#yet another expensive book that I would like to read

[bumblebeebats]

Every time i purchase a moderately expensive item the Karl Marx on my shoulder is like "For shame... you purchase yet another pair of jeans when you have 5 already at home, you despicable commodity fetishist? In my time, a man with five outfits would consider himself blessed beyond measure, and yet you want for more, while there are children starving in the world??" to which the second Karl Marx on my other shoulder says "Objection! Those 5 pairs of jeans all wildly uncomfortable or have holes in the ass, due to the decline of clothing quality driven by the fast fashion industry, unfortunately making this purchase a necessity... Plus, by purchasing a slightly more expensive pair of jeans from an independent brand, seeking quality over 'brand recognition', they are deliberately trying to avoid engaging in conspicuous consumption!" to which the third Karl Marx clinging to my back like that beetle from Doctor Who says "Remember, my friend; the less you eat, drink, buy books, go to the theatre or to balls, or to the pub, and the less you think, love, theorize, sing, paint, fence, etc., the more you will be able to save and the greater will become your treasure which neither moth nor rust will corrupt — your capital. Buy the jeans," to which I say "I don't know if any of you have actually read Karl Marx"

[impactedfates]

Detective Oblivious - Various Genshin Characters x GN! Reader

★ Summary: Your best friend lately has been acting strange. Could they have a crush on someone?! You have to get to the bottom of it…though perhaps you can start by noticing how they look at you

☆ Characters Included (Separate): Alhaitham, Ayato, Kazuha, Xiao, Yelan, Ningguang

★ Genre/Trope: Romantic + Fluff + Maybe a bit of Crack

☆ Warnings: None

★ Extra: HSR Ver Here // Semi-Proof Read

Honestly I don't blame you for not noticing Alhaitham likes you. He's very hard to read. But at the same time, it doesn't take a detective to notice how he's more careful with his words when talking to you. He doesn't necessarily care what you think of him, even if he likes you, however he does wish for you to see him in a more positive light.

So even though you've been friends for so long, his sudden change in how he talks to you is so you can hopefully see how he feels about you as he believes you'd be able to notice but well...much to his dismay and annoyance, you don't.

You got the part that he likes someone, but not that those feelings are directed towards you. Have you not seen the longing stares he gives you when you're doing anything? How he's more lenient in what you're doing?? How when he was The Acting Grand Sage, how he always looked over anything you wrote to him first???

Clearly not as, as when he enters his home he can see you talking to Kaveh to see if he knows anything about who he likes. Kaveh, noticing him behind you, simply smiled. Although Alhaitham wants to confess to you, he'd rather him telling you directly or you finding out yourself without the need of help from others. And Kaveh knew this...

"Oh, he likes yo-"

A book was suddenly thrown at Kaveh as the Scribe quickly took you away.

"Wh- hey! He was going to tell me something"

"Didn't want him to say something I should be saying...I should be the one telling you I like you"

Many people caught on to the way Ayato treated you differently towards others, in fact. Both Ayaka and Thoma knew he liked you before he himself knew. Yet, why was it that everyone but you knew how much he held you dear to his heart?

Ayato never had much free time to be frank, however unlike his other friends and even family. He would never send anyone as many gifts as he did to you. Anytime you liked something you'd have it delivered to your house right away. You always thanked him for it, beaming as you looked at it. Although you did slightly feel bad as some of the things you off handily mention wanting are quite expensive. But the Commissioner doesn't care. Seeing that smile is enough for him.

What he does care about however, is how dense you are towards his acts of affection. As stated, he gives you more gifts than anyone else he knows. But another thing he does that he's surprised doesn't get you to catch on, is him "jokingly" calling your Mx Kamisato (he's half joking, he does want to marry you)

What surprises him more is that you somehow think it's directed to someone else?? You question him on who he's referring to even though he was looking directly at you.

Eventually he gently backs you into a corner and makes you face him, turning your chin towards him.

"My dear...I've tried everything but you don't get the hint. So I'll say it here...I love you~"

You found some poems that Kazuha had written, and it's about someone. In fact, it's about someone romantically. This caused you to quickly search for who said love poem is about.

One of the kids witnessed you ranting to yourself about who could've taken the samurai's heart and told Beidou, who then found it amusing enough to tell Kazuha who at first laughs it off before realising you've likely read the poems he wrote. He is thankful you haven't found out it's about you, but at the same time. He doesn't think you've met anyone that's like you, and the love poem does describe you near perfectly. Still...at least you haven't found out?

He watches from a small distance as you glance at him before looking away. This happens a lot, especially when he's talking to a friend who questions your behaviour. In fact, you've done this so much that people assume you're Kazuha's partner and want his attention. They even comment about it to which you both politely explain that you're just friends.

Eventually though, he makes no comment when someone assumes the two of you are dating, which makes you question him which leads to you finally figuring out who the love poem is about.

"Wait so...the love poems..."

"Is about you yes, I like you"

I can see him being quite confused himself when he realises he likes someone and might even tell you about how he's feeling. He won't directly say who it is but he tells enough to let you know he's fallen DEEP in love with someone.

Now the two of you are trying to figure out just who's the one making his heart beat faster and clouding his mind. In truth, Xiao quickly realizes it's you that's causing it. But he can't tell you, he's a bit too flustered to tell you, especially with how cute you look trying to figure it out yourself.

So he lets the search go on, he allows you to drag him to meet various people and see if he feels his heart beating faster. And while it does, that's only because you're beside him. Nothing else. He was happy enough to let you guess till you gave up, he didn't think you'd like him back anyways.

However Hu Tao would beg to differ, she's been listening to you rant about how you loved Xiao and all that stuff. In fact, she's even heard from Zhongli that Xiao likes you. So when you come along with the Adeptus in tow and ask him if he feels any different towards her. She has a feeling she knows what's going on. And why not play matchmaker?

"You don't feel anything at all?"

"No..."

The funeral directly quickly piped up, gently pushing you into Xiao's arms and watching his face burst into shades of crimson.

"What about now? Having the love of your life in your arms is bound to make you feel something right?"

She...out right flirts with you. And not in a way to get info from you, just...actual flirting. Yelan knows what she wants and tends to get what she wants. More so in terms of information, but she also wants you and will try anything to make you realize her feelings for you.

She probably knows you like her as well, so this should be easy right? Just flirt with you and you'll get the picture right?...Yeah...

"I would love to spend the future with you y'know darling~ Especially in the same house"

"Oh that would be great"

"Exa-"

"Rent would be so much cheaper if we were roommates"

She...finds your obliviousness cute...in a weird way though. She finds it even more cute that you do in fact recognize her flirting eventually...but think she's using you as practice. Now she spots you trying to figure out who it is so you can help her more. And "act" like her crush. She does need to eventually tell you so you can stop searching, I mean. The answer is clear if you look in a mirror.

"C'mon Lanlan, you need to tell who you actually like"

"Hm? Oh but I am sweetie~"

Ningguang is obviously highly respected and of course has her own set of admirers. You used to see her reading each letter with care and consideration before laughing. Not in a hateful way, truly she's grateful people like her that much. But recently she seems to read them a bit faster, seemingly searching for one name in particular.

It's clear to you she wants a certain person to be in her pile of confession letters. And you'll figure out who. I mean, what better way to help your friend then finding out who she likes and seeing if they like her back right :D

Well...word got to her that you've been searching through some of her things, nothing personal but just around her office. Not to mention observing her more closely lately which she plays off as you being interested in what she has to say. But when she hears that you've apparently scared a poor soul with some of your questioning she goes to confront you.

To which you weakly explain you want to help her find out if her crush likes her back or not. She simply laughs a bit, surprised. She's been giving you special treatment ever since she found out her feelings for you. You've been given bigger discounts because she just cannot let her "darling" pay so much. Alongside other things she thought were obvious hints in the hopes you'll write her a confession letter.

"Well...if you want to help me find out if they like me back, answer me this"

"Yeah?"

"Do you like me?"

Anyone else find it hard to know when someone likes them? Cuz I do, hence this idea sprang forth. Not all the characters included are ones I simp for but I thought it would be interesting to add them (I literally only simp for Alhaitham and Ayato out of the characters included tbh nsoaorgr)

[cassandraclare]

Hi Cassie!! Sorry to bother you but I feel like Ty would be more likely to have panic attacks than Dru. I have evaluated the situation and Ty seems to have more trauma and anxiety than her. Adding onto that I’m hoping Kit and Ash don’t have too similar powers. I feel like Kit should be more powerful as Ash only as Ash didn’t get much powers especially since the king didn’t have the black volume the whole time he had Ash. I also think Kit she be more powerful than Magnus for reasons.

I've gotten a lot of emails about how Ty should be the one who has panic attacks, not Dru. Usually the idea is that he should have panic attacks because he has 'more trauma and anxiety' than Dru, specifically because of Livvy's death and Ty being "more close" to her.

The thing is, that isn't how characters work because it isn't how people work. “Amount of trauma” is not an objective measurable thing, and not everyone responds the same ways even to the same things happening to them.

Of course Ty and Dru have both experienced trauma. But it is not as if there is a certain "level of trauma", like "level 6" beyond which everyone has panic attacks, and Ty is a trauma 7 while Dru is only a trauma 5. None of that is how people work or panic disorders work or really how anything works. The question is a lot about, I think, an anxiety that somehow because Dru has panic attacks this means the narrative will consider Ty to have no trauma at all and be dandy about everything, and I can only say that that's not the case.

One thing I rarely see acknowledged in these letters is that Ty is not grieving Livvy currently. Everyone else in his family is, but he lives with her, she talks to him all the time, she's entirely present in his life. Yes, she is a ghost, but people can get by on a lot less than Ty has with Livvy. I think it's worth noting that what Ty is currently experiencing re: Livvy is not grief but denial.

At the end of the day, there are all sorts of ways of responding to trauma and grief. The acknowledgement that someone has been through trauma is not something they have to earn, nor are panic attacks a thing given to one character at the expense of another who has somehow deserved them more. What is important about how characters respond to loss and trauma is that it be consistent with the character and their growth, and that's something that can't be evaluated before a book is read. :)

As for Kit having the most powers of anyone, well, we will see. It's not really how power works in the Shadowhunter world. We don't spend a lot of time thinking about whether Clary or Magnus is more powerful because what they can do is so different, and what Kit and Ash can do is also very different. Also in evaluating who gets what power level I would say it's important to consider whether they will be friends or deadly enemies – which is something we don't yet know!

[feyascorner]

Sure, Astarion has his reasons for being the way he is, but he wasn't a good man before Cazador either.

He was a corrupt magistrate of high society, who had an insatiable thirst for power and immortality. He got it in the end, but at a cost he never expected to pay.

So imagine if he and Tav met centuries before the events of the game? Tav being one of the “commoners” he looks down upon, scrunching his nose in disgust at the library when your fingers brush against one another as you try to reach for the same book. He yanks his hand away so abruptly that it makes you blink.

“Ah, sorry, did you want it?” you hold out the book in his direction, but he’s already scowling. You’re by no means filthy, but he thinks you might as well be with how your clothes would fetch less than a few dozen gold pieces at the local market. And rather than having your hair neatly arranged like other ladies of high society, yours is messily tied back with a string, in a manner he'd consider disheveled.

“I did,” he mutters in return. “You can keep the damn thing, dear. I no longer have any need for it.”

You don’t know where this snarkiness is coming from, so all you can do is watch as he strides away, lips sealed in a confident yet mildly annoyed frown. He swears he won't return to this library again if those are the kinds of guests they allow in these days.

So imagine his surprise when he meets you at the nautiloid crash site. Well, he doesn't recognize you at first. You don't either. Who would? You've only said one sentence to one another. But when you see him reading at his tent, you mention favorite books of your own even though he never actually asked. Within them, is the very title of the book he let you have—which happens to be some obscure book basically nobody else reads.

He remembers you, because his encounter with you was just a day before he’d been ambushed and turned into what he is. And it’s an underestimate to say he's reimagined that very day at least a few hundred times in his head.

The same can't be said for you. You remain oblivious.

But he's different now. He stitches the rips on his own shirt at least a dozen times a month, making sure the seams blend flawlessly and the cloth makes him look as flattering as he possibly can. In the past, he would've made the expensive personal tailors do the work, but 200 years as a slave can enact more than a few lifestyle changes to an elf.

However, similar to then, he notices you're still struggling in your own ability to sew.

“Like this, darling,” he says again. “Through the loop, here.”

As you marvel innocently at his handiwork, he smiles. He's not sure how you can derive such joy from a simple needle with a thread, but he doesn't complain about the way you fawn over him rather than anyone else. He thinks about his first reaction to you, much to his avoidance. He misjudged you at the time. Terribly. And while he’ll come around to telling you eventually, he’d rather find little ways to make up for it for now.

And if he has to use a needle on the rips of your pants to do so, so be it. Besides, he thinks he likes sewing—especially when it’s for you.

[uyuforu]

Boda Persona Chart Analysis I

Boda (1487) is an asteroid discovered in 1938 by Karl Willhelm Reinmuth in Germany. It was named this way after Karl Boda. Boda in Spanish means "wedding", so it was natural for this asteroid to represent that. Boda is an asteroid we look at when we want to know more about what kind of wedding one will have. The Boda Persona Chart also means the same thing, and it gives more details about one's special day.

One of my loved one is getting married soon, and I thought it would be nice to make predictions about her wedding. So this post will be based on her Boda PC. Another Boda PC Analysis will come soon :)

All pictures were found on Pinterest

Other posts you could like:

જ⁀➴ Boda in Signs, Houses, Degrees

જ⁀➴ Boda Aspects

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₊˚⊹♡ Sun 1H: the wedding will be focused on you, you'll feel like the main character. You will feel beautiful, even more if it is in Libra or if there is a libra degree to it (7°, 19°). It could also mean the wedding look exactly how you wanted it to be, and with those degrees, very beautiful and aesthetically pleasing.

₊˚⊹♡ Sun 1H could also mean the wedding takes place where you live or where you were born. Where you grew up too but you see what I mean.

₊˚⊹♡ Sun conjunct Mars could mean the energy of the wedding is very strong, and there is a lot of movement, a lot of things going on. It can also mean fights could more happen since Mars is a planet about arguments, strong and heavy energy. The wedding will be sure a day to remember.

₊˚⊹♡ Sun conjunct Pluto means the wedding will transform you. You could realize something during the wedding.

₊˚⊹♡ Moon 10H: colleagues could be invited to your wedding, they could be proud of you. Could also mean a lot of people will get invited to the wedding, and many people will be proud. Depending on the sign and degree, this placement doesn't make people highly emotional.

₊˚⊹♡ Natal Sun conjunct Boda PC Chiron: you will have a deep wound by the weeding, something will hurt you, and it can also mean you will not have a good time as much as other people.

₊˚⊹♡ Moon conjunct Jupiter could mean you feel like it's a lucky day, and it's a good wedding.

₊˚⊹♡ Moon squares Mars mean arguments will def happen.

₊˚⊹♡ Moon Virgo: you could be very stressed because of the wedding.

₊˚⊹♡ 2H Stellium could mean you will spend A LOT of money on your wedding.

₊˚⊹♡ Moon squares Mercury means you could cry a lot during the wedding and there could be many disagreements or misunderstandings.

₊˚⊹♡ Mercury 2H: People could comment a lot about how much money you spent on the wedding or how much it looks expensive. People could talk about how it looks and how you decorated it. People could also comment the food often.

₊˚⊹♡ Sun conjunct Mercury: many people will talk to you during the wedding. You will not feel lonely for sure!

₊˚⊹♡ Mercury conjunct Mars: A lot of chatting in the wedding! People will keep talking and talking, it will not be boring. Yet, you could also have some disagreements during the wedding.

₊˚⊹♡ Mercury Sagittarius could mean you could invite foreigners and they could speak in another language than you. People could also talk about a lot of different subjects, and probably also talk about life, their experiences, and share their opinions very freely.

₊˚⊹♡ Mercury conjunct Briede could mean people could talk a lot about you (if you are the bride). If it conjuncts Groom, then they talk much about the groom.

₊˚⊹♡ Scorpio Rising could mean you will act shy or reserved, you will not talk much, and if you happen to have arguments with people, you will hold grudges and prefer to stay in your corner.

₊˚⊹♡ Venus 11H could mean the wedding will feel very friendly, it will be a good vibe and it will feel very welcoming. It could be unique, and very avant-garde too. You could received friendly gifts or very unique gifts too. Gifts could be related to traveling too. Best part of the wedding will be about your friends and how fun it is.

₊˚⊹♡ Venus sextile Mars could mean the wedding is very fun and people are putting a lot of energy in it. It means pretty much everyone will dance and have fun.

₊˚⊹♡ Jupiter 10H is another sign the wedding will be expensive, but it will be worth it. The wedding could bring you a lot of opportunities. It can mean a lot of foreigners or people from different religions, social classes could be invited too. Popular wedding.

₊˚⊹♡ Groom 8H: Groom could be shy and reserved, Groom could also hide something, or not tell something. Groom could prepare a surprise or could also hide some secrets. Groom's energy could be heavy.

₊˚⊹♡ Groom conjunct Vertex in 8H: Groom could reveal a secret during the wedding. Something about the Groom could be revealed during the wedding.

