand up to run through his hair.

”I’m sure.”

Joel smiled at her; it was soft, and tender, and Penelope could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest, her skin pebbling over with goosebumps. He left butterfly kisses on her stomach, his hands roaming down her thighs. Slowly he made his way up to her chest, kissing over the fabric of her bra, right where her nipples should be.

“Can I…” he trailed off, his voice heady with want and need.

Penelope couldn't trust herself to speak. She simply nodded her head, unsure of what he was even asking her.

When his hands wandered to her back, reaching for the clasp of her bra, Penelope understood what he had been trying to ask her. She arched her back slightly, giving him room to move his hand behind her. The clasp was undone quickly, and she helped him slip the bra away.

It ended up across the room.

She laughed softly at the eagerness, her hands going to bury themself in his curls and guiding his face back down onto hers. Joel smiled into the kiss, letting one of his hands trail down her side until he got to her panties. He toyed with the fabric for a moment, almost hesitating, before deciding that it was time to move things along a bit faster.  He had been trying his best to control himself, going as slow as he could, trying to memorize every inch of her body, but having her withering underneath him, her smell, the taste of her lips, the little sighs and moans she made— it was too much.

He needed her. Now.

Penelope gasped loudly, partly in surprise, and partly in pleasure, as she felt Joel’s fingers nestle themselves between her folds. Their kisses grew more intense, the moans that left her lips grew breathless, and she felt herself almost coming undone as Joel rubbed circles around her clit. She arched into him, her hands coming up to his sides to fist at the fabric of the shirt he still wore. She couldn’t believe that this was actually happening, that he was here, in bed with her, touching her in a way that was about to make her scream in ecstasy.

Suddenly his hands were off her, and Penelope took a moment to catch her breath. She looked up at him through half lidded eyes, propping herself up on her elbows. Joel sat back between her legs, looking down at her with intense eyes. He studied her for a moment, his eyes roaming her body, before he lifted his shirt over his head, throwing it across the room to join her bra.

”We can stop,” he said quietly, moving forward to hover over her.

”I don’t want you to stop,” Penelope whispered almost hesitantly, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

Joel nodded, burying his face in the crook of her neck, sucking on the skin behind her ear. He used one hand to hold himself up, the other to tug down on his sweatpants. Penelope shyly reached down, helping him out of his sweatpants, letting her hands trail up his sides and rest on his chest.

“Lift your hips up for me, sweetheart,” Joel asked her softly, kissing down her neck and nestling his face between her breasts.

Penelope did as she was told, and Joel helped her slip her panties off, those too, being thrown somewhere across the room.

She grew nervous then, now fully exposed to him, and he to her. She looked into his deep brown eyes, a sense of calm washing over her.

Joel Miller was safe. He wouldn’t hurt her, she was sure of that— physically, emotionally, he wouldn’t hurt her.

She felt him then, his hard length resting just on the outside of her entrance, almost teasing her. She kissed him, soft at first, and then almost needy, hungrily— sucking on his lip, her hands raking up and down his back.

Wordlessly he began pushing into her, making her breath catch in her throat. He was deliciously thick, long, warm— he stretched her out slowly, pushing into her inch by inch as if almost afraid he’d split her in two.

Penelope was on cloud 9.

His hands went to hold her hips, almost pinning her down as he moved inside her. She was so warm, so tight, so wet— Joel was about to cum right then and there, but he held out, moving slowly in and out of her.

”Go… faster,” Penelope managed to gasp out, eyes closed and absorbed in the feeling of him inside of her.

Joel didn’t have to be told twice.

He pounded deep inside of her, eliciting a loud gasp from Penelope as her eyes shot open to stare up at him. Hands gripping her hips, Joel picked up his pace, slamming into her, his eyes focusing on her face.

What I do to deserve this, he thought as he slowed down for a moment, looking down at Penelope with a soft look in his eyes.

Penelope looked up at him, a small smile on her slightly parted lips.

It drove Joel insane.

Still moving in and out of her, he reached down between their bodies, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing circles around the soft mountain of flesh. Penelope began panting then, moaning and arching her back as he rubbed and applied just the right amount of pressure to bring her over the edge.

She came hard, her moans trapped between Joel’s lips as he began to feel his own release build up.

”Joel,” she moaned, tilting her head back to look into his eyes.

Hearing her moan his name, that was enough for him.

Joel came as he looked into her eyes, resting his forehead against hers and moving frantically in and out of her. He rode out his orgasm until he had nothing left, holding onto Penelope tightly and bringing her into his side as he laid there beside her, totally spent.

They laid there in silence, both trying to catch their breaths, and both trying to comprehend what had just happened.

I’m totally fucked, they both thought simultaneously, turning to look at eachother.

Two seconds later, they both started laughing.

[beneathsilverstars]

Hello, there! So, in the secret passage, we learn that Odile had a “hate-crush,” so how do you think it went? (I am an aro Odile believer—)

Hii anon let me introduce you to my OC, Rei (she/he/it)

Rei and Odile met in queer circles while in university. They're both trans activists, but with very different strategies. Odile is all about getting her hands dirty, breaking unjust laws to keep her peers safe and happy. Meanwhile Rei is planning to rise through the ranks of the government so she can change the laws that are causing the harm and unhappiness, which requires a clean record.

So they're CONSTANTLY fighting. Trying to plan a protest? Rei says to bring catchy signs and Odile says to bring self-defense weapons. Trying to physically transition? Rei says he knows a legal source of low-dose estrogen and Odile says she can start body crafting you right now in the basement, just say the word. Stressed about getting misgendered at school because your paperwork says the wrong thing? Rei offers to help you draft letters to your teachers explaining that adopting masculine pronouns isn't an attempt to alchemize the self but rather a form of artistic self-expression and Odile offers to forge you new paperwork.

Odile thinks Rei's plans are never going to pan out; Rei thinks of course they won't if people like Odile don't stop giving the community a bad rep as dangerous law-breakers. Rei thinks Odile is ruining her own chances at a happy, stable life because if anyone finds out her current body is the result of body craft it'll all be over; Odile thinks Rei is making itself miserable staying in the closet for no reason and if it transitioned it would be able to actually start living life.

They're both so passionate and motivated. And they both think they know exactly what the other person should change to fix all their problems and finally live up to their potential. And they're both not above sabotaging the other if they think their plans are gonna cause damage. And they both think the other is really, really hot, especially when they're being infuriating.

At first it's just genuine arguments that occasionally end in sloppy makeouts, oops. But eventually they both kinda lose sight of their goals in favor of trying to one-up the other? Refusing to compromise with each other on principle. Trying to ruin plans in a way that will prove the plan was shitty all along instead of just quietly preventing it from coming to fruition, because maybe if there are consequences they'll finally understand how wrong they are. Interfering with aspects of each other's lives that have nothing to do with the activism. Doing things that will irritate or even hurt the other purely for the sake of foreplay. Etc!

Rei always liked Odile a bit more. He's nicer and more vicious both, better at social manipulation, better at shrugging off insults. He's more willing to turn around after an argument and have a friendly conversation, but he's also quicker to start the arguments in the first place. He takes some things very seriously, but others are just a bit of a game. He would call Odile a friend!

Odile takes it all more personally. She's more worried about Rei, more hurt by her, more angry at her, more desperate to best her and succeed. She thinks Rei could be someone she could be friends with, but she hates the person Rei chooses to be instead. She doesn't like how she acts around her but she can't stop herself from rising to the bait, either.

And then! One evening! Odile was lying in Rei's bed and realized that she didn't want to get up and leave. She wanted to stay the night. She wanted to give up on being reasonable and let Rei escalate their fights as much as it wanted. She wanted to torch its reputation so thoroughly that it had to give up on politics and skip town and start over with a fake identity that was more true than its life now. She wanted to drop her own plans because she hadn’t actually cared about them in ages. She wanted to stop fucking around and win once and for all. She wanted to wake up in the morning and argue about how to cook eggs.

And that’s when she realized that she had to stop seeing Rei IMMEDIATELY or else they’d make each other worse to the point of blazing ruin. ^^

tfw you find the one person you ~like that way~ and it’s the worst thing that ever happened to you <3

[auroralwriting]

illicit affairs chapter seven

pairing: biker!bucky barnes x stark!reader

summary: wanda and natasha are still pushing you to talk to bucky, especially now that you've joined the southside avengers. plus, it's your first mission. what could go wrong?

warnings: violence, language, small age gap (6~ years), angst, arguing, drinking, overall crime and gang stuff, sort of enemies to lovers

: ̗̀➛ series masterlist | masterlist

In the days since you'd left the Stark Syndiates, you felt more free than ever. You finally felt like you had a place to be with the Avengers. Steve was quick to take you in, making you feel more welcomed than you'd ever had with the Syndicates.

