#and it just reminded me of the first part to this

[caraphernellie]

can you write something about reader and ellie being in a new relationship! they’ve only had sex a few times and in this particular instance, ellie finds out reader has a praise kink. soft dom!ellie pls<3333

MEOWWWWWW this 😭 is 😭 the cutest 😭 idea 😭 ever 😭😭😭 softdom!ellie my favouritest ever. you will almost always find me writing softdom!ellie. um also this ended up being way longer than i intended! so... this was meant to be like, a blurb. a few paragraphs. it's over 900 words. yeah

cw: softdom!ellie, sub!reader, oral (r!receiving), finger sucking, overstim, looooots of sappy praise !!

　　　　　mdni  ,  nsfw  under  the  cut  ౨ৎ

"shh shh shh."

soft coos echo in the room, ellie trailing tender kisses up your stomach. the love is so fresh that the two of you can't help but be a little shy still, though, you more than ellie. the girl was glad to get her hands on you the very first time you'd let her. 

weeks later and she's just as enthusiastic, though reminding herself to steer things slower and gentler. you're still learning so much about each other, like what sets or ruins a mood, what's strange but stimulating, and especially for ellie – she's paying close attention to learning just how much you can take.

slicked fingers prod at your lips and without a second thought you part them. the fingers flatten on your tongue, and ellie's lips curl upwards when you accept it with a pleased hum.

"you can taste yourself, can't you?" she whispers, nipping at the skin of your jawline. the room's almost dead silent, aside from honeyed words and the lewd sounds of you sucking her fingers. "doesn't it taste good, babe? uh-huh… i know."

eager with her hands, ellie's had no issue with the physical aspect of sex. but this is the first time she's been so verbal in the moment, and she's already picking up on the difference it's making. what an effect it's having. and all it does is go straight to her head. a steep boost to that ego of hers, which to be fair, could use one.

ellie slides her fingers out of your lips and chuckles to herself, smearing spit over them, thinking about how pliable and docile you are three orgasms deep into her bed.

"just gotta have a taste," she murmurs, so close to your ear that you can feel her breath fan against you. it's so warm, as is the rest of the room, the scent of sex ruminating in the air. she dips down, resting back between your legs.

she's so focused until your hand paws at her head, taking grip of her hair, and you mumble the tiniest, "too sensitive, don't think it's a good idea, so–"

"oh, no baby, you can take it," ellie encourages, a less cocky and more reassuring smile left on her face now. "you're so good at taking what i give you, i think you can handle this. just one more for me, yeah?"

holy shit. the reassurance has such an effect– you feel it hard as you attempt to let go and let ellie continue. she pays no mind at first, hands languidly pushing apart your thighs, handfuls squishing at your skin. and yet your mind is still lost over her words. she's been borderline worshipping you all night and yet you're beginning to realise that what is setting tonight apart from all the others is her being so verbose. the praising of your body and your submission – the voice in which she says it and you can tell she means it.

first, she tucks that one temperamental strand of hair back behind her ear, and then she licks a tentative stripe down your soaked pussy. 

before your shaking hand takes leisure in ellie's hair – which she knows would end in fruitless tugging – she catches your hand in hers. "that's it, pretty girl. mmh, i know it's so intense, but you're gonna lay here and take it all, ain't that right?"

you nod so fervently, squeezing ellie's hand. she's definitely been beginning to notice this sudden affinity for her praises. it's amusing, yet at the same time, so rousing. 

a soft kiss against your clit has you bucking your hips closer, yet your hips want to wriggle away. you can't tell what you even want. but that's okay, isn't it? ellie's already decided for you.

thumbing at your clit now, ellie gives you a wide grin, watching you struggle and writhe. "oh, is that too much?" she watches you shake your head, admiring the look of sweet determination on your face. "no? good girl."

she all but dives into your cunt, lapping and sucking your cum like she's starving. she won't stop until you've covered her face in it. she's making careful, very intentional use of words now– rasping them against your hot skin so that you truly, physically feel her praise. feeling your hand squeeze hers so tight eggs her on, her eyes boring into your own. ellie watches you try at anything to ease the overstimulation, your free hand grasping and squeezing your tit. she listens to your mewls and moans over the sounds of her slurping your pussy.

"that's it, baby," ellie coos, "i know, i know. you're being so fuckin' good for me."

"ellie," you sigh, she can see it clearly, how fast your breathing picks up and how your legs threaten closure around her head. "ellie, oh, oh my god."

"you taste too sweet, baby," ellie muses, watching it all go right to your head. the way your eyelids droop, you're close. 

this has been her greatest bedroom discovery yet. with you teetering on the edge of orgasm, she makes her next words count, her voice reverberating against you. "be a good girl now, cum for me."

#ellie williams smut #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x reader #tlou2 x reader #ellie williams #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ fanfic #anon <3 #lesbian #sub!reader #softdom!ellie #dom!ellie

[puckinghischier]

Desperate for Dessert

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

WARNING: smut!! 18+ only. minors DNI. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it). oral(f!receiving). p in v.

summary: anon request for the smut implied at the end of suds n sorrows

notes: this is my first time ever writing smut, so don’t hate me if it’s terrible. i tried 😭

part 2 to this!

[2.9k]

~

“Nico, you’re going to get the bed all wet!”

“Oh trust me, that’s the plan,” Nico smirks down at you, having just thrown your damp, naked body on the made bed.

You roll your eyes as he lets the towel covering his waist drop, showing just how excited he is at the sight of you laying naked on your shared bed.

He wastes no time in crawling onto the bed, hovering over you. “Hi.”

“Hi?” you respond with a giggle, propping yourself up on your elbows so you can look at his face.

The fire that was present in his eyes just moments ago is gone. He’s holding himself up above you, simply staring at you. The amount of love and adoration that is present in his eyes makes your stomach turn flips. You start to get a little antsy, holding his stare for what feels like hours.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are? And how lucky I am to have you? And how much I love you,” he blurts, breaking the intense moment.

“I don’t recall. Maybe you should try and remind me. Jog my memory a little bit.”

A small smile breaks out on his face as he leans down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. He keeps the kiss innocent, pulling back after only a second to place a kiss to your nose.

“I,” his lips move to your left cheek. “Love,” he moves to your right cheek. “You,” his lips land on your forehead before finally returning to your lips.

The kiss is a bit more rushed than the last, his tongue coming to poke at the seam of your lips, gaining the access he wanted. You raise your arms to rest your hands against the back of his neck, pulling him down to you, wanting his body as close as you could get him.

The longer the kiss goes on, you can feel the familiar warmness of arousal form in the pit of your stomach. Nico breaks the kiss to move his lips to your neck, allowing you to catch your breath for a few seconds. You move your hands to his hair as he attacks your neck with bites and sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. Your mind wanders to how quickly the environment went from tender to heated. You let out a chuckle involuntarily, causing Nico to halt his actions.

“Somethin’ funny, Schatz?” he asks through heavy breaths. He looks up at you, lips full and swollen, hair a mess from your hands.

The sight of him like this sends a wave of heat straight to your core. You try to clench your thighs to create some form of friction on the sensitive area, but Nico’s body prevents you from doing so. You start to squirm a bit, needing some relief from the growing arousal.

“Just thinking about how quick you switched from sweet to horny. Thought it was funny,” you admit, taking your hands and pushing the hair off of his forehead, letting them fall back down to the nape of his neck.

“Oh, yeah? This funny to you?” He lowers his hips, rubbing his cock against your slick core, causing you to jolt in surprise.

“Nope. Not at all. Not funny,” you pant out, trying to grind back against him, but he had already pulled away. You whine at the loss of contact, causing him to laugh now.

“Yeah, look at who’s switching up now,” Nico cocks an eyebrow, watching desperation take over your body.

You look up at him, mouth slightly open, begging him with your eyes to do something. You don’t care what it is at this point. His fingers, his mouth, his dick. You just need him to touch you, all humor in the situation no longer on your mind.

“Gotta tell me what you want, Schatz. This is your treat after all, for bein’ such a sweetheart and taking care of me tonight. My treat’s waitin’ on me in the kitchen. But I won’t lie, I’m looking forward to my appetizer,” Nico moves his face down to your neck, breathing his words onto your skin.

“I don’t care. Anything.” You rush your words, eyes falling closed from his hot breath on your neck.

“Uh-Uh. Your choice, Y/N. I don’t move until those pretty little lips of yours do,” he teases, letting his lips move against your skin.

You try to bring your thighs together once again, every touch of his lips on your neck lighting a fire on your skin.

“Your mouth. I want your mouth, Neeks,” you basically moan, thinking of how much you want him to stop talking and do something.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Nico lifts his face from your neck, smirking down at you.

He brings his mouth down to yours, teasing you with a slow kiss, tongue exploring your mouth. He adjusts his body so his thigh is fully in-between your legs, causing you to moan into the kiss when his solid thigh brushes against your soaked core. You take advantage of the contact, grinding yourself onto his naked thigh, chasing relief.

Nico begins to kiss down your jaw, his mouth attaching to your neck once again. “As much as I like the feeling of you riding my thigh, baby, you’re gonna have to stop. You asked for my mouth, ‘member?” he mumbles through his assault of your neck.

“Then quit teasing me and do something, Neeks. Need you,” you whine in response, grinding slightly harder in frustration.

“Good things come to those who wait. And you will, too, if you just let me savor you for a few minutes.”

He moves on from your neck as he slowly slides his body down, removing his thigh from its position against the spot you need him most. His lips find their way down your chest as he licks a stripe down the valley in-between your breasts. Your breath quickens at the action, back arching as he captures one of your nipples in his mouth.

He looks up at you as he swirls his tongue around the taut bud, bringing a hand up to give attention to your other breast. He feels his own arousal growing at the expression on your face. Your mouth is open in a silent ‘o’, not making nearly enough sound for his liking.

“C’mon, Schatz, wanna hear you. Just you ‘n’ me here, let it out,” Nico demands, removing his mouth to latch onto your other breast, switching his hand to toy with the opposite one.

You groan at the sensation, hands gripping at the comforter beneath you. The noise earns a teasing bite to your sensitive nipple, head flying up to look down at the man on top of you.

He looks up at you, eyes claiming innocence as he continues to move his way down your body. Trailing kisses down your stomach, he drops to his knees on the carpeted floor in front of the bed. He removes his lips to readjust and pull your body to the edge of the bed.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. How lucky I am that you’re all mine,” he admires your glistening pussy in front of him. He places small, feather-light kisses on the inside of your thighs, continuing to tease you despite your earlier protests.

“Please, Nico. I’m begging you. Need you,” you cry out, trying to move your body further down to meet his mouth.

“I love it when you’re desperate,” he raises his head, moving further away from where you need him. “Now you know how I feel all the time. Can’t ever get enough of you, pretty girl. Always want you, all the time,” you raise your head to look at him, growing even more desperate at the sight of him between your legs.

He moves his head back down to your center, keeping eye contact as he finally makes contact, licking a stripe clean up to your clit. You cry out at the feeling of relief, dropping your head back down on the mattress.

Nico wastes no time diving in like you’re his last meal. His tongue circles your clit in the most delicious pattern, causing your hands to once again fly to his hair. The sounds of him slurping your juices like it’s a gourmet meal causes you to tug and pull on his hair, earning a groan from him that radiates throughout your whole body.

“Gonna make me blow my load if you do that again, Schatz,” he says against your folds.

“Sorry. Feels too good,” is all you choke out before he reattaches his lips.

You try to keep your touch in his hair light as he continues, but when you feel his tongue enter you, every thought other than pure pleasure leaves your head. You clench around his tongue, feeling the growl he let out at the action. As he thrusts the muscle in and out of your hole, he pulls your body down further, trying to get even deeper.

The sounds you’re making are nothing short of pornographic, trying to squirm from the intensity. Nico places an arm over your waist, keeping your body pinned down during his aggressive assault. You feel the bubble of pleasure growing, the anticipation of your release making every muscle in your body tighten.

“Taste so good, Schatz. Better than candy,” Nico says against you, vibrations causing you to moan out loud enough for your neighbors to hear.

His words, mixed with the noises echoing in your bedroom, cause the coil in your belly to tighten, threatening to break free any second.

“Gonna come, Nico. So close,” you pant out, grasping as his hair once again, pushing his face even harder in-between your legs.

“Soak me, baby,” is all Nico has to say until the band inside of you snaps, causing every nerve in your body to burn white hot. Your legs shake as Nico rides you through the high with his tongue, a warm pleasantness settling over your skin.

Nico removes his face from between your legs once you fall limp, breath heaving as you try to regain oxygen to your brain. He licks his lips as he moves his body up to hover over yours again, not wanting to waste a drop of your sweet taste.

You have an arm thrown over your eyes, your limbs feeling heavy. “Look at me, baby, wanna see that pretty face of yours.”

“Can’t move,” you mumble, causing Nico to chuckle.

He gently removes your arm from your face, admiring the post-orgasm look on your face. You look up at him with half-closed lids, a tired smile making its way onto your face.

“If this is what baking and running you a bath every once in a while gets me, remind me to do it more often.”

Nico full on laughs at your statement, resting his forehead against your own.

“All you gotta do is ask, baby. I’ll gladly grant your request anytime. Now that I think about it, I could use a new pre-game meal for good luck next season,” he says before kissing your lips.

Your body instantly heats back up at his words, arousal already building once again. You remember how hard he was earlier, figuring he’s near painful after recent actions. As you look down to see his cock oozing pre-cum, you know he needs relief, soon.

You adjust your body so you can reach down and take him into your hand, stroking a few times as his body tenses, surprised at your actions.

“Your turn,” you find a surge of energy, removing your hand and flipping him over so you’re straddling his waist.

You try to move yourself down his body, knees dropping off the bed and almost touching the floor before Nico shoots up off the bed. He places his hands under your armpits, basically picking you up to bring you back to your previous position.

“Not tonight, Schatz. Want to be inside of you too much,” he squeaks out, your core brushing against his throbbing tip from the angle you’re sitting at.

He pulls your face down to meet his, slamming his lips against yours before turning you back over. He wastes no time in bringing his hand down to your core, groaning at how wet you already are once again.

“God, you’re always so ready f’me,” he slips a single finger inside of you, slipping in and out with ease.

You moan at the feeling, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. He pumps his finger in and out a few more times before bringing it up to his lips, sucking on the digit.

“Haven’t you teased me enough tonight?” you whine out, ready to feel full with him.

“Like I said, I like to savor my girl,” is what Nico responds with, moving his body to line himself up with your entrance.

Before you can even try to say anything back, he’s slamming into you so quickly you see stars. He bottoms out from the start, removing himself almost completely before thrusting back into you.

You cry out at the pace he’s setting, mouth hung open and eyes screwed shut.

“This what you wanted, Schatz? Wanted me to fill you up?” he grunts out in-between thrusts, bringing his hand down to stimulate your sensitive bud.

The added feeling of his calloused finger rubbing fast circles on your clit causes a sensation overload. Even the moans get stuck in your throat as Nico slams into you. It’s embarrassing how close you are already, your sensitivity causing borderline overstimulation.

“God, you’re always so tight. Always take me so well,” Nico buries his face into your neck, wanting to be as close to you as he can. “Swear, feels like you were made just for me.”

“Just for you. Only ever for you,” you manage to squeak out the broken words.

You bring your other leg up to dig your heels into Nico’s ass, trying to drive him further, deeper. You bring your hands from their place on his biceps to rake down his back, not even aware of how much pressure you’re applying until you hear Nico hiss.

“Glad the season’s over, or I’d be getting an earful in the locker room for the marks you’re leaving, Schatz,” he grunts out.

You can’t even mutter an apology, because as soon as the words leave his mouth, he changes the angle by straightening your bent leg, throwing it over his shoulder, your ankle resting near his ear. He presses a few kisses to the skin above your ankle, the new position has him hitting spots you never knew existed until this moment.

Nico can feel your walls clenching around him, having found the soft, spongy spot deep inside of you. “Not gonna last much longer, sweetheart. Need you to go first. Let go for me, know you’re close.” He spits out, reaching down to rub circles on your throbbing clit once again.

You can feel his thrusts turning sloppy, knowing he’s nearly there. One particularly deep thrust causes your orgasm to explode inside of you with no warning. You cry out in pleasure, entire body spasming. You barely register the feeling of Nico continuing his movements on your clit, nerves burning so hot with your release that you’re almost numb.

The feeling of your release triggers Nico’s own orgasm, causing him to still inside of you. You can feel the warm sensation of his cum inside of you, coming back down from your second high of the night. After a few more thrusts, Nico drops his spent body onto your own. He places soft kisses on the underside of your jaw, letting your leg fall back into a comfortable position. He doesn’t pull out of you just yet, wanting to feel your warmth just a bit longer.

“I love you,” you add to the sound of labored breaths in the air.

“I love you more, Schatz. And not just after sex, still inside of you,” you laugh at his poetic words. “I love you every day, all the time. You’re it for me, you know that, right?” he brings his chin to rest on your chest, making you lift your heavy head to be able to look at him.

Your heart swells, so much love radiating through your bones for the man on top of you. You truly hit the jackpot with him, considering yourself the luckiest girl in Jersey. Hell, the world, even.

“You’re it for me, too, Neeks. Couldn’t love anyone else even if I tried. No room left in here,” you tap your chest, right where your heart sits.

Nico moves his head over to place a kiss where your fingers just touched, laying his ear down to listen to your heartbeat.

The two of you lay like that for a few more minutes, not wanting to break the moment. Eventually Nico pulls himself out of you, remembering that you needed to go pee sooner rather than later. He follows you to the bathroom to help clean you up before you do your business and meet him back in your bedroom. He already has a fresh pair of boxers on, handing you a pair of your own underwear and one of his t-shirts to put on.

