#sometimes it do be a coin flip on these things.

[tiyoin]

pt.4 | 📍pt.5

rewrote, edited and proofread chapter five cause I thought it was horseshit and you guys deserved more from me. 🫶

numb.

you tried to feel numb.

doing everything in your power to push down any kind of emotion that was ready to slip through your mask.

look ahead, stand tall, put one foot in front of the other so no one would know you were wearing a confidence coat that was 2 sizes too small.

don't breathe too loud they'll hear you.

don't step too loud they'll think about your weight.

don't blink too much they'll think you're fluttering your lashes at them.

don't tuck your chin in they'll think you're gross.

gross for what exactly? everything.

don't mess up the stepping pattern or else you'll look like a bumbling idiot as you try to get back on the rhythm.

don't clench your fists they'll think you're mad and unapproachable.

don't smile because you're not in front of a mirror where you can control how much you want to give away.

don't think too hard or else you'll become enraptured with your daydreams and you won't be able to take part in reality.

don't do anything with your lips or else some air will come in and create a sound that sounds similar to a fart. then they'll think you're extra gross.

all these rules you had to follow to 'be normal,' weren't an actual set of rules, but a lifestyle. you wouldn't get collared if you didn't do one of the rules, you wouldn't get yelled at or reprimanded.

you were okay. to your knowledge that is.

on the outside, you probably looked like you had a stick up your ass. always in a rush to get to where you needed to go. like one of those rolling backpack kids back in your world. whenever they would pass they'd take casualties with them. rolling over toes, pencils, teachers- there was nothing in their way they couldn't bulldoze through.

you were just missing the wheels and will of iron it took to be seen with such a… what’s the right word- atrocity, in public, let alone an all-boys school.

underneath the habits and self-induced numbness, past all the anxiety and fear there was a tickle. not an actual tickle, but a sudden feeling you couldn't identify. it wasn't rage or frustration. you weren't sad or envious... you think- it was something gentler than that.

something softer yet just as negative was infesting your heart and mind like a slow-acting poison. poisoning your thought process, your habits, your attitude, and your livelihood.

though the breeze and sunshine walking to class supplied your flesh with warm- there was a chill over your heart. the beams of warmth too short to reach into the many cracks and holes that were created. sometimes you thought there was a bug. a big, juicy parasitic bug that would suck away your hopes and feast on your memories. It had a sweet tooth that was for certain, only targeting happy memories as it kept you with the bad ones.

did you ever have happy memories?

there was nothing you could do about the pestering leech. it wouldn't go away with Kalim's warmth and silver's calm. two sides of the same coin.

but no matter how many times you flipped: heads or tails, heads or tails, heads or tails would never work.

yes, you would smile, you would laugh- put on a poor show to convince yourself and others that there was nothing wrong. Everything was okay deep down and inside your twisted little mind. 

sometimes, you weren't sure who exactly you were performing for. 

"why am I scared to laugh" you remembered asking yourself one night, putting down your jester's hat for the evening. 

looking in the dusty mirror, your eyes carefully roamed your face, ticking off imperfections as you scanned every feature, scrutinizing every fold, and every slight bump on your skin. saving the most obvious imperfection for last, you finally acknowledged the brewing red horn ready to grow on the side of your forehead.

you knew it was a normal thing that teenagers of all ages experienced. but you felt especially helpless now, with the lack of beauty supplies and makeup. but with a quick brush of your hair, the brewing red horn disappeared behind some tresses of hair.

"I look like a demon"

...

"though if it was on my nose, i'd look like rudolph"

there was no punchline. yet the observation- not even an original comparison, made you laugh. 

A tiny huff puffed from your chest. though the more you imagined yourself with deer ears and a bright lobster red nose, you could feel your thoracic region start to shake. trying to push the sixth sense of judgment the walls were giving you, you forced yourself to laugh. holding onto this artificial laugh as long as you could. you hadn't laughed in a while. hadn't smiled in a minute. you'd barely look at yourself in the mirror most days.

gripping onto the vanity you watched your eyes crinkle and smile stretch. tripping and stumbling over scattered objects in your room you were still clenching your stomach nonetheless.

you felt like a tumbling tornado. clumsily tripping over everything with no set destination or concern for the things in your path. a shoe got kicked up. a pen you remembered liking got stepped and rolled on. a book you read a few nights ago kicked to the door as you set your eyes on your bed. with a few more violent acts towards inanimate objects, you carried your shaking body to bed.

this was it. you were going insane, weren't you?

all you needed was a canvas and paints and you'd truly become insane.

flopping down unceremoniously you let it linger for a second. sighing in contentment as you stared up at the ceiling.

you loved laughing, it was fun! but you were afraid to laugh, to live. remembering Kalim's quote of 'Everything is fun when you make it fun,' you wanted to scoff at his naivety. but Kalim was right.

if you made things miserable for yourself that's how they'll be.

directing your mind back to your head, you blinked owlishly.

oh. you were so caught up in the daydream you forgot you were in the hallways.

peeking through bumping shoulders, you tried looking towards the wall to check the room number.

"shit"

making a giant u-turn with as many 'excuse me's' and 'pardon me's,' you rerouted yourself back to your class. never having walked this way to class you were a bit hesitant. what if you walked by it again? what if someone is watching you and making fun of you for being a daft idiot?

breathe.

but what if you're late for class? crewel will have your hide- skin? doesn't matter what it is cause it'll be his. what if they all laugh when we're late-

we're not late yet it's only-

but when we get to class we'll be late!

perking up when you noticed the assigned numbers to your class, you weaved through the chattering sardines and beelined it to class.

no bell. no expectant crewel. no eyes besides from the easy-to-ignore front row. perfect.

the sigh you were holding in finally set itself free as you adjusted the grip of your books, and you strolled down the isles.

don't walk too fast they'll think you're strange.

but also don't walk too slow so they don't think you're lazy.

head down absent-mindedly adjusting your books, you followed your hand's cue and put your attention on a fixed thing. aka: your books.

but to your relief, you soon found your seat. with a huff, you unloaded the cargo pulled out some loose-leaf paper, and started writing.

writing what? not even you knew. but it made you look busy and that was important.

you didn't lay around in bed all day. you didn't continuously scroll through your phone to distract yourself. you didn't cry at night looking at everyone's socials, wishing it was you having fun. envy bubbling like a nasty tar in your bloodstream as you scorned everyone for having fun when you're miserbale-

"y/n!'

"oow"

sliding in next to you was silver. hair disheveled and tie ever so crooked, though he still looked really good-

pervert a voice whispered. tensing, you looked around and saw no one paying attention to your little corner.

"I tried calling you in the hallway." his boyish smile eased a beat in your rhythmic heart, only for it to take 2 more beats.

"y-you did?" you gulped.

silver nodded as he organized his books. "Yeah, but it's so chaotic and loud I'm guessing you didn't hear me" you nodded in agreement, tongue slipping over itself as you tried conjuring up an excuse.

"I- uh I'm really sorry I didn't hear you. I didn't even know you were there! I was kinda worried about not being elbowed to death." you didn't know why you were chuckling at the end but it felt scene-appropriate. you weren't sure if you believed what you told silver despite it being the truth.

was he going to refute it? was he going to give you a once over and mentally think 'how dare they ignore me' because all the diasomnia students you'd interact with had that very haughty, entitled personality?

 but to your slight dissatisfaction, silver only nodded in understanding.

"I'm real-"

"There's no-"

you both started at the same time, sharing a shy smile at the pause.

"you can go ahead" he nodded. Waving your hands, you disagreed. "you were talking first, I'm sorry, go ahead"

even though you gave the green light, silver still heisted to go. giving the air another few seconds before he started talking.

"there is no need to ask for forgiveness. I understand if you couldn't hear me, I'm not the most vocal after all. if only sebek were here" he mulled the last part. wincing at the name, you wanted to pinch yourself for slipping up. damnit you showed that you didn't like a person he was friends with- he'll hate you now. you're screwed, you screwed yourself. don't you understand that he's probably planning on running to sebek as soon as you leave? then everyone in diasomnia is going to hate you-

you nodded, tiny little yellow sponges in white shirts and red ties ran around your brain as a fire roared throughout- wherever they were inside your head.

you tried to push the flood of incoming thoughts into a box, a big red crate with a crab lock to be exact. you were feeling antsy, looking for anything to focus on besides the silver-haired upperclassman in front of you. 

sometimes you wish you were a computer. unable to feel and to only run on logic. it seems easier that way.

a thought bubble popped into your brain like an internet pop-up ad. 

did they even have computers in twisted wonderland? duh of course they do, they have phones after all.

the thought of twisted wonderland's technology started to swarm and hijack your train of thought. effectively taking out the conductor and changing its course.

did they also have an Industrial Revolution like the United States had? what was the start of it? which kingdom had it first? was there something to set off the alleged revolution? How is it the same and how is it different from your world's?

did magic have allay in it? of course, it did. but how did magic make it different than-

"y/n"

snapping your head at the familiar voice. you looked to silver. only able to take in physical information as the new conductor saw a hole in the tracks, pulling the breaks almost immediately.

"you okay there?"

slowly you nodded, as a few members of the hijacking team jumped out of the train- some ideas and questions with it.

"yeah.. sorry about that, kinda got lost in my train of thought there"

nodding with understanding, silver started talking about how he would sometimes start nodding off when he was talking to someone. half paying attention, half trying to save the train- your brain was split in half as you took in all internal and external information.

until you heard the magic words everyone loves to hear: "what were you thinking ab-"

"The Industrial Revolution"

"... pardon?"

anddd you failed, the train fell into the deep deep gorge that the tracks would normally allow the said train to glide over... but alas! they were gone! blown to smithereens as it guided the train into the deep cavern. a big explosion followed soon after. 

"dont worry about it" you brushed him off. saved by the bell as Crewel stood up, riding crop in hand yelling out orders like a drill sergeant.

silver scooted closer. you scooted back, the original distance between you two doubling. you were focused on writing your name, date etc & etc, on another loose-leaf paper.

the dreamy-eyed second-year made some noises before he knew what he was going to say. he started softly "are you okay"? but then grew slightly louder as unease set in "from... last class? I mean I know yuu told me it was a touchy subject but... i just wanted to check in"

your pencil screeched to a halt as the words 'yuu told me-' chanted in your head. it was the only thing you could focus on because what did he mean 'yuu said-'. "what did yuu say." you spoke, voice stable for the first time that morning.

silver's tongue tied itself as he fixed his hair a bit. "well..." he straightened up slightly, "after you stormed... no, escape is a better word. after you escaped the classroom yuu followed before i could. but crewel ended up stopping me before i could even move. and i asked yuu what happened the next time i saw them and asked how you were doing.. to sum it up: they told me you get nervous around new people soo"

dread set over you like a fast-approaching shadow.

oh no. he thinks you're a weird socially inept loser doesn't he? he thinks you're some kind of loser that doesn't go out weekends, weekdays, any day for all that matter. he probably makes fun of you with sebek. right?

"ah well," you cleared your throat. a lie already on the tip of your tongue "I mean it's like- a yes and no kinda thing. I didn't have a lot of guy friends when I was younger so being thrust" you thrust your hands in emphasis "into an al guys school has been quite the adjustment."

quickly, your mind conjured up a painting of a small house in a meadow filled with wildflowers. it was the only thing you could see for miles. it was a nice house with a straw roof, a smoking brick chimney, and a little garden outback. the only problem with the house is that you blew it up.

 with nuclear missiles. 

and the intensity of the blast was so strong that it created a small crater in the earth, no traces of the house were left as it's entire existence was reduced to ash and rubble all because of you.

the urge to bash your head into the nearest wall like intruding hornets slipping through a crack in an attic to terrorize a small family. there goes your social life right?? what soil life? you killed it before you could even nurture it!

your mouth and mind were running on autopilot while your conscience went blank.

your mouth was a fountain that spewed water everywhere. trying to get yourself out of the hole you dug yourself- crater, more specifically.

"but uhhh yeah, no you're good! you're different and I'm quite glad I got partnered with you since you're not as..."

"boisterous?" silver quipped.

you nodded. silver chuckled, leaning further away from you. "yeah me too. if I got paired with one of your friends only the sevens know how much damage that'll do to my physical and mental well-being"

you both discreetly looked over at the rest of the class watching as all pairs seemed to be in some kind of chaos. whether it's floyd being impulsive, grim trying to add the wrong chemical into a potion. (you didn't even need to know what they were making to know that whatever he's trying to sneak in- doesn't belong there.)

and you were thanking whatever god the people of twisted wonderland worshipped that you weren't paired with one of the adeuce combo. ace would try to take control of the project, pretending he knew what he was doing while simultaneously giving you backhanded compliments on your intelligence. only to ruin the entire project and somehow find a way to blame you for it. 

meanwhile, deuce and you would be two peas in a squished pod: not knowing what you're supposed to be doing and ultimately winging it as you tried to match your hot barbie pink potion to crewel's muted blush potion. knowing the both of you, it would end up navy blue and when crewel went to fix it he would add a pinch of fleabane- a literal pinch, and it'd be fixed. embarrassing the both of you for all eternity.

"I wonder which group is gonna blow up the lab first mused quick to shut your lips, you were quick to wish for a sewing kit to forcefully shut you up.

but a small voice whispered 'it's better to take risks than stay comfortable.'

and silver seemed... nice.

silver looked out at the crowd for a moment longer, turning to you he started slowly, "while the yuu, grim, and ace trio seem to be the most obvious choice...." he thought carefully, "epel and deuce seem to be at a loss of what to do and are about 6 shade off. which surprised me since epel is in pomfiore"

"he's actually sh- really-" you started again, taking a moment to think over what you were going to say "I heard that epel's not that great at potions despite being under vil's careful watch...." silver's eyes widened, replying with a soft 'really?' as he looked back to the groups with newfound interest.

you to yourself "never judge a book by its cover" you shrugged, immediately turning to your work. anxiously, you waited for a response. 

although circumstances are vastly different- is this how people felt when in the talking stage? if so it was a dreadful experience. 

before your pessimistic thoughts could even start, silver responded with a chuckle, enviably agreeing with your statement. you could almost sweat with relief as an invisible weight got lifted from your shoulders.

silver seems nice...

a new voice, meek and unsteady although louder than the usual pessestimic ones in control. and for once, you allowed yourself to feel the slight comfortable tingle it gave you.

the hope and drive to that you haven't felt or experienced in a while.

you wished to get closer to him.

taglist : @abell2029cluster @a1-ic3 @ars-tral @xingyunny @creamsweets @skei2p @dn4su @jjsmeowthie @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @nefe-kav @d3sperate-enuf @y2unagiz @im-here-for-the-fun-of-it @mel-star636 @7yu @lucky-whispers

#twisted anxiety 🌀 #I was low-key ashamed with the last chapter ngl despite all your comments. I hope this makes up for it 🫶 #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #tiyoin 🔎 #azul x reader #silver x reader #malleus x reader #idia x reader #vil x reader #leona x reader

[peofun1]

Re: your post about a favorite childhood book- the boots and snarky magician do sound like howls moving castle by diana wynne jones cause ik it’s got the seven league boots THOUGH it’s entirely possible that those are in other books lol. The premise of the maid and princess switching places reminded me of my personal treasured childhood novel, tale of desperaux, which I’m pretty sure is not the one you’re thinking of cause it’s got a lot of other stuff going on but that is a plot point. If you haven’t read it and you’re ever wishing for an easy but extremely fun book I would heartily recommend it cause it’s very charming

WAIT SORRY I only just saw this cuz tumblr almost never tells me when I have a new ask -- but I HAVE read The Tale of Desperaux!!! I remember it being really whimsical but also pretty dark at times. real classic fairy-tale vibes. the copy I had as a kid was a hard-cover where the edges of the pages were like, intentionally a little ripped up and uneven to make it look like an old tome and I absolutely loved that shit

also the other book I was thinking of (way back when I talked about it in the tags of some post lol) with the two princesses is called The Two Princesses of Bamarre :3 It's about a spunky tomboy princess trying to save her sister from an illness/curse

one of these days I'll get around to reading Howl's Moving Castle too, it seems like a good time. It's on the stack orz

#i'm so sorry anon sent this like 6 months ago and i never saw #i s2g tumblr flips a coin when deciding if it'll show me notifications #sometimes it's just me being bad at answering things #but tumblr isn't doing me any favors lmao #ANYWAY I can't believe how much I used to read #ramblings

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer meeting an artist reader

・❥ The King of Hell admires your paintings

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

x: reader is g/n :) no use of pronouns or y/n

warnings: some raunchy details of your painting & mild swearing

When you arrived in Hell, the first thing you did was scream.

