#but that was not what I signed up for when I first watched the show

[reiderwriter]

So obviously Spencer is iconic for his wide range of haircuts over the show, and I have this vision of a Spencer x hairdresser fic where he goes to the same hairdresser all the time because he likes the routine and it’s what he’s used to. So like they’re low-key friends bc he’s been her client so long, but then she notices he can’t come as usual and he tells her it’s because he’s always away or working late. So because they’re close she gives him private late appointments after she closes bc they’re more accessible for him, and then they’re always together late at night, and eventually they fall for each other!! And like she loves his curls and cringed when he wanted it cut short but loves it regardless AHH I JUST LOVE IT. Bonus points if Spencer gets to recommend his hairdresser girlfriend to his teammates just to brag about the fact he has a hot girlfriend lmao. I get it’s kinda long lol, if it’s too long a premise then no worries, just sharing it is nice :)

A/N: Hi! I love the idea of hair stylist reader, so I had a lot of fun writing this~♡ Thank you for your request, I hope you enjoy it!

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: implied Autistic Reid, brief mentions of sensory issues, writer does not care for the shows Canon hair continuity and does basically whatever she wants.

Masterlist

The first time you'd met Spencer Reid, you hadn't been able to cut his hair. Which was a damn shame because it really did need cutting. 

Sweeping up the floors of the hair salon you worked at, you had noticed the man lingering outside, wringing his hands together and pushing them awkwardly through his hair, approaching and retreating every few seconds. 

You watched him through the mirrors, and let him dance around like that for five minutes before deciding that the evening breeze would be a boon during the hot summer night that was about to set in on you. 

Opening the salon door, you stepped outside and soaked in the fresh air before turning to the now frozen, slightly awkward man. 

“Can I help you?” You tried to put a welcoming smile on your face, but the salon was past closing and empty beside you. You should've been heading home by now, but something in the man's posture had you dawdling.

“The barber shop down the road closed down,” he said quickly, as if the words were practised on his to guess moments before. 

“Yes, that's true. It's been six months now.”

“Six months?” he squeaked out, running a hand through his hair as he turned inwards. 

“Do you… need a haircut?” 

“Yes. Yes, are there any other barber shops in the area?” 

You rolled your eyes and walked back into the salon, picking up a robe and a shoulder cover and spinning around the closest chair to welcome him. 

“Well, are you coming in?” 

“But you're closed. Your sign says you're closed.” 

“And I'm still here, aren't I?” 

He didn't argue any further and hesitantly stepped into the salon. 

You helped him out of his bag and put it away before helping him into the robe and shoulder pad. 

He awkwardly stood around as you prepared your scissors and station again, switching on the mirror light so you could fully see his face and hair. 

And damn was he attractive. As you smoothed his hair out of his face, you were met with warm brown eyes, open and anxious, like a deer caught in headlights. Or, more accurately, a dear caught in a hair salon. 

You had to blink and look away as you remembered what you were about, standing up and leading him over to the sink. 

“I'm… I'm a little bit sensitive about my hair,” he admitted quite meekly as you tested the temperature of the water. 

“Okay. Is there anything specific?” 

He sat himself in the chair but didn't lower his head to the bowl, so you waited. 

After a minute or two, he gently lowered his head to the bowl, and you helped his progress, making sure he was comfortably settled. He didn't speak, just let his shoulders relax and closed his eyes as you turned the water on his locks. 

You enjoyed the simple repetitions of your job. Everyone's hair was different, that was true, but there were really only so many ways to wash hair. 

You rinsed his hair thoroughly, keeping the water away from his face and ears with a face guard before beginning to lather it up. 

For a man who hadn't seen the inside of a salon in six months and likely a hairbrush in the same length of time, his hair was healthy. 

De-tangling as you went, you ran your hands through the lengths of his hair, taking note of how it fell, which parts were healthy, and which had developed split ends. Then you began massaging his head, working the shampoo into his roots, making sure his scalp was free from any possible dirt or dry skin. 

This was the best part of the haircut for you, and you knew your regular clients enjoyed it greatly as well. Which is why you probably shouldn't have been too surprised when the man fell asleep. 

It took you a few minutes to realize that was what happened, the face guard obscuring his face from your vision. When you squeezed the water from his hair, patted it dry, and twisted it into a towel so the water wouldn't run down his back, you had no clue that he was away with the fairies. 

It wasn't until you asked him to stand, and he didn't even move that you moved around the sink and lifted the face guard. 

If he seemed anxious awake, it had melted away now. He looked younger asleep, more calm and confident somehow. His eyelashes were long, a fact you only noticed when you leaned in to get a better look at him. 

It was your hand unconsciously tracing a hand along his jaw that woke him back up, and for a second, you just stared at each other, faces inches apart. 

“I'm.. I'm so sorry, I should go. Thank you for… I should go,” he said hurriedly, pulling the robes and towels off and snatching his bag up, running out the door. 

“Wait, your hair,” you called after him, but he was gone. 

And he hadn't paid. 

It took a week for you to collect the payment, though you couldn't care less about the money anyway. 

But a week thinking about the man's delicate features, his shy smile and stutter, and you were very distracted. 

Thinking about him had become your full-time job, as much as cutting hair had, and you'd had a few close encounters with the scissors when you were lost in thought. 

You'd been thinking up back stories for the man ranging from the romantic to the obscure to the downright realistic. So, a week later, you found yourself behind on work and needing to stay late, just as he stepped into the shop a second time. 

“Hello?” You shouted from the backroom, hearing the doorbell jingle as it opened. “We're actually closed right now, so- oh.” 

He stood awkwardly in the door, his face already flushed slightly. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi,” you said, trying to stop the grin spreading across your face. You didn't want to scare him off a second time. 

“Last time, I… kinda ran away. I was… I'm not the best with-” 

“With haircuts?” 

“With change.” You both nodded at that, awkwardly staring at each other. 

“So…?” You lead, trying to encourage him to introduce himself, hoping he would reveal something you didn't already know. 

“You're closed again, but could you cut my hair?” He asked, pushing the long locks back on his head as he stood a little taller. 

“It would be my pleasure…” you trailed off as a question, needing to know his name. 

“Spencer. Spencer Reid. Doctor… just Spencer is fine if you'd prefer.” 

“I'm Y/N. Come and take a seat.” 

You slid him into the robes once again and got through a hair wash without any accidental naps this time. Though you did notice that he seemed to be enjoying it just as much. 

His sighs left you feeling hot, your heart beating as you focused on his hair to draw your gaze from his lips. 

When he was back I'm front of the mirror, he again looked like a scared cat that had been backed into the corner. 

“So, what'll it be, Spencer?” You asked cheerily, combing your hand through his locks to detangle them. 

“Hmm? Oh, a water would be nice.” 

“For your hair, Spencer. What haircut do you want?” 

“Oh! Oh, um, just a…just a haircut.” 

Your face scrunched up in confusion as he doubled down. 

“But what kind of haircut?” 

“What kind?” 

You pulled away from his chair for a minute and went to grab a cut reference book. 

“Okay, so we've got undercuts, or trims, I can do pompadour or bowl cut or-” 

You looked at Spencer's face again and saw that he looked more than confused. 

“How about I just cut your hair and after you tell me if you like it or not?” 

He nodded and gave you a weak smile as you grabbed your scissors. 

Twenty minutes of silence later, and you felt Spencer exhale in relief as you dusted off the back of his neck and pulled the robes off of his clothes. 

You'd gone for a shorter cut, but his curly hair had such a nice natural texture that you left it a bit longer on top. Without his hair in his face, his jawline was sharper, his eyes brighter, and you were somehow more infatuated. 

He stood up shyly and you smiled at how good he looked. 

“Okay, perfect! Let me just-” You lifted your hand and smoothed out some of his hair, picking up some strands and pushing them back and forth until it was just right. 

He caught your hand just as you were about to pull away, and you suddenly realized how close he was. Or more accurately how close you had gotten. It was like you were breathing the same air. 

“D-Do you like it?” You asked, voice small and high as it battled your heartbeat to be heard. 

“Yeah. I like it. It looks… it looks like a haircut.” 

You giggled as his grip became gentler, and your hand fell down to your side, brushing his chest gently as it descended. 

“How much do I owe you?” He asked, and you led him over to the register to complete the payment. 

“Thank you,” he said as he grabbed his bags to head out the door. 

“Just doing my job. I'll see you in six weeks,” you said, waving him off. 

“What for?” He asked, voice confused but bright. He sounded almost hopeful. 

“For your next haircut, Spencer.” 

He smiled and waved back as he walked back into the dark and disappeared down the street. 

No one could ever accuse Spencer Reid of being forgetful, and six weeks later, he was back in your chair. 

Except he didn't arrive at 11pm this time, but instead 11am. 

The other customers and stylists gawked at the man as he walked in, and you thanked the gods that your seat was free as he met your eyes. 

“Hi.” 

“Spencer! You're back.” 

He nodded shyly, head hanging a little as he ignored the many looks from the women in the room and the eruption of whispers and loud glances in his direction. 

“It's been six weeks. You said that's when I'd need another haircut.” 

You laughed a little as you pulled the robe around him. 

“You know, I say that every time, but most people ignore me. I love a man who can follow directions.” 

The eruption of red on his cheeks left you feeling suddenly tongue tied, and you carefully redirected the conversation back to the task at hand. 

“Same again, Doc?” You asked, readying your spray bottle and supplies. 

“Actually, could we, ah, go shorter this time?” Hesmiled sheepishly and watched as you ran your fingers through his tangled hair. 

“My boss, last time, said I looked like I joined a boyband, so…” 

“Your boss at the hospital?” You asked, clinging to every detail you could get from him. 

“The hospital?” 

“You said you were a Doctor, do you work in a lab instead or-”

“Oh. No, I work at the FBI. I'm not a medical doctor, I have a PhD. I have three, Chemistry, Engineering, and Mathematics.” 

You whistled. “Impressive. You can't be older than 30.” 

“I'm 29.” He said, smiling at you in the mirror, and you smiled back, hands still running through his hair. 

“So, no boy band haircuts, okay. For what it's worth, though, you look totally hot.” 

The words cut the conversation short, and you tried your best to take the words back as you went off to the sides to grab your sheers. 

Half an hour later, and you could swear that half the salon had given up pretending to be doing their jobs and were just awkwardly ogling the man. If the shorter “boyband” hair was good, the undercut you'd done for him was even better. 

You turned him around to get a closer look, using the excuse of making sure his hair was symmetrical enough to stare at him some more as you got closer to finishing. 

“Okay,” you said with a sad sigh. “You're all finished, Spencer. Let's get you rung up.” 

He nodded and followed you quickly, pulling out his wallet as he paid quietly. 

“Okay. And I'll see you tomorrow,” you said, as he picked up his bags to leave. 

“Tomorrow? I thought you said it was six weeks between haircuts.” 

“It is. But it's also my day off tomorrow, so I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner. With me.” 

He blinked at you once. Then twice, and another time before smiling and looking away. 

“Okay. See you tomorrow, Y/N.” 

He ran a hand through his hair and nearly walked into the door he was trying to walk through, but your heart still fluttered as you waved him out. 

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

[heizours]

CHARACTER BANNERS

summary. when you do not plan to pull for their character banner

tags. gn! reader, grammatical mistakes may occur

cw. one mention of 'die' (dottore), petty and sulky genshin men (all of them i may say)

feat. xiao, itto, dottore, venti, scaramouche

note. the head picture is how i imagine their reaction ☠️

< back to event m.list

INTRO.

Recently, you've been saving up primogems for an upcoming new character banner that Hoyoverse is planning to release in the next version of the game.

Gosh you were so excited!

It's not like you wanted to pull for the character just because she was attractive. Definitely not.

Even if it takes a lot of time to earn those gems, you were willing to go through it as long as the system better give you that character you are pulling for.

"I can't wait to pull for Navia!"

You squealed in excitement, logging in the game as her banner awaits for you, ignorant of a certain chatacter just eavesdropping around the system.

XIAO.

Xiao's banner was having a rerun along with the release of Navia's, and while he may not brag it out loud, he had some silent expectations that you were going to pull for him again.

After all, he is proud to be your first five star chatacter, and ever since then he has been on your team and never removed.

To hear you say that you're going to pull for Navia instead of him made him grunt quietly as he let out a quiet huff behind the screen.

"...Well, she is a good character" he admitted while grumbling under his breath, crossing his arms by now as he watched you pull and pull for Navia's banner, only getting the four stars but no sign of a five star yet.

Is he...sulking? oh yes, Xiao believes so as there was a tiny slight pout on his as he looked away, trying his best to not be affected by the fact that Navia might show up at your screen anytime now.

So while you're at it, better save some primos to pull for his rerun banner too, you wouldn't want a sulking Xiao, right?

ITTO.

After pulling a few strings and fails in the wishing system, Itto was celebrating his victory after ensuring that his banner would have a rerun.

However, that satisfaction immediately crumbled down the moment he heard you saying that you are pulling for Navia instead for him again.

What makes it even worse, is he felt confident that you were going to pick him, and now...he doesn't know if he should throw a tantrum about it or blame the system that he had a rerun the same time with a new character.

"What?! Hey, what about me?" He yelled out from behind the screen, which of course you couldn't hear, as Itto let out a dramatic gasp by the revelation.

Is he making this a big deal? Yes, Itto is making this a big deal, because after all Navia is also a geo character, of course he would somehow feel intimidated that she would take his place in your team.

Best believe that when you are finish with your pulls, don't be surprised that he would not budge leaving your team— trying to replace him with Navia, even if you are already clicking the remove button!

DOTTORE.

The doctor was confident that you were saving up those primogems for him considering that his banner hasn't been released yet, nor the gaming system haven't made any announcement about his builds, constellation, marketing drip, etc.

Imagine his reaction when he overheard that you were pulling for Navia, and those primogems for her and not his. He could not hide the disbelief that crossed over his face.

He'll recover shortly after, and just laughed it off strainly as we watched you spending every gem you had saved on Navia's banner, no sign of the blondie woman yet showing up on your screen.

"And here, I thought I was what you are waiting for" He mumbled under his breath, gritting his teeth slightly in the process, keeping a forced smile on his face.

He would rather die than admit it, but this revelation had left a big wound on his pride, and he is a millisecond away of just straight up disrupting the system's controls if it means you get to play him.

Of course that would take some time, but he hopes that you're just as amused as him if he keeps joining you on doing your quests out of nowhere that doesn't even involve him in the first place ;)

VENTI.

It took so long for Venti to finally have this moment again, and he was more than glad to show up on your screen, on your first pull, on his rerun banner.

One second he was smiling and all giddy, but as you dropped the statement that you are pulling for Navia like a bomb, his smile freezed, his whole body freezed as he sweatdropped.

Not just freezed, you know those kind of special effects in an anime series when a character messes something up, does something awkward or expected something but gets embarass instead, and suddenly they turn into a whole block of ice? Yeah, something like that.

"..Oh, right her! I've heard a lot about her!" He stated, trying to keep up with his cheerful-go-to persona, as Venti awkwardly scratched the side of his neck while watching you spend those gems on her banner, still no luck of the five star geo character.