Nico slides a pair of sweatpants on as you get dressed, walking over towards the open bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” you question, wanting nothing more than to crawl in bed and cuddle your boyfriend as you fall asleep.

“Did you forget? That was only the appetizer. I still have one more treat left,” he references the cake you made him earlier in the evening.

You laugh as you follow him out of the bedroom, thinking about how he already got his cake, but now he gets to eat it, too.

#nico hischier #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier x you #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier fanfic #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier one shot #nico hischier smut #nhl blurb #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey #hockey smut #new jersey devils #nhl hockey #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl players #nh13 #hockey blurb #captain nico

[melbatron5000]

The Big Damn Kiss

Buckle up, my fellow Good Omens Ineffable Mystery Puzzlers, Crackpotters, and Assorted Brainrotters, because I learned something HUGE yesterday.

This will be a bit of a long post, because I want to show you exactly how I got where I am. I want you to understand. I want to put all the naysayers to bed (ha! But I'm still gonna try), and settle this once and for all.

I know (almost) exactly what Crowley gave to Aziraphale during the kiss.

DO NOT TAKE ANY OF MY THEORIES TO NEIL! PLEASE!

Okay? Okay. Thanks. Shall we begin?

Ahem.

Firstly, whether you believe me or not, I am 100% certain that Crowley did, indeed, give something to Aziraphale in his mouth during The Kiss. I've covered that in the link previous. Okay? Okay.

I did not know what it was. I've now heard theories that it was a bullet (nope), a ball bearing (nope), hellfire (nope), and no one, NO ONE has suggested what I see. (If you have, hello! Talk to me!)

Here's our first foreshadowing Clue:

And here's our next foreshadowing Clue:

And the next:

And our last Clue:

With me so far? Well, that first GIF is a bit off, I couldn't find one of Crowley actually spitting out the flies. But he does. When Beelzebub first drags him to Hell, he actually goes "Pleaugh!" and spits out four or five flies.

Moving right along, we come to Crowley in Heaven with Muriel, looking at the trial. We learn two important things here:

One, Gabriel doesn't have a desk.

Two, Muriel does. Where they keep the records. And it's a bit lonely. Every few hundred years, someone comes and asks for something. Muriel can't access the sensitive ones, you have to be pretty high up. A throne, dominion, or higher. Like, maybe Supreme Archangel?

So if Gabriel doesn't have a desk, whose desk is he at when he's getting ready to leave Heaven? Of course I can't find a damn picture of Gabriel at the desk, but it's Muriel's. Where they keep the RECORDS.

Gabriel puts his memory into the fly, then gets on the elevator to go to Earth.

Now, when Gabriel opens the fly with his memories inside, we find out that it's a container. Bigger on the inside. You can put thing(S) in it. The bit we see of him remembering is shot in two parts, one where he's flying down a red tunnel, one where he's flying down a blue. If you slow this scene down and watch, you can see that he is NOT looking at just his own memories. There is more going on here, more that he was not present for. @embracing-the-ineffable put up a great meta about that here. Go look!

Now I figured Gabriel must have taken something else. Something important. Something useful. Something he meant to give to Aziraphale, except he forgot.

I also figured he must have left whatever it was in the fly when he took his memories out. Crowley must have realized while watching the trial footage that Gabriel also grabbed something else. I don't know when Crowley grabs the fly, but he does. And that is what he gives to Aziraphale in the kiss. Why? Well.

I had no idea what Gabriel took until I started working on the chiastic structure of season 2. I'm not done with that analysis yet, but let me show you one thing that I have found so far:

(The numbers are just to try and help me navigate the story and its events without time stamps)

My note #357 of what happens isn't quite right, but when I saw the only two times Aziraphale says "I forgive you" are towards the beginning of Season 2 and towards the end, I realized I had something.

Rephrase line 357: Crowley's kiss is forgiven IN EXCHANGE FOR RECORDS.

(Not that I think Crowley's kiss needs to be forgiven. It's just what Aziraphale says, and had to say at that moment, because the Metatron was listening in.)

What does Heaven in Good Omens remind us of most of all?

A big corporate entity. And what do powerful people do when they get fired from a big corporate entity? They download all their emails while they're cleaning out their desks. Damning emails. Emails that can be used to black mail or even destroy big corporate entities. Or, ya know, maybe they swipe some sensitive RECORDS?

Oh yes.

Records that Gabriel meant to give to Aziraphale, but he forgot. Records that Crowley realized Gabriel had put in the fly. The fly that Crowley grabbed once Gabriel had his memory out. The fly that he gave to Aziraphale when he kissed him. The fly that no longer held Gabriel's memory, but did still contain those damning records.

Here's Aziraphale reading the records:

Here's Aziraphale being horrified and outraged by what he's reading:

And here's Aziraphale realizing he has got some GOOD DIRT on Heaven. Maybe enough to bring them down:

That's it folks. I have no idea what the records actually say, and maybe we're not meant to know until season 3, but whatever it is, it's GOOD.

That's my story, and by God Herself, I'm sticking to it.

#good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #good omens meta #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens analysis #good omens fan theory #ineffable mystery #aziraphale elevator #corporate heaven #the big damn kiss #the kiss #good omens muriel #good omens gabriel #good omens beelzebub

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 CAUGHT IN BETWEEN kim chaewon & huh yunjin

prev. masterlist . next

🧋★ ͘ ⴰ JEALOUSY & LEADER DUTIES

“you’ve got to be kidding me.” is the first thing that yunjin said when the leader of lesserafim walked into the car sitting right between her and yn with a smile on her face.

“what was that?” chaewon asked while she leaned against yn’s shoulder who was rubbing her eyes with a pink blanket wrapped around her from being woken up about 15 minutes ago.

“oh nothing.” yunjin says before taking a peek at yn who proceeds to put headphones on and turn up the volume of the music on her phone to the point that you can hear it through the headphones before closing her eyes and resting her head on chaewon’s shoulder.

yunjin clears her throat before looking at chaewon, “what are you doing here?” she asks as the car starts.

chaewon smiles, “what do you mean?” she asks innocently, “I’m supposed to be here, I’m the leader it’s my duty to accompany you guys to these things for support.”

yunjin narrows her eyes at chaewon’s obvious bullshit before turning her head and looking at the window, watching the rain fall, this is going to be a long morning.

chaewon eyes widened when she saw yn in the white dress, a smile made its way to her face only to be wiped off immediately when she sees the taller girl walking behind yn in a white dress as well.

she walks over to the two girls with a faux smile on her face, “you look so pretty!” she exclaimed gesturing towards the dresses. “you look like a princess.”

“I look like a ready to be wife.” chaewon's smile faltered, feeling a pang of jealousy that yunjin was the person that got to do something like this with yn.

it should be my wife.

“well, we should get to set.” yunjin says budding in on their moment, she smiles when chaewon gives her a sharp glare.

“oh yeah, let’s go.” yn says, she links her arm with chaewon’s as the girls walk together their manager’s following not too far behind, “I wish you were doing this with us, I love doing photoshoots with you, it reminds be of iz*one.”

chaewon smiles at yn’s words before looking behind to through yunjin a smile who just rolls her eyes and turns to their manager to start a conversation.

“remember when they paired us for everything? I miss that.” yn says smiling sadly at the memories, “now all they do is pair me with yunjin who’s my ready to be wife.” she jokes referring to their outfits.

it’s now chaewon’s turn to roll her eyes she looks behind to see yunjin smiling, ugh.

“honestly I wish the dress was pink, imagine a pink wedding dress?” yn rambles who chaewon who just looks at her with heart eyes as she rants.

“you should wear that to your wedding in the future.” she replies hopefully ours she thinks to herself.

“I’ve honestly never thought about a wedding.” yn says softly, “but the again when do I ever? the farthest I’ve thought is when I get my oscar.”

as they arrived at the set, yn and yunjin were greeted by the bustling activity of the photoshoot. makeup artists and stylists hurried around, putting the finishing touches on the set and the girls' outfits.

chaewon stood off to the side, her gaze shifting between yn and yunjin as they prepared for the photoshoot. she listened absently to the manager discussing their schedules for the next week, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of yn and yunjin.

both yunjin and yn are instructed to lay in the set of the flowers that compliment the dresses, yunjin makes a joke as they lay down which makes everyone laugh well everyone except for chaewon.

“it wasn’t that funny.” she says loud and clear causing everyone to laugh even more, the funny part is that she’s being dead serious.

as fast as the shoot started it ended even faster.

chaewon walked over to yn and yunjin patting both of their shoulders, she patted yunjin’s with more force causing the girl to flinch and rub her now sore shoulder.

“let’s go.” the leader says linking her arms with yn and walking towards the van

chaewon drags yn with her as they make their way into the van, chaewon grabs a blanket that was on the seat and places it over yn’s and her’s legs.

yunjin entered the van not to long after them, “fans are going to go crazy over this shoot.” she starts, pausing to look at yn and chaewon covered in the blanket, before flashing chaewon a smug smile.

“fans go crazy over anything.” chaewon says brushing off yunjin’s comment while looking at yn phone who scrolls through youtube before putting on her headphones probably intentionally tuning out everything around her.

yunjin called yn’s name and didn’t get a response, all she could hear was the blasting video coming from the girls phone, she internally smiled and immediately shot chaewon an accusing look, “okay you can throw away the innocent stuff, why did you come?”

chaewon side eyed yunjin and looked out the window, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“are you serious?” yunjin says, “when have you ever attended a photoshoot for leader duties, this was just another one of your ways to get between yn and I.”

yunjin’s last sentence almost had chaewon jumping over yn to tussle with the girl, “there’s nothing between you and yn to get in between.”

yunjin opens her mouth to respond but is cut short by chaewon’s rage, “are really stupid enough to think that you and yn have something? I’m embarrassed for you.”

yunjin tenses at the girls tone but doesn’t back down, “well we have to have something for a creative director to request for a shoot for wedding style dresses.” she responds back quickly only to flinch at chaewon’s laugh.

“do you really wanna play this game right now?” chaewon asks seriously, yunjin furrows her eyebrows because this is the most serious she’s seen the leader, “you may like yn, but your like for her will never amount to mine, you’ve had your fun but it’s time to back off.”

there’s silence for a second the only thing filling the van is the music from the radio and the sounds from the headphones, yunjin swallows thickly, “I will not back off, I’m not like all the other people you’ve scared away.”

this another few seconds of silence.

“okay.”

there was a chilling vibe to the leader’s words. yunjin should feel relieved at chaewon’s calm response to her own , so why does she feel nervous?

#lesserafim x reader #lesserafim #kim chaewon #kim chaewon x reader #chaewon #chaewon x reader #huh yunjin #huh yunjin x reader #yunjin #yunjin x reader #yunjin le sserafim #chaewon le sserafim #girl group imagines

[endless-ineffabilities]

The Bolter (part five)

Steve Rogers x f!reader / (Bucky Barnes x f!reader)

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : In present day, the reader and Bucky get closer - will one of them finally slip up? We also see what happened in 2018, during the battle in Wakanda.

themes/warnings : pining, unrequited love, Bucky dealing with ptsd, brief mention of violence, language

word count : <2k

masterlist ▪︎ previous chapter

📝 a little bit of an explanation on the timeline : 2016 - Civil War ▪︎ 2017 - post Civil War / Steve and reader on the run ▪︎ early 2018 - Infinity War ▪︎ 2018 to 2023 - the lost years / post-snap ▪︎ late 2023 - Endgame / Steve's departure ▪︎ 2024 - present day / Falcon and the Winter Soldier period ▪︎ 1950s - where Steve went back

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

You win. Again.

By now, you're convinced Bucky is actually letting you win in Battleship. Each guess he made had been wrong, so it must be deliberate.

"James Buchanan Barnes," you sigh.

His lips form a sly smirk. He isn't even trying to deny it.

You reach across and lightly shove his non-vibranium arm. "It's no fun if there's no challenge."

He shrugs, "Maybe I like the way you react when you win. You get so... expressive." Another smirk. Damn him.

What could possibly be so amusing about the way you practically screeched and stuck your tongue at him the first time you won?

"Yeah, but you let me win four times in a row."

"Deal with it, doll."

"You suck."

He grimaces, "Suck?"

Right. You keep forgetting he is an very old, very ancient centenarian.

"It's an expression."

Something flashes across his face, and you can't really make out what it is. "Do you suck, too?"

"What?" you exclaim. "I just said it's an expression. It means you're annoying."

He holds your gaze for a moment, before laughing, eyes visibly crinkling at the corners. "I'm messing with you, doll. I know what that means. I'm old, not unaware."

Damn him again.

And damn the way the rare instances of his laughter is slowly growing to be a thing you yearn for. Bucky has a playful side, you've come to realize. You get this feeling of lightness, because you're proud of him. The more it comes out, the more it shows how much he has healed.

You blink at him, shaking your head, before bursting into laughter yourself.

Damn it all to hell.

It takes a beat for you to collect yourselves.

Then for a second, it's there. That fleeting shift in his expression. A pinch in his eyebrows giving way to a look of shame. Just for a moment, his mind drifts back to the long list of names in his notebook. To Yori's son. To the crimson in his ledger.

You notice, and you don't hesitate in taking his hand, squeezing gently. "Hey," you say, catching his attention. "I'm glad we get to do this."

I'm glad I have you.

Glancing down at your hand wrapped around his, he smiles, slowly, like a sun rising and casting its glow over the horizon.

"Let's play one more time," Bucky says as he begins rearranging the pieces on his side.

You were about to protest, but then he adds, "I won't let you win, I swear."

Fifteen minutes later, you do indeed win again. He laughs at the incredulous expression that must be plastered on your face.

You take it. Because maybe you did win, fair and square.

Or maybe because his laughter feels like winning.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The days have blurred into weeks and into months.

It feels like time is passing quickly, every second feels less and less like the lash of a whip, reminding Bucky of past pains. Of loss. Of all his sins.

Life almost feels normal. The kind of normal he is afforded in his life, at least.

Sessions with his court-mandated therapist. You. Dinners with Yori, desperately unable to tell him the truth. You. Sleepless nights, glimpses of his darkness haunting him. You. Sleepless nights, tempting images of you.

Behind all the laughter and the times you would spend playing Battleship on the floor of his barely furnished apartment, Bucky gets a sense of something gnawing at him. Something not unfamiliar, but unwelcome all the while.

It's fear. He has something to lose, once more. A friend or a kindred spirit. Whatever else you will find in each other. It's there and it's real, and it makes him feel like Bucky again.

He doesn't want to lose it, whatever it is. He's already lost Steve.

He's not going to lose you too.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

early 2018, Infinity War

After you and Steve left the cabin, it's like the universe was sent a go-ahead signal of some sort.

The world slowly descended into chaos, and the Avengers were needed back into the fold.

Your group had to rush to Scotland to rescue Wanda and Vision. Then it was back to the Avengers compound.

"You think all is forgiven?" Senator Ross asked, the threat evident in his tone. "You think you can just walk back in here like nothing happened? Romanoff has been leading my team on some wild goose chase - "

Natasha merely scoffs, unamused.

" - and Huntress has been actively aiding and abetting her fellow fugitives around the globe."

You were about to say something snarky, but Steve had already taken a step forward, partially shielding you from Ross' view.

"We're not looking for forgiveness, and we're way past asking permission," Steve declared.

In that time, life became drastically different from your days in Alaska. You barely had a moment of repose, worried about the fate of the world.

But you found comfort in the blonde super soldier who was constantly hovering over you. His eyes would meet yours before a decision would be made. His hand sometimes pressed at the small of your back as you walked beside him. Time and again, you found him watching you, a silent question in his eyes. You'd nod back, I'm okay.

You didn't notice, but in one of those moments, Wanda had witnessed the exchange.

And she felt it. That something. Much like what she has with Vision.

But it just wasn't the right time.

It is a bit hard to face the truth that you might be in love when the whole world is burning.

"I guess this is our normal, after all," you wistfully remarked to him one evening, after everyone else had left. The plans were laid. You all were to go to Wakanda the next day.

Steve felt a sense of bitterness arising from him upon hearing your words. It really isn't fair. He has always done everything right, but he's losing count of how many joys he's had to sacrifice.

He lost everyone once. His mom, his sister, Bucky, his fellow soldiers, Dr. Erskine, Peggy. He'd buried himself in ice, only to wake up again in a world that wasn't his anymore.

What else does he have to lose, who else, before he is finally allowed to be happy?

His smile was pained when he replied, "I think I figured out the kind of normal I want."

Despite your exhaustion, you smiled back and curiously asked, "Oh yeah?"

Steve hopelessly tried to commit you to memory. The lilt in your voice, the shape of your lips. That undying spark in your eyes, which remained even when everything was cast in gloom.

Just in case he would wake up one day and find his whole world taken from him once more.

"Yeah," he finally said.

The world is ablaze, but he's grown used to it. He knew he would lay his life down on the line again if that means it would be saved.

But everything be damned, he allowed himself one selfish thought when he confessed, "We never should have left that cabin."

I'm in love with you, were the words caught in his throat. His heart screamed it, yearning to be heard.

And you did.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

It was a cruel twist of fate. But Thanos deemed it destiny.

Was it always meant to happen? Were they always meant to lose?

Steve didn't know how long he stayed on the ground next to the pile of ashes that used to be his best friend.

Bucky was gone.

Steve barely heard the screams. Anguished voices calling out the names of their friends, still searching.

All that would have been unbearable. The sounds of distress enough to drive one mad. But Steve heard nothing. He had nothing.