₊˚⊹♡ Boda Capricorn means a wedding which is very expensive looking, and a lot of money will be spent on it. A wedding that was planned carefully and meant to look perfect. Parents could be very involved in the wedding.

₊˚⊹♡ Briede opposite Groom: Groom and Bride might not spend a lot of time together during the wedding, they could also not be in good terms.

₊˚⊹♡ Neptune 2H means the fact that the wedding looks good and expensive will hide the real feelings of people. You could have the illusions that as long as the wedding is big and expensive, it will be a good wedding. Materialistic wedding.

₊˚⊹♡ Uranus conjunct Neptune: truth about your illusions will happen during your wedding. Something sudden will happen which will make you face your illusions.

₊˚⊹♡ Part of Fortune 29°: A very popular wedding. Will be remembered for sure!

₊˚⊹♡ Mercury conjunct Briede could also mean the Bride will be one talking more during the wedding.

₊˚⊹♡ Briede 2H: Bride controls the wedding and could make most of the decisions.

₊˚⊹♡ DSC Taurus makes the spouse being laid back, chill and just enjoy the party as it is. Probably will eat a lot lol. Spouse could also be romantic and sensual.

₊˚⊹♡ Sun quincunx DSC: Spouse will not feel very involved in the wedding.

₊˚⊹♡ Pisces IC: your parents will cry, be very emotional about the wedding. They could feel hopeless romantic about it.

₊˚⊹♡ Saturn 3H means arguments will happen during the wedding. It can also be communication problems.

₊˚⊹♡ Capricorn 3H means people could see your wedding as a well organized and perfect even. They could see the money you spent on it.

₊˚⊹♡ Aries 5H means the wedding party will be wild, people will dance a lot, there will be a lot of energy and movement. But it can mean fights and confrontations could happen too.

₊˚⊹♡ Taurus 7H can also make your guests chill, enjoying the party, some could flirt a lot, and they could enjoy the food too.

₊˚⊹♡ Cancer 9H makes your In-Laws emotional too, and the Mother-In-Law could be very emotional. They could also nurture you a lot.

₊˚⊹♡ Chiron 9H could mean In-Laws could also see some problems with the wedding, they could also be the cause of arguments too.

₊˚⊹♡ Capricorn 3H means the wedding will happen on the ground, surrounding by nature. No water will be in the surroundings.

₊˚⊹♡ Chiron 9H could also mean there is a spiritual lesson to learn about the wedding.

₊˚⊹♡ Libra 11H could mean the guests will be lovely and have a good time. There could be a lot of flirting too, much more if Venus is also there. You could create a lot of new couples because of your wedding. Love is in the air!

₊˚⊹♡ Juno 3H: A lot of flirting could happen at the wedding. Someone could propose at the wedding.

₊˚⊹♡ Saturn conjunct Juno: You could feel like there are no much romance in your wedding related to your relationship with your spouse.

₊˚⊹♡ Juno opposite Chiron: lack of romance, this could also mean you could heal something related to your relationship during the wedding.

₊˚⊹♡ Venus trines Juno: Romance will be there at the wedding. And depending on the other aspects, this could be in your relationship, but also between the guests.

Thank you for reading!

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[aemondsbabe]

Making Amends

summary: a fancy party & praising || you finally see why michael hates going home for the holidays and treat him the way he deserves

pairing: michael gavey x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, breast/nipple play, heavy praise, riding, brief cockwarming, cursing, brief mention of daddy kink but it’s not used, dirty talk, angy michael (not at reader), angst but happy ending, parents being stupid, choking, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 3.4k

a/n: happy day twelve of 12 days of smuff!!! we did it!!! a very merry christmas to all those who celebrate; i hope your holidays are full of love and fun! I hope y’all enjoy this one & i look forward to writing many more stories in the new year! also, a very very big thank you to my sweetie pie @officerbrowneyes for editing michael into a lil suit!

TAUNT | Part 1

PRAISE | Taunt Part 2

this one can be read as a continuation of taunt & praise or as a stand alone!!

12 days of smuff masterlist!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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“Ohh, Michael!” An older woman croons, making you and your boyfriend turn your heads at the same time, “How lovely to see you!” 

“Nice to see you too, Aunt Janet.” Michael says, his voice monotone, and gives the woman an awkward half-hug. You give him a sympathetic grin when he rolls his eyes at you over her shoulder.

“And who is this?” She asks, turning to look you up and down with a smile.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Michael explains, taking a second to introduce the two of you, “We met at uni.” 

“Nice to meet you.” You smile politely and shake her hand. 

“How wonderful!” She turns to you and puts a hand on your forearm before leaning in slightly with a grin, “We were beginning to give up on this one ever finding someone to put up with him!” She grins, giggling like it’s the funniest joke in the world. 

You merely awkwardly chuckle, though it only takes one glance at Michael to know he’s fuming. You can’t really blame him, this is how it’s been all evening, ever since you’d arrived at his parents house. Michael had tried to talk you out of accompanying him to their annual Christmas party, claiming that hell would be a lesser punishment, but you’d insisted, saying it couldn’t be that bad. 

When you’d first pulled up to the Gavey’s home, you’d been excited! They’d gone all out with the decorations, though Michael claimed they usually did, but that didn’t stop you from marveling at all the garland, lights, and wreaths that adorned every inch of the house. And since this year’s party was apparently more formal than usual, that just gave you the chance to ogle at your boyfriend in a tux, which was an automatic win in your book.

And yet, here you are, listening to yet another joke at Michael’s expense and hating every second of it. It seemed like every relative and family friend had one in store, if it wasn’t about finally finding someone to put up with him, it was about what he must’ve done to bribe you into it, or that he must be paying you to be here. Not to mention the backhanded compliments; you’d grown so tired of hearing remarks about how they’re so happy that Michael had finally found someone or, “Oh, finally! Took him long enough!” 

“Old fucking bat,” Michael mutters under his breath as Aunt Janet totters off, “Knew we shouldn’t have come.” He grumbles, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“M’sorry, babe,” you sigh, giving him a small half smile as you place a comforting hand on his leg, “I don’t understand why they can’t simply be nice.

He scoffs next to you, rolling his eyes with a sardonic smile, “Wouldn’t be a real Gavey Christmas without snide comments, fucking losers.” 

The evening continues in the same fashion and suddenly you understand why Michael has always been so defensive and eager to prove himself, you would be too in a family like this. 

You can tell your boyfriend is operating on a very short fuse and offer him a placating smile every time you notice him clenching his jaw or notice his breathing pick up, chest heaving under his black suit jacket. 

However, it’s finally a comment his father makes during dinner that sets him off. You’ve hardly started eating when it happens, with everyone sitting around the Gavey’s impressively large dining room table passing various dishes back and forth. 

“So,” Mrs. Gavey started, giving Michael a pointed look as she refilled her glass of wine, “How were your marks this term?” 

You glance down in time to see your boyfriend white knuckle his fork and quickly stroke a hand over his knee, which seems to help lessen his tension somewhat, thankfully. 

“Distinctions,” he answers dryly, keeping his eyes fixed on the table, “Obviously.” 

His mom simply nods, not offering any praise or even a generic, “Well done,” much to your surprise. 

And a few seconds later, everything blows up. 

“How’s that friend of yours doing?” Mr. Gavey butts in, setting his steak knife down as he speaks, “What was his name? Owen… Oscar, maybe?” 

“Oliver.” Michael corrects him, so quickly and quietly that you’re surprised his dad even catches it. 

“Oliver! Of course, and how’s he doing? Hm? You haven’t mentioned him in some time.” 

There’s a beat of silence in which you fight the urge to kick Mr. Gavey under the table, knowing exactly where this would go. 

“We don’t… talk anymore. I haven’t seen him for ages.” He grits out; his leg tenses up under your palm once again when his mother lets out a disappointed sigh, as if she were getting ready to scold a small child. 

“Michael, honestly,” she starts with a small shake of her head, “It’s not good for you to be so socially isolated all the time.” 

“I’m fine.”

“What about that other boy you used to go around with, hm?” His mom continues on, seemingly oblivious to his foul mood, “The one you were so close to in primary school, oh, he was lovely.” 

“Felix, wasn’t it?” Mr. Gavey quips, “Whatever happened to him? I always thought he had such a good head on his shoulders.” 

“He’s a cunt.” Your boyfriend seethes lowly, all but vibrating with rage as he spits each word out. 

“What was that, dear?” His mom asks, none the wiser. 

“He’s a cunt!” Michael exclaims, his fork clattering across the table as he tosses it down, scraping his chair back across the floor. 

“Michael!” Mrs. Gavey chides, a horrified look on her normally placid face as she, quite literally, clutches at her pearls. 

“If you’ll fucking excuse me.” Michael mutters, tossing his cloth napkin down onto the table with a dull thud before retreating from the table with a growl. 

The silence that follows is deafening as everyone stays frozen at the table for a moment; you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the shell shocked expression on his grandmother’s face. 

After a beat, Mr. and Mrs. Gavey begin falling all over themselves to apologize, awkwardly laughing as they make excuses for Michael, as if their bullying hadn’t made him snap. 

“I’m gonna go check on him,” you say after a moment, giving polite smiles to his parents as you stand from the table, “Just to make sure he’s okay.” 

“Of course, dear,” his mother nods sagely, ever the beacon of motherly wisdom, “We know how sensitive little Michael is.” 

As soon as your back is turned you roll your eyes, nose wrinkling in disgust. Little Michael? What the fuck? 

It only takes you a minute to locate him upstairs as you quickly spot the door to his childhood bedroom tightly closed. You smile sadly as you walk over to it, you pause for a moment before knocking softly. 

“Michael?” You call, pressing an ear against the door, “You in there?” Your brows furrow when you hear a small sniffle from the other side of the door and your hand automatically goes to the doorknob, a sigh of relief leaving you when it easily turns. 

Your heart breaks when you push the door open and peek inside, quickly spotting Michael on his bed, head in his hands, shoulders shaking. 

“Oh,” you breathe, hastily closing the door as you let yourself into his room, “Michael.” You sigh, sitting beside him on his small twin bed and slinging an arm around his shoulders. 

“M’fine…” He says softly, dejectedly. 

“You are not,” you pull him to you, rubbing a hand over his bicep as you hold him closely, “No one would expect you to be, not after all that.” 

He merely nods and tucks his head into your neck, sniffling sadly as his blond hair tickles your chin, one arm wraps around you while he busies himself with plucking lightly at the hem of your dress, running his finger over the smooth satin seam. 

“You wanna talk about it?” You ask softly, pressing a sweet kiss to the crown of his head. 

“Not tonight,” his voice is muffled slightly against your collarbone as he speaks, “Please.” 

You nod, opting to stay quiet and simply hold him for the time being. 

You don’t know how much time passes but eventually, he seems to calm down, at least his shoulders stop trembling and he stops rubbing at his eyes and sniffling. 

Finally, once his breathing has evened out, you decide to speak up. 

“They don’t deserve you.” You murmur, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, your heart twisting when you see his beautiful blue eyes rimmed with red. 

“Love…” He sighs, ready to fight you on it. 

“That’s all I wanted to say,” you assure him quickly, “They don’t.” 

You hold his face in your hands gently, studying him with a soft smile. He really did look delectable in his suit, so smartly put together and polished. 

Michael must be feeling the same way, no doubt riding the small high that usually came after a solid rush of emotion. His eyes darken as he looks back at you, Adam’s apple bobbing enticingly in his throat as he swallows thickly. 

You don’t know who moves first, unable to find it within yourself to care as his warm lips slot perfectly against your own. 

A relieved groan sounds from his chest and his hands immediately come up to cup your waist, his thumbs rubbing appreciatively over the soft material of your dress as you shiver, already getting lost in his touch. 

“Mikey,” you murmur, biting into your lower lip as he kisses down across your jaw, his hands scrambling to pull you into his lap, “S-Should we?” Your voice trembles as he gently sucks at the sensitive spot on your neck, drawing your mind further and further from the party taking place downstairs. 

“Need you,” he rasps, unable to stop himself from smirking as you keen against him when he skirts his hands up your form to cup your breasts through your dress, your nipples already hard and wanting against the satin, “Just – I need you, love.”

He’s so desperate, you couldn’t say no and finally decide to throw caution to the wind. You smile triumphantly as you run your hands over his trim waist, tucking them under his jacket to get closer to him, savoring the feel of his warm skin even through the thin material of his button down. 

Finally, you push the suit jacket off his shoulders and, needing to feel him against you, waste no time hastily undoing the buttons on his shirt, yanking it out from under his trousers and belt before quickly dropping both to the floor. 

Apparently just as impatient, Michael chooses to simply push the thin straps of your dress off of your shoulders and growls deeply when your dress falls down your chest, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. Without missing a beat, he pulls you closer to him, groaning as your core presses tightly against his still-clothed erection. As soon as your chest is level with his face, he mouths at the underside of your breast, cupping the other in his hand. He peers up at you through his glasses, already fogging up against his cheeks, as he wraps his pink lips around your nipple and gingerly sucks it into his mouth, groaning against your supple skin at the breathy moan you let out. 

You hold his head against your chest, fingers gripping tightly at his short hair as your head tilts back, small whimpers and whines escaping past your lips as you try your best to stay quiet. Your hips seem to move of their own accord, rocking against him as he worships your breasts. 

“Michael,” you whimper, your core clenching tightly when you look down and take in his flushed face. You press your lips against his again, frantically kissing him as your tongue invades his mouth, “What do you want?”

“You.” His reply is automatic, his hands kneading greedily at your tits as he stares up at you, bare chest already heaving. 

You can’t help but chuckle a little, pride blooming in your chest at the fact that he’s already this strung out. Nevertheless, you give a quick shake of your head, smirking when he whines impatiently. 

“How do you want me, Mikey?” 

The desperate look behind his eyes softens instantly, his pink lips parting enough to reveal the tiniest sliver of his front teeth. Somehow, he blushes more and just barely shakes his head at you, swallowing thickly like he always does when he’s flustered. 

“Can you be on top?” He asks quietly, blue eyes flitting between yours behind his gold-rimmed glasses, “I just – I don’t have it in me to be daddy tonight, love.” He confesses quickly.

You chuckle again, always impressed with him when he shows his more vulnerable side, and instantly you nod, cupping his soft cheeks again. 

“Of course I can do that,” you keep your voice soft, even the small kiss you give him is soft, “Lay back for me, yeah? I don’t wanna wait.”

  Nodding eagerly, he doesn’t waste time and leans back on the narrow bed, helping you climb atop him as he does. He groans appreciatively as you settle on his hips, licking his lips as he stares up at you. He watches as your breasts heave with every breath while his hands trace down over your hips to cup your ass. 

“You’re so beautiful, love,” he murmurs, tugging your dress up over your bum before kneading the supple flesh, watching intently as you whimper above him, “So soft and pretty and fuck– fucking perfect.” He finishes with a growl, blue eyes rolling back when you rock down against him. 

Heat courses through your veins at his words and you hurry to undo his belt, the metal buckle tinkling softly in the quiet of his bedroom as you push it to the side, too frantic to bother to pull it off him entirely. Your fingers quickly find the button of his trousers and you all but yank them open the second you have the zipper undone, sighing happily as his hard cock bobs against his stomach, the head already flushed and steadily leaking. 

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, his back arching a little with the relief of his erection finally being freed, “Y’gonna ride me, princess?”

“Mhm,” you nod with a smirk, wiggling on his lap as you situate yourself perfectly above his length, “You deserve to be taken care of, Michael.” You coo softly, bending forward a little to pull your lacy underwear to the side, not having the patience to properly remove them.

Your comment seems to have gone to your boyfriend’s head and you smirk when you feel his cock jump up, twitching against your center as a soft groan leaves him. You bite your lip when you grab his length, loving how warm it felt in your hand. Carefully, you position him at your dripping center and slot the head against your entrance. 

Both of you moan in unison as you sink down slowly, his thick length filling you completely as your hips finally press against his. 

“Goddammit,” he curses, roughly grabbing your ass as he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to keep himself anchored even though he knows in the back of his mind it’s useless with how tightly you’re gripping him, “You feel so fucking good, pretty girl, fucking love this sweet little cunt.” 

His praises go straight to your core and you clench around him, somehow tighter, making him grunt underneath you. Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you start moving your hips over him, using your thighs to push off of his lap before sinking back down, whining when you feel the head of his cock press perfectly against that delicious little spot inside you.

“You’re so good, Mikey, fuck,” you pant, fighting to keep your eyes open to savor each expression that crosses his flushed face, “Y-You feel so perfect, holy shit, everything about you is perfect.”

He groans deeply, lower lip trembling as he stares up at you in awe, brows furrowed as he takes in every inch of you. Blue eyes trace slowly over your form, lingering on your face before looking over your breasts. He swallows thickly as he pauses to watch them bounce tantalizingly, matching every one of your thrusts against him. Eventually, he looks down and moans softly, watching your slick pussy move over his length. 

“Yeah, princess?” He encourages, making you smile softly as you realize how badly he needs this, how badly he needs to be told how good he is. 

“Y-Yeah, shit,” you whimper, head spinning when he leans up to lick over one of your nipples, gently suckling at the bud as you continue, “You’re the best, Michael, fuck – best boyfriend, you’re so smart and s-so precious and f-funny and – and God!”

