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azrielhours · 4 days

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Captured

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 2018

Synopsis: The camera has been invented and Azriel takes up a hobby of capturing reader, proving how pretty she can be.

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“What is it?”

“An obscura camera, I think we called it.” You turned the device around for him to see the little hole to look through, let him hold it. “It means ‘dark room.’ Light travels in through here,” you pointed to the lens, “and an image is captured using refraction and shadows.”

Azriel frowned in disbelief, making you laugh.

“Watch,” you said, gently taking the Obscura from his hands.

“What do I have to do?”

“Nothing,” you smiled, positioning it before your face. “Smile for me.”

He gave a small, tentative smile. The distrust in his eyes had you laughing again, which made Azriel chuckle genuinely.

You clicked something. A shutter sounded, light flashed, and Azriel’s eyes widened. You pulled the obscura away as it rattled, producing a thin strip of rectangular film. Azriel’s frown returned. “It’s black.”

“It has to develop,” you plucked it away and placed it facedown. “You’ll see in a few minutes.”

“This is what you’d been working on with Nuan?” he asked, referring to the alchemist who’d been in town for a few weeks.

You nodded. “It’s an early prototype, but it mimics the way light enters the eye.” A mixture of her trinketry, your crafty impulses, and some magic. “All this work so we can finally capture your pretty face,” you teased, enjoying the pink dusting his cheeks. You turned the piece of film to him, relishing Azriel’s shock upon peering down at the photograph.

That sincere smile you’d managed to capture was how you often caught him looking at you. A sweet, receptive earnestness lighting his normally cold face. Eyes that beheld you like he missed you even when you hadn’t gone anywhere. Now etched permanently into a photograph for you to cherish.

It was your turn to blush. Playful words aside, this truly did catch his beauty.

He met your gaze. “Teach me how to use it.” You demonstrated, pointing to shoot the nearby bookshelf, but Azriel shook his head. “I want one like that,” he nodded to his headshot.

Your nose crinkled. “I don’t photograph well, Az.”

He scoffed. “Why wouldn’t you?” He positioned the obscura over his eyes like you had.

You covered your face with your hands, hiding. “I don’t like the posing.”

“Come on,” he cooed, laughing. He reached to move your hair where it fell forward as you ducked your head, then gently held your wrists beneath your chin, broad hand easily cradling them between a thumb and two fingers. He tilted your face up with his hold. You peered at him through your fingers, rosy cheeks peeking through digits. Still holding your wrists, he took the photo effortlessly.

You uncovered your face, still blushing. He wondered how you didn’t see what a perfect subject you’d be. How you could invent the obscura and deprive him of its most obvious benefit.

Azriel studied you, and you saw the gears turn in his head. “Can I borrow it for a while?"

You laughed. “Okay, Az.”

It started off rather clumsy, and it took a few tries for Azriel to figure out that lighting mattered. That snapping photos with light in the immediate background ruined the film. He tested his hypothesis by capturing a bewildered Cassian, the confusion frozen making Azriel chuckle. He understood why you’d been laughing at him before. Next, he found that distance was important; that he could shift the angle of his photography. A practice shot of Feyre losing herself in a painting, so focused that she didn’t turn to wonder about the shuttering sound. Rhys landing on a balcony after training. Nesta reading ferociously by the fire.

He got the hang of it and was ready to really begin.

I don’t like the posing, you’d told him. He had no issues with that whatsoever.

The first one happened in the kitchen. The early morning hours were typically shared by the both of you on the grounds of a close friendship. You’d been sipping on coffee like it was medicinal, the light of the sun softening everything. Eyes closed, hair still slightly undone from sleep. He loved seeing you in your fancy dresses, your fighting leathers, but something about seeing you in soft, utterly personal nightwear—linen pants, knit cardigans, slippers—it spread warmth through his chest brighter than your revered sunrise. Today he'd even caught you in his t-shirt you must’ve swiped. Carefully positioning the Obscura over his face where he stood at the doorway, he snapped his photo before inconspicuously joining you, inquiring about the theft he quietly adored. Adoring your answering smile even more.

The next shot was on the rooftop. He’d caught Cassian bandaging you up after sparring. You were sat on the bench, smiling bloody and beautiful. Laughing as Cassian cracked jokes, allowing him to tend to you. He was kneeling on the ground before you, cleaning the cuts on your brow, wrapping your bruised knuckles. The sheer glee in your laugh, the way you sat so comfortably with his brother had Azriel reaching into the pocket realm for the Obscura, capturing the sight of his favourite people bantering fresh out of the ring.

One night after Rita’s, Rhys had offered to fly you home after winning a drinking game against Azriel. He’d winked at the bested Shadowsinger, taking you into his arms and shooting to the sky. Azriel grumbled at first until he’d realized the opportunity he had mid-flight with Rhys ahead. You reached to the skies above, stretching like you could grab the very moon, safe in the High Lord’s arms. He wished the Obscura had the power to capture the sound of your laughter as well, but he’d gladly settle for your silhouette marked by the Night Court stars, their beauty dimmed in the face of your exquisite joy.

The next photo was stolen after a Hewn City mission. You’d been in a billowing dark gown, face so ethereal, so striking and utterly beautiful that he’d struggled to look at you face-on. Everyone had taken to sprawling on the couches after coming home, still in formal attire, helping themselves to drinks as they winded down. You’d fallen asleep at some point, stretched comfortably across the sofa with your head nearly hanging off, hair cascading around you like a halo and down the sofa to the ground. Feyre mentioned wishing she could paint the sight of you, sleeping like some spite or nymph, some woodland creature of beauty, your dress ballooning around you like a nightshade flower. Azriel silently pulled out the Obscura, taking his time levelling the device so the light of the hearth illuminated your face.

“What is that thing you keep doing?” Cassian asked lowly.

Azriel focused, capturing the shot. Taking another one just for good measure. “Nothing.”

His favourite photo was of you and Nyx. You’d been playing with the boy on the balcony, blowing bubbles as he tried dutifully to pop them. They’d land and settle in his hair, making you laugh boisterously, head tipping back as Nyx laughed with you unwittingly. It was like the sun loved you, how it always shone upon you, doing the work for Azriel. He took the photo, falling into the easy routine. Once that photo developed, his heart skipped a beat at its sight. At the promise it captured that he wished was his.

He was a lucky bastard to have this gift—a device that finally allowed him to freeze the light that you were in his life, to etch the sights he so sincerely loved. God, you were special. Azriel had to walk away from the balcony, still staring at the little strip of film, more invaluable than precious jewel. How lucky he was to witness you. Luckier still to capture you in still frames, while you unknowingly captured his heart.

Azriel found you in your room, sitting at your vanity. He handed the obscura to you. “There’s no more film.”

You laughed. “Wow. How many photos did you take?”

He shrugged, smiling roguishly. “A handful.”

“Can I see?”

He handed a few.

You rifled through them, gasping at the quality. “These are amazing.” He’d captured Feyre descending the stairs in her regalia, beautiful like a divinity of legend. Nesta pouting playfully, glaring right at the camera. Mor putting earrings in before an outing. “Their mates would love these,” you murmured.

“They would,” he agreed.

You shook your head, stunned. “God, they’re beautiful.” Azriel didn’t know if you meant the photos or who he captured in them. “I wish I photographed this good.”

He would’ve laughed at the absurdity if he could resist his scoff of disbelief. “You do.”

You just shook your head, sneaking a quick glance at yourself in the mirror before eyeing the photos again.

Azriel’s heart stuttered. “You do,” he repeated. “I—” he reached into the pocket realm. “I took some of you as well.” Handing over a few photos, he watched closely as your eyes widened. You took your time studying each photo, brows pinched. He didn’t know if it was in dislike, or—

“Wow,” you breathed. You met his gaze. The fragility in them told him it was awe. “Azriel,” you breathed again, assessing the shots. “Wow. You make me look…”

You faded to silence. “What,” he gently nudged you.

“Pretty.”

He tried to speak. A breath puffed out of him. “Y/n,” he couldn’t stop the reverence in his tone. “You’re beautiful. What do you mean?” He didn’t care how it came off, how saying it warmed his cheeks.

He’d only pulled out a few of the tamer photos. The ones of you with his family or in mundane solitude. He immediately pulled out the rest, laying them before you. The pinch deepened between your brows, looking at the one of you after Hewn City. “Oh my god,” you breathed. You had no idea you could look so… “beautiful.”

“Yes,” Azriel nodded. “Beautiful.” He pointed to the one of you in the kitchen, freshly woken up. “Here as well.” Always.

You took your time studying them, unable to find it in you to care about how stupidly vulnerable this struck you. Too busy grappling with the comfort of feeling this seen. You finally met his gaze, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought that look in his eyes was…

If you were well and truly self-indulgent, you may have called it how you felt inside.

Azriel wished he had just one more piece of film to capture the look on your face. The depth of fondness in your eyes, like he was worth seeing. His heart stuttered again, holding that stare like he could pour his affection directly from his eyes to yours.

“Will you be keeping these?” you asked about the photos.

Azriel chuckled. “Yes. Try taking even one away.”

Oh.

You blushed, breaking his stare. A fine line to toe with your friend indeed.

But Azriel enjoyed that conviction on your face when you saw yourself as he did. “Okay,” he let up, exhaling in mock annoyance. “You can have a few.” He took most of the photos back, making sure to leave you with a copy of the Hewn City one. “I mean, I can always take more.”

You laughed, standing to retrieve your satchel, pulling out spare film. You showed Azriel how to load it in, but before handing the Obscura back, you eyed the first photo he’d taken, with his hands holding your wrists. “I want one like that,” you said, reaching for his face.

He laughed but didn’t bat your hand away, to your pleasant surprise. Only standing firm, albeit leaving his face uncovered. You cradled his face gently by the chin in one hand, resting your fingers on his cheeks, barely pressing. He smiled warmly at you, looking right through the camera at you. You captured him.

“There,” you handed back the obscura. “Now I got you,” you held up his matching photo.

He liked the sound of that. “I have you too,” he raised his collection of your photos in his hand in reminder. “And I’ll be keeping you with me.”

taglist:

@iimisty-a @feyretopia @riddlesb1tch @cullenswife @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrad-blog @answer-the-sirens @mrstangerinejohnson @marigold-morelli @courtofjurdan @azriels-mate123 @emotionless-lover @marina468 @slvtherinseeker @owllover123 @banasheefan56 @nyotamalfoy @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @lilah-asteria @bakananya @deep-forest-creature @itsswritten

#azriel x reader #azriel #azriel fanfiction #azriel/reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar fanfiction #azriel x you #acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azrielhours

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thatfreshi · 8 months

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Could I request an Astarion/GN!reader(Tav) where reader has trauma around their throat being touched and stuff but bears through the panic attacks just so Astarion can feed and Astarion only finds out after they make camp and confronts reader/Tav about their mental breakdown after a battle they had prior in the day?(reader got grabbed forcefully by the neck?) Essentially a bit of angst and comfort?

Set in act 2!!

TW - choking, panic attack, disordered eating behaviors

Recommended Song: Don't Invest In Me - Adam Melchor

Battle is horrifying, something Astarion never truly quite realized until he fell in love you with. He's talented, especially at killing people. He's never had to worry in a fight, because it was always just him. Now he has to worry about you, and it's painful, not being able to be by your side constantly, watching you in perilous situations, looking death right in the eye. When your group ran into a few violent adventurers yesterday, you weren't expecting any trouble. Suddenly, metal clashing, magic moving through the trees. Astarion moved quickly, offing one of the offenders almost immediately. When he turned to see who was next, bloodlust in his eyes, he saw you being held by the throat. You were frozen, running out of oxygen, tears welling at your eyes. He ran through the trees, running his blade through your captor's back.

"Tav? My dear, are you alright?"

You can't speak, utterly shocked. No one had ever tried to choke you in the throes of battle, and it reminded you of awful things, things that were better left unsaid. He checks you for any other wounds as you're trapped in your own mind. The fighting continues, but he doesn't care. All that matters is you, the others can handle themselves just fine. And if not, that's their loss, not his.

After thoroughly checking you over, he can't find anything else of concern. The bruising on your neck though, it's black and blue already. Racing thoughts, wondering if there's been any lasting damage. He can't decide if he should be more concerned about the fact that you're practically frozen in place or if your windpipe is destroyed.

"The fuck are you doing? We have shit to deal with!"

Karlach silences her complaints when she sees you lying on the ground. Astarion doesn't even look up at her, afraid. He's only ever truly had one thing, one thing that was his, and that's you. Everything else feels so impermanent, but you? You're constant.

"Astarion! Astarion!"

She yells out his name until he finally snaps back to look at your tiefling friend.

"Take Tav back to camp, we've got it covered."

Karlach then runs off, back to assist Wyll with a shadow-covered half-elf. You groan in pain, your neck on fire. As you start to come back to reality, you realize you're in the vampire's arms, a vampire currently moving through the dark as quickly as possible. Neither of you have lights on you, but he knows there are still torches lit at camp, he just has to get there before the shadow curse starts to take hold. You're light-headed, both from lack of oxygen and the panic attack.

"Where...?"

"Hush darling, it's alright. We're almost there, almost to camp."

Through a couple more feet of trees, the two of you make it, bathing in the warm light of the torches posted behind the brush. He takes you back to your tent, where your bedrolls lie side by side. He silently curses himself for not knowing any healing magic, promising himself he'll finally learn after this.

"Aster?"

You call out groggily.

"Yes my love, I'm right here."

Ceasing the nervous pacing, he sits by your side.

"What... what happened?"

He almost doesn't want to say, worried about how you reacted while it was happening.

"One of the shadow-cursed, they... they had you in a nasty chokehold, and I killed them."

You shift, wishing he didn't have to know about all of this.

"Sorry."

"About what darling? You've done nothing wrong."

"About not telling you- not telling you about it."

You're gasping to get your words out, your throat clearly damaged. He furrows his brow in concerned confusion.

"I- I really don't like people touching my neck, doing anything to it to be honest. Wasn't expecting one of them to grab me like that."

Coughing at the end of your sentence, you don't see Astarion's eyes travel through his thoughts, realizing what that means.

"Darling... you let me feed off of you almost every evening."

You smile a little.

"I know."

He grabs one of your hands, clasping it in both of his.

"I'll never do it again. I'm so sorry, I had no idea."

Frantic, worried he's done something irreversibly wrong.

"No, no Aster it's okay. Does it suck sometimes? Yeah, but I need you to be healthy. Besides, what's a better way to work through your trauma than exposure therapy?"

"That's not fair. I can find something else, some other way."

"And what, go back to forest animals? You know there's nothing for you out here, in the darkness."

"Then I'll simply starve! Done it before, I'll do it again."

Gods, he's stubborn. You don't blame him, he would never want to cross anyone's boundaries after his have been trampled a million times.

"My love, come here."

You reach out, beckoning to pull him down beside you.

"If I didn't want to do it, I wouldn't. You need to feed, and I can provide that. You do plenty for me, let me do this one thing for you."

"But, but you hate it."

"Yeah. Those two things can coexist, my hate for people touching my neck, and my love for you. I can put up with the anxiety if it means you're okay."

"I would be okay though."

You cup his face in your hand, making sure he's looking at you.

"I'm telling you I'm okay, and that you deserve more than rats. Okay?"

You've been around him long enough, you know his logic. If he survived for two hundred years living off of flies and rats, he certainly doesn't need blood like yours. If he had starved for an entire year, he could take a few months before getting to Baldur's Gate. Sometimes you have to remind him that survival mode isn't living, that he's allowed to have nice things. Tears fall from his eyes.

"Are you sure my sweet? Absolutely certain?"

"Of course, and if I ever needed you to stop I would tell you, promise."

You put your pinky out, and he stares at it.

"What... what are you doing? Is this you offering me to feed off a singular finger? Because if so, that's uh-"

"No, gods! It's a pinky promise."

"A... a what?"

You start laughing, so hard that you start coughing again, tears falling down your face.

"You've never heard of a pinky promise?"

It pulls at your heart a little, realizing he probably never had anyone teach him.

"I guess I haven't."