It's not fair. Inside, he felt like that sickly kid who was always dealt the worst hand. It does feel like he's a kid again, petulant and angry. It's not fair, he thought over and over, I don't deserve this.

Bring Bucky back to me.

Maybe it was all his fault. Maybe if he never took that damned serum... maybe... maybe...

"Cap," he heard someone break him out of his haze. Rhodey stood to the side. "Steve," he repeated, pleading, but Steve still could not find the strength to get up.

Then from the distance, he heard Natasha calling out for you. He stumbled to his feet, his head spinning. Casting one last glance at the spot where Bucky vanished, he turned and started running.

He found Natasha immediately, but not you.

"Where is she?" Steve growled, and his voice sounded rougher than he's ever heard before. Natasha would have recoiled in surprise, if she didn't possess nerves of steel.

"I'm looking," Natasha snapped impatiently. You would have been her loss too.

Steve felt as if he had already scoured through the whole field twice, his body threatening to just give in and crumble to the ground once more, as the hope of finding you dimmed.

Then he heard your faint voice, weak and weary, standing out among all the others.

"Steve?" There you stood, your face half-covered in dried blood and soot. "Did we lose?"

He swiveled around and took you in, a deep breath of helpless relief exiting his lungs. He was angry and defeated.

He wanted to throw Captain America to the wind, and surrender everything.

He wanted to hear his mother's voice singing to him again. This world is cruel, and he wanted to go back home.

But there you were.

There you were, and Steve knew he had not lost everything.

"How did it happen?" you asked as he approached. "Steve, what do we do? There must be something - "

His mouth crashes into yours with such bruising intensity that it makes you stumble backward, but his arms were quick to catch you.

He was right.

You never should have left that cabin.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

The nightmare is different.

It's worse. Much worse.

Bucky bolts upright on the floor of his living room, having chosen to bypass the comfort of his bedroom. He thinks this is because he needs to keep his TV on in the background, something to muffle the noise in his mind late at night.

Another reason, one he hasn't confronted yet, is how comfort feels so foreign. It feels wrong, like he doesn't deserve it.

Perhaps that is why he can't find comfort even in his dreams.

It flashes before his eyes, like a broken montage.

It's almost the same every time. He's the Winter Soldier. He's on a mission. There are faces swarming around him, bodies either racing to attack or running away. But he doesn't see any of them. He doesn't feel anything as he makes every single one of them crumble.

But it's different this time. The Winter Soldier does not so much as falter or show any hesitation as he wraps his metal fingers around your windpipe.

The Winter Soldier coldly watches as you expire. Bucky helplessly watches, unable to stop as he loses everything.

Thankfully awake, in this world where he still has you, Bucky's chest feels like it's about to implode.

So much for being a superabled freak.

The clock reads 3:13. It's late, but he needs some air.

He walks for 10 minutes, aimlessly. Then for 20 more, his mind having made a decision on its own. He soon finds himself standing in front of a familiar brownstone building, where your apartment is situated on the top floor.

You don't seem confused when you answer the buzzer. It wouldn't be the first time he has shown up unannounced.

"Can't sleep either?" You're a welcome vision when you greet him at the door, cheeks flushed by the white wine you usually drink at these hours.

She's still here, Bucky reminds himself. The only comfort that he won't deny.

Instead of walking past you, straight into your apartment like he always does, he takes one step closer.

And then another.

He shuts the door behind him.

You watch him carefully, scanning his every movement. There's something here, something different. He takes another step and he has you pressed against the wall.

His eyes betray the storm of emotion brewing inside. He has to remind himself that you're here, and he has you.

"Bucky," you whisper, and it's all he needs.

He leans in and finally touches his lips to yours.

taglist (let me know if you wish to be added!) : @vicmc624 @littleliyah16 @babezawa @klammykayla @justsebstan @blue--ingenue @numblytemporary @bradshawass @delicious-xx @mrsevans90 @heartarianagran @tinystarfishgalaxy @kyoquixote @mochibochinochi @spngingerbread21 @zbeez-outlet @rena15 @raging-panda @marveldaydreamer @integers @torntaltos @imthebadguyyy @iidear @blackhawkfanatic @smhnxdiii

My emotions!!!!!! Hahahaha this chapter is a whole mess and so are our protagonists 🔪🫀

yes yes, expect that the next one is 18+ --- but I still won't say exactly with who --- maybe it's a trick? Maybe it's neither of them? Oh well, honestly some of you have got it bang on already 🤷🏻‍♀️

As always, I am keen to hear what you guys think!!

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #mcu #the avengers #chris evans #sebastian stan #the bolter

[heich0e]

there's an east wind blowing beyond your bedroom window.

you know it's from the east because the rain falling outside is hitting the windowpane in a soft tap-tap-tap that occasionally intensifies on a particularly strong gust. you know your bedroom window faces east because every morning you can see the sun cresting in the distance, diffusing—soft and pink and warm on your favourite days—through the gauzy panels of your curtains.

"you up yet?"

it's not morning now. far from it, in fact. the night's still only new, though it's already fully-dark outside—and has been for most of the day thanks to the dreary weather. it's late enough in the evening that most businesses have closed their doors for the day and people have returned to their homes, but not quite late enough to justify the fact that you're already curled up tightly underneath the covers of your bed.

you roll over in your comfortable cocoon and spy touya in the doorway, leaning against the frame as he watches you.

he's got his coat on.

"are you going out?" you ask him, your voice a little thicker than it usually is. you've been awake for a while, but your afternoon nap (that ran longer than you expected) has left it hoarse from disuse.

touya makes a quiet sound of agreement. not quite a grunt, nor a hum, but something somewhere in-between the two.

you push yourself up slightly in bed, propping your body upright on your elbows. "but it's raining."

touya hates the rain, and has for as long as you've known him. he's the first one to complain when dark clouds roll in, to curse as his teeth chatter and he shakes droplets from his hair when he steps through the door after getting caught in an unexpected downpour, to go out of his way to avoid making plans that require him to leave the house at the slightest mention of inclement weather.

"'s letting up a bit, i think," he answers from the doorway with a little shrug. "i just need to run to the convenience store, anyway."

he shuffles a little further into the room as you lift your hand and reach out for him, approaching the edge of the bed wordlessly and slipping his hand into your own. he peers down at you from your bedside as you lift his hand and press it to your cheek.

"what do you need at the store?" you ask him, your lips pursed slightly. it's not that late, and the weather really isn't that bad, but you'd still prefer he stay here with you.

"ran outta patches today," he replies, though there's something almost a little resentful in the statement. even his expression is a bit more annoyed than it had been a moment prior, in a way that almost makes you giggle—but you suppose the nicotine withdrawal could be playing a part in that.

"just patches, right? not patches and a pack—"

"not patches and a pack of cigarettes to tie me over on the walk home," he finishes the sentence for you before you get the chance, rolling his eyes a bit. "i know, i know."

he frees his hand from your grip and pokes your cheek lightly, earning him a little laugh you can't help but let slip through your lips.

"i'm 24 days in, you know. not about to throw it all away now," he reminds you pointedly.

"good," you reply with an encouraging nod and a somewhat cheeky smile. you never doubted him anyway. "make sure you take an umbrella."

he nods, his touch still lingering against your cheek. his fingertips skirt down, tracing along your jaw, until he reaches your mouth. he presses his thumb lightly against your chin, seemingly just to watch your lips part.

"d'ya want anything?"

you shake your head in dissent, but then pause, your eyes lighting up.

"can you get pickled ginger?"

"pickled ginger?" he asks you, a bit incredulously. "again? thought we just got some of that."

"i finished the jar earlier," you reply with a shrug.

"that can't be good for you," touya remarks dryly, letting his hand drop from your face. "you're gonna start pickling yourself from the inside out if you keep eating so much of that stuff."

"it's not my fault that pickling is the superior form of food preparation." you flop back lazily against your pillows, meeting his gaze resolutely. you lift your fingers as you list out the various accolades. "cold, crunchy, sour, kinda sweet, sometimes spicy—what's not to love?"

touya's nose wrinkles. he's never been a huge fan of pickles, but especially not in the volume you've been consuming them lately.

"whatever you say," he answers, knowing now after all this time when he ought to bow out of an argument before it starts. "mom texted me earlier and said she was sending yumi over with side dishes tomorrow, and there'll probably be pickled vegetables in there. so you can wait until then."

"fine," you sniff, and you may pout a little, but touya knows your excitement at his little sister coming to visit outweighs any annoyance you may feel about having to wait a whole twelve hours to get your fix.

outside, the wind picks up again, and the tapping against the windowpane gets a little bit louder.

"sounds like it's getting worse," you murmur, your face turned in the direction of the window. you glance up at him again, blinking from where you're sprawled out across your pillows. "you sure you wanna go out in that?"

touya nods, kneeling at the edge of the bed and dipping down so he can press a kiss to your forehead. you're still warm from sleep, and soft in all the ways he's come to depend on. you smell like your shampoo and your sheets—and a little bit like him too, since the floral-printed bedlinen is as much his own now as it is yours.

"be back soon," he speaks quietly into your skin before pulling away.

you wave him off tiredly, and as he leaves the room, touya wonders if you'll be asleep again before he returns.

he pulls his shoes off the rack in the genkan, tucked away next to yours, and leaves his slippers there as he stuffs his feet into footwear better suited for the elements. he grabs his keys off the little table in the entryway, the keychain you bought for him at the aquarium glinting in the light as he tucks them into his coat pocket. last, he grabs the umbrella from just beside the door—he doubts he'll even use it, but you told him to take it, so he does.

there's an unexpected break in the rain as touya steps out into the spring night, and he blinks up at the sky overhead a bit incredulously when he realizes his luck. he doesn't linger to appreciate it for long, knowing that at any moment his fortune could change, shuffling off in the direction of the convenience store at the other end of the street.

he sidesteps puddles along the sidewalk on his way, admiring how the streetlights ripple in the surface as he passes.

touya used to hate the rain, but he can't help but think that it's not so bad when he knows that he has somewhere—and someone—warm waiting to welcome him home.

#idk what this is if i'm being real w u all #touya i want to make an honest man out of u #let me domesticate u i'm begging #touya x reader #touya todoroki x reader #bnha drabble

[scribblesofagoonerr]

Never Felt A Love Like This Before

The second part of the small bump mini fic series is out now!

pairings: leah williamson x reader

summary: its' been a long few exhausting months but finally being able to meet your baby girl was worth it in the end.

"Let me take that from you, love," Your wife insisted, rushing to take the heavy load off your hands.

"I'm fine, Le," You couldn't help but roll your eyes playfully, you were of course now well accustomed to your wifes' overprotective nature by now. "I'm not made of glass, you know," you joked with her.

The final trimsester of your pregnancy was a time of both excitement and apprehension for both you and your wife, more so you also to deal with your wifes' need to be stubbornly overprotective of you even attempting to lift anything rometely heavy around the house.

You knew her concern was only coming from a good place though, her overprotective nature was down to the fact it had been a long nine months and she didn't wasn't about to let anything jepordizing the health of your unborn daughter or yourself.

You realized a few months it was easier to just suck it up and agree with your wifes' silly overprectiveness, it weren't that bad to deal with.

"It won't be long until we meet you, baby Gooner," Leah bent down and pressed a gentle kiss on your very pregnant belly before she peered up to look at you with loving eyes.

You both made the joint decision to find out the gender of your baby, but it was only both of your families, a few friends and of course your wife's team mates that new that you would be having a baby girl.

Leah especially was thrilled with the idea of having a daughter to hopefully follow in her footsteps, no matter how much you've tried to tell her that they might not even like football.

Your wife weren't having any of it.

"What if she wanted to be a Spurs fan instead?" You asked with the purpose of trying to wind your wife up.

Leahs' sweet smile is quick to turn into a menacing scowl, "Over my dead body will my daughter support Tottenham," she scoffed, like words were venemous.

You couldn't help but let out a loud laugh in amusement for your wifes' sudden change of mood, the discussion of different footballs team was always a sure subject with Leah if any team other than Arsenal was mentioned.

"Listen here, baby Gooner," Leah spoke directly to your belly, which made you giggle in amusement. "You have Arsenal running through your blood, your a Gooner through and through," she continued to speak to your unborn daughter, which always got the same reaction that you always got, a handful of kicks' as soon as your baby heard Leahs' voice.

"I think she definitely took notice of your words," You joked with your wife playfully, smiling at the connection that your wife and daughter already had. "The way she is kicking, I wouldn't be surprised if she does decide to become a footballer though," You commented.

"That's my girl," Leah grinned and placed a gentle kiss on your exposed stomach, which yet again earned another few excitedable kicks from your baby girl inside of you. "See? Baby Gooner, through and through," She added.

At first the nickname baby Gooner had been a silly nod to Leahs' persuasion for your unborn daughter to become an Arsenal fan just like her Mummy, however, as soon as the rest of your wifes' team mates heard it, they were all quick to cotton on calling the baby that name and it had just stuck ever since then.

You'd both decided to keep the name for a secret now, something for just you and your wife to only share.

You were both very excited for the day that you would finally be able to meet your baby girl, but of course you savoured all of the memories of your favourite times where your wife would place her hands on your stomach, being able to feel the tiny kicks and movement from your baby girl, a constant reminder of the precious life that was growing inside of you.

The nine months hadn't exactly been the easiest roller coaster, full of hormonal mood swings, horrific morning sickness and pregnancy cravings that had your wife up and out at all hours of the night, but you both know it'll be worth it the minute that you meet your baby girl.

It's the middle of the night when you woke up and feel a dull ache, spreading through your body like a silent alarm. Shifting in bed with soft groan, the discomfort was growing stronger with eaching passing moment.

You only knew it meant one thing, it was time.

"Le," You whispered, shaking your wife awake beside you from her light slumber. "I think... I think its' time, it's happening," you stuttered out.

Leahs' eyes snapped open, panic flooding her senses as she was quick to bolt upright in bed, "What?!" she exclaimed, her heart was pounding in her chest. "Now?!"

"No, next week. Yes now," You couldn't help but sarcastically comment, letting out a hiss as the dull pain started to become a little more intense than before. "It's time, Le," you repeated.

You watched as your wifes' began to race into action and shoot up from the bed, her eyes darting around in a sudden panic, "O... Okay, just stay calm. It's gonna be fine, just... just breathe, love," she told you, despite having everything prepared and ready for this very moment, the reality of it was hitting your wife like a tidal wave right now.

"Le," You sat in the bed and looked at your wife amusedly, one hand was resting on your very swollen pregnant belly and the other was videoing your wifes' initial panic, you wanted video proof of this to look back on and laugh when it was needed, "I'm fine here, alright? My contractions are still quite far apart, so we don't even need to leave to go to the hospital yet, so just stay calm, okay?" you told your wife, trying to ease her own panicking.

"Right, of course, you... you're right," Leah ran her hand over her hair before she settled back down on the bed, "So, do we just wait until its' time then?" she questioned.

"Yes, we just wait until then. Why don't you stick the kettle on and make us both a hot drink?" You suggested, hoping that while your was downstairs that her anxiety would ease up more.

In the hushed intensity of the delivery room, Leah stood by your side with your fingers interwined in hers in a tight grip as the final moments of your labour drew near, "I... I can't, I can't do this!" You cried, panting loudly as the beads of sweat glistened your brow and your breath had become short as you pushed through each contraction.

"Almost there, love," Leah murmered, your wifes' voice a soothing balm in the chaos of the moment, "You're doing amazing. I'm so proud of you,"

"That's it, Y/N. That's it, I can almost see the head," The nurses' voice spoke aloud as she could see the head of your daughter from where she stood, "That's it, almost, Y/N. I just need one final push," she instruced.

Leah let out a gasp and tears welled up in her eyes as she set her eyes on your daughter, "She's almost here, love," she whispered in awe.

"Just one final push, Y/N," The midwife in the room repeated, "You're doing great, just one more push and your daughter will be here," she told you.

With all of the energy you could muster, you pushed one final time and it felt like the room seemed to hold its' breath, the anticipation was thick in the air until it was broken by the ear-piercing wail of your newborn daughter that sounded like a sweet melody to you and your wife right now.

"Congratulations, Mommies," The nurse smiled widely, cradling your newborn daughter in her arms before she placed her down gently in your own, "You have a precious baby girl," she added.

You had longed for this moment that you felt your daughter nestled against your bare skin, you let out tears of joy as you felt that instant connection between you both, "Hi, baby girl. I'm so glad you're here now," You whispered quietly, your daughter looking back at you with big wide eyes.

Tears continued to well up in Leah's eyes as she watched the scene unfold before her, her heart swelled with pride and love for you, who had just brought your new baby girl into the world.

"I love you so much," Leah murmered in awe, leaning down beside you as she pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead, "You did it, love. She's here and she's perfect," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

"She really is perfect," You whispered back, peering up to your wife with a tired smile, but no matter how exhausted you felt, nothing would change how happy you felt in this moment, there was a sense of overwhelming amount of love and wonder for the little girl that you currently had cradled in your arms.

"I hate to interrupt the moment," The nurse smiled warmly at you both, her eyes crinkling with kindness as she looked between you and then your wife, "Would you like to cut the unbilicol cord, Mum?" she asked your wife, her tone gentle and inviting.

Leahs' own heart fluttered with a mix of emotion and nervousness at the question, glancing at you to seek a sense of reassurement in your eyes that it would be okay, "Is that okay?" she checked with you to make sure it was alright.

You squeezed your wife's hand to reassure it was okay, "You've got this, Mummy," You whispered, noting the name you'd both decided on for each other, Leah would be Mummy and you would be Mumma.

Your wife grinned and turned back to look at the nurse, "Yes, I'd love too," she agreed, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves.