He failed to continue showing jolly facade, because now he is sulking at the corner as if it is the end of the world, almost as if a big tub of water was dunk upon him.

Please forgive him if he'll be out of character and maybe acting a little petty on your end for the next few hours or days while playing the game. It's not his fault you didn't also pulled on his rerun!

SCARAMOUCHE/WANDERER.

Scaramouche carries himself with such confidence and prides himself being a part of your team after you pulled on his first banner.

He was smirking with boldness, and eyes closed in satisfaction as he awaits and is all ready for you to pull on his rerun this time. That is until his mouth twitched downward, as he opens his eyes in suspicion right after he heard that you were pulling instead for Navia.

He could not hide the displeased expression painted on his face, as he continues to watch you behind the screen, spend all the primogems you saved up only for her, and like an open book— he doesn't even realized that he is scowling. So far, you're only getting the four stars.

"What about me?" He mumbled under his breath, as he scoffed lightly and by now instead of continuing to frown, there was a slight pout forming on his lips, as he huffed and turned his head away, facing a corner refusing to watch further your pulls on the geo character.

He rejects to believe that he is mopping about as something as this, but his actions says otherwise. He doesn't even know why is so affected by this.

Whether you get Navia or not, make sure you also give him the attention he seeks! We wouldn't want a petty Wanderer disrupting your team's gameplay, no?

#. . . .୨୧ ( milestones ) #. . . .୨୧ ( signed ) #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #sagau x reader #sagau headcanons #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #xiao x reader #xiao headcanons #itto x reader #itto headcanons #dottore x reader #dottore headcanons #venti x reader #venti headcanons #scaramouche headcanons #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer headcanons #sagau

[zhonglism]

EPITOME OF SIN

— zhongli x f! reader x neuvillette

18+ MDNI; explicit smut, unprotected sex, cuckolding, masturbation (m), neuvillette being horny and overwhelmed and zhongli being a lil menace, pet name (my sweet girl). divider: cafekitsune.

word count: ~1k or less

notes: not proofread! advance apologies for any typos. idk how long i’ve had this drafted but yeah!! i got around to finally finishing it hehe.

neuvillette always saw himself as a calm, and collected man; lilac gaze mirroring the cerulean tranquil waters of the weeping willow of the lake—he was never the one to unnecessarily raise his voice nor show the expression of anger. at least that’s what his lover, you, had said to him from one’s astute observation.

so why was the chief justice the complete opposite right this very moment? heart thrumming against his chest like the speed of the harsh winds in loch urania; blood boiling like hot vermillion lava from the volcanos of natlan, neuvillette seethed at the wickedly sinful sight in front of him—teeth clenched, nails digging into the poor azure fabric of the sofa beneath him. your lover was painted crimson red, not knowing if it stemmed from anger, embarrassment, or lust.

anger, because neuvillette didn’t know why he had agreed to such an insane proposal. though, insane was an understatement. he surveyed your sweat-covered naked body, rocking back and forth, back and forth from the forceful thrusts of another man—the geo archon. rex lapis, morax, deus auri, the usurper of the element of stone. he should be the only man sheathed beyond your walls so intimately; he should be the one pulling those saccharine moans from your soft lips; he should be the sole reason for your immense pleasure.

embarrassment, because neuvillette was too turned on at the sight before him to admit—though, his cock pushing against the navy slacks he donned was more than a telling sign. he was ashamed, felt absolutely filthy for getting aroused at such an outlandish sight. there were so many things wrong here and yet neuvillette had the audacity to be horny; he would give himself the heaviest sentence in the history of fontaine, for heaven’s sake. the iudex could feel his skin prickle, diminutive sharp kisses shooting all over his heated skin, fingers wanting to claw at the unbearable itch it left behind. he felt feverish but he couldn’t take his lilac gaze away from tracing your bare body—the way it responded to the heavenly pleasure zhongli gave.

lust, because at the end of the day—dragon or not—neuvillette’s body responded the same way as a human’s body would when exposed to a sexual stimuli. the chief justiced practically gawked at his dear lover and zhongli on the bed; mouth slightly parted, tongue ever so lightly swiping at his bottom lip in effort to satiate his growing thirst. all neuvillette could hear were your dulcet moans reverberating throughout his cerulean-walled quarters, the way your pretty eyes rolled back in pure bliss; brows knitted in full concentration if your impending orgasm. oh, neuvillette wanted to be desperately inside you but all he could do was sit there.

sit there and watch as zhongli sinfully fucked you with enough drive to vex your lover. outside, the people in the court of fontaine begin to scramble for shelter at the first signs of water droplets beginning to fall from the azure sky; grey clouds looming over the nation of many waters as it prepares for a downpour. “hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don’t cry.” zhongli brazenly teases with a strained voice, his amber eyes glowing like gold, piercing right through neuvillette. the latter lets out a firm sigh, nails digging further into the softness of the seat.

“please, don’t hold yourself back, monsieur. we’re all here to have fun, aren’t we?” the dark-haired man continues before repositioning your naked body. zhongli hauls you up like a ragdoll, both arms secured behind your back with his hand while the other makes its way to the strands on your head. he faced you towards neuvillette—who sat there with blown pupils, holding onto the last piece of his sanity and reputation—before pounding into you again; balls slapping against your soaked entrance with every forceful thrust.

letting out a sweet whimper, you stare starry-eyed at your lover as his hand wanders down to the apex of his legs. zhongli clicks his tongue as he feels you clenching around his hard cock, and holds you against his sweaty chest, changing the angle of his thrusts. “o-oh god!” you moan out as his tip kisses the saccharine spot within your velvety walls, shocks of icy pleasure caressing your spine. if it wasn’t for zhongli’s hold, you would have fallen onto the mattress from the sheer strength of his thrusts and the pleasure alone. the divine man behind you growls, lips situated dangerously close to your ear, “yeah . . ? that’s right i’m your god.” zhongli growls, loud enough for the hydro sovereign to hear, his tone unrecognisable—it was a far cry from the usual smoothness of his voice.

the ivory-haired man mirrored zhongli’s growls yet it didn’t contain the same carnal hunger as the latter, no, it was pure rage. white, hot anger seethed from neuvillette’s sitting figure as zhongli spoke that very sentence, what a disgrace. the chief justice sat there, every fibre of his body tingling and burning with silent chaos—like the calm before a thunderous storm, serene yet brimming with such force. you vigorously not at zhongli’s retort, even going as far as trying to form your own coherent reply only to come out in a twist of saccharine moans.

there was no hiding the rapid rise and fall of neuvillette’s chest despite the expensive layers of cerulean fabric he donned. the sensation was too overwhelming for him, pressure uncomfortably pressed on every dip and curve of his body to the point where he couldn’t feel anything—no, he could feel everything. everything at once and it drove the iudex absolutely insane. the jealousy, the lust, the embarrassment, it weaved its way down to his very core. neuvillette didn’t know what he wanted to do, all your lover knew was that he needed a release. now.

neuvillette uncomfortably shuffled atop the plush of the cerulean sofa, delicate hands moving as fast as the lightnings that scattered throughout inazuman waters. it was beyond shameful to be acting this way, his fingers fumbling the metal zipper of his slacks. before you knew it, your’s and zhongli’s moans were accompanied by neuvillette’s sinful ones—he didn’t hold back, almost as if he had completely let go of himself, his reputation, his standing with the lord of geo. the iudex of fontaine was reduced to nothing but a common whore, shamelessly filling the walls of his own quarters with brazen moans beyond his control.

it was a sight to see. too bad the intense jolting of your naked body from zhongli’s forceful thrusts were getting in the way from being able to properly see your lover’s fucked out expression but the desperate strokes of his hand was enough for you—enough to let you know that neuvillette somewhat found pleasure in this despite the bizarreness of it. he moaned and grunted your name into the heights of the ceiling like there was no tomorrow; you’ve never seen him like this before—always the modest sighs and grunts whenever you had sex with him but nothing more. neuvillette’s body was feverish, millions of tiny prickles spreading like wildfire as he stroked and stroked at his hard cock, hoping to finally reach that sweet release with you.

you moaned, a messy mix of both their names, earning a sharp hiss from the two males as they sucked in a sharp breath. “i-i’m close. . fuck . . !” “that’s it my sweet girl. show your lover how good i’ll make you cum.” zhongli whispers, licking a long stripe up the side of your sweaty neck, golden gaze locked onto neuvillette’s, taunting him. if it weren’t for the pleasure he was chasing this very moment, neuvillette wouldn’t have thought twice before pulling you off the archon but his legs were trembling with icy bliss, unable to even take a few steps.

as if on cue, you clamp your walls around zhongli’s cock, letting out a lewd sound before cumming. your naked body hardened with pleasure, teeth gritting and digits curling as waves of bliss ran through your veins. you couldn’t even hear zhongli’s velvety praises as you came, the next thing you knew was that your moans became muffled—your face harshly coming into contact with the ivory sheets beneath as zhongli pushed your head down to sinfully arch your back even more. he gave a couple more thrusts before pulling out and fisting his cock above your exhausted form, shooting endless ropes of hot cum onto your back as he moaned your name.

to his dismay, neuvillette was the last to cum which meant you and zhongli were able to see his current state in all its glory—all flushed and sweaty from desperately fisting his cock, moaning your name out with such need like he was a dragon in heat. hot cum coated his pale fingers, he sat there, cock still hard and catching his breath. neuvillette had his eyes solely on you, like a quiet predator sizing up it’s main course for the night. maybe neuvillette will show the lord of geo how to actually fuck you dirty until you and him are the epitome of sin.

#zhonglism ༄ #zhongli #neuvillette #zhongli smut #neuvillette smut #zhongli x reader #neuvillette x reader #zhongli x you #neuvillette x you #zhongli x y/n #neuvillette x y/n #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #smut #mdni

[lulublack90]

Prompt 8 - Not A Date

@wolfstarmicrofic May 8, word count 662

“So, fancy going to Hogsmeade with me on Saturday?” Sirius asked. “James is going with Evans and Peter is off with, erm, I can’t remember her name, but he’s off with someone and I don’t want to go on my own.” He scuffed his toe on the rug, looking up at Remus though his eyelashes. 

“What, like on a date?” Remus teased. Sirius’s heart skipped a beat. 

“Don’t be daft.” He grinned back. But secretly he wished it was a date. He'd wanted one for a while. 

“Oh, go on then.” Remus nodded. “I need some new quills anyway.” Sirius beamed. 

“Great. Where do you want to meet?”

“Sirius, we live in the same room. We can walk down together.”

“Oh, okay, great.” Sirius felt a bit flustered. James came barrelling in and tackled him to the floor. Thank Merlin for James Potter. He wrapped his arms around James and attempted to get on top of him, but James dead weighted him and squashed him into the floor. 

“Hello gorgeous, fancy seeing you here.” James cooed at him.

“Get off me, you big lug.” Sirius wiggled and pushed at James. But that boy was all muscle. James finally got to his feet and hauled Sirius with him. They wandered off together, leaving Remus to his homework.

Saturday came and Sirius had been too excited to sleep. It’s not a date, it’s not a date. He had to keep telling himself. They went down to breakfast together and when they were done James and Peter disappeared off to find their dates.

“Shall we?” Sirius asked, making a show of bowing Remus forward. Remus snorted at him. 

“Sure.” And walked off. 

The walk down to the village was pretty quiet. The other students milling around them making all the noise. 

“So where do you want to go first?” Sirius asked, once the picturesque village was visible before them. 

“Honeydukes,” Remus grinned. Of course, Sirius should have known. That boy was addicted to chocolate. 

“Perfect.” He grinned as they headed towards the sweet shop. 

He opened the door for Remus and said to him as they entered the sweet-smelling place. “Get whatever you want, my treat.” Remus turned and gave him a funny look. 

“I thought you said this wasn’t a date.” Sirius swallowed and became very interested in a box of peppermint imps. 

“Should I get some of these for Peter? They’re his favourite aren’t they?” Deflection. That always worked, right?

“Sirius, answer the question.” Damn it. Sirius picked up a packet of fudge flies.

“I’ll get these for James as well. Can you see the fizzing whizzbees? I have a hankering for some.” Remus stood in front of him, blocking his way. 

“Sirius, is this or is this not a date?” He’d folded his arms, Sirius knew he wasn’t getting out of this. 

“Would it really be that bad if it was?!”  He scowled. He was fucking this up as usual. He felt the tell-tale stinging behind his eyes as he blinked back tears that had suddenly tried to burst out of him. 

Remus’s arms relaxed.

“No,” He said, his voice low and sincere. Sirius’s eyes snapped up to Remus’s, searching his face for any signs that he was joking. “And if this is a date, I won’t feel bad about lightening your purse.” He winked mischievously and Sirius watched as Remus gabbed a basket and began piling all of his favourite sweets into it. 

When it was full, they took it to the till and Sirius paid. His purse was indeed considerably lighter when they left the shop. “Silly bugger.” Remus laughed at him at the same time as he took Sirius’s hand in his and entwined their fingers together. “Right I still need quills, then I’m all yours.” Sirius looked down at their hands and couldn’t believe that this was real. He felt ten feet tall and so happy he could have floated off without the assistance of the fizzing whizzbees.

#wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar fic #wolfstar angst #wolfstar fluff #sirius black #remus lupin #dead gay wizards #sirius orion black #remus john lupin #james potter #peter pettigrew #lily evans #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #sirius and remus #remus and sirius #the marauders era #marauders era #the marauders’ era #marauders #the marauders #hogsmeade #remus loves chocolate #remus loves his chocolate #honeydukes #Not a date

[buddiebeginz]

I have so many thoughts swimming around my head after that ep not sure I'll make much sense but here goes.

My feeling about Eddie cheating is that even if it might not seem like it on the surface it is very much connected to his sexuality (and eventual coming out). It’s also a big warning sign that he’s not in a good place mentally.

Eddie has always tried to do the right thing. He tried to do what Shannon wanted. What his parents wanted. To do right by Chris. He’s been in these very strict positions of the military and firefighter most of his life. Never taking much time to examine who he is and what he really wants. Just doing what he thinks he has to do and should do.

Looking back on how this season has been playing out I’ve noticed that we’ve been slowly watching Eddie let go of all these rules he has for himself. Just look at how he was at the bachelor party. I don’t know if he’s ever really allowed himself to be so uninhibited liked that before. He just let loose and was enjoying being with Buck and at no point was Marisol brought up at all. There was also a lot of queer subtext in those scenes drag queens, Eddie in pink, Eddie as Crockett, Eddie’s shirt getting ripped off by men (including Buck), Buck and Eddie sitting pressed up together.

Before that Eddie was spending a considerable amount of time with T*mmy to the point that he kept ditching Chris to run off and leave his girlfriend to be his babysitter.

Then there was moving Marisol in and back out again while Chris wasn’t even there and without telling him. When the show has made it a point to always show how much Eddie takes Chris’ feelings into consideration especially with his relationships. But that’s the thing Eddie’s mindset this season has become do first think later and damn the consequences.

