#unfortunately i apparently need to get more soon bc i just realized i only have 4 left so i may need to take them sparingly until thats

[bigjimbopickens]

Ok so I just had the worst flight experience ever in my 19 years of being a frequent flier and I really need to vent my frustration so hi Tumblr

Be ready for a series of unfortunate events except I’m not an orphan I am a 19 year old who was trying to go to northern BC to see my parental figure with my sibling.

December 18, 10am: We get to my home city’s airport and see that most of the flights are delayed because of the weather. It was quite snowy so we understood.

10:30am: Every flight going to Vancouver is cancelled. Shortly after every US flight is cancelled and then every flight with Air Canada is cancelled. Ours is only delayed for another hour but it was going to mean we miss our connection.

2:40-4pm: We finally fly out to Calgary and arrive just 5 minutes before our connection. However, it was at the other side of the airport and we missed it. It left without most of its passengers. If it had only stayed for just 10 more minutes this entire situation would’ve been avoided.

4:40pm: We are told to wait at the next gate as our flight was apparently rebooked. The gate was on the other side of the airport again so we all go there only to find out we apparently have to go to customer service for our new passes. Customer service is in an entire different area.

5:15-around 8:30pm: We join the long ass line for 3 and 1/2 hours only for our rebooked flight to be cancelled as soon as it was our turn. In the line we meet this woman who was trying to get to Halifax but missed the connection because she was delayed in Vancouver. She ended up buying me food because I was dying and let us go next instead of her. I’ll never forget her kindness and I hope she made it to Halifax. At around 8:30pm the massive flight board in the terminal is entirely red as every flight was cancelled. It was so eerie seeing everything be illuminated in red and everyone go silent in disbelief. I’ve also never heard anyone breakdown on an airport intercom before either. I honestly felt so bad for all the agents as that airport was severely understaffed.

9-11:40pm: We get our new passes finally and go to baggage claim and meet a friend of ours who lives in Calgary that we were able to stay overnight with. We wait for another 2 hours just to find out it was retagged and going on the next flight to northern BC.

12am, December 19: We finally leave Calgary airport. I forget how dry the air is there and also how wide the roads are. I used to live in Calgary but it’s been 2 years since I did. I go rest.

8am: I get woken by their cat. His name is Bart. Here is a picture of Bart.

9am: I call the airline to check-in so I don’t have to deal with it at the airport, since it’s what I was told to do. Turns out I didn’t need to anyways because I already had the passes and the bags were checked (this is important later).

2:30pm: We head out to try again. Once we arrive we notice how empty it was but once we were past security it was insane. So many people were stranded with nowhere to go. Made me realize how lucky I was to be stranded somewhere I’m familiar with. The flight boards were still red with cancelled flights but ours was still blue. We find out later its been delayed for an hour because it was held up at its previous spot but that’s okay.

6pm: After watching many flights get cancelled around us, we finally take off from Calgary. It was a very smooth flight, which is odd because it’s usually bumpy.

7:40pm: We disembark at our destination finally only to find out everyone who was rebooked on this flight’s bags didn’t actually get on the plane. They were put on random ones heading to the same place and hoped for the best I guess. We managed to find one of ours but the other is somewhere. I open it to check if anything had been damaged or taken and turns out it was opened to be inspected and an object had broken. It was something I made for a friend too.

11pm: The airline has the audacity to ask me how my experience was. I gave them 1 star and said “Sugma balls”. Like really, take me out to dinner first before you fuck me.

I somehow handled this well for being 19 travelling with a younger sibling who didn’t even want to go. Though I’m fucking exhausted. Normally I love flying because airplanes are my favourite thing ever but I had no time to enjoy looking at planes. I don’t blame any of the staff for this, it was entirely out of their control and they were doing their best with what info they had. They were severely understaffed at the airport and the airline had managed this whole situation so poorly. I used to want to work in the airline industry like my family does but I don’t think I could ever handle a situation like that as an attendant or agent.

Yeah uh, thanks for reading my misery. You can laugh if you want. I’m keeping the boarding passes so I can look back on this situation and hopefully laugh about it.

And to think I was actually the lucky one in this situation too. So many people remain stranded there with nowhere to go. We were only able to eventually get out because where I was going isn’t a very popular destination. It could’ve been so much worse but it also could’ve been so much better. One of my friends is flying through Calgary tomorrow so I hope he doesn’t suffer the same fate I did.

[toytulini]

me taking my adhd meds everyday is showing up in how i keep rambling in the tags again

[robininthelabyrinth]

🧿🤠🐇🍲🍯: Lan Wangji does not think it’s safe to raise A-Yuan in Cloud Recesses after the Lans participated in the killing of his zhiji and the entire Burial Mounds community (or more accurately that it’s not safe while he himself is in seclusion and can’t watch over A-Yuan, at least) so he delivers A-Yuan to the one person who he knows did not stand against Wei Wuxian (and got away with it, bc this person has never stood against anything, since standing takes effort): Nie Huaisang.

Little Side Door - ao3

Nie Huaisang’s rooms in the Unclean Realm had a little side door that no one but him ever used.

They hadn’t originally. The Unclean Realm was a fortress, designed to maximize protection and defense; there was no better place for keeping things safe by locking them away. While it had its fair share of boltholes and escape routes, they were not common and universally difficult to access lest the enemy learn of them and use them to their advantage. Even the layout of their open spaces were carefully planned lest the attack come from the sky, a concern that only cultivators had, and not about how they themselves could escape – after all, weren’t they all Nie, ready to die rather than endure dishonor?

The little side door that led to Nie Huaisang’s room opened onto a small rock garden, left to grow wild with weeds rather than reveal its presence to more people. It existed only because his brother had ordered it constructed by those he trusted most, all in secret in the dark of the night. He had never explained why he had gone to such lengths to create such an unwelcome and inauspicious place, but then, he hadn’t needed to – Nie Huaisang had been there, too, when his father had descended into madness and they had been trapped in the familial quarters with no way out that did not take them through him. If his brother had been the one to brave his father’s rage directly, Nie Huaisang had been the one stuck in a small space that was only not claustrophobic because it was so painfully familiar.

Now, though his father was long dead and gone, Nie Huaisang had a little side door.

A little side door, and a little garden that almost no one knew about; in combination with the saber that his brother forced him to learn and the golden core he had so begrudgingly formed, he now had a way to reach the sky and the illusive freedom it represented – the freedom to flee and leave his home behind.

If it ever happens again – his brother had said once, the closest he had ever come to speaking of it.

He did not finish his sentence, as Nie Huaisang had thrown his plate into his face and stormed off, steaming mad and close to tears. He did not raise the subject a second time.

Nie Huaisang did not often use his little side door.

Although he enjoyed gardens, he preferred the aviary he’d constructed, or one of the myriad of well-tended gardens in the main part of the sect; even the vegetable gardens out back beside the kitchens were far more welcoming than that sparse straggle of land. He’d only ever spent time there when he was a child and in desperate need of some quiet, wanting to avoid adults with their arguments and their miseries; he’d taken some friends there because he thought it might impress them, but it hadn’t, and anyway his brother had put a stop to that soon enough.

He didn’t even think about the little side door, most days. It was just a part of the room, a small tucked away corner with nothing in it. Nothing to think about.

And then, of course, years after he’d put it out of his mind entirely, there came a terrible banging noise at that little side door, like someone was kicking at it furiously from the outside.

Nie Huaisang nearly fell over sideways in his scramble to get up, and then once again when he realized where the noise was coming from – almost no one knew about his side door and its little garden, and so no one had ever come to him through it. Who would be knocking now…?

He opened it.

Lan Wangji, white robes stained with blood and cheeks bright with fever, shoved something into his arms. “You have a child now,” he said through bitten lips. “Congratulations. He is called A-Yuan. I entrust you with his care, for my sect cannot be trusted with it.”

And then he turned and staggered away, mounting up on Bichen and flying off before Nie Huaisang could say anything – before he could even finish searching his memories and recalling that yes, in fact, Lan Wangji had been one of the friends he had shown the side door to, years and years before, and thus knew how to find it. Before he could even start processing the thousands of thoughts that had spring to life, fully formed, at all the information he’d just received: the bloody robes, the desperation, the reference to the Lan sect – the Lan sect! – being somehow untrustworthy…

He looked down at his arms.

“Congratulations,” he echoed blankly. “I have a child now.”

The child blinked up at him, and then smiled.

-

“Da-ge!” Nie Husiang howled, rushing into the sect leader’s study where his brother was doing work – luckily it wasn’t receiving hours and he wasn’t in the main hall, as that would have been unfortunate. “Da-ge, you have to help me! I have a child now!”

His brother stared at him, expression blank and mouth slightly agape. The brush in his hand dripping ink onto a now-wasted piece of paper.

“Huaisang,” he said after a moment. “What the fuck.”

Nie Huaisang nodded furiously.

“Where did you get – how – who – what did you do?!”

“I am currently unable to disclose any details,” Nie Huaisang said promptly even as his brother tossed aside the brush and got up, striding over with a storm brewing in his face. “All I can say is that I have to raise this child now. By which I mean, you have to help me raise this child now; I can’t raise children! I’m not mature enough to raise a child!”

“No kidding! Why would someone entrust – to you…” Nie Mingjue trailed off, looking down at the child with a frown that shifted from disbelieving irritation to concern. He pressed his hand to the child’s forehead. “Huaisang, this child has a high fever. We need to get him to the medical wing at once – is that blood?”

“Not his, I don’t think?”

“I don’t want to know,” his brother decided. “Move.”

Some time later, they were both sitting next to the bed in one of the spare rooms in the family quarters; Nie Huaisang thought it might even have been the same one that he’d used when he was very young. A-Yuan was sleeping, and Nie Mingjue was still holding his little hand in his own, having been clocked as the oversize comfort animal that he not-so-secretly was from the very first moment A-Yuan laid eyes on him.

The doctors had declared A-Yuan’s fever to be very severe, but they had applied plenty of medicine – the Lan sect might have more esoteric healing techniques, but there wasn’t anything like the Nie sect when it came to standard medicine for injuries and illnesses associated with the battlefield, and despite A-Yuan’s tender age Nie Huaisang would be willing to bet that his injuries were from a battlefield. They were confident that A-Yuan would make a full recovery, body and mind both intact, although they warned that his memory of the past might be impacted.

Nie Huaisang had thought about all that blood that wasn’t his, of Lan Wangji pale-faced and wild-eyed, and decided that a little bit of forgetting might not be so bad after all.

“Are you going to tell me anything more,” his brother said after a while. “Or should I just give up now?”

Nie Huaisang leaned over and patted his knee. “It’s good that you know your limitations.”

His brother rolled his eyes.

“I can’t believe this is my life,” he remarked.

“What part?” Nie Huaisang asked, curious. “The fact that we have a kid now, because obviously we’re keeping him? Or the fact that someone gave a kid to me?”

“Both,” his brother decided. “Definitely both.”

-

“His name’s A-Yuan,” Nie Huaisang said. “Apparently.”

“Well,” his brother said. “Obviously that won’t do.”

-

Nie Huaisang had the ability to be sneaky when he wanted to be. It wasn’t a matter of stealth, he had explained to his brother, but sneakiness– a completely different concept. Stealth suggested that he was doing something to conceal himself and required skills and talent, or else a lot of practice, and obviously Nie Huaisang was not going to go in for either of those.

Sneakiness, though…

He didn’t need people not to be able to see him in order to be sneaky. He just needed them not to care about him, or wonder where he was.

“Psst,” he said, knocking on the window to the rooms where Lan Wangji was purportedly practicing seclusion. “Psst! Lan Zhan!”

Lan Wangji had given him a child. They were definitely past the ‘Lan-er-gongzi’ stage.

“Lan Zhan!” he rapped at the window with his fan. “We need a courtesy name!”

There was some sounds from within the jingshi, mostly stumbling around. Nie Huaisang waited patiently, and after a few moments the window opened and Lan Wangji stared out at him. He was as pale as a ghost with lips as red as blood, and very clearly not in seclusion at all, but rather in the midst of healing whatever wounds had left him bloody – he probably shouldn’t have gotten out of bed to answer.

Oh, well. Too late for regret now.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Lan Wangji said, voice dull and eyes blank as he stared at Nie Huaisang. It was unclear if he meant in the Cloud Recesses generally, or here in particular, interrupting his ‘seclusion’.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Nie Huaisang said, scowling at him. “We need a courtesy name! A courtesy name for the child, you hear me? You know, of course, that Qinghe Nie don’t use personal names, not even for children – certainlynot for children older than their first year. It’d be a complete giveaway that he’s not organically ours if we call him something like A-Yuan.”

Lan Wangji raised a hand to pinch his nose. “Please go away.”

“Courtesy name, Lan Zhan. I mean, I may be the one who’ll be raising him, but please think carefully: do you really want meto be the one naming him?”

“…call him Sizhui.”

“Sizhui,” Nie Huaisang repeated. “With the characters…?”

Lan Wangji nodded.

“Uh, no,” Nie Huaisang said. “I need a bettercourtesy name. Are you joking?”

“Nie Huaisang. Go away.”

“But –”

Lan Wangji slammed the window shut.

“…fine,” Nie Huaisang said to the closed window. “Be that way, see if I care. Not like we don’t need to build up a decent coparenting relationship or anything eventually.”

He thought he heard a choking sound from behind the door and smirked.

“Don’t you think you can baby-trap me and just walk away, Lan Zhan,” he said in his best ominous tone. “If you wanted someone to raise your kid without ever consulting you again, you should’ve dropped him off in the Lotus Pier with Jiang Cheng, who’d probably be too busy being confused to even question where he came frome – but no. You came to me. I don’t make decisions in the best of times, least of all good. I have questions. A lot of questions.”

He thought about it for a moment.

“Not about how you got him or anything like that,” he said. “I’m not stupid, I can tell a secret when I see one. But, you know, other types of questions. Parenting stuff. Are you a ‘go sit and think about what you’ve done’ sort of parent? Or more traditional discipline, with copying lines and occasionally strikes when they’re naughty? Do you want him to learn the Lan sect rules along with the Nie sect principles –”

There was a muffled sound from inside the house.

It sounded angry.

“…we can talk about it later,” Nie Huaisang decided. He might’ve pushed his luck a bit too much. “Talk later!”

-

“You have a…what?” Lan Xichen asked, his smile a little fixed and stare a little wilder than normal.

“A nephew!” Nie Mingjue gushed. “Isn’t he wonderful?”

“Nephew.”

“He’s so well behaved, too! He plays quietly by himself most of the time, drawing and even writing a little, and Huaisang’s already teaching him how to play the dizi –”

“When you say nephew, do you mean Nie Huaisang’s child?”

“Do I have other brothers?” Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes at him. “He’s obviously not yours. Anyway, I know Meng Yao is expecting one, too, but he wouldn’t be dressed in Nie colors if it was his, would it?”

“Yes, but…are you telling me that…that Nie Huaisang…”

“It’s a battlefield child, Xichen,” Nie Mingjue said patiently. “Obviously. Someone entrusted him to Huaisang.”

“Oh,” Lan Xichen said, looking relieved. “Yes, that makes more sense…wait.”

Nie Mingjue waited.

“Someone entrusted him to Nie Huaisang?”

“I know, right?” Nie Mingjue said, and Lan Xichen didn’t notice how strained his grin had suddenly become, or how thoughtful his eyes were as he surveyed Lan Xichen as if trying to find an answer to a question. “I would’ve assumed they’d go for someone more responsible, like you. Guess you never know…”

“I guess you don’t,” Lan Xichen agreed, looking down at the child with a bemused expression. A battlefield child, entrusted to Nie Huaisang… “They must have been truly driven to desperation.”

“Perhaps,” Nie Mingjue said, and then changed the subject to little Nie Sizhui’s accomplishments, of which he could list many at great length and very great enthusiasm. By the time he was done with that, Ln Xichen was so overwhelmed that he didn’t ask a single other question.

-

“So I’ve got an idea on how to do this whole co-parenting thing,” Nie Huaisang said, cracking nuts to eat. He was sitting next to Lan Wangji’s bedside, and dropping the shells straight on the floor, too, staring dead-eyed at Lan Wangji as if daring him to say something – which he wouldn’t, of course. “Since with Sizhui starting classes soon it’s become much more urgent, on account of me needing you to attend meetings with his teachers and discuss his progress.”

Lan Wangji looked deeply long-suffering. He’d only invited Nie Huaisang inside because Nie Huaisang had threatened to start shouting out his business loudly on account of oh but Lan Zhan, how was I to know if you could hear me in there, I just had to raise my voice just in case because I wouldn’t want you to miss any of the extremelyimportant news –

It was all Lan Wangji’s fault for being born earlier than Nie Huaisang, Nie Huaisang thought virtuously. It was merely Nie Huaisang’s lot in life to fulfill the role of annoying younger brother to everyone.

“See, it’s the music,” Nie Huaisang continued. “You do music, right?”

Lan Wangji’s ice-cold glare suggested that he did, in fact, ‘do music’.

“So your brother has been playing this song for da-ge on a regular basis,” Nie Huaisang explained, ignoring the glare entirely. “And when he’s not available, which is most of the time nowadays, he’s been sending san-ge instead. Even though, of course, poor san-ge’s so busy back at Lanling all the time…ughh, it’s so unfair, you know! Poor san-ge has to do all the work of being the heir and gets none of the benefits, and they pile even more work on him on top of that – really, he gets no respect.”

Lan Wangji’s expression suggested he didn’t care.

“And think about the inconvenience to us!” Nie Huaisang sallied forth, undeterred. “People coming and going all the time, da-ge having to interrupt his schedule of spending quality time with me and Sizhui – and sect leader work, of course, though that’s less important – in order to march over to greet them and host them and listen to them…what a pain it is!”

Lan Wangji appeared on the verge of suggesting that Nie Huaisang consider getting to the point.

“So you should come do it instead.”

Lan Wangji’s expression cracked, suggesting that Nie Huaisang had actually managed to make an impact.

“You remember,” he said, voice low and a little hoarse from all that refusing to speak he’d been doing. Really, if Nie Huaisang wasn’t around to goad him into it, he might’ve lost the voice entirely – he didn’t even have little Sizhui around to force him to speak! “That I’m in seclusion. Right?”