You put your pinky out, and he does the same, and then you hook yours, interlacing the small finger with his.

"There, I pinky promise that I'll tell you if you need to stop feeding on me."

As you pull your hand away, he looks confused.

"And that's what, some non-verbal contract?"

"I guess so Mr. Magistrate."

You start laughing again.

"Okay, you have thoroughly scared me, and made me cry, and teased me, in one night! I'm not sure how much more I can take."

There's a hint of humor in his tone. Honestly, he also thinks it's ridiculous that he was a magistrate, considering he was terrible at it, at least from the small things he remembers.

"Well, it's over now. I'm okay, and we're safe."

He narrows his eyes.

"I'm still going to have Shadowheart look over you when the rest return."

"Well, that's your fault for not learning healing magic."

"Okay, you don't know any magic, so I don't want to hear it!"

The two of you stay up for hours, laughing at stupid jokes, hysterical from the tragedy that evening. Sometimes after something horrible, you just need a good laugh, especially with your easily provoked lover.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #fluff #comfort #angst

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hotvintagepoll · 2 months

Text

hotvintagepoll Hot Men Tournament rundown thoughts

I promised a final recap post and here it is! I'll try to cover the questions I saw the most as we closed out the bracket, reveal my ✨secret faves✨, and talk about the biggest surprises and turnarounds I saw in the brackets.

Yes, this will get silly.

ROUND 1

As I've mentioned before, I worked off submissions for who to include in the bracket, so if your fave was missing—that's why. I used submitted pics when I could, but many submissions didn't have one, so I tried to find decent ones in the couple of days I had to prep the first round (I didn't always succeed). By decent, I mean pics where 1) I could see the hot man's face, so not too much moody lighting, and 2) hopefully conveyed something about his vibe, even if it was a funny thing (yes, I showed Howard Keel in full Shakespeare get-up—I'm not beyond putting up a pic because I think it's funny). I didn't know all of these hotties going in, so some I had to guess with, but when I could I tried to pick shots that had a touch of the humor, class, or genre of the hot man.

For Round 1 and Round 2, I grouped the hotties by each decade, so only '60s actors ran against '60s actors, '50s against '50s, etc. Male beauty standards shifted pretty dramatically over the sixty years this tournament covers, and I didn't think it was fair to pit dramatically different styles of beauty against each other immediately.

I pitted hot men against each other based on opposing energies—hot vs cold, elegant vs rough, comedy vs drama, etc.. I wanted the polls to be interesting and I've never liked brackets where everyone is clearly in different "lanes" until the finals! I also wanted to make polls where I couldn't tell which way they would swing, so by setting matchups that felt opposite but equal, I got to be surprised by the bracket results too.

The only reason we had any three-way matchups is because the amount of men submitted didn't round to a nice bracket number. I don't like them generally and find them really hard to balance.

Secret faves from Round 1—I am a James Coburn girlie and knew he would die immediately, so that was not a shock but a bummer. I similarly knew Robert Preston is only magical to people who have seen him do His Little Dance Routines in That One Iowa Musical, but it would have been nice for him to last longer.

Surprises—Jeremy Brett was a last-minute add and I didn't think he really had a shot, so I put him in as a third wheel on the Sean Connery/Dean Martin matchup. Little did I count on the Granada girlies. (Always count on the Granada girlies.) The Elvis/Peter Falk poll was the first one to gain any momentum—Elvis was winning for the first 24 hours but then, my god, did Peter fight back. I didn't expect the Tab/Toshiro poll to make that bad a mincemeat out of Tab—people have different tastes, and I thought the people who like blonde sunny All American white boys might turn out for The Blonde Sunny All American White Boy. Sorry, Tab. I hope you've peeled yourself off the sidewalk by now. And, of course, I was SHOCKED and APPALLED that James Cagney would be obliterated by, of all people, Mr. Bing Crosby.

SHADOW BRACKET

The fervor of the Harold Lloyd and Fredric March people inspired the shadow bracket, and I couldn't be happier at the way it's gone. You were right, the original photos I had for them did suck. Cunty Harold Lloyd in his little life guard uniform was a revelation.

ROUND 2

For Round 2 I'd gotten a better sense of who was doing well and who was not, so a little of that came into play, but I mostly paired on vibes again. (I genuinely think this is a good way to make a fun, challenging bracket.)

Secret faves—Noooo not hot dilf Dick Van Dyke don't take my hot inventor dilf away uwu!!! (He was up against Marlon Brando. I would have been shocked if he'd won but for a minute there, a glorious second, it was possible.) I am also a big old softie for David Niven's particular brand of repression to the point of volcanic rupture, but he is one of many hotties who does not look good without moving and speaking so I figured he would be going.

So much beef—hey! hey you. I ran a poll asking if we are horny for dancers. Yes, was the resounding poll response. Where, then, did all the fucking dancers go? This round we lost Donald O'Connor, Fred Astaire, Harold Nicholas; Sammy Davis Jr., Danny Kaye, Frank Sinatra, and Bing Crosby all sneak into this category as well, by token of having been in the kind of big MGM bang-a-pan-and-put-on-a-show beloved bedlams we all watch at Christmastime. Round 2 voters HATED musical matchups. Except for one.

The one—SOUND OF MUSIC, the voters said, WE LOVE SOUND OF MUSIC. we will KILL the man responsible for salad dressing because of the SOUND OF MUSIC. every other dance man can die but THIS man dances a FOLK DANCE with JULIE ANDREWS in a GARDEN. I did not go into this poll with strong opinions about Christopher Plummer or Paul Newman but my god did I leave having heard all of them.

Surprises—James Edwards/Anthony Perkins matchup was a nail biter! Conrad vs Oscar kept me up at nights. Surprised to see Basil Rathbone survive against Sabu Dastagir—both very fetching, but Sabu had some top-tier propaganda. Cesar Romero put up a surprisingly stiff fight against Cary Grant (an omen for things to come).

Oh horrors—horror heroes surprisingly fell all over the place. I was sure either Bela Lugosi or Turhan Bey would sweep their three-way matchup, but Michael Redgrave of all people carried through; Boris Karloff went down against Johnny Weismuller (while holding hands with fellow fallen hottie Fred Astaire), but at least we got his guacamole recipe before he went. Delighted to see that the Venn diagram of the coalitions who support horror hero Vincent Price and funny lil guy Donald O'Connor is a circle.

Secret faves pt 2—oh yeah, I fucking love Danny Kaye and Donald O'Connor. RIP funny lil kings.

ROUND 3

For some reason this was the hardest one to make matchups for. Oh no, all the men are hot.

Secret faves—Michael Redgrave i love you SO much you're SUCH an idiot, how did you make it as far as round 3. I want you to sweep the whole thing but you should NOT be surviving this. I love you, here's a kiss, go home.

Surprises—Marlon Brando is gone! Errol Flynn is gone! Christopher Plummer exhausted himself beating the organic oreos man to death and goes out with a whimper. Beginning to actually see the roots of #mifunesweep as Tyrone Power, a hot man very different from Burt Lancaster, who was in turn very different from Tab Hunter, also gets swept under the wheels of the unbeatable toshirobus. Conrad Veidt finds that no amount of purring svelte eccentricity compares to the people who will fuck a young Lt. Columbo.

SHADOW BRACKET 2

Cannot believe it but Veidt loses this one too. Perkins sweeps and becomes Prince of the Shadow Realm!

ROUND 4

At this point I've set a formal bracket that I'm following.

Secret faves—this isn't secret anymore, but losing Jimmy Stewart hurt.

Surprises—The Gene Kelly/Jeremy Brett matchup was the diciest one all round, moving back and forth between the two by sometimes .01%. Far more surprising, however, was Cary Grant getting eliminated before the quarterfinals. Grant has never been my type, but he is famous for being THE type, so while the writing had been on the wall the whole tournament—how on earth did Michael Redgrave even get 36% in his matchup?!—seeing Grant go down was a SHOCKER. Other fallen hotties included Gregory Peck, James Dean, Harry Belafonte, and Sessue Hayakawa. Peter Falk finally met his match in Omar Sharif.

QUARTERFINALS

Secret faves—I don't know if it counts as a secret fave, tbh, as my horses in the race really went out with Stewart, but I do have a soft spot here worth mentioning. Here's my childhood dog, Keaton.

The resemblance is truly striking, and yes, he was short, fast, and not prone to smiling.

Surprises—I couldn't predict how any of these matchups would go down, but I was most interested in Keaton vs Sharif, as they are both SO hot in SUCH different ways.

SEMIFINALS:

This was such a good batch of semifinalist contestants. By this point I think we could all tell Mifune was unstoppable (though I thought Sharif might give him a run for his money), but I really didn't know which way Robeson vs Poitier would flip.

FINALS:

I wanted Sidney Poitier to pull a last-minute sweep out of nowhere, but alas, Toshiro is just THAT GOOD (maybe. I will admit that I find Toshiro's domination a little hard to believe, given the variety and hotness of all his competitors; the man is hot but all these men are hot). I'm still happy with how the tournament went.

FINAL MEDITATIONS:

Biggest shock of a dropout: the loss of Paul Newman

Biggest "you people have no taste": the loss of James Cagney

Biggest victory: Paul Robeson making it to the semifinals over often-assumed champion Gregory Peck

Biggest coalition who deserve justice: dancing men

Biggest ask character: vents anon (currently eating Laurence Olivier)

Biggest, uhh, anything: how many of you are here! I genuinely thought it would be me and 10 other people voting for the whole tournament. I'm thrilled it took off like this!

I think that's everything, but I'm happy to answer addl asks. And THANK YOU to everyone for your tags, rants, impassioned propaganda, beautiful pics, and love for the hot men! See you for the ladies!

#hotvintagethoughts

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nickfowlerrr · 10 months

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it's nice to have a friend

pairing: stucky x curvy!reader

warnings: fluff. tinge of angst. longing. mutual pining. no smut but all my works are considered 18+ only regardless.

words: 1.7k

notes: loosely based off this prompt: platonic forehead kisses starting to give u the feels. LIKE ITS SOMETHING MAGICAL. i'm currently pmsing and work killed me so i was only able to get to this drabble done today. hoping to do the bucky request tomorrow! <3 thank you in advance for reading and reblogging. comments and feedback are always welcome and so appreciated!

“I’m fine, Steve,” you laugh as you try to swat his hand away.

You still as he catches it in his instead, pulling it down and holding it as he runs his thumb over your hand. You watch him as he keeps his gaze down, tracking his own movements and appearing deep in thought.

It’s soft and silent in the dim light of the kitchen, a little past midnight, seemingly only you and him awake at this hour.

You’d gotten back from your mission just a few hours ago and Steve had been your shadow from the tarmac up until you were cleared by Dr. Cho and could head to living quarters.

You had a small gash on your forehead and some bruised knuckles but really you felt fine. Kate and Peter weren’t as unscathed as you and Clint but all in all, the mission was a success. And truly, there was nothing for anyone, especially not Steve, to be worried about.

You and Steve were close, close enough that you considered him to be one of your best friends here at the tower, but despite that, you still had no idea why he was so concerned about you tonight.

He’d been worrying over you since you’d stepped foot off the jet. Not outright, but you could tell he was following you because he wanted to keep an eye on you. You finally convinced him you were good, or so you’d thought, and had some time to yourself as you showered and got ready for bed. When you came out to grab something to eat before letting sleep finally take you for the night, that was when you’d found him sitting in the kitchen.

Only the dimmer was on as he sat at the counter sketching something in his notebook. He noticed your presence right away and got up from his seat to meet you at the cabinet you were at.

He’d instantly went for the mug he knew you were going to reach for and handed it to you as you watched him, having relaxed with your backside against the counter when he came over.

You’d caught yourself admiring him as he got you your mug but you tried to quickly shut those thoughts down and instead focused on just how lucky you were to call Steve a friend. His concern wasn’t necessary, but it was nice to know he cared.

You took the mug from him and when you set it down on the counter, he once again tried to fuss over the small gash that would likely leave a little physical memory of the mission. Not that you minded all that much.

You tried to brush his hand away but he caught yours and kept hold of it as you let him.

As Steve continued to stroke his thumb over your soft, sensitive skin, you couldn’t help but notice the crease in his brows and the tightness of his jaw as he rubbed gently at the bruises.

You couldn’t imagine this was all because of you, but something was obviously up.

“Steve,” you spoke softly, waiting for him to look at you once more.

His bright blue eyes met yours and the worry you found in them had you sighing.

“What’s wrong?” You asked as you gently squeezed his hand. “And don’t say nothing. I think I know you well enough to know that something is, so spill.”

He smiled halfheartedly at you, an almost pained look in his eye before he shook his head.

He lifted your hand to his lips and placed a delicate kiss to your knuckles before he let go. You thought your heart might just stop beating entirely at the action as your breathing stilled unbidden.

You watched him as he took a small step back from you. The look in his eye wasn’t one you could name now but it had your stomach twisting..in a good way.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said as he took you in with his eyes.

Your brows furrowed lightly before you gave a small smile. That was far from the whole answer and you knew it, but you wouldn’t press him on it right now.

“I hadn’t realized how late it was,” he continued when he glanced over at the time on the stove. “I should probably get some sleep. And you should, too,” he said turning his head back to face you and fixing you with a look you could only laugh at.

“Will do, Captain,” you chuckled lightly with a nod. “Soon as I find something to eat.”

“I think Bucky has leftover pizza in the fridge if you want,” he offered.

You scoffed and your eyes narrowed at him, “Do you want me dead?” you asked in faux incredulity, earning a soft laugh in return.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” he smirked. “Besides, if he knows it was you, I don’t think he’d mind.”

“Thanks,” you smiled as you pushed off the counter to head to the fridge.

Before you got there, though, you were stopped as Steve’s arms wrapped around you in a hug. You found yourself pressed right against his chest and though it took you a second to register what was happening, you soon returned his embrace and relaxed into him. God, he was so warm. And he smelled so nice. You had to stop yourself from nuzzling into him and making a complete fool of yourself. His hold was so comforting, you quickly found yourself lost in it.

So much so, you almost didn’t register when Steve placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. Almost.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the contact as your arms reactively squeezed him tighter and you pressed yourself closer to him.

It wasn’t the first time he’d given you a forehead kiss but this time felt different. It made you feel different. Like you were in a dream. It was soft and comforting but it also had butterflies coming to life in your stomach and had your body alight in delight.

But it was over before you knew it and Steve pulled away from you with a soft, “Goodnight.”

His touch lingered on your arm though before he dropped his hand completely and smiled at you once more.

“Night,” you whispered back before you watched him go, grabbing his notebook on his way back to his room.

You absentmindedly wrapped your arms around yourself as you were already missing the feeling of his touch.

That was different. That was very different.

The light flicked on behind you and you spun around coming face to face with the only other person you'd really looked forward to seeing upon your return.

His boyish grin only added to the butterflies already causing ruckus in your tummy.

"There you are," he smiled, "I was looking for you."

Not another word was said before you found yourself wrapped up in Bucky's arms.

God, he was so warm. And he smelled so good.

Thankfully he pulled away before you could embarrass yourself by unleashing the purr that threatened to tumble past your lips as his hands rubbed at the knots in your back soothingly.

"You okay?" he asked, concern lacing his tone as he studied your face, eyes fixating on the cut blemishing your forehead once he assured himself the rest of you was alright.

"Fine," you smiled.

He nodded, "Good."

You got lost in his gaze as you stared at one another for a long while, just your quiet breaths could be heard in the otherwise silence of the kitchen.

You didn't even realize you were holding his hands until he squeezed yours ever so slightly.

"'M glad you're back," he simpered.

"Me too," you returned.

"You hungry?" he asked. "I have some pizza in the fridge if you want," he offered.

You almost laughed remembering Steve's words earlier. "That sounds really good, actually," you nodded, smiling, "thanks."

You watched as Bucky got out the cold pizza and warmed it up for you as you admired his form. When you caught yourself, you wondered how he hadn't felt your gaze heavy on his back. You were mesmerized by his muscles as they flexed with his movements.

God, you fretted to yourself.