Natasha and Wanda were doing everything in their power to make you feel comfortable. Every night was a different adventure with them—shopping sprees, a little light stealing, some vandalism for kicks, and even getting your nails done. It was everything you'd ever wanted from girls in a gang. A family that wasn’t just about power and territory, but about loyalty and freedom.

Tonight, you were out with them. Natasha’s sharp eyes constantly scanning the streets, Wanda’s quiet power humming just beneath the surface.

"So," Wanda said, kicking a little rock with her feet. "Talk to Barnes yet?"

You sighed, "Of course not. I mean—what would I even say? 'Hey, I think you might've killed my parents, but I'm not sure. Tony sure hates you. So.. did you?'"

"Well don't fucking say that," Natasha chuckled from beside you. "Just ask him for his side of the story."

"That's still sort of just asking if he killed her parents," Wanda mused, raising a brow to the redhead. Natasha gently shoved her shoulder in response, giving a small huff. "Then do it however you'd like, Stark. It's up to you."

The night air was cool but thick with tension, the kind that settled in your chest whenever you were out in the city with Natasha and Wanda. Natasha’s gaze flicked sharply from shadow to shadow, her body taut and ready to move at any sign of trouble. Wanda’s presence was more subtle. A quiet, pulsing energy just beneath the surface, like a calm before a storm.

You glanced between them, feeling the weight of their expectations and their support. It was different from anything you'd ever known with the Syndicates. Here, you were more than just a pawn or an outsider. You belonged.

Wanda nudged your arm lightly, her voice softer now. “You know, maybe it doesn’t have to be a big, scary confrontation. Just... a conversation.”

You laughed, a little bitter but mostly relieved. “Easy for you to say. You haven’t had to wonder if someone you trusted was responsible for tearing your world apart.”

Natasha rolled her eyes but gave you a small, genuine smile. “You don’t have to figure it all out in one night. Start small. Maybe just say hi. Then ask questions later.”

Before you could respond, your phones buzzed almost simultaneously—a message from Steve: We’re near the warehouse. Heading your way. Stay sharp.

Natasha’s expression hardened. “Looks like the boys are close. Let’s meet up.”

Wanda’s fingers tingled lightly, her eyes already scanning the streets ahead. “Stay alert. Hydra’s been quiet, but that never means they’re gone.”

You swallowed, a strange mix of nerves and excitement twisting inside you. This was your new life. A chance to start over, to find the truth, and maybe, finally, some peace.

As you moved through the dim streets toward the rendezvous point, the glow from the city lights flickered around you, shadows dancing just out of reach. The night was far from over.

Tonight was your first mission with the Southside Avengers. Nothing too intense, just fucking up some Hydra boys who had been following Sam, likely for some information about their business with Nicholas Fury, leader of Shield.

Hydra was dangerous, sure, but these guys were scrappy, reckless—a far cry from the well-oiled machine Fury ran. You had heard bits and pieces about Shield, they weren’t just a spy agency or a military outfit. They were something else. A shadow government operating in the gray areas, weaving together intelligence, diplomacy, and sometimes dirty work to keep the world from spiraling into chaos. Their influence stretched from scientific research to covert operations, from counter-terrorism to monitoring global threats that most people didn’t even know existed.

Where Hydra thrived on brute force and fear, Shield played the long game. They manufactured stability, manipulating events behind the scenes. They developed advanced tech, negotiated delicate alliances, and handled the clean-up after the Avengers saved the day, making sure nothing got out of control. Their business wasn’t just about fighting bad guys; it was about controlling the narrative, protecting secrets, and making sure no one else got the upper hand.

Hydra used to be much more dangerous, but that was years and years ago. They were still trying to regroup and gain money and power. It would be a long time before they were ever a huge pain in the ass. Until then, they were little pains, but pains that had to be taken care of nonetheless.

Walking into the warehouse, Steve sent you all a sharp nod. Bucky and Sam were sat on some crates, their faces annoyed, brooding looks, mainly directed at each other. They were probably arguing like "normal," if you had to guess. According to Wanda, that is.

"First mission, Stark," Steve commented, squeezing your shoulder. "The Syndicates ever do missions like these?"

You shook your head, "No. More like fucking up anyone who dared bat an eye their way. But even then, I wasn't involved."

"Well, welcome to your first mission," Sam replied, hopping off the crate, shooting Bucky a small glare.

"Alright, it's gonna be an easy one. Sam's gonna come inside to guide Hydra in, too. They think he's alone, so once they follow inside, we jump them. Quick, easy, done. Got it?" Everyone nodded in response.

The warehouse loomed before you, its skeletal metal beams and cracked concrete walls swallowed in darkness. The faint smell of oil and rust filled the air, thick and heavy like a warning you couldn’t ignore. Steve gave the signal, sharp and silent, and everyone melted into the shadows, finding their places.

You pressed yourself against a stack of crates, the rough wood biting into your palms as you crouched low. Your breath was shallow, every sense stretched taut. The distant hum of the city filtered in through broken windows, but inside, time seemed to stretch and still.

Natasha vanished into a shadowed corner near the loading dock, her movements fluid and practiced. Wanda drifted close to a pillar, her fingers twitching ever so slightly, the faint pulse of her power vibrating in the air like an electric current just beneath the surface. Bucky leaned against a rusted support beam, his metal arm almost invisible in the gloom, eyes narrowed and alert.

Steve’s voice came low and urgent. “Sam’s coming. Don’t move until we give the word.”

The silence dragged on. Your heart hammered in your chest, each second twisting the knot in your stomach tighter. You tried to steady your breath, but every tiny noise—the scrape of a loose piece of metal, a distant car horn—made you jump. Then, footsteps.

Sam moved like a shadow, slipping through the cavernous space with ease. His eyes scanned the dim room, taking in the broken crates, the cracked walls, the empty barrels. He was calm—too calm, maybe—but focused. Like he knew what was coming.

You watched, waiting, every muscle coiled like a spring. And then, just as Sam reached the far side of the warehouse, a sound from the entrance—a muffled shuffle, a sharp scrape of boots.

Hydra.

At first, it was a trickle. Two, three men slipping in, weapons drawn, eyes cold and hungry. You tensed, ready to spring into action. But then the trickle turned into a flood.

More figures poured through the door than anyone expected, their numbers swelling like a dark tide. The harsh clatter of boots echoed off the concrete, mixing with low, cruel laughter and the unmistakable snap of weapons being readied. Dozens. Maybe more. They swarmed the warehouse like locusts, filling every shadow, every corner. It was no longer a small scouting party—it was an ambush.

Everyone jumped out quickly, guns firing, the sound of fists hitting skin echoing in the air.

You ducked instinctively, narrowly avoiding a hail of bullets that shattered a crate just feet from your feet. Quickly, you realized you had no place being on the ground. Not with how many guys there were. Your best bet was on the second floor with a sniper.

Tony had trained you from a young age to snipe. Well.. sort of. Happy Hogan had been your patient, steady teacher — so good, in fact, that you’d surpassed even his expectations. Sniping was the safest thing for you to do, something that ensured you wouldn't be hurt. Not like you'd actually ever sniped anyone before. Tony kept you in lock and ket. However, in that moment, you actually thanked Tony for making you learn.

You glanced around quickly and spotted a fallen Hydra soldier, the cold weight of a sniper rifle lying at his side. Without hesitation, you crouched low, grabbing it and checking the scope with practiced precision. The familiar heft steadied your nerves.

Spotting a metal ladder at the side of the warehouse, you dashed toward it, bullets kicking up sparks and dust around you. Climbing up quickly, you felt the cool night air rush past as you scrambled to the second floor—a mezzanine level running along the walls, overlooking the chaos below.

Finding a narrow alcove behind some stacked crates, you crouched into cover. The shadows wrapped around you like armor, and you brought the sniper rifle to your shoulder, heart pounding but steadying as your training kicked in.

Your fingers moved almost mechanically, setting the scope, steadying your breath, locking onto targets moving below. Hydra soldiers darted in and out of cover, some trying to flank your team, others shouting orders and trying to regroup.

The warehouse breathed with violence and tension, every corner alive with danger. From your perch, you could see the grim dance unfolding below—friends and enemies moving through the shadows in a deadly rhythm. The stale, industrial air was thick with the sharp scent of gunpowder and sweat, a harsh contrast to the quiet moments you'd shared with Natasha and Wanda just hours before.

