#i know i call just about every single color combination you do my favorite

[yzashaven]

✰ ━━━ how they show affection for you <3

FEATURING scaramouche, tartaglia, xiao, albedo, thoma, kazuha, alhaitham, cyno x gn!reader

WARNINGS some are prob ooc 😭

NOTE (omfg these images are so low quality LMAO) on my past blogs, i usually only write nsfw so this is like... a change of pace? sort of... anyways hope you enjoy, likes and rbs are ofc appreciated! also, referring to wanderer as scaramouche since his name is player dependant

okay so hear me out when i say he seems like the type to take you to places with the prettiest views (shout out to his birthday voiceline) whether it be views of the sunset, a flower field, an ocean or beach view... as long as it's a pretty site to see, he'll take you there! scaramouche loves the way the places give him a peaceful feeling, and the way that it's just the two of you there? he's in paradise and heaven combined.

a bit similar to scara, tartaglia would take you to places. and by places i mean his homeland, snezhnaya, for the snow and to see his family. his little brother, teucer is certainly very fond of you, and tartaglia loves to watch you spend time with his siblings. he's such a family oriented guy... another thing he'd do is cook delicious meals for you! ranging from simple snacks to your personal favorites, and definitely some snezhnayan delicacies~

xiao is sweet to his lover, no doubt. but that doesn't mean he'll ignore his duties as an adeptus and focus on them. he expresses his love by protecting you... and maybe sharing his almond tofu. need his help? call out for him and he'll be there in an instant. also this whole love thing is very new to xiao, soo he's not used to things like hugging and kissing, yk those kinda stuff but he'll get used to it eventually. he does really like your company though, brings a smile to his face.

we all know albedo is a very amazing alchemist, he can make basically anything within a few hours or even minutes. he'd use his skill and powers to give you sentimental itemsㅡ such as a bouquet of flowers that never wither or ones that glow in your favorite color. If you don't really like flowers, don't worry, he can make whatever it is that you want! oh you want a dragon? he'll try and will come back to you with a small, cute, non-hostile looking one that protects you <3

he is sometimes busy due to work for the kamisato clan and being the "fixer" in inazuma, but he never forgets to make time for you! his love language is definitely quality time as he loves to just relax and accompany you wherever. another way thoma shows affection is through doing errands and other things for you such as cooking, cleaning around in your teapot realm, curing for your wounds if you ever get hurt, and maybe doing a commission or two of yours!

kaedehara kazuha... he's such a romantic man when it comes to his lover. he'll write you a poem literally every single day and compliment you every minute. kazuha also likes to run his hands through your hair as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear while you watch the sun set together at the best vantage point in wherever it is you're traveling at. he also definitely introduced you to his mom(beidou) so he takes you with him on the crux for fun adventures together! or just taking naps as the boat sets sail.

as the akademiya's scribe, alhaitham is often busy attending to those missions along with his personal investigations and other matters. so to prevent any lost time, he takes you with him. you're quite the strong fighter yourself so there won't be any problems, right? and if something bad does happen, he's your savior. despite talking sharply at times about how you weren't being careful or being reckless, he still loves you and will be happy that you're safe. alhaitham would reassure you about that too. also you study together at the akademiya library sometimes, he really likes having you around :3

cyno is a man of few words but reassures you about how much he loves you and would quite literally tear apart, limb from limb anyone that tries to harm you. cyno keeps a close eye on you especially when he senses danger is near, he wouldn't even wish for anything bad to happen to you. as the general mahamatra, fighting is practically his specialty which is why he uses that fighting experience and knowledge to protect you even if you tell him that you can handle yourself, he insists as he doesn't want to risk losing you like that.

#☾★ written » #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #scaramouche x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x reader #xiao x reader #albedo x reader #thoma x reader #kazuha x reader #alhaitham x reader #cyno x reader #gn!reader

[hyacinths-in-a-storm]

Valentine's Day and Terribly-Made Cards

Tyzula: Day 6 Secret Admirer/Crush

You can read it here on archive of our own as well

A/N: I wrote half of this on a paper in a Chili's, three hours ago

Valentine’s Day was coming around. Ty Lee had forgotten about it, until some boy (Chan or something?) had asked her to be his valentine. She had turned him down as politely as she could manage, before walking away at a brisk pace.

Ty Lee could be characterized as a popular girl, a desirable girl even, if the amount of valentines was anything to go by. Mostly though, it was the same few boys who thought no meant ‘try again next year’. At this point it was a game within her friend group to see which card was from who. She took a deep, steadying breath as she put in her locker combo,

“Any new cards?” Ty Lee startled at the voice, turning to the wrong number, she tugged on it, luckily it still opened, she turned to see Azula leaning next to her lockers

“Check for yourself.” Ty Lee said, motioning towards the overflowing locker,

“How the hell did they even fit this in?” Azula asked, picking up a heart-shaped chocolate box,

“Someone must’ve given out my locker combination.” Ty Lee groaned,

“You can have my lock, I’ll get a new one.” Azula offered, popping the chocolate box open,

“Remember the year when someone laced the chocolate with white vinegar because some psychic or something told him it was a love potion.” she bit into a chocolate piece, and judging by the expression this time it wasn’t laced with vinegar,

“Ugh, I remember, I couldn’t wash the taste out of my mouth for the rest of the day.” Ty Lee responded, pulling out the water-bottle she had forgotten yesterday from the depths of the pink, red, and white paper “And thanks for your lock.”

“No problem. Hey Ty don’t you have a free period right now?” she asked, tilting the chocolates towards her,

“Yeah, what are you thinking of doing?” Ty Lee said, taking a piece of chocolate,

“Let’s go to our spot, and play the valentines guessing game.” Azula suggested, shutting the chocolate box closed and tucking it under her arm,

“Now?” Azula nodded,

“Alright, just let me get something.” Ty Lee rummaged through the wads of construction and gift-wrapping papers. She pulled a red card with a blue heart and placed it in her pocket, she hoped she was slick enough that Azula didn’t notice-

“What’s that? A valentine card?” Azula asked, Damn it.

“Yeah, their favorite color is blue.” Ty Lee confirmed,

“Huh, so who’s this crush?” Ty Lee noticed that Azula’s voice was strained,

“You probably know her.” she answered vaguely, “Now come on let’s go.” she shoved the remaining valentines into her bag,

“Yeah, let’s go.” Azula echoed, turning on her heel and walking away. Ty Lee nearly had to sprint to keep up with her,

~

“The chocolate’s from Chan, I’m calling it.” Azula said as she slid the box over for Ty Lee to take a piece, “He does it every year, that boy does not have a single unique thought.” Ty Lee unfolded the note,

“Ding, ding, ding.” Ty Lee confirms, and she clears her throat in order to impersonate him properly, “My dearest, loveliest, sincerest-”

“Dear Agni, how long is this? I didn’t even know he knew that many adjectives!” Azula interrupts,

“Ty Lee,” she continued, “I know the reason you ran away yesterday is because you were too embarrassed to tell me yes. No matter, I don’t mind asking twice for a girl as pretty as you. Ty Lee, will you be my valentine?”

Azula burst into laughter before Ty Lee could even finish her sentence. It was an infectious sound, and Ty Lee had to pause her reading to calm herself down so she didn’t start laughing as well,

“How self-centered do you have to be to even write that?” Azula asked, rubbing the tears from her eyes,

“Oh my god, I can’t even imagine it.” Ty Lee coughed, trying to stem her laughter,

“Read me the next one. I bet I can guess it just from the level of cockiness it is.” Azula demanded, trying, and failing to not start laughing again, Ty Lee cleared her throat dramatically,

“Ty Lee-”

“At least this one’s straight to the point.” Azula murmured,

“My dear Ty Lee-”

“Nevermind.”

“I hope you appreciate the lengths I went to, to give you this letter. I’m putting my heart on the line, just for the slight chance that you might return my feelings. Ty Lee, will you be my valentine?” she finished,

“That sounds like a self-centered prick. Ten bucks says it’s Ruon-Jian.” Azula decided,

“No bet, and ironically it isn’t signed.” Ty Lee noted,

“It’s Ruon-Jian, it has to be, he’s one of the biggest drama queens ever. I would say he should be in theatre, only I don’t want to torture poor Zuzu.” Azula snickered,

“Ah wait here it is R.J.” Ty Lee said, finding the letters crammed into the corner, “Guess you were right again ‘Zula.”

She picked up the next valentine from the pile. Immediately she noticed that this one was different. It was simple compared to the others, only a folded piece of paper that was her favorite shade of pale pink. Simple as it was, Azula’s mood changed almost immediately, she sat up straight in her chair, and her triumphant smirk dropped off her face.

“Maybe don’t read that one yet.” she reached for the slip of paper. Intrigued, Ty Lee leaned back, out of Azula’s reach.

“Why not?” Ty Lee teased,

“It looks plain, it won’t be as fun to guess.” Azula reasoned, she was lying through her teeth, and Ty Lee could tell. There was something special about this specific note. She unfolded it scanning the contents;

Dear Ty Lee,

I know you don’t like long-winded speeches, or valentines in general, so while I could sit here and write a 2,000 word essay about you, and turn it in on time. I won’t. Instead I’m going to ask. Will you be my valentine?

“Aww Azula, this one is actually kind of sweet. Though I actually have no clue who wrote this one. The handwriting looks familiar though.” Ty Lee looked up to see Azula hiding her face in her hands, “What’s wrong? It’s not that sappy-” she looked down at the card again,

-your friend, Azula

“Oh, oh.” was all Ty Lee could say,

“I sense I’ve made you uncomfortable, so I’m just going to leave-” Azula pushed her chair back and got up, but Ty Lee grabbed her wrist before she could leave,

“Wait, wait let’s do one more valentine.” Azula looked like she’d rather melt into the ground than do another valentine, but she reluctantly sat down,

“In my defense, Mai said I could either tell you myself or she would.” Azula started, but Ty Lee pulled out the valentine from her pocket, piquing Azula’s interest,

“How about you read this one?” She handed over the card and Azula took it, opening it. Her eyes moved over the text, and Ty Lee watched her jaw slacken slightly, after a pause, she slammed the card on the table,

“You were going to ask me out?” she all but yelled, Ty Lee nodded, biting the inside of her cheek harder to stop herself from smiling,

“Mai convinced me I should do it.” she shrugged,

“Mai, I’m going to kill her.” Azula fumed,

“Well before you do that, can you answer a question?” Ty Lee asked,

“What’s the question?” Azula inquired suspiciously and Ty Lee smiled like a cheshire crococat,

“Will you be my valentine?” Azula buried her head in her hands,

“What do you think Ty?” she asks sarcastically, Ty Lee reaches across the the table to take Azula’s hand in hers,

“I’ll take that as a yes?” and for the first time in all her years of receiving valentines, she actually had a valentine.

A/N: Shoutout to my family and friends who I psychologically tortured (a phrase my brother insisted I use at least once in my fic) to help me finish this

#tyzula week 2023 #tyzula #azula #ty lee #ty lee x azula #azula x ty lee #Day 6: Secret Admirer/Crush

[umichenginabroad]

Madrid Week 8: Surfing a singular couch

Hola a todxs! Niko back here with week 8 of studying abroad in Madrid. I just realized that I never fully explained my usual intro ‘Hola a todxs’ so I took the time to do that in a footnote* for anyone curious :).

Anyways, this week I’ll write a little bit more of a traditional blog format — I’ll talk about some recent trips I’ve gone on. For those wondering how my progress is going on waking up earlier and appreciating Madrid, I’ll report some small successes: I ventured out to study in a cafe last week and enjoyed the warmer air (spring is starting to be sprung!!), and went out to dinner in the oldest restaurant in the world last night (called El Botin) :).

This weekend, I was in Amsterdam, and the weekend before that, I was in Sevilla. Recap time.

Couchsurfing in Amsterdam

Amsterdam is a very special city. Immediately when I stepped out of the train station, I was hit with the bustling scene of Centraal — the combination of the castle-esque buildings poking up in every direction, bikers going every which way, and canals slicing through the streets created a unique energy that I haven’t felt in any other city I’ve been to. It felt distinctly Dutch, and clearly had a subculture that can only be found in Amsterdam.

This weekend I was meeting one of my best friends Charlotte in the Netherlands, a friend I’ve had since middle school who’s spending her spring break in Europe. She arrived on Saturday, so I had the time to explore the city solo for a little bit before she arrived.

The second thing that struck me about this city: everyone speaks English, and they all speak it very well. Although the same can be said about many young people in countries in Spain and Italy, in the Netherlands, English almost felt like the default — not Dutch. There was not a single time that I felt the uncomfortable feeling of being disrespectful for not attempting to speak the local language, and there was not a single time that I came across someone that I couldn’t communicate with. Learning English has clearly been ingrained in the culture of the Netherlands (along with many Nordic countries), which calls attention to the question of how this occurred in the first place. At the very least, it makes tourism much easier.

The first thing that struck me: bikes. If you’ve never been to Amsterdam, the first thing to know is that everyone bikes everywhere, all the time. It’s said that pedestrians rule the streets in NYC. In Amsterdam, bikers rule — there’s actually more bikes than residents in the city. There’s bike lanes everywhere, and you’ll never be farther than a 20 minute trip to any centrally located destination.

So naturally, I rented a bike, and I felt pretty awesome joining the hoards of commuters zigzagging through Amsterdam. I made my way over to the Van Gogh museum, which I can confidently say now was my favorite museum I’ve ever visited.

I took a trip to Amsterdam with my family when I was around 10 years old and actually visited the Van Gogh then, but I can’t say that I remember it too much. Now, with 21 years under my belt, an appreciation for art, and a greater understanding of the human experience, the main exhibit in this museum quite literally brought me to tears.

Something about the way this museum told Van Gogh’s story through his art — from his starting place, through his simultaneous progression as an artist and mental health struggles, to his ultimate suicide — really touched me. I could really feel the emotion Van Gogh had imbued into his paintings with his brushstrokes and colors in a way that I had never felt looking at visual art before. The painting “Almond Blossom” was a highlight — a painting that Van Gogh considered to be one of his best works, which was a gift to his nephew. I would highly recommend a visit if you enjoy impressionist art.

On Saturday, I explored the Rijksmuseum (which is massive) before Charlotte arrived. When her train got in, we found each other and went together to meet our host for the weekend: A film student at the University of Amsterdam named Tassos, who hails originally from Athens, Greece. Tassos graciously offered up his pull-out couch for us to sleep on for the weekend, in his apartment overlooking one of Amsterdam’s many canals.

So, how’d we connect to our gracious host in the first place? Through a website called couchsurfing.com. Couchsurfing is an app that connects its members to a global community of travelers. Hosts can offer up their home for travelers to stay in free of charge, and travelers can message hosts to find lodging (and connection). Couchsurfing communities in various cities also organize events — meetups, tours, even parties — for members of the community to join at their leisure. People use couch surfing to meet interesting people, form connections, and to exchange stories/wisdom, all of which is right up my ally.

Admittedly, the idea seemed sus to me at first. You have to have trust that your host will be truthful, responsive, and safe to spend time with. The reference system alleviates this greatly (you write reviews of the people you spend time with), but the process still requires a healthy amount of trust. From Charlotte and I’s interaction with Tassos leading up to our trip, I had built up a good amount of trust — and that paid off last weekend.

A clear pattern is emerging from my travels: experiencing cities through the guidance of a local enhances the experience 100 fold. No matter how much research you do, there’s such a large part of cities that can only be discovered through lived experiences — which, oftentimes, is where the most direct connection to local culture can be found. This connection is what I seek wherever I go, and is something I felt greatly staying with Tassos this weekend.

Over the course of the weekend, Charlotte and I explored the city and its parks (highly recommend Vondelpark) on our bikes, shared delicious home-made Pastitsio with Tassos (his grandma’s recipe), went to the largest flea market in Europe (I got a sick Matrix-style trenchcoat), ate tons of delicious food (someone say stroopwafel?) and went out to an amazing community centered techno party in the outskirts of the city. It was wonderful to spend time with Charlotte outside of Virginia, and connecting with Tassos through our shared cultural background, interests, and life experiences was fulfilling. You can only get so close to someone over the course of a few days, but I know that I’ve made an friend that I’m looking forward to crossing paths with again sometime in the future, wherever that may be.

(Not so) Sunny Sevilla

I know that I’ve been mentioning this trip for a long time in these blogs without actually talking about any of the details, so I think it’s about time. Sevilla is a city in the south of Spain, famous for its flamenco, sunny weather, interesting architecture, and distinctly Andalucian vibe. This was a trip organized by CEA, the company managing the study abroad program I enrolled in with IPE. Me and around 80 other students in the program took a short train ride down to get there, lodged in a nice hotel (amazing buffet breakfast), and got to take a few tours of the major sites to see in the city.

It never rains in Sevilla — except, somehow, the one weekend we were there. It put a bit of a damper on our first two days, but it made the last 1.5 all the more marvelous when the sun finally shone out from behind the clouds. I figured that telling the details in the form of pictures might be more interesting (and would help keep the word count of this blogpost down a bit). Check on the ALT description for more details on the trip :).

Making lists has become (yet) a new hobby of mine this semester. I bookmark all of the places that I visit and write little personal notes to go along with them with two goals in mind: one, that I might keep a better digital footprint of my trips so that I can remember them better (especially if I ever want to return). Two: for all of you! If just one of my lists can help one of the readers of this blog find something worth seeing, I would be more than content.

Here's Amsterdam...

and here's Sevilla!

As always, don’t hesitate to reach out with questions about more specific recommendations/vibe checks for any of the cities I go to.

Hasta la proxima semana!

Niko Economos

Aerospace Engineering

Universidad Carlos III de Madrid

Madrid, Spain

[email protected] 

*Hola a todxs translates directly to “Hello to all”, or “Hello everyone”, which is simple enough. However, the x in the final word might seem out of place — why do I use it? The word todxs is usually written as todos or todas, as many nouns and adjectives in Spanish are gendered. When you see an x at the end of a Spanish word, it’s likely because this word has been made gender neutral, which exists outside of the accepted rules of the Spanish language but is widely used in online communities and in the media. An @ symbol is also commonly used (tod@s). In the gender neutral form, the x/@ is pronounced with an ‘e’ sound, so we would say “Hola a todes”. Consequenly, some words like ‘amigxs’ can be written as ‘amigues’ so as to take a more ‘normal’ looking form. Now you know!

#UmichEnginAbroad #IPEUC3M #NikoEconomos #IPEWinter24 #Spain

[stickystarspectrumtroll-ocs]

for recently posted ask game: luna, jewel, maddie T with 8, 17, 19, 28, 30 \\ penny and twig with 1, 6, 11, 17, 22, 35 \\ allets and eliote with 7, 19, 21, 28, 32 \\ c.c and jasper with 2,8, 9, 23, 33

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

1) are they associated with a certain color? what color do they wear the most?

Dang. These two are the most colorful out of any of the OCs.

Twig's color scheme includes bright golden yellow, bright purple, light pink, chartreuse, and bright orange. The former two are the colors of her skin and hair respectively, and the latter three are the colors of the overalls she always wears.

