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jamespotterismydaddy · 4 months

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Capture the Flag

luke castellan x reader

pt 2

A/N: now that i'm writing for other fandoms, feel free to let me know if you only want to be on a hotd taglist. But now, please enjoy the strongest swordsman in camp halfblood

TW: MAJOR SMUT, slight bondage, rough smut, violence, lowkey dark(ish)!luke

word count: 1,699 words

You want Luke Castellan’s head speared on your sword.

It’s like you spend every minute preparing for capture the flag because of him. He spends every last minute of each game cutting down your teammates and stealing your flag, so now it’s time to change the tactic. You ditch your father’s usual battle advice of going for the kill and hope that defence is the best offence for once. You also pray that he will guide your sword anyhow. So there you stand, guarding your flag with two of your most vicious teammates. You dodge the blue team’s first attack that was supposed to draw you off. You may have a short temper but you aren’t stupid. And you’re more than pleased to see the look of surprise on Luke’s face as he approaches.

“Fucking Ares kids.” He grumbles, sword drawn.

“Were you not expecting me, Castellan?” You ask with a vengeful smirk.

He goes right for you. You’re the biggest threat there but he likes to think you’re not even close to his skill level. You would believe that the man plans to cut you down and then your teammates. He always aims for the glory of it all.

“How’s your team gonna get our flag if you’re here?” He asks as he makes the first swing. It’s much better to start off on offence and he’s the one coming at you.

“Who cares. When you’re done, so is your team.” You block him, hating to be on defence but he’s too quick.

“Gods, you didn’t plan ahead of that? There really isn’t anything in that pretty little head of yours, is there? Other than rage of course.”

You’re a hothead. He knows it. You know it and it doesn’t take much to rile you up. When you’re riled up, you get sloppy. At this point, you don’t care if he guts you, you go for the little fucker’s ankles. You’re actually surprised when he stumbles from blocking your attack. It’s a stupid mistake, especially for him. Though, you aren’t going to let a chance like this slip by. You keep pushing him back, trying to leave him no chance to think in between swings. He trips over a log behind him, the sword falling from his hand. He has no chance now, not on the ground and you won’t be letting him get up.

“Who’s the idiot now?”

He looks at you as you approach slowly, taunting him. He then grabs his sword and makes a break for it. You’re too shocked to even keep him down.

What the fuck.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Luke Castellan run from a fight. Not in your 4 years at camp. So you chase after him.

He’s fast, faster than you but you push yourself. He trails away… and away. Then you lose him.

“Godsdamnit!” You scream into the woods as you jog around where you last saw him.

You know you can’t stray for long if you’re not fighting Luke so you turn to make your way back to the flag. That’s when he jumps out at you with his sword swinging. You barely have time to block and it puts you off your balance. He swings at you again and again. You fall as you continue to block the merciless strikes. You’re practically holding your sword in the air and hoping for the best. The best doesn’t come as the weapon flies from your hand. He descends on you, straddling your waist as he holds the blade to your throat. He’s smirking.

“You don’t try nearly hard enough.” He says to you. “I know you’re not very clever but hades, my teammates probably already have the flag over the barrier.”

That’s when you realize how easily you were deceived. Luke didn’t run from you because you bested him; he ran to draw you off. It was a pathetically simple plan and it worked. The heat rises to your cheeks from humiliation. He grabs your two hands and pins them above your head, his grip gentle but also firm.

“I’ll put you in your grave.” You spit out at him.

“Will you now? While I have you essentially restrained?” He’s clearly amused.

You struggle beneath him with all your force but all you manage to do is roll your hips against him, earning a groan from the man. You feel it too, the burning ache between your thighs. You want him. Worse yet, he wants you.

“Let me up.”

“No. I think you quite like how I have you pinned to the ground.” He smirks.

“You’re delusional.”

“You’re wet.”

He slips a knee between your thighs and rubs it against your clothed pussy. It takes everything in you not to whimper.

“S-Stop.” You stutter out.

“Make me.” He murmurs, continuing to make you grind down on his knee as he leans down and forces you into a hot kiss. You hate how you kiss back, so hungry for him. Your mind is clouded with lust for a moment before you realize the advantage he is giving you. You never technically conceded.

As swiftly as you can, you wrap your free leg around his waist and use your whole strength to throw him off you, startling him enough to free your hands.

“You bitch.” He groans as you jab him in the stomach to try and give yourself enough time to grab your sword but it doesn’t work. He grabs you by the ankle and yanks hard. You slam to the ground right on your stomach. He moves to restrain you by sitting on your thighs so you can’t move your legs and holds your hands behind your back. You clearly didn’t consider how inevitably stronger he is than you.

“Shit.” You whine. His hold isn’t nearly as gentle this time.

“That was a cheap fucking shot.” He says cruelly. He’s pissed now.

“Fuck you. Castellan!” Gods it goes straight to his dick when you call him by his last name. He grips your hair with his free hand and pulls back hard so you have to look at him. You whine again at the sharp pain.

“You just can’t play fair, can you, princess? Maybe I won’t either then.”

He drops your head and you hear him rustling with something. You realize it’s his belt when you feel the leather against your wrists. He’s binding you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Your voice is full of rage but to him, you just sound petulant.

“What you need.” Is his simple answer.

He shifts down so he sits, or rather kneels, with your legs between his. He’s amused by your renewed writhing as an attempt to escape. It is pitiful really. Oh well, he’ll have you writhing for a different reason soon enough.

His fingertips glide across your waist, to your hips and then to your thighs, causing your back to arch upwards slightly, your stomach dipping. He brings his lips down to your ear, his voice is deep and lustful as he says, “Your body seems to know what it wants.”

“I’ll kill you.” You promise.

“Oh, i’m sure you will. But right now, you fucking belong to me.” He yanks on your hair again so you have to look at him and your eyes water from the pain. “I think you like me hurting you.” His other hand slips between your thighs to rub your clit and you let out a strangled moan. “For a girl who is so controlling, it’s interesting how badly you enjoy me manhandling you.”

He yanks your pants down and slips your helmet under your hips so your ass stays high in the air with your chest to the ground.

“This is fucked up.” You say.

“You love it. Your panties are soaked.” And he’s completely right. You’ve never been so turned on before but not a lot of men are as strong and good-looking as Luke Castellan.

He pulls your panties down and groans at the sight of your dripping pussy. He begins to palm himself through his pants and unzips them. “You have about three seconds to tell me if you don’t actually want this.”

You are silent and he chuckles. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Before you can even prepare yourself or form a thought, his fat cock is shoved inside of you, splitting you open.

“Ah, Luke!” You moan at the pain and pleasure.

“Gods, this is the tightest little pussy i’ve had.” He begins to fuck in and out of you relentlessly, giving you no time to adjust. “Yeah, you’re good for me now, baby. Such a good little cocksleeve.” He punctuates his last words with hard thrusts, the head of his cock bullying into you each time.

All you can do is repeat his name like a mantra as you get pounded on the forest floor by the strongest swordsman in camp. It’s even worse as he begins to rub your clit again, sending you so close to the edge.

“Never gonna have enough of you after this.” Luke murmurs as he feels you squeezing around him. “My good girl.”

That’s what sends you tumbling over the edge, bringing Luke with you as you do. He never could’ve kept going, not with the way your walls were squeezing around him. He pulls out almost instantly so he can watch his cum spill out of you. He doesn’t wipe it. He just pulls your panties back on and fixes the both of you up. You’re thoroughly spent, he can tell by the way you pant as he releases your wrists.

“You okay?” He asks as he helps you sit up. He grabs your hands so he can kiss the marks on your wrists. After all you’ve done, that’s the act that makes you blush furiously.

“Um, yeah.” You breathe out.

“I’ll be nicer next time, I promise. Somebody just had to put you in your place first.” He grins wolfishly.

“Next time?”

That’s when you hear the horn. The blue team has won again.

He pecks a kiss to your cheek. “Time to claim my kleos.” He says cockily before jogging off to meet his team.

taglist (comment to be added):General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #pjo #pjo x reader #luke castellan smut #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 4 months

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Asshole Instructor

Luke Castellan x Jackson!Reader

Request: luke x jackson!reader angst to fluff like he likes reader but bullies her and like one day she almost dies and then he feels so guilty and confesses

Summary: Luke has been an asshole but he can't help it until he realizes the girl he likes could be gone any minute

Warning: Angst, bullying, Luke acting like a five year old, monsters, injuries

Word Count: 1.5K

Masterlist

A/N I tweaked your request a bit so the story flows more imo

“Faster,” I yelled at one of our newest campers. Y/N Jackson dropped her sword and ripped off her helmet, looking at me with fury in her eyes. I was a little afraid but mostly really attracted to her like this.

“Don’t fu-”

“Hey, we don’t curse,” I reminded her of the camp rules. “What with all the kids around.” Seeing her become even angrier made it so hard not to laugh. I was just glad that we weren’t near any bodies of water. When I had told her that her 12 year old brother was a better fighter than her at dinner, every glass of water rose up in the air she was so mad.

She just threw the sword down and stormed off. “Hey!” I yelled after her. “You’re not dismissed.” But she ignored me, continuing to storm off towards the beach. I felt a pang of guilt antagonizing her to the point that she left but I figured I shouldn’t chase after her if she was going to be around water. Plus, it was funny to see her get so mad.

I turned around the clean up the arena only to see Annabeth standing there looking unimpressed. “Why are you being so mean to her?” she asked.

“I’m not, I'm just messing around.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, you’re antagonizing her. And I think I know why,” she smirked.

“Why?” I asked, deciding to humor her.

“Because you looove her,” she replied smugly, drawing out ‘love.’

“I do not,” I immediately defended. I cringed as my response was too fast. She only gave me a satisfied smirk. “Fine, okay. She’s pretty, I’ll give you that.” Annabeth just raised her eyebrow. “And smart,” I admitted. She kept looking at me. “And nice.” More looks. “Fine! Whenever I see her I want to kiss her and never let her out of my sight.”

A smile broke out on her face, finally satisfied. “See? Now go tell her that. Well- maybe not that exactly. You’ll probably scare her off. But tell her how you feel instead of harassing her and making her hate you.”

My heart stopped. “She hates me?”

“Probably!” Annabeth said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Or at least she will if you keep treating her so terribly.”

“Fine, I’ll apologize to her after dinner,” I sighed.

“No! Now,” she demanded.

“But she’s at the beach. She’ll kill me!”

“I don’t care. Go,” she said, pointing down the beach. “And take this to her.”

I grumbled, grabbing her helmet from Annabeth before heading after the daughter of Poseidon. When I finally found her she was sitting near a cluster of rocks, clearly trying not to be noticed by anyone. But as I prepared to tell her how I felt but as I looked at her, I thought about all the horrible ways she could reject me. And then humiliate me by telling everyone in camp about it. So instead I threw the helmet at her.

It bounced off the rock with a clang, clearly startling her. “What? Are you gonna cry because I told you, you sucked. What are you 5?”

“Go away, Luke,” she yelled. I once again felt a pang in my chest as I heard the trembling in her voice. Whether from rage or tears I wasn’t quite sure. But picturing her laughing in my face as she rejected me made me keep going.

“I see why your dad went back to your mom. He couldn’t have his only demigod child in decades be so weak like you.”

“I said go away!” she yelled, standing up. Her eyes were practically on fire as she looked at me with a burning glare. The ocean was getting choppier behind her before it lunged up into a huge wave, soaking me to the bone. I coughed when it finally receded and she was left there, standing dry. “Leave me alone or I’ll stuff you in a sewer pipe,” she threatened, walking off.

When I told Annabeth what happened she threatened to stuff me in a sewer pipe. But other than that she let it go and I hadn’t seen much of Y/N. Which hurt at times because I missed seeing her and I thought about her all the time but I honestly deserved that threat she gave me so I respected her wishes.

That was until I heard a scream and then a boy’s desperate yell. I was in the arena when I heard it and didn’t hesitate running towards the sound. There I found Percy and his sister at the edge of the forest. Percy was frantically pushing on his sister’s bleeding leg as she was getting visibly paler. He looked up, seeing me. “Do something!” he yelled.

I ran over, kneeling by her side. I could now see the wound clearly and it was deep. Deep enough to kill her from blood loss. She already had a puddle underneath her and I could see a trail coming from the woods. “Go get Chiron,” I told the boy. He nodded, getting up to sprint to the Big House.