Where were you? Why was it so hot? What happened to your bed?!

“You’re in Hell, kid.” A blue bat-faced man had broke the news, as you stood helpless and confused on the street.

Hell? Like, demons and dark satanic magic kind of Hell?

That couldn’t be right. Were you that bad of a person to deserve such a fate? Did the few times you passed the Salvation Army donation bucket without dropping a coin damn you to this place?

Your death was fuzzy, a trail of shattered memories that could only give you bits and pieces of your final days. Did you go quickly in your sleep? Maybe, you hit your head so hard it caused you some kind of post-death amnesia?

Whatever had happened, you were here now with no way out.

During your first few days scouring for answers, you began to notice that Hell had an eerie similarity to life above ground. There were clubs, casinos, concerts. Heck, even TV! Sure, the things broadcasted were dark and sometimes disgusting.. but at least you had something to watch.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all? At least, compared to being thrown into dark, fiery pits for all of eternity like some cruel game of sink or swim.

Minus the people, of course. Most of them were pretty bad. Your first day watching a man get shot in the chest and lines of cocaine across tables in a diner made you decide to stay away from the streets of the city.

Which meant you had to get busy making a life for yourself. It started with working odd jobs as a bartender or a bell-hopper. You’d scrap together enough money to head to the nearest art supply store, and fill your bag with paints and charcoal pencils.

“You an artist or something?” The clerk had asked you as she scanned your items, taking note of your vast amount of diverse tools you were slowly collecting every time you stopped by.

“I usually paint, but yes, I used to do all kinds of mediums professionally when I was.. alive,” You had whispered that last part out with a pang of sadness, the reality of your situation still a fresh wound in your mind.

You had found an ad for an art studio, ran by a demon named Alexandre. You had showed him a few of your pieces, some pretty landscapes, a rendition of the Starry Night Sky which you had replaced the backdrop to be Pentagram city instead of whatever little village it was originally, and a self portrait.

“You got talent, i’ll give you that,” He had hummed, as his eyes scanned your paintings with intrigue, “But the subject? Not really what we’re looking for.”

“What do you mean?” You had asked, confusion evident in your voice.

“We’re in Hell, demons ain’t into pretty ponies and happy, little trees. They want more— eh how do i put this — sinful behavior?”

“Like…?”

“Like tits or anything that can be turned into a kink. They like blood and guts, and dead people splayed around. Dead angels too. Stuff like that.”

Tits? Dead people? You didn’t have much practice with that! At least not enough to make a career out of it.

But you had agreed anyway, this was your only shot. You stayed up late into the night, sometimes even into the early mornings, perfecting your skill when it came to much more risqué visuals. You would buy stacks of pornograohic magazines, flipping through for poses to memorize.

Slowly, you began to master the craft, and your time at the studio increased as you finally settled into life in Hell.

All you had to do was churn out painting after pastel after acrylic in the little cramped room you now called home. Alexandre would then take your pieces and sell them to the highest bidder. You’d get a percentage of the commission, using the money for whatever necessary.

Seeing as you could be mugged at literally any point in time, or anywhere for that matter, you made sure to keep a large sum of cash locked away in a double-bolted safe.

“You know Ozzie’s, that club down in the Lust Ring?” Alexandre had approached you one day, excitement in his eyes.

You shook your head as you sat behind the easel, your brush an inch from the canvas.

“Run by Asmodeus, one of the literal seven deadly sins?”

You shook your head once more.

“Fuck, you still have a lot to learn. Well, he really likes your art. He wants to buy a bunch of paintings for his club, and he’ll drop a shit ton of cash too. Ya think you can handle it?”

Your eyes had widened when he told you the exact price this sin guy was willing to pay. You had jumped from your seat, shaking his hand in profuse thanks, before scurrying off to gather more supplies.

And for a time, that’s how it went. You’d sell your steamiest paintings to Asmodeus, and other private commissions you took one after the other.

Apparently, your painting hung up in Ozzie’s was getting a lot of attention. Especially from a certain spider demon named Angel Dust.

After hearing Charlie’s decision to look for another member of their staff— someone who’d be in charge of decorating the premise with promises of love and tranquility up in Heaven— Angel Dust had taken a few snaps of your work with his phone, before showing it to Vaggie and Charlie. He had complimented your work, claiming it was ‘the best’ oil paintings he’d ever seen.

Although, in his line of work, he probably hadn’t seen many to compare yours so.

“ls this what we want in our hotel?" Vaggie had asked, motioning to a woman on the canvas that was drenched in sweat and white fluid, her private parts exposed to the audience as she posed suggestively on a stripper pole.

To which Charlie has responded, "I think it's... unique! You can definitely see she knows how to, um, really bring the scene to life! l'm sure she'll be open to creating our vision!"

Your phone had rung one night, with a voice on the other end begging you to come to her hotel and at least hear her offer for a new job.

Which lead you to the Hazbin Hotel, a slightly run down building that obviously needed more work. Inside and out.

“Oh my gosh! Hi there! My name is Charlie, and this is my hotel! it’s such a pleasure to meet you!”

“Thanks.. but I don’t see many guests around.” You had told her, your eyes darting around the lobby as you absorbed your surroundings.

“Well, we’re still trying to get our name out there. We’re not just any hotel, we’re a hotel set on redeeming sinners!” She exclaimed with pride.

“Redeem?” You had asked her, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

She shook her head vigorously, “This hotel.. it’s going to be amazing! We’re going to turn Sinners into well.. non-sinners! They’ll be rehabilitated, and have morals! And honor! Heaven won’t be able to do anything but welcome them as angels!”

This idea had sounded a little far-fetched when you first heard it.

“You’ll be in charge of making art that reflects such views! Something that will make Sinners go, ‘Wow! Now that’s where I want to go!’”

“What’s in it for me?” You had asked.

“Well you’ll have your own room, and your own little studio too! I’m sure it’s much bigger than the one you already have. Plus we have a bar, and good company!”

You turned your head to the small crowd of demons a few feet away. A pornstar, a gambler, a snake guy with weird little walking eggs, and a really creepy man in a red coat that shot you a wide smile with eyes that seemed to stare right through your soul.

This was good company?

You contemplated her words, thinking deeply. Did you really need to leave the studio you were already a part of? You already had a room and place to paint, anyway.

Charlie must have noticed your hesitation to accept before quickly adding,

“Anddd you can sell your pieces here too! Plus, you can keep a hundred percent of the earnings.”

You perked up at that, the money made from your art would be... all yours? And, you’d get a breather from the drawing people having sex? That didn’t sound so bad after all!

“Deal!” You had reached out a hand, shaking hers with delight.

It had taken you a day or two to map out the interior of the hotel and figure out what could go where. You began to slowly brainstorm, what could make a sinner stare at a canvas and want to redeem themselves?

During your time on earth, you studied many artists through history. Most notably however, were those from the Renaissance. You remembered walking through the Sistine Chapel when you were younger,

staring at awe of the paintings of winged angels and heavenly skies.

You perked at that thought. That was it! The inspiration for your paintings, an ethereal perspective on what one would find in heaven. The feelings of bliss and care-free joy.

You spent your first few days in an undisturbed area of the hotel, it was a large room on the farthest side of the lobby. It must’ve been a guest room at one point, but other than a bed and few cushions that the ‘Radio Demon’ had placed for you, it was empty.

It was quiet enough that you could sit there, undisturbed, as you drew upon your memories and vast knowledge of histories in art as you slowly began to bring your ideas to life. Slowly, the room also took form into being yours, personal knick-knacks and stacks upon stacks of blank canvases waiting to bring your visions to life.

At the end of every day, you'd come out with your hands covered in charcoal and paint, your hard work on full display.

You had even grown closer to the other residents in the hotel, beginning to see them as more than their initial appearance. Even Alastor, who still kind of gave you the creeps, you had regarded as someone you could speak to without hesitation.

You’d sit on the couches with Angel Dust, drowning in popcorn as you watched whatever was on TV for the night. Sometimes, you’d sit with Husk at the bar as you listened to his stories from his days at the casino and as an Overlord.

It was there, when Charlie had summoned the courage to call her father, Lucifer, the King of Hell, to come visit the hotel and decide on getting her that meeting with the higher powers in Heaven.

Upon hearing about Lucifer's impending visit, you felta mixture of nerves and excitement. You've heardstories about him-his charisma, his power--but you never expected to meet him, let alone showcase your art to him. Would he even like them? He's no doubt seen much more beautiful sights.

As preparations for Lucifer's visit got more chaotic by the minute, you found yourself back in your Atelier, quickly cleaning up your room and berating yourself for any little mistakes you found in your paintings. Each stroke of the brush carried with it a sense of urgency, a desire to impress not just your friends at the hotel, but also the King of Hell himself.

The current piece you were working on was your most intense one yet. It depicted that of an almost nude man, flying high in the skies. His back was faced towards you, his face hidden from view. He was faced towards the sun, which bathed him in a warm glow. Arms outstretched, knees curled in, it seemed as if the angel was going to give the sun a large bear-hug.

It wasn’t until you heard loud commotion in the lobby did you realize Lucifer had arrived. Quickly dropping the brush you were holding, you sneaked down the stairs and quickly neared the archway of the lobby.

Peaking your head out, you canned the large room. Until your eyes locked in a pale figure. Lucifer.

He was beautiful, definitely held the looks of an angel that fell from heaven. His light blonde hair curled elegantly around his face. The candles from the chandelier above basked him in an ethereal glow, as though he could replace the sun itself. Just like the angel from your painting.

His eyes reminded you mostly of a snake. Calculating and cold, but holding so much wisdom and depth. There was a slight sadness there as well, as though itate at him slowly, consuming his soul. It was masked incredibly well though, and you only caught a glimpse before it disappeared.

His attitude toward his daughter made your heartmelt, it was obvious he cared about her in the way heacted and spoke to Charlie, even if his absence didn't speak so fondly of him.

As Lucifer and Alastor butted heads, you quickly scurried back to your room. You had hoped to finish your work-in-progress by the time he arrived, but the struggle to get those damn angel wings to be anatomically correct was a pain.

You hurriedly continued your work, trying to calm your nerves by busying yourself with the painting in front of you.

Charlie's voice broke you out of your concentration soon after, multiple footsteps closing in on where your room lay. You shot up from your seat, and stood up straight, ready to meet the man of the hour.

You couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation mixed with apprehension as they approached your make-shift gallery.

Charlie, Vaggie, and— wow, he looked so much better up close— Lucifer stepped through the doorway.

“Dad, this is the newest addition to our staff! They are in charge of helping to inspire our future guests through the power of art!" Charlie proclaimed with glee, pulling you by the arm towards her father.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, your majesty. I apologize for being so messy, I was just finishing up another painting." You had greeted him softly.

"Don't worry, you look great," He assured, a gleam in his eyes, "and the pleasure is all mine, anyone who is willing to help my little girl is someone worth meeting,"

You stood there for a moment. Unsure of where to go next, before you felt a slight nudge from Charlie that pulled you back to reality, "Why don't we take a look at your paintings? I promise you, Dad, they are amazing!" She squealed softly.

Beckoning Lucifer forward, you took him through each painting. You described your feelings for each piece, and what made you choose them for the hotel.

You rambled on and on, and Lucifer never said anything, he just listened as you spoke.

Which made you nervous, what was he thinking? Did he like them, or was he just waiting for you to stop talking so he could quickly escape to something of more interest to him? The thought made sweat dribble down your forehead.

To your surprise, Lucifer's reaction to your art was not what you expected. Instead of dismissing it as mere frivolity, he studied each piece with genuine interest, his expression thoughtful and contemplative.

He mostly stayed quiet, but once in awhile would throw in a joke here and there if he noticed anything of interest in the paintings.

His goofy nature that you caught onto watching him earlier was barely evident though, unlike when he was trying to impress his daughter.

After finishing the small tour, you turned to him in anticipation. Your hands nervously rubbing together, as you shot a glance to Charlie, and she gave you an uncertain look. You both held the same question in your gaze: What is he thinking?

"These paintings.." Lucifer began, his voice low and melodic, "Are different than most i've seen down here, not just some scandalous display, but with real meaning. They evoke emotions long buried, memories of a time before.. all this."

His words caught you off guard, and you found yourself nodding in agreement, unable to tear your gaze away from his intense eyes.

The one he was staring at in particular was a recreation of The Garden of Eden by Jan Breghal, a painting that depicted the place where humanity was birthed, and where it fell.

“Does it look like.. how you remembered?" You had asked slowly, if anyone could validate the truth in your work, it would be him.

"Actually, this is much prettier. The real deal doesn't do your painting justice," He replied, "It was so boring, just green on green."

Also," He added, "An unfortunate lack of ducks. Humanity should be grateful that I got them out of that forest, so they could see something actually worthwhile.. and with ducks."

You giggled softly at his words, have you ever met someone that seemed to love ducks as much as him?

As Lucifer continued to explore the room, you couldn’t help but notice the way he lingered on certain paintings, his fingers tracing the delicate lines with reverence. It was as if he saw something in your art that no one else did, something profound and personal.

Perhaps your choice of baby-faced angels, and ethereal landscapes brought back memories of his time in Heaven. Hopefully, that wasn't a bad thing.

When Lucifer finally turned to you, his gaze softened, a hint of something unreadable lurking beneath the surface. "You have a rare gift," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "To create beauty in a place like this... it's truly remarkable."

He looked at you for a moment, before a smile crept onto his lips. He was Lucifer, he knew exactly what you meant. It's what drove him to manipulate Eve to eat from the Tree of Life in the first place.

Was he finally getting a glimpse of the good free will brought to humanity? Was there actually meaning in his past actions that sent him to the depths of Hell?

His gaze narrowed in on the canvas behind you, and he slipped past you. "What is this?" He asked with intrigue, pointing towards your unfinished painting.

“My final piece. I've been working on it for days, but I just can't get the wings right.. believe it or not, i've never actually seen angel wings in person." You said that last bit as a joke.

His smile sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. For the King of Hell, it was surprisingly warm, and kind.

Then an idea struck you, but you tried to desperately to push it down. Except it seemed like the only time you could ask someone with angel wings to let you use them as a reference. How many fallen angels were in Hell, anyway?

"I'm so sorry if this is out of line, but. could I, um, borrow you for a little bit? I've just been having trouble drawing the wings correctly and you, well, have them?”

His eyes widened, and his chest puffed slightly at your question. He shot you a toothy grin, “Paint me? Why didn't you mention that earlier?! I have the perfect figure for such a thing.”

Behind him, Charlie rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile on her lips. You smiled too, you should've known he'd have no problem with it, he was the embodiment of pride after all.

He plopped down on a stool before you, and removed his overcoat. Beneath what seemed to be a red and white gatsby vest that hugged his frame perfectly. Jeez, he was almost too good looking.

He stretched out his large wings, folding the otherfour behind him, only revealing the two much largerones. They were breathtaking, truly. They looked so fluffy too!

You guided him on the exact position you needed them to be in, before making your way to the canvas and getting to work.

Assuring the group you only needed to get a visual on the canvas, the actual work you would do on your own. Slowly, you traced the frame of his wings, etching out the soft lines of his feathers and the curvatures of its form.

You could only imagine how soft those feathers were and what it would be like to curl around them like a pillo-

You shook your head to rid those thoughts. Why were you thinking such things about Lucifer like that? It's not like he would even want to let you go anywhere near him or his wings.

Would he?

You continued your painting, trying not to meet his gaze as you would occasionally peak your head from behind the large canvas to get another good look at his wings.

There was a moment when you two did lock eyes, and he sent a half-lidded smirk in your direction. Thankfully the large object between you two helped hide your growing blush. He was obviously just trying to get you worked up, you assured yourself. Just like he did with Alastor. In a different way, of course.

"This reminds me of when Charlie was younger" Lucifer began, filling the silence, "We sat for a good few hours trying to get a family portrait painted and she would just not sit still!”

“Dad.. please, not right now." Charlie growled out in embarrassment, her cheeks flushed. Vaggie only smiled beside her, listening intently as Lucifer filled everyone in on her younger years.

“lt got to the point where I had to summon her favorite toy to get her to stop squirming, everything was smooth sailing after that.