Penny, it's just All The Colors All The Time. Any hue, so long as it's saturated enough, she'll wear it. And she always combines as many in one outfit as she can. If I had to pick a single color to represent her for any reason it'd likely be a bright yellow though. Come to think of it, I've begun doing that with all the OCs when I make alignment chart memes with them, putting each one's name in a different color. Penny's is, in fact, bright yellow. Twig's chartreuse.

2) what sort of music would they like? have you thought about what genres or bands do they lean towards? do they have a favorite song?

I have in fact begun thinking about what kind of music each of my OCs would listen to! I've got a bunch already, I'm planning on making a post for it once I've come up with enough for all of them.

Jasper's music taste? ALL. THE SHOWTUNES. EVER. The amount of musicals he's seen and/or listened to is honestly very impressive. The list contains popular contemporary ones and older classics and a bunch of more obscure stuff, he very much Has The Range. The only OC who's got more musicals under their belt than him is Maddie T. He also listens to a lot of Aurelio Voltaire. When You're Evil is absolutely his favorite song of all time. I think he would also very much vibe with swing music in general. I'm still trying to think of more, but that's what I've got so far.

C.C. is one of the OCs I've got the least on for this so far. I feel like she listens to a lot of pop, and for the most part anything she can move to. Dance to or run to. She might listen to a fair amount of showtunes too though. And maybe a bit of more old-school stuff that like, her parents like. Maybe. Favorite songs for her? I don't know for sure. Three songs I do think she would vibe with a lot though are Invincible from The Lego Batman Movie, Run To Break Free from the Equestria Girls digital series, and Get Your Cape On from DC Superhero Girls. Her playlist that I'm in the process of making is EMBARRASSINGLY short for how long it's been since I started it lkgshgklfsg but it contains those three. Again, I'm working on this.

6) how do they wear their hair? do they care a lot how their hair looks?

Twig generally wears her hair loose. She does have floppy bangs brushed to the sides, and little dangly bits on the sides. I feel like she eventually might start doing a ponytail sometimes. Present day she always prefers it loose though. Oh, and she always wears a pink ninja headband, if head accessories should be mentioned here.

Penny sometimes wears hers loose and sometimes does a ponytail. Maybe occasionally pigtails. She always clips brightly colored fake hair streaks in it, changing up the colors and the placements of them every day.

Neither of them cares a lot how their hair looks, but Penny probably cares more than Twig does. Twig just puts the bangs aside, ties on the headband, and calls it a day, and her hair very often gets messy throughout the day and she doesn't give it a single thought. Penny might make some effort to keep hers neat, and she finds enjoyment in putting the colored streaks in every morning and tying it up when she feels like it.

7) favorite animal? why?

Allets might feel a weird kinship / sense of connection with stymphs for some reason. I dunno, I just feel like these giant skeleton birds might seem oddly majestic and fascinating to her. And hey, they like Evers, don't they? If their behavior towards Agatha was any indicator. I feel like she might be good at bonding with them.

Eliote...this only just occurred to me, but, what if when she was really little she loved unicorns and she kinda. Never fully grew out of that really. It sounds dorky as heck, but I do like to think Eliote's dorkier than she tries to be and I have been trying to think of more ways of showing that. Dorkiness might also be offset a bit by the fact that SGE unicorns are not the rainbow-sparkle-sprinkles kind they're the moonlight-ish ethereal kind. I think in the life-with-my-OC-squad scenarios, upon first being faced with the other portrayal of unicorns she'd kinda consider it an insult to actual unicorns' majesty and scowl at it in front of anycreature else but deep down she'd think this kind of unicorn is cute as heck and love it just as much.

8) do they have a nickname? who gave it to them? if it's not derived from their real name, what's the story behind it?

Luna's father has been calling her "lunatic" and "luna moth" as pet names pretty much since babyhood.

Jewel, if that magic tree or the magic plants that were once her parents can communicate with her in words--which they probably can, considering she knows language and is fully able to speak--they might affectionately call her their little ruby or sapphire or whatever other kinds of jewels. Maybe some plant-based pet names too, they might call her their little flower or bud or sapling.

Maddie T, well, "Maddie T" IS a nickname, Maddie is short for Maddison and the T is for her middle name Teabag. I dunno how it started, I feel like it started early on, maybe it was a distinguisher in kindergarten from somecreature else with the same first name, maybe she's just kinda always been called this for reasons unknown, I dunno.

C.C., likewise, is called by her nickname all the time. Or at least a bunch of the time. It stands for Carol-Caitlyn. Like Maddie T, I dunno how it started but I feel like it started early.

Jasper, I feel like C.C. would sometimes call him Jasp, maybe other people do sometimes too, but other than that I think it's just his given name and his supervillain name.

9) favorite food? least favorite? are they a picky eater? do they have any dietary restrictions?

I don't think either of them are picky eaters. I haven't thought about either of them having dietary restrictions, but now I'm wondering whether or not to give Jasper a peanut allergy.

C.C.'s favorite foods are pizza, fairy bread, and fluffernutters. Possibly cupcakes and/or cookies too. Jasper I also feel like would be particularly partial to cupcakes and cookies of any kind.

I can see C.C. hating raisins. And Jasper hating prunes.

11) what do they have in common with you? how are they different? would you get along with them?

I would definitely get along with them. They're arguably the biggest self-inserts of the bunch XD

Penny shares my love of bright colors, glitter, arts and crafts, music, singing, and musical theater. She also shares some of my sense of humor and a good deal of my music taste. Her upbeat, energetic, and cheerful personality/disposition and emphasis on positivity and optimism are also very reminiscent of me at the time of my first creating her. She also had her life majorly, traumatically, and irreversibly upended at pretty much the same point in it that I did, and, like me, she suffered like heck for a year or so and then began to just throw herself headfirst into All The Happy Things All The Time to distract herself from her misery and kinda brute-force herself into positive thinking. In a lot of ways she basically IS me minus everything I've been through the past three years. As to differences, I feel like she's more extroverted and less socially awkward than me? And she's also girlier.

Twig...Imma be real, like 80% of her personality and of like, EVERYTHING about her is just literally me when I had been alive the same number of years or less. Literally so many of her quirks and idiosyncracies and specific things she has issue with and specific responses to things are just me in elementary school. Differences — she cares more about fitting in and what people think of her than I ever have. And some of my own main insecurities and fears are not ones that she has. Like she lives in a society where age matters a lot less than it does in ours in a lot of ways so she doesn’t have my deep-seated jillion-layered crippling fear of the entire concept of growing up, she’s mostly just kinda indifferent about it. She's also more athletic than me.

17) how did they spend their summers/free time as a child?

Luna? Pranking people. Duh. Also reading. Playing board games and card games and stuff with her parents.

Jewel? Exploring the island. Climbing around in the trees. Reading. Observing and sometimes befriending animals. Swimming in the ocean or any lakes or ponds she came across. Playing with her gem-and-plant powers.

Maddie T? Reading. Drawing. Painting. Singing. Playing all kinds of games with her parents. Baking, maybe? Doing all kinds of random stuff like trying to build A Thing out of random objects or coat something completely in mud or paint a dog's fur. Maybe a bunch of different wacky Wonderland-specific activities that I can't think of rn.

Penny? All kinds of arts and crafts. Watching movies and TV. Running around outside. Playing with her dog, her friends, her family. Putting on music, often singing and dancing along to it.

Twig? Reading. Scrapbooking. Parkour. Slingshot target practice. Exploring the forest around the village. More recently, hanging with the Snack Pack and going along with whatever they happen to be doing. And also making some attempt at befriending Branch if she runs into him.

19) are they quick to anger? what sets them off?

Luna gets angry quickly if people insult her or otherwise mistreat her, or if they insult or mistreat her family.

Jewel is slow to anger. If somecreature makes it clear over and over again that they're just a cruel person who doesn't care what damage they cause to others, she can build up into anger at them sooner or later though.

Maddie T I feel like used to get angry when people made fun of her, in like early to mid elementary school. These days she's slow to anger and it's hard for me to think of anything that would truly set her off.

Penny's not quick to anger, though probably not particularly slow to anger either. If you just are a straight-up jerk then she'll get angry. Not FURIOUS unless it's really really bad and/or repeated a whole lot, but she will get angry.

Twig, Twig IS quick to anger. She has a jillion little pet peeves, and just about no tolerance for teasing. It never takes much for her to scowl and snap at people. Doesn't often go farther than that, but it easily can if you keep pushing.

21) their favorite place to be?

Allets, pre-story that would be either her room, the castle library, or outside like in the gardens. Oh! Maybe also the bathroom! I feel like she could very much appreciate the kind of privacy and sense of safety that bathrooms bring. Post-story it's all those plus anywhere her friends are. And maybe SGE in general since it's the most freedom she has from her parents. In life-with-my-OC-squad scenarios, her favorite places are her room, the bathroom, and maybe the house the OC squad shares in general. I feel like she'd also oddly enjoy graveyards.

Eliote, pre-story that'd be the place she's set up camp in the woods. Post-story, anywhere her friends are, especially Allets. In life-with-my-OC-squad scenarios, her room.

22) do they sleep well at night?

Penny, LOL, NOPE. Being a vampire makes sleeping easier in the day than in the night for her, but the rest of the world doesn't work like that so she can't just be fully nocturnal. I think Lakeside Academy tries to work with that aspect of vampirehood to some degree but whatever they do for that it's not just having them take classes in the night and sleep in the day and I dunno what the exact details are. Plus she tries to be awake for both sunrise and sunset to watch those happen. So yeah, I have no idea what this girl's sleep schedule is but I know it's a MESS.

Twig, kinda yeah. She's a bit of a night owl, goes to bed between like 11 and midnight most nights and takes awhile to fall asleep once she's in bed. But once she's out, she's fine.

23) how would you describe their voice? can they sing?

I. Do not know. How to describe voices. XD I really wish I did. Most I know is that they sound their age. XD

And yes, they can both sing. Jasper especially perhaps, I feel like he would know more the technicalities of it and be more like, trained at it. C.C.'s untrained but she can carry a tune well.

28) how do they show that they care about someone? how do they express that they don't like someone?

Luna shows that she cares about people by just, being willing to spend time with them and talk to them. And also by taking revenge on anycreature that does them wrong. If she doesn't like somecreature, she'll be especially cold when interacting with them, and they'll be the target of a lot of her pranks. She'll also bad-mouth and make fun of them to her parents (and, post-story, to her friends, especially Jewel).

Jewel shows she cares about people by taking interest in them, by paying attention to them, listening to them and asking them questions about themselves. Also by just electing to spend time with them. If she doesn't like somecreature, she'll avoid being around them, and if forced to interact with them, she won't be angry-ish about it (unless she REALLY hates them) but will make it very clear the whole time that she Would Rather Not be interacting with them and Does Not Like them. That sounds vague lksjgklsg it's like. They could pick up on the vibes she's putting down and ask her why she's being Like That and she would just say in a fairly neutral tone, "I don't like you." Possibly followed by like "you do XYZ and that's mean." or something. If they needed to ask at all.

Maddie T shows she cares about people by electing to spend time with them and by giving them nonsensical-sounding advice. She shows dislike for people by ignoring them and by taking nonsensical-sounding verbal snipes at them.

Penny shows she cares about people by going out of her way to spend time with them, giving them things that she crafts, and trying to cheer them up when they're sad. If she doesn't like somecreature, she'll avoid interacting with them, say negative things about them to her friends if they come up in conversation, and if she's forced to interact with them she'll be kinda deadpan-glare-y and like "yeah yeah in other news have i told you you suck?" or "get lost, buttbrain 🙄😒" at them.

Twig shows she cares about people by going out of her way to spend time with them, talking with them, and giving them things that she crafts. If she doesn't like somecreature, anytime she has to interact with them she'll be visibly and audibly annoyed the whole time.

30) do they smell like anything notable?

Luna, no.

Jewel, probably dirt and flowers.

Maddie T, spray-paints. And possibly tea.

33) if applicable, how would your other characters describe them? i mean specifically the people around them.

C.C. -- Funny, kind, a go-getter, dedicated, always wanting to help people, good at art, has a way of bringing cheer to people through her presence. A bit dangerous to be around what with how easily her powers get out of hand, but it's hard to care THAT much given how uplifting and funny and kind she is and everything.

Jasper -- Kind of a dork, huge nerd, overdramatic as heck. Great at building the things he builds though. And he's an idea MACHINE, zany schemes for DAYS goin' on in that brain of his. Oddly good at lifting people up when they're down too.

35) do they ever return home?

Penny, I don't know. Probably not. (metaphorical)

Twig, I don't know what you mean. She never left. (both literal and metaphorical)

#oc asks!! #W H E W #THIS WAS L O N G #THANK YOU SO SO MUCH THOUGH AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE #!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #luna #jewel #allets #eliote #maddie t #penny #twig #c.c. #jasper #cryptid duo #talent duo #scrapbook sisters #scrapbooking duo #personal favorite? #oc development

[tesshoundi]

Mystery Magnets Volume 1 chapter 1

(

“In memory of Richard Justice loving Grandfather, Father, and Husband”

(I’m dedicating this story to my grandfather who passed recently and helped me name and conceptualize this story)

(A.N: I have not touched or looked at volume 1′s writing since mid 2021 and I believe I have improved in my writing since then so keep that in mind whist reading)

Finick was Bouncing along next to his boyfriend Mick who was staring oddly at him. Every time Finick landed with a loud thump due to his weight irritating passerbys. Finick’s body was roughly 40% metal so he was fairly heavy. Mick finally stopped causing Finick to do the same out of confusion. 

“Finick” Mick sighed 

“Yeah Mick” Finick replied

“You seem really excited, What’s going on”

“Aww how’d you know?” 

“You’re bouncing”

“Oh” Finick said, his displayed screen eyes changing from their usual X’s to rings making his face look somewhat like a catfish. “Well today in science I’m learning the secrets of the Punny Square Jeans!” He said excitedly 

“Do you mean Punnett Square Genes?” Mick questioned. 

“Yeah! What are those?” Finick responded

“Well it's a grid with equal length and height that demonstrates possible genetic combinations of a potential child between two sets of genetics”

“Okay” Finick said. “What does that have to do with pants?.” At this Mick Face palmed as they continued walking, finally reaching Finick’s Class. 

“Nothing, just wait for your science class.”

“Okie Dokie Mickie”

“Don’t call me that” Mick stated tiredly “I’ll see you in the cafeteria after school.”

“Okie!”

During his science period with Miss Cabbage, a cat-like Bassi teacher notable for her tendency to bully students and get away with it. Finick was a favorite target of hers due to him being neither Bassi or Trebil being a Protogen from space. She especially liked targeting students who were different to her and Finick bet that if she had any Trebil students in class she’d have been fired by now. She was passing around the assignments for the day telling everyone to write what their genetics were for hair, fur and eye color and one made up combination with the squares. 

She approached Finick with his worksheet and he saw that his assignment was multiple sheets stapled together instead of the single sheet. She told him that since he didn’t have identifiable genetics that he had to do every combination on the board. While she was talking to him she got uncomfortably close to his face. He swore that if he could smell anything that he’d be choking on her perfume everyone complains about. 

While Finick was working he started thinking about what Miss Cabbage had said about him. Finick knew he was artificial; it wasn't hidden from him when he was activated. While his flesh is real and bleeds like anything else it was artificially grown and molded into shape like his metal parts. He didn’t know if he had dna. She’d said how DNA is the blueprint for life so if he doesn't have DNA is he technically considered alive? Finick didn’t know and he wasn’t going to ask Miss Cabbage since he knew how she hated him.

Finick Felt someone tap his shoulder. He turned and saw Moon, a gray Wolf Bassi who had very pretty eyes in two shades of blue.  

“The bell rang” She told him her kind smile.

“Oh. Thank you” Finick said giving her a kind yet sad smile in return

Finick walked to his locker grabbing his gray coat and his mint colored bag which he’d covered in smiley stickers with heart eyes. He saw Mick as he approached the cafeteria. Mick’s Dull Dark Grey fur contrasted with his dark yet vibrant reds and golds Which speckled from his arms and legs. His leg that was his only limb that had gray speckle into color instead of vice versa had bone that protruded from it having grown through his skin the flash surrounding it a salmony color. Finick liked the outfit he was wearing today, his brown one piece that was skin tight on him. Finick noticed how Mick’s diamond tipped tail swished lazily as he waited and that his bat-like wings were flexing.

“You’re late. Mick said a touch of concern in his voice, “Something up?

“Nope I’m fine” Finick said smile still sad, though he used his volume to mask his feelings.

“Okay if you say so” Mick said, sounding unconvinced as his permafrown deepened.

As they started the walk home to Mick’s house Finick was still feeling bad from earlier trying to think of ways to make himself feel better about the situation. He knew Mick wouldn’t be help even though he’d try Mick’s Pessimistic attitude and near Nihilistic outlook on life he’d likely just make him feel worse without meaning to. Finick’s thoughts went to his two friends who seemed to always look on the brighter side even if there wasn’t really a bright side to look on. Alfred and Quinn, he bet that talking with them would help him feel better but neither of them attended school. Finick did know where Quinn last parked his van that the two lived out of so if he was lucky it might still be there. 

     “Hey Mick” 

“Yeah?” Mick responded, raising an eyebrow at Finick.

“I’m going to go hang out with Quinn and Alfred” Finick responded 

“Okay have fun” Mick said tiredly as he turned back towards his neighborhood.

Finick had made it to the parking lot near the edge of town. Whatever building it was for was long gone and the lot was in a state of disrepair. Finick did spot Quinn’s van but he had to pass mounds of broken glass metal and other assorted trash on his way over to the dark pink van. When he made it to the back he knocked on the door waiting for a response as shifting was heard from inside. 

“Hello?” Quinn asked as they looked out, taking a moment to spot Finick.

“Hi Quinn” Finick said Waving at him. 

“Oh Hi Finick what brings you here?” 

“I wasn’t feeling the best so I came to talk with you guys”

“Well come on in.” Finick did as he was asked and hopped in the back of the van looking around. He saw a lot of Quinn’s things including an automatic tennis ball machine, buckets of golf balls, large amounts of screws bolts and other metal components, several swords, and many things he couldn’t identify. Mick said that Quinn likely had a hoarding problem. Finick spotted Alfred sitting on one of two pink bean bag chairs while Quinn was grabbing a third from one of their piles. 

“Hi Alfred”

“Hello Finick”

“Have a seat” Quinn said as they put the bean bag chair down. Alfred smiled at him from her seat. 

“So Finick what did you want to talk about?” Quinn asked, taking their seat.

“So you remember Miss Cabbage?” Finick asked

“I couldn’t forget that awful…” Finick couldn't understand what Quinn said as it seemed to be in another language but he could tell it wasn’t very nice, “If I tried!”

“What Quinn means is yes,” Alfred said calmly.

“So in her class we were talking about genetics and well I started thinking...” Finick trailed off.