Your pulse hammered in your ears as you adjusted the sniper rifle, the cold metal steadying your shaking hands. Every breath was measured, each second stretched thin with the weight of what was at stake.

Hydra’s numbers seemed endless, like a dark tide threatening to consume everything in its path. You caught glimpses of their faces—hard, ruthless, full of desperate hunger for power. They moved in packs, trying to overwhelm through sheer force. But the Avengers moved with purpose, honed skill, and unbreakable resolve.

You saw Steve’s shield flash as he blocked a bullet meant for Sam, the grit in his jaw as he pushed forward despite the odds. Bucky was a whirlwind of steel and strength, throwing enemies aside with brutal efficiency. Natasha’s movements were precise and lethal, like a predator stalking through the chaos. And Wanda, with her eyes glowing faintly, bent the very air to her will, turning the tide when things looked their bleakest.

The last of the Hydra operatives fell one by one, their desperate resistance fading into silence. The warehouse, once filled with chaos and the sharp taste of danger, now lay still—echoing only with the ragged breaths of the Avengers.

You lowered your sniper rifle slowly, muscles trembling from the adrenaline but mind clear. Below, Sam, Bucky, Steve, Natasha, and Wanda gathered, bruised but unbroken, their faces lighting up with relief when they saw you descend from your perch.

"Stark," Sam started in bewilderment, "when were you gonna tell us you could snipe?"

You shrugged, a tug of embarrassment pulling at you. "It never came up."

"We are so lucky to have you," Wanda sighed in relief, grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze, a gentle smile on her face.

"Damn right we are," Steve replied with a small smile and nod. "C'mon, let's go back to my place to get cleaned up. I'll tell Fury we took out a troop that was on us. Hopefully this sends them a signal to leave Shield alone."

Steve’s place wasn’t a penthouse, but it was still impressive—a sprawling, loft-style apartment tucked in a quieter part of the city. High ceilings, exposed brick, and wide windows overlooking the distant, twinkling skyline gave it a rugged, lived-in feel. The place had a warmth to it, the kind of space that spoke to years of hard-earned camaraderie and shared battles. The air smelled faintly of old leather, coffee, and gun oil, the comforting scents of a soldier’s sanctuary.

You stepped through the door, still feeling the buzz of adrenaline thrumming in your veins, and glanced around. Natasha had already tossed her gloves onto a worn leather armchair, flexing her fingers as she made a beeline for the small, open kitchen. Wanda was a few steps behind, muttering something about needing tea as she flicked her fingers, sending a mug and kettle floating toward the stove. Steve closed the door behind you all, his broad shoulders casting a long shadow in the dim light.

Bucky, on the other hand, sank heavily onto the old, cracked leather couch, leaning back with a small, pained grunt. His metal arm clinked softly against the armrest, but it was his flesh arm that caught your attention—a thin line of blood seeping through the torn sleeve, just below the bicep. The bullet graze wasn’t deep, but it was enough to need cleaning, and the angry redness around the wound made you wince.

You hesitated for a moment, shifting your weight awkwardly from one foot to the other as the others moved around, already falling into their post-mission routines. Finally, you took a breath and grabbed the small, metal first aid kit from a side table nearby, flipping it open with slightly trembling fingers.

"Hey," you said, your voice coming out a little quieter than you’d intended. You cleared your throat, trying to sound less nervous. "Let me, uh, clean that up for you."

Bucky glanced up, blue eyes sharp even in the low light, his jaw tightening slightly. For a moment, you thought he might brush you off, but then he gave a small, reluctant nod, rolling up his sleeve to reveal the torn, blood-streaked skin. You swallowed, your heart doing a weird little flip as you knelt beside him, pressing a clean cloth against the wound.

"You don’t have to," he muttered, his eyes focused somewhere over your shoulder. You could feel the tension radiating off him, the rigid set of his shoulders, the way his metal fingers twitched slightly against the leather.

"I know," you replied, trying to keep your tone steady, gently dabbing at the wound. "But I want to."

The silence stretched between you, filled only by the quiet clinking of glass and the soft whistle of the kettle as Wanda’s tea brewed. You could feel the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips, the pulse of his heart quick and strong, even through the thin layer of muscle.

"You did good tonight," he said finally, his voice low and gruff, barely more than a rumble. You glanced up, caught off guard, and found his eyes on you, sharp but not unkind. "Up on that balcony. Didn’t think you had those kind of skills."

You felt a small, involuntary smile tug at the corner of your mouth. "Yeah, well... Tony always made sure I could handle myself."

Bucky’s gaze flickered at the mention of Tony, a small, unreadable shadow passing over his face, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned back a little further, muscles slowly relaxing under your careful touch. You finished cleaning the wound, quickly wrapping it with a strip of gauze from the kit, your fingers brushing his skin more often than strictly necessary.

"All done," you murmured, leaning back on your heels and snapping the kit closed. You met his eyes again, and for a brief, electrifying second, neither of you moved, the air between you charged with something unspoken, something dangerous.

"Thanks," he said quietly, his voice rough but sincere.

You gave a small, uncertain nod, standing quickly and moving back toward the kitchen, where Natasha had already started pouring drinks. You felt Bucky’s eyes follow you as you went, the weight of his stare lingering like a phantom touch.

Wanda glanced over from the stove as you approached, her eyes glimmering with a knowing smirk. She didn’t say anything, but the slight tilt of her head spoke volumes. Natasha shot you a small, approving nod as she slid a glass your way, the clear liquid catching the low, amber light.

"You handled that well," Natasha murmured, her tone casual but her eyes sharp, always assessing, always noticing more than she let on.

"Yeah," you replied, trying not to glance back at Bucky, feeling the heat still prickling at your cheeks. "It’s nothing."

"Sure," Wanda whispered, the corner of her mouth twitching as she took a long sip from her steaming mug, eyes flicking briefly to the leather couch where Bucky now sat, head leaned back, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. The air in the room felt heavier, tinged with unspoken words and uncertain feelings, a tension you couldn’t quite shake.

You took a deep breath, fingers tightening around the cool glass in your hand, and leaned against the counter, forcing your racing heart to settle. Whatever this was, it was just the beginning.

taglist: @shortandb1tchy @xoxpetals

bucky taglist: @shortandb1tchy @xoxpetals @crazyangel222 @messrkarmaismygf13

[nicolejones412]

Out of Sync Part 4

Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: You've found yourself with the 107th fighting Hydra, where you meet a handsome Sergeant. But something just isn't right.

A/N: And this is where everything changes. A bit of a longer chapter today. (tw: mentions of being drugged, imprisonment, experimentation, and torture)

Read Part 1 here. Read Part 2 here. Read Part 3 here.

FIC:

You received countless congratulations over the next two days. Even from the Colonel, in his way.

"Well it's about time."

Those two days were wonderful. Bucky was at base, and you didn't need to worry.

Or at least you kept telling yourself that.

The mounting anxiety just kept growing. It got to the point that even the joy Bucky brought you wasn't really silencing it anymore.

"Are you alright?" Bucky asked. He'd caught you staring off into the distance.

"Who? Me? Of course." He gave you a look that made it very clear he didn't believe you.

"I guess, I don't know, I just can't shake this feeling that something is about to happen. Something bad."

"Well we are fighting in a war."

"It's not just-" You stopped yourself and sighed. "You're probably right."

He held you closer. "We're gonna get through this. And then we're gonna go home, and plan the best wedding ever."

You forced a smile, hoping it looked genuine. Bucky leaned in to kiss you as someone walked up, clearing his throat.

"Didn't mean to interrupt," Steve said, "but the Colonel wants to see both of you. We've got a mission to be briefed on."

-

"Zola?" you asked, shocked. This was an amazing opportunity. Zola could tell you anything you needed to know about Schmidt and Hydra.

"Yes, Dr. Arnim Zola. We've got the route his gonna take and a perfect intercept point. Any questions?" The room fell silent as you looked at Bucky.

The man who'd tortured and experimented on him. They had a chance to bring him in.

"Good. You leave in the morning."

Suddenly you had a splitting headache, bad and unexpected enough to make you flinch and press your hand to the side of your head. Bucky looked at you, concerned.

"It's just a headache. I'll be fine. I need to review these plans."

"If you're sure?" You nodded, and after giving Peggy a pointed look, he went to prep for the mission.

After a few minutes the pain would not stop. It was bad enough you felt like you might throw up.

"Charlotte, you look pale. I think you should go lie down," Peggy insisted.

"There's no time. I need to..." You groaned.

"The intel is good, and I'll keep reviewing everything." She took you by the arm and pulled you away.

"You're no help to anyone like this. Go lie down. I'll come get you in 2 hours and brief you if I found anything strange."