"And what was her favorite toy?" You inquired softly behind the canvas

“A rubber duck! Like the ones you play with in the bath? She could not get enough of it whenever it squeaked. One time the squeaker broke, and I went to my workshop and crafted her a magical one that meowed instead! Haha!"

Okay, this family really has a thing for ducks!

“She hated it, but that only inspired me to keep making more. Sometimes, we'd sit together on the work bench, and I would just come up with ideas like confetti-spitting, or color changing ducks. She wasn't too good at speaking at that time, so every time she'd laugh that was my clue that she liked it!"

It was sweet, the way he rambled about his daughter. He never spoke of himself or his accomplishments, despite embodying the sin of pride. It was almost like his only pride was his best creation, Charlie.

He continued, the room full of jokes and laughter, even from Vaggie, regarding Charlie's life as a youngling. You listened intently to his stories, his voice dripping with amusement as he recounted story after story.

lt was so sappy and you loved it. Which made you grumble quietly to yourself, why did you have to have a thing for DILFS?! Concentrate on the painting!

After a moment, Lucifer's eyes turned back to the paintings around him, his gaze scanning each painting once more. "I've noticed that you seem to have a repetition in your work.. not that that's a bad thing!" He quickly corrected.

“But in all of your paintings featuring angels, there's always a swan swimming or resting nearby. Do they hold any significance, or are they just a passion for you?"

You looked up from the canvas, and also traced the angelic figures across the room. He was right, with the images of the divine beings also came the appearance of the large, white water fowl. Lying lazily beside the angels, or swimming across pools of water as the care-free beings danced and frolicked.

You contemplated for a moment, before speaking truthfully.

“I just think Swans are elegant and ethereal creatures. They embody the purest of souls, untouched by the taint of sin that consumes the world, just like how their feathers remain untouched from the waters they glide on"

Lucifer's eyes lit up slightly, drinking up your words.

“Plus," You continue, "they mate for life, and allow themselves to just.. decay once their significant other departs from the world. It's very romantic, and love is one of the purest emotions in the world."

Lucifer wasn't looking at you when your eyes met his again, his stare was far off. Past the room entirely, as your words echoed through him. There it was again, the glimpse of sadness that he tried to hide so painfully well.

“Does such love like that exist?," he murmured so softly you had to strain your ears.

There was a few moments of deathly silence before Charlie piped up, asking her father something about heaven. You tried to listen, but your mind was stuck on his words. Lucifer was in heaven once, and he still didn't fully believe in such things?

If there weren't others in the room, perhaps you would’ve asked him.

It took a few more minutes before you were able to wrap up fully, but you had no regrets of asking this man for help, the angel on the canvas actually looked like he had wings, not just stumps of white tuft.

You got up from your seat and walked towards him, noticing that Charlie and her girlfriend were not present anymore. It was just you and Lucifer in theroom now.

“Well, thank you, Your Majesty. You really helped me out here, and it'll go a long way to make the hotel look even better"

“Please, call me Lucifer. The formalities are only for subjects, not friends," he replied, "l did really enjoy getting to see your paintings, you are quite a phenomenal artist. I wasn't lying when I said your work was different from the rest. If only you were around for those family portraits."

You were so taken aback by his praise that you only shrugged it off, like it was no big deal. Even though, coming from the King of Hell, it was.

Glancing behind him, you saw Charlie and Vaggie whispering to each other in the hallway outside of the door. You assumed they probably wanted to finish up so they could get him to agree to the meeting with Heaven.

lgnoring his previous statement of formalities— he was the king, you thought, you weren't going to just pat him on the back and say 'see ya! —you lowered your head and bent down to curtsy, just like you were taught when you were younger, placing your hand slightly in front of you.

Usually, you'd use that hand to shake or grasp the other person's, but it felt wrong to treat this powerful angel like any other man.

Suddenly, you felt the soft touch of fingers gliding across your hand. In confusion, you looked up at those golden eyes and that charming smile. Trying to get a glimpse of what he was thinking.

His hand gripped yours gently, and with a bow of his own, lowered his lips, and pressed a soft kiss your knuckles.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you feared to blink, soaking in his beauty for as long as you could before he had the chance to pull away. You wanted to say something, but your tongue was refusing to work as your mouth opened and closed silently.

When he finally released your hand, he adjusted his hat and turned towards the door. Leaving you standing there, your face burning hot

He cleared his throat, and turned his head slightly, his eye catching yours. A playful smile dancing on his lips.

“l look forward to our next portrait together, hopefully where I am the motivation behind your strokes. Not just these dull wings."

And with his words hanging in the air, you were left alone, with the growing itch to press your face into a pillow and squeal.

——————

awww man, my first fic! I was trying to make this more dating-centric, but i couldn’t stop writing for their first meeting and it got too long haha! If y’all like this one enough, i’ll make a dating version!

let me know what you think 🙏 i reallyyyy appreciate all comments and criticisms!!

wonderful art i commissioned by DawnDrawnS on twitter! <3

#Hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hellverse #OOC Lucifer? #He just ain’t as goofy #But I HC he’s only like that around Charlie :) #fanfiction #writing

[meyobe]

Pretty privilege…. No MC privilege pt.2

Satan

Mc can always expect him to take their side no matter what.

Mc was the first person to see past his angry and treat him like a person.

He is forever imbedded to them.

No matter how criminal the crime.

Mc was the one to start a fight? Well why was the other person fighting back?

Mc broke an expensive vase? If it’s so expensive why it is out, where anyone can reach it?

Mc started a fire in the kitchen? Devildom ingredients can be dangerous for human use-age.

He will most likely find a way to flip Mc problem on the person who accused them.

He his mind you do no wrong.

But not to be mistaken, he knows Mc is reckless but guidance is key! (He thinks)

Asmo

He will put Mc comfort over his.

He’s spent millennials admiring himself and put himself over other by default.

Mc showed him that his soul is more blinding then any gold or highlighter he puts on.

Mc has showed him a new way of viewing life.

Mc looks uncomfortable sitting on the floor during movie night? Just take his seat… matter a fact his kicking his brother off so you can have space.

Mc is tired of wearing their heels? He’ll switch shoes with you.

Mc is carrying a lot of bags that look heavy? He’ll carry them himself no matter how ugly he thinks it is.

He is letting go of his persona of being perfect because Mc taught him your flaws make you unique.

Buttt old habits die hard but Mc just has to look at him and he knows to settle down.

Beel

Mc can use him as a stress reliever( not that way ^_^)

He is the strongest brother( without and magic or demon forms) he works out and knows it can take stress away.

Mc showed him it’s not enough to be strong physically, but mentally.

Mc and beel are two side of the same coin.

He never wants Mc to hold what their really thinking or feeling back.

Mc’s had a really bad day? Are we going to the gym or on a run?

Mc is refaced with a bad memory? Does Mc need to yell he will listen? Or does Mc want to punch someone or something? He is right there.

Mc feels the need to let out some energy? Does Mc want to practice with him and his team?

He knows that sometimes people need to get violent to relive their stress.

Nothing that Mc May do can hurt him. So go crazy >_<

He thinks Mc is the strongest person he will ever meet.

He strive to be just like them.

Belphie

Mc can expect him to make an effort.

He’s had lots of time to dwell on his past mistakes and understand where he went wrong.

He will spend an eternity trying to make things right.

He wants Mc to know he’s trying his hardest for them.

He’s trying to living up to the honor them Mc gives him.

Mc has been feeling stressed? Flowers and a gift basket are at their door with a note that has the letter “B” on it.

Mc has to go to a meeting but also need to do my chores? He’ll make sure they’re done before Mc is back.

Mc and Belphie got Into a fight? He’s still texting them “ Goodnight, I love you “ because he knows how easily you can be taken away.

All his life his been deemed lazy or useless. It never bother him until Mc.

He is becoming the best version of hisself because he wants to be the demon whose worthy of a pact with Mc.

A/n/: should I write this for the dateables?!?!

I should also mention that I love writing so feel free to request!!

A new post about volleyball will be up soon!

Ty all!❤️

Pt.3 is up!!

#obey me belphegor #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me fluff #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #belphegor obey me #beelzebub obey me #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus obey me #om! satan #om! beelzebub #om! belphie #obey me hcs #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #meyobe #asmo obey me #beel obey me #belphie obey me

[yourmidnightlover]

getting it over with - ch 1

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: after relentless teasing and being the butt of too many jokes, you ask bucky to help you become more experienced in… a particular area of your life

warning: precious bucky, virgin shaming?, virgin reader, slight male!oc x reader, sexual harrassment, illuding to sex, talk of sex

w/c: 2.5k

a/n: i am working on part 2 in my other series, timeless. i've been debating two different ways i could take it and it's been an internal battle trying to figure that out. that being said, i can't help myself and started writing this and so here it is! this will likely be a simple mini series with smut in the later parts, probably the next one tbh. anywho... enjoy!

another night with the girls, and yet another night of beng singled out and ridiculed over a miniscule part of your life. 

you were a well accomplished woman and yet all of your hard work has consistently been overlooked in nearly every conversation because of your extracurricular activities. or, well, more like your lack of extracurricular activities. 

you had been working with the avengers for five years now as their pr manager, living there for a little over three after finding it was easier to represent and present the team in a brighter light when you knew more about them. it was after you moved in that you got much closer to james ‘bucky’ barnes, who you’ve coined the nickname of ‘jamie’ for. your friends also began to question why you hadn’t, in their terms, “banged,” one of the avengers you happened to live with.

truth be told, you did enjoy spending time with them, especially bucky. but, that would be crossing a line. you were practically employed by them. well, technically you were employed by tony, but that didn’t change the fact that they were your clients. it was just particularly easy to find the good in the people who constantly saved the world. well, that, and you were supposed to make them look good anyway. 

the most difficult one to paint in the golden light was definitely bucky. you were great at getting the media to lean into his humanity and reminding them of how he had been tortured into what he became. you’ve imagined him to the public as “sargeant bucky barnes,” giving him back the title he earned rather than the name he was branded. he was still wary of venturing into the eye of the public, but everytime he did there were less people yelling at him and more people giving pitying looks and whispers. sure, he would rather not be recognized at all, but whispering was a hell of a long way from harassment. 

bucky was grateful for everything you’d done for him. truth be told, you were grateful for everything they had done for you anyway. hell they had repeatedly saved all of humanity, helping their reputation was the least you could do for them. 

but regardless of how well of a job you’ve done making the avengers’ reputation way lighter, somehow the only thing your old friends could talk about is how you’re somehow still a virgin.

“god, i can’t believe you’re still a virgin sometimes. especially being surrounded by hunks like him,” stephanie spoke up as she flipped her bleached hair behind her shoulder. “i would’ve tried my luck long before i cleared their name, girl. i mean, that sergeant guy has the prettiest blue eyes, and have you never wondered what he could do with that metal hand of his?” 

you rolled your eyes, “he’s more than a pretty face, steph. he’s actually really sweet, too. his humor’s a bit old, kinda like a grandpa.”

“well, if he’s a grandpa then i’d gladly be his sugar baby,” she squeaked as she sipped on her vodka cranberry. 

“can we not talk about him like that?” your face furrowed in embarrassment and you only hoped that she would take your blushing as remnants of the alcohol running through your body.

“why?” she scoffed as she rolled her eyes. “do you want him or something?” she paused, seeingly waiting for your response. clearly, your silence was answer enough. “oh my god you like him, don’t you?” 

“no, no, it’s not like that,” you shook your head as you downed the rest of your drink. “i just spend a lot of time with him because of the job, y’know?” 

“why don’t you just get him to pop your precious cherry?” she ventured as she stood from her stool. 

boy, had you wished for that. mostly in your wildest dreams, but part of you hoped it could maybe happen. but then, you would wake up and were reminded of your place in the world. besides, jamie was over 100 years old. there’s no way he’d want someone who didn’t know what they were doing in the bedroom. 

“or,” steph interrupted your thoughts. “we can get out there and find you a different guy to pop your cherry,” she finished with a wink as she grabbed your hands, pulling you from your seat and to the dance floor. 

you managed to sneak a glance at the clock before the crowd surrounding you made it more difficult, reading the time being 11 pm. you told the guys you’d be back before 1, so that gave you enough time to please stephanie and then politely excuse yourself. 

surprisingly, you had begun to enjoy yourself. the music wasn’t so bad with the surge of confidence the alcohol running through your veins gave you. after a few too many drinks, you were in your own world. finally unbothered by the nagging thoughts of your friends and the weight of your job on your shoulders. 

you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder before turning to see a sweet smile. he had big, brown eyes and shaggy hair, broad shoulders, none that compared to the men you lived with, but they were nice nonetheless. 

“hi,” he said even sweeter than his smile, keeping his hands to himself politely. “i-i’m noah.”

“well, hello, noah,” you smiled as you stepped closer to him, uncharacteristically throwing your arms around his neck as you continued to sway to the music. “y/n.”

“i-uh-you-you’re gorgeous,” he stuttered as his hands modestly found your waist.

“you really think so?” you said teasingly before leaning up to his ear. “i think you are super cute, yourself.” 

at this point, you had nearly forgotten all about stephanie’s presence at all. maybe she had already left with another guy, herself? who knows. right now, all you knew was that you didn’t know brown eyes could be so pretty. mayb you didn’t want to wait anymore. maybe you didn’t want to be the old virgin in your friend group anymore. maybe noah could change that.

“you’re unreal,” he chuckled as he continued to sway with you for the next song until you began to kiss on his neck. 

“you taste so sweet,” you commented in his ear before kissing right below it. he pulled back, giving you a sweet smile before connecting your lips together. 

“you taste sweeter, believe me,” he huffed out a breath as you reconnected your lips with his. 

“i think i want you, noah,” you whispered against his lips so softly he wasn’t sure he even heard you. “pretty please?” 

“ye-yea, sure,” he guided you out of the bar, you needing nearly all of his support to even walk out of the threshold of the door. 

“think ‘m sleepy, noah,” you mumbled against his neck as the cold air hit your face, as if it had began to sober you up.

“you just said you wanted me…?” he perplexed as he pulled you aside into the ally to gather yourself. 

“‘m sorry, noah,” you shrugged as the cold air hit you again. “‘s cold outside, can i go back in?” you turned to walk back inside when he grabbed your arm, probably a bit more harsh than he intended to. 

“what the fuck?” he sounded disappointed. “i complimented you, i let you make the first move, and now you just wanna back out?” he pulled you closer to his body. “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“i-i dunno, i just got confused i think?” you stumbled as you tried to back away once more. “it’s too cold out here, noah.” 

“maybe this’ll warm you up,” he grabbed your pliable face and brought you back in for a kiss before you tried to push him away again.

“y/n?” you heard a raspy voice call out. “what the fuck?” you turned to see your jamie confused.

“jamie!” you tred to wiggle out of noah’s grasp once more, a disgruntled look on your face as you did so. “jamie…” you were now limply wrestling out of noah’s grasp as he scoffed at the situation in front of him. 

“what?” he said in disbelief. “you wanna lead me on and leave with this guy?”

“noah-”

“i think you need to back of the lady, alright, man?” bucky spoke up as he stepped closer towards you. “she’s clearly a bit drunk, just let me take her home and we’ll be on our way. no harm, right?” he tried to reason with the douchebag. 

“no harm?” he grasped your arm tighter before he continued, making you wince slightly. “so this bitch is able to fucking lead me on and then leave me high and dry and there’s ‘no harm’?”

“okay, i’ve tried to be nice about this,” without a second of hesitation, he had noah’s arms behind his back, not enough to seriously injure him, but just enough to harm him enough to not tempt him to do any more harm. “you will apologize to miss y/n for talking to her the way you did, you will walk away, and you won’t do anything like that to any woman in the near future, understood?” noah nodded. “am i understood?!” 

“yes, yes!” bucky nudged him further in your direction as you were leaning your back against the brick wall for stability. “i’m sorry, y/n.”

“for…?” bucky taunted.

“i’m sorry for talking to you the way i did.”

“good boy,” bucky teased as he released the man, letting him run away and not sparing him another glance before he made his way closer to you. 

“‘m sorry, jamie,” you stumbled forward and threw your arms around him. you had never been so openly affectionate, especially with bucky since you knew his aversions. since you were so drunk, you simply didn’t register the unspoken boundaries you had unintentionally set in place for yourself. “didn’t wanna make him mad. jus’ changed my mind s’all,” you buried your face in his neck. 