Now we have Eddie using this woman Kim he just met as a Shannon replacement but more so as a distraction from his girlfriend and just reality in general. Which this whole situation involves Eddie lying and sneaking around and a disregard for everyone’s feelings involved including Buck’s.

I know some might say how out of character this all feels for Eddie but that’s the point he’s changing and this is how it’s manifesting at the moment. Going back to Eddie’s sexuality I feel like before we can get to a place where Eddie can admit he has feelings for Buck (or any guy for that matter) we’re gonna see him spiral a bit to deny it even to himself. To reach for what feels the most safe instead and that’s his relationship with Shannon.

I think Eddie loved Shannon and will always have love for her but they got married more out of Eddie feeling obligated than anything else. Eddie also hides behind his feelings for Shannon. She’s come to be like this security blanket for him which is understandable in a way given how much history they share. She’s connected to his youth and she’s Chris’ mom, there is so much familiarity there but those memories are also keeping him stuck and unable to move forward.

At the end of season 6 Buck almost dies and I think that is really when Eddie started thinking about Shannon again. I also think Buck almost dying made Eddie realize (on some level) how important Buck is to him and that terrified him because he can’t handle losing Buck the way he lost Shannon. There’s also the Chris of it all which was further highlighted in 7x01 when Chris talked about how everyone leaves like his mom did. Some part of Eddie still wants to give Chris this perfect idylic family he thinks he needs when no one will ever replace Shannon and Chris already has two parental figures.

I know we’ve been mostly focused on Buck and his coming out story this season (and rightfully so) but I also think we moved on too quick from how much time Eddie was spending with T*mmy, how they said Eddie and T*mmy were originally going to be paired together, and Eddie’s reaction when Buck came out to him. How he was shocked that Tommy was gay and also seemed to be holding back some feelings. Eddie also immediately went home and told Marisol to move out after that convo.

Now we have Eddie dating Kim (I assume), in a relationship with Marisol, and lying to his best friend and son. Which btw if Eddie and Buck are just friends why does he need to lie to him at all? Is it maybe because Eddie knows that Buck gets him better than anyone and would not hesitate to call him out if he knew what he was doing?

I just think a lot of how Eddie is acting right now is wrapped up in so many feelings he hasn’t dealt with yet. I know from personal experience the more you try and avoid dealing with things the worse it’s gonna get. Eddie also has a lot of past traumas and pains. From his childhood, the army, from his relationship with Shannon and how she died, from guilt over not being there for Chris, from things he’s seen on the job, almost losing Buck, his repressed sexuality. You can’t keep all that bottled forever sooner or later you’ll snap.

Maybe that comes out in the form of trashing the hell out of your room maybe in cheating with your dead wife’s double. Either way Eddie is careening towards having to fully deal with himself and all the things he’s compartmentalized for so long. He’s put himself in a situation which guarantees he can’t run away this time. Because I do think it’s all going to blow up spectacularly in his face. He’s going to have to deal with why he’s still clinging to Shannon. Why he didn’t want to really invest in a relationship with Marisol. Why he can’t commit to all these women yet he’s been committed in one way shape or form to Buck for years now.

Hoping I made some kind of sense here. If you read all of this thanks. ❤️

#911 spoilers #buddie #911 buddie #eddie diaz #long post #911!

[hd-junglebook]

"Hey Sugar"

-said with rizz

Luke Hughes x F!Reader, Trevor Zegras x Reader (platonic)

Masterlist Link

a:n Now we're delving into some of the drama. I have so much planned for Luke, so I hope everyone's excited. I will be posting a little 'announcement' later today to see what work you want from me next.

Warnings: throuple jumpscare, flirting, maybe cursing, suggestive flirting, nausea/vomiting, arguing

Summary: Luke's brother Jack arrives with friends, and a misunderstanding about you and Luke being engaged unsettles you. You long for Luke to clarify the situation, but he doesn't. When Luke suggests slipping away together for a bit, you're torn between giving in to your desire for him or protecting your peace.

Word Count - 3774

Part 3

Two agonizing days had passed since the disastrous dinner, and the volatility raging through your system showed no signs of abating. If anything, the jarring mood swings and bouts of nausea seemed to intensify with each lurching hour.

One moment, you'd be curled in a tight, miserable ball on Luke's rumpled sheets - stomach cramping viciously as you fought back waves of queasiness. The next, an irrational spike of anger would crest within you, bitter resentments and grievances spilling forth in a blistering torrent aimed at anyone within blast radius.

Poor Luke had borne the brunt of your mercurial temper more than once over the past couple days. You still cringed inwardly at the snippets of venom that replayed through your mind...the unfair accusations and white-hot outbursts detonated at even his mildest gestures of concern.

Yet, despite the vitriolic lashings, the man remained a stalwart presence at your side - steadfast and seemingly undaunted in the face of your hormonal cyclone. As if determined to simply weather the tumult until it passed, Luke took each scorching barb with stoic poise before eventually gathering you into the protective circle of his powerful arms.

It was there, cocooned in his solid warmth with his soothing baritone rumbling through your quaking frame, that you found fleeting moments of reprieve from the flames. Until, inevitably, the fires would rage anew - sparking from some unknowable origin deep within you.

This morning appeared to be no exception as the first fingers of dawn spilled buttery light across Luke's titanium sheets. You squinted against the pale glow filtering through the parted blinds, feeling that telltale cramp already blossoming in your lower belly. A low moan slipped unbidden past your lips as you instinctively curled into a tighter ball, dreading the hell to come.

In the periphery of your vision, Luke's massive frame shifted almost imperceptibly - the steady rise and fall of his sculpted torso indicating he still clung to the final wisps of slumber. A rueful smile tugged at your lips as you watched the slight furrow materializing between his brows, no doubt registering your fitful stirrings on a subconscious level.

Sure enough, those ridiculously thick lashes began to flutter in the next breath.

You tensed in anticipation as Luke's searing browns slowly blinked into awareness, searching your side of the bed with instinctual concern. When his hooded gaze finally landed on your hunched form, his features contorted into an achingly tender look of understanding.

"Hey..." The graveled endearment was little more than a whisper as Luke shifted onto his side to fully face you. "Another rough one, huh?"

You could only nod tightly, jaw clenched against the impending cramp as you focused on his beloved face. Luke regarded you with those piercing brown pools for a weighty moment, seeming to assess if reassurances or remonstrations would be required for this particular flare-up. When your expression remained pinched with stoic endurance, he simply sighed and extended one arm in mute invitation.

The profound relief that blossomed in your chest was instantaneous and overwhelming. Without a second thought, you surged into the solid warmth of Luke's bare torso - shamelessly seeking the grounding familiarity of his scorching skin against yours.

He didn't hesitate to accommodate, muscles flexing fluidly as he secured you against the powerful cage of his chest. You sagged gratefully into the protective cradle of his unyielding frame, drawing solace from the reassuring lub-dub of Luke's heart reverberating against your cheek.

Potent arms like towers of steel encircled you, one corded forearm cushioning the tender dip of your waist while the other smoothed over the rigid line of your shoulders in broad sweeps.

As always, Luke lent his steadfast strength without reservation or expectation - merely offering the uncompromising bastion of his body to weather your internal squalls.

You focused on the smoldering brand of his touch, allowing the cadence of Luke's respiration and the exquisite familiarity of his clean, male musk to sweep you under like a balmy riptide.

There would be time later for confusion, for interrogation over these distressing symptoms plaguing both body and spirit. For now, surrendering to the sanctuary of this man's healing embrace was the only sensible form of self-preservation.

…

Two hours had passed, and you felt it was time to get up. You walked around the room, gathering your clothes scattered haphazardly across the floor. Luke's rich baritone reached you from the rumpled bed. "Where you goin', gorgeous?"

Pausing, you shot him a glance over one shoulder, taking in his tousled bedhead and sleep-swollen features. "I'm gonna go talk to Jess. I'm tired of rotting up here, you know?"

Luke regarded you steadily for a beat before giving a slight nod, seemingly accepting your need to rejoin the world beyond these four walls.

"Don't take too long to come down, okay?"

The gentle plea beneath your somber tone wasn't lost on him. It caused a small, reassuring curl to unfurl in your chest as you offered a tight smile.

"I won't."

Then you were shouldering out of the bedroom, pulling on clothes with clumsy motions as you made your way down the hall. The hushed cadence of voices soon reached your ears, and you followed the murmurs into the open living room area - freezing at the scene playing out before you.

In one corner, Jessica and Maggy were engaged in what looked to be a heated exchange - their body language taut and confrontational as they traded heated whispers. You watched with a growing frown as Maggy gestured emphatically, clearly trying to make a point.

"I don't know how you expect this to work out, Jess," she hissed, slicing one hand through the air. "We both like him. He's either gonna choose one of us with your stupid ultimatum, or we can both be happy!"

Jessica scoffed loudly at that, tossing her silk tresses as her eyes flashed with indignation. "Don't give me that 'we can all be happy' bullshit, Mags! Trevor deserves more than being passed back and forth."

As their heated words escalated, you realized with a jolt that the object of their dispute was conspicuously absent. Scanning the cavernous living area revealed no sign of Trevor anywhere in the fallout radius of their confrontation.

It wasn't until you turned again that you finally spotted him - a hunched, dejected figure tucked in the far corner beside the hearth. His hulking frame seemed to radiate naked defeat as Jessica and Maggy's scathing tirades washed over him.

The swell of pity and protectiveness that bloomed in your chest was visceral. How could any of you have let things deteriorate to this point? Trevor was the kindest, most tender-hearted soul you knew. He didn't deserve to be torn asunder by your dysfunctional dynamic.

You took an instinctive step towards him, intent on extracting him from this torture. But before you could cross the distance, Trevor lifted his gaze to yours - and the breath punched from your lungs in a soundless gasp.

Glittering tear tracks shone down both whiskered cheeks, those warm hazel eyes glimmering with a devastation so profound it pierced straight through to your soul. For the span of a haunting, eternal moment, you held that hollowed stare...letting its harrowing anguish sear into your very marrow.

Then, as quickly as the connection had materialized, it was severed. Trevor blinked and rose unsteadily, turning to make his silent escape out the back entrance as Jessica and Maggy's shouts reached a fever pitch around him.

You could only watch, stunned and horrifically impacted, as he slipped away - your mind reeling from the truth that revelation had shored into aching focus. This was the insidious danger of your tangled web, of prioritizing passion over genuinely healthy bonds...

…

Luke bounded down the stairs at the sound of arriving cars, his heavy footfalls reverberating with unbridled energy. You watched from the entryway as not one, not two, but three vehicles came to a rumbling stop outside the lake house, kicking up plumes of dust in their wake.

Your brows hiked skyward as you registered the unexpected numbers, though Luke didn't seem the least bit fazed. If anything, his features were split by a wolfish grin of anticipation as he reached the front door in a few powerful strides.

"That'll be my brother and the rest of those delinquents," he supplied by way of explanation, giving your shoulder an affectionate squeeze as he brushed past.

You could only nod mutely, trailing after him as Luke flung the door open with gusto. A chorus of raucous hoots and hollers immediately assailed you, accompanying the cacophony of car doors slamming and heavy footsteps crunching up the gravel drive.

At the head of the boisterous pack was a towering, broad-shouldered figure that could have been Luke's doppelganger were it not for the closely-shorn chestnut hair and thick mustache framing his full lips. This man - undoubtedly Luke's older brother - wore an equally shit-eating grin as he bounded up onto the porch, thick arms already outstretched.

"Bout damn time you got here, dipshit!" Luke crowed with unbridled affection, not even bothering to dodge the crushing embrace that sent them both rocking back on their heels.

The two titans of men crashed together with the force of linebackers, deep laughs rumbling through their powerful frames as they jockeyed for supremacy. You couldn't help but hover in the open doorway, temporarily dumbstruck by the sheer unvarnished joy radiating from their reunion.

"Hey, watch the shoulder, asshole!" the brother growled out between peals of laughter, giving Luke's trapezius a playful shove. "Just had that shit rehabbed!"

Luke simply cackled louder at that, ruffling the cropped bristles atop his sibling's head with unrestrained glee. "Don't be such a bitch, Jacky. Maybe if you toughened up, you wouldn't keep getting hurt."

The snide remark earned Luke a solid jab to the ribs, causing him to let out an undignified wheezing grunt. But the brilliant smile never faltered, only stretching wider as he hauled his brother into another fierce hug - this one softer, more lingering.

"Missed you, man," you heard Luke's deep bass rumble against the solid plane of Jack's shoulder.

The tender endearment, mumbled as it was, still managed to strafe your heart with a piercing ache of...something. You blinked rapidly, struggling to process the sudden upwelling of emotion clogging your throat as you watched them embrace.

What was happening? This was hardly the first time you'd witnessed a brotherly reunion between Luke and Jack. Hell, the two had been practically inseparable growing up, despite the five-year gap in their ages. You'd lost count of how many rowdy homecomings and holidays you'd shared in their boisterous presence over the years.

So why did this particular moment feel so viscerally charged? Why were your eyes prickling traitorously as you drank in the simple scene of contented intimacy? It made absolutely no sense, and yet you couldn't seem to halt the swell of sentiment cresting within your thundering chest.

Luke must have sensed your roiling inner turmoil because he suddenly disengaged from their clinch, turning to face you with a softened expression. Those searing brown eyes found yours over the solid mass of Jack's shoulder, glowing with naked tenderness that momentarily stole the very breath from your lungs.

"Y/N..." he rumbled, somehow managing to imbue your name with gratifying weight. "You know my knucklehead brother, Jack."

The gentle prompt snapped you from your fugue, forcing you to blink rapidly as you refocused on the newcomers scattered across the front yard. Jack had spun towards you now, those craggy features arranged into a rakish grin that could have been lifted straight from Luke's playbook.

"Well, well...if it ain't my future sister," he all but purred, sweeping you up into an enthusiastic bear hug before you could protest.

You instantly found yourself engulfed in sinewy muscle and subtle cedar musk - not entirely unpleasant save for the way it constricted your ribcage. Still, you managed an awkward sort of half-laugh, giving the man's broad back a few consoling pats.

"Nice to see you too, Jack. Take it easy there, I need these bones."

The teasing only earned you a full-bellied guffaw as Jack finally relented, carefully extricating you from his vice-like embrace. His eyes - a slightly paler, more aquamarine shade than Luke's midnight browns - crinkled with unrestrained warmth as he regarded you.

"She's a goddamn knockout and she can hang? No wonder you finally stopped fuckin' around and put a ring on it!"

The vulgar observation, accompanied by a roguish wink, instantly resurfaced the blooming mirth in your chest like a lead weight. Suddenly, the giddy elation of witnessing their reunion had evaporated - leaving only an unmistakable hollowness in its wake.

Luckily, the moment of visceral emptiness was fleeting. Luke quickly crowded in beside you, snaking one long arm around your waist in a infinitely more welcome embrace. His palm settled low on your hip, radiating delicious warmth even through the thin cotton barrier.