You didn't have it in you to argue. You got to your tent and laid down, hoping a quick nap would clear this up.

You drifted off, dreams that didn't make sense flooding your mind.

Steve and Bucky, in a lab, but one you'd never seen before. Immaculate and stark white.

A woman with blue skin, transforming into a man in a suit.

A woman with auburn hair, flailing her hands around as cars were flung at a man made of metal.

The images kept flashing until you shot up in bed, sweating, your memories flooding back to you. The dread finally settling in and the pieces falling into place.

"I've got to get him out of here."

-

You sat at the table with the other Avengers as Secretary Ross pitched the Sokovia Accords to you. Your eyes found Wanda as the destruction of Lagos filled the screen behind him.

You felt so stupid. If you'd been there, you could've helped her. Cap assured you that you couldn't have, but you knew he was wrong.

Wanda saved a street full a civilians and was getting punished for it, when you could've stopped the explosion in the first place. But you were too far away. You'd even tried, turning back a full a minute, but Steve didn't have his comms, and by the time you'd known something was wrong, you were too far away to reach him otherwise.

Add the fact that you almost passed out from the effort, and there was no way you could be of any help, and you just heard the same chaos happen twice. Natasha had to help you up in the street after she found you with blood leaking from your nose.

You zoned back in to the conversation as Ross left the room. The room got loud. The arguing aloud alone was enough to overwhelm you, but everyone's thoughts were racing and loud enough to distract you.

Usually you were able to focus and keep yourself from getting lost in other people's thoughts, but this had been a rough week, and it was all just too much.

Then Steve's phone went off, and you zeroed in on him.

She's gone.

"I gotta go."

After he left Tony sighed. "What could possibly be so important-"

"Enough," you spoke up. Everyone turned to you.

"Just, enough. He says he's gotta go, he's gotta go. Besides, he's made where he stands pretty clear."

"And you, Psychrono." Tony knew you hated that name, but once the internet labels you it's hard to shake it. "You've been quiet. What's your take?"

You shrugged. "There's been a lot of pros and cons laid out here today. I'd like to take some time where I can hear myself think to process it."

"A wise course of action, Y/N," Vision interjected. "This is not a decision one should make lightly."

You nodded, and then turned back to Tony, who sighed before nodding.

"Alright then. We've got 3 days until the UN expects us to have signed. So, we've got some time to come to our conclusions."

You nodded, knowing your mind was already made up. You were with Cap.

There was no way you were gonna hand the government a leash. You technically couldn't see the future, but you knew enough to know that wouldn't go well.

-

The bombing of the UN certainly didn't help matters. You'd gone with Sam and Steve to London for Peggy Carter's funeral. You didn't go in, but you figured it was best for you all to stick together for now. You'd tried to convince Wanda to go with you, but she refused.

"I'm not sure what I want. I'll stay here with Vision for now. Go ahead."

You'd gone with them to Romania, trying to track down the Winter Soldier before the governments of the world found him. Not that you were able to be much help.

"I don't want you getting arrested," Steve insisted before you could protest. "No buts. You keep an eye out, help warn us, and keep your head low. Figure out where we're headed and catch up when you can."

You'd known it was the smart play then, but now that you were in Berlin at a cafe not far from the facility where they were being held, you had to admit it.

All of you being in custody wasn't the smartest idea at all, and you were likely to have the worst time of the group if they did catch you.

Hydra, or more specifically Strucker, had found you shortly after they'd experimented on Wanda and Pietro. It had been difficult for them to restrain you, but they'd found a way. It involved lots of drugging and shock collars, which was still a terrible memory to have replay in your head.

Steve, Sam, and Wanda were the only ones who really knew the extent of what you'd gone through. The others knew that there was some trauma related to that time, but Wanda had witnessed some of it and told Steve who sent Sam to try to get you to open up in his sneaky group-therapy leader way.

So maybe Steve was right about you keeping your distance.

Your head jerked to the side as you heard alarms start going off in the facility.

So much for keeping my head down, you thought as you pushed your way through the civilians running out of the building. You saw as he made his way out the front door and drew a gun and fired.

He easily blocked it and ran up to you, grabbing you by the throat and hold you in the air for a moment before throwing you.

Before you hit the ground, you blinked and you were back standing facing him with a hand on your gun, you thought better and tried to disappear into the crowd, following him to the helipad.

You took a deep breath and held it as you reached out with your thoughts, looking for Steve.

He's headed for a helicopter.

Got it.

You looked for Sam and once you found him, it was easier to get a message to him.

Find us a place to lay low and contain him.

He just nodded and ran off.

You exhaled and headed up the stairs, trying to figure out what you were gonna do if Steve didn't make it up there in time, and as you reached the top, you saw Steve literally hold the helicopter to the pad with his hands.

You ran up to help but scrambled backwards as the helicopter was turned back toward Steve, destroying it, before The Winter Soldier grabbed Steve by the neck and they both tumbled into the water below.

You heard Sam in your head loud enough to get a location, and once you saw Steve surface, you passed it on to him.

Which is how you ended up in a warehouse with the famous Hydra assassin sitting on the floor unconscious with his arm in a vice.

Once he was secure, Steve went over to you.

"You good? That was a little intense."

You nodded, but Steve cocked his head to the side, nodding toward your neck. It must've been starting to bruise.

"What happened there?"

"It didn't." Steve shook his head.

"Alright, what happened to you before you skipped back?"

You sighed. "I tried to stop him, and he didn't like that so he picked me up and threw me." Steve's eyes widened. "I skipped before I hit the ground." He nodded.

"You sure you're up for this?" You nodded.

"I was already in, but now, I don't think I have a choice."

"We always have a choice. Especially you." You shook your head.

"That's where you're wrong."

"Steve!" Sam shouted and Steve turned to go back in the room Barnes was in. You went to follow.

"Hold off for now, ok?" You rolled your eyes. "Let me make sure it's really him first. You crossed your arms and leaned against a wall, continuing to keep a psychic ear out for anyone approaching the building.

You listened as they interrogated, and, against your better judgement, you opened your mind to his ever so slightly. You weren't exactly good at this whole psychic thing, but you were at least good enough to know if someone was lying.

"So just like that we're supposed to be cool?" Sam asked.

"He's telling the truth," you said as you walked in the room.

Steve looked over at you, and you nodded. "I'm sure of it."

Barnes looked up at you, his eyes landing on the bruising on your neck before turning to Steve.

"What did I do?"

"Enough," Steve replied.

"I knew this would happen. Everything Hydra put inside me is still in there. All he had to do was say the words."

You thought over that as Steve grilled him on what the doctor who'd triggered him had wanted.

There had to be a way to help him. The idea of your mind not being your own was terrifying, especially to someone like you. He'd probably hate you once he figured out what you could do.

You tuned back in as he explained that the man had wanted to know where he was kept, and as he told the story of the other winter soldiers from the program who were still there.

As Steve and Sam discussed who to call for help, you picked up on something.

"Guys we need to move. They're not here yet, but we got civilians in the area who will see us and call authorities soon."

Steve nodded before patting Barnes on the shoulder. "Let's get going.

You walked up to the Bug you'd grabbed for your get away car.

"Seriously?" Sam asked.

"It's low profile," you shrugged.

"Alright, you take shotgun-"

"Like you both are gonna fit in the back."

"We'll make it work."

"It's fine. He won't hurt me."

"Again you mean." You rolled your eyes.

"He won't." You went to open the door and locked eyes with Barnes as you both got in, and he definitely heard that whole conversation. Sam was talking to Steve outside.

"I'm sorry," he said after a few seconds of silence.

You sighed. "Don't worry about it. It technically never happened."

He looked confused, his eyes darting to the bruises on your neck before back down at his hands.

"It's complicated. It happened and then it didn't. I erased it essentially. Well, erased it from everyone and everything except me."

"That doesn't make-" He stopped short as Sam got in the car.

-

Bucky turned to look at you, asleep in the car next to him. He was trying not to stare, but he couldn't shake something. Steve stopped for gas and Sam got out to fill up the car.

"You thinking about Charlie?"

"I mean, it's impossible, but she looks so..."

"I know. Not long after we first met I asked her if she had any relatives named Charlotte Grace. She said it's possible but she's got no clue. Her mother died when she was really young and she doesn't know much about her history. Apparently she was in some kind of witness protection scheme. She's got no idea who her father is." Steve sighed.

"So it's possible, and you gotta admit the resemblance is uncanny. I don't know, maybe that's why I feel so protective of her."

Bucky nodded, looking back over at you again before looking back at his hands.

"So no idea what happened to Charlie?"