“you have a right to change your mind, doll,” he soothed as he gently rubbed your back, leading you to steve’s car he borrowed. 

“y/n?” you snapped your head to look at bucky as he spoke. “i don’t want you to be so late again, doll. it’s almost 2 am. had me worried sick about ya,” his hand danced on your knee, you assumed to comfort you after the events of the night.

“i didn’t know,” you shook your head. “i swear, i just lost track of time. s’not like me to do this. i just got so mad and wanted to get it over with, y’know?”

“get what over with?”

“you won’t laugh at me?” you grabbed his hand that was resting on your knee and turned in your seat to face your body towards him. “never, doll,” he chuckled at your serious tone.

“i’m tired of bein’ a virgin,” you said with a sense of disappointment. “don’ want people makin’ fun of me anymore.”

“that’s nothing to be embarrassed about, doll,” he shook his head as he put the car in park before running to your side of the car and helping you out. “some people want to save that moment, i get it.”

“no,” you groaned as you leaned into him. “i don’t wanna save it. i was just scared at first, and then i didn’t want to, and now it’s too late because nobody wants to be with a virgin.”

“that’s not true, y/n,” he shook his ehad as he pressed your shared floor on the elevator. 

“would you wanna have sex with me?” you wondered aloud as bucky began coughing loudly. “don’t be mean,” you huffed and crossed your arms, figuring he was trying to hide his laugh. “steph said i should get you to ‘pop my cherry’ but i knew you would’t wan-”

“hey, that’s not what i meant,” he stopped your train of thought. 

“so you do wanna ‘pop my cherry’?” you awed at the man as the elevator doors opened. 

“i wan’ you to stop referencing it as ‘popping your cherry’,” he grimaced as he said it himself. 

“you wanna have sex with me? bang? do the deed? take my virginity? make love?”

“stop it,” he groaned as you giggled, leaning into his chest even more. “i wanna have this conversation when your sober, if you even remember it.”

“i’ll remember, my sweet jamie,” you held onto his arm as he walked you to your room, helping you get into bed before going into your bathroom and returning with your bin of skincare. “this is why you’re my sweet jamie,” if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was blushing. 

he began using your makeup wipes to remove the remnants of makeup that had survived the night, followed by micellar water to remove the excess remover from your face. you knew he had seen you do your skincare routine after having so many late movie nights with one another, but it was still flattering that he had remembered it all so well. he finished applying your toners, serums, and finally your moisturizer with gentle hands, his metal one providing a nice cold surface that woke your skin up a bit more. it wasn’t until you reached up to grab his flesh hand that he noticed the bruises lacing your arms. 

“god,” he sighed as he looked down at his lap. “i’m so sorry i was too late, doll.”

“you weren’t too late,” you shook your head at his negativity. “you were perfectly on time. you saved me. i don’t-i don’t know what would’ve happened had you not shown up. i-”

“i don’t wanna think about what could’ve happened, please,” he shook his head as he held onto your bruised wrist softly, tenderly rubbing his cool metal hand over the damaged skin before pressing a kiss to it. 

“will you stay with me tonight?” you asked softly, as if you were scared he would say no. as if he would ever tell you no. 

“only if you’re sure,” you nodded eagerly with a grin before he crawled into bed with you. 

bucky’s arms wrapped around your waist as you laid on his chest, breathing in his scent as his soothing heartbeat calmed you down after the nights antics. 

“i’ll remember tomorrow, jamie.”

CHAPTER 2

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #marvel #james bucky barnes #sargeant barnes #sargeant bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #james bucky buchanan barnes #james barnes #sargeant james barnes #james buchanan barnes

[misctf]

Unintended Consequences

Diego sighed deeply. All his life, he thought he was happy with his life. Sure he wasn’t muscular or popular, but he enjoyed his more lowkey life. But when he got to college and started struggling in his classes and failing to find a boyfriend, Diego was starting to struggle. But that’s when he met his tutor, Luna, who seemed to take a liking to the lanky young man. She was patient with him, explaining concepts that he was struggling with. And as time went on, he felt closer to her- close enough to open up about his loneliness and struggles. She encouraged him to tell her more, and when he told her that sometimes he wished he could just have the typical college experience, she beamed with excitement. She gave him a coin, one that she said would help his dreams come true.

And so Diego, flipping the coin with one hand and jerking off with the other, looked down at his hairy chest and abdomen, not muscle in sight and sighed. What did he have to lose? He held the coin tightly and imagined his ideal college experience. And suddenly he felt incredibly light, like he was being pulled through time and space. He could barely conceive of all the changes going on around him. And at first, he felt what he could only describe as a resistance- like something was trying to push him away. But Diego wasn’t going to give up. He could feel himself breaking down the resistance, his own desires forcing their way through. He felt his cock harden even more, his arms and legs grow warm and more powerful. And suddenly he was in a different room, lying in bed and still jerking himself off. But this time, in a very different body. A body with nicely sculpted pecs and arms, white skin with a perfect treasure trail, and a much large cock. Diego ran over to the mirror, slightly off balance and not used to his larger frame. He smirked and felt himself swoon at the hot guy he had become.

The rest of the night was the best night of Diego’s life. Out on the town, Diego got to do all the things he dreamed of. Grinding up against guys in the club, smoking some weed with some of his new bros, and dancing until he was covered in sweat- discarding his shirt and flaunting his body. The night only seemed to get better when he felt a tap on his shoulder and one of the sexiest guys Diego had ever seen asked him if he wanted to go back to his place, to which Diego was more than happy to agree to. But as he sucked the dick of this man, Diego didn’t seem to register that his skin had darkened just a tad, while small black hairs rose out from his chest and face...

The next morning, while Diego slept peacefully in his own apartment, Matt woke up with a raging headache, barely remembering the events of the previous night, but realizing he was late to class. He got ready quickly, not even recognizing his slightly darker skin and the small amount of chest and facial hair that now adorned his previously clean-shaven body. But what he did notice was the fogginess that newly settled over his brain. He knew he had several upcoming exams that he needed to pass if he wanted to get into law school. And he had to tutor some of the younger students today. Matt went to his classes, but to his confusion, could barely understand what the professors were talking about at times. On several occasions he answered easy questions wrong, causing him to blush with embarrassment. He could feel Luna’s gaze on him and how much she was enjoying this- they had been rivals since day one. But most of his attention ultimately focused on the jock sitting in the corner of the room. His big muscles on display in his sleeveless top. For whatever reason, Matt couldn’t help but stare at him. And as he did, he felt a strange warmth in his ass- a neediness that he never felt before. The jock must’ve noticed him staring, because he smirked and gave Matt a nod, which broke Matt from his leud daydreaming. When class ended, he scurried home- trying to rationalize what was happening.

The next couple of days proved difficult for both Matt and Diego. While Matt dealt with worsening grades and struggling to concentrate, Diego could only stare at the coin, wondering if he should try again. And so, on another Friday night, Diego could be found jerking off and making his wish. Again, he felt himself tumble through space and time, but this time, he stood in front of a bewildered Matt, who was sitting at his desk, trying to study. Matt shouted in fear, and suddenly Diego flew straight into Matt, feeling a similar but albeit weakened resistance compared to prior. When the ordeal was over, Diego was back in control, although he wasn’t in the mood to party anymore. Whatever was happening, he needed to get to the bottom of it. At first Diego thought that he was getting his dream body, not possessing some random college dude. As he read through Matt’s stuff, he realized that he was a fellow student, although a year ahead of him. As Diego tried to learn more about Matt, he failed to realize Matt’s eyes darken to a deep brown, while his skin similarly took on more of a brown hue. Even the man’s muscles started to thin out a bit, while his chest hair became darker and curlier. But before Diego could register this, he felt himself leave the young man’s body and return to his own, falling asleep nearly immediately.

The next few days were even more difficult than the last. Diego had locked away the coin and confronted Luna, who explained that Matt was a rival and that she hoped that some of Diego would “rub off” on him. Diego felt betrayed and horrified at first, but Luna just reassured him that she had given him a taste of the life he wanted. So Diego would do his best to resist any further temptation. But unbeknownst to Diego, he had certainly rubbed off on Matt. The formerly straight and intelligent college student found himself partying more often than going to classes, finding guys that would be willing to let him suck them off. Matt struggled with the duality- he could still feel a part of him want to excel academically, but he couldn’t resist what his altered body demanded of him. And so when he saw Diego walking back to his dorm one afternoon, Matt couldn’t help but run up to him.

“Please, you need to do whatever the fuck you’ve been doing!” Matt begged, shifting between English and Spanish- another trait that he picked up from Diego, “I can’t stand it anymore, please!”

Diego was shocked, “But... but this is wrong. I shouldn’t have...”

“Fuck that! I need this.” Matt moaned.

And Diego was swayed. Despite some hesitation, he and Matt went back to Diego’s dorm where he fetched the coin. As he stared at it, he felt Matt remove his pants. The changed young man looked up at Diego with a grin, before wrapping his lips around his cock. Diego moaned and felt the heat of the coin in his hand. But this time, he didn’t feel himself hurdle through space and time. Instead, as Matt continued to suck him off, Matt actively changed. His hair became jet black and styled, while his facial hair grew out and darkened. The muscle in Matt’s body atrophied slightly more, with the former jock taking on a skinnier frame. His skin darkened even more, now mimicking Diego’s and his Mexican heritage. His lips thickened and his eyes took on a more vacant look as his intelligence was drained. Matt- or Mateo now- continued to suck Diego vigorously until the other man came. He swallowed every drop and looked up at Diego with great appreciation.

Weeks had passed since then, and Diego tried his best to keep in touch with Mateo, partly out of guilt and partly in hopes that he’d get another BJ. At times, he and Mateo would go out and party, with Mateo helping break Diego out of his shell some more. And since Mateo had dropped out of school, he had plenty of time for that. In fact, he had invited Diego to his first show at the local gay strip club. Sure it wasn’t how he expected his life to go, but to Mateo, he couldn’t imagine it any other way.

#male tf #male transformation #straight to gay #mental change #personality tf #race tf

[andhumanslovedstories]

I was in the ICU last night taking care of medsurg overflow patients—that’s when you aren’t sick enough to be in the ICU anymore but we don’t have a bed anywhere else for you yet. I don’t like floating to the ICU. It’s such a coin flip as to whether you’re gonna have a hard night or an easy one. You almost never get a full load of four patients, and that’s so nice, but the one or two or three patients you do have are all sick enough to have needed intensive care six hours ago. They’re usually still not doing amazingly. But they’re floor status now, so it’s medsurg patient ratios. But if you were a medsurg floor, the charge would probably be like “let’s not give three patients of this high an acuity to one nurse.”

Also some of them are NOT floor status. They’re just “slightly less likely to die in the next 12 hours status.” What we really need is a step down unit which is somewhere between the extreme high acuity of the ICU and the catchall category of medsurg. Instead we have a couple units that are “essentially step down units,” which means they are just medsurg units but you know your night is probably gonna be so hard.

Besides the patients, the ICU is just so spread out and lonely. Most critical care patients have a 1:1 ratio—one patient to one nurse. That’s on account of how intensive the care is, you see. But it also means whenever you’re like “I would love some help,” everyone else on the floor is like “if I step more than six feet away from my patient, he will die so badly.” It makes it really hard to casually engage in conversation, especially since I’m not qualified to do like anything in the ICU rooms, so I would clearly be going over there to expressly talk to them. And I don’t want to have a conversation! I just want to establish some rapport. I love bounding ideas off other staff! I love being about to shoot the shit a lil bit and then be like “well I have rounds” when one of us has to wander off. No one here has rounds. They are already Right There.

Anyway then the shift ends, and it’s time to pass off your patients. If you’re lucky it’s to another medsurg nurse who also looks a kid realizing too late into the lecture that this is not their class. But sometimes you give report to an ICU nurse who asks questions that are so pertinent and are so fair to ask, but they’re also like. the kind of questions you ask when you expect the person you’re getting report from is another critical care nurse who only has one patient. At a certain point, I just wanna be like “what do you want from me, dude. i’m stupid. every lab you’re asking about is in the chart and you understand them better than I do. can I go home”

That also means when they give you a real softball like “and how many IVs does he have” and you’re like “uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh let’s go count them together shall we” you feel like the biggest dipshit in the world. And then they ask you three more questions each easier than the last as you have traumatic flashbacks to nursing school, specifically the parts where you failed a quiz and also misspelled your name. It just ends the shift on a bad note. Not even a bad note. Real burp of a shift change.

I’m feeling particularly salty because I overheard a couple critical care nurses last night joking about how medsurg nurses are so nervous about the medical boarders and basically saying that we’re always freaking out over nothing while being completely oblivious to the actual symptoms that matter. And as a nurse who once called rapid response because my patient’s heart beat weird for about twelve seconds, I was like “hey. you’re correct. but also must be nice to have just one patient and all shift to read every single thing about them and to sit outside their door next to your fully stocked equipment cart, and to be able to watch them all shift.” And it’s like yeah, critical care nurses can take all the blood out of a person and then put it all back better than before. But I know to turn off lights when I leave a patient room at three in the morning, and apparently in the ICU that’s an even more illusion trick.

But anyway it’s twelve hours later and I’m on the other side of a good good sleep, so I’m less cranky, and back to being appreciative of the specific skills critical care nurses being that are so essential, and also I was like, how pressed can I really be about one group of nurses joking about another group of nurses. that’s like 25 percent of my blog at this point.

#nursing tag

[vidavalor]

You really think they've kissed before? I want to believe.

Dammit, Scully, the truth is out there! *rustles through file folders in the basement until uncovers the correct one and then flourishes it with an Aziraphale-ish "AH-HA!"* What about the other arrangement in The Arrangement scene in S1, perchance?

In The Globe Theatre scene, it is established that Crowley and Aziraphale each knew before the scene begins that they themselves are assigned to Edinburgh by their respective head offices later in the week but neither of them knew the other was until they learn from one another that they are during the course of the scene. As a result, triggering The Arrangement-- in the 'only one of them doing both of their work assignments' sense-- cannot have been why they were meeting up. We also learn early in the scene, though, that Crowley asked to meet without being specific as to why (which is an answer in and of itself, imo lol), other than to convey that it wasn't an emergency/they hadn't been caught because Aziraphale is relaxed and popping the food kinky Serpent of Eden's favorite fruit in front of him for the duration of the scene. So, Crowley asked to meet and Aziraphale picked the place-- this meeting is an *arrangement*-- but that is then subtly semi-hidden in the scene with some sleight of hand distraction that calls your attention to the revelation of the fact that they both can-- and sometimes do-- do each other's work. The scene about them doing each other's miracles is really also about them doing each other lol. Using past tense by using 'thought' in this bit of the scene though, Scully, kind of says a lot about the reason Crowley wanted to meet though, yeah?

Everyone so on about that 2.06 disaster that they've forgotten about the trailing-off-verbal-ellipsis-into-kissy-pout that is Crowley for Hell is sending me away for a few days so my first thought was that I want to see you and that I was willing to endure a few minutes of one of these depressing plays you like-- thank you for sparing me the first few acts with this meeting time, btw-- and show up with some love poetry and my glasses halfway down my nose and some big Bildaddy energy and see if I could flirt my way into your bed while you do that thing where you pretend to be scandalized by the thought while eating grapes in front of me because old movie chemistry, us, even though old movies haven't been invented yet so anyway, angel, what if I just pivot this straight into The Arrangement since you were hinting you'd be down for that by commenting on how my assignment didn't seem that difficult a moment ago and we'll see if the audience notices what the scene is inferring that it's implying by the fact that when you look at me, I pout at you *again* while suggesting only one of us goes to Scotland, furthering suspicions that The Arrangement isn't just about inventing occult/ethereal weekends for each other but that it's a sex game where whoever goes and does both of our work assignments gets to be the one to choose whatever they want in bed from the one of us who had the day off which is also why, instead of taking turns as we would if this were just about the miracles, we flip a coin because I live to cheat on the coin toss because anything you want, angel...

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens 2 #good omens meta #aziracrow

[jreads]

Not sure if this is where we submit requests, but i’d kill for a fic where reader’s having debilitating anxiety attack in Jackson (like where your vision blacks at the edges and you can’t breathe) and suddenly a strong force is keeping you up and you look up and it’s Joel; and he’s concerned bc he relates (but you don’t know each other) and you take a fistful of his shirt and suddenly they feel the symptoms retreating - and that’s how you meet, and you’ve found comfort in each other since. :’)

Sorry if that made no sense it’s word vomit LOL

Also sidebar: unexpected constellations will stay w me forever thank you:’)

Of Memories and Mealtimes (Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Word count: 2.5K

Warnings: Mentions of blood, Mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, Mentions of death, Foul language

A/N: this prompt was so cute, I hope I did it justice!