“You’re horribly lonely is what you are,” Nie Huisang said briskly. “You require company. Therefore, coming to take up a semi-permanent posting in the Unclean Realm to play the Song of Clarity for my brother morning, noon, and night is clearly the finest way to solve all of our problems, and for you to see little Sizhui as often as you like.”

Lan Wangji visibly wavered. “My brother,” he said, then coughed. “My brother will never believe it.”

“That’s your problem,” Nie Huaisang said. “Find a way to sell it.”

He stood, shaking the remaining shells onto the chair.

“See you in Qinghe soon, Lan Zhan..!”

Lan Wangji was trying to kill him with his mind, Nie Huaisang thought happily as he wandered off with a whistle and a vaguely silly expression. Good – he’d been inside for too long. He needed the stimulation.

-

“Truly,” Nie Mingjue remarked, strolling around their gardens without any apparent notice of the small child perched on his shoulders, giggling wildly at the feeling of being tall, “I feel far better than I did before! One can scarcely compare it – night and day, really. Your Lan sect’s Song of Clarity is a marvel, even if it does take a while before it kicks in.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji said, walking slowly with his hands behind his back. He was still unsteady on his feet on account of the absolutely horrific injuries he’d incurred – but if the Lan sect’s response to everything was seclusion, seclusion, seclusion, then the Nie sect’s equivalent response was exercise. These little excursions through the gardens were the result.

Thus far, they were still only doing laps around the main gardens, but Nie Huaisang had plans to eventually force Lan Wangji to go even as far as his own little side garden. He’d made it through his side door once, after all; why not a second time..?

At any rate, Nie Huaisang still wasn’t quite sure how Lan Wangji had talked Lan Xichen into allowing him to come to the Unclean Realm, but it really did make the whole co-parenting business a lot more convenient. And his brother had had so much fun making Lan Wangji stiff and awkward over all his thanks and praise for his decision to come ‘help out’ with Nie Sizhui’s raising until finally, at last, Nie Huaisang had taken pity and revealed that Nie Mingjue knew perfectly well whose battlefield child this was.

Both in terms of who had gifted him to Nie Huaisang, and who’d adopted him originally, and of course even his original surname – The little tot’s been through enough adoptions to make anyone’s head spin, his brother had said, his voice gruff as always. There’s no point in thinking back too far, is there?

Lan Wangji had been very relieved.

“Run, bobo!” Nie Sizhui cried, pointing over at a bird. “We need to get it for Sang-gege!”

Nie Mingjue snorted like a bull but obediently quickened his feet and left the rest of them behind, heading in full charge straight at the wild pheasant that was far more likely to end up on Nie Huaisang’s plate than in his aviary. It was about even odds which one Nie Sizhui meant, anyway.

“Nie Huaisang,” Lan Wangji said, his voice low, and Nie Huaisang looked at him. “The Song of Clarity does not take time to work. These effects should have happened at once.”

Nie Huaisang opened his fan, hiding his face as he frowned. “How odd,” he said. “And after san-ge put in all that hard work.”

“Perhaps he played it wrong.”

“Odd,” Nie Huaisang said again. “When san-ge gets so very little wrong…has your brother sent any word on the Xue Yang issue?”

“…he has not.”

“He’s going to need to pick a side eventually.”

“He does not want to make things difficult for his sworn brother.”

“Does he have only the one?” Nie Huaisang asked archly, and Lan Wangji averted his gaze. “It’s awkward for us if he doesn’t back us, and is a bad look besides…truly, it’s a wonder that san-ge managed to squeeze out the time to come here.”

Lan Wangji’s frown deepened. “Indeed,” he said. “One would think his father might be tempted to stop him.”

“Wouldn’t you just?” Nie Huaisang said. “Wouldn’t you just…you know, maybe when you’re feeling better, we should go visit Lanling ourselves.”

Lan Wangji glanced at him, arching an eyebrow, and Nie Huaisang smiled, fanning himself casually.

“I’m not the only one with a little side door,” he said. “Let’s go knocking and see what we find, shall we?”

[yandere-sins]

Hey there^^ Haven't done a request for quite a while but I'm pretty stuck myself and I could really use something to lift my mood, too, and your writing always does that :) So, I thought of Satan or Lucifer with prompt 3 and 34, maybe? If it's not too much it'd be nice if the reader could be rather anxious (my anxiety is really acting up these days .-.) but that's not that important

Have a nice day and stay healthy ^^

Blue

Hi Blue! Thank you for requesting ^-^ I decided to do some Satan bc I have another Lucifer request and this way we can have some variety :D Please enjoy! ^-^

Pills - “Be a good girl and sit still. You don’t want me to be unhappy right?”

Stickers - “One more time. I’m giving you one more chance to stop fucking resisting.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««  

“Be a good girl and sit still. You don’t want me to be unhappy, right?”

His demand sounded reasonable, and his voice was calm. Still, the hand clutching your thigh was too rough with your skin, the fingers digging into it painfully. Immediately, you stopped bopping your foot, a nervous habit you hadn’t even noticed you started.

How long had you been sitting in his lap for now? An hour? Two? It felt like the whole morning and was probably more like the entire day, but through the partially hidden window in Satan’s room, you couldn’t make out the time of day, even if the Devildom had varying daytime-lightning outside. But this way, you could only count the pages Satan had already read as any indications of time, even though it wasn’t a reliable source.

Clenching your fists on top of your legs, you wondered what else there was you could do. Perhaps it was one thing to read the day away, but it was an entirely different one when you were just the lapdog to someone doing it. Even if you showed interest in books, Satan preferred to keep you close to him, and unfortunately, his favorite reading chair didn’t allow two people to read comfortably. That, and the constant fear you might actually find something useful to slip out of his grip, made him decide that you could read only with him or not at all.

It was just a problem that the language of the book he was reading wasn’t one you could understand.

All you were reduced to was a stiff, anxious, warm body sitting on top of him, hoping that soon Satan would decide to do anything else. You couldn’t live with his suggestions of taking baths together or being left alone for hours to no end while he took care of daily business, but this was the third day in a row where things were simply... too calm.

You had been quick to cease bringing up arguments. Satan had scared you once when he grew angry before your life took this turn by his side. Still, it was nothing compared to the violent and oppressive force he used on you now when you acted ‘unsuitable’, as he called it. Part of you wanted nothing more than to scratch his face, bite and kick, but when you brought up the courage to stand up for yourself and your rights, his exuding magic alone made you crumble to your knees in primal, inferior fear, knowing all the bad things he would do to you if you pushed it any more than you already had.

Wherever he took the patience from, it was wearing thin regardless of its masses.

That, and that alone, was the reason you even listened to what he said.

Looking down at yourself, you might not have been able to see any bruises left on you, but you felt them in every flinching of your muscles. The soreness, the pain - they never disappeared, and Satan wasn’t going to help you forget by applying magic to heal them.

Instead, he caressed your thigh with his hand, fingers circling over your skin menacingly. Perhaps from an outside view, it looked almost sweet, but you felt nothing short of a warning from his touch. Every touch was calculated. A game. Maybe he truly wanted to help you calm, but you wouldn’t have put it past Satan to actually try and provoke you to do something stupid. It was his way of forgiving the bad things he did to you, much like an eye for an eye. He disapproved of many things, but he couldn’t quite justify his actions if you didn’t act up. Satan swore up and down that he preferred cats over dogs, but god beware you’d behave like one. Unknown sadistic tendencies seemed to ride him when it came to you, and from what you understood, you were his place of comfort and peace when you were in his arms and his punchbag if you made his days worse than they needed to be.

But arguably, you were just his; all he needed, either way.

Worse thoughts crossed your mind than this. Ideas of how similar he was to Lucifer when it came to oppressing, but you would have taken the eldest brother’s help without even a moment of hesitation. At the same time, you wanted nothing more than to get away from Satan. 

Encountering a sudden change of mood was what you feared the most. It happened too often. Satan wasn’t that hard to please, but he unexpectedly and sharply changed moods for no apparent reasons, just like a teenager.

What if he read a passage in his book he disliked? What if your foot began to bop again? What if your breathing was too loud? What if he decided you were too heavy... When would it stop? When would the worries finally go away?

He loved you. He told you he loved you, so why were you a prisoner in his room? Why did he refuse to let you go? See other people? Sleep in your own bed for a change? And why was he enraged every time such a wish crossed your mind?

The book in his hand lowered as you sunk deeper and deeper into your panicked thoughts, wondering what you should do from now on to stay on his good side and maybe regain your privileges. So many emotions fogged your senses; you didn’t even hear him take a deep breath as his eyes narrowed while they focused on your leg, nervously bopping up and down again.

However, you did notice the sudden jerk as he threw you off his lap, pain shooting through your body as you scrapped your knees on the floor. You hit the stacks of books Satan threw you into, hardcovers falling down on you, making you yelp as they felt like bombs raining down onto your body.

“What’s the matter this time?” he asked, standing up and closing the book. It took a lot of courage to look up at him, Satan’s pretty face and perfect posture as intimidating as the waspish shine in his deep green eyes. You perceived it as cold and belittling as he looked down on you, standing over your legs.

“I want to go home--” you whispered, close to tears as you averted your eyes from his, unable to look at him when he glared back at you so resentfully.

“[Name],” he called out to you in the most condescending way you could imagine someone speaking your name. However, you no longer could bear looking him in the eyes, and so, you let your head hang low, expecting the worst but hoping it was over soon.

“How long will you keep complaining. I was so good to you the last few days, wasn’t I? It’s all because you said you were unhappy with me, so I bettered myself, yet, you behave just the same. When will you realize this is home?”

Hearing this from him, you felt your heart break. Hearing that this dangerous, painful situation should be a norm and comfort for you made you want to throw up. But at the same time, it rose your spirits, and before you knew it, you were back on your wobbling feet, the pain being suppressed by adrenaline as you grabbed Satan by the collar. In retrospect, you realized you had been just like a frightened animal and snapped as he came too close for comfort.

“THIS ISN’T MY HOME! YOU ARE KEEPING ME HERE AGAINST MY WILL! WAKE UP, SATAN!” you screamed at him as loud as you could. Perhaps you wished for a stunned realization overcoming him, or maybe that someone else could hear you outside this little, private room. But it wasn’t like anyone came running to help anyway.

Instant regret flooded your mind as you felt his hands grip your wrists, the book he had held onto falling to the ground with a loud thud. A zip of magic sparked from where he grabbed you, burning through your body like venom. It was no question who was the stronger animal in this struggle, your body falling back and down into the pile of books with just one step Satan took forward. But with your hands still anchored in his clothes, you pulled him with you, and on top, giving him a chance to pin you down on the uncomfortable bed of books.

Though it felt like your bones were breaking under the pressure and awkward position, your will hadn’t been affected as much yet, your body instinctively pushing against him, even though it was futile.

“One more time. I’m giving you one more chance to stop fucking resisting.” The words escaped him through clenched teeth, a hostile fire flickering in his eyes that you were forced to stare into. You knew you had it coming for you. His rage. His anger. There was no way out now, and once again, you had made the situation worse for you than needed. Finally, as you felt your ragged breath fill your lungs unreliably, you calmed down, tears shooting to your eyes while the sobs escaped from your mouth.

For a minute or two Satan merely let you bawl it out, the streams of tears falling down your cheeks and onto the books beneath you, but it was of no concern to either of you. At least now, he didn’t tell you to cease your sadness too, and you realized all he wanted was for you to stop attacking him, even if it was unfair when he apparently was allowed to.

Instead, you found yourself being scooped into his arms, face pressed into his shoulder as you hugged him instinctively. His hold was right out of a book about how to console crying children, his hands perfectly falling to your head and back, calmingly rubbing over the hurt part of your body.

“Please...” you sobbed into his shirt.

“I love you. I will always love you, even if you do this to me,” he assured you. You didn’t want it. Not his love, not being held by him like this, not him playing the victim in this scenario. As if it was your fault he had to do these terrible things.

“Just... please...”

“Forever. We will stay together.”

His words did nothing to help you, even more crying ensuring as they laid down heavily on your mind.

“You’re all I have. All that only belongs to me,” Satan whispered while you shook your head softly, rubbing in the wet stains into his clothes and wishing it was all just a nightmare that you could wake up from.

“That’s why, from now on, I will be the only one for you as well.”

But you never woke up from it.

[You can find the prompt list here]

[seyenna]

Philza and/or Techno and/or Ranboo fic recs

just some of my fav dsmp fics, mainly phil, techno or ranboo bc i’m biased but also a bunch of sbi and others

this one goes out mainly to zablr discord my beloved

pls tell me if the links don’t work

all of these are on ao3

rating\status(complete/ongoing)\warnings\word count\misc tags

ichor flows free amongst the iron by summer_rising

T\o\violence\13k\series\gods AU

Summary:

A gods and goddesses AU of the Dream SMP, dramatized for all our benefits.

First work:

  "Two gods meeting on a mountaintop overlooking the stormy sea? Very classy, Dream, I appreciate your taste."

  Dream didn't turn to look at him, but the faint shake of his shoulders let Techno know he had heard.

  "Scar's healing up nicely, I see," Techno mumbled with a light nod of his head.

  "Mhm. Cut nice and clean. Not that I expected any less from you, of course."

   ~~

   The god of power and the god of luck meet on a mountaintop to discuss Luck's standing in the ongoing political disaster.

We're Only Young by ImperialKatwala

G\o\-\66k\series\Dream & Technoblade

It's easy to forget amid the chaos and bloodshed how similar - and how young - Dream and Technoblade really are.

And when the sun comes up, you'll find a brand new god. by SkyboxZoo

M\o\violence\19k\gods AU

Summary:

The wounds from the fight had healed nigh instantly, but the golden blood still soaked Techno’s shirt. His cloak had gotten torn off and his hair had fallen out of its pony-tail. Ichor pooled in his boots. The man left a trail of golden, bloody footprints in his wake.

old gods (new gods) by WriterWinged

T\o\-\9k\series\gods AU

Summary of first work:

Survival, Blood, Madness. Philza, Technoblade, Wilbur Soot. Three gods who have never cared for mortal life, who play with them when they want to, who kill their toys just as easily. How, then, did a mortal end up in their hands?

This House Is A Fucking Nightmare by SilverWing15

T\c\-\17k\series\sbi

Summary:

AU Where Phil isn't quite as willing to stand by while his sons drop like flies

Summary of third part (my fav):

Does lingering too long in the shadow of a god make you a god? The voices in his head seem to think so.

His brothers know he's older than them but they don't know how much

OR: Technoblade doesn't think his brothers realize how different they are from ordinary men. After all, ordinary men may fight the gods, but they don't win.

It's been a long day. by BecausePlot

G\c\-\3k\Philza & Ranboo

Summary:

Sides are bad: he knows that much. He’s seen it tear people apart time and time again, so when he decided to separate himself from Tubbo and keep his distance, he knew he was in the right.

Well. He thought he was in the right, at the time. Sitting all by himself on the steps to the Prime Path, he’s not so sure anymore.

Yes, the sides might have torn the others apart, might have made them so weak that they have no choice but to fold under Dream’s hand, but at least they aren’t lonely.

So are sides bad?

‘I don’t know.’

~*~

Or, Ranboo looks out at the ruins of L'Manburg, feeling more lost and lonely than he ever has.

But, as he soon finds, he's not as alone as he thinks.

the voices in my head, they say a lot of things by rosyasteria

-\c\violence\1k\Technoblade-centric

Summary:

Some days the voices didn’t listen. They didn’t let up. They screamed instead of whispered, relentless, assaulting his ears until they bled.

tell them i was the warmest place you knew and you turned me cold by rosyasteria

-\c\-\2k\Techonblade-centric

Summary:        

Technoblade cared. But in the end it just fucked him over.

For the majority of his life, Techno felt like less of a companion, less of a family member, and more like a weapon to be wielded. 'The Blade' they called him; never 'friend'.

It Leaves Little Time for Anything Else by mirandible

M\c\-\1k\part of series\Dream & Technoblade

Summary:

   A young man aims for the top, but fate has other plans for him. So does Technoblade, apparently.

   (Or: answering the question of “Why does Techno hide his scars if they’re supposed to be some sort of trophy? Why keep your point of pride a secret?”)

the best requiem is a bar of silence (and I'll sing it, even if I must hold back my tears) by jello12451

T\o\-\10k\Philza & Technoblade

Summary:

   He can’t help the noise of celebration that escapes him. Techno- this means that Techno’s free, and he got his horse back, and everything is alright-

  Tubbo, filled with rage at Phil’s cheers, turns and impulsively shoots an arrow.

   He doesn’t expect to hit his target.

---

  Alternatively: What if Phil didn't have a bucket of water when Tubbo shot him?

Change fate by being aggressively kind by sircantus

T\o\-\13k\sbi, Philza-centric

Summary:

   “You do understand that you’re caring for the thing meant to bring destruction and chaos to our world, right?” The woman asks, Phil looking behind him fondly as Techno grabs at the ends of his wings.

   “He’s just a child.” Phil answers distractedly, humming as his wings get gently yanked at.

   “He’s the first of three to destroy life as we know it! Shouldn’t we, well, get rid of him?!”

   “Oh, no.” Phil raises his eyes with a sharp glare. “Believe me, I have my own way of preventing the apocalypse.”

   ---

   Or, Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy are basically chaotic forces of nature, destined from birth to end the world and bring destruction. Most who hear of the tale of them are trying their best to track them down, and to end the monsters while they’re still young, still just children.

   Phil has a different plan.

   (In which Phil raises the minecraft equivalents of the anti-christ with love and support, so much so to the point where the world ending is really just a funny thought, and Phil has three kids who casually have powers that are bit more extreme than anything else in the world)

I promised you that everything would be fine by findingkairos

G\c\-\6k\Technoblade-centric

Summary:

   manifestation: (n.)

1.     an event, action, or object that clearly shows or embodies something abstract or theoretical;

2.     a version or incarnation of something or someone;

3.     an appearance of a ghost or spirit;

4.     the Blood God.

When he's young and still alone, still establishing his reputation as the immortal warrior, Technoblade makes up an imaginary friend.