"None. According to SHIELD records she disappeared not long after I went in the ice."

Bucky closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

"Well I hope she was happy."

"Yeah. Me too."

-

You rallied at the airport, ready to face down whatever you found in Siberia, when it became clear you weren't getting there without a fight.

Tony tried to convince you all to stand down, which didn't get very far.

The fight broke out. Wanda throwing cars at Tony. Clint fighting Nat. Some kid in a red suit fighting Cap. Sam flying through the sky with Tony and Rhodes.

It was almost too much to keep up with.

When Sam insisted you couldn't all make it out, you agreed. Scott went big with a distraction, and you, Bucky, and Steve made a run for the quinjet.

Vision blasted the overhang, blocking your path entirely. You looked around for Wanda, who was focused on helping Clint resist a barrage of attacks from T'Challa. You took a breath and were back getting cover next to Bucky and Steve.

"We're not all gonna make it," Sam was saying over the comms.

"Agreed," you said over the comms. "You two need to get there."

And with that your eyes found Wanda, and you made a run for her.

"Cover them," you said as you ran past her, dodging a strike and engaging. He didn't focus on you long before running after Bucky, but that was all the time you needed to buy. Steve and Bucky made it through and to the jet as Wanda held the rubble up to clear the path. Now they just needed to get away.

You watched as Tony and Rhodes chased the jet, Sam close behind.

Vision looked up and fired on Sam, hitting his wings and he plummeted to the ground.

You gasped, panicked, and suddenly Sam was back in the sky. Vision took aim.

"Sam DUCK!" He looked back, tucked in his wings, and let the beam go past him.

And it hit the quinjet.

You groaned and strained yourself, turning back time again to warn Sam to try not to line up with the jet. He adjusted and dodged again.

And this time it hit Rhodey's reactor.

As he fell you kept trying to turn back time again, but you couldn't. All you could manage was a second or two. After Vision had fired.

Clint ran up to you as you collapsed, and Rhodes hit the ground.

-

You almost forgot how much you hated being caged.

They'd drugged you taking you in. Tony tried to tell them not to, but they wanted to make sure you couldn't skip back far enough to get out.

So now you sat in your cell in a straightjacket and a shock collar on your neck. They didn't put you in a straightjacket in the beginning, but when you tore off the apparatus they'd put on your head to study your brain waves they'd remedied that.

When Tony showed up to visit, you barely looked up, but you could hear him talking to Sam.

He barely looked at you as he left.

-

The days blurred together as you all hoped Steve and Bucky had succeeded, until one day you heard a crash.

You weren't sure at first, then two figures walked in the room.

Steve and Bucky walked in, and one by one took you all out of your cells. Bucky helped you out of the straight jacket after removing the collar and the device on your head. You took a deep breath as you felt less restricted. Less like you were being watched.

"You good?"

"Not really." Your voice came out weak and coarse. You looked at him. "But better now. Thank you."

You all made your way to the jet they had brought, and you were shocked when you saw who was flying it.

"Welcome," T'Challa said. "Everyone take a seat. We don't have much more time."

You looked to Steve, who nodded.

And so you found yourselves headed to Wakanda.

-

You walked into the lab with Steve as Bucky was prepping to be put back under.

"You're sure about this?"

"All of that Hydra brainwashing is still in there. This is safer for everyone."

"Speaking of that brainwashing," you spoke up. "I wonder if I can help."

They both looked to you.

"I can stay here for a while, if that's alright." You turned to T'Challa who nodded. "And if Bucky's ok with it, I might be able to help. I don't necessarily have a full handle on these powers, but I might at least be able to help Shuri know where to start."

Bucky nodded. "I mean, it's not like you can make it any worse."

Bucky took a deep breath as he leaned back in the hibernation chamber.

"Don't do anything stupid until I get back."

Steve chuckled. "How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."

-

A/N: Told you it was all about to change. Don't worry, we'll get back to where we left off.

[fan-a-saurus-rex]

Caught being Naughty

Plot: Since meeting each other, before being experimented on, you’ve had a huge crush on Bob Reynolds. Now the two of you have been reunited and you’ve got even more baggage. Despite all that two of you find a way to make the best of your lives. He’s sweet and caring and you’re falling hard for him. But he’s not as innocent as you think he is and eventually the two of you get caught.

Pairing: Robert Reynolds x Thunderbolts!Reader

Warnings: smut, loss of virginity, swearing

Requested: A friend of mine wanted me to write a story for her and her friend who are obsessed with Lewis Pullman at the moment! This one is for you Betty (and you’re friend too, sorry I can’t remember her name 🤣)

Masterlist

You were so grateful for The Thunderbolts/New Avengers. While your previous captors saw you as a weapon and the rest of the world saw you as a monster, they saw you a girl who had been wronged and deserved a second chance.

They took you in and gave you a chance to join the team if you wanted to. You were still thinking about that. For now you were surrounded by people you know considered family. You trained with your new powers at least 3 times a week. At one point, they seemed like such a burden. Having superhuman strength and telekinetic abilities was no joke. Over time, you learned to control them and they didn’t seem as scary anymore. Now you had a bunch of new friends to help you out with training when you needed it.

Upon arriving to the tower a year ago, you were surprised to see an old friend.

Robert Reynolds.

Everyone knew him as Bob, you know him as Bobby.

You had grown up together in Florida and if you were being honest, you kinda had a crush on him. But that all changed after you were taken from your home by strangers and used as a Guinea pig like so many who had come before you. You were beat up, experimented on, and trained to be an assassin, but you rebelled. You never had it in you to be a bad person. So they threw you away, left you on the street to fend for yourself since you couldn’t be indoctrinated to do their bidding.

You had no idea that Bob had also been victim to that same fate, but with much different results.

Fortunately, you had both started over. In the past year, you’d become super close. Your feelings for him reignited inside you and you were reminded how amazing he was, despite the fact that you were both mentally broken now.

One night, while the rest of the team went out to a local pub to let loose and chill. You and Bob decided to stay in, not really wanting to go out amongst so many people.

You were watching movies when you felt something brush across your hand. You looked down to see Bob’s hand next to yours, stoking the back of your hand with his pinky finger.

You smiled a bit and scooted slightly closer to him. The connection between the two of you was undeniable. It was hard to be physically close to him with everyone else in the tower always in your business. Now that everyone was gone you finally had a chance but you were still shy. Apparently he wasn’t because he finally pulled you as close to him as he could get you, his arms wrapped around you.

You cuddled into him as you continued watching the movie. His fingers began tracing patterns on your arm. You looked up at him, curious about something.

“Have you ever kissed anyone?” You asked

He chuckled “of course I have. Have you?”

“Yeah, once. Before they took me” you said.

“Only once?” He asked

“Unfortunately” you said smiling up at him “guess thats what you get for having a target on your head and forcibly trained to be an assassin. You miss out on life”

He nodded “I get that”

You wondered who he had kissed. You were a bit jealous of whoever it was, but you’d never admit it out loud.

Suddenly, you felt his grip on you tighten. Like he wanted you even closer. You wanted him closer as well. You sat up a bit, facing him. You looked at his lips, biting your own. You wanted to kiss him so bad.

“Bobby?”

“Hmm?”

“Kiss me?”

He looked at you, his eyes a bit wider than before. “You sure?”

You nodded.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours. You filled the space, your lips finally pressing against his fully. A soft sigh left your mouth.

God his lips felt good on yours. You never wanted to stop kissing him.

You didn’t.

* * * * *

You weren’t sure how long the two of you had been kissing but you didn’t care. Your face was flushed, your lips were swollen from Bob nipping at them gently, and you couldn’t breathe.

You pulled away slightly so you could both catch your breath. You smiled at him, thinking he would pull away for good and stop kissing you.

He didn’t.

He pulled you back in, holding the back of your neck. His tongue slotted between your lips and you let it. He tasted like the soda you two had been drinking and something else that you couldn’t identify, maybe something that was just unique to him. Either way you loved it.

He pulled you in even closer till you were straddling his lap.

You were enjoying yourself until you felt something beneath you. You gasped when you realized what it was.

Oh shit.

“Bobby?”

“{y/n}?”

“We um….we should stop” you said.

“What? Did I do something wrong?” He asked suddenly concerned.

“No, no. It’s just um. I um….I’ve never done that before”

“Me neither…but I want to…w-with you” he admitted.

“You do?”

“Well, yeah. But if you don’t want to we won’t” he said.

“I…I want to. I’m just nervous. I’m not experienced”

“Neither am I. We’ll figure it out together”

You smiled and nodded. Instead of saying anything else you just kissed him again.