It’s been getting colder recently. No snow, not yet, but the breeze has a certain nip to it, blowing burnt orange leaves to rest on the ground like a natural carpet. The days are grey, and the nights are long, and that creeping feeling has been looming ever closer recently. You’ve found solace in the comfort of the kitchen. The air here is warm and humid and smells of frying garlic and onion. You perform repetitive, menial tasks and it staves off—to some extent—the ever-present penetrating feeling of loneliness. 

Since arriving in Jackson, you’ve struggled to find a place, a sense of belonging. You’re coming to the conclusion that maybe you never will. You thought you had one… but that was a while ago. 

It’s selfish to think you’re the only one in this town with a painful past; it’s clear that everyone is trying just as hard to find reasons to get through each day. You’re not alone. But you do feel like it. Often.

Maria has taken pity on you, stationing you in the kitchens because she knows you like it there. Knows you like to watch the people sitting at tables and soak up sounds of laughter in an attempt to steal a moment of second-hand happiness.

It’s late now, pitch black outside, and your shift is almost over. You’re cutting fruits and veggies for omelettes in the morning: spinach, olives, tomatoes. There are maybe five people still sitting, a table of three, one woman at a booth, and a man sitting alone at the bar. Sometimes, you like to eavesdrop.

The trio are talking about their old lives. They seem to have found something in common, street racing. Moding their cars, evading the cops… back when you could just drive into a gas station for petrol.  One used to have an old Charger, stolen in the looting. He reminisces over how the purr of the engine felt, how the lights of the highway would turn to a blur as he accelerated. From the corner of your eye, you see the man from the bar get up to leave, dropping some coin on the counter. You used to like to drive fast too. When it was for leisure and not for survival.

“I’m scared.”

The familiar voice sears through you like a branding iron, bringing with it flashing images of memory. Fuck. No, no, no. Not now. 

The freeway is peppered with stationary cars, and you’re swerving, as fast as humanly possible, trying desperately to navigate the mess. The Jeep behind you is gaining, and the little boy in your passenger seat is rigid in fear. If you can just make it through the overpass, it clears out after that. Their car is good offroad, but yours is faster. You upshift.

There’s gunfire, and your rear window shatters. He screams. You use your right hand to push his head down. He needs to stay low. You’re almost there.

Another gunshot. You try to ignore the popping of the rear tire; try not to think about what it means. The vehicle swerves and you fight against it by correcting the wheel. It’s no use. You clip the side of an abandoned car, and your own flips. You’re thrown through the windscreen. It’s the last thing you remember before your vision goes dark.

There’s pain. But not from the onslaught of old memories. You’ve slipped with the knife in your distraction, cutting a deep line into the side of your thumb. It’s dripping down, coating your fingers in a slick red. Your heart is pounding out of your chest, lungs constricting so hard you can barely get a breath in.

“Could I take five?” you manage to gasp to the other lady. But you don’t even wait for her reply before dropping the knife with a clatter and banging gracelessly through the back service doors. Your vision is blurring, darkening at the edges and your head is spinning. It feels as if you might die. You’re going to die.

Your hand is now coated in blood and—with little thought—you try to brush it off with your right, only succeeding in spreading the scarlet until it’s all you can see.

You wake in a ravine. How long have you been out? There’s pain in your cheek and you reach up to pluck a piece of glass from it. The crash. The kid. Oh, no. Oh, god. You call his name, voice hoarse. No reply. Your legs are too weak to support the weight of your own body, so you scramble up from the ditch, back onto the freeway. The car lies a few meters away on its side. Scraped and destoyed. And beyond it, a small body. No.

You crawl to him, sobbing at the bones bent in unnatural angles. And the bullet wound through his chest. You scream. You wail. His lifeless form is so small in your arms, leaking blood over your palms. You were supposed to protect him. You were supposed to—

His body is going cold. Limp and lifeless. But you can’t let go. Maybe, if you just hold on tight enough, the force of your love can breathe life back into his lungs.

You’re covered in his bood, figuratively, literally, it’s everywhere. Stumbling as if you’re drunk, you cry so hard that the tears only blur your vision further. It’s been a while since you’ve had one this bad. If you could just get back to your house. God, why did it have to happen in public? You can’t see where you’re going, so it’s no surprise when you run into something.

No, someone. There are hands on your shoulders and a comforting voice, gravelly Texan accent. What is he saying? You can’t tell. You’re going to be sick.

Something blocks out the lights of the streetlamp. There’s a body beside you.

A fragile body, broken and empty. Leaking life onto cracked pavement.

No, but this body is warm. Strong and gentle. A calloused palm cradling your head into a broad chest, a steady heartbeat. Alive. This body is alive. You clutch onto the fabric of his shirt with desperate hands, forgetting for a moment that your own blood will stain the fabric. He’s speaking words, low whispers, but the sound of them vibrates through him and into you. He’s telling you to calm down.

But you can’t. How do you tell him you can’t? You’re choking on air, hiccupping in a way that hurts.

“Come on now, breathe with me.” He smells nice, like cedar and whiskey. You can feel him smoothing circles onto your back, the rise and fall of his chest as he inhales and exhales. You try to copy him, lungs spasming with the effort. “That’s it. Keep going.” You’re heaving loud, ugly, uneven breaths, but it’s all you can manage. Past and present are flashing before you, your own blood, someone else’s, unseeing eyes and dead silence, a thumping pulse and soothing voice. It’s getting easier; you’re synchronizing your breaths to his own. But as you lean into the comedown, that exhaustion starts to creep up behind you. You melt into him in relief, but he doesn’t shy away. “There you go. I got you.”

Pieces of your surroundings start to fade back into view. You’re under the awning by the barn, shrouded in shadow. He’s practically holding you up by himself, and you feel a sudden deep stab of embarrassment. You can’t look this stranger in the eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble into his shirt.

He doesn’t loosen his hold. “You got nothing to apologize for.”

“Probably got… blood on your shirt.” It’s taking effort to even form the words.

He laughs lightly and the sound is like warm caramel. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

The nausea is ebbing, but you find you don’t want to leave. Caught in his arms, you feel the safest you’ve felt in a long while.

“You should probably get that finger bandaged.” He steps away, pulling your arm into the light to examine the cut and you almost sob once more at the loss of contact. “I got supplies back at my place, if that’s alright by you?”

“Okay,” you say because you feel too weak to walk back to your own house alone right now. And also because in the glow of the streetlamp, you can see the rugged handsomeness of his face, etched with sweet worry, dark curls interspersed with shots of grey. You’ve seen him before. The man at the bar, so often alone. 

You’re shaking now, visceral, wracking shudders. He sheds his coat and swings it over your shoulders before leading you down the laneway.

His house is not far, a five-minute walk at most. He ushers you up the front porch, opening the door to a dim-lit living area.

“Joel?” A shrill voice calls down from above. 

Joel Miller? This is Joel Miller?

“Yeah Ellie, it’s me.”

A little girl comes bounding down the stairs, dark hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She stops dead when she sees you, noting the jacket around your shoulders, the blood on your hand.

“What happened?” she says, with a kind of fascinated wonder that comes naturally to kids. Oh god, she reminds you of—

“Kitchen accident.” Joel replies smoothly. “You mind getting the med kit, kiddo?”

Her big eyes blink once, twice. “Oh, yeah.” Then she’s running right back up the staircase.

Joel sits you on the couch, grasping your wrist with a tender motion so at odds with all the things you’ve heard about him. Then again, you never knew he had a kid.

“Is she yours?”

He doesn’t look up from your palm. “In the ways that count.”

The girl, Ellie, is back down in record time with a worn first aid kit that she extends to Joel. When he takes it, she looks again at you with blatant curiosity. You feel guilty for barging into the warmth of their home like this.

“Ellie, why don’t you go boil some water for coffee.”

“Can I have hot chocolate?” she asks, and the hopeful joy in her voice is enough to finally make you smile.

Joel does too. “Sure.” And she’s off once more, rounding the corner to where you assume the kitchen lies. “But don’t go putting extra sugar in it,” he calls after her. The soft domesticity makes you ache with loss.

“Well, good news is you won’t be needing stiches.” He pulls an array of supplies from the box: disinfectant, gauze, a bandage. “But you should tell Maria to take you off kitchen schedule for a couple days.”

“How’d you know I was on kitchen schedule?” 

“Lucky guess,” he replies easily, but you swear there’s pink travelling across his cheeks. 

The disinfectant stings and you hiss. He falls into silent work, and you find yourself watching him, trying to understand how the man in front of you is the very same that garnered such a ruthless and cold reputation. 

He breaks the silence first. “I don’t mean to pry but…” Joel fastens the bandage securely around your finger. “…if you want to talk about what happened…”

You don’t. Not now, maybe not ever.

When you don’t reply, he nods his head. “I get it.” You watch him cast a glance toward the sound of a boiling kettle, to where Ellie is. “Trust me, I do.” 

You sit with him and Ellie—quiet with a warm cup of coffee—until late into the night. Ellie makes a face at the smell of it and quips back and forth with Joel about how he can ‘drink that piss.’ The girl has a mouth on her. She’s clever, sharp-witted, and the banter between her and him seems to dig a needle and thread into your gaping heart and sew one single stitch into it.

Past midnight, despite your repeated refusal, Joel insists he walk you home. Seeing your own house, cold and devoid of light makes your shoulders slump and heart race anew. Joel seems to note the behaviour.

“You’re always welcome at ours.” You know you’ll never take him up on the invitation. From the sadness in his eyes, you think he knows it too.

There are miles between you. “Thank you.” He only nods. You leave him standing on the lawn.

From behind the safety of the porch window, you can see that he waits for the light to turn on in your living room before walking back down the street.

Maria has insisted you take a few days off. Damn it. Joel must have said something. You try to busy yourself in the garden instead, but the gloves fit awkwardly over your bandage. You don’t last long anyway. The sound of school children heading home hits your ears around 3:00PM, and within minutes, a small shadow blocks where the sun hits your face.

“What’re you doing?”

Just seeing her face is enough to put a small smile on your own. “I’m planting basil.”

“What’s basil?”

You laugh. Actually laugh. “You want to try some?” You offer her a leaf and she chews it thoughtfully. Gives it an approving face. A thumbs up.

“You should bring some for Joel.” The forwardness of her suggestion is almost shocking, but she seems like the type of kid who says whatever comes to mind. You like that about her. “His cooking is pretty bland.”

Two laughs in one day. This kid is like medicine. “You think so?”

“Mhm. You could come over now. I think he’s on patrol, but he’ll be back soon.”

You think about turning her down, just on reflex. But you like how it feels to laugh, just the way you liked how you had felt in Joel’s arms the other night. So you agree. Her smile is brilliant. 

Minutes later, when she loops her arm through your own, she says, “Hey but don’t tell Joel what I said about his cooking, okay?”

You promise.

Around 7:00PM, he comes through the door, a weary sigh giving him away. “Ellie,” he calls.

“In here!” She’s excited. You’ve prepared a meal: pasta, sundried tomatoes, and the basil plucked from the garden. She’s been picking at the penne with her fingers, unable to wait until he arrives.

Seeing the surprised look on his face when he rounds the corner makes you feel suddenly shy. “I wanted to do something to thank you for last night and, well… Ellie found me in the—”

“Joel, it’s so fucking good.” At this point the muscles in your face are starting to hurt from smiling. 

Over dinner, you actually start to engage in the conversation, and somehow you seem to get along like you’ve known each other for years. In tandem, they work to bring you out of your shell. Your voice is hoarse and face warm by the time you go to leave, but Joel stops you at the door.

“Let me walk you back again.” Your selfish streak is only getting worse. You say yes. You think you see Ellie’s face in the top window as the two of you leave, a devious grin on her face.

Conversation flows on the way, about food, wine, Ellie. It’s comfortable, familiar, but there’s something… 

A yearning, buried under layers of friendly formality. He walks you up your porch and you think, for just a moment, about inviting him inside.

But you’re not quite ready for that just yet. So, you rise up to kiss him on the cheek instead, relishing the stunned look on his face.

Shy again, you back away across the threshold. “Good night, Joel.”

He says it back, and the way your name rolls of his tongue ignites something long dormant within you. You think he might be looking at your lips.

When the door closes, you let out a shuddering breath. And for what seems like the thousandth time that night, you smile.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #tlou fic #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #tlou angst #my fic #jreadswrites

[savorypink]

need late sias!alex as a barista and u as the annoying customer who comes in during closing time. he angry fucks you in the bathroom cuz u annoy him

“cuz u annoy him” makes me giggle, but here you are anon!

“...and that’s why I stopped paying my taxes!” 

You speak into your phone’s speaker, swinging the doors of the small cafe open. Caught up in a conversation over the phone, you miss the scowl on the barista’s face as you saunter towards the counter. The lights of your favorite coffee spot have warmly dimmed, the minimal lighting enhancing the coziness of the atmosphere. This lighting, however, is an indication that closing time is near. To the dismay of the night shift barista, Alex, you have always made it your business to show up right before the doors close. Your horrible timing isn’t entirely your fault, though; 1) you’ve got things to do, 2) the cafe has become rather popular recently, and your patience isn’t the best. Why would you want to wait in line? 

Your conversation continues even when faced with the barista, completely ignoring the chairs sitting on the empty tables, the lemon scent of cleaning products breezing past your nose entirely. The barista’s cute, large doe eyes look up at you from the counter he’s wiping down with a bleach-stained rag; he doesn’t seem happy to see you. 

“Hold on just one second...” you say to the barista and your rambling friend on the phone. Digging into your bra, you pull out the crumpled-up bills and coins for your usual drink, all in exact change. You hand him the money with a warm, lip gloss-coated smile. You’ll see if he’s worthy of a tip. 

“You know what to do.” You finish with a wink before he takes the money out of your manicured hands. Your perfume's pleasant candy scent lingers when you turn your heel to the tables behind you, dizzying and addictive to his nostrils, but he scowls as soon as you pick up a chair. Plopping down, you continue entertaining your friend on the phone, and you aren’t quiet about it.

“Yeah, I’m at the cafe now. It’s so cute!” you squeal. “You should totally hit it up sometime. Make sure the Elvis-looking guy makes your drink, though. He’s the best.” 

Your words wash away the barista’s annoyance as he prepares your drink, knowing your preferences like strings on a guitar, pure muscle memory. Your loud mouth quickly tarnishes this somewhat peaceful moment.

“It’s the ginger-haired girl you gotta watch out for. Ugh, she’s the worst! Can’t make a drink for shit. And guess what? I found a hair in my muffin! When I flipped out on her, she kept saying, ‘Calm down,’” You do perhaps your worst impression of the nasally lady, “and she was like, ‘Do you want another muffin?’ No! I want my money back, Ed Sheeran!”

Your friend on the other line laughs alongside you, a bubbly yet ear-piercing cackle that makes Alex almost crush the mixer in his hands. His brain bounces from wanting to hear your laughter again to shutting you up with a kiss. As your gums continue flapping, you allow your eyes to examine the barista behind the counter. His backside is as cute as his front, the lean muscle of his shoulders contracting under his white t-shirt, strong arms flexing as he scoops up the ice and pours it into the mixer. You put a gelled nail between your teeth as you watch him, shifting in your seat as your panties become uncomfortably wet.

“Hey! Are you still there?” Your friend calls on the other line.

“Yeah!” Your cheeks warm up at the interruption, “Like I said, make sure Elvis makes your drink. You’ll know exactly what he looks like. If his back is turned, just look for the one with the cute butt.”

Alex is thankful his back is turned, your words tinting his face a rosy red. The silver bell on the counter dings once your drink is prepared. You don’t bother putting the chair back as you approach the counter. You thoroughly look through the transparent cup, ensuring the amount of ice and the number of dried fruit is accurate; you have no notes. Taking a sip, you let the liquid linger on your tongue before swallowing. Cold, sweet, and punchy; you couldn’t ask for more. You reenter your bra, dig out some change, and place it into the tip jar near the register. Your sunny, warm smile conflicts with the barista’s snowy, freezing shoulder.

“Thanks, Alan!” 