Years later, the blood god is very real and very much a god: one that is prepared to do anything for their first and only friend.

the inner mechanism of a black box by Bee_4

T\c\violence, self-harm\Technoblade-centric

Summary:

   Technoblade lets himself get imprisoned for Philza’s sake. He doesn’t plan on being there long. Unfortunately, he’s underestimated Pandora’s Vault.

   There are things that will make even the Blade fall apart in due time, as it turns out.

carry all my sins by BananasofThorns

T\c\-\4k\Ranboo-centric

Summary:

Ranboo swallows. “All my armor and weapons and stuff are missing. Fundy and I were gonna go looking for them after the festival, I think.”

“I see.” Tubbo smiles again, but this time it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, I’m sure it’ll be fine, it’s just a festival. We could probably find someone to lend you a sword or an axe or something.”

He starts towards the stage, waving at people when they call his name, and Ranboo follows. The original panic has dulled to a cold buzz in his chest, but apprehension still wraps itself around his body like chains. He doesn’t like being without his armor and tools; he feels too exposed, and if something happens, he’ll be helpless.

“Ranboo?” Tubbo calls, glancing back.

Ranboo shakes his head and hurries to catch up. “Yeah, it’ll be fine,” he repeats. “Everything’s gonna be fine."

Tubbo grins. “That’s the spirit.”

Rule 5: be loyal. L'manberg doesn't do well with supposed traitors. Ranboo deals with the consequences.

Sojourn by Lacy_Star

T\o\-\13k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

“Well…” Ranboo started slowly, “You see, uh… I kinda… don’t have a house anymore, obviously. Um… Phil found me in—“ He paused, cutting himself off and squinting at the floorboards— very discreet, “Phil… found me. And… um… He said I could stay by you guys. Like, um, by the dog house he wants to build?” He paused, then began to ramble, “But, uh, if you don’t want me here, I understand— and I’m sorry for coming in your house when you weren’t here, I swear I didn’t touch anything— it was just cold outside and—“

Techno just stared at him. And how, how was this the second time this had happened to him? How was this the second time he returned home after battle to discover an injured teenage boy waiting for him, seeking assistance with nowhere to go? And how badly had that ended last time, in nothing but betrayal and insults?

---

AKA: Phil drags a half-enderman home after Doomsday, and Techno decides that they can keep it. For now.

can an axe count as rent? by aboutfivebees

T\c\-\4k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

Ranboo’s struggling to settle into his new life on the Arctic Anarchist Commune, but at least he’s got bread.

or the struggles of an enderman hybrid to come up with a housewarming gift to give to his friends, who are just trying to adopt him

The Caged Bird Sings of Freedom by StarPrince_Punk

T\o\-\25k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

The Blade's stance was still tense, his body prepared to fight at a moment’s notice if need be. “What’s your name?” Phil asked “My… name?” The Blade asked. “Yeah. Your name isn’t actually The Blade, right? That’s like a stage name?” Phil tried to keep his tone light. “What’s your real name?” The Blade hesitated. “No one… No one’s called me by my name in a long time.” ------- When Phil comes across Ranboo in his panic room after L'Manberg's destruction, it reminds him of when he first met Technoblade. And just like when he met Techno, Phil's first instinct is that he has to help this kid. While living together, Techno and Ranboo learn that they're much more similar than they had previously thought, and Phil learns that it's not too late for him to be a better dad.

This already feels like more of a home by H3118ENDER

T\o\violence, death\18k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

As the ashes of L'Manberg settle the conflict continues to come to life setting the stage for a new wave of blood shed. Stuck slam in the middle of past and present friends Ranboo is coming to learn that even without nations to their names feelings and feuds don't die but people, people do.

A Shadow of a Shadow by unappetizingegg

T\c\-\4k\ Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

There were a few beats of silence, and then- “What are your plans, now? Do you need a place to stay?”

That caught him off guard. Surely he’d heard incorrectly. Phil was offering him a home, right after he’d orchestrated the destruction of his past one? It didn’t make any sense, none of it did. Why would Phil say that?

Then he remembered, he remembered Techno stopping him in the fight. He remembered being handed his book, the question in Techno’s gaze. He swore, in that moment, Technoblade, the Technoblade, had been worried about him. He remembered that he had been told to leave, to run, to get away and preserve himself. He had spared him, he remembered that Techno had spared him.

Techno had helped him. Phil had tried to protect him, to get him away from the danger.

They were there for him.

 ---

alternatively:

Ranboo is alone. But he really isn't.

Meritocracy by oddsbodkins

G\o\-\18k\Dream & Technoblade, sbi, medieval AU

Summary:

Dream is more successful than he'd ever imagined - but there's one thing that's been bothering him. Technoblade, his biggest rival, the Acolyte of the Blood God and King of the Arena, went missing last spring, just before Dream got the chance to duel him. Without that one achievement to pave his way, all the following victories have felt cheap.

So, Dream hired some goons to dig Technoblade up and pester him into coming back to the Capitol, for one last showdown. Easy enough, right?

Interlude I: "Promises to Keep" by Ozzyyy

T\c\-\1k\part of a series\Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

These woods are lovely, dark, and deep But I have promises to keep

And miles to go before I sleep And miles to go before I sleep.

--

Techno has a plan. It's crazy. It's insane, it's actually just batshit bonkers. But if chaos cannot be enjoyed together, then what's it worth, yeah? There's a certain beauty in watching the world burn from the center of the flames. Phil intends to be there.

I Don't Want To Start A Fight (wouldn't you rather start a riot?) by KryOnBlock

T\c\violence, death\15k\Technoblade & Philza & Ranboo

Summary:

An universal ping rang out from behind him, the third and final he knew, and Phil sobbed, clutching the body tighter.

Techno didn’t move.

It always has been Technoblade and Philza, Philza and Technoblade. Take on half, and you shall never go back.

Sheltered by Lulatic

G\c\-\6k\Ranboo & Technoblade

Summary:

It was cold outside. But Techno never heard Ranboo complain.

That was the best excuse he could muster to keep him out.

Antarctic Princes 'verse by BirchWrites

T\o\-\15k\series\sbi

Summary:

Loosely-connected one shots set in an AU where the Antarctic Empire and the Dream SMP are in the same world. Ordered chronologically, but each fic can be read as a standalone thing

Summary of first part:

Oh shit. Forget arrested; Dream’s going to have to tell Wilbur that he watched Tommy get stabbed for being terminally stupid.

May we cross paths again by QueenLunaFreed

G\c\-\1k\Dream & Technoblade

Summary:

“Even if tomorrow it’s just us versus the entire server, Dream, I’m telling you right now - I have confidence.”

---

Dream couldn’t comprehend the pacing contradiction in front of him, the weakness he could clearly see, but would never comment on. Because this man has been defying Dream's expectations since they first met, because despite them not being friends and having no reason to trust each other, Dream knew that Technoblade is the only person who he’d trust to do this right. To destroy L'Manberg alongside him yet again, this time for real.

leave me your starlight by findingkairos

T\o\-\18k\Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

For you the world, Phil.

Once upon a time, Philza Minecraft is the only person who does not shy away from the bloody teen that regularly turns the tide of war.

This cements a friendship that will last wars, empires, worlds, and lifetimes.

 ---

(Featuring: Back to Back Badasses, healthy relationships, accidental deification, intentional world domination, and Phil's past coming back to haunt his best friend.)

[sunnysviolin]

Sometimes, when sunny visits kels house for a sleepover, (or just anyones house except for basils) the host would always wake up to:

A missing sunny (who is most likely in some weird ass place like the roof)

A sunny that it staring at you from the foot of the bed or beside it

A sunny that stares from the doorway (he stares alot)

Or

A sunny that is playing bo en my time at an unreasonable hour but at a reasonable volume (or vise versa)

Alright so a different nonnie also sent me “How many times do you think sunny scares people by staring at them from the foot of the bed / beside them when they wake up?” So I’m....combining these two XD Also if you guys like....resend things can you say they’re a resend LOL bc if I have another Cho double take situation I’m going to backflip into the sun. Also don’t resend more than twice (i’m gonna be putting that in my bio bc....yeah don’t do it makes me anxious D:)

Okay mini housekeeping thing aside! This got long it’s under a read more because it’s long, but it’s full of shenanigans, sleepovers, and our local fave cryptid Sunny

I’m going to focus this in on post-canon, because I think that Sunny’s ultimate cryptid energy flows forth in his teen years. Also I really want to include the hooligans in on this (I’m...love them)

So pre-canon Sunny and Mari’s house was the go to location for their group of six. They were almost always there, but there was some unspoken rules.

You called before you came over (Only Kel didn’t follow this rule, but he always knocked and waited patiently at the door) and you had to be invited to stay for dinner. If not you went home when Sunny’s mom called a fifteen minute warning before dinner. There was also no arguing within the house. If there was an issue that needed to be addressed, Mari and Sunny’s parents would immediately send everyone home.

Post-canon Mari is gone and the house has been sold. Hero and Kel’s house becomes the go to hang out house after that. Their house is nearly night and day to Mari and Sunny’s

Mari and Sunny’s house was always neat and tidy and very quiet. Their parents generally left the TV off and didn’t use the radio, so unless one of the two children were making noise, everything would be silent. Kel and Hero’s house is in constant motion and activity. Sally is usually either babbling or screaming, music is always playing on the radio, and their main form of communication is friendly yelling at one another. Kel and Hero’s house also has an open door policy- anyone can walk in at anytime and they all know where the spare keys are hidden.

Post-canon I see a quick friendship building between Aubrey’s gang and Basil Sunny and Kel. Hero enjoys them all, but it’s not really his scene now that he’s spent a year or so at college. He will get brought along for some adventures, and he’s always up for hanging around the house with them, but when it gets to be a bigger group he prefers to just let them have fun.

When it’s just his four kids, Hero is always a part of the group though.

OKAY ALL OF THAT BUILDUP ASIDE LETS GET TO THE ACTUAL POINT OF THIS ASK

So this is when school is in session and Hero is back at college. Kel tells Aubrey that Sunny is coming up for the long weekend, and they should all do a sleepover at his house like old times. She agrees and they arrange it with Basil. Kim overhears their plans and she has FOMO so she arranges herself to be there when they tell Basil

Normally Kel makes it a point to try and include Aubrey’s friends (who are slowly just becoming friends) but this time he just pretends she isn’t there and tells Basil to come right after school and they can drive together to get Sunny.

Kim weedles it out of Aubrey later that day when they’re alone in gym class. The reason that they didn’t immediately invite her and the others? Sunny is apparently weird at night

Kim fires back that Sunny is always a little weird, but Aubrey is being fully serious. Unfortunately all that does is make Kim more curious. She goes to find Kel afterward and half asks/half demands an invitation to the sleepover. Kel seems a little awkward about her involving herself, but he agrees that she and the others can join in if they like.

Aubrey and the others arrive

Kim soon finds out that Aubrey was 100% right. Sunny is...weird at night.

At around 10:00 pm, Sunny disappears. Basila nd Aubrey went into the kitchen to make popcorn, and Kel was busy fiddling with the TV to get the movie to start. When he turns back to the couch, he asks where Sunny is. They realize Sunny has vanished.

Aubrey and Basil come in with the bowls of snacks, and Kel asks them if they’ve seen Sunny. Basil says to check the roof.

The roof. The hooligans all laugh (Basil is a sweet kid when you get to know him, but his nerves make even his jokes strange) The other three don’t laugh. In fact Kel gets up and goes to the door.

The hooligans follow out bewildered, and Sunny is o n t h e r o o f. CASUALLY. JUST THERE PETTING AN ORANGE CAT WHO IS LOUNGING PURRING NEXT TO HIM. AND KEL AND AUBREY AND BASIL DONT REACT??? Kel just waves?? and Sunny waves back???

“We’re gonna watch Insidious now, I know you haven’t seen that one before. Wanna come in?” “Kay” “Do you want to bring your cat in with you? I’ll put Hector on his leash” “Yes please”

Then the three just walk back and tell the hooligans to follow them in. Sunny got himself up so Sunny can get himself down.

It’s only the beginning of the madness. Sunny walks in holding the still purring orange cat and settles himself down in his specific corner of the couch (They were prewarned not to sit in Sunny’s spot) Aubrey cuts Kim off before she can ask about the roof, and starts the movie. Kim looks over at the cat, and it locks eyes on her, hissing.

The movie begins and Sunny will randomly speak but only to say when a character is going to die/be scared. Right before it happens. Every single time. Didn’t Kel say before that he hadn’t seen this movie?? It doesn’t matter Sunny keeps going

A ghost. A ghost. Lost in an alternate dimension by shamanic journey. It’s bizarre. The cat continues to purr a rusty old engine noise in Sunny’s lap, periodically looking at one of the hooligans and hissing, choosing a different one every time. Who’s cat is that????

They finish the movie and start to play board games. They pick monopoly and decide to divvy up into teams. Kim immediately claims Aubrey, Vance decides to go with Kel and Kel grabs Mikhael to create a trio. Charlie and Sunny silently sit beside each other, and everyone assumes that makes them a team. Angel pulls Basil to his side and they’re prepped to play the game.

Kim likes to consider herself a pretty good monopoly player, and Aubrey is a whiz with money and numbers, so she assumes they have this in the bag.

She did not account for the Sunny factor.

Sunny stares her down through the entire time. Kim is sure he doesn’t blink. She forgets to bid on auctions for properties and gives him extra rent money. They go bankrupt first, and Sunny turns his eye onto Kel who just laughs and gives Sunny finger guns. Sunny finger guns back (his face still a blank slate) and proceeds to also take all of Kel’s money.

They go to bed shortly after, and Kim is relieved. Nothing also weird can happen. Now she just has to sleep.

She wakes up in the middle of the night and adjust her position, turning over to face the other side of teh room. Four shining eyes stare back at her, catching the dim light from the kitchen. Kim shakily grabs her phone and turns on the flashlight, whirling around to see Sunny staring at her, his orange cat on top of his head.

She wakes all the rest of them with her shriek of terror. The group of four quickly settle to sleep once more, even Sunny crashing down next to Aubrey and Basil. hissing cat caught firmly in his arms.

She and the other hooligans stay up for a bit, frantically whispering about the oddness of the situation. They resolve to leave early in the morning, and to distance themselves as much as they can from...whatever Sunny is. They’re certainly glad he doesn’t go to their school anymore.

The next morning, the group of four wake up before the hooligans and cook a big breakfast. They put the phone on speaker and chat with Hero as they do so, catching up on his latest college stories. Bo en is playing from the cd player in the corner of the kitchen, kept low so as not to wake the others.

The hooligans creep downstairs and peer inside. The scene is shockingly...normal.

Sunny is still carrying his cat, but now Kel is feeding it tiny bits of bacon and it is stretching out of Sunny’s arms to reach the next delicious morsel. He’s chatting with Hero over the phone, speaking in full long sentences which is a rarity for Sunny. He even laughs quietly at a joke Hero tells.

Kim tries to translate the horror she felt last night into this morning, but it’s not there. Sunny doesn’t seem like an eldritch horror during the day. Just another teenager happy to be with people he enjoys.

Hero hangs up shortly after, and the group of four settle back into a placid silence. Aubrey breaks it by turning to the others

“I know it was weird, but I’m glad that they came for last night.” the three boys agree, and Sunny leans against the counter near Aubrey so she can scratch one hand under his cat’s neck while still flipping pancakes. When he speaks, his voice is near silent, but they all hear it anyway.

“They’re nice. They didn’t treat me different.”

The hooligans share a look and simultaneously agree to stay for breakfast.

[krreader]

diamond maknae | realizations.

pairing: min yoongi x diamond maknae!reader fandom: bts warnings: 8th member of bts!reader ; maknae!reader ; sex ; language  genre: smut ; fluff ; angst word count: 1.8k+

summary: this was bound to happen eventually, but now that it did... how will you two handle the aftermath?

a/n: asdfghjkl goodbye, I love them, that’s all I can say (also, so glad you sent that request in yesterday, bc this story was almost finished lol)

Whenever you had a show, you were usually focused to the core. Your thoughts consisted of nothing but lyrics, dance moves and facial expressions. But today simply wasn't one of those days.

You stood in a hallway, your eyes staring ahead of you and your brain barely even realizing that there were other idols – some of those your friends – passing by and greeting you.

Whatever you were thinking about had you transported into a different world altogether.

“Hey,” Jimin's hand on your shoulder finally made you snap out of it, shaking your head a little and then looking up at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“Huh?”

“Aren't you feeling well? You seem.. off.”

That's because you were. But this wasn't something that he could help you with, much less was it something that you wanted to share with him. So you just faked a smile and nodded.

“Yeah. Just tired, I guess.”

It was a good excuse. After all, you had to get up at 3AM this morning and you went to bed extremely late. So good of an excuse that Jimin accepted it with a nod and turned his attention back to Namjoon.

All of your band members listened to what the leader had to say except for you and.. well.

“Let's talk after this,” you heard him whisper, feeling his hot breath against your ear.

Yeah, there he was. The reason why you were acting so weird today. Min Yoongi.

That hot breath against your neck only awoke memories of last night that you weren't sure if you wanted to forget or brand them into your mind, so you'd never lose them.

How could this have even happened?

You closed your eyes for a moment and it all came flooding back like you were back where you were last night.

“Oh, you're home early,” you grinned happily when you saw Yoongi walk into the living room.

All of the others were out, either working on something in regards to the performance on the show or to enjoy a late night meal with their idol friends.

When it came down to music shows, you always liked to take it slow the night before, knowing that you'd have to get up extremely early. You wanted to rest as much as possible, hence, you always staying back when everyone else went out.

Yoongi was usually one of those who worked through the night, but not this time, apparently.

“Taehyung texted and said that everyone left. Didn't want you to be on your own,” he placed a bag of takeaway on the coffee table in front of you.

“You know it doesn't bother me.”

But when you opened the bag and saw that he brought food from your favorite restaurant, you got so excited that Yoongi couldn't help but chuckle. Good decision to come here after all.

It wasn't the conversation you had that was an indicator for what was about to happen next. You didn’t even flirt casually like you normally did. Neither of you had anything to drink, so that wasn't the reason either. You really didn't know what it was, in hindsight.

