#you a stubborn little lad: oh you THOUGHT

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

“he thinks youll be disgusted but you’re just happy he’s alive” 1) incredible work as usual 2) YOU CANT JUST DROP THAT AND NOT ELABORATE- wifi my heart you don’t understand i need closure—

suffer <3 (just kidding just kidding :> ) referenced ask here!

while everyone else mourns Ajax's apparent death, you work twice as hard to save up money to journey to Liyue, determined to find out what had happened. some called you stubborn, others called you crazy- but the only thing you truly desired was Ajax, and if not him, then closure. if Ajax truly was dead, why hadn't the Fatui sent word the minute it was confirmed? why were there no efforts to recruit a new Eleventh Harbinger? why hadn't his possessions been sent to his family? there had to be some reason behind all of this

and there is, you quickly find out, when an odd man named Zhongli leads you to an Abyssal monster curled in the corner of a room, and when it sees you it's single eye widens as it shrinks into itself, clicking frantically and trying to hide from view. but you simply step closer, murmuring Ajax's name, and the creature hesitantly looks up at you, a low croon exiting its- his mouth. you run over and fling your arms around him, sobbing in relief as you feel his claws slowly wrap around your waist, feel him lean into your touch, feel the presence of your Ajax again. you know it's him, even in his Foul Legacy form, and you swear on Celestia that you'll never be parted again. carefully you lean in and press a kiss to his forehead, just like you always would back in Snezhnaya, and hear a soft, rusty purr filter through the room for the first time ever

[snowballseal]

Hi! I really adore your writing. You have really caught each guys essences.

If your requests are open, I was thinking of something like how each guy would carry you and in what type of scenario. I thought Zayne would do bridal style and Sylus over the shoulder, but if you see it differently, feel free to do it as you see fit 😊

How they would carry you (LaDS)

Note: This was such a cute request!! I had fun writing it, though I definitely rewrote Rafayel's like three times cause I couldn't make up my mind on the scenario. I went with a different idea for Zayne, but I think you'll like it ;)

I really hope you enjoy this! And I hope I wrote them all well. Thank you for the request.

Also, I'm incredibly sleep-deprived, so I apologize for any mistakes/inconsistencies.

---

Sylus *over the shoulder*

“My feet hurt,” you grumble.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have worn such cheap shoes,” Sylus hums, voice bordering on between teasing and mocking.

You shoot the man a glare. He gives you a smug smile in return, arms crossing over his chest.

Of course he’s right. But you can’t admit that, not after you made such a fuss about ignoring his warning before the night began. You had been stubborn, maybe a little too stubborn. The restaurant you were going to was just so nice, how could you not wear heels? You wanted to look nice for your date, and they paired so well with your dark cocktail dress. Of course you’d forgotten about how much they hate your feet.

Every step feels like a bunch of nails digging into your feet. Why did you park so far away? Oh right, because you thought the night was so nice, you wanted to take a little walk before dinner…Not your best idea in retrospect.

Another step makes you wince.

Sylus suddenly stops. This forces you to pause as well, your arm curled around his elbow as you walk. You glance at him questioningly, trying to hide the pain, not wanting to bother him further by complaining. Or endure more of his teasing.

But his gaze burns over you intensely. You shift a little, heat climbing up your cheeks, but putting your weight on your other foot only makes that prickling pain shoot up your leg, and you can’t stop your lips from twisting into a light grimace.

For a brief moment, Sylus’ face softens. He lets out a sigh before removing his jacket. Your brow furrows as he slips it around your waist, the warmth of the fabric covering your bare legs.

“Sylus?”

“I’m not so cruel as to make a woman suffer, kitten,” he hums, securing the coat by tying the sleeves. He then leans up to your face, lips quirking up into a smirk. “Especially when she got all dolled up and pretty just for me.”

Before you can blush even darker, you’re suddenly being thrown over his broad shoulder. You let out an undignified squeak, instinctively squirming to try and get out of his grip. You kick your legs, hands scrambling against his back.

“Sylus!”

“Careful, kitten, otherwise I might drop you,” Sylus warns, voice dancing with amusement. His hand slips below the hem of his jacket to curl over the back of your thighs, locking them to his chest. You freeze, heart fluttering wildly. 

What a brute.

Though, there’s really nothing you can do to escape this man. Not that you really want to.

“Sylus, seriously, this isn’t funny,” you still whine, trying to keep face.

“Would you rather walk barefoot?”

Your nose scrunches at the thought. While you are in a nicer part of the city, it still sounds gross. You guess this is the lesser of two evils. Letting out a defeated sigh, you prop your elbows against his back to try to get comfortable. Also trying to ignore how defined his muscles feel against you.

Sylus hums approvingly, “There you go, kitten. Just relax.” 

His hand tenderly squeezes your thigh and you’re actually thankful he can’t see just how red your face is. Probably as red as the wine you had with dinner.

It’s definitely embarrassing. Especially when you pass by a few people, catching their odd stares. But it’s hard to care when Sylus starts massaging your legs, his touch overwhelmingly gentle in contrast to his previous actions. His thumb presses firm circles into your ankle, drawing a breathy sigh from you.

“Feel better, sweetie?” He murmurs, and you can feel his voice rumble through your body.

“Definitely helps,” you breathe, “Though you could have just carried me in a more comfortable way, Sy.”

“Now, where’s the fun in that?”

“This isn’t fun for me,” you grumble petulantly.

Sylus shifts, suddenly putting you down. You blink in surprise when you find yourself sitting on the hood of a familiar car, your lover leaning over you. His fingers trace your leg, grazing up your arm, until he can cup your cheek, bringing your faces so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips.

“And how can I make it up to you, my dear?” He purrs lowly, lips grazing yours teasingly.

“Well-” Letting out a shaky breath, you reach up and slip your arms around his neck. A blush still coats your cheeks, but you give him your best innocent look, pouting your lips as you mess with the silver strands at the nape of his neck. “I think a full massage at home might make up for the discomfort. The last one you gave me was pretty nice.”

Sylus quirks a brow in amusement, “Is that all?”

“Nope. I also want you to watch a sappy romcom with me. Then I’ll forgive your brutish ways.”

That breaks the intense air between you. Sylus chuckles, the sound deep and fond, making you smile. He leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I accept your terms, kitten.”

“Good. Now chop chop, mister! Let’s get home!”

---

Zayne *koala style*

“Darling.”

Your eyes flicker open, eyelids heavy. Letting out a sleepy hum, you drag your blurry gaze to meet a pair of warm, hazel eyes. Zayne kneels beside the car, thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek to keep you from falling back asleep. You lean into his touch with a content sound, making him smile.

“We’ve arrived home,” he murmurs, voice quiet, “Would you like me to carry you inside?”

You nod, head still fuzzy with sleep. All you can really focus on is that you don’t want his touch to go away. It feels so nice.

“Alright. Can you wrap your arms around my neck for me, darling?”

You reach out blearily, your fingers blindly finding their way into the soft strands of hair at his nape. Zayne carefully turns you until your legs dangle out of the car, giving him a better angle to slip an arm under you. He picks you up like you weigh nothing, drawing you flush against his chest.

You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, letting out another happy hum as he readjusts you so you can tuck your face into his neck. One of his hands stays secured under you, the other sliding up to hold the back of your neck tenderly.

It’s almost impossible to not fall back asleep like this. Surrounded by his warmth, his fingers massaging your neck so lovingly, the gentle sway of his body as he walks. Your eyes flicker closed again as you nuzzle deeper into your lover.

You love when Zayne holds you like this. Not that bridal style isn’t nice, but this is just so much closer, so much easier for you to wrap yourself around him. Plus you like the feeling of his fingers gripping your thighs, reminding you of just how strong the doctor is. It just makes you feel…safe.

“Wish you’d carry me like this more,” you mumble thoughtlessly into his neck.

“Is that so?” Zayne hums, a small smile curling his lips.

“Mhm.” 

You press a sluggish kiss to his collarbone to show just how much you like it. Zayne’s steps falter imperceptibly. But you notice, a bubbly giggle escaping you.

“Don’t trip, Doctor Zayne,” you tease sleepily.

He pinches your thigh in warning. “Perhaps a certain hunter shouldn’t be so distracting.”

You squeak, pulling yourself further up by his shoulders. Zayne chuckles, palm smoothing over the spot, though he didn’t actually pinch you that hard. Still. You draw back a little to pout at him.

“So mean, Doctor Zayne. What if I bruise?”

“My apologies, darling,” he murmurs, not at all apologetic. You hold your pout, only weakening when he tilts his face up to brush your noses together. “I’ll be sure to treat it once we get inside. A kiss should do, hm?”

God, he’s so perfect. You’re not sure your heart can take it. The warmth behind his eyes, the small, rare show of affection. It leaves a lingering heat under your skin that turns your cheeks rosy pink, and you duck your face back into his shoulder to hide your blush.

“So, so mean,” you grumble.

A fond smile graces Zayne’s lips. If he’s being honest, he likes carrying you like this. He likes how you feel in his arms, your weight, your warmth, the rise and fall of your chest against his. It’s not often you let him take care of you without complaint, so he takes full advantage of when you do. It helps calm whatever deep-seated need he has to look after you.

The fact that you’re so easy to fluster is a mere bonus.

You settle back into a comfortable silence, barely paying attention as Zayne navigates through your apartment complex. You only notice when he shifts his arm further under you so he can fish his keys from his back pocket and unlock your shared apartment.

He doesn’t bother to turn on any lights as he carries you through your home, straight to your room. You grumble as he bends down to set you on the edge of the bed, your fingers tightening around his neck when he starts to draw back.

“Don’t go,” you plead softly.

“Wouldn’t you rather be in more comfortable clothes, sweetheart?”

“‘m already comfy,” you assure him, leaning against his chest, “Just take your pants off and cuddle with me.”

“What a bold patient I have,” he teases, though his voice dips into a low timber that makes you shiver.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, doctor,” you whisper, a little bashful, cheeks going warm again. “Just don’t want you to stop holding me.”

Zayne softens. His fingers trace along your heated cheek, drawing you back just enough so he can lean down and capture your lips in a lingering kiss. You press into him immediately, a delighted sigh passing your lips when he settles onto the bed beside you. When the kiss ends, you tuck yourself back into his side, content once again now that you get your way. A drawn-out yawn escapes you, and Zayne curls his arms around your waist, guiding you so your head can rest against his chest.

“Sleep now, I won’t go anywhere,” he promises softly into your hair.

“Mmm, love you, Zayne.”

“I love you too, my snowflake.

---

Rafayel *bridal style*

“Oh, “ you chirp, cool air washing over you as you step out of the venue, “it’s raining.”

The two of you were attending the opening night of Rafayel’s new exhibit. You’re surprised you didn’t even hear the rain, considering the streets look about flooded already. Puddles collect along the sidewalk, a small river running along the edge of the road. Paired with the rapidly setting sun, it leaves a chill in the air that makes you shiver slightly.

“I like it,” Rafayel hums and drapes an arm around your shoulders, drawing you into his side. You glance at him, biting back a smile when he playfully avoids your gaze, as if trying to keep your warm might hurt his “cool” factor. “The smell of the ocean is stronger when it rains, don’t you think? And the puddles look like tide pools.”

“They certainly do,” you giggle, “though neither of us are really prepared for the rain. Should we call a cab? I’d hate to ruin these shoes since you just got them for me.”

You look down at the kitten heels you’d worn for the event. They’re so cute, a soft baby blue color, decorated with little pearls. You remember pointing them out to Rafayel on one of your walks down the pier. They were just so pretty, and reminded you so much of him in a way, but the price was out of your range. Not that it deterred Rafayel, of course, who secretly went back the next day to get them for you.

A pair of shoes really shouldn’t mean that much to you, but every gift from Rafayel feels special. You can’t bear the thought of messing them up.

“Hmm, I think I have an easy solution.”

You let out a squeak when Rafayel suddenly ducks and sweeps you up into his arms, bridal style. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him for dear life at the sudden loss of balance. The sound of Rafayel’s laughter rings in the air, light and full of mirth, as he dashes into the rain with you.

“Rafayel!” You squawk and break into your own fit of laughter despite the icy cold rain immediately drenching your clothes. “Rafayel! Put me down!!”

“I’m already carrying you, putting you down would just be more work,” he teases, that infuriatingly charming smile pulling at his lips. “Now you don’t have to worry about the puddles, at least.”

“But we’re still getting soaked!” You squeal, trying to hide away from the rain by tucking your face into his neck. “Why didn’t we just call a cab?”

“A little rain won’t hurt us, yeah?”

“Says the merman. It’s freezing.”

Rafayel chuckles, the sound close to your ear. Warmth blooms across your cheeks when he presses a kiss to your temple, the touch lingering and soft with adoration, making everything slow down for just a moment.

“Then hold me tight.” he whispers, voice dipping to a low rumble that has your heart racing, “Take my warmth. It’s yours, my beloved bride.”

Any remaining complaints get lost somewhere in your throat. The heat under your skin rivals the cold. A dark blush coats your cheeks, and you try to bury yourself against his chest. You can’t hide from him though, your neck just as rosy, and you can practically feel Rafayel beaming with pride.

Stupid fish.

But he is warm.

You let out a wavering sigh, pressing the cold tip of your nose into the warm crook of his neck. Rafayel shivers, but his hold around you only tightens, as if he wants to envelop you in the heat of his body. It’s almost like being held by one of those heat up stuffies. It’s so comfortable, you can’t help but melt into him, fondness for the merman curling deep inside your bones.

“Do you always run this warm?” You murmur and rest your cheek against his shoulder so you can look at his face.

“Not always,” he hums. A stray drop of rain drips down his jaw and you reach to brush it away. Rafayel’s voice shakes almost imperceptibly at the touch, the tips of his ears going red, “For the most part, Lumerians endure harsh, cold temperatures, so we actually run colder than you humans.”

“Then why are you so warm?” You ask curiously.

His blush only spreads, until his cheeks match yours. The artist glances away, almost looking embarrassed to admit, “My fire evol is useful for more than just fighting wanderers, you know.”

Ah. So he can warm himself up with his evol. And he’s doing it to keep you warm.

