#that she would turn into a hummingbird instead

[lovebugism]

shy!reader goes to the pool with Eddie and is too afraid to wear her swimsuit in front of him? Maybe she’s wearing clothes over her bikini/one piece and doesn’t want to undress at first because of her nerves lol

hope u like it! — you still get a little nervous showing your body, but eddie takes it all in stride (shy!fem!r, established relationship, cw for mentions of body insecurity, 1.1k)

Eddie’s rubber flip-flops are much too big on your feet. You fight to keep them on and match his longer strides at the same time. He leads you down the scenic trail of the Harrington vacation home with one hand curled intently around your own. He doesn’t seem phased by the dirt clinging to his bare feet.

“Think Steve’s folks will get mad if we skinny dip?” he jokes over his shoulder, wild curls billowing in the late afternoon wind.

You shrug. “I don’t think they own the lake, so…”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” he scoffs.

“Me neither,” you concur with a quiet laugh.

A set of wooden steps lead off the trail and towards the shore. They creak under your weight, ancient and half-eroded with time. Eddie stands beside you on the dock, lips curled into a pink, lopsided smile. “Well, what they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em,” he quips before reaching for the hem of his shirt.

You giggle when he lifts the fabric up and over his head. His milky white torso is left on display for you, sprinkled with sparse hair and a couple of faded tattoos. His body is lanky and lean — stomach soft with gentle pudge where his happy trail begins. You couldn’t hide your leering if you wanted to.

“You’re crazy,” you say, still laughing.

“Crazy for you,” the boy croons. 

You watch him reach for the buttons of his jeans, fumbling with them for a moment. Your chest swirls with a strange, hollow feeling. “Wait— Are you serious?” you wonder with wide, glimmering eyes. You’ve never felt totally comfortable swimming in a bathing suit, let alone naked.

Eddie shrugs his freckled shoulders and tugs his jeans down his scruffy thighs. “Yeah. Why not?”

He’s left in his thin, plaid boxers now. He doesn’t seem nearly as fazed by it as you do. Heart thrumming like an anxious hummingbird, your eyes dart over your shoulder and back to him. “What if the others see?!”

“Then let ‘em see,” he chuckles, golden like the early setting sun. “Who cares?”

I care, you almost say, ‘cause you’re too pretty, and I’m not pretty enough. 

You swallow your loathing and instead reply, “Steve would never let you live it down if he caught you out here. You know that.”

Eddie’s bare feet pad against the creaking wooden dock. The sound is mostly drowned out by the waves ebbing and flowing beneath you. Nothing could hide the heavenly sound of his laughter, though. “What? That I’m skinnydipping with the prettiest girl in Indiana?” the boy retorts with a boyish chuckle. “I wouldn’t want him to let me live it down.”

You swallow hard, not swayed by the compliment. Your unsure gaze flits to your feet and the black sandals Eddie lent you on the way down. You see his paler, bare ones come into view just before his calloused palms smooth over your waist — above the oversized t-shirt you wear, which also belongs to the boy in front of you.

“I’m just… I’m just kidding, you know? About the skinnydipping thing,” Eddie assures you, suddenly serious and much quieter with it. His head ducks down to catch your falling gaze. His chocolate eyes sparkle beneath the yellow sun. His lips curl into a lopsided smile. “We don’t have to do it if it makes you uncomfortable. We never have to do anything you don’t want, you know that.”

You purse your lips to the side and think for a moment. You’re not nearly as at ease swimming naked as he is, but you’d be silly to turn down the opportunity to be alone with him. You have spent the entire weekend babysitting, after all.

“Can I keep my bathing suit on?” you wonder sheepishly.

Eddie scoffs. “Of course you can! You can do whatever you want, doll. I’m followin’ your lead here.”

He smacks a kiss to your lips, mouth tasting of nicotine, soda, and strawberries — like nostalgia and springtime.

“Can you turn around?”

Eddie meets your coy look with a wider smile. “Yeah. Sure,” he hums and steps back from you to spin on his heel. You know he’ll see you in your bathing suit before you step foot in the water, but you’ve always felt distinctly smothered by his gaze. You don’t feel half deserving of the adoration always swimming in the deep brown of them.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, you know?” he quips without looking at you.

“It’s different,” you insist, pulling your t-shirt up and over your head. You fold it neatly before setting it gingerly on the dock. You’re left in the pretty one-piece you thrifted before the trip — a floral number that dips low at the chest and ties into a bow at the back.

Eddie doesn’t really understand, but he figures he doesn’t have to. He’ll do whatever makes you most comfortable, no questions asked. “Sure,” he nods. “Can I look now?”

You hesitate for a reason you can’t name. You feel more at ease with Eddie than anyone else in the whole wide world — and besides the fact that he’s seen you in much, much less — you shouldn’t be as nervous as you are now.

“Yeah…” you waver.

Eddie peeks at you over his shoulder for a moment before turning to face you fully. His pink lips purse and a low whistle sounds between them. “Damn,” he mumbles.

You fight back a smile and look away from him, wringing your anxious hands into a knot. “Hush…”

“You’re a total smokeshow, baby.”

“Eddie!”

“Don’t know why you wanna hide from me so bad…” he teases lowly, gravitating towards you without thinking. His hands are warm and wide as they smooth over your sides. His palms curl around your lower back and idle there, fingers lingering just above your ass. “All I wanna do is look at you, and you won’t even let me…” he jokes, mostly serious, but with a playful pout on his lips.

Your arms cross between your bodies. You glare up at him with pretty doe eyes that swim with all the love you have for him. You couldn’t pretend to be annoyed if you tried. “It’s ‘cause you’re so nice…”

His brows raise and disappear behind his fluffy bangs. “You’re shy because I think you’re hot?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It’s weird.”

“Maybe,” Eddie laughs. He figures it’s on-brand enough for him, as the resident freak and all. But loving you has never felt unnatural or strange. It feels normal, like an instinct he’s always had, something he’s always been destined to do. So he just tilts his pretty head and smiles sweetly down at you. “Can’t help it, though.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

[triassictriserratops]

the hand kiss thing Peeta did in the cave?