“Alex.”

Your eyes dart to the pastry case behind him, a croissant drizzled with chocolate catching your eye. “How much for that croissant? It looks tasty…”

“For you? Free of charge.” He’s more concerned with getting you out of here before you give him gray hairs. 

“Wow, really?” you beam in amazement. “You’re so kind! Alan, you’re the best! You’re way nicer than that ginger chick who tried to poison me. Ugh, she doesn’t work here anymore, does she? So unprofessional. She’d be better at scrubbing toilets than making drinks.”

Alex smirks at your remarks as he hands you the pastry in a white paper bag. “You mean my boss?”

“That’s your boss?” You immediately take the pastry out of the bag, biting into the flaky treat. “She’s in the wrong line of work if you ask me!” 

“Oh, yeah? Do tell.”

Your mouth moves before you can detect the sarcasm in his voice. You’re oblivious to the flakes falling into your shirt, decorating your cleavage as you continue munching and talking. Alex second-guesses giving you a napkin before handing you a few from the dispenser. If he didn't, he’d have more reason to stare at your chest. Flakes and chocolate stain the corners of your mouth and lip, and he hates to admit it, but you’re looking very…cute.

“Anyway,” you finish, wiping yourself clean, “You should totally be running this place, Alan. It doesn’t hurt that you’re super hot, too. Just work on the resting bitch face, and you’ll be amazing!”

Your final comment digs painfully into his skin, and it’s a shame. He was starting to like you.

“You’re too pretty to be talking with your mouth full,” Alex crosses his lean arms over his chest. “ I could teach you proper etiquette if you’d like. I’m a tough teacher, though. Be warned.”

Offended, you blink wildly before smiling at the compliment he snuck into his invitation. You gladly accept.

“You think I’m pretty?”

---

The cold marble of the bathroom sink raises the tiny hairs on your skin. You claw at it to no avail, sheepishly bent over the sink with your thong and velour tracksuit pants hugging your ankles. The empty bathroom echoes a slapping sound, a mixture of wetness and the noise of your ass against Alex’s relentless hips. His cock drives in and out of you at a brutal pace; each thrust angrier than the next. 

“You’re awfully quiet,” his large palm comes down on your ass with a vicious spank. “Come on…you were mouthin’ off about a muffin just a minute ago.”

Your cunt gushes at his words, the tight walls of your core needily squeezing him in a vice grip. Lust clouds your brain, unable to form a witty comeback to his statements, your weak moans becoming a new language. Before you lay your head on the marble, Alex fists your hair in a ponytail, tugging you upwards to face the mirror. Ignoring the messy reflection, you allow your eyes to roll into your skull, heat beginning to pool in your stomach, his cock hitting the right spots repeatedly and harshly.

“We’ll figure out a use for your mouth in the next lesson. You're doing a great job at taking me, muffin.”

#mickey is typing… #alex turner fanfic #alex turner smut #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #so much fun to write! apologies for the wait!

[embrosegraves]

ℙ𝕖𝕣𝕗𝕖𝕔𝕥 𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕄𝕪 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖

(request) Carlos Sainz Jr x Reader  A sweet moment between two lovers   Carlos has a tough day, so you make him feel better.

Warnings: None! Just straight up fluffiness

Media Day in the Paddock. A day both loved by the fans and hated by the drivers. It was a day that could be summed up as being ‘two sides of the same coin’. It was a day that neither excited nor enthused Carlos, but sometimes Media Day had its moments that made it worth the while. 

Carlos had been doing interviews for the better part of the day and it was finally time for he and Charles to film a video that would be cut up into bits for the Scuderia Ferrari Instagram. Entering the Ferrari hospitality, Carlos walked to the area that was set up for filming. 

Charles had been there for only a few minutes so when Carlos got there he plopped down on the couch beside him. Charles looked at him with a small smile. 

“Tough day?” he asked. 

Carlos groaned a little, “You have no idea.” 

“Unless Caco has anything else for you to do, this should be the last thing for today.” 

“I can only hope.” Carlos let a little chuckle out before repositioning so that he was properly sat up. 

The media personnel quickly explained that all they were doing for this video was answering some fan tweets and mock interviewing each other. Carlos was thankful that it wouldn’t be too strenuous a task for the last commitment of the day. 

While the media were setting up the last little bits for the video, you walked through the door of the hospitality, having a chat with Charles' girlfriend. They hadn’t been dating for very long, and you wanted the girl to feel more comfortable around the paddock so you had offered to be her friend so that she would have someone to talk to through the days you both accompanied your boys. Upon entering you were grateful that the team had set up an area for you both to sit while the drivers did their thing. 

You had sat down before noticing that Carlos seemed more tired than he usually was at this point of the day. Thankfully there was a little lull in your conversation, so you quickly apologised to the sweet girl beside you as you searched through your mini bag for the marker you always kept on hand for occasions like this. Finding it, you got up from your seat and walked over to Carlos, a gentle smile on your face. 

As soon as he clocked that you were walking over, Carlos’ eyes snapped to yours and gave you a smile. He knew as soon as he saw your marker that the rest of the day would be alright. Without prompt he held his hand toward you, you had done this so often that it was second nature for you both.

Standing in front of him, you gently grabbed his hand, flipped it so you could draw on his inner wrist and uncapped the marker. You concentrated hard on not messing up any of the lines you were drawing, as you were drawing upside down so that he could see it. The smile on both of your faces never left, though his did soften as he watched you draw. 

Finishing up your artwork with a beaming smile, you capped the marker. 

“There, all done!” 

Carlos grabbed both of your hands after you were finished and placed them both to his mouth. He gave them a few deep but gentle kisses and then put them on either side of his face. When his hands were free they fell into place around your hips and he carefully dragged you a little bit closer so he could hug you. 

“Gracias, Mi Amor.” 

It never failed to make you smile when he spoke to you in his mother tongue, no matter how simple the sentence. One of your hands moved to the side of his neck while the other gently brushed the hair away from his face. 

“You’re very welcome, Corazón.” 

Carlos could be seen throughout the video gently grazing his fingers over his inner wrist, trying his hardest not to smudge the image of both your initials surrounded by a heart. His day had been made.

Sometimes I wish I had a relationship like the ones I write about...

Anywho, thank you so much to the Anon that requested the prompts for this fic <3 I love you so much

likes, replies and reblogs are always appreciated <3

#formula 1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #formula one #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz imagine #formula 1 imagine #cs55 #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz

[shadowtriovibes]

somewhere outside my life, babe

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x f!MC x Sebastian Sallow

Rating: M

Word Count: 3K

Summary: five times ominis gaunt was lovesick for the both of you (and the one time he finally figured it out)

Regardless, in many ways, Sebastian was his first “love,” if a young man such as himself could freely admit to such a thing. Perhaps that’s why he ultimately sighs and tells Sebastian that if it really means that much to him, of course he can take you to the ball. Sebastian nearly crushes him in the vice grip of his appreciative hug.

1: the yule ball

Late one night in the Slytherin common room, Sebastian eagerly fidgets with the single gold Galleon that rests in the palm of his hand.

“Shall we let fate decide?” he offers. “I’ll flip a Galleon, and if it lands on the dragon, I’ll ask her. If it lands on the wizard, you’ll ask her.”

Ominis folds his arms skeptically, sitting back in his armchair. “How do I know you won’t cheat and say it’s the dragon no matter what?”

“Fine, I’ll let you feel it when I catch it,” Sebastian says impatiently. “Go on, then, how else do you suggest we decide?”

The Yule Ball is less than a month away, yet nearly all the witches in your year have already excitedly ordered their gowns from the bespoke clothing shops in Diagon Alley – some even as far away as Paris. You’ve been quietly planning to visit Mister Hill in Hogsmeade to see about a dress for yourself, if only your thickheaded friends would sort out who precisely will be your date for the evening.

Both had eagerly volunteered, of course; you’d asked them to decide amongst themselves, so as to not get in the way of their friendship. A week later, Sebastian and Ominis are no closer to a decision.

Reluctantly, Ominis quietly agrees to the coinflip and listens to the gentle click of Sebastian’s thumbnail against the Galleon as he arcs it into the air. Rather than catching it neatly in his hand, Sebastian misses as the coin veers off course and tumbles to the floor, bouncing away to the corner of the room and under a bookshelf.

Sebastian curses under his breath. “Right, well… I swear, I’m usually more coordinated than that.”

“There’s no need to lie to me, Sebastian,” Ominis jokes. “I’ve known you for many years.”

The two sit in awkward silence for several long moments. While Sebastian mindlessly fidgets with his robes, Ominis finds himself revisiting the night his best friend in the world had confessed his feelings for you, the very girl for whom he himself has become thoroughly, pathetically lovesick.

“She’s just… brilliant, isn’t she?” he’d half-whispered from his bed late one night. “She’s endlessly clever, and strong, and so, so beautiful. Ominis, I really wish you could see her sometimes – she’s breathtaking.”

Ominis had thought to himself that he hardly needed to see you in order for his breath to be taken away.

Regardless, in many ways, Sebastian was his first “love,” if a young man such as himself could freely admit to such a thing. Perhaps that’s why he ultimately sighs and tells Sebastian that if it really means that much to him, of course he can take you to the ball.

Sebastian nearly crushes him in the vice grip of his appreciative hug.

Even though Ominis eventually joins you both at the ball as a reluctant third wheel – and dances with plenty of lovely girls who find him quite dashing in his tailored dress robes, mind you – he wishes he’d had the chance to take you properly himself. It’s not the first time he’d sabotaged his own happiness, nor will it be the last, but it’s probably the instance he regrets the most.

2: the first date

Shortly after the ball, Sebastian excitedly tells Ominis he’s asked you on a date.

“A real one this time, a proper one,” he insists. “ I think we’ll just pop down to Hogsmeade for some Butterbeer, which isn’t that exciting, but at least it’s a real date.”

Ominis says nothing as he presses his fingers more firmly into the pages of the book he’s reading.

“Er, Ominis?” Sebastian asks, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Would you like to join us?”

His hand halts abruptly. “What?”

“I was wondering – we both were, actually – if you’d like to come to the pub,” Sebastian offers once more. “It won’t be the same without you.”

Then I suppose you should have thought of that before asking her on a date, Ominis thinks bitterly. The audacity of Sebastian to suggest he’ll be missed while he woos you is nearly enough to provoke his temper; instead, he takes a long, deep breath before answering.

“I’m not sure that would be appropriate,” he says, purposefully leaning into the propriety of his posh tongue. “As a gentleman, I’ll respectfully pass.”

Sebastian opens his mouth as if to try to talk Ominis into reconsidering, but he remains silent, and Ominis remains ignorant of his heartsick expression.

You make a second attempt to convince him to join you when you come downstairs.

“Won’t you please come?” you ask softly as you tuck your hair into your scarf. “I know this is… different, but our friendship is what’s most important in all this, and–”

“Our friendship will be perfectly fine,” Ominis says curtly. “As it happens I have plans to study with Violet and Nerida this evening, but I hope the two of you have a lovely time.”

He closes his book a bit harder than is strictly necessary and storms off, leaving Sebastian to gently reach for your hand and murmur, “He’ll come around eventually, you’ll see.”

You aren’t as sure.

By the end of the school year, you and Sebastian have begun quite a serious courtship. Despite his very best attempts to retreat into his schoolwork, the two of you coax Ominis into warming to your relationship just enough to restore your friendship.

Months go by just like that, and eventually, the fiery jealousy that settles in Ominis’ stomach whenever he hears the two of you snogging settles into a dull ache that he can mostly ignore.

3: the engagement

Even in the soft, low light of the Leaky Cauldron, the emerald on your ring finger sparkles brilliantly. The singular flickering candle that rests on the table before you can’t possibly be enough to make it gleam like that, but nevertheless it shines.

Though Ominis can’t see for himself your new glimmering accessory, you’d gleefully taken his hand in yours as soon as he’d arrived and traced his fingertips over the petite stone. He’d nearly forgotten to breathe as you’d told him how Sebastian had proposed marriage on the shoreline near Feldcroft over a lovely picnic lunch.

He needn’t be surprised, he thinks. It’s been three years since the three of you finished school at Hogwarts and took up an apartment in London near the Ministry, and while Ominis can’t specifically recall the two of you discussing marriage, he admits that it felt sickeningly inevitable after a while. When Sebastian had announced that the two of you were taking a brief weekend trip back to Scotland to visit Anne, he should have suspected something like this could happen.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” he manages to force out.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” you sigh dreamily. “Oh, Ominis, I can hardly believe it!”

Sebastian smiles proudly and rests his arm across your shoulders. With his other hand, he gently lifts your hand to his lips so he can press a soft kiss against the cool, green gem with which he’d asked for your hand.

“It’s not nearly as big as you deserve,” he begrudges. “But it’s the best I could on a Ministry salary.”

“Nonsense, it’s perfect,” you insist, unable to resist smiling to yourself as you tilt your hand this way and that, watching how it catches the light and even seems to glow from within.

Ominis’ stomach twists enviously as he allows himself a moment to fantasize about the ring he could have given you. An offensively huge diamond to start, and then perhaps several emeralds surrounding it in an ostentatious cluster, as if to prove that his monstrous family’s monstrous wealth could be used to bejewel something – someone – so stunning.

(Maybe you’d like a moonstone ring, he wonders, if you were his; you’d once said that his eyes remind you of moonstones, and he’s never forgotten.)

“Perhaps someday we’ll upgrade it,” Sebastian says, glancing sidelong at Ominis. “Or add a second one alongside it.”

“I suppose you’ll have to,” Ominis mumbles, pausing to take a long drink of his elderflower wine while the two of you exchange a hopeful glance.

Finally, he concludes, “At the wedding, hmm? The second band?”

“Right,” you sigh, pursing your lips and rolling your eyes fondly at Sebastian. “At the wedding.”

4: the honeymoon

For a full week, Ominis lays awake at night trying desperately to fall asleep to no avail.

He’s lived with the two of you as a couple for four years now, and it’s hardly the first time he’s heard you being intimate with each other. He’s found ways to cope after all this time – most of which involve leaving the apartment and going down to the pub around the corner until he’s sure you’re finished.

(Sometimes, usually when he’s already been to the pub that evening, he copes by pretending he’s not listening even though he leaves his bedroom door open just a crack. Only under Veritaserum would he admit that on those nights, when filthy noises drift down the hallway between your rooms, he touches himself and imagines joining you both.)

But here on this warm, secluded island off the coast of Spain, there’s no pub to which Ominis can simply disappear and scowl into his drink for an hour or two. He’s held hostage by the utterly maddening sounds of Sebastian eagerly pleasuring you in the next room over, and he wonders for the umpteenth time why he ever agreed to join you on this cursed trip.

“Come with us, won’t you?” you’d begged every day for a full week. “Ominis, you haven’t had a vacation in years! You must come, please.”

There had been promises of endless bottles of Spanish wine, afternoons spent lounging on the beach, and lovely walks through the foothills near the friendly Muggle towns. What had not been discussed was the nighttime routine, which always began with the two of you making a tipsy, not-so-subtle escape to your bedroom suite.

Now that he’s here, Ominis thinks, he can hardly ask the two of you not to be intimate with each other – it is your honeymoon trip, after all. But every night? For what seems like ages?

Surely this trip is going to be the death of him.

…If he didn’t know any better, he might think you’re trying to tempt him on purpose. To what end he couldn’t possibly imagine, but it seems as if you and Sebastian are almost trying to make sure that you’re overheard.

“Sebastian!” you wail through the walls. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

Ominis can only imagine how he’s undoing you. He’s uncharacteristically quiet; perhaps he has his mouth on you, taking you apart with his tongue while you cling to his messy, sun-lightened hair between your thighs.

Usually, when he’s not using his mouth on you, Sebastian’s just as loud. His low, desperate groans stir up heat in the pit of Ominis’ stomach, and the filth he talks… Ominis isn’t sure where he learned that kind of language, but he’s helpless to stop it echoing inside his head as he shamefully listens in.

Moments later, while Ominis tosses and turns fitfully as he resists the urge to shove his hand inside his pajamas, he hears Sebastian call out:

“That’s it, my love, be as loud as you can for me, you’re such a brilliant little temptress.”

Ominis groans in frustration and throws a stray pillow to the floor; he’s now positive that you’re doing this on purpose.

Your wanton moans carry on and on until Ominis, desperate from exhaustion and heartache and frustration, buries his face in his pillow and shoves his hand beneath his bedcovers, hoping the two of you will never find out about this.