You practically squeal when his thumb comes down to rub at your clit, your eyes crossing at the sudden jolt of pleasure that washes over you. 

“I love you, holy fuck,” you huff, thighs burning as you move somehow quicker over him, “I love you, I love – oh, shit – everything about you.” Your voice is hoarse as you breathe through soft pants, practically squirming on top of him as your head spins every time he circles his thumb over you. 

“I love you too, princess,” he hums, pulling you down for a quick, desperate kiss, “You’re so damn good to me.”

“You deserve it,” you say quickly, swallowing as you pant above him, your heart hammering wildly in your chest, “You deserve everything, Michael, you’re so, so good.” 

He growls at that, lips parting as he watches you. He keeps circling a thumb over your clit but fans the rest of his fingers out, holding your hip more securely. You hardly have time to think before you squeak in surprise, gasping as he begins rutting his hips up into you, the tip of his cock hitting your sensitive spot at a dizzying speed. 

“O-Oh, shit!” You huff, eyes wide and wild, “Michael, Mikey, I –” You cut yourself off with a loud cry, too loud given the circumstances, but your brain whites out the second he reaches up and wraps a hand around your throat, not tightly enough to choke you but enough to hold you steady above him. 

“Y’close, love?” He pants, smirking when you quickly nod, “Fucking cum with me, princess, shit, you fucking deserve it.” He hisses through clenched teeth.

All you can do is obey, your fingernails digging harshly into his shoulders as your high finally washes over you. You freeze, tensing up above him as you cry out, uncaring for the party below as your cunt clenches tightly around his length, rhythmically milking him. 

“Shit, shit, fuck,” he grunts beneath you, eyes rolling back as he feels your walls contracting around his cock, drawing his own high from him as well, “Good girl, good girl.” He praises before finally cumming with a snarl. You whimper when you feel him twitch inside you, coating your walls with his thick spend. 

The two of you lay panting for a while, neither of you wanting to get up or break the spell of the safe little bubble you seem to be stuck in as you lazily press kisses against whatever bits of skin you can reach. 

Eventually, the sound of holiday music seems to float up to you from downstairs, along with the sounds of laughter and loud conversation. In the background, you can just barely make out the sound of wrapping paper tearing and taped boxes being pulled open. 

“Sounds like it’s time for gifts,” you muse, tracing shapes on Michael’s chest as he holds you to him, softening length still buried within you, “You wanna join them again?”

He hums softly and shakes his head no with a small smile before tilting his head to look at you, his glasses sitting slightly crooked on his nose as he studies your flushed face. One hand rubs soothingly over your back as he holds you tightly to him, relishing the way your soft skin feels against him.

“Don’t need any gifts from those entitled idiots,” he laughs softly and leans down just enough to press a soft, sweet kiss to your forehead, “I have the most perfect gift right here with me already.”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses @schniiipsel @avidreader73 @marvelescvpe @imawhorecrux @grsveeth0m @rae-11 @ms-morningstaarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolfdressedinlace @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[impishjesters]

I have this idea floating around in my brain for a while about a reader who likes to draw and because they have a crush on Jax they draw him. Jax eventually steals their notebook and probably teases them about it lol.

Jax x Crushing!Reader

warning(s): innuendos, bullying/teasing, Jax note(s): Look it's me and Jax, there's gonna be innuendos or some spicy wording and bullying. It's like a packaged deal or something. A/N: If you see me mixing Angel Dust's speech into Jax, no you didn't. If you didn't notice, I don't know how to tease and not be an asshole, so pretty on the brand I guess.

Caine had given you a sketchbook upon request, it was a little different than an actual sketchbook but it did the job regardless. Ever since your arrival, your fingers have been itching to draw, there were so many new sights and so much new inspiration.

There were so many things, so why did it seem like the doodles of Jax ended up on almost every page?

Easy, you had a crush on the apathetic, mischievous jerk named Jax.

Why? Well, now that’s the million-dollar question. He’s not inherently awful, no, that’s a lie, he’s an asshole. You don’t really have a good read on him yet but he’s funny! That’s gotta be redeemable, right? However, his jokes are usually backhanded and often involve being mean at the expense of others.

Okay so he’s a walking red flag but there’s something about him that has you crushing on the purple bastard.

Looking down at the sketchbook on your lap shows another two pages filled with sketches of random things, though most of the page is filled with Jax. You had taken to sketching things back in the real world to remind yourself of home, but eventually, those sketches would involve Jax doing mundane things.

Thing’s like sitting at a table eating real food, though you took creative measures when drawing an open mouth on him, it still looked off but it was serene and domestic. Then there’s the little sketch at the bottom of the page of Jax leaning against a window and staring outside. You’d manage to nab the pose and angle when he was leaning against one of the many random geometrical-shaped things in the main room and later added in a window.

It was embarrassing that almost more than half of the pages in the book involved Jax to some degree. Some pages weren’t even subtle, the whole page taking up a detailed portrait version of the male. Sometimes you even got creative and put him in different clothing.

Thumbing through the pages you saw there weren’t that many empty pages left. You’d need to ask Caine for another one and figure out what to do with this one. It couldn’t be left out in the open, you knew Jax had keys to everyone’s room and wouldn’t put it past him to go snooping. He’d already questioned you about the sketchbook before.

You’d been so focused on the sketchbook that you hadn’t noticed the man of the hour walking up. Jax noticed your intense focus and peeked over to see the infamous sketchbook on your lap, and with practiced ease managed to yoink it right off your lap.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? You finally showing me what you keep your nose buried into?”

A yelp left you, stumbling to get on your feet you rushed to him and began swatting at the book and of course, he’d keep raising it just out of reach. “You took it! I didn’t say you could look at that!”

“Nah, pretty sure you said I could look at it.” He continued to lower and raise the book as you jumped to grab it. Sure he was curious before, but with a reaction like that? How could he not be even more curious? What kind of seedy shit were you drawing? Or perhaps some spicy nonfamily-friendly content?

Jax ignored your frantic words and opened the book to a random page, he was going to tease you about whatever dumb stuff you drew since you always had your nose in it but all he saw were sketches of himself.

A normal person might get embarrassed and hand the book back, but he’s not a normal person. It’s a little freaky, he won’t lie. A glance downwards shows him you’ve gone silent in front of him, simply staring down while he invades the privacy that was your sketchbook.

Your face is red and you look like you’re going to cry any second.

He’s a jerk, he was going to fuck with you, and he still is, but for the moment he’s taking in all the creative little pieces involving his face. Ya know, he never really thought much about how he’d look in other clothes. Gotta say he looks pretty snazzy in something that isn’t these shitty overalls.

“You know if I didn’t know any better,” his fingers still flip through the pages as he steps closer, circling you. “I’d say you like me.”

“I don’t.”

The reply is rushed and he rolls his eyes at the blatant lie, he’ll humor you this time. “Oh yeah? Does that mean you’ve got sketchbooks for everyone else too? Cause I’m pretty sure this is the only one I’ve seen you with.” He taps a doodle on the cover that gives away it’s the same notebook he always sees you with.

Tears trickled down your cheeks, you knew he was a jerk but this felt like too much. You just wanted your sketchbook back and to run away to your room, maybe pin something in front of the door that would render even the key useless.

His eyes roll the second he sees a tear, he’s not really seeing the problem here. You’ve got a book full of creepy—okay not completely creepy, he’s a good model so good on you for seeing that—sketches of him and he’s truthfully honored. It’s clear that you didn’t do this with everyone, so he’s honored to be your little model. Besides, it’s not like you actually have a crush on him, right?

Minutes tick by of him simply eyeing you, you’re still crying and it’s starting to get a little ugly and snotty, ugh. But you aren’t trying to further deny his little comment about you liking him. He’ll have to have a little talk about that later, what you could possibly see in him because he knows that you aren’t a sadist—oh, are you a masochist? That’d explain a lot.

Jax sighs and closes the book but doesn’t hand it over, simply putting the free hand on his hip. “You know if you wanted to see my face all you gotta do is ask. I’ll gladly show you this handsome face any day toots.”

Of all the things you thought he’d say, that wasn’t it. “H-huh..?” You embarrassingly wipe away the tears and snot before looking up at him.

“You heard me. Ya know I love this face too, very handsome. Maybe we can get Caine to put up some artwork in the tent of yours truly.” Jax wouldn’t consider himself vain, but you did have a way of making him look more, dare he say, attractive.

“I-I don’t… I don’t understand…” Was he still making fun of you?

He rolls his eyes before playfully hitting your head with the book. “Jeez, and here I thought you were smart.” Jax leaned over like he was speaking to a child and pushed the book to your chest. “I’m saying, the next time you wanna draw me I’ll give you a front-row seat. Maybe even take it to the bedroom so we won’t be disturbed.”

You push the book into his face to cover up that growing smirk and blush furiously. “Wh-what?! N-no I-I don’t…!” It’s hard to tell if he’s being serious or not in his offer to model for you, especially with the bedroom comment.

“C’mon, clearly you got taste. I mean that book is filled with sketches of me. I’ll commend you on your immaculate taste.” Jax taps the book before playfully bopping your nose. “At least let me give you the pleasure of seeing me close up. I’ve never been a model before so you might have to get a little hands-on to get me the way you want me.”

As the innuendos continue your face feels like it’s getting impossibly red and warm. Somehow this is worse than him telling you a sketchbook full of his face is creepy, in fact, you’d almost prefer it because your poor little heart can’t take anymore. You let out a yell and it stops his tangent but that stupid smirk of his never disappears.

“Offer still stands. You know where to find me.” Jax turns away but not before throwing a little wink over his shoulder. He still plans on pestering you about what you see in him, but for now, he’ll cut you some slack. You’re about as red as Ragatha’s hair and as much as he loves to see it, he didn’t plan to get this sidetracked when he saw you on your own.

He’s got a sucker to prank.

[stylesloveclub]

Prose (part 3)

In which y/n is Harry's favorite student, and she accidentally kisses him. 

+++

A perfect day for y/n includes plugging in her headphones, getting herself a little starbucks treat, and going to the bookstore. 

After her week of midterm hell, she decided that she deserved this. She hadn’t been to the bookstore in a while, and none of the books she has right now are piquing her interest. She deserves her chai latte, she deserves to take a break from studying, and she deserves to have a day to herself. 

She’s unaware of her surroundings as she walks through the fiction aisle. She has two books under her arm that she’s deciding between getting (she’s on a college girl budget, she can Not afford to be buying more than one book a week), but a third one sitting on the new release shelf catches her eye. It’s by one of her favorite authors – but it hasn’t been released in paperback yet, and hardcovers are so expensive. Maybe she could see if the library has it, instead. 

She puts it back on the shelf, and side steps along the aisle, scanning all the books displayed all organized and pretty. When she gets a house, she’ll turn one of the bedrooms into a library, and display all her books with a bunch of cozy candles and a reading nook and it’ll be perfect. That’s the dream, she sighs. 

She moseys into the non-fiction aisle… not really her go-to genre, but when she’s at the bookstore, she’ll be there all day. There’s another girl in the aisle with her, with a book cracked open, reading the author’s note. Y/n is careful not to get too close, staying a couple steps to the side and looking over all the titles. Another figure joins the girl standing to her right – a tall male who looks oddly familiar. 

Suddenly she’s smelling vanilla and smoked wood. 

She peaks over discreetly, and recognizes the curly brown hair and hunched shoulders instantaneously. Harry stands close to the other girl, his chest brushing her arm as he looks over her shoulder at the book she’s holding. He’s got a book of his own tucked under his arm, and his signature smirk dimples his cheek as he whispers something to the girl. Y/n wonders what they’re talking about, feeling a pang in her chest as he quietly giggles with this other, pretty girl. He's dressed much more casually than his usual button ups and slacks that he wears to class. Nike shorts and a gray hoodie, with a brown pair of sunglasses pushing his unruly curls out of his face. 

This is the Harry that exists outside of class. He wears hoodies and goes to bookstores on the weekends and has friends that she doesn’t know about. She’s suddenly overwhelmed with how much she doesn’t know about him. For example – is this pretty red-headed girl his girlfriend? 

She swallows thickly and averts her eyes, pretending like she didn’t notice him. She doesn’t think TA’s enjoy seeing students outside of class (even if they are also the kind of TA to drive students home when it’s rainy or late at night). Plus, what would she even say? Hi Harry, is this pretty girl your girlfriend? Because I was actually hoping you were single and also I have a huge crush on you and sometimes I think about what it’d be like to kiss you– but I’ll try to keep all that to a minimum if you are actually in a happy relationship! 

She takes a couple quiet steps back towards the romance aisle – not only her favorite genre, but a safe escape route from any possible awkward encounters – but of course, OF COURSE she’d accidentally knock into a display table and knock a few books down. 

She quickly bends down to pick up the books and pretend like nothing happened, but she’s not quick enough to escape Harry who curiously calls out, “Y/n?”

She smiles nervously. “Hello.” 

The look on Harry’s face is one that could light up the darkest room. He smiles excitedly, his bunny teeth on display, and his eyes brighten with familiarity. He turns to the girl next to him, bursting, “Madeline– this is her!” 

“Y/n?” Madeline chirps, her voice light and fluttery like a bird. 

“Um, yeah?” Y/n’s eyes flicker between Harry and red-headed Madeline. Does Madeline know who she is?

Her confusion is obvious, her head tilting slightly and her lips pinched to the side. “Madeline is another one of the graduate students in my year–” Harry explains. “She TA’s for one of Dr. Richmond’s other sections.” 

Y/n nods, still confused.

“I’ve read your essays!” Madeline bubbles. “Harry and I always talk about our favorite students and send each other the really good essays!” Harry’s cheeks turn pink as Madeline exposes his favoritism towards y/n, but he supposes it’s not that much of a secret. Y/n’s eyes glance towards him curiously, who stands with his lips curled in a bashful smile. 

“Oh,” y/n doesn't fully know what to say, feeling shy and nervous but flattered at the same time. “That’s so nice, I… I didn’t know TA’s did that.”

“Oh yeah, we also send each other the bad ones…” Madeline prattles on, while Harry brushes his knuckles against his nose, almost embarrassedly. What a coincidence to see her here, when he’d literally just been telling Madeline all about his favorite student — the only student to show up to his office hours, who had so many good thoughts on the books that they were reading, and who wasn’t even an English major! The two graduate students always complained to each other how the students that they TA-ed didn’t seem to appreciate the books they analyzed together – how hard it was to get students to participate, which is silly since they literally signed up for those classes voluntarily. It’s rare to have students who genuinely want to talk to them about whatever they’re reading in class.

Madeline rests a hand on his bicep, “I’ll go check out this book and then we can go back to yours, yeah?” He has no idea what else she might’ve said within the past minute, too caught up in his own thoughts, but he nods as she walks towards the register. That leaves him alone with y/n. 

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, and y/n tucks her books to her chest protectively. She’s silently analyzing what Madeline might’ve meant when she said that they’d go back to his place. He nods his chin towards the books, “What are y’getting?” He genuinely can’t control the way his eyes glimmer with fondness when he looks at her. 

She reveals the covers to him. “Well, this one’s called Rebecca… and this one’s called Bunny.”

His lips twitch, “Bunny?” She nods. He thinks about the way y/n’s nose tends to twitch like a little bunny. What a fitting book. 

“What book are you and… Madeline getting?” 

“Er– just a book Dr. Richmond wanted us to pick up for him. For the section Madeline TA’s for.” 

She nods. He rocks back and forth on his toes, staring at her with that fond glimmer still in his eye. 

Madeline comes skipping back a few seconds later. “Ready?”

With a wave, Harry and Madeline head out. Y/n carries on with her book shopping, Harry lingering in the back of her mind. 

+++

“Okay everyone, that’s all for today,” all the students in the room start shutting their laptops and zipping their bags as Dr. Richmond closes his own book. “Don’t forget to do this weekend's reading, check the course site for the next essay prompt… and, um… yeah, that’s it.” Harry quickly stands from his corner of the classroom, tapping Dr. Richmond lightly on the shoulder. “Oh!” Dr. Richmond exclaims into the mic, “Wait– everyone pause, Harry has an announcement.” 

The shuffling and murmurs die down, as Harry stands in front of the lecture hall with his hands folded behind his back. “Um– Just wanted to let you all know that your essays have been graded. Scores will be posted by the end of the day, and if you have any questions or want to go over your papers, you can come to my office hours. Thursdays at 5.” 

He gives a soft, close lipped smile, and everyone resumes their chattering. Y/n is the only one who approaches Harry’s desk.

“Hi,” she fiddles with the straps of her bag nervously, “Can I know how I did?”

Harry, who’s packing up his books, gives her a teasing side eye, a sly smirk on his lips, “Didn’t I just say come to office hours?”

She shrugs, “Was hoping you’d tell me early. Since I’m your favorite and all.” 

He breathes a laugh through his nose, looking around the classroom to scour if anyone’s still there other than the two of them. He can’t even bring himself to deny it. “M’not supposed to have favorites,” is all he has to say. His cheeks tint pink and he smiles bashfully, both of them knowing fully well that his favoritism is undeniably there, even if he’s technically not supposed to let it show. 