“Whether or not you have them because you’re artificial?” Alfred guessed 

“Yeah since DNA is the basis for all life if I don’t have them am I not alive?” Finick said Quinn let out a breath

“I Don’t know what to say on that one” They said sitting back in awkwardness.

“When it comes to philosophical debate we’re not the people to ask” Alfred said awkwardly rubbing her neck before saying “Bronzing might be a better person to ask then us,” Finick thought about that Bronzing lived in the more compact side of town and her apartment was pretty far from here but if he hurried he could catch a tram and get their before nightfall.

“I think I will go see her” Finick said and he got up “I’ll see you guys later” 

“See ya” Quinn said

“”Bye” Alfred said and they picked their discarded controllers up.

“MICK!” Death called from the bottom of the stairs “MICK!” 

“Yeah Mom?” Mick called from the top of the balcony. 

“Finick’s really late isn’t he?” Indeed he was as night had fallen though it wasn’t a school night it was concerning nonetheless. 

“Do you want me to go get him?” Mick asked his worried mother. 

“Yes please” Death responded and Mick headed out.

“KNOCK KNOCK” Finick knocked on the door to Bronzing's apartment hoping she was still awake.  

“Yeah” Bronzing peeked out the crack of her door.

“Hey Bronzing” Finick said and she unlocked the door letting him in.

“Hey Finick, what brings you here so late?” 

“So I was talking with Quinn and Al about something and Al said you’d be a better person to talk to about it.”

“”Whatever it is, I'm all ears” Bronzing said while helping Finick out of his Jacket. Both of them took seats in Bronzing’s living room. “So what’s wrong?” 

“You remember Miss Cabbage right?” 

“Yeah, how could I forget her?” 

“Well we were talking about genetics today and I started thinking I’m artificial. I don't know if I have DNA. If DNA is the key to life and I don’t have it am I technically not alive?” Finick finished as Bronzing put her upper hands on his shoulders, her silver claws slightly digging into his metal.. 

“Finick, do you have a pulse?” 

“Yes”

“Do you see the room around us”

“Yes”

“Do you think for yourself”

“Yes” 

“Then I think you count as alive”

“Why?”

“All of those things are found only in living things so if you have them you must be alive. At least that’s how I see it” Bronzing finished

“I guess that makes sense,” Finick responded.

“It’s pretty late I’ll walk you home” Bronzing said

“Alright” Finick responded as he pulled his jacket back on.

“What do you mean he left?” Mick said angrily

“He went off to Bronzing’s a few hours ago” Quinn said, “I don’t know what to tell you” they shrugged.

“Crikey it’ll take forever to find him” Mick ran off leaving Quinn and Alfred behind.

“Well then” Quinn said heading back into the van.

Mick had reached Bronzing’s apartment but no one answered, leaving him to look around the city for Finick.

  “FINICK!” Mick called out “FINICK!” A crash sounded behind him and he turned only to find nothing “FINICK!” Mick called again  and he heard another crash. At this point he’d turned down an alleyway. In silhouette he saw Finick and he relaxed. 

“FINICK!” Bronzing and Finick heard sound as they walked towards the tram stop. 

“Is that Mick?” Bronzing asked as she heard it repeat her green head feathers rising in discomfort.

“I think so” Finick responded as he heard the sound repeat once more. 

“I think he’s looking for you,” Bronzing told Finick.

“We should find him, he’s probably worried sick” Finick said, turning towards the sound. As they walked they reached the alleyway seeing Mick looking at a silhouette behind him. Said silhouette looked like Finick.  “MICK!” Finick yelled and Mick in confusion turned around as the figure lifted an arm revealing some form of rifle making up the bulk of the arm. The figure took a shot with it hitting Mick square in the shoulder black blood spraying from the wound.

“AHHH” Mick screamed as he clutched the wound Finick ran to catch him as he started to fall. 

The figure stepped from the shadows revealing itself to be another protogen colored with grays and silvers with red facial markings on it’s screen, a small crosshair aimer covering an eye.

“Ficky” Finick growled as he held his bleeding boyfriend.  Ficky said nothing as she raised her barrel again aiming it towards Finick’s head. At that moment Bronzing Grabbed Finick by the arm pulling him away from the shot yelling

“RUN!” as she dragged the two down the street. She spotted a familiar van pulling towards a nearby building and she went to bang on the doors. “Quinn! Quinn!”

“Yeah?” they asked as her fist dented their door. 

“Can we get a ride, it's an emergency!” Bronzing asked as Finick spotted Ficky running down the street. 

“Alright?” and Quinn opened the passenger door allowing them to climb in. “Where to?”

“ANYWHERE BUT HERE DRIVE!” Finick yelled as Ficky Rammed into the side of the van. “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?” Quinn yelled in terror though they did start driving away Ficky giving chase as her rifle rearranged itself into some form of cannon.

“A PROTOGEN WHO IS TRYING TO KILL US” Finick screamed as Ficky took and missed shots at the swerving van. 

As Quinn drove they started approaching the bridge between The city side and the forest across the river. Ficky lunged and attached onto the van starting to tear the roof off startling the 4 teens as Mick had fallen unconscious. Finick looked around for something to stop this as Ficky started to snap her jaws and Alfred’s head. Finick’s eyes landed on two items in the van. The automatic Tennis machine and a bucket of golf balls. 

Finick grabbed the two items pouring the golf ball’s into the tennis machine and aiming it towards ficky’s face before turning it on pelting her glass screen with the hard metal and plastic spheres. She staggered back as Finick adjusted his aim, her screen shattering in several places. One hard swerve from Quinn sent her falling off landing in the river fizzing out as her systems flooded with water.

Quinn drove to Mick’s house so his wound could be taken care of the bleeding haven slowed due to a makeshift tourniquet improvised by the group. His parents and sister met them at the door helping to carry him in to seal his wound. 

A figure approached the river concealed in the shadows red and green fur barely visible as they paddled out into the river towards the now lifeless hunk of metal brown eyes scanning the mass as it’s lifted into the boat.  

#digital art #furry #sfw furry #writing #protogen #original story #oc #furry oc #old work

[the-insomniac-emporium]

RE8 Ladies + S/o with chronic pain HCs

Type/cause of chronic pain is kept ambiguous, but some of the hcs might seem geared towards migraines, since that's the main thing that I personally struggle with (and these are very definitely comfort hcs). Features Alcina, Bela, Cassandra, Daniela, Donna, Mother Miranda, and as a 'lil bonus Ava. Not particularly long, but the combined length of every character is enough to be put under a read-more (About 2,500 words in total).

Alcina:

It’s difficult for her to know that you are suffering, but be unable to deal directly with the source of the problem. Chasing off unwanted nuisances or hunting down threats to the castle was one thing, trying to solve complicated medical issues was another thing entirely. If only she could tear your condition asunder without tearing you asunder.

That being said, she’ll still support you endlessly, however she can. It doesn’t matter how expensive or hard-to-access possible treatments are. If there’s something you haven’t tried, and are interested in trying, she’ll find a way for you to get it.

The biggest, and arguably most helpful, thing that she does is set up a space for you within her office. She spends quite a lot of time there for her family’s business, but doesn’t want to leave you alone on bad days. So this was her idea of a nice compromise.

There’s a very comfortable sofa that folds out, a cabinet filled with the softest blankets, and several pillows of a few different sizes. Servants are instructed not to interrupt Alcina’s work without good reason, but she has a couple who ensure your snack cabinet is always well stocked.

If there are certain environmental factors to your condition, such as sensitivity to light and sound, she does her best to reduce their effects. Lights remain dimmed (or she’ll rely on candlelight), her music will be kept quiet enough to be soothing, and she’ll refrain from taking any calls while you are with her.

Bela:

To think that Daniela once tried to claim that Bela would “never need to know any of that (medical) stuff”! Sure, there haven’t been many people who have needed (and received) treatment from her, but that didn’t mean the skill was useless. Admittedly, she doesn’t know enough to replace one of your doctors, or try to create her own version of a cure, though no one really expected that much from her.

Still, she knows enough to help soothe your pain. Obviously there are different techniques for different kinds of pain, and she does research before trying anything specific. Bela’s also aware that you’ve been dealing with this for far longer than she has, meaning that you probably wouldn’t be pleased if she came in, acted like an expert, or assumed that you hadn’t really thought about the most popular remedies. So she’s tactful with how she approaches things, always checking if you’re familiar with a subject before she tries to explain anything.

Bela ends up surprising you with a lesser-known skill of hers: Massage. Studying anatomy has given her a decent idea of the body’s more sensitive spots, and the rest she’s figured out through her own, ahem, experiences. Regardless of where you’re in pain, your girlfriend can help reduce your suffering. Okay, well, if your pain is more internal than external, it’s a bit harder for her, but she can still help you relax.

One of her favorite things to do after giving you a massage is to just pull you in close for some cuddling. Preferably you’ll be in her lap, with her arms around your waist, her chin tucked on top of your shoulder. Then she’ll do her best to whisper you praises, reminding you how strong you are, and that she’s incredibly proud of you.

Cassandra:

She’s, uh, not great at this. At least not at first. Maybe she’ll never be more than good at it, though. But she’s definitely trying! And learning! By Jove, that’s something, right?

First things first, she’s always ready to try to distract you, primarily through kisses and gentle touches. Fingers softly trailing over your skin, lips tickling your neck, featherlight in all the right places… It’s not inherently sexual (though it can quickly go that route if you ask), just intimate. It’s harder for your brain to process pain when you’re also processing pleasure, so there is some science behind Cassandra’s methods, even if she herself isn’t entirely aware of that.

While she’s not great with words, there are certain things that she manages to articulate well enough. For one, she makes sure you know that you aren’t a burden. Taking care of you- no, helping you take care of yourself- is a labor of love, if a labor at all. More than that, she knows full well that you probably don’t like feeling pitied, or coddled. That, over time, being sick ends up being beyond frustrating. She never wants you to feel like your condition defines you, or like it puts any strain on your relationship.

That said, she’ll avoid telling her family any specifics unless you do first, and ensures that the staff know how to accommodate you (without telling them why, because it’s none of their fucking business, and she’s their boss, and for fuck’s sake it’s their job to do what she tells them. Maybe she gets a lil bit overzealous with it). At no point will she ever complain about helping you, or otherwise indicate that your needs are “troublesome”.

At the end of the day, the best comfort she brings you is her presence, simply being near you, endlessly loyal, tireless in her affections. Especially considering she gets clingier the worse your symptoms get.

Daniela:

Hope you enjoy cuddling. Seriously. There’s nothing Daniela loves more than curling up with you, and that goes double for bad pain days. Some adjustments will be made position-wise if you need, but she’ll still hold you as close as possible, for as long as you need. Although she might eventually fall asleep (because damn are you comfy), she’ll play with your hair or run her fingers along your scalp until she eventually dozes off.

If you want a little more from her than light snoring, or if she feels like going above and beyond, or honestly just if she’s thinking about how much she loves you (so all the effing time), she’ll do something she’s always loved in movies/books: Reading to you! She’ll pick special books that neither of you have read before, so you can experience them together on your sick(er) days. Which does, of course, mean that it might take months to finish even a single one. Surprisingly, Daniela won’t even briefly consider reading any without you. Even if the plot is really good.

But, uh, if you wanted her to read to you on a day where you aren’t bedridden? Hell yes, my friend, she’s absolutely down for that!

On days where she’s too busy to spend hours upon hours in bed with you, or days where her ADHD is just particularly bad, she tries her best to leave you with a “substitute”. AKA a massive fucking teddy bear, in a reddish brown color, with a green bowtie. Custom ordered (The Duke did not dare tease her for it). There’s a heart stitched onto the stuffed animal’s chest, which features your first initial alongside a D for Daniela.

Additionally, she has a blanket she only brings out for you, which she periodically sprays with her favorite perfume. That way you can hold it close when she’s not around, as if you were cuddling her. For her sake, though, don’t hold the teddy bear or blanket too tightly when she is around. Homegirl here will get jealous of inanimate objects, even ones that she gave you.

Donna:

“I think I have a tea for this…” Damn right she has a tea for this. Donna has a massive garden, with dozens if not hundreds of different plants, including a variety of herbs/spices. At least one of them has to be a little helpful for you. Whether it relieves pain, helps you nap off some of your misery, or just distracts you by tasting bloody-well delicious! Besides, few things make you feel quite as loved as holding a cup of freshly brewed tea in your hands, knowing your lover made it just for you. Like a hug in a mug, it is!

Similarly to Alcina, Donna will also try to create a comfortable space for you, but isn’t likely to put it downstairs with her workshop. Instead she’ll let you take over one of the larger guest rooms, customizing it to suit your specific needs. There will be some easy to care for plants for decoration (ones that won’t mind potentially missing out on natural sunlight), a couple relaxing paintings, and a shelf near the bed with things to help you pass the time, mainly books.

Furthermore, she’ll do her best to keep you company as often as possible. She’s naturally a fairly quiet person, so you won’t have to worry about sound if that’s something you’re sensitive to. While she prefers using a sewing machine, she’ll do things by hand while you’re in pain, just to reduce the chances of you getting irritated by the sound.

Speaking of potentially irritating sounds… by god can Angie be difficult to be around when you’re ill. Thankfully, Donna is perfectly understanding of this, and, as the only person Angie ever listens to, makes sure to give the doll a stern talking to about your health. To your immense surprise, it actually works. You’re not exactly sure what was said, but Angie certainly becomes a lot more compensating afterwards. She’ll keep her antics to herself, and usually even on another side of the house from where you rest, but only for as long as you’re tucked away in your room. As soon as you set foot outside, her restraints are metaphorically removed. All hell breaks loose (as is her universe-given right as the physical embodiment of both Chaos and Entropy).

Mother Miranda:

If the two of you weren’t lovers, there’s a decent chance you would completely misinterpret her actions. She might come off as irritated, like she has bigger concerns than your health, you fragile little human. After all, she is a goddess (well, practically). But the truth is that she’s aching inside every time you have a bad pain day, knowing that (for once) she cannot cure your ailment. Maybe if she had infinite subjects with the same condition as you…

But, at the end of the day, that’s the problem. There’s only one of you. One of her beloved, her little human darling, so dangerously fragile in comparison to the scale she works on. Even with all the time in the world, which she most certainly has, she cannot cure you without taking incredible risks. With your life at stake… It is a gamble she refuses to take. You are hers, and while she hates to see you suffer, the truth is that she’ll always be selfish enough to let you endure on your own.

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t help, though, just that she doesn't do a full-out experiment on you. Instead, she keeps notes. She’ll track your activities, bedtimes/when you get up, dietary habits, when you have pain, what you do to treat said pain, how effective the treatments are, etc, etc. All of this can be very useful in establishing patterns (a skill she’s gotten very good at, in her many decades of being a scientist), which can in turn lead to less pain days.

(For example, many people with migraines find that certain foods seem to trigger a migraine, or at least increase the chances of getting one. Though admittedly they don’t always end up cutting the food out of their diet. I mean, come on, you want me to give up chocolate? You want me to drink normal milk, like an adult? Kidding, kidding, I don’t have any food triggers. Nor do I particularly enjoy chocolate milk, nor do I dislike it.)

Moving on! While her work seemingly takes precedence over your condition, Miranda is not heartless, and she does do some things to lend you more direct comfort. Specifically, she tries to work in the same room as you when she can, normally while making electronic copies of physical documents, or while looking over the details of a finished experiment. She’s not always one for cuddling, so she won’t often get in bed with you during the daytime. But at night? Yes, fine, she will wrap her arms around you, maybe one of her wings too if you like how soft they are.

Just don’t think that she secretly loves every second. It’s not like she’ll spend half an hour whispering about how sweet and adorable you are as soon as you fall asleep, or anything like that. It’s twenty minutes at the most.

Bonus!Avaskian Caldwell:

“Oh, fuckin’ mood!” Followed by a solid thirty seconds of pure regret. Seriously, though, Ava has spent xer entire life (starting at age 10) dealing with chronic migraines. For a while xe also dealt with POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome), which meant lots of chest pain, but that (thankfully) faded as xe grew into an adult, as is fairly common with the condition. If anyone in Castle Dimitrescu understands unrelenting, unexplainable pain, it’s xer.

That being said… Ava never really managed xer chronic pain, at least not when xe was at xer worst. Xe had to drop out of school because of it. Hell, xe didn’t have a “real” job until xe was almost 23! Didn’t have a chance until things just calmed down for xer. So xe gets anxious whenever you talk about your health, worried that things are (or will at some point be) as bad for you as they were for xer. Other than that, though, you might initially think that xe doesn’t care, or didn’t understand the conversation.

Truth is, xe knows how absolutely fucking ANNOYING it can be to have to explain your health to every new person you meet (like the dozen different doctors you’ve met over the years, possibly every nurse who takes your pulse and thinks it’s a little bit high). So xe did a shit ton of research on your condition, in order to reduce how much you need to explain. Sure, xe will still have questions, and there are always aspects that only you can tell xer, but it’s a nice gesture.

As for helping you destress, xe’s pretty much a mix of Bela and Miranda. You’ll get plenty of massages (because Ava has learned from personal experience what sort of touches help with which sorts of pain), but also some scientific insight on any noticeable patterns. Lots of holding you close and telling you that you’re the coolest person in the world, and that Ava feels beyond lucky to have you.

#alcina dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu x reader #donna beneviento x reader #mother miranda x reader #oc x reader #avaskian caldwell #j has ocs #re8 village #resident evil: village #hcs

[boop-le-snoot]

marmalade taffy

Helmut Zemo smut & feels. Soft!Dom Zemo, non-superhero!AU, Zemo being the weird uncle of college!Maximoff twins. This was written on a whim so if someone signs up to beta-read, I will shower you with affection and reminders to drink water. The Reader is addressed as "you" and is not described - race/age/body type neutral. The language I used for Sokovian is actually Serbian. Word count 2,8k.

Fun fact: I have mild synesthesia. Emotions/feelings and some people have an assigned color (and sometimes smell) for me. That's how the name of the fic was born. This fic feels like the colors of marmalade and taffy, look them up. This fic is dedicated to my lovely @slothspaghettiwrites , the shining beacon in my misty, rocky beach. (You're a periwinkle for me, by the way. I thought you might ask.)

When you first see him all you do is raise an eyebrow. His sleek, well-maintained vintage car stands out almost grotesquely amongst the various sedans and mom vans on the campus and you can see the glint of his wristwatch even from afar. Wanda's and Pietro's sheepish smirk only makes the situation worse - the girl's attire obviously screams "liberal arts" and her twin brother doesn't seem to have anything better to wear than tracksuits.

The man behind the wheel is unfazed. He is calm and collected in that European way, not conceited, just waiting. For what? You don't know. His eyes trail over you but he doesn't smile, simply gives a tiny polite nod. If you hadn't had extensive conversations about cultural differences with Wanda, you'd say he was extremely rude.