But one moment you were having a friendly conversation and then the next you were reaching out to wipe some sauce from his lower lip with your thumb and BOOM.

Yoongi was surprised, but let you do it. His eyes dropped to your lips and with you being so close it was easy for him to simply grab your hand and pull you towards him to close the distance.

It was a bold move that he easily could have regretted, but the sexual tension that has built between you two had only grown these past weeks and so he had decided to finally act on it.

His intuition hadn't been wrong, because instead of pulling back and slapping him - which would have been your good right -, you were actually the one who quickly settled on his lap and turned the kiss into one that was a lot more heated than what he has had in mind.

Both of you had thoughts of: 'But is this right? Should we be doing this' cross your mind, but the more his hands wandered and the harder his dick grew in his pants, the less you both cared.

Still, this was extremely random and unplanned and maybe that's why it worked. If you had put too much thought into it, who knows if you would have gone through with it, the moral questions probably would have made you not act on your feelings.

But now... now that question was out of the window as Yoongi's hands interlinked under your ass and he got up, carrying you into his bedroom.

As excited as he was for what was about to happen, he'd rather not have the others see this. Because despite being so far gone and into it in that moment, he knew that this was scandalous and would turn messy if anyone found out about it.

He shut the door closed with his foot as soon as he was inside his room, then gently laid you down on his bed and began to kiss your neck.

Yoongi was usually a fan of exploring what his partner liked, but the need to be inside you was so much greater. And thankfully, that was a mutual feeling.

When he pushed up your sweatshirt and wanted to kiss your breasts, you pulled on his hair and made him look at you.

“Forget foreplay.”

That only got him harder as he let out a dark chuckle. He shoved his hand in your sweatpants, straight under your panties to feel how wet you were and boy, oh boy, “Were you looking forward to this, princess?”

“Just shut up already,” you pulled on his shirt and waited for him to take it off and while he did, you took off your own clothes.

One item after the other found its way to the floor, until there was one pile of both of your clothes and you were both completely naked.

Looking back at this, you felt a little dirty at how eager you were in that moment. Had these feelings been hiding inside you all this time? Because when you felt Yoongi's dick at your entrance, you felt yourself dripping, that's how much you wanted him.

His penis slipped inside you so easily that both of you let out a loud and surprised moan.

“What the fuck,” Yoongi moaned out, his hands fisting in the bed sheets beneath him, “Shit, you're so fucking wet, (Y/N).”

If he had known just how good you felt, he would have acted on this sexual tension long before today. Even just slipping inside you once made him regret ever having sex with other people. Because this right there? This was the best feeling he's ever had when it came down to sex.

And once again, it was mutual.

You arched your back and whined, “Please.. fuck me.”

It wasn't romantic and it unfortunately wasn't long either.

You felt so good that Yoongi couldn't hold out long and you were gone the moment he got on his knees to fuck you from a different angle and rubbed hard circles over your clit to make you orgasm with him.

You moaned out your lungs and despite Yoongi usually holding back on the moans, he couldn't this time. He nearly screamed when he filled you with his seed and it was only when it was all spilled inside you that he realized what he had just done.

His wide eyes made you chuckle and pat his naked and sweaty chest.

“I'm on the pill.”

Dodged a bullet right there.

It wasn't uncomfortable that night, but it wasn't something that you talked about either.

You grabbed your clothes and washed up, Yoongi doing the same in the other bathroom. But instead of talking about what just happened, you went into your bedroom and he back into his.

And it was only now, hours later, that you realized what had happened, and the consequences of it.

Yoongi's promise of talking about it afterwards made you nod and try to gather your professionalism.

You couldn't let anyone see that you were so troubled. You just had to make it through this performance and then, when you were back home, you and Yoongi could talk.

And that worked rather well, thankfully. The moment you set foot on stage, you only thought about performing well for your fans. The only time of the day where you got a break from thinking about last night.

But the second you stepped off the stage and the adrenaline wore off, it was over again.

Yoongi didn't let you wait long, though. Not even ten minutes after you had gotten out of the shower and walked into your bedroom, he walked in with two cups of tea.

“You usually only do this when I don't feel good.. bring me tea, I mean,” you said with a small smile.

“You look like you could use something to calm you down,” he handed it to you, then sat down next to you. You weren't sure if it was troubling Yoongi as much as you, or if he was just hiding it better. Right now, he was staring at you as you were drinking the hot beverage and smiling when you let out a happy sigh, “Better?”

“You always manage to make me feel good..- I mean..-” your eyes immediately widened, realizing that this could also be understood in regards to yesterday, but Yoongi quickly laughed it off as he shook his head, “God, why am I acting like this..”

He didn't respond right away, seemed to think about his words first, before he carefully asked: “I'm going to ask you a question now. Don't think about it too much, just answer, okay?” you nodded, then he added: “Do you regret it?”

“No,” you said right away, surprising yourself with that answer. Good thing you didn't think about it, otherwise your bad conscious would have made you say yes.

The answer made Yoongi happy, though. The corner of his mouth curled into a smile, “Glad to hear it.”

“You are?”

“Yeah,” he put his cup of tea on your nightstand then looked back into your eyes, “Because I don't regret it either. The only thing I regret is that it didn't last any longer.”

That made you snort and gently hit his shoulder, “Stop that.”

He was glad that you seemed more at ease now. He waited for you to drink another sip of the tea, then he added: “I would never want to make you feel uncomfortable, (Y/N). Whatever happens now will be up to you.”

You were so thankful that he was letting you make that decision.

Right now, there was only one question that kept coming up in your head that you needed to know the answer of in order to decide: “Was this just... us acting on the sexual tension?”

“I can't speak for you,” Yoongi brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, “But it wasn't for me.”

You unconsciously began to smile and lean into his touch.

"Glad to hear it,” you said in his own words from before.

[angstymarauder]

Arch Enemies {M.M}

Marlene McKinnon x Female!reader ; marauders era

summary: where two long-time rivals realize how thin the line between love and hate really are after an unfortunate quidditch incident.

word count: 3.4k ish

contains: angst, fluff, a heated kiss?, side of wolfstar,

a/n: i didn’t re-read it bc I'm lazy. Also if people could drop some wlw angsty harry potter recs that would be phenomenal.

· · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · ·

Marlene McKinnon has been your rival since as far back in your Hogwarts years as you can remember. Always at each other’s heads. Always a competition between the two of you. Always striving to be better than the other.

The two of you made just about everything a competition. Chess Matches. Pranking. Grades. Eating. Walking. Detentions (you almost got kicked out of Hogwarts that year.)

Anything that could somehow be made competitive, you two competed. And while you tended to beat her with grades, she often beat you in things that took place outside of the classroom.

The Marauders, apparently, have been placing bets and keeping track of your wins against one another. Lily even claims that one time she walked into their room unexpectedly and caught them writing on a poster on their wall that had both your names in big letters on each side and a series of tallies below each with dates and event names on the bottom, but as soon as they saw her one of them casted a spell to make it disappear.

This year was no different. You knew it was stupid to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to try out for the quidditch team without Marlene fighting you for the same spot. You have no real desire to be on the quidditch team, quite honestly, but your older siblings play quidditch, your parents played quidditch, your aunts, your uncles, your cousins, your grandparents, your great-grandparents.

You have a quidditch family and you do not want to can not disappoint them.

The hope that Marlene may leave you alone for this one was shattered, as you expected it to be, when you walk into the team's locker room, a bag of quidditch gear in your hand. “Y/L” Marlene spoke as soon as her eyes met yours. Her eyes widened more than usual, a change most people don’t notice, but then again, you’re not most people. You know Marlene better than anyone else, you’ve memorized the meaning of every look in her eyes, every curve of her lips, every flick of her hands. You know her brain, how she works, what she is thinking, for the most part at least because right now you found yourself momentarily confused by the surprise lacing her voice. Why is she so surprised? Did she not expect you to be there? Your thoughts are cut short when the blonde standing at the other side of the room clears her throat in an attempt to reactive her favorite tone of voice when speaking to you, cockiness, “you going for the beater position too?”

“Yea,” you respond, walking over to one of the lockers.

“May the best player win,” you continued unpacking your bag, putting on the final touches to your uniform, but you didn’t need to look at her to know that she was smirking as she spoke, you could hear it clear enough in her voice.

She awaited a snarky response from you, you know that, but you didn’t want to waste your energy on a catfight right now. Your anxiety is already through the roof, there is enough pressure on you at the moment that you feel like your brain physically cannot handle any more conflict, so you ignore her.

Her eyes burn holes into your body as you continue to pull your knee pads on. Eventually, the door opens and you listen to her steps as she walks out of the locker room, closing the door with a slam and leaving you all alone.

It’s not long before you’re 100% ready for tryouts. You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror for a moment before leaving. Taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves. Calm your mind. It helps a little bit, but maybe not enough.

· · · ∞ · · ·

“Y/L! Watch out!” is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

The tryouts were going great, James was the captain this year and after stealing a glance at his little sheet, you could tell that you were going to beat Marlene out for this spot.

You should’ve been happier with that knowledge than you were, but somewhere deep down you almost wanted Marlene to beat you. This wasn't what you wanted and by the look in her eyes, you knew that this was what she wanted. A strange feeling arose in your chest each time she looked at you during tryouts, her eyes conveyed a message you hadn’t seen her wear yet and all you wanted to do was decode it. To understand why her eyes looked… sad? Almost. Like she knew you were going to beat her and she was upset about it. She’s never been upset before, always a team player. She took her losses as they came and just vowed to beat you next time. But for some reason… for some reason this was different.

· · · ∞ · · ·

Marlene’s Pov:

You looked so pretty. Flyaway hairs and a look of determination on your face as you swatted away Bludgers so effortlessly. She loved quidditch, but she wasn't as good as you. Jealous, not because you’ll win whatever competition the two of you are probably making out of this, but jealous because she knows she won’t get the position she’s been working her ass off for. Lost in thought she doesn't even notice the bludger coming towards her, luckily she hits it just in time, but then… Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Marlene watched as the bludger tumbled straight towards you, “Y/L! Watch out,” was all she could get in before it hit you right in the head.

· · · ∞ · · ·

The first thing you felt when you woke up was an intense pounding in your skill that caused an unconscious groan to leave your mouth. As you increasingly became aware your head began hurting more and more. You went to bring your hand up to rub your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself up when you felt another hand on yours. Opening your eyes only increased your headache, but the desire to know whose hand was holding yours overruled the pain. Their hand was soft, warm, it felt like … like home. That's the only word you could find in this pain-forsaken state to properly describe the feeling.

The blur of a person who held your hand made you think you were crazy. You found yourself blinking a few times in attempts to clear your vision, not initially trusting your eyes and barely trusting them now as you see Marlene McKinnon's hand, holding yours.

Marlene McKinnon.

Your arch-nemesis?

The one who practically hates you?

Yea… her.

What the fuck.

Why is she holding your hand… and why do you never want her to let go?

You can feel your lips curve up into an unconscious smile as you stare at the place where her hand connects with yours before roaming your eyes up to her figure to her sleeping face being held up by her other hand, elbow resting on her armchair next to your bed. She looks so peaceful, so beautiful, and you wonder why you’ve never noticed how gorgeous she was before. How her lips look so soft and her skin so smooth. The way the waning gibbous moonlight shines into the room from the large infirmary windows and lights her face up in a way you’ve never seen in before and in that moment you want nothing more than to stare at her face like that forever. You don’t even notice your other hand moving up to touch her face until you hear a voice whisper from a few beds over from yours. “Oh, you’re up.” Startled, you feel like you were just caught committing a crime and immediately pull your hand back to where it was before. Marlene shifts in her sleep from your quick movements and you’re watching this moment slip through your fingers, silently begging whatever runs the universe to let you stay in this moment just a little bit longer. Thankfully, they answer and Marlene stills, returning to her peaceful sleep. “Don’t worry, Lils says she sleeps like a log.”

You giggle at these words, turning to face Remus with a smile, “yea, she does. We can never get her up in the morning.” “It’s the same with Sirius. He never wants to wake up.” The two of you giggle quietly, afraid to wake up anyone in the castle this late at night, especially the girl sitting beside you. You talk about Remus first, asking if the full moon the night before was really that bad that Pomfrey made him stay overnight again and if he's okay. He assures you that he is fine and redirects the conversation to you, “What about you? Are you okay?”

“I don’t even know what happened to me,” you tell him, “or why my head hurts so much or why M-” you pause, now looking at the girl. You’re scared of speaking the words out loud, afraid it may reveal that her presence is only a dream or a figment of your imagination and that you will sound crazy if you speak about it.

“Or why Marlene is here, holding your hand.” Remus finishes your sentence.

“Or that.” you turn your gaze back to Remus, now wishing the moon was a little darker so your close friend can’t see the blush that is surely on your face.

“Well to answer your first questions,” started Remus, “You got hit with a bludger during tryouts, Marlene and Sirius rushed u in here while I was taking a nap - thanks for that by the way”

“Sorry” you giggled

“- and then Sirius went back to practice, as for McKinnon there, she refused to leave. I think she feels bad cause she's the one that hit you. Pomfrey said you probably have a concussion which means you can’t … well you can’t play quidditch this year.” You should be focusing on the quidditch part, it was something you were working so hard for, but you can’t stop your mind from trailing off to her. Is she only here because she feels bad? Or is there more to it? You hope it's more. You’re not sure when these feelings came to fruition, but they’re there now and you’re worried about getting your hopes up because it means risking yourself getting let down.

“I think she likes you,” you take a minute to process the werewolves' words, glancing between the blonde’s head and her hand.

“You think so?” you say with a hopeful smile.

“I think she’s liked you since first year and you’re just too oblivious to realize it,” you look up with him, your confused face causing a slight chuckle to leave his lips, “I’m observant, you know that but it's not that difficult to see how in love you two are, even though you act like you hate each other. I think she knows what she feels,” you both glanced at the girl, “and I think you just figured out what you feel.”

You smile at his words. “I think you’re right,” you admit, too tired to be stubborn and reject what your heart says is a fact.

“Just wait till January to tell everyone please, I have a bet going with the boys and- “ Suddenly the door to the infirmary opens, Remus goes quiet with confusion and Marlen begins to stir from the noise. She’s really waking up this time, you immediately close your eyes, unsure of what else to do or even say to her. You can feel her eyes on your face, her hand holding yours. “Good morning sleepyhead,” remarked Remus. You curse out his name in your head as you feel Marlene’s hand immediately rip out of yours. All you want to do is look at her face, read her mind. Was she embarrassed? Ashamed? Your mind went to the worst.

“How’s the girlfriend?” marked a new voice, Sirius. Of course. Who else would come to the infirmary this late other than Sirius to check up on Remus?

“She’s not my girlfriend.” remarked Marlene, her tone sending a brief stab of pain through your own heart, “I don’t even like her,” another stab.

“Yea, okay, and Moonys not my werewolf boyfriend.” You would’ve laughed, hearing the noises of Remus hitting Sirius in response to his words, but your mind was stuck on the words of the girl who was still standing close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off her body.

“I don’t like her,” she said, her words laced with annoyance and anger, “In fact, I hate her. We’re literally enemies.”

“Then why are you here then?” Remus rebutted, he probably meant to be helpful, but the words she spoke next only made your heart ache more.

“Because I’m not a monster! I hit her with the bludger and I felt bad. That’s it. Nothing else.” you were almost thankful when you started to hear her moving around, collecting her stuff, tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes and you didn’t want her to see. “I’m tired so I’m going, goodbye.” And with that you waited, listening to the sounds of her footsteps, getting quieter with each moment. You listened to the opening and closing of the infirmary door and only dared to open your eyes again once you could no longer hear the clicking of her shoes down the hallway.

“You okay?” Remus spoke first, witnessing the silent tears now streaming down your face. You wish you stayed asleep. You wish you never looked at her. Never let yourself feel something you knew she wouldn’t reciprocate. You curse yourself for believing Remus’ hopeful words.

“Fine,” you spoke quietly before turning to your side, the back facing the two boys who get to share the kind of romance you find yourself only able to dream about.

“M’Sorry,” you heard Remus whisper, before the weight of your head and your heart lulled you into a dreamless sleep.

· · · ∞ · · ·

You woke up to Madam Pomfrey's voice urging you awake. Her soft voice reminded you of your mother and made you want to curl up into her arms and cry, Marlene's words last night still resting their weight on your chest. “How are you this morning, love?” she asks, placing a plate of food on the bedside table, you're thankful that she doesn't mention the tear stains that probably made their home on your cheeks last night.

“M’fine,” you mumble, “better.”

“Good, good,” she smiles, handing you a glass of water that you didn’t realize how much you needed until the whole glass was gone in a minute and Madam Pomfrey had to fetch you a new one. “Took a big hit yesterday, that Miss McKinnon has a good arm.” You hum in agreeance, an attempt to not be rude to the elder in front of you, but hearing her name still hurts, the wound of her words still leaving scars on your heart that haven’t even begun to scab. “Speaking of the devil,” the nurse spoke, your head raising up to see Marlene's figure entering the curtain that surrounded your bed. Her hair looked so soft, messier than you usually see it, but you liked it. You couldn’t stop your eyes from travelling down her face, taking in her beauty while she was awake. Bags plagued her beautiful brown eyes, she didn't sleep much last night. Your gaze moved to her lips, the same lips that unknowingly cut scars along your heart mere hours ago. Memories from the night before that you had allowed yourself to forget for a moment returned as fast as they left, returning the heartache that accompanies them. Suddenly, you found the hem of your shirt more interesting, keeping your gaze and your hands on that. “I’ll leave you two alone,” spoke Madam Pomfrey, ignoring the tension-filled silence that laid in the air, “I’d like to keep you here for a little while longer but you should be discharged by dinner,” and with that she left the two of you alone, your breaking heart not even strong enough to look at her.

“Hey,” she spoke first, breaking the silence, but not moving from her spot where she stood at the end of your bed. “Sorry I hit you with a bludger,” she tried to joke, but the tension was too thick that it was just awkward.

“Why are you here?” you ask, a sudden surge of bravery coming from the anger that stems from your sadness.

“Wh-What?”