"I reach out to touch his cheek and he catches my hand and presses it against his lips. I remember my father doing this very thing to my mother and I wonder where Peeta picked it up. Surely not from his father and the witch."

I'm fully convinced that he saw Mr. Everdeen do that to Mrs. Everdeen one day, when the entire Everdeen family was out in town.

In my head it was a Harvest Festival. Peeta (aged 9) was working a booth with his family and wasn't allowed to join for the dancing until his turn to man the booth was over.

He saw the Everdeen girls heading over to the booth, a 5 year old Prim practically running to look at the pretty cookies and cupcakes, with Katniss running behind to catch up with her freakish toddler speed. Catching up and holding onto her hand so she didn't try to grab one of the cakes from the table. Instead, Katniss picked Prim up and settled her on her hip, so Prim could enjoy looking at the cupcakes, which was all she really wanted to do.

Mr. and Mrs. Everdeen came strolling up behind them. Mr. Everdeen laughing jovially and saying "That's a pretty quick waddle there, little duck. Good thing my little hummingbird was fast enough to catch you." Mrs. Everdeen was embarrassed and apologized to the Mellarks for the bother.

Peeta's mom scoffed and walked to the back of the booth muttering about "brats and indulgent parents". Peeta's dad glanced nervously at her loud, retreating back, an embarrassed red tint creeping up his neck, before clearing his throat and telling them that Peeta would be glad to assist if they would like anything from the booth. He then turned around and went to follow his wife, a stiffness in his shoulders.

Prim pointed at the singular cupcake with a flower design. Three white petals with green leaves like arrowheads. Peeta had put it out especially hoping Katniss would see it. Now that he had graduated to frosting the cakes, he'd been working on this design for months.

Mr. Everdeen gazed down at where Prim was pointing and raised his eyebrows with a smile. He winked at Peeta. "My compliments to the baker, they know their designs. We'll take that one."

Peeta, standing a little taller at the positive words, carefully set aside the cupcake on a napkin and handed it to Katniss, who had set Prim down on the ground.

"Thank you, Poppa" she said. She gazed down at the cupcake for a moment before (slowly and deliberately) breaking the treat in half. She gave the bigger half to Prim but kept the small half, with the delicate petal design, for herself. Wrapping it in the napkin as if saving it for later. Peeta was disappointed that he wouldn't be able to see if she liked it.

Mrs. Everdeen reached down to pick Prim up and settled her on her own hip, while wiping some frosting off of her cheek. Mr. Everdeen grabbed the hand she'd used, now with a bit of frosting on the tip of a finger, and gave it a lick, making Mrs. Everdeen blush and laugh, trying to pull her hand away.

Before letting her hand go, he pulled it back up to his lips to place a soft kiss on the back of her hand. Katniss grabbed her father's other hand and the family turned and walked away to join the rest of the festivities.

Peeta watched them walk away, feeling a sense of sadness and jealousy over something he couldn't really name. But he knew that what he saw was something special. Something that should happen more in the world.

And he never forgot it.

#everlark #the hunger games #thg #thg series #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

[wazzappp]

So. @quasar-crew made a post about all the fun fic ideas they've been thinking of and within that was an 'Everyone gets infected funtimes' au. It has consumed me.

Ashleys mutations mostly focus on allowing her to GET AWAY and doing it QUICKLY. Most of her time while infected with the Plaga is spent trying to get away from threats, so it responded to that when developing its 'improvements'. She's mostly based off of the Novistador enemies found in the later levels.

Her clawed feet allow for climbing and perching on small objects. Armor extends up the leg because lets be real bro. I saw Jacksepticeyes playthrough theres no way her legs didnt at least get OCCASIONALLY grazed by wayward bullets from Leon trying to shoot whoever is carrying her away. NEVER AGAIN. Her armor is not as strong as I would imagine Leons is because it needs to be light enough to allow her to fly.

The Novistador's only have three fingered 'hands' so that translates over by only mutating three of her fingers. She has mandibles but they're mostly meant as a last resort self defense, along with her new sharp teeth (TEEF. TEEEEEEEEEFFFF). They don't move much beyond slight up and down motions. She also has a nictitating membrane that rests on the edges of her eyes when not in use. It activates after she blinks (think like a windshield wiper clearing away debris) and also covers her eyes when she's flying. This does impede her vision a little bit, so its best for her to find somewhere to rest if she's up there to spy.

Ashley has considerably less armor than Leon because 1. thats not the focus of her mutation. the focus is allowing her to get away from threats and 2. because she needs to remain light enough to actually get in the air. Her wings are extensions of the Plagas legs that have shifted to rest more on its back than its sides. That way its less strain on her back muscles (shoulders are already so fuckin complicated bro). They move in more of an x motion than an up and down. The best thing to compare them too would be a hummingbird. I briefly considered looking to dragonflies and their flight, which led me to this very cool video but I think she's just too large for that to work. Her wings have no bones in them, instead relying on the Plagas strong exoskeleton (carcinization strikes again) to keep her lightweight but strong. In theory, if she practiced enough, she should be strong enough to just. Pick an enemy up, lift them into the air, and then drop them.

Her antennae are controlled by a small tendon anchored just above her ears. They act to gather extra sensory information. They can detect smell, temperature (fire chaser beetle style babyyyy), and they are sensitive to touch which allows her to sense wind direction when she's flying up high. When in a situation where too much is going on, they will flatten back to try and avoid sensory overload. It's like when you turn down your car radio to see a parking spot better.

Also, because I forgot to draw it sometimes, the armor on her back wraps around her neck to protect more of her main veins and arteries. Plus, no more choking so thats a bonus.

And heres just. Some random doodles because I ended up really enjoying drawing her (bonus Leon with an awkward cutoff because idk how I want to draw his feet yet. Some kind of fucked up digitigrade deal most likely I just haven't figured out the details.)

Next up, Ada Wong you can not run from me.