You didn't know what to do.. You didn't know how much longer you could keep telling yourself these feelings you were feeling for Steve and Bucky were nothing.. how much longer you could deny that with each day that passed you found yourself falling harder and harder for the two supersoldiers.

Little did you know, they were both already head over heels for you.

They promised each other they'd wait as long as they had to until you brought it up yourself, they didn't want you to feel any pressure whatsoever, even if that meant you never brought it up. They'd keep their distance, not crossing the line of friendship until they were sure you wanted to. But nights like this, when you've been gone for as long as you had been, or worse when you'd come back hurt, no matter how trivial the injury was, they couldn't stay only arm's length.

To avoid overcrowding you upon your return, they'd agreed to come to you one on one. Had Bucky seen the glint of disappointment in your eyes when Steve told you he was preoccupied upon your return, he would've been a total loss. Would've come right up to you and sworn to make his absence up to you, whatever it'd take.

Hell, they'd both been waiting impatiently all day to see you and Bucky only begrudgingly sat out from greeting you on the tarmac because Steve won the coin toss.

As he plated your pizza, the pizza he had secretly saved for you, he smiled to himself as he felt your eyes glued to him.

He liked the feeling.

Steve wasn't so sure you'd ever see them as anything more than friends to you, but Bucky thought otherwise. He knew otherwise. He felt it in your gaze, in your playful hits and nudges when you’d joke together, in the warmth of your hugs... He knew it was gonna happen. And each day that passed, he only grew more sure.

He couldn't wait until the day you were all on the same page, all your cards on the table, finally the three of you together. No more coin tosses, no more taking turns checking on you after missions, no more three second hugs (though he never really stuck to that rule all too much), no more lingering forehead kisses that he desperately wished would turn into more...

He couldn't wait. But he would. For you, they'd wait forever.

#stucky x curvy!reader #stucky x reader #stucky x plus size reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #steve rogers x curvy!reader #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #bucky drabble #steve rogers drabble #stucky x reader drabble

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pinguwrites · 6 months

Text

Our True Nature | Tom Buckley

Pairing -> dom!tom buckley x student!psychic!reader

Summary -> You're different, you always have been; you've know that ever since you were a little kid who made your toys float in the air. Despite your great abilities you've pursued a rather humble life, looking for others like you. Your search comes to an end when you realize that your professor's assistant, Tom Buckley — the one you've been harboring a secret crush on — is a psychic, just like you.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), dom!Tom and sub!reader, age-gap (not specified, but reader is college-aged), praise kink, slight degradation, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, um superpower play??? telekinesis play??? I don't know what that shit's called, overstimulation, mild breeding kink, tom is wild and says dirty stuff, weird magic lore I made up (you can trust me, I used to write fantasy), mild hamilton reference ig, rough sex but not much emphasis on it

Disclaimer: Red Lights characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

When you first saw him it was like the world around you stopped. The rain that had been pouring down like a storm the entire day ceased its brutal assault, and in that week of dull weather and gray skies, the sun finally peeked out from behind the clouds and cast a heavenly glow around his body.

He looked like an angel. Dark hair caressed by sunlight, eyes as pale blue as a glacier, and the most handsome face you’d ever seen. It was all right there, across the parking lot of the university, just waiting to be seen. A god amongst humans, a flower in a field of grass.

But then the moment passed. He walked away, without any word or acknowledgment, like he never even saw you at all. It wasn’t until later on did you realize who this man was — Tom Buckley, your new professor’s assistant.

You supposed that was when the attraction started. You tried to kid yourself and say that it was actually halfway through the year when he started offering private study sessions, or when he made it a point to greet you good morning every day, or even when he insisted you call him Tom, but you knew the truth. You had fallen for him the second you saw him but were only too ashamed to admit it.

A god amongst humans.

It was a silly phrase you used to describe him. He wasn’t a god. Not even close to one. He was nothing like you. He couldn’t see visions of the future, or make a door open and close at his whim. He was just a person, a person you had a silly, undeniable crush on. A person you could not stop staring at.

He was currently leading the lesson today, showcasing a video on how a fake psychic used tricks behind the scenes to fool her audience, but you weren’t paying attention at all. Your chin was resting in your hand, and your gaze was upon Tom like he was the only thing that mattered.

You could barely see him in the poor lighting. The best you got was a figure and a shadow on the projection, but that didn’t deter you at all. All you wanted was to observe him, the way he moved, the way he talked, the way his hands would gesture as he explained the concepts students didn’t understand.

He seemed to notice your blatant staring, because after the video ended and he turned the lights back on, his eyes locked with yours, and he did what he always did: made you stay behind after class.

“Is something wrong?” you asked. It was a routine question. When the students got up to leave you would approach his desk, feigning confusion, waiting for him to say, ‘No, nothing, I just wanted to look over the assignment with you.’

You were sure your friends thought you were dumb. Why else would you need extra help all the time? but that was a much better assumption than the idea that you were fucking Mr. Buckley, so you never bothered correcting them.

“No, nothing, I just . . . ” Tom started but then trailed off. From this distance, you could properly admire the light freckles scattered across his pale face and took a moment to save the image in your head. When he continued, your attention snapped back. “I have a couple of questions.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Let’s go to my office.” He looked a little nervous for some reason. The walk to his office was spent trying to deduce why. Maybe something was wrong this time.

You sat down on one of the chairs by his desk. His room was filled with all sorts of odd things, namely technology used to disprove — or prove — paranormal activity. Occasionally, this material would be showcased in class, and he and Matheson would do replicas of former encounters to demonstrate how they worked.

You always paid very close attention to those days, in case you ever need the information in the future. How to Evade Ghost Hunters 101!

“What is it? Have I really done something wrong this time?” you joked, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

He laughed. A beautiful smile.

“Of course not, you’re my star student.” Your heart warmed at that. “I just wanted to test some things out with you. For the curriculum, Dr. Matheson and I were considering adding it to the course, and we want your opinion.”

You nodded. “That’s fine with me.”

“Good.”

He opened a drawer and pulled out a tarot card pack.

“We want to do a lesson on how pictures and symbolism can be manipulated to fit the victim’s life,” he said, shuffling the deck. “Tarot cards are so vague and general — The Fool, for example, represents new beginnings and adventure. Is that not the foundation of everyone’s life? To explore, to be inexperienced?”

You agreed. “And how are you planning on presenting this to the class? Give out a tarot reading to everyone?”

Tom chuckled. “I just want to try it out with you, to prove it.”

He held out the cards for you to pick, but you stopped him. “Aren’t I supposed to tell you what I want to know?”

There was a brief silence, and if you looked carefully, you could see a light pink tinge glaze over his cheeks, and his breathing hitch ever so slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Don’t worry. Whatever you want to know about me,” you offered, amused at his reaction. “Tell me, what are you looking for?”

“I want to know your secrets,” he admitted. “I want to know what you’re hiding.”

“You’ll be disappointed. There’s nothing interesting about me.”

“We’ll see.”

You picked three cards and placed them down on the table. Each representative of either the past, present, or future, or at least, that’s how you were assuming he was doing the reading.

He turned the first card. It was The Star, reversed.

“Something in the past was bothering you,” he said. “You felt hopeless, like you had no more motivation . . . Am I right in guessing it was the result of something specific?”

“Yes,” you said. Obviously, his reading wasn’t true, how could it be? he wasn’t like you, but he was definitely right about the way people manipulated the symbolism. You doubted he knew the real reason why you had been so depressed.

He flipped over the next card. The Lovers.

He grinned. “I’m sure you can guess what this means. Are you in a relationship?”

You shook your head.

“Then it’s about a potential someone. You’ll find your complimentary, someone you can balance with — it could be platonic, or romantic, but no matter the type of relationship, they’ll be loving, and supportive.”

You looked into his eyes before returning your attention back down to the cards. Oh, how you wished it was him.

He turned the last card.

“The Ten of Cups. Your desires will be fulfilled. You’ll be happy, whatever problems you had in the past will be resolved.”

It was silent for a moment. You expected him to ask you questions of how accurate it was, and how quickly you connected his predictions to events in your life, but he didn’t.

“Do you believe in magic?” he asked bluntly. “The supernatural? You either do or you don’t, I can’t imagine you’d be wasting your time in this class if your opinion was neutral.”

You felt like you’d been put right on the spot. You thought about the right way to answer. “I believe in it, in the sense that I’m open about what we don’t know, and am optimistic about all the possibilities.”

He all but rolled his eyes. “C’mon. That was so wordy. I want to hear the truth.”

He leaned in closer. Your faces were inches apart, and you could feel his minty breath on your face.

“Yes,” you breathed out. “I believe in magic.”

He pulled away, satisfied. “I believe in magic, too.”

You quirked an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? Have you ever seen it in action?”

“Maybe,” he answered vaguely, a grin on his face. “Let me see your palm.”

You wanted to laugh, but you yourself was very eager to comply with his demands, not because you thought the experiments were interesting, but rather you enjoyed spending time with him, and the prospect of him touching you—even though it was only your hand—was thrilling.

Tom caressed the lines on your palms. He was distracted by it.

You weren’t sure what it was about him that made you so drawn. You didn’t believe in love at first sight, it was only something based on lust and looks, but this was more. You didn’t just like him, you found him utterly attractive, in a way that surpassed physicality.

It certainly wasn’t his personality. You thought you two were compatible in mentality, and you got along well, but he was rather boring. He wasn’t fiery nor exciting, nothing that could take you off guard or pique your curiosity.

He was intelligent. He told you he used to study physics, something you just had to respect him for, but you didn’t know that until just recently, and it’s not like his day-to-day actions showcased his genius.

You really didn’t know what it was, and a part of not knowing made it all the more mysterious. But it also made you feel vulnerable. In less than a year, you had become so hopelessly, irrevocably, in love with someone. He could do anything and you wouldn’t blink an eye. He had so much power over you, and he didn’t even know it.

“Can you feel it?” he asked softly, looking up at you.

You pulled your hand away, too flustered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He took your hand again, unrelenting. He gripped it tighter, encasing it in his warmth. It felt so nice.

“Between us,” he clarified, his voice low. He was gazing at you intently.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you like me?” he asked, his tone almost desperate. “I see you do things, impossible things. When you drop a pencil in class it floats back up to your hand, when your coffee gets too cold I see you wrap your hand around the cup and make it bubble. No one else notices, but I do. I see it.”

You froze, or rather, your mind was instantly filled with so many thoughts you couldn’t comprehend them all at once.

You thought you were careful with your abilities because up until now, no one had caught you. Not since you were a teenager who copied off others during a test, not since you got your first car and put it on autopilot so you could sleep during a drive, not even since you were a little girl who was too lazy to tie her own braid at school.

“T-Tom,” you stuttered. “I don’t . . .”

And what was that he said about being like him? Was he implying that he could do these things too? That after all these years of searching, you’d finally found another psychic?

Tom’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.” He chuckled nervously. “I don’t know what I was saying. Just forget it.”

He cleared his throat. You still didn’t say anything. It was like someone had pressed a mute button and you couldn’t speak, no matter how badly you wanted to say something.

“You should go,” he suggested. “Thank you, for all the help.”

He stood up, and you did too, mirroring his actions. He lead you over to the exit. “Have a nice day, I look forward to seeing you in class next week.”

You turned around, not wanting to leave yet. “Tom . . .”

He was about to close the door when you stopped it with your foot, budged it open, and leapt into his arms, placing a passionate kiss on his lips.

You didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t know what you were thinking. All that you knew was that you wanted him. Badly. As you pushed your way back inside the room, you feared for a moment that he was going to shove you off, tell you he didn’t mean it like that, but he didn’t. He pulled you inside and lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, and sat you on top of his desk, returning the kiss with even more intensity.

“Tom,” you all but moaned. You felt confused and dazed, but with the way Tom was nibbling at your neck, sucking and licking, you could tell he wasn’t in the same boat as you. You relaxed, letting everything go. You could let him take care of this—whatever this was. Let him take care of you.

“Can I take it off?” he asked in between kisses. He tugged at your shirt, fingers hovering above the buttons.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Please, please, please—”

The buttons unbuttoned themselves. You gasped a little in surprise as your shirt was tossed to the side. That was all the confirmation you needed—Tom Buckley was just like you.

The realization that you had finally found another was lost when he started kneading your breasts through your bra. “Such a needy girl,” he cooed. “Didn’t know she could get like that. Doesn’t want to answer my questions but needs me to please her.”

“Fuck,” you let out, surprised at the dirty talk, but pleased nonetheless. “I just want you.”

“I know you do. Staring at me like a piece of meat in class. That’s all I am to you, hmm? Just a hot teacher to fuck. You tell your little friends about me?”

“No!” You whined when his hands went underneath your bra and pinched your nipple. “Ow! I’ve never told anyone.”

“Ah, I knew you were a good girl.”

You whined again and nuzzled your head in the crook of his shoulder, not wanting him to see how flustered he was making you.

“Pretty girl,” he murmured, unclasping your bra, watching your breasts fall out. “Beautiful girl . . . Can I suck?”

“Yes!” you said impatiently. You found it sexy that he kept asking for permission, but also annoying—he needed to get straight to the point, and stop teasing you.

He latched his lip onto your hard nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud, occasionally nipping on it. While his mouth was occupied, his hands were roaming your body, up to your face and down to as far as he could reach, which while you were sitting down, was all the way to your ankles.

He switched nipples and went to your other breast, making you release a sigh of satisfaction. He eventually let go and gave you another kiss, his tongue slipping inside.

You looked down. He was hard, subtly trying to grind himself between your legs. “Mmm,” he moaned against your lips.

His moan was wonderful. If not for your own pleasure, you wanted to continue this just so you could elicit another sound out of him.

In a bold move, you reached down and squeezed his crotch. He let out a sound, more strangled this time, and pulled away, a string of saliva connecting you both.

He placed his hand over the hand that was palming his cock, encouraging you to keep going, with eyes shut and nose scrunched up. He then moved it to lean on your shoulders.

“Do you like it rough or vanilla?” he asked. “I can do both.”

You tried to hide your grin. “Rough.”

He knew that by saying that you didn’t want it completely that way. The actions, yes, but you still wanted to hear him praise you, to caress you, to whisper sweet things in your ear.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He picked you — handsome and strong — and laid you down on the couch. It wasn’t that large, but at least it was more comfortable than his desk, and you didn’t want to wait any longer by going to his place or yours.

“I want to let you know,” he started seriously, “that this isn’t a, uh, one-night stand. I don’t want that, not from you.”

“I don’t want that either,” you said.

“And I don't do this often. Well, I don't do this at all. With other students, I mean. You’re the first. I don’t want you to think that I’m just, how do you say it? playing you?”

You giggled. He didn’t seem like the playboy type at all. In fact, when most men and women flirted with him, he usually got all uncomfortable and quiet, a fact that boosted your ego, as he never felt that way around you.

“This is serious for me, too. Let’s keep it a secret until this semester is over. And when I’m out of your class we can make it public, okay?”

He nodded, and leaned down to kiss you again, soft and delicate.

“Take off your shirt,” you demanded.

He smiled at your behavior. It took a minute, because he was wearing his suit, but he managed to get it off with your help. You didn’t want to damage his clothing, it was probably on the more expensive side, and he looked so exquisite in it.

You admired his chest. He was lean, but you could still see some faint muscles. After all, he had carried you to the couch. He was perfect. It was just what you had hoped for.

This moment didn’t feel real. How was it that you had gotten so lucky? You were here with the man of your dreams, in his arms, and you were about to make love.

“Get on your knees.”

You did as he asked. You had done this a couple times before, so you weren’t really worried. You could even take cock all the way in, but when you saw his size, you gulped.

He guided your face to it. You licked the tip to the base to the balls, wondering how you were going to make it fit. You reasoned with yourself that if you couldn’t you could just use your hands for the rest.

That was, until he slid his cock inside your mouth and pushed it as far as he could. You controlled your gag reflex and started bobbing your head up and down, the sensation causing your eyes to tear, but not in pain.

He wiped them away. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t say anything, not with your mouth filled. You showed your answer by sucking him, fondling his balls, looking up at him through fluttering eyelashes.

“Ohhh, you take it so well. So well.”