With a careful guiding hand from the nurse, your wife gently took the scissors and prepared to make the first cut as her fingers trembled with nerves.

As the blade sliced through the cord, a rush of emotion washing over you as you watched the intimate moment between your wife and newborn daughter, watching as the nurse carefully finished the proccess, your heart swelled with love for the tiny life that you had both brought into the world together.

"I'm so proud of you," You told your wife with an exhausted smile, peering down to look at your little girl resting on your chest before you looked at your wife, "Do you want to hold her?" You whispered the question, almost afraid to disturb the sleeping newborn on your chest.

"I'd love too," Leah nodded in agreement and with the nurse's help, she delicately placed your little baby girl in your wifes' arms.

Watching the moment made your heart swell even more, the first time you saw your wife holding your newborn daughter for the first time would be a memory that would be etched in your memory forever.

"Hi there, I'm your mummy and I'm so happy to meet you, baby Gooner," Your wife cradled your baby girl in her arms as she smiled down at her in awe, "We waited a whole 9 months to meet you but every single minute was worth it now that you're here, and I love you so so much already," she whispered, not taking her eyes of your newborn daughter.

Gently moving to take a seat beside you on your hospital bed, Leah sat with the baby nestled in her arm with her other free arm was wrapped around you, "I'm so in love with you, I love you both so much," she whispered quietly, the two of you just staring lovingly at the tiny bundle wrapped up in a blanket.

Your wife was right in her words, you had waited a long nine months to meet your little girl, but damn it was worth every minute now that she was here in your arms and you were finally a family of three.

leahwilliamsonn and y/nwilliamson posted

Liked by liawaelti, lottewubbenmoy & 98,203 others

leahwilliamsonn: my wife and i would like to introduce the newest baby gooner to the world, remi delilah williamson 👣❤️

my heart is so full of love for our baby girl and my amazing wife right now, I love you both so much! ❤️

© scribblesofagoonerr

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #arsenal x reader #woso imagine #woso #woso one shot #arsenal women x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #leah williamson x reader #scribblesof #scribblesofagoonerr

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (7)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, PINING, Azriel's POV and he is incredibly sad

a/n: Yay here's more <3 I promise it gets happy and there's a little teaser of what that'll look like in this part. Let me know what you think pleaseee :)

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

Azriel 

Azriel’s heart came to a thudding halt.

“What was that?” he asked softly, trying to play it off. Trying to pretend as if you hadn’t just asked him the one question he had hoped would never come. Because you were supposed to get better before it came to this. 

He had begged the Mother for any kind of reprieve.

She hadn’t listened, as Azriel had expected. 

“Mates,” you slurred, your head bobbing on his shoulder. The High Lords had exhausted you. “Helion said you… he said something about a mate. I can’t remember exactly… but no one’s told me what that is.” 

Pure adoration tore at Azriel’s chest. Your words blurred together as you sunk deeper into his arms, and Gods, did he love you. He let himself imagine that you were drunk—just for a moment. You were drunk and still his and he was carrying you home after a night at Rita’s. 

“Azriel?” 

The moment ended and panic replaced the temporary comfort that had consumed him. 

“Yes, my love?” It had slipped, a mistake fueled by his clouded mind. Azriel counted his footsteps and held his breath, but you only hummed in response, too drained to notice the endearment that had fallen with such desperation from his lips. 

“You were telling m’about mates,” you reminded him. Your arm slipped from his neck and landed in your lap. Azriel held you closer, feeling your body begin to lose its grip. 

“Of course,” he dutifully replied. “A mate is… it is a gift from the cauldron. An equal to share a bond with.”

“Like a lover?”

Azriel could hardly piece your words together with the way they tumbled out. 

That, and his stomach was twisting, reminding him of the very bond that was crying out within him. This was wrong. It was all so terribly wrong. He didn’t have to have this conversation with you last time; it had hurt you too much to even hint at the topic. 

Back then, Azriel had been so deep in anguish he couldn't keep food down, so desperate to just speak to you that his body rejected all else. 

This was somehow worse.

“Much stronger,” he whispered, pressing his nose to your temple in an act of weakness. You didn’t notice. “Our souls are linked—mates I mean. A mating bond doesn’t always lead to the pair being lovers, but if they choose to do so, it’s enhanced. It’s unexplainable, truly, having someone connected to you that you love so deeply.” 

“That sounds nice,” you mused, a melodic flow of syllables starkly contrasting the effort with which Azriel was trying to string his sentences together. 

“It is.” He gave in to his urges and looked down at you in his arms, your hair flushed against his leathers, your face soft and drowsy. “It is wonderful.” 

You cracked an eye open. Azriel had stopped walking. “Do you have one?” 

“What?” he choked out. 

“You speak as if you know the feeling well. Do you have a mate, Azriel?” 

“I—” There were no thoughts in his head, nothing but the sound of your voice and your question repeating itself like a bell tolling in a vicious pattern. “Yes,” he sputtered out. “I do, yes.” 

You smiled softly, but it was paired with a furrowed brow and a light sigh. “Good,” you nodded to yourself. “You deserve a mate.” 

Too much talking, too much thinking; your head lulled into his arm, face against his chest, and you were asleep. 

Yes, this was much worse than the last time. 

Azriel adjusted his grip and carried you back to the room you didn’t know belonged to the both of you. 

~~

The pounding in your head was your first indication that you were awake. You moved your hand to your hairline before opening your eyes, applying pressure in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure there. 

Useless. 

A small groan made its way up your throat. The night before, or whenever it was—you had no idea how long you’d been sleeping—was a jumbled mess in your mind. You remembered meeting Helion, being told you were in love with him, being told that you actually weren’t in love with him, and then he and Rhysand had entered your mind and left you as nothing more than a vegetable. 

There were other pieces too, like Azriel carrying you back to your room and talking about… mates? Yes, that sounded right—the larger-than-life, effervescent partners bestowed upon fae by the cauldron. 

And he had told you that he had one. 

That was good. Great, even. Something stirred within you, an uncomfortable feeling, but you ignored it in favor of the pain radiating across your head. Gods, why did it hurt so much? 

Helion and Rhysand had been in your mind. They were going to discuss things with you. 

You shot up far too quickly, the motion sending shooting pains up your neck. 

“What?” you heard a voice panic. “What is it? Are you hurt?” 

Another jarring look to the side and you just about passed out from the pain. You caught a glimpse of Azriel before you squeezed your eyes shut to try and manage it, his large form folded into a chair by the door that was certainly not made to accommodate wings. You lowered your head into your hands and heard the chair screech against the floor. 

“What is it, y/n?” Azriel asked, voice closer now. 

You let out a shaky sigh. “Sorry, just—it’s my head, give me a moment.” 

He didn’t speak, but the room became dark. That seemed like an impossible feat, with the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the walls and letting in the rays of the day court sun. But the pounding in your head receded a fraction, and you could tell it was dimmer even from behind your eyelids. 

“Does that help?” he asked, so low you could barely hear him. 

You felt his breath at your arm. 

“Yes,” you whispered back, and when you opened your eyes, Azriel was there. His wings had circled you, encasing you in a darkness that blocked out the world, his knees at the side of your bed. 

“You got up too quickly,” Azriel offered.

“I know, but I wanted to hear what the High Lords had to say about the witch and my memories and what I need to do to fix everything. Have you heard anything?”

“Very little. I’ve been here.” 

“For how long?” 

“You slept for a day and a half.” 

“And you stayed the entire time?” 

“You requested I stay by your side. You’ve been here.” 

You bit into your lip, the heavy weight of guilt loading onto your chest. Azriel flinched as if he felt it himself. “I wanted to stay,” he comforted. “It puts me at ease to… see you while we’re in this court. To know exactly where you are and who’s around you.” 

“Because of last time,” you stated, but it was a question that hung in the air. 

Azriel’s eyes tracked along the planes of your face. His hand twitched. “Yes, because of last time.” 

He looked so serious, bordering on forlorn. Despite the pain in your head and the conflicting emotions rising within you, you attempted to lessen some of the load that seemed to bogg the shadowsinger down. 

“You could have taken shifts with Cassian, you know. Or even, I don’t know, laid on the bed that’s the size of a small apartment. I was out cold the entire time—didn’t wake up once. I wouldn’t have noticed if you did,” you offered with a hint of a smirk playing at your lips. 

Azriel’s gaze dropped to your mouth, his own expression lightening. “Cassian would fall asleep immediately. And, just to let you know, you did wake up. Several times.” 

You gave him a doubtful look. “I think I would remember that.” 

The shadowsinger bit back a smile and something within you shone at the playful look in his eye. “Right, so you don’t remember waking up and practically ripping that from my body?” 

His eyes shot down to your chest, an action which you followed to find a large, unfamiliar sweater swathing your body in warmth. You looked further down at your hands, only to find the sleeves of the garment covering your palms and fingers as well. 

An incredulous laugh bubbled in your chest. “I wouldn’t—I didn’t actually rip this off of you, did I?” 

Azriel shifted his knees into a kneeling position beside you, his wings shuffling and creating a sound you had begun to find comfort in. “Well, you didn’t exactly ask politely.” 

You groaned and shoved your face back into your hands. “Gods, that’s embarrassing. It’s because I was delirious, I swear. Those damn High Lords scrambled my brain.” 

“Y/n, you have a penchant for demanding things in your sleep. Food, water, clothing, more blankets. Once you woke up to ask me for an entire roast duck and in the morning you had no recollection. You were quite aggravated that night.” 

“No, stop, I can’t take this. I am melting into a puddle of mortification and you are making it worse.” 

Azriel chuckled. “It’s alright. I’ve grown used to it over the years. It’s almost charming, really.” 

You peeked through your sweater-clad fingers. “You can’t mean that.” 

“I mean it very sincerely. When you are sick or unwell, you sleep through the entire night. When you wake up and grab the neck of my sweater like you’re robbing me, I know things are okay.” 

You groaned again, this time tilting your head back and immediately regretting the action when a pulse of pain permeated along your temples. But it wasn’t so bad anymore; Azriel and his wings made it better. 

You took a moment to gaze upon his face in the proximity. He was smiling slightly, some humor still shining in his hazel eyes. The occasional shadow made a pass along his cheeks and by his ear, whispering secrets you weren’t privy to and then coming to wind around your body as well. His hair was mused and untamed, landing in soft patterns across his forehead. 

Azriel was so beautiful it hurt. 

“Does your mate ever get upset that we are so close?” you asked, the question not even fully formed in your head before it entered the space.

The smile slipped from Azriel’s lips and you regretted your impulsivity almost instantly. 

“No,” he answered, a slight shake of his head. “I wouldn’t worry about that.” 

“Has something happened? Between the two of you?” 

“Y/n, please don’t worry yourself over—” 

“It’s just—Azriel, I know how hard all of this has been on you. When you spoke of your mate it was the first time I saw you look at peace. That’s why I’m asking.” 

“You remember what I said?” 

“All of it,” you smiled, but Azriel only looked grave. “Az—"

The shadowsinger jutted back as the familiarity left your lips. He sent his shadows out, their configuring forms covering the windows and the cracks in the doors until it was dark enough for him to remove his wings from around you. With him went the comfort of night-kissed air and warmth and all of the things that made sense in this life you had been dropped into. 

“Rhys has requested that we meet in the study to discuss findings,” Azriel relayed, clearing his throat and standing from his place on the bed. “I laid out some of your things and a servant ran a bath when you started to stir. Do you need help—” 

“I’ve got it,” you interrupted, eyes downcast, feeling as though you’d ruined something that was already painfully delicate. 

“I’ll be here if you need me. Just outside the door.” 

You believed him—you did—but something was missing. Something you couldn’t keep up with. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he was in love with someone. Mor, maybe? Or one of the sisters Cassian talked about on occasion? 

The thought of him with his mate made you nauseous. 

You shouldn’t have asked. 

~~

“A replication?” you asked, running a hand along the side of your head in an attempt to look casual about the throbbing taking place there. “So… it is like last time?” 

“Partially, but because the witch’s powers aren’t pure, she was unable to mimic what a full daemati can do. So, same outcome, fewer side effects,” Rhys offered, a calming presence across the table. “Witches often find sources to draw from because they don’t have access to their natural abilities any longer. Your source was—” 

“An opening in her mind,” Azriel concluded, expression guarded as he sat stiffly beside you. “There were remaining injuries in her mind. The witch found her weak points and used them against her.” 

Helion nodded, rounding one of the more ornate chairs and basking in the light streaming through the window. “Very astute. We thought there were no remnants of—” 

“Don’t say his name,” Azriel warned. 

“—of the attack,” Helion quickly corrected, obviously not in the mind to start an argument with the keyed-up spymaster. “But they must have been miniscule. We think she must have been an old witch, very practiced.” 

“So what do we do now?” Cassian gruffly asked, arms crossed as he leaned against the windowsill. You turned to look at him, but the sunlight casting his shadow sent your head ablaze. You quickly righted your gaze and squeezed your eyes shut to compensate. 

You felt shadows stalk beneath your feet and across the floor until they consumed the light of the window. If anyone had any comments on the shadowsinger’s act, they didn’t voice them. 

“Now,” Helion breathed out, dropping into a chair and interlacing his fingers atop the oak table. “We wait. Just like the last time, this kind of power is not something we can simply undo. We need a witch, and witches are incredibly elusive.” 

Trepidation gripped your heart, sending your lungs into a fiery descent. You were just supposed to wait? Wait and hope that maybe, possibly, they would find a witch and fix this before your life moved on without you in it?

Your breath came out in quick, uneven puffs, exacerbating the ache in your head. 

Azriel sat up in his seat, high alert and on the defensive. 

But Rhysand was quicker than his spymaster’s anger. “There is the possibility that this wears off on its own.” 

Your eyes snapped up. “Was that a possibility last time?” 

“No,” Cassian remarked, brows shot up to his hairline. “That’s why you were missing for so long and in so much pain after. You both made it clear that there was no moving whatever the daemati put in her head.” 

Helion and Rhysand shared a look, but your High Lord was the one to speak. “It was weaker this time, more permeable. We think, with time, the wall the witch attempted to replicate will break down and you’ll have everything back. She did only do this to you to flee from attack. It wasn't personal.” 

“How much time?” Azriel strained. 

Helion replied this time. “There is no way to know, shadowsinger.” 

“What about the pain? You said fewer side effects but I couldn’t even have light in my room this morning.” 

Rhysand looked sheepish, eyes darting over to the window still opaque with shadows. “Yes, well—we may have pushed you a bit too far during our assessment.” 

Cassian let out a disbelieving huff from the corner of the room. Azriel gripped the arms of his chair until they groaned. 

“So it’ll go away?” you asked, desperation trickling into your tone. 

The wood beneath Azriel’s hands splintered. 

“Yes, very soon. We can give you some tonics before you leave as well. They will help speed up the process,” Helion promised, eyeing his chair being slowly destroyed. 

In a motion that felt almost second nature, you covered the spymaster’s hand with your own, shadows wrapping around the press of your skin. It was then that you noticed the ring. Silver and unassuming, it took up residence on the ring finger of his left hand and looked like it belonged no place else. 

Our souls are linked, he had said, talking about his mate with such passion. 

You removed your hand from his. 

Azriel flexed his fingers upon your departure. 

“We were thinking,” Rhysand began after a pregnant pause that seemed to blanket the room. “With your pain, we might want to stay a few more days. Winnowing can add extra pressure to the body and flying would—” 

“No,” you were quick to dispute. “No, I want to go home. It’s lovely here, Helion, and I thank you for all you’ve done and are doing, but I want to go back to the Night Court. I want to try and live the life I’ve made for myself, even if I have no idea what I’m doing.” Another pause. “If that’s okay.” 

“Of course that’s okay,” Azriel spoke from beside you. His words sounded dull, his fingers remaining outstretched on the chair. 

“We will continue looking for the witch on our side,” Helion nodded, pushing out of his chair. He came before you then, meeting your gaze. “I cannot apologize enough for what your time in my court has cost you. I only hope that all will return to you. I have missed you, y/n.” 

And then the High Lord of Day was gone, and you had no recollection as to why he would miss you in the first place. Everyone was saying they missed you, even as you stood before them unharmed and intact. 

A harsh reality slammed into you with the departure of the High Lord. 

If you didn’t get your memories back—if there were no witches or deteriorating walls in your mind—they would continue to miss you. You would forever be a husk of your former self, never understanding the full picture of who you were. 

But that wasn’t okay with you—not at all. 

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x female!reader #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel angst

[littlexdeaths]

precious - e.m.

y2k eddie munson x girly reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: oral (fem receiving), fingering, spitting, eddie is a menace… but a cute one.

opposites attract masterlist

word count: 1k

a/n: another repost from my opposites attract series. i missed our feral, goblin boyfriend. so i hope you all enjoy xx.

He’s been in between your thighs for the better part of an hour, Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers now long forgotten in the background.

You had gotten Eddie the box set earlier that day as a surprise gift. So of course, your boyfriend wanted to spend the whole day having a movie marathon. And you were more than happy to oblige.

But the only problem was you.

You in your short pleated skirt and pink top that seemed to leave very little to the imagination. You were driving him absolutely crazy, despite not meaning to.

The brunette somehow managed to make it through the first film without caving. But each time you shifted positions, your cotton candy perfume would engulf his senses completely. Reminding him how sweet you were, and just how bad he’d missed tasting you.

So could you blame him for being too distracted to appreciate the gift?

After popping the second film in the dvd player, you joined him back on the sofa. The darkness of the room concealing the boner he’s been struggling with for the past three hours.