#resident evil 4 #resident evil #ashley graham #infected!ashley #my art #sketch #I gotta start a tag for speculative biology might as well do it here #speculative biology #leon kennedy #infected!leon #I have sooooo many fun ideas for ada but i think i should watch the seperate ways dlc just to make sure I understand her fighting style #ive got some fun ideas based on how much she uses that grappling hook in the main game #everyone is infected au

[thezombieprostitute]

Hummingbird - Part 4

Summary: You didn't want to break into someone's party but you were desperate to see the art at the gallery before it was gone. You're so busy trying to make sure no one sees you that you miss the ever present gaze of Steve Rogers who is wondering why you crashed his party.

Word Count: ~1300

A/N: Reader is female but no physical descriptors are used.

A/N2: This takes place at the same time as Dream Come True - Part 3.

Warnings: Talk of purposefully not eating enough. Let me know if I missed any!

Part 3 -- Part 5

Series Masterlist

After the party was officially over and the last guest had left, Steve pulled you in for a deep kiss. “Thank you for staying with me tonight,” he breathes. “Couldn’t have gotten through this without you.”

“Yes, you would have,” you croon. 

“Nope,” he counters, holding you close to him. “I definitely wouldn’t have been able to keep my calm without you on my arm. Would’ve thrown everyone out in a huff at the end of the scheduled time instead of letting them linger as an excuse to keep you with me.”

“Ah, I was wondering why you let so many stragglers stick around,” you smile at him. “Anything to spend more time with me, huh?”

“We can spend a lot more time together. Tonight. If you want,” he smirks.

“As much fun as that would be,” you tease, “I want to have an actual date or two first.”

“I can respect that. What would you like? A night on the town? A night at the gallery? A fancy, incredibly exclusive restaurant?”

You smirk, “I want to see you in something other than a suit.” He blinks in surprise and you continue, “do you even have any casual wear? When was the last time you were able to just have a night in and not have to dress fancy?”

His cheeks turn a little pink at that, “it…it really has been a long time.”

“I figured. So, for our first date, you’re coming to my apartment, wearing something casual, and we’re going to stay in and watch movies. How does that sound?”

“It sounds perfect,” he coos as he pulls you in for another kiss.

Steve stood, hands on his hips, staring at his closet for the better part of an hour. Your date is tonight and he’s realized he might be lacking in terms of “something casual”. He’s had to wear suits for so many years that it just became easier to wear them every day, especially if he had an emergency meeting come up. His closet was completely dominated by professional clothes with no denim, khakis or t-shirts in sight. 

Sam and Bucky weren’t being helpful, either. “Seriously, Steve, you know she’s into you,” Sam exclaims. “Stop worrying so much about it.” 

“Just don’t wear a jacket and keep the top couple of buttons undone,” Bucky added. “It’s not quite casual but it’s probably as close as you’re gonna get.”

“How about some of your workout clothes,” Sam asks. “They’re all clean, right?”

“Sweatpants might be a little too casual,” Bucky retorts. 

“Fair, fair,” Sam concedes. “But the shirts could work.”

“Yeah,” Bucky nods. “One of those shirts, not tucked in, and no jacket. That’s pretty casual. Especially for Steve.”

Steve lets out an exasperated sigh and follows their advice. He also makes a mental note to figure out something less formal from his tailor.

When you open the door to your apartment Steve hands you a bouquet of purple petunias and violets. You bounce on your toes a little as you take them from him and gesture for him to come inside. He’s immediately hit by the delightful mix of smells coming from your kitchen. 

“I thought we were going to order delivery,” he comments.

You snort, “ordering out is for when I’m worn out and can’t bring myself to cook. I really enjoy cooking and everything that comes with it. Except for the dishes but thankfully I have a dishwasher.” 

Steve chuckles, “is there anything I can do to help out?”

“Yes, actually. I need a taste tester!” You giggle as you pull him into the kitchen. You set the flowers in a vase and turn back to your cooking. “And thanks for wearing a t-shirt,” you comment. “Now I don’t have to be so scared about accidentally spilling some food and staining your very expensive clothing.”

“That’s why you wanted me in casual wear? If any shirt got stained I’d have just gotten a new one,” he argues.

“Or,” you counter, “you could just have an outfit that’s okay to relax and not a big deal if you get food, makeup or whatever on it.”

He raises an eyebrow, “are you thinking of getting some of your makeup on my shirts?” Heat rushes to your cheeks and you stumble over your words, trying to think of a reply. Instead you dip a spoon into the sauce and ask him to taste test it. He grins wickedly at your deflection but obliges. 

“Mmmmmm,” is his immediate response. “That tastes really good! A nice bit of heat with it, too. What is it?”

“It’s the sauce for some tinga de pollo,” you reply. “So not too much cumin or too little garlic?”

“Not at all,” he affirms. “It’s damn delicious!” 

You squeak in delight and turn back to the stove. You turn off the burners and start dishing up the rice and chicken. “If you need some more heat for it, let me know,” you tell Steve as you hand him his plate. “In the meantime, let’s watch a movie. Do you have any preferences?”

“Umm,” he ponders. “Just no True Crime stuff?”

“Okay! We’re watching Labyrinth, then.”

“A Muppet movie?”

“A great Muppet movie, thank you.”

Steve smiles as you both sit on the couch and you sidle up to him. The food really is delicious and you were nice enough to dish out large portions. Definitely better than a fancy restaurant that serves mostly empty plates. It makes him think about his early career when he was finally able to afford to eat his fill. People were amazed at how quickly he was able to bulk up once he was finally getting enough food. But he had to stop eating his fill in favor of manners and societal obligations. He’s so caught up in enjoying the food he doesn’t realize how fast he’s eaten it until he accidentally brings an empty fork to his mouth. 

“Thank you for the compliment,” you smirk. He blushes and tries to apologize for eating so fast but you cut him off. “Sincerely, Steve,” you comfort him, “I’m glad you enjoyed the food. Would you like some more?”

“Yes, please,” he looks at you so appreciatively you give him a small kiss on the cheek as you grab his plate. He tries to grab his plate back but you put a hand on his chest, to keep him seated. “I can get my own food,” he argues. “You should sit and keep eating.”