He pushed your head all the way down, keeping it there for a few seconds. You breathed in through your nose, trying to keep yourself under control whilst still making the experience pleasurable for him. He seemed to like it, with the way he was rolling his hips against your mouth, even though there was nothing left to fit inside.

Then, suddenly, you felt something rubbing your clit through your pants. You tried to pull off of Tom, concerned at what it might be, when you realized it was him. He was the one doing it, making you feel this way.

He kept your head in place, a pleased smile on his face. “Like that?”

You moaned. You couldn’t concentrate on him, not when your body was being pleasured so good. How much practice had he had with his abilities? How could he focus when you were going down on him? It was probably the age. He wasn’t that much older than you, but he was older, and surely that came with more practice.

He pulled you off of him after a few minutes of you squirming and gagging, placing you down on the couch. He made sure your head was in a comfortable position before taking off your pants and pulling out his cock. Your pussy was still being rubbed, by whatever invisible force he was using, and it was about to make you come.

“I—I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he shushed, pressing his cock at your entrance.

“Let me make you—”

“No,” he growled. “I’m going to come inside of you. Don’t think, just let your professor handle it.”

You knew he wasn’t technically your professor. He was just the TA, but it was still sexy to hear him say that. It reminded you of your student-teacher relationship, the forbiddeness of it all.

You came just as his cock slid in. He sighed, feeling your pussy flutter and your cream leak out on him. He looked down, taking in the view, before pulling his cock out and slamming it back in, taking you off guard.

His pace was unrelenting. You didn’t know he could be so animalistic. He was panting and groaning in your ear, holding your body in place even though you weren’t going anywhere. He was still rubbing your clit — technically — but you didn't mind. You could take another orgasm. Besides, you weren’t sure if he would stop even if you asked. He looked so blissed out, like he was in another world, the only thing driving him his primal instinct.

“Gonna fill you up so good,” he said, increasing the intensity of his pace. The couch was now shuffling a little, moving forward a little bit each time, but Tom didn’t seem to notice. “You need it so bad. Just want me to take care of you, yeah?”

“Yes,” you cried out, rather pathetically. It was crazy to think how submissive this man could make you. You had never been like this with any of your other partners, but with him, you felt safe, like you trust him with anything.

“I can imagine — you in class, giving me one of those eyes you always do. Fuck — the other students don’t suspect a thing, but both you and I know that I’ll have you over my desk by evening.”

The thought alone made your mind whirl.

“I should fill your panties with my cum, make you walk around in it,” he said. That shouldn’t have aroused you as much as it did. He noticed your reaction. “Oh, you enjoy hearing me say those things? Those depraved, dirty things.”

He hit that spot in you, the one that made you go crazy, and you cried out, clutching his shoulders.

“There it is,” he said, mostly to himself, as he kept ramming that spot over and over again. The added sensations made you go limp in his arms. You could feel that familiar coil in your stomach, the one that told you you were going to orgasm again.

You threw your head back, looking up at the ceiling as you came, but your peace of mind didn’t last long. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look back at him, beating that same spot again, all while continuing the assault on your clit. “Look at me, I want to see your face.”

You looked right into his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, and you could tell an orgasm was coming for him, too.

You felt a little ashamed that in such a short time he had made you come twice, and you hadn’t at all — at least, not yet — but like he said before, he didn’t want you to think, so you didn’t, and let whatever thoughts you had left bouncing around in your head leave.

“You’re wonderful,” he praised, kissing you again. He couldn’t get enough of it. Your teeth clashed briefly, but neither of your cared. He just wanted to taste you. “I can’t wait to be with you.”

With that, he came inside, filling you up to the brim with his hot seed. He kept his cock in, holding your hips in place, until he was satisfied and pulled out.

He laid on top of you on the couch, caressing the side of your cheek as you both recovered and took your breath.

It was silent. Just the two of you, in his office. You had finally found the one. The one you were sure you were going to spend the rest of your life with, all happy and in love like a fairytale.

“I didn’t . . . I didn’t think I’d ever find another,” you finally said.

“I didn’t either. I’m glad it was you. I’m glad it’s you I get to share this with.”

“Hey, what was with the cards? Were you just testing me?”

“Yeah.” He turned to face you. “I wasn’t sure if I was just seeing things. I mean, you get up so early and go to work, sometimes you just imagine a kid opening a door on its own or playing tricks with her assignments. I had to be sure.”

“So, you weren’t intending to tell my future?”

“You can’t actually do that,” he said.

“Yes you can.”

He blinked, surprised.

“I know you said the interpretation is very broad, but it still works.”

“You can actually tell the future?”

“Yeah. It doesn’t have to be with Tarot cards only. But whatever methods, I don’t do it often, I feel like it messes with things. But sometimes I just get these images in my head, and I can’t stop it.”

It hadnt occurred to you that even though you were both psychic, your powers, or at least, the direction you went with them, were different.

“If you weren’t reading my future, what were you doing?”

“I noticed that objects imbued with magic, especially artifacts, radiated energy—a feeling, one that only I could sense. If I gave the same impression on those cards, and you happened to pick them, it would either be a huge coincidence or it would mean you were drawn to them, albeit unknowingly. It was just something to give me more confidence.”

You weren’t aware that was something a person could do. You supposed there were plenty of things you didn’t know. You were looking forward to learning from him, and teaching him as well. You were both in uncharted waters, not knowing where this would lead you both. But it was okay, as long as you had him by your side.

You did worry a little that this intense connection you felt with him was only in an otherworldly sense, that you fell for him because of this magic, but you shook the thought away. That wasn’t true. You wouldn’t let it be true. You loved him and he loved you—and that was it. Nothing more.

“I can do another round,” he said suddenly. “You?”

You grinned and nodded. “Yeah. But this time, I want to ride you.”

He laughed and flipped you both over so that you were on top of him. “Show me how you get off, babygirl.”

Taglist:

@henrywintersdearestgirl

@shroombloom-rry

@meetmeatyourworst

@mrkdvidal1989

#pinguwrites #tom buckley #tom buckley x reader #tom buckley x y/n #tom buckley x you #cillian murphy #red lights #fanfiction

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inhuman-obey-me · 1 month

Note

🕶 with Barbatos please??👀 also yes on MC! (sorry for being specific, you can ignore it if you want but can it be directed at mc i'm not normal about Barb)

"I saw a little thing I didn't like you tried to hide." - Barbatos/MC

content warning: blood, reference to torture/gore

Barbatos has a reputation.

It is one that you remind yourself of at times, when you get lost in his sweet words and even sweeter treats. Those soft smiles, his ever-readiness to serve, his meticulous attention to detail so that things were always perfect for you – he would insist you had him wrapped around your finger, but sometimes you wonder if it truly isn’t the other way around.

After all, while you loved that side of him – one that few had the privilege to witness – you could not help but be intrigued by the part of him that reigned in the shadows.

The part of him that delighted in the slow torture of a traitor. The part of him that could use a knife to cut up a bleeding-heart artichoke just as deftly as an actual bleeding heart. The part of him that could drive someone mad just by warping the space around him, damning them to experience eternity in a matter of seconds.

Perhaps you were a bit too intrigued, your morbid curiosity having led you now to wander the dark halls of the Demon Lord’s Castle in search of him. He was supposed to meet you at the foyer earlier, but when the ever-punctual demon was nowhere to be found, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You wanted to see if you could catch the consistently composed butler off-guard, unprepared.

A fool’s quest.

You pass an archway and stop in your tracks, swearing you heard a faint scream from down below. A metallic scent pervades, your stomach churning as you take a step, and then another, and yet another – slowly descending the stairs, unsure of what you’ll find at the bottom.

It’s dimly lit, torches along the walls flickering with magic flames. Your eyes adjust, and your heart nearly skips a beat as you see Barbatos in the distance. You dive behind a wall, peering around the corner to observe.

He seems to be talking to someone, though you can’t see who. A cell, you think, as you notice the iron bars gating certain areas. The light catches on an object in his hand, something silver, and you realize he’s cleaning it off with cloth. Your own hands fish out your D.D.D., opening the camera function to zoom in and get a clearer look.

Oh.

He’s splattered with blood, standing in a pool of it. It’s a sight to behold, and you’re unable to tear your gaze away from him. Slowly, your finger goes to the capture button, taking a photo of the scene. You duck back into the passage, checking to see how the shot turned out – and chills run down your spine as Barbatos seems to be looking straight into the lens.

“Tsk, tsk.” Gloved fingers tightly wrap around your wrist, forcing you to turn around to meet a dark gaze that you knew all too well. “I saw a little thing I didn’t like you tried to hide.”

“B-Barbatos!” His name leaves your lips in a squeak. You don’t know how he got to you so fast, but you do know it’s better not to question it. “I-I’m sorry, you didn’t show up earlier and I got curious and wanted to look for you so I ended up down here and then I found you but I didn’t want to disturb you and –”

He puts a halt to your rapid explanation with a single finger against your lips, his gaze softening. “I’m sorry, my dear. It’s not like me to forget or lose track of the time. I must make this up to you immediately.” He lets go of your wrist, examining you once over before taking a step back. “But first, I need to freshen up. Shall we go upstairs?”

With a nod, you follow him back up to the brighter hallways of the castle, though he pauses once you’re at the landing. “...And what are you going to do with that photo?”

“Oh.” You can feel the warmth rush to your cheeks. “I, uh … just kind of wanted it for myself.”

“Is that so?” You can hear the amusement in his voice, see the way his lips twist into a smirk. “Well, if that’s the case, I suppose I can let your little reconnaissance slide. Next time, however,” he leans in close, breath ghosting your ear. “Just ask.”

#SORRY this is late #wrapping these up for real now #will finish up the last couple this week #but yes we're also not normal about barb totally understand #obey me #obey me!#obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x mc #obey me barbatos x reader #om! barbatos #obey me nightbringer #obey me fic #obey me drabble #writings #4000 follower celebration #the all encompassing [mod] cosmos

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sirfrogsworth · 2 months

Text

Frogman's Camera Buying Guide

A few weeks ago someone asked if I could recommend an interchangeable lens camera (ILC) to supplement their smartphone photos and hopefully get better pictures of important things like vacations and pets.

I decided to go very extra with my response and due to that... I'm still not finished with it.

I'm worried I am letting this person down because they did not ask for a giant post explaining every detail about cameras in the history of forever.

So I am going to do a camera recommendation post without as much explanation and hopefully I can finish the giant post at some point in the near future.

If you want to take better pictures you are probably going to need a camera with a decent sized sensor, a fast lens, a tripod, and a flash.

The bigger sensor gives you more dynamic range so you can capture brighter and darker things in the photo.

A fast lens has a giant hole in the front that lets in a ton of light. That hole is called the aperture and the bigger it is, the better your photos in dark environments will be. So you will want something that does f/1.8 or f/1.4 (lower f-stop number = bigger hole = more light). This can also help you get a lot of cool background blur.

A tripod will help get you longer exposures without any blur from camera shake. Especially good for landscape photos.

And a flash is for taking photos of pets and other moving subjects when you are indoors and don't have a lot of light. A flash is an absolute game changer for indoor photos.

HOWEVER, never point it directly at your subject.

Point it at a large white ceiling or wall. The flash happens so fast that it freezes motion. It is how I got all of my indoor photos of Otis.

Here he was playing and being rambunctious and he is not blurry.

I used no special settings. I just stuck on a flash and pointed it at the ceiling and suddenly sheep are sticking to things.

Oh, and one other huge benefit of using a flash... you can take much better photos of pets with dark fur. So if you have a cute little void in your home, a flash can help you capture detail in their fur.

Just lift the shadow slider in your image editor and that beautiful fur will reveal itself.

If you get an ETTL or TTL flash, it will output the correct amount of light automatically. You can literally just put your camera in automatic mode, aim the flash at the ceiling, and press the shutter button.

Before I talk about recommendations I want to make one thing very clear.

GETTING A GIANT CAMERA WILL NOT AUTOMATICALLY GIVE YOU BETTER PHOTOS.

Aside from my flash aimed at the ceiling trick, a big boy camera is not a magic solution for better photos. In some cases, you might actually get *worse* photos than your smartphone. You need to learn the basic fundamentals of photography and you also need to learn some basic photo editing skills.

Smartphones employ powerful algorithms and computational processes to make every photo you take look as good as possible.

ILCs say, "Here is your RAW data, you figure out the rest."

You don't have to become an expert, but if you watch this free 6 hour photography course, that will ensure you have the knowledge needed to improve your photos.

youtube

Okay, let's get into the nitty gritty of buying a nice new old ILC.

If you are on a tight budget and cannot afford a fancy mirrorless camera, I would highly suggest a used DSLR. You can get them for very reasonable prices. And unlike just about every other modern technological gadget, cameras and lenses are built to last for decades. So I have no qualms about recommending used photography gear.

However, I do highly recommend using either KEH or MPB, as they have a long trial period and decent customer service. If something goes awry with your used gear, KEH has a 180 day warranty and MPB has a 6 month warranty. So there is much less of a risk than eBay or Facebook Marketplace. You pay a bit of overhead, but the piece of mind is worth it.

Before I start my recommendations I want to quickly explain the difference between APS-C and Full Frame camera bodies. (For brevity's sake I am going to omit Micro Four Thirds bodies as they are not typically geared toward beginner photography.)

APS-C has a "crop" sensor. It is a bit smaller than full frame and does not perform as well in low light (more noise). However these bodies are cheaper and can still produce great photos. You can see above the sensor is still significantly larger than a smartphone. APS-C adds a 1.5x zoom to all lenses. This can be annoying in small spaces but advantageous for outdoor photography like wildlife and sports. You can use full frame lenses on a crop sensor body (within the same brand). APS-C lenses are usually cheaper but of lower quality.

Full frame has a larger sensor that will give you less noise in low light. It is also much easier to get background blur. Full frame also allows you to work in more cramped spaces. You *cannot* use APS-C lenses on a full frame body. However, the lenses meant for full frame cameras tend to be better quality in general.

If you can save up a little more and get a full frame body, I would recommend it. These bodies used to be geared more toward professional use, but since mirrorless cameras became popular, used full frame DSLRs have become much more accessible to those on a budget. Full frame cameras make it easier to get better results in challenging circumstances. And challenging conditions are really the main area where ILCs still kick a smartphone's ass.

For tight budgets I would recommend the following...

Canon or Nikon APS-C DSLR camera body

50mm f/1.8 lens (Nifty Fifty)

18-55mm APS-C lens (good for landscapes and portraits)

Yongnuo ETTL Flash

There are lenses called "superzooms" which can go from (as an example) 18-200mm or 70-300mm and other crazy focal lengths. That sounds fantastic and very versatile... but these are usually utter shite. You may be tempted to get one of these lenses hoping it can do everything you need, but there are no free lunches in lens land. Unless you are spending many thousands of dollars, the wider the focal range, the worse the lens will be.

When you stick to the 18-55mm range, you can be assured the images will be decent. And if you find yourself really needing a telephoto lens, you can save up and add it to your collection later on. The 18-55 will give you wide angle for landscapes all the way to slightly telephoto for portraits and moderately close wildlife. This lens cannot be used indoors or at night without a flash. Which is why I recommend the Nifty Fifty for that purpose. $100 for a moderately sharp low light lens is a no brainer.

Also, stick to Canon, Nikon, Sigma, or Tamron lenses. You can try exotic 3rd party lens brands when you know more what you are doing. And always make sure the lens has autofocus before buying.

It's hard to give you exact recommendations as used items are not reliably in stock. So I'm going to show you an example of the above, but I am not necessarily saying you should buy this *exact* combination. You might be able to get something similar with Nikon as well.

Canon 60D APS-C DSLR

50mm f/1.8 lens

Canon 18-55mm APS-C lens (EF-S mount)

Yongnuo TTL Flash

(I wouldn't recommend getting a used flash, as the Yongnuo is already a great price and you can't know if someone used the flash 100,000 times or 20 times.)

Altogether that is about $500. You can start with the 60D and the 50mm Nifty Fifty for $330 and add on the other two items later on.

My recommended full frame setup...