“Why are you here?” “Because I feel bad? Because I'm not a total bitch and I care about you?” she remarks.

“Why do you care?” your voice grows louder, angrier than you want it, but you’re too stubborn to stop speaking now. “I can’t play anymore, you got the spot on the team, didn’t you? “I mean you said it yourself we’re enemies, right? You hate me?” you continue, repeating her words from last night. “So isn’t this what you wanted? You won. You beat me. Congratulations.”

“So you were eavesdropping?” she asks, her tone attempting to stay angry, but her eyes revealing that look you’re slowly seeing more and more often.

“It’s not eavesdropping if I’m lying right there.”

“Merlin, y/n, I don’t hate you!”

“Liar.”

“You’re so stubborn,” she yells, getting closer to your face.

“If you don’t hate me then why would you say it?” You sat up, both your voices were raising, anger surging through the air.

“Because I don’t hate you! I love you,” she yelled, and then everything went quiet. She loves me? Only now did you realize how close your faces were. Her lips were inches from yours, your ragged breaths intermingled with one another, both of you already exhausted from your previous argument. You looked up from her lips to her eyes, just to find them already staring into yours.

“You what?” you whispered so low that only she could hear it.

“ I-” her eyes were filled with fear. Fear that her feelings won’t be reciprocated. Fear to express the vulnerable emotion that has plagued her heart for how long? You don’t know. So you move forward and capture her lips in yours.

After the initial surprise, Marlene began to kiss you back, her hands finding the back of your neck and your head while yours found her hips. You broke apart too soon for your liking and she rested her forehead on yours. One of your hands moved to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear before speaking. “I love you too.” You watched as her eyes lit up with joy and you couldn’t help but smile. “I get a point on the leaderboard for admitting it first,” she chuckled.

“Mmhm,” you hummed in agreeance leaning forward again so your lips brushed against hers as you spoke, “but I get one for kissing you first.”

“Dammit,” she whispered, before leaning in for another kiss.

· · · ∞ · · ·

“So Gryffindor Beater, huh?” you asked Marlene. The two of you laid together in the infirmary bed, her back pressed up against half of your chest, your arm hanging around her shoulder twirling and untwirling her hair with your one hand while both her hands played with the fingers of your other.

“Yea, James said it’s mine if I want it, but I don’t need to take it if you don’t want me to.”

“No, merlin no,” you said quickly, “I know how much you want that spot, I barely even wanted it. Was only doing it because with my family I felt like I had to.”

“Really?” She looked up at you hopefully, “you don't mind.”

“Nope.” “Promise?”

“Promise.” She gave her a peck on the lips before turning her head around again. “Plus, you’re going to look so hot in that uniform, I feel like I’ll be the real winner in this situation.” Your words earn a loud laugh from the girl in your arms and you feel like you're on cloud 9. You place a quick kiss on her temple and want nothing more than to be the one to make her laugh for the rest of your lives. Lives that you hopefully get to spend together.

Meanwhile…

“Told you so,” he whispered.

“I should’ve kept my mouth shut,” the second boy groaned, placing coins into the other boy's outstretched hand.

“Yea, but look how cute they are, Moony the Matchmaker.”

“Oh shut up Padfoot,” he groaned, “I’m hungry, let's go to dinner.” “Whatever you say handsome,” barked the boy before looping arms with his lover and walking away from the two girls in the infirmary who looked utterly and completely infatuated with one another.

[15-dogs]

hey there i’m in need of more cedric fanfic 🥺 so can i request 11 from prompt list 3 with cedric and a female reader? thank you ❤️

bet on it |c.d.|

pairing: cedric diggory x fem!reader

summary: you were quite good at betting and enjoyed it quite a bit, but no one could have bet how far off your plan could be

prompt:  “you owe me a kiss.”

warnings: none

guide: (Y/N) = your name

word count: 2043

a/n: ask and you shall receive! may I just say that I literally said “aw” out loud when I read this bc it’s so freaking adorable?? thank you for requesting hope you enjoy!!

“Come on!” you groaned. You loosened your house tie as it suddenly felt as if it were strangling you. You were currently placing bets with the Weasley twins about which student's cauldron would explode first. Fred had picked the genius of the class because he claimed that she was a diamond in the rough of stupidity, George had picked the introvert at the back of the class who had spent more time doodling than taking notes, and you had picked the distracted young witch who was studying for an exam she had next period. 

It really was no competition. You were a sucker for a good challenge. That’s truly how you became friends with the twins.

You heard someone calling your name from behind you but you didn’t spare a glance. Then it happened again as you watched your chip’s potion bubble over. You bounced your leg in preparation. Finally, a firm hand grasped you by the shoulder and pulled you around just as a loud popping noise signaled from behind you.

“No!” you shouted, turning around to see the witch covered in spoiled potion. “I missed it.”

“Yeah, but you still won,” grumbled Fred as he and his twin slapped a few coins on the desk.

“Ace,” you said proudly.

“(Y/N)! I’ve been trying to get your attention for at least two minutes now!” Cedric complained from behind you. It was almost pathetic how fast you turned around.

You met his blue eyes and sucked in a sharp breath. You had fallen for Cedric quite some time ago and the twins made it their mission in life to partner you two up. You had disagreed with nearly everything that they had suggested, already having your own little plan for you two would get together. However, through the twins, you two had quickly taken to being friends, spending hours together talking about anything and everything you could. But, you see, he didn’t like you back and that threw an immovable wrench in your plan.

“H-hi,” you stammered. He let out a soft chuckle that had you completely unglued.

“(Y/N),” Fred began, breaking the tension between you and Cedric.

“We were thinking,” George chimed in.

“There’s gonna be a party tonight in the Gryffindor common room-”

“And we were hoping you and pretty boy would come.”

The twins exchanged a small glance before they asked in unison, “Would you?”

Your heart pounded in your chest. You didn’t want to make Cedric feel obligated even though you desperately wanted to go. You floundered for a moment before your body went rigid, Cedric’s hands sliding onto your shoulders and delivering a soft massage.

“We’d love to,” he answered.

“Brilliant!” the twins cried as they got up from their desk. As soon as they left, Cedric sunk into their seat.

“Sorry I answered for you, I just assumed-”

“I wanted to go anyway!” you blurted out. Your face turned red with embarrassment. That stupidly handsome boy always brought out the worst of you.

“Perfect,” he said with a nod. He got up from the chair and took a few steps away before leaning down by your ear. His hot breath fanned against you as he whispered, “See you tonight.”

Merlin, that boy would be the death of you.

You arrived at the party in something more casual than your uniform. Your eyes scanned the room for Cedric but you were torn away when Fred and George tugged you to the side. You stumbled into them with a glare, evoking a small snicker from both of them.

“(Y/N) and Cedric sitting in a tree,” they sang horrendously. You shook your head and covered your ears teasingly.

“You’re hideous!”

“I should hope not,” Cedric said from behind you. Your stomach did a flip as you slowly removed your hands and turned on the balls of your feet, blatantly tuning out the twins’ laughs.

“Not...not you, Gred and Forge...I meant Gred and Forge! Merlin, I did it again.” Your night couldn’t have gotten any more embarrassing. Even Cedric was laughing now.

“What’s so funny?” Fred asked. “Those are our names, aren’t they, Forge?”

“No, you git! I’m Gred, you’re Forge!”

Nope, it got way more embarrassing.

Cedric, a smile still on his face, took your hand in his and pulled you away from the twins. You purposely ignored the kissing noises they made as he dragged you away. You two landed by the refreshments table— well, table was a nicer term for whatever you were standing by. It was simply stacks of boxes lazily thrown together with cups and bottles of pumpkin juice and firewhiskey which you assumed the twins had brought.

“Let me get you a drink,” he offered. You nodded gratefully. You looked around the party as Cedric poured you something, your eyes locking on a game of spin the bottle. Cedric placed the cup in your hand and whispered, “You want to play?”

Merlin, his voice. It was raspy and dreamy and everything you could have ever wanted. It was like a charm in itself, persuading you to say whatever was on your mind.

“Only if you’ll play with me.” You sunk into yourself as the words left your mouth, fearing that Cedric really and truly would run. Instead, Cedric took your hand and escorted you to the betting teens.

A few spins went by, people cheering and whooping at the awkwardness of it. Finally, it was your turn and you had bet Angelina Johnson two galleons that you would go through with it. The offer almost offended you— since when had you ever stepped down from a challenge?

You gave Angelina a playful smirk before spinning the bottle swiftly. It slowed, and slowed, and slowed, until it finally stopped.

No.

No.

This was your worst nightmare and your dream come true all at once. Cedric stared you down, a grin tugging at his lips. You blushed heavily while rubbing your sweaty palms on your clothing.

“I believe now’s the part when we kiss, love,” he teased, the group around you chuckling softly.

So this was really happening. You scooted a little closer so that he was only inches away from you. Everything about him was incredibly powerful up close. His handsomeness was almost hypnotic.

Cedric, noticing that you wouldn’t make the first move, began to lean in. But you couldn’t go through with it. You jumped to your feet and mumbled just loud enough for him to hear, “Not like this.”

And then you were gone.

You were lucky enough to not be in either Gryffindor or Hufflepuff which allowed you to avoid Fred, George, and Cedric for as long as you needed to. Unfortunately for you, you only had classes with Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs for the day.

Fred and George wouldn’t even tease you about what happened at the party. You knew it looked bad, but was it that bad? Apparently so.

When Cedric appeared in your Charms class, you gasped. You ducked your head and slid into a seat next to a random Hufflepuff. You couldn’t look in his direction for the whole class. You didn’t know what you had expected, for him to not show up to class? 

You tried, you really did, to focus on the lecture but it was just not distracting enough from the fact that your longtime crush whom you rejected sat a few seats away from you. You could practically feel his eyes trained on your back.

You decided to fiddle with your quill in hopes of tuning out of everything, and boy did that work. It wasn’t until a familiar voice called your name that you realized how long you had been zoned out— class was over!

“(Y/N)!” Cedric cried. Your eyes snapped up towards him and you froze under his stare. You instantly scrambled to get your things and bolt but Cedric cut you off. “And where do you think you’re going?”

You took a few steps back at his sudden closeness while you sheepishly muttered, “Um, dinner?”

“I don’t think so.” He feigned confusion.

“Is...is that so?” Your mouth felt incredibly dry. He was so close. Every part of you wanted to kiss him but you simply couldn’t, not there, not then.

“I believe you owe me a kiss.”

You shook your head, almost to test if you had heard him right. He seemed to notice how shocked you were and a one sided smirk pulled at his lips. Your body coursed with adrenaline as your heart thundered in your chest. The way he was looking at you had you weak in the knees, it was almost too much to bear.

Cedric took your anxious stammers and glances at his lips as a signal. He tilted his head slightly as he leaned in to kiss you, his eyes slowly fluttering shut. You jumped backwards with a squeak.

“Huh?” he asked, his eyes opening. “Merlin, I’m so sorry. Listen, I was only teasing you. If you don’t actually fancy me then we don’t have to-”

“I fancy you!”

Well, that certainly wasn’t scripted. Cedric just made you talk and talk, abandoning any hope of whatever you had in mind for how you two would end up together.

“You do?”

“Of course I do! I forfeited my first bet for you a few nights ago! Now I’m down two galleons and a reputation!”

Cedric stared at you incredulously before delving into a deep laughter. You didn’t know what was so funny. Cedric wiped a tear from his eye as he asked, “So that’s what that meant? ‘Not like this’ in terms of betting?”

Well now you felt downright guilty. You scuffed your shoes along the floor, avoiding his piercing eyes. You cleared your throat and explained, “No, that’s not what that meant.”

Cedric’s tone softened in a flash. You saw his feet come into frame and then his hand reached for yours. You looked up at him, your cheeks tinged pink. His eyes ran over you as he brushed some hair back with his free hand, his gaze lingering a second too long on your lips.

“What did you mean, then?” he implored, his voice no more than a whisper because it didn’t need to be.

You bit your lip. “I meant that...Merlin, this is embarrassing.” You tried to look away from Cedric but he placed a finger underneath your chin, prompting your head to turn back his way.

“You can tell me. You can always tell me.”

You sighed. How could you explain it to him? You had always imagined that Cedric would ask you out on a date to Hogsmeade in the early fall; when it’s not too cold for heavy jackets but not too warm where you’d be drenched in sweat. He’d take you to the stores, stopping by the tea shop where he’d already know how you liked your tea: breakfast with a little milk. You’d continue to survey the area until you stumbled upon a tree that was beginning to turn with the coming season. You’d stare at it in wonder and turn to see Cedric admiring you, a swarm of butterflies erupting in your stomach. He’d walk towards you under that tree, whisper something sweet and genuine before placing the most gentle of kisses on your lips.

How do you explain that?

“I always imagined things as moments, Ced. That game, that bet? That wasn’t a part of the moments that I had dreamed of.”

Cedric’s thumb went up to your bottom lip, caressing it with care. You let out a breathy exhale at the feeling, your eyes slowly shutting.

“As badly as you want it to be something you can predict, moments are exactly that: moments. They’re unpredictable. They come and go when you least expect it.”

You opened your eyes to look Cedric over. “What are you saying?”

“Even though we don’t know what moments are going to look like, we should never pass them by.”

Cedric moved his hand to frame your jaw and kissed you. The feeling was almost unreal. It was better than you could have imagined in your fantasies because Cedric was absolutely right; never let moments pass you by, no matter what form they may be.

[mypoisonedvine]

Hunt (dark!Slayer!Bucky x vampire!Reader)

a.k.a. Bucky the Vampire Slayer

a.a.k.a. Bucky the Vampire Layer

full credit for this idea goes to @deceitfuldevout​ who shared her genius with us for the concept of witch/witch-hunter, which morphed over time into vampire/vampire-hunter, which I eventually adapted into a weird amalgam of a Buffy AU and a Supernatural AU

@giorno-plays-piano​ asked to be tagged if I ever did it!

Warnings: smut, blood play (just a lil tho, but lots of talking about blood bc she’s...literally a vampire), degradation kink, sex that turns dub con/non con, kidnapping

(we are sadly deprived of any gifs of Bucky in the new jacket but please know the pic below is the Bucky we’re working with here)

Bucky clenched his jaw in frustration as his head fell back against the headrest.  His grip on the steering wheel tightened with a squeaking noise as his skin skidded along the leather.

He was irritated because he knew what was waiting for him at the end of this road.  The headlights only illuminated a little of what was ahead, but the predictive power of past experience told him everything he needed to know.

You were going to be waiting for him, and he never looked forward to that.

Memories resurfaced of the last time he had seen you.  He’d found you in the forest and though he couldn’t prove it, he was pretty sure he’d interrupted you feeding on a deer.  It was disgusting.  Yet, you moved with this grace he couldn’t ignore and spoke with a smile that he couldn’t forget.  You greeted him with a familiarity that he wished wasn’t merited.  He was a Slayer, you were a vampire; there shouldn’t ever be a second meeting.  He should’ve killed you the first time, however many months ago it was.  He couldn’t even remember why he didn’t, but you slipped away that night and he swore to track you down.

He did, but he didn’t kill you that time either, because you’d proven useful.  You’d sold out a vampire who pissed you off and Bucky got to put another kill under his belt.  That was definitely the only reason he’d left you alive.  

Then the forest.  You were more feral that time, and he saw more of your monstrous side than he had before.  So why was that the time he thought about when he tossed and turned at night, when he was too pent up from years of solitude, when he forced his eyes shut and slipped his hand into his boxers under the sheets--

Destination is on the right, the GPS alerted with a robotic voice.  Thank god.

Bucky pulled the car into the driveway of the dilapidated mansion, shifting into park and turning off the engine; the metal blasting from the radio halted unceremoniously.  

He didn’t hear the commotion inside the house until he was quite a ways from the car and halfway to the door.  Of course he considered that it was a bad idea to just walk in the front door of a suspected vampire coven as a Slayer, but he wasn’t here on a hunt.  At least, not the normal kind.

Before he was even on the porch, the door opened with an outpouring of pink light.  He shielded his face with his arm as his eyes adjusted, but put it down when he saw it was your silhouette in the doorway.

“Slayer,” you hissed with a smile that blended pleasure and disgust.  He knew the feeling.

“You could call me Bucky,” he offered.

“It doesn’t suit you,” you explained, leaning against the splintered wood of the frame.  “I wasn’t sure you were going to come.”

“Neither was I,” he admitted with a shrug, “but how could I resist a chance to jump into the lion’s den?”

“You’re here to take on a coven?  By yourself?” you laughed.

“I’m not looking for a fight,” he denied.  “I’m looking for information.”

You raised a brow as if to say go ahead.

“A girl in the city,” he continued.  “Mysterious death.  Coroner is stumped, thinks it could be anything from an animal attack to a blood disorder to a ritualistic murder.  Has your name all over it.”

“‘Girl’?” you repeated, as if you’d never heard the word before.  “Girl, no, I don’t remember any girl.”

“White, blonde, 5’2”, 26 years old,” he listed.

“Oh!” you stopped him.  “26!  You mean a woman.  Yes, I remember feeding on a woman.”

“So you’re confessing?” 

“To what crime?  She was going to die in less than a year, easily,” you shrugged.  “She did have a blood disorder.  Leukemia.  She didn’t know it yet.”

“And do I want to know how you knew it?” he shuddered.

“It’s a unique taste,” you grinned.  He felt a little unwell hearing you say that.

“I’m not sure if you’re familiar with human law,” he frowned, “but it’s still murder even if they were going to die soon.  It’s murder if they were actively dying.”

“I was human once,” you deflected.

“In 1447,” he growled.  You would’ve blushed if you could; you were flattered that he remembered.

“Yeah, murder investigation at that time was… very surface-level,” you admitted.  “Is your plan to arrest me, then?”

“I’m a Slayer.  Not a cop.”

“What you are is a wet blanket,” you grimaced.  “We’re busy in here, you know.  Big party.”

“I was hoping so,” he smirked.  “That’s what you promised.”

“Then why don’t you come in?” you asked coyly.  You hadn’t really expected him to do it.

Everyone inside jumped and scurried away the second he set foot in the door.  “It’s cool,” you told them, “he’s with me.”