I looked at Y/N’s face, surprised to see her still conscious. “Surprised you’re not cutting me further open,” she said through shallow breaths.

“Look, I’m sorry I’ve treated you like shit and I promise I’ll explain why when you’re better but I need you to focus on staying awake right now. Think you can do that?”

Despite the fact that my hands were keeping her from bleeding out she had the audacity to roll her eyes. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” I breathed. I felt ashamed realizing that was probably the first nice thing I had ever said to her.

Once some Apollo kids came and took her the Big House I went with them. But once they had her in the sickroom and everyone else was kicked out, I became wracked with guilt and worry. I made her life miserable. Why? Because I was afraid of my own feelings for her? I realized just how ridiculous that was. And I realized how little time I may have to actually confess my feelings.

“What happened, Percy?” Chiron’s words interrupted my thoughts.

“We were in the forest just trying to get some monster fighting experience when this big… dog—I think it was a hellhound—jumped at me out of nowhere. I guess she saw it first because she pushed me out of the way but its claws caught her leg,” Percy explained. “Is she going to be alright?” he asked, tears in his wide eyes.

“Yes, she should be fine,” Chiron assured the boy before sending a reassuring look to me too. Did everyone know I liked her? I briefly cursed Annabeth, she probably told him.

But soon enough Lee and Michael said we could go in so I followed Percy into the room. Her leg was wrapped in a pristine white bandage and the sheets must have been changed because they were also white in contrast to her bloody shirt and shorts.

“Percy, why don’t you go get her some clothes for when she wakes up?” I suggested. He looked reluctant but went anyway so I could talk to her. I took a seat by her head, observing her peaceful, beautiful face. “I don’t know if you can hear me but… at least you can’t reject me like this,” I said, letting out an empty chuckle. “But um I guess I'm fulfilling my promise. The reason I’ve been such an asshole to you is because… well… I think I’m in love with you. And I was afraid of my feelings and that you’d reject me so I took it out on you and I’m sorry for that. You didn’t deserve that.”

I sat there for a beat of silence, unsure what to do. But just before I stood up and left, I felt her fingers brush against mine. “Took you long enough to confess, jerk,” she said. I looked back at her, finding the slightest smile and her gorgeous eyes.

“So… you like me too?” I asked, my heart pounding with insecurity.

“Yeah, of course I do,” she admitted. I smiled, leaning down to press my lips to hers. When I pulled away to breathe she took the opportunity to speak. “If you tell anyone I’ll stuff you in a sewer pipe.”

“Sure you will,” I taunted her, connecting our lips again. This time I only pulled away when I heard a slightly squeaky voice.

“What are you doing with my sister?”

Masterlist

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo x reader #pjo tv show #pjo series #the lightning theif #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #x reader #percy jackson x sister!reader

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azsazz · 5 months

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Midnight Muse (Part 3)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: Mentions of how Azriel got his scars, burning.

Word Count: 3,528

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Notes: This one is a hum-dinger.

_________________________________________

The party is in full swing. Music beats loudly through the apartment, and the rumbling of voices trying to shout over it crams the room, bouncing off of the walls and down the hall. There are people everywhere, crowding the space. The furniture has been shoved aside to make room for dancing and there’s a beer pong table set up between the fridge and the counter that’s plastered in bottles of beer and liquor and red cups. Someone’s standing on the countertop pouring a beer into a luge with a frat bro on the other end, chugging. Azriel doesn’t know how the fuck he got in.

The air is thick with over-sprayed perfumes, body odor, weed, and alcohol. Azriel watches from his spot by the window as he preps his latest victim. He’s working his hands into a second pair of black latex gloves, fresh for the girl sitting in his chair. It’s one of the rickety ones they had at their dining table, but they don’t eat there anyway, so it’s mostly used for this. She’s excited, wearing a skimpy dress that leaves nothing to the imagination. There’s a group of guys standing nearby, watching her with glossy eyes and beers in their hands, half hard at the prospect of watching the girl get a tramp stamp.

“A little purple unicorn,” is what she’d requested, and Azriel didn’t ask why. He pulled out his sketchbook and took his pencil to it silently, sketching a few options for her to choose from.

Azriel isn’t proud of the set up he has currently; tattooing drunken college kids whenever Cassian throws a party. Usually a weekly occurrence. He is completely out of his element, but he needs the practice, should he want to open his own shop someday. The only reason he doesn’t have his headphones on, blasting music a little more to his own taste, is so that he can hear what’s going on, and tend to his client’s needs should anything happen. He’s perceptive, and will keep an eye on the hiccuping girl with her dress pulled over her ass, only because he cares more about the tattooing than whatever else is going on.

He preps her skin, taking a clean razor to remove the area of any hair. The girl scoffs when she sees it, but it’s protocol for him, and she is happily distracted when someone shoves a drink in her direction. The liquid spills over the rim a little, and Azriel grits his teeth, but continues to focus on his preparations.

She keeps squirming, shouting in the direction to the dancefloor where her group of friends can hear her. Her long, red hair that she persistently sweeps over her shoulder when Azriel tucks it back keeps brushing the area he’s just taken an antiseptic to. He sighs when she does it for the third time and sits back in his seat in frustration.

“Get out of my chair.”

His voice is a low rumble, and she doesn’t seem to hear him. She’s too busy trying to call her friends over, to brag about what she’s doing. It’s incredibly annoying, and Azriel’s already had a hellish day.

He hates knowing that the girl he’d met in the lobby lives next door. You’re infuriating, aggressive with your words and actions, pounding at both the elevator and their front door, demanding he move his motorcycle.

You may have been arguably as drained as he was, with your unruly hair and tired eyes. He’d come straight home after hearing the news that he hadn’t gotten the apprenticeship he’d wanted at Mystic Mark Tattoos. He thought he’d shown an incredible portfolio of work, both drawings and tattoos done in this very living room, without the distractions of beer, girls, and weed. They thought he was too young, that he needed to work on straightening his lines and that maybe a different style would suit him better.

And then there were no parking spots when he’d gotten home. Normally, Azriel parks in front of Cassian’s enormous rust bucket of a Bronco, his sleek motorcycle teetering on the white painted line just before the tow zone. But there had been a moving van jammed there instead, which meant more noisy neighbors moving into the already packed building. He doesn’t need to meet more people at the mailboxes, fight them for the one slow-ass elevator that might crumple if more than three people get on it. He doesn’t want to fight for a spot in the parking lot, either.

In his haze of annoyance, he’d parked in the small space between the front of the van in the no-no zone and the car bookending it. He hadn’t given much thought to the blinking hazards on the van, hoping he’d be in and out of his apartment to drop off his art supplies and portfolio, then be right back outside for a long ride to clear his head of his failures.

You had changed his mind on that, with your stupidly good-looking face and snippy attitude. He knew he’d caught you off guard, waltzing into the building like that. He’d even stopped to get his mail, something he should’ve walked right past to avoid more contact with you, but even he couldn’t keep his eyes from your backside as you stalked past him through the door.

Your question had been his aggravating final straw.

No, his final straw was finding out you were his neighbor, most likely the one next door. You’d shown up with fire in your eyes and pink cheeks, and he was hardly able to keep his surprise locked away at the sight of you and your roommate, angrier than all hell. That same surprise you weren’t able to conceal nearly made him smirk, but your taunt of towing his beloved motorcycle sparked something almost deadly in him. He wanted to grab you, force you down the stairs with him to see if it were still there, maybe press you up against it and—

“What?” the girl asks incredulously, craning her neck over her shoulder.

“Get the fuck out of my chair or I’ll put a dick on you,” he grunts, already packing up his things. He ignores her spluttering confusion, the red to her cheeks that looks nowhere near as pretty as it had on you.

“Fuck you,” the girl screeches, stumbling to her feet. The group of lingering men watch on, one even stepping closer to help steady the poor girl. Tears prick her eyes but Azriel doesn’t feel bad in the slightest. If she really wanted a tattoo, she would’ve acted properly, not fucking wasted his time. He’s done. He’s so done.

She whirls, wrenching her arm from the other boy's grasp, and tosses her drink right into his face. Azriel winces, the juiced-down alcohol stinging his eyes. He licks his lips and cringes. It’s as fruity as it smells. Vodka, it tastes like.

He swipes his wet hair out of his face so he can use his best glare that makes anyone cower from him, but she’s already dragging the boy into the throng of people on the dance floor. Azriel takes the loss, peeling the black gloves from his hands and shoving his things under his arms.

“Woah, dude,” Cassian says when he stumbles into Azriel on the way to his room. His locked room, because he doesn’t need anyone touching his things. Being in his apartment is already enough. They can fuck in the stairwell for all he cares.

Cassian’s pants are slung low off his hips, button and zipper both undone. His shirt has been shucked off, either because he’s spilled beer on himself or because he’s about to get lucky, Azriel doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. The music is too fucking loud and too fucking poppy, and the air is thick and hot. His skin is sticky and he just can’t take this day anymore. “What the hell happened?”

“You invited a bunch of assholes to your party, Cass. What the hell do you think happened?” Azriel bites, pulling his key from the keychain in his pocket. He doesn’t even have the temperament to deal with his roommates right now. He wants to be left alone.

“So she denied you Azzie,” Cassian teases, slurring a bit. The hazel of his eyes is bright, and normally it’d help Azriel’s mood, to joke around with his best friend like this, but he’s itching to get clean and get out of here.

He really should’ve started drinking.

“Don’t start with me,” Azriel sighs, twisting the key in his lock and shoving his way into his room. His shoulders loosen a bit when he steps inside. His own space, decorated how he likes. It’s dark, moonlight streaming through the open curtains, and he likes that.

“Hey,” Cassian pouts, following him. The door shuts softly behind his friend and the noise of the party dims a little, but not enough for him to want to stay. Azriel drops his tattooing supplies on his desk, eager to take a shower and clean this day off of himself. He’ll organize it all later, rip out the page with the unicorn drawings on them out of spite. “You’re acting as grumpy as our new neighbor,” he continues, and Azriel really doesn’t like being compared to you. He’d rather call that drunk girl back to finish her tattoo. “What’s going on with you?”

Azriel sighs, tearing off the shirt that’s plastered to his body with alcohol. He swipes at the remnants before tossing it into the laundry basket in the corner. “Just a rough day, man. Nothing to worry about.”

Cassian frowns and tries to catch Azriel’s eye, but his friend refuses to meet his gaze, rooting through his dresser to find a clean shirt. He’s come to the realization that he isn’t going to be able to take a shower in the only bathroom they have without people trying to knock the door down, trying to pee.

“It’s not like…” Cassian trails off like he doesn’t even want to ask this. “It’s not like last year though, right?”

Azriel’s body stills, spine going tight. His muscles constrict and he squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to breathe, fingers curled into the soft cotton of his shirt. Last year, when he’d been forced to go to his father’s home for the winter break. He had wanted to make sure that his son was doing something with his life, going to school for accounting instead of art like he’d wanted since he was a child.

So, Azriel pretended. He’s a smart man, and with a little help from Google and his memory, he played off the business student his father could only dream of. It hadn’t stopped his step brothers from finding out the truth, though, pinning him to the ground when their father was out for a business dinner later that evening. They’d taunted him, spat at him, and poured gasoline over his hands, setting them alight. They’d laughed while he screamed, struggled. They thought they were doing proud by his father, he couldn’t really become an artist with fucked-up hands.

And he’d fled as soon as he was released from the hospital. He didn’t go back to his fathers for his things. He’d had someone help press Rhysand’s contact on his phone since his hands were in too much pain to do so himself. Rhys had called Cassian, and both of his friends had flown down within hours.

“No,” Azriel answers shakily. He can still hear their ugly words sometimes, how they made his hands as brutalized as their insults. He can still smell the burning of flesh. Beach bonfires are a no go anymore. Azriel can hardly sleep most nights, terrified of closing his eyes and reliving the night over and over again, even a year later. “No, it’s not like last year.”

It’s both better and worse, somehow. Better, because no one is assaulting him, and his father is no longer reaching out, but worse because maybe his father had been right. Maybe his artistic abilities are not good enough to be where he is right now. Maybe the tattoo shop denying his apprenticeship only confirmed that.

“We can ditch this party right now,” Cassian says, and he sounds closer. A little more sober. “Let Rhys deal with it. We can go on a ride and talk if you want to, Az. I’ll even let you drive Cherry.”

Azriel shakes his head. Cassian doesn’t let anyone drive his beloved Bronco, painted cherry red, faded from years worth of sun damage. He doesn’t want to talk at all, really.