"Don't get too far ahead of yourself, Jackass," he admonished lightly, those smoldering browns finding yours once more with weighted intention. "There's still time for her to call the whole thing off if you keep running that mouth."

Jack simply scoffed at the empty threat, already turning back towards the cluster of cars where the rest of his companions were beginning to emerge. "Whatever you gotta tell yourself to sleep at night, baby bro!"

Though the flippant retort rankled you momentarily, you couldn't find it in yourself to properly bristle at Jack's outrageousness. Not when Luke was nuzzling his prickly jaw against the sensitive curve where your neck met shoulder, blissfully impervious to his brother's antics.

…

The raucous celebratory energy suffusing the lake house should have been infectious, intoxicating even. Jack and his misfit band of cohorts had effortlessly slotted into the group dynamic, their arrival sparking an instantaneous resurgence of riotous laughter and shamelessly off-color anecdotes.

Yet you remained closed off from it all, a mere bystander watching the raucous bonhomie unfurl at your periphery. No matter how many times Maggy looped an arm through yours with a conspiratorial wink, or Jessica pressed a fresh drink into your hand, you couldn't quite shake the leaden emptiness seizing your chest.

It was a persistent, gnawing ache - as if someone had nestled a lead brick between your ribs, slowly constricting your lungs until each inhalation was a monumental feat. You'd never felt so profoundly untethered from yourself, from the steadying anchors that typically kept you grounded.

Worst of all were the furtive glances you kept stealing towards Luke, desperately hoping to lose yourself in the contented glority of his smile...only to have Jack's parting quip ricochet through your skull like shrapnel.

Over and over, you replayed the crude insinuation in your mind's eye, feeling that spiderweb crack in your temporarily invulnerable facade each time. Why hadn't Luke corrected his brother's assumption about your relationship status? Sure, putting a defined label on the passion between you was unimportant in the grand scheme.

But the fact remained - you weren't Luke's fiancée, and the very notion that he'd allow someone to believe otherwise disquieted you in ways you couldn't fully articulate. It felt dishonest somehow, a falsehood woven into the rich tapestry of your lives that didn't belong.

So you lingered in the periphery, watching the party swirl around you in roiling eddies of boisterous camaraderie. Luke, ever the epicenter of the chaos, ricocheted between boisterous debate with Jack and sotto voce flirtations whenever you drifted within arm's reach.

Each time, you found yourself silently imploring him to bring up the innocuous comment, to casually clarify with that easy cadence of his that you were simply...complicated. That labels and conventions meant little in the face of your profound bond.

But the words never materialized, and you were left suspended in tangible torment - questioning everything and nothing all at once as the night raged on around you.

It was well after midnight when Maggy plopped down beside you on the sagging sofa, knocking your shoulder playfully as she sank into the buttery leather with a contented sigh. You barely registered her arrival, too consumed by the bitter chorus in your head.

"I'm sorry you had to see that earlier," she murmured after a contemplative pause, drawing your vacant stare instinctively. "We...Jessica, Trevor, and I...we decided it's best if we're just together. All three of us. It makes us happy, you know?"

The gentle confession, layered with audible reticence, had your brows hiking towards your hairline in a silent question. Maggy caught the wordless probe and flashed you a rueful half-smile, clearly interpreting your confusion.

"The arguing, the jealousy bullshit...it's just not worth it," she elaborated with a philosophical shrug of those curvaceous shoulders. "We're happiest when we're completely open and honest with each other - no holding back. Even if it means breaking some stupid societal norms along the way."

You felt your lips part, a thousand queries marshaling on your tongue as you processed Maggy's candid revelation. But in the end, the only response to materialize was a low, ragged exhalation - somewhere between a snort and a rueful chuckle.

Because in that endless night, with an internal war raging inside your shattered breast...you'd never felt more adrift and utterly rudderless than in the presence of their blazing certainty.

There was a tangible rightness to the path these beautiful souls had carved for themselves - a fearless adherence to the truth that burned within, regardless of proverbial norms or expectations. A level of uncompromising vulnerability that you could scarcely fathom in your current state.

It was transcendent and horribly enviable all at once...and it scorched you from the inside out.

"I...wow," you eventually managed in a papery tone, giving Maggy's slender fingers a reflexive squeeze. "That's...amazing, Mags. I'm really happy for you guys, and proud of the courage it took to get there."

Maggy's incandescent smile could have powered a small city as she angled herself towards you fully. "Thanks, babe. That means everything coming from you."

She bumped your shoulder playfully, as if to ease some of the heaviness between you. But nothing could alleviate the maddening ache spiderwebbing through your marrow - that hollowness that threatened to devour you from within.

From across the room, you watched Luke throw back his head in a rich peal of laughter at something Jack had said, jaw clenched and eyes crinkled in genuine merriment. Something fragile in your chest simultaneously blossomed with tenderness...and withered into stark disrepair.

…

A tranquil hush had descended over the lake house, the typical raucous energy giving way to contented quietude as the night crept deeper. Outside, the inky blackness was softened by a shimmering blanket of stars reflecting off the glassy waters, casting everything in an ethereal glow.

You shifted drowsily on the plush leather sofa, savoring the remaining tendrils of warmth radiating from Luke's solid frame where he was nestled against your side. His arm was looped securely around your waist, palm splaying possessively over the slight curve of your hip.

For a few languorous moments, your mind pleasantly drifted - lulled by the steady cadence of Luke's breathing and the occasional chorus of night birds trilling outside. He always ran several degrees warmer than you, his potent furnace of a body suffusing you with delicious heat.

You had nearly succumbed to a light doze when the low rumble of Luke's voice reverberated against the back of your neck, sending a shiver rippling down your spine.

"I planned a really special night for us, y/n." His midnight timbre was velveteen and hushed, thrumming with an undercurrent of anticipation.

You stirred groggily, twisting in the haven of his embrace until you could regard him properly. Luke's striking features were gilded in the pale moonglow filtering through the windows, casting his chiseled jawline and proud nose in stark relief. But it was his eyes - those blazing, all-consuming pools - that arrested your full attention.

They fairly smoldered with unnamed intensity, holding your drowsy stare hostage as one corner of those obscenely full lips quirked upwards.

"For what?" The words were slightly graveled from impending slumber as you blinked owlishly.

Luke's smile deepened into something richer and infinitely more weighted as he began tracing lazy, spiraling patterns along the soft skin of your thigh.

Each meandering caress of his calloused fingertips seemed to sear straight through the thin barrier of cotton separating you, raising delicious gooseflesh in their wake.

"I just want to do something for you," he rumbled in that sinful rasp, holding your molten stare unblinkingly. "It's...a surprise."

You felt your breath stall in your lungs at the heated promise that single word seemed to ignite. A surprise from Luke invariably meant some grand romantic gesture - extravagant and shamelessly indulgent in a way that never failed to overwhelm you.

Luke must have registered the momentary paralysis in your features because he leaned in fractionally closer, close enough for you to drink in the rich amber and cedar notes of his cologne. His palm drifted higher, finally coming to rest low on your abdomen as those blazing browns searched your face with undisguised intensity.

"This one won't be like the others, y/n," he murmured, the graveled lilt seeming to caress every syllable of your name. "This is going to be really...really special. For you. For us."

The naked sincerity, the profoundity behind those quietly uttered words...it stole the very air from your lungs in a sharp exhalation of pure wonderment.

Every nerve ending in your body seemed to blaze into awakeness, zeroing in on the scorching brand of Luke's touch as it meandered across your tingling skin.

You could only gape at him mutely through the rushof feeling, overwhelmed by the searing tenderness flowing between you in dizzying riptides.

Luke was many things in these moments - playful, irreverent, smoldering with the promise of white-hot passion. But above all else, he was steadfast - grounding you in the unshakable truth of just how treasured you were to him.

"Where?" you eventually rasped out once you'd recovered enough to form words. Moisture stung at the corners of your eyes as you held his blazing stare, everything inside of you seeming to crystallize into this single suspended heartbeat.

An achingly gentle smile curved those beloved lips as Luke reached up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear, callused knuckles grazing your fevered cheek in a scorching caress.

"I want to take you somewhere we can be alone for a little while. Just you and me under the stars. After we get home to Jersey, a night for just us, Y/N."

…

#luke hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes one shot #luke hughes smut #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot #nhl smut #fluff #angst #masterlist #x reader #lh43 #nj devils #luke hughes fanfiction #luke hughes imagine #jh86 #luke hughes x oc #hughes brothers

[hoodjam]

coastal love

a/n1: hey babies, I missed you all so much!! I’ve been so busy but I’m here with an actual story! this is something new for me so I hope yall enjoy 🩷

warnings : tw: death, nudity, very short

The lone sailor waded in the waters, desperately fishing for the deep sea fish that was rumored in the area.

“Damn, fish! I almost had it on the hook when it swam off on me,” the man pouts, slightly sour he blindly follows the fish into the deep blue ocean.

“fuck me, it’s gettin’ dark too, damn, fuck shi-“

“HELP ME!” A woman screamed, sending shivers down the sailor's spine. “SOMEONE, PLEASE.”

A sudden feeling of heroism fell over the man, sending him to stand in his tiny boat looking for any signs of a distressed woman. Scanning the area he saw her, hair wet, clothes tattered, as she clung to a rock with her last strength.

Adrenaline raced through his body, beginning his paddling to rescue the lady.

During your frantic screaming to be saved, you noticed the man rowing towards you, and your heart was filled with relief. “Thank you, sir,” you coughed out, showing him your pearly teeth.

“No worries, but what’s a lady like you in waters like this?” The sailor questions, after stopping his boat near the rock.

You stay silent, watching the man reach his hand towards you to help you into the boat.

“Oh, I was in a bad shipwreck nearby. The storm swept me and my mates away. I’m the only survivor.” You explain, reaching your hand to meet his.

But he pauses, “Hm? A storm? There hasn’t been a storm in a few weeks,” He stares at you, slowly reaching his spear, “there’s no way you swam for that long.”

The sailor grips his spear, mind reeling that more than just deep sea fish is real.

In an instant, your eyes flicker black, as you leap out of the water tackling the man into the ocean. Your tail bright blue, shimmering in the sun was the last thing the man saw.

Deep hunky laughter fills the air, men scattered across the deck, as the vessel they ride on glides on the sea.

“Men! Tonight we celebrate a successful loot of the ocean’s treasure,” the captain of the crew states. His shoulder was broad with years of experience, mouth curled in a smirk not even his scar could taint.

“Once we port, we’ll enjoy the lands’ women! But tonight we drink!”

“Aye!” His men exclaim, mugs already filled with the golden liquor, which makes them light on their feet.

However, before the festivities could start, a drop of rain landed on the captain’s face. Frowning, he looked around his vessel seeing the swirling clouds heading in their direction.

“Men get into positions, we have a storm to bear.”

Without any questions, his crew stationed themselves throughout the ship, with Toji at the helm.

“Gojo! String up the sails, Geto strap down the loose food and drinks, and Sukuna, be ready for any repairs.” Toji barked more orders to his team, a team he trusted with his life.

Heading to the helm he turned the wooden wheel away from the storm, bracing himself, preparing for the worst.

Underwater, you smiled with glee, “What a feast,” you thought.

The storm was a beast, bigger and angrier than any sea creature they’d fought. With all his might he kept the stern face opposite of the storm, but his strength was failing.

“Prepare to “ the captain was interrupted, feeling his gravity shift as his boat capsized. The last thing he seen was his men flipping before his head hit a beam, knocking him unconscious.

The storm ravaged the pirate's ship, throwing bodies and debris across the darkened sea. Eager for your first bite, you greedily swam through the waters dodging everything except the lone barrel that fell from the sky.

Toji woke up on some sandy shore, the back of his head throbbing in pain from his injury. Getting up with a stumble, his eyes burning from the bright sun hinting at a new day.

He walks the coast, looking for any hints of survivors from his crew, “Is that?”

The captain gasps, seeing you lie on the same beach he washed up on, unconscious, naked, and shimmering with a blue hue.

a/n2 : I hoped you guys enjoyed, feedback is always appreciated.

a/n3 : also, no shade, but I’m so tired of the short ass fics!!! let’s get back into long stories 😩

#hoodjam 👤 #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji smut #toji x reader #jjk toji #jjk gojo #jjk geto #jjk sukuna #gojo smut #geto smut #sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #geto x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk au

[bentosandbox]

Ambience Synesthesia tutorial blog

rambled this out because I didn't have inflight wifi otw home and the turbulence was too crazy to draw

Buying the ticket

erm so they only dropped the tickets like slightly less than a month before lol kinda insane

The concert tickets were sold on Damai so you need a CN number or know/pay someone with one who'd buy it for you which is what I did by recommendation (A tier 1280 + 400 'service fee' [apparently it would have been cheaper if they only helped you half way or something but i wasnt gonna risk running into a payment hiccup so]) Iirc they sold it in two batches but I don't remember the ratio split between first and second wave…

I got a ticket for 5/5's afternoon show (so the second last performance), I DID meet an oomf who said they managed to snag a ticket for themselves on their own (without a Professional Ticket Snatcher) so its not too impossible to attain on your own I think??? (I didn't get a CN number until like 2 days before I flew back home soo)

Professional Ticket what?? Uhhh apparently there's a whole industry/scene for this you look for listings on xianyu/taobao etc for people to buy on your behalf, you have to give them your real name and identification number (so for foreigners it'd be your passport number) for verification purposes during entry so yknow yea

getting there

You could cab directly to the venue but my friend signed us up for the free shuttle bus (they had freebies last year but not this time) and before we boarded they gave us like free water and bread (apparently free raincoats too on rainy days) which was nice of them but also insane because. the venue doesn't allow you to bring food/drinks in so a lot of people were leaving A LOT of unopened bottles near the gate and I saw a venue staff just throwing them all into the bin (HOPEFULLY JUST TO CARRY THEM AWAY IN ONE GO AND NOT FOR STRAIGHT DISPOSAL….) They drop you off near the venue but you don't go in directly, there's a 'Doctor break room' where most people are seated waiting to be ushered in batches into the venue, but also a lot of people standing around on one side of the room swapping/offering merch

merch swap

ive been told this is a very concert culture thing but i feel like its kind of different because a lot of these are so high quality ike…you could sell them at Artist Alleys but here they are just distributing for free if you have a E2 60 blorbo lmao or whatever (there seems to be a tiny…? minority that prints official art but most of them seem to be handdrawn/made)

i was too unprepared for this lol i did exchange some of my old stickers (missed out on a collapsal plastic fan bc my brain lagged when the guy asked me and i went to my auto 'sorry i dont have any merch' response' :( regretted this bc the room got a little hot from the amount of people in there and i was wearing like 3 layers with that fan on my mind)

from people watching a lot of trades are arranged beforehand on weibo/other sites unless you're willing to yell WHO WANTS TO TRADEEE/anyone wants freebies (a lot of people were also wearing 'Feel Free to Swap Merch/Ask for Freebies' tags) which i was definitely not brave enough to do lol… met up with an oomf i got to know from last dec when i attended an arknights only and they gave me some birbs and charms (bottom of post), there was someone who got a free LGD zine and charm from me bc i posted on wb that id give a free copy to anyone with a Mod 3 swire/swummer LMFAO