That didn’t seem to comfort them that much, because what business would you have with a Slayer?

They must have figured it out when you slipped away to a secluded room and dragged him along with you.  He didn’t seem to figure it out until you were pushing him back against the wall, running your hands over his body through his clothes. 

“What I would give to feed on you,” you whispered, running your lips over his neck.  You took in a deep breath and felt a little light-headed at the overwhelming smell of his blood.  He, unfortunately, reeked of Slayer, and you pushed back your instinct of fear to appreciate the man underneath.  AB positive-- your favorite.  “Wanted you ever since I first saw you,” you admitted.  “You looked so fucking delicious.”

You pulled back to look up at him and you didn’t need vampiric hearing to know that his heart was racing: just the way his eyes darted across your face and down to your lips was proof enough.

“Why did you come here today, Bucky?” you asked quietly. 

“I’m on a hunt,” he answered in a low growl.

“For me?”

“For you.”

“You have me alone,” you noticed.  “You could get out your wooden stake and end this for good.”

He nodded, but didn’t move.  Instead you felt his hands trail along your sides; he jumped when he brushed the skin of your arm.  “You’re so cold,” he realized.

Meanwhile you thought you could burn up from the heat of him, radiating out of his body and through the thick layers of clothing.  He was so alive, so awake, so present.  

You pushed off his leather jacket and he didn’t even think to stop you, letting it fall to the floor.  You never cared for it.  He looked as good as sin in it, yes, but it smelled of death and dead things, the skin of something you wouldn’t have eaten when it was alive 40 years ago, and you wanted only to experience the life of this particular being.

And what is life but wanting?  Fuck, you wanted him so goddamn bad.

He wrapped a hand around your neck and pulled you into him, kissing you with instant need and dizzying aggression.

Even now you weren’t sure if he would let you live to see the end of the night.  But you couldn’t see the sunrise anyway, so what difference would it make?

He made embarrassingly quick work of your dress, tearing it straight down the front.  Downside of wearing something you’d had for nearly 100 years is that it’s flimsy.

His hands were back on you the second your skin was exposed.  His touch was so hot that it almost hurt; his hands were so rough and strong that your heart almost clenched.

You clawed at his shirt and gasped with delight when you accidentally nicked him with a sharp fingernail and broke the skin.  The flavor hit the air hard and fast; you grabbed his shoulders and pulled him forward so you could lean down and lick the thin red stripe you’d left on his chest.  Just a taste, but the best taste you’d had in… you couldn’t remember anything tasting this good.

“I won’t kill you if you don’t kill me,” he offered breathlessly.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you agreed quickly as you began to work open his belt because the last thing on your mind right now was survival.

You groaned when you felt his cock in your hand.  There was a lot of blood in that thing and you could feel it pulsing in your palm.  You knew better than to put it in your mouth; you didn’t have the restraint for that.  

You were thankful you hadn’t drank any more of his blood because clearly he had a better use for it.  It was so big you wondered how he hadn’t passed out from it getting so hard because seriously, this man’s cock was a monster; takes one to know one, eh?

“Fuck me,” you demanded, “I want you to fuck me, oh my god.”

He nodded as a low groan echoed out of his chest.  His grip moved to your hips as he pulled you up and put you on the table, pushing you down and bending over you with another bruising kiss that trailed down your body.

“Don’t fucking tease me,” you whined, “I need your cock.”

“Wait,” he instructed, kneeling before you and licking through your exposed folds.  You gasped, unprepared for how strange it would feel; your hand grabbed his hair and pulled harder than you meant to, but thankfully, he didn’t slow down.

Little moans and grunts were lost against your skin as he tasted you eagerly.  You were so overwhelmed with the sensation that he had to hold your hips down to keep you from squirming away.  You’d been feasting on humans for 600 years, and now it seemed like he was attempting to even the score.  Even you never ate with this enthusiasm.  But you’d never thought about a meal so much before consuming it as he had thought about you before this moment.  

You were already embarrassingly close to orgasm, and it was apparent from the way you moaned and writhed and begged.

“I’m so fucking close, just like that, please don’t stop, yes, yes, oh fuck, yes,” you yelped.

It all came to a screeching halt as he stood up and grabbed your face with his hand.  You looked at him with wide eyes, confused but still appreciating how good he looked with wet lips and dark eyes and his hair all fucked up.

“You aren’t gonna come,” he explained between raspy breaths, “until I’m inside you.”

You nodded in agreement, again arching your back as if you could will him to fuck you.

He slid his cock through your folds, coating himself in your arousal which was embarrassingly plentiful.

Finally, he pressed his cock into you all at once and you gasped, head falling back against the wooden table.  He groaned as he gripped your hips, steadying you so he could piston into you with brutal force.  

And to think you thought he was going to stab you through the chest with a wooden stake.  To be fair, he still could.  

He scooped you into his arms, pulling you up until your face was right against his.  “You’re warm here,” he informed you with bared teeth, “did you know that?  So hot and tight around my fuckin’ cock.”

You could only moan, your eyes darting to his parted lips, and then his neck.  You were thoroughly tempted, but didn’t want to do anything that might stop him from fucking you so perfectly like this.  His hand came up to wrap around your throat-- the metal one, specifically.  You were pretty sure he’d lost the arm to a monster fight of some kind but that didn’t matter now.  All you knew was that this one was strong enough to crush you and it was making your head dizzy and your pussy wet.

Your moans were lost to his grip as he choked you, and you could hear the ragged sounds of his breathing as he fucked you deeper and harder.  “You like getting fucked by a Slayer, huh?  You’re such a whore.  My whore.”

You gasped when he released your throat and you could breathe again.  “Yes,” you agreed with a sob, “yours, baby.” 

He chuckled a little at that, slipping a hand between your bodies to rub your clit with his thumb; you yelped and grabbed his shoulders tightly.

“You’re gonna come already aren’t you?” he mocked.  “Dumb fucking slut.”

You hissed at his harsh words but you were too lost in pleasure to complain.  Your eyes shot open when you felt two of his fingers slam into your open mouth and hit the back of your throat.  “Choke on my fingers while you come, bitch,” he growled.  “And I swear if you fucking bite me, you’ll regret it.”

It was like asking you to take a sip of sweet wine but not swallow it.  His skin tasted fucking delicious on your tongue, which you swirled around the digits eagerly.  He laughed: “such a fucking slut, sucking on my fingers like that.  You want it so bad.”

You nodded breathlessly, whimpering as you took his fingertips down your throat.  He groaned and slammed into you harder, which only served to bring you that much closer to the edge.  

“Come on my cock, right now,” he demanded, and you liked to believe it was just lucky timing and not his command that struck you at that moment.  Your nails dug into his shoulders as you felt yourself flexing and clenching around his length, another gush of arousal easing his way as he relentlessly pounded you.

“Good girl,” he praised, pulling his fingers from your throat to hear you pant with exhaustion.  He stopped to lift your legs onto his shoulders, pushing you back but leaning over you.  When he slammed into you again that time, you nearly screamed-- he was hitting something so deep in you that it was actually painful.

“Stop, it’s-- it’s too deep,” you moaned.

You tried to move back but he held you down firmly, a dark glimmer in his eye.  He thrust in again, even harder, and you cried out as you tried to grab onto the table for dear life.  He grabbed your wrists with each hand and pinned them beside you, laughing as you tried to fight him off.  

Any normal human you could overpower in an instant.  But you were no match for a Slayer.  Both of you knew that.  

“Let me go,” you begged, “you’re hurting me.”

“I could do a lot worse to you if I wanted.  You should be thankful I’ve let you live.”

“I could say the same,” you snarled.  He pulled back and rammed his cock into you so hard that you instantly screamed, tears sliding down your temple.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” he ordered.  “Just be a good little whore and take my cock.”

He started to move inside you, hard and fast, and you couldn’t help but struggle against him as he hovered above you.  

“Apologize,” he demanded, and just as he sensed you were about to tell him to fuck off, he accentuated it by holding his hips to yours a little longer than normal, reminding you that he could hurt you so easily if you didn’t obey.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, “I’m sorry, Bucky, please don’t… please don’t hurt me.”

He grinned as he watched you cry.  “This is what you fuckin’ get for teasing me.  You killed that girl to get my attention.  You wanted me to find you and fuck you the way you’ve been missin’ out on for the past few centuries.”

You shook your head to deny it but he suddenly let your arms go to slap you across the face.  You tried to use your free arm but in an instant he had your wrists pinned to your chest, putting all his weight on you until you could barely breathe.

“Just admit it, baby,” he said in an oddly sensitive way, like he was taking pity on you.  “Just admit you need me.”

“Please,” you sobbed, near-silent from the lack of air, “please…”

“Aw, look at you,” he cooed, “begging for more.”

He trapped your wrists under his left hand and used his right to roughly grab your jaw until your mouth was forced open.

“Show me your teeth, gorgeous,” he purred.  You hissed as your fangs glistened in the candlelight.  “Mmm, you wanna bite me, don’t you?”

You tried to nod but couldn’t move your face much.

“The feeling’s mutual,” he grinned.  “Fuck, I’m gonna come.  Gonna fill that tight little cunt.”

Your fight was renewed as you tried to kick and squirm away but it was useless.  You grunted as his thrusts became erratic but even more painful, somehow.

“Beg for it,” he growled through his teeth.  “Beg for my fuckin’ come.”

You tried to fight but only got another slap to the face, the sting making your eyes water instantly.  

“Beg, whore,” he repeated, yelling.  “I won’t come until I fucking hear it.”

“Please!” you yelped, and in a sense it was genuine, because once he came this would all be over, and maybe-- just maybe-- he would let his guard down long enough for you to feed on this evil son of a bitch.  “Please come, Bucky, come in me, I need it!” 

“Yeah, I know you do,” he laughed confidently, holding you down by your throat as he pumped into you one last time with a shattered moan.  “Fuck!” he sighed, savoring the feeling of your unwilling body forced to accept his seed.  The truth was, you were tighter when you struggled.

He only let you breathe once he was done, and you choked and spluttered for air as he pulled out.  The second you thought you had your bearings together, you were sitting up to lunge at him.  You felt something press against your chest and even before you looked down you knew it was over.

A wooden stake.  He’d had it the whole time.  You looked back at him and he was smiling, the bastard, even as he was still catching his breath from fucking you.  The sight made you shudder.

“I was gonna fuck you, and then kill you,” he admitted, “but now I think I’ll keep you.”

You hissed with a grimace, flashing your fangs, but knew you had no recourse, no options, no way out.

“You look so cute when you’re scared,” he smiled.  “Can’t wait to take you back to mine, trap you in a little salt pentagram, and fuck you senseless whenever I want.”

You whined, closing your eyes as you realized how well and truly fucked you were.  

“It won’t always hurt so bad.  You’ll get used to me.  And I’ll feed you enough to keep you alive.”

Sounded like a cruel existence, but you weren’t ready to get the business end of your stake, so you swallowed dryly and nodded in acceptance of your fate.  

He laughed and placed a chaste kiss on your cheek before guiding you to stand on weak knees.  “C’mon baby, let’s get you home.”

[ourloveisforthelovely]

One Chance (one shot)

Harry Potter Marauders Era 

Request:  hey so i was thinking could you might do a regulus x reader where the reader is like sassy or maybe all cold hearted? i honestly love ur page but i cant never relate with the reader bc she is always too soft 😭 maybe like if they understood each others depression and then end up falling in love? idk how to explain

To the annon who requested this: I hope that you enjoy

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: M

_____________

“Y/n, Regulus Black has been looking at you for the past 10 minutes.” 

You didn’t bother looking up from your potions book when your friend Anastasia spoke. The last thing that you wanted to deal with was Regulus Black and his stupid good looks. 

“He needs to look somewhere else.”

You commented. Regulus Black had been staring at you a lot lately and it was beginning to get under your skin. Before a few weeks ago Regulus had nothing to do with you. It didn’t matter that the two of you had always been in the same house for the past 6 years or that the two of you had friends in the same circle. In fact, he took extra measure to not speak to you. 

The best that you could come up with was he was uncomfortable with you going on a date with his old brother. Your heart hurt thinking about that particular time in your life. That was when you were an innocent sweet 4th year. Sirius dated you for all of a week before dumping you for some pretty Ravenclaw with blond hair and big boobs. 

This was also the time that your depression really started kicking in. You weren't quite sure how to deal with all of the feelings swirling through your head. From dealing with your first break up to all of these dark and intrusive thoughts...you didn’t know how to cope. None of your friends seemed to understand either. A few of them chose to ignore what you were going through. The rest didn’t know how to deal with constant sarcastic comments. Now you had a few that stuck with you because it was in their best interest. If someone bothered them, you would chew the miserable fuckers ass out that caused them grief. This was a healthier outlet than sinking a knife into your arm. 

Being at home was no better. Your mum tried to constantly get you off of the couch to do things but she didn’t seem to understand that you wanted nothing to do with whatever she was doing. Her words of…

“Stop lying on the couch like a giant hairball and do something. Go enjoy the day.” 

Apparently you mother didn’t understand that you definition of “enjoying the day” meant being left the fuck alone. 

That is one of the reasons that you preferred being at school. You could find peaceful places to be left alone.

Anastasia spoke again, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“He probably thinks that you are pretty, Y/n. You really are a lovely girl.”

“Go get your eyes checked. Anna, I have as much luck with boys as a turtle does crossing the road.” 

You muttered as the bell rang. 

Not a moment too soon. 

You thought as you stood to gather up your things. You were getting away from Anastasia and her mind numbing questions. Walking to the door you ran into a hard body. 

Looking up, Regulus Black had turned around to just who the fuck ran into him. He blinked a few times the moment that your eyes met. 

“Watch where you are going, Black.”

You hissed. Regulus automatically frowned. 

“You ran into me.” 

“So, you aren’t moving fast enough?”

You replied, not missing a beat. Regulus seemed a bit surprised by your comment. He wasn’t for sure why you were hostile toward him. In all of the years that he had known you, with the exception of year 1 and 2, you acted like he had personally fucked you over. 

Regulus couldn’t help admitting that you were a lovely girl but your sarcastic hostile nature was a bit off putting. He had decided the year before just to avoid you at all costs. This year, however, he understood more about you. You were as depressed as he was. Regulus never understood it until this year. 

Over the summer, Sirius ran off to James Potter’s abandoning his family. Regulus didn’t know how to put into words how he felt about it either. There was sinking in the middle of his stomach that never seemed to go away. It was there when he went to sleep at night and was waiting when he awoke the next morning. Regulus honestly never thought that he would be happy again. 

He figured that returning to school would soothe those feelings. Regulus would be back with his best friends and would have no reason to think of Sirius. Unfortunately, the moment that he stepped into the great hall and saw his brother sitting at the Gryffindor table smiling and laughing. There was clearly no sadness in Sirius over the events of the summer. This sent Regulus into a deeper depression. His brother didn’t miss him and never would.

“You know most people just say excuse me and go on about their business.” 

Regulus replied. 

“Just get out of my way.”

You hissed and moved to get around him. Regulus honestly didn’t deserve your venom. He, after all, had done absolutely nothing to you. 

He hasn’t done anything to you but you have no reason to trust him. Regulus will probably be just like his brother. You’ll get attached and have your heart broken. 

You thought. It wasn’t fair to compare Regulus to Sirius when they were obviously such different people but you couldn’t help it. Most guys, no matter the house, was the same. 

As you walked down the hall, you wanted nothing more than to have some time alone. You decided to walk down to the lake. A free period was just what you needed! 

Sitting down, you took out a book and quietly began to read. It wasn’t until you were on paragraph two did you realize that someone was standing in front of you. Looking up, again your eyes met Regulus Black’s. 

“What now, Black?” 

You questioned. He put his hands on his hips feeling a bit annoyed. After the exchange in the potions, he decided that it was time for both of you to have a little chat. 

“You and I need to talk.”

“Whatever about?”

You questioned as he sat down. 

“I want to know why you hate me so bad?”

“I never said that I hated you.” 

Regulus chuckled. 

“Sure could have fooled me. You are always glaring at me like I personally offended you.” 

You put your book down. 

“I just don't like being oogled by some guy who is going to screw me over.” 

Regulus raised an eyebrow. 

“You don’t know me.” 

“Yeah, I know your brother. All guys are the same so it doesn’t matter who you are.”

The response came out a little snipper than you planned. Standing up, you turned to storm back to the castle. Just who the fuck did Regulus think that he was? So what if he was a member of the Black family? 

Woo-freaking-who.

“First, off you don’t know anything about me. I am nothing like my brother. If you would give me a bloody chance you would see that. I see what you are doing Y/n. I get it you use sarcasm and cold humor to cope. I do it too. As much as you want to come across as this tough girl who doesn’t need anyone, you're actually quite lonely…again I get it.” 

You stopped before turning to face Regulus. He sat with his knees drawn to his chest. Dark eyes looked up at you with an intensity that you had never seen on his face before. 

“I don’t like this, Regulus.”

He smirked. 

“You don’t like someone figuring out who you are, Y/n. You don’t want people seeing that inside you are actually in pain. Again, I can relate.” 

Regulus stood and walked down closer to the lake. 

“My brother, who I know that you dated and I know he did you wrong, he abandoned our family over the summer. Now...everything is up to me. I am the only heir to the Black family. I have to do everything and I don’t fucking want to. I want to do whatever it is I want and there not be repercussions for my actions. However, that won’t be able to happen now.” 

You frowned and watched him curiously. 

“And why is that? Why can’t you just walk away? You’ll be an adult soon. Tell them to fuck off.”

Regulus laughed. 

“If only it were that easy. You see my mother, she depends on me and I can’t let her down. If you knew my family, you would understand.”

You had heard plenty of rumors about the Black family. Regulus’ mother sounded like the typical pureblood mother. Maybe a bit darker than what your mother was but a pureblood mother all the same. 

“I’m sure our families are very similar. Lovely bunch, purebloods.” 

Regulus laughed bitterly at that. There wasn’t much that was lovely about being a pureblood when your mother was Walburga Black. 

“Then you will understand why we have to do things that we don’t want to do. For example, being a death eater.” 