So when his hand started drifting up your bare thigh, you didn’t think anything of it. That is until his fingers began tracing the outline of your panties, snapping the elastic against your skin.

His head dips, lips grazing against the shell of your ear.

“We wants it, we needs it…”

Eddie’s voice had dropped an octave, gravely as he did his best impression of the creepy, crawly creature from the film.

You lightly smack his shoulder as he starts laughing, the sound filling the small room. But once he sees the look on your face he settles, nuzzling his face into the skin of your neck.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry, sweetheart. Let me try that again,” he hums as his lips trail further down to your collarbone, nipping lightly at your skin.

A small gasp leaves you as he begins sucking, tingles shooting straight to your core.

“Wanna taste you, doll… can I?” He asks, his voice just as deep as before— but the silliness of the previous moment is gone.

Only desperation laces his tone as his fingers slip underneath your panties. The male groans at the wetness he finds, the sound leaving you a little breathless.

“Please,” you whine, lips jutting out in a small pout.

That’s the only answer he needs before he’s detaching himself from you. Grinning mischievously as he slides off the sofa, working himself between your thighs. Your panties are removed almost haphazardly, making you giggle at his eagerness.

Eddie quickly tosses your legs over his shoulders, diving in immediately. Despite how eager he seemed, he slowly dragged his tongue through your soaked folds. Your boyfriend wanted to take his time, to savor each and every drop you were giving him.

Flash forward to almost an hour later, your fingers are tangled in his dark curls as he continues to lap at your overly sensitive cunt. Eddie was being a tease, getting you closer and closer to the edge before slowing down again.

It was his turn to drive you absolutely crazy. While simultaneously turning you into a needy mess under his skillful tongue. He suddenly pulls back for a moment, the glow from the tv highlighting the juices smeared across his chin.

The male gathers some of it on his fingers, eagerly sucking the digits into his mouth with a deep growl.

“Mmm, my precious.”

Before you have time to scold him he’s back between your thighs, a crazed cackle leaves him as he sucks harshly on your clit. Eddie eagerly slips those same fingers that were just in his mouth, back inside you. He curls them up to brush against your sweet spot, causing you to cry out as he increases his pace.

Any semblance of taking things slow is now thrown out the window, as he licks and sucks at you like a starved animal. Your fingers find their way back into his hair, nails digging into his scalp.

“That’s it, such a good. fucking. girl.” He growls each word pointedly, thrusting his fingers in tandem with his vulgarity.

Your walls clench harder around the digits due to his praise, greedily grinding your hips down against them. A whimper escapes you as he leans back, spitting onto your already soaked pussy. But he doesn’t give you much time to process as his tongue begins to mix his salvia with your slick.

He slides a third finger into your tight heat, the sounds of your arousal now over powering the film still playing on the television. Your body is buzzing as your thighs begin to tremble around his head.

“Squeezing me so tight, baby, fuck. You gonna cum for me?” His voice is muffled as he puts more pressure on your swollen clit.

And in that moment, you can’t find the words to answer him— only a high pitched moan leaves your lips.

Eddie chuckles against you, the vibrations bring you that much closer to the edge. Your hips begin to buck up wildly, desperate for that promise of release.

But your boyfriend is quick to force them back down with his free hand. Preventing any further squirming as he drills his fingers into your needy cunt, taking everything he’s giving you in stride.

“Gimme all your cum, sweetheart,” he groans deeply, finding yourself unable to hold back anymore.

After being edged for the better part of an hour, your body convulses as you finally fall over that precipice. Crying out his name repeatedly as he continues to work you through the most intense orgasm he’s ever given you.

Your body suddenly slumps against the sofa, completely spent. A soft whine leaves your lips as you tug on his disheveled curls to lift his head. His dark eyes lock with your half lidded ones, that mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Eddie gladly crawls his way up your body to press a sloppy kiss to your lips. You can taste yourself on his tongue, your juices now smeared across your chin.

You can feel the sticky, warm denim of his jeans pressing against your thigh. The sudden realization has you giggling into his mouth.

“Mmm,” he hums, “Precious is pleased?”

#the freak writes 🫧 #my series: opposites attract 🫧 #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #y2k!eddie munson x girly reader #y2k!eddie munson #early 2000s!eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader

[quintinh43]

The Best Summer Ever | Quinn Hughes

Summary: First summer at the lakehouse, and it couldn't be better.

Pairings: Quinn Hughes x Teacher!Fem!Reader

Warnings: None, just some pure sweetness. Part of this universe but can be read on its own!

Wc: 3.6k

-

As you lounge in the backyard of the lake house, with a book in hand, working on your tan, and Quinn napping beside you, you surmise that coming to Michigan with Quinn for the summer was one of the best decisions you've ever made. 

Quinn lays on his stomach, with his head pillowed in the crook of his arms. He hadn't planned to nap, but the two of you had gone on a run along the waterline this morning, and then Quinn had a training session with the boys. He had conked out, less than ten minutes after he had stretched out beside you.

You glance at the time on your phone, Quinn has been asleep for almost an hour. You bookmark your page, deciding it's time to wake him up, before his lovely golden tan turns into a massive sunburn. You flip onto your stomach and delve your fingers into Quinn's hair, gently working through the tangles. 

The humidity was doing wonders for his curls, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't absolutely head over heels for summertime Quinn. The tan, the curls, the way his cheeks always seemed to be flushed from heat, the smile that seemed permanently etched into his face. You drop a kiss to his shoulder, and your other hand traces light patterns along his spine. 

Pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along his shoulders and upper back, your fingers massage his scalp steadily. He makes a low noise of contentment, and you grin against his sun-kissed skin. "Quinn," you murmur against his skin. 

He doesn't respond. You press a kiss to the crook of his neck, and he stirs under you. Another behind his ear. And the underside of his jaw. 

His chest rumbled with a soft hum, and he nuzzled his head against the crook of his arm with a sleepy sigh. You giggle and pull out your phone to snap a photo of him. He reminds you of a cat napping in the sun.

"Quintin," you mutter against his skin, he gives you a sleepy grunt, "wake up honey," you say softly, carding your fingers through his hair, "if you don't turn over you're going to get a horrid burn on your back," you coax, tugging ever so gently on his curly locks. 

Quinn rolls over with a huff. Suddenly his arms are around you and he's pulling you on top of him. You squeal in surprise as he situates you between his legs comfortably, your forearms resting on either side of his head. He squints one eye open, with a glare. Half because you woke him up and half because the sun was so bright.

"Why'd you wake me up?" He huffs. 

You snort, detangling yourself from his arms, "Cause you whine like a bitch when you're sunburnt." His jaw drops, and you grin, kissing him on the cheek sweetly. 

"I can't believe you just called me a bitch," he gasps, all traces of sleep disappearing from his body.

"I'm just telling the truth," you shrug, a smile playing on your lips. Quinn sits up, pulling your sunglasses off, you squint your eyes, frowning at the sudden brightness. 

You screech in alarm, as Quinn is suddenly grabbing you around the waist, holding you tight to his body and walking towards the dock. "Quinn," you gasp "What are you doing?"

"I think someone needs to cool down her attitude a little," Quinn smirks, his tone like he's scolding a child.

"Quinn," there's slight panic in your tone, "please no, I'm sorry" You flail your legs trying to escape his hold before he tosses you into the lake. 

"Sorry baby, I can't hear you over my bitchiness," Quinn snarks, nipping at your ear playfully. You yelp, twisting in his hold. 

"I didn't mean it, you aren't a bitch, you're the sweetest man to ever exist, you have never been bitchy in your life! You deserve the world and I love you with all my heart!" You ramble, pressing kisses to his face in hopes that he will have mercy.

Quinn is smiling mischievously, "Gotta do better than that baby," he's standing at the edge of the dock.

"Quintin Jerome Hughes!" You warn, wrapping your arms and legs around him tightly, "I swear to God if you-" Before you can finish your threat, Quinn is jumping off the dock with you wrapped around him.

The shock of being plunged into cold water after being in the sun for over an hour is brutal. You resist the urge to scream purely because you're underwater and you don't need a mouth full of water. 

As your heads break the surface, you gasp for air. Quinn's grin is infectious and you can't help but grin back. "How's the attitude? Cooled off yet?" He asks smirking. 

You unwrap your legs from around his waist, kicking them back and forth underwater to help keep the two of you afloat. Your arms wrap around his neck tugging on his now wet hair, "Think I'm still a bit hot," you smile teasingly, pushing on his shoulders to dunk his head under water. 

Quinn gasps for air as he goes down. You cackle as he fails to drag you under with him. He comes up, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes, and lunging after you with a grin.  You swim away with screeching laughter. You splash Quinn aggressively in an attempt to save yourself.

Suddenly there’s a loud whooping coming from the dock, along with heavy footsteps. Then Jack is cannonballing into the water. Luke follows after him flipping off the dock in a fancy maneuver that briefly leaves your heart in your throat. As soon as their heads break the surface, they grin mischievously. The four of you lose track of time and end up fooling around in the water for hours, splashing, wrestling, racing, and every other possible game you can think of.

By the time Ellen is calling you out of the water to get ready for dinner like a bunch of children, Jack is sporting a wicked sunburn across his nose and cheeks and you and Luke have probably swallowed half of Lake Erie from the amount that Quinn and Jack have been dunking you under water and splashing you in the face.

You hoist yourself onto the dock and offer Quinn a hand to help pull him up, he takes it with a grin and pulls you back into the water with a cackle. You pout at him, as you move your wet hair out of your eyes. Quinn kisses the pout right off your face, and you can’t help but melt into it, locking your arms around his neck and kissing him back. 

“Ewwww!” Luke screeches, as he and Jack begin to splash the two of you all over again. 

“Children!” Ellen barks, unable to keep the smile off her face, “Out of the water or you will  be late for your dinner plans!”

There is a collective grumbling amongst the four of you, but you exit the water nonetheless. This time, Quinn doesn't pull you back into the water, lest he face the wrath of his mother. Ellen and Jim had plans with a few of their friends while Luke and Jack had been invited to have dinner with a few other NHL guys who lived on the lake. Originally, you and Quinn had been invited too, but Quinn had politely declined in favour of taking you out on a good ol’ classy dinner date at the country club. 

As bad as you felt about declining the invite, you were excited to have Quinn to yourself for the evening. The only time you and Quinn got a moment alone for yourselves was usually when you were going to sleep, so you were looking forward to this Dinner date.

Quinn wraps a towel over your shoulders as the four of you head up to the house, Jack and Luke sprinting ahead to fight over who gets to use their shower first. “You shower first?” Quinn mutters against your wet hair.

“We could shower together,” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively “save some water.” Quinn chuckles, pressing another kiss to your hair fondly, “Trust me, baby, if we shower together, we definitely won’t be saving water.”

You laugh along with him, knowing he’s right, “I’ll be quick,” you assure, stripping out of your swimsuit and stepping under the cool spray of water. You run through your shower steps as quickly as you can and are in and out in ten minutes. While Quinn showers you do your hair and makeup, keeping it simple and sticking to your usual routine for fancier events. As you apply mascara on your lashes, you’re a bit giddy for dinner tonight. 

The dress you picked out, was a classy white number that you had been saving for something fancy, and you were excited to finally be able to wear it. And also to see Quinn’s reaction to you in it. He hops out of the shower and is quick to change into a stylish short-sleeved white button-up and a pair of beige slacks.

“Do my hair?” he asks, tipping his head towards you in invitation. You smile, running some hair oil and a bit of curl product through his locks so they are nice and defined, he kisses you on the cheek in thanks, “I’ll wait for you downstairs,” he says stealing one last kiss.

He slips out of the room, and you lock the door behind him as you pull the dress out from the back of the closet. You get dressed, grab your bag and your trusty pair of nude heels, and go exit the room. As soon as you appear at the top of the stairs, Quinn's eyes are drawn to you. His jaw drops, and his eyes soften with love as you fuss over trying to fit your phone in your bag.

You look up to find Quinn staring at you and your cheeks warm. One thing about Quinn is that there is meaning in everything he does. He is purposeful and thorough, and he works hard for what he wants. So when he pins you with that look, you feel loved, purposefully, and wholeheartedly, and damn if that isn't the best feeling ever. You lock eyes with Quinn, and his lips curl into a soft, adoring smile. 

Everything else falls away as you descend the stairs. It's just you and Quinn. He makes you feel like a princess, and he is your prince charming waiting at the bottom, hand extended towards you, ready to lead you to your happily ever after. 

“Hi,” he whispers as you take his hand, he brushes a gentle kiss on the backs of your knuckles and your stomach flutters. 

“Hi,” you smile, staring up at him through your lashes. You thought it would be impossible to love this man even more than you already did, but every day he proves you wrong, “I Love you,” you murmur softly. 

“I love you too,” He smiles, and damn if you don't wanna abandon your dinner and spend the night in his arms.

Ellen rounds the corner and is immediately gushing over the two of you, “Oh, just look at you two! Come here I want pictures,” you slip on your heels as she ushers the two of you in front of the mantel, much to Quinn's chagrin. 

“Mom please,” Quinn whines, “we’re not kids, and this is not prom,” you snicker at his whining, secretly happy that Ellen is making the two of you take photos.  

“You may not be kids, but you're still my children, now pose,” she demands, holding up her phone. 

Quinn wraps an arm around your waist and you place a hand on his chest as the two of you smile at his mom's camera. After she snaps probably over a hundred photos Quinn is practically pulling you out of the door, with the boat keys in hand, “better not get me wet,” you warn, as you carefully smooth down your dress.

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Quinn chuckles as the boat hums to life. You sit in the seat across from Quinn, legs curled under your chin resting against your hand as you take in the way the dipping sun reflects on the water. The golden halo of sunlight that illuminates you makes you look like an angel. Quinn is absolutely enraptured by your beauty, if he could freeze this moment in time, he would. 

The boat ride from the lake house to the country club takes less than twenty minutes, it would have been faster if Quinn wasn't trying to keep the both of you dry. He parks the boat on one of the docks, and hops over the edge of the boat, holding his hand out to you. You take it gratefully, not letting go even when you are safe on solid ground.

So far you've only been to the Country Club during the day when the boys deemed it a golf day, or to play tennis, or grab something easy for lunch before going right back out in the boat. In the early evening, it almost seemed like a completely different place.

You hold onto Quinn's bicep, fingers tapping nervously against corded muscle, as he leads you through the front foyer of the building. Quinn squeezes your hand reassuringly. It's at moments like these that you feel self-conscious about the fact that you're dating a Superstar Captain of the NHL. He could be doing much better than a lowly elementary school teacher. 

It's as if Quinn can read your negative thoughts. He looks at you, face soft with concern, nodding his head to ask if you're ok. You give him a tight smile and nod, squeezing his bicep again, as you dispel all the thoughts from your head. Quinn wants you. That's why you're here.

A pretty hostess, dressed from head to toe in black, is quick to find you. “Do you have a reservation?” she asks professionally. 

“Yep,” Quinn answers with a polite smile, “It should be under Hughes,”

The hostess clicks a few times on her iPad, and her eyes light up as she clocks in Quinn's reservation, “Right this way please,” she leads you through The main dining room, up a set of stairs and out onto the rooftop patio with the most magnificent view of the lake. “Someone will be right with you,” she smiles. 

“Thank you,” you and Quinn say simultaneously. He pulls out your chair, and you smile at him, smoothing your dress out as you sit down. 

“Quinn, this is so beautiful,” you gasp, taking in the view.

“Yeah it is,” he says smirking. His eyes are locked on you, and when you notice your cheeks flush. 

“You're so cheesy,” you mumble, picking at a loose thread in your napkin. 

“You love it,” Quinn smirks.

At that moment a Waiter appears, offering the two of you menus, and asking what you would like to drink. Quinn orders some kind of expensive wine, and the waiter leaves to retrieve it and give you time to look over your menus. It's much fancier than you're used to, and it's a little overwhelming, but Quinn happily takes charge, keeping a comforting hand on your thigh under the table.

Once the food is ordered and you both have a few glasses of wine in your system everything feels much easier. Along the way, your heels got discarded under the table, and your bare foot was resting on Quinn's thigh, rubbing up and down teasingly. 

Your foot strays a bit too high and Quinn wraps a hand around your ankle, stopping your foot from moving any closer to his dick. He throws you a dark, lust-filled look that holds a promise for later, and you smirk at him teasingly. All in all, the dinner was absolutely amazing. The food was delicious and you were absolutely elated to have Quinn to yourself for a few hours.

“Wanna go for a walk on the beach?” Quinn asks as the two of you leave the restaurant hand in hand. The sun is just dipping below the horizon, casting the sky in beautiful shades of orange, pink and purple. 

“Absolutely I do,” you grin, hanging into his arm. The two of you deposit your shoes in the boat and walk along the waterline. Quinn has an arm draped over your shoulder, and yours is wrapped around his waist fingers dancing under his shirt and across the bare skin of his torso. You lean your head on his shoulder and his fingers draw patterns on your arm. You wish you could burn this moment into permanence.

“I can't wait to do this with you every summer,” you say quietly, afraid to disrupt the peace of the moment. Quinn pulls his arm from your shoulders, it takes you a few steps to realize he isn't walking, and when you turn to see what's wrong, your hands fly to your mouth with a gasp. 

Quinn is down on one knee, with a ring box open in his hands. Somehow the only thing you can think is that his pants are going to get dirty from kneeling in the damp sand. 

“Your pants are going to get dirty,” you croak, voice thick with emotion. Quinn chuckles, shaking his head fondly. 

“Y/n,” he starts, with a soft breath, “I know we've technically only been dating for a few months. But for as long as I've known you I knew I wanted to do forever with you.” he takes a shaky breath “Honestly, I had a whole speech written, but you look so angelic in the sunset that it all left my brain.”