“Come on Harry,” she pleads, wide eyed and pretty, “I worked extra hard on it since I had that extension. I literally spent all weekend on it.”

He clips the buckles on his briefcase and looks at her with an exaggeratedly heavy sigh, “I suppose I could make an exception. Only ‘cos you worked so hard on it.” She beams at him. “We’ve got t’go to my office though. There’s a discussion in here right after us.”

“Okay,” she starts toward the door, trotting eagerly ahead of him like an excited little bunny. “Do you mind if we stop by Starbucks first? It’s on the way to your office.”

+++

The Starbucks line is short. Harry goes first. “Could I have an americano, please?” he orders. He then looks back at y/n, “And um… also one of those chai drinks? With the pumpkin spice?” he smiles charmingly at the barista, and ignores the way y/n rushes to his side. 

“Wait– Harry, you’re not getting that for me are you?” she whispers, tugging on the sleeve of his coat.

The barista asks Harry what size he wants the pumpkin chai. He turns to y/n, “What size d’you usually get?”

“No, Harry– you can’t–”

“A medium should be good, I think,” he says to the barista, brushing off y/n’s complaints. 

She pouts as he whips out his card and taps it on the reader. “Why are you allowed to get me drinks if I’m not allowed to get you drinks?”

He shrugs, walking away from the register. “Because I said so.”

+++

It’s exactly when they settle down in Harry’s office that Madeline makes another appearance.

“Hey Harry,” she says, knocking on his door and peeking in. “Oop– Hi y/n. Did you see Dr. Richmond’s email about the grad panel? Do you think you’ll go?”

“Umm,” Harry sits in his chair and unlocks his computer with pursed lips, “Dunno. Don’t really want to. S’not mandatory, is it?”

“No. I’ll only go if you go. It’ll be boring, otherwise.”

“Nah,” Harry scrunches his nose. “Lets not. M’tired. And m’having some office hours right now,” he says with a nod towards y/n. 

“M’kay,” Madeline shrugs. “Nice to see you, y/n!”

Y/n has no reason to dislike sweet, kind, bubbly Madeline, other than for the fact that she seems to be exceptionally close with Harry. She feels a pit in her stomach when she sees the pretty girl bounce away, carefree and happy. Of course, she has no good reason to be jealous, because Harry is just her TA, and he’s just nice to her because she comes to his office hours, and that she should have absolutely no expectations of anything to come of her crush.

Harry pulls out the folder of all the graded papers, and shuffles through the names until he gets to hers. He hides her score from her, staring at her teasingly. “You sure you wanna see it with me right here?”

She nods eagerly, eyes wide and excited.

“Okay…” He drags it out, looking down once more at her paper before revealing the big 100% written at the top of her paper.

Her jaw drops. “Really?” 

“Mhm,” he says with a big smile. Leaning in, he whispers, “the only perfect score in the entire class, too.” 

Her smile grows wider, and she’s speechless, staring at her score. She was proud of the essay, of course, but she’s always nervous about getting grades back. There’s always room for improvement, she knows, but most professors are pretty ruthless with the criticism.

“S’not that surprising, is it?” he asks with a quirk of his lip. Surely she must’ve known that she’s a good writer, no? 

She shrugs. “I didn’t… I didn’t think it was going to get a perfect score.” 

“It was brilliant, really,” he says, “And not just because m’playing favorites. I showed it to Madeline too, and she thought it deserved a perfect score as well. You’re so cohesive and elegant with your words… s’well deserved. You’re writing is on par with some of the graduate students in my year, honestly.” 

Y/n feels her cheeks heating, flipping through the pages. Despite the fact that he gave her a perfect score, it doesn’t mean that her paper is empty of any criticism. He’s made little notes all over the margins, playing on her ideas and telling her ways he thinks she could build upon them in the future. Her eyes lightly skim through his notes and the generous amount of praise he’s written for her. “Love this,” he wrote, highlighting a certain section of her essay. “Wish you talked more about this in the intro,” he writes at another point. He’s still advising her on how to get better and what she could improve on, but… “You met all the rubric requirements. By our grading standards, it’s perfect.”

“No deductions for submitting it late?” she asks nervously.

“Y’didn’t submit it late. Dr. Richmond gave you an extension. I told him how many units you’re in, and how you’re not even taking this class for any credit towards your major – and he agreed that you deserved some slack.” He takes one of the papers from his stack of essays and uses it to playfully smack the top of her head, “stop worrying about that.”

Her chest bubbles with relief and she smiles. “Well… thanks for letting me get it back early,” she says. “I, um– I’d love to talk about it more in depth but I don’t wanna bother you… like, if you wanted to go to that thing with Madeline, we can be done.”

Harry groans, “oh my god, please no. I don’t wanna go to that panel. I’ll take any excuse not to go.”

“Are you sure?” y/n tilts her head. “Madeline seemed– like it just seemed like you two were… like…” she doesn’t know how to end that sentence, and has no idea where she was going with it in the first place.

Harry tries his best to fill in the blanks for her. “Madeline and I just usually go to these events together ‘cos they’re boring and it’s awkward to go alone. She’s my thesis partner so we usually stick together.” Harry rubs his eyes tiredly, “I really don’t wanna think about my thesis though. I spent all weekend grading, I just wanna go home and nap. Not go to a panel of a bunch of thesis advisors. That sounds miserable.”

Y/n nods, chewing on the inside of her lip. “Oh. Yeah, that doesn’t sound fun.” 

“Yeah,” he lets out a deep, tired sigh. “Anyway.” 

Y/n’s lips kiss her teeth as she rolls her lips inwards. “Well– I should head out then,” she stands up quickly, suddenly feeling awkward, “I don’t want to keep you here if you’re tired.” 

“S’no trouble,” he says, sitting up. 

She turns about herself, grabbing her bag from the floor and her jacket from the back of her chair. “No, honestly I’m kind of tired too,” she rambles, “I’ll look over the notes you left for me and come back during office hours.” She reaches forward to grab her essay from the desk, unaware of the way the sleeve of her sweater is dragging across his desk and snagging onto the lid of her half full iced chai, sending it onto the floor. The lip pops off of the drink when it meets the ground, and she gasps as his hardwood floors are suddenly covered in her pumpkin spiced drink. 

Harry rolls back from the splashing drink quickly, trying to avoid getting his nicely pressed pants stained, while y/n gasps, having no idea how her drink ended up on the floor. “Shit!” she exclaims, dropping her paper back on the desk and checking for the culprit of the mess. She nearly facepalms when she realizes it was her own hanging sleeve and unawareness that made her coffee spill to the floor. She drops her things back on the floor, “Oh my god, Harry, I’m so sorry.” She frantically looks around and sees a roll of paper towels on his bookshelf, rushing to his side of the desk where the majority of the mess is and kneeling down. She lays a ton of paper towels down on the floor, letting them soak up the drink, and looks on his desk to sadly find that her drink stained the edges of a few of his graded papers. “Oh my god. I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, s’no big deal,” Harry’s quick to reassure her. He rolls back closer to her, a hand on her shoulder. “Just an accident.”

“But the papers–”

“S’just the edges. I once spilled an entire cup of soup on a stack of ungraded papers and had to just give everyone 100%.” He smiles, “That’s not what happened with your essay though, obviously.” 

She huffs out a laugh. He always manages to make things better when she’s stressed. 

He gets out of his chair, kneeling down next to her in his well pressed trousers to help with cleaning up the soaked paper towels. “No, Harry, I can do it,” she resists, leaning forward at the same time as him. Their foreheads nearly collide as she pushes his hands away, wanting to clean up her own mess. His chocolate brown curls have flopped onto his forehead, and his face is so close to y/n’s that she can actually feel them brushing against her forehead. He looks at her through his lashes, his eyes bright green. Her own eyes are wide and round, staring at him sweetly. Their faces are extremely close, her hand is encasing his, and they are both incredibly aware of it. 

Y/n’s lips part, as if she wants to say something, but she finds herself unable to create any coherent sentences. Harry similarly, stares at her through his lashes, his breath bated, his chest tight. 

Her eyes flicker down to his mouth. She stares at his pretty, pink lips, not curled into their usual, charming smile. He’s serious and deep in thought, his eyebrow furrowing. She’s too distracted by his lips to try and figure out what he might be thinking about. The air around them is tense, and neither of them say anything.

 There’s something so magnetic about him. She doesn’t realize that she’s leaning in… closer and closer to those pretty, heart shaped lips. 

Suddenly, y/n has inched so close that their noses are brushing. She can feel his gentle puffs of air against her lips. She’s so close that Harry has to flutter his eyelashes shut in order to not get cross eyed from staring at her. His heart thumps in his chest, and he swallows thickly. In a moment of weakness, he finds himself leaning towards her, and for the briefest moment, their lips brush, his bottom lip tickling her cupid's bow. His hand reciprocates her embrace, his fingers tightening around her palm. 

They both know they shouldn’t. “Y/n,” Harry croaks, and her heart flutters. “We shouldn’t…” Her heart immediately deflates, and she pulls back, embarrassed. Her gaze drops to the floor disappointedly, feeling stupid and foolish.

Harry can’t bear the distance between their lips– can’t bring himself to refuse the pleasure of having her soft lips against his. He likes her – of course he does! She’s smart, she’s pretty, she’s kind… but she’s his student. That’s the only thing that’s hindered him this entire semester. The guilt of falling for one of his students, when he knows how wrong it is. 

The guilt isn’t strong enough, apparently. He follows her forward with enough force to connect their lips in a kiss. 

It’s soft and harsh at the same time – their lips are gentle, but his stubble is scratchy. The kiss is sweet, but the tension behind it is rupturing like an overflowing dam. He’s caught her by surprise, kissing her just seconds after telling her that they shouldn’t. But she’s not upset about it. She’s too busy reveling in the taste of his mouth, experiencing the feeling of his lips against hers for the first time, after daydreaming about it for weeks. 

It doesn’t matter that they’re both sitting on the floor, hovering over a spilled chai tea latte. 

It’s perfect. It’s exactly what she imagined. 

He feels warm, his skin soft, his lips sweet. His woody vanilla scent drenches her senses, and she’s lightheaded from how magnificent it is to finally be kissing Harry. Wonderful, amazing, charming Harry, with his dazzling green eyes and his soft, brown hair. Those boyish dimples and pretty pink lips, the same pretty pink lips that are puckered against hers right now. 

He brings a hand up to cup her jaw, his fingers gently making their way to tangle in the hair behind her ear. She feels his thumb on her cheekbone, caressing her softly, and it sends a blaze down her entire body. His rough, calloused fingertip, worn down from all the writing and papers he graded, grazing her soft cheekbone as if he’s afraid to break her. As if she’s the most precious thing on the planet.

Leaning forward on her knees, she inches closer to him, pressing herself more firmly to him and reciprocating the eagerness in which he initiated this kiss. His fingers tighten in her hair and his eyebrows furrow. Her lips are the sweetest, softest thing that he’s ever tasted, cloud-like pillows that he wants to kiss on for the rest of his life. 

He’s desperate to get closer to her – he wants to kiss her until she’s breathless and whimpering his name. Lean forward so that she’s lying on the floor and he’s hovering above her, his hand on her hip. Teasing his palm up her leg, under the edge of the skirt she’s wearing, while he fits his hips between her legs. He wants to pick her up and get her on the couch, spread her legs and kneel between them. Kiss up her pretty thighs, suck marks on her pretty skin–

Footsteps echo in the hallway outside of his door. They both jolt away instantaneously. The headrush of their magnificent first kiss starts to fade, and the reality of the situation starts to sink in.

They are in his office. The door is unlocked. She is his student.

Harry’s chest rises heavily and his eyes flutter open, hoping to meet her pretty irises – but her gaze is firmly on the floor, where she’s wiping up the last of her spilled drink and bunching up all the used paper towels together in her fist. She dumps them in the trash under his desk quickly, and stands before he even has the chance to move.

“Hey…” he tries to say, but he can barely find his voice. He’s stuck in a trance.

“I should go, Harry,” she says quickly, avoiding his eyes. Her lips are still swollen, a reminder of how not even five seconds ago, he’d been kissing her without a care in the world. His cheeks are flushed, and he looks up at her like a confused little puppy, distraught and wanting more affection. 

But it’s so wrong. Her heart aches, a mix of regret for being so stupid, but also regret that she pulled away. It’s too much for her to process.

She grabs her bag from the floor, and is out of his office, without another word. 

Harry’s fingers graze his lips. He’s left alone with his thoughts, and the lingering taste of her on his lips.

+++

For the first time in seven consecutive weeks, y/n doesn’t show up to Harry’s office hours. 

Harry spends the hour grading essays, alone. A cup of black coffee on his desk, and his floors sticky with the remnants of pumpkin syrup.

+++

Y/n spends the hour that she would have spent in Harry’s office hours, alone in her room. She’s glued to her phone, an incognito tab pulled up as she tries to calm her racing mind.

“Is kissing between a student and a TA prohibited?”

“Student-TA relationships”

“Rules on dating TAs”

“Will I get in trouble for hooking up with my TA?” (Yes, it was just a kiss. But hypothetically… if they were to hook up… would she get in trouble?)

None of the search results do much to calm her guilty conscience.

She wishes she could just appreciate her kiss with Harry for what it was – a sweet kiss with the most attractive, amazing, wonderful, perfect boy she’s ever interacted with. But there’s just the small, annoying fact that he is her TA and she’s scared that she’s gonna get expelled for that sweet, innocent little kiss.

She’s spent days worrying herself over it. Biting her nails and picking at her cuticles and tugging at her hair. Some people on reddit say that it’s no big deal, that graduate students and undergrads date all the time! But other people tend to disagree, saying it’s a bad idea, NO MATTER WHAT. No matter how sweet or handsome or kind that graduate student might be. No matter how much you might like him, no matter how innocent it all really is – just two people who like Frankenstein who get along swimmingly well.

The whole TA thing is just… a minor detail. Only partially relevant. 

Despite her reluctance, she still does show up to class because Dr. Richmond takes attendance and she doesn’t want to hurt her grade just because of some stupid, silly mistake.

She wonders how Harry feels about it all. He probably has more at stake than her – he’s the graduate student, after all. Does he regret kissing her? Or, like her, does he only regret the fact that she’s his student, and how risky it is? They’re playing with fire. 

Whatever the case may be, y/n decides to put the fire out. Her crush on Harry was meant to be a silly thing, something to keep her coming to class and motivate her to stay on top of her work. This has gone too far. 

She needs to wake herself up from whatever fantasy world she’s living in, and come back down to reality.

+++

Harry’s eyes are on her for the entirety of Dr. Richmond’s lecture.

He’s discreet about it, of course. It’s not like he’s outright staring at her. But he watches her from the corner of his eye, has her in the back of his mind as he tries to pay attention to whatever Dr. Richmond’s rambling on about.

He needs to talk to her. Needs to sort this out and make it right. He knows that she’s in her head about this – he can tell from how she refuses to even look in his direction. But he needs to tell her that it’s alright, that she’ll be okay.

Y/n bolts out of the lecture as soon as it’s over. Harry, as quick as he tries to be, can’t manage to pack up his things and follow her out fast enough. He tries to get past the students as quickly as he can, giving half-hearted answers to their questions and telling them all to come to his office hours instead – but it’s not fast enough. 

By the time he’s out of the classroom, she’s halfway home already.

+++

The same thing happens at the next class, too.

The normally active y/n, who eagerly participated in discussions and answered all of Harry’s questions was quiet as a mouse today – feigning a headache to the classmates around her. She kept her head low, kept her eyes away from Harry. 

And when class was over, she was out the door before Harry could even look in her direction. 

+++

there's part 3!! pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!! 

Prose (part 4) is already posted on patreon! 

Prose Masterlist

[illubean]

Can you write something for reader stealing illumis clothes to wear? :3

Favorite Sweater

Characters: Illumi Zoldyck Type: Fluff, Oneshot, Gn!reader

certified Zoldyck fashion icon right here

Warnings: none

There were many perks to having a rich boyfriend. But one thing you didn't expect to like so much is his extensive wardrobe. It's almost as if he had an outfit for every occasion. He had so many articles of clothing and yet you had only seen him wear the same 5 outfits.

He wouldn't mind if I borrowed some of this...right?

You looked towards the door of the room and back into the grand walk-in closet before you. Illumi was out on a job and wouldn't be back until later this evening, so you could have your fun playing dress up without getting caught.

Making your decision, you step into the closet and look around at the sleek, black shelves. There were so many things hung around the space. He had a wall of suits, another for shoes, then more casual clothes neatly folded and stacked on top of each other.

After looking through all his fancier clothes, you make your way over to the every-day wear and search for something you might steal. Even all of his casual clothes belonged to expensive brands.

Tom Ford, Valentino, Versace, Yohji Yamamoto...geez I could only wish to own this much designer.

During your search, one particular item caught your attention. A soft, purple zip up that was vaguely familiar.

Now where have I seen this before...

A few moments passed then it finally clicked. This was one of his favorite sweaters when he was a teen. You'd seen it in many photos that his mother had. Smiling at the thought, you decided he wouldn't mind if you were to borrow this for the day. Putting the sweater on and making sure you left your boyfriend's closet as clean as you found it, you went on your merry way.