Shy, quiet Wanda, who's eyes lit up seeing her favorite not-actually-uncle. In a surprising dash of energetic agility, she hopped right into the car, her numerous scarves a bright flash of saturation against the campus grayscale. You giggle and wave at the departing car, snorting when Wanda's hand reaches over to briefly honk the horn, causing the driver to swerve the tiniest bit, his eyes trained on you in the rearview mirror.

He comes and goes often. Almost always in a different perfectly restored vintage car, mostly with the same polite mask of bored contentment. You know he's royalty in his home country and can't help but wonder how frivolously the twins act around him - no, free. He gives all the appearance of a silent, strict man.

You're proven wrong rather quickly. Freshman year left behind you, you and Wanda decide to ditch the dorms for an apartment - she finds one rather quickly and it's just you two in it even though it is ridiculously huge and the rent amount she requests is equally ridiculously small. Not the one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you pretend nothing is out of the ordinary and buy yourself a new pair of shoes.

Helmut - Wanda finally formally had introduced you two - doesn't come by often, however the visits are always... Eventful. He's not at all what it seemed to be; in the quiet of your apartment, a witty, incredibly clever man resurfaces from under the stoic façade. The Slav in him easily lets him consume alarming quantities of alcohol together with Pietro, who opted to stay in the dorms with his idiotic football team, and - you couldn't believe your eyes at the time - dorkily dad-dance squat in the middle of your living room, unfazed by your and Wanda's cackling.

The way Helmut is absolutely unbothered by the audience and the laughter, pale face flushed from the wine and a little smirk stretching his thin lips into expression almost catlike. The maroon turtleneck stretches nicely across his chest, as thinly as your lip that you worry between your teeth.

Pietro raises an eyebrow. You shrug.

"Got something in your eye, no?" He teases playfully and you shrug again, taking another swig of your nice, European beer.

There are more gatherings, more parties and quite a few rides in his car, when the wind blows your hair in all directions possible and intermingles it with Wanda's as you giggle and squeal in the back seat. Helmut always indulges you two; the word 'no' simply does not exist in that man's vocabulary. He insists politely but firmly on a dinner with all three of them on your birthday and the gifts he brings make your eyes pop out and your face heat.

"A woman like you makes any sensible man want to shower you with the finest gifts," Helmut's voice is quiet and his accent is thick and somehow, it makes it all that harder to refuse. He smiles like usual - tiny and a little secretive, as he pecks your cheek, filling the air around you with the smell of his cologne. It makes your mouth water and your fingers clench helplessly around the half a dozen of silk paper-wrapped boxes.

The summer rolls in and it's hot and humid and finally you don't have to worry about waking up at the crack of dawn or classes or the annoying boys who can barely take a no for an answer. The invitation to Helmut's villa doesn't come as a surprise; Wanda had been riled up over it since early May and Pietro and his whole damn football team were equally as thrilled.

You pack flowy dresses, daisy dukes and swimsuits. The expensive jewelry and handbag Helmut had gifted you, too, since the villa is surrounded by a whole neighborhood meant solely for the rich and famous. Wanda is absolutely unbothered by her own bohemian chic and you quietly envy her; the longer you get to know her, the more you realise of how much actually she does not give a fuck about anything besides her paintings and sculptures.

It's admirable, really, because she is talented. And Helmut knows it, too, having had collected and kept every single work Wanda had made, showing it off in the various rooms of his two-story mansion. The abstract fits in well and is a great conversation topic for him and his equally important friends. There's an endless stream of them in the first days and Wanda isn't overtly happy, choosing to run away to laze around the pool with you more often than not.

Helmut's friends stop at the glass wall between the inner side of the house and the pool to stare at you two, too, causing something dark and tense flash across his features. There always had been a sort of tangy obscurity in him, you've noticed, but not nearly enough for you to grow concerned. It added the bittersweetness, the flavour and consistency to the modest man.

Although calling him modest might have been a mistake. The moment you can't shake off one of his friends after a polite chit-chat seems to never end, Wanda nowhere in sight, dread and unease digging their sharp, spindly fingers in the soft flesh behind your rib cage, Helmut is suddenly there, arm wrapped almost possessively around your waist.

"Draga mea, Wanda is looking for you. She says it's urgent," He stares the man down with the eyes of a vulture. "I believe we haven't been properly introduced," Helmut seems to not realize he's still clutching you in a grasp of steel as the man opposite you rumbles out his name, few syllables you'd forgotten seconds after he spoke them for the first time.

"Baron Helmut Zemo," the fingers brush and squeeze once, gently, over the valley of your waist before letting go. You miss the rest of their peacocking, walking away with a fight and fire inside of your hammering heart. Anxiety and longing and confusion mix and blend, combining into a cocktail that has you beelining for the bar like a woman parched.

The next day you're sleeping off the hangover, first in your bed and then by the pool - Wanda had run off into town for one thing or another, and knowing her, she'd be back home at the crack of dawn. It was blissful peace, the soothing balm for your troubled heart and your aching head.

"Hungover?" Helmut's voice was quiet and a little bit teasing. None of the Eastern Europeans had ever showed the signs of having any ill effects from the alcohol they drunk, unlike you.

You stretched, too blissed out to care about the skimpy strings and straps of your bikini, basking in the gentle morning sun. "Mmm, not anymore," a swim in the cold pool had done wonders.

Your soft pink float rocked as Helmut's footsteps quieted, giving way to a short splash and the sound of his breathing somewhere in your space. Just as you cracked open your eyes, he reached out a hand to steady himself next to you. "I wanted to apologize for the situation yesterday. That man was stepping out of line. He is not welcome in my home anymore."

You stare at him and then you snort. The blunt was he usually speaks is so easy, it flows oh so effortlessly. No mind games, just honesty. You want to pay him back in kind. "Don't worry, Helmut. I just had a bit too much to drink," that was the truth. Any other time and you wouldn't have hesitated to unapologetically steer clear of any creep. Heat and bubbly don't mix and that was your own mistake.

"No, printsesa," the man in front of you let loose some of the delicious darkness, eyes growing stormy, hand gently resting over yours. "Some men are fools, they are nothing but animals. You deserve to feel safe, especially in my home." His lips stretched into a smile, water dripping down his jaw and making tiny circles form in the azure of the pool.

"I can't argue with that," you replied, catching the stray liquid and following the trails it made with your eyes. His forehead, dripping down over his eyes, making Helmut blink the stray drops away until they landed on his lips, trickling down his chin.

You swallowed, opting to dip your toes into the cool pool water before you could make a fool of yourself. The water splashed towards him, making a mischievous grin grace his usually serious face, as me made a half-hearted attempt to splash back weakly, making the water sizzle on your sun-kissed skin. Never the one to back down from a challenge, you knitted your eyebrows in mock offense, eagerly letting the water wash over you as you abandoned the float in favour of creating waves with your whole body.

The temperature contrast was delicious and Helmut's laugh even more so as it echoed in between the high walls of the building surrounding the pool. The sun was nearly at its peak, shining over your head in a beacon of heat that almost matched the one inside of you, the one that had blossomed there months ago and finally grew into a steady smolder, shooting sparks whenever you were around the baron.

It was hot and wet, the same feeling chasing you two when you finally kissed. His hand firmly planted on the side of your neck, his nose softly brushing against the underside of your jaw, Helmut was in no rush to taste you, to savour every millimeter of your sun-kissed skin. The man left you with your fingertips trembling and heart scrambling for purchase somewhere in the deepest pits of your belly.

"What are you so hungry for, mmm?" Helmut's voice rumbled next to the shell of your ear; you could barely focus, skin singing underwater, where he held onto you like a lifeline. "You have hungry eyes, ljubavi, tell me what it is and I'll give it to you," your bodies pressed flush against each other, his eyelashes flittering against your cheek.

"You," the maximum capacity for your brain was one-syllable words and you used it sparingly, failing to suppress a gasp when Helmut's mouth latched around a particularly sensitive spot right under your jawline.

Teeth scraped over it before he soothed the sting with his tongue. "All the things in the world, I could give them to you. And yet..." He sounded almost disappointed. Perplexed, just as you were at the strange admission. "A woman like you would have men fighting for your attention yet you give it to me so freely," he murmured softly, capturing your lips in a slow, fluid kiss once more. "I will make sure you have everything you could ever want."

Helmut's touch grew bolder as he steered the two of you towards the shallow end of the pool. The taste of him was intoxicating, like the sweetest, most alluring poison you'd ever tasted: you knew that once you had one small bit, you'd be addicted, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. His words were clever and his mouth even more, making the short stumble upstairs last hours.

A wall, baroque tapestry, marked with the wetness of the pool water, where you allowed yourself to be pressed against as he leaned into you with the entirety of his broad frame, domineering the kiss effortlessly.

You panted as your back hit the soft, million-thread count, unmade sheets of the baron's bed, staring up into his eyes and finding your own reflection in his pupils, blown wide with lust. The tiny smirk was back but now his unexpressive face was marred by a gleem, accentuating his moist, puffy lips you'd licked into and bitten in a heated frenzy.

"Beautiful, printsesa," he stated with quiet firmness, leaning over into you to unclasp and toss away the upper part of the bikini. The bottoms followed suit, flung carelessly somewhere. His hands ran over your as it sang, every tiniest nerve hypersensitive, coming alive with a fervor borne of months of longing, complimented by the summer heat and cool waters.

"Helmut," your voice wavered, flowed on the syllables as his clever, clever mouth trailed hot down your chest, briefly submerging each nipple into the sear of it. Goosebumps rose over your exposed body, highlighting a trail for him, a trail he followed eagerly. Kisses were candy sweet and marshmallow soft.

Hot breath at the apex of your thighs had you mewling and arching into it, having abandoned all shame, and Helmut found it amusing. The petite chuckle made an appearance, his fingertips ghosting over the part of your lower lips; he was as amused by your impatience as he was enthralled by the youthfulness of the gesture. "Shh, ljubavi, I will make it feel better," his accent as thick as clover honey and just as saccharine.

The first movements were tentative, brief and so light, the demanding moan slipped out of your mouth along with a growl of frustration. You felt continuous chuckling, slight stubble rasping along the sides your thighs; you felt him pick up pace and steady his hot hands on your hips as you attempted to trash against the overwhelming stimulation your pussy was receiving.

His moans, loud and wet, drove you closer to the edge like a drunk drove a Ferrari; Helmut's skill was unparalleled but it lacked precision as he lost himself in the moment just as much as you.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm- I'm so close," you managed to grunt out before the crescendo hit, eyes rolling back into your skull as the influx of more, more, more hit every nerve ending in your body. You could do little more than rest your legs on his shoulders as the noble man, the quiet storm lapped up every drop of your release.

He made the inside of you weak.

In seconds, Helmut was back on top of you, grinding his arousal into you desperately, almost begging for it and all you could do was let your body respond, mimic your lover, clench around nothing just as you felt him twitch.

"Tell me you're mine," he demanded hooking one of your legs over his hip, eyes boring into yours with everything in them plain on display. It was a terrifying thing: as if your heart had suddenly grown legs, stood up and walked out into the bare, wide world, open for all to see. "Ti moa, skaži eto," his native tongue made his voice even more hoarse, you couldn't resist anymore.

"I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours," you chanted the words like a prayer, hoping he'd be merciful - and he is. No, there's only a hidden tenderness in his hands as he drives into your with increasing force that shakes you and makes your core quiver, igniting your flesh once again like the color red; it's messy and it's sloppy and you're barely aware of Helmut muttering something into the crook of your neck as you feel yourself clench down on him with a choked moan.

"Fuck," hearing him, the polite composed man, bite the end of his own orgasm into a curse made a wave of magenta hot rush travel through your body at lightning speed, his cock pulsating and coating you, claiming you from inside out so sweetly you couldn't resist a shallow gasp into his cheek, a gasp he mirrored as his own oversensitive flesh was once more assaulted by your combined lust.

The tide of his breathing was high; both of you spent yet still drunk on the newfound sense of togetherness. It was clear as a summer's day that in your arms laid a man who'd once lost something important and you - you were a someone who's never had anything of significance and perhaps, this time each other's arms would let you both keep whatever it was that you missed.

#helmut zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo smut #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x y/n #zemo smut #zemo x reader #zemo x you #bun writes #baron zemo #zemo #i am KNEELING

[jamesbuchananbarnesslut]

Knifly Dinner

Paring: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Words: 2,967

Summary: During dinner Bucky figures out a new kink neither one of you expected to like. 

Warnings: smut, smutty, smut, kink discovery, knife kink, knife in the V, as well as P in the V, dirty talk, praise kink

Tiny Tag List: @whisperlullaby​ @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​

Notes: This is all for @whisperlullaby​ and her 700 follower challenge I love you so much, am so proud of you, and miss talking to you all the time. Either way I’m sending you all my love and an amazing knife kink discovery story. This also happens to be the longest story I’ve written yet, but that’s also no shocker as it involves one of our favorite kinks. Much love and appreciation to all of those who read, please enjoy, love, reblog, and comment! 

Master List

——————————————————————————

You and Bucky had been together for a decent amount of time, you first met each other when the unsnapping happened. You were just trying to find another place to call home and Bucky was working with his therapist and crossing off names in his little black book. During one of his trips to cross off a name, you and he had mistakenly grabbed each other's luggage from the airport, as you both had the same bags. Although you opened your bag to find a wide assortment of men's clothes and a couple hidden weapons. Bucky opened his to find some pretty pink panties and a variety of women's clothing that surely wasn't what he packed. Thankfully there was a little tag stuck inside the bag that directed Bucky how to contact you. It wasn't the best predicament but when you and Bucky first saw each other at the coffee shop to exchange bags it was love at first sight and the rest was history.

After settling down from the events of the government putting the shield in someone else's hands and Sam being named Captain America. Bucky had bought a place for you and him in Louisiana to be closer to Sam and Sarah. Which led to a lot of time spent with the Wilson family, specifically fishing trips and family dinners. It also meant that Bucky did a lot of the cooking, not only was he better at it, but he just loved taking care of you. And you loved watching him cook the way he moved around the kitchen, how he worked with his hands and when he fed you. Which is why you were spending another night sitting at the island in your kitchen, drinking wine, and watching Bucky dice up an assortment of flavorful ingredients for his latest concoction.  

Considering this is how you and Bucky spent most of your nights it was nothing new that you were mesmerized by Bucky's hands and how he worked and moved with a knife. He was always twirling it between his fingers or delicately, slicing, cutting, or dicing up some type of food for you. It was nothing new that watching Bucky in his element turned you on. Even now just watching him you couldn't help the little pool of wetness that started to form in your panties. Or that you were already partway through your second glass of wine before he was even done cooking. It was like he was purposely putting on a show for you, cutting the food up right on the island in front of you. While he asked about your day and you about his, but you couldn't help but get wrapped up in the thoughts of what you were hoping would take place after dinner. You and Bucky had sex regularly, but every time he cooked for you, essentially taking care of you, you couldn't help but want to return the favor and take care of him.  

"Earth to Y/N, are you in there?" Bucky asks while dumping all his diced ingredients into an already sizzling pan.  

"Huh? I, uh, yeah, what's going on?" You look up sheepishly from your wine glass meeting his eye contact.  

He smirks at you, almost knowingly. "You've been real caught up in your head lately doll, what's going on with you?"  

While taking another sip of your drink you ponder whether you should be forward or play it off and ruin the surprise of a strip tease and blowjob after dinner for Bucky. Although he probably already suspects you have something planned, you always do something for him after he cooks. You decide to play it off with work being stressful, because it has been, but the slow season is about to hit so things will be easier shortly. "Just waiting for the slow season to roll in at work so I can finally catch a break," you respond.  

"Yeah, I get that honey. You've been working real hard lately and even started bringing work home, something you usually don't do. Which I'm hoping to see less of soon; but dinner should be done shortly get washed up and I'll top of your wine." He smiles at you and begins pulling the rest of his cooking out of the oven and begins plating everything while you run to the bathroom.

By the time you get back to the kitchen Bucky has everything plated and is waiting to eat with you. The rest of the dinner is smooth sailing, you power through another glass of wine, while Bucky tells you about how Sam spent thirty minutes reeling in a fish just to knock it off the line at the last-minute. In return you tell him about one of the new hires that spilled fresh coffee all over your bosses' desk and important confidential documents. By the time dinner is done and you're cleaning up the dishes, you can sense Bucky is up to something but you're not sure what. That is until you're rinsing off dishes in the sink and Bucky comes up behind you brandishing a knife at your neck. Completely catching you off guard.

"Bucky," said between gulps of air "what are you up too?"  

Pulling you in closer, he responds huskily in your ear, "now doll, I've seen how you watch my hands when I'm working. But recently I've especially noticed how you watch my hands in the kitchen when I'm using a knife."  

You can't help the little gasps that escape you with Bucky's words, he wasn't wrong, Bucky's hands were always memorizing to you. Whether he was laboring over a beautiful dinner for you, or his thick fingers were working in and out of you, it was always hot. But his hands holding a knife, and Bucky's skills with a knife, had always left you wet and wanting. Anytime he showed off those skills it always led to some form of steamy hot sex. You should have connected the pieces sooner, but it seems like Bucky beat you to the punch. Now do you own up to it and let it see how this plays out or act like he read the situation wrong?  

By the time the words come to you, you feel Bucky's confidence in the situation falter. He loosens the pressure of the knife against your neck and even begins to mutter apologies. Your words cut him off though and you fall into one of your typical submissive roles in the bedroom. "What are you sorry for Sarge? Don't you prefer when I'm more vocal with what I want in the bedroom? You must be upset I didn't speak up sooner." You state while wrigglingly further back into his arms, purposefully rubbing your ass against his crotch.  

Bucky readjusts his grip wrapping his vibranium arm tightly around you but keeping the knife loosely at your neck. "I do prefer when your vocal with me doll, so tell me what color you're on right now?"

"Green," you blurt out quickly. The dishes that were begin rinsed off in the sink completely forgotten, you just want to see where Bucky will take this.  

The knife is immediately back at your neck, pushed in enough that if you move it could nick you. "That's a good girl," he replies in a raspy voice causing the pool of wetness in your underwear to return. "Now I need you to stay still doll." He slowly drags the knife from your neck down to your shoulder blade, which sends chills throughout your body and makes goosebumps arise. From there Bucky slips the knife underneath the strap of your dress and bra, before you know it you hear the ripping of fabric, and the straps are completely cut through.

"You're doing so good for me doll," Bucky states while continues to drag the knife along your skin, starting at the shoulder of the straps he just cut. You can't help the little whimpers that leave your mouth, the combination of the knife and Bucky's words all going straight to your pussy. Bucky keeps teasing though and slowly drags the knife across your back to the other straps and cutting right through those ones as well.  

"Here comes the fun part," he chuckles. Bucky releases his hold on you just to spin you around so you're finally facing him. You meet his gaze, and his pupils are completely blown out and black, he's enjoying this as much as you are. Neither of you could have predicted adding this kink to your lists and yet here it is after a typical mundane dinner. Bucky breaks the gaze you're holding when he crouches and brings the knife to the bottom of your dress. He's meticulous in his work and cuts off every single button that's keeping you concealed. The entire process making you lightheaded and your underwear slicker with need.