“That’s alright, man,” Azriel answers, turning to face his friend. Cassian’s eyebrows are furrowed deeply, and now Azriel feels bad that he’s ruining his friend's night. “Grab those condoms you came in here for and go bag your girl.”

That seems to distract Cassian enough, the boy cursing and eyes going wide. “Oh fuck! Sage! Or is it Paige? Shit, man, I don’t even remember her name.” He’s frantic, catches the box of condoms perfectly when Azriel tosses it his way.

“Just call her baby or something,” Azriel claps Cassian on the shoulder, guiding him towards the door. “They love that.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

The wind in Azriel’s ears drowns out all of the bad thoughts.

This, this is what he loves, thrives off of. Roads untraveled, the night and wind his only caress. Shadows chase his route, and the silence rights his presence. The darkness takes care of him, feeds his weary soul. The thrum of the bike between his thighs is exhilarating, especially when he climbs to speed that makes his heart race so fast in his chest he’s afraid it might burst.

He’s alone in the world right now, just him, his bike, and the moon. No one can catch him, taunt him, insult him, hurt him. The night would never treat him as others do.

Gliding around a curve, he comes to a slow stop. He’s arrived at a hilltop, one he’s found while biking through the town on another night similar to this. It overlooks part of the town, and he likes being able to see the lights of the city. It’s also far enough to get a good view of the sky, and he counts what constellations he can. He cuts the engine, shoves the kickstand down, and pulls his helmet off, breathing in the scent of night.

He hangs the helmet on the handlebar and unzips his coat, peels his gloves from his hands to stare at them under the moonlight. They’re fucked beyond belief, red and puckered with marred flesh that will never truly heal. They shake sometimes, when he’s sketching or trying to tattoo. Cassian has three or four jagged tattoos because he’d offered his body for Azriel to practice on after they’d healed enough to where he could hold a tattoo gun again. He’s lucky to have such a friend, even if the tattoos he requested were dumb. He hasn’t convinced Rhys to get one yet, though. Soon.

They’re unlike the ones scattered around his own body. Mythological stories inked into his tan skin, each with their own story. Icarus on his torso because when he’d truly begun to reach out for what he wanted in life, he was burned. Psyche and Eros intertwined on his forearm because he too should only be loved in the dark, where no one can see his flaws. Large bat-like wings that cover the expanse of his back because he’d always wished that he could just up and fly away from here, all of his problems in life. Many others line his skin, each one curated to perfection, no matter what anyone else has to say. He adores each and every one of them.

The breeze blows some of his flopping hair in his eyes and he brushes it away. He should get it cut soon, he thinks.

Azriel slides from the bike, digging into the inside pocket of his jacket for a small notepad and the pencil he’s brought. He keeps the headlight to his motorcycle on, and goes to sit in front of it, letting the light wash over his sketches.

Turning to a fresh page, he puts the tip of the pencil to the pristine paper, and begins drawing, ignoring the slight shake of his hand. He has to get used to it, relearn how to make crisp, straight lines if he wants to go into tattooing, but right now, in the middle of the night, none of that matters.

He draws until his wrist hurts and he can hardly hold the pencil, and then he sits back, looking at his work. He swears he loses himself in it, not really thinking about what he’s drawing, but allowing the pencil to guide his movements. There’s a scratchy sketch of legs, the tops of the thighs covered by the fitted hem of a large sweatshirt. He’s drawn another unicorn, this one a skeleton, the black of it’s eye sockets reads “fuck you.” There’s a cerberus showing a full row of sharp teeth as it growls, two of the canine heads gnashing at each other. Azriel thinks this might be his next tattoo, actually.

It isn’t until the early hours when he’s sure his apartment has cleared out that he returns home. He takes his time, enjoying the little time to himself he has left. He doesn’t need to go back home, because he knows he’s not going to sleep, but he wants to be in his room with easy access to the rest of his supplies and the comfort of his belongings.

He’s not expecting to run into his new neighbor, but it's inevitable, the Mother playing tricks on him. You’re walking back from the parking lot as he’s getting off his bike, removing his helmet as you walk, head buried in your phone.

“Finally got that truck moved, huh princess?” Azriel comments, and watches you startle. You spin on your heel and he can’t help but take in your appearance. Your clean hair is brushes, no longer curling and knotty from your day spent moving in. Your eyes are wide, but he can see the tiredness lacing the color. You’re wearing a large hoodie despite the balmy summer night, but he can’t judge because he’s strapped up in his leather coat. He can barely catch the hemline of your shorts, peeking out from your top, and his eyes drag down your legs before climbing slowly back up.

“No thanks to you, asshole,” you mutter, trying to avoid crossing into his space. He’s massive, and you have to lift your chin to talk to him. You’re trying not to admire his stature in his leather jacket and dark jeans. Warmth spreads across your cheeks.

Azriel tuts. “So rude.”

“Why would I be a peach when you’ve been nothing but a jerk?” you cross your arms over your chest and he kind of likes this look on you. You're easy to rile. “I’ve had a hellish day, and you didn’t help. Then you go and slam doors in people faces and play your horrendous music as loud as fucking possible. Some people want to sleep, you know.”

Azriel wishes he could sleep, too.

“Still salty you weren’t invited, princess?”

You scoff, stepping around him, ready for this conversation to be over. “As if.”

You stalk for the building, trying to get away from him, but his strides are long and he can easily keep up. “Think I might catch the elevator with you,” he says. His rough voice sends shivers up your spine. “Since we’re going to the same floor, and all.”

He doesn’t know why he’s egging you on. He’s had a nice ride, gotten his head clear, but he finds himself enjoying your sharp tongue and dark glares. He enjoys your attention, the way you stubbornly have to have the last word.

“No, thanks,” you respond, all but ripping the front door off its hinges. Maybe it will hit him on the backswing.

Azriel’s large, gloved hand catches it in time, much to your dismay.

“More of a stairs kind of girl, I presume?” He asks, referencing your little trip to the fourth floor by stairwell after he’d taken the only elevator up. You grit your teeth, trying not to take the bait as you jam your finger into the button. It’s still on the ground floor from the few minutes you’d left to move the truck, finally noticing the stupid dickhead’s bike no longer blocking you in. You couldn’t sleep due to the party waging next door, but Feyre had been able to, snoring softly on the couch.

“More of a ‘don’t talk to me’ kind of girl,” you retort, nearly growling when he shoves himself inside the elevator with you. His presence takes up almost the entirety of the metal box, and you keep your eyes to yourself, staring at the bright green numbers as the rickety thing ascends.

You can hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks. “Feisty, princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” you scowl.

“Sure thing, princess.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog

#azriel au #azriel x reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel/reader #art school az #art school au #midnight muse #modern!azriel #tattoo artist!azriel

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alphabetatoes · 1 month

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you'd make me pay? (jjk x reader)

aka the one where you joke w the men of jjk about paying to get affection (g. satoru + n. kento + k. choso + f. toji)

a.n.: reader is a comedienne n loves to mess w these men (the way the toji one actually happened to me 🙃)

c.w.: 18+, mdni

gojo

"C'mon- Wanna mark you up. Let everyone know you're mine." Satoru had spent practically the entire night trying to convince you to let him give you a hickey.

"Give me $10 and I'll think about it." The issue wasn't Gojo's insistence on marking you. It was his inability to adhere to subtlety. Yet he adored when he could see those red splotches of skin peaking out of your shirt collar.

Gojo stretches his body across your legs, his frame managing to span the entirety of the couch. "Toru, you're crushing me." You move the rogue white strands of hair out of his face.

"Please babe. Need you so bad." His bottom lip bulges as his whining continues.

You cave to his begging, giving him a light pat on the arm. "Fine, you big baby."

Gojo lifts himself from you and pulls you into his lap, a goofy smile strung across his face.. He takes a chaste kiss from your lips, reveling in his victory. You tilt your head to the side as he buries himself in the crook, nipping and sucking along your neck.

nanami

Sharing a bath was not only a way for the two of you to spend time with one another, but to also relax from the stress of the day. Kento had poured the two of you a glass of wine, and you lit a candle to aid in the tranquility.

You're sat on opposite sides of the tub, indulging in the warmth of the water. "C'mere. Want you to sit in my lap while I wash your hair." Kento's hands draw soothing circles on your ankles, gently tapping them to get your attention.

You sink further into the bubble bath, taking a sip of the wine. "I'm so comfy though." The idea of having to move your tired limbs on your own was a travesty. "I'll need at least $15 if you expect me to move on my own."

"How about I make you dinner and give you a massage after instead?"

"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Nanami." You feign concentration as you mull over his proposal. "But you've got yourself a deal." You clink your wine glass into his, cheers-ing to the proposal.

Once you're seated on Kento's lap, his strong hands make idle work to wash your hair. You let a hand sink to his waist, stroking against his cock to help him relax as well.

choso

You were nestled into Choso's chest as the two of you watched a movie in the living room. One hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him. His other hand laid rest on the top of your leg, which you let rest draped over his.

"Can I kiss you?" Choso's breath tickles your ear as he whispers his request.

"For a dollar." You purse your lips, waiting for Choso to lean in.

He reaches for the wallet in his back pocket, pulling out a bill. "I only have a $20- y'know what? Just keep it." As he shoves the bill into your hand, you gently push it away.

"I was only kidding, baby." You try not to laugh too hard as you quell his nerves. The sincerity staining Choso's face has you melting. You give him a sweet smile, grabbing onto his cheeks to pepper him with kisses.

toji

Toji was out of town on a job, leaving you unfulfilled for about a week. To help sate that aching feeling, you'd planned to video chat

“Your tits look great in that top.” Toji eyes you up and down, flashing a coy wink when he meets your gaze. “Think they’d look even better without it, though.”

Feeling playful, you give him an ultimatum. “Give me $5 and I’ll do it.”

“You’d make me pay?” His smirk turns into a pout, frustrated by your proposition. Whether he'd admit it or not, Toji missed you just as much. Craving for any glimpse of the body he had longed for.

“Now it’s $20.”

“Cut me a break, doll. Don’t need you actin’ like a brat when you got me all worked up like this.”

Toji pans the phone down to his waist. The material of his sweatpants is tented up as his dick strains against it. You flip him off and flash him a quick look at your tits, not quite giving into his demands.

He’d owe you big time once he got home.

#gojo satoru x reader #nanami kento x reader #choso kamo x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk fluff #jjk smut

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sanspuppet · 8 months

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my ultimate group is Ateez, so if it isn’t requested for others i’ll write generally about them

i also stan: stray kids, enhypen, svt, txt, p1h, bts, and boynextdoor (i obviously won’t write about the minor line of the members)

quick self introduction: 19 y/o, ♐️, names Valentine, i’m from Italy, ambivert, i love art music and foreign languages, hobbies are drawing, dancing and playing the bass

i really like supporting people and being kind to anyone who’s towards me, i also love talking and interacting so don’t be shy with me :3

Let’s stop talking about me! Here’s more about my blog

no violence (use of knives, guns and blood…)

the idol must be an adult

no hybrids

no they/ them pronouns for the reader (not because i don’t support LGBTQA+ but bcuz i’m not used to using those so i would probably mess up a lot, i’m saurry :( i think that many writers out there could do better than me)

- HONGJOONG: "Dominance practice" “Hongjoong as your perv boyfriend” “angry subbie”

- SEONGHWA: "Say my name" "More and more of that" “dom, dirty talk” “guided masturbation” “smut blurb”

- YUNHO: "Pretty little slut princess" "Yunho, who would..." "Dream Boss" “Big d!ick yunho” “What he would say during sex” “strangers to lovers” “gamer yunho”

- YEOSANG: "So in love" "sex tape" “Hard dom drabble”

- SAN: "Late night call" "short pov cuz im bored" "angst, rough sex" "tasty meal" "San as your boyfriend" "workout" “my horny thought” “dom husband” “him sending you a sexy pic” “daddy and breeding kink” “giving him a massage” “morning sex” “y/n getting horny from reading a book” “San fucking you in his arms” “take it like a good girl”

- MINGI: "Like a chair" "Mingi as your boyfriend" "Voice of temptation" "Burning tease" “dirty talk” “practice room” “almost getting caught by yunho” “professor mingi”

- WOOYOUNG: "Bad behavior" "short pov cuz he's too hot" "Fill her up good" "is this thing on?" “her good boy”

- JONGHO: "Addiction"

- OT8: "would you rather" "Ateez when you fuck them for the first time- hyung line - maknae line” “ateez type in bed” “reaction to your risky profile pic” “face sitting w ateez” “public sec with ateez” “cockwarming with ateez” “orgy in the practice room”

- UNITS: “4some with demon line” “3some with Matz” “3some with Seonghwa and Yeosang” “3some with Yungi” “morning 3some with Yungi”

- Masterlist: Smut prompts

#ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez seonghwa #ateez san #ateez song mingi #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez povs #ateez hard thoughts #ateez hard hours #ateez yeosang #ateez hongjoong #ateez yunho #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho

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flowercrowngods · 11 months

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it’s floaty steddie hours

Eddie never knew there were moments that would just steal his breath and not give it back even after they passed, lingering in his mind, his heartbeat, his fingertips, making him wonder if the world is suddenly much bigger than before, or endlessly smaller, reduced only to one impossibly perfect moment.