A few hours had passed since your raid on Illumi's closet, and you were now laying on his bed, reading a book. You heard a click as the bedroom door opened, signaling your boyfriend was home. You looked up from your book and smiled.

"Welcome home Illu-bae"

He hummed in acknowledgement, walking past you and towards the closet you had been poking around in hours prior. But suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and turned towards you before tilting his head.

"bitch Is that my sweater?"

You looked down at yourself and back at the man.

"Huh, I guess it is."

He only blinked before returning to his previous task, changing out of his dirty clothes. After changing, he wordlessly approached the bed and flopped directly on top of you. You let out a puff of air at the sudden impact, while Illumi layed his entire body weight on you. Huffing, you set your book to the side and brought your hands to play with his hair.

"You're heavy."

"You know that was my favorite sweater?" he questioned, completely disregarding your previous statement.

"Mhm. Y'know Illumi, you should start wearing different outfits. I mean seriously, there's so many things in your closet that would look so good on you!"

He hummed before sitting up slightly to look at you in your eyes. With the same stoic expression he always has, he says

"Yeah, well I like this sweater on you more."

[writerslittlelibrary]

I'm not sleeping on the floor

masterlist

summary: when you go on a mission with the famous Black Widow, who you think hates you, there appears to be some trouble with the hotel booking, one that ends in the truth being revealed.  

pairing: Natasha x teen avengers reader

warnings: none I think

genre: fluff

words: 1695

a/n: I remember reading a fic of a Natasha x reader where the hotel only had one bed and I enjoyed it so much I wanted to read more of them, but of course I could find none so I decided to write one myself :)   (if you know any fics with this concept, please tag them in the comments)

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work 

 |——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

You sighed deeply while you sat in the car at the gas station, waiting for Natasha to finish up and continue your drive to the hotel. It was late, and both of you were tired. You knew Natasha must be mentally exhausted, always feeling as if she didn’t like you that much. At first you thought it was because you were still a teenager, but now you were convinced she just didn’t like you. 

You, however, looked up to her, and when Fury made you the offer to join the Avengers you were excited to meet her. When you did, your excitement soon faded, noticing how cold she was towards you. You were heartbroken, but soon learned that staying out of her way was the best way to go. 

And so, on most days in the compound you avoided her. When she came into the training room, you’d leave, and when you came into the kitchen she’d do the same. 

It wasn’t what you hoped for, but you thought it worked to not make her upset. That changed however, when Fury decided that the next mission was perfect for the two of you to complete, going undercover as mother and daughter at an expensive party clearly meant only for the rich. You didn’t exactly come from a rich family, and you felt very out of place during the whole evening.

You didn’t think Natasha noticed, she herself looked right where she belonged, as if she was made for this kind of life. Just another thing that made the two of you different. 

Your train of thought was interrupted when the car door opened, Natasha getting in and handing you a bottle of water. You gave her a quiet ‘thank you’ and took a few sips, clearly dehydrated from being at the party too long.

“It’s about a two hour drive to the nearest hotel,” she told you, typing in some navigation in the car. “Would you like some music?” Natasha asked as she turned to you. You didn’t dare look at her, deciding to just stare at your feet. “Sure,” you told her. 

Natasha gave a hmm of acknowledgement before putting on some music, making the rest of the car ride a lot less awkward than the previous hour had been.

Once you arrived at the hotel, Natasha told you to grab your bag and follow her inside. You followed her instructions like a lost puppy, not wanting to do anything that might make Natasha mad. Once inside the hotel, Natasha walked up to the desk, asking for a room for her and her daughter. She was smart, not letting the roles you were giving fall away just yet. 

The lady at the desk smiled sweetly, typed something into her computer and then handed Natasha a key. Natasha walked back to you, motioning to the elevator. You followed her once again.

When you made it to your room, and you walked through the door, you realized there was only one bed. Something you saw Natasha wasn’t really happy with either. “Just so you know, I’m not sleeping on the floor,” she told you, settling her stuff against a wall. 

You nodded, settling your own stuff on a chair. You didn’t want to pick a side on the bed, worried Natasha would end up with a side she’d be uncomfortable with. “You can shower first,” you told her. Natasha gave a sound that resembled a ‘thanks’ before disappearing into the bathroom, leaving you alone in the empty room. 

You could hear the shower run, and the fact you didn’t have to sleep alone comforted you in a way that was hard to describe, even if it was with a person you were sure didn’t like you. You settled on sitting on the floor, grabbing your sketchbook from your bag and busying yourself with some sketching. 

Once Natasha came out, you slipped into the bathroom, wanting to shower and get into bed as quickly as possible. 

You showered quickly, getting rid of all the dirt before drying off and putting on some comfortable clothes. You walked back into the room, seeing Natasha had already settled on her side of the bed, book in her hand. She looked at you when you reentered the room, closing her book and setting it on her bedside table.

She had picked the side of the bed closest to the door. Maybe a habit of hers, you thought. So she could run out of the room the fastest. 

You walked to your bag, grabbing your favorite stuffed animal from it before settling into bed, as far away from Natasha you could manage. It was bad enough you had to sleep in the dark. All be damned if you had to sleep without your stuffed animal as well. 

You felt Natasha’s eyes on you, eyeing you as you kept your stuffed animal close. You thought she was judging you for still sleeping with one, not realizing she was simply concerned. 

You crawled under the covers, making sure Natasha had all the space she needed. This, of course, didn’t go unnoticed by the redhead, but she decided not to comment on it. 

When you joined the Avengers she didn’t agree with it at all. She told Fury she found you way too young, not even being a legal adult yet. Fury dismissed her, saying you were a perfect person. She was upset when Fury didn’t agree with her, and when she met you she was hesitant. When she saw you for the first time, her heart simply broke. You looked so young, and in your eyes she could see the world hadn’t been kind to you. 

You greeted her with a smile though, one Natasha found herself being unable to return. You were just a child. How could Fury possibly ever send you on a mission. How could he ask you to risk your life for something you probably didn’t even understand yet. After she met you, she was avoiding you, not wanting to face the reality of the fact you were risking your life in their team. When she saw you train it reminded her of the Red Room, feeling as though she was no better when she let you join the Avengers. 

Little did she know that you took this behavior as resentment towards you. And so, you started avoiding her, sensing that you made the Russian uncomfortable.  You didn’t want to be in her way, so you stayed out of it. You avoided her, and Natasha simply thought you learned about her past and were afraid of her. She decided to avoid you too, not wanting to scare you or make you uncomfortable. 

And so, the cycle began. Both of you avoided the other for months, until this mission was called. Natasha was excited she got to work with you one on one, but she was worried you wouldn’t like it. 

She sensed your uncomfortable feeling throughout the whole party, hating herself for not knowing what to do about it. When she saw the one bed she was simply afraid she’d make you more uncomfortable. She decided to sleep closest to the door so she could protect you if anything were to happen, something you picked up wrongly as well.

When she saw your stuffed animal, her heart simply broke. It was just another realization for her about how young you really were. You weren’t supposed to do these kinds of missions yet. 

“Goodnight,” she told you, turning the lights off. l

The room was completely dark, scaring you in a way you couldn’t really explain. You never liked the dark, but after your father would lock you up in that dark room every time he got sick of you, you feared it more than anything else. 

You whimpered slightly, hoping Natasha didn’t notice. Of course she did, but she didn’t let you know that. You clutched your stuffed animal closer to your body. You were terrified, feeling as though you were back in that little room. Natasha, nor any of the other Avengers knew about your past. Together with Fury you decided to keep it a secret, thinking it was better that way.

You shivered, pulling the blanket a little higher up. 

“Are you okay?” you heard a voice from beside you. Your head whipped around, your mind completely leaving the hotel room and you got stuck inside your own head. 

“It’s okay, it’s just me,” Natasha said, sitting up a little. “You’re safe,” you looked at her with fear for a few seconds, before you realised where you were. Your body relaxed a little, the blanket not held so tight anymore. 

“Do you not like the dark?” Natasha asked you carefully. You slowly shook your head, scared you might make her upset. “We can keep a light on, or I could hold you… maybe…” Natasha continued unsure. She still thought you were afraid of her, and didn’t want to overstep.

“Why would you help me? You don’t even like me…” you told her, looking down at your stuffed animal. 

Natasha frowned. Was that really what you thought of her? “What do you mean?” she asked you confused. “You walk away when I’m training, you don’t even look at me, and you always seem to be mad at me,” you told her slowly, still not looking at her.

“I thought you were afraid of me…” Natasha said softly. You looked at her now, eyes a little wide. “Afraid of you? No. I admired you. I just figured you didn’t like me so I kept my distance,” you explained to her. Natasha smiled at you. “I didn’t agree with Fury for placing you on the team because you’re so young. It has nothing to do with you, or the person you are,” Natasha explained, shuffling a little closer.

“Come here.” She opened her arms, letting you shuffle into them. “I’ll protect you, I promise,” she said as she held her arms around you, giving you a secure and safe feeling.

“Thank you,” you whispered, closing your eyes. “Anytime kid,” Natasha replied as she let her own eyes close, falling asleep peacefully. 

[little-diable]

There's just something about you – Professor!Austin Butler (smut)

Well well well, ofc I {as somebody who has a massive prof!crush} had to give in and write this. I think this has potential for a part 2, so please tell me how you feel about that. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader works as Professor Butler's teaching assistant. The two are about to take a trip with his class when she gets sick. While staying with him for the weekend the two finally give in to the pull keeping them chained together.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), professor x TA relationship, quite fluffy

Pairing: prof!Austin Butler x fem!TA!reader (3k words)

picture credit to the original owner

“Alright, listen up!“ Professor Butler’s voice echoed through the room. His words were followed by instant silence, forcing all eyes towards the handsome professor. She stood close to him, not enough to feel his body heat clashing against her, though just enough to hyperfocus on the scent of his expensive cologne – a scent she’d always pick up on, no matter where she was at.

“As you all know, we’re leaving for our trip next week. (Y/n) was kind enough to take over the bookings, but we need you to find one or two people to share a room with. Please send (y/n) an email til Monday, so we can avoid any confusion when we check in. If you have any further questions about the trip or concerns, feel free to reach out to one of us.”

She had joined the faculty as Professor Butler’s PhD candidate and teaching assistant a while ago, slowly having to adjust to being around a man like him. At first, (y/n) had struggled to focus, fighting against the urge to stare at him at any given chance, but slowly she had gotten more and more relaxed around him, actually getting to enjoy her interactions with the young professor. 

“Please don’t forget your homework, alright? I’ll see you all next week.” The room was filled with loud noises as he ended the class, forcing the students to their feet and out into the hallway. (Y/n) busied herself with his notes, rechecking them before she allowed her gaze to find his bright eyes. “You did good today, (y/n), if you feel comfortable enough you can gladly do next week’s class on your own.” 

“I don’t think I feel ready to do this without you yet.” His big hand found her shoulder, leaving her torn between focusing on the feeling of his thumb softly stroking the fabric of her blouse, and the intense eye contact he now held with her. For a second, neither of them spoke, leaving (y/n) to wonder what he was thinking about. 

“Alright, but you’re by far better than me at catching their attention, I hope one day you’ll realise that.” Professor Butler’s raspy chuckle had an addicting effect to it, leaving her to avert her gaze as he took a step away from her. “Chinese takeout while we grade the essays?” 

……

She woke with a pained whine as her hand reached for her phone, trying to read the time. It was Saturday morning, two days before they’d go on their short trip, but her body was clearly fighting against all plans, making her suffer from a sore throat and a blocked nose. Curses wanted to claw through her, cursing fate for pushing her into her misery. 

(Y/n) had been looking forward to the trip for a while, excited about spending some more time with Professor Butler outside of his office and the room he was teaching in. Secretly she had hoped for some more calmer moments where they could go back to sharing information about one another that had nothing to do with their research or their university work. Hopes that were now evaporating into nothing but cold air. 

For a moment, (y/n) pondered over her choices, but her fingers had already started to move before her mind could protest, opening the email app. With a few quick words she sent her professor a small warning, telling him that she was sick and would most likely not be able to join on Monday. She felt pathetic for the wave of hurt and exhaustion flushing through her, leaving her trembling body to search the warmth of her bed. 

It didn’t take long for her phone to go off, forcing her glassy eyes to read his reply. Simple words told her to give him a call with his added number to the email. Perhaps it was the fault of her cold, perhaps it was the fault of her hazy thoughts, whatever it was, it stopped (y/n) from overthinking, clicking on the number before her anxiety could get the best of her. 

“Morning, (y/n).” His raspy voice shot shudders down her spine, momentarily letting her eyes flutter close. She repeated the greeting while internally cringing at the raspy sound of her voice. “Oh sweetheart, you sound horrible.”

Heat rose to her face at the pet name, having to forcefully stop herself from gasping. She could only let go of a hum, not trusting herself to speak coherent words he could easily pick up on. 

“Are you still living alone?” A while ago (y/n) had told him about her struggles to find a roommate, unsure who to pick as she had high priorities she didn’t want to let go of. Once again she hummed, wondering where he was taking this conversation. “Alright, I want you to pack a bag. I’ll pick you up in a few, you’re spending the weekend with me, I can’t go on that trip without you. We’ll get you back to your healthy self in no time.”

“Professor,” she sat up as she tried to protest, having to drown out the sinful thoughts instantly flushing through her mind. “I don’t want to take up any of your space, and you could also get sick. I’ll be alright here, don’t worry.”

“No, you’re staying with me. I won’t accept any protests, (y/n). What’s your address?”

It hadn’t taken long for them to end the call, for her to take a quick shower and to pack a bag. Her heart kept racing in her chest, urging her to move, to be smart about the things she packed. She barely got any time to overthink as he had arrived at her place rather quickly, but now as she was sitting on his couch, wrapped in a blanket, (y/n)’s thoughts finally caught up with her. 

Austin – as he had asked her to call him – was all too gentle with her, tending to her every need with worry tugging on his features. (Y/n) could only guess that she looked as horrible as she felt, tired eyes barely managing to stay open, and yet she didn’t want to miss a thing, cherishing the chance to be so close to him. 

“How about we watch a movie before I make some soup, huh?” Austin plopped down next to her, tugging on her legs to place them in his lap. (Y/n) allowed herself to study him for a few seconds, his blonde hair had that slightly unruly touch to it, blue eyes focusing on his TV. He wore a simple white shirt that perfectly stuck to his muscles, paired with blue jeans that gave him a different touch to the version of him who always wore suits in class. 

“Sure, I’m good with whatever.” He shot her a quick smile that left her trembling, having to calm her racing heart with her grasp on the blanket growing stronger. She barely managed to pay the opening sequence of the movie any attention, getting lost in her thoughts as his thumb stroked the soft skin of her ankle, holding onto her as if he was scared she could slip right through his fingers. 

For the first time in years, she felt an unfamiliar kind of safety wrapping itself around her, clinging to her like a second skin made to protect her, to cherish her, to perhaps even love her. 

……

Quiet steps carried her towards the big kitchen, engulfed in darkness as (y/n) started the kettle, hoping that another cup of tea could finally lull her to sleep. She was too deep in thought to notice his approaching figure, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed in front of his naked chest. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” (Y/n) jumped at the sound of his raspy voice, pressing her hand to her chest as she turned towards him. A laugh clawed through Austin, guiding him closer to her with slow steps. “Sorry, I didn’t want to scare you.” 

(Y/n) had to turn from him, trying to focus on the almost boiling water as he came to a halt behind her, reaching for another cup. His naked upper body was pressed against her back, one of his arms found its way around her waist to keep her close to him. Goosebumps covered her limbs, silently whispering to her, guiding her hand to find his. 

No words were spoken between the two as she poured the hot water into the big cups while Austin reached for the teabags. He loosened his hold on her as if he was begging her to turn around, to get lost in the bright eyes that reminded her of warm summer mornings spent at the beach, getting lost in daydreams that felt more real than memories of things she had lived through. Her body urged her to move, to lean against the counter with her eyes finding his features, wandering over his handsome face. 

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, (y/n)?” She didn’t trust her voice, knowing that she’d most likely make a fool of herself, but the two hands finding her waist, keeping her caged between his tall frame and the counter, encouraged her to part her lips. (Y/n)’s eyes focused on his neck, on the golden necklace he wore, dangling from his neck like a pendulum about to give her a glimpse into her future. 

“I,” a shaky exhale left (y/n), trusting her mind and heart to guide her. “I keep thinking about how comfortable I feel here. Thank you for letting me stay with you, Austin.” 

She expected him to shoot her his signature smile, to pull away from her to reach for his cup. But he kept close to her, hand slowly moving up to her face, cupping her cold cheek. He forced her to look up at him, making her breath hitch in her chest as she watched his gaze flicker between her eyes and her lips. 

“I tried to stay away from you, but you’re not making it easy for me, sweetheart.” (Y/n) got no chance to reply, silenced by the feeling of his lips finding hers. Ever since she had joined his team, (y/n) had imagined this very moment, wondering how his lips would feel pressed against hers, how he’d hold onto her as they got lost in their kiss. But this was so very different to all these daydreams, more intense, more exciting even. With his hands finding the back of her thighs, he helped her onto the counter, allowing himself to stand between her thighs as they kept kissing. 