You let out a choked giggle, as tears pool in the corner of your eyes. You kneel down in front of him, resting your shaky hands on his knee. 

“Your dress is gonna get dirty” Quinn parrots, and it's your turn to laugh at him.

Quinn takes another deep breath, brushing a stray tear off your cheek. “Y/n, from the moment I met you, I knew you would be special to me. Knowing you for the past six years of my life has been the greatest blessing that I could've asked for. The easiest thing I've ever done in my life is love you, and god- there aren't words to describe how much I love you and what you mean to me. I want to spend forever with you by my side.” The tears that decorate the rims of Quinn’s eyes finally spill over, “So, Y/n Y/l/n, will you do me the greatest honour in being my wife?”

An ugly sob escapes your lips and you throw your arms around his neck, “Yes, yes, yes, a million times yes,” you cry, pressing kisses to his face, there is salt on your lips and at this point, you aren't sure if they are your tears or his. Quinn finds your left hand and slips the ring onto your fourth finger. You take a minute to really look at it, and all of a sudden, you're crying all over again. It's everything you’ve ever dreamed of.

You throw your arms around Quinn again, dragging him down for a kiss, he holds you tight to his body, kissing you back like it's the last time he'll ever get to do so. As Quinn licks at the seam of your lips, something in the back of your mind reminds you that you're in public, but you can't bring yourself to care enough to stop kissing him.

The clicking of a camera accompanied by sniffling is what drags you out of your moment with Quinn. You look over to find Jack and Luke. Jack holding up his old camera from back when he had a hobby in photography and Luke holding up his phone. They're both teary-eyed with huge smiles on their faces. 

Quinn stands, pulling you with him, and then Luke and Jack are throwing themselves at the two of you, and everyone is holding onto each other. There are so many tears it's hard to tell who's crying and who's not. Eventually Jack and Luke detach themselves from the two of you, wiping at their eyes and grinning wildly. 

“I can't believe you said yes to spending the rest of your life with our stinky big brother,” Luke wrinkles his nose.

“Shut it, Moose,” Quinn rolls his eyes, pushing his brother playfully. 

“I know you said yes, but it's not too late to blink twice if you need help,” Jack says seriously.

You laugh, knowing they are joking, but nothing could pry you from Quinn at this moment. Jack convinces the two of you to pose for a few more pictures, in the fading twilight. He captures a few absolutely stunning ones of your ring, promising that everything will be sent to you after he edits them. Eventually the four of you part ways, Jack and Luke heading to their car and you and Quinn back to the boat. 

The drive back to the lake house is much chiller now that the sun is almost entirely gone. Quinn smiles knowingly, pulling a hoodie out of one of the seat compartments. You slip it over your head, sighing happily as the scent of Quinn engulfs you. He pulls you into his lap, keeping an arm securely around your waist and hooking his chin over your shoulder. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, resting your head against the crook of his neck.

“I love you so so much Quinny,” you whisper, “I'm excited to spend forever with you,”

“Me too, my love, me too” Quinn sighs happily, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead. 

A sudden thought hits you, and the biggest smile blooms on your face, "I can't wait to be Mrs. Hughes," you say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Quinns eyes twinkle lovingly, "That has a nice ring to it,"

"Yeah,"

-

Ok idk how I feel about this!

I started it and I loved it. Then I wrote the middle and I still loved it. And then I wrote the end, and I still loved it. And now that I have to post it I fucking hate it! So that's nice!

Anyways hope yall enjoy.

Leave comments cause I'm an attention whore 🥰

Also, this series likely won't be updated for a while, cause I never originally planned to make it a series anyways, but here we are! Just cause I have a lot of one-shots floating around in my notes that I wanna work on. If there's anything yall wanna see from this series, let me know and I might write that!

Also, I am working on those blurb requests! I promise! I'll start posting them eventually!

Apologies for the ramble, love yall <3

#quinn hughes #qh43 #hughes brothers #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes blurb #captain quinn #quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n #nhl blurb #hockey imagine #hockey blurb #loving you is as easy as abc 123 #idk how i feel about this so i nesd yall to hype me up

[pinknipszz]

heian era sukuna

(a/n: takes place in the same universe as this post; yet another thinly veiled uraume/reader imagine)

on the first day of spring—your favorite of all seasons—you awake to a pleasant surprise in the horigotatsu of your room: a big basket of flowers, all fresh and neatly trimmed. you struggle to swallow the squeal that’s bubbling in your throat. 

when uraume comes to style your hair (a morning habit of theirs), they find you cradling it close to your chest as you would a baby. “come and look at what my husband left me,” you say, beckoning them over with a flick of your wrist. they settle their boxwood comb on the edge of your vanity and approach to take hold of your basket.

they squint, turning it this way and that (for a little longer than necessary, just to humor you), before nodding firmly in approval. “the flowers are beautiful this year,” they say. “as expected of lord sukuna.” your face beams with delight, like a rose in full bloom, as you stroke each petal with delicate fingers. 

with infectious charm, you swoon, “he gives me the prettiest flowers!” in between your sweet babbles, uraume ushers you to sit near the vanity so they can detangle any knots that accumulated overnight. as they brush through your hair, they remain silent, but you know that these things will eventually reach your husband.

for now, though, they focus on the task at hand. you like it when uraume fixes your hair. there’s a kindness in their movements that’s nearly unbefitting of their disposition, warm enough to melt any leftover frost. it almost reminds you of spring. perhaps the resemblance is why he orders them to keep you company.

with cherry dusted cheeks, you look down at the arrangement in your arms. there’s simply no other answer. no room for doubt in your husband’s impeccable judgment. for a creature living by a standard so unattainable to any man, there’s something so achingly mortal in the way that love oozes from every crack in his soul.

uraume is like the flowers that he leaves on the first day of spring, except they last for eternity.

(masterlist) | (a/n: third part might actually have sukuna dialogue w talks of pregnancy bc i want to try a thing)

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x you #jjk sukuna #uraume

[saltwaterburns]

I walked with you once upon a dream

warnings: astronomically large usage of the word "laugh", "whine" and "blush". not proofread ?? kinda ?? found this in my notes #fuckitweball

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

a/n: Part 2? 😊

The night had been unforgiving on you. You tossed and turned under your blanket, the wooly cover being too thick at one point and too thin at another. Every time you closed your eyes, they rolled back uncomfortably and as soon as you somehow managed to get somewhat comfortable, a song your friend had been singing the day began to play on loop in your mind, haunting you.

Finally, you somehow managed to succumb into a half awake half asleep state, but it seemed like Merlin wasn't done with you just yet.

Your mind was plagued by at least three different dreams, each one stranger than the last. War, pregnancy, the muggle movie Avatar all made a fashionable appearance, and thats why currently you're sat at the Hufflepuff table, your hair nearly not neat enough as you'd like it to be, your eyelids swollen and heavy, your under eyes tinted purple.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Cedric chirps happily as he slides into the seat next to you, his plate filled with his usual breakfast: toast and some grapes. Usually, you'd greet him right back, giving him a tight hug before discussing over both of your classes for the day, whining over the homework.

Today isn't an usual day, though. You manage to give him a small smile, weak enough to be called a grimace, even. His face is instantly taken over by a frown, his hand placed upon your forehead.

"Are you well, love? Did you manage to catch a bug of sorts?" He says, his worried expression reminding you of a mother hen. You can't help but let out a soft laugh at the thought, his worry replaced by an eye roll.

"Laughin' at me, are you now? Pffft, and to think I was worried," he huffs like a first year, offering you a glare. You've always been exceptionally good at reading people's eyes, though, so you see through his act instantly, the playful glint giving it away.

"No, mother hen Cedric. I'm fine, I just kept tossing and turning alllllll night," you giggle, the lovely sound turning into a groan halfway through. You cover your face with your hands, rubbing slow circles over your eyelids, the colourful shapes of all sizes giving you little relief.

Cedric starts going off about how you need to sleep earlier, get those very much needed 8 hours but you tune him out (like always), looking around the Great Hall instead. Most people are groggy while eating their breakfast, leaning their heads on their friends' shoulders, lids half shut.

Your eyes unconsciously drift over to the Slytherin table, curiously taking a peek at their expressions. People are wary of them, everyone knows that. Their mean faces and cold eyes leave little to the imagination, making most people grasp their wands tighter whenever walking past them.

You know better. You see better. You see their faces; their eyes bright and shining, their mouth's pulled into smiles despite the early morning hours, laughter echoing from all around the long table. It brings a smile to your face. You've always been fond of them, to everyone's surprise. You've managed to make quite a few surprising friends, too. Draco, Pansy, Blaise, Enzo, Mattheo, and Theodore.

Theodore Nott. You say his name with a dreamy sigh even in your thoughts. He's sole reason your heart skips a few beats whenever you're looking over at their table, the sole reason you check your lipstick and mascara before hanging out with them, the sole reason you've bought a new, ridiculously overpriced perfume to spray on whenever you know he'll be near.

Most would call this a silly little crush, but you swear on Merlin's beard you're in love. You're completely infatuated with that dark haired boy. He's fascinating, only speaking a few words every so often to express his opinion. He's not shy, by all means. You're smart enough to realise that. He observes, not interrupting unless necessary. You're pretty sure you've seen him smile only once. That was the day you learned the Italian boy had dimples. You haven't stopped thinking about them since.

You like to think that the rare sight called Theo Nott's smile was most of the time, directed at you. The first time you caught a glimpse of one you were walking by the shore of the Black Lake alongside him, the sun setting in the distance, casting gorgeous golden hues all over the place. You rambled on about your day, this particular one having been extremely exhausting, more so than usual.

You're not really sure what made him crack one of those precious smiles, but you suppose it was a joke about your misery. Seeing him like this, it made your heart skip a few beats. The rest of the walk continued in silence, but you wouldn't have had it any other way. You wouldn't have been able to stop yourself from declaring all of your bottled up feelings to him.

Most of your walks happened in comfortable silence, but you preferred that. You liked how with him, you could just, be. Exist, without a need for a meaning. After a long day, you didn't have to force a smile to your face. You could just appear in the Slytherin common room and ask for him to come and walk. He'd always come with you, without a single utter of complaint. You'd walk with him, ask for a few puffs from his cigarette, complaining when he'd shake his head, telling you how the sunshine girl of Hogwarts could in no way be caught smoking with Theodore Nott.

Youre shaken out of your daydreams as your eyes land on a pair of grey ones. Your cheeks heat up instinctively and you pray to Helga up there that he can't see it from that far across the room. You offer him a warm smile and your heart skips a beat (or two) as you see him biting his cheek to hold back a one of his own.

A little smirk still comes through and it makes you grip the table from giddiness, butterflies swarming all around the inside of your stomach. You smile even brighter and somehow manage to tear your gaze away, trying to focus on Cedric's rambling.

".....You're not listening, are you?" He deadpans, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. You don't say anything, just offer him a sweet smile and press a kiss to his cheek before standing up and making your way back to your dorms to grab your books for the day.

First class of the day is divination. You don't think there's ever been a class that makes your eyelids heavier than that. Maybe you'll get to catch up on some of the lost sleep?

The bells rings, indicating the start of the first class. Students scurry off into different classrooms, but you're still quite far from yours.

"Shit, fuck fuck fuck," you curse softly, quickening your step. You grip your books closely against your chest and make a run for it, the sound of your shoes hitting the marble floor echoing across the massive hallway.

You burst through the trapdoor, panting softly from having to climb the ladder with your books in your hands, cutting off professor Trelawney in the middle of explaining today's lesson. She sighs and shakes her head, making you smile sheepishly at her. Hushed apologies spill from your mouth as you make your way to your usual seat in the back of the classroom but you're caught off guard as its taken already. Well, almost taken.

One of the seats seems to be unoccupied, but the other is supporting a very, very good looking Slytherin.

"Theo," you breathe out in surprise, cheeks flushing. You look at the free chair, then back at him. "Is it, is it okay if I sit here? I'm usually alone back here. Didn't expect for you to make an appearance."

He nods curtly and you thank him with a little smile, dropping your books on the desk. You sit down and try to tune yourself into Trelawney's teaching, but the heat radiating from Theo and his addictive scent are clouding your senses.

"Now, for the practical part. You are to be paired up with the person next to you. Tell each other about the dream you had tonight and search for the meaning in your books. You've got half an hour for the task."

That certainly snapped you out of your thoughts. You hear a cough next to you and you turn to face him, rolling your eyes playfully as he motions for you to start.

"Well, I don't even know where to start. I could not fall asleep, no matter what i did. When i finally managed to pass out after 5 hours of tossing and turning, i had this weird dream about snakes wanting to kill me." You start, grimacing as you begin to remember. You grab a quill and write a few keywords to the parchment in front of you.

You look back up at him to ask about his dreams but instead, you find Theodore Nott quietly chuckling to himself.

"Stop laughing, you bloke! I've had weird dreams ever since i was a kid!" You try and defend yourself, opening your book to try make sense of at least some aspect of the psychedelic visions. "What about you, though? What did you see?"

He hums in though, chewing on his inner cheek. "I saw me and you on a date at Hogsmeade."

That definitely catches you off guard. "....you what? Actually?

"Yes, actually," he chuckles, shaking his head, looking up at you. "I'm not making this up, i swear!" He adds, raising his hands in defence.

You cant help but laugh, writing that down as well.

"...we could make it a reality. If you're up tor it?" You murmur softly after a few seconds, pretty sure you're on the verge of passing out at any second. You keep your gaze down, not daring to look up. Not wanting to see his grey eyes sparkle with amusement for suggesting something so silly.

"Sure. Three Broomsticks, Saturday, eleven o'clock?" He inquires, and you barely have time to nod in agreement before the bell rings yet again. He leans closer and presses a kiss to your cheek, his signature lazy smirk painted onto his face before he mutters a simple goodbye, literally disappearing into thin air.

You sit still for a good few minutes as the classroom empties out, your hand hovering over the spot that his lips touched, a faint smile adoring your face. Holy fuck.

#theodore nott #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #theo nott fic #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #theo nott drabble

[beauregardlionett]

did i rant to my friends about dorian and orym just to be called a simp? yes i did. and i'll do it again.

these two characters? consume my waking thoughts. because just fucking think about this from a timeline/literary point of view for a second with me.

orym lost his husband and his father-in-law (who he always calls dad because he didn't have a dad growing up) in a violent attack on his leader a while ago and whatever magic was used to kill them kept them dead - no reviving magic worked to bring them back. in the space of a single attack, he lost two of the most important people in his life, and now he's a widow who still mourns and loves in equal measure even while far from home trying to save the world. he loves even though he's scared of losing again.

dorian is a runaway heir to a title he never really wanted, a musician for himself, a charlatan hiding behind an easy smile, who has really only ever wanted to see the world in his own time and make real friends for once in his life. and he did that! all on his own! he was with the group at the beginning of the campaign but then they ran into his older brother who was in trouble and needed to lay low and dorian went with him, falling back on old instincts that family by blood comes first. he ran from the group and from the foundations he was building with them. because dorian has only ever run from the things that scare him. but now he's back, re-traced his frightened footsteps toward the daunting promise of tomorrow - not yet with the group, we're getting his side of the story first. and he even said it himself, that he ran from the group and now he's not sure why he did it, why he left, when he stands here now and realizes everything he wanted was already in front of him.

they have sending stones, a once a day chance to say something to each other in 25 words or less. they've been using them, keeping each other updated on where they are, that they're still alive, and kindling this flame even without dorian at the table, without even seeing each other, and liam has been carrying this torch alone for 78 episodes but damn it the flame is still lit regardless!

and orym always updates on their progress and location first, and with whatever words he has left he drops in a sentiment to remind dorian that they still care - that orym still cares. and orym is practical through and through, he's a strategist so he always always always uses his words wisely because he's so fucking limited by this spell but the last message he sent? he repeated himself, he admitted a weakness, he faltered.

he told dorian where they were. he asked if dorian could come their way. he admitted to struggling while his voice broke. he asked again but in a different way if dorian could come their way. he ended the message with the most heartbreaking "fuck, i miss you," i have ever heard in my life.

orym, the man who messaged dorian 52 episodes ago and said "glad you're not here, wish you were anyway." because they're constantly in danger, and he wouldn't wish that on dorian, but he still aches to have him near. orym, the man who confessed 13 episodes ago during a trial with his friends that he's lonely, that he misses dorian and sometimes he thinks it's okay and sometimes he doesn't - because he was married and is still mourning and how dare he have feelings for someone else? how dare he move on even when his husband would WANT him to be happy again? he indicated dorian was missed by everyone in three of his previous messages before the trial, before finally shifting to 'I, orym, me - it's me who misses you'.

and dorian, the one who replied to a message orym sent him with "stay steadfast, sending you fairer winds" in the most longing tone i have EVER heard. dorian, who kissed orym's forehead when they parted ways but that is the closest they have come to acknowledging whatever is between them. dorian, who has been to orym's home between exu and c3 and met orym's mom and knows about orym's husband.

when orym died 58 episodes ago, he went limp and the sending stone slipped out of his hand because he was trying to message dorian before he died, before he ran out of words and breath. before he was revived, there was a moment he stood in the beyond and saw his husband and he told orym "you're not done," and orym said "i really wish i could stay," and then his husband said "i'll still be here," and orym said, heartbroken, "oh, i miss you so bad."

he told dorian, "i've really missed you," and "fuck, i miss you." i miss you is orym's way of saying i love you.

they're so close. they are so close. and orym fully died 19 episodes after dorian left, but he was revived and then never told dorian via sending that happened. part of me wants dorian to find out and the other part hopes he never has to feel like he failed orym by leaving. because nothing could have changed that from happening, not even dorian.

they are so close to reuniting, orym has needed dorian back for WEEKS and he's so close. i'm begging them to hold on so they can hold each other again.

and, again, from a literary point of view, you know the wildest part about all of this?

none of it is scripted.