Slowly working his way from the bottom of your dress up until the lingerie you're wearing for him is revealed and he can slip your dress off your arms. Which he does so immediately so he can get a better look at what you've been hiding underneath your dress. It’s a matching bra and panty set, the straps of the bra completely cut through and ruined. The set is a soft sage green covered with floral embroidered emblements, the colors complementing your skin.  

"Oh doll, did you already have something planned for me after dinner?"

You clear your throat and work out a yes while Bucky begins to run the knife along your body now that the majority if not all of your skin is exposed for him. He starts by tracing your collar bones and then dropping to follow the curves of your body. Slowly across the exposed top of your breasts, down your stomach, the cold metal leaving goosebumps in its wake. Then the knife is moved along your hips until the Bucky's worked it underneath the band of your underwear.

"You'll have to make it up to me another night, I've got new plans for us," and with that he cuts through your underwear too. It drops to the ground in pieces leaving you cold and exposed, allowing Bucky to see the glistening slick between your legs.  

"You like this though don't you doll?" Which he follows by dragging the knife back up your sternum and sliding it underneath the front of your bra so he can cut through that too.  

"Yeah, Sarge, I like this a lot," you work out in little huffs while Bucky peels the cut bra from your body.

"That's good because I'm only getting started." Bucky pushes the knife back up into your neck while dropping his lips in to kiss you. Its dirty, sloppy, and consuming. Bucky only pulls away so you both can catch a breath of air but keeps the knife close to your neck. Once you've caught your breath Bucky drops the knife and instead grabs you so he can lay you on the island where you just ate dinner. He sets you up so your feet are flat on the counter with your knees bent, giving him a perfect view of your glistening cunt.  

"Goddamn baby, I don't think I've seen you this soaked in a long time," Bucky punctuates by the grabbing the knife and sliding it along your legs now. Beginning at your ankle and working his way up towards your knee and into the apex of your thighs. Even on the cold marble countertop you can't help the full body flush that covers you. More moans and whimpers escaping from your mouth as Bucky continues to slowly drag the knife along your pussy and then along your other leg. Back down towards your knee and then to your ankle.  

"I need you to touch me Sarge," you speak out shakily.  

"But I am touching you doll," he continues to follow his path back along your leg, at the ankle, up your knee and into the apex of your thighs.

"I need more," you whine out.

"Where do you want me to touch you, be specific doll?" Bucky smirks at you.

"My pussy," you let out in huffs.  

"Do you want my hands, mouth, or the knife," he lets out calmly, as if that last option was always on the menu.  

You didn't expect the last option to leave Bucky's mouth but now that it has you can't help the deeper flush that covers your body. You can't help but think of anything else, the entire notion making you burn even hotter. You manage to stammer out, "I, uhm, Buck, I mean Sarge, please, will you use your knife to touch me."

Bucky's lets out a groan, is smirking again and then moving the knife in his hands, he puts the blade into his vibranium one and begins rubbing the handle of the blade along your pussy. "Look at you pretty little thing, always take my fingers and cock so well and now you're going to take my knife too. Going to make me cum in my pants with just teasing you honey," he rumbles out.  

After teasing you until your juices cover the handle of the blade, he moves to push it into your velvet folds. It glides in easily causing a gasp to escape your lips while Bucky pushes it in just enough that it's rubbing right against your g-spot. "Oh, that's it doll, you're gripping my knife so nicely. Want you to cover it in your juices so anytime I use it, it smells like you, and I'm reminded of this." Which he punctuates by slowly beginning to move the handle of the blade in and out of you, right against your g-spot. Your moans and whimpers now echoing through the room, while he builds a steady pace.  

"That's it doll, be a good girl and cum all over my knife and then this pretty little pussy can have my cock." Bucky states while dropping his flesh hand down to your clit and rubbing it in rough circles that match the pace that he's moving the knife's handle in and out of you. A heat slowly building throughout your body and spreading into your limbs, while your moans get louder. "Yeah, that's it, make a mess all over my knife," Bucky's words tipping you right over the edge.  

Recovering from your orgasm, you watch Bucky slowly pulls the knife from you licking some of your slick off the handle and then setting it on the opposite counter. He then begins to strip his own clothes and watches you, watching him.  

"Like what you see?" He asks while finally stepping out of his boxers and giving his cock a couple pumps.

"You know I do Sarge," you reply in a deep sultry tone.  

"Common lets take this somewhere more comfortable," he pulls you off the counter and carries you into the living room sitting down on the couch with you in his lap. What you aren't expecting is for him to pull out another knife from the couch and brandish this one at your neck as well. You knew he had weapons hidden all over the house, ever the paranoid that he is. But now that he was using them on you, it was a whole new level of hot.

"I want you to ride me doll, but while you do, I'm going to keep this knife at your neck the whole time. Meaning you better be real careful doll and take it nice and slow, that okay?"

"Yes Sarge," you let out breathily while shifting your position fully straddling him, grabbing his cock and lining it up with your entrance.  

"Such a good girl," he looks at you with amazement but keeps the knife perfectly at your neck, his other hand, held at the nape of your neck preventing any further movement, so Bucky doesn't actually cut you.  

You begin to ride him at a slow steady pace, the knife in his hands following all of your movements perfectly. Even riding Bucky at this slower pace, you can't help but feel your next orgasm already forming. A slow and steady burn starting in your core and working its way out into your limbs. You had no idea Bucky holding you at knife point would be this hot but now you can't help but think how he'll keep finding ways to incorporate it into your sex life.  

"That's it doll. Such a good girl for me, taking my cock so nicely. I know your close again already, you want to cum for me?"

"Fuck. Yes. Sarge," you work out in between gasps while working yourself up and down on Bucky's cock. The cold blade still pushed up into your neck, leaving red marks and scratches in its wake.  

"Want you to make a mess all over my cock too doll, look at you taking me so well" Bucky grunts out while your pussy tightens up around his length. The warmth in your body burning hotter as Bucky's about to talk you into your next orgasm.  

"That's it, common doll, be a good girl and cum all over Sarge's cock." Matching the pace, you've already set, Bucky begins thrusting up into you without moving the knife. His words and matched pace immediately sending you over the edge, while your moans echo throughout the room. Your sweet cunt milking Bucky's cock sending him over the edge with you. Bucky drops the knife just so he can pump his cum properly into you, pulling you tightly into him.  

Once you both catch your breath Bucky is the first to speak again, "if I knew me pulling a knife on you would make you that wet, I would have done it sooner."

#jamesbuchananbarnesslut writes #jamesbuchananbarnesslut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x fem reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes knife kink #bucky barnes knife #bucky barnes #whispers700challenge

[folkloreguk]

an angel for a demon (2)

A/N: Part one came out like two years ago lmao but I’ve always wanted to write another part, and here it finally is! I’m always open to feedback of any kind! x

genre: smut, optional bias (male), demon!bias, angel!reader, reader’s first time, unprotected sex bc we pretend angels and demons can’t have babies or STDs apparently

words: ~ 3.4 k

PART 1

PART 3

Three days had passed since you had begun to live with him. It had taken you some time to get used to your new surroundings and to realize this is where you would spend most of your time from now on. His place was not what angels called beautiful. Had it been yours, it would have been filled with antique statues of heavenly beings, light, soft colors and comfortable pillows and blankets. But his taste differed gravely from yours. He had a love for black marble and accents of red. Not the beautiful, bright red of strawberries in summer. It was dark crimson, like deoxygenated blood fresh out of a wound. You felt like you had entered a side wing of hell itself, sometimes. But you knew hell had to be much, much worse.

On the second day, you had set yourself the challenge of making the place feel at least slightly homier. No one who entered this apartment would, even in their wildest dreams, assume that an angel lived there. Although you weren’t sure you could call yourself that, anymore. Your trip to the grocery store was the most humane thing you had ever done on earth, but surely wouldn’t stay the last. You wondered, while you had strolled around the isles, whether one day you could find yourself working a job on earth, now that you couldn’t call heaven home no more. You still had the desire to help the humans, and maybe you could earn a living whilst doing so.

On that note, you had pondered countless times how a demon could afford the luxury he lived in. But he wasn’t one to tell you about his day when he returned home after being out all night. He called it ‘demon business’ and ‘nothing that should concern a little angel’. One day, you would winkle it out of him. Although maybe you really would be better off not knowing. But you knew, as always that sooner or later your curiosity would get the best of you.

When he came home on the second day and laid eyes on the cotton candy-colored flowers on the table, he couldn’t help but smirk at how proud you were. The contrast was stark against the dark ebony table and seemed like an accurate representation of how you had felt in his home.

“If you wanted me to bring you flowers you could have just said so,” he said.

“I like going out to the store myself sometimes,” you replied. He was always so stern when he returned home. Sometimes he had tired eyes, and often he seemed physically exhausted. But the moment he laid eyes on you, his strained expression softened. Then, he’d stroke away a strand of your hair and gaze at you with utmost admiration. He had offered to buy you whatever your heart desired, but your angel life had never required you to have possessions. There was no greed or yearning for luxury, and you liked it that way.

One thing, however, you never seemed to get enough of on earth. No matter how many books you opened and got lost in, you always wanted more. And he knew of your wish to learn more about the world. He had gifted you books of philosophy, biology and physics, and yet he had no idea it wasn’t science that interested you the most.

Every night you lay awake for too long, reflecting on what he had said to you that one night. That there was more for you to learn. Before him, you never knew what real pleasure felt like – you weren’t supposed to, even now – but now that you understood, you only wanted to feel it again and again. A few times you had contemplated asking him to show you more. To let you feel the pure bliss of what heaven called sinning again. But he seemed tired when he returned home, and when he didn’t you were too scared to approach him with such a topic. Plus, you didn’t even know how to. Too new was the idea of you – an angel – even thinking of doing such unholy things.

So you spent your days pacing around the apartment, sitting by the window, looking out at the city and waiting for him to come home. One night, you couldn’t fall asleep, as on many other occasions. He wasn’t there next to you, and the bed felt too big for just one lonely angel in it. There was an almost burning sensation between your legs. Once again, you squeezed your eyes shut and thought of other things – floating on clouds, watching older angels’ wings flatter, inspecting your little village you used to guard from above. But nothing helped. It all led back to black eyes, razor teeth, a sharp tongue and hands so hellish in their actions, you should have wished he had never touched you. And yet you never did.

Your eyes shot open when you heard the shower turn on. The alarm clock on the table read 1:57 am. Not so patiently, you waited a few minutes until the sound of the water died down. Then, you tip-toed out of the room and down the hall.

The sight of him made your cheeks heat up. He was sat, in the dark, on the sofa. A towel was around his waist, a few drops of water glistening on his bare chest as he lifted the glass of alcohol to his lips.

“What are you doing standing and staring, little angel? Why don’t you come join me?” he suddenly asked. Your heart skipped a beat at his voice. Heaven help me now, you thought.

“I thought you didn’t…,” you started, slowly moving across the room as if you were floating.

“I didn’t notice you?” he finished your sentence. You hummed a quiet yes. “Your glow is hard to miss.”

You weren’t sure what he meant by that. Was he saying, that just as he had a dark aura around him, you radiated a bright one? It made sense to you. You stopped in your tracks when you stood in front of him.

“You’re wearing your angel dress again,” he pointed out. He had brought you clothes, but nothing felt as right on your body as your white dress you had always worn.

“I always sleep in it,” you said. “You never see it, since you’re never here.”

“Does my little angel miss me?” he said. His dark eyes watched you intently, but they softened when he realized you had meant your words. “Come here, let me make it up to you.”

Not knowing what he meant by those words, you plopped down next to him.

“I meant come here,” he repeated, tapping his lap. Oh. Obediently, you swung one of your legs over his waist. Suddenly, you were hyperaware of the fact that his towel was the only thing between your center and his bare skin. Carefully, you watched his eyes for instructions or assurance. You kept your hands tightly by your sides, not daring to touch his skin that shined so beautifully in the moonlight. It was almost ironic, how ethereal his perfectly sculpted muscles appeared to you.

“Tell me, angel, do you sometimes think about what we did three days ago?” he asked, softly brushing his fingers along your arm. You should have felt ashamed to admit it. But with the way he watched you, he seemed to already guess your answer.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it,” you said, the words spilling out after keeping them in for too long. “I want to know more.”

He smirked, hooded black eyes watching your every breath while his head remained on the backrest of the sofa.

“Is that so?” he almost teased. “Why don’t you kiss me, then? Go ahead.”

Hesitantly, you bent forward until your forehead was almost touching his. Now, you didn’t look into his intimidating gaze anymore, but instead the closeness only made you more nervous. But more prominent than your nerves was your curiosity and your desire you hadn’t been able to shut out for the past days. You smelled a faint note of alcohol before you softly pressed your lips against his. Your kiss was the tender flutter of butterfly wings, like a singular snowflake landing on warm skin, as careful as a little bird in a lion’s cage.

But he kissed back, so overwhelmingly and suddenly, it robbed your breath in an instant. His body straightened up now, arms pulling you closer to his chest. Humming contently, he took your lifeless hands from your sides and placed them on his shoulders. His warm skin was inviting, making it easy for you to melt into his touch. Still, you weren’t used to this feeling. Maybe you would never get used to it. Perhaps it was supposed to be this exciting every single time. He breathed against your mouth heavily and his tongue swiped across your lips. The sensation was enticing and combined with his coaxing hands digging into your waist, your guilt washed away far too quickly. But there had been no redemption after the previous time and there wouldn’t be one now. Or ever. For a moment, you pulled away, needing air.

“Too much? Too fast?” he asked, cradling your face in his hands. A rush of comfort overcame you.

“No, I’m fine. It just feels – really good,” you said.

“Of course it does,” he bragged, smirking infamously.

“Can you…I want you to touch me…like you did last time,” you said. Even you were surprised at yourself. You could have just waited for him and he surely would have made you feel amazing. But now that you knew what it could feel like, you weren’t able to swallow your impatience.

“Such a sinful confession from such holy lips,” he said, voice dripping honey while he brushed two of his fingers across those very lips. “I wonder what other things those could do.”

What could he possibly be talking about? How much was there for you to try out? Whatever it was, you wanted to do it all. You had no idea what had come over you. Was there a secret demon that had taken possession of your body without notice? Or maybe you were simply an angel tired of acting like one.

Slowly, his hands dropped from your sides and to your hips. All while he watched your face like it was his favorite meantime to make you squirm under his touch. When he progressed to your thighs, something dropped in your stomach. Again, your body reacted before your mind did and you wanted to press your legs together. It felt familiar, but just as thrilling as the first time. His head tilted slightly as if to ask ‘do you like this?’ as he lifted the hem of your satin dress. And how you liked it.

You were very aware of being bare in front of him. So, in order to avoid feeling his eyes on your body, you bent forward again to kiss him. Bad idea – because the lack of oxygen and the loss of your sight when you closed your eyes only intensified the need. His fingertips were fleeting, rather non-demon-like, but you knew how fast he could flip his actions, had he wanted to.

They ghosted over your slit, collecting your wetness that had been pooling there. At even the slightest contact of his finger on your clit, you let out a quiet noise. He had been biting his lip, but when he heard you, his eyes met yours in an instant and he smirked.

“Let me hear you, little angel,” he said, before placing a kiss on your neck. While he continued to suck purple marks into your skin, his fingers toyed around your center, figuring out what made you react in the best way. And as the angel you were, always eager to please, you made sure you didn’t keep your mouth shut anymore. It felt weird, noticing the sounds he produced from you so involuntarily, but the more you concentrated on the feeling of his hand between your legs, the easier it was to ignore them.

Maybe you were easy to please, or perhaps you were completely see-through for him. It occurred to you he had you figured out head to toe. How did he know exactly which spots to touch to have you clinging to him, as if you would have fallen had he not held you? He drew random figures on your clit, variating the pace just to keep you on edge right where he wanted you. Now and then, his digits slid further down to your core, almost entering you but not quite yet. Your moans came out in a muffled manner as you had your face buried where his neck and shoulder met.

“Look at me, angel,” he said. So you did. No matter what sort of menace could have possibly lay behind his black orbs, the sound of his voice made you want to give him everything. And judging by the way your hips were moving and pushing against his hands by themselves you had already given your body to him. Against all odds, after all the horror stories you had been told to ensure an angel like you would stay far away from hellish beings, you trusted him.

“What a disgrace…They kept you locked up in heaven all this time,” he spoke. “I should have had you all along. You should have had me.”

It had never occurred to you that you could have looked at it this way. You had been happy in heaven. But then again, you hadn’t known what you had been missing. That’s when he slowly inserted one of his fingers into you. The sensation was unusual, but then he curled his digit and you understood.

“Oh god,” you let out when he touched a certain spot inside of you. It felt so right, you wondered why when you were able to feel this way, you should have been abstinent all along.

“Not exactly a good time to bring up god, huh?” he said, teeth nibbling on your neck. You laughed before you could have stopped yourself, and he looked stunned. But then, his lips curled into a malicious and content grin. At the same time, he added another finger into your core. His thumb remained rubbing against your clit, and like last time, you could feel a knot tying in your stomach as time went on. A string of whines and whimpers fell from your lips and your eyes shut tightly. But he decided you’d have to wait longer for your release.

“Do you think you can handle more?” he asked. You sighed when he retracted his hand from your core and watched as he brought his fingers up to his lips to taste you. His gaze didn’t let you decide whether he eyed you like prey or his most treasured thing in the world.

“Yes, I want you to show me,” you said quietly, almost breathless from the sight in front of you.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, then,” he announced. “It’ll be more comfortable for you.”

Your legs felt like jelly as you walked with him. This time, you didn’t hesitate to get onto his black bedsheets. It had become one of your favorite places to be in his apartment by now and the familiarity of it took away some of your nerves.

“I might be a demon, but I promise I can be gentle,” he said. His eyes were probably the most mellow they had ever been since you had met him. Carefully, he helped you slip out of your dress. “So don’t be scared, little angel.”

You had to admit, when he removed his towel from his waist and your eyes fell on his hard member, you weren’t sure if you would be okay. But then he bent down to you and kissed you. His hands softly stroked your cheeks, making it a hard contrast from his devilish image.

“Still sure?” he asked between kisses. It was like he was sucking the fear out of you, although he should have terrified you all along. You nodded and hummed but then changed your voice to a small whimper when he used his hand to run his cock over your slick center. Ever so carefully, he pushed himself inside of you. The stretch was uncomfortable, at first. He must had noticed by reading your face, because his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“It’ll feel better in a bit, I promise,” he said. You relaxed your muscles the moment he kissed you again, his plan of distracting you surely working. When he had completely filled you up, he stayed in place while your tongues touched and you moaned at the feeling. It felt like he had always meant to be there, on top of you, inside of you.

“If you need me to stop or slow down, you’ll tell me, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered. Once again you debated how you ended up this way. In bed with a demon. And said demon had his hooded black eyes on you, while he thrusted into you ever so slowly, and you couldn’t believe how out-of-this-world-perfect he looked. Although you would surely need more time to get used to the feeling, there was a hint of pleasure you felt every time he dragged his cock against your walls and that once special spot he had touched before.