“Now you’re definitely getting sick for sure,” (y/n) mumbled the words against his lips as they parted to catch their breaths. Austin’s raspy laugh echoed through the kitchen, bright eyes burning her skin as if she was caught in a wildfire, about to burn to the ground. 

“For you I’ll gladly take on the struggles of being sick.” His words left her heart roaring, lips finding his once again. Their tongues met in a teeth clashing kiss, wordlessly managing to communicate their longing, the desperate need they had fought against these past months. “I need you to be honest with me, do you want this? I don’t want to pressure you, sweetheart.”

“Take me to bed, professor.” (Y/n)’s smirk grew wider as his pupils dilated, picking her up without another warning. She had her legs wrapped around him, face buried in the crook of his neck. Within seconds they found themselves in Austin’s bedroom, he didn’t give her much time to take in the big room, the pictures gracing the walls, fully focused on him as he pressed her down on the mattress. 

Austin kissed his way down her throat as if he was following the trail of a treasure hunt, high on the adrenaline of the search. (Y/n) trembled beneath him while her fingers tugged on the hairs at the nape of his neck before moving down to his muscular shoulders. Somehow it felt as if they had done this numerous times before, knowing exactly how and where to touch one another. 

He parted from her to pull her shirt over her head, focus instantly drawn to her naked chest. The way Austin was staring at her made (y/n) feel as if he was marvelling at a masterpiece, a creation of old times the human mind barely managed to understand. Carefully he cupped her breasts, groaning at the feeling of her soft skin pressing against his. They held eye contact as he brought his lips back to her skin, sucking on both nipples before kissing his way down her stomach. 

“Austin,” (y/n) choked on his name, begging him to keep on moving, to touch her where she needed him the most. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart, what do you want?” His voice grew lower with every spoken syllable, pushing heat down to her core. She felt her walls clench around nothing, begging him to finally fuck her. 

“You, all of you. Please, I need you so badly.” Without speaking another word, he ripped her panties from her hips, letting his fingers explore her arousal-covered folds. His name rolled off her tongue, she arched her back at the careful touches, trying to shuffle even closer. Austin could do whatever he wanted to her at that very moment, she was putty in his hands, his to toy with, his to use for his own pleasure. Whatever he wanted, she’d do it, if he kept on touching her like this. 

“Will you let me taste you? I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.” (Y/n) could only nod her head, letting go of a breathless gasp the second his rough tongue brushed through her folds. Austin moaned at her taste, he wrapped one arm around her thigh, keeping her pressed to him while the other hand found her clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves with his fingers. Within the first seconds of him touching her, (y/n) had known that she wouldn’t be able to hold on for long, overstimulated by his touches. 

No longer could she spare her hurting throat any attention, no longer did she struggle to breathe on, all she could do was focus on him, on the way he dipped his tongue into her tightness, how he added more speed to his movements, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

“You taste so sweet, I could stay like that forever, if you’ll let me.” She moaned at his praise, fingernails scratching at his skin to try and hold on. Her legs were trembling from the strength she used to curl her toes, unsure how much longer she could stop herself from giving in to an intense orgasm. 

“It’s alright, cum for me, show me how pretty you look when you cum for me.” Austin’s words pushed her into the open arms of her orgasm, calling out his name as he kept circling her clit with a smirk glued to his lips. He watched her every move, every micro-expression he could pick up on, fully mesmerised by the beautiful woman he had wanted to pull closer for months. 

“Oh god,” (y/n) panted the words, drawing gleeful chuckles from Austin as he let go of her. Her glassy eyes watched him undress, gaze wandering down his muscular upper body, past his six-pack to his sweatpants. His cock sprang free as he stepped out of his clothes, a sight that pushed heat straight down to her cunt, needing to feel him buried inside of her. “I need you to fuck me now, I can’t wait any longer, Austin.”

“Mhm, such a desperate girl, we should teach you some patience one day.” He reached for a condom, rolled it down his cock and positioned himself between her thighs. With her hand finding the back of his neck, (y/n) pulled him back down for a kiss, distracting herself from the slight pain as he pushed into her, having to adjust to his size. For a second, they held still, clinging to one another to let go of a few deep exhales, fingers interlaced to try and keep themselves grounded. 

“Move, please, professor.” Austin let go of a growl at the use of the title, building a comfortable rhythm that allowed one another to get used to the sensation. He was careful with her, not daring to hurt her when she was still sick, not fully able to guide her body. But the blissful expression tugging on her features was enough to calm his racing heart, finding enjoyment in the way she clung to him, how she seemingly felt the same pull he did.

They were a mess of tangled limbs, of moans blurring together, of hearts beating in sync, a match so perfect neither of them wanted to break out of their very own bubble. Their bodies met with every thrust, bringing them closer and closer together, while their eyes found back together. 

“My pretty girl, I don’t want to let you go again.” He murmured the words against her lips, luring a soft chuckle out of (y/n). 

“Don’t let me go, don’t you dare.” Her head rolled back as his cock nudged her swollen spot, leaving him grinning in success. Austin kept staring down at her, trying to burn every passing second into his mind, praying that he won’t ever forget about this night. 

“Touch yourself, make yourself cum on my cock, sweetheart.” With a gasp leaving her, her fingers found her pulsing clit, moving quickly to give her the needed push. He fucked her through her second orgasm, letting go himself as she relaxed beneath him. 

Austin clung to her as they both tried to catch their breaths, only parting as they managed to break through the hazy fog wrapping itself around the two lovers. He threw away the condom before he returned to her, cupping her now warm cheek to pull her in for another kiss. 

“How about a bath?” She could only nod as he picked her up and carried her into his bathroom, while making the silent promise to cherish her for as long as she’ll let him.

[licorice-tea]

Duty At The Expense Of Desire

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: mild cursing, lots of arguing between reader and Law, reader is nervous to be in a relationship, platonic luffy and reader <3, reader loves the strawhats a lot :)

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: i spent so long just rereading this, i don’t know why but it feels kind of hard to understand? so i might revise it again in the future idk yet! i hope you enjoy reading, again this is very very loosely based on kate and anthony’s season in bridgerton! it was originally going to be 2 parts, but it’s looking like a full on series now… lmk if you want to be tagged in future parts! enjoy! <3

Part 2

Now that your feelings for Law have been revealed- not only to him but to yourself- you find the tension between the two of you is undeniably different from before.

What were once looks of contempt now harbor some quiet desire. Chances of accidentally brushing shoulders when you pass by each other are avoided altogether, for fear of fueling a fire neither of you know how to deal with. And any crass or biting quips are cut out of your minimal interactions completely, as you both now feel they come off as flirtatious rather than standoffish.

A few days have gone by since you confronted Law and he admitted his true feelings for you, all of which have been spent at sea. Nami says there won’t be an island to dock at for at least another three days, given how the weather is slowing the ship, so your crew’s only source of entertainment is each other.

“Y/n,” she asks while the two of you along with Robin relax on the deck, “what happened between you and Traffy the other day?”

Your breath hitches and you cough unnecessarily, already giving away your nervousness to the two very observant women. “Uh, not much.”

“Well, what did you two talk about? You didn’t come back to the table after, so I thought you must have stayed together…” Robin smiles softly, baiting you to reveal more.

“What? No, no, oh my god no… We just…”

Nami urges you on with a sing-song voice; “You just?”

“We… talked.”

“Talked about what?”

“I don’t know. Our issues with each other.”

“And you resolved them?”

“Come on, y/n, tell us what happened!”

“Nothing happened.”

You stand up then, too annoyed to continue talking to your friends. It’s not even their fault really; you would want to know what had gone on too, if the roles were reversed. Maybe you’re just annoyed with yourself for not being able to face your own feelings.

~

With no particular destination in mind, you find yourself in the Thousand Sunny’s library. When you open the door, you see Law browsing the selection of books your crew has accumulated throughout your travels. You shouldn’t be surprised to see him, but you are.

That’s what it must be; what other reason could there be for the sudden raving of your heart and your breath hitching? Any feelings you ever had for him were buried deep inside after last night; too deep to allow yourself to feel them to the extent you were currently, and so these must all be signs of surprise.

You steel yourself and walk in, letting the door close behind you. Law looks up to find out who the person intruding on his studying is, but his eyes are blown wide when he makes eye contact with you. Neither of you speaks as you turn away and cross the room in quick strides to another section of the library.

“Stupid Law,” you think as you try to calm your mind- an impossible task when he’s standing anywhere in the same room. “Stupid weather,” preventing you from getting to an island so you can get some damn space from him. “Stupid library, ” because of its shelves that make it all too easy and tempting to peak through and catch a glimpse of him.

Actually, maybe that’s not too risky of an idea. Cautiously, you bend down slightly and pretend to scan the titles on the shelf. You allow your eyes to slowly wander off the books until you can see Law by peering upwards. But low and behold, he’s staring right back at you.

You gasp and stand up straight, silently cursing your silly plan.

“Y/n.” He walks over to you, 2 books tucked under his arm. “l was under the impression you wanted me to keep your distance from me.”

“I do.”

“I find that hard to believe with the way you’ve been acting around me.”

“It’s just weird. You made me admit that I had feelings for you, and now things are weird.”

“I made you? You didn’t have to say anything, you could’ve rejected me and we both would’ve moved on.”

“I did reject you.”

“By telling me you feel the same? That’s some rejection.”

“You shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.”

“I had to, you told me that you thought I hated you.”

“But I didn’t make you say that you have feelings for me, and so now you’ve made it impossible to ignore.”

“Believe me, I tried to ignore it. To ignore you. It was pointless.”

“Then you weren’t trying hard enough. I could’ve gone a lifetime without bringing up the way I feel for you if it means my crew will be able to continue this alliance for our goals.”

“Don’t give me that shit, your captain made this alliance because he thinks we’re friends. You seriously think he had a goal in mind while doing so?”

With a roll of your eyes, you cross your arms over your chest. “Maybe not, but Luffy is the captain- I trust him, and so I follow him in any endeavor he believes in.”

“Well, I’m the captain of my own crew, and I believe that whatever we have going on is a little more than ally-ship.”

“Regardless of whatever is going on between us, is it really a smart idea to complicate such an important alliance?”

“…No. I suppose it’s not.”

“Then drop it-” You turn, ready to forget about this conversation and continue hiding your feelings away when he grabs your wrist.

“But they wouldn’t care, y/n, and you know that. Your crew thrives on-” he gestures vaguely with his free hand, “-friendship and rainbows and joy.”

Shaking off a smile, you bite back. “That might be true, but you know what’s even more important to my crew? Protecting each other. They wouldn’t like me being with you; even if we are temporary allies, you’re a Captain of another crew and one of the Supernovas. So don’t tell me what they would and wouldn’t be ok with.”

Law seems to think for a second before he releases your wrist. “Hmph.”

Finally, you take your leave to find somewhere- with no Law and no watchful friends- to just think.

~

You settle on the bow of the ship. If you had an ability like Luffy’s or any guarantee that you wouldn’t slip right off and into the sea, you would like to sit on the masthead of the Sunny. A clear, unobstructed view of the world ahead, and the breeze to keep the hair out your eyes could be so peaceful. But, this has some sort of charm to it as well; you do seem to love a challenge (even if it’s one as simple as having to lean over the railing of a ship to see the horizon).

With a cheerful call, the man you had just been thinking of joins you on the railing by the ship’s bow. Luffy speaks animatedly of his plans for all sorts of things, but during a lull in conversation, he asks you something unexpected.

“Do you love him?”

“What?”

“Traffy! Do you love him?”

“I…”

“You’ve said how much you hate him, but that just means your feelings for him are strong. So you love him, right?”

You’ve never been more bothered to hear Luffy say something so uncharacteristically observant.

“I love you guys.”

He hums. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t love other people, too.”

“…I won’t ever leave this crew, Luffy.”

“Of course you won’t!” He latches onto you in an iron-grip hug, and you smile ever so slightly. “But, y/n.”

“Yeah?”

He releases you and instead grabs your shoulders to talk to you face to face. His face seems especially serious- the same way it does when he makes a bold declaration of his dreams or beliefs. “If you love someone, you tell them. You don’t hide it, because you never know when they could be gone.”

Finally, your barely-there smile opens into a full grin. “When did you get to be so wise?”

Luffy shrugs. “Shanks told me that once, I just felt it made sense for you too.”

You and your captain stay there a while longer, giggling over this and that until the sun starts to set on the horizon.

“I'm gonna go sit on Sunny- you wanna come with me?”

Though you’d been fantasizing over what it would feel like up there just a few minutes ago, you shake your head. “No thanks. But, uh, Luffy?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you… not tell anyone about what we talked about?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, for sure!”

You would come to regret being so vague with your captain, even if he does occasionally display astonishing emotional intelligence.

~

At dinner- where there’s always something going on- you make an effort to sit far from Law. Your attempt is in vain, however, as he ends up right across from you. Luffy sits to your left, and while he takes a small break from stuffing his mouth, he nudges you with his elbow.

Your eyes meet your captain’s as he winks at you, then looks over at Law, and back to you. You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he had some sort of… plan in the works. With a wide grin, he asks, “Soooo Y/n, when are you and Traffy going to get married?”

A moment of silence passes before laughter erupts around the table from everyone except you and “Traffy.” The latter covers his face with one hand and pinches the bridge of his nose while you look simply horrified.

What had happened to not speaking of your earlier conversation? Admittedly, you had spoken of several subjects after your discussion of your feelings for Law… and knowing Luffy, he could have mistaken your vow of silence to be for any one of those subjects.

Since you’re sure your captain didn’t mean to embarrass you with his straightforward view of relationships, you just shake your head and give a muttered response. “We- we’re not, um, going to….”

Law, on the other hand, appears too bothered to stick around and listen to any more jokes. He stands abruptly and disappears in a flash of blue light.

You stick around long enough to finish your plate, then thank Sanji and leave quietly. Some unknown force draws you to Law, when you see him in Nami’s little grove of orange trees. Cautiously, you approach him.

“…Law? I- I’m sorry about that. I don’t know why Luffy said that.”

“It was embarrassing.”

“Okay, Law, they were all just joking. And I can’t even really blame them, because this entire situation is pretty fucking ridiculous.”

“No, y/n, it’s embarrassing that everybody knows how I feel and that you feel the same, and they’re all happy with the idea of us together, but you still don’t want to be with me.”

“It’s not personal, you know that.”

“How can it not be personal?”

“Everything I do is for my crew. I have a duty to them, and not even you or my own feelings will get in the way of that.”

“Do you seriously still believe that they would care if we were together?”

You purse your lips.

“I took your word for it at first, because you know your own crew better than I do, but clearly they have very little regard for what we do. Now I am inclined to believe that you made it up when you said they wouldn’t like us being… being something. And as foolish as I feel after believing that ridiculous excuse, I still want you, y/n. Tell me you want me too.”

“How much?” You ask with a fierce look.

“How much what?”

“How much do you want me, Law? You keep talking about your feelings for me, but you haven’t even said what they are.”

Again, you seem to find any way to continue arguing with the man before you as a means of releasing pent-up feelings. Just kissing him might be easier, but also a whole lot more terrifying and uncertain.

“Desire, attraction, whatever you want to call it-“

“Well, I’m not going to put everything on the line for someone who is attracted to me.”

“It’s more than that, you know that-“

“You know what I think?”

“…What?”

“I think that you can’t even admit to yourself- let alone aloud- the extent of your feelings for me. You want me to say it first so that nothing bad will happen if you put yourself out there, and that’s not going to happen.”

“I-“ He starts to speak, but can’t think of a rebuttal. You have him pegged. “I may not know exactly what my feelings are yet, but I can feel them, y/n. You remain on my mind constantly- so if you want me to stop feeling for you, then you need to stop.”

“Oh, I need to stop?”

“Yes, you-“

“You’re the one constantly making me reconsider everything I tell myself. You are the one who needs to stop.”

“Before what? Before we give in to this… obvious desire, and put aside duties to do something for ourselves?”

Heavy breathing fills the silence. He always manages to rile you up, and you can’t stand it.

“You should go. No, in fact,” you raise your hands in a gesture of surrender, “I’ll go.”

Without giving him the chance to respond, you flee down the stairs to the main deck and through the doors to the cabin hall. All this back and forth with Law is giving you a headache.

You can’t deny it any longer though; now that your captain knows too, it’s like you’ve spoken it into permanent existence. You’re in love with Law, and there’s next to nothing stopping you from being with him in the way you truly desire. Not even your sense of duty.

You should never have counted on the Strawhats to hold you back from something- or someone you love.

Taglist: @augustanna @lavanderdreamve @pinksaiyans @khaleesihavilliard @jennapancake @pinki-minki @loserbee14

[serenescribe]

the once (and many) prince(s) Twisted Wonderland | 3.3k Summary: Silver is, has always been, and will always be, the crown prince of his kingdom. AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54424864 Collaboration with @ohsleepie | Potential spoilers for elements of Chapter 7

Hi everyone! @ohsleepie and I are back at it again with another collaboration based on his wonderful "The Prince and his Physician" AU! This fic is meant to act as a companion story of sorts to the Malleus-focused "the prince's physician," this time focusing on Silver within the AU! Once again, this fic features incredibly beautiful and amazing art drawn by Sleepie; please check him out and follow him, if you haven't already!