Full frame Canon or Nikon DSLR body

50mm f/1.8 lens (same as before)

24-70mm full frame zoom lens (full frame equivalent to 18-55mm)

ETTL Yongnuo flash (same as before)

And an example from KEH might be...

Canon 6D Full Frame DSLR

Canon 50mm f/1.8 Lens

Sigma 24-70mm Full Frame Zoom lens (EF mount)

Yonguo ETTL Flash

And that would be about $800 total.

Again, you can start with just the camera and 50mm lens and add the other items later. So invest $500 initially and go from there.

And just to give a Nikon example as well...

Nikon D600 Full Frame DSLR

Nikon 50mm f/1.8 Lens

Tamron 24-70mm

Yonguo ETTL Flash (Nikon version)

I highly recommend researching any camera body and lens before purchase. I can vouch for the items above, but you should definitely check out some YouTube videos before buying.

All of the stuff on KEH and MBP is marked down in price for aesthetic reasons. They do test everything to make sure it is functional. If you care if the camera or lens looks pristine, it will cost a little extra. But if you don't mind if it is beat to hell, you can save some money. Ugly or not, you will get the same photos out of the gear. As I said, photography stuff is built to last for a long time. Almost all repairs are due to user damage and not defects. And usually defects manifest when the product is brand new.

Oh, I forgot about the tripod!

Amazon's $35 tripod is surprisingly decent. It even got a good review on a very picky tripod review site. I recommend starting with this and then upgrading when you know more what you need out of a tripod.

Amazon 60 inch Tripod

I worry I'm leaving out a lot of important information, but hopefully I can expand in the other post I am working on.

That said, if anyone is thinking of buying a camera and you are not sure about the items you selected, please feel free to message me and I will help you assess your choices. Please make sure you include a budget range when asking for buying advice.

I hope that helps. I will try to finish the more in depth post soon. And it will include tips for how to get better photos from your smartphone if you cannot afford an ILC at the moment.

Further resources...

Recipe for Landscape Photos Froggie's Encyclopedia of Lens Terms

#photography #long post

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reveluving · 6 months

Text

the bump in the night ; rick flag x reader

summary: someone made Mrs Flag cry, and her family is not having it.

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, shadow-magic f!reader, reverse comfort & humour!

a/n: this AU is based on this piece I made a while back, 'cause you already know I can't do this special without hubby Rick and the kids! hope you enjoy it & don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» wanna know what I have in store this fall? come & check out my m.list for 'reve's quirky reverie 🕷️'!

'For now, they had a plan, hoping it could bring a smile to your face.' ;

Coming home to his daughter's hugs had become an everyday thing if Rick didn't have to work overtime, but if the flicker of sadness in her eyes was anything to go by, something had to have happened while he was away.

“Mrs Bedford was saying bad stuff to mama while we were at the park.”

It was the same thing she told her brothers when they got home from school, and just like them, it was enough for Rick to get the whole picture.

Ah, Mrs Bedford. Or as the neighbourhood youngsters, children and teenagers alike, like to call her 'the modern witch of the road', and not in the cool way. Her husband was no better, always bugging you at any given opportunity. The worst part was Mrs Bedford always antagonized you for it, even if she knew you didn’t entertain her husband’s behaviour. It was also extremely hypocritical of her, considering she herself has tried to make her move on Rick. A lot. Only to be met with disappointment each time.

Her children were just as bad, too, to put it lightly.

“What did she say?” It was the green light Irene needed before she explained what had happened to a T, courtesy of her father’s eagle eye. Unlike most days, it was just you and Irene visiting the park since your sons had football practice.

The two of you were feeding the ducks when Mrs Bedford came up to you.

“You on your own?” Was the first thing she asked you before you questionably said ‘yes’, despite Irene being there too, and the little girl realized Mrs Bedford wouldn’t have gone off on a tangent about you and your ‘possibly tainted history’ if her father or brothers were around in the first place.

“I don’t know what you did but I can see it in your eyes, Flag. You’re no saint. You can fool the others with your little flower shop and your so-called angelic kids, but not me.”

Though Mrs Bedford knew nothing about your powers or your time in Belle Reve, instead, spewing hate out of jealousy and hatred for you for being the favourable neighbour, she wasn’t completely wrong. You have hurt people, you’ve even killed some, but they were for the greater good. Since your freedom from hell on earth, you’ve barely used your umbrakineses. It wasn’t until the birth of your children, to which all three of them gained your abilities did you realized you couldn’t run from who you really were—it wasn’t right nor fair to them.

Then, telling them your story as a criminal and how their dad was once your enemy was another thing. You weren’t sure what reaction you were expecting, but it was certainly not amazement and sparkles in their eyes. As they grew older, they began to make sense of how their parents somehow knew people like Aunt Harley, Uncle Robert and hell, even Nanaue.

And at that point in time, Mrs Bedford reminded you of Waller, turning you into submission as you could do nothing but listen to her make a mockery out of you for turning over a new leaf. Irene had to watch your face drop as the woman insulted you, and she knew she had to tell her family about it.

Irene insisted that she was fine about heading home early, even if you tried to convince her otherwise. She wanted nothing more than to do something about that glazed look in your eyes.

As soon as you stepped foot into the living room, a tear rolled down your cheek. You couldn't help but apologize to her, to everyone if they were with you then. You weren’t entirely sure if it was because you seemed weak over a bunch of words or their fate of ending up with you as the wife and a mother of their family.

Irene shook her head, hugging you with her face in your tummy.

"You're not a mean person, mama. You're the nicest and coolest mama we could ever ask for, and we love you."

It was simple, something you've heard of thousands of times in your lifetime, but you very much needed it today.

Ever the sweet girl, she accompanied you as you lay in your bed, telling you random stories about what she painted during art class or what she ate at lunch, anything but the time Mrs Bedford’s son, Kyle pushed her off the swing while his older brother, Blake laughed and praised him for doing so. You didn’t need to know that.

Not yet.

You listened with a warm smile, embarrassed but nonetheless thankful for how observant she was of your feelings before eventually dozing off.

Irene was careful yet quick to jump off the bed, running downstairs to shush Richie and Ethan as they returned home.

The more she explained, the brighter their eyes unnaturally glowed. Richie was starting to look like their father as he crossed his arms, listening to her like a police officer, while Ethan seemed like he was already thinking of ways to counter the Bedford’s undignified acts.

Basically, the Bedfords were not the greatest people. Each and every one of them.

Though they had a myriad of ideas, they weren’t sure how much their father would appreciate it, even if it was for your sake. Still, they thanked Irene for being there for you, promising that something would be done, no matter what it would be.

For now, they had a plan, hoping it could bring a smile to your face.

After an unexpected nap, you came down to find your kids huddled on the couch, whispering and hushing each other. Curious, you approached them.

Ethan was the first to notice you, offering you a grin before showing you what was in their hands, “Look, ma, I think we got it.”

You leaned in to take a closer look, only for your breath to hitch at the sight of life on their palms. There, they showed you the differing mass of shadows they conjured, a tougher one you just taught them about a week ago. You have always loved this trick as a kid, and it only aided your sanity when you were by your lonesome in the penitentiary. In a way, you were replacing what life truly was by making your own, even if they were temporary because there was no telling when or if you’d ever be free.

Yet, here they were, prompting joy and pride as they held the wispy animals of their choice; Richie with what seemed to be an adorable little puppy, Ethan creatively emulated a bioluminescent jellyfish and Irene…

Oh, Irene.

She scarcely remembered how much you loved making her laugh by conjuring butterflies when she was still very little if not for the twins confirming it.

The butterfly was as small as her hand, but the wings were majestic, idly flapping before flying over to you, leaving cloudy black trails and landing on your outstretched finger.

You stared at their creations ever so lovingly, already on the brink of tears. You were just as mad at yourself for doubting your worth, and your potential, just because of the things you had to do in the past, for the sake of the person you were now.

You embraced Irene in a tight hug before pulling your boys in as well. You sniffled, absolutely joyous and blessed to be surrounded by the most loving people. Nothing could deter you from this, not even as the shadow puppy yipped and chased the jellyfish and butterfly in excitement. Your cat, Tofu, must’ve heard the commotion, too, as she came from the kitchen to check, only to be frightened and jump on the couch with you as the puppy came running to her.

Rick finally arrived about two hours later, coming home to hear laughter before he saw Irene running across the room, followed by Tofu and the shadow puppy in tow. The jellyfish laid on Richie’s head like a nest whereas the butterfly decided to make Ethan’s shoulder its home as they hung out with you on the couch.

“Daddy!” Irene greeted him before running over to him. He didn’t question the questioning look she gave him just yet and instead, hoisted her up, laughing as Tofu and the puppy pawed at his bootlaces.

“What’s going on here?” He raised his brows, amused by what could be described as a fever dream of a sight.

“The kids learnt how to make little lives.” You giggled, allowing Rick to sit next to you as you scooted over.

“And I got a new hat,” Richie gestured to the jellyfish, who he has now dubbed as Jelly. As if it understood, Jelly immediately floated away, leaving Richie’s hair flattened, “Never mind.”

You shared a laugh as he deadpanned before you turned to Rick, “Was work okay?”

“Yeah, the usual. Decorated the place today, actually.” He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery and showing you and the kids the spookily tacky decor that furnished his workplace.

“Did you really paint ‘dead inside, don’t open’ on the entrance door?” The twins gawked.

“Fitting, ain't it?” Rick joked, prompting smiles and chuckles from you once more before falling back on the couch, “But at least I’m off tomorrow, so I was thinking we could eat out for dinner.”

“Oh! We should head to Pop’s since they’re also offering their apple betty.” Ethan suggested.

“Well, I think that’s a good idea, so,” Richie trailed off, raising anticipation from the rest of you before jumping off the couch and running up the stairs. Ethan and Irene simultaneously gasped before the former took his sister out of Rick’s arms to chase their brother together. You and Rick could only watch with delight as Tofu and the shadow creatures followed them too.

“Everything okay?” He wanted to know, but he wouldn’t pry if you weren’t ready to tell him.

“Yeah,” You nodded, gazing down for a moment before continuing, “Something happened earlier but…”

“Richie! You better not lock the door or I swear to God!” Ethan’s voice rang out from upstairs, followed by Irene’s ‘language!’, and you couldn’t help but shake your head in amusement.

“It’s all good now.” You reassured him. You knew you could’ve told him, but it wasn’t worth dwelling on. You had children to nurture and a husband to take on the world with.

“The Bedfords?” He guessed. If it wasn’t them, then it had to be Mr Walker.

“The Bedfords,” You confirmed with a tight smile, “I’m just more upset that Irene was there to hear it.”

You didn’t explain any further and Rick took it as a sign to drop it. If they were able to make you this upset, then it was best to ask the kids instead.

“I’m sorry,” He pulled you to his chest, planting a slow and gentle kiss on your forehead. He rubbed your back, sighing at the very mention of that family. Rick loathed that they were influential enough to be one of the higher-ups of the school’s PTA, though he was confident that money was involved in it too. He hated that they were reasons why you’d come home ranting about how Mrs Bedford bugged you again, or when he had to make sure Mr Bedford knew he was making a promise and not an empty threat whenever it involved their kids and his, "You know I can talk to them."

It would do no good, but it was worth trying.

"No, you know how the Bedfords are. Don’t worry, okay? Not now,” You kissed the inside of his palm before pressing your lips against his, soft, sensual and safe. Rick moved forward, deepening the kiss as held the nape of your neck. You pulled away but not before nuzzling his nose, “We should be celebrating.”

He nodded, though he knew it would only linger in his mind for a while. Still, he adhered to your wishes, standing up before offering you his hand to get ready, “Right, right. Shall we?”

You snorted, placing your hand in his the way a princess would when a prince asks for a dance. Unexpectedly, he twirled you around, wrapping his arms around you he pulled you in, chest to chest. You playfully smacked him, though it did very little to wipe off the pleased look on his face as the two of you headed to your room.

You and the boys were the first to head out to the front yard, chatting and evaluating the decors of the houses while waiting for Rick and Irene.

“What happened today?” He asked his daughter quietly as they stood at the front door, helping with her shoes while she slid on a jacket.

“Mrs Bedford was saying bad stuff to mama while we were at the park.” She whispered back, swinging her arms as she watched her father tie her shoelace, “Like, really mean stuff. No one was around except us so she was kinda loud, too.”

Rick fumed, clenching his jaw as he could already hear and picture whatever nonsense she loved to spit out.

“Mama got kinda quiet when we came home, and then she started crying. About how she’s sorry she was a criminal and how we’re ‘stuck’ with her powers.” She added. If anything, she and the boys thought your abilities were the coolest thing to have ever happened to them.

He shook his head—who wouldn't crack after being subjected to their ways for so long? He hummed, hiding the seething resentment by ruffling Irene's hair.

"Can you help me distract your mother while I talk to the boys for a bit?" She nodded diligently, skipping over to you before Rick called out to his sons, "Need some help, boys."

They rushed over, glancing at you before Ethan spoke up first, "She told you?"

"Yeah." Rick replied as he locked the door.

"Can't we do something about it?" Richie asked with a frown.

"You boys are not punching Blake again." Rick reminded them with a small smile.

"You didn't seem to mind it," Ethan mirrored his father's amusement, "He was yelling at our teammate and encouraged his troll brother to push Irene off a swing."

"I'm mad, too," Rick was more than mad, but he couldn't let his emotions run wild, "Look, we'll think of something, alright? For now, just make sure she's happy."

That's all they ever wanted.

The drive to Pop's was a lively one, and so was the dinner itself. Though you knew you'd be thinking about Mrs Bedford's words every once in a while, the smiles and laughter of your family were already a welcoming distraction as it is.

Midnight rolled around, and everyone had returned to their rooms with sore cheeks and a full stomach. You were the first to slip under the covers after a shower, hoping you wouldn't be too tired as you waited for Rick, though it didn't work.

By the time Rick got out of the bathroom, you were peacefully asleep, your face just a breath away from your husband's pillow as his scent soothed you like no other.

Rick smiled to himself, changing into his PJs before sitting on your side of the bed. The dip roused you from your slumber just a little.

"Rick?" You murmured, fluttering your lashes tiredly.

"Forgot to get some water," He caressed your cheek before bending down to kiss it, "I'll be back."

You mustered a closed-eye smile and before you knew it, you drifted off once again, lulled by the way he patted your back.

Once the coast was clear, he moved off the bed, silently slipping out and closing the door before heading over to the twins' room. He knocked on the door, just enough for them to hear before doing the same with Irene's door and headed downstairs.

Rick sat down at the dining table with a glass of cold water, arms crossed and lost in his own thoughts before hearing light footsteps approaching.

Richie, Ethan and Irene carefully pulled their chairs back before taking a seat, and just like that, the discussion began.

But it didn't seem like they were getting anywhere and at some point, they just started shit-talking.

"Man, I wish coach would just kick Blake out." Ethan groaned, his head falling back.

"Tell me about it. He's shit at quarterback." Richie clicked his tongue.

"Boys." Rick warned them, partially because his youngest was listening.

"Sorry." They apologized but Irene didn't seem to mind.

"How about…" She chimed in, tapping her finger on her chin, "We scare them?"

"Like…?" Richie cocked his head, hoping she'd say more than just that.

"I don't know, I just thought it'd be cool since it's Halloween and stuff. And, well, maybe we could use our powers, but I know mama and daddy wouldn't want that." She shrugged, pouting because she hadn't thought it far enough.

"It would be a miracle to scare them without using our powers in the first place," Richie sighed, looking over to his father, "What do you think, dad?"

No reply.

"Dad?" Ethan followed suit as the three of them raised their brows.

“How far are you in your shadow puppet practice?” Rick asked out of the blue, staring ahead as though imagining whatever idea he had played out.

“Uh, pretty far, I think? Ma taught us how to merge our shadows into one if we wanted to make a bigger animal.” Richie answered, earning affirmative nods from his siblings.

“How big?”

“Like, this big!” Irene opened her arms wide to let him know just how big of a monster they would be able to make if they wanted to. They haven’t, there was no reason to, but the more their father asked, the more it piqued their interest.