He never knew. Until he met Steve. Steve, with his moments, with his smiles, with his kisses and laughs and gentle voice singing under his breath when he thinks Eddie isn’t listening.

But Eddie listens. He always listens.

And he basks, taking it all in as he’s sitting in the back of his van somewhere at the foot of Weathertop, leaning against the side wall.

There is a steady pitter-patter of heavy summer rain against the roof of the van, a breeze of fresh air coming in through the open doors that occasionally leaves goose bumps along his arms and brings with it the smell of rain and drenched soil, of blooming fields and trees and life, mixing with their own little bubble of life and love and tobacco.

Eddie wants to catch that smell, that sound, that feeling in a mason jar like Steve told him he used to dream as a kid. Maybe he will. He knows there’s one in the driver’s side door for this very purpose.

It would be a good forever-moment, with Steve lying in the back of his van, illuminated by the soft glow of the fairy lights Eddie installed for him the other week with a hearty but ultimately fake grumble. The warm light dances along his skin, making it look even more golden than usual, complementing the galaxy of moles that is imprinted and immortalised on his skin.

And Eddie watches. He always watches.

Golden light that makes even his dimples shine as he smiles, eyes closed as he’s singing along to the third mixtape of the night. Space Age Love Song, which Eddie pretends to hate. But how could he hate it when it makes Steve look like that? When it thus steals Eddie’s breath, his heart, his sanity?

And then, for a moment, for one perfect, drawn-out moment, all Eddie Munson can do anymore is watch. And listen. And feel. Because what he sees and hears and feels is everything.

His breath is lodged in his throat as he reaches for his little sketchbook — the special one, littered with drawings and doodles and musings of Steve. His face, his hands, the constellations of his moles. The occasional DnD related sketch in there, because Steve just inspires him.

His pencil dances over the page in practiced, familiar movements as he tries to capture the moment on paper. It’s hard, though, because Steve’s nose is scrunched a little with that smile that Eddie’s not even sure Steve’s aware of, and his dimples tell a story of their own tonight. A story of contentment rather than joy or amusement. Eddie has to try and try again, never quite getting it right, this perfection, and he curses a little under his breath.

“What are you drawing?” Steve asks, turning his head and opening his eyes a little, squinting but curious.

“Nothing,” Eddie smiles, pulling the sketch closer to his chest, away from Steve’s sleepy, lazy, slow attempt to reach for it. “Go back to sleep.”

“‘M not asleep,” he sighs, rolling over onto his side, watching Eddie and reaching for his ankle — just to touch. To hold. To feel.

It makes Eddie smile. “No?”

“No,” Steve says, helpless not to smile back, and Eddie wants to kiss him. “Just… I don’t know. ‘S nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. Perfect.”

Eddie discards the sketchbook and goes to lie down beside Steve, wrapping one arm around his middle, the other coming up to take Steve’s, their fingers intertwined between their faces.

“Then I think the word you’re looking for is basking.”

Steve hums again, touching his forehead to Eddie’s knuckles before brushing featherlight kisses over them. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Basking.”

Eddie’s heart is ready to beat out of his chest, make a life of its own fuelled by the perfection of this moment. Everything about it. Everything.

Outside, the rain picks up even more, a wave of cold air coming into the van that makes Steve cuddle closer to him, until their foreheads are touching. Eddie closes his eyes, breathes him in, and slowly inches forward, tilting his head to claim Steve’s lips in a gentle kiss.

They trade slow, sensual kisses for a while. Steve’s hand comes up to Eddie’s cheek, his thumb stroking whatever skin he can find, caressing his cheek, his chin, his jaw, while Eddie plays with Steve’s hair.

In the end it’s Steve who pulls back first, eyes open, just watching Eddie. Taking him in, making him feel seen rather than watched.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Answering is as easy as breathing. And just as difficult. Just as impossible. His love, his breath — they both belong to Steve, completely and entirely.

Steve, who smiles at him like being loved by Eddie Munson means something to him. Like it means everything. Like it can mean Forever. Eddie feels like he might not survive tonight it Steve continues to be so genuine, so honest, so raw, so open, so vulnerable, so pretty, so beautiful, so absolutely breathtakingly everything.

“Can I see what you were drawing?”

“You,” Eddie says, reaching behind him blindly in search for his book, too weak to refuse Steve anything he asks for. “I was drawing you.”

“You were?”

Eddie nods, feeling a heat creeping up on his cheeks.

“Sap,” Steve grins, leaning in to plant a kiss on Eddie’s cheek as he reaches over him for the sketchbook. “Can I?”

“Knock yourself out,” Eddie grumbles, rolling them so Steve’s lying on his back and Eddie can sprawl on top of him. Hide his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, hide the way he’s flushing, hide the absolutely obvious way he’s a goner for Steve fucking Harrington.

He hears the gasps, hears the pages being flipped, the little giggles of surprise, the hums and tiny, secret little ohs. He hears them and he holds his breath, beginning to shiver for a reason that even the cool breeze cannot compete with.

“Eddie,” Steve breathes. Doesn’t say anything else for a while. And Eddie wonders if Steve is in the same boat, in the same condition, if he has these moments, too. Moments like this. He wonders, and he hopes, and he wishes.

But Steve doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Eddie, and the music switches to Springsteen. Tougher Than the Rest. It’s always been too soft for Eddie, but right now it serves to give the word perfect a new melody.

“Dance with me,” Steve breathes.

“Hm?”

“Dance with me. Please?”

“In the rain?”

“Mm-hmm,” Steve nods, tightens his hold around Eddie as if he forgot that they still had to get up and get out there.

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie says, lifting himself from Steve’s chest and climbing out of the car, warm rain immediately drenching his clothes. It makes him laugh, a boyish little thing that bubbles out of him as he holds out his hands to help Steve out.

Steve takes his hand, jumping out with a small giggle of his own, making for a glorious vision: happy and giddy against the golden light inside the van, his wild hair soon drenched completely, sticking to his face where he shakes his head, showing droplets of water left and right.

It doesn’t fit the song, doesn’t fit the notion of basking, but they’re both laughing and breathless, clinging to each other in the moonlit night somewhere at the foot of weathertop, far away from everyone else that they might just be the only two people left in the world. Two silly boys, giddy and breathless and stupidly in love.

It makes Eddie pause. Swallow. It makes his heart go wild as he stills.

“What?” Steve asks, stilling as well, looking over his shoulder to see if someone was coming, if someone’s watching them.

Eddie pulls him closer, makes Steve meet his eyes again as he rests his hands around his neck. “Dance with me.”

A smile spreads Steve’s lips, breaking through all of Eddie’s walls to let the light in — even in the middle of the night. “Okay,” he breathes.

And if you’re brave enough for love, // Honey, I’m tougher than the rest.

The sound of rain isn’t loud enough to drown out the music, but still Eddie can barely hear it over the sound of his own heart. Over the sound of I love you, I love you, I love you. Over the sound of Is this forever? Can this be forever?

They slow dance to Springsteen, then to Tears for Fears, and eventually to Prince. They dance until Steve begins to shiver in his arms, until the rain has drenched them so completely that none of the day’s heat is left in the air and the breeze is getting uncomfortable. And then, they dance a little longer, because Steve is capturing Eddie’s lips again, slow and unhurried and like he means it. Like he means it all.

“One day,” Steve breathes against Eddie’s lips. “One day I’m going to marry you. I’ll find a way.”

And it’s Eddie this time who gasps, who falls into Steve because his knees are giving out. It’s Eddie who’s lost for words.

But he doesn’t need words, because Steve is kissing him again, holding him up, holding him, holding his heart and his life and his future in hands so gentle and sure that Eddie wants to fall apart, just a little bit.

“Not if I marry you first,” he says eventually, brushing one last bruising kiss to Steve’s lips before pulling back and climbing into the van, dripping as he is.

Steve, laughing and giggling, follows immediately after him, pulling off his clothes in a hurry to get under the blanket. Eddie watches him with a leer — at least until Steve kicks him in the side and tells him to get out of these clothes and come under the blanket to warm up.

“If you wanted to get me naked, you could’a just said so, Harrington. Didn’t have to propose first.”

Steve grins, helpless against it, blushing a little and hiding his face in the blanket even as he reaches for Eddie to come closer.

But Eddie doesn’t, and awkwardly climbs over Steve to reach for the driver’s side door.

“What are you—“

Steve shuts up when Eddie retrieves the mason jar, his mouth clicking shut adorably, making Eddie grin, vulnerable and nervous and raw as he feels.

“Told myself I’d capture a perfect moment for you. What do you think, does it qualify?”

Steve swallows. Nods. Reaches for Eddie once more, who shuffles closer until Steve can test his head on his shoulder.

“Can’t believe you remembered,” he murmurs, trailing his index finger along the lid.

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” Eddie grins, making Steve laugh. Alleviating the moment, but not dislodging it. “So?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. “It’s perfect. I’m… God, I love you so much, Eddie, shit.”

“And that’s how I’m gonna label it,” Eddie grins.

“Not One day I’m gonna marry you?”

And Eddie’s breath hitches again. He lowers the mason jar, meeting Steve’s eyes this time. He wants to ask; needs to ask. Needs to know.

“Do you mean that?” It’s whispered; he doesn’t have the strength or the bravery to be any louder.

Steve’s hands come up to his cheeks, cradling his face in the gentlest way as he holds Eddie’s eyes. “Eddie Munson,” he says, “one day I’m going to marry you. And I won’t let you marry me first.”

Between them, Eddie opens the mason jar just as Steve leans in to capture his mouth in a kiss that really is nothing less than a promise. Nothing less than Forever.

happy birthday @anzelsilver i have the hugest “pls be my friend” crush on you so i decided to write you a lil thing and hope you enjoy this and the rest of your week 🫶🤍🌷

#and then they cuddle naked and. do other things hehehe #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #dio words #i am 17 minutes late for your birthday in my time zone and idk where you are but i hope you like this lil thing #it’s floaty it’s vibey it’s uhhh not as capital F fluffy as i intended but alas eddie was too in love it’s not my fault

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hope-drunk · 11 months

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ohmygodohmygod the way you write abby has me doing cartwheels. omg maybe abs can catch reader maybe being so needy and whiny over tp w abs like needy voice messages and reader ends up probs humping a pillow then abby returns idk its just a scenario ive been thinking of its so ily even if you dont write this remember to not push yourself too hard :)

i use the petname ‘kid’ in this i know that’s not for everyone so a warning 🫡

you had sent the audio message not caring what the outcome would be. a ten second long recording full of you whining abby's name. she had decided to go to a party instead of coming home to spend time with you, so you had decided that you were allowed to get your self off.

obviously, it was all to piss abby off. an elaborate plan that you had thought up the second she told you she was hanging out with manny and his friends after her practice.

the text pops up on abby’s phone. when she sees it’s a voice message, she excuses herself to the bathroom to listen to it.

abby locks the door behind her and turns the volume up before pressing play.

“shit,” she mumbles when she starts to listen; immediately turning the volume back down so that only she can hear.

what the fuck was that? she texts you.

she knows exactly what it is; knows all too well what you’re doing. right when she told you she saw the look in your eyes, that you were up to no good.

instead of sending her a text, you respond with another, longer, voice message.