#cr #critical role #dorian storm #orym of the air ashari #dorym #writing #my writing #i guess???? idk simp rant or whatever #anyway. am i making a hell of a lot of assumptions about their dynamic? yes. #will i be stopping? n o p e #this ship hasn't sailed far but i'm clinging to the steering wheel regardless #i had to get this out of my brain so i could focus on finals

[gilbirda]

Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 25

BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Based on this post

First chapter || << Previous chapter || Next chapter >>

---

“So you are saying that the Infinite Realms’ government is organized like a dungeons and dragons party?”

Danny snorted and patted Tim’s shoulder. “Jazz’s idea, actually.”

From where she was quietly talking with Bruce, Jazz huffed. “I never said it was a dungeons and dragons party. I only suggested the organization that fit our strengths better.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Potato, potahto.”

Jazz rolled her eyes, but went back to her discussion.

The group was walking towards the gardens, where a light lunch was served. Time went by as the Waynes asked anything and everything about the Realms and their rulers, now that there were no more secrets between them. They talked about Sam and Tucker and Valerie and even about Danielle, her origins and how she joined the team included.

The Fenton siblings enjoyed oversharing in a way that felt weird to the vigilantes, so used to hiding and concealing their thoughts all the time. Now that they were more comfortable, Danny and Jazz didn’t hesitate to act more inhuman around them, with the younger sibling floating when he got excited as if it was the more normal reaction.

It reminded Bruce of his colleagues in the Watchtower break room goofing around and using their powers for the stupidest reasons.

When Tim rejoined them, this time alone, he was more annoyed about losing the bet than missing the ghost royalty status reveal. Danny thought that was the funniest thing, and gladly started a new stream of oversharing information about Jazz’s princess status and all the titles she held, ignoring his sister’s attempts at silencing him.

They didn’t even notice lunch time approaching until Alfred reminded everyone in the house that they had to eat — yes, even their inhuman guests. The last part was added with a pointed glare and a short nod before the man walked away.

So now they were making their way to lunch, which was served outside given the nice weather despite being way into fall, chatting about Team Phantom and their roles in detail.

“So Sam is like the Barbarian of the team?” Tim pressed on. “And Tucker is the Artificer.”

Jazz huffed again.

“We are not—”

“Actually, is not that far from the truth,” Danny chuckled, “but not exactly just that. All of us are at least trained in one main duty and act as a backup for someone else. That guarantees that if one of us has to leave, nothing will be left unattended.”

“Like with Jazz being here.”

He nodded. “Jazz helped Tucker with all the record keeping and research in magical theory, as well as diplomacy and ghost law studies. Valerie helped Jazz with her main duties, and so on and so forth.”

“Magical theory?” Jason asked, one eyebrow arched. “Ghost law?”

“Sounds cool but it's actually just reading a bunch of books and trying to guess what they say.” Danny grumbled, rubbing his face. “I swear there is nothing that can make me pass out faster than reading those fuckers.”

“That’s because you don’t do your homework. Dorathea is a very good teacher.” Jazz chimed with a mocking smile.

Duke interrupted when Danny jumped to answer. “You said that the books weren’t Jazz’s main duty, so what is it?”

The young woman tensed for a second before putting on a gentle smile. It didn’t fool anybody, though. “I am—”

“Jazz.”

She turned towards her brother. “What?”

“Jazz, look.”

She frowned at his serious tone, the boyish glee gone completely, but turned to look at what he was pointing at.

It was a giant painting on the other wall of the room they just passed by, which was featuring a small family — a woman, a man and a child. All three were wearing nice clothes, serene smiles for the portrait.

“What’s the matter?” Bruce stepped closer to see what they were seeing, tensing when he realized what it was. “Why are you pointing at my parents’ portrait?”

The siblings looked at each other. “That’s your mother?” Jazz finally asked.

The look Bruce gave her was equal parts worried and calculating. “Indeed.”

Again Danny and Jazz talked to each other with facial gestures and looks.

“It can’t be.” Danny murmured. “Can it?”

“I don’t know.” She answered.

“Hey.” Jason grabbed Jazz’s shoulder. “What’s up?”

She glanced at her brother, frowning. She licked her lips and drew a long breath. “That’s Lady Gotham.”

One second passed by. Two seconds.

“No, that’s my mother.”

Dick giggled at the absurdity of the situation.

“Could she be wearing someone’s face?” Jazz ignored Bruce’s quiet breakdown to talk to her brother. “Or is it like ‘the Spirit passes down ownership’ kind of situation?”

Danny hummed. “I don’t think it is the second case,” he crossed his arms, “she felt like an Ancient and this woman couldn’t have been dead that long.”

“Are you saying that an ancient spirit is wearing my mother’s face?” The older man said, voice small. Even Jason frowned at the weakness in his tone.

Jazz seemed to snap back to reality and noticed that the conversation may not be the best given current company. She sighed. “We don’t know. Maybe. Was your mother special in any way for this city?”

“Are you kidding? Haven’t you heard about the Martha Wayne foundation? Or all the charity stuff in her name?” Tim scoffed. “Do you live under a rock?”

Jazz blushed. “I’m sorry.” She shrugged. “I don’t pay that much attention to current events outside my work and Crime Alley.”

Jason pretended to try to hide his smile in Jazz’s hair as he pulled her for a side hug.

Danny made a face at the pair, shook his head and turned towards Bruce. “We can’t be a hundred percent sure, but it’s not unheard of for an ancient Spirit to change their appearance. It’s usually to fit in as time passes; but taking the face of a real person from their hunt?” He tilted his head, and Jason noticed the similarity with his sister. It was adorable. “That’s a new one for me.”

“We can always ask?” Jazz tried to move past her misstep.

“Do you really think she’d want to talk about that?”

“Maybe. If we ask nicely.” Neither sibling actually believed these words.

Bruce blinked slowly and started walking again, lost in thought. The rest followed as if nothing even happened.

“Is she really that scary?” Duke asked.

“She is…,” Danny started, rubbing the back of his neck, “she is surely something else. This city is cursed, man; so it doesn’t surprise me that the Spirit overseeing this place is just as cursed.”

“What Danny is trying to say,” Jazz jumped in, “is that the Spirit of Gotham has been deeply corrupted and, well, she’s definitely in pain, and sometimes she lashes out.”

“That’s a nice way to put it,” her brother scoffed, shaking his head and not looking at anybody. “I don't know what nice and watered down version of the story Jazzy here told you guys but when we first came here, she was pissed. King or no King, she was ready to kill me.”

Jazz blushed again. “I don’t—”

“Yes, you do.” Danny rolled his eyes.

She looked like she had something to say, but chose to close her mouth and ignore the chuckles.

They finally arrived at the nice backyard patio where a table was already set up for lunch. Alfred walked around the table with his cart, setting down the plates and giving the finishing touches to the display.

Nobody missed his little smile watching them naturally divide in groups and sit down together, his eyes lingering on Jason refusing to let go of his girlfriend’s hand even under said girlfriend’s brother's snarky comments about it.

It had been a while since the Manor was filled with noise like this. It felt… alive. Like how it was supposed to be.

The old man quietly grabbed his cart and went back inside to plate the second course for the meal. He didn’t glance at the moving shadows and the trickster reflections on the corner of his eyes — after so many decades serving at this Manor, this family, he got used to not being exactly alone inside those walls.

***

“I don’t know how you are going to break it to Frighty.”

Jazz froze mid bite, frowning as she swallowed the food. “What do you mean?”

Bruce raised his eyebrows at Danny’s shocked expression. The young man looked around the table, maybe looking for support or an explanation, but he probably forgot they just met that morning.

“Are you serious?”

“What?”

“You really don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Jazz, Fright Knight has been courting you for around a year.”

Tim froze, glancing up to see Jason’s reaction. Expecting loud shouting to start, he was even more shocked when Jason leaned back on his seat and crossed his arms with a giant smirk on his face and a raised eyebrow.

“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.” Jazz leaned in, glaring at her brother on the other side of the table.

“Hold on a second,” Dick pushed his empty plate aside to lean closer to Danny, “Fright Knight? The King’s right hand man? The Aspect of Fear?”

“That’s the one!”

“I don’t—” Jazz blinked, “I don’t know— How? When?”

“Uhhhh, since the first siege, I believe?” Danny's smile went from one ear to the other. “He said, and I quote, ‘I had never felt such things in battle before. Lady Jasmine’s war cries pierced my chest deeper than her lance pierced our enemies’.”

Tim shuddered. It was the way Danny impersonated this Fright Knight’s sickening dreamy voice.

“The first siege? That was more than two years ago!”

“And you haven’t noticed this guy being in love with you?” Jason spoke for the first time, grinning at his girlfriend.

“I don’t know?” Jazz threw her hands up. “I thought he was being nice!”

“For a whole year?”

“He’s been giving you courting gifts, Jazz!” Danny said, incredulous. “And you accepted them!”

“So those were courting gifts?”

“What were those gifts?”

“Swords.” Danny answered Jason. “Shiny blades. Ornamental and functional. Jazz has a collection back in the Realms.” He turned towards his sister. “Which, by the way, people keep sending gifts for you. I think they think that you are the ‘reasonable’ one of us and if they send you more swords you’d be more merciful.”

“I don’t need more swords.”

“You liar. You love swords.”

Jazz blushed, unable to say otherwise. “Still nothing he did told me he was interested.”

“Ancients, Jazz,” Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. ��Everyone knew he was head over heels for you. We thought you were preferring to deal with it in private.”

Her blush became worse. She kept her gaze fixed on her hands fidgeting with her napkin. “You know I don’t do all the romance stuff.”

Incredulous, Danny just pointed at Jason. “And how do you explain him?”

“It’s…” she licked her lips, “different. Unexpected. We just— we clicked.”

“Awww.”

Danny made a face and rolled his eyes, ignoring Dick and Cass’ cooing.

“Well. I’m not going to be the one dealing with all that. Frighty is all yours.”

Jazz sighed. “I’ll talk to him when I go back to the Realms.”

“Hm.” Danny hummed, suddenly lost in thought as he sipped his water. “Maybe you don’t have to.”

“What?”

“I said: Maybe you don’t have to.” He spoke louder. “Come back, I mean.”

She did a double take. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Danny took a second longer than what was expected. “You can stay here.” He leaned back on his seat, putting as much distance as he could from his sister. He was also evading her eyes. “Permanently.”

There was only the sounds of the birds chirping in the nearby trees and the wind flowing between the leaves for a few seconds.

“Are you—” Jazz’s voice was careful, low, “Are you firing me?”

Half the table was looking at Danny and the other half had their eyes glued on Jazz’s face. Her rage, while quiet, was familiar to those witnessing the moment — betrayals, infightings and disbelief ran though their minds as they remembered similar situations in their pasts.

“Jazz—”

“After everything you just— What the hell Danny?”

“I’m not— Could you at least look at me?” She did, and everyone could see her watery eyes. “It’s for your own good.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Jazz’s expression turned murderous as the tears escaped her eyes. She stood up, teeth grinding, breathing deeply a few times before she opened her mouth.

“You don’t mean that.” She crossed her arms.

Danny looked like he wished he was anywhere else but in that room at that moment. “Bad choice of words. I don’t mean that.” He slowly repeated.

“Good.” Her shoulders relaxed a bit, but she was still mad.

“What I wanted to say is…” He sighed and lifted his hands in defeat. “I’m sorry. I’m not good at— You know I always mess these things up— Okay, okay I’ll get to the point.” He quickly added under Jazz’s narrowing eyes. He breathed in, breathed out. “I want you to stay here. In the living world. As long as you want.”

She processed his words, and slowly sat back down. The sounds of nature around them picked up like nothing happened, even if no one had noticed their rather unnatural silence.

“But you said…”

“I know. But things have changed, Jazz. I want you to stay. How could I not be okay with that?”

“But— But my role— And the Archives, and Walker, and—”

“Everything can wait. Or, I don’t know, we’ll deal with it.” He leaned in and took one of her hands in his. “We told you to come here because you really needed a vacation, and I stand by it. The Keep can wait for you. I can wait for you.”

“But—”

“Jasmine Fenton. You have given up everything for me. You were not meant for any of this ghost bullshit or war or fist fighting gods in a Denny’s parking lot. But you gave me a decade of that, and I appreciate it, but that’s enough. You can rest now, you can have nice things. You deserve it.”

Nobody missed when Danny gave Jason, and quick look around the people on the table, when he mentioned the “nice things” she could have.

Jazz opened her mouth only to close it again, more tears coming to her eyes. Her cheeks tinted red, maybe from embarrassment, maybe for remnants of her anger.

She yanked her hand from her brother’s and rushed to her feet, taking a shaky breath.

“Excuse me.”

Jason frowned, watching her go back inside the house and probably looking for a place to calm down.

He felt a kick on one leg.

“Go.” Danny interlaced his hands on the table and nodded in his sister’s general direction. “She needs you.”

Jason’s frown deepened, but he obliged without saying a word.

Bruce cleared his throat, suddenly feeling very self conscious under Danny’s stare. The young man didn’t look affected by what just happened like his sister was, but his eyes betrayed the conflicted emotions he hid behind his mask.

“I’m sorry you guys had to witness that. I should have waited until we got home. My bad.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, but it felt like forced nonchalance.

“That was sure something.” Dick commented after clearing his throat.

“I apologize but I need to ask,” Bruce leaned in. “Jasmine seemed pretty adamant her time here was limited, that she would sooner or later have to leave everything here. What changed?”

“Did she tell you that?” Danny made an incredulous face and scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t even need to ask. I don’t know why I keep being surprised by her antics.”

“So it’s not true?”

What else had she been lying about? A tiny voice said in the back of Bruce’s head. He tried to ignore it, but given the drastic differences between Danny’s and Jazz’s behavior, he was wondering what was the actual picture and what was the siblings’ casual omission of truth.

“It was true, but only because she herself sets those limits. Jazz is…,” he sighed, deflating on his seat, looking at the sky, “I love my sister, and a lot, but she takes everything too seriously.”

Or you don’t take things seriously enough, Bruce thought, but chose not to say it.

“I never said she had a time limit, or that she had to turn her back on the living world for the rest of her life. We sent her ass to the Arkham internship because she doesn’t know how to take a break.”

“Arkham is a break?” Tim asked what had been lingering in everyone’s heads. The siblings kept referring to working at the worst psychiatric criminal facility, a vacation and a break.

Danny scoffed again, turning his eyes towards the young man. His smile wasn’t kind. “You guys haven’t put it together? The kind of role Jazz has in the Realm. The kind of person she… The kind of person I asked her to become.”

There was deep guilt in his voice, and in the way he couldn’t hold his gaze. Danny fidgeted with his napkin, letting the birds sing the tension of his silence away. They were waiting on him to elaborate, and he knew that, but was building the courage to speak.

“Do you guys know how powerful I am? No, you don’t,” he answered himself with a shrug, “because there’s no one like me. I could— If I wanted to, I could bring this city, the whole city, into the Infinite Realms. Just like that.

If I wanted to I could end the war with a snap of my fingers. I could Order every ghost-adjacent being to follow my every command and bring peace via total domination. Or,” he stopped his fingers, sighing, “I could just rip their cores with a thought and crush them with another and be done with Vlad and with every stubborn ghost that thinks I don’t deserve to be King.”

He finally glanced up at Bruce, as if he knew all these scenarios passed though the man’s head as he spoke. “Imagine that — Every conflict, every war, I could wish it away in seconds.”

The older man nodded, following his speech. “And yet you are here.”

Danny’s vulnerable smile reminded him so much of Clark’s. “I can’t. I can’t do that. If I— If I just eliminate every little thing in my way, what kind of person would I be? I’ve seen it happen, Bruce. I know what I could be if I lose perspective of who I really want to be.”

Cass lifted her hand like she was in a classroom. “Jazz. She’s your anchor.”

Danny went back to looking at his hands, shoulders sagging. In shame? In defeat? “All of them keep me grounded, even when I feel like I’m drifting away from who I used to be. But Jazz? She knows what needs to be done, what I’m scared to do. She knows she can handle the guilt and the nightmares and the horror.”

He took a long breath to calm himself. “Jazz is what I can’t— what I won’t be, and she took that burden like it was nothing. She has always done that, taking the bad things and dealing with them for me. It’s just… This time, the ‘bad things’ are a little bit more permanent.”

It made sense now. How she avoided talking about it, how Jazz tensed when she was asked what her role was. How she was so comfortable at Arkham.

“She’s your Executioner.”

Danny flinched at Bruce’s words. “She’s that and more. She became a counterpart for me, a shadow, so I could shine in the spotlight. A symbol.” He said the word like it was a curse. Bruce didn’t miss the twitch in his eyebrow. “Do you know why her armor is bright red?” His smile wasn’t kind when he looked up. “The Infinite Realms are green. She stands out and attracts all the attention in battle so the rest of us can be the heroes of the hour.” He chuckled. “She never wanted any of this. She didn’t defeat the previous King, she wasn’t even there. I know my childhood could have been way worse if she wasn’t in my life, and I’m grateful, but I kept asking more and more from her and now—”

“Do you really think I didn’t want this?” Jazz’s voice cut through Danny’s rambles. “I chose to stay, Danny.”

He didn’t react when he saw her walk in, her face puffy and her eyes still wet. Did he know she was listening? Of course he did — from what the vigilantes could gather so far, Danny’s abilities were up there with Superman’s. Maybe even more.