“Regulus…”

He automatically pulled up his sleeve to show you the dark mark on his arm. Regulus wasn’t surprised when you made no facial expression. He had a feeling that you had seen your fair share of dark marks lately. 

“My mother and father were okay with me doing it. Actually, they were quite proud that their son was doing the right thing...the just thing. I think I am too...at points. There are other times that I am not for sure. I see your face. You have the same expression. I bet you about 10 galleons, if you pull up your sleeves there are going to very similar cut marks...sometimes it gets too much.” 

You looked down. For the first time, your tough exterior faded. 

“You do it too...cut your wrists?”

Regulus nodded. 

“Physical pain is better than mental pain, at times. Maybe we understand each other more than we thought?” 

Your crossed arms slowly dropped to your sides.

“Maybe. We could also really hurt each other.” 

Regulus’ hopeful smile fell. 

“Or help each other. I don’t know what my brother did to you but I’m not him. Sirius and I have nothing in common except our last names. I mean, our last name is literally all that we have in common. You’ll get stupid bullshit with him. I’m on my A game. You wouldn’t have to guess what you were to me. All that you have to do is give me a chance. If it makes you feel better...I know where my brother is about this time of day and...well...sometimes Sirius isn’t so bright.” 

You snorted. 

“You could say that again. Fine, you have a chance. Don’t mess it up Regulus.” 

Regulus held out his hand with a small smile. Something told you to be wary. The depressive side said, no but something deep inside of you said yes.

You reached out and wrapped your hand around Regulus’. He gave you a small smile before tugging in you with him.  

“This is going to be funny.” 

You slipped through quiet corridors behind Regulus as he checked for any “little eyes” that would get into his way. He finally stopped the moment that he saw Sirius and James standing in an empty hallway playing “exploding snap.”

Regulus lightly elbowed you in the side before grinning. He had his wand out and muttered something low. You weren’t able to make out what he said but it didn’t matter. It looked as if someone had a bucket of water and dumped it all over Sirius and James. Both boys jumped back looking around wildly as another explosion of water knocked them off of their feet. James hit the ground first. Sirius reached out to help his best friend only to get hit in the face with water for the third time. He was knocked off his feet and directly on top of James. His elbow crashing into James’ crotch. James howled in pain as Sirius started rubbing his head where he hit the stone floor. 

“Pads, stop. You're killing me!”

James shrieked. Sirius was yelling about how truly sorry he was over and over. 

You, meanwhile, had to hold back a fit of rare laughter. Regulus, himself, was grinning as he turned the floor to ice. Both James and Sirius were sliding all over the place all the while screaming curse words after curse words.

“Whoever you are! We are going to fuck you up!” 

Sirius yelled as Regulus reached down and squeezed your hand. 

“This is where we make our exit. They are going to be sliding around for a while.” 

You ran after Regulus, until he pulled you into an empty classroom 

“That was fun.”

He commented. 

“Fucking brilliant. Watching them slide all over the place while looking like drowned ferrets was the best fun that I have had in awhile.” 

Regulus smiled, giving you a cocky smile. 

“That’s only the beginning. I have a lot better material...if you want to watch.” 

You reached up and pulled the taller boy down by his tie. Regulus was clearly a bit surprised but leaned right into the kiss. When he pulled away, you tossed your hair over his shoulder. 

“Watching is for babies. I want to help.” 

______

@amelie-black

@truly-insatiable

@fandomsxxregulus

@realgaytrash

@spiderxalmighty

@lucasfilms77

@exhsle

@knreidy1

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@wontlookaway

@mycuddlycorner

[dellinah]

I made a new icon after 84 years bc I needed to vent I guess

It doesn't look THAT different from the old one but at least it's an anthro one which I've wanted for forever since that's usually how I imagine/portray Talita as she is literally me and unfortunately I'm a human instead of being a little fox with no care in the world LIKE I SHOULD HAVE BEEN

But instead I'm here worrying about burnout depression and my future so if you're only here for the furry art fair enough ill keep the rant in a read more

Anyway hi

I have absolutely not been doing well these past few weeks and I'd say some moments might have been close to being some of the worst in my life but I am so jaded by previous experiences that I barely notice how bad it's affecting me until it hits me at 3am and I can't sleep and I just realized I'm in it DEEP which makes me freak out even more

Apparently my way of coping with life and issues is ignoring them until the last minute and just repress the SHIT out of it until it hits me in the face (peak 'this is fine' dog meme) and that isn't working anymore bc now I am an adult whose actions have consequences

I have so much school stuff to catch up on bc I stalled a whole month that short of spending hours on end at it for the next month I don't see how I can catch up in time but my mental health does not allow that as I have been sleeping 15 hours a day and staying up all night and I am scared shitless of not making it bc I'm supposed to graduate soon so FUCK and i barely know how to start. I feel so dumb and left behind while everyone seems to have their shit put together and i canr ask for help without feeling like a parasite or like they'll judge me for it

I also have no idea what I want to do or how to go about life once I am graduated (if i graduate) and i hate it bc I am so godamn lost and I have like 2 months to figure it out

My mother has covid for the 3rd time somehow which means another wave of covid has been going on in my family but I guess I avoided that but I cant see them for a while and I also lost a 3rd person I loved and cared about to it a while back and I haven't even cried yet bc once again Im ignoring and repressing it

I had to take 2 shots at the same time for covid and influenza which knocked me out for 3 days straight and made me miss yet more school stuff and I haven't eaten an actual meal since bc I'm not awake most of the day anyway

My meds for anxiety and depression have started to have side effects after 5 or so years so fuck me i guess bc i gotta get them replaced which means a lot of trial and error and i dont have time for that rn bc once again im late as shit

I just feel like I'm falling apart and no one really knows or sees it bc I'm the one that everyone in the family goes to when there's a crisis and I kinda just wanna keep it that way but also I kinda just wanna break down sometimes too yknow but if I do then who will literally solve every problem they have bc they refuse to go to therapy and apparently nobody else can help them with anything it has to be me even when I'm busy otherwise I'm an ungrateful child

There's this weird paradox where everyone in the family sees me as immature and irresponsible and a liar but they also come to me for help and support bc GOD FORBID someone else helps them so I just dont wanna give them more reasons to see me as immature but keeping that image that everything is fine is HARD when I'm on the verge of giving up

Other than that I also have just been reflecting on past events in my life and I feel so bad about some of them. I had so many good friends that I lost bc we grew apart and I had some I lost bc I was a shitty person and I never got to apologize and I know I'll just always miss them. I was at such a good place mentally between 2013-2015 and I miss those times that I can never go back to. I was doing so well in 2018-2020 too before the pandemic wrecked it and now Im just so nostalgic for those times and I can't help but feel like I'm just gonna get worse and worse after so much lost time

But that's ok. I think it's going to be ok. I just need to kick my own ass

It's just a lot of damage control and getting over stuff even though it feels like days just pass by and I can't deal with it

So I sat down and drew this in a few hours bc I just wanted to finish something I started for once. I was happier with it before but I think it looks ok and it helped me figure out what I wanna change in my furry designs. and I guess I wanted to put myself in a sunny sunset where I'm just happy with nothing to worry about, yknow? If i cant be happy at least talita can

Hope days like that can come again soon. Problem is that it only depends on me. So... shiiiit

[starlightsearches]

Hi so i had a request idea. Hux being married to some woman bc he had to for propaganda or whatever and reader (who works closely with hux) is with them both and pryde after a meeting or at a gala, and in discussion the wife and pryde are speaking highly of brendol. The reader essentially realises hux’s wife supports and agrees with the abuse that hux has endured and so the reader takes him for a private discussion to reassure and comfort him, show that he has someone on his side. Thank you xx

Someone Else

Ahhh, writing this made me so sad, anon, you have no idea. But also, I loved it and I couldn’t stop 😰 Thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy! (Also I modified the prompt just a little bit and I hope you don’t mind)

Requests are closed ✨

Hux x Reader (no pronouns)

AN: So I’m headed on a little road trip with my sister today, and as soon as I get back, I’ll be packing up and moving, and then immediately starting work at my new school 😱 I’m not sure how this will affect my writing schedule etc, but don’t be too surprised if I’m MIA for the next week or so. I promise I’ll get back to my requests ASAP 💖 love you all 🥰🥰🥰

Warnings: ANGST, infidelity, language, not a happy ending really 🙁

Even in your most creative thoughts, it’s hard to imagine a more pathetic situation than this one. You’ve been in love with General Hux, your boss, for as long as you can remember, too cowardly to tell him how you feel. And now you’ve been forced to plan, and attend, his fucking wedding. To someone else.

You fidgeted through the whole thing: the dinner, the reception, the ceremony. Spent the whole time chewing your lip to pieces with your eyes fixed on the general, waiting for him to say something, to stop this. You could imagine how it would happen perfectly—a vision that sustained you through the whole event.

It would happen during the vows; he'd begin reading the words—the ones that you prepared for him, words about fidelity and commitment but completely void of love—and then he'd falter, pause, and his eyes would find you in the back of the crowd. The audience would fill with whispers, but you wouldn't notice at all, wouldn't hear any of it because he'd be looking at you, he'd see you looking so beautiful in the attire you chose especially for this moment and he'd realize that he’d been blind this whole time, and now . . .

The vision always got a little fuzzy there, but it was only because you couldn't wait for your favorite part: the one where he kissed you in front of all those people, a kiss so dramatic and consuming that everyone would know that it was you he loved. That it had always been you.

It didn't happen that way. No matter how deeply you tried to immerse yourself in a daydream, you couldn't miss the moment your general and his betrothed were pronounced man and wife, and the commitment was sealed with a kiss. The light smattering of applause must have been loud enough to hide the sound of your heart shattering, because no one else seemed to notice.

It’s long over now. You’re alone in the reception area, halfheartedly ripping the silk tablecloths from where they lay before balling them up and throwing them into a messy pile. You don’t have to do it, someone will be coming along to clean up eventually, but you’d like to keep busy. If you go back to your quarters, you’ll have to be alone with your thoughts.

Hux announces his presence with a slight cough that still manages to startle you, and when you turn to face him your heart breaks all over again. He looks very handsome in the uniform he wears, one made especially for this occasion—regal but not too flashy—and your breath catches in your lungs despite your mind's insistence that you're no longer allowed such feelings.

“I thought I’d find you in here, Lieutenant,” he says to break the silence, and you nod as you feel your cheeks grow warm.

“Congratulations, General,” you reply, and you almost manage to sound like you mean it, “or should I call you your highness now?”

He gives you the slightest of smirks, just a hint of a smile in response to your attempt at humor, but you can tell what he’s thinking. Emperor Hux—a title made no less impressive when you consider that it was gained through marriage. It’s what he’s always wanted; you can be happy for him.

“General is still appropriate,” he replies, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet with pride, “I’m still your commanding officer.”

“Of course, sir,” you reply, and then, because you can’t avoid the subject any longer, "is Bristol getting ready for your departure?" It's the one concession you’ve allowed yourself—refusing to use her title whenever she isn't around. Normally you’d be smug about it, like somehow you were getting back at her, but now it just leaves you feeling empty.

“She's actually entertaining the allegiant general at the moment, in my quarters,” he replies with feigned indifference, even though you know how he feels about Pryde, “he knows her father, apparently they used to be in acquaintance.” You purse your lips in response; there’s really no need for words. It doesn't surprise you that they would get along.

You had wanted to like Bristol. Before you ever met her, you had been determined to like her, hoped desperately that the general had found someone kind and loving and devoted, because he deserved happiness and acceptance even if you weren't the one giving it to him.

Whatever you were hoping for, Bristol is . . . something else. She's beautiful, certainly, and intimidating and determined—all things you would expect from the future empress of her own star system. You've also found her to be unnecessarily cruel and demanding, towards you at least, and anyone else she thought she could look down on.

Not that it matters—you're not the one married to her. And while she might not be affectionate towards the general, she had also never been openly antagonistic. Plenty of people lived through loveless marriages. The general must have taken this into account and decided that it was a worthwhile sacrifice.

They're a handsome couple. A smart couple. And soon enough, the hurt and the wanting would fade and you would be able to move on with your life. He'd just have to stop looking so nice in his uniform first.

"There's something else I need, lieutenant," he says, pulling you from your thoughts, "before I leave. I have some last minute notes, some reminders I forgot to mention before, for my absence." You can’t help but purse your lips again, this time to hide a smile of your own. He's been more nervous about his trip back to the Alfospar System than he had ever been for the wedding, and you can’t really blame him. Two weeks is a long time for someone like him to be away from their work. 

"I know I told you there'd be no talk of work today,” he continues, “but if you wouldn't mind-"

"Please, general, of course I'll take the notes," you interrupt with a smile, "I never believed that you could resist talking about work for a whole day."

You shouldn't tease him like this; you have to stop teasing him at all, because he tries not to smile again, and your pulse starts to race. Whenever he makes that stupid face, all you can think about is peppering his cheeks with kisses, teasing him again until he really would smile and you could bask in the happiness that you created. He only has to hide his smiles when he’s around you, and you’re stupid enough to think that means something. 

"They're in my quarters," he waits for you to drop the table cloth you'd been worrying in your hands throughout the conversation, and then you follow him through the dark and quiet corridors. Neither of you speak—you've spent too much time together to find the silence uncomfortable. Unfortunately, that means that you can hear every word coming from the open door to the general's quarters as soon as you approach.

Maybe they think they're being quiet, or maybe their voices carry, or maybe neither of them mind at all that anyone could wander right outside the door, listening to every word of what should be a private conversation.

"You could have done worse, dear, I'll give you that at least," it's Pryde's voice, his words traveling down the hallway; it’s like he's right next to you, like these are words that you're meant to hear, too, and your heart clenches in your chest because you know that's not the case.

"How exactly could I have done worse, general?" That's Bristol speaking, obviously, her tone all-too familiar, like she's suffering from a headache and she believes you're the cause. You have to stop this conversation now, before one of them says something that can't be unheard. You're about to take the first step, ready to announce your presence with some inane comment that would make Bristol roll her eyes and would hopefully make Pryde swallow whatever insult was about to leave his mouth. You're about to take the first step when Hux stops you with a hand on your shoulder and a look in his eyes that puts an end to any argument.

You hope to the gods that Pryde will, by some miracle, say something nice. Or at least, something not overtly mean. You listen and you wait, brimming with foolish hope, your eyes fastened on the general, watching the way his jaw tightens as he holds his breath, waiting for Pryde to respond.

"You know," he begins, and you can already hear the mirth, already know that his next words are going to be painful and you won't be able to protect the general from them, "I'm not actually sure." There's a slight pause and then the room is filled with their bright, callous laughter, laughter that spills out of the open door and floods the hallway so completely that you feel you might suffocate in it.

"I mean honestly, I don't think I've ever met a man so weak-willed," Bristol speaks again, and she's breathless from laughter, "he is absolutely spineless-"

"Thin as a slip of paper and just as useless," Pryde interrupts,"that's what his father used to say about him."

Bristol laughs again—just a short bark this time—before she responds, "Well, he's certainly no Brendol."

"You'd have thought his father could have beaten him into shape, but . . ." they laugh again—there’s no mistaking General Pryde’s true meaning—and General Hux has heard enough. Before you can even process everything they’ve said, he's turned on his heel, walking back the way you came.

General Hux always walks fast—because he always has places to be, he says—but you have to jog to catch up to him this time, and even then you lag behind. You stumble after him in your dress shoes, cursing the way they pinch your feet before giving up and ripping them off, pursuing him around the corner.

He goes to his office, probably because there's nowhere else for him to go, and you stop just inside the doorway, trying to catch your breath. He busies himself, or tries to, fidgeting with the sparse materials on his desk—intermittently picking up his data pad, dropping it again, running a coarse hand through his hair, then gripping the back of his chair with white-knuckled hands. It strikes you, in this moment, that you've never seen the general cry before. It makes sense—there's never really been a reason for it, but you wish he would cry now, as you feel your own eyes sting with tears, because, somehow, seeing him like this is so much worse.

“General,” your voice is too timid when you speak, and you clear your throat, willing away the tightness that grows steadily as you hold back your tears. He doesn’t look up.

 You go to him, take both of his hands in your own, trying to still him, trying to hide the fact that you're shaking too. In all your time together, you've never seen him act this way. It frightens you.

"I'm sorry." It's not enough, but it's all you have to offer: a fitting metaphor for your relationship. He doesn't respond, won't even look at you with those ice green eyes. "They're wrong about you, sir." You can hardly believe that you have to say it out loud. How could he not see what you saw?

"No, lieutenant," he's dejected in his response, almost hopeless, "I don't think they are." For a moment, it feels like your heart might explode with anger, an all-encompassing anger that fills you whenever you think of Brendol Hux. The general never told you much about his relationship with his father, but you’ve put together some of the pieces. Even after all this time—after all his success—he still falls into the traps set for him by that man. Still finds it so easy to believe that he is worthless despite all the evidence to the contrary.

"How can you say that?" You cup his chin in your hand on instinct, gentle but insistent, forcing him to look you in the eyes. If you weren't so distracted by the conversation at hand, you might have realized that this was the first time you'd ever laid a hand on his bare skin, skin that’s soft and cool beneath your fingers, might have better registered the electricity setting your palm alight at the contact, might have noticed the slight flush that materialized over the general's cheeks in response to your touch. But the anger still clouds your senses, and you don’t notice any of it. "Who knows you better, general? Me or them?"

You've caught him now. You feel the delicate flex of his jaw muscles shift, as he opens his mouth, prepared to argue with you, and then freeze when he realizes that he has nothing to say.

 "You are many things, sir, but spineless is not one of them," you take advantage of his silence, speaking faster, trying to get the words out as quickly as possible so that he won't have to spend another moment in this pain. "I don't think I've ever met anyone braver, or more determined, or more suited to lead . . ." You trail off there, your face growing warm. The nature of your position, your hand on his jaw, has drawn you closer, his face wandering unthinkingly towards yours, and you could count his eyelashes from this distance, number each and every one of his freckles if he'd just stay this close.

"Lieutenant-" General Hux doesn't try to pull away, but there's some distance in his tone. You know what he's thinking. You’re thinking it, too, of course. But you’ve never gotten this close before. 

"Can I kiss you, sir?" You shouldn't, but you have to. If he'll let you. If he wants you to.