“Hmm…” you ponder, enjoying the feel of his chest under your hand. “Okay. But promise me you’ll leave room for dessert.”

“I promise,” he smiles and you hand him his plate back. He comes back from the kitchen with his plate entirely covered with food. You raise an eyebrow and he looks right at you as he starts eating. Figuring he knows what he’s doing you settle in again and get back to the movie. 

When you’re done eating you set your plate on the coffee table and snuggle up against Steve, resting your head on his shoulder. He freezes for a moment but finds himself relaxing into you. When he finishes his plate he sets it aside and wraps his arm around you. Hugging his massive bicep you sidle closer to him until you’re almost sitting on his leg and rest your head on his chest. He gently moves you so that your legs are sitting on his lap and leans his head against yours.

Between the weight of his arm, his body heat and the steady rhythm of his heart you find yourself falling asleep. You try to fight it but then you hear Steve’s gentle snores. Carefully, so as not to wake him, you glance up and smile at his handsome face, more relaxed than you’ve ever seen. You decide to go with it and let yourself fall asleep feeling safe and warm in his arms.

Part 3 -- Part 5

Series Masterlist

Tags:

@alicedopey; @aryhyuuga; @cynic-spirit; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @ktficworld; @rebekahdawkins; @texmexdarling

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know.

#mob boss!steve rogers #mob!steve rogers #mafia!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #mob!steve rogers x reader #gonna just go ahead and embrace this as a full series

[sfwregressionfanfictions]

Fred Weasley x Little! Reader x George Weasley: Unjust Punishment

Summery: When umbridge takes a punishment too far, the twins look after the reader and come to a few realizations. (GN)

w/c: 1654

TW: Negative selftalk, punishment, pain, crying, umbridge (She’s a whole trigger herself), and George and Fred being amazing Caregivers! This is a first-person fanfic, idk why I decided to write it like that but I did.

God, I am so pathetic.

I couldn’t even make it back to the dorms, I am sat in an empty hall pressed to a wall crying. My hand hurt so bad and all I could do was cry wanting someone to make it stop. I was regressing at this point. 

Maybe I wasn’t designed to be big in these situations. As long as I could remember if I had big emotions or something bad happen, all I could do was go small. I was like a defenseless hummingbird in those situations. My brain interpreting all interactions like a child would.

I was too caught up in my own thoughts to notice the redheaded twins that were in the year above mine. They were walking together to do, only Godrick knows what, when they stopped in front of me. They immediately stopped chatting and laughing, casting glances at one another. They shared a look that said “are they?” or “Should we?” or even “Were we right?”.

Their glances quickly stopped and they began talking, Fred taking the lead, “Hey (Y/N), what’s wrong? What happened?”

The pair slid onto the ground on either side of me. I stared at his freckled face and brown eyes before turning to George and doing the same. They had different freckle patterns and the way they let their eyes and face rest were different, it was easy to tell who was who. I turned back to Fred to speak, “Umbridge!”

George and Fred spare a glance, apparently the word didn’t come out as clear as I was hoping it would. Each began pulling a hand towards them, I was quick to snatch them away. I was embarrassed of the words etched into my skin, I was embarrassed that I was regressing right now in front of two upperclassmen that I wasn’t close with.

“Hey, It’s okay, we just wanna help! We can get those cuts all cleaned up!” Fred said, tilting his upper body to fully face me. He wasn’t subtle in his attempt to see what had me pulling away from help.

George took a different approach, he was stroking my hair, and took to whispering how brave I was. He said, “You made it so far from her office, almost to the dorms, you are so brave and strong. Bet you got introuble for fighting a dragon and winning, hmm?” He paused to squeeze my arm, as in to feel my muscles. I giggled through my tears, “Yeah, so strong. Maybe we could clean you up like squires would, since you are big and strong like a knight.”

I nodded before realizing he was talking to me like he knew. I pull on his shirt lightly to get his face a little closer and whisper through my tears, “How did you know?”

Fred must have heard cause he answered instead, “Cause we play close attention to you, little one.”

That was a nice nickname. I like it. Freddie began to stand up, I always forget how tall they are. The had to be at least 6’3. They made me feel tiny, their slender frames made them look even longer. Georgie stood up too.

George spoke when I didn’t stand up, “Do you need help standing up?”

Fred didn’t give me a chance to answer before asking a follow up, “Do you want one of us to carry you?

“Yesh pease,” I was too small to walk well by myself and being carried seemed less embarrassing than stumbling and crawling all the way to the gryffindor common room (Even if you aren’t that house they are taking you there to take care of you).

Fred and George nodded, Fred picked me up like I weighed nothing. Like I was tiny! I giggled, my tears were still dripping, however less and the pain was easy to ignore with the pair taking care of me. 

George walked behind Fred, tickling me or playing peekaboo. He was doing all he could to keep me distracted from the pain. Or from how far the walk to their dorm was.

When the fancy lady in the painting finally let us in, they made quick work of the magic that prevented the different students from entering the wrong dorm. Georgie opened the dorm door to their shared room. Fred carried me over to his bed before gentle throwing me onto the bed, his hands remaining under my armpits to keep me from falling or getting hurt. 

“Fly!!!” I giggle as I stopped bouncing, the pain in my hand remained but the twin gently taking care of me made me smile. They would be the best daddies ever! My giggles quickly stopped at the thought, they probably want to get my hand fixed so I will leave… I look over to see George with a first aid kit, this cemented the bad thoughts. They were just good people and they don’t like me even a little. Tears prickle my eyes again, watching George open the kit.

“Oh baby!” Fred caught my attention, “Why are you crying? Is the kit scary? It’ll hurt a little at first but we have to clean up your hand and get it all wrapped up.”

Fred was quick to sit down, and pull me into his lap, he waited to see me nod before placing my down on his lap. ‘He was like the knights from my story! He was kind and shiv- Chivo- Nice, he was nice.’ My brain was getting more and more fuzzy, they were babying me and treating me so nicely, but also I was in pain and I knew they were going to leave me alone!