I had 2 more people to meet but, uhhh so I bought an esim for mobile data and it would intermittently lose signal here and there which was a little annoying when getting coffee but it just died entirely when i reached the venue and it was kind of Dire because i was waiting for one more friend who was coming over from the fes and i couldn't contact them lmao. told the friend i came with to go in first because I thought if my food got confiscated at least my oomf could see it beforehand LOL

waited outside in a light drizzle for an hour trying to trouble shoot my data to no avail and ended up borrowing a staff's wifi hotspot to get my entry qr code (I actually bought a second data roaming plan on my local sim but i quite stupidly did not check the country coverage and only learned later that night that 'Asia' doesn't cover China kuxiao) she was so nice i was (bow emoji) so sorry to trouble you im a stupid gaijin and she was like no its ok enjoy shanghai!! pien

spent a good 30min next to this board praying for data to no avail

the show

erm anyway because of that clownery above i more or less missed the first piece (the one w the goated hoho) but at least i wasnt the guy next to me who went for a bathroom break right before starset came up

The live singing this year was definitely an improvement I think… I can't really remember the setlist off the top of my head but I'm sure someone else has already listed it out, there were a couple of new pieces that weren't related to the concert groups like a Babel/Kazdel?? one sung in Latin, a Victoria…? one (in victorian ofc) also an Amiya (? just remembering by the visuals they used lol) one in Japanese

ohh yeah so almost every track would start with like a faction logo transitioning in from 3d to 2d which was cool but also amusing because it was honestly bringing quite the 'I will Make Your Company Logo Into 3D Fiverr' vibes

Since I missed the first piece idk if any of The Dreamer(s) got 3D models but The Pilgrim(s why are they all singular) had Kaltsit playing on that piano (there was also a replica of that piano on stage the white one complete with 'Arknights' text on it lmao) and Siege being cool running around in 3D (and ofc Eureka during her denpa number) it was very cool but man... its a pity the other characters in the group just get their live2d png during the beginning and effectively get sidelined lool compared to say Phenomenal Agents idk if i like this tradeoff but that eureka bit was so good sheesh #NOVAFIVE⭐ULTRALIVESWEEP

The other stuff was really great too looking at you Lone Trail medley…!!!!! I might be wrong but I... assume... you're encouraged to karaoke bc they always show the lyrics on screen… I couldn't even hear myself anyway but it was very fun singing songs you can't get on joysound/etc with a whole crowd going at it too (even if most of them would only sing 1-2 lines of the chorus)

Mary Clare did Radiant (they had the lyrics scrolling on the sides very cool) and iirc the Throne group's song...? Radiant was so fun live

Starset did Monster > Telescope and when the latter ended they were like Bye! and we(?) started yelling ENCORE--awkwardly because idk how they do it here (I was half expecting it to be JP style 'an-call-roo' but a bunch of us just yelled en-core en-core here and there until they returned to perform Infected) speaking of yelling.. between every piece when they had to switch sets people would just yell memes or skill names (like Dage's) to pass the time or sth i barely caught half of whatever they were memeing about

did i forget to mention anything else uhhh originium rock turntable for Guide Ahead's boss theme/Dossoles Lobby and they had IS4 medley live throat singing very cool also the dancers they got for silbenherze's boss theme good stuff...

iirc after starset was like a behind the scenes video of how HG prepared for AS and a recorded lowlight video saying some stuff that i forgot LOL just some thank you message basically. 9.5/10 bc no missy/shu EP live

i just realised i forgot to display all the merch from the A tier ticket but w/e. light stick photo ft. merch swaps/gifts from friends and strangers 🥹 (the iffy lenticular card was literally dropped into my bag by an iffy coser (wearing the LT outfit..?!) while waiting for the cab LMAO)

#arknights #bentotexto #will blog about the festival in another post because i dont think theyll let me post that many photos #yeah i got the logos/theresa pillow but im giving it to a friend

[slytherhys]

June in January (Because I'm in Love)

Prompt: Powers & Possibilities (but make it Witchy!) @elriel-month

A/N: So I've had this AU in my mind for a really long time and I thought it'd be perfect for this prompt. It is kinda different from how I usually write so please bear with me. I hope I managed to make it at the very least a cute read! Enjoy 🌼

TW: Swearing, Blood and Violence (mentioned because Az is an idiot!)

You can also read this story on AO3!

The first time Azriel visits the witch’s cottage on the outskirts of Velaris, it’s against his will.

For starters, he has never been a fan of witches – not of their unrestrained power and certainly not of their blood-drinking habits. He is also a firm believer that, despite Mor’s insistence, Madja would’ve been perfectly able to fix him up with whatever medicine she usually gave Cassian whenever he got punched in the face.

But after a sparring session gone wrong, a vicious hit to the face that takes both him and Cassian by surprise, and a pounding headache only made worse by Cassian’s incessant bragging about knocking out the Shadowsinger for the first time in centuries, Azriel barely bats an eye when Mor presses a piece of parchment to his hand and nearly forces him to visit her dear friend.

“You can thank me later.” She says with an impish smile. “Preferably with chocolates.”

Azriel doesn’t bother asking any questions – namely, who her friend is. Or rather what . With a nasty black eye, a bruised ego and absolutely no desire to take part in any small talk with a stranger, he simply goes, dazed, and confused as to how the fuck he let himself be punched in the face by Cassian, of all people.

But when he first gets there, he has to wonder if Mor is pranking him. 

The cottage is covered in ivy, idyllic enough that one could think it actually belongs to the landscape where it stands. The garden surrounding him is an array of colours and scents, neatly organised by a logic Azriel does not pretend to understand. It looks innocent enough, all things considered.

But something in him goes still as he takes in the landscape in front of him. His eyes narrow as he watches the flowers sway softly in the cool January breeze. They’re beautiful and fragrant and would raise absolutely no suspicion on any other given day – if not for the fact they were in full bloom despite it being the middle of winter.

And then he sees it – a plain, wooden sign, the lettering a loopy cursive that speaks of lovely, gentle things. If it wasn’t for what they spell out, of course.

Elain’s Herbs & Potions

His entire body goes cold, and it speaks of his self-control that Azriel doesn’t shoot to the skies without a glance back. Because he knows –vividly remembers – all the tales of witches he grew up hearing about. Of their all-seeing eyes and their crooked smiles that promised nothing but pain and horror. The tales of their rituals and tricks not even the most cunning soldier could escape. Even Rhys, for all his powers and smarts, has never showed much interest in coming across a witch.

He's wondering why, exactly, Mor ever thought it’d be a good idea to send him here when he sees her.

The first thing he notices, oddly enough, is how small she is. After living next to Amren for most of his life, Azriel is not foolish enough to ever think that a sign of weakness, but it intrigues him all the same. Then, he’s utterly aware of how she doesn’t look anything like what he thought she’d look like. There’s no yellowed teeth, no wispy, greying hair, no soulless eyes.

Instead, all he sees is long, golden-brown hair and chocolate eyes. A yellow dress that compliments her tanned skin and red cheeks and speaks of warmer, sunnier days. She’s carrying a wicker basket overflowing with flowers, but the scent that trails after her is all her – sweet and sour, and Az feels his legs nearly giving out from under him, it’s probably completely unrelatable.

Elain , he assumes, and never a name has ever sounded so sweet.

When she looks up and spots him, she smiles, as if she was waiting for him and is pleased to see he's finally here. His heart tumbles inside his chest and he tells himself it’s because he’s in the presence of a witch – not because he’s suddenly wanting things he’s never wanted before.

She eyes him curiously and he has

to stop himself from asking her what’s on her mind, even if it suddenly feels

like the most important thing he’s ever needed to know.

“Can I help you?” She asks sweetly. Her voice echoes through him, and something inside him settles. He, however, can’t bring himself to speak, swallowing dryly as he stares and stares and stares . The woman - Elain ,

he thinks with delight - tilts her head, furrowing her brow as her chocolate

eyes trace his face. “That doesn’t look good.” She mutters and Azriel has to

remind himself of the reason he’s here in the first place.

“A fight.” He says oh-so-eloquently , and he’s surprised she doesn’t seem alarmed in

the slightest by his response. As if, perhaps, this is a normal occurrence for

her. He doesn’t know why that bothers him, but it does. 

Elain, oblivious to his nonsensical thoughts, simply nods and turns on her feet, disappearing inside her cottage without another word. Azriel remains where he is, unsure of what to do. All of a sudden, he can’t recall why he ever feared witches in the first place, why he ever believed the tales his brothers told him in the middle of the night when they were too young to know any better. 

And fuck if they knew any better. 

It takes the pretty witch less than five minutes to return, this time carrying a small basket in her hands, each one of her steps a small symphony of bottles clicking against each other until she’s standing in front of him. He looks down at the basket with intrigue and pretends that her closeness isn’t making his skin tingle. He listens carefully as she explains – a bit shyly, Azriel notices with satisfaction – how he must apply the green ointment to his bruises, at what time he must drink the periwinkle potion and how many times a day the white paste must be applied to reduce the swelling of his cheek.

When he nods in thanks and turns to leave, it’s entirely too soon and a pang echoes through his body as he desperately tries to come up with ways of prolonging his stay but comes up empty instead. His skin feels too tight, his cheeks too hot, his hands too clammy. He vaguely wonders if he’s running a fever - if maybe he can ask her for a cure for that as well. 

She walks by his side until they’re standing on the limits of her property, like maybe she doesn't want him to leave just yet either. He feels oddly mislaid; uncertain of what to do and who to be. All his convictions turn into ash and suddenly there’s only one thing he knows for sure: he’s going to have to get punched again, because there’s not a chance in this world he isn’t seeing Elain again.

“Who won?” Azriel turns to her as she asks, confusion clear on his face. Elain, not one to be put off by his silence, clarifies, “The fight.”

Azriel chuckles softly. “Not me.”

She frowns like she's not entirely happy with his response. “Well, make sure you win next time. Okay?” 

But the second time Azriel visits the witch’s cottage, just on the outskirts of Velaris, Elain greets him with a brilliant smile, not disappointed in the slightest to see him sporting a new bruise and a busted lip.

It shouldn’t surprise him how beautiful she looks, but he still is taken aback when he first sees her. Her hair is tumbling down her back in a messy braid, a too-big straw hat on her head and a small streak of dirt on her cheek that she probably isn’t aware of. Her cheeks are flushed from the sun, her blue dress reminds him of ripe blueberries, and the way it sways with her every step reminds him of flying in the summer breeze.

This time around, there’s no doubt in his mind he’s right where he should be. A familiar feeling of contentment rushes through his body, as if after weeks of waiting to see her, he can finally let himself relax and enjoy this small moment of reprieve (and really, who can blame him for wanting to get punched again?).

When Elain asks him what happened this time around, Azriel doesn’t dare tell her he made sure to pick Rhys during this week’s sparring session; that he made sure the most powerful High Lord in history punched him just in the right place so that he could bust his lip open. He doesn’t tell her about the confused look on his friend’s face as Azriel smiled maniacally when he felt the blood on his lips, nor does he tell her he tried to go for a broken nose instead so that maybe she would touch him too.

He simply smiles sheepishly at the pretty witch and utters something about distractions, making her blush under his stare as she turns around and scolds him for being so careless, all the while making a package of too many potions he doesn’t entirely need. (He still hasn’t used up all the old ones, but he doesn't tell her that either).

When Elain finally turns to him, her eyes drop to his lips and Azriel feels fire licking up at his spine. She watches him with curiosity and something else lingering in those cinnamon eyes. Amusement, perhaps?

For a brief, panicky moment, he wonders if she can see right through him. As it is, Azriel doesn’t exactly know where her power lies, and for all he knows every lie, every excuse is pointless in the presence of this witch.

Elain, however, doesn’t seem too concerned by his lies. “What is your favourite fruit?” She asks instead, eyes flickering to his as if nervous to see his reaction. 

Azriel tucks away his puzzlement and says, “Blueberries,” pretending the whole time it’s not only because of the colour of her dress. She nods once, as if the answer satisfies her, and hands him the basket.

“Be careful, okay?” She tells him in that honeyed voice and Azriel can think of nothing else to say, so he nods and leaves without a glance back.

He pretends he doesn’t miss her the entire flight back home.

The third time Azriel visits Elain’s cottage, he is greeted by a brilliant smile that sends his heart racing inside his chest. Elain, still bent over a shrub, tells him about the new batch of healing potions she’s been perfecting so he can try them, and he tries not to show just how pleased he is that she has been thinking about him, waiting for him to return. She doesn’t ask him about his bandaged shoulder and Azriel doesn’t tell her about the lecture he got from Rhys once the High Lord of the Night Court realised what was going on.

“These ones taste like blueberries.” She says, handing him three new potions he’s never seen before. He frowns slightly. “They’re your favourite.” She explains, and the expectant smile on her face makes it impossible for him to come clean. He isn’t even sure he likes blueberries, but he thanks her anyway and smiles the whole way home.

The fourth time Azriel visits Elain’s cottage, he has just returned from a mission abroad. When she hears the rustle of his wings, she turns to him with that brilliant smile of hers. To her credit, she doesn’t stop smiling when he sees the heavy expression on his face. She simply stands up, holds his hand, and leads him to a wooden bench under a willow tree behind her house.

They sit there for hours, without a word ever being spoken. He doesn’t know how Elain knows he doesn’t wish to speak, but he’s thankful all the same.

When he returns home, he doesn’t take any potions with him, but nevertheless something inside him feels mended; lighter than it has ever felt before. For a quiet, lovely moment he wonders if maybe he’s worthy of having his hands held despite the scars marring his skin and the idea of such a life follows him all the way home.

The fifth time Azriel returns to Elain’s cottage, nothing seems to be amiss - both Cassian and Rhysand refuse to fight him (since Rhysand promptly forbade them), and Azriel can’t seem to find any more excuses to see her again. Until he realises he doesn’t need them anymore.

As he flies to her house, a million scenarios rush through his mind as he wonders how she’ll react. If she’ll welcome him with her beaming smile, watching him as if she’d been waiting for him all along or if instead, she’ll find it so weird to find him uninjured she’ll send him on his way the second she understands why, exactly, he’s there. Azriel isn’t foolish enough to believe he’d be so lucky, but he wants to brave enough to find out.

He finds sitting in the middle of the daisies, looking for all the world like she has been painted into the landscape to make it all the more appealing. When she sees him, a smile lights up her face, eyes taking him in as he walks her way and Azriel isn’t entirely sure why, but every single doubt tainting his mind melts away into a puddle at the expression on her face.

Elain doesn’t say a word. She simply waits, rising to her feet and watching him with an expectant look in her eyes.   

“I don’t need anything today.” He says by way of greeting, and she gives him a tentative smile. 

“But you’re here.” She says gingerly, not a trace of confusion on her face.

Which makes him confused in return. “I am.” He says, and Elain chuckles, the sound low and so sweet, so perfect his heart nearly leaps from his chest to try and catch the sound. He can’t stop watching her as certainty settles deep into his bones.