The revelation fills your chest with a giddy kind of love. Like, a fuzzy, dizzy kind of love. You bite back the urge to keep teasing him, to see just how red he can get. God, how can you love this man so much? Every new thing you learn about him, every surprise he somehow pulls out of his sleeve, leaves you slipping further into the ocean of affection you’re already drowning in. The rain is nothing in comparison.

“I guess you’re my knight in shining armor, then,” you sigh wistfully, “Against the wanderers and the cold weather.”

“That’s right.” Rafayel puffs out his chest a little, almost like a preening bird. A giggle escapes your lips, and he gives you one of those heart-stopping smiles. “You should really thank your knight in shining armor, cutie. Otherwise I might not feel so inclined to swoop in to save you next time.”

“Well, thank you, Rafayel.” In the blink of an eye, you reach up and draw his face down to yours, capturing his lips in a chaste, yet searing kiss. The artist jumps back, eyes wide as he stares down at your mischievous grin. “Even though we could have just taken a cab and avoided all of this.”

His shock quickly turns into a pout.

“You’re no fun, cutie.”

---

Xavier *piggyback style*

“Really, I’m fine, Xav-”

You wince as Xavier gently flexes your foot, hot pain prickling up your leg. The hunter gives you a rather disapproving look.

“You do not have to lie to me,” he sighs and lowers your foot back down, “I will not think less of you for being injured.”

Heat creeps up your neck, and you have to tear your eyes away from his soft, unassuming gaze. It really wasn’t that bad. While fighting a wanderer, you had dodged an attack too quickly, somehow, twisting your ankle in the process. You couldn’t just stop fighting though, so you had grit your teeth through the pain until you finished the wanderer off, and then collapsed on a nearby rock. That’s when Xavier had rushed over to you, asking what was wrong.

You attribute your embarrassment to the stubborn bit of pride you carry as a hunter, so used to taking care of yourself that you don’t often let others do it for you.

“I’m really okay, it’s probably just a sprain,” you grumble, “I’ll ice it when I get home.”

“And how exactly do you plan to get home?”

Your nose crinkles. Right. Glancing back at Xavier, you find him looking at you with a small, rather amused smile, eyes sparkling with mirth. The little punk. He really can be mischievous when he wants to, huh?

But you do not have an answer to his question. So you just shrug, letting out a heavy sigh. You’ll just have to rely on him this time it seems.

“Would you like me to carry you?”

Immediately, your blush spreads up your neck, painting your cheeks rosy and warm. Eyes wide, you look at him incredulously.

“Xavier, that’s- I don’t- What?”

“I can carry you.” The hunter tilts his head, much like an adorable puppy. Your heart flutters at the sight. How are you supposed to resist that?

“I mean,” you hesitate, scratching the back of your neck, “if you think that’s the best solution…”

“It’s the simplest one,” Xavier hums, quickly standing up, pulling you carefully to your feet as well.

He turns around, ducking a little so you can get on his back. You hesitate again, though.

“Are you sure?” You ask, voice wavering.

“Positive.” Xavier looks at you over his shoulder. That gentle smile curls his lips again. “Who wouldn’t want to carry a pretty girl on their back?”

God, you hate him sometimes. Shaking your head, you gingerly step closer. You curl your arms tentatively around his shoulders, careful to avoid his neck so you don’t choke him. Then you jump. Xavier catches you with ease, fingers slipping under your thighs to hold you as he stands up straight again. It only takes a moment for him to find his balance as you get comfortable, your chin tucked over his shoulder.

He hardly seems affected by your weight. Like he’s carrying a light backpack. It eases your consciousness a little.

“I always forget just how strong you are,” you mumble.

Xavier holds back a shiver at the way your breath warms his ear. His fingers tighten around your thighs though, thumbs massaging circles into your skin. You hum softly, facing tucking into the collar of his uniform. This is nicer than you thought it’d be.

“You could take a nap until we reach our destination if you’d like.”

“No,” you sigh, though you do feel suddenly exhausted, “That wouldn’t be fair. I want to keep you company.”

“Mm, okay. Then what should we talk about?” Xavier peeks at you, amusement curling in his chest at the thoughtful pout you give.

“How about…what we’ll get for dinner tonight? We did complete the mission, afterall, we deserve a treat.”

A low chuckle escapes the hunter. Tilting his head, he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Whatever you’d like, my star,” he hums, fondness warming his usually calm voice, “Is there something you have in mind?”

“That new diner opened down the block from us, we could try that!” You suggest, excitement lighting up your features, like a kid in front of a christmas tree. You look at him, smile brighter than any star he could compare you to. “What do you think?”

How could he ever resist you?

“Mmm, sounds delicious.”

“Perfect! We’ll go there then!”

You spend the rest of the walk back to the transit station talking about what dishes you might order, what movie to watch as you eat. Anything and everything. Neither of you notice the odd looks you get, too comfortable to care.

You all but forget about the pain in your ankle. Why focus on that when you can focus on the absolutely charming man willing to carry you all this way?

---

Can you tell which characters I main based on this? Just curious.

[lynk-zee]

how do you think a fight would take place with lads boys? like how it progresses and then silent treatment and the yearning to make up and actually making up

Fights

Warnings: Angsty with a blip of spice in Rafayel’s part. Happy endings because I don’t want to be sad anymore 🥲

Fights with Zayne are almost always about your health. How you’re not sleeping enough or eating right, despite the advice he gives you. He may be your boyfriend but he’s also your doctor. He just wants the best for you.

The silent treatment starts on his end, giving you one worded answers and generally ignoring you. If you didn’t care about your health, why should he? Except, it would progress worse and worse because you’re both stubborn-headed, to the point he decided to go home instead of staying over at your place like usual. It was then you conceded defeat.

Yes, he was worried about your health and safety, as both a doctor and a boyfriend. But he didn’t have to be so right…

In the end, you guys come to a compromise. You’ll get a normal amount of sleep, and he’ll lay off scolding you. Fights with Zayne aren’t without valid reasons. But, you guys always end up talking it out in the end.

Oh boy. Fights with Rafayel? Explosive. They’re mostly because of his flirty nature and the fact he can’t seem to take anything seriously. As a Hunter protecting Linkon City, you have to be steadfast and vigilant. Rafayel takes things by the moment with little thought or control, like a dumpster on fire. It gets worse when he brushes you off.

I think the fight wouldn’t officially start until you get back at him for being overly flirty with a patron. You decided to flirt with an art critic in front of him, fueling the fire for a later fight. The night continues with petty passes and glares across the room. When you get home, all hell breaks loose.

Screaming match, barely coherent, words that couldn’t be taken back. It’s a wonder you guys are still together. When you tear up and finally had enough, you grab your coat to leave when he grabs you by your shirt and yanks you in for a smoldering kiss.

Makeup sex ensues. Clothes are practically burned off as you vent out your frustrations through each others bodies. In the morning your both groggy, but have a clearer head than last night, able to talk things through more effectively. He loves you and you love him— your love can be too fiery for your own good. But that doesn’t mean you don’t try to work through it.

Fighting with Xavier can be hard because he genuinely doesn’t understand why you’re so mad at him. Yes, he disappeared for a week without telling you, but he was hunting Wanderers. Isn’t that such a noble cause that it negates the fact you were mad at him in the first place? Turns out no, because you want to be communicated with and not scared half to death when you don’t hear from him for a week.

It’s hard to stay mad at him, but you have to stay strong. If this relationship was going to work, he needed to communicate with you. You laid down your boundaries now it was his turn to understand and accept. But until then, silent treatment.

Xavier would end up at your door looking like a kicked puppy. It had been four days into the silent treatment— how did he like that? Not being communicated with, pacing back and forth wondering if your partner was safe? It wasn’t fun, huh? He would apologize, admitting he was wrong for disappearing while desperately waiting for a long needed hug from his significant other. You give it to him, happy he understood your feelings.

Perhaps you could have handled things better, but you’re learning. Xavier’s learning too! You just have to explain it to him in a way he’ll understand.

[thegnomelord]

oh my lord... mentioning merfolk finally pushed me into sending in an ask for you, so hai!

im a huge marine bio nerd and i could probably ramble about that kinda stuff for awhile so im gonna keep it shorter and stick to sharks, aka my favorite species... i apologize for the very long ramble incoming

id imagine that the kind of shark makes merfolk vary heavily - you have smaller, less aggressive sharks (bamboo sharks, nurse sharks, leopard sharks), then you have dogfish which are aggressive small schooling sharks (that actually have venom from what i remember), and the big bois that are mean like bull sharks, oceanic whitetip sharks, great whites, ect. also you have basking sharks and whale sharks which are big ass chill lads. as much as i love them having a tail instead of legs, i think there'd be two "forms" of merperson, one with legs and a tail and one with just the tail. im mainly referring to the ones with legs and tails when i talk about them

like i was saying, the kind of shark species a merperson (or mershark, ill start calling them that) makes them differ between general personality, strength, size, ect ect. bigger sharks are more popular due to their strength, aggression, and speed, making them very useful in the military. smaller guys also have their advantages - its just that a bull mershark would have a much easier time in the military compared to a lemon mershark. although bigger lads are definitely more of a pain in the ass to work with if they grew up in the ocean over on land, cause i like to think most mershark (and merfolk in general) prefer living in the ocean. smaller sharks are easier to control, as they tend to be less prideful and stubborn compared to the bigger species. oceanic whitetip would be especially bad due to their aggression and pride, they're probably the most aggressive species of shark in the ocean

then when it comes to mating/courtship rituals... they don't do any of the fancy things like a werewolf, harpy, or dragon, they're rather direct. sharks in the wild don't court, typically when they meet another shark of the opposite gender they mate due to how rarely they meet other sharks, although mersharks would probably have small courtship rituals. it's pretty simple, just spending more time around who they want to court. i also think it'd be really cute if they gave the person they were courting a shark tooth of theirs that fell off as a memento of sorts. when it comes to mating, male sharks bite as a ritual. not as hard as they'd bite prey, but definitely enough to leave scars. shark mating is pretty rough, but mersharks would probably tone it back a little bit, though there will be times when their instincts slip.

mershark are also oblivious as fuck to other courting rituals if they grew up in the ocean. almost no shark species really have courting, so they don't have instincts when it comes to someone courting them, and they don't have the same socialization that a mershark that grew up on land would have. i just think mersharks are very interesting and very cool <3

thank you for reading my insane rambling about sharks and sharkpeople... once again, sorry for the long ramble, but i had to share my thoughts

Oh god anon this is some GOOD SOUP and as a fellow animal nerd I absolutely love hearing weird animal facts and all I can imagine is just Ghost and Sharkmer reader being absolute idiots lol :D

CW: NSFW at the end, short and quick bc brain isn't braining but this concept of your anon is so cool!

Like Ghost initially thinking all monster courting rituals are complicated as fuck, and the info he finds on the internet doesn't help one bit. And you, having grown up in the ocean, have no fucking clue he's trying to court you in some convoluted way.

You'll spend days just existing next to him, or very gently nibbling on his fingers, which, in your mind, makes it very clear you want to mate, but all Ghost thinks is that you want to eat him. And the next thing you know he's shoving an energy bar into your mouth and walking away and you're left confused.

And Ghost, bless the poor fool's soul, eventually gets lured into the waters by your sparkling eyes and wide grin of sharp teeth. The same teeth bite down on every piece of his skin, not enough to actually hurt him, but your teeth marks litter his thighs, his ass, all across his chest and especially around his pecs, from shoulders down to his biceps and anywhere you can reach while you stretch him.

God the sex is one of the best he's ever had, his usually cold body warming up from the proximity of you and the warm waters you're in as you slowly fuck both of your cocks into him, having stretched him open until he was unable to beg between his hiccups. And he's so pretty beneath you, rough groans as he rubs his cock while you move your hips in a slow rhythm, your dicks pushing in and out, in and out, brushing against his prostate until he was close to losing his mind with how you stretched him beyond imagination.

Some of your teeth end up lodged in his shoulder, and when you finish mating him you tell him to keep them, making them into a necklace he now wears around his neck.

[raginglesbian2006]

Ne Me Quitte Pas

Alastor x angel!reader

Chapter 1: The Song is Ended (But the Melody Lingers on)

Chapter Warnings: Murder, Mentions of rape, Death

The song is ended

But the melody lingers on

You and the song are gone

But the melody lingers on

Masterlist

"Have you ever been in love, Alastor?"

The radio static screeched to a halt. Charlie winced at this, covering her ears.

"What brought you to question this, dear?" Alastor asked after recovering from the initial shock, his ever-present grin looking a bit strained.

Charlie chuckled awkwardly. "Well..," she pointed at the pendant that hung around his neck, sitting atop his garments, "I see you with that beautiful pendant around your neck all the time and you're very protective of it.... so I was just wondering," she trailed off.

Alastor let out a laugh, "Oh my dear, this is nothing," he lied, "Love. What a ridiculous notion!"

Charlie could not help but not believe him, but she let it go anyway; bidding farewell to the radio demon to search for her girlfriend.

Alastor was left alone in his thoughts. His hands reached up to touch the little trinket he sought to wear religiously around his neck.

No, this wasn't nothing. This was everything.

As he walked through the halls of the hotel to reach his room, his mind lingered on you. You were the one who gave him this pendant. You were the one who stole his heart.

Yes, he was in love once. Still is.

He remembers the time he met you- when you became his safe haven. He remembers when you had to leave, far from him and he could do nothing about it.

He also remembers meeting you again- the memory etched in his mind.

It was a bright sunny morning in Louisiana. Alastor was in his studio, narrating the tragic news of the New Orleans Boogeyman striking again. This time, hunting down and killing the nation's "hero", the son of a military veteran. Arnold Miller had followed in the footsteps of his father and had joined the army. His brilliant feats of achievements served as a source of inspiration for every lad in America, more importantly in New Orleans, since it was his place of origin. To everyone else, Arnold was a good soul, always ready to help out people, never backing down from serving the nation he loved so much.

Everyone, except Alastor. Alastor knew of his true nature. Arnold was accustomed to luring in girls - often against their will- taking their dignity, ripping them to shreds, and leaving them to pick up the pieces in front of the ever-scrutinizing society. He used to brag about his "escapades" to his pals, unafraid that anyone would turn against him. Everyone loved him after all. Moreover, he saw no fault in his actions.