“Baby, can you use your big kid words to say whats wrong?” Fred asked, bouncing me on his knee. He was rubbing my back and holding me to keep me safely on his lap.

I couldn’t keep the truth to myself, I threw myself into his chest and buried my face into his neck. I cried out, “Don wanna fix! Den hab to weave!” (Don't want my hand fixed, then you are gonna leave me!”

“Oh Baby,” The voice came from George, as he placed the kit down and sat next to Fred and I. His hand found the back of my head and pet it soothingly. He spoke again, “We will stay as long as you will let us. We want to take care of you and protect you. How about we spend the night hanging out after we get you fixed up and when you are big tomorrow we can talk about what happens next?”

With slow blinks, realization of all the words formed. I spoke again, “Sweepover?”

“Yes, a sleep over. We will put on a muggle thing called a movie! We have a projector! We will make you some snacks, and we can play and cuddle! Whatever the little (Prince/Princess/Royal) wants!” Freddie confirmed, kissing my forehead.

“Now, we do have to get that hand wrapped up…” George said, moving towards the first aid kit again. His hand leaving my hair, and Fred moved me so I was facing Georgie. I look at the wipe in his hand and realize the pain I was about to feel. Luckily George was quick to hand me a ‘beanie baby’, it was a kitty. 

Fred started rubbing the stuffie into my cheek, tapping it around my face, and made it do funny voices. George was quick to clean my hand, Fred continuing to distract me. My hand was soon wrapped in a boring white bandage wrap. 

Georgie scooped me up once he was done with putting away the kit. I was giggling and squeal. Freddie moved to set up the projector and some snacks. George said we could push the beds together and make a giant fort! I put my hands on the bed and tried to push but i couldn’t. George pushed the bed like it was nothing, he was like a super strong daddy!

George hung some sheets to make the fort while I got to put stuffed animals, pillows and anything soft I can find. Fred and George have a lot of soft stuff, I think they were summoning stuff for us. Once it was done, George and I jumped into it, bouncing slightly. 

Soon a moving picture appeared on the wall and a cart of snacks was pushed to the side of the fort. Georgie left space in the fort for it. The view of the moving picture was soon blocked by Fred jumping into the fort, he landed right on me! At first I though it was cause I was super strong that I was’t hurt when he landed on me, but I soon realized it was cause he was holding himself up. 

As the movie played, my eyes start to droop. I didn’t mean to start falling asleep, but it was so comfy being nuzzled in the cuddle puddle. My thumb started moving towards my mouth on its own, soon I was suckling on it. Fred and George were whispering to each other, I wasn’t able to make it all of the words.

Fred said something about ‘won’t do’ and George said something about ‘get something for-’. I nuzzled my face into whoever was on my left. 

“You are one sleepy baby, aren’t you?” George said, so thats who I was nuzzling.

“Good night little one, you need to get a good night rest to heal quick.” Fred said, petting my hair again. A quick pressure was pressed to the side of my head, it was a sweet kiss that made me feel so cared about. 

I was very small and about to fall asleep, I murmured out a “Nini dadas.”.

Unknown to me, the twins looked at each other with huge grins. They wanted to jump around, high-five, or scream. However, the pair simply nodded and whispered about tomorrow.

#age regression community #sfw agere #age regression fic #sfw age regression #fred weasley x little! reader #fred weasley x reader #george wealsey x reader #george weasley x little! reader #little!reader #x little! reader #fred x little! reader x george #cglre #cg! fred weasley #cg! george weasley #harry potter #harry potter age regression #Harry potter agere #hp agere #agere little #agere #little space #littleone #age regression

[damn-it-a-hogwarts-legacy-blog]

Hummingbird's Kiss

AO3 Link

The year is 1896. 20 year-olds MC and Ominis have graduated from Hogwarts, and are well on their way to starting their lives as a couple. This story is about their first night together in their new, tranquil home.

Ominis x fem!MC

NSFW—sooo much sexual content. All very vanilla.

What can I say except it's their wedding night and they're taking advantage of that. Nothing crazy, they are very soft and gentle with each other. Fluff is mixed in. Fairly slow-burn

Word count: 4,305

A/N: This came together super fast, but I love how it turned out. I really missed writing nsfw, I gotta say. As always, I basically write these things with my MC's lore in mind, but hope that I've made it open-ended enough for others appreciate too. Some things are not as open-ended as others, like their home and MC's family background. I just really, really wanted to give them the prosperity and happiness they deserve lol. Making them temporarily keep the Gaunt surname is also definitely weird, but I wanted to keep that part open-ended too instead of projecting my own MC's chosen surname on the reader. :)

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

MC could scarcely believe how quickly the time had gone. It felt as though one minute she was confessing her love to Ominis Gaunt, the boy with whom she happily caused mischief around Hogwarts, and the next they had graduated, started their adult lives, moved to the peaceful countryside and gotten married.

The two had specifically chosen to live far away from the wizarding world to live a safe and happy life together. They would still see their old friends and family any time they liked, but preferred keeping their magical identities secret in their day-to-day lives to avoid the powerful and dangerous Gaunt family finding them. Ominis was their opposite in nearly every way, and both he and MC feared the other Gaunts taking retribution against MC for daring to defy their ancient morbid traditions and stealing their son away. They would decide on a new surname together, but for tonight she was, proudly, Mrs. Gaunt.

Their new home in the idyllic countryside, a property surrounded on all sides by muggle neighbors, was a wedding gift from MC's father. It had been passed down to them from his ownership in the hope that they would breathe new life into the old English country house.

The ceremony had been a quiet one, just the way both MC and Ominis wanted. It was a cool, late June evening in the manor's garden where they exchanged vows in front of their dearest friends and family. MC's dress was a pure white silk with designs of hummingbirds and flowers that, with the help of an enchantment, fluttered around the skirt and train. Poppy Sweeting had given her a strikingly beautiful flower crown of daffodils and violets to which she could attach her veil. Ominis' jacket was a handsome shade of dark, leafy green, enchanted to glimmer a subtle, deep hummingbird blue wherever the shadows touched it—an invention Sebastian Sallow had been eager to present to his best friend—complementing the designs on MC's dress. While he could not see his bride, he heard the joyful tears on her voice as she made her vows—and that was all he needed to be the happiest man in the world.