5: the first home

Ominis’ wedding gift to the two of you had been a charming seaside cottage in the Highlands, It’s close enough to Feldcroft to allow for Anne to visit yet tucked away in peaceful seclusion, which ought to be well suited for a pair of broody newlyweds…

Or so he’d thought.

“You’ll come live with us, of course,” Sebastian says easily when Ominis asks him why he’s begun to pack up the entirety of your shared London flat.

“But I work in the city,” Ominis points out dumbly, as if that’s the biggest problem with his dear friend’s assumption.

“So do we,” you say with a cheerful laugh. “There’s a Floo fireplace, remember? You’re the one who showed it to us!”

“B-but… But it’s your home,” Ominis stammers. “I – I intended it as a gift, for your family… as it grows.”

“You are our family, Ominis,” Sebastian says nonchalantly as he charms a pile of Ominis’ Braille books into a moving crate, so casually as if he hasn’t just wrought havoc on his humble heart.

“Besides, no one’s family is growing just yet,” you add teasingly. “There will be plenty of time for all that once we’ve sorted out the house and… well, once we’ve sorted everything out.”

Ominis reddens while unbeknownst to him, you and Sebastian share a significant look.

“W-well, how am I supposed to meet anyone if I move out to the seaside?” Ominis demands. “I’ll have you know I don’t intend on remaining a bachelor forever, despite how much it might please you both.”

You and Sebastian both fall silent. Immediately Ominis regrets his words, regardless of how true they are. He’s dated occasionally, even met a lovely witch who works at Gringotts that he’d considered courting, but every time he introduced a “new friend” to his dearest roommates, none of the lot ever seemed to pass muster.

“I… I shouldn’t have said that,” Ominis murmurs. “I apologize.”

“No, you’re right,” Sebastian says quietly. “We should be the ones apologizing.”

“Ominis,” you whisper, and in a heartbeat Ominis knows he’d follow the two of you wherever you went, even at the expense of his own love life.

“Honestly, we’re truly sorry,” you tell him, taking his hands in yours. “Our selfishness has gone on for so long, and – and there’s so much more I want to say, but–”

“All’s forgiven, darling,” Ominis says faux-cheerfully, cracking a rare smile. “After all, you said it best – there will be plenty of time for all that once we’ve sorted out the house, hmm? Shall we pack my clothes?”

You press a lingering kiss to his cheek and thank him. Ominis feels not unlike a slowly sinking ship, as though the water around him is as intoxicatingly warm as a murlap bath.

+1. the confession

Ominis is perfectly made for seaside living, much to his surprise.

Each morning, he joins the two of you for breakfast in your cozy cottage kitchen. The three of you then join hands as you travel by Floo into the city, where upon arriving Ominis will insist on being brushed clean of any stray Floo powder before joining the throng of Londoners pushing through the city.

Each evening, you dine together and luxuriate in each others’ company by the fireplace, reading books and pressing herbs and making grand plans for your next great adventure, always just the three of you.

Weekends bring brisk morning walks by the beach and afternoon picnics, trips to Anne’s cottage and shopping in Diagon Alley. It’s a lovely little life – companionable, and good, and it doesn’t even matter to Ominis that he’s not in love.

At least not in the traditional sense.

In truth, Ominis has been deeply in love for a very long time: once since he was fourteen years old, with his first real friend, again when he was sixteen, with his second. He thinks his damned heart will probably always belong to them, though he couldn’t ask for a better pair to care for it.

So, perhaps he’s in love, but not loved.

…Except that indeed he is, and when he realizes it, it’s as if he’s finally sunk deep down into that warm water that’s been lulling him in like a siren’s song for nearly half a decade.

He sees love in how you tenderly stroke his hair when he rests his head in your lap after a long day at work. He sees love in how Sebastian loops his arm through his own when he joins Ominis for a walk along the beach, peacefully narrating the journey with a smile so wide Ominis can hear it in his voice.He sees love in how the both of you spin him around each morning and brush your hands over his cloak to rid him of that infernal powder.

He’s loved; he’s so loved.

No milestone marks the day Ominis’ world widens. No first date, no grand ball, no ornate moonstone ring (though you did eventually get one, and it barely puts a dent in the Gaunt family fortune).

Instead, two simply becomes three.

One evening, Ominis presses a gentle kiss to your lips, and then to Sebastian’s. There’d been no conversation; there’d been no need. Sebastian holds him in his arms while you pour every drop of love you’d held aside for him against his mouth; your husband works bruises Ominis will never see into his pale neck that seem to spell out ours, ours, finally ours.

“Always only yours,” Ominis gasps. “Yours, and yours.”

He joins your bed that night, leaving behind a trail of clothes dotted with whispered confessions of just how many times he’s imagined being taken apart by you both. He’s learned, pleasured, devoured in ways he’s never allowed himself to indulge in, even in his fantasies. Sebastian’s touch, your lips, his lewd words, your taste…

Afterward, tears shed for so many years wasted threaten to stain the bedsheets, but Sebastian wordlessly wipes them from Ominis’ cheeks.

“You understand now,” you whisper against the hollow of his throat. “We love you, Ominis.”

“I do,” he finally breathes. “I understand.”

“So brilliant and so oblivious,” Sebastian chuckles softly. “That’s our Ominis.”

Their Ominis. What a lovely little life indeed.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt x mc x sebastian sallow #shadow trio #silver trio #ominis x sebastian x mc #i would say this is slightly spicy but not smut just fyi! #ominis gaunt fic #sebastian sallow fic #my fic

[sapphire-writes]

Coin Toss ~ Aegon Targaryen

Aegon x Reader

summary: you are Aegon's paramour, and he teaches you a game to reveal secrets.

warnings: some angst, mostly comfort

word count: 1k

A/N: hope y’all enjoy! 💚

“Are you going to pay me for secrets?”

“I don’t pay you at all. Anymore,” he murmurs, the coin turning between his fingers. Aegon’s eyes are hungry, and your secrets are all that can satiate him.

You had met Aegon while working at the House of Kisses, a pleasure house in King’s Landing. The prince has grown quite fond of you and eventually paid your debt to the mistress of the house, returning to the Red Keep with you as his paramour. 

Though the Queen was not happy about your presence, she was pleased that Aegon’s visits to Flea Bottom and the Street of Silk became less frequent. He preferred to spend his time with you, and you alone. 

Many nights were spent as you are now, splayed in from the fire of Aegon’s chambers atop some furs. A pitcher of wine, now nearly empty, sits on a table beside you. Aegon often prefers the lounge on the floor, tangling his limbs with yours in front of the fire. 

The young prince lays across from you, as you sit knees atop each other, a cup dangling from your fingers. Aegon looks beautifully haunted, mouth reddened from the wine he has been sipping, the dark circles under his eyes accentuating the deep lavender color.

The light from the flames dances across his face, and he looks so handsome it nearly steals the breath from your lungs. You often find yourself just wanting to stare at him, and if you look away for too long you surely will wake up from this dream you find yourself in.

“That’s not the game anyhow, you flip the coin,” he says demonstrating, the coin landing in his palm. He beckons you to give him your hand, clad with several rings. You do so willingly, palm down, an amused smile beginning to form. He presses the cool coin against the back of your hand and scatters a kiss across your knuckles. 

“If the dragon faces up, you tell me a secret,” he says, removing his hand and revealing which side of the coin has landed. “Or you can take a drink.”

The coin has landed so the golden dragon peers up at you, causing Aegon to smile triumphantly. Your smile twists into a frown as you reach for your cup, taking a sip of wine. The liquid burns a trail down your throat and you note the disappointment that flashes across Aegon’s violet eyes. It disappears as quickly as it appeared, as he blows air through his lips noisily and rolls his eyes.  

“Boring,” he chastises, taking a sip from his goblet. Aegon firmly believes a woman should not be forced to drink alone.

You place the coin on your thumb before flicking it in the air. You repeat the action Aegon showed you, revealing the golden dragon once more. It is as though the gods themselves want you to share your secrets with them. You let out a frustrated breath. 

Aegon’s eyes flicker from the coin to your reddened face. 

“When I was a girl,” you begin, choosing your words carefully, “I dreamed of traveling to Braavos.” 

Aegon smiles with approval, and with the reveal, you feel as though his fingers are scratching the surface of your innermost thoughts. 

You toss him the coin, which he catches against his chest. The game continues, and when the gold dragon is hidden Aegon must reveal a secret. You watch him carefully through your lashes. 

“Fucking a woman is the only thing I’ve been successful at in this life,” he admits, pink blush dusting the tops of his cheeks. You are startled by his confession, though not surprised. You know he is telling the truth from experience. He fucks well. Still, it saddens you to hear that is the only thing he believes he is good at. 

Aegon is watching you carefully, expecting a witty remark or perhaps a filthy one to ease the tension in the space between you. His hand falls to your knee, his thumb beginning to rub light circles against the soft flesh. He sometimes uses this action as he begins to seduce you into bed with him, but it feels different now. Tender. 

The golden dragon appears again. You are thoughtful for a moment, wanting to share a vulnerability as he did to you. 

“I thought I was doomed to die in the House of Kisses before you rescued me,” you confess, a shiver rolling through you at the memory, “I’ve never been more grateful to anyone.”

Aegon holds your gaze, teeth sinking into his lower lip. The air between you is heavy, the secret hanging in the air between the both of you. You are a sinner confessing at Aegon’s altar. A log from the fire snaps, the only sound in the room.

“That’s two secrets,” he says, a grin splitting across his handsome face. 

You shrug, a laugh escaping you. You feel lightheaded from the wine, the sensuality that lingers in the space between you. 

“You’re very charismatic,” you tease, taking a sip from your cup. Your cheeks are on fire at your confession. 

“I owe you one then,” he tells you, “I don’t believe my father ever loved me.”

“Aegon-” you begin, feeling an overwhelming urge to comfort him. Your fingers glide across his arm. His lips have fallen into a pout, and you can see his shoulders rise and fall with shallow breath. 

“Do you love me?” he asks, eyes glassy as he looks at you. His voice is strained and desperate. This is a secret he wishes you to reveal freely, no party tricks, no tossing of the coin.

Your heart hammers against your chest. It would be easy to drown your confession, to prevent it from crawling up your throat with another swig of wine. 

“You know I do,” you whisper, placing your cup on the floor beside you. Aegon reaches out then, pulling your face towards him.

His kiss is soft as he uses his tongue to pry open your lips, demanding entrance. He tastes of wine and salt as his tongue probes the inside of your mouth as though he is still searching for secrets to pull from your lips. 

You can feel the cool streams of his tears as his cheeks press against yours. You hold him close, stroking his silver hair as he continues to kiss you, molding your bodies together until there is no space left for secrets between you. 

#aegon x reader #aegon x you #aegon imagine #aegon ii #aegon the usurper #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x y/n #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon targaryen x you

[irisintheafterglow]

HAND THREE - TWO PAIR

summary: in a season where you're determined to fly under the radar, newly-returned crown prince!touya todoroki has other ideas. in this hand, a date is had.

wc: 2.5k

cw/tags: royalty!au/regency!au, fem!reader, some swearing, banter and dialogue driven, fake dating, pining and tension, todoroki enji jumpscare LOL

note: the two wolves living inside me is one wanting to rush the hell out of slow burn and the other telling me to make it painfully slow. however, i broke a little and made the pining a little obvious in this chapter oops. one day i will achieve the emotional release of s2 bridgerton bee sting scene. hope you enjoy !!!!

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <3

“Show.” 

“You first.”

“I’m royalty.”

“And I have the higher stack. Now, show,” you repeat and he scoffs, the corner of his mouth tugging upward and creasing the deep purple scars on his cheek. He turns his two cards face-up and, sure enough, you’d snatched another victory from the self-proclaimed Prince of Calculation. “I win again,” you smile and he begrudgingly pushes the pot to your side of the table, an amalgamation of garden pebbles, stray buttons, and a few gold coins you managed to produce. You were using whatever you had to gamble and the prince didn’t seem to mind. Touya, you remind yourself. You were supposed to call him by his first name throughout this whole charade, but it seemed as foreign on your tongue as a protruding third set of teeth. 

“You’re a much more dangerous woman than you give yourself credit for,” he muses with a clever glint in his eyes. Over the course of the last month or so, you’d accumulated an immunity to his unwavering stares and scalding eyes; lately, it actually seemed you found a certain affinity for his intense nature, even when you were its only target. His sweetly poisonous words were the latest test to your composure. “If we dressed you as a man for the night, we could relieve an entire club of their purses before the clock strikes ten.” His pretty fingers dealt another two cards and you peeked at them from the bottom of your vision. Queen of hearts and two of clubs. Not the best hand. 

“Hmm. How much of the pot would you use to bail me out for invading said club?” You lay out the first three cards, the flop, and flip the first over before betting a conservative amount. Four of diamonds. 

“Who ever said anything about bail? I’d just sneak you out. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time,” he answers, calling your bet, and you can’t tell if he’s kidding. It was another piece you were still trying to solve of the puzzle that was the prince of the Todoroki family, how he joked so casually about breaking laws and dodging authority. The nonchalance of his recklessness made your stomach turn, sometimes, but you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or intrigue. You flip the second card of the flop. Two of hearts. A pair, if all else failed. You just had to hope he didn’t have anything either. 

“For a royal, you seem to know a concerning amount about rule breaking. Do you have any intent to corrupt me?” 

“By the end of our courtship, possibly.” Jack of diamonds. Not what you were hoping for as the third card, by any means. A flash of excitement lights up behind your opponent’s eyes, too purposeful to be genuine. You mentally added his poker tells to the never-ending list of things to figure out about him, right under the number of crimes he’s committed against the government. Tossing in a few medium-value flower petals, you’re unsurprised when he matches your bet again. 

“Our courtship which, I’ll remind you, is causing quite the stir in the ton,” you point out while revealing the turn. Seven of hearts. You try not to let your disappointment in your current hand show on your face. The prince, you notice, looks like he’s trying a little too hard to contain his excitement. “You know, I suspect they might be rooting for us.”

“That’d be a new experience for me. Never received too much support in my endeavors before.” He places a high bet and you have no choice but to match it. If you were right about him lying, you would learn something new about his poker strategy; but, if you were wrong, you wouldn’t hear the end of it for the rest of the day. You flip the river and your heart stutters. Two of diamonds. You’re careful with your next bet, knowing that three of a kind wasn’t the best or worst hand you could create. The prince, however, pushes his entire hoard into the pot with a challenge in his eyes. He was trying to force you to fold. 

You match the bet and reveal your hand. 

Two pair versus three of a kind. The prince was bluffing, and you won again.

“At least this time, you’re not alone.” The admission is obvious but still catches both of you off-guard when you say it. You’re about to apologize for being too sentimental when that unreadable look passes over his face again, sudden as a lightning strike and gone just as quickly. 

“I guess you’re right,” he murmurs, relinquishing the remaining pot of knick-knacks to you. “Though I will say, having my ass handed to me in a card game was not a part of my plan.”

“A woman with intellect is never part of a man’s plan, yet she prevails all the same,” you conclude and he hums in agreement, collecting the remaining cards and slotting them back into their box. A concerning thought occurs to you and you glance around the secluded palace courtyard with new-found suspicion. His eyes follow your own, watching you keenly in a way that was both comforting and unsettling. 

“What is it?” 

“Will the servants not whisper about a woman playing a man’s game?” 

“They will whisper that you won, and that is what matters,” he states like a well-known fact. “Why? Is something bothering you about them?” 

“No, I’m just mulling over this whole arrangement again.” You wave him off dismissively and take another sip of lemonade from your teacup. A drink which, when you’d finally agreed to meet the prince at the palace for a day, he ordered presumably because you both shared a distaste for tea. “How odd it is and how people gossip so.”

“A lady beating the prince at poker is hardly a scandal compared to what transpired last week,” he recalls with terribly-hidden amusement, breaking off a piece of scone and smearing a glob of berry preserves onto it. “Wouldn’t you agree?” Your cheeks heat when you think of the memory and you snap your fan open to cool yourself and hide your burning face. It certainly wasn’t your proudest moment, to say the least. 

“Would you like me to retrieve a stick to keep your competition at bay?” You had jokingly asked, following his distracted gaze. It was your third ball of the season and your third public appearance with the prince; both you and your co-conspirator were forced to acknowledge the increasing number of interested suitors trying to pry you away. Dances, you found, were one of the few moments where other men weren’t climbing over each other for your attention. The only problem was being forced to share breathing space with him for an extended period of time. “Your Highness, why are you glaring like that?”