“Wait…are we?” He mumbled against your lips

“Yes, now shut up” you said giggling as you kissed him deeply again.

As if by instinct, his hands gripped your hips and pulled you as close as he could he could get you. The kiss heated up quickly and your hands slowly creeped up his shirt.

He took the hint immediately and pulled away long enough to take it off. He looked at you and you slipped out of yours as well. You smiled at each other and leaned back in to kiss each other.

Within minutes your hands were roaming each other’s bare torsos. His hands were soft against your skin and left a trail of electricity wherever they went.

He had an amazing set of abs on him and his chest was toned. It was hard to believe that that’s what he had always been hiding behind his sweaters and t-shirts.

You started to get braver and a bit impatient. You got up off his lap and undid his jeans, pulling them off before wiggling out of your shorts. You repositioned yourself back in his lap, the only thing separating your bodies now was your underwear.

You felt his hard-on poke your thigh and you gasped. You couldn’t believe a girl like you would have that effect on him. You loved it just the same. You felt the heat pooling in your core and your breaths started becoming more rapid as your kisses got more feral and hungry. You were still nervous about the prospect of the two of you losing your virginity, but Bob’s sudden spike in confidence put you at ease.

He picked up your half naked body and carried you to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He would have locked it but there was no time, he needed you. You were a bit concerned about being caught but that thought was quickly put to rest when he pinned you to the bed.

He reached over, pulling off your underwear, then paused. “We need protection”

“No we don’t….I’m infertile” you said softly. Just like the rest of the female assassins in training you had been sterilized. It didn’t matter though, you never wanted kids anyway.

“Oh…yeah…forgot they do that to you” he said, blushing.

You smiled “it’s okay” you said pulling off his boxers.

You both looked at each other for a moment before you gave him a nod. He placed his hand on your hip while guiding himself into you with the other.

It hurt a little at first, but you adjusted. After that it started to feel amazing and you moved softly “Bobby…move” you whimpered.

He started thrusting slowly at first, then got more bold and brave when he noticed it wasn’t hurting you anymore.

“Fuck…feels so good” he groaned as he continued going.

You too became braver and flipped him over so you were on top. You tried to get into a rhythm as you moved your hips against his, eventually getting the idea of how to ride him. Apparently you were doing a good job cause he was moaning beneath you.

It turned you on even more.

You moaned as you slowly bounced on him, gasping when you felt him reach up to grab your boobs. You watched as he kneaded them in his big hands, causing you to moan louder.

That ignited a spark in him and he flipped you over again, pounding into you until you were both a moaning mess. You both quickly reached your highs at the same time and finally relaxed into each others bodies to catch your breath.

Suddenly you heard a noise, someone clearing their throat.

“You two done?” You heard Bucky ask annoyed, noticing the rest of the team standing with him in the doorway.

You were mortified.

“Awe, young love, it’s beautiful!” Alexei said loudly with a smile as he ushered everyone to leave the two of you alone again “you two be good now” he said before he left.

You blushed bright red, but eventually the two of you burst out laughing.

“Well that was unexpected” you said biting your lip.

“Worth it though” he said stroking your cheek.

“Next time we’ll try not to get caught”

“Next time?” He asked

“Oh…was this just a one time thing?” You asked

“N-no, I just didn’t think you’d want to do it again” he said, his shy side coming back again.

“Believe me, I want to do it again…and again…and again” you said smirking.

Hope you all liked my first Bob Reynolds/Lewis Pullman story!

[mommy-mortis]

Irish Vampire Blues - 8

You wake up with Remmick's arm draped over you; you had expected him to be gone but there he was. It was dark in the room, but enough light seeped through the bottom of the curtains for you to see that Remmick’s eyes were closed. When was the last time you slept long enough to miss the sunrise? 

If you weren’t aware of his true nature, you would say that he was quite handsome, with a face that you could even see yourself falling in love with. The truth felt almost unfair; you imagined how things could have been if Remmick hadn’t been a blood thirsty vampire that had disemboweled your ex, but instead a handsome stranger that you had bumped into on the way home, who also just happened to live in the same building as you.  

Would you have gone on date, trips and vacations, gotten married in his hometown, (where was his hometown? matter a fact how old was he?) new house, new kids the whole nine yards?  

But then, you wouldn’t have had the chance to be with your grandma in her final years. You wouldn’t have grown as a person that could put someone before their career. Had Remmick’s actions made you a better person? You don’t know, but what you did know is that it had fundamentally changed the way you thought. 

Would this change last, or would you revert to the personality that you felt had been built into your hard drive. On paper you were perfect, a highly educated person with a great paying job. But in truth you were a crippling workaholic, that had put friends and family last. A fake and a coward, you had been angry at Michael for using you to further his career, but you had used him too. 

The whole office power couple thing, you knew how it looked like to corporate; a reliable duo, soon to be tied together, who would be a shining example of what workers should look like. Dependable, essential legally bonded couple, who looked amazing together and would forever be loyal to the company that had brought them together, how cute.  

Did Michael know that you were using him, is that why felt it was okay to cheat? That didn’t make it okay but, in a way, you could understand. Looking back, the past you in the long run might not have even cared if he cheated, as long as he kept up with the façade of the happy lovesick fiancé, soon to be husband. 

But he was sloppy, fucking at work like an idiot. Truly your only mistake was choosing the wrong partner in crime. But still, he didn’t deserve to die, at least that's what you tell yourself. 

Thinking back, to be honest you don't even remember caring all that much about his death, you had been more irritated that you had missed a day of work than finding out he had been murdered. Angry that his death would leave a stain on your great attendance, you were one cold bitch. 

You had no friends, no family to rely on, even now that you had supposedly changed there was no one in your life. So, the fantasy of meeting Remmick on an elevator by chance and falling in love fell apart. The reality is that he would have fallen in love, and you would have given the bare minimum to keep him around. 

How long until he was sick of being pushed to the side? Your career would have always come first, and if it wasn’t to make you look better you wouldn’t bother doing anything with or for him. 

Remmick didn’t seem the type to cheat, not like Michael, but instead he would give you a look that said ‘It hurts to stay but I can’t leave’. He would suffer, and you wouldn’t care as long as it was silently.  

Of course, there was still the sex. Sex with Michael hadn’t been bad, it was just average to be honest, but it hadn’t been good enough to pause work for. With Remmick... dear lord above, you were truly a sick little puppy to be comparing your ex’s fucking to that of his murderer, but the way Remmick made you feel, it was different. 

You might not have known each other long, but you felt like when it came to sex and work Remmick wouldn’t have tried and failed to pull you away from it for a subpar quickie, but instead he would have slowly eaten you through your panties while you worked. He was very accommodating like that. 

You don’t know if  Remmick’s skillful tongue would have been the glue that kept y’all together, but you knew at the moment how the thought of him lavishing your body with kisses licks and sucks lit a fire in your body, you burned so hot that you had to rub your legs together just to lessen the ache.  

Deciding to deal with it now while he seemed to be resting, you move your down your stomach towards your mons but before you can go any farther Remmick grabs your hand. 

“Oh, Now Darlin' what are you doing?” he gives you a wolfish grin eyes following the destination of your hand. Had he been up the whole time, did he notice how you squirmed next to him in need? 

He brings the palm of your hand to his face, kissing the scar that lays on top of it, proof of the promise you shared with him. You grow hot at his gaze and look away. “No need to feel embarrassed sweetheart, just let me help.” It sounds if he’s almost pleading.  

He waits for you to give him the okay, so you nod letting him know you’re ready. He places your hand down, keeping eye contact with you as he slowly moves his hand under the sheets and towards your pussy. He softly teases your lips until your nice and slick, then sinks his fingers into your core making a come-hither motion, finally he lays his thumb over your clit rotating his thumb in perfect time.  

Thoughts go through your mind, wondering where the fuck he could have learnt to do that, he had been so shy before, you lift your hips off the bed meeting his motions. 

With the way that he’s playing your body, you know he’s going to play the mandolin just as well; never stopping and with perfect pace, he could easily milk an orgasm out of you, but you wanted something else. Putting your hands over his, you motion for him to stop.  

“What’s wrong baby, did it not feel good?” he looked unsure of himself as if this was his first time. 

You couldn’t believe how insecure he sounded; you were hesitant to boost anyone’s ego, but you couldn’t help yourself, “Oh, so good honey, but right now I need you in me.” your words came out needy, dripping of too much honesty. 

He smiled eagerly nodding while slipping his fingers out of you, he wasted no time positioning himself in front of your entrance, looking you over, it felt like it took ages for him to sheath his dick inside you, moaning your name the whole time.