“Don’t.” He frowned. “I can see right through your bullshit, Jazz. There wasn’t that much of a choice and you know it.”

She bit her lips, but didn’t deny it. Instead, she pulled on her joined hands with Jason’s so they approached the table and sat down.

After settling in her seat, she breathed in, breathed out and smiled. “You are making me sound like some kind of demon or something.” Nobody bought the lightness of her tone.

Danny caught her deflection and chose to follow. He scoffed. “And you are not?” He made a gesture with his hands, placing them on the sides of his head with his pointer fingers up, imitating his sister’s headpiece.

She rolled her eyes. “I am not—”

“Jazzy, fear incarnate is in love with you. He let you ride his horse!” He smirked at Jason. “Not an euphemism.”

He caught on what the siblings were trying to do and turned towards his girlfriend. “You never told me about any horse, darling.”

“Nightmare was a strategic move. Frighty knows I can’t fly like the rest of you and it could give me an advantage during battle.”

“Nightmare? Seriously?” Jason asked.

“Big black horse with wings.” She quickly explained with a shrug. “Breathes fire.”

“Are you serious? Fright Knight doesn’t let me even touch his horse and I’m the King!” He threw his hands up in the air. “That being said, he doesn’t challenge me as much as he does with you, and thanks the Ancients for that.”

“Wait. Wait a second. Are you saying—”

Danny’s smile grew like a Cheshire Cat’s. “Ooohhhh. You didn’t know? Did you forget the one basic fact about ghost nature, Jazzy-pants? Ghost’s love language is fighting.” He said the last part imitating her voice, like she was giving a lecture of some kind.

“Oh? Tell me more?” Jason leaned towards Danny, head leaning on one hand, completely enraptured by the information his girlfriend’s brother shared so easily.

“And he wasn’t pulling any punches either. Before I learned he was formally courting her, I wasn’t sure if he wanted to fight her to death or marry her!”

“He could do both if he’s not a coward.” Jason shared the smile with Danny, ignoring Jazz’s hands pushing his shoulder away from her.

“Hey!” Jazz protested, but there was a small smile on her lips. “Don’t encourage him!”

“Wait until I tell you about The Ballad of the Red Demon.” Danny also ignored his sister, and the eyes of the rest of the Waynes, as he summoned a notebook with more green flames. He cleared his throat, opened the notebook and started reading:

“The fire in her eyes burned brighter than any sun, as the sharp edge of her blade pierced your chest to meet your untimely end.

Don’t provoke the Red Demon, for her burning fury will consume you in a blaze hotter than the Realm’s Core.

There she rides the winged Dark Horse as her cries call for the blood of her enemies, bright green eyes already searching for the next target.

Don’t provoke the Red Demon, for her siren’s call will be the last thing you hear before you draw your last breath.”

“What in the Ancients is that?” Realization came to the young woman. She slapped the table and stood up. “Ghost Writer?”

Danny nodded. “He gave me the first draft to approve before getting into editing.” He shook the notebook closer to his sister. “There’s a chapter for each of us, don’t think it’s just about you.”

He rolled his eyes and reopened the notebook, getting ready to continue reading, but Jazz jumped and reached across the table trying to snatch the notebook before he continued. He managed to float away just in time to prevent her from taking it from him, and quickly flew high enough that she couldn’t reach him, but close enough that he was almost within reach.

“Awww, you don’t want our new friends to know about your feats during the last siege? About—” he glanced at the text, quickly murmuring words under his breath, “‘Her fiery hair glows like a damned halo’ and ‘sharp blade like a gentle kiss of death’ something something ‘crushing enemies under her foot’.”

Jazz was trying to jump high enough so she could catch her brother, her face crimson red as the others chuckled at the scene.

Finally, taking pity on her, Jason reached for the book as Danny was distracted reading the next stanza and seized it away from the floating Fenton.

“Thank you.” She breathed in relief, extending her hand so he could give her the notebook.

With a tiny smile, he opened it and tried to read too, but it was written in symbols he felt he recognized but couldn’t read.

“Do you have an official translation yet or do I have to wait?”

---

First chapter || << Previous chapter || Next chapter >>

Back to Main Archive

Back to Danny Phantom Archive

Just a normal link to support me (if you want)

#dpxdc #hardcover ship #jazz x jason #jazz/jason #dp x dc #dc x dp #batpham #friendly neighborhood vigilante #neighbors au

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader 7

2.3k | angst, drinking irresponsibly If Simon could do it all again (part 1)

“You don’t look good, sir.” The sergeant stood at attention, looking straight into his lieutenant’s eyes.

Simon had to commend the balls of Kevlar required to walk right up to him to point the fact out unprompted, but that was why he liked Sgt. Eric Jefferies the most. You had no time to waste when you raced with death on the regular - he would tell anyone they didn’t look good.

He knew he didn’t - it was the same bland face he had the pleasure to look at in the mirror each day. Annoyed, but not surprised by the darkening circles under his eyes, stark against his pale complexion. It didn’t help that he nicked himself in the jaw shaving that morning.

“Dining hall, sergeant,” he grunted.

“You’re barely eating, Riley,” Lt. Ramsay said, the same bloke who’d catch him sneaking back to his room. “You know you’re contributing to the food waste when you don’t ask for seconds, yeah?”

It was true, and the table chuckled, but Simon continued to shove whatever was on his plate into his mouth. It was enough to not starve.

“He never leaves his room anymore, not even on the weekends,” another lieutenant quipped, but was promptly elbowed by the officer next to him.

That, too, was true.

Simon had nowhere else to be, like how it always was before his mum came to Hereford. These days his flat was too empty and cold with the hole in his chest. He never came back after that night.

It wasn’t like he was thriving in his quarters either, but it was still a little better – at least it was untouched by you. Though his nights were dreamless at first, he kept waking, and waking until the dreams started.

It was a glitch in the universe, wasn’t it? That the memory that played in his mind to insanity was the last time he saw you, about crawling back to your door with limbs that didn’t feel like his, vision swaying with the lights, coming on and off, his heartbeat ringing in his head.

It’s not supposed to end this way… I want to try…

He sighed at another disturbed night. Tea would slow his mind. Instead, he found the box of Darjeeling you gifted him to take back to base. ‘So we can have the same tea over the phone,’ you’d said.

Was there a way to escape you, make you stop haunting? He needed an exorcism.

He put it back in his drawer. One day, it wouldn’t have to hurt anymore.

And the nightmares came back. It was once, then twice, and thrice a week of waking up in cold sweat in the dark.

Simon’s performance slipped. There was a reason sleep deprivation was a popular torture method. He requested sleeping medications - his career was the last thing he had and he wasn’t about to let it go. Any unrestful sleep interrupted by the vivid images his sickly mind conjured up was still better than no sleep at all.

Quitting you was impossible when the thoughts still followed. If pushing you away didn’t work, maybe basking in the memories would, even if it hurt more. Aching for your warmth, the scraps of it, he’d go anywhere you’d been to see your ghost. The pain was better than the void.

“You lads are volunteering at the soup kitchen this Saturday,” he announced to Sgt. Jefferies after hours.

“Saturday, sir?”

“It’s good for you. Reminds you why you’re doing all this.”

“Can’t tell me what to do,” he teased. “You’re not my L.T. on the weekends.”

Simon’s stare didn’t waver and the other bloke’s smile dropped.

“Copy, sir. I’ll tell the others.”

When the four burly SAS soldiers entered the kitchen, chatter and clanks stalled as all eyes turned to them.

“May… May I help you young lads?” one of the middle-aged ladies said.

Simon recognised her from his last visit, but he quickly realised this was a silly idea. He was out of place, knowing no one there.

He flashed half a smile. “Just wanted to give a hand. Got any lifting to do?”

The lieutenant and his sergeants hauled the food items to the kitchen, including the bread which he taught his sergeants to half and butter. They were offered to peel potatoes, but Simon decided it was wise to leave it to the pros instead.

People still avoided his gaze while his boys exchanged pleasantries with the other volunteers; Eric even got called handsome by the group of older ladies he impressed with his strength as he hefted the sack of potatoes. While the night was as pleasant, it wasn’t the same if you weren’t there to hold his hand and laugh at his jokes.

When the boys invited Simon to the pub at the end of the night, he said no. He thought he was ready, but even after weeks, coming back to his flat was just as sickening.

The silence pierced. Despite all the lights flicked on, the place made his skin crawl, the space too vast and empty. But he didn’t become a lieutenant from succumbing to his emotions.

As he lay in bed, he recalled that you too slept there once. That the mattress once dipped with the gentle weight of you, but unlike the bed that bounced back, you’d left a lasting imprint that disfigured his soul.

Simon wondered what you were up to, if you knew he was there drowning, miserable in his cold room. He couldn’t decide if he preferred your door to be closer or further: closer so he could catch a glimpse of you without meaning to, or further so he wouldn’t be so tempted to go over and get on his knees.

You said begging only reduced you to nothing, but for you, he’d beg and beg. There wasn’t much to lose when he wasn’t much to begin with. He was a stray for a reason.

He tossed and turned, and was granted a wink of sleep before the same bloody dream flashed in his mind.

I don’t care how hard it gets…

He sat up, feet thudding on the floor as he rubbed his face with a heavy sigh. It was always that one moment, like a broken record. Why couldn’t it be you on a night out, or kissing you on the kitchen counter, or simply, you smiling? It was a curse. If only the heart could follow where one’s feet went.

With no plans on coming here, his sleeping pills lay on his desk at base. He looked through the cabinets to distract himself, finding various bottles of dusty, unopened spirits he was gifted. They weren’t his cup of tea.

So he packed, to get his mind off you, from spiralling and digging a deeper grave for itself.

It was time for a change. With the accommodation he was provided, he never needed to rent, but he did anyway in case his mum ever needed the place. It was a good call he did, but with the divorce on the way, keeping it was pointless. He’d rather spend the extra money on his mum and nephew.

Yes, he came to remember- not to forget, but you wouldn’t leave, would you? In the dead of night, when he pulled the hoodie he’d forgotten about out of his wardrobe, he decided he’d had enough of his bloody flat and drove back to base.

He still had another weekend to before his next deployment, a two-month mission. He’d finish packing then.

“You’re right, sir, it feels good volunteering.” Eric grinned at his lieutenant. “We’re going again tomorrow. Also one of the ladies is introducing her daughter to Sam. See you there then?”

Never again. “Dining hall, sergeant.”

Simon was a fool for not finishing his lunch sooner and bolting, instead lingering for the announcement. With how atrocious he did on his tests, he must have been beyond high to still hope for a miracle, that despite everything, he still had a chance at a promotion.

He didn’t make to the top 3.

Amidst the wishes from the table, Lt. Ramsay’s turned to him. His grateful smile faltered.

Simon’s fists clenched. It was supposed to be him, his. But who was he to be mad. It was the fruit of his incompetence. He knew this was coming. Things were going to shit. The unforgiving truth was staring right at him mercilessly: he had nothing else.

He left for his office.

“Sir, sir!” Sgt. Jefferies called. “We’re heading to the pub tonight. Come with us.”

He gritted his teeth. Word travelled too fast.

“Let’s get out of the base for a bit,” he continued when he caught up to his long strides. “It’s the last weekend before we ship out.”

Simon eyed the display of vibrant bottles behind the bar as he listened to his sergeants’ orders, the names foreign to him. Above, the telly showed a rugby match rerun no one paid attention to.

“Jefferies, how much you reckon it takes me to get pissed?”

He chuckled. “You, sir? At least 10,” he said before taking a swig of his beer.

“Nah, 15 sounds more like it.” Richie, the designated driver for the evening piped up.

Sam downed his first two shots, hissing as he slammed the glasses on the bar. “Agreed. Do you know how much he lifts?” He nodded at Simon’s biceps, bulging under his loose black shirt.

It was a genuine question. Simon didn’t want to get pissed, he only wanted to forget. He didn’t mean to go over his limit he had no idea was at seven.

Drunk Simon was a weeping, blabbering mess. It didn’t help that he was massive, because his sergeants had trouble getting him to the car before Richie drove him to the address of his flat he barely managed to gurgle out before passing out.

“Sir, you’re paying for the bloody cleaning if you get sick in my car!”

Why did he think this was a good idea? He was never a drinker, barely even touched alcohol socially. It was the poison that turned his dad into a demon, and it too became his downfall. The only thing he thought he would always have – his resolve, let him down too. He’d lost you, his mum whom he was supposed to protect, his future, and now his dignity.

Desperation was a lethal sentiment.

And that dream came again, that he stumbled to your door. Legs wobbly, his vision in and out as the world spun in slow motion.

“Luv… Luv, it’s not supposed to end like this,” he slurred, the same line he always opened with.

A marionette, a prisoner in his own head, it was a loop he couldn’t escape. The awful show had to commence to end the same way each time.

“I’m sick of losing and I wouldn’t know what to do when you leave, after how much you’ve given. Instead, I left when you needed me. I should have been there for you, gone through all this with you, no matter how hard it got.

“If you would give me a chance, I’ll quit the SAS. I’d start all over again. I’ll butcher the carrots and apples with the bloody peeler, I’ll let the steakhouse mess up our reservation and eat a dozen soapy tacos… If you ever show up at my door with your pie again, I swear I’d kiss you, not scare you. And I’ll never let go. If it has to hurt, I want it to be you.”

The door clicked open, and like how it always went, it meant the dream was coming to an end.

“You make it worth it,” he muttered as his vision faded.

…

Simon gasped for air, this time staring up at blinding lights. He shielded his wet eyes, chuckling to himself.

“Bloody hell, I think I’m sick on the inside.”

“Only your past, but you are not your past.” Your voice echoed in the distance.

His body was too heavy to move. “Could you forgive me, for all of this?”

“Could you? You need to forgive more than you need to be forgiven.”

He laughed as another tear slipped.

Simon woke on his couch, still in his clothes from the night before. Dreaming of you always drained him, leaving him hollow and out of touch with his body.

He sat up with a groan, rubbing his face as the dizziness settled. He didn’t remember much after getting dragged to Richie’s car. Judging by the gnarly bruise on his arm, he probably fell last night, but he was glad he found his way back to his flat in one piece.

Stumbling to the shower, he hissed when his toe stubbed one of the boxes on the floor. It was a horrendous decision to drink so much, still having to pack the rest of his stuff. He leaned over the sink, staring at his bloodshot eyes.

His sergeant was right. He didn’t look good. He never did. What the fuck are you doing to yourself, Riley?

With his hair damp, he made his way to the kitchen. As he realised he’d packed all his tea stash in one of the bloody boxes, a series of knocks echoed in his flat.

He grumbled. It better be important for someone to disturb his peace, especially with the pounding of his head. He couldn’t be bothered putting a shirt on before he swung the door open.

It was you, a pie in hand like the first time he met you all those months ago.

“Hi, is Simon in?”

His heart lurched as he crushed you in a hug.

“Thought you said you were going to kiss me.”

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @eve-lie @lyenera @luvecarson @jaguarthecat @knight4xmas @unwrittenletter @mxtokko @reaperxxxxzz @footyandformula @opalesquegirl @audisive @sparrowgalaxy @fanficreblogs @strawberrystargal @damalseer @onlineoutcast @alright-i-guesss @maresoleil @mehjustalasshere @rrtxcmt

#call of duty #cod #cod fanfic #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty angst #cod angst #call of duty x you #cod x you #female reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley angst #ghost angst #neighbor!ghost

[king-krisu]

Super deep and way too much reading into -analysis of kot kot incoming

Okay but I'm convinced that kot kot is literally it's crazy it's part 2 in that Jere feels like his life is an endless party 365 days a year and he can't escape, and he feels like he's doomed to dance (mut on tuomittu juhlimaan).

I think the first teaser we got will maybe be like the last beat drop where, after he's talked about how draining it is to constantly be in demand and how he can't give himself a break, he goes back to the old "silly family friendly" Käärijä we all know. Bcs that's what the first teaser sounded like, kinda silly and simple lyrics with a sound even kids might like, just like how CCC became popular amongst kids here. And he feels tired and trapped by this persona the chickens, we the audience, have created for him that he feels like he has to live up to. Other artists, 'the smart ones who went to bed', realised earlier than him to rest and to prioritise their own health, while he pushed on and almost burned himself out. Just like ICIP, with the verses being about endless parties and no escape, and the chorus being a bit silly and a mindless party song you wouldn't think twice about.

Also I feel like them using stripping was a way to really hammer home how he's just another entertainer for the chickens to enjoy without having any regard to his personal wellbeing. (I'm not saying that strippers = exploited people, it's just the most blatant way to express that in a visual way). The chickens laugh and drink in the video while Jere provides them something to look at, even though they don't even seem to really pay much attention to his performance anyway. Kinda like how at shows with a lot of 'normies' people only really care to see the silly ccc guy, and don't gaf about his other songs. It also reminds me a little of NYE when families demanded he go and perform CCC for the kids bcs "well why couldn't he just stop by real quick to make them happy", and he did even though it meant 3 performances in 24h for him. Not to mention he had to fly back from sweden and 2 of the performances were outside in -19 degrees.

Idk, to me it just reads a little bit like Jere not being sure how to navigate being extremely popular while having most people in this country not really understand his music, bcs it is a very unique genre. I might be so completely wrong and he could read this while laughing but that's my interpretation of it so haista vittu Jere if you're reading this 🫶🏻

#käärijä #jere pöyhönen #i have a job whah the fuck am i doing writing all this #ITS KOT KOT IT DOES NOT NEED ALL THIS lmao anyway enjoy my dumb analysis of 40sec of a song