Upon hearing how he moaned for the first time, you realized it wasn’t just touch that could make your stomach clench in a deep desire to be close to him. It sounded animalistic and you kept your eyes on the way his sharp teeth dug into his bottom lip. You sucked in a breath when he caressed your breasts, fingertips toying with your nipples.

“This is the closest to heaven I’ll ever get, right, little angel?” he spoke, and his gloating smile was so wicked, but handsome, right at that moment. You could only hum a ‘yes’. His lips on your neck were gentle, but your head spun whenever his teeth grazed your angel skin.

“You wouldn’t like it there, either way,” you said. His hand snaked down your body, between your legs where you had been missing them. He let out a growl-like moan when you clenched around his cock from the sudden added pleasure. In no time, he found your clit and used his skilled fingers, and he was right, this should have been the definition of heaven.

“And why is that?” he asked. “Because I couldn’t have you this way, in heaven?”

“Exactly,” you whimpered. “Oh- my-“

The desire to close your legs around him became bigger with each second, the knot in your belly tightening and your mind clouding with nothing but bliss.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re my own personal heaven,” he said. His free hand brushed away your hair delicately. “Are you gonna let go for me, sweet angel?”

You weren’t sure how to let go, exactly. But if by that he meant for you to close your eyes and just let the feeling wash over you, you would - without a choice - do so. Your high made your back arch against his chest and a small cry escaped your lips. He pushed his digits down on your center, slower now, but making sure to draw out every last second of your orgasm.

He had been speeding up his thrusts but then he pulled out, not wanting to cause you discomfort due to overstimulation. With his hand around his cock and quick movements of his wrist, he managed to bring on his own release, letting his cum spill out onto your thighs. You didn’t realize you had been holding your breath until you finally opened your eyes again, blinking tiredly and wetting your dry lips. He lowered his head until your foreheads touched. The more you looked into his black eyes, the more at home they made you feel.

“How was that, angel?” he asked, his breathing still unsteady.

“Heavenly,” you replied, pulling him in for a kiss. Even against his lips, you recognized his devilish smirk. And up to that point, you had believed ‘heaven on earth’ was just some silly little human saying. Until he proved you wrong.

#kpop scenarios #kpop smut #optional bias #optional bias smut #demon au #angel au #exo smut #bts smut #ateez smut #stray kids smut #the boyz smut #monsta x smut #seventeen smut #ikon smut #pentagon smut #cravity smut #astro smut #btob smut #nct smut #onlyoneof smut #oneus smut #onf smut #got7 smut #winner smut #day6 smut #n.flying smut #a.c.e smut #txt smut #vixx smut #kpop imagines

[angelkurenai]

Imagine having a crush on Charlie Hunnam and Dean, your bodyguard, getting extremely jealous when, during an interview, you can’t stop flirting with the man who is also there as a guest.

“You know, all jokes aside, you seem a lot more calm this time. You're usually stressed out to go on interviews, no matter the host.” Dean remarked, his eyes taking in your figure.

Seriously, why don't you spread your legs a little more, I didn't quiet get the message yet. you almost said, and you most certainly thought, but only bit the inside of your cheek and looked away from Dean.

Your bodyguard leaned casually against his seat, knowing fully well just how distracting he was to you like that but not giving a damn. The suit did wonders, not that he needed it to. Though you had a growing suspicion he was well aware of it and was doing it on purpose just to get you back for everything you'd put him through.

“Well, for one I've had time to relax.” you shrugged, looking away, finding it easier to speak when you weren't looking at him “And I did plenty of it, to the point I'm looking forward to get back on the spotlight. Maybe you should try some of that? You are more stressed tonight.”

“You mean vacation?” he raised an eyebrow as you hummed.

“The kind of vacation that's meant to make me relax?” another questioned which you nodded your head at.

“Oh that kind of vacation, I see. So-” he paused, giving you a look “Not the kind of vacation that's a torture for me, filled with ice-cold showers and morning shots of whiskey because you're walking around in your bikini all day long and refuse to change unless it involves dressing down more? That kind of vacation?” he paused, eyebrow raised as he expected an answer to that before adding “Mind your own business.” he muttered, voice deeper as he glanced at the driver who had been not-so-subtly listening in.

“I-” you parted your lips to answer but ended up shrugging anyway “Guilty. But also, sorry not sorry. Besides, that's not the point here. I mean it, you could really use some vacation. Lately it seems that whenever I have an interview you're more stressed than me and my manager combined.”

“Do I? I wonder what the reason might be. Oh maybe it's the fact that last time I remember, you took part in a game that involved buckets of water being poured on you while wearing a white dress and what I rather vividly remember very little coverage underneath. And you-” he pointed a finger at the driver “If you dare google that, you're fired. Trust me I will know.”

“Yes, sir. I didn't hear a thing, sir.” the driver said with almost wide eyes, knowing fully well not to challenge Dean. It didn't matter how, he wasn't going to risk it.

Meanwhile, all you could do was roll your eyes “It was not buckets, only glasses of water. We were playing water war and just because you were giving me looks all night, I lost and Jimmy won. So yes, I blame you for that. Besides, I was wearing underwear, alright?”

“At this point I really wish you weren't. Wouldn't have been as... traumatizing.” he struggled a bit to say the word because if he really used the one he felt like, the one he wanted to, then he didn't know if you'd make it to the studio. But given the snort the driver gave then it couldn't be more wrong of a choice for a word.

“Social media didn't see it that way, as far as I remember. Including several celebrities I know of.” you shrugged, smirking “I don't know about you, I had plenty of fun.”

“And I had plenty of heart-attacks.” he muttered instead, mostly to himself.

“Either way, you don't have to sweat it this time. Graham doesn't have any sort of games, not of that kind anyway.” you brushed him off “Nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about. Nothing my ass. Son of a-” he sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face.

At this point he would certainly take all the water the ocean had to offer, instead of whatever that fancy colored liquid that sat in the glass on your hand was. A glass you hadn't missed the opportunity to refill at least twice so far. And while that on it's own wasn't such a bad thing, combine it with a ridiculously attractive man who happened to be your celebrity crush – as you never failed, not for a second, to point out to Dean every time you got the chance – and a lack of inhibition and you had the perfect recipe for a catastrophe. Or Dean's death, whichever came first.

“So as you can imagine, now there's a bit of a problem there now. Mostly whenever I'm on a flight and what not.” Charlie explain as Graham nodded his head and you looked at him with a concerned frown.

“But it's not like it's left a problem with your hearing in general, right? You- you can hear well from that side of-” Graham started speaking.

“Well, generally speaking I can- I'm sorry what?” but as he was talking, Charlie started speaking at the same time only to pause and ask the question back instead, which made all of you burst into laughter.

“Wait- hey you!”

“Ah gotcha huh?” he grinned, his smile only getting brighter when he glanced in your direction, your giggles a tad louder and more easy thanks to the alcohol in your system. It was exactly that which had Dean on edge. One of the many signs that the alcohol was doing its job.

Much like the easy and inviting smiles. Much like the way you'd bite your lower lip at times, when he spoke. Much like, even when you were speaking, instead of looking at the host, your eyes would constantly jump on the man next to you on the couch. Much like when you laughed at something funny he said, your hand would rest on his shoulder or, worse, when it rested on his thigh. And if that wasn't driving Dean mad as it was already, when the actor only seemed to relax under your touch and lean in closer, it felt like he could only see red and that the tie around his neck was choking him. He was about to loosen it only to remember he had done that long ago. If there weren't people there, he'd have long ago jumped from his seat and started pacing around like a lion in a cage. His jumping leg was certainly proof of that, what with all of his twitching. He huffed, shaking his head before he narrowed his eyes at the scene before him. Every little action that unfolded before his eyes was proof of why he hated not being able to intervene when you had a little too much to drink.

“Territorial much, aren't we Deano?”

He remembered you asking with a smirk on your lips, which had very quickly and easily turned into a grin - if not a slightly drunken one - when you'd clearly seen the way his eyes had only darkened and his jaw, clenched and all, had twitched. The look he had given you was of a warning one, telling you not to test him further but after a party where you've had a little too much too drink and even more to flirt, with all those actors and celebrities around, you only saw it as a challenge. He knew real well he was being territorial, he didn't need you to ask. He had nearly punched a guy when he got his hands on you, and it was expected after he had been fuming in the corner and watching like a hawk when said hands lowered even further down your back and you leaned into him all giggling and touching. He was bound to explode and it came as no surprise that, even drunk, you would take notice of it and use it to your advantage. Granted, he couldn't pin you on the wall and mark you down nor slam you against the bathroom wall and have his way with you, but he could come up with ways to get in the way.

Not that the alcohol seemed necessary anyway. Snapping back to reality, the scene before him verified his thoughts. The way the man was looking at you, his undivided attention all yours, his eyes on you at all times and, even worse, his lingering touches could have very easily made you fall into his orbit without even a single drink needed.

“And here I thought that walking away with a bruise or two from the set of Marvel was too much. Oh how I love green screen now!” you laughed “I mean I've had several injuries before, but most of the time they're far too stupid to talk about. Besides, I always look one step away from total meltdown doesn't make much of a difference if you add an injury or two to the case, so- Cheers to that!”

Your words, as you raised your glass, earned a laugh from everyone around you, Graham not missing the opportunity to speak “See? That's exactly why she is my favorite guest! This is what everyone now calls is a total mood!”

The man next to you, who threw his head back and then looked at you with absolute adoration written all over his face “Oh I doubt that even at your worst you could look anything short of perfect, darling. In fact I feel like I should have received a warning, to make sure I was more properly dressed or something. I didn't know I'd be sitting right next to an angel tonight.” his accent wasn't making things easier as Dean could practically see you swoon.

“Oh, look who's talking. Please, don't have a single doubt Mr Hunnam, I can't take my eyes off you tonight!” you smiled, or more like smirked, at Charlie, whose smile only got bigger when he heard your words.

“Now it's my turn to blush, please.” he offered you a smile which you could only describe as adorable, if not irresistible given how you bit your lower lip “I mean, I'd say it's just me but I believe that everyone will agree when I say that I don't think there would be a single injury that can take from the beauty sitting next to me right now.”

“Why you flatter me so much, Charlie, but you say that only because you're too good and because you haven't seen me in the morning.” you pointed out, loving to see him raise an eyebrow “The whole rise and shine is the exact opposite of what I do. One, because I don't rise, I could stay in bed all day long, and two, because I can only shine as much as a black hole does.”

“While I could definitely argue with you on that one, dear, I'll only say that it's impossible to believe. I don't doubt for a second that you're any less beautiful. That could be just my imagination, sure, because I have no personal opinion or experience but-” he shrugged while the audience cheered for him and you laughed behind your hand, and the man lowered his head in slight embarrassment and rubbed the back of his neck “Besides-” he cleared his throat “In all seriousness, now, there is nothing wrong wanting to stay in bed till late.”

“And even more when there's good company for cuddles, right?” you raised a suggestive eyebrow at him, making him bite his lip in return as he lowered his head while laughing “Besides, I am never one to deny a man his chance at seeing how I really am in the morning.” you shrugged not in the least bit innocently, because Dean knew that look and the whole body posture you had and it had him gritting his teeth, before the audience cheered even more loudly at you “For- You guys! For research purposes, clearly. So that Charlie can testify that I am indeed the... human equivalent of a black hole in the morning! That's all.”

Your giggles could barely be heard as the audience clapped once more, some of them laughing as well. You instead bit your lip before taking another sip of your drink, Charlie doing the same.

As if by some miracle, or at least for Dean, this time it was Graham who spoke up “Why, for some reason, I feel like I am third-wheeling here? And I thought it was my show. I feel like you won't even realize it if I'm gone.”

“No Graham, of course not!” you reassured him with a smile “You know you're my favorite host! You're the star of this show, the one that makes the rest of us shine and bring out the best in us! The one who makes us laugh and have the time of our lives in the show! The one who makes us look forward to this! The one-” you paused , snickering as you glanced at Charlie “Boy am I drunk already?”

Everyone along with Graham, laughed. Well, everyone except for Dean, who looked like he was going to pounce any given second now, especially with how his arm was casually resting on the back of the couch, almost over your shoulders “It's alright, I think we all realised it by the second complement in a row.”

“Well, at least let's all be honest. It's at least slightly less embarrassing than me recounting mildly gross if not horrifying stories of all the injuries and infections I've gotten. Which, thank you, by the way, for, Graham. It's-” Charlie paused, nodding his head “Exactly as I pictured spending my night. Speaking about the times I got a moth in my ear and ran down a forest naked, while such a lovely lady is sitting next to me.”

“Oh trust the lady, she is very much enjoying the conversation, worry not!” you giggled and he grinned, finally resting his arm on your shoulders and giving you a squeeze.

“You're mostly welcome!” Graham laughed “But, speaking of- I noticed this and I wanted to ask you myself, this seems like a reoccurring pattern with you Charlie, isn't it? Like, I always hear you saying that you got sick this or the other way and you- correct me if I'm wrong, but you are someone who takes pride in their personal hygiene.”

“I- I'm a germaphobe, you can go ahead and say it.” he laughed “Yes, it's one way to describe it. Of course I- I do take pride in my personal hygiene but I do think it's exactly that which gets me. You know how these kinds of things end up turning against you? Well, yeah, that's what happens with me. I get sick all the time.”

“There is a saying about that, isn't it? I think I've heard it somewhere but I can't, for the life of me, remember it right now.” you mumbled with a deep frown.

“Oh yeah, you attract the most that which you fear the most.”

“Ah, yes! Yes.” you nodded your head, pausing only half a second before looking back up at nobody in particular “Oh how I fear Charlie Hunnam!”

And that was all it took for the crowd to erupt into cheers and for Dean to groan as he let his head fall into his hands. There was no need to look any more, the way the actor's eyebrows rose in interest and a smile spread on his face. He knew what was to follow, and he didn't mean just the interview, and that meant he had to prepare himself for whatever he had to do to keep and... if need be, maybe finally, mark his territory. But unlike any other time, he knew, it wouldn't be as easy.

“You- what? You guys! I was only... I'm just saying what every lady and gent here is thinking, that's all. Me? I'm just more or less... drunk. Drunk more than I initially assumed.” you laughed, shaking your head despite your burning face “Aah Graham, how I hate you.” you gave a sweet smile to the host and friend of yours as all he did was laugh at your misery.

“Ah Graham, how I love you.” Charlie said, laughing “Can we-” he looked away and around at the crew as he lifted his glass “Can we get come more of that here? Lovely drink. Truly lovely.”

“Lovely night.” Dean grumbled to himself, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, eyes hard as he glared at the man before him and next to you. But truth was he knew that it was only the beginning of the night if not the beginning of a very long and tiring journey, which he didn't know if he'd make it through. Why?

Because as if on cue, as if he'd read Dean's thoughts, Charlie's eyes met his. The smile vanished from his lips for barely a few seconds, making Dean straighten his back and narrow his eyes at him. Because he'd, maybe, finally met his match. That's why.

#supernatura #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural one shot #supernatural x reader #dean #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean imagine #dean winchester imagine #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean one shot #dean winchester one shot #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam x reader #charlie hunnam imagine #charlie hunnam fanfiction #charlie hunnam one shot #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles imagine #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles one shot

[colorseeingchick]

Valentine’s Affections (Kageyama, Oikawa, Kuroo)

I adore Valentine’s day! Love is in the air and chocolate is in my stomach. But for you and these boys? Well... it’s a lil more complicated than that. 

A/N: We are going to completely ignore the fact that valentine’s day was a full 3 months ago. Love is always in the air on this blog !

Warnings: Light swearing? Maybe? Lotsa fluffy stuff beware cavities. 

Kageyama Tobio

Kageyama stares hard at the vending machine in front of him. Now, this was far from a new situation he found himself in- he found himself in front of this very vending machine every single day. But the stakes were much higher this time.

Strawberry, or chocolate? Which would be a better gift? 

Early on he decided against chocolates, cuz it felt too obvious. He opted out of a note, cuz he wasn’t articulate enough for that. And for the same reasons a verbal confession was completely out of the picture. So here he was, in front of the vending machine, hoping you would accept his love, or at the very least, the milk carton as a token of it. 

He decides on the strawberry milk, because the pink carton color reminded him of hearts, so he was hoping his love message would be real clear!! 

As he approaches you in the gym, he feels the nerves stir in his stomach. You’re surrounded by the other first years, excitedly chirping at Tsukki and Yamaguchi while Yachi and Hinata jump up and down around you (for what reasons, who knows) now that clean up is over. The second and third years weren’t that far away either. But he knew he’d have to do this sooner than later. 

Kageyama stands pensively behind you at a slight distance, awkwardly shifting weight back and forth between his feet. Finally, he finds the guts to call out to you. “Y/N...san.” Alright, maybe it was more like a mutter. No one had heard him, but Hinata had noticed his presence. 

“Kageyama! There you are.” 

All eyes shift to him, including yours. The heat rushes to his face as he hides the milk behind his back. “Boke! What do you want!” He only gets redder as his eyes meet yours. 

“Y/N-san!” He yells a bit too harshly. But you don’t flinch, you just smile. “Yes, Tobio-kun?” Gah, your voice is sweet as always, and he doesn’t even know what to say. 

Stepping towards you, he essentially shoves the milk into your hands before turning around and marching out the door. 

You stare at the carton quizzically, while the boys in the gym collectively let out a heavy sigh. 

“Was that… supposed to be a confession?” Daichi’s disbelief was evident.

“He does that every day though,” Hinata comments, clueless. 

“But today’s Valentine’s day, there’s probably more to it, right?” Ennoshita curious.  

“Of course that’s the way that idiot would do it.” Tsukki is snarky as ever. 

But you don’t hesitate to run back into the club room, a determined look glued to your face. 

“Y/N san! Where are you going?” Hinata calls. 

“Let them be, Hinata. They have something to take care of.” Suga has a glint of amusement in his eyes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kageyama tries to calm down as he aggressively drinks his chocolate milk. But he’s jittery all over when you pop up next him. 

“Tobio-kun, did ya really think you could just throw me a box of milk and then split? On Valentine's day? Tsk Tsk.” You smile as you move to stand in front of him. Words are far from his physical capacity at the moment, so he opts to just stare at you instead.

“But by the way,” you pull the carton from behind your back in your left hand, and shake it in front of him, “Accepted.” He feels his heart melt in relief. You understood what he meant. At least he thinks you do. You always understood him somehow, even though he wasn’t great at communicating. 

“And also…” Your right hand appears now, a small box of cutely wrapped chocolates snuggly fit into your palm, “this is for you. Please, accept it.”

His eyes go wide in shock. For some reason, this was not what he had expected (though everyone else knew it was coming). His heart now swells with an indescribable feeling that he never wants to stop experiencing. 

“And this too... unless you want me to stop...” He doesn’t know how else you could potentially make him fall apart more than he already had- but he got his answer when your hand grabbed onto his collar and tugged him down to your height. You placed a slow and gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Tobio-kun, I like you.” Yeah, his heart wasn’t ready for that one. 