“I said to stop calling me that, and I’m not glaring,” he mumbled, very obviously glaring and avoiding your eyes. His hand stiffens around your waist, making your already-awkward distance from him more uncomfortable. It didn’t take long to notice that he was a fine dancer when he was with any other partner but you, and you figured it was because being in such close proximity was not part of your agreement. You raise a skeptical eyebrow, finally making him look at you when the silence indicates your displeasure. “Pay me no mind. I am only–”

“Moping like a kicked dog, that’s what you’re doing,” you interject and, in a blink, you’re back in another standoff with his intense stare.

“I don’t recall when you gained the right to comment on my behaviors so crassly.” Your eyebrows pinch, taken aback by his sudden hostility. His eyes were always burning, like embers in a fireplace, and it felt like the longer you looked at them, the less likely you’d be able to pull away. After a few moments of staring him down, you back off with a frustrated huff. You think you feel some of the tension leave him, too. 

“If we are to keep up this ruse in a believable manner, I suggest you confide in me from time to time, especially if it causes you to act in unfavorable ways,” you state simply, your irritation obvious. 

“You know nothing of my unfavorable ways.” The venom in his voice makes your heart sink, against your own judgment. His expression doesn’t soften, but his voice does. “Trust me. It’s not your burden to bear,” he says in a low tone and goosebumps spread across your arms, despite the fabric of your gloves and the sleeves of your dress. He meets your eyes and you could have sworn his gaze flickers to the neckline of your gown, but the action, like so many of his movements, is too quick to comment on. “So, let’s keep to our sides of the street, shall we?” 

“You’re insufferable,” you hiss, letting your politely smiling face slip as the strings conclude the dance. “Enjoy the rest of the evening. I feel a bit faint.” The muscles in his jaw clenches and you turn on your heel to beeline for an exit when a strong hand grabs you by the wrist and pulls you backward. Before you can register where you’re moving, your hand is placed firmly on his forearm and you’re a split-second from slapping him when–

“Touya.” Shit. With a blank mind, you remember to curtsy from pure muscle memory, dipping deeply toward the ground while the prince bends at the waist.

“Good evening, Father.” Touya’s voice becomes empty, devoid of all sarcasm, teasing, and charm. A glance at his face tells the same tale, blank and emotionless. The only indication of his true thoughts came the slight shake in his arm and how he unconsciously tugged you closer and closer to his side. You let yourself be pulled in and your free hand moved on its own, coming to rest on top of his and running your thumb over his knuckles. He exhales shakily. “Father, this is–”

“I know who you are,” he says before you could be properly introduced, making your nostrils flare. The man besides you bristles and you wonder how such a hard-faced, stoic man could make such a reckless and carefree son. You’d never seen King Todoroki except in victory parades and newsprints of his alliance with King All Might, but you could recognize the family’s flaming eyes from miles away. You decided that, no matter how irritating the prince was, his father was lower on your ranking of the Todoroki royals. “Should you marry, are you aware of the responsibility of being the wife of a king?” 

“I believe she is called a queen, Your Majesty,” you hear yourself say before you can stop yourself. From beside you, the prince makes a noise somewhere between a choke and a snort, and you direct your attention to the floorboards in hopes of surviving the king’s scathing reply. Despite the chatter of the party around you, it feels like your words were echoing off the gilded ceilings. The reprimand, however, never comes. The king turns back to his son with a look of suppressed wrath before turning and stalking away, a crowd of nobles crowing for his attention. 

“I can’t believe you just did that,” he whispers in disbelief as he hurriedly guides you out of the hall and into one of the manor’s gardens, still within sight of nosy mothers but out of their earshot. Your hand hasn’t left his arm, nor has he tried to pry it off. If anything, you click into his side like a missing puzzle piece, and you’re confusingly reluctant to let go. “That was the worst possible way you could have answered that question,” the prince continues and your stomach turns. 

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” you reply with poorly masked shame, lowering your head and letting him walk ahead. Your hand detaches from his arm and you’re struck by the sudden lack of warmth. He turns sharply to look at you, looks back at his empty arm, and then back at you before closing the few feet between you. His eyes were burning into you again but he said nothing, watching you watch the blades of grass surrounding your shoes. Your voice is as quiet as the swaying summer wind. “If I have jeopardized our plan, I understand if you–”

“Stop,” he commands, and it takes a moment to register his gloved fingers under your chin, gently but firmly tilting your head to look at him. Your eyes trace the jagged lines of where his skin meets his scars and the world around you quiets. “I am…the opposite of angry with your actions.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not an easy task, talking back to my father. Yet, you performed it as easily as breathing,” he explains with a soft awe in his expression that made your breath catch in your chest. 

“I guess I’ve had good practice, countering your arguments for the better half of the summer,” you agree hesitantly. What the hell was this feeling? For whatever reason, the world around you temporarily faded to static noise and blurred paintings, with the only decipherable images being the man in front of you. “So, you’re not unhappy with my behavior around your father?”

“I have never been prouder to be seen with you,” he reassures you and you finally crack a smile, his hand leaving your face and his feet stepping back to a respectful distance. “On another note, can you recall what we were arguing about before we were interrupted?”

“I can’t, unfortunately. I believe I was about to leave you alone on the dance floor to mingle with other suitors,” you joke and, though his expression remains relaxed, his eyes darken subtly. 

“I wouldn’t let them so much as breathe in your direction,” he declares, your breath becoming stuck in your lungs again. “Plus, you were saying that you required a stick to fight them off.”

“I did not say I required a stick,” you counter, lightheartedly bumping your shoulder against his while you make your way back into the manor. He merely smiles, a rare, genuine smile. “Though, I would like to apologize for my brash observations.” 

“You are forgiven.”

“Thank you,” you exhale, following him to the refreshments table.

“And…”

“Nevermind,” you backtrack, but he continues nonetheless.

“As reparation for insinuating that I act like an abused animal–”

“Which you do,” you retort quietly and he chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Next week, you will accompany me in receiving a visiting ally prince,” he says. “As it would be dreadfully boring to do alone and you, thankfully, bruised my ego, I will be dragging you with me on his guided tour of the kingdom’s market district.” 

“Must I really attend?”

“Who’s acting like the kicked dog now?” He smirks and you have no choice but to go along with his plan. Now, after several rounds of beating his royal ass in poker, it was time for you to leave and prepare for the social night between the Takami and Todoroki kingdoms. 

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#dabi x you #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki x you #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x y/n #mha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #touya x you #touya x reader #touya x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n

[tarotwithavi]

Sun in Signs

The Sun sign in astrology represents a person's core identity, ego, and the essence of their character.

Sun in Aries

Sun in Aries individuals have a fiery and dynamic personality that comes with its fair share of strengths and challenges. On the positive side, these people are natural-born leaders, brimming with energy, enthusiasm, and a go-getter attitude. They're not afraid to take risks, and their determination is off the charts. They're adventurous and thrive in competitive situations, often pushing the boundaries to achieve their goals. Their straightforwardness can be refreshing, and they're known for their honesty and authenticity. However, his same boldness can sometimes tip into impatience and impulsivity. They might rush into decisions without considering all the consequences and can have a bit of a short fuse when things don't go their way. Also, they may struggle with listening to others' viewpoints, as their assertiveness can sometimes overshadow empathy.

Song : King's Affirmations by Iniko

Sun in Taurus

People born with the Sun in Taurus are like the dependable rocks of the zodiac. On the positive side, they're known for their unwavering determination and reliability. When they set their sights on a goal, you can bet they'll see it through, no matter how long it takes. They're patient as all get-out, which can be a blessing when others are losing their cool. Taurus folks are also practical and down-to-earth, making them great at handling their finances and building a stable, comfortable life. Taurus has a stubborn streak wider than a bull's back. When they dig in their heels, it's tough to sway them, even if they're heading in the wrong direction. Their love for comfort can make them a bit lazy and resistant to change, causing them to miss out on new opportunities. Plus, their attachment to material possessions can sometimes veer into materialism, making them a bit possessive.

Song : Circus by Britney Spears

Sun in Gemini

Sun in Gemini individuals are like a two-sided coin, always flipping between their challenging and positive traits. On the sunny side, these folks are the life of the party, chatty and sociable, making friends faster than you can say "Gemini." Their curiosity knows no bounds, and they're quick thinkers, always ready with a witty remark or a clever solution to a problem. But, flip that coin, and you'll find their challenging side. Gemini Suns can be scatterbrained, easily bored, and prone to gossip. They might struggle with commitment, flitting from one interest to another like a butterfly. In relationships, their duality can be a blessing or a curse, depending on the day. So, with a Gemini Sun, it's a mixed bag of tricks, but there's never a dull moment when they're around. I have also seen that the sun in Gemini people have a lot of hobbies and things they like to do in their free time.

Song : Clumsy by Fergie

Sun in Cancer

Having the Sun in Cancer means these people are incredibly nurturing and empathetic. Their strong love for family is what makes them amazing. Their intuition and emotional depth make them great listeners and friends, and they often have a deep sense of loyalty and dedication. They're also creative and have a vivid imagination, which can lead to wonderful artistic endeavors and a knack for creating a cozy, inviting atmosphere in their homes. In a nutshell, Sun in Cancer folks bring a whole lot of heart and warmth to the table, even if they have their share of challenges. These individuals can sometimes be a tad too sensitive, wearing their hearts on their sleeves. They're prone to mood swings and may retreat into their shell when faced with criticism or conflict, making communication tricky at times. And their strong attachment to family can sometimes lead to them being overly protective, making it challenging for loved ones to have their own space.

Song : Luna by Iniko

Sun in Leo

Individuals with the Sun in Leo possess a natural magnetic charm and a zest for life that's hard to miss. On the positive side, they exude confidence, which often translates into leadership roles where they excel. Their radiant charisma draws people in, making them wonderful friends and partners. Creativity flows through their veins, making them shine in the performing arts or any field where self-expression is key. However, the challenges lie in their constant need for attention and admiration. This can sometimes be perceived as self-centeredness or arrogance. Their strong-willed nature can border on bossiness, as they prefer to be in control. Striking a balance between their desire for the spotlight and consideration for others' feelings can be their life's ongoing challenge. These people can shine anywhere and anytime.

Song: Me too by Meghan Trainor

Sun in Virgo

People with the Sun in Virgo are like the detail-oriented perfectionists of the zodiac. On the bright side, they're incredibly organized and practical, the type who'll always have a plan. They're reliable, the ones you can count on to get things done right. Their sharp minds make them excellent problem solvers and analytical thinkers. They are really calm and like to observe their surroundings. They pay attention to the nitty-gritty, making them superb at any task that requires precision. However, their quest for perfection can sometimes tip over into nitpicking. They might be a bit too critical, not just of themselves but of others too. They're the kings and queens of worrying, always thinking about what could go wrong. Striking a balance between their high standards and a more relaxed approach to life is their lifelong challenge.

Song : Girls like me don't cry by Thuy

Sun in Libra

These people are all about balance and harmony. On the positive side, they're the peacemakers of the zodiac, always striving to keep things fair and pleasant. They've got an innate sense of justice and are fantastic at seeing both sides of any situation. Plus, they're charming as heck and can charm the socks off just about anyone. They know how to rock every outfit and hairstyle. They love art, beauty, and all things aesthetically pleasing, often having a great sense of style. However, the flip side is their indecisiveness. They can be so focused on avoiding conflict that they sometimes struggle to make decisions, even the small ones. They might also bend over backward to please others, sometimes forgetting their own needs. They might struggle with expectations. They act how they're expected to rather than being their own self. Sometimes they might come off as "Fake" according to some people.

Song: Scars to your beautiful by Alessia Cara

Sun in Scorpio

Sun in Scorpio people are a real enigma, let me tell you. On the plus side, they've got this intense, magnetic vibe that draws people to them like moths to a flame. They're passionate and fiercely loyal, making them amazing friends and partners. When they set their sights on something, they go all in, and their determination can move mountains. They're like a detective in their own lives, digging deep to uncover hidden truths, which can be a superpower in relationships or any mystery-solving situation. Their intensity can sometimes come off as intimidating or even a bit obsessive. They don't do anything halfway, which can lead to power struggles or jealousy in relationships. They also have severe trust issues. It's all about finding that balance between diving deep and not getting lost in the shadows. They also have a tendency to hide things. And they'll rarely ever invite you to their place.

Song : Heathens by Twenty one Pilots

Sun in Sagittarius

People with the Sun in Sagittarius are like adventurers of the zodiac. They're all about exploration and expansion. On the positive side, they're enthusiastic, optimistic, and love a good adventure. They have a thirst for knowledge and are always eager to learn something new. Their sense of humor is infectious, and they're great at lifting spirits. They can sometimes become restless or overly blunt in their honesty. They can sometimes seem tactless because they value truth over sugarcoating. Commitment can also be a bit tricky for them, as they often crave freedom and don't like feeling tied down. So, they're a bundle of fun and adventure, but sometimes they need a little grounding. They have a hard time taking orders from people. They are the type of people who'll Quit their 9 to 5 job and start their own business on a random day because they got bored of their routine. They'll never do something they don't love as a career.

Song : price tag by Jessie J

Sun in Capricorn

People with the Sun in Capricorn are like the ultimate goal-setters and go-getters. On the bright side, they're responsible, practical, and hardworking individuals. They're the ones who'll climb the career ladder with determination and discipline. They've got this natural sense of ambition that's admirable. They're reliable friends and partners, always there when you need them. But they can sometimes come off as too serious or even a tad bit workaholic. Their drive for success might make them seem a bit distant, and they can struggle with letting loose and having fun. They also find it difficult to talk about their feelings. And they'll always prioritise their career/job/profession over anything else. They have mad respect for their work and do it with full determination.

Song : High Hopes by Panic! At the Disco

Sun in Aquarius

People with the Sun in Aquarius are a unique breed. On the upside, they're the free spirits of the zodiac, always marching to the beat of their own drum. They're innovative thinkers, often ahead of their time, and they love shaking things up with their progressive ideas. They are also humanitarian.These are the friends you want for stimulating conversations and brainstorming sessions. They're super open-minded and accepting of others' quirks. They can sometimes come off as aloof or emotionally detached. They value their independence fiercely, sometimes to the point of seeming distant. They might even be seen as a bit rebellious, challenging the status quo just for the fun of it. However I have also seen people dislike them for no apparent reason. Maybe it's because they are so different and others have a hard time understanding them.

Song : Yosemite by Iniko

Sun in Pisces

People with the Sun in Pisces are like the dreamers of the zodiac. Honestly I think they should be fantasy writers. On the positive side, they're incredibly compassionate and empathetic, always willing to lend a listening ear or a helping hand. They have this innate ability to understand the unspoken emotions of others. Their creativity knows no bounds, often channeled into arts, music, or imaginative pursuits. They're like a sponge, soaking up vibes and feelings from their surroundings. But, there's a challenging side too. Their sensitivity can be a double-edged sword, as they easily get overwhelmed by the harsh realities of the world. Sometimes, they might struggle with setting boundaries and end up feeling drained. They find it difficult to live in the "practical World".

Song : Jericho by Iniko

#tarot cards #tarot reading #pick a card #sun astrology #sun in gemini #sun in cancer #sun in virgo #sun in leo #sun in astrology #astrology community #astro community #tarot pick a card #tarotwithavi #tarot witch #birth chart #sun in aries #sun in libra #sun in sagittarius #sun in pisces #sun in scorpio

[niceminipotato]

I’m playing Dragons Dogma 2 and I’m loving it. I’ve been too busy with work and school that I haven’t done anything else but school work sleep and maybe eat sometimes. Anyway look at yhis lady right here, she’s my main pawn.

She gives me vibes of the Alcina from “Shield Me” by @wherethewolfsbaneblooms and I absolutely love it lol. I debated on whether trying to make Briene of Tarth or Alcina so I had to do a coin flip and I’m so not mad at all. We do need better armor but she’s on her way to becoming a highly sophisticated warrior.

Nothing like having our lovely Lady D with us and giving us high fives when we kill things together lol. Also I may have lost it when I jumped of a small rock and she legit caught me. Like I’ll definitely clip it if she does it again. 🫣🫠🤭

#dragon’s dogma 2 #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #viking Alcina