I hope you all enjoy!

The worst part of reincarnation, Silver thinks, is the constant cycle of relearning everything all over again.

Okay, perhaps it would be a bit of a stretch to call it the worst part. There are many negatives, many downsides, far too many to count, to being stuck in a loop of constantly dying and reincarnating. But this particular aspect is, in Silver’s honest opinion, one of the worst out of them all.

There is a bookshelf carved from expensive ebony that sits in his chambers, nestled against one side of the wall. There are several bookshelves in his room, but this is the only one that Silver ever uses, filled from top to bottom with centuries worth of journals — leather-bound books gilded with gold and silver, every detail immaculately painted and carved, the cover opening to expensive parchment made from calves. He tends to absentmindedly run a hand along the spines, eyes glazing over the muted leather colours, before plucking out a book, and reading it through.

Silver only lives a good seventeen years at best, always dying before crossing the pinnacle into adulthood. How much of those seventeen years consist of just… reading? There are, of course, his early years, where he is much too infantile to read and write. But he barely has a few years of reading simple children’s stories before the latest journal is pressed into his hands, and he is briefly explained about the details of his curse.

He pores over the words of those who came before him — the Silvers who came before him, his previous iterations, all dying to form the next one. Their handwriting ghost his own, not just similar but straight up identical, and if he stresses his brain hard enough, he can almost conjure up wispy, fading memories of putting a quill to paper, ink curling across the page in the same, sweeping cursive.

And yet, it is a necessity to read all of it, all over again. Because Silver remembers — but not enough.

His memories are shattered, like an ancient mirror that has been cracked right through the middle, fractured into thousands of tiny, individual pieces. It is akin to a kaleidoscope of lifetimes; when he gazes into this metaphorical mirror, a thousand Silvers stare back, each one reflecting his exact appearance, yet distinct and different in their own ways. And yet each piece is but a shard; Silver remembers only the smallest bits of each past life, the pieces coming together to form a jumbled jigsaw of sharp-edged recollections.

He has lived far too many lifetimes as Silver — the crown prince of his kingdom, the only living heir of their royal family. He has lived far too many lifetimes as a Silver — distinctly different with each rebirth, living a short number of years until the day he inevitably dies.

Silver is immortal, and yet he is not. He lives on as the royal, the prince, a beacon of hope—

But Silver the person changes, with each new looping cycle.

(And so he reads through their journals, no matter how much it exhausts him.)

Many a time, his gaze wanders to his bedroom window.

As the sole heir to the royal family, Silver resides in the largest chambers of the castle, a sprawling set of multiple rooms, from a drawing room to receive guests, to his private bedroom where he slumbers at night. What this also means is that he is privy to the best views of everything within his kingdom, from the area stretching across the castle grounds, to the rest of the kingdom beyond tall and guarded stone walls.

There are many things for him to peer at, but today, he is gazing at the soldiers’ barracks again. They have their own section of the castle, tucked out of the way, but Silver can view them from the sanctity of his study, a room where he pens his thoughts in his journal and reads through old ones.

The emotion that dwells within him is nigh imperceptible, difficult to describe. It feels as though someone has tied a rope around his ribcage, double-knotting it and pulling it tight before tugging at it, and pulling him forward. There are twinges and pangs that cross his heart, a hollow cavern yawning as his soul collapses into itself.

He feels this as he stares out the window at the soldiers training in their courtyard. His eyes fixate on the swords in their hands, at the way they slash and thwack their weapons against straw-stuffed training dummies. Occasionally, he will spot the soldiers gathering together, jumping and yelling as two of them spar with wooden swords, all of them oblivious to his peeping.

He wants this. He longs for this. He—

“Your majesty?”

Silver blinks. It takes him a split second, pulling himself out of his thoughts, shoving away the deep desires that permeate his heart, but he quickly turns around, eyes fixating on the familiar figure in the doorway.

“Malleus,” Silver greets, shoulders relaxing as a smile slips onto his face. Of course it is Malleus; there are few who have his explicit permission to enter without needing to knock, and his physician is one of them. He waves his hand, ushering him in. “How long have you been standing there? Come on in, take a seat wherever you’d like. And what have I said about the formalities?”

Malleus is here for another check-up, and Silver gladly acquiesces. He can think of no other person he trusts more with his very life and soul than Malleus himself. He allows the man to lead him through familiar routines, magic permeating his body as he searches for something Silver cannot see, before shifting to more physical methods of testing Silver’s health.

Still, as Malleus works in a near-silence, preferring to focus and get his duties done before they can relax and spend some time together, Silver cannot help his thoughts from wandering off again. His desires are not new; he has seen them expressed across multiple journals, scrawled in identical, curling scripts across expensive parchment. The desire to pick up a weapon, to learn to fight and defend, to learn how to wield a blade like a true prince — that is what he so desires.

But he is frail, and the council insists that he stays in, that he can learn to fight once they break the curse. So never, Silver thinks bitterly, eyelids slipping shut as he feels cold claws brush against his forehead. Never in this lifetime, and not while I’m alive.

Malleus is many things.

To the populace, he has many names, many signifiers, viewed in many different ways. He is a blessing and a curse, for his magic is by far the only thing that can cure their prince, but all of it comes at the cost of his very existence itself: A fae; a deplorable, wicked creature; a monster that is the very scum of the earth itself. The history of their kingdom is written in the blood of their ancestors, shed through grievous wounds inflicted by the sharp claws and gleaming maws of the fae that slaughtered them all.

To the nobles, the members of the council who govern over the kingdom in Silver’s stead, making decisions on his behest, Malleus is something they tolerate. They do not speak of what will happen after the curse is broken and Silver is cured, but Silver knows, from their whispers and sly glances, from the words penned by the others who came before him, that they wish for nothing more than to rid the world of the last of the wicked — not, and never, fair — fae.

Humans gaze upon Malleus with distrust, wariness, abject hatred.

But for Silver, Malleus is one simple thing alone.

To him, Malleus is his friend.

There are two distinct points in the history of Silver’s incarnations: Before Malleus, and After Malleus.

The difference is like night and day. The journals of before are dismal and depressing, imbued with a bone-deep loneliness that carried all the way through into the parchment pages, stained in the very ink used to scrawl thoughts across the pages. The Silvers of that time tried — truly, they did — to cling to hope, to believe in what their people believed: that one day, their prince would be freed from the shackles of his horrific curse.

But with the passing decades, the many years, the many Silvers that lived and died, they all seemed to suffer from the same truth: there was no cure in sight.

And then there was Malleus.

The guards found a young fae child today, lurking in the borders between what remains of the valley and the kingdom, his own handwriting reads, the parchment yellowed with age, the ink long-since dried. This, Silver knows, is the first point at which Malleus is mentioned, though not yet by name, tucked away in a notebook he recognises by the distinct fern-green colour of its cover. Even now, as I write this, I still cannot believe the abysmal state he was in upon meeting him. No child, whether human or otherwise, should have that many injuries on their body, and though I have had a stern word with those who found him, I fear for his safety.

He shall remain with me for the time being.

Though Silver does not have favourite journals — for such a concept is lost on him when all the journals are such a drag to read, recounting the day-to-day experiences of his past selves, a depressing fog seeming to permeate every page of words — this one is perhaps the closest one to such a concept. Because this journal is different — he clings to every word, phantom feelings of a fierce protectiveness flaring within him, as though this particular incarnation has stirred somewhere deep within him and seized his soul.

It is so painfully obvious how much his past self had cared for Malleus — taking care of him, granting him such patience and endless kindness, spending time with him teaching him the human tongue, of how to read and write. There is a page filled with endless delight upon learning the fae’s name, ink smudged together where the page reads Malleus. Their activities did not end at the crude essentials; there are sweeping recounts of games played together, of crayon drawings and delicious platters of sweet treats — and Silver aches when he reads every word of it, possessed by a longing to return to those simpler times, when Malleus was not his physician, and was merely his friend.

And this care is made so apparent by the last few pages, the cursive made shaky by the cold, approaching winds of Death. To the next Silver, it reads, take care of Malleus. If there is any hope of breaking this curse that ails me, it lies within the powers of the fair folk. And yet, the rest of the page is filled with sentiments, rather than explaining how Malleus is the key to breaking the curse:

I wish this could last forever, these sweet days of playing together. For much of my life, I have been haunted by a bleak loneliness, isolated by my circumstances, and haunted by the weight of all our pasts. I have never had any companions my age, and I know from my readings that all of my predecessors shared the same lonely fate. To indulge in such fleeting luxuries, to have someone to speak to as though we were on the same level, intimately so— it is a happiness unlike anything I have ever felt before.

Blotchy circles stain the pages, the ink smeared in places.

Things may be different from now on. I understand that the council wishes for him to begin his work when the next cycle begins. And it is with that knowledge that I must remind the next Silver: Malleus may be our physician, and he may be tasked with breaking our curse—

But before that, before any of that, he is our friend.

Never forget that, for as long as we may live.

“Thank you for joining me today.”

Wispy trails of steam rise from two cups of tea, sitting in elegant saucers. Before Silver, and in the middle of the round tea table, is a small spread of sweet delicacies: scones accompanied by small glass jars of jam; finger sandwiches, some filled with goat’s cheese and roasted pepper, others filled with cucumber and salmon; and a small, round cake, tiny enough that it’s perfect for just the two of them.

“Of course,” Malleus replies, his voice smooth as usual. He raises his head slightly, slitted-eyes roaming over the tea-time spread before them, before he dips his head. “I thank you for the invitation, your majesty.”

“We have been over this many times, Malleus,” Silver says, unable to hide the exhaustion that spills into his voice. “You need not refer to me by such formalities.”

He knows why Malleus does so, of course. The answer is written across several different journals — It is difficult for him to reacquaint himself with us in each new cycle, and I truly cannot blame him. How alienating must it be, to witness someone you grow close to, time and time again, look upon you with no familiarity in his eyes? There is another reason too, though one of mere speculation, for Malleus has never confessed the truth by his own tongue — Earlier today, I witnessed a council member chide Malleus for regarding me with such familiarity during our meeting. I do wonder if this may be another factor into those needless formalities.

Thankfully, Malleus always obliges whenever Silver asks this of him — though whether it is because Silver is his prince, or because Silver is his friend, he never knows. “Is there any occasion for this meeting, Prince Silver?” Malleus asks, as Silver beckons for him to help himself, unwilling to dig in first when the fae’s eyes are flickering over the food, glinting with hunger. I wonder if he has forgotten to eat again, Silver thinks. Malleus carries over a scone and a sandwich with his utensils, leaving the cake intact. “Not that I mind it, by any means; it is always a pleasure to spend time with you.”

“There is no special occasion,” Silver answers, finally reaching for the spread as Malleus cuts into his meal. “I… only wished to spend time with my friend.”

Their relationship is a strange, tenuous thing. There is undoubtedly a bond there, from the way that Silver always feels so safe and secure in Malleus’ presence, and the gentle way that Malleus treats him, always appearing whenever Silver calls for him. There are even some rare occasions where the facade of dutiful physician slips, a careful veneer crafted for the sake of survival in the court, and Silver relishes those times, watching as Malleus’ expression sours, the stinging barbs that spit from his mouth more endearing than his usual regal elegance.

But all the same, compared to the earlier journals after Malleus’ appearance, filled with much more warmth and life — even as he learnt his role, Malleus would still happily chat with those Silvers, accept his offers to play games, spend the night with him on many occasions — there is a gap between them now. Driven by age, driven by time, and driven by the eternal, scathing judgement of the many humans of this kingdom, who cycle in and out of life and death, but are all fuelled by the same spiteful hatred and prejudice, taking it out on the only fae they know.

Still, Silver tries his best. He knows Malleus does too.

He sees it in the way the fae’s shoulders relax, expression smoothing out at the edges. “In that case,” Malleus says, after a moment’s pause, “let us indulge. How have you been lately… Silver?”

It is a good day for the two of them, Silver reflects. They drink their cups of tea and drain the pot of its excess drink, and the tray of delicacies are filled with nothing but crumbs by the time they’re done.

Even the cake, a dessert regarded with conflicting feelings by Malleus, is finished by the end of it. For once, Malleus eats his slices with a small smile, both their forks scraping the bottom of the plate as they help themselves to their fill.

Death no longer scares him, unlike everyone else. Death, in its own way, is a comfort, an inevitability: Silver knows he will reach his demise at the same time, at the same age. Very few people can ever be privy to such knowledge, going through their lives not knowing if they will pass on at age fifteen or fifty.

In that vein, what does it matter if Silver chooses to speed up the process?

He is not allowed proper access to weaponry. The council states that it is because there is no need for him to pick up a blade when he has guardsmen patrolling the halls around his room at all times, but Silver knows better. This is not the first time he has longed to die earlier than he usually does; he can count the other occasions on two of his hands, based on cryptic journal endings dated months earlier than they usually do.

To an extent, a part of him wonders what the point of it is. He will die, inevitably; why inflict such pain and suffering if he knows he’s going to come back? What is the point of it all?

The point, Silver tells himself, is that there isn’t one. He’ll always come back. He’ll always return — and so why should he languish and rot in his bed as his body slowly gives out on him? Why waste those months feeling his muscles weaken and his grasp on reality slip?

Why not do everyone the honour of ending it early, ending it now?

(The silver blade of the dagger, requested from some rookie soldier who knows no better than to deny this particular request from the prince, is cold against the flesh covering his heart.)

Silver is so, so tired. His life is stagnant, unchanging; he lives and he dies the same person, the same name, the same cursed prince of the same bloody kingdom, every childhood filled with days of reading the same handwritten journals signed with the same, stupid name.

When will he be allowed to rest? The weight of a legacy, the weight of his people’s hopes and dreams, drag him down, like impossibly heavy weights that are shackled to his limbs, pulling and pulling until he’s flat against the ground. He never asked for this — and god, it’s so selfish to even think of that, but it’s true.

Nobody ever thinks about him, Silver the person. They are only ever concerned with Silver the prince, Silver their saviour.

Except—

A memory flashes to mind, unbidden — of twisting, dark horns and raven-spun hair, and slitted green eyes that crinkle at the corners as he smiles at him.

(His hands tremble.)

Malleus.

The name fills him with an ache. If there is anything Silver can take comfort in as he straddles the line between life and death, it is simply that Malleus will always be there. Malleus is a constant throughline throughout Silver’s life, and while Silver may ebb and flow, weaving in and out of the many, many years of a fae’s long lifespan, Malleus will always be there.

And though the thought of that face, rendered a child once more in its shock and sadness, causes his chest to knot itself with hesitance and reluctance, Silver steadies himself.

The humans may come and go, live and die, but Malleus will always remain.

(And the blade plunges down.)

[vidding]

The Best Vidding Safe Haven?

Forgive the "read bait" meme above but if you are reading these words right now that means it worked. If you are a vidding fan then it was worth it. Vidders.net was born July 19, 2010. It is a Vidder-friendly AO3 Embed Certified Vid hosting & streaming site with over 18K vids. Its growth benefited from You Tube's increased use of content ID and the closing of Imeem. It was mentioned in the "Vidding: A History" book by Francesca Coppa. Its members (most who host some great vids there) include:

Luminosity

Lim

Laura Shapiro

Lithiumdoll

Obsessive24

Clucking Bells

Charmax

Bradcpu

thedothatgirl

kiki miserychic

Milly

Hollywoodgrrl

bop radar

Loki (secretlytodream)

Condsdmlk

newkidfan

NCISMelanie

Shoopdancer

Absolute Destiny

SD Wolfpup

Arefadedaway

camelia1986

adfproductions

Astarte

Such Heights

Mithoborien

mresundance

Just to name a few. You may not recognize these names but if you do you know these vidders literally made a name for themselves with the quality of their work during that time. At least in my opinion. The site is a time capsule of awesome vids even if some of the vidders listed are no longer active. Additionally, it hosts vids no longer available on You Tube like "Boom Boom Ba" by Charmax (a classic Xena vid). And yet it can still host new content without the issues faced on some other vid hosting options.

How much does it cost to host and stream all those vids? Well, that is one of the reasons for this post. The assumption I'm making is that if there is a Vidding "community" it's more likely than not that members of it would see a post like this and/or share it with fellow members of the community. Is it worth it to keep a site like this around? It's mostly been a solo operation for these past 13 years but now I am starting to wonder after such a long time.

I'll spare you the obligation of filling out a poll or survey. I'll make it simple. We have a Patreon account at patreon.com/vidding. If you don't feel it's worth keeping up. Nothing to do. Thank you for reading this far. If you feel there is some value based on what was mentioned earlier, then a minimum level of support at the Patreon is $1 a month. You'll not only be supporting the Vidders.net but other projects like the recent purchase of the Vidding.com domain name and more. The OTW October fundraiser drive begins in October and is on track to raise about 250k. Rasing even 1 percent of that amount would be more than adequate. After all Vids on AO3 make up less than 1 percent of the content on there anyway. I've been told by a fellow fan that I should keep it running but if it's not even supported by a community, it's a personal expense at my expense I am on the hook for. Again, there is no survey or poll to take but if you have questions that may help you determine your willingness to support just contact me. If you find value in preserving the site just visit Patreon.com/vidding or get your questions answered. This form of funding is more sustainable than occasional stop and start donation efforts we've done in the past. If you prefer another form of funding let us know.

I will check in by the end of October to see where things are. I am not going to do anything drastic. It's just that it's been 13 years and I started to wonder especially with my current financial situation but didn't want to do anything without communicating the situation. The site costs about $720 a year to run. At about $60 a month to run so it should be doable.

Boom Boom Ba by Charmax

If you liked this post you might like this:

The YouTube Vid Purge of 2021

[little-star-library]

Satin Sheets

Pairing: Astarion x gn!Reader

18+ only (mdni please)

Summary: This is just a short little drabble that I brewed in my head and I couldn’t stop thinking about what domestic life with Astarion would be like and I got ahead of myself with this one. Just some spicy fluff with our favorite pale elf.

Genre/Tags: fluff, spicy, little spicy anyways, soft Astarion, slight Dom Astarion, light teasing, blood, blood drinking, sexual themes

Word Count: 2,000+ words

Astarion has always had a taste for the finer things in life, vampire or not, and he has spared no expense when it comes to spoiling you absolutely rotten. And after all that you and your ragtag group of friendly weirdos have been through to defeat the Netherbrain, he took it upon himself to find the “perfect slice of paradise”, according to him, for the fresh start that the two of you so rightly deserved being the heroes of Baldur’s Gate and such. Even if he still remained to be a creature of the night after killing Cazador and refusing to fulfill the right to profane ascension, Astarion yearned for a new life with you by his side and that’s all he could ever want for as long as you’ll have him.

Now searching for your new home was no easy feat as your bosom companion was rather selective in his choices, but you both settled on a little cottage on the outskirts of the Lower City that was a bit of a fixer upper. With a little love and care, along with a generous amount of gold that may or may not have been acquired in an honest manner, your humble abode began to take shape into the ideal sanctuary that Astarion dreamed of. He made sure to include everything that you both could possibly want even if you insisted that he was all you needed to be happy and content, but he insisted on fulfilling all of your desires one way or another. So over time, you and Astarion worked together to create the perfect atmosphere that encompassed a personal reading nook with floor to ceiling bookcases to house all of the books and tomes you collected during your adventures, a small garden for you to plant and grow your favorite herbs and flowers; along with many rugs, furniture, and paintings to decorate the space. But Astarion claimed the bedroom as his domain to furnish. And who were you to deny him?

To say that he lacked any ambition for interior design would be a severe understatement and it certainly showed when it came to his plans for your shared boudoir. Out of the few rooms that were in the cottage, the bedroom would always be Astarion’s favorite. The room itself wasn’t very impressive to him at first glance, but with great determination there came even better possibilities. In the end, the bedroom felt more comfortable yet quaint in his perspective, but in more of a romantic sense nonetheless. Besides the fireplace, there were a smattering of candles placed throughout the area to engulf it in a dim glow along with furs and rugs that lined the wooden floor so Astarion could walk freely without having to dread about the cold temperature of the floorboards. However, the crowning jewel was the four poster bed that stood in the middle of the room with the fluffiest of mattresses, a canopy of crimson red velvet to shut out the sunlight when needed, and a matching set of the softest satin bedsheets that cradled you in a delicate and tender embrace you would never want to let go of.

“Now isn’t this cozy, darling? I think I would go as far to say that this room is the very heart of the house, aside from yours, of course.” His honeyed words always sent your heart a flutter no matter the subject, but he did have a point. Other than the more obvious activities that took place within those bedsheets, you both spent most of your time as of late in bed lazing around and whispering sweet nothings to each other without a care in the world. It truly was paradise to experience something like this with Astarion, to see him so at ease and be able to feel the warmth and love that you held only for him without any further obligations to chain him down. And like so many other occasions that you’ve shared in your bedroom, that is where you currently found yourself now.

The sun had begun to descend for the day and neither you or Astarion had made any motion to draw open the curtains of the canopy. Over time, you began to adjust your sleeping schedule to be more accommodating to your lover’s needs despite your ambitions to discover a way for him to be able to walk in the sun once again. But in the meantime, the two of you basked in the encompassing darkness because this somehow never bothered Astarion, not like this at least, not when he had you wrapped around his frame as he rested atop you and with his head laying against your chest to listen to the slow, rhythmic beating of your heart.

He always awoke from his trance before you so he could admire your presence while you slept and it always made him melt inside knowing that you willingly chose to be in such a vulnerable position all because you trusted him with your life. You looked so peaceful as you slumbered through the day and he looked upon you with an overwhelming amount of admiration, a soft sigh escaping from his lips at the sight. He thought it was truly selfish of him to wake you, but he yearned to hear your voice and feel your loving caress over his body. Your touch was always so gentle and he could never get enough of it.

As gingerly as he could muster, Astarion shifted his weight and started to litter kisses across your chest, starting at where your heart rested and up to the crook of your neck, nibbling gently at the marks he left behind the day before when you offered to let him feed his sanguine hunger, lingering there for a moment as you began to rouse from your slumber. He continued his trek of loving pecks across your jawline and to your cheeks and across your forehead before you puffed out a long exhale with the faintest smile that signaled his trickery at work. With one last dawdling kiss at the corner of your lips from his, you rose a hand to entwine into the crown of disheveled curls that lay over his head, lightly scratching at his scalp which resulted in him falling back into your arms to lay his head upon your chest and practically purring at your gentle affection.

“Awake already, my love? I hope I’m not disturbing your rest.” The low timbre of Astarion’s ‘morning voice’ reached your ears and it sent a shiver down your spine, but you knew all too well of his intentions as you could feel the smirk growing across his face against you.

“No, not all,” you breathed out. “But I was having such a wonderful dream.”

“Oh, is that right? Won’t you tell me about it?” Blinking away the remaining remnants from your sleep addled eyes, you peer down to find those familiar orbs of crimson gleaming in the dark already locking with your gaze that was filled with his fondness and endearment for you.

“Well let’s see,” you closed your eyes and pretended to recollect on your dreams as if they were fading away, but the truth was that you could never forget those vivid visions that your mind had conjured. This earned a playful nip at your sternum from Astarion and it made you squeal in surprise, the sound of him chuckling in response to your squirming only further tested you, but you didn’t have the nerve to complain. You loved it when he was playful with you like this.

“Don’t keep me waiting, love. The anticipation is killing me.”

You looked upon Astarion once more and smiled sweetly at the sight before you. He watched your eyes flutter with his chin resting against your solar plexus and you couldn’t help but lower your hand from his hair to cup his face, stroking your thumb across his pale cheek absentmindedly as your other hand brushed down his arm that was wrapped around your waist. His smile matched your own and let out an unneeded sigh of contentment as he grasped your hand to place a kiss at the inside of your palm, making your breath hitch slightly at the simple gesture. He truly was a vision both in your dreams and reality, a beautiful and somewhat ethereal being that you would instantly gravitate towards.

“It was much like this actually,” your voice barely above a whisper. “Our limbs entangled with each other’s beneath these sheets, gliding across the bed while we take our time caressing and kissing our bodies, mapping out the spots that made us whimper and sigh with pleasure.”

The thought alone made you squeeze your thighs together in search of friction and you could feel a blush rising from your neck to the tip of your ears. Astarion’s eyes seemed to darken in the already dim lighting at the subject of your tale and you could tell that you had his rapt attention by now as he rose from his position to lay on his side with his chin resting in his hand to stare down at you with a look of growing desire consuming his facial features. That sight alone left you breathless and you couldn’t take your eyes off his own gaze, licking your lips in anticipation of his next move.

“Go on, darling. Tell me everything.” His voice emitted a low growl at the sensation of his member hardening against the soft satin, trying to rein in his control before he lost all sense to take you right then and there.

“I-I remember you taking me into your arms,” you began, a slight chill running down your spine at the hungry look in his eyes. Oh gods, those eyes. You knew that look very intimately. It always made you weak at the knees and if it weren’t for the fact that you were lying in bed, you’d be quite sure that he would have you lying in a puddle instead. Trying with all your might to not break eye contact with him was rather difficult, but you couldn’t stand to not see his reactions. “And you devoured me in more ways than one, as if you were completely starved until I begged you to stop, making me cry out your name while you took your fill.”

Your breath was shaking towards the end of your sentence, but Astarion was quick to silence you as he cupped your jaw in both hands at a better angle and leaned down to take your lips in a tender, desperate kiss. The sensation of his mouth was electrifying to say the least and you froze up in surprise for only a second until you hastily reciprocated his actions. There was a familiar pool of warmth that sank in the pit of your core and it grew and grew into a rising flame when your beloved vampire started to tease your bottom lip with the edge of his fangs and a lick of his tongue, silently requesting your permission for entry. You complied willingly and gasped at the touch of his tongue, the two of you moaning softly as you explored each other’s mouths. He tasted utterly divine in what you could only describe as him with the slight undertone of your blood and a hint of red wine he indulged in the night previous. It was simply intoxicating and you never wanted this moment to come to an end. You were floating in a cloud of bliss with only thanks to his attentive ministrations as you held onto him for dear life, tangling your fingers in the curls that rested at the nape of his neck and tugging oh so gently to tease him even more. This earned you another bite from those gorgeous fangs, pricking your flesh until you felt a drop of blood pool to the surface of your lips which Astarion gladly lapped up, making him groan in delight at the taste of your precious essence. But before you even took notice he pulled away suddenly and rested your forehead against yours, the ghost of his cold instinctual breath entwined with your warm gasps of excitement as you tried in vain to regain your breathing. It was all for naught though as you looked up to Astarion and the oxygen left your lungs to see him panting with the pupils of his eyes blown by his carnal thirst that he only held in his undead heart for you.

“Maybe,” you wheezed. “Maybe I’m still dreaming after all.” A chuckle rumbled from Astarion’s chest at your statement and it made your blush darken at the thought of amusing him. It pleased you to know that you could have these little moments of teasing banter that came as a second nature to you both.

“Perhaps you still are, my sweet.” He quipped back, stroking a few loose hairs behind your ear and kissing you at the tip of your nose. “But if this were a dream, then how does it end?”

His smile was infectious and you were completely enamored by his sultry flirting. He knew you couldn’t stand to be teased by him for so long and he knew which buttons to press to get you right where he wanted you. It was infuriating, but you loved it all the same. Brushing your nose along his own, you leaned up just enough to kiss him briefly and wrapped your arms over his shoulders.

“What if there was no ending?” You questioned him. “What if we stay in this dream forever, in each other’s arms just like this?”

“Oh darling,” he thumbs at the bottom of your chin to catch the remaining blood that dribbled from your lips and sucks it into his mouth, licking it away as you whimpered at the sight. “You had me at forever.”

[authoreetea]

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬

pairing ; conrad fisher x reader

summary ; the three summers that connected you to conrad

warning ;

note! lover inspired 😛 i tried something new and wrote it in reader's pov or your pov, hope u like it!

⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯

🩷🎀

The coastal town of cousins was alive with the sound of the waves crashing against the shore while the salty sea breeze brushes through my hair, it was the beginning of summer and I wasted no time going to the beach of cousins.

I sat there on the sand, reading cheesy and cliche romance books that twelve year old me longed for such love, which was then interrupted by a group of guys laughter.

I looked up to see three boys, one with curly hair, another with black hair and pale skin. Yet all I cared about was the boy with light eyes and messy hair.

With his messy hair and sunkissed skin, and the way the sun shone in his eyes. The way he pushed his glasses up every time it kept slipping off, or the way he runs his fingers through his hair.

I was shocked when they all walked towards me. I looked up at them confused, "Hi?"

"Hi, can you join us? we were about to play catch but we're short one person, and Conrad here was too shy to ask." The one with black hair asked, receiving a nudge in his rib.

"He thinks you're pretty! What's your name?" The curly haired one exclaimed, he seemed to be slightly younger than the other two. Red rushed to my cheeks as the two bicker in front of me.

I smiled at him, my cheeks red as roses. "I'm y/n, what about you guys?"

The three boys introduced themselves, the curly headed one as Jeremiah, the dark haired one as Steven.

Conrad, as I'd come to know him, he shared the magic of Cousins beach with me on all three summers we connected.

🧸🖼️

The summer when I turned 15, unfolded like a delicate dance between Conrad and I. Underneath the starlit sky, at beach bonfires and friendly gatherings, our eyes met in fleeting glances.

Cousins beach became a place where I visited every summer, thanks to my father and his intentions to bring some fun into the family. Conrad became my best friend since then, so did his family.

It was a battle in my mind everyday as I had developed a crush on my best friend, each day at Cousins it grows. Our feelings danced around each other with each step echoing each other's unspoken thoughts.

It was a really hot day at cousins beach and you were dying to go out and buy some ice cream. Just as you were about to call Belly to buy some, your mother stepped into your room.

"Hey honey, Conrad's downstairs, I think he wants to go to the boardwalk." She says with her warm smile that always insinuates something else.

I try to pretend annoyed and roll my eyes but my red cheeks and smile gives it away. "Stop with that look, you always do that with Conrad. I swear we're just friends, mom." I say, but my mother knew better.

"I didn't say anything, sweetie!" She says, laughing at my expense. I bid my goodbye and walked downstairs to greet Conrad.

He was there, by the living room with his tousled hair and a white tee and khaki shorts. He smiled up at me, adjusting his glasses as he walked his way to where I was.

"Hi connie, you ready to lose at all the games?" I grin, teasing him. He laughs at me as he ruffles up my hair.

"You wish, sunny." he said proudly as I swatted his hand away from my head. The nickname was something he created the day we watched the sunset together as I read him my Pride and Prejudice book.

I like that he keeps the memory close to heart the same way I do. Conrad was always thoughtful, he wasn't great at communication but he showed it in ways many couldn't.

At ring toss, Conrad was determined to win. Our tongues were stained red and blue from the slushie and snow cones we've had through the afternoon.

"Congratulations! You have won a price, which one would you like?" The guy said in a monotonous voice as Conrad finally won a game of ring toss. He thinks thoroughly before choosing the cutest little bear with a pink ribbon stitched by its ear.

He walked his way to where I stood and handed me the light brown bear with its pink ribbon. He sheepishly smiles, "Here, I got it for you."

In that moment I almost melted in a puddle of admiration. "Really? Thank you, Connie!" I said gleefully

He grins at my reaction, unbeknownst to me that he was giving me such an adoring look. "It reminded me of you, you know, with the way you always have a ribbon in your hair."

That alone made me feel all warm, Conrad is observant and he recognizes everything around him, and he noticed the ribbons in my hair.

🍒 🌅

I felt that this summer would be different. I wanted to make it different.

This was the summer I would admit to my feelings and tell Conrad, my best friend, that I was in love with him. I've read books about falling for your best friend, and I hoped it wouldn't ruin our friendship.

It was the night of the fourth of July, everyone was celebrating. Susannah hosted a lovely gathering at their house, and I had planned to confess to Conrad this summer.

Conrad was the one constant in my life, he was always by my side. His presence became a steady anchor, that makes everything in my life a little bit better.

Our group, the younger people, all went to the beach and had a little get together. Secrets were spilled, so were alcohol, and laughter was shared.

Conrad was right next to me, he had his arm over my shoulder as Steven told a funny story from the country club.

"You should've seen his face!" Steven says, and everyone laughed louder. Taylor played some music and ushered everyone to dance, and of course Steven was up in a heartbeat, inviting Taylor to dance with him.

I smiled at them, winking at Taylor. Conrad stood up and grabbed me to stand up. "Hi, dove." He said, a mere whisper.

We were so close to each other that I almost threw up, luckily I did not. "Connie, do you want to dance?" I say, eyeing him with a playful smirk on my face.

He chuckles, "I wanna talk." He said, a smile playing at his face.

It was night time, 24 minutes past nine pm of July fourth, a summer I will never forget.

"What's up, Con?" I say, brushing the sand away with my feet as I waited for him to say something.

"Look up, the stars look really captivating tonight." He says, but he wasn't even looking at the stars.

looking up, I smiled. "It really does."

"Just like you."

With that, I almost gave myself whiplash when I turned to look at him with reddened cheeks and wide eyes.

Conrad chuckles, as he reaches for my hand and threads his fingers through mine. "You know, the last few summers have been something special, hasn't it?" He pauses, looking down at our hands.

I nod, a smile forming on my face as I held onto his hand.

"Each day I spent with you I felt something more different, something that I can't quite put into words." He says, slowly inching towards me. I could feel my pulse quickening.

I sheepishly smile at him, "What do you mean, Conrad?"

He smiles, his hands coming near my face to tuck the stray piece of hair on my face. "I mean... I've fallen for you." Conrad says

His ocean eyes were staring into my soul, unknowingly our bodies were getting closer and closer.

I looked up at him, my eyebrows furrowed together. He continues, "I've fallen for you head over heals, y/n/n."

I took a deep breath about to say something when colors of red, white, and blue were in the sky.

Fireworks, I smiled. I had the biggest grin on my face as I looked at Conrad again, cupping his cheeks and pulling him into a kiss.

He was shocked at first but then quickly kisses me back, his arm entangled around my waist.

"I've loved you three summers now, Connie. And I want them all."