Elain blows a breath like she’s finally had enough of his silence. Her cheeks pinken under his stare but she isn’t deterred. “Are you finally going to ask me out, Azriel?” She asks a bit exasperatedly. “Or is the Shadowsinger going to keep getting his ass handed to him until he finds the courage?”

He’s speechless for one second. Two. Three. He vaguely thinks of Mor and how she described Elain as her dear friend . And then he’s wondering if he’s truly that transparent and if she’s known what he had been doing all along – gathering the courage to kiss her, have her in any way he can get.

And then he’s not wondering anymore - he’s pulling her into his arms instead, kissing her until they both can’t breathe, until the sun falls behind the trees, until the cool breeze of January makes Elain shiver in his arms, reminding them of where they are. That, despite the blooming garden and the warmth of their kiss, it’s still January and there’s an entire world out there waiting for them to start the rest of their lives.

But none of it seems to matter as Elain pulls away from him, never letting go of his hand as she asks, “Do you want to come inside?”

And later that night, when the colours of dawn chase away the darkness of the night, with Elain sleeping soundly against his chest, Azriel smiles, shaking his head in disbelief.

Because he now owes Mor a very big fucking box of chocolates.

#elriel month 2024 #elrielmonth2024 #elriel #elain archeron #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #pro elain archeron #pro azriel #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #my writing #elriel fic #elriel fanfiction #acotar #pro elriel #rhysand #cassian #morrigan #idiots in love #witchy!elain #idiot!azriel

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

post azkaban sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (see full series list here)

1994

The waiting is killing you. Killing you. The glassy surface of the Black Lake is still and unmoving, showing no signs of life beneath its waters.

At least with the dragon task you were able to watch Harry as he dipped and dived, roaring and cheering for him...but here, you just have to wait. Agonisingly wait for that messy mop of black hair to emerge.

"Come on, come on..." you mutter anxiously, drumming your fingers on the bench beneath you. "Where is he..."

"I'm sure he'll be up soon," Remus assures from beside you, his eyes fixed on the lake too. "He's clever. So clever to use that gillyweed! Ingenious, really."

You're so glad Remus was able to come out for this task. Otherwise, you think you might have jumped into the lake after Harry already.

"That's what you think," you say. "I just hope he isn't half as daft as his father."

"He isn't," Remus replies firmly. "But he's just as brave."

Well, he's definitely brave anyway. Resourceful, quick-thinking, yes. Clever — perhaps not so much. You recall the time he handed up astronomy homework that said the sun revolves around Earth in a counter-clockwise movement — a conclusion that you have absolutely no idea how he came to.

Fleur was the first to come back, she returned ages ago, though without her hostage. She had emerged with several cuts across her face, her robes tattered and torn after she had been attacked by Grindylows. Madam Pomfrey has been busy dabbing at her with different ointments and ingredients for the past while.

A great splash and a large gulp of air reaches your ears and your eyes search for the source of the sound — Cedric Diggory's head is now bobbing just above the surface of the lake, with a drenched Cho Chang in his arms as they make their way towards the land. You clap loudly for him, proud to see one of your students be the first back with their hostage, but still worried for Harry. Your gaze quickly returns to the lake and once again, you wait.

While Cedric and Cho are given towels and are getting dried off, a solid five minutes passes and Viktor Krum is next to break the surface of the lake, though his head has been oddly morphed into some kind of half-shark. Hermione is bobbing beside him, looking very pale as her teeth chatter. He pulls her to the land and you get out of your seat, hurrying over to her with Remus in tow.

"Alright, Hermione?" You ask, grabbing one of the thick blankets and draping it over her shoulders.

"Y-yep!" She smiles at you, teeth clashing together with the cold, her hair dripping freezing droplets of water onto her shoulders. "Hello, M-mr Lupin!"

Remus gives her a smile. "Hello, Hermione. Lovely to see you again."

Just Harry left.

Everyone waits, anticipating the arrival of the last champion any moment now.

"What is he doing down there?" You muse, worry lining your voice.

"Perhaps he's fallen asleep," Remus jokes and you elbow him, giving him a very unamused look.

"I don't find you funny, Remus! I actually find you incredibly unfunny!" You snap. "You shouldn't joke about that."

"He will be fine," Remus continues. "Seriously. Dumbledore wouldn't let anything bad happen to him, you know that."

"He's let plenty of bad things happen to him before," you scoff, clicking your tongue.

Then, to your immense relief, Harry's head finally splashes to the surface, holding onto Ron and...also onto Fleur Delacour's hostage, her younger sister.

Cheers and screams arise from the crowd, and Harry and Ron start to pull Fleur's sister through the water and up onto the bank, where the judges are standing.

"Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she 'urt?" Fleur shouts hysterically as she fights to free herself from Madame Maxime's strong grip.

You have to laugh when you see Ron's older brother, Percy, grabbing hold of his brother and dragging him to the bank fussily.

Madam Pomfrey immediately seizes Harry, throwing another thick blanket over him and pouring a searing-hot potion down his throat. Steam gushes out of his ears.

"Oh, thank goodness, Harry!" You exclaim, giving him a quick hug. "I thought you were never going to show up!"

"She thought of every single thing that could've gone wrong and seemed to believe that they had all happened to you," Remus tells him, grinning mischievously. Harry smiles back. "Good job, by the way. Very clever to use the gillyweed."

Hermione is of the same mind. "Well done, Harry! You did it, you found out how all by yourself!"

"Well — " he pauses momentarily. " — Yeah, that's right."

Dumbledore, who had been hunched over at the side of the lake, deep in conversation with what looks to be the chief merperson, now straightens up and addresses the judges. "A conference before we give the marks, I think."

The judges all go into a huddle, whispering together. Madam Pomfrey fetches Ron and plops him down beside Harry, throwing a blanket around him.

Fleur Delacour makes her way over, escaping Madam Pomfrey's clutches. "You saved 'er," she says breathlessly to Harry. "Even though she was not your 'ostage."

"Yeah."

Fleur swoops down and kisses Harry twice on both cheeks, causing Harry's pale skin to now turn a furious shade of crimson. You have to bring your hand to your mouth to stop your laugh, sharing a glance with Remus.

"And you too, you 'elped — " she says to Ron.

Ron looks extremely hopeful, enthusiastically saying, "Yeah, yeah, a bit — "

Fleur kisses him too and you don't miss the way Hermione looks positively furious, turning away and clicking her tongue disapprovingly. Ron looks delighted, watching as Fleur departs to go find her sister once again.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows..."

Everyone in the stands go quiet, listening intently to what Ludo Bagman is saying.

"Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points."

Applause.

"Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside of the time limit of an hour. We therefore award him forty-seven points."

"Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points."

Karkaroff claps extremely hard, looking especially superior. You feel the urge to push him into the lake.

"Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect," Bagman continues. "He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own. Most of the judges — " Bagman shoots a particularly nasty look at Karkaroff, " — feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However...Mr Potter's score is forty-five points."

Your heart leaps and you turn to beam at Harry, clapping enthusiastically. "Oh, brilliant, Harry! Well done!"

Harry has a large grin on his face, smiling at Ron and Hermione as they voice their praises.

"The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June," says Bagman. "The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions."

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

The weather is surprisingly nice and sunny for once, though you suspect it won't last very long. Yesterday there was such torrential rain you thought the castle might blow apart, and now it is blissfully calm and still and bright. You take advantage of this luck to sit out in the grounds under a large tree, reading a book and writing a letter to your parents.

You used to come out to this tree all the time as kids. A very specific one — not far from the banks of the Black Lake. You, Alice, and Lily would sit on the grass under it chatting and doing homework (or pretending to do it) whenever the weather allowed. Sirius and the rest of the boys would often interrupt these sessions to pull pranks, flirt and just generally annoy you.

You say annoy, but they didn't really. Your heart used to leap when you'd see Sirius strolling down towards you with his very Sirius swagger, knowing that he was heading straight for you and no one else.

"Professor!"

You look up, turning your head to see your three favourite students heading towards you, Harry leading the trio with a scrap of parchment in his hands.

"Hello, you three," you say with a smile, shutting your book closed to give them your full attention. "Something up?"

Harry hands you the parchment, and you instantly notice that the contents are very short, and that you recognise the messy handwriting.

Be at stile at end of road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o'clock on Saturday afternoon. Bring as much food as you can.

"That...are you telling me Sirius is in Hogsmeade?"

"Sure looks it, doesn't it?" Hermione says.

"That twat," you say tensely, handing the parchment back to Harry. Hermione raises her eyebrows. "I mean, really, it's as if he's asking to be caught!"

"That's what I said!" Harry agrees heatedly.

"Look, he's made it this far, hasn't he?" says Ron. "And it's not like the place is swarming with Dementors anymore."

You bite your lip, thinking. "I suppose you have a good point, Ron. I'll save my berating for Saturday."

You heart is thrumming in your chest, excitement coursing through your body. You'll get to see him. Really see him. Though you want to give out for his recklessness, you secretly want to praise him for it. All this risk, just to see you and Harry? How sweet.

Stupid, really. But sweet all the same!

You should probably take a quick trip home before you see him, bring him some of his own clothes from the house. You do have a few of his shirts and jumpers in your chambers, but you usually wear those to bed and you're not sure if you're too keen on giving those away.

"Well, I can handle the food, no problem," you say to them, stretching out your arms. "Bitsy will be delighted...I'll wait outside Dervish and Banges for you and we can all go together."

Harry nods. "Do you think he's actually going to be there? Or will it be some weird kind of magic again?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. "He'll be there this time. Don't know what exactly he's planning, but he'll be there."

Later that day, you stand in front of your second group of fourth-years for their astronomy class. Slytherins and Ravenclaws tonight.

"Let's see...Ms Parkinson, can you tell me the difference between an umbra and a penumbra?" You look down at Pansy Parkinson, who startles immediately and tears her eyes away from whatever she was reading under her desk.

"Uh...well..." she looks to her friend beside her for help and you sigh, shaking your head.

"Parkinson, what are you reading?" You ask.

"Nothing."

You raise your eyebrows. "Doesn't look like nothing to me. Hand it to me and start listening, please."

Pansy sighs, pulling out a magazine and reluctantly handing it to you. You glance at the cover: Witch Weekly.

You toss it on your desk and return to your lesson, not missing the way Pansy Parkinson tosses dirty looks your way for the rest of it. At the end, you expect her to come up and collect the magazine once again, but instead she just hurries out of the tower with her friends.

"Parkinson, your magazine!" You call, but she doesn't return for it. You shrug, picking it up yourself and leaning back in your chair, idly flicking through the pages. Most of it is pure sensationalism, a few recipes here and there, some ads...and then there's one article that catches your eye.

HARRY POTTER'S SECRET HEARTACHE

A boy like no other, perhaps — yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss.

Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys' affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has "never felt this way about any other girl."

However, it might not be Miss Granger's doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate boys' interest.

"She’s really ugly," says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, "but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion, she's quite brainy. I think that’s how she's doing it."

Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier candidate.

You're seething. Absolutely livid. You're going to kill Rita Skeeter. What a disgusting, low-life bitch.

I mean really, how desperate for a story does she have to be that she decides to get scoops on teenagers? You're currently envisioning picking up that vile crocodile-skin clutch of hers and smacking her across the face with it.

Poor Hermione and poor Harry! You just hope they haven't seen that article.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

The sun shines upon your exceptionally heavy bag, full of food, and on the other in your hand, full of Sirius' clothes. He's all you've been able to think about this past week. Of course, he's all you ever think about, but you've just been brimming with so much excitement at the prospect of seeing him you haven't been able to focus properly on anything.

You feel young again, like you're going on your first date with Sirius once more. How wonderful it would be to relive that perfect day. You'd gone to Hogsmeade together on a snowy day in January, you went to the Three Broomsticks, totally snogged —

But today, you're going to be accompanied by your godson and his two friends.

Perhaps not as romantic as you would hope.

"Merlin, what have you got in there?" Ron asks in amazement when they near Dervish and Banges, taking in the sight of your bulging bags.

You shrug. "Clothes and food. Nothing too fancy."

Ron raises his eyebrows at you.

You sigh, clutching the bags tighter and the four of your start walking down the street, to the edge of the village. The winding lane leads you out into the wild countryside around Hogsmeade and towards the large mountain beside it.

"Have you been out this way before, professor?" Hermione asks curiously, looking around her in wonderment.

"Oh, plenty of times," you reply. "We used to go exploring every time we came to Hogsmeade. Now, if I know Sirius, I know exactly where he'll be..."

You turn a corner and spot a stile at the end of the lane. Sure enough, waiting for you there with his paws on the topmost bar, is a very large, very shaggy black dog, who is carrying a bundle of newspapers in his mouth and looking very familiar...

"Hey, Sirius," Harry greets when you reach him.

You feel your heart leap at the very sight of him, chuckling when he sniffs your bag and wags his tail in approval. He turns and starts to trot away from you, and you quickly clamber over the stile to hurry after him.

Sirius leads you to the very foot of the mountain, where the ground is covered in boulders and rocks. It's easy for him, of course, with his four legs, but the rest of you find it considerably more difficult and as you climb higher you find yourself out of breath.

For nearly half an hour you follow him, following a steep and stony path, the sun beating down on your already sweaty skin. You can feel the straps of your bag cutting into your shoulders and your feet starting to burn.

"I'm going to strangle you when this is over," you shout, and Sirius barks once indignantly. "Harry, you should've brought your broomstick."

Harry laughs and mutters something in agreement, continuing to follow after Sirius.

At last, Sirius disappears from sight through a narrow fissure in the rock and you reluctantly squeeze through it, finding yourself in a cool, dimly lit cave. Tethered at the end of it, one end of his rope tied around a large rock, is Buckbeak. You bow to him, and after scrutinising your for a moment, his front knees bend to you. Hermione rushes forward to stroke his feathery neck, but you're too focused on the black dog, which has now transformed into your husband.

He's wearing the same raggedy grey robes he was wearing when he first escaped Azkaban. His hair is longer than it was when you and Harry had talked to him in the fireplace, and it's become matted and knotted again. He looks very thin.

"Food!" He says hoarsely after removing the old Daily Prophets from his mouth, looking to you pleadingly.

You toss the food bag at him and immediately his face lights up when he pulls open the drawstring, pulling out a a chicken drumstick and tearing into it.

"Thanks," he says. "I've been living off rats mostly."

"I can tell," you say, worry creeping into your voice.

"I can't steal too much from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself."

He grins at you and you sigh, opening up the other bag of clothes and pulling out a shirt, inspecting it. Sirius looks surprised to see it.

"These might be a bit big on you now..." you say, moving to hold it up in front of his chest, clicking your tongue thoughtfully. "But anything's better than those dirty robes you have on."

"I was trying to look edgy."

You snort, rolling your eyes and returning the shirt to the bag, holding it out for him to take.

Sirius smiles at you, his expression softening as his eyes flicker over your face as if he's committing it to memory for the umpteenth time. "I missed you," he says quietly.