After the music had faded and guests had returned to their homes, the couple were left alone in their house for the first time. MC and Ominis had always preferred the quiet, and rather than feel lonely, they reveled in the silence of their new home. Ominis enjoyed quiet places where he could better hear MC. He had always been comforted to hear her soft footfalls and the brushing of her clothing as she lingered nearby—and tonight, the sweeping of her silk dress made his heart swell.

Their bedroom had been made up for them by the servants, and MC felt her heart leap into her chest at the sight of it. Sumptuous ivory sheets adorned a large four-poster bed with emerald curtains to keep out the cold in winter. As instructed, large open paths had been made to allow Ominis to move unimpeded, leaving the room free of the typical Victorian clutter of floor decorations. There stood a beautiful armoire and dressing table with a mirror on either side of the bed, and large plush chairs with a small end table accompanied wide windows that looked out over the wild forests beyond the property. At the moment, they were bathed in pale moonlight that streamed through the windows in contrast to the gas lamps that washed the room with an inviting glow.

MC let go of Ominis' hand to let him explore and commit the room to memory so he would be free to move around his bedroom without having to use his wand.

"It's beautiful," he breathed. "I couldn't imagine a more perfect place to begin our life together." He set his wand down on the dressing table, took off his jacket to drape across the back of a chair, and took tentative steps on his own, testing his knowledge of the room. He was, as always, a quick study and was soon making strides back and forth. Seeing him walk unaided and with confidence in their own private world, where they were safe from goblins and ancient magic and vindictive Gaunt family members, filled MC's heart with overwhelming happiness, and after a day of so much excitement, she had no hope of holding back the sob of pure joy that escaped her lips.

"Are you all right?" Ominis asked with alarm as she closed the gap between them and he quickly wrapped her in his arms.

"I'm just so happy," she sniffled. "I could never have imagined how completely perfect this moment would be." Her emotion was infectious, and Ominis felt elated tears roll down his own cheeks as he held his wife tight in his arms. Against all odds—all the forces that sought to keep them apart or end their lives—they had succeeded.

Ominis held MC's head to his chest, and she could feel his heart madly beating in sync with hers. He had grown a number of inches taller than her, just enough to rest his well-defined jaw on the top of her head, and he did his best to envelop her in his warmth and love. He reached for her chin, and held it gently as he leaned down to kiss her slowly. From the evening they shared their first kiss as teenagers, the magic of their lips pressed tenderly to one another never wore off. Each kiss at the start of a new day felt like their very first all over again, and tonight that feeling was magnified.

Ominis' kiss deepened, and he reached a hand up to gently hold the side of MC's face and her neck. Her heart rate was suddenly off like a shot, and Ominis felt the change under his hand. "Mmm, my beautiful little hummingbird." He stopped long enough to purr in her ear. "So pretty... and so small and quick-pulsed, too." MC sighed, goosebumps rippling down her arms and back as she nearly went limp in his arms at the sound of his voice. Ominis deftly guided MC to sit on their bed before she would find herself passed out on the floor.

"How is it," he chuckled against the arch of her neck in between kisses, "that after all these years, I still have the same effect on you?"

MC could only moan in response, completely melted under his touch. Each time his lips made contact with the skin on her neck, another bolt of lightning shot through her entire body. She could feel her lower abdomen heating until it was nearly a painful ache. How this man managed to be a walking aphrodisiac, MC would never know.

Ominis gently pushed her down onto her back and leaned over her, arms on either side of her as he began peppering her collarbone with tiny kisses, each as delicate and soft as a raindrop. The lace collar of MC's wedding dress felt soft against his lips, but he yearned for more, frustrated that he could feel the warmth of the delicate skin underneath but he could not get to it. He reached behind her and began unclasping the collar and upper back of the dress as she wrapped her arms around his neck to hold herself up. They had had enough precious moments of privacy before tonight that he was quite an expert at unclasping or unbuttoning MC's dresses to get to her neck, and MC delighted in it. Laying her back down, he carefully pushed the dress down to reveal her delicate shoulders. Very rarely had he ever been given the opportunity to touch her bare skin this far down, and he savored the moment. He brought his slender fingers up to caress the impossibly smooth skin, sweet with the scent of her floral perfume and exposure to the fresh air all day. He began gently biting the skin and sucking on different spots until he had found a place that made her whimper and arch her back. "Good girl," he whispered into her skin as he dragged his lips along each spot that made her moan, committing them to memory. Beneath him, MC quivered and felt slick arousal between her legs. Ominis had always had a way of inciting amorous feelings in her that she would either relieve by herself later on, or convince him to help with his own hands, but she couldn't remember the last time he had had an effect quite this strongly on her.

Suddenly, he pulled away and MC thought for one horrible moment that he had heard trouble or found something wrong with her. But he merely smirked down at her. "Hmm, this won't do at all, will it? Here we are in our marriage bed—and you, my darling, are still almost completely clothed."

MC smiled through love-intoxicated eyes, and she was rather grateful her husband couldn't see how intensely she was blushing. "Well, it seems you ought to do something about that," she murmured, giving him the invitation to do the honors. His eyelids also began to feel heavier, and he gratefully obliged.

Sitting back up, Ominis brought MC up with him as he traced her back to find where he had left off with the task of unclasping the myriad of tiny hooks that stubbornly held the silken dress to her body. Each clasp that came undone with a swift flutter of his fingers heightened MC's arousal. She smiled to herself wondering how he would feel about the corset and chemise beneath.

Once Ominis could find no more clasps, MC placed a tender kiss on his check and stood to step out of the dress. He eagerly followed, taking the dress from her and draping it over his jacket on the nearby chair. She took it upon herself to undo the corset as he felt around and exhaled sharply in mild frustration that he had not yet reached his prize. "You women and your barbaric ways," he chuckled as he teasingly dragged his lips along her neck again, hoping it would encourage her to go faster.