Oikawa Tooru

“Thank you, Suki-chan!” “So sweet, Maki-chan!” “These are delicious, Haru-chan!” First period hadn’t even begun and Oikawa had already been swarmed with gifts. But despite the time he spent basking in the affections of his little fans, his eyes were trained on you, watching as you happily handed Iwaizumi a cute little box of chocolates. Oikawa saw how his best friend smiled, and he saw the way you buried your face into Iwa’s chest when he hugs you. He decides to ask you about it at practice. 

“Y/N-chan!! You know what day it is today!” 

“How could I forget when I see my favorite setter drowning in more chocolates than usual?” He ignores the unidentifiable tone in your voice and presses on. 

 “I saw you give Iwa-chan some~” 

“Yes I did.” 

“Sooooo~”

 “....so what?” 

“Where are mine?” 

“...I…”

 Iwaizumi steps in, his hand protectively grabbing your shoulder. “What’re you harassing Y/N for, Shittykawa. You got enough chocolates already didn’t you? No need to be greedy.” Your eyes are glued to the floor, but Oikawa just sighs and waves it off. 

“Sorry, sorry, Y/N-chan! I just figured your chocolates would be so tasty I was jealous Iwa got some~ but I’ll be waiting for them next time!” If only you knew, I would rather eat a single one of your sweets than all the other sweets combined.

He tries to forget the incident until he hears his doorbell ring at 9 pm. “Tooru! You have a friend who’s come to see you!” He’s surprised to see you waiting at his gate, face flushed, breath ragged, and hair ruffled.

 “Oikawa-san!” You say with determination. “Y/N...chan?” He walks towards you, confusion and concern clear on his face.

“Oikawa-san…” the confidence fading as he comes near. You look away from his face as you outstretched your hands, a cute, small pink box with a tiny bow on it in hand. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t give you chocolates earlier today….I just....” your hands retreat to your body, box still grasped. You look down at your feet once again, so you can’t see his eyes go wide. “I thought about making you some sweets yesterday but, I always knew you had so many fangirls and I didn’t wanna get in their way, or worse, make you see me as one of them… so I didn’t. I’m sorry. I, I didn’t consider you would feel left out. So I made these for you after school! Will you please accept them!” 

You look up at him finally, only to see tears streaming down his face. “Oikawa san? Are you okay? I’m sorry if I said something that-” 

“I’m sorry Y/N-san, I don’t know what’s gotten into me. But are they really for me?”

 “Mhm!” You hand them over, in anticipation of what he would do next. He opens the box, pops a chocolate into his mouth, and then smiles. 

“Just as I expected- it’s perfect.” He steps towards you once again, and wraps his arms around you, tightly. “You’re nothing like the rest of them, yanno. You’re very special to me.” 

Kuroo Tetsurou

“Happy Single’s Awareness day!” You sing-song at the boys standing in front of your gate, the sun peeking out over the horizon. 

“Just jumping over Valentines, then?” Kenma asks you, his face hidden in his switch. 

“Yep! Nope! Not for me~ don’t need a valentine!” You’re carefree as you stroll ahead of the two of them, hands thrown behind your head. “Giving Valentine’s are dumb. Right, Kuroo!”

Kenma takes his time to pull his nose away from his switch to let his cat like gaze fall on his best friend, who’s been awfully quiet this morning. He knows why. 

“Do you agree, Kuroo?” He asks, probing. 

“...Yep. What type of headass buys into Valentines-” He criticizes. 

Kenma knocks Kuroo’s bag with his elbow, his gaze transforming into a glare. You do, Kuroo. No chickening out. 

Kuroo’s grasp on the bag resting on his shoulder tightens, well aware of what he has to do. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After school was over and practice was done, Kenma got dropped off at home because he wanted to go home early, for some reason. So now it’s just you and Kuroo, laying on the hill by the bridge, bathing in the hues of orange and pink as the sun sets slowly. 

You stretch out on your back, relaxing onto the grass underneath you. “Man, did ya see all those idiots handing out valentine’s? So cheesy.” You close your eyes and pull your hands up to cushion your head, turning your chin up. Kuroo rests on his elbow, angled so that he can watch you as you talk, his hand scratching his head soothingly.

“ Who wants dumb chocolates anyways? You think these chicks would get sick of all the chocolates they get. Hmph.” He watches as your mouth twitches down, eyes squeezed tight. 

To be fair, both of you were acting...different today. Kuroo can read you like a book, and even how he can still pick out the unease you’ve been tryna hide all day. But his own nervousness and jitters keeps him quiet. 

As you both sit in silence, stewing in your feelings, Kuroo lets out a deep sigh. Now or never. You hear him rustle in his bag as he pushes something over to you. You open your eyes to see a small box by your shoulder with a cute lil cat sticky note pressed onto it- reading, “be Mine, Valentine? :3” 

You freeze for a second, processing what he pushed over to you. You look up at Kuroo, who’s now turned his back to you, sleeping on his side. 

You open the box and find a cute cat bracelet inside. “Kuroo?” 

“You’ve been trashing valentine’s chocolates for a while now- so I figured I’d get you something better. It’s cheesy, I know. Don’t “at” me.” He stays, turned away from you. 

You take your time to pull the bracelet out the box, letting heat rise to your face. 

“Did you do this just because…? To make me feel better, or-”

“Still a headass huh.” He finally turns around, and you’re glad to see that his own face is as red as yours feels. 

“Kuroo… do you, like me?”

“Damn, you’re gonna make me say it huh?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah I like you. Now hurry up and reject me so we can go back to being normal and I can get over my damn nerves. I hate not being myself.” He mutters as his lips twitch into a pout as he rests his bedhead into the grass, hands caressing his neck. 

You take a second before crawling over to him, watching him in silence. 

“You’re an idiot, too, ya know.” He peaks one eye open, to give you a questioning look. “Now help me put this bracelet on.”

“You like it?”

“I love it. I’m never taking it off.”

“You serious?!”

“Of course I’m serious.”

His Cheshire grin breaks out onto his face as he sits up, closing the gap between you two.

“Oh? Does someone like me back?”

“Yeah someone does. Now are you gonna help me or not.”

In that moment, you don’t think anything can compare to the sheer joy in Kuroo’s eyes as he carefully clasps the bracelet onto your wrist, wrapping his strong fingers around yours.

Copyright © 2021 Colorseeingchick. All rights reserved. Do not repost or copy.

#haikyū!! #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyu oneshots #haikyuu!! oneshots #haikyu imagines #haikyu oneshot #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #kageyama tobio #oikawa toru #oikawa tooru #kuroo testuro #kageyama x reader #oikawa x reader #kuroo x reader #kageyama fluff #oikawa fluff #kuroo fluff #haikyu valentines #kageyama oneshot #oikawa oneshot #kuroo oneshot #kageyama #oikawa #kuroo

[nah-she-didnt]

“Stop flirting with me, I’m not going to fall for it.” from that prompts list if inspiration strikes :)))

Inspiration struck!!

--

It was unfortunate, really, that the only path to his goal ran right through Lily Evans. 

Because Lily Evans was Slughorn’s favorite student by a mile. Therefore, she was the only one who could command Slughorn’s attention so completely that James could have enough time to lob a stink bomb right into Rosier’s bubbling potion. And Rosier desperately needed to be dung bombed. So, Lily was the only answer. 

This was rather problematic because when it came to Slughorn, Lily was absolutely no fun at all.

“Why must you insist on asking me to help you dupe the one professor in this school who actually believes in me?” Lily hissed across her cauldron at James. 

“Because you’re the only one in the year who’s been able to charm him on pure talent alone,” James whispered back, his eyes monitoring Slughorn’s process around the room to make sure that he was out of earshot, “you’re his favorite because you’re the best in the year at potions and he knows it.” 

The smallest of smiles appeared at the corners of her mouth, but she fought to suppress it. “Stop flirting with me, I’m not going to fall for it.” 

James grinned. He knew that deep, deep down, beneath her potions ambitions, Lily was a troublemaker through and through. “Come on, do it for your favorite Gryffindor boy?” 

Lily laughed incredulously. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize Remus was asking.” 

“Very funny.” 

“It’s still a no.” 

“Will you two quit muttering,” Dorcas hissed from her place across the row. Her cauldron emitted a foul-smelling gas that was slowly filling the entire room. Beside her, a very stressed-looking Remus shuffled through their notes in a panic. “Your gabbing is not helping us fix this shite over here.” 

“Pipe down,” James called across the aisle, “it’s not our fault you lot are rubbish at points.” 

Remus did not reply but raised his middle finger as he continued desperately to try and fix their concoction. 

Dorcas looked affronted. “Look who’s talking! I know you lot are madly in love, but it’s rather convenient that your potions marks go up as soon as you start dating the best potioneer in the school.” 

“Oi!” Lily protested as she dropped another mint leaf into their potion, “watch yourself, Meadowes.” 

Dorcas grinned and winked in Lily’s direction. “No offense meant, of course.” 

James ignored this comment and turned back to his annoyingly principled girlfriend. “Fine, if you won’t distract him, at least take him a vial of our potion up to the front of the room for his inspection. He’s still got to look at our work, but this way he’ll be way up there instead of in the aisles.” 

He could tell that the gears in her brain spun wildly as she eyed him over their cauldron. She looked torn between her desire to present Slughorn with her beautiful, perfect potion and her determination to stand her ground. 

Finally, she relented. 

“Alright,” she said cautiously, “I’ll get him to the front of the room. Just be quick about it, will you?” 

James could have kissed her, although he thought he might have to endure more torment from Dorcas if he did. “Lily Evans, you’re my favorite person in this room.” 

“That’s only because Sirius isn’t here.” Lily grabbed an empty vial, filled it carefully to the brim with their seafoam green potion, then marched up to the front of the classroom. “Professor Slughorn?”

Slughorn hurried over excitedly to check her work. James saw Rosier across the room, clearly performing a cruel imitation of Lily as she called for their professor’s attention. 

James’ blood boiled. The git really did have it coming. He reached inside his bag for his last dung bomb but discovered only broken quills and bits of parchment.

“What?” He muttered as he searched the bag again. It was impossible, he had just seen the dung bomb three minutes ago, where could it have gone?

James glanced hurriedly toward the front of the classroom. Lily still held Slughorn’s complete attention as he marveled at her impeccable work, but he knew he only had a few more seconds. 

“Looking for this?” 

James whipped around. Dorcas grinned cheekily at him and held out a small, brown ball. The dung bomb. HIS dung bomb. 

Before he could react, Dorcas lobbed the dung bomb in a perfect arc, right into the vat of simmering potion in front of him. 

The cauldron exploded. 

Upon contact with the dung bomb, the potion turned into a horrible yellow color that doused James from head to toe. The smell was some disgusting combination of bad eggs, old cheese, and rubbing alcohol. 

James sputtered, rendered completely immobile from shock. The classroom was silent for a moment in the aftermath of the sound of the bomb going off. Then, every person in the room erupted into jubilant laughter. 

“Whoops!” Slughorn called jovially, “James, m’boy, you must pay more attention to your work in future!” 

“Yes, Potter,” Dorcas managed through shaking laughter, “you must watch yourself from now on, you never know what might be going on in your own cauldron.” 

James wanted to be angry with her, but he couldn’t help but laugh along with his classmates. “I’ll get you for this, Meadowes,” he said dramatically as he wagged his finger in her direction.  

Dorcas laughed again. “If you’re going to get me, you’ll have to get my accomplice, too.” 

“Your what-”

But the smile slid from James’ face before he could finish his thought. He rounded upon Lily, who returned from the front of the room and cleaned up the mess with a single wave of her wand. 

“You?” James said incredulously and pointed at Dorcas, “you distracted Slughorn for her? Not me?” 

Lily grinned mischievously. “Who said you’re the only one around here who can cause trouble?” 

James gaped at her. “Have I ever told you that I’m mad for you?” 

She shrugged. “Once or twice.”

#nina writes #jily #jily one shot #typos typos typos

[brooklynmuseum]

Closing out National Poetry Month, our Spring Interns paired some of their favorite poems with works from our collection. We hope you enjoy!

— Jeffrey Alexander Lopez, Curatorial Intern, American Art & Arts of the Americas

Image: Suzuki Harunobu (Japanese, 1724-1770). Page From Haru no Nishiki, 1771. Color woodblock print on paper. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Peter P. Pessutti, 83.190.1

from Citizen: “Some years there exists a wanting to escape...” [Excerpt] By Claudia Rankine 

/

I they he she we you turn only to discover the encounter

to be alien to this place.

Wait.

The patience is in the living. Time opens out to you.

The opening, between you and you, occupied, zoned for an encounter,

given the histories of you and you—

And always, who is this you?

The start of you, each day, a presence already—

Hey you—

/

— Halle Smith, Digital Collections Intern Catherine Green (American, born 1952). [Untitled] (West Indian Day Parade), 1991. Chromogenic photograph, sheet. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of the artist, 1991.58.2. © artist or artist's estate 

Ode to Enchanted Light by Pablo Neruda

Under the trees light has dropped from the top of the sky, light like a green latticework of branches, shining on every leaf, drifting down like clean white sand.

A cicada sends its sawing song high into the empty air.

The world is a glass overflowing with water.

Consuelo Kanaga’s black and white photograph captures a dazzling, yet fleeting moment from everyday life. Three textured glasses cast shadows whose patterns are almost kaleidoscopic in effect. We can imagine Kanaga passing by her kitchen table, as she is brought to a halt to take a closer look at, and ultimately to photograph, the simple beauty generated by the play of light and everyday objects. The close-up scale of this image emulates the singularizing framing techniques deployed by Surrealist photographers, who also took parts of everyday life and blew them up in the photographic frame, thereby encouraging their viewers to look at life around us from a different angle. It is a way of saying: Here, take a closer look. Viewing the world with wonder, along with the joy that this act brings, are encapsulated in Pablo Neruda’s poem Ode to Enchanted Light. The speaker observes the way light passes through trees and creates enchanting patterns. He not only observes, but feels the beauty in the simple details of life, from the way light falls from the sky, to the sheen of leaves, to the buzzing of cicadas. Approaching life through such a hopeful lens evokes a glass-half-full perspective. In fact, the speaker is so hopeful that he believes “The world is/a glass overflowing/with water.” I think Kanaga would have felt the same way. 

— Kirk Testa, Curatorial Intern, Photography Consuelo Kanaga (American, 1894-1978). [Untitled] (Glasses and Reflections). Gelatin silver photograph. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Wallace B. Putnam from the Estate of Consuelo Kanaga, 82.65.25

Easter Wings By George Herbert

Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,

      Though foolishly he lost the same,

            Decaying more and more,

                  Till he became

                        Most poore:

                        With thee

                  O let me rise

            As larks, harmoniously,

      And sing this day thy victories:

Then shall the fall further the flight in me.

My tender age in sorrow did beginne

      And still with sicknesses and shame.

            Thou didst so punish sinne,

                  That I became

                        Most thinne.

                        With thee

                  Let me combine,

            And feel thy victorie:

         For, if I imp my wing on thine,

Affliction shall advance the flight in me.

Easter Wings by George Herbet and Martin Bach’s flower vase from the Brooklyn Museum’s Decorative Arts collection reveal the interrelationship between form and function. In Easter Wings, Herbert strategically varies the line length to create an image that enhances the meaning of the poem; when you turn the poem on its side, it resembles the wings of a bird, of which are symbolic of the atonement of Jesus Christ. In doing so, the author is not only telling us his message, but he is showing it visually as well. Similarly, the vase takes the visual form of its function. Its floral design amplifies the meaning of the object, as the vase is meant to hold flowers. In both instances, we see how aesthetic properties of a work echo the meaning and function of the work itself.

— Amy Zavecz Martin Bach (American, 1862-1921). Vase, ca. 1905. Opalescent glass. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Mrs. Alfred Zoebisch, 59.143.16. Creative Commons-BY 

I am the Earth (Watashi wa chikyu) [Excerpt] by Kiyoko Nagase, Translated by Takako Lento

I am warm, moist soil  I am a single supple stalk  I draw my life  all the way up into corollas of wild berries on the roadside 

I am amazed at  a breast of water welling  to flow into the inlet of a muddy rice paddy  I am amazed at  myself being  hot steam blowing fire and sulfur up  from the bottom of the great ocean, deep indigo.  I am amazed at  the crimson blood flow  covering the earth’s surface in human shape;  I am amazed that it swells as the tides ebb and flow, and gushes out monthly under distant invisible gravity … I am the earth.  I live there, and I am the very same earth. 

In the four billionth year  I have come to know  the eternal cold moon, my other self, my hetero being,  then, for the first time, I am amazed that I am warm mud.

The vivid imagery conjured up by Kiyoko Nagase’s poem is beautifully visualized by Emmi Whitehorse’s painting. The emphasis on deep Earth tones and abstract corporeality in both the poem and the painting really creates an intense metaphysical link between the environment and the self.

— Amanda Raquel Dorval, Archives Intern Emmi Whitehorse (Navajo, born 1957). Fire Weed, 1998. Chalk, graphite, pastel and oil on paper mounted on canvas. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Hinrich Peiper and Dorothee Peiper-Riegraf in honor of Emmi Whitehorse, 2006.49. © artist or artist's estate

Seventh Circle of Earth by Ocean Vuong

On April 27, 2011, a gay couple, Michael Humphrey and Clayton Capshaw, was murdered by immolation in their home in Dallas, Texas.

Dallas Voice

                                          1

2

                                              3

                                       4

                                               5

     6

                                                                                            7

________________________________________________________

As if my finger, / tracing your collarbone / behind closed doors, / was enough / to erase myself. To forget / we built this house knowing / it won’t last. How / does anyone stop / regret / without cutting / off his hands? / Another torch

streams through / the kitchen window, / another errant dove. / It’s funny. I always knew / I’d be warmest beside / my man. / But don’t laugh. Understand me / when I say I burn best / when crowned / with your scent: that earth-sweat / & Old Spice I seek out each night / the days

refuse me. / Our faces blackening / in the photographs along the wall. / Don’t laugh. Just tell me the story / again, / of the sparrows who flew from falling Rome, / their blazed wings. / How ruin nested inside each thimbled throat / & made it sing

until the notes threaded to this / smoke rising / from your nostrils. Speak— / until your voice is nothing / but the crackle / of charred

bones. But don’t laugh / when these walls collapse / & only sparks / not sparrows / fly out. / When they come / to sift through these cinders—& pluck my tongue, / this fisted rose, / charcoaled & choked / from your gone

mouth. / Each black petal / blasted / with what’s left / of our laughter. / Laughter ashed / to air / to honey to baby / darling, / look. Look how happy we are / to be no one / & still

American.