"I missed you too," you reply, leaning up to give him a light kiss on the lips, conscious of the fact that Ron, Harry, and Hermione are still here with you, before pulling away. He sits down on the cave floor, patting the spot beside him.

You smile, sitting down and motioning for the kids to join you.

"What're you doing here, Sirius?" Harry asks.

"Fulfilling my duty as godfather," Sirius says simply, pulling another drumstick from the bag and starting to eat it. "Don't worry about it, I'm pretending to be a lovable stray."

He grins again, but upon seeing the anxious look on Harry's face, he says more seriously, "I want to be on the spot. Your last letter...well, let's just say things are getting fishier. I've been stealing the paper every time someone throws them out, and by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who's been getting worried..."

He nods at the yellowing Daily Prophets he'd thrown on the ground, and Ron bends down to pick one up and unfold it.

"What if they catch you? What if you're seen?" Harry asks, and you share in the worried look on his face.

"You four and Dumbledore are the only ones around here that know I'm an Animagus," he says, shrugging.

"You shouldn't have come, Sirius," you say quietly. "It's far too dangerous."

"I'm careful, love. I know how to take care of myself," he reassures you, though you're not fully convinced.

Harry and Ron are busy reading over the newspapers' headlines.

"I have so much to tell you," you say, a small smile spreading over your face, before your shrug. "Good and bad things."

"I can't wait to hear about them," Sirius replies genuinely. "Everything. I'll listen for days."

You open your mouth to start relaying everything to him, but Harry speaks before you and you quickly shut it, remembering the more important things right now.

"They're making it sound like Crouch's dying," says Harry slowly. "But he can't be that ill if he managed to get up here..."

"Wouldn't be a big loss," you mutter bitterly.

"You don't like him?" Ron says curiously.

"Not one bit," you say, grinding your teeth angrily. "You know he's the one who sent Sirius to Azkaban?"

Ron's surprised expression, along with Hermione and Harry's, tells you they did not.

"What?"

"You're kidding!"

"She most certainly is not," Sirius says, his expression darkening. "He used to be Head of Magical Law Enforcement, don't you know?"

"And he used to be my boss," you add, wincing.

"Wait, you worked in law enforcement?" Hermione asks curiously.

"Sure did. I trained to be an Auror but I never completed my training because of...well, everything."

"And you never went back?" Harry questions.

"Never. You think I could work for that horrible man ever again?" You spit, feeling your blood boil. "None of my co-workers ever looked at me the same after that night, anyway. It was awful."

"Like at the World Cup..." Harry mutters thoughtfully, remembering.

"What happened at the World Cup?" Sirius asks immediately, giving you a questioning look.

"Nothing, Sirius," you say dismissively. "Crouch was just being as difficult as he's always been."

"Did he say something to you?" You can see the worry on Sirius' face, his protectiveness showing through. You can't help the small part of you that's happy to see that he's worried about what could've happened.

You bite your lip, hesitating. "He accused me of casting the Dark Mark."

"What?" Sirius says indignantly. "Why would he ever think that?"

"Sirius." You give him an obvious look, holding up your left hand and wiggling your fingers, the gleaming gems on your wedding ring twinkling in the light. "Why do you think?"

He raises his eyebrows, a guilty look passing over his face. "I'm sorry."

You squint at him, perplexed. "For what, Sirius? You know well you're not the one who needs to apologise."

"Well — "

"Sirius," you say firmly, but giving him a soft look all the same. "Don't feel guilty for any of that, please. None of this is your fault. Besides, you know I'm well fit to take care of myself." You grin at him at the last bit, and he smiles back, a slight chuckle escaping his lips.

"My brother's Crouch's personal assistant," Ron tells Sirius. "He says Crouch is suffering from overwork."

"Mind you, he did look ill, last time I seen him up close," says Harry, eyes still focused on the paper. "The night my name came out of the goblet..."

"Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?" says Hermione bitterly, an edge to her voice. "I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now — bet he feels the difference now she's not there to look after him."

"Hermione's obsessed with house-elves," Ron mutters to you two in exasperation. Sirius, however, looks quite interested.

"Crouch sacked his house-elf?"

"Yeah, at the Quidditch World Cup," Harry replies, and he launches into the tale of the Dark Mark's appearance, and Winky being found with Harry's wand in her hand. When he finishes, Sirius gets up and begins to pace up and down the cave, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"Let me get this straight," Sirius says after a while. "You first saw the elf in the Top Box. She was saving Crouch a seat, right?"

"Right," Harry, Ron, and Hermione say together.

"But Crouch didn't turn up for the match?"

"No," Harry answers. "I think he'd said he was too busy."

Sirius continues to pace around the cave in silence, and you have to smile at the concentrated look on his face, a look you've seen a million times before but not for a long time.

"Harry, did you check your pockets for your wand after you'd left the Top Box?"

"Erm..." He pauses, thinking. "No. I didn't need to use it before we got into the forest. And then I put my hand in my pocket, and all that was in there were my Omnioculars." He stares at Sirius for a moment. "Are you saying whoever conjured the Mark stole my wand in the Top Box?"

"It's possible," says Sirius.

"Winky didn't steal that wand!" Hermione insists.

"The elf wasn't the only one in that box," says Sirius, his brow furrowed as he continues to pace. "Who else was sitting behind you?"

"Loads of people," says Harry. "Some Bulgarian ministers...Cornelius Fudge...the Malfoys..."

"The Malfoys!" Says Ron suddenly, so loudly that his voice echoes all around the cave. "I bet it was Lucius Malfoy!"

"Anyone else?" Sirius asks.

"No one," says Harry.

"Yes, there was, there was Ludo Bagman," Hermione reminds him.

"Oh, yeah..."

"I don't know anything about Bagman except that he used to be Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps," remarks Sirius, still pacing. "What's he like?"

"He's okay," says Harry. "He keeps offering to help me with the Triwizard Tournament."

"Does he, now?" Sirius frowns deeply. "I wonder why he'd do that?"

"Says he's taken a liking to me," Harry shrugs.

Sirius hums thoughtfully.

"We saw him in the forest just before the Dark Mark appeared," Hermione tells him. She nudges Harry and Ron. "Remember?"

"But he didn't stay in the forest, did he?" says Ron. "The moment we told him about the riot, he went off to the campsite."

"How do you know?" Hermione shoots back. "How do you know where he Disapparated to?"

"Come off it," says Ron incredulously. "Are you saying you reckon Ludo Bagman conjured the Dark Mark?"

"It's more likely he did it than Winky," Hermione says snippily.

"Told you," Ron says in annoyance, looking meaningfully at you and Sirius. "Told you she's obsessed with house — "

Sirius holds up a hand to silence Ron. "When the Dark Mark was conjured, and the elf had been discovered holding Harry's wand, what did Crouch do?"

"Went to look in the bushes," Harry replies, "but there wasn't anyone else there."

"Of course," Sirius mutters, pacing up and down. "Of course, he'd want to pin it on anybody but his own elf...and then he sacked her."

"Yes." Hermione's face is flushes and her she raises her voice venomously. "He sacked her, just because she hadn't stayed in her tent and let herself get trampled."

"Hermione, will you give it a rest with he elf!" Ron snaps.

Sirius shakes his head. "She's got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals."

Sirius runs a hand down his face, clearly thinking hard.

"All these absences of Barty Crouch's...he goes to the trouble of making sure his house elf saves him a seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn't bother to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to that too..."

"It's not like him," you finish, and Sirius nods.

"My thoughts exactly. If he's ever taken a day off work for illness before this, I'll eat Buckbeak." He turns to the kids and begins to explain. "He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic. He's a great wizard, Barty Crouch, — "

You scoff quietly.

" — powerfully magical, and power-hungry, too. Oh, never a Voldemort supporter," he says, reading the look on Harry's face. "No, Barty Crouch was always very out-spoken against the dark side. But then a lot of people who were against the dark side...well, you wouldn't understand...you're too young..."

"I think they know far more than they let on, Sirius," you say knowingly, winking at the trio. "Give it a go."

A grin flashes across Sirius face and he shrugs. "All right, I'll try you. Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You’re scared for yourself, and your family, and your friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing...the Ministry of Magic's in disarray, they don’t know what to do, they’re trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere....confusion, panic...that’s how it used to be."

He describes it perfectly. You remember the fear and the horror, the constant fear that you'd go to sleep one night and it might be your last. The worry that you'd kiss Sirius goodbye in the morning to go to work and that you would never return that evening.

Sirius gives you a meaningful look, as if reading your mind, before continuing. "Well, times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others. Crouch's principles might have been good in the beginning — I wouldn't know."

He gives you a look and you shrug.

"He was all about morals and honour, all about his principles...but he changed," you say. "Towards the peak of the war, he became less about morals and more about fighting violence with violence, I guess. When he got more power in the Ministry, he started to give us harsher orders. Authorised us to use Unforgivable Curses against suspects — encouraged us, even. Gave us the power to kill rather than capture. Some of the things he did...at times, he was no better than a Death Eater himself."

"He had his supporters, mind you — " Sirius adds, " — plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamouring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened..."

He smiles grimly.

"Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power."

You remember reading that in the paper. Headlines upon headlines about Barty Crouch Jr and the jeopardy caused to his father's position.

"Crouch's son was caught?" Hermione gasps.

"Yep," affirms Sirius, returning to his seated spot on the ground beside you. "Nasty little shock for old Barty, I'd imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn't he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while...gotten to know his son."

He begins to wolf down a large piece of bread casually.

"Was his son a Death Eater?" Harry asks.

"No idea," Sirius answers with a shrug. "I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I've found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I'd bet my life were Death Eaters — but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house elf."

Something in your gut tells you it wasn't 'in the wrong place at the wrong time'. Barty Crouch Jr was a few years below you at Hogwarts, and he had always creeped you out. Strange guy, something about him always rubbed you the wrong way.

"Did Crouch try and get his son off?" Hermione queries.

Sirius gives a laugh that sounds more like a bark. "Crouch let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him, Hermione! Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. You saw him dismiss a devoted house elf because she associated him with the Dark Mark again — doesn't that tell you what he's like? Crouch's fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn't much more of than an excuse to show how much he hated the boy...then he sent him straight to Azkaban."

"He gave his own son to the Dementors?" Harry asks.

"That's right," Sirius says, a grim look settling on his face. "I saw the Dementors bring him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can't have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though...they all went quiet in the end...except when they shrieked in their sleep — "

"Sirius, please," you say shakily, shuddering. The thought of Sirius in that abhorrent place — it makes you feel sick. Makes you feel absolutely sick to your stomach, and the deadened look in your husband's eyes makes you feel even worse. "Please, t-that's enough."

He blinks, as if remembering where he is, and his eyes ghost over your face for a second. You see him become more grounded, his eyes brightening slightly again. He eyes find yours and he holds your gaze, a silent apology passing through it.

"So...he's still in Azkaban?" Harry says.

"No. No, he's not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in."

"He died?" Harry repeats in disbelief.

"He wasn't the only one," Sirius says bitterly. "Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the Dementors could sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch, being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The Dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it."

Sirius picks up the flask of water you had brought for him and drains it instantly.

"So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made," he continues. "One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic...next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonored, and — so I've heard since I escaped — a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So, Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

There's a long silence. You gnaw on the edges of your thumb nervously, feeling your stomach twist and churn. Voldemort ruined so many lives, caused so much pain and hurt in the world. And Azkaban — the very name makes you heart tick fearfully faster. Something in Sirius' eyes tells you any amount of time spent in that place is something you never forget.

"Moody says he's obsessed with catching dark wizards," Harry tells you.

"Yeah, I've heard it's become a bit of a mania with him," Sirius remarks, nodding. "If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back his old popularity by catching one more Death Eater."

"And he sneaked up to search Snape's office!" Ron says triumphantly, looking at Hermione for praise.

"Yes, and that doesn't make any sense at all," says Sirius, deadpanning.

"Yeah, it does," Ron pushes excitedly.

Sirius shakes his head. "Listen, if Crouch wants to investigate Snape, why hasn't he been coming to judge the tournament? It would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to Hogwarts and keep an eye on him."

"Good thinking, Ron, but I don't think it's Crouch who's been sneaking into Snape's office," you say.

"Well, who do you think?" Harry asks.

"Professor Moody," you reply. "I don't think he trusts Snape."

"So, you think Snape's up to something then?"

"Well — "

"Look, I don't care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape — " Hermione buts in.

"Oh, give it a rest, Hermione," Ron snips impatiently. "I know Dumbledore's brilliant and everything, but that doesn't mean a really clever dark wizard couldn't fool him — "

"Why did Snape save Harry's life in first year, then? Why didn't he just let him die?"

"Look, I think you've both got a point," Sirius says in an act of mediation. "Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was," he adds, and Harry and Ron grin at each other.

You nod, grimacing. "He knew more curses and dark spells when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters. Real creepy bloke, if you ask me."

Sirius holds up his fingers and starts to list off names. "Rosier and Wilkes — they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges — they're a married couple — they're in Azkaban."

You wince. "The sickest of the sick, those Lestranges."

Sirius nods. "Indeed. Avery — he wormed his way out of prison, from what I've heard — "

"Said he was acting under the Imperius Curse," you tell him. "Been free ever since."

"Of course," Sirius says bitterly, sighing. "As far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater — not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble."

"Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep that quiet," says Ron.

"Yeah, you should've seen Snape's face when Karkaroff turned up in Potions yesterday!" Harry agrees quickly. "Karkaroff wanted to talk to Snape, he says Snape's been avoiding him. Karkaroff looked really worried. He showed Snape something on his arm, but I couldn't see what it was."

At once, you and Sirius look at each other, same ideas whirling in your heads. You squint your eyes sceptically, shaking your head ever-so-slightly. Sirius runs a hand through his dirty hair, shrugging.

It's something the two of you have always been good at. Being able to communicate silently, whether right beside each other or on opposite ends of a room. You just know exactly what the other is thinking.

"If Karkaroff's genuinely worried, and he's going to Snape for help..." Sirius stares at the cave wall, and then voices a sigh of frustration. "There's still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn't, but I just can't see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he'd ever worked for Voldemort."

"Why are Crouch and Moody so keen on getting into Snape's office then?" Ron says stubbornly.

"Moody is keen on getting into everybody's office," you say simply. "I'm not sure he trusts anyone at all. No matter how much time you've spent with him." Your mind flashes back to the hurt you felt that night he dismissed you, and you inhale deeply. "And as for Crouch...I have no idea. It just doesn't make any sense, does it? The illness, not showing up to the World Cup, not judging the tournament..."

A silence falls as you mull over these questions, fiddling with your ring absent-mindedly while you think.

"You say your brother's Crouch's personal assistant? Any chance you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?" Sirius asks.

"I can try," Ron says doubtfully. "Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy, though. Percy loves him."

"And try and find out whether they've got any leads on Bertha Jorkins while you're at it," Sirius says, glancing down at a copy of The Daily Prophet. He looks at you. "Love, what about your cousin, the one that works at the Ministry? Could you ask her?"