"Oh hush, you," she smiled. She let his fingers follow hers to learn how she undid the corset so he may help in the future, and she delighted in watching him hungrily lick his lips as he focused so intently on learning this vital skill.

Finally, setting the restrictive garment aside and taking her first truly deep breath of the day, she promised Ominis that the only thing that stood in his way now was the tiny sheer dress hanging loosely off her seated form. His hands fervently took over and he savored the feeling of the thin fabric over her skin. He could feel every delicious bump and curve as his hands traveled up and down her lithe torso. His fingers traced along the shoulderless neckline, and he marveled at the existence of such a clothing item. He hoped she would wear such a thing more often in the privacy of their new bedroom. Tracing down along her sides, his hands stopped to rest on her hips. A thumb tentatively swept forward to the intersection of her thighs and torso, and she gave a heady sigh.

"Stand up," he murmured. His voice was quiet but firm, and she happily obeyed. Holding her waist, he guided her to stand in front of him between his knees as his hands slowly pushed the chemise up and over her head, tossing the clothing aside. His hands once again came to a rest at her hips and he placed a single, slow kiss between her breasts. “I can already tell you’re far more beautiful than I ever dared imagine,” he murmured against her chest.

Standing there, completely exposed to the slightly chilled air and her husband, was a positively terrifying and exhilarating feeling. She rested her hands on his shoulders and let her head loll back slightly in ecstasy. It was equal parts torture and pure pleasure that Ominis was now taking his time exploring every inch of her skin, planting kisses as he desperately tried to memorize every square inch of her body in his titillated state. His hands drifted up to her breasts and he eagerly took hold, cupping each one and gently squeezing. Ominis craned his neck slightly and placed his mouth over a nipple, causing MC to gasp and reflexively pull him closer. His tongue alternated between long, gentle strokes and slowly circling the sensitive nub as his thumb lazily massaged the other nipple. MC was quite sure she had begun dripping, she was so wet.

As if reading her mind, Ominis let his other hand move over her stomach and down between her legs. He felt the product of her arousal long before he reached her sensitive folds, and he gave his signature mischievous smile. He took his mouth away from its current task, sending a shudder up MC's spine. He ran a single finger along her core as she let out a long moan, and placed the finger in his mouth, savoring her taste.

"You're sopping wet, my darling," Ominis smirked. He once again guided MC by her waist, nudging her to lie back on the bed. The moment her head hit the soft sheets, Ominis was on top of her. He kissed down her stomach and across from one side of her hips to the other, the entire time a string of moans and begging coming from MC's lips. His kisses were barely more than a soft tickle against her skin, which made the desperate ache in her abdomen flare. She tangled her fingers in his hair, trying to gently push him further down, but he resisted with a soft chuckle. His kisses circled around and down her thigh, gently biting at the soft skin and delighting in hearing her moan his name in desperation. He had always been such a tease. She could not decide if she loved that about him, or hated it. Finally, Ominis pushed her legs apart and made one long dragging motion with his tongue over her core. MC moaned loudly, and her hand on the back of his head pushed him further towards her. She immediately became embarrassed and clapped a hand over her mouth, which Ominis heard. He stopped and moved up to lie next to her, gently stroking the side of her face before moving her hand away from her mouth and murmuring to her. "Please don't be embarrassed. Your voice is the most beautiful sound in the world to me. I want to hear it on our wedding night—whether you're whispering what you want me to do to you, or screaming my name—I want to hear all of it. Can you do that for me, my pretty little hummingbird?"

MC hummed positively, feeling some growing confidence from his words—the same confidence she had when they would break the rules together as students, or when she would get frustrated with his teasing and insisted he be gentlemanly enough to help her relieve the tension in the private moments they could steal together. "In that case... I want you back where you were and putting your tongue to work," she smirked. Ominis' face became flushed, and with an aroused smile, a "whatever you wish" barely tumbled out over his lips.

"Wait—" MC put a hand on his chest as he had started to shift. "You've been dressed far longer than I. How am I to enjoy my husband in a state like this?"

Before Ominis could think of something sultry to say in response, MC had taken him by the shirt collar and began untying his tie. Tossing it aside, she got right to work unbuttoning his vest and the shirt underneath, all the while wrapping a naked leg around one of his and kissing at his neck. Ominis instantly moaned her name and did his best to keep his arms from giving out. Merlin, she was good. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and admired his slender build, slightly toned muscles rippling perfectly under his pale, smooth skin. She also noticed the little beauty marks that, starting from his cheek, trailed down across his body. As her hands slid down his sides, she found and kissed each little mark, worshipping this gorgeous man and wondering how she ever got so lucky as to have him fall in love with her. Ominis shivered, and a moan echoed in his throat.

Her gaze finally traveling downward, it was clear just from looking at him what was going on under his trousers. She ran a finger along the hem of his trousers, sometimes dipping no more than an inch below. Ominis once again moaned, this time louder and with a plea to her name. MC relented—her own body screaming for more than what she was getting—and she got to work unbuckling the belt around his waist and unbuttoning the trousers underneath. Pushing his trousers and pants away as her breath rushed hot across his shoulder, she was met with his erection. All the books and conversations with friends in the world could not have prepared MC for this beautiful sight. Ominis, still holding himself up on his arms, was panting desperately now. He wriggled out of his remaining clothes before she could do anything except stare. "You are the most breathtakingly gorgeous man on earth," she murmured without thought. Hearing those words quickly brought Ominis' lips to hers. He cared not that he had miscalculated where her voice was and missed her lips on his first try. To be given such a compliment by the love of his life was almost more than his heart could bear, and he was completely over the moon.

When they finally broke away, he remembered the order he had originally been given, and he gave her one more small kiss before shifting back downwards.

MC's hand once again found purchase in his pretty blond hair, and he kissed the inside of her silky thighs. "I have never done this before, my darling, but tell me what you want and I shall do it," he said as he dragged his lips up and down her inner thigh, impatient to please her.