Rick thought it through for a moment. It has been a while since he has seen you make that one particular lifeform, but it was worth a shot. If it were able to render Waller speechless, then it’ll definitely make the Bedfords piss their pants.

No actual attacks, and definitely no killings. But he’ll make sure they shudder at the mere thought of Halloween. Put the fear of God in them. They had it coming, too, stomping on other neighbours’ happiness for years just for the fun of it.

He just had to play it safe.

He slowly broke into a sinister smile.

“You three ever heard of a hellhound?”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» a/n: ahh hubby rick <3 ;; gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

#reve's quirky reverie 🕷#— reve's reverie 🌹#rick flag #rick flag x reader #rick flag x female reader #rick flag x f!reader #rick flag x you #rick flag imagine #rick flag fanfiction #colonel flag #colonel rick flag #colonel rick flag x reader #tss 2021 #tss #joel kinnaman #husband rick #hubby rick

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 28 days

Text

Being Kidnapped HC (ft. poly!Mates Bat Boys)

Warnings: I’m on a bat boys kick 🙃 has nothing to do with the fact that i'm missing my ex and now just want a strong male (or three) to take care of me lol, blood mentioned, violence, protective boys, polyamorous, drugged reader (faebane)

Summary: Bat Boys rescue their mate

It’s bound to happen

No matter your own power, there will always be others in Prythian who think kidnapping you will give them some sort of leverage over your winged mates

Others kidnap you to experiment on you. Why is it that the Cauldron gifted you three mates? Many wanted to know what made you different than the other fae who only have one mate

Whatever reason they had, it kept you constantly on your toes when you didn’t have one of the boys by your side.

Even in Velaris you were always on guard. You could never be too careful

Many were close calls where you were able to escape

The worse cases were when the boys had to intervene

One of Az’s shadows always accompanied you everywhere you went. Finding you was never a problem for them. There was nowhere in the world they wouldn’t be able to find you

That always set whatever worry you may have at ease

What you never looked forward to was the bloodshed that would follow

“Just take me back. Take me back and I’m sure you’ll be forgiven.” You’d try to talk your captor out of whatever plan they had in store for you. Give them a chance to change their minds.

Usually that earned you a slap across your face and vile words thrown your way

You’d have no choice but to sit back and attempt once more to pull at your restraints. Faebane still flowed in your system. There was no way you could use your magic, let alone your strength.

No way to telepathically contact your mates because of the Faebane

But you can feel the comforting coiling of Az’s shadow around your wrist

And slowly, the shadowsinger appears in the room you are kept captive

The guards assigned to watch you are easily killed by Azriel who doesn’t bother looking at them. Concerned eyes concentrated on you. “Are you alright, sweetling?” He frees you from your shackles and cups your cheeks in his scarred hands. Something dark flickers in his eyes when he spots the red mark on your face from where one of your captors had slapped you.

You could hear the sound of battle going on the other side of the. Well, mainly screams as your fae captors were torn limb from limb by Rhys and Cassian.

The splattering of blood against stone walls hits your ears. You can only imagine the carnage

They tried to shield you from most of the violence but you knew that this offense would not be taken lightly from your mates. Only seeing red and hungry for the flesh of whoever dared to lay an aggressive hand on you.

When quiet finally reined, the door opens to reveal Cassian. Wordlessly, Azriel hands you over to Cassian's strong arms. You don't care that he's covered in blood and gore. He's smiling widely at you.

"Sorry we took so long." Cassian would apologize and hold you closely to his barrel chest. He cocks his head over to the doorway. "Rhys has the boss. I'm sure he'd appreciate your help with him."

Azriel, like always, leaves you with a kiss to the cheek before he leaves.

"Shit, they really banged you around. . ." You catch Cassian curse under his breath.

"Nothing I can't handle." It wasn't the worse abuse you'd been dealt with. "Their punches were as light as a feather."

Snorting, Cassian places his lips against your brow. "You wanna go watch the interrogation?"

"Fuck yeah I do."

Just because you were accustomed to it, didn't mean you wouldn't be petty as fuck

later when they got you home, Rhysand refused to let you out of his arms. You were cleaned up on his lap. Rhysand had a few specks of blood on his face that he didn't bother to wipe away. When you take it upon yourself to reach up and clean it, he turns his face into your palm and kisses your fingers.

Safe and sound, surrounded by your bat boys.

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 4 months

Text

To the victor the spoils

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 19

Prompt: Enemies to lovers

Rated: T

CW: light blood and violence; steamy kissing; very light dubcon if you squint (they're actually both super into it, I promise)

Tags: Fantasy AU; Magic AU; Guard!Steve; Thief!Eddie; Sexual tension; Flirting; Fighting; First kiss

Notes: Thought that kiss was hot in writing? Wait until you see it! @house-of-the-moving-image did an entire mini comic!

In the end, it’s just the two of them again.

Steve jumps over another groaning pile of half-conscious guards and bursts out onto the roof, cold night air slapping him in the face and making the cape of his uniform whip.

“Munson!” he barks.

He is standing by the edge of the roof, a black cut-out against the starlit sky. As Steve stalks closer, he can see the smile curling at his lips, the amusement glinting in those dark eyes.

“Stevie,” he greets, like they’re two acquaintances who’ve just met on the market square - not the new Captain of the Guard and the city’s most wanted criminal. “My, don’cha look strapping in the new get-up. Congrats, I bet daddy’s mighty proud.”

“Shut it,” Steve growls, ignoring the way Eddie’s eyes linger on his golden breastplate, the way it makes a treacherous heat prickle at his neck. “Flattery will get you nowhere. Now give it back!”

He jerks his head at the necklace clutched in one black-gloved hand. Eddie pouts.

“Don’t wanna. It’s shiny.”

Steve groans. It’s like talking to a five-year-old. A five-year old clad in black armor who’s versed in combat magic.

“It is a priceless magic artifact that’s been in Lord Carver's family for generations-”

“Yeah, and what a load of good they’ve done with it,” Eddie sneers. “High time it got into the hands of someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”

“Oh, and that someone would be you?”

“Look at you,” Eddie winks. “Pretty and clever. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta-”

“You’re not going anywhere!” Steve snaps. His sword slides out with a high, metallic sound.

Eddie raises his hands. “Woah, big boy. Careful now, you don’t wanna-”

Steve roars and lunges.

Eddie skips out of reach, but not quite fast enough. A lock of curly hair floats to the ground.

“Oh sweetheart, you're gonna regret this,” Eddie purrs.

And all hell breaks loose.

The air crackles with the taste of ozone, a blinding light erupts from the artifact, and Steve just barely manages to parry. Something whirrs through the air, glides off his blade and a sharp, hot pain explodes all over the side of his face. Something warm trickles down his cheek.

“Hell yeah,” Eddie whoops and comes flying at him, giant shards of solid magic whirling around him, eyes eerily alight with their glow. “That's what I'm talking about!”

The world blurs into a frenzy of movement and adrenaline. Attack and parry, dive for cover behind the towers and turrets and battlements of the roof, attack again. It’s almost comforting in its familiarity, this dance of theirs. Steve knows all of Eddie’s little quirks, the subtle twitches of his face that indicate his attacks before they actually come. They’ve done this so often, he can read him like an open book.

The problem is, Eddie knows him just as intimately. Steve screams with rage, forces his aching limbs to go faster, harder, but it’s no use. Every blow that he tries to land, Eddie blocks, every twist and turn he makes, Eddie’s already there, always with that infuriating, dimpled grin, that amused little quirk of his brow.

Until Steve’s foot lands on a wet patch of moss and he slips.

It all goes so fast he has no time to be terrified - just feels the horrible sense of vertigo as the world tilts and the cobbled street jumps at him. Then, before he can so much as scream, there's arms wrapping around him and he's being hauled backwards, back pressed flush against another body. His blade goes clattering into the shadows.

“Whoops,” Eddie chuckles into his ear. Steve can feel his chest rising and falling with exertion, can feel his hot breath clouding against the shell of his ear. “Thought I told you not to fall for me.”

“Shut up,” he snaps, tries to struggle free, but Eddie has one arm around his chest, the other flush against the hollow of his throat, and he can't go anywhere. “Don’t give yourself too much credit.”

“Oh, do I?" Eddie’s lips twitch into a smirk against the nape of his neck. “Then why were you holding back?”

“Fuck you!” he grits out, but all it earns him is a low tut. “Now release me.”

“What, without a reward?” Eddie’s voice tingles down his spine, sweet and potent like poisoned mead. “You know how I am about pretty things. And you wouldn't wanna deny the victor his spoils, would you?”

“Asshole!” Humiliation coils hot and heavy in Steve’s abdomen. “Stop joking and-”

Eddie snarls against his ear. “I've told you a million times, honey. I'm not joking.”

Steve’s world spins again, breath punched clean from his lungs as he is flipped around and slammed against the nearest wall. Eddie doesn’t leave him any time to recover, just surges in with a hungry growl and crashes their lips together. When Steve tries to struggle, he bites down on his bottom lip, uses the pained gasp it earns him to lick into his mouth.

Someone moans, but it takes Eddie running his tongue over the roof of his mouth and pushing a leg between his thighs before the sound tumbles out again and Steve recognizes his own voice. They only break apart when they run out of air, both flushed and struggling for breath.

And that is when the door to the roof slams open and Lord Carver and his men push through.

“He went this way! Seize him!”

Eddie lets out an annoyed huff and leans in for one last peck against Steve’s lips.

“Sorry, darling. Gotta go, y'know how it is. See you next time.”

He steps out of his space and the night air hits Steve like a bucket of ice water. Eddie winks at him and steps over the edge of the roof.

By the time Carver and his guards arrive, the night has long swallowed him.

Part 2

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #steddieholidaydrabbles #hype's holiday drabbles #phantom thief au

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avocado-writing · 3 months

Note

crawling in as per your bg3 request..

astarion with a tav/reader that’s just constantly cold, like shivering a little bit all the time and their hands & feet are just. ice cold

rating: T

pairing: astarion x reader

“Good gods, you’re freezing!” Astarion complains as his hand accidentally brushes yours before it jolts back in shock. You groan.

“I know.”

“Even more than me, and I’m practically a corpse.”

“Yes, thank you, Astarion,” you mutter through your gritted jaw. You’re having to clench your teeth together in order to prevent them from chattering, although unfortunately you’re having little success. As if in apology your paramour shifts in his cocoon of an embrace around you, bringing you against him tighter.

This is a new level of cold, even for you.

You always run on the chilly side. You can often be found scooted up close to the fire when you make camp, or tucked in the corner of your tent with extra blankets on top of your bedroll. It’s always been bearable, a bit funny, even - something to joke about with your travelling party - but that was until you got to the Shadow Lands.

You haven’t been able to feel your fingers or toes for days. It’s torture. The sun doesn’t shine in this place so of course there’s no warmth. You can get a good night of sleep at Last Light Inn where Isobel’s magic keeps it at bay, but on the road? Well, there’s no hope. You’re reduced to a shivering wreck.

Though Astarion complains, he has been trying to help you where he can. Right now he’s holding you in his arms, attempting to warm you up with his nonexistent body heat. Acting as if the pair of you are just normal lovers and not two weirdos thrown together by fate while attempting to stop a mindflayer invasion.

A scant few weeks ago he’d have been offering to warm you up in a rather more physical way; with him buried inside of you, lips ghosting your neck, hands on whatever willing flesh he could find. But your relationship has changed, now. Evolved. Become something more, something solid and real. He’s not so eager to dive beneath the covers - at least like that - and you wouldn’t ask him to. You’ll give him all the time he needs.

It’s nice, what’s happening between the two of you. But at the moment you’re turning every cuddle into a mass of shivering limbs.

Astarion sighs again. But then he speaks and it’s gentle.

“You know, you could ask Karlach to come and act as your hot water bottle. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Or maybe that druid, Halsin - he’s been looking at you like he wouldn’t mind cuddling up…”

Though he tries to joke you can tell there’s an undercurrent of self-doubt in there. You harrumph and settle deeper into his arms, opting for a simple retort:

“I don’t want them, I want you.”

You feel him still against you at that unexpected flash of affection. Process it. Then he slowly extricates himself from your grasp.

A little whine slips from your throat and he pats the top of your head.

“Now, now. Stay put, pet, and I’ll be right back.”

You grumble but do as you’re bid. He steps out of your tent and you have no choice but to remain as a frozen little ball, foetus-curled and chilled to the bone. It’s a relief when he returns with more blankets and a pot of tea, likely brewed over the fire pit outside.

“Where did you get—?” you begin to ask, as he tucks the extra bedding around you.

“Well, Gale is fast asleep, he won’t notice he’s missing them until the morning,” Astarion reasons. You laugh, not sure if he’s joking or not, but not really wanting to know the truth - you’re holding onto this even if it was pilfered off the camp’s resident wizard.

You watch as Astarion pours you both a cup from the little metal teapot. Steam rises soothingly from it, warming up the tent interior. It makes sense he has one for you, of course, but…

“I thought you didn’t like drinking tea,” you say. What you mean is, I thought you didn’t like drinking anything that wasn’t blood.

“I don’t,” Astarion sighs, but brings the cup to his lips and chugs it down anyway. It must be far too hot to be comfortable, and you’re about to ask what he’s doing - but then he reaches out to untangle your hands from where you have them vice-gripping the edges of your blankets. He folds them in his own, softly and sweetly, then brings them to his mouth where he breathes out a long, slow stream of tea-warmed breath into your palms.

“Oh, Astarion…” you whisper, finally able to feel your fingers for the first time in days. You feel him smile against your hands.

“Mmm, I wouldn’t get used to it,” he tells you in a way which suggests he wouldn’t really mind you getting used to it at all.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget

#astarion fic #astarion x you #astarion imagine #astarion x reader #astarion x tav

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luxaofhesperides · 3 months

Note

For ghost lights prompts: eldritch/creepy/weird Danny + shy/flustered Duke + hand holding

Your ghostlights fics are giving me so much joy RN I cannot express how much, if this prompt doesn't spark a brain worm for it I get it but I'm excited to read all the others you may wind up posting

There’s a new kid at West Robinson High School.

This normally wouldn’t be a big deal. They get plenty of new students, being an average high school; not prestigious like Gotham Academy, but not terrible like some of the schools in the lower South Side. New kids are hardly anything to make note of, but something about this student has everyone paying attention to him.

It’s not charisma. The guy doesn’t talk to anyone. It’s not attractiveness, because no one really knows what he looks like under the tattered hoodie he wears all the time. It’s not curiosity, not really, because the student body moves around him like he’s dangerous, not like they want to pry all his secrets out into the open.

It doesn’t help that Duke sees things around him.

He considers briefly telling someone about it, but then remembers having to argue for returning to West Robinson High School instead of being put in Gotham Academy and decides that Bruce can continue to mind his own business. It’s not like this new kid has done anything bad (yet) and Duke can handle investigating this on his own.

So he watches, catching glimpses of the new kid—Danny Fenton—in hallways during passing period, hiding away at lunch, disappearing into the streets as soon as the school day is over. They even share a class together, French Language and Culture, but Danny is always in the back corner, ignored and made invisible by everyone else.

Well. That’s not quite true.

There are shadowy figures that surround Danny and they never leave him alone. Even when he’s got his arms folded on his desk, head down, looking as if he’s asleep, these figures pull at the hood covering his head or reach semi-transparent hands down to pet his hair. And Danny reacts to them, lightly batting their hands away or turning his head away from them.

Duke has no idea what they are. Ghosts are his best guess, but he can’t confirm it. As far as he knows, ghosts are magic and can only be seen by magic users, which Duke very much is not. They do lead to cold spots, keeping the temperatures noticeably colder around Danny, and make the shadows darker, which only makes other students more nervous about being near Danny.

Through his week of observing Danny, beyond the ghostly figures and visible unease he causes in everyone, what Duke learns is that Danny is lonely.

No one talks to him. People barely look at him. Teachers avoid calling on him when they can.

And Danny accepts it. He fades into the background, keeps out of the way, shrinks in on himself.

No one else sees it. No one else wants to see him.

It’s breaking Duke’s heart, just a little bit.