The feeling of being stretched around him felt euphoric; fate was so cruel, why couldn’t things have been different, why couldn’t they have been like your fantasies? 

Instead of falling in love and being swept off your feet by some beautiful stranger, you were getting your brains fucked out by your ex’s killer, and to add insult to injury it had to be the best fuck you’ve ever received. 

As he attacked your g-spot without mercy, a hot white feeling enveloped your body as you came on his dick, your pussy squeezing him for dear life. You grip the back of his hair, pulling him forward into a passionate kiss. While rubbing your tongue over his teeth you accidentally nick yourself on one of his canines. 

Your eyes widen as you watch him become frenzied trying lick the blood dribbling off your tongue. Lips smeared with blood you can feel his dick pulse, as he pounds into you at earth shattering speed, ‘Fuck, what have I gotten into’. 

Seeing the panicked look on your face he pulls himself from your lips, pushing you flat against the bed, with his hand on your chest he slams deeply into you as he comes. 

The urge to bite you becoming too strong he opens his mouth wide, his fangs sharper than you’d ever seen. You close your eyes in fear as he lunges forward with his bared teeth.  

You wait for a bite that never comes. You slowly open your eyes to see Remmick with an expression of bliss mixed with immense pain, his teeth wrapped around his arm in a brutal bite. 

You could now see the spirits all around, they looked like shadows. They had stayed out of your view until now, but in their righteous anger they wrapped themselves around Remmick’s body, ready to impale him at the insinuation of him breaking your promise. 

Breathing hard he removes his teeth from his arm. You shiver as blood begins dripping down onto your body, you want to scream but instead place your hand over your mouth not making a sound.  

Panting while trying to wipe the blood off your body in a panic, he's body shutters “Fuck, sorry baby I didn’t go out last night”.  

Smearing his blood all over you and dripping all over the blankets.  

You place your hands on top of his urging him to stop. “Please” your voice comes out shaker than you mean it to, the sound pissing you off for some reason. 

“I’m sorry, couldn’t leave-”.  

You snap at him “Why not, it seems like it’s important!?” 

He looks away looking ashamed and irritated. 

“I was worried” he huffs out. 

Face losing its scowl your voice softens “Worried I would leave?”. 

He nods like a child looking over at you, but not looking at you. 

You trace the wound oh his arm, it was healing but still covered in blood and marked by his bite. 

Placing a hand on the side of his face, you can feel blood under your hand “I promise I won’t run away anymore; just promise me you’ll take care of yourself”. 

He leans into your hand he silently nods, taking your hand from his face, kissing the scar on your palm. You are both quiet after what transpires. 

You make your way back to the bedroom naked, after you both wash up. 

You are greeted by your neighbors, stripping your bed of its sheets taking care to remove the pillows from the pillowcases.  

They look over to see you hiding behind Remmick, giving you a wave. When you don’t wave back, they look to each other with confusion. 

The lady with the ponytail is quicker to pick up your discomfort and quickly turns around, the guy is less so. Looking over to see that he still hasn’t turned around, she stage whispers to him. “She’s naked Daniel”. 

He gives her a ‘that’s obvious’ look “I can see that Lorena”. 

“Then look away, you’re making her nervous!” she hisses. 

He looks to Remmick who just shrugs, moving his finger in a circling motion signaling Daniel to turn around. The fact that you might have social boundaries seemed to dawn on both a little late. Turning around while still holding the bloodstained bedding he uttered an apology. 

Lorena is the first to speak up in a most cheerful voice, “We came to drop off the clothing you had us grab from the car last night, we gave them a wash and dry and placed them in the closet”. 

You hurry pass Remmick going into the closet to grab the robes you had bought for the both of you. Handing Remmick his robe you drape yours over your body, tying it as tight as you can. They turn around once you’ve indicated that your covered. 

“Who told you that you could just walk into my home without my permission?” anger seeping from your words.  

Looking prideful Dan decides to speak his mind “Listen, Remmick gave us permission while you were gone so-” 

Not liking his tone, you can’t help yourself from cutting him off “No, you listen here Dan! Remmick lives with me not the other way around; unless you get permission from me, I never want you walking around my apartment without me knowing!” you bite out, astonished that Remmick had left them with enough gray matter to even argue with you. “Do. you. understand. me.” 

Averting his eyes he looks to the floor “I... yes of course, ma’am. I’m sorry, we’re just trying to be neighborly, and keep it tidy around here.” arrogance knocked out of him, he looked like a sad wet dog.  

You wince at his sudden servile behavior, remembering that someone had to have kept the place clean in your absence, and you doubt that Remmick had been focused on dust bunnies. 

You dial back your anger “You don’t have to call me ma’am, we’re a community after all, right?” you to humor them “just call me by my name”.  

Visibly happier they both nod their heads, grabbing the bedding they wave goodbye promising to replace the sheets later. You wave them out thanking them as they leave out the door. Remmick looks troubled by something but waves you off when you ask. 

You had a feeling it had to do with Daniel and Lorena but when you ask, he stays quiet. Maybe some things are just better left for later. 

Taglist

@avidreader73

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

[borntodiiegirly]

Subtle Changes | Theodore Nott

Summary: where Theodore Nott notices those subtle changes in that one classmate he usually looks from far away.

“Treat You Better” — Shawn Mendes.

Sorry for any spelling mistakes, english is not my first language :)

Theodore Nott was usually too self centered to even notice any changes in his surroundings. He had good grades —not the best ones, but still— and he liked to chill and smoke privately, hidden, since it was forbidden in Hogwarts. He wasted his time by making jokes with Draco Malfoy, his best friend.

He was too self centered to notice changes in his surroundings, but he did noticed the subtle changes in that one classmate he always looked from far away.

The youngest Selwyn was an exceptionally neat girl. Her uniform was always perfect and with no wrinkles on it; her hair never messy, like she brushed it every morning before class. Her grades were enviable, and even the professors had a certain affection towards her.

Theodore never exchanged a word with her, and if he knew her it was because of her pureblood status. He was, in fact, a pureblood too, and in that submagic world, everybody knows each other, at least a little bit. What means, even if he didn’t knew her, he did recognized her.

Theodore believes every guy would do whatever it takes to have a chance with Selwyn, and that you should be pretty stupid to reject an opportunity with the girl. Even he would be glad to take her out on a date, even though he would never admit it out loud. Selwyn was beautiful, a pureblood, from a powerful family; besides she was smart, charismatic, eloquent. If he had a checklist of everything he liked in a girl, it is most likely that she could check off every box in it.

But one day everything changed.

It was not a sudden change, no. It was a gradual process, and the changes started appearing little by little. In fact, there’s a chance this process started even before Theodore noticed it.

However, Theodore remembers the breaking point happened on a Monday morning. Everyone was in their seat, and the professor, Severus Snape, was about to begin the Potions class, when Selwyn stormed into the classroom. She was trying to catch her breath, and her uniform was perfect as per usual, with one exception: her half done necktie.

“Ah, Miss Selwyn…” Snape said, his mocking voice with a hint of sarcasm in it, “I see you’ve decided to delight us with your presence.”

Theodore thinks he remembers the girl whispering a little “sorry professor”, before she walked to the nearest empty seat and sat on it.

From that moment on, more and more subtle changes kept happening in the girl. They were slow and subtle, but Theodore noticed every single one of them, even though he wouldn’t normally notice and, even if he did, he wouldn't usually care.

Little by little, Selwyn started showing other signs that something was wrong with her. She just wasn’t her usual self. Her uniform was not as perfect as before, and her hair seemed a little bit messier every day. Under her gorgeous eyes there were now some dark circles, more noticeable every time. Besides, she seemed… worn out. Her usual charismatic, happy, carefree self, was now gone.

Theodore couldn’t help but wonder… Where was the girl he didn’t fully know, but fully recognized?

The youngest Selwyn knew it was a huge burden being in such a prestigious family. However, that never seemed like a problem, until that day.

There was a little meeting happening at her house, a meeting of two powerful families: Malfoy and Selwyn.

Of course, the youngest ones weren’t allowed into the meeting. So now she was sitting at her favorite table at the graveyard, surrounded by pretty flowers and nature. Normally, she would love just having breakfast there, and drinking tea while listening to the birds singing. Now, by Draco’s company, it just felt like a nightmare to her.

“Honestly, Draco…” she started saying, resting her head on her hand, “I don’t care about your last name nor the power it holds.”

The only Malfoy heir didn’t quite liked that, but she didn’t care. After all, she had a powerful last name too, so his fortune couldn’t amaze her.