"Why?" You feel the whispered question brush up against your cheeks, and despite everything else, you know that this is your moment.

"I just want you to know what it's like," you say, "to feel loved." You wait, take the opportunity to breathe him in, share the same air—something you've done for years but never like this, never close enough to feel the heat of it—the tip of your nose just barely brushing against his as he nods, and he’s shaking a little.

It's not the kiss you had envisioned, as you cup his face in both your hands and pull him closer. You move deliberately, let him watch until he goes cross-eyed and then his eyes fall closed, and your lips meet his, so soft it's more the ghost of a kiss than anything. You wait for him there, wait for him to reciprocate the affection you give him, and he does, pressing his mouth against yours with a tentative kind of tenderness. It's not the kiss you had imagined—it's everything.

You move together, slow and gentle, two familiar people learning each other in an entirely new way, and it's intoxicating—being held by him, feeling the way his hands trail your spine, the way the pad of his thumb traces your jaw. It would be perfect, if he didn't belong to someone else.

"What are we going to do now?" He pulls away just long enough to whisper the question and you don’t let yourself respond, kissing him again while you still can. You don’t want to admit it just yet, but you have no idea what you’re going to do. You haven’t got a clue.

[saintmairon]

Fill me in with wierd ships I live for them🛥🛥🛥

ok sorry i made that post then dropped off the face of the earth for 14 hours I was finishing a piece but anyway. under a cut bc it's an ESSAY lmao <3

i will start by saying i'm still not exactly sure how old the sons of feanor were while Melkor was captive in Valinor but all of this operates on the assumption that Maglor was at least a young adult at the time ahaha

this also operates on the assumption that before Feanor Hated Melkor™ they were friendly or at the very least had a sort of mutual respect for each other. IMO Melkor always respected Feanor, even after Feanor became outwardly hostile towards him, but that's for another time. Anyway, Feanor saw the potential benefit of being pals with Melkor early on, as it was clear Melkor had a lot of knowledge about many and was very eager to share it. The initial attraction was entirely selfish on Feanor's part (surprise) but the thing about Melkor is that three seconds after you meet him you realize he's the most charming being on the planet and are soon clinging to his every word. So it was no real surprise that Feanor's desire to learn from Melkor soon morphed into a desire simply to be around him and perhaps absorb some of his charisma by osmosis. At any rate, Melkor was eventually invited around for dinner.

I should make a brief aside here to state that quite honestly being invited to dinner with Feanor's family was the best thing to happen to Melkor since his imprisonment and he rode that high for ages. His fondness for Feanor and the Noldor in general was 100% genuine and not at all motivated by malice the way the Valar would have you believe. He was so excited at the prospect of friends that he was beside himself with nervousness for days prior to this dinner.

Anyway!!! Where you find Feanor you find his entire brood of sons in tow, so Melkor became acquainted with the whole lot quickly. He has a strong paternal streak (and you won't convince me otherwise) so he was thrilled to have these eager lads fawning over him, and fawn they did. Melkor was a great deal more approachable than the other Valar and as such presented a rare opportunity to harass a primordial deity into telling stories and singing songs. He became so friendly with them, in fact, that independent of their father they continued to invite him over. Melkor became a common sight hanging around in the gardens or common rooms, sharing his knowledge and experience with his enthusiastic fanclub. His favorite thing to share with them was, unsurprisingly, his encyclopedic knowledge of music.

This, of course, was when Maglor started to develop a Crush. Not just any crush, of course, but a wildly passionate and all-consuming crush the likes of which only a child of Feanor could sustain. He had been set up perfectly by fate--not only was Melkor an engaging and creative teacher in the one subject Maglor cared most about, he was also devastatingly beautiful. An extraordinarily beautiful, preternaturally charming god who patiently teaches Maglor's younger brothers chord progressions and gives him gifts of silver harp strings and dozes off at the foot of the old apple tree and

What I'm getting at is that it was impossible for Maglor NOT to fall in love with him. It was equally impossible, unfortunately, for that infatuation to bear any sort of fruit--there was the difference in age, the difference in species, the fact that Melkor was an ex-convict who had been imprisoned by the Valar since before Maglor's parents were born... It simply would not have worked, and this knowledge was unbearable anguish for Maglor. Unrequited and impossible love is the most painful thing when you're a young adult who has never even had a real relationship before and Maglor did NOT take it in stride lmao

Melkor, of course, noticed the change in his pupil and got concerned. He began to feel acutely guilty, assuming that Maglor was despondent because he was feeling a bit neglected--he was a natural musician who needed far less close instruction than his brothers, so Melkor hadn't been paying him as much attention. And what better way to remedy this than taking Maglor on for one-on-one lessons where they could discuss more advanced musical theory! There's no way that could go wrong at all!!!

Predictably, spending even more time in private lessons with Melkor did nothing to ease Maglor's lovesick suffering. It also made it far more apparent to Melkor that Maglor was indeed lovesick and suffering, and his socially illiterate ass handled that just about as well as you would expect.

This is getting long so I'll go on more later lmao

[bowl-of-shortness]

I’m doing it, because I have no self control I’m doing it.

Here we goooooo this is what I’m going to name the Recurring AU.

So some basic info to put out on the table:

- Ozpin is still immortal, still reincarnates, etc.

- Qrow, in a certain way, is also immortal. But it’s a bit interesting so bear with me.

- Qrow owns a sword, The Decaying Future. In order to use magic with it however, he has to use his own life force to do so. Decaying future has a direct connection to Qrow and his soul.

- Qrow’s soul, goes from person to person, much like Ozpin’s soul does. But where as Ozpin looks different each time he reincarnates, Qrow looks near identical to what he originally looked like and also, even more apparent, doesn’t remember anything from his previous lives.

- Qrow, each time, is still just as he was before he died the previous time and he always seems to show up when Oz needs help. But doesn’t have his memories, and can never quite place when he got Decaying Future or where he got his countless scars.

- so in a way, he’s still mortal, at least he thinks he is. And acts as a sort of protector of Oz, in one way or another. That being a good friend, royal guard, coworker, or spouse.

- The Decaying Future acts as an opposite to The Long Memory. Where as Long Memory stores magic to use for later, Decaying Future takes magic to use immediately. This is how Qrow has died in the past and why he can’t just use magic now, because Decaying Memory constantly takes Qrow’s magic (and life force) whenever it uses magic.

Now let’s get into the fun stuff!

- Oz doesn’t realize that Qrow is the same person he knew in the past for a few of Qrow’s reincarnates. Thinking he’s hallucinating, Oz ignores it.

- When Oz finds out about Qrow reincarnating he’s understandably overjoyed, finally! A familiar face. And the face of his former spouse nonetheless!

- this excitement would soon fade when Oz comes to the sad and horrifying realization that Qrow, does not remember him at all.

- this of course makes things difficult, because Oz desperately wants to catch up with him like old times. Desperately wants to talk to him about things that have happened but knows he can’t because of Qrow not remembering him.

- and it becomes even more painful for Oz when Qrow does what he had previously done, protect Oz. At any cost.

- No matter where he was, no matter what time period, no matter if Oz tried to make SURE that Qrow would come nowhere near him, he was there. Constantly. Protecting him, bonding with him, laughing with him.

- and Oz couldn’t help but keep falling for him, every. Single. Time. Which made it hurt even more when Qrow did do everything in his power to protect Oz, at any cost.

- it was a curse to Oz. To have to see the man he loved not remember him, to have to bond with him all over again, to have to see him get killed over and over and over and over again just because he wanted to protect him.

- but he kept going with it. Because it would be inevitable, their first meeting. Oz had tried, tried to do everything in his power to make sure Qrow wouldn’t find him or come near him, and yet always he found a way. So he tried to make the best of it.

- cherished every moment with Qrow, made every single moment up until his inevitable death worth it in the end.

- Qrow always has this feeling of deja vu when he sees certain photos from completely different times, like he was there almost, but he can’t quite place it.

- Qrow struggles with remembering things already of remembering things wrong, so he never truly quite thought about it.

- He did find it strange that Oz seemed to recognize him though. He had never met Oz before so how could he know?

- Oz is, well, a strange but interesting man. One who Qrow finds it quite enjoyable to be around, never a dull moment.

- Decaying Future, ah his ever so cherished sword. It wasn’t like the other swords you’d see other hunters wielding, it didn’t have any sort of fancy transformation. But Qrow was ok with that, ok with simplicity.

- it’s funny, he feels like he’s had it for lifetimes. But unfortunately due to his bad memory, even if you asked him where he got it from, he could never tell you. Sucks to have a bad memory I guess.

- he knows he got it from somewhere, somewhere familiar, and he knows he named it, but it’s too foggy for him to actually tell you.

- He gets a similar feeling with Oz, that feeling of vague familiarity. But he tends to brush it aside.

- even though Oz may be considered crazy, strange, or even scary to some people, he wasn’t anything like that to Qrow. He was nice, caring, and a pretty funny guy!

- Qrow would do anything to protect that kindness from whoever may hurt Oz. Like his life depended on it. He always was outcasted from his family, his tribe, his fellow classmates, even strangers. There was no way he’d let the one person who actually cares, die, because of his incompetency.

- and so he did, signing up and being accepted to be Oz’s personal protective hunter (fancy way of saying guard in Qrow’s eyes). It wasn’t hard to find that position, Oz was a highly respected council member, he needed to be protected anyway.

(We going lighthearted in this bc I need to stop being angsty for 2 seconds djfndndnnd)

- these two, no matter what lifetime, are the ultimate power couple

- sass(tm) from both of them

- any cuddles from my other headcanons but like 10x because Oz doesn’t wanna let go of his bird husband ever

- Qrow has to bribe or pry Oz off of him. It doesn’t always work.

- Qrow likes to call Oz a nerd when in reality he’s a huge hypocrite cuz there’s only so much you learn in history and he seems to know a lot more than that.

- Oz will say random things in a loving tone to Qrow, literally he mentioned something about bread in Mistralian and made Qrow laugh incredibly hard.

- Oz was embarrassed the rest of the day because he didn’t know that Qrow could speak Mistralian. He has made a few other comments in a dead language that he is very glad Qrow does NOT understand because there’s no way he could say that to Qrow in a language he understands without getting flustered (take that for what you will. It’s up to interpretation, personally I think its really sappy stuff but hey, imagine whatever)

- bookworms, they read to eachother

- both will give each other their weapon to fight with, even sometimes trading.

- during a small war that Oz was involved with in a previous life, Qrow gave him Decaying Future as a means to defend himself in the war.

- they normally have their weapons near one another.

- they both are normally near one another. You can’t find one without the other.

- both mischief makers, quiet, but still mischief makers.

[boltwrites]

hEY bolt! its sweetbabybolin! the prompts this week are *chef's kiss* :) can i please request shotgunning w bolin, w some frottage/humping shit thrown in there? high sex w bolin would be SO sexy but also just so sweet, perhaps a sesh/getting handsy w him leads to something else? thank you!!

kinktober 2020 | this week’s list

anon asked: shotgunning with bolin!! omg that’s my fave thing to do with a blunt lol

A/N: well, uh. here we go! i had to stop after a little bit of frottage bc this was getting so long, but i hope you enjoy it!

by clicking read more you verify that you are at least 18 years old

you had actually been introduced to weed by Asami and Korra - you three were close friends, and when you mentioned wanting to smoke with Bolin sometime, they grinned and giggled

“oh spirits, can you imagine Bolin trying to take a hit,” Korra giggled, definitely higher than she should be. Asami could hold herself better, and she just giggled, shaking her head

“Maybe Y/n could help him out,” Asami suggested, and when you inquired further, she told you about shotgunning, and demonstrated on a very enthusiastic Korra

you had to leave soon after that, but the idea stayed in your mind as you thought of Asami gently blowing smoke into Korra’s waiting lips. you would love to try that with Bolin

before a recent event, you had never even thought to ask Bolin if he wanted to smoke with you. he just didn’t seem like the type, and you hadn’t wanted to pressure him

however, a few days ago, you were smoking by the window in the living room, and he had asked if he could try it. you were shocked, but felt like slapping yourself for assuming that just because Bolin was cute meant that he didn’t want to smoke

unfortunately at the time, your bowl had been just about dead, and you were all out, so you promised him the next time you stocked up again, you would smoke with him

and that day, was today. Bolin sat next to you as you packed the bowl, watching as you prepared it with curious eyes. you grinned at him, because he was so cute, especially when he was watching something so intently

“alright, so here’s what you do,” you said, leaning back on the couch. he followed, pressing close to you to watch your movements. it was sweet - and you loved it when he sat so close to you or cuddled up, so it just made you smile as you fired up your lighter

“so, you light it-” you mimed lighting the bowl, but didn’t, instead, flicking the lighter off. “then, you breathe in, and hold it for a little bit. it doesn’t have to be for that long, but you need to actively breathe in if you want to feel it. it might tickle your throat a little, but try not to cough if you can manage it. then, you just blow it out again.”

you turned to Bolin, looking at him to see if he understood. he nodded, but you didn’t know if he really got it - he was very sweet, and he was smart when it came to other people, but sometimes, instructions... just kind of went over his head

“let me show you,” you offered, and you took a hit, deliberate with every step. you also covered the end of the pipe with the butt of your lighter after you took the hit, to snuff out the flame and preserve the rest of the bowl for longer

Bolin watched, and then you handed it to him, keeping the lighter for yourself. “i’ll start it off, and tell you when to go, ok?” you offered, and Bolin nodded

and he did exactly as you said, but - poor thing - he took way too big of a hit and coughed so hard that he almost dropped the pipe. you took it from him quickly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as he coughed

“oh, Bo,” you mumbled, and he kept coughing as you set everything down to pull him close and rub him back as he shook.

“that burned,” he whined, his eyes actually tearing up a little from how violently he had coughed. you kissed his cheeks, even as your first hit started to take effect, and everything started to... go a little slower.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you mumbled. “here, why don’t we try something else. i promise that this won’t burn.”

you had honestly expected him to not inhale properly and you would have to finish off the rest of his hit, but man, he had gone for it and was paying the price. he nodded, though, and you pulled him close and kissed him, mumbling that you would be right back before grabbing him some water from the kitchen

as he took a few swigs from the glass, you took your own hit - a little less intense this time, because you knew you would get a little hit of your own when you shotgunned with him

“how do you feel?” you asked, blowing the smoke out as you cuddled up to him again. he was watching you with a more serious gaze. 

“i’m ok - sorry about that,” he chuckled, you assured him that it was fine, that he didn’t do anything wrong, and that he just really went for it. you could tell he felt a little bad that he wasn’t some sort of smoking natural, but you promised that it was fine

“this way’s more fun anyway,” you promised, with a wink

“now, here’s what you do - actually, let me get in your lap,” you were grinning, and Bolin quirked a little smile as he pulled you on top of him

“ok, so this should burn less. i’m gonna take the initial hit, then i’ll pass it to you. as soon as i start blowing out, you inhale, and hold it like a normal hit. got it?”

Bolin nodded, but you could tell he didn’t really realize what he was in for - at least, not yet

“alright, here we go,” you mumbled, and took another drag, longer this time. then you leaned close to Bolin, and his eyes went wide as you cradled his face with your free hand, gently nudging him forward. after a second of freezing in place, he got the memo, and you brushed a finger along his lip, and he opened his mouth for you

you blew the smoke into his mouth, and he inhaled as best as he could. your lips gently brushed his, and he shivered, but this time when he inhaled he didn’t cough. he exhaled a few seconds later, surrounding you both in smoke as you leaned forward to place a sweet, gentle kiss on his lips.

you pulled back, and Bolin looked at you in wonder. “that’s a thing?” he whispered, and you laughed - a little louder than usual. oh yeah, it was hitting you. “yeah, it is,” you replied, wiggling closer on his lap “want more?”

he did, and you passed him three more hits, until he leaned his head back against the cough and groaned.

“oh, i think it’s working,” he mumbled, and you laughed, leaning back to set the lighter and bowl (which was basically dead at this point) back on the table

“hey - don’t go,” Bolin whined, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. you giggled, wrapping your arms around his shoulders “i wasn’t going anywhere, you dork. i was just putting everything away”

he pouted at you, making a little indignant noise. “aw, but i wanted more kisses,” he grumbled, and this time you cackled, rocking a little violently on his lap

“you know we don’t need to smoke for me to kiss you, right?” you chuckled, pressing your foreheads together. Bolin was still pouting, embarrassed that he had apparently forgotten about kissing outside of shotgunning, so you took initiative and leaned forward the few centimeters it took to press your lips to his

the makeout session was lazy, but it progressed quickly. Bolin licked into your mouth far quicker than usual, and you moaned at it, the touch of his tongue against yours feeling far more electric than normal

he was feeling it too - you could tell how hard he was as you sat on his lap and he pressed against you, hard just from kissing for a few minutes. you didn’t blame him - you felt like this whenever you were with him. 

“hey,” he pulled back, only slightly, and you were so high you almost surged forward again on instinct, not letting him finish his sentence. you caught on at the last second, mumbling a breathy “yeah?”

“can we lay down?” he asked, his words drawled in that specific weed-dialect that was difficult to describe. you nodded, accidentally konking your head on his before you both laughed

“yeah” you replied, still giggling, and Bolin took initiative, turning you so that he was on top of you on the couch, your legs tangled

the kisses were so much more intense like this, and you bent your leg (so strategically placed between his) just a little, to see him react. and react he did. Bolin moaned so sweet against you, rocking against your thigh

you gasped, just at the feeling of him, as his lips left yours and he nuzzled into your neck. you knew he was probably feeling a lot like this, so you just wrapped your arms around his back and held him as he kissed sloppy along your neck

“‘s ok,” you mumbled, hoping he would understand that you meant he could rut against your leg all he wanted. you actually loved it - the feeling of him hard against you

“yeah?” he replied, with a little shift of his hips that made you both moan - your noises a reflection of his because just the thought of him feeling good turned you on

“yeah,” you replied, with a kiss to his temple, your hands tangling in his hair, wondering why you hadn’t pet through it before. the texture mesmerized you now, and as Bolin rocked forward against you again, you tugged on it lightly, gasping at how good he felt, even like this.