He’s lucky that he’s not an outcast at school. With his meta gene awakening and his free hours taken up by Bats and fighting crime, it’s hard to have much of a social life, but he still has a few friends during the school hours he can hang out with. Danny doesn’t have anyone, and the more Duke sees how isolated he is, the more upset he becomes.

Which brings him to step two of his investigation: befriend Danny.

So what if he has some ulterior motives! He also just wants to give this guy someone to hang out with! What little glimpses of Danny’s face he’s able to get show him a tired teenager, worn down the way Alley kids are when they’re at the end of their rope and have nothing left to give.

Duke’s first attempts at befriending Danny fail so fast it’s almost funny. It’s as if Danny knows when someone is seeking him out, because every time Duke goes to where he is, Danny up and disappears, hurrying away and vanishing in the crowded hallways, or in the alley a few buildings past the school, or into the fucking restroom, which is always empty when Duke goes in after him. Trying to use his powers to see where Danny goes next doesn’t help either; all he sees is some glowing figure resembling Danny walk through walls, which is either due to Danny being a meta or from Duke’s powers deciding to be unhelpful.

He’s about to resort to Tim level stalking to finally have a conversation with Danny when his French teacher blessedly (and unknowingly) aids him on his mission.

“Find a partner, everyone!” she instructs with a clap of her hands near the end of class. “This is a translation project, and you’ll be doing them in pairs to check each other’s work and decide how to best interpret something into English. If you don’t have a partner in the next minute, tell me and I’ll assign you someone.”

The class is a flurry of movement just as the last word leaves her mouth, friends turning to each other or running across the room to make sure they’re partnered up before anyone else can butt in.

No one looks at Danny. Which means Duke can just skirt along the wall of the classroom until he’s next to Danny, gently knocking on his desk to get his attention.

Danny looks up, and Duke sees a flash of blue before Danny averts his gaze, tilting his head down again. “Yeah?” he says, and his voice is much softer than what Duke imagined. He expected something hoarse and rough, a little deep, intimidating. Instead, it’s gentle and quiet and smooth.

It’s a nice voice. It’s a shame that no one else has really heard it.

“Wanna be partners?” he asks, as if he’s offering a choice. They both know no one else is going to ask Danny, and if he wants to avoid talking to the teacher, then he has to work with Duke.

Danny sighs. “Sure.”

And then he puts his head back down on the desk.

Duke backs off. This is the best he’s going to get right now. Now that he’s got an excuse to spend time with Danny, he can take his time breaking down his walls and getting to know him. He watches as a figure from the usual group that hangs around Danny breaks away and gently brushes a hand against Danny’s arm. Then they turn to Duke and reach for him.

He moves without thinking, stepping out of the way. The shadowy figure fades back, almost invisible even to his eyes, and Danny’s turned his head to lay his piercing gaze on Duke.

…There’s no way that blew his cover, right?

He didn’t just reveal one of his meta abilities from taking a single step to the side. No way.

But Danny’s eyes are a deep blue that seem almost endless as he keeps his attention on Duke. It feels as if he’s staring into Duke, seeing more than what he wants to reveal.

“Alright, looks like everyone’s found a partner! As you head out, be sure to grab a practice packet from my desk to work on some translation. There are due the next time we meet, and I will be handing out your individual passages once these have all been turned in.” Their teacher sets a large stack of papers onto the corner of her desk, then gets to work erasing the whiteboard just as the bell rings.

Students grab their bags and rush to take one of the packets before heading out to their final class of the day. Duke stays behind with Danny, waiting for most of the class to leave before swinging his backpack onto his shoulder and grabbing a packet for both of them.

He hands one to Danny, who takes it with some hesitancy and a quiet, “Thanks.”

He leaves before Duke does, and though it’s only a second between his leaving and Duke stepping out the door, Danny’s already vanished from sight.

As soon as school ends, Duke heads for the Hatch, hoping a quick evening patrol will help clear his mind. It’s a quiet evening, though, so he’s left with his thoughts more often than not, staring out over the city long enough that Oracle asks him if he’s alright.

Against his better judgment, he says, “I’ve been looking into something, but I’m not finding much. Can you do some research on Danny Fenton?”

Oracle is already typing before he finishes asking. “What am I looking for?”

“Anything. He’s… strange. I don’t know if he’s a meta or just lightly haunted. But there’s something up with him.”

“Do we need to be keeping a closer eye on him?”

Duke considers. None of them ask Oracle to look into specific people unless they’re dangerous. But danger is not the sense Duke gets from Danny. It’s more like he’s hiding, shying away from the world, constantly on edge. “No. If anything, he might be in danger. Something happened to him, because no one ends up like that by living an average life.”

“I’ll let you know what I find. Turn in for the night, it’s quiet out and you’re too distracted to patrol properly.”

“You got it, O.” He salutes the nearest camera, knowing she’ll see it, and makes his way back to the Hatch to change back into civies and get started on his homework.

When he next goes into his French classroom, all the desk has been rearranged so they’re all in pairs, side by side. Already, patterns are filling up the desks, so Duke heads for the back and sits down where Danny usually hides away. He’s not here yet, which is making Duke realize that he’s never actually seen Danny walk into the classroom and head to his seat.

Did he just never pay attention? Has Danny always just slipped in unnoticed until attendance was taken? How did Duke miss that?

There’s movement in the desk next to him. Duke goes to say that he’s waiting for his partner, so please sit somewhere else, when he realizes that it’s Danny who managed to sneak in yet again.

“Hey,” he says after a moment, hoping his surprise is hidden.

There’s a pause, and then Danny returns, “Hey, Duke.”

That’s all they have time for before class is starting and their teacher goes around to collect homework. She then hands out new packets, each one a different section of L’Ecume des Jours, and gives them the rest of class to begin working on translating it.

Duke is already dreading it as he flips through the three pages they were given to translate, stapled to each other beneath the two page instructions of how to format the final translation, how to document their previous translation drafts, and what to include in the reflection essay.

There’s no way he can get all of this done in a week.

On the other hand, it gives him a week to learn more about Danny. He needs to make the most of it.

“This is a lot,” he comments, hoping to prod Danny into conversation.

Danny shrugs.

“Can we work on this together after school today? Or do you have plans?”

“We can work on it today,” Danny says, voice barely louder than a whisper. He’s already scanning the pages, underlining certain words and phrases.

Duke hurries to get to work as well, trying to parse out meaning from the text through single words scattered on the page.

Qu’est-ce que vous faites dans la vie, vous?

J’apprends des choses, dit Colin. Et j’aime Chloé.

Duke nods to himself. He definitely doesn’t know French. Well, he knows qu’est-ce que. He knows vous. He know j’apprends and j’aime Chloé. Also dit Colin. Fairly simple, but with the missing pieces to the rest of those sentences, he really doesn’t know what’s going on beyond the fact that it’s a conversation and Colin loves Chloé.

When he glances at Danny’s desk, he’s shocked to see that his partner is already translating the first few lines into something that reads like normal English.

“Oh, wow,” he says, leaning over to get a better look, “You’re definitely better at this than I am.”

“I just like languages,” Danny replies, turning his paper so Duke can read it more easily.

“Have you been hiding your French skills this entire time? I could have definitely used your help before this.”

Danny goes still for a moment, eyes flicking towards his right where a shadowy figure has placed a hand on his shoulder. Then he turns to fully face Duke and says, “Better late than never. What do you need help with?”

“Everything.”

His immediate answer makes Danny smile, and he begins talking in that soft, soothing voice of his. He talks about not trying to translate everything into English immediately, but to understand the French and take it in as a whole language itself. He talks about getting the idea of the text first, the feeling of it, before trying to fit it into English. He talks about splitting up the text into sections to make it easier.

And then he reads the text, entirely in French, and Duke did not have a thing for voices or multilingualism before this, but he sure does now.

“Qu’est-ce que vous faites dans la vie, vous?” Danny reads, reaching the end of the first page. The syllables come to his easily, his French smooth and steady. “J’apprends des choses, dit Colin.” His eyes dart up, off the page, and fix Duke in place. “Et j’aime Chloé.”

Duke has never been happier that he doesn’t blush so visibly with his dark skin because he feels downright romanced. It’s a mix of the French, of Danny’s addictive voice, of their closeness, of how intimate this dark corner of the room feels, tucked away from the rest of the class.

“We can work on the other pages after we finish translating this one,” Danny says, leaning back at bit.

Duke nods, swallowing to chase away the dryness of his throat. “Sounds like a plan!”

They work in silence for the rest of the class period, and once the bell rings, Danny says, “I’ll wait for you by the bus stop down the street,” before he slips out of reach and disappears into the throng of students heading to their last class.

He’s beginning to think that he’s in way over his head. Duke can handle being in the middle of all the action, risking his life, fighting for others. He can handle staring down rogues and criminals and Gnomon. He can’t handle feelings and romance and other such things. Those are much scarier than a criminal shooting at him. At least with the criminal, he knows what to do and doesn’t just freeze up like he did with Danny.

The school day ends faster than he’s prepared for. As promised, Danny waits for him by the bus stop down the street, where other students are also waiting.

They don’t wait for a bus, though. Danny just meets his eyes and begins walking away, leaving Duke to follow after him, matching his pace so they can walk side by side.

The shadows in the alleyway seem to reach towards them as they walk down it. Something about it doesn’t feel right, so Duke tries to quietly use his powers and force them back.

He only has time to think, Oh, that was a bad idea, before Danny is shoving him against the wall, getting them both out of the way as a shadow solidifies and lashes out at them. He’s kept in place by strong hands on his chest, and Danny’s eyes are glowing lightly as he hisses at the shadows, making them rear back and settle down once more.

As if given permission to reveal themselves, more shadowy figures and strange movements in the shadows emerge, surrounding them.

“Danny, I don’t mean to alarm you, but—”

“I know,” Danny says. “I thought you might be able to see them too. Which is not good.”

“Sorry, man, it’s not like I can turn it off.”

“It’s fine. Just be more careful. They like me because I’m like them, but you just register as a threat. Either that, or prey.”

“Great,” Duke replies weakly, “Those are my favorite things to be. Are we… are we safe to move?”

Slowly, Danny steps back, no longer pressed right against Duke. Nothing moves to attack him, but it might be due to the glare fixed on Danny’s face, eyes still glowing.

“They’ll leave me alone, so…” He reaches a hand out, looking away. The hoodie isn’t able to hide the way his cheeks go red. “Don’t let go and we’ll be fine.”

“I hope this isn’t to lead me to my doom,” Duke jokes nervously as he accepts Danny’s hand, holding it tightly.

Danny wiggles his fingers, making him loosen his grip, and then their fingers are lacing together. Duke stares down at their hands, wide eyed, and hopes he doesn’t look as flustered as he feels.

“Not to your doom,” Danny reassures. “Just a coffee shop I thought you’d like.”

“Well, then, lead the way!”

“Allons-y,” Danny replies.

Stealing glances at him as they walk, ghostly figure and shadow shrinking away from them, all Duke can think is that he doesn’t need to worry about Danny being evil. His immediate instinct to protect Duke has proved that. He’ll keep the investigation going, though, to make sure Danny is safe from others that could hurt him.

Strange and unsettling as he may be, Danny’s also a smart, kind person who deserves more.

Duke is determined to make sure he gets it.

And if he gets a crush along the way, that’s his business and his business only.

It looks like Step Two: Befriend Danny is finally complete. He’ll figure out the other steps later. For now, he has an evening of French in a coffee shop to look forward to.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #prompt fill #my writing #im glad youre enjoying my ghostlights fics so much!!! im having a blast writing them #thank u for giving me more propaganda to spread for the ghostlights agenda <3 #this could easily continue into a much larger fic that goes into danny relocating to gotham for his protection #and start mixing in dc's spirit world with danny phantom's ghost zone/infinite realms #its kinda two stories in one tbh #1: danny trying to protect his kind classmate from ghosts and gotham spirits leading to supernatural shenanigans #2: duke trying to protect this clearly hurt and lonely person which leads to getting him accidentally roped into superhero shenanigans #both are the protagonists of a ya novel where they stumble into a secret for the sake of protecting one person #idk if im getting that across well but if u know the vibes then u know what im talking abt

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 3 months

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What if the giant mermaid ended up in record of ragnarok? How would everyone react to that?

-Odin was the first one who was aware of your existence, after you had suddenly appeared in Valhalla, by some unknown magic, and when he informed the others, many were keen on seeking you out.

-Odin told them that someone very large, larger than most giants, had appeared, which got some riled up, thinking you were a threat and needed to be dealt with, however Odin was able to sense that you meant no harm.

-Poseidon was the one to find you, as you had appeared in his domain and he immediately sought you out, thinking you were a threat.

-As a large shadow loomed over him, when he was inspecting the area where you had appeared, he was not expecting to look up to see such a massive mermaid.

-You cupped your hands around him as he swam up to you, allowing him to sit in your hands and you smiled, “Hello there- do you happen to know where I am?”

-Poseidon didn’t know what to think of you, your massive size made you seem intimidating, and with your power you would be dangerous, but you were smiling down at him so warmly, like you didn’t know who he was.

-He was quick to realize you didn't know who he was, as you weren’t afraid of him, and he informed you that he was a god, the king of the seas. Your eyes went sparkly when he told you this, in complete awe which made his eyelid twitch only slightly.

-He told you that other citizens of Valhalla wanted to meet you, gods and human warriors, and you agreed, a warm smile on your face, showing no fear. Poseidon didn’t know if you were secretly really strong, or if you were just too trusting.

-When you emerged from the water, rising high above those who came to the beach in Poseidon’s domain. Jaws dropped and eyes widened all around the group before you as you lowered yourself down to be on your belly, to be closer to their own height as you beamed, “Hello there! I’m Y/N!”

-Loki immediately was holding onto one of your fingers, “Marry me!” you were surprised by his sudden proposal, but you smiled warmly, “Oh you’re so sweet, but I don’t know you.” Loki wasn’t defeated, willing to get to know you before Odin punched him on the top of his head, telling him to knock it off.

-You told them all what you remembered that you were swimming before you saw a strange bright blue ball of light floating in the water, “I thought it was a big jellyfish, so I went to investigate and when I touched it, I felt like everything got turned upside down around me and I found myself in this ocean.”

-All eyes went to Odin and Beelzebub, the two sharing a look as they pondered out loud, neither one knowing of that type of teleportation magic that brought you there, and you didn’t know much about anything that could be possible in your old world.

-Despite your unusual arrival, they allowed you to stay, much to your joy, and many of them melted, some on the inside, on how pretty you looked when you smiled.

-Since you were unable to leave the ocean, Poseidon welcomed you into his domain, despite not being able to do anything about it, but you did make sure to help out where you could, patrolling and reporting anything out of the ordinary to Poseidon, something he did appreciate as you were able to cover more ground than he and his soldiers were able to.

-You made friends with many of the gods and warriors in Valhalla, as many wanted to test their strength against you, like Thor, Lu Bu, Hercules, and Raiden, but they quickly learned that you only fought it you had to, and you used your tail half as a weapon.

-Loki and Apollo had become instantly infatuated with you- finding you so stunning and they were constantly coming to see you and flirt with you while fighting with each other.

-The day you took them both underwater with you, using your ability to make bubbles that were hard to pop, they were in awe, seeing that you could see under the water.

-When you let the bubble go, to float around, as Apollo asked, “I want to see all of your beauty.” You swam out a bit, showing them your full form, showing them how much bigger you were than them, but you swam so gracefully through the water, almost like you were dancing.

-They were in awe when you grabbed the bubble, heading back to the shore, both gushing at you on how stunning you looked, forgetting their fight, for the moment while you smiled warmly thanking them.