When the meeting was finally over —after what seemed like an eternity—, both parents gave them the awful news: when they finished their studies at Hogwarts, they had to marry.

Yes, an arranged marriage.

Draco seemed surprised and, honestly, not so happy about it. However, he didn’t even fought back, he just accepted his fate. And Selwyn… she despised that. She despised the fact she was going to marry a coward, someone who just does as his father tells to make him happy.

She, of course, tried to convince their family to cancel the arranged marriage. And she, of course, was unsuccessful with that.

There was no turning back, she had to marry Draco in a couple of years.

After that she didn’t care that Sirius Black was on the loose, she didn’t care if he escaped Azkaban, she even thought it would be a blessing if he found her. She couldn’t care less about all the problems The Chosen One had, because she had her own kind of problems too.

She was depressed. Not as a heartbroken depressed, but as an “I feel like I don’t have a soul anymore” depressed. She started smoking, even if a few months ago she despised the way the cigarette smoke permeated clothes. Her grades were going down, her usual perfect self replaced by a messy self. She just wasn’t happy anymore, all thanks to that bloody marriage.

The worst part was the fact she had to marry Draco Malfoy in the future. Not with just anyone, but the freaking Draco Malfoy.

She hated him, and she hated him since first grade, when he and his best friend —she kinda remembers his name was Theodore or something like that— put a bucket of water in the door of the girls dorm, causing the first girl to go through it —her— to end up soaking wet. She didn’t hold back any grudge towards Theodore, since the little boy with dark hair and blue eyes apologized to her —only after bursting into laughter—, but Malfoy? He just mocked her and kept repeating “It’s just a prank, don’t be grumpy”.

Grumpy? She wasn’t grumpy, she was soaking wet and had a cold the next day, during a week.

The point is, that after the arranged marriage thing, Draco Malfoy was a pain in the ass to her, now more than ever. And one day, he finally crossed the line.

I hated him, I hated him so much.

I was taking a bath, using the Slytherin girl’s bathroom. I wrapped a towel around my body and got out of the shower, noticing my clothes were gone.

I had to leave the bathroom like that. Confused, with my wet hair falling through my shoulders, and just a towel wrapped around my body. And yes, everyone laughed. And as soon as I saw Draco’s freaking smirk, I knew he did it.

I felt my blood boil inside me. I wanted to punch him in the face so bad, but I just went upstairs to the girls dorm and put on some clothes, shivering as it was really cold there. I cried in silence, wiping away my tears, not wanting anyone to know I was crying. Being in an arranged marriage was already bad, but Draco made it feel like hell itself. And I hated him for it.

When Theodore found out what happened, he was really mad. He felt an anger he never felt before.

Draco was his friend, but right now, all he wanted to do was punch him in the face with all the strength he had.

He stormed into the Slytherin common room, where everyone was talking about his most recent joke, laughing at poor Selwyn’s reaction.

“You should have seen her face, mate” Draco said, with a smirk on his face, “It was priceless".”

Theodore pushed Draco, surprising the blond guy. Theodore never got upset with his friend before, so Draco was really confused.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Theodore questioned with anger.

“Calm down” Draco muttered, confused.

“You’re crazy” he replied, “She’s your girlfriend, you can’t treat her like that”

Draco scoffed.

“Oh and you would treat her better?” Replied the blond one, “Don’t be a party pooper, it was just a joke.”

Thankfully some friends intervened, because if not, Theodore would have broken his friend’s nose.

He sneaked out of the common room at midnight and went straight to the Astronomy Tower to smoke. He was pissed as hell, and stressed. He thought that was his hidden place, but as soon as he reached the tower, he realized someone was already there.

It was Selwyn. She was messy, yes. But she was as beautiful as ever. The girl was leaning against the wall, smoking. When she turned her head in his direction, and tensed a bit as she saw him. He couldn’t blame her, after what happened with Draco and considering he was Draco’s best friend.

She followed with her gaze his every move, as he walked into the tower and leaned against the opposite wall.

“I’m sorry” the words came out of his mouth before he could even think about it.

She looked at him, frowning in confusion.

“You are?” Theodore nodded quietly, “Why?”

“I’m sorry for what Draco did”

A small smile appeared on her lips.

“Well you’re not Draco, are you?” She replied, raising an eyebrow, “Don’t worry, it wasn’t your fault. You weren’t even there.”

Theodore couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged into his lips.

They kept smoking in silence. It was a comfortable silence though. Selwyn was looking through the window, when Theodore cleared his throat.

“Can I ask you something?”

Selwyn looked his way, and Theodore felt his heart pounding on his chest.

“Yes?” Her voice was soft and kind.

“Why are you with Malfoy?” He asked bluntly, “I mean… you don’t seem to love him.”

She chuckled.

“Well, I don’t” she said, “I don’t love him.”

Theodore blinked in confusion.

“Then why are you even with him?”

She took a draw of her cigarette, and exhaled the smoke while looking at him.

“Come on, I’m sure he told you” she replied.

“Told me what?” He asked, confused.

She looked at him, narrowing her eyes and in disbelief.

“Our families arranged a marriage between us” she confessed, and Theodore felt his heart falling into the ground. When she saw his shocked expression, she added: “You actually didn’t knew?”

Theodore shook his head, and her eyes went wide open.

After a few seconds in silence, he replied: “So that’s the reason you look so stressed lately?”

Selwyn’s gaze flickered back to him, and couldn’t hold back a small smirk.

“You noticed?” She asked.

Of course he did. He noticed every single change, but he just replied:

“Yeah, I did” Theodore shrugged nonchalantly.

He noticed every subtle change.

Because he was in love with her since the day he had to apologize because of that stupid joke.

[nice-and-accurate-fictions]

Strangers to lovers and meet cute

It could be a chance meeting, a blind date or business that bring them together, but we all know that once they set eyes for each other they'll end up together. But, oh, the fun of reading the path they'll take to get there! Most of the fics I read are very low in angst, and the ones in this list are no different, so just relax and enjoy!

There's No Algorithm For The Ineffable, by Thinkinginscripts. Rated T, 12k. P. Sep 24.

Aziraphale runs a matchmaking agency for queer professionals, and he's very successful at his job. Crowley has come to accept that he might need help to find a lifelong partner; unfortunately there seems to be something quite wrong with all three candidates Aziraphale introduces him to. Zero angst, this fic is heartwarming and adorable. 

My own fiction, Deluded, rated M, 27k. P. Apr 25.

Human AU rated M for Misunderstandings and Miscommunication (yeah, ok, and mature). Crowley agrees to go on a blind date with Aziraphale, but he doesn't really do dates. He tells as much to Aziraphale and leav... lea... leeeeeeavmmm... All right, stays, OK? I started off lighthearted, added a pinch of angst, skipped the smut, clumsily attempted some humour, and landed safely on fluff. These are literally the five themes of the five chapters.

Infernal Escapes, by journeytogallifrey. Rated T, 37 k. P. Jan 22.

Human AU where Crowley works at an escape room company. Aziraphale has always wanted to try escape rooms and finally does. You will have to read it to know the rest but this was such a lovely story, very low angst and a happy ending. I believed I did squeal in excitement at the nod to the whovians in the Roman room chapter.

My own  Only Ever Meant For Someone Else, rated T, 9k. P. Dec 24.

mas morning of 2023 he was ready to go home and rest with a cup of tea, a mince pie, and a book after a long night.

Guess who?

This my very first attempt at human AU, and it was great fun to write it without being bound by anything canon. It gave me a chance to play with some feelings and characterisations that I just don’t see in canon, but I like in fiction. I tried to throw in the mix a bit of humour, a tiny bit of short lived angst and, of course a happy ending!

Postcards From Paris, by ghostrat. Rated G, 12k. P. Oct. 23.

I very seldom reread whole fictions, but I'm so glad I reread this one! (Thank you and shoutout to the Good Omens Fanfiction Club Community on Tumblr!)

Human AU. Crowley has recently moved to a new flat and he receives postcards meant for the previous owner.

Ghostrat managed to tell us the building of a lovely bond only through short messages.

I love Crowley's quiet and relatable vulnerability in this story, and I absolutely love Aziraphale’s mask of confidence shining through Crowley's POV.

The gentle jokes, teasing and feelings: all felt very well balanced, but not less emotional because of it. A classic.

The Art Of Being Seen, by cheeseplants. Rated G, 3k. P. Aug 24.

Lovely and sweet strangers to lovers human AU. Aziraphale asks Anathema for advice on how to know whether he’s in love with someone, and Anathema tells him to stare into their eyes for two minutes and he will know. Such a shame that handsome, clever, funny date just won’t take his sunglasses off. Obliviousness in action!