“fuck me,” abby whispers, feeling arousal flood through her.

she didn’t want to leave the party, but she wanted to deal with you. she splashes cold water on her face and stares in the mirror. she hasn’t drank anything, although she was going to, so she was good to drive. should she let you ruin her fun? should she go home and deal with you right now?

abby hits play on the voice message again, and that seals the deal. she needs to fuck you, now. she says her goodbyes and everyone yells at her for leaving so soon, but she couldn’t care less.

she speeds home to you, practically jumping out of her car and into the apartment. she slams the door to let you know she’s home.

she walks into the bedroom and sees you, hips grinding onto a pillow. you’re holding one of your tits and softly grunting at the sensation.

“the fuck you think you’re doing, kid?”

“you don’t want— fuck— you don’t want to help me, so i’m doing it myself.” you say back to her.

abby walks over to you and easily lifts you off of the pillow, throwing it onto the floor. she pins you onto the bed. you try to bring your thighs together, whining at the lack of friction, but she pushes them apart with her knee. you let out a puff of air.

“think you can get off without me, huh? just because i wanna have fun with my friends?”

“no,”

“no? so why are you fucking doing it?”

you shrug and look away. you know she knows— for attention. that’s the answer.

“well, you’re fucking in for it now. since you wanted to come so bad, you’re gonna be doing it all night, sweetheart.”

your eyes widen. you’re about to protest, but abby’s fingers are already drawing small, tight circles on your sensitive clit, and you know you’re in for a long night.

#abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson drabble #༉‧₊˚. 💌

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untilsfe · 2 years

Note

Turtles seeing baby/kid photos of Usagi

Good lord, that's so cute!!!

I adore every time Sakai draw Usagi as a Kid. The reaction of the guys tho. It would be priceless.

Let's see what I can do [Machiavellian laughter]

. °°°

A couple of months later:

Usagi: I still don't understand why you asked me for this photos again, Donatello-san

Donnie: It is for cientific purposes, of course.

[Leo is going through a hard time as a leader, and his brothers make him a collage for motivation]

Leo, crying: I love you guys!

Mikey: We know!

Raph: Don’t mention it

Donnie: Seriously, don't ever mention it

_________________________

Pfff, I enjoyed doing this so much! You have no idea. Also I'm really thankful to get to practice drawing the rest of the boys. I missed my fav boy Raphie a lot!

And should I say, I'm really proud of the photos, I mean, I don't know how I did it, but I'm glad my hands did it

I'll leave you the images here In case you want to see them with better quality. There's even one I didn't get to use because... Out of place, you know?

But hey! Katsuichi looks great, mhm! Love to that old man!! I need to draw him more.

_________________

>First the baby photos, he is a couple of months old here:

>Kid photos because I couldn't resist.

We all have had to put up with a bad haircut once.

>And finally the photos with master and friends. In the spring festival with Mariko when they where 5. And the other two when they were 10

That's all for now. See ya later folks!! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

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issacballsac · 9 months

Text

“Being a Member of BLAST”

Life is short why not take a chance and join a band? Masc!reader intended

Minor spoilers for NANA

Joining | Nana

Actually joining the band wasn’t hard especially because when you met Nana there was no band💀

You guys met at the train station when she first moved to Tokyo

You already lived in Tokyo and were just returning from a trip when you saw her

It was like an instant click she caught your eye

“Hey, do you happen to sing by any chance?”

“Who are you?”

“Don’t worry about that just know I can play guitar pretty damn good if I do say so myself!”

She was tired from the long ass ride and didn’t know anyone in Tokyo aside from Ren

Went back to your place and played for her

“I’ll think about it.”

Nana isn’t a very emotional or open person so she tends to keep secrets but over time if you guys get that close she’ll vent to you

If you smoke she’ll always ask you for your lighter

Older sister younger brother energy

Opposites | Hachi

Nana paid you an abrupt visit to tell you about her new place and totally not just for you to fix the AC

Checking the place out you laid eyes on an inverted version of Nana

“Hi, I’m Nana Komatsu!”

“Just call her Hachi.”

“Nana!”

“Nice to meet you, Hachi?”

She’s had a crush on just about every BLAST member , so, of course she has had a crush on you before

If you wear makeup or paint your nails she would love to do it for you

Amazing cook and if you ever wanted anything she’d happily make it for you

She rlly just wants to be needed

Definitely went to you for relationship advice with Nobu

You tend to just appear places so you were one of the first people to know about her pregnancy and went to the hospital with her

You stayed outside though to avoid ppl thinking you were the father 💀

You def don’t help with her shopping addiction

Shopping sprees constantly that’s why your broke as shit

“Should I get the soft blue or purple skirt?”

“Both.”

After the Takumi drama you guys would stay in contact and when Nobu wasn’t at your place she’d come to watch you practice alone

You’d support her decision because it’s her life in the end

Formation | Nobuō

The unforgiving aggression spewing from your ringing phone at the dead of night

Some random number was calling you and for whatever reason you answered, confident that it wasn’t a scam caller

“Hello?”

“It’s Nana, come over.”

“I’m not into late night favours if you get what I mean.”

“That’s not what I’m calling for, just get over here!”

Reluctantly wandering the dark streets of Tokyo you made your way over to Nana’s apartment, you’d only been there once to help with the AC where you learned of the other Nana or Hachi

Opening the door to reveal the two residents and a blonde man standing with his guitar in hand

“Took you long enough. Anyways, like I said Nobuo I already have a guitarist so go home.”

“Well we could always play together I have nothing against dual guitars!”

“You aren’t helping.”

“Good.”

You and Nobu got along great your guitars and personalities blending perfectly

He talks with you about everything especially when he and Hachi get together

If you’re shorter than/same height him he’d be happy to have another short guy in the band

If you’re taller he’d be happy if you didn’t make fun of his height though he does tend to light heartedly joke abt it

He likes to go to you for fashion inspiration and vice versa

Drunk karaoke

You would help him with song writing

You guys would be around the same age too so besties

You guys get along the best in the band

The bass | Shin

After the whole Nobu moving to Tokyo fiasco all you guys need is a bassist and drummer

Nobu sending you a picture of Hachi’s little drawing of the 3 of you on the band poster

You met up with them at the studio to practice with Shinichi on bass

For such a young kid he was pretty good player (granted your only like 6-7 years older)

Being confused right alongside him when everyone stopped playing

You, Shin, and Nobu are like the 3 musketeers

You- Oldest, Nobuo - Middle, Shin - Youngest

Shin snatched your clothes on a daily basis much like he does with Nobu

Unlike Nobu, you don’t care

He stays over at your place more than you’d like to admit

He basically lives there

He would definitely go to you about the Reira/Layla situation

Has mini fashion shows in your room with a fake runway and everything

You guys play games together on your console

He relaxes and is actually a kid when he hangs out with you

Has you paint his nails

He has moments when he storms off if you bring up a certain subject but he never stays mad for long and shows up at your door

Likes to go eat at new places with you especially if you’re paying for it

“I’m gonna get the chocolate croissants, one of those fancy hot chocolates, and..oh! You’re paying for this right?”

“Um..”

Bit a of spoiler kinda but later in the manga when he got arrested you’d be the only one to visit him

Completion | Yasu

You definitely shat yourself when you first met Yasu

He’s the responsible one in the band so he’s like a father figure to you especially if you didn’t have one

You two probably get to the studio first before anyone else

He’d always let you talk/rant to him if you ever needed to

Would be surprised if you remembered his birthday and got him a gift

If you smoke he’d go on smoke breaks with you

If you don’t smoke he’d make sure to hold his cigarette away from you/out of your face

Would teach you various card games

If you didn’t want to watch a movie alone he’d watch it with you

Any legal troubles go to him

Scratch that ANY troubles go to him

“Man you’re like a wise monk.”

“..because I’m bald?”

“No, because you’re wise..and because you’re bald.”

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dearest-painter · 3 months

Note

If you don't want to do this or you don't feel comfortable please ignore this.

But what if Valentin's daughter reader is dyslexic and she's drawn towards the arts whether that be drawing, painting,music or something else but Husk and Angel Dust somehow find out and they comfort her and its just a lot of comfort and fluff.

Thank you

TW/CW:Yandere behavior, unhealthy behavior, unhealthy relationship, abusive behavior, abusive relationship, I myself do not have dyslexia so forgive me if I described it wrong, tell me if I need to add more

Summary: Reading can be hard sometimes but at least your family loves you still

You smiled as you on the ground drawing, you’ve always liked drawing. You tried to get into reading but sometimes the words would jumble up or they wouldn’t make sense at all so you stopped trying. You read when you were asked but besides that? You never read, it was way to difficult for you. Angel Dust and Husk had noticed this, at first they thought it was just you being a kid but when they saw you struggle they realized it was deeper

It honestly didn’t take them long to realize what it was after Vaggie asked you to read a book out loud, you kept saying the wrong words and had to be corrected or you would hold the book close to your face as you sounded it out. Angel dust sat beside you as he gently said, “Hey sweetie. I wanna ask something.” You looked up as you smiled. “Yeah mama?” He softly smiled as he looked down at you. “Can you describe to me what happens when you read?”

You pouted softly as you remembered. “The words jumble up or I don’t understand them sometimes, it’s so odd and hard” you reply as you sighed. That was all they needed. Angel Dust softly sighed as he rubbed your cheek and pat your head as husk sat on the other side of you. “That’s fine baby, how about we practice huh?” He softly suggested. Husk joined in. “It’ll be good for you and we’ll help you out”

You smiled as you nod your head and hugged them. You went back to drawing as Angel Dust and Husk decided to make a list of books that would be good beginners for you. They also did a lot of research on how to help you with your dyslexia

#✉️mail arrived✉️#genderfluid enity answers!#yandere #please don’t do this #obession #unhealthy #platonic yandere #yandere platonic #fem reader #female reader #yandere hazbin hotel #Val’s daughter!reader #Valentino daughter!reader

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cherryslyce · 1 year

Text

Second Son (XV) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: Y/N remains in Reine. Letters arrive.

Part XIV / Part XVI / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Anders lore! I miss Regulus *cry*. Also...emphasis on the canon divergence warning :)

The sun peeked through the dainty window above the kitchen sink of Anders’ house, illuminating the small waves of dust that swirled through the air and bringing light warmth on your back. In front of you, Anders’ stern expression remained unflinching despite how brutally the sun shone onto his wrinkled face.

Behind you, you could hear Asger mumbling quietly to Luna about putting on the kettle. Clutched firmly in your lap, Regulus’ journal seemed to burn into your thighs, reinforcing your resolve. Overnight, you had practically sprouted a new spine of steel.

“What’s in it for me?” Anders’ gruff voice tore through the silence, and you could see how brightly his inner conflict flickered through his eyes.

Raising your head minutely, your flat voice rang through the air firmly, “What do you want?” Your deadpan masked how anxious you were about the conversation, not knowing where you would turn to if Anders denied you again.

Swinging forward in his seat to the creaking protest of his chair, he narrows his eyes into a glare, “The research. What you found and will inevitably find.” His voice was hard and cold, leaving no room for negotiation.

Drawing your eyebrows together in confusion, your voice leaves as a small whisper, “Yes?”

“I want to publish it.”

Your eyes slowly widen and you have to clench your jaw to stop your nose from flaring in irritation. He wanted to take credit for Regulus’ research.

You become increasingly aware of the way the sunlight claws at your back, prickling with a steaming fierceness that matches the sudden burning along your jaws as you bury your fury.

What would Regulus want?

Is this okay to do?

Is there any other choice?

Gritting your teeth, you hiss out your answer without even trying to hide your venomous tone, “Fine.”

Anders’ eyes flicker around your scowl for a few moments before he leans back and sighs, “Good,” He then grins almost mockingly at you before averting his attention somewhere behind you, “let’s eat, then.”

You gulp loudly and try to steady your breathing, afraid that you would hex the man if you stewed further in your anger. There was no time to run rampant and squander your chances, even if the cost was highly unsavory.

You were doing this for Regulus, and he was worth it.

Breakfast, thankfully, went by quickly and without much trouble, even if the fish tasted like cotton pads in your distracted state. As Luna put down her fork with a muted clink, you were quick to snap back into reality.

Anders wipes his mouth with a cloth before throwing it down and hauling himself up with a small grunt. Asger simply observes his father with veiled interest, eyes following the older man as he shuffles over to place his plate in the sink. You straighten up in your seat and turn to face the older man, “Do you have books then? That I can read through.”

Anders grunts before limping towards the front door, only stopping when silence ensues, “I don’t have all day, kid.”