Ocean Vuong’s “Seventh Circle of Earth” has persisted as one of the great, affective moments of poetry in my life since I first heard Pádraig Ó Toama’s gorgeous reading and discussion of it on his podcast, Poetry Unbound. I decided to pair Vuong’s poem with Mary Coble’s Untitled 2 (from Note To Self) because both works are urgently immersive into the violence and experience of LGBTQ people in the U.S., and for how each work uses text and physicality to address presence, pain, and erasure. Vuong’s poem is actually footnoted to a quote from a news article about a gay couple murdered in Texas. The page is thus blank, absent of text. The reader has to sink below the main stage, the accepted space of word and story, to find the voices of this couple and the depth of their story’s tenderness, eroticism, and utter devastation. Coble’s piece foils the structure and effect of Seventh Circle of Earth by taking what was subverted by Vuong—text and the narrative of violence—wholly to the surface. Her photograph captures her own legs tattooed without ink with the names of LGBTQ individuals victimized by hate crimes. I cannot help but think of Franz Kafka’s short story “In the Penal Colony,” in which prisoners’ “sentences'' are inscribed by the needle of a “punishment apparatus” directly onto their bodies. I was struck by how the curator’s note for this photograph describes Coble’s artistic endeavor here as “harrowing.” The needle in Kafka’s short story is indeed called “The Harrow”. The noun harrow is an agricultural tool that combs plowed soil to break up clumps of earth and uproot weeds and clear imperfections. The verb to harrow means to plague, and in the story’s original German the verb for “harrow”, eggen,  is also translated as “to torment”. Kafka and Coble conflate these definitions of “the harrow” in their respective works: they use a needled device, like the true noun definition, as an instrument of torment because of someone else’s idea of punishment and justice. Here, violence is brought to the surface, intimate in as much as we are brought right up to the artist’s skin and into the presence of her and her community’s pain. Together, one can see how each creator physicalizes their respective artistic space to tell the stories of LGBTQ people, of what is tender and harrowing, below the surface and written into the skin. 

— Talia Abrahams, Provenance Intern, IHCPP Mary Coble (American, born 1978). Untitled 2 (from Note to Self), 2005. Inkjet print. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of the artist, 2008.10. © artist or artist's estate 

To my daughter Kakuya   by Assata Shakur  

I have shabby dreams for you   of some vague freedom   I have never known.   Baby   I don't want you hungry or thirsty   or out in the cold.   and I don't want the frost   to kill your fruit   before it ripens.   I can see a sunny place  Life exploding green.   I can see your bright, bronze skin at ease with all the flowers   and the centipedes.   I can hear laughter,   not grown from ridicule   And words not prompted   by ego or greed or jealousy.   I see a world where hatred   has been replaced by love.   and ME replaced by WE   And I can see a world replaced                                       where you,   building and exploring,   strong and fulfilled,   will understand.   And go beyond my little shabby dreams. 

This poem is featured in Assata Shakur’s memoir, Assata: An Autobiography. It details her hope for a better world that  her daughter can grow up in. This poem is positioned in the book when Shakur is facing increasing prosecution as a result of her  activism and affiliations with the Black Panther Party and Black Liberation army. Being written more than 30 years after this picture  was taken, the poem summons me to think about the trauma that many Black women face and how much of that trauma gets passed  down to their children. The black and white photo of a mother and daughter provides a nice visual to the poem. “The image of a Black  mother and child sitting on their luggage reflects the little-discussed history of segregated transportation in the northern United States. Through the 1940s, Penn Station officials assigned Black travelers seats in Jim Crow cars on southbound trains” (Brooklyn Museum). The photograph of train passengers waiting outside of Manhattan’s Pennsylvania Station especially echoes the verse “I don’t want you  hungry or thirsty or out in the cold.” The overall optimistic tone of Shakur’s poem alters our relationship to the image as we imagine  the mother pictured above hoping for the exact same things

— Zaria W, Teen Programs intern Ruth Orkin (American, 1921-1985). Mother and Daughter at Penn Station, NYC, 1948. Gelatin silver photograph, sheet: 13 15/16 × 11 in. (35.4 × 27.9 cm). Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Mary Engel, 2011.22.3. © artist or artist's estate

Crunch.  By Kailyn Gibson 

I retch as a mass of sinew lies between my lips.  The sensation is unbearable.  Fortunately, the jar of flies has gone missing again. 

Slowly, surely, and yet never sure at all,  the quiet of buzzing rings through the in-between. 

It is a symphony wrought from blood and bone. 

Saliva drips from bleeding, hungry gums,  And the crunch of glass echoes the grinding of molars.

If I proffered a sanguine smile, would masticated shards look like teeth?  Would they gleam just as prettily?  

The flies ring,  and the rot calls. 

— Kailyn Gibson Edgar Degas (French, 1834-1917). Portrait of a Man (Portrait d'homme), ca. 1866. Oil on canvas. Brooklyn Museum, Museum Collection Fund, 21.112 

Excerpt from Autobiography of Red A novel in verse by Anne Carson

7. If Helen’s reasons arose out of some remark Stesichoros made either it was a strong remark about Helen’s sexual misconduct (not to say its unsavory aftermath the Fall of Troy) or it was not.

8. If it was a strong remark about Helen’s sexual misconduct (not to say its unsavory aftermath the Fall of Troy) either this remark was a lie or it was not.

9. If it was not a lie either we are now in reverse and by continuing to reason in this way we are likely to arrive back at the beginning of the question of the blinding of Stesichoros or we are not.

10. If we are now in reverse and by continuing to reason in this way are likely to arrive back at the beginning of the question of the blinding of Stesichoros either we will go along without incident or we will meet Stesichoros on our way back.

11. If we meet Stesichoros on our way back either we will keep quiet or we will look him in the eye and ask him what he thinks of Helen.

12. If we look Stesichoros in the eye and ask him what he thinks of Helen either he will tell the truth or he will lie.

13. If Stesichoros lies either we will know at once that he is lying or we will be fooled because now that we are in reverse the whole landscape looks inside out.

This excerpt comes from Appendix C of Anne Carson’s Autobiography of Red, a novel in verse. A translator and classicist herself, Carson mixes fact with fiction in her unconventional retelling of the myth of Geryon and Hercules, beginning with a roundabout introduction to the poet Stesichoros. Autobiography presents a captivating example of recent Queer projects that take up Classical material as their basis. A fascination with the Classical past has pervaded our modern conception of sexual identity politics, down to the very etymology of the word “lesbian.” In this fascination, I see the same desire to capture Classical imagery as cultural heritage which has also pervaded American museums, albeit with significantly different aims. The fresco pictured above comes to mind, which passed through many collectors and was even purchased by the museum before anyone pegged it as a modern piece—not an original Roman fresco. John D. Cooney, a 20th century curator of our Egyptian, Classical, and Ancient Near Eastern Art collection, wrote that “the unclad and somewhat winsome charms of the lady [probably] diverted objective glances.” Both in the case of the fresco and Carson’s novel, the “unclad and somewhat winsome charms” of the Classical past shape and reshape our understanding of history.

— Kira Houston, Curatorial Intern, Egyptian, Classical, and Ancient Near Eastern Art Modern, in the style of the Roman Period. Part of a Fresco, early 19th century C.E. Clay, paint. Brooklyn Museum, Ella C. Woodward Memorial Fund, 11.30.

Late Fragment by Raymond Carver From A New Path to the Waterfall, Atlantic Monthly Press, 1989.

And did you get what you wanted from this life, even so? I did. And what did you want? To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth.

— Shori Diedrick Brackens (American, born 1989). when no softness came, 2019. Cotton and acrylic yarn. Brooklyn Museum, Purchased with funds given by The LIFEWTR Fund at Frieze New York 2019, 2019.12. © artist or artist's estate

Jaguar By Francisco X. Alarcón

some say                                    dicen que ahora                  I'm now almost                           estoy casi extinto       extinct in this park                      por este parque    but the people                            pero la gente who say this                               que dice esto don't know                                 no sabe that by smelling                          que al oler   the orchids                                 las orquídeas in the trees                                 en los árboles they're sensing                          están percibiendo  the fragrance                             la fragancia of my chops                              de mis fauces  that by hearing                          que al oír the rumblingc                            el retumbo of the waterfalls                        de los saltos  

they're listening                         están escuchando          to my ancestors'                       el gran rugido   great roar                                  de mis ancestros

that by observing                      que al observar     the constellations                      las constelanciones     of the night sky                         del firmamento 

they're gazing                           están mirando at the star spots                       las motas de estrellas    on my fur                                  marcadas en mi piel that I am and                            que yo soy always will be                           y siempre seré the wild                                     el indomable

untamed                                  espíritu silvestre living spirit                               vivo de esta of this jungle                            jungla

While the author of the poem speaks about animals, their words can also speak on behalf of the erasure of indigenous peoples in South America. Much like the jaguar, indigenous traditions and culture are very important to life in South America. Despite their marginalization, Indigenous peoples throughout the Andes used coca leaves to help with the altitude. The use and cultivation of coca are criminalized throughout most of South America despite it being essential to indigenous cultures. This vessel was used to contain lime which would activate the coca leaves.  Much like the jaguar, indigenous traditions are also faced with endangerment despite being woven into the fabric that is Latin America. Through the opposite man and woman figures, the vessel shows the duality that is important to the Quimbaya people which is still relevant to Colombians today.

Aunque el autor del poema habla sobre los animales, sus palabras también comunican el sentimiento común de la supresión de los indígenas en Suramérica. Con la mención del jaguar, se puede entender en el poema que la cultura y las tradiciones de las personas que son indígenas son sumamente importantes para la vida en Sudamérica. A pesar de su marginación, los indígenas en Los Andes utilizan la hoja de coca para ayudar en la altura de las montañas. El uso y el cultivo de la hoja de coca fue criminalizado (penalizado) a través de Sudamérica, aunque su uso para los indígenas era vital y esencial para su cultura. Este recipiente que se utiliza contiene limón lo que activa la hoja de la coca. Similarmente al jaguar, las tradiciones de los indígenas siempre estaban en peligro aunque estuvieran entrelazadas en las telas de lo que sería Latinoamérica. A través del hombre opuesto y las figuras de mujeres, el recipiente muestra la dualidad de lo que es importante para las personas que son Quimbaya, algo que todavía hoy es relevante para los Colombianos.

— Jeffrey Alexander Lopez, Curatorial Intern, American Art & Arts of the Americas Quimbaya. Poporo (Lime Container), 1-600 C.E. Tumbaga. Brooklyn Museum, Alfred W. Jenkins Fund, 35.507. Creative Commons-BY 

#national poetry month #poetry #art #poems #art history #brooklyn museum #bkminterns

[malfoymxnor]

𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

➤ pairing: draco malfoy x hufflepuff reader

➤ summary: every year, you bake christmas cookies for your friends. after you seeing a sad draco malfoy sitting alone, you can’t help but give him your last batch despite being enemies.

➤ words: 1.9k

➤ a/n: you don’t have to be in hufflepuff to relate to being y/n, i just wrote it this way! get ready for some major fluff y’all

It was finally the most wonderful time of the year, at least according to you: Christmas. Christmas always symbolized the happiest moments of your life. Your most cherished memories included sitting around the tree back home with your family and watching your family’s faces light up as they open presents. You always tried your best to spread that familiar joy to those around at Hogwarts.

That’s why, for the sixth year in a row, you planned to bake Christmas themed sugar cookies and hand them out to your large group of friends. This task seemed simple enough, and it was for your first couple years at the magical school. However, now your once close knit group of friends had grown tremendously. Now, it was practically a whole night’s work to bake these cookies on time.

That’s what led you to risk breaking Hogwarts’ very clear rules. Ever since the threat of war with You-Know-Who, it was strictly prohibited for any students to be wandering the corridors after dark. Seeing as you had no time after classes and assignments to bake and tomorrow would be the last day before winter break, you had no choice but to break the rules. It may be silly or childish to risk getting in severe trouble just to bake cookies, but disappointing your friends was not an option.

At least you’re a Hufflepuff and your common room was near the kitchens.

Not even 30 minutes after the sunset, you found yourself sneaking into the school’s kitchen and setting on your mission. You left the lights off, whispering “Lumos” and allowing your wand to be your source of light. You set your wand on one of the marble kitchen counters, getting out the bowls and ingredients you would need.

Time seemed to pass in a blur. You made it a point to make as little noise as possible. The last thing you needed after all was Professor Snape to find you in the kitchens. The thought of getting caught sends chills down your spine, nevertheless one of the professors you absolutely feared finding you.

You took out the largest bowl you could find in the cupboards and rolled up your yellow and black robe before beginning to work. This was a (Y/L/N)’s family recipe and didn’t need a written record of the recipe, it’s one you have been making with your parents since practically birth. You combined the flour, baking powder, and salt in the bowl, your thoughts practically running a mile a second as you worked.

You were aware that if this was any other witch or wizard baking, they would simply use magic. Maybe that was the smartest way to do this, especially with the need to get out of the kitchen as soon as possible to avoid punishment. The thought did cross your mind, but what was the fun in it? You adored magic in every way, but you also carried love in doing things the Muggle way sometimes. There was something so simple in baking a dessert from your own hands. It was perhaps like a potions class, except without Professor Snape sneering over your shoulder and telling you every mistake you’re making.

Next, you used a whisk to beat together some butter and sugar, eventually adding eggs and vanilla extract after the mixture was completely smooth. You added the dry ingredients to the wet, smiling to yourself as the dough formed into the exact consistency you needed for some tasty cookies.

You rolled the dough enough so it was a thin sheet that laid out in front of you, before cutting it with various shapes of cookie cutters. Your friends were definitely being spoiled this year, not that you minded, one of the greatest joys was surprising your friends with small gifts. In the end, there were sheets full of cookies shaped in trees, snowmen, gingerbread houses, presents. You even managed to find a cookie cutter in the shape of a mug filled with Butterbeer from Hogsmeade.

While you baked the cookies and prepared the icing, you couldn’t stop your thoughts from wondering yet again. You made a mental list of all the friends you would need to be sure to see before the day ends. There was the Golden Trio, Ginny, Luna, several friends from Hufflepuff.

One person you were so sure that was not getting cookies was the one and only Draco Malfoy. You truly did not hate a single soul, but you held a distaste for the young man. You weren’t sure why, but ever since Year 1, he has set it out to make it a nightmare for the entire Hufflepuff house. He often called your house an embarrassment to Hogwarts, the weakest house by far. How a person could be filled with so much hate shocked you.

A soft ding pulled your thoughts away from the platinum blond, signaling that they were done and needed to be pulled out of the multiple ovens Hogwarts had provided. You let them cool to the side while you began to work on the frosting. Your mind couldn’t help but focus on Malfoy, for whatever reason. A part of you strongly disliked him, but a part of you have always wondered why he acts the way he does. You’re aware his family is one of the most powerful magic families in the world, but that doesn’t make him better than you or any of your friends. So, what reason could he think of to justify his behavior?

Time seemed to blur after the cookies had cooled down enough for you to decorate them. Ever since you were a child, this was always your favorite part of the process. You had the chance to be creative with how you designed the cookie. It truly brought the cookie to life, it seemed. Your years of decorating experience has allowed you to really master the craft, creating unique designs that only a professional baker may be able to pull off.

At the end of the process, you had multiple dozens of bags filled with cookies of all shapes and sizes, labeled neatly with the recipient’s name printed on them. You filled a wooden basket with the bags, finally allowing yourself to breathe. It was a close call, but you managed to bake the cookies before dawn. You ended the night with flour covered hands, but you hardly minded. You took a moment to look at the time on a clock near the oven and a soft gasp escaped your lips.

Was it really 7:45 in the morning? You had Potions at 8, which was halfway across the castle. If you had any hope of getting there on time, you had to leave now.

With a quick flick of your wand, you set the kitchen in order. It looked as if no one was in there the entire time. You rushed out of the kitchens towards the main corridor, down the steps towards the potions classroom.

The day seemed to pass in a blur as well. Perhaps it was because it was the last day before winter break, but it seemed as if you blinked and you were already at dinner with your friends. You decided today to sit with Harry, Ron, and Hermione at the Gryffindor table. It wasn’t unusual for you to do so, however, most of the time you sat at the Hufflepuff table. The only reason you tended to avoid the Gryffindor table like the plague was because it was right next to the Slytherin table. You refused to let Malfoy ruin Christmas for you.

You handed bags out to the three friends in front of you, laughing to yourself as Ron abandoned his chicken leg to practically tear up the delicate cookie bag. Harry thanked you for the desserts and stored them in his pockets, while Hermione complimented you on the fascinating designs you made with the frosting.

As you talked to Hermione, you felt a pair of eyes on you, although you couldn’t pinpoint where from. Your eyes broke from Hermione’s and glanced around the room, until they landed on a boy sitting at the Slytherin table.

You immediately recognized him as Draco Malfoy due to the infamous hair color. He sat in his black and emerald school robes, his eyes wondering about the room as he sat alone. It was quite a strange sight, he was the leader of his usual friend group in fact. However, today, it was as if that friend group disappeared in front of his very eyes. He sat with his cheek leaning against his pale hand, sadness apparent in his icy gray eyes. Once he realized he had been caught staring, his eyes darted back to his lap, where he had to pretend to read one of the many books in the library.

Perhaps it was the Hufflepuff in you, but you felt immediate sympathy for him. You hardly consider him an acquaintance, let alone a friend, but it was hard for you to watch someone in despair and not do something to cheer them up. Without even thinking about how this would look or any of the backlash you may face with your friends, you took the last batch of cookies you made just for yourself and made your way to the Slytherin table.

Seating yourself right across from the Slytherin Prince, you slid the bag of cookies across the table to him. His eyes rose to yours as he realized he was no longer alone.

“Draco.” You said softly, biting your lip. Being around someone this infamous tended to make you nervous, much more than you thought. You eventually managed to bring yourself to make eye contact. You could have melted into those eyes and you would not have known.

He raised his eyebrow, a bit confused as to why you were sitting in front of him with cookies on the table. “Y/N?” was all he could manage to spit out.

“I, uhm..” You shook your head slightly, trying to steady your heartbeat and remain focus on the mission. “I was sitting with my friends and noticed you were alone. Every year I make cookies for my friends, I had an extra bag and thought maybe it could cheer you up.”

For a moment, Draco forgot any sense of despair he had about becoming a Death Eater due to the pressure of his family, and the mission he had been charged with. It was a stupid bag of Christmas cookies, but it may have been the kindest thing anyone could have done for him. He felt himself sitting up straighter, a small smirk coming to his face. He felt as if he could trust the stranger in front of him, for whatever reason.

“Thank you.” He looked up at you once again, before tearing a corner from the page in his book and pulling out a quill. He wrote down a couple lines and folded it up, handing it to you. “I’ve never received a gift that came with no cost to me. Please, look at this when you have the chance, alright?”

You took the paper and nodded, not sure what to do with the feelings coming over you. Before you could say anything more, Draco stood from his seat and gathered his things. He took a bite from a snowman shaped cookie and with a smile on his face, nodded to you and walked away.

Unfolding the paper in your hands, it read:

The Malfoy Manor 

Wiltshire, England

Write to me this break. I’m intrigued.

Malfoy

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #hp #hp imagine #hp imagines #draco #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n