"Who, Mandy?" You say, scoffing. "Mandy doesn't talk to me anymore, Sirius. She doesn't want to be associated with me whatsoever because she thinks I'd damage her reputation."

Sirius raises his eyebrows, but says nothing. He heaves an enormous sigh, clearly exhausted, and rubs his shadowed eyes.

"What's the time?"

You glance down at your watch. "Half three."

"You guys better get back to school," he says to the kids, getting to his feet. He offers you his hand and you gratefully accept it, allowing him to pull you up off the ground.

"Now, listen..." He looks particularly hard at Harry. "I don't want you lot sneaking out of school just to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd, but you're not to be leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you."

"No one's tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a few grindylows," Harry jokes, but Sirius is having none of it and scowls at him.

"I don't care...I'll breathe freely when this tournament is over, and that's not until June. And don't forget, if you're talking about me amongst yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?"

The three nod, say their goodbyes and squeeze through the gap in the rock, leaving you and Sirius in the cave alone.

"Same goes for you, too, you know," he says, turning to you.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

→ all kinds of interaction are appreciated ♡

hugs and kisses to my incredible taglist loves:

think this might be the longest chapter yet omg 😅 anyways long awaited sirius appearance! there'll be more to come i promise 🩷 ty loves!

@wholelottalove05 @izuoyarmin @hyperspeedo @carpe000diem @jennifer0305 @idkman5335 @elanna-elrondiel

#Sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #the marauders #angst #angst with a happy ending #fanfiction #hp #fanfic #sirius black #wizarding world #marauders

[anthroposeen]

tmagp 15 relisten notes!

episode 15 spoilers below the cut!! be warned!

celia:

- potentially the worlds most balanced and well maintained person, considering the way she handled herself around her coworkers and in uncomfortable situations. its unnerving to me to have a character be so seemingly well balanced

- she's hired a sitter to watch jack, meaning georgie is not watching him as previously thrown around by the fans

- she's very calm when facing down lady mowbray and her hunting dogs, and is called "different" and strange by her -> further confirmation that celia is not from this universe

sam:

- picked out tickets for 'the pillowman' for his 2nd date with celia. unlike sam, i did look into this play, which was written by a man named martin (may we never escape the same-name curse) and is has a theme surrounding the question, "what price do we pay for freedom of expression" (taken from the play's website). i think this is definite foreshadowing into the themes of the podcast or sam/celia's arcs specifically (what price do you pay for knowledge? for autonomy? for recognition?)

- sam seems a bit cold with alice throughout their interaction, not really engaging with her or trying to have any banter with her like normal. i think this is reasonable, considering he told her he wants to not discuss his relationship with her and shes interrupting him and celia, but i wanted to point it out since we last saw him in a bad mood with gwen. the guy seems a bit down and out

alice:

- her invitation to sam and celia is interesting to pick apart, and ive split into two interpretations of the invitation. on one side of the coin, i think she genuinely wanted to hang out with them, even as the third wheel, and she wanted to show off her brother's talent. on the other hand, she could be using the show as a resource to divide sam and celia and throw a wrench in their date plans. i think the first interpretation makes sense, and its the assumption im working off of to understand her character/motivations, and i think its evidenced by her checking the times to confirm the show happens after their date.

- seems to be very thrown off by celia having a baby, which of course speaks to alice's own relationships and expectations (anytime someone my age has a baby i'm thrown off), but also gives an idea of how celia presents herself at work. she must not speak of her personal life at all for no one but sam to know about jack.

- she meets a drowning victim in an alley after the show, and tried to help her. the fact that she seems unsure of whats going on means she doesn't actually know about the ins and outs of the fears/powers. so she may know the OIAR's deal but she doesnt seem to clock this as a supernatural event. this places a limitation on what alice knows

gwen:

- we can assume that lady mowbray is the external that lena wanted her to contact, and though she seems in control of the situation, she's uneasy when mowbray mentions she's ate recently. meaning she can be professional, but still isn't ok with the situation at hand

incident:

- the caller is ex-military and described lady mowbray as "not seeing people anymore, just assets" with "gun metal gray hair"

- he describes the feeling of staring down the barrel of a gun, and knows the sound of a head shot without looking

- mowbray has control of her hunting party and seems to have some influence over the man narrating, but i think thats a sign of him already being marked by the power she serves

- despite the man successfully hunting his coworkers and winning that race, he was still prey for her, with none of the rest of her party partaking in the chase (this is interesting since the hunt was a group activity in the TMA universe, with hunters preferring to work with a partner)

- the music indicating that mowbray is near is so well done and actually gave me goosebumps, i really enjoyed that it sped up the closer she got to her target, similar to the jaws theme almost. it added amazing tension!!

new characters/new introductions:

- lady mowbray, an avatar of sorts that seems to serve this universe's hunt/slaughter adjacent power. she's also an OIAR external and may know the bouchards

- alice's brother!! i was realy surprised we got to meet him (horrible awful news for him, im so sorry you're doomed mate you seem really chill)

- the drowning victim. i think that this woman is from the TMA universe, (a tape recorder clicks on to record this segment! which has only happens at the magnus institute in this universe!) and she may be from a vast/sea domain in the fear apocalypse. she's definitely experiencing a psychotic break, and i think she likely teleported/transported across dimensions like celia did. but theres also a possibility that she came from the institute, since we heard movement from the location (though im certain she isnt the error)

glitches/lies:

none

extra comments:

- you can faintly hear the hunting theme music play when mowbray is talking to celia and commenting on her being peculiar

- i think the incident is clearly hunt-related, but the caller being ex-military and using so many military phrases/metaphors throughout the incident does make me think it could be a connection between the hunt and slaughter, but im very cautious to try and reason how the powers work just yet

- i think the tape recorders will be an indicator of when we're dealing with someone/something from the TMA universe, and it may draw correlation to that world building in those specific scenes, but this is a hunch

- this is my favorite incident so far, as ive always been a very big fan of the hunt in TMA, and this is the closest tmagp has gotten to the power! i love mowbray's character so far, i can really get behind the cruella de-ville meets queen of hearts vibe she has going on and i really enjoy the melodrama she commands

#tmagp #tmagp 15 #the magnus protocol #alice dyer #tmagp spoilers #tmagp theory #gwen bouchard #sam khalid #celia ripley

[fakeboyslutsupreme2]

Drug my drink.

Meet up with me at a bar during their karaoke night. Encourage me that I can take an Uber back home, so I should let loose and have a few drinks. Be charming, thoughtful, and sweet to me so I lower my guard. While I tipsily sing my third song of the night, buy me another drink and roofie it. Tell me the drink was a gift from someone else, and watch me chug it down. After some time, watch me start showing signs of the drug taking effect; I can barely talk, I’m stumbling around, and I cling to you to stand up straight. I don’t even seem to notice when you squeeze my ass when nobody’s watching.

Help me out of the bar and into your car. Since before we met you knew you were going to drug me, but the next part had you in two minds. Part of you wanted to take me home and fuck me over and over all night, but instead of going towards your apartment you go downtown. You park in front of a much seedier looking bar and help me out of the car, practically carrying me into the bar. You nod at the bartender, and he opens a door to the back of the bar.

It’s a makeshift glory hole area. Women lay in shoddy cubbies with their lower halves accessible to the dozen or so men lounging around. You lead me to the cubbies and lay me down, shutting and locking me in. Next to my cubby you post a notice: New Whore, $50 to Fuck.

The first guy steps up to inspect me. If feel him pull off my pants and underwear, but I’m so drugged I don’t know where I am or what is about to happen. When his fingers dip into my cunt I moan loudly at the stretch and immediately start getting slick. I start to wiggle feebly, which earns me a sharp smack on my ass. I whimper and still my movements. The man continues to finger my cunt until I’m soaking wet and dripping onto the dirty floor. His wet fingers dip lower and run around the ring of my asshole. Slowly he pushes his fingers into my ass, earning another moan. After a minute or two of fingering my asshole, he turns to my date and gives him $100.

The man turns back toward me and gets his cock out of his pants; I don’t know it, but it is bigger than any I have had before by far. He lines his cock up with my unsuspecting cunt and pushes in with one hard thrust. I gasp and try to wiggle away, which earns me another stinging slap to my ass. He fucks me like I’m just a hole, plowing into me harder and faster than I’ve ever been fucked. My body, running on instinct alone, orgasms around my rapist’s cock. You watch as he seems to get closer and closer to the edge before he stills, cock balls deep in me, spilling his seed into my unprotected cunt.

After catching his breath, cock still buried inside me, he pulls out of me and lets the combination of my wetness and his cum leak out of me and drip onto the floor. Without any hesitation, he lines his cock up to my asshole and thrusts in roughly. I yelp and helplessly thrash my legs around. The man laughs at my futile attempt at obtaining freedom, cock buried in my virgin ass. Again, he fucks me like an animal; my yelps and pleas for him to stop seem to spur him to fuck me harder, faster, till cum is pouring into my tight asshole.

He pulls his cock out of me, looking over at my date. “I don’t know where you found this one, but she’s a keeper.” You nod silently and motion to the line that has formed behind him. New fuckmeat is rare here, and everyone wants to try it out.

#degredation kink #fakeboy #r@pe kink #1cky daddy #attention wh0r3 #creamp!e #fr33use #free use slvt #abuse k1nk #praise k!nk #rapekink #r@pe fantasy #r@petoy #er0tica #cnc drugging

[theriverdalereviewer]

let’s take a moment to mourn riverdale on here

#perhaps mourn isn’t the right word more like celebrate #I owe my whole career to riverdale #my identity #the epic highs and lows of my life to that show #because of riverdale I can’t drop this url my twin sister came up with when I was 16 #I also had many hit posts thanks to riverdale this show is so serious to me #okay but actually im kinda sad riverdale is ending which is crazy??? #idk not only is it like the last big show to have 22 episodes and back to back seasons #but it was also endearingly dumb #personally the show just stopped being for me halfway through season 2 when it seriously stopped making any sense #on one hand I can enjoy the camp aspects but I also wanted the show to stay grounded and it definitely wasn’t doing that during s2-onwards #I kinda like the fact that they distinguished themselves from all of the over teen shows by embracing its stupidity and genre shifts #but that was not what I signed up for when I first watched the show #also it was just annoying how messy the characterization and storylines got #onto the IMPORTANT!!! things though #the fact that the barchies won #if you were here for early riverdale you would know that the barchies were an oppressed class #everyone hated us no one thought we had a chance the writers wouldn’t touch us with a ten foot pole #and now look at us the underdogs the dark horse #victory is ours barchies

[sskk-manifesto]

(´･ᴗ･ ` )

#I really like the “We're the bad guys' enemy” line. For someone I generally despise Dazai has all my favourite lines in this show… #Idk I can't really vibe with the unbalance that there is between s/kk. #Like when push comes to shove‚ Dazai has the power to keep Chuuya alive or let him die. #I understand why they make a compelling dynamic in their complexity‚ but it just doesn't do it for me. #I'm a little sad my opinion on them hasn't really changed since I watched the anime for the first time... #Also; I really can't vibe with Chuuya allowing Dazai to kill Q. Yes I know Chuuya cares about his comrades deeply. #Yes I know it can be interpreted as Chuuya seeing himself in Q as a living weapon and being disgusted by it #(though I honestly don't think that was intentional of the author). #Yes I know Chuuya is a mafioso and kills people. No I don't think your personal issues justify you being a dick to other people I'm sorry. #Back to my main annoyance with the episode: I must have already talked about this but I hate hate hate the narrative #“the mafia works for the city” “the mafia deeply loves the city too” it's so so sickening and insulting please stop I'm begging. #Please visit any actual city with a rooted mafia presence for once in your life (signed: someone whose hometown was destroyed by the mafia. #The writers really don't know what they're talking about and‚ politely‚ it's offensive.) #Also b/sd keeping being extremely nationalist with Mori (who's largely depicted unsimphatetically for the first part of the episode)– #bringing up western thinkers and subtly mocking Fukuzawa for not knowing them– #and Fukuzawa (the righteous man. the noble spirit and just soul in this episode and Mori's antithesis)– #stepping forward to say that he knows strategists from the east (because who else would he need?) #I don't know if it's meant to symbolize the conflict with an hostile and invading foreign power (the Guild). #But it does come across as. A very isolationist way of thinking. #I know it's subtle but it's really evident for me. And I didn't want to talk about this any further… #But by bringing actual examples of this I hope I can better explain why I think that b/sd holds nationalist views– #and that I'm not just making it up out of nowhere. Otherwise I fear I'd only come off as pettily hostile to b/sd in everything #That's it. I feel like I've been losing a lot of mutuals over my main recently due to not shutting up (sorry) #so I suppose it's only fair I lose them on here too pffttt. #Tune in next week for more bad takes #random rambles

[debruyne]

.

#can I just talk about this proper main character moment I had the other night #I went on my first client dinner and there was about five of us from my agency and five client side #and I'm 22 so visibly was the youngest there #after a few drinks someone from client-side was like 'right. hypothetically there's this club. and it's the most exclusive club in town. #and you have to do your best party trick to get in. what is it?' #everyone was quiet thinking about it #and I went 'I used to be very good at guessing star signs' #then immediately thought fuck I'm proper gonna show myself up here when I get someone's sign wrong #so the lad who'd asked the question was straight up like whats mine then #and of course everyone was silent watching on #I took a proper look at him and I was like. I can just feel it. I just know. I've dated virgos before and he's a virgo #so all I said was 'virgo' #and his face I kid you not #he looked like he was about to collapse #he was like how the fuck did you do that #I gained so much clout in that one transaction everyone was begging me to guess theirs after n I was like nope my magic is all used up now #this sounds like a did not happen post but #ladies trust your gut. I got lucky cos virgo men stick out like a sore thumb but yeah #I was the main character for five minutes

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

I kind of want to do a temperature blanket, but I don't care about the temperature, so I'm trying to think of something along the same format that's not as boring as temperature. I'm thinking maybe moon phases? I considered sunrise and sunset time, but it would require a lot of yarn and I'm not sure exactly how I would format it. Any ideas?

#i love knitting. its very calming #and i can do other things like listen to podcasts or music or watch a show while i do it #(it kills my hands because i was stupid when i first started knitting but we dont talk about that) #if you knit please don't push yourself too hard. take breaks. stretch your hands every few rows #ive made two blankets and a scarf and right now im working on a boanket for myself #the two blankets were for my best friend and my sibling. the scarf was for my girlfriend #now im working on a blanket thats just for me #because i realized i should probably stop or really limit my knitting after this #i really fucked up my hands tbh and i like using sign language and playing instruments so i dont want to make them worse #but a blanket like a temperature blanket is only one or two rows per day #its nice and limited knitting so i think i can manage that #but i dont know what to do! #i really do like the idea of moon phases because i love the moon :) #but im not sure. and id like a couple more ideas #my gf recommended tv show genres because im always watching a tv show #but rn im watching two game shows and a crime drama #maybe podcast genres? i love listening to podcasts because im alone so much at my job #and i usually dont listen to more than one at once #oh thats a cool idea #anyway lmk if you have any other ideas #love yall bye