Shooting a flat look at Asger and Luna, they both give you surprised half-smiles in return. Asger wordlessly reaches to collect the rest of the plates, ushering you to follow his temperamental father. As you tread behind the older man, intentionally taking half steps to remain behind him, you decide to try and lift your spirits by looking at the scenery.

Reine was just as breathtaking in the morning as it was at night. The vast blues of the water fluttered in small peaks ever so slightly, reminiscent of the much larger rocky peaks that lined the village around you. The bright snow blanketing the rocky mounds seemed to shimmer under the sunlight, pure and thick, and nostalgic of the winters at Hogwarts.

You’re pulled from your thoughts by the sound of clinking chains, raising your eyebrows when you see Anders tugging away a mound of rusty chains from two wooden doors. The small building in front of you was a bit roomier than a shed and had two narrow windows pressed upwards on opposite walls: perfect for ventilation without compromising privacy.

As Anders steps to the side to let you move into the building, you hum quietly as you see a small wooden makeshift table pushed up against the back wall, nearly buried away under mountains of books that rested together like building blocks of a dilapidated building. It was a humble research study tucked away in the nook of the village.

“These are all mine, so don’t damage anything,” Anders croaks.

Raising an eyebrow, your eyes dart sideways in exasperation, “Sure. Have you read through all of these?” You slowly shuffle deeper into the room, occasionally leaning to peer at the titles of some of the books.

“No,” the short reply has your eye twitching.

As you clasp one of the thick books, cringing inwardly at the coat of dust that clings onto your fingers from the action, Anders trudges past you and drops himself onto one of the small stools in the corner.

“Here. This came at dawn, good thing too. The bloody owl would have confused the others.”

Turning to face the man, your face lights up as you see him extending a small envelope towards you, the corner of the paper crumpled a bit from being stuffed away in his pocket. Nodding in thanks, you quickly grasp the parchment and tear through it.

To Padfoot’s pup,

We understand. Stay safe. We won’t be heading out to school because of nightfall. We will not be at home, we are going hunting for the rest.

We miss you. Padfoot is upset with your sudden trip though.

Tell Luna we said hi.

Prongslet and co

You weren’t even sure if speaking in codes was necessary, but the crucial information that Harry just passed to you made you raise an eyebrow.

Hunting? For more horcruxes?

Sighing quietly at the revelation, you tuck away the letter into your pocket. As you shift to get comfortable, book in lap, you quietly amuse yourself by thinking of just all the trinkets you were keeping in your pockets.

You were practically a walking junk drawer.

As you flipped through the book, acutely aware of Anders’ lingering presence, you can’t help but relieve your mental itch. Without raising your head to look at the man, you casually ask, “So, how did you know Dumbledore?”

The man merely grunts and you release a long breath, both entertained and intrigued. It didn’t seem like Anders held some newfound affection for you, and you couldn’t help but wonder why he gave in to your persistence earlier.

“You’re a friendly lad.” You muse.

The man barely draws in a breath before retorting, “Nosy kid, aren’t you?” His tone lifted in the slightest, giving you the impression that his words were supposed to be a joke, even if it did sound like he was two seconds away from biting your head off.

Anders shifts and you hear a quiet rustling echo around the room, only drawing your attention away from the sea of words in front of you when Anders sighs loudly.

Squinting in confusion, you peer up to meet his expectant gaze, “Yes?”

“What do you know so far about magical essences?”

He leans one elbow on the desk, pencil hovering over a blank paper as you try and formulate a coherent sentence.

Resting your forearms on the book, you hum out a quiet answer, “Just that one is able to imbue it into objects and in certain cases, rooms.”

“Rooms?” Anders’ voice is edging disbelief.

Nodding slowly, you fiddle with the hem of your coat and reiterate your words, “Rooms. He was also able to key it to only be accessible by certain individuals,” you smile lightly as your eyes wander off, “I was able to find the room though, even though it wasn’t meant for me.”

“Sounds like he was an amateur then.”

Anders’ words have you snapping your head towards him with a venomous glare, eyes only growing stonier at his small grin.

“You don’t know anything about him.” You cluck your tongue, “Besides, I was able to access it because my magical signature was extremely similar to the intended individuals’.”

The man considers your words for a moment before replying, “You love him.” Anders’ words come out as more of a declaration than a question, and you find yourself immediately growing defensive despite how you tried to rein in your emotions.

You snap at him, “So what if I do?”

The man raises a hand to placate you, directing his attention to writing down your previous words, “Nothing. Just…” His words trail off and you take it as a sign of him retreating back into his shell, his burst of chattiness receding just as quickly as it appeared.

You both work in relative silence for the next few hours, and by the time you’re fully aware of the aching in your back and the dryness of your eyes, you still haven’t found anything of use or promise in your book.

It is around midday when Anders stretches up from his stool, “Let’s go eat.”

Feeling the faint aching of your stomach, you don’t argue as you slowly mark your place in the book and follow the man’s lead. The walk back to his house is filled with a comfortable silence for a while until you come to an epiphany, “Wait. There’s already a book about magical essences, so why would you need to publish what I know?.”

“The Norwegian one?”

Balking at his words, you raise your eyebrows as you reply, “Uh, yeah.”

Anders quietly snorts and shakes his head, “Did you actually read through it?”

“Only partially. My life doesn’t exactly allow for downtime.” Which was the truth, even though Regulus helped you find the book during Yule, you barely even made a dent in the reading as you became distracted by horcruxes and school work.

“Evidently,” Anders muses, “most of the information is purely theoretical. Your friend is likely the only person to ever succeed in casting such magic.”

You smile slightly at his words, “That doesn’t surprise me at all. He was truly brilliant.”

“Seems so.”

The next few days stretch by in a similar manner: beautiful casts of weather, small conversations with Luna and Asger, hours of skimming through books, riposting with Anders, and occasional daydreams about Regulus.

It was around a week after your arrival in Reine when you felt a shift in your dynamic with Anders, the older man slowly growing more comfortable with your presence.

“London. 1930.” You slowly raise your head up to look at the man, but remain quiet once you see the faraway look in his eyes, “Dumbledore found me and offered me a place at Hogwarts — that’s how I know him.”

Closing your book, you heave yourself up from off the floor, slowly pulling out a stool opposite of him, “What house were you in?”

“Ravenclaw,” Anders pauses and meets your eyes evenly, “I was a model student in his eyes, so he asked for my help. I was an orphan, and there was a boy in my orphanage who was also a magical child. He was a wayward, deceitful boy, even at such a young age. Dumbledore saw something in him when he came to offer him a place at Hogwarts a few years later.”

The story was sounding eerily familiar, and you suppress a shiver as your shoulders tensed, “Voldemort?”

Anders smiles thinly – bitterly, and nods, “I knew him as Tom Riddle,” the man’s wrinkles seem more prominent than before the conversation started, “Dumbledore asked me to guide him onto a more…conventional path. But he was just a kid, so I…”

You nod and twist your ring around as you put the pieces together in your head, “You underestimated him.”

“I let my guard down, and he was able to siphon information from me about Dumbledore’s intentions.” Anders looks completely worn for wear at the admission, and you feel a pang of pity pool in your stomach.

Shaking your head, you steel your gaze in resolution, “You were just a kid as well. It’s not your fault.”

“Dumbledore said the same thing,” the man murmurs. He sighs and runs his eyes around the ceiling, collecting himself, “But I couldn’t forgive myself. So I left, and fled here with Asger before the outbreak of the First War.”

You had an inkling that there was large chunk of the story being omitted, but decided not to press him on your suspicions, instead adding your own piece to the conversation, “He is adept at beguiling people, there were very few who saw through him, and those who did often met an untimely demise.”

Anders finally meets your eyes and nods, “Speaking from personal experience?”

Your eyes drop down to your shoes at his question, unsure of how to proceed with the conversation. Deciding that you didn’t trust your voice to waver, you simply reach into your coat and tug out the picture that Sirius gave you.

As Anders’ eyes scan the photo of Regulus, you see something flash in his eyes.

“Your boy? The portrait?”

You nod and slowly take the photo back, eyes running over Regulus’ face as you fall into old memories. In your stupor, you fail to notice the way Anders assesses you with a contemplative expression.

The conversation seemed to flip a switch in Anders mind, and he slowly began to regard you with more consideration. The sudden shift in your relationship with the older man was a bit bewildering, but not unwelcome. If anything, you felt a slow foundation of understanding and companionship building with him, much to Asger’s delight.

Luna was often kept occupied with exploring and conversations with Asger, the boy becoming enraptured by her sightly abilities and enigmatic words. It was strangely starting to feel like an unusual family.

It was a little over a month after you showed Anders the photo of Regulus when you received another owl, this one all too familiar. The bird arrived at the break of dawn while you were making yourself some tea, the bird perching itself on a nearby post outside of Anders’ window.

As you hurriedly made your way out, you were mindful to not make too much noise, not sure how you would explain the bird’s arrival to your neighbors.

“Hey there, girl. How are you?” Your voice was light as you slowly carded your fingers through the owl’s feathers, smiling brightly when she hooted and nudged her head into your fingers. After a few more pets, the tawny owl flies off into the distance, leaving you with a thick envelope.

Your tea was ready by the time you got comfortable reading the letter, leaning against the kitchen counter as you tore open the envelope.

Dear runaway friend of mine,

Our ward is faring well in light of things, and Theo and I have taken to making sure he eats. The Golden Lions are noticeably absent just like you said. The Carrows have taken up posts as Professor of Muggle Studies and Professor of Dark Arts. Detentions are abysmal as a result, the practice of a certain unforgivable has become the norm.

Our lovely ex-Potions professor is now Headmaster. I must say that I have it quite easy compared to many other students, and I am not too worried about my mail being intercepted, but if you wish to owl back, it would be wise to practice caution.

Mother has passed along a note as well, enclosed to you. Rest assured, I did not peek as I know you would disembowel me for such a violation.

Theodore says hello. He is considering your words from before, and he seems to align himself with your sentiments. Such information should remain discreet given his kin, but I trust your decision-making.

Draco also passed along a note for me to give you.

I hope you are well. It would be best if you stay far away for as long as you can, he is coming soon.

Your friend always,

You are fairly unperturbed by Blaise’s words, having expected Voldemort to move his forces into Hogwarts, but you didn’t quite anticipate the regular use of Unforgivables against students. Voldemort was utterly, and irredeemably insane.

Folding up the parchment and tucking it aside, you reach inside the envelope and pull out another letter, this one coated with a faint sweet scent, likely spritzed with perfume.

Dear Y/N,

I hope this letter reaches you well. There is talk that a certain group of teenage vigilantes and a certain disgraced Lord have fled elsewhere and are on the run. I will put it bluntly as I have charmed this letter to only appear for you: if you are able to get in contact with them, and they are in need of assistance, I am willing to give them refuge.

I am not one for politics, but the disillusioned individuals that run amuck in our sphere are a disgrace to magic and make British wizards unsightly to the rest of the globe. As someone who chose to live here, I simply cannot have such a reputation besmirch my name.

I have recently been in talks with Lady Malfoy, who shares such sentiments. We are neutral, and like you, are intent on putting our personal interests first. Offering refuge is not a decision I am making due to a change of heart – there is much to be gained if such a gamble pays off.

I hope you are well, dear.

Faithfully,

Contessa Jezebel Zabini

You slowly sip your tea as you scan over the words again, eyebrows gradually raising higher and higher at the offer. It was an auspicious offer to consider, but you weren’t sure if Harry would put his trust in the Contessa.

It was unlikely that the woman would turn your friends over to Voldemort as she had very little to gain from it, especially given how such a decision would put Blaise on the Dark Lord’s radar. Her insinuation that foreign countries were looking down on Britain seemed entirely plausible, and her ties to Italy would make such a prospect risky for her image.

You would send a message to Harry and extend the invite, but it was reassuring to know that the Contessa was willing to risk such a thing because you were friends with Blaise.

Placing the letter on top of Blaise’s, you slowly reach into the now, much slimmer envelope, and pull out a small parchment.

I’m sorry about your portrait.

- D

You nearly choke on your tea at the short note, sputtering a tad into your cup.

It seemed the little dragon was turning a new leaf.

Draco’s terse letter gave you the confidence boost you needed to go forward with messaging Harry. It was very likely that Draco and his mother were put off by the Dark Lord’s regime due to Draco’s previous mission. Reluctant allies, but allies nonetheless.

Folding up all of your letters, you quickly tuck them away into your pocket with Regulus’ photo. Reaching for your wand, you slowly push off of the counter and bring forth your happiest memories.