MC hesitated, feeling a bit shy again at the thought of giving explicit directions, but she squeezed her eyes shut in determination and took a breath, allowing herself to get lost in pleasure. "You should use that beautiful, warm tongue of yours—"

Before MC could continue, Ominis had dragged his tongue up her core in one long, slow stroke. She gasped, high pitched, and sighed. "Yes... yes, exactly that, please... That little bump you feel at the top, you should focus there." Again, in the middle of her thought, Ominis did as he was told and playfully flicked once at her clit, sending a massive wave of pleasure through her body. She cried his name and gripped his hair. "I want you to rub small circles," she panted. He dutifully moved the flat surface of his tongue over the tiny organ, marveling at its enormous power and delighting in hearing his wife moan his name. After a minute or two of this, however, she gently stopped him.

"Are you sure you're finished, darling?" He asked, licking his lips and already missing her taste. Still out of breath from the intoxicating sensations she hadn't thought possible, she wordlessly guided him up next to her and brought his face near hers. His graceful body, laid next to her, was entirely too distracting.

She cradled his lovely face in both her hands, gazing into otherworldly blue eyes that stared through her, a tone of lust in her voice he had never before heard. "I... want you inside me," she breathed. His eyes lit up.

"Are you sure, my darling? It is tradition, but I don't want you to feel as if you must. I would be more than happy to oblige if you want to go back to—"

"Please," MC panted. "In fact, it's not that I want you, it's that I need you. I need to be as close to you as possible, Ominis.”

He was not about deny his beautiful new wife—certainly not with that breathless, needful voice she used. He agreed enthusiastically and brought himself directly over her. He was already dripping precum before her pleas had fully left her mouth. His own body ached and begged for that primal release, twitching in anticipation. He lifted her legs and took her hand down to his erection so she could guide him in. Her grasp was like pure ecstasy, and he groaned with pleasure as she teased herself with him a few times, resisting the base urge to push himself all the way in at once.

At first, the couple were slightly nervous. She felt so warm and tight as he gradually pushed deeper, stopping whenever she whimpered and tucked her head. Each time, he would hush her and stroke her hair, reassuring her that she was doing well. He reached down to gently roll her clit between his thumb and forefinger to relax her, and MC threw her head back, her hips hitting his with some force as he found himself deliciously buried inside her. His head swam with pleasure for a moment until he returned to his senses. "I'm so sorry," he gasped, panicking. He felt around until he found her hand and squeezed it gently. "Are you hurt?"

MC panted for a moment, the pain easing quickly. "You feel... so incredible," was all MC could manage to breathe with a desirous smirk. "Can you do that again?"

Ominis sighed with relief and, leaning forward on his arms, began a gentle rhythm. He balanced himself and did his best to both keep his rhythm and play with her clit. He rolled it in his fingers, massaged tight circles with his thumb and ran two flat fingers up and down it—anything he could manage to do, just to hear more of her intoxicating, desperate cries of pleasure.

One of her hands held the bedsheets in a death grip while the other reached up and ran her fingers up the back of his scalp. She was completely lost in rapture as she rolled her hips to his rhythm and told him how good he felt. He had no idea how much longer he could hold out hearing her like this and feeling how warm and wet she was around him.

“Please… don’t stop,” she gasped. “That feels so good,” she whimpered. Ominis squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to savor just a few wonderful moments more before he came completely undone.

“I love you,” she panted. “Everything about you, it’s perfect. As if our bodies were made for each other. Merlin, I cannot believe how incredible you feel inside me—”

Her gasps finally took over, making speech impossible. The timbre of her voice raised and, with Ominis’ next thrust, she surrendered to the most intense climax she had ever felt. Her hands flew to his hips as she rolled against him and waves of pleasure radiated out from her core, his name on her tongue over and over between the most beautiful gasps Ominis had ever heard. Hearing her ecstasy and feeling her body tightening around him, he could no longer hold back. He pushed as deep as either of their bodies would allow, and through gritted teeth he moaned loudly, letting the pulse of his own climax overtake all thought and reasoning. His entire body shuddered, and he held MC tight as he pressed against her and made his final few arhythmic thrusts.

Blissful silence overtook the room, save for the couple attempting to catch their breath. They held each other close, scarcely believing what had happened. Ominis pressed a tender kiss to his wife’s lips, and MC grasped her husband’s hand as tightly as her tired body would allow. The skin of their chests pressed together felt so perfect, and MC loathed the thought of having to eventually separate. He finally pulled out of her and rolled over to let her relax atop his chest, and she was rather sad to feel a bit emptier.

"That," MC panted against Ominis' shoulder, "was so much better than I ever could have dreamed."

"So I take it that was better than whatever those pretty little fingers of yours can do?" Ominis earned himself a gentle, playful slap on the chest.

"Hush," MC laughed. "But yes, I… don't even know how describe this.”

Ominis chuckled and planted more soft kisses along her cheek and neck. “We should have all the time in the world to figure that out, my little hummingbird.”

Tears once again stung her exhausted eyes at his reminder, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “How was I so lucky,” she smiled through her breaking voice. “My beloved Slytherin partner in crime, my protector, my true love… it’s all like a dream to finally be here with you in marriage, and I hope to never wake.”

Ominis gently squeezed her in his arms and pressed the side of his face to hers, breathing in her perfect scent—now of perfume, fresh air and the sweat of lovemaking. "If I recall correctly, and I often do, a certain witch has saved me countless times, as well. But I think you needn't worry about waking up. Nothing could ever keep me from my little hummingbird." He slowly ran a hand up and down her smooth back before covering her with the sheets and listening to her breathing as she tried, and failed, to fight off sleep. Nested in their disheveled bedding, skin pressed against skin, they slowly drifted off together, silently promising they would never be far apart.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis x mc #ominis x oc #fem!MC #ominis gaunt fanfiction #ominis gaunt fluff #ominis smut #ominis gaunt smut #Isabel Greymoore

[deathbecomesthem]

Robin Buckley x Fem!Reader blurb

This takes place in @jo-harrington's Store Manager Verse, one of my favorite AUs out there.

For my @dr-aculaaa, I hope you like it.

It’s stupid. January in Hawkins is too cold for this, and your intestines are not capable of tolerating