-It was an odd situation, but you were happy to be welcomed so warmly in this new world.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror poseidon #ror hades #ror loki #ror apollo #ror odin

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turtleybeachin · 9 months

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Okay I have finally thought of an ask! Not sure if you remember me or not but that's okay. It kinda has to do with the summoning through pacts. I was wondering if you could write something along the lines of an MC who is usually calm, but a MC having a panic attack or is just scared and accidentally summons a brother? I'd like to request all of the brothers or even the dateables but I don't want to ask that much. Do whoever you want with this ask if you do it at all! ❤️❤️

Hi I totally remember you and never forgot this but got way too in my own head about it. I think I crawled back out now. Thanks for being patient with me. ♥ So first of all, I love the concept of accidentally summoning someone to you. Sure, the actual summoning spell is great, but the idea of panic-summoning and maybe not even fully intentionally? Amazing. I started writing how they'd comfort you but got too in my head trying to do everyone (and not feel like i was rehashing Burnout), so I have a few that are spawning future updates to Burnout (for the new side characters), and then some one-offs I'll share as I finish them as well. But! Here are some thoughts I had on alternative summonings when upset.

Characters: Everyone! :) and a GN!MC (reader) Rating: G Word Count: ~2.3k Tagging: references to MC struggling mentally/emotionally, some fluffy affection, mostly a think piece on unintended summoning. Spoiler warnings for OG game, most notably for end of season 2, a bit of season 3, and vaguely part of season 4. Nothing too big, but there nonetheless.

Lucifer's Ring of Light is a perfect fidget piece. Spinning it around your finger, rubbing your thumb along the band, pressing on the edges of the stones to let the dull pinch ground you. It's always there on your finger, always present, always twinkling in the corner of your eye as a reminder you aren't alone. It is not his any longer, but that doesn't mean he isn't still aware of it, that a little piece of him isn't still present in a little piece of its inherent magic. And when you're spinning it and digging it into your palm and distressed, he feels an echo of that pain. It pulls him to you. Perhaps, in your own way, you're admitting you need his presence, his strength, his help, and he is not about to start abandoning his loved ones now.

With Mammon's keychain of that chocolate lizard, your thumb knew all the grooves, the smooth spots and the rough ones, the little spot where paint was chipped away that you knew you shouldn't pick at but it just happened anyway, your nail catching on the rough edge. You fidget with it when anxious because you know Mammon used to fidget with it just the same, and isn't that comforting, to know that even a powerful ancient fallen angel would run his thumb along the very same ridges you do? It's almost like you can still feel the warmth of his touch there. And you can't really think your First Man ain't gonna know you as well as he knows himself, can you? That he doesn't know when you need him, when you're tuggin' on the pact like that?

Leviathan's script he gave you? You've memorized it by now. In times when everything is spiraling, you remember your favorite lines, the ones that remind you to stay strong. You recite them to yourself between shaking breaths. Because when you can't be strong and cool and calm yourself, sometimes it helps to put yourselves in the shoes of Henry, the shoes of the Romantic Lead, the shoes of the characters written to always have a happy ending. It is, you realize, the same way Levi puts himself in the shoes of the Lord of Shadows, wrapping the cool-clever-badass-strong cloak around him as an armor. There's no Lord of Shadows without his Henry, and there's no you without him. And just like how in book six, the Lord of Shadows gets accidentally bound to Henry with a spell and is able to feel when Henry's in need and the Lord of Shadows leaves his lair without knowing where he's really going just knowing that he's needed and he ends up following this magical instinctive pull to find Henry and get to him just in time to save him from his enemies who were-- ...well, let's just say that Levi won't leave you to fight your mind alone for long.

Satan wasn't wrong that cats are perfect for calming the emotional storm inside you. They're good little listeners, and their company is a great distraction from the voices in your head. Watching the little fuzzballs roll around, or nap in a sunbeam, or prowl through the grass, it distracts you from all the frustration and anxiety and worries. Whether it's watching neighborhood cats, or visiting a cafe, or popping into a shelter, you've taken to Satan's favorite hack for handling your wayward emotions. On the really bad days, it's nice to know you can vent and cry to them and they won't judge you or tell anyone your secrets. But did you forget, MC, the stories about cats that traverse the realms? They won't ever tell anyone, but they might wander from you to their favorite place in the Devildom and they might headbutt a certain blond demon's shin and chirp for him to follow them. They are, after all, very good listeners. And so is he.

With Asmodeus, you look at the photos of him on your phone, at your selfies together and how big you smiled beside him. You blink away burning tears to focus on how he looks not at the camera but at you, his body angled not to show his best side (which is every side of course) but to press always closer to you, and how no matter where you two were or what was happening your smiles were always so bright and genuine with him. When everything feels like too much and not worth it and you feel trapped and cornered by situations beyond your control, you find yourself clutching your phone and swiping through hundreds of pictures of laughter and kisses and hugs and twirls and snuggles and you whisper a promise that one day, soon, we'll be together again. Sooner than you expect, of course, because did you really think that he wouldn't feel your burning need for him across realms, hon?

Beelzebub just has to be comfort food, our precious glutton. When life without your demons is getting you down, it's the salty snacks, the sweet treats, the tubs of ice cream with the chunks of something extra to dig for like buried treasure. And whenever you indulge, you can't help but think of your gentle giant and what he'd have to say about everything. He'd be happy you're eating, of course, and then what would he think of your human world snacks? Which makes you think of your favorite Devildom snacks, and that just hits you with a fresh wave of homesickness. But somewhere out there, a realm away, one particular Avatar just gets this feeling, you know? Like the way he knows when Belphie is craving quetzalcoatl brains, or is napping in the garden. Just that instinct. And his instinct is telling him you need your favorite cupcakes. Surely Lucifer will understand how vital it is he takes these three dozen cupcakes to the human world right now. And if he doesn't, well, that argument with his brother can wait until after your craving is satisfied.

Belphegor of course is our star-gazing boy, and while you like the idea of looking into the sky to seek out any possible shared stars to look at with him, you can't always see the stars at night everywhere, and the human realm has day and night cycles that hide them for at least half the day anyhow. For Belphie, you have a pillow from him (that he either gifted or didn't complain about your stealing) that you keep with you -- not for sleeping, but for comfort. A pillow to smother your tears on the rough nights, a pillow to pummel on your frustrated days. A pillow you curl around and snuggle for a memory of contact now distant. And when you drift off in those fitful sleeps of exhaustion, you wander in your dreams to another dream unknowingly. He's with you when you rest, and the moment he can get away from Lucifer's watchful gaze, he'll be there to tug the pillow out of your arms to crawl into your embrace himself.

With Diavolo, well, he knows things. Usually it's because of Barbatos, or Lucifer, or his familiars, but you? MC, you're so much more precious than the 'usual'. If asked by anyone who doesn't know him well enough to call him out, he'd say the charm he placed on you was simply for matters of Devildom security-- after all, you know possibly too much, and that could make you a target to the wrong people! (Barbatos politely does not point out that it's because he misses you so much and wants to see what you're doing.) It's not that he wants to intrude on your life or anything, it's important you have the chance to be as wonderfully human as you are, but he just worries. Are you alright? Are you comfortable? You'd mentioned once the extravagance of the brothers' lifestyle, do you have enough income? The charm is just a minor thing, a little thing, just to make sure you're well. And when you aren't? Well, paperwork and meetings will wait.

With Barbatos, he's just such a badass god-like time lord, we don't even need a pact to be connected to him. You had brought up the idea of a pact once, and he had just given you that dangerous smirk and demurred that it wasn't so much a pact you desired, surely, as his company and his attention, both of which were already yours. It seemed like such a smooth line at the time, but you didn't realize the extent of it. How you're a bright twinkling point on every timeline for him, how you are the center of every universe he knows, how he orients himself in any reality by looking to you. So when something is wrong, when you're falling apart or in danger, it's like the spiderweb crackling of a timeline splitting. Like an itch at the back of his throat, an ache behind his eyes. The choices are to let you suffer alone, or to teleport himself to your side and help you through. Do you even have to wonder which option he chooses?

Simeon may have a complicated relationship with his blessing and his celestial light, with his place and his purpose, but one thing has never felt complicated: you. Every baked good he ever made for you was made with pure love, and every gift he bestowed -- from a little sheep plush sewn by hand to earrings made from his own feathers -- had all of his hopes and wishes and prayers for you inside them. Maybe that's why squeezing the soft little plush fills you with such warmth and comfort, and why the brush of the feather against your neck feels like a kiss. When you're struggling and upset, the gifts from Simeon make you feel grounded just a little more. And perhaps it's a prayer answered for him, too, that he just has a feeling when it's time to go visit you.

Solomon has been watching out for you longer than you know. It started in the little ways, simple defensive spells and barriers to protect you, reminding demons who looked a little too closely at you who precisely he was and what he could do. It graduated to teaching you to defend yourself, and gifting you various magical trinkets and charms to help focus and direct your growing magics. You still don't really know all the ways that he keeps an eye on you. But he does. Nothing is more important than you. When one of his spells alerts him that you're upset or in distress, well. He just so happened to be in the neighborhood, MC, and what a lucky coincidence that is!

Luke is such a literal perfect little angel baby. One who gave you his blessing, to protect you even when he can't. Everyone teases him for being so young, but he knows that you are the one human he wants to guide and shelter and protect. And sure, when he gave his blessing, it was under the assumption you might need protection from demons or fae, from magic and shadow. But that doesn't mean his blessing doesn't also guide and protect you in times of need that aren't external, MC. When you're at your lowest and feeling completely alone, he feels the pull, feels your pain, and what sort of guardian angel would he be if he left you alone?

Mephistopheles you don't have a pact with (yet?), but imagine your magic ripping open a portal to him without your conscious intent when you're feeling small and lonely and just so badly miss him and want him with you. Maybe you think of him because of the kindness he has shown himself capable of; maybe you think of him because you know he's the least likely person to tell the brothers or anyone else about you having a meltdown. And he's startled and confused when this portal opens before him, the magic somewhat familiar but certainly not demonic, and he warily steps through half-expecting some idiotic prank of one of the brothers only to find you curled up and small and fragile and all of his complaints and questions can wait. After all, clearly you can't even manage your own magic right now, so someone has to keep you from causing trouble.

With Thirteen, it's the little conversation crystal that she gifted you during The Three Worlds' Fair. Perhaps you turned it into a pendant, or perhaps it's just always in your bag or pocket, kept close as a charm for good luck and reminder of the fact you aren't alone. You don't think it would actually work across realms but still hold it tightly and whisper your frustrations or fears or doubts into it just to get things off your chest. But between your magic and hers, it does still connect, and she does hear your outbursts. And at first she just lets it happen, quietly charmed and amused you would use her gift as a secret diary. But when you're really struggling? Well. Reapers are meant to move between realms, you know. There's nowhere she won't go for you.

And Raphael is not an angel to be summoned on the whim of some human. But he is incredibly observant (even if he sometimes doesn't 'read a room' well). He is the one who reads between your lines more than you expected, more than you intended, more perhaps than you want. He sees the tension you hold, the dark circles under your eyes, the way your smiles are just a little slow and empty; he hears the silences where he expects to hear laughter or humming or conversation. And he nearly ignores it, because it's not his business, and you have plenty of other devoted fans already flocking to you, but then he realizes that in those moments you don't. In your pain, you are alone, and that is the most jarring observation of them all. So perhaps it is up to him to correct this cosmic error, and be the one to support the human who supports everyone else.

I hope you still enjoy, even if it's not exactly what you had in mind! ♥ and when i get around to the other little things this spawned, i'll tag you if you'd like.

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heartsoji · 1 year

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omg hello! since requests are open and all, I want to request kenma, Suna and atsumu and Oikawa with a reader who gets happy over the most childish thinsg

I got a shadow the hedgehog plush backpack from one of my brothers and I was so happy for like a week straight

HQ BOYS WITH AN S/O WHOS LOVES CHILDISH THINGS

a/n: THIS IS LITERALLY ME. i still watch disney movies and kids shows bcs they're just so nostalgic and wonderlicious

warnings: suna's is a little ooc but wtv im in a fluffy duffy mood

suna, atsumu, and oikawa x reader (separate)

S. RINTARO

he finds it so cute

he loves how he can give you something like a plushie or a lollipop and you get all happy and smiley

he just loves it. he loves you!

he's addicted to the way your eyes light up and brighten the room when a funny scene comes on in the kids show you're watching

literally anyone could see the way his eyes soften whenever you get all happy over something childish

he just finds it so stinking adorable

but ofc, he also has to tease you about it

its all in good fun, he loves it so much

you giggled happily and twirled around with the cute little plushie that rin had just given you. it was soft and fluffy and warm and had the cutest ears and just made you so happy.

unbeknownst to you, rin was staring at you lovingly with a tender gaze, wondering to himself how he got someone so cute.

you were the light rin needed. when he got down and dark, you were the light that pulled him back up. and he found the fact that you loved stuff like this SO CUTE

contrary to what he was thinking, he smirked and began to tease you about it. "it makes you that happy? what are you, a baby?"

you beamed. "your baby!"

he cringed slightly, but then let out a loving sigh as he curled an arm around you.

"i guess so."

M. ATSUMU

he loves everything about you, and that includes your love for childish things

whenever you have a cute reaction to something childish, he has to fight the urge to spin you around in a tight hug and pepper your face with kisses and tell you how cute that was

he fails most of the time

he doesn't really think its weird or tease you about it or anything

i firmly believe that atsumu still sleeps with his childhood stuffie, so he thinks its cute that you guys are kinda similar in that aspect

also, hes just a ginormous child, so uh

it was a peaceful sunday afternoon, and you guys were watching bluey together. then, during the magic xylophone episode in the scene where bluey's dad played bluey like a piano and tickled her silly, he paused the show and quickly pounced on you and dug his fingers into your ribs.

"you're MY magic xylophone! ping ping ping! ping ping! pururururuing!" he shouted, kneading and knocking at your ribs

"tsuhuhumu, stahahap!" you giggled trying weakly to fight his hands off

"hmm.. i think that i should get some more practice in, don'tcha think?" he teased, continually prodding at the sensitive area.

"NAHAHA TSUHU- *HIC!*"

you both paused at the little hiccup you gave. it was silent for a moment before atsumu grabbed you and spun you around, laughing as you giggled and "wheee!"'d.

"yer so freakin' cute im gonna die!" he laughed as he peppered your face with kisses.

you giggled as you two settled back down on the couch together, cuddling up with each other and your favorite stuffies.

he sighed contentedly as he leaned his head on you, melting into your warmth as you did the same.

he honestly loved moments where he could be childish without being judged like this with the person he loved most in the world. (he internally apologized to his ma)

O. TOORU

little brat but its ok

he really likes bubbles, as do you

sometimes when its nice out, the two of you will just blow bubbles and just watch in mesmerization

(sometimes in the shower too!)

hes also really into disney

he hid it before, but once he started dating you, one of his favorite at-home date activities is watching disney movies together!

frozen is his fav

he knows all the lyrics to all the frozen songs and sings along everytime

hes your little princess

"LET IT GOOOO" tooru screeched in your ear. "LET IT GOOOOOOO! CAN'T HOLD IT BACK AAAANYMO-O-ORE"

"LET IT GOOOO" you screeched in his ear. "LET IT GO-O-O, TURN AWAY AND SLAM THE DOOOOR"

"I DON'T CARE"

"WHAT THEY'RE GOING TO SAY"

"LET THE STORM RAGE OOOOOOOOON" tooru held the high note, his voice cracking a couple times.

"the cold never bothered me anyway" *hairflip*

you two plopped your butts back down on the couch heavily, tired and out of breath from the karaoke session.

"you did really well, princess" he complimented, voice breathy.

"you... you, too." you replied, "princess."

"HEY" he cried, clinging onto you. "i'm your PRINCE, remember?"

you grinned. "i think princess suits you better."

"y/n-chaaaaaaan!" he whined, shaking you, "you're so mean!"

you couldn't help but laugh at his childish antics, hiding your face slightly with your olaf plushie

"i love you."

you stopped short, giving him a curious look.

"you're the one for me."

you simply smiled in return. "as are you for me."

"Y/N-CHAN LOOK! ITS THE PART WHERE THEY MEET OLAF!!"

"OH MY GOD I LOVE THAT PART"

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒, 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃

#see you suun ⭐︎#suna x reader #suna fluff #suna hcs #suna drabble #suna imagines #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #atsumu hcs #atsumu drabble #atsumu imagines #oikawa x reader #oikawa fluff #oikawa hcs #oikawa drabble #oikawa imagine #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader

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