Regulus. Regulus. Regulus.

‘I’ll find you again, my love.’

‘...my love.’

Inhaling sharply, you wave your wand.

“Expecto Patronum.”

The burst of blue light that springs from your wand is nostalgic, and you realize that the last time you casted your patronus, you were rudely interrupted by an exploding wall. Your sparrow patronus swoops around the room briskly before stopping in front of you, flapping its wings rhythmically.

Twirling your wand upward again, you cast the messenger spell, “Nuntius Harry Potter.”

Your sparrow is engulfed in pale blue wisps that beats as it awaits your words.

Stepping forward, you clear your throat and try to remain succinct, “Harry, Contessa Zabini is offering you and the others refuge. She is aware of your current predicament and reached out to me. She is trustworthy, and I recently had a chat with her – she is disconcerted by the state of the world and puts her faith in you. If you are willing, send Kreacher to Zabini Manor to inform her. Stay safe.”

Those weren’t her exact words, but your friends were smart enough to deduce that Contessa Zabini had a lot to gain from helping them. As your patronus flies out of the house and off into the sky, you allow yourself to release the tension that was clutching at your spine.

Spinning on your heel, you nearly jump out of your skin when you come face to face with a curious Anders. The man moved away from the doorway and trudged towards the table, making himself comfortable before redirecting his attention to your still figure.

“Later, we are going to go hiking.” His words left no room for argument, but you didn’t mind since you were thrilled to explore the environment.

Turning to pour a cup of tea for the man, you can’t help the sarcastic reply that rises in your throat, “Hiking? Sure you can handle it?”

Anders gives you the stink eye as you place the cup in front of him, grunting a retort into his tea, “I’ll have you know that I happen to be a professional hiker.”

“Who’s a professional hiker?” Asger’s tired voice floats into the room as he yawns loudly, bringing a calloused hand to rub at his bleary eyes.

Shaking your head, you incline your head towards Anders, watching as both men share a look, one of bemusement and the other a deadpan. You were saved from their antics when Luna emerged into the room, immediately making her way to give you a hug in greeting. As you wrap your arms around the slender girl, you couldn’t help but become flushed with a wave of affection as you remembered her comforting words to you during the night of your arrival. You truly were grateful to have her by your side during all of this, and your thoughts spur you to give her a firm squeeze.

She didn’t seem to mind.

The hike up one of the neighboring granite peaks was not as tiring as you anticipated, the coolness of the snow permeating across the entire path and quelling the warmth that bloomed from your straining muscles.

Anders was keeping up quite well, and you took the initiative to walk beside him, letting Asger and Luna drift on ahead. The sun was beginning to slink away, painting the sky in gradients of pinks and purples, the first glittering of stars peaking through the layers of colors.

The bundles of red and white houses of the village were slowly shrinking in the distance, creating accent splotches that complemented the sky.

“I can see why you chose Reine. This place is absolutely breathtaking.” Your words come out as a satisfied hum, and you peek out of the corner of your eye to see Anders nodding in agreement.

The faintest traces of a smile tug at his lips as he replied, “Just kept moving around until my heart settled on a place.”

“A little cliche, but endearing coming from you.” You tuck your hands into your coat pocket, clenching your hands to try and keep the blood circulating.

Anders doesn’t speak for a while, but when Luna and Asger look back to indicate that they were planning on trailing back down, the man turns his attention back to you. As the two slowly trek away, you continue on clambering upward towards the peak, Anders grumbling all the way up behind you.

The man’s gruff voice breaks through the air as you reach your destination, “it’ll be hell getting back down in the dark.”

“I can apparate us back to the house.”

As the sun sweeps away and darkness begins to creep into the etchings of the sky, you pull out Regulus’ photo and hug it to your chest. You can feel Anders looking over at your ministrations, but looks reluctant to speak up, so you take the first step, “It makes me feel like he’s here with me. I used to take him everywhere with me, and I don’t want to stop that habit, even if he’s gone.”

Anders’ eyes seem to soften and he turns to face the distance, eyes focusing on the vast waters that stretched on for miles ahead.

“I do the same.”

You tilt your head at his admission, moving to sit on a flat rock nearby. The man follows suit and sits on the rock beside you, hands rustling around in his thick puffer coat.

In a similar fashion to you, he tugs out a folded photo. The photograph is visibly older and more worn than yours, the crease especially prominent from constant unfolding and refolding. The man slowly offers you the photo, eyes never moving away from the distance.

As you peer down at the small image, you feel your chest ache at the sight.

A young couple and a small baby. The man had his arm wrapped around the woman as she positioned the child so its face was visible to the camera, both of them beaming at you with joyful faces.

Anders. It was clear that the young man was Anders, but with fewer wrinkles and an uncharacteristic grin that stretched widely across his face.

But who was the woman?

“My wife, Anne. This place was her home.” You don’t think you could have masked your shock even if you tried, but he doesn’t seem to notice and continues talking, “She was killed by Voldemort a few weeks after we took that photo.”

Your mouth goes incredibly dry at the utterance, eyes flickering back and forth between the solemn man and the delicate photo in your hands.

Anders’ words remain firm as he speaks, seeming to be emboldened by your previous indulgence about Regulus, “Tom…he sought me out specifically. He felt that he needed to erase his past, and I think he felt that I failed him in a way. Anne was a formidable witch, but even she was no match for that monster,” he sucks in a sharp breath before continuing, “Albus helped me flee afterwards, with the condition that I treat him to a meal once I was settled. So, I chose Reine. For Anne. And then I changed my name and Asger’s name to protect us.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. You raise your eyes to look ahead, head spinning from the bombardment of news. Voldemort’s talent for bringing pain and suffering stretched far and wide.

“No need, it’s not your fault,” Anders whispers.

Clearing your throat, you run your finger across the photo and memorize each crease and fold as you respond, “Regulus died trying to stop Voldemort. He was a death eater at first, but defected only a year after. I think…I think he’s an inferi now.”

Anders turns to face you at this admittance, lips parting slightly in shock. “An inferi?” He mutters.

You nod and slowly pass the photo back to Anders, tucking away your own photo as you try and compose yourself.

A few beats of silent pass, and you begin to feel as though you divulged too much information to the man.

“There is a ritual that I think you might find useful,” Anders pauses as you glance at him in interest, “It’s an ancient one that was often used to ensure the passing of loved ones to the land of the dead.”

The news has you craning your head to gawk at him, “Like a soul tracking ritual?”

“Yes, I suppose.” He raises an eyebrow at you, “There is very little known about inferis, but I always theorized that they were not truly dead, so perhaps….”

Your eyes widen at the suggestion and you shoot up onto your feet in realization, “When I was in the cave, there were numerous magical signatures bouncing around! I think you might be right.”

Anders murmurs quietly next to you, “Cave?”

Thank Merlin for your sensitivity to magical signatures.

If Inferis were not truly dead…did that mean that they were all trapped in those mangled bodies? Souls tied down to a gaunt shell of who they used to be?

Regulus has been trapped all this time.

“Fuck. Let’s do this ritual.”

Anders lets out a small chuckle at your conviction, standing up to give you a firm nod, “We start at dawn.”

tag list: @krazyk99 @venomsvl @valsarchives @bunny24sstuff @novella12nite @elia-the-bibliophile @txorua @xlifexdeathx @trikigirl271 @the-marauders-world @sleepydang @blueberry-thrawn @lestat-whore @chanaaaannel @clockworkherondale @peachyaeger @thegayhoenextdoor @l--absinthe @ok-boke @summer-noir @mikeikax @musically-ambiguous @dittos-blog-dylanobrien @friendly-neighborhood-boricua @randomfaeriechild @misacc08 @that-bitch-bri @littleshadow17 @chocochannie @bl4stonesc

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callsign-rogueone · 24 days

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intimacy alphabet - b.s.

Brennan Sorrengail x reader words: 1.4k-ish 🏷: NSFW. all of it. I tried to keep this gender neutral again and I think I succeeded? mentions of penetrative sex, oral, fingering, soft d/s dynamics, the usual stuff. It took me a while to figure him out, but I think I'm onto something here. lemme know -- always down to discuss my main man. some more spicy bren coming soon, hehe

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he's a very responsible and caring guy -- he’s making sure you’re okay, mending any bruises or soreness he might have caused and cleaning the both of you up, giving you soft affirmations and I-love-you’s all the while, especially if he was rough with you. helps get you dressed in clean clothes and then it’s cuddle time.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his hands — because you like them so much, and because you make the prettiest sounds when he touches you.

your hips — he loves grabbing them to pull you closer, digging his fingers into the softness there when he’s fucking you, kissing them before he goes down on you…

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he likes to cum inside of you a little more than he should. he’s still in denial about what that means, though.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he’s thought about messing around with you in the assembly room, and he really likes that idea, but he has a reputation to maintain, and it would probably make his work a lot more difficult— he already has a hard enough time getting work done in his office, his mind often wandering to the things you’ve done in there.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

you’ve had plenty of practice with each other over the years. he absolutely knows what he’s doing. he’s not a naive college kid anymore, he’s a man, and he fucks like it.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

bending you over the desk in his office and giving it to you nice and deep and a little rough, your cheek smushed into the tabletop and your nails digging into the wood — if you mess up the papers or scratch the desk, he can just mend it back, anyway. and of course he’s putting up a sound shield, so you don’t need to muffle those cute little whimpers while he uses you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he’s pretty serious but he loves to tease. likes watching you squirm and drawing things out until you beg.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

very clean guy. he’s doing some routine maintenance. and yes, it does.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he’s a very caring and giving person, and that definitely extends into the bedroom. he can be incredibly tender and romantic with you if the mood is right, but sometimes you both want things to be a little rougher, and he’s very good at that too.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I don’t see him handling things himself very often. if he feels the need, he’s finding you for help — or calling you into his office, where you’re going to take care of it together.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

re: the above,,, he has a mild free-use kink… he loves the idea of either one of you dropping everything to please the other whenever they ask. it’s usually him asking, but it goes both ways — if you walk into his office and tell him you need him, he’s putting down the paperwork and strategy plans and getting on his knees for you without hesitation.

mild authority kink (more on that later).

dare I say a tiny bit of an innocence kink? especially if you’re younger than him… I wanna write an age gap fic for him so bad ughhh 😩

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

we’ve established that the office is at the top of the list along with your bedroom, and the attached bathroom (over the counter in front of the mirror, in the shower…) not really anywhere else.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

bat your eyelashes at him and call him Lieutenant Colonel in that sweet, innocent voice and there’s a very good chance that you’re going to be face-down, ass-up in the next ten minutes.

also, if either of you had to be away from the other for more than two days, the moment you’re reunited + the revolution business is handled and you’re behind closed doors, you’re fucking.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he doesn’t want to seriously hurt you or cause you pain. he knows that he can mend any injury, but he’d really rather not have to in the first place.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he will never ever refuse head from you. he fucking loves it. it’s the ultimate stress reliever for him. holds your hair back for you and tells you what a good girl/boy you are, how pretty you look on your knees for him.

happy to return the favor, and really good at it, too. he purposely keeps his hair just long enough for you to tug on when he’s making you feel good.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he can do both, and does them well. fast and rough when he’s mad / jealous or if you’re being a brat, slow and deep and loving when you’re reunited after being apart, after a near-death experience, or whenever either of you needs a little extra TLC.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

they happen quite often, but they’re never quick enough — you always end up late to whatever you have to do afterward. the other assembly members know not to go to his office to find him if he’s late for a meeting. he’ll get there when he gets there; right now he has very important things to handle.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

there was more experimenting when you were younger, and still figuring things out. you know what you like now, but you still manage to surprise each other every now and then. he’s learned a lot from your romance novels, especially the pages you’ve bookmarked and the things you’ve highlighted etc etc.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

his stamina is pretty high. he fucks. he can go an easy 2-3 rounds every time, but you don’t feel the need to go all night anymore. however, if you make a joke about him getting old, etc., he’s going to have to prove to you that he still has it, and fuck you until you cry / apologize.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I could see modern!Bren liking to use a vibe / etc on you, but I don’t think such a thing exists in FW. 🤷🏻‍♀️

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he loves to tease, namely pretending to not understand your vague pleas for him to touch you, etc. or making you repeat yourself when you’re struggling to form words because he’s making you feel good.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he’s usually not too loud, mostly just some soft panting / groaning / praise. cannot shut the fuck up when you go down on him though. sounds really pretty when he cums.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

loves loves loves making out with you. he could do it for hours, if you both weren’t so needy / constantly under time pressure being revolution leaders. it’s just so nice to sit in his lap and kiss him, holding each other close and letting your worries and stress disappear for a while.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he’s built so nicely. he’s strong and muscular, but still a little soft and perfect to cuddle with. has a fair few scars on his body, including one over his heart from the arrow that nearly killed him in the battle of Aretia. you kiss it every time you see it, as a reminder of how glad you are that he’s still here with you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

pretty high, but you certainly aren’t complaining.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

if you’re in bed, then pretty quickly after cleanup etc. if you’re anywhere else, he’ll usually have it in him to either make the hike upstairs to your room, or to go about your day after a few minutes of cuddles.