Alastor was more than willing to show him his flaws. He regretted not taking care of him earlier, jeopardizing the safety of so many women. But at least he was gone, having faced the end of Alastor's blade. No one would have to deal with another scum like him anymore.

His radio show went on as usual, after the initial murder reports.

He talked about the daily humdrum around the locality, cracked a few jokes on the ever-changing economy, and suggested stores that sold excellent formal wear. This was a routine he'd come to love during his time as a radio host. He was satisfied with the predictability of his shows, and his life by extension.

All in all, he was happy with the hand he was dealt with.

"That is all for today, folks! Be sure to lock your doors tonight and refrain from walking alone at night. You never know when the Boogeyman might jump up behind you!" he chuckled, "And don't forget to smile! You're never fully dressed without one!"

He turned off his feed and sighed as he slumped against his chair. He couldn't wait to go back home already. His ma, although sick, had pestered him to never skip a day of his work. She'd told him he looked miserable whenever he did skip work and she wished nothing but happiness for him.

He assured her that he was happy to stay at home to take care of her but her stubbornness knew no bounds.

"I suppose I do get my grit from her," he wondered.

He took off his headphones and stood up from his chair, stretching his long limbs in the process. He started cleaning up his station, when suddenly he heard a knock.

"Come in," he said, not looking up at the opening door.

"Mr. Alastor!" a chirpy voice greeted him.

It was the young lad he had hired for the smooth running of his little business. Oliver had been thrown to the streets having been unable to pay his rent and Alastor had found him shivering in a corner of the street. Taking pity on him, the radio host offered him a job and a place to stay near the studio. Since then, Oliver had become a rather loyal help to him. Had it not been for his astounding marketing skills, Alastor's radio show would've been far from popular.

"Ah, Oliver!," Alastor hummed, still not looking up at him. He was rather busy making sure his studio was left prim and proper, "Do tell me, how can I be of service?"

Oliver was jumping with excitement, "Well, remember we were having a chat on how the radio station needed a few more hands to handle it, given its booming popularity?"

Alastor hummed as he repositioned the antiquities his mother had gifted him when he opened his studio.

"Well, I found someone willing to take on the ever-daunting task!" Oliver exclaimed and stepped aside, "Meet our newest employee!"

Alastor, still stuck in his own world didn't look up until he heard a sweet voice ringing through.

"Greetings, Mr. Alastor!"

His hands paused for a second. This voice... he'd recognize it anywhere. He turned around abruptly and finally looked at his overexcited acquaintance and the recently recruited employee.

It was you. His breath got caught up in his chest.

"Salutations," he said softly, his mind still not having caught up with the fact that you were in front of him, alive, "May I ask what your name is?"

You uttered what he had wanted to hear. His eyes could not believe it. After all these years, he was finally able to see you. The very person who'd become his safe haven when he was young, the person who'd comforted him during those dark times- when he ran away from home, when he felt scared and alone, the person who'd given him the pendant he wore religiously around his neck before they left.

"Oliver, " he glanced at the boy, "Do go get them a drink. It is quite unsightly for us to not treat the newest addition to our business."

Despite your protests, Oliver nodded his head and ran out the door, eager to please his boss.

When the door closed shut, Alastor let out the breath he was holding in since he saw your face.

He muttered your name, "Dear, is it really you?"

Your eyes blinked for a few seconds before they scrunched up with your growing smile, "I was wondering if you'd forgotten me, Al."

Alastor laughed in disbelief, "Forget you? What utter nonsense. Forgetting you would be a sin so great that even Lucifer would shy away from it."

He slowly approached you, "Besides, " his hands went up to the pendant, "How could I afford to forget when you gifted me this?"

Your eyes shone and you giggled, "You still have that!" Your hands reached out to touch the pendant, but you hesitated and they stayed frozen in the space between the two of you.

Before you could apologize for invading his personal space, his hands drew yours closer. You stumbled forward, placing your hands on his chest, right over the pendant that lay atop it. You blushed at the sudden proximity. His hands slid up to your waist, holding you close. You dared to look up at him.

"By golly, you seem to have gotten much taller," you chuckled, pushing up his glasses that had slid down the slope of his nose, "Last I remember, you were still shorter than me."

His eyes and smile had grown softer, far from his usual demeanor.

"And you still look as beautiful as the day I lost you."

As if your face couldn't possibly get more heated, he managed to make it boiling hot. You tried uttering a response but stuttered halfway through. Taking pride in how he made you speechless, Alastor asked, "When did you arrive here?"

You finally found your voice, "O-oh, I just moved in yesterday! I needed a fresh new environment after having finished my schooling and I decided to come here. I was looking around for a job this morning when I stumbled upon Oliver and he offered me a position at your radio station!"

Alastor tsked, still holding you close, "Cher, you cannot just accept some stranger's proposal for a job. What if he lured you into something dangerous?"

"He told me about your radio show and I trust you with my life so...." you trailed off, looking sheepish.

Alastor chuckled as he shook his head. Letting go of you, he stepped back to pick up the coat that was hanging on his chair. Just as he was doing so, the door burst open to reveal Oliver with a piping hot kettle and a mug.

"I do apologize. Mr. Alastor here only likes drinking coffee so we have no other beverages available," Oliver explained, as he placed the utensils down on the nearby table.

"That won't be necessary now, dear boy," Alastor continued, "I'll be showing them around our city. Do keep the studio prepared and the articles ready for the evening broadcast."

And with that, he offered you his arm, "Shall we?"

You grinned and looped your arm around his and the two of you walked out, leaving behind a very confused Oliver.

"What just happened-"

Alastor's smile widened at the memory. He vividly remembers spending every waking hour with you beside him, now that he'd found you again. He had grown terribly attached to you, but you did not mind it one bit. You enjoyed the attention he showered you with and his company was something you looked forward to each day.

Oliver always joked about the two of you getting together. So it wasn't a surprise to him when you two eventually started courting each other. All he did was lament about being the miserable third wheel.

Alastor remembers how his daily "escapades" had reduced significantly with the more time he spent with you. He did not even realize that fact until the newspapers reported on the disappearance of the New Orleans Boogeyman.

His smile had strained when he'd read the article, his anger growing by every second. How dare they think of him as a coward?

However, all those thoughts dissipated at the sound of your voice. Oh, how you had captured his mind, body, and soul.

He introduced you to his ma soon after he started courting you. Although she couldn't see you properly, given her ailing health and age, she still welcomed you with open arms.

As he stopped going on his "hunts" frequently, his relationship with you grew stronger. You were there with him in every new chapter of his life. When he celebrated his 100th broadcast, you were there celebrating with him. When he experimented with his own twist on his mother's jambalaya, you were right there tasting his creation. When his mother eventually passed away, you were right there comforting him as he sobbed into your shoulder.

On his 30th birthday, you gave him a gift he'd treasure for the rest of his life. He had been complaining about how only one of his eyes had problems with vision and that wearing a pair of glasses proved to be detrimental to his other healthy eye. Taking that into consideration, you had gifted him a monocle. You apologized for how small the gift was and told him that he could return it if he wasn't pleased with it. He had silenced you with a kiss.

You were all he thought about. A life with you beside him was everything he wanted. That is why, he stood there in front of the jewellery shop, inspecting and choosing the perfect ring to propose to you with.

When he was satisfied with his pick, he had stored the little box inside his coat pockets. Oh, how he wished his ma was there to witness all of this. She had always wanted to see him married to someone, happily living the rest of his life under the love and care of his spouse.

Things were just perfect, more than ever before.

Until karma came knocking on his door. Literally. His dead heart still pains at the memory.

Alastor had never lost control of his life after he "took care" of his father. He prided himself on that. It was the control he was after, once he landed in hell and that is what made him a formidable overlord.

But the day he lost you? He'd never felt more helpless.

Alastor brushed some dirt off his clothes as he hummed to the tune of the radio playing in the background. His calm demeanor would fool most but he was undeniably nervous.

Today was the day he would ask you to be his, forever.

Alastor had called you to the little cabin he'd bought in the forest, which also served as his hunting ground- be it for deer or despicable humans.

No matter the atrocities he committed, one could not deny how beautiful the forest looked at night. Fireflies would scatter across the expanse of the land, making nighttime all the more lovelier.

Alastor had planned to get down on one knee with the night sky lit by stars and the glow from the fireflies. He believed it would be the perfect romantic atmosphere to propose to you.

Not long after, he heard a knock at the door. His smile grew impossibly large as he giddily opened the door. Instead of seeing you, however, his face was met with the end of a gun.

"See you in hell, murderer."

Alastor quickly ducked out of the way, letting the bullet whiz past him and hit the wall. The man who held the gun let out a grunt, displeased that his shot missed. Although the man was twice his size, Alastor was able to tackle him to the ground. Still, the man would not let go of his gun, leading the two of them to struggle for the weapon.

"You fucker- you deserve to die for what you did!" screamed out the man.

Alastor let out a laugh, his face looking strained, "I just did what those scums deserved."

In the middle of their struggle, the trigger was pulled once more and Alastor heard the gunshot. The bullet missed him again, this time shooting toward the entrance of the cabin. He hadn't looked away from his opponent for a moment, fearing he'd take advantage of the situation and kill him. However, his ears picked up a singular gasp.

His eyes widened as he looked towards the door, left ajar.

It was you.

Bleeding out of your skull.

Your eyes were wide as saucers, staring at Alastor. Your body trembled as you slid down the door, blood profusely dripping from your head and onto the wooden floors of the cabin. Then, with a loud thump, you fell back, taking your last breath.

Alastor felt his soul leave his body.

no...no...surely this was a dream, right?

Taking advantage of Alastor's vulnerability, the man shoved him aside and got up on his feet, pointing the gun at Alastor.

"Too bad the little missus had to go. It wouldn't have happened if you did not do what you did," the man sneered.

Just as he was about to pull the trigger, Alastor took ahold of his gun and with all the strength in his body, pushed it out of the man's grasp. The gun flew to the side of the cabin, leaving the man unarmed.

Alastor stood up slowly, his facial muscles stretching in a maniacal grin. The man backed down slowly, his body trembling slightly.

"YOU. MADE. A. GRAVE. MISTAKE."

With that, Alastor pounced on the man and started beating him relentlessly, laughing all the while. He did not stop till the man's face had become red and blue beyond recognition and his chest stopped heaving.

Silence enveloped the cabin. In it was Alastor- his hands covered in blood, and two bodies. Alastor walked away from the dead body of the man and moved towards your lifeless figure.

Despite his maniacal grin still present, his eyes welled up with tears as he held your body close. His heart throbbed with immense pain and his mind turned foggy. All he could do was cry into your shoulder, wishing this was all a dream.

The night he was supposed to end with you as his spouse-to-be had now turned into him burying the love of his life. When he was done, he reached out for a stone and carved your initials on it, placing it atop your grave. He sat there for a while. His hands reached into his pocket and he pulled out the ring. He placed it on the stone.

His chest pained as he walked away from your grave. He would come back soon, he just had to dispose of the scum that decided to take his light away from him. Just as he started to turn the wheelbarrow that contained the remains of the man, he heard another gunshot.

This time, it did not miss.

Alastor fell to the floor of the forest. He sidled up to your grave painstakingly, abandoning the wheelbarrow. Blood poured rapidly from his head. Those god-awful hunters had shot him under the cover of this grim night. He somehow managed to rest himself against the tree that was situated right beside your resting place.

"Oh cher, " he wheezed out, "I suppose I wouldn't mind dying next to you."

As if things couldn't get worse, he heard the growls of the hunting dogs close by. His grin widened. So this was how karma came around, taking everything away from him. All that was left was himself.

His bleary eyes followed the imposing figures of the hunting dogs as they surrounded his dying body.

He reached out his hand towards the pendant.

Alastor couldn't even scream when the beasts tore into his body.

"Alastor?"

The radio demon turned towards the princess of hell, her hands laden with plans for the hotel.

"Yes, dear?"

Charlie hesitated, "You seemed a bit lost there. Are you ok?"

Alastor let out a laugh, "Just as jolly as the day I came to hell. Haha!"

Taglist: @yumiburrito , @candyladycry , @sleepykittycx

[jj-5656]

Too Soon With; James Potter (ATJ)

A/N: Hello, again? I’m really surprised with myself. Two stories in two days, haven’t had that motivation since quarantine. I’ve been sick lately and couldn’t get this idea out of my mind. Was gonna make it short but one thing led to another and here we are. This is technically a sequel to my first James writing which you can read here, but it’s not entirely necessary. Anyways, please leave a comment or reblog if you enjoy, truly makes a huge difference. <3

Summary: The one where James is definitely not sick, and you make an acute slip up of words.

TW: None, this time around. :)

 “I’m here, what happened?” You practically burst into the marauders dormitory, knapsack half-zipped with textbooks and quills threatening to spill over. Remus sits atop the counter in shock, toast hanging from his mouth as he shrugs.

“The note, from, from the owl,” you attempt to catch your breath as you explain, “said there was an emergency.” Remus rolls his eyes, shooting a pointed look to Sirius who waltzes into the room, taking a moment to read your disheveled appearance. Guilt, and a hint of fear, overcomes his pleased expression at seeing you.

“Oh, sorry. That was me, we have a...Situation.” Sirius flinches as you approach him, having taken the newspaper from Remus’ hand to roll it up and whack the raven-haired boy on the head. 

“I-thought-one-of-you-were-hurt!” You accentuate every piece of the sentence with another whack of the newsletter. Handing it back to a very amused Remus. 

“Awe, love. You hear that Moons? She loves us, cares about us!” 

“And she’s about to castrate you, what on Earth is so emergent that I’ve run all the way from the library?” You push the misplaced strands of hair from your face with an exasperated sigh. 

“James is sick, some sort of respiratory thing I think, or maybe strep. Not entirely sure.” Remus explains. pulling your sack from your shoulder and organizing it’s contents. Holding up a crumpled pouch of cookies from the bottom with a disciplinary glare. You ignore his doting, despite the blush of your cheeks. 

“Alright, so he should go to the infirmary.” You note simply, albeit concerned for your boyfriend. 

“See, that’s the issue, love.” Sirius replies, exchanging a knowing look with Remus who shakes his head. You look between them, utterly confused until said boyfriend shuffles into the dorm, looking positively miserable. 

There’s a frightening, completely out of character hunch to James’ shoulders. He enters the dormitory with a hoarse cough and small sniffle. A tuft of spare tissues peeking from his robes’ pocket. He looks up and beams at the sight of you, watery eyes, red nose and all. Absolutely pleased with your presence. “Hey, dove. What are you doing here? I thought you were doing homework with Lill’s?” He sets his things down with another cough, head quirking in confusion when you clutch your necklace, brows taught with concern. 

“Oh, James.” You mutter, walking toward him to hold his head in your hands, a short intake of breath when the skin of his cheeks is scolding to the touch. 

“What’s gotten into you?” He laughs, though a little hesitant as he takes your wrists in his hold, a flash of hurt slashing his kind smile when you dodge his kiss in greeting. 

“You can’t. You’re ill, James.” The taller boy laughs, shaking his head with a relieved sigh. 

“Dove, of course I’m not ill. Just a bit of allergies, that’s all.” You turn to look at Remus and Sirius, who echo a chorus of melodramatic groans. A clear sign they’re familiar with the boy’s stubborn denial. “I swear it! Look, look at this!” His hands slither to your underarms, lifting you into the air a couple times and gently setting you down. “Lads, this body is an absolute temple, quidditch season is about to commence and I’m in the best shape possible.” This time, you all groan, having to force your eyes to not completely swivel to the back of your skull at his blinding ego. 

“James, you spent the entirety of last night coughing. You barely slept.” Remus chimes in, running a clean dish towel under cool water and passing it to you. James grabs your wrist once more, cringing away from your attempt to place it on his forehead. 

“Alright, if you’re such a beacon of health, you wouldn’t mind taking a quick trip to the infirmary? This way we can all be sure?” Sirius holds back a grin at his own words. James falters, squirming past you and into the kitchen, grabbing an apple from the bowl from the counter on his way and taking a large bite. Superstitions heavy on his mind as he vehemently shakes his head. 

“Absolutely not, no infirmary.” 

You cross your arms, wry smile overcoming your features. “I didn’t know you were afraid of doctors, Potter.” 

“Am not!” James refuses again, pouting through a mouthful of apple. 

“And so it begins.” Sirius hops over the back of the couch so that he can lay down, arm draping over his eyes in exhaustion.

*******

“Just let me hold you, I’m dying.” James whines, grabbing at air. He’s an absolute mess, feverish and sweaty with juxtaposing chills. You’ve given him some of Remus’ healing potions, but they only relieve the symptoms temporarily. And, like most medicines, can only be taken in dosages. 

“I’m sorry, love. You know I can’t.” It takes everything in you to ignore his requests, heart aching at his suffering. He groans, rolling over and coughing in the mess that is his sheets. 

Sirius forces a gag, looking for support from Remus who only ignores his immaturity. “I almost miss when they hated each other, Rem. I mean seriously. He’s so lovesick it’s actually unbearable.” 

“Eat-” James falls into a coughing fit, taking a deep breath before croaking out “slugs.” 

“What was that, mate? Couldn’t hear you over the hacking up a lung.” 

“Sirius, not helping.” You scold, waving the teasing boy away. “We have to compromise, James. If you won’t go to the infirmary then you’re on bed rest.” You chide, offering a soft smile when he begins to soften his hazel eyes in hopes you might give in. 

“I’ll be behind in all my classes!” He tries, attempting to rise from his sheets. 

“Exactly why we’ll all be taking notes for you. Make-up homework and all.” Remus adds, waving his quill in hand for emphasis. James settles as you run your hand over his shoulders, frame tense from all the coughing and shivering. 

“And don’t worry, Prongs,” Sirius starts, mischief prevalent in his tone. “Y/n and I will get the group project in transfigurations started. I think we’ll make a pretty good pair in your absence.” He throws an arm over your shoulder, boisterous laugh echoing throughout the bedroom once James lunges, his smug friend shooting him a suggestive wink. You’re in front of him immediately, hands at his chest to cease his attack, rolling your eyes when Sirius jumps behind Remus to hide. 

“He’s only teasing, James. Relax.”

“Not fair! This isn’t fair.” He’s a six foot something child, weak charges finally settling when you press a kiss to each one of his cheeks and then his forehead. He goes for your lips, biting his own when you shake your head. throwing himself onto the mattress in a melodramatic, slightly dazed, tantrum.

“Just leave me, the lot of you.” 

“We’ll be back soon Prongs, promise.” Theres only a defeated grunt muffled by a pillow in response, the three of you slinking out of the dormitory as quietly as possible. You’re the last one headed out the door, prepared to lock it behind you when something catches your eye. Potter leans against the doorway with a deep frown, pitifully clutching a throw blanket around him as he watches you leave. You’re pretty sure your heart breaks in two, because in a second you’re dropping your bags and fitting yourself into his heavy arms. 

“I’m sorry you can’t come, love. We really won’t be long.”

“You’ll update me on everything that happens?”

“Definitely.”

“Even if it’s something small, like Pads spilling his ink or Mcgonagall calling on him when he clearly isn’t paying attention?”

“I promise, Potter. Now please, get some rest. There’s a kettle on the stove if you want any tea later on. And I’ll bring up some broth for you when I come back.” You run a thumb over one of his unkempt brows, tussled from sleep. He takes your hand in his, kissing it’s palm. A deep sigh escaping his lips when you hear the boys calling for you in the distance. You turn to leave, throat tightening at how miserable he looks before halting. His hand tugging on your robes to pull you into his chest. He presses a soft kiss to your neck, long enough to have you melting in his hold. Of course, he’s absolutely aware of what he’s doing. Convincing, but not enough to make you miss any classes.  

“Thank you, so much. For taking care of me. I know I’ve given you a hard time.” He pulls away, running a thumb over your lips as he cradles your jaw, full of sincerity.

“James, you don’t ever have to feel like you need to earn my love.” His brows raise, teasing evident in his expression as you flush. You’ve used the word much too early. And it’s your cue to press a quick peck to his jaw and hurry out the door without another word. 

*********

“So, you really said it?” Sirius nudges your foot as he whispers, finding way too much amusement in your horror. 

“This is why I shouldn’t confide in you, Pads.” You mutter through clenched teeth, the pair of you smiling at a scornful Mcgonagall, quick to look busy for the configurations professor. 

“What did he say?” 

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“I sort of, rushed out the door before he could reply.” You slink into your seat, wanting to hide underneath your robes as Sirius beams. 

“Brilliant.”

“Brilliant? Siri, I’m an idiot!” You’re bewildered at his ecstatic nature, forcing a hushed tone despite your passion. 

“In case you haven’t notice, my love, Prongs is head over heels. Your accidental confession will have him up and at it in no time. With quidditch practices approaching, Gryffindor needs him at his best.” Your jaw drops, astonished with the boy you dare to call your good friend. 

“You can’t seriously be thinking about quidditch right now.”

“I would hope not,” your sharp-faced professor interrupts, tapping the beginnings of a group project in front of you with her wand, “seeing as there’s an assignment that needs to be worked on.”

“Sorry, Professor.” You and Sirius chide weakly, putting your heads down as she continues down the rows of desks. 

**********

“Honey, we’re home!” Sirius shouts as you enter the dormitory, Remus setting the broth saved from lunch hour on the counter. James exits the bedroom, hair tussled with sleep, but an undeniable grin on his face. He yawns, stretching so tall the hem of his shirt exposes the skin of his stomach. You take a moment to admire the revealed muscle, head ripping away when you see you’ve been caught. 

“Looks like you got some much needed rest.” Remus points out, gathering your shared notes from the day’s classes in one binder. 

“I did,” James starts, hazel eyes trailing over to you with a wry smirk “had a good dream, I guess.” Seems only you pick up on his suggestive tone, as the two other boys snap their heads at you when you choke on your own saliva. 

“Hope you’re not catching what he has, love.” Remus feels your forehead, lips taught in confusion when you feel completely fine.

 “Poor thing does look a little flushed, doesn’t she?” James adds, maneuvering his head to try and meet your eyes. Sheepish expression driving him mad with adoration. 

“Fine, thanks.” Is all you say, surveying the room for nothing in particular before letting out a contented sigh. “Alright, well if you’re feeling better I should probably head over to the library. I gave Lily a raincheck last time, considering I had to leave so unexpectedly.” You throw a look to Sirius, voice drawn in accusation. He ignores this, looking between you and very self-satisfied James inquisitively, sure he’s missed something in this conversation. 

“Leaving so soon, love? Thought you’d stay with me for a bit longer.” Potter sniffles, but you’re sure it’s not as sincere as the symptoms from before. Cheeky bastard. 

“I’ve overstayed my welcome long enough. Lilly will be waiting, anyway.”

“You’re never a bother, you know that,” Remus glares, almost offended at the notion. “Besides, we have potions homework you said you needed help with.”

“Right, so you should definitely meet us there! See you all later.” And with that, you’re out the door as quick as you came. 

*********

“Merlin, and what did he say back?”

“Nothing, Lills’. I rushed out straight away.” The red-head hums, tapping the feather of her quill to her chin in contemplation. 

“It’s fine, y/n. Potter is totally smitten over you.” Marlene reassures, finishing a potions problem with a satisfied breath. 

“That’s what Sirius said.”

“So, what’s the issue then?”

“It’s still too soon, Lilly. He’s going to think I’m crazy. I’ll scare him off. Besides, I’m not even sure I’m ready to be at that stage with him. This just confuses things.” You frown, brows drawn with stress as the girls nod knowingly. Despite the reassurance of your friends, it’s no doubt this situation complicates things. 

Yet another owl swoops above you, dropping a letter into your lap and landing in the empty chair beside you. Cooing as you run the hook of your finger over the feathers of it’s chest. 

“Oh great, not again.” Lilly jokes, having to muffle her own laugh when a Ravenclaw across the room glares at the lot of your hushed whispers. 

You’re halfway through opening it’s contents before stopping, quirking your head at a beaming Marlene. 

“What has you so smiley?”

“That isn’t Sirius’ owl.” She grins further, looking down and continuing her work instead of elaborating. You chew your bottom lip in thought, finishing with the envelope and gasping as it flutters into the air. In a whimsical, absolutely mortifying display. A mixture of red and pink paper hearts erupt into the air. Fluttering around you and then dissipating. You cover your face with the sleeves of your robes, absolutely flushed. Despite your mortification at the public display of affection, something Potter is well aware you’re not too keen of, your heart flutters. 

Around you, practically every one of your peers swoons. Well aware the charmed love letter is coming from the infamous Gryffindor chaser. All except, of course, the dignified Ravenclaw, who gathers his books in an aggravated stupor and heads to a different section of the library.

“How lovely!” Lily clasps her hands together in pure joy as Marlene beside her, blowing on the remnants of ashes from the over the top display. 

“I’m going to kill him.” Is all you manage, finally looking down at the familiar calligraphy to read it’s contents. 

“If you’re completely flushed, curling in on yourself after opening this, I believe I’ve done my job. Thank you again, for taking care of me. I could live a million lifetimes and not deserve your heart. Love always, James.”

[zablife]

John + Solomons!sister thoughts:

This chaotic woman babysitting his kids. At this point all of them call her "Aunt y/n" ❤️. The thing is she can't control herself so, she's telling them a story but in the same way Alfie did with her (can you imagine Alfie telling bed stories to his little sister? 🫠) Well, so, she's telling them something like: "then the princess, who was in the fucking castle, was forced to marry this man . He was a cunt! A fucking cunt..."

And in that moment John returns, and he's wtf! 🤷‍♀️. That's not the kind of language to use in front of his kids! But they're so happy listening to her that in the end he let her finish the story 😂. Probably he joins his kids, too.

The Runaway (Partners in Crime AU)

John Shelby x Y/n Solomons 

GIF credit @alicent-targaryen

Read previous part Shots Fired

John sat in pensive silence, hands clasped in his lap as his older brother’s shadow passed over him threateningly. He felt like a child waiting for punishment, but no one could make him feel worse than the condemnation that came from within. His mind had been on your disappearance all day.

“What the fuck were you thinking, John?” Tommy said pacing the floor as he pinched the bridge of his nose harshly.

“I swear it wasn’t my idea, Tom. You know what she’s like,” John protested.

Tommy stopped in front of a chair, fingers curled around the back tightly as he glared at his brother, “Is that what I’m supposed to tell Alfie?”

John looked away in defeat, shoulders hunched. Why did you have to be so bloody stubborn, he wondered, anger bubbling up inside of him. When he’d gone to check on you yesterday, the nurse told him you’d discharged yourself hours earlier. He’d flown into a rage, overturning the bed and table until she handed him a letter between shaking fingertips, begging him to leave.

“Tell me once more,” Tommy insisted.

“Here, read it for yourself,” John answered with a huff. He fished the note from his coat pocket and tossed it across the kitchen table. It was creased and torn at the edges from where he’d already read it many times over, trying to discern meaning from your cryptic words. 

Tommy snatched it up, scanning the hastily scribbled writing and squinting in the dim light at your poor penmanship.

I couldn’t stay here. I have a personal matter to settle, but I’ll see you again in a familiar place when I'm done. I owe you a black eye and two kisses xx

“The fuck’s she on about, eh?” Tommy said, hurling the paper back at his brother. “What place?”

John simply shrugged, too exhausted to speculate.

Tommy narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Were you two fucking? If so, you need to tell me now.”

John’s body pitched forward with a burst of laughter. “Oh, fuck off, Tommy!”

Growing irritated Tommy stormed out, calling over his shoulder, “Find Y/n, NOW! Before Alfie finds out about this!”

———————————————

Three weeks later…

“You won’t believe what happens next!” you tease out slowly, watching the little faces gathered around you.

“Does he find the princess?” Clara asked, clutching her teddy bear.

“Yes! But that’s not all! Cheeky bastard leans over for some heavenly bliss,” you said, kissing your hand to demonstrate dramatically.

The children shrieked and squealed before Katie piped up excitedly, “He kissed her?”

You nodded, “I mean…not a proper snog cause she weren’t awake. And, more importantly, girls, he didn’t ask! A lad’s gotta treat you with respect,” you reminded them with a wag of your finger.

“Can we please have another story after this one?” William interrupted, chubby hands pushed together pleadingly.

“You tell stories better than daddy,” Katie proclaimed with a giggle.

Following the sound of his children's laughter, John climbed the stairs quietly. His heart thundered in his chest as he strained to listen for the female voice he knew well. A thousand questions crossed his mind, but the relief he felt quieted them all as he caught a glimpse of you from the hall.

You shifted in the small bed to make yourself more comfortable, adjusting the sling that held your bad arm. “No, this is the last one. I’m cream crackered!” you said, stifling a yawn.

“Why do you talk funny?” Katie asked, her lisp adorably more pronounced.

“Why do you?” you countered defensively.

“I can’t help it, I’m missing my front teeth,” she replied sweetly, opening her mouth wide to reveal a wide gap.

You leaned forward to examine her, pinching her chin between your thumb and forefinger. Nodding thoughtfully you exclaimed, “Oh, right. Got a man down at the bakery who looks like you. He’s called Walter.”

“Is Walter getting new teeth like me?” Katie asked hopefully.

You furrowed your brow and shook your head, “No, I don’t think so.”

John leaned against the door frame watching you with his children. He was somewhat surprised to see this softer side of you, though he always knew you must have one. He watched the corners of your eyes crinkle into a smile as you continued joking with the children and he found himself smiling as well.

“I feel sorry for Walter then,” Katie said, big blue eyes looking up at you sorrowfully.

“No, don’t trouble yourself, love. He’s a right cunt,” you said matter-of-factly. "And a dirty little snitch as it turns out. Do you know what we do to them?"

John leaped forward. “Alright, bedtime!” he announced. “Y/n, can I speak with you?”

You looked up, realizing he was home. “So you finally found me,” you said with a grin. “Did you come for those kisses?” you teased as you rose to greet him, batting your lashes at him playfully. The children whooped in delight, jumping up and down as they watched both of you carefully.

“Bed!” John instructed, pointing for them to lie down. Guiding you out into the hall, he closed the door to their room and when you attempted to walk away from him, he pulled you back to him demanding, “Where the bloody hell have you been?”

“You speak to me like that again and it’ll be a black eye for you, understand?” you warned him.

“Alright, calm down,” he said, relinquishing his grip on your wrist. “I was worried,” he admitted in a quiet voice.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked down at your feet and nodded in understanding. “M sorry. Sabini’s men came looking for me at the hospital. I had to leave.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve taken care of it,” John said lowly.

Your eyes flicked up to his, a sudden spark lighting within you as you shook your head at him. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.”

John ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Fine, you don’t need me,” he said, pushing past you to take the stairs two at a time.

You followed after him into the kitchen where he was noisily opening cupboards to distract himself from your rejection.

“That’s not what I meant. I’m good at what I do so I don’t need my man to rescue me every time I’m in trouble, John."

“Oh, fuck off, Y/n!” he shouted, spinning around to look at you. "I may not be your man, but I'm still your partner. Why can't you trust me?” he asked, chest rising and falling quickly with his rapid heartbeat. You meant more to him than any woman had since Martha and he couldn’t understand why you insisted on shutting him out.

You stood staring at him, a lump in your throat in place of an explanation. Why were you like this? Was it years of working for Alfie or the fear of admitting you cared about someone? You couldn’t say. You’d never been good with words, but you had to try or this might be the end of your friendship.

“Look, I’m shit at telling people how I feel about them, alright? I learned everything I know about family from Alfie and you know what a numpty he is,” you let out a desperate laugh that fell flat when you saw John’s wide eyes staring back at you. “I couldn’t risk Sabini hurting you too. You’ve got kids to think of!” you said, eyes welling with tears. “I don't have anyone so it wasn't as much of a risk for me. You think I don’t trust you, but I’d fucking die for you, you arsehole.”

John exhaled the breath he’d been holding listening to you and rushed to embrace you, letting you cry into his shoulder. “Hey, you’ve got me. You’ve got all of us," he assured you as he stroked your hair gently. "Promise me you won’t do that again. I couldn’t lose you.”

You nodded against his shoulder, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand as embarrassment washed over you. John loosened his grasp on your shoulders and stepped back to give you space. Digging into his pocket, he bit his lip before offering a handkerchief. Looking up at you with a mischievous glint in his eye, he attempted to lighten the mood. “If you’re going to come round more often to see the kids, stick to bedtime stories, yeah?”

You hiccuped out a little laugh asking, “No small talk?”

“Not if it’s about Walter,” he joked, looking away with a chuckle. 

You blew your nose into the hanky as you mumbled, “Sleeping Beauty again, I reckon.”

John winced, “I hate that one.”

“Says the man who grabbed the tit of an unconscious woman,” you retorted playfully.

“How many times do I have to apologize for that? I did save your life that night you know!” John said, voice tinged with mild irritation.

A smile slowly began to creep over your face as you brought your hand up to caress his cheek softly, “Thank you, Barney.”

His bright blue eyes searched yours and found a sincerity he'd never seen before. “You’re welcome, alley cat," he whispered into the stillness of the night. His term of affection made you feel warm and comforted and for once you didn't feel like dismissing it with a joke or running away.

Read part 5 Plus One

[anothertransauthor]

heyy so nice to see a new author in the mtl tag ♡ ～('▽^人)

how good are the boys at dancing? from best to worst

would they agree to dance with their s/o? when and where?

(I'd love if you added charles too if that isn't too many people heh)

Hi I love asks like these!!! I’m happy to be in the mtl tag! I haven’t felt so compelled to write since undertale (that’s a LONG TIME!!!)

Oh guys you better hold onto your pants because I have a fucking tierlist for all the characters coming up!

Anyways onto the dancing!

If you’re looking for a nice night on the town, you better ask Pickles or Charles! Not only do they know the best spots in town (though drastically different for the both of them) they will absolutely show you off! Pickles I feel like would love to dance in general, it’s the liquid courage in his veins. Someone should have taken him to prom, this man can boogie down in a rusty club. He likes to go with the flow and if that’s the kind of night you’re looking for then have a few drinks with pickles!

However if you want a more put together date, then Charles is your man. Fancy rides, expensive dinners, futuristic clubs. He’s watching your every move as you dance, he could make your silhouette out in a crowd instantly. Watch him if he drinks with you, he will get silly. If you like secretly perverted dorks, then take Charles dancing. That man knows how to move.

Skwisgaar would take some major convincing. But when you finally convinced him to take you dancing you didn’t expect what him to be so sensual. Who are you kidding of course you did, but that didn’t stop the shivers from running down your spine anytime he touched you…his hands smoothly covering your hips just so he could hook his thumbs into your belt loops and pull you right where he wanted you… he looked at you like you were the only one on the dance floor, something unspoken behind his eyes—

What was I talking about again-? it would most likely be a while before you could convince him to go out like that again-

Those other goobers are not grooving! 👎👎👎👎

Nathan poor fella can’t carry a rhythm to save his life. The most he could do for you was a slow dance in his room, even then he’d be a little hesitant. Mushy love songs definitely were not brutal. But you liked them…he could pretend for a few minutes just to see you smile.

Toki the lad tries, but I imagine he looks like the freestyle dance teacher! ʰᵉˢ ᶜʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵐᵃⁿ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵗᵉᵖᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ YOUR ˢʰᵒᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ/ᵒʳ ᵗᵒᵉˢ.

The two of you were just fine singing the songs to your hearts content instead!

Murderface straight up refuses. He knows he can’t dance and can’t stand to make a fool of himself around you. The most you’ve ever gotten was a head bop or a foot tap…if you were lucky BOTH!! It’s a shame he’s so stubborn, he’s definitely caught you in the act of dancing around when you thought you were alone, but you looked great when you did it!

[alexthefly]

Spilling Tea

This was supposed to be an entry for this week's @flashfictionfridayofficial, but life got in the way and I went really over time (😅), so it's just a silly little something now, bringing a well-loved TOS character to the TAG universe. Enjoy!

Fandom: Thunderbirds/Thunderbirds are Go

Content: mention of Pen & Ink (canon events only)

Spoiler warning for TAG episode 1:10, Tunnels of Time

Or read it on AO3

**********

Lillian and her trusty scouring pad had just reached a particularly stubborn bit of baked-on sauce at the back of the oven when she heard the kitchen door go, followed by a great clattering of boot and chair.

“Cor Lil, do us a cuppa would ya? H’I’m gasping, I am!”

Of course, she thought. There's only one person in the world who could make that much noise just entering a room. 

Master thief my backside…

“You’ve got legs, haven’t ya? Get it yourself,” she called, not looking up. “Can't you see I’m busy?”

“Aww, but I’ve ‘ad an ‘ard day. H’I’m dead on my feet!”

“You’ll be dead under my feet if you keep carrying on,” she grumbled. “Though on second thought,” - she extricated her head from the oven and took off her marigolds - “I'd better do it for you. Who knows what you might set fire to if I left you to it.”

She clambered slowly to her half-asleep feet and finally looked over to see Nosy Parker seated at the kitchen table, covered in dust, trying and failing to stifle a chuckle.

“Looks to me like you’ve been burning a few things yourself, girl. Get a look at your face!”

Eh?

She limped over to the hob and checked her reflection in the shining silver kettle there, only to see a grime-smeared ragamuffin staring back at her.

“You could be an extra in H'Oliver!” Parker chortled, clearly delighted with his joke.

She just barely resisted the urge to fling the kettle at him - she had only just polished it, after all - and instead wiped her face with a nearby tea towel before flinging that at him instead. He spluttered some sort of outrage at the assault, but she noted that he never actually stopped smirking at her.

“Whatcha so ‘appy about anyway?” she asked, filling the kettle and setting the hob on. “I thought you was bone-tired.”

Parker yawned and stretched, kicking his boots off under the table, which earned him a royal scowl.

“I am. Been traipsing round a bleedin’ temple all day, ‘aven’t I? I’ve been shut in, shot at, gassed, nearly buried h’alive…”

“Well that's bad luck. Still, perhaps they’ll get you next time.”

He glowered at her, but carried on.

“Frankly I’m just glad we made it out in one piece. No thanks to Gordon Tracy of course - ‘e was no ‘elp at all. All that equipment ‘e brought, and what good did it do us? ‘Er Ladyship said the same thing. Well, not in so many words…”

“Is she alright?” Lillian asked, leaning casually on the countertop. Her Ladyship was a tough lady indeed, but for all his catastrophising it sounded like they'd had quite a time of it.

“Oh yes, right as rain,” replied Parker. “Save perhaps for a smooshed nose, courtesy of that great fishy lummox.’

“Gordon did that?”

Lillian quickly scrolled through her various kitchen utensils in her head, considering how they might best be inflicted on a young Tracy’s sensitive bits. A jaded old bird she may be, but she didn't mess about when it came to Lady Penelope’s wellbeing.

That was one thing she and Parker had in common.

Perhaps sensing impending bloodshed, Parker held up his hands in an attempt to placate his companion.

“He never meant any ‘arm, Lil. It was my fault really, setting off that booby trap like that - he was jus’ trying to save ‘er from a fatal stabbin’. And ‘Er Ladyship gave ‘im a right ol’ earful over it, so I reckon the poor lad’s suffered enough.”

The kettle whistle blew and Lillian straightened to go and make the tea, still quietly plotting.

“The truth is,” he continued, “I think ‘e might be a bit sweet on her."

She was so surprised she almost dropped the kettle on her foot.

"Really? Gordon?"

He nodded. "Like a puppy, ‘e is, following ‘er around, trying to h’impress ‘er, like; he’s like a little blond labrador.”

“A dogfish,” she suggested, grabbing a packet of biscuits from the overhead cupboard.

“Ha! H’exactly!” he chuckled. “Wet nose and wet behind the ears, that one!”

Carefully, she balanced the full cups on a tray and took it over to the table.

“But ‘e’s not that young though, is he? Twenty-four?”

“About that,” replied Parker, shovelling a hobnob in his mouth. “Seems younger though, somehow. Too young for ‘er, anyway.”

“You would say that though, wouldn’t ya? Nobody's ever gonna be good enough for her s’far as you’re concerned.”

He grinned sheepishly and reached for another biscuit.

Lillian stared into her teacup, thinking.

“You don’t think she might like ‘im too, then?”

Parker’s biscuit fell in his cup.

“You wot?”

“Well I was just thinkin’,” she said, handing him a teaspoon to fish his biscuit out, “all this talk about how annoying he is and ‘ow he’s always getting into scrapes ‘n’ all that…” She took a sip. “It just seems that if she didn't like ‘im, she might not care quite so much what ‘e does.”

“Don't talk soft, woman!” exclaimed Parker, forgetting all about his slowly-disintegrating hobnob. “She’s fond of all those Tracy boys, Gordon included. It's part of her nature to worry after ‘em. Nothing more than that, I'm sure.”

“Hmmm. If you say so…”

They sat in silence for a minute, pondering.

“Though…” Parker started. “...Nah.”

“What?”

“S’nothing.”

She picked up another teaspoon. “I’m going to stick this somewhere painful if you don't come out with it.”

"You wouldn't dare," he scoffed.

"...Sideways."

A gulp.

“A moment?” She leaned forwards.

“Alright, alright, keep your ‘air on! It's only that I was just thinkin’, back there, there was a… a moment.”

“Between the two of ‘em, when we were up on that stairway, starin’ death in the face…”

He paused, waiting for sympathy.

She brandished her spoon at him. “And?”

He rolled his eyes.

“Well, we all thought that might be it - ‘The H’End’, as it were…”

“Uh-huh?”

“An’ he was saying something about us not having much time, and it being now or never…”

“Yes?”

“And the way they was looking at each other, it was like…”

“Yes?!”

She was right on the edge of her seat, tea and spoon both entirely forgotten.

He shrugged. “Well anyway, then next thing I knew, we was grappling into the air and out the roof to safety.”

She blinked.

“...What? That's it?!”

She picked up the tea towel off the table and threw it at him again.

“You almost ‘ad me then, you bleedin’ tease! Gettin’ me all invested like that…”

“What? That's what ‘appened!”

She was fuming. “I thought you’d at least say he kissed her hand or something. ‘A look’, he says!”

He flushed. “It was more than that-”

“Load of nonsense. You’ve been watching too many of those serials on telly!”

She got to her feet and stormed over to the oven.

“I can't be sittin’ here listenin’ to this rubbish all day. Got things to do,” she grumbled, pulling her rubber gloves back on.

He folded his arms, glowering. “Well that's just fine then! Last time I tell you anything.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

And so they retreated to their respective corners to sulk; her scrubbing the oven, him harrumphing in his chair, stormclouds hovering between.

A minute passed. Then two.

“...You can finish up your tea before ‘elping me with the dinner, if you like?”

“...Yeah, alright then.”

[hainethehero]

So...I'm rereading Sugar Sweet Steven for the umpteenth time 🥰🥰 and I suddenly have many thoughts:

Stevie and the Howling Commandos! 👀

In this verse, did Steve and Bucky have to hide their love for each other from the outside world, or was it more acceptable as dom/subs exist? I saw that you mentioned Howard and Peggy helping out with Steve, but what about the Commandos? Do you think Bucky shared stories with his team about his sweetheart waiting back home for him? How did they react to this sweet boy saving their lives? Did they all take turns making sure their pretty Captain was taken care of, or did Steve cling to one particular person outside of Bucky?

I have so many questions about Steve and Bucky's pre-war and WWI days! But I'll leave at this for now. 🥰

Oh wow I've never actually thought about this. Good idea though! Because I absolutely love thinking about Steve in the pre-war days!

In the SSSverse I'd like to think Steve and Bucky don't have to hide their relationship. It's pretty normalized in this world. Dom/sub dynamics are definitely the norm.

I think Steve was Bucky's boy only. But he definitely sought comfort and shelter with his fellow Howlies. Especially Dum Dum, Gabe, Morita and James Falsworth. Whenever Bucky was occupied on base or away on something, Steve would have trouble sleeping. And so he'd cuddle with Dum Dum mostly, because he's a huge teddy bear and Steve gets clingy with his stuffies.

If Dum Dum was unavailable, he'd cosy up in between Falsworth and Gabe not only because they keep him warm but also because they tell the best stories for Steve to fall asleep to. (Sam reminds Steve of Gabe which is why he trusted Sam so quickly in the first place)

Jacques Dernier (a sub) teaches him French- which is why he knows certain phrases in French and can generally understand the language.

Before the rescue, the Commandos are all talking about their dames/lads back home. Bucky tells them of his little Stevie, the light of his life and also the bane of his existence because he's so darn stubborn and feisty. He describes Steve's love for art and his passion for protecting people. And he says he can't wait to get back to America because he's going to ask Steve to marry him and accept his collar.

So, you can imagine their utter shock when Steve, aka Captain America rescues them and he isn't at all like the skinny sub Bucky described. On the drive back, they all climb over each other to impress the pretty blonde who's blushing at all the attention and hiding behind Bucky's shoulder.

"I mean, you didn't say he was that pretty, Barnes," Dum Dum rumbles.

"Yeah," Morita chimes in, "instead of pretty little dame, he's tall, blonde and gorgeous."

Gabe says, "He's beautiful."

And Jacques recites something in French that has Steve blushing even harder.

Bucky goes, "Quit it y'all, my baby's shy."

And Steve just gives Bucky the look that just says, 'yeah, I like em.'

[angel-anachronism]

Hi can you do a y/n x jekyll mlm oneshot

The Assistant (Dr Jekyll x male reader)

"Thus...my next experiment will hold his name...as to never seperate Jekyll from Hyde."

CW: Jekyll's POV, both Jekyll and (Y/N) are in their 30s, REALLY ANGSTY, The story happens before the events in Stevenson's novel, reader's name is (Y/N) Hyde for plot reasons (HE'S NOT EDWARD HYDE OR RELATED TO EDWARD HYDE/JEKYLL THOUGH, JUST KEEP THAT IN MIND WHEN A CHARACTER SAYS "MR HYDE"), DEATH (UH OH), Kind of rushed (sadly).

It was no lie that I certainly am an ambitious man. Ever since I was a young lad, I did everything possible to make the elders I respected praise me. As much of a blessing as that was, I wanted to have as much fun as my peers... They were able to play tug of war, while I was a labourer to my own studies. Not much changed even once I became a strapping lad, as my peers still had fun but in different ways. Instead of skipping rope, they were now drinking like mutts for the night. Yet I was still studying medicine, never even thinking of a life for myself. I mean, that's what I used to regret, but now I'm a doctor who will change the world once and for all. And what did those foozlers become? Exactly, nobodies.

My thoughts were immediately interrupted as the door to my laboratory opened.

"Master, Mr Hyde arrived." I nodded at Poole as I signalled for him to let the man enter. (Y/N) Hyde was the assistant for my various experiments. He used to be my colleague back in college, and with him, I finally felt...free. Once we finished our studies, he decided to become my assistant and help me create medicines and various experiments for the greater goodness of humanity.

"Why hello there, Jekyll!" He greeted me as he came to the table, inspecting the liquid in the Erlenmeyer flask which I made earlier. "Why, what have you been brewing lately? It smells like ginger!"

"Oh, it's just a simple nausea-reducing elixir. Nothing complex." I chuckled. "I tried finding a more excellent solution for ways people wouldn't become sick!"

"Well, depends on what kind of sick. Either someone with an awful malady or just someone getting tipsy! You have to be more specific, pal!" (Y/N) joked, which made me laugh, but at the same time feel a little regretful. I have never experienced getting tipsy like other gentlemen, as I need to hold up a perfect image of myself... but how I wish that I could feel ecstatic... If only I could turn into someone else at night, like a werewolf...

"Hyde... did you ever think of how'd it be to turn into two... never mind..." I caught myself simply talking without thinking, and I mentally groaned, embarrassed that I let my heart talk out once more.

"Do go on." (Y/N) seemed quite intrigued by what I was saying, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. The way he looked at me could simply make a lady swoon in my place. I had to admit, (Y/N) had quite a "beau regard" as the French would say... I never admired a man, or even a woman more than him. But I know it's only because of what a loyal friend I am. He gained my friendship after all!

"No, it's rather silly to admit..." I sighed. But (Y/N), being the stubborn man he always was, kept insisting

"Come on, Henry, mon ami!" he even put his hands on both of my shoulders as I was sitting on my chair, looking at the rainy night outside of my mansion.

"You're acting exactly like a juvenile, Hyde. insisting so much like a child tugging their mother's skirt to bring them to a sweets shop!" I joked. (Y/N) began chuckling, finding the situation I gave as an example rather giddy. "But if you insist... I just had a somewhat foolish thought as of currently... how would it be to split yourself into two people... I personally find that-"

"You know that great inventions are created from a rather 'silly' idea, as most would put it! Like, was it a silly idea that somebody created anaesthesia for patients to not feel pain? I don't think so, and neither does your idea have to be thrown to a ditch for how 'absurd' it may sound!"

"You should've become a philosopher, Hyde. You really know how to make me think twice!" I smiled at the man, which made him smile back even more.

It has been a few years since we had that conversation. Hyde has been helping me a lot, bringing me various herbs and various other ideas for how I could create another version of myself, a version which could be free from the grasps of society.

But as free as I could be...I'll never actually be free from his lovely platonic gaze...how I wish I could make him look differently towards me.... I wish he would look at me as I look at him... but it's all so very wrong... I can't possibly feel these kind of feelings for another man! What will the fellow higher society think of me!?

"It's done..." (Y/N) said, looking at the mulberry coloured liquid in front of us. It's odor was quite disgusting, as if it was rotten flesh, but it's colour was truly pleasing.

"But we don't have anyone to assess it..." I responded. I was quite proud with what we've created. My smile immediately diminished as (Y/N) put the liquid in a vial.

"I'll be the one to assess it. It's for science after all!" He smiled at me, but I didn't smile back.

"(Y/n)... You can't possibly test it... it might kill you!" I said in a serious tone, but (Y/N) didn't listen... forever, eternally stubborn Hyde

As (Y/N) drank the vial before I could act, he seemed fine...at first. He then fell to his knees, holding his stomach.Oh no NO NO!

"HYDE!" I kneeled next to him. Hopefully it was just a temporary effect from the liquid, but my hope died down as he didn't seem to change appearance in any positive way, or even look healthy.

"Oh...it didn't work...You know...Jekyll...I always wished you were a lady...so that we could be happy... maybe above the sky, we'll finally be...together"

I felt tears coming down my eyes. I CAN'T JUST LOSE HIM, NOT LIKE THIS!

"I'm...so so sorry..." was all I could say before his eyes closed one last time. I hugged his now limp body. It was all my fault...ALL MY FAULT!

Thus...my next experiment will hold his name...as to never seperate Jekyll from Hyde.

If you liked this story, please reblog, I'd appreciate it a lot!

[alchemania]

Love Comes, Slowly. (Death Comes Faster.)

(Or, Furina falls ill, and Wanderer is confronted with the fact he cares a lot more than he realized.)

(He's got a name in this drabble too lads yippee!! He and Furina are close enough now he feels comfortable letting her call him by a name :] oh yeah and uh. This was not intended as shippy, if you were wondering, just to get that out of the way. It's platonic.)

“..ina. Furina!”

The white haired girl blinked owlishly, startled to attention. “Huh? What?”

“This is the third time I've called you,” Tetsuya frowned, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you daydreaming?” Furina flushed in answer, scratching the back of her neck.

“I've just been a little out of it today,” she muttered. That much was an understatement. She'd awaken with a fogginess in her head and a heaviness in her stomach that just hadn't gone away, and everything seemed to be processing twice as slowly, leaving her behind as the world kept moving. Was it always this warm, too??? Furina felt like she was baking, even for a place as warm as Sumeru, something felt off-

“Hey!”

Wanderer's hands grabbing her face snapped her to attention, and Furina instinctively leaned into them a little, comforted by how cool they were. In contrast, his pupils dilated a little - humans were always very warm in contrast to him, but Furina felt especially hot. “Are you sick?”

"I don't know…. maybe…?”

Tetsuya's eyes flashed with something unreadable, and he quickly took his companion by the hand, fear gripping his chest as much as he would deny it was there. “Well, we need to get you medical attention, then.”

“I'll be fine-”

“I know you will,” he asserted, “because we are GOING to get you looked at.” His tone left no room for arguments, and Furina stared at him hollowly before weakly nodding. She didn't understand why he was so vehement all of a sudden, but she didn't have much energy to be stubborn.

“Mkay…”

Tetsuya began to lead her through the city then, and she let herself be pulled along, slipping in and out of awareness as voices around her rose and fell like the tides. Very soon however, it was a struggle just to put one foot in front of the other, and Furina wobbled to a stop, a hand to her temple. Wanderer turned to her then, frowning. “What's wrong?”

“Tired,” she mumbled, barely able to keep her eyes open. “Achy, too…”

“We'll be to the clinic soon, just - we're going to get you some help,” he replied, and if she were fully coherent she'd notice his voice was slightly strained from barely concealed worry. “Come on. You can lean on me if you need to.” He seemed so far away, despite the fact he was right there, and Furina's legs buckled, too weak to support their owner's weight anymore. She crumpled to the ground, and Tetsuya froze, unable to move for a moment. And then the spell was broken, and he knelt by her side, frantic. “Furina!? Hey!! HEY!! Furina!!” With shaky hands, he took her pulse, relief flooding him when it came through strong and consistent.

It might not stay that way for long, though. You've seen this before.

Pushing that thought away, Tetsuya carefully wrapped one arm around Furina's back to support her and then scooped her up princess style - she was so small, and he noticed her cheeks were quite rosy, beads of sweat all over her brow.

..the fever's getting worse.

He had to hurry. He had to hurry.

Tetsuya swears he's never flown so fast before, everything whizzing by in a blur (and if his vision blurred for reasons other than his swiftness, no one needed to know). The moment he touches the ground again, he's racing towards one of the nurses, chest too hot and too cold all at once. “My friend collapsed,” (and it's startling, how easy it is now to call her that) “Help her. Please.” Furina was gently taken from his arms, and he lingered like a shadow as she was carefully placed in one of the beds, a cool cloth laid on her brow. “She gonna be alright?” Wanderer ventured, and his voice was so so small, expression more akin to someone centuries ago; someone who hadn't yet seen the depth of all the world's sorrows. One of the nurses turned and nodded, in reassurance.

“Her illness was caught early on, so she should be just fine. It's good you noticed quickly. She should be back to normal in a few days with rest, but you can spend the night if you'd like-”

“Absolutely.” He was not going to leave. No way in hell. Settling into a chair nearby, he tried to calm the storm in his chest, closing his eyes to clear his thoughts. The hours flew by, and eventually Wanderer sat up and gently shook Furina, to rouse her. “It's time for you to take your medicine. Come on.” Furina didn't move, and suddenly, he couldn't breathe, chills gripping him.

Oh.

Oh, god. God, please, no. Not again. Please, not again. He couldn't do this again.

“Hey,” Tetsuya called again, shaking the girl harder. “If this is a joke, it's not funny. You need to get up. They said you were going to get better, so you have to.” He'd made it in time this time, he'd - as soon as he could, he'd brought her here… so there was no reason that -

Tetsuya took Furina's hand, and to his horror, it was cold (like his) and limp. Just like - no, no no. This wasn't happening this could NOT be happening it couldn't!! “You can't just - leave me like this,” he managed, tears flooding his eyes. But she had. She had, and he didn't even get to say goodbye, and he couldn't breathe, sobs choking him. This time, he understood that death was a constant, that it would come and claim all humans eventually but-

...that didn't make it hurt any less, as much as he'd tried to deny it.

“Furina, come on, you're one of the only friends I have I - please don't leave me behind. Please - I'll do anything just wake up; wake up!”

I couldn't save you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

He can't stop crying. He's sprung a leak and he can't fix it and everything hurts so badly and a nurse is taking his hand and pulling him away and turning his face into her chest so he won't look, and he can't stop crying and he's begging her to do something, anything, but she can't. She knows that, and he knows it, too.

Furina was gone, and he couldn't do anything. No one could.

Tetsuya jolted awake, tears streaming down his cheeks, and gasped. Stars twinkled above, and he sat up after a split second of regaining his senses. It was a dream. It was just a dream. Then, Furina- getting up in a hurry, he raced to her side and shook her frantically, and to his immense relief, she stirred. Heterochromic eyes stared blankly at him, and she blinked sleepily. “Tetsuya…?? What - oogh!” He was squeezing her in a hug before she could process what was happening, tucking his head into her shoulder. “Oh….hey hey, it's okay,” Furina mumbled, patting his back weakly in reassurance. “M’just tired..why are you crying??”

“You're okay,” he barely managed, holding her like she'd disappear if he let go. “I had a dream and - no, it..it doesn't matter. It wasn't real. You're okay.” Wanderer's voice broke then, and he sobbed, relief overwhelming. “You can't leave me yet, okay? Not yet. Please. You're the best friend I ever had.”

“I'm going to get better, don't worry. They're taking good care of me here, and I'll be out in no time and - ….”

“What? What is it? What's wrong?”

“Nothing, just.. you said, I'm your friend-”

The young man froze, taken aback, and then eased up again, slowly nodding. “.. I did say that.”

“You mean it?”

“..Wouldn't say it if I didn't.”

Furina smiled, laying her head atop Wanderer's, and blue and white locks spilled into each other. “You're my friend too, yanno. Thank you for bringing me here when you did. I might be a lot worse off otherwise.”

“You don't have to thank me. I just - . . did what anybody would do.”

“Maybe, but I still want to thank you. Gotta make sure the people you love know they're appreciated.” Tetsuya stiffened at that, blinking rapidly. Oh god, she couldn't just - say things like that, he'd cry all over again and - he had to have misheard.

“You- …what?”

“You're my friend, and I love you,” Furina reasserted, and she said it so easily, like she was talking about the weather, like she was stating a fact of the world, and it shook him to his core.

“.. I - oh,” was all he could say, hot tears making their way down his face again. “Just. Just like that?”

“Just like that,” she nodded, and the tears fell faster. He loved her too, he realized - he wasn't quite sure the exact dimensions of it but he knew he cared for her as a friend would, wanted to stand by her side and defend her with everything he had. Still, it wasn't very easy to say that, so he hoped his actions spoke for themselves. She seemed to understand though, to his relief.

“..why?” Tetsuya finally ventured, because he did not understand. There were many things he did not understand, actually. What he did not expect was for her to answer his question with a question.

“Why not?”

“Why not? Because - …I mean, you've seen how I act.”

“Doesn't make you unlovable, yanno. You're prickly, yeah, but I mean. If love is conditional, it's not love at all. You care about me - the real me, and I care about you, flaws and all. And that's not gonna change. Okay?”

“...mm,” Wanderer managed, nodding once.

Just like that. Just because he was, he was cared for. Worldrocking, that.

They stayed like that for a long time, until one of the nurses came to take care of Furina, and soon after the girl fell asleep. Tetsuya watched how the nurse gently tucked her in and brushed her damp bangs out of her forehead, expression contemplative. Humans could be selfish, they could be deceptive, they could be cowardly - but they also cared about each other and they loved each other, too- and some of them had so, so much love to give, it was daunting. Here in one moment and gone the next but they loved so much and so deeply - and for a moment, he wondered if he could, too, love the world and everything in it or - most things. He didn't think so, but these days it did seem a little brighter than it had before. Maybe that was a sign he was changing, without realizing it.

He would think more about it later. For now, he simply held Furina's hand as she slept and leaned his head on the side of the bed, heart steady. They'd said she needed a few days to recuperate, and he would be here until then. She would be okay, she would be alright. There was nothing to fear anymore, and everything would be okay. He wasn't going to lose her - not for now, anyway.

..to love, and to be loved, was wonderful, he thought.

Maybe that was living.

..he could come to thrive in it.

[writingsofwesteros]

Awweeeee stawppppp you're so sweet https://www.tumblr.com/writingsofwesteros/752454847990743040/canon-nora-is-just-as-stubborn-as-social-media-au?source=share

It was done. She'd knelt before that stupid brown-haired bastard, and renounced her loves, her dearest brothers and sister. She prayed they would forgive her, when she met them again in the afterlife. She imagined them all embracing each other with passion and love in equal measure, as they all did when they were here. Only when she was returned to her chambers did she let out a sob, staggering and falling to her knees as she wept. She could hear Aemond's smooth, low voice, telling her she was a dragon, she could feel Aegon's kisses, always full of need, as Helaena stroked her hair. She yearned to feel their touch again- she yearned to be encompassed in a dragon's warmth again. The doors opened that evening, and Lord Stark entered. "The King has summoned you to dine with him." Lord Stark said gruffly. "I am not hungry, my lord." Nora said stiffly. "The King has asked me to inform you that if you join him to dine, he will permit you to see the Dowager Queen Alicent this evening." Her head shot up, and she looked at the gruff-faced Northerner. "Very well, then. Take me to your King."

She ate small bites, as Jace sat across from her in his chambers. The chambers that were once Aegon's. The same bed where four bodies fitted, that was filled with warmth and pleasure- where Aemond would sit by the hearth and read to Helaena, while Aegon fell asleep with Nora tucked against him. Tears were fighting to slide down her cheeks but she resisted. "I suppose you hold fond memories in this room." Jace commented, as though he could read her thoughts. "You asked me to dine with you to taunt me?" She asked. "Did you not taunt me, for years? Knowing that I-" He stopped himself. "You let me see you in that alcove," He murmured, and the memory came flooding back to her. Helaena had just birthed Maelor, and was resting, and chose to not attend the feast in the new Prince's honour, that night. Both sides of their family were present, and she felt Jace's eager eye on her that night, and every night since his arrival from Dragonstone. "Does that Strong welp think himself worthy of a dragon?" Aemond mused as he sat with Nora and Aegon on the dias. Aegon chuckled into his glass, "Seems so. You play with the little Strong lad, you wicked thing," Aegon said to her, and she smiled wickedly at both her brothers. "Perhaps I do." She hummed. She let her eyes met Jace's before she soon subtly departed the hall. With Jace's eyes on her, he didn't notice that Aegon and Aemond had departed also. It took him a few minutes to find her, he was not as well versed in these halls, having not lived here in years, but it was the sound of a feminine moan that drew him. He watched in a rarely used hallway, down into an alcove, where Nora was sandwiched between her brothers. Aegon's ringed hands grasping and squeezing her breasts through her gown from behind, Aemond's hands under her gown, moving methodically as she moaned, her head lulled back onto Aegon's shoulder. Her eyes briefly met Jace's and she smirked, taunting him in the worst way. "Oh, gods-" She panted, and her moans were without a doubt a torturously sweet sound, as she fell apart on Aemond's fingers.

"So what if I did?" She responded. "Is it of any consequence now?" "You have never fallen with child, in all that time," Jace wondered aloud. "Despite so freely falling into bed with them." She tensed. "And?" "You, Daenora, are many things, but careless is not one of them. Either you took measures to prevent a child....or you are unable to bear one- something very unlikely, seeing that you are quite young." He said. "And what if I cannot? Will you set me aside? Will you marry me still, and foster bastards upon a mistress, perhaps?" She countered, and Jace chuckled darkly, getting up and walking over to her. "The only children of my seed set to come into this world shall come from your womb, Daenora. I shall bound you to that bed and leave you stuffed with my seed every hour, if I have to." He growled. His grip was surprisingly strong. "Your little games have reached their end. You shall be my wife, be and my mercy, and if a drop of moon tea ever touches your lips, I shall see Vermax burn your mother alive," He threatened her. "If you wish the Hightower Queen to remain alive and well, then you shall stop resisting me. You've taunted me and denied me for years, but now your say is worthless. If you ever wish to see your mother, your dragon, then perhaps it is time that you accept that the days of being King Aegon and Prince Aemond's beloved little sister and bedwarmers are gone. You are to my wife, my queen, and the mother to the next King." He let her go. "You will dine with me again tomorrow." He declared, summoning the guards to take her to see her mother.

Jace taking charge should not be this hot; manipulating her so well and for the moment, all Nora can do is follow his lead - no matter how annoying.

Still she glared at the back of his head as the warmth of those memories surrounded her for a mere second.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

I think i asked this once but i don't know if you saw it, i would really LOVE to read this whole fic, but the link doesn't work, was it deleted? 🥺

Oh lord, so that one has the distinction of being the only fic I have ever written to get dogpiled hate on ao3 and it startled me so much I deleted it. God help me if the england stans find this one. It's also back on ao3. It's got a sequel here too, when Matt is older.

In late autumn—and sometimes in early spring—a rainy morning would press its wet nose against the glass storefront of papa's bakery. Outside, where the leaves were starting to turn, it was cool. And inside, where papa and his part-timers made pastry and bread, it was wonderfully warm.

Sometimes the ovens made the glass foggy. When they did, Mathieu drew squiggles and left his palm prints to make turkeys and even sometimes a little BONJOUR in crude toddler letters for the passersby, then hastily wiped away the evidence with his sleeve, so Papa couldn't scold him for using his fingers. He sometimes opened the door for customers just to look at the trees on the avenue. He wanted to climb them, but if ever he got the chance to wander near, Papa tugged him back onto the sidewalk and tugged his coat back into place.

He heard his name, insistent, and he paused for a second to let a rain-bedraggled man in a stinky wool coat through the door.

"Bonjour-hi!" He waved at the stranger, of which there were always many passing through his father's shop, and scrambled back to the table nearest the counter in an awkward little corner next to the display windows. There, and in the cushioned basket behind the counter where he'd nap after the lunch rush dwindled, he'd spent many a day with his stuffed bear, his blocks and his trains, and his books, nose to the paper as he coloured in big leafy forests of gold, amber, maple and green. The man had a sharp face under his damp, straw-colored fringe and gave a weak wave. Matthieu thought he looked very tired.

Arthur needed a fucking cup of tea. Soaked through and freezing, he stumbled into a cafe off the avenue thumbing his money clip. A small lad in a cheerful red jumper chirped the bilingual greetings so common to this part of Canada, and Arthur waved at him, staring at the menu written in beautiful calligraphy above the counter. There were a few loaves of bread, no doubt leftover from the morning rush.

The lad hopped up onto the counter, kicking his legs off the edge, as comfortable as a round little robin red breast who'd perched on the same branch thousands of times.

He said something to him in French, broad baby Quebecois that ended in a giggle. He thought he'd spoken French quite well before coming to this city, but Montreal was a city of a thousand languages, and about 900 of them were supposed to be French. He mouthed words and the child gave a shy smile and switched to clumsy but adequate English.

"You're not one of Papa's regulars,"

"No," Arthur said. "I suppose I'm new to the city."

The lad's eyes popped open wide.

"PAPA! C'est un Anglais!" The boy cupped his hands over his mouth to shout at a figure moving behind the doorway and hopped off the counter to stand on a stool. He peered over it shyly.

"Are you really… one of the… a les goddams!?"

Arthur gave a hearty snort, unoffended. He'd only read that term in books. He thought it came from how much English sailors cursed. And, well, he was an English sailor.

"Suppose I am, lad. But you can call me Arthur." He leaned over the counter, extending one gloved hand. The small boy took it and shook it, looking very serious and grown up.

"Like the king?"

"Indeed."

"And you are?"

"Mathieu!" Came a much deeper, lilting voice, full of the music of European French rather than the flat stubborn sounds of Canadien. "Get down from there; you'll snap your neck!"

The boy sighed, "Ouais, Papa," and leaped off the chair he'd been standing on.

"Apologies," The man said. "What can I get you?"

Later, he wouldn't remember ordering tea and a sandwich. He'd gone quite deaf. The bakery owner couldn't have been much older than 30—well-built, compact, and lean. His great arms showed off as he rolled short, flour-dusted short sleeves over his shoulders. Perky ass Arthur tried desperately not to look as the man bent double for a bagel from one of the display baskets behind the counter. Bloody fucking hell. He had beautiful hair, pulled neatly back except for spirals to frame his face. It would have been a womanly look on anyone else, but it only drew Arthur's eye to a beautiful pair of clavicles. No wedding ring, Arthur noticed, and not even the pale outline of where one might have been. He cleared his throat and raked his damp hair back, a bit embarrassed at his rumpled, rain-splattered state.

The tea was godawful. Probably bagged and a little burnt and left to seep too long. But the sandwich was fantastic. There'd never been that good of bagels in any port in the world. He was about to become, if luck gave him nothing else, a regular.

[il0veyoujk]

A ticklish lesson

This is a tickle-related ff, if you are not interested in it, please keep scrolling

Summary: Namjoon tries to get Nefeli (16) to focus on the lesson

Warnings: None

Notes: I am sorry guys you think my ffs are not as good as they used to be, but I really wanted to post something, I hope you'll like it!

Lots of love Nef 💕

“The French Revolution was a period of radical political and societal change in France that began with the Estates General of 1789 and ended with the formation of the French Consulate in November 1799”

“Mhm...”

“Many of its ideas are considered fundamental principles of liberal democracy, while phrases like liberté, égalité, fraternité reappeared in other revolts, such as the 1917 Russian Revolution, and inspired campaigns for the abolition of slavery and universal suffrage”

“Mm yeah, I agree...”

“The values and institutions-” Namjoon finally paused raised his head from his student’s history book and took a glance at her. The young girl had laid on the bed and was poking the edge of a pencil, not paying attention to him. 

“Mhmm, yeah...” she falsely murmured when the young rapper paused. 

“Huh...” Namjoon folded his arms over his chest and leaned back on the bed “The French Revolution took place between 3029 and 7865, am I right?”

“Sure” Nefeli didn’t even care to take her mind off of her own imaginary world. 

“The war was between fish and flowers”

“Yeah...”

“And of course, it took place in Neverland” 

“Of course...”

“Nefeli!”

“Agh!” Nefeli squealed surprised at the sudden cry of her teacher, flinching on her bed “What happened?” 

BTS’s leader rolled his eyes and closed the school book “Neffie, are you even listening to what I have been saying?” 

Oh yes, you read correctly. Nefeli’s teacher was the leader of BTS. But please don’t squeal in excitement. Namjoon is not giving private tutoring lessons, unfortunately. Jungkook just asked Namjoon to tutor his little sister while they were on a tour. 

Jungkook and his family had decided to let Nefeli follow the band on their world tour. However, that meant that Nefeli had to drop out of school. So her older brother had asked Jimin and Namjoon to tutor her while they were on tour. 

“Um... Yes?” the young girl trailed her words, not really sure what Namjoon was talking about. History was her worst subject, along with chemistry. Hah! Jimin was responsible for her chemistry class. Poor him, he had to deal with Nefeli’s absent-mindedness. 

“Oh really? Then tell me what you know about the French Revolution” Namjoon placed the book aside and took a sip from his vanilla tea from the nightstand next to him. 

Nefeli rubbed her palms together nervously and shrugged “Um... The French Revolution... Uh...” 

A short silence followed, filled with lots of patience and an ‘I told you so’ feeling emitting from Namjoon. Nefeli knew he had no idea what her tutor was talking about, and she wasn’t even trying to imagine what had happened in the French Revolution. She was just giving time to the young rapper to stop her, himself. That way she wouldn’t have to admit she wasn’t paying attention, even though it was obvious. 

“That’s what I thought...” Namjoon mumbled under his breath disappointed. He kept staring that the admittedly stubborn girl in silence, trying to figure out a way to get her to focus on the lesson. 

The young lad was on the verge of giving up when suddenly an idea popped into his head. A playful glimpse suddenly flushed into his eyes as his lips curved into a small, almost unnoticed smirk. 

Namjoon pushed and positioned himself in a more comfortable way “Ok ok, let’s do something else” he said with a mischievous tone. 

A tone that surprised Nefeli. But also a tone that made shivers run down her spine. She knew that tone way too well. But she never knew where it could lead. Namjoon was unpredictable and his ideas were always unexpected. 

Patting the space next to him, Namjoon invited the young girl to sit next to him. Which Nefeli did. She rolled her torso so that she was lying next to her older brother’s friend and locked her eyes with his, curiously. 

“Do you wanna do it like a quiz?” the young lad was hiding perfectly well the evil idea he had in mind.

Nefeli got even more puzzled but nodded anyway. She preferred the quiz, it seemed easier “You’re feeling generous today, huh?” she chuckled and placed her hands behind her back, lying on them to get comfortable and also stretch.  

 “Oh yes, I do” Namjoon smirked and grabbed the book “Okay question one! When did the French Revolution start?” 

“Oh come on... That’s all you have?” Nefeli whined, trying to steal some time to think about the answer. 

Namjoon though didn’t have any of this. He just side-eyed the young student and repeated the question. 

“Uh... 1766?” she mostly asked than answered, having no idea what she had just put herself into. 

“Wrong...” a devious glimpse flashed into his eyes. A glimpse that worried the student even more. 

“What was-agh! Wahahait nohoho!” Nefeli didn’t have too much time to react when she saw his eyes. Namjoon’s hand landed on her tummy faster than the speed of light and started squeezing her right under her belly button, on her lower tummy. 

Flailing around and giggling like crazy, the young girl was trying her best to grab her teacher’s hand and stop all the tingly feelings he was giving her, but she had made the mistake to lay on her arms. Good job Neffie, bravo!

The young girl brought her knees to her chest, trying to push away the older lad’s tickly hand. Kicking out softly in the air and wiggling around as much as she can, her giggles were filling the whole room “Whahat did I dohoho, Johohoonie?” 

Smirking widely, Namjoon stopped his attack and patted her tummy softly “I am just teaching you history, love, you did nothing!” a deep blush started spreading on her cheeks. The whole tickling kept going for ten more seconds before the young teacher stopped tickling his student. Looks like his plan was working. 

The whole tickling left Nefeli panting from all the giggles on the bed with a huge, flustered grin on her face “Whahat was thahahat for?!” she squealed and threw a pillow at her teacher, who skillfully avoided it. 

Namjoon chuckled and grabbed the book again “Just showed you the punishment for your wrong answers. So next question...” he lost his words for a few seconds, amused by her shocked expression, but fastly found his way back into his role “For how many years did the French Revolution last?”

Nefeli’s mind was too busy thinking about what was going to happen in the next few seconds to guess the correct answer. And she was sure it was going to happen. She knew nothing about the French Revolution. Still giggling airily, the young girl immediately thought about WW2. The only war she knows anything about. 

“Uhuhum... 6!” she exclaimed without thinking about it too much. Which resulted in her being a giggly mess once again. 

“Wrong again... Looks like someone wasn’t paying attention to class” Namjoon giggled along with Nefeli as he was softly scribbling her neck with his nails gently. He was having fun tickling her and he wasn’t going to hide it “One more wrong answer and your feet will get it, Neffie” Namjoon smirked as he was gliding his nails fastly up and down the poor girl’s neck.

Nefeli squealed the moment she heard the punishment. Oh no. “WHAT NOHOHO NOT MY FEHEHEET!” Her feet are never a good spot for punishment. They are way too ticklish for her own good, and Namjoon knew that pretty well ever since she was a kid. 

Only if she had been paying attention to the French Revolution... 

As Namjoon’s nails were scribbling Nefeli’s sweet spot on her neck, the young student was giggling like crazy. With her shoulders scrunched up and her body almost curled up, she was wiggling around unstoppably in her attempt to get away. It was like millions of tiny bolts of lightning were hitting her soft skin. Ticklish bolts of lightning which were making her giggle like a little kid. 

“And now for my third question...” the mischievous lad wasn’t joking, he would get her feet. And in reality, he couldn’t wait to teach that little rascal a lesson on paying attention in his classes “How old was the queen during the French Revolution?” 

“WHAHAT that’s not even in the book, you cheater!” Nefeli squealed loudly, intending to hide her feet from the upcoming attack. 

However, the young lad wasn’t going to let it slide. He had already grabbed her feet and had already started scribbling his blunt nails all over her socked feet “You haven’t even opened the book!” 

At this point, I bet you no one had ever screamed so loud as Nefeli did before the waterfall of hysterical laughter started pouring out of her mouth “AGH NAHAHAHAO STAHAHAHAP AHAHAHAHAHA!” she shrieked loudly at the top of her lungs as she was flailing around unstoppably. 

However, trying to pull her feet back was useless. It was like Namjoon was wearing Iron Man’s and was holding her feet with it “Aw coochie coochie coo, Neffie! Next time better pay more attention to me... Unless you want to have more tickle moments like this!”

The hint of mocking send shivers down the young girl’s spine whim immediately started having butterflies of fluster in her stomach. Being in this state every time they were having lessons would be a total nightmare for her. 

“NAHAHAHAOH I SWEAHAHAR I WILL STUDY HAHAHARDER!” she shrieked, curling her toes tightly as Namjoon’s nails were targeting her heels mercilessly. If she didn’t move them, she could at least try to protect them. But failed miserably. It still tickled as hell. 

“You promise? Or should I keep going?” Namjoon knew pretty well Nefeli couldn’t stand a single poke on her feet. 

And his thoughts were proven right. Nefeli with a deafening ‘I promise’ finally gave in and stopped trying to escape the ticklish hell she was currently into. 

After a few more scribbles on her soles, Namjoon finally let his student’s feet go with a huge, satisfied grin “You better” he smirked and pulled his friend’s younger sister in for a hug.

Nefeli’s red face was smiley and teary from laughing too hard. All the rest of the members had heard them for sure and had already planned their teases for later “You are so mean, Joonie!” she mumbled, burying her face in her palms all shy.

“You are so ticklish, Neffie” the young rapped chuckled, wrapping his arms around her protectively, like an older brother. 

[i-willstealyourtoes]

can i get some headcanons for jacket , hoxton , sokol , and bain with an s/o who is an over-achiever ? for example , s/o would secure as much loot as possible , regardless of how long it takes or the risk of injury being higher the longer they stay . i might just request some more later , but i'll do my best not to bombard you with a bunch . thank you !

Hi! Hopefully the wait was worth 😭

I LITERALLY KEPT FORGETTING TO SAVE THE DRAFT SO I KID YOU NOT I KEPT LEAVING WITH LIKE 70% FINISHED THEN COMING BACK TO HAVE ONLY 40% 😭😭😭😭😭

Jacket, Hoxton, Sokol + Bain with s/o who's an overachiever

Jacket

- I'm sure he definitely admires your determination fr

- I mean ambition is kind of required in a job like this so he gets it too ofc

- But even he knows you go a little too far

- 'Vamos!' is what he would spam as he saw you staying behind

- No but fr he is stern when you take it too far

- Like he gets ambitious too ofc

- He does kind of match you too

- I feel like you guys both match each other and also balance/keep each other in check

- Like when he pushes it too far you're there for him

- 'Okay, that's enough bags... about 8. Let's go Jacket!'

- '10.'

- 'No-'

- (As he's being shot) 'Diez.'

- '....JACKET....!!'

- You literally have to drag him by the ear

- Eventually you just hold his hand and move so he doesn't suddenly leave again

- (He may or may not stay behind on purpose so you'll hold his hand)

- Okay but anyway if YOU'RE the one who stays behind my guy will waste NO time getting you back fr

- 'Just let me get just one more-'

- 'NO.'

- Yes, he will hold your hand and drag you

- If you're not budging? HE WILL LITERALLY THROW YOU OVER HIS SHOULDER AND GO

- 'Just 5 more min-WOAH WAIT-'

- The last thing the cops see is Jacket just carrying you while you flail about 💀

- (Dw cops idk what's happening either)

- I'm ngl he kind of likes doing this anyway bc yay holding hands and holding each other

- The others do tease/make comments

- If you're already together he doesn't mind

- If you aren't they get death glares (don't out the man of his crush oml)

- OH also y'all be the kinda cuties to like... heal each others wounds after oml

Hoxton

- Like Jacket he also matches this energy

- But better bc you both get hyped at the same time

- If you're rlly ambitious, he's not far from it too

- 'We can get more guys, come on!'

- 'You heard them lads, move it!'

- Dallas/Bain likes to bring you two together especially on loud heist's bc uhm

- POWER DUO???

- But the only difference between you two is that he knows when it's time to go and you don't

- But this is sort of good bc at least he knows when it's too much

- 'Alright (Y/n), you'll be full of lead if you don't leave this time. Come on.'

- That's his calmer request if you usually follow him

- If you're stubborn tho?

- 'I SWEAR TO SHIT, IF YOU DON'T MOVE NOW, I WILL DRAG YOU TO THE VAN. MOVE.'

- He probably would grab your arm or drag you fr

- It's rare for him to actually pick you up bc idk I guess he isn't that kinda guy???

- Unless you're injured ofc

- 'What'd I tell you? I swear to god you're such a dumbass.'

- 'Yeah, but I'm your dumbass.'

- You're right

- Y'all are each others dumbies

- You always stick by each other tho so it's ok :)

- You guys are like the power couple that argues (in a lighthearted way usually)

- A couple that fights together stays together ig

- OH also if it ends up he's the one that gets hurt bc of his arrogance?

- TEASING TIME TEASING TIME

- 'What'd I tell you Hox? One day you're gonna have to listen to me!'

- You'd tell him while patching up

- 'Shut up.' (/lh)

- He'd let out a dry chuckle as you'd mock him more

- Y'all are so cute oml

Sokol

- OKAY YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE OVERAMBITIOUS???

- BRO HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?????

- Y'ALL..... HE'S LIKE THE DEFINITION OF AM OVER-ACHIEVER OH MY DAYS BRO

- Y'all are like the frickin chaotic combat gremlins

- Bc y'all actually both go too far oml

- See, you and Hox match each other in energy

- BUT YOU AND SOKOL?

- Y'ALL FUEL EACH OTHER

- 'Come on, Sokol! We can get one more!!'

- 'One more? I THINK WE COULD GET 5!'

- Y'all be running into straight death bc you missed a deposit box oml

- Calm down omd

- If Dallas or one of the older heisters are with you two I stg they just turn into tired parents LMAO

- I may have exaggerated a little

- Bc while Sokol is overambitious, he is also quite mature and aware so he does know when to stop (sometimes)

- Though sometimes it does become a little difficult in the heat of the moment

- Especially when you're there to encourage him

- But if one of you gets hurt bc of it? The fun stops

- 'Блять, (Y/n), you- Don't worry, I'm coming!'

- It's like a wake up call when one of you gets hurt or something else really bad happens

- He always feels a little guilty when you get hurt

- He feels like he's sort of the undeclared third in command (Bain at first and Dallas at second) so he feels like he caused this

- Even if you coerced him into doing it, he still feels a little bad

- 'Next time, stay closer to me..!'

Bain

- Ofc he likes your ambition, it's kind of what made him like you fr

- But he can tell when it's too much, since he has an overview of the mission overall

- 'Alright gang, let's get going. You too (Y/n), get to the van!'

- 'Hold on, just one more-'

- 'No! Get in the van now, (Y/n)!' (bro you got candy in there or something)

- He's definitely stern about you going too far, but it's bc he worries ok

- He literally does get grey hairs when you go out like that

- OH and if you do get hurt? AAAAAA-

- 'Shit, (Y/n), get out of there!!'

- Obviously he can't get you himself, but he can help you with directions, whether if it's to the escape, or just to somewhere to hide

- 'What'd I say, (Y/n)? You're being too reckless again. The loot isn't worth more than your life.'

- He's like a worried/stern parent fr

- (bro unrelated but I just got reminded of that voiceline where Bain calls himself 'daddy' and I'm going to cry)

- Anyways, he really does get worried for you, because he knows that if you get injured he can't even go get you himself :(

- 'Please, (Y/n), try to have sense of mind this time, or I'll pull you out of the fight.'

- He does make sure that if you are always gonna be stubborn about it, Dallas or someone from the og gang is working with you so they can keep an eye on you or pull you out

- He does love you he just acts a little strict sometimes <33

- He doesn't like to be too public though so that's why he sort of doesn't treat you as different???

- Though everyone can usually tell with the tone in his voice

- If you're on a solo mission (more specifically stealth) he's more affectionate though !!

- Calls you love and is more... tired sounding??

- NOT THAT HE'S TIRED OF YOU-

- It's just that when he's with you he feels more comfortable to let go a little and hide his emotions less

- He trusts the others ofc, but when it's a team he feels like he needs to pump them up

- (I headcanon he's like this with the ogs as well)

- He's more affectionate when you try be stubborn and stuff

- 'Love, you're going to get caught if you go back. Please get back in the van.'

- This is as affectionate as he rlly gets tbh

- OH also please thank him for his concerns, if you do it correctly he might be a little flustered >:D

- 'Thanks Bain. I know you're just worried. You know I love you.'

- He'll probably turn off his mic for a second to just process what you said (got the whole °/-/°)

- It only lasts for a second but its worth

- 'I.... love you too. Now come on, let's get back to the safehouse.'

- Y'all are cute oml I love y'all :)