#brennan sorrengail #brennan and duchess #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #brennan sorrengail x reader #18+#smut #mine

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littlegreekhero · 2 months

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Tim Drake is so short it’s unrealistic: an explanation

In every single comic page featuring more than one adult, Tim is drawn exceptionally short (well Damian too but he’s still a pubescent boy) for mainly composition reasons, I think. You can’t really create a great standing composition with five heads at the same level so they exaggerate the difference. What does this leaves us with? A Tim in his late teens, at a whopping 5 foot and 6 inches of height (source: fandom wiki). This means he must be a certified short guy. Except, he kinda isn’t?

When he is shown with his peers he’s closer to the average height, like in YJ. So why do I think his stats are like this in fandom wiki or he’s drawn like that? I think editors and artists have never seen a teenage boy in their life and they think the younger the age the shorter the person is, linearly. My point is also supported by the fact that he doesn’t have adult proportions of a short person but an average person’s proportions, just shrunk down.

We are the same height for reference. The beginning of high school is the time for men to have their growth sprout and they all end up as their forever height by junior/senior. I’d argue that I’m not simply short-phobic and that artists seem to just ignore this phenomenon. Oh and his weight seems unrealistic considering his height-weight ratio and muscle mass so the second picture is possible to happen. You don’t need to be Kon-el to effortlessly pick that boy up.

So how tall do I think he realistically be? Closer to 6 foot. Because I think we’re ignoring the second greatest factor.

Wealth! He was raised rich, he was well fed during his developmental ages. Even if he had short height genes, his entire lifestyle would make him proportionally taller. There is VISIBLE difference in average heights in wealthy versus poor neighborhoods. Students notice that private school kids tend to be taller. Students (in my country) get weirded out once they realize historical figures that lived in hard times were way shorter than them. Unless he was an extreme case of picky eating, I’d say let’s add at least a few inches. His recreational activities also consisted of rich people stuff. The training he got, the amount of time he spent inside (probably playing games on powerful PC’s, not doing manual labor, not having a neighborhood friend group to run around with and stuff) not burning calories all played a role in the body he ended up with at adulthood. Yeah, he kind of did vigilante stuff since the age of 9, but at the end of the night it was Wayne Manor that he returned to.

BONUS: I think all batkids would have a different height when accounted for environmental factors, I just drew the four Robins to demonstrate

Jason: the wealth point that I defended earlier would work the opposite way for him, so why did i draw him the tallest? ✨growth juices✨ in the Lazarus Pit. I’m also not completely erasing their canon heights and body builds, and dude’s a hunk.

Dick: gymnastics makes you shorter. I thought this was a coincidence but apparently it’s real, especially in women’s gymnastics it’s very noticeable. He was trained since a very young age and did not stop practicing after he left the circus for apparent reasons.

Damian, at 14-15: He would hit his growth sprout a few months maybe a year later than his peers. Why? He’s Arab and even though I did no research on this, I think my experience as a Middle Eastern would account for a decent observation. But when he hits it, he would get noticeably taller EACH WEEK. I only attributed him a numbered height so I could show that he was close in height to his brothers. (Not related to height, but at his age he would have a massive nose with a sharp nose bridge, as it grows first, I remember many of my classmates were very self conscious about their noses in middle school)

#tim drake #batfam #dc comics #batfamily #dc robin #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #red robin #dcu #timothy drake

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ririumuwashere · 1 year

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"Why are you so tired?" (A short drabble)

I haven't been posting much and I just wanted to get something out. But I wanna know if you guys would be interested in some fanfic for Wally Darling? You’ve been coming to work more sluggish than usual and it’s starting to become concerning. Sun is almost constantly finding you asleep at your desk or dragging yourself around on patrols around the Pizzaplex.

He’s never seen you this exhausted and every time he tries to bring it up, you just brush him off. Although Moon was ignorant of it at first it’s starting to nag at him as well. They just don’t know what’s wrong with you, but something is most definitely wrong.

As Sun gathers all the kids to color he can’t help but look over at you, frowning momentarily when he sees you slouched over the desk fast asleep.

He walks towards you after telling the kids that he’ll be right back and to continue drawing. As he taps a finger lightly on the desk you fling awake. Startled as your eyes grow wide as you look up at him, you relax when you realize it’s just him. “Yes, Sunny?” He looks down at you with a frown as he leans closer to your face. Is he examining you?… He must be really concerned. He points a finger in your face scrupulously as his frown deepens. He hates seeing you like this, especially when you’re usually so active. It’s like watching a zombie walk around.

“You’ve been sluggish…Why?”

“I...I haven’t been sleeping well… It’s just some nightmares, I’ll be fine.” Your voice is unsteady.... Like you're trying to convince yourself of that. And honestly, your head has been killing you as well. All you really want is some decent sleep.

“Sunshine, you know you need your sleep…You are going to be joining in for nap-time, Moon and I won’t take no for an answer.”

His voice is oddly lacking his usual excitement as his frown falters. He’s really trying to be stern but It’s just so hard to stay upset with you when you’re like this. Although he’s chastising you it doesn’t feel like that. Concern practically wafts off him as his rays spin in a sign of annoyance.

You’re well aware that once both Sun and Moon decide on something together they’ll never let go of it. Literally having no way of refusing Sun’s offer you simply nod and and agree. The two of them will never just leave you to suffer after all. You’re really in for it now, but if you’re lucky then at least Vanessa won’t see and report you for failing in your job and napping.

#fnaf x reader #fnaf sun x reader #sundrop x reader #moon x reader if you squint #I'm running off 2 braincells #fnaf security breach x reader #drabble #fnaf sun #fnaf moon

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cloudybarnes · 2 years

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love for the ages

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Summary: you’ve loved elijah for a thousand years, and you’ll love him for a thousand more

Word Count: 1.3k+

Warnings: none!

Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰

You’d known the Mikaelsons for a very long time. For almost your entire life you were one of them. Growing up with the Mikaelsons was something you look back on from time to time.

Being kids running through the trails, hiding out from the wolves in your village, and dueling with Niklaus and Elijah almost everyday just to put them in their place was your definition of a good life. Your family was nothing like the Mikaelson family. They were always so close knit, and they welcomed you with open arms.

You loved them dearly, but you loved one of them different from the rest.

Elijah Mikaelson was your love.

You had completely fallen for this Mikaelson brother, and you had fallen quite hard.

“(Y/N)!” Elijah called out, two swords in hand. You lightly smiled at him as he smirked and tossed you one of the blades.

“You challenge me to a duel?” You played. “You ought to be careful who you challenge around here Lijah,” you teased, “one day I won’t be so kind as to hold back.”

“Oh is that so?” He chuckled with an amused smile. He playfully wielded his sword and motioned you towards him. “Don’t hold back, m’lady.”

You giggled as you whipped the sword around, swinging it in circles as you’ve been practicing. Elijah watched with a proud smile on his face as you got into a fighting stance.

“You are not ready for what’s about to come Lijah,” you teased.

Before you could even begin a duel, Niklaus’ cry echoed through the village.

You and Elijah dropped your swords and ran out to where Niklaus was walking. The rest of the Mikaelson family came in tow from their shack.

You gasped as you took notice of what Niklaus carried in his hands. Their youngest brother Henrik dead in Niklaus’ arms.

Rebekah sobbed as she saw her smallest brother lifeless.

From that moment on, a lot had changed for the Mikaelson family.

After their mother Ester had turned them into vampires, she couldn’t bare the thought of losing you, the girl she called her other daughter.

After the Mikaelson family had all of their splits, and falling outs, and daggerings, you were still there, but you were there for one Mikaelson sibling more than the rest.

Elijah was absolutely, positively infatuated with you.

The more time you spent together, as time went on and the hours turned to days, the days to weeks, the weeks, to years, and the years to centuries with you, he couldn’t see you in any other light. You were the one for him.

It was late in the 1400s when Elijah finally expressed to you how he felt. You, him, and Niklaus were living together in Italy, and he had finally gotten the courage to explain just how much you meant to him.

A party was going around. Niklaus had thrown it in hopes of drawing out the doppelganger to break his timely curse.

As you danced with the strangers around you, Elijah watched from the wall.

“My, my, brother,” Niklaus tsked, “I’d thought that by now you’d have expressed your love for (Y/N).” He smirked as he watched his brother roll his eyes. “Or at least got the courage to pursue her.”

Elijah scoffed, “it is not as simple as you may think, brother. (Y/N) is the best kind of woman. She’s kind and delicate. Even after all we’ve been through, she manages to see the light in every situation.”

Elijah scanned his eyes over the room, a crowd of people surrounded you, all wanting to join in on the fun dance you are having. “She lights up every room, and people just want to be around her. She will meet a million people in this eternal lifetime, and I don’t want to get caught up with my feelings and end up losing her to one of them.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Lijah, why do you always have to be so negative?” Klaus scoffed. “Get over there and ask her to dance. I know for certain she will be swooning over you so hard she’ll forget how to even move her feet.”

Elijah chuckled at this, and took a few more minutes to watch you dance, thinking long and hard if he really wanted to do this. He decided he didn’t want to sit around and wait for some other man to sweep you off his feet. He wanted to be the one to do so.

In a flash, Elijah was off the wall and in the middle of the dance floor, right where you resided.

When you saw him beside you, your eyes lit up and a smile graced your face.

“My, my,” you teased, “I’d never thought I’d see the day where the Elijah Mikaelson joined me on the dance floor.”

Elijah chuckled and lightly rubbed the back of his neck. “It would have happened eventually, darling. We’ve got an eternity of life to live together.”

His eyes slightly widened as he heard what he said. “Not that I mean our lives together together like romantically, more that we’re both immortal and we happen to spend all of our time together. Us and Niklaus of course, but mainly us.”

Elijah was a stammering mess at this point, but that only made your heart rate pick up. You thought it was adorable when he got nervous around you. You liked that you were the only thing in this world that made him nervous.

“I know what you’re saying Lijah.” You smiled as you placed a hand on his shoulder. “Although, would it really be such a terrible thing?”

Elijah cocked his head in confusion. “Would... you mean would being together romantically be a bad thing?”

You nodded your head as you shyly waited for his response. You didn’t want to wait any longer. It had been centuries since you first started loving Elijah, and you didn’t want to sit behind these bottled up feelings any longer.

Elijah’s heart was racing. He was trying to find the words to say how he felt without joyfully screaming in your face.

He couldn’t contain his emotions, and a grin broke out onto his face. “(Y/N), I fear if I back out now I’ll never have another opportunity to tell you this.”

You stared into his eyes, your heart racing, pulsing out of your chest as you hang on to every word he says.

Elijah opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He blubbed like a fish before he shook his head and chuckled a little which made you giggle.

“I’m sorry, you just still make me nervous after all these years.” He confessed.

“I make you nervous?”

Elijah wet his lips as he stared down at yours. “Your beauty makes me nervous. Your confidence and your kindness pull me in. You intelligence and strength keeps me going. You are everything to me, (Y/N).”

Elijah never broke eye contact. As he poured his heart out to you, you could see in his eyes that he meant every last word of what he said.

“I love you, (Y/N).” He breathed out. “I’ve always loved you.”

That was just the beginning.

Since that day in the late 1400s, Elijah has always had you by his side.

Present day, almost a thousand years since you’ve first fallen for him, you still knew that he was the man you wanted to spend your eternity with. Elijah was just as loving and sweet as he was the day he confessed his love for you.

Once he had you, all he did was worship the ground you walked on. He wanted to be your best friend, your partner in crime, your lover, and your rock all in one.

And he was.

Elijah was everything you could have ever asked for, and you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your eternity with the man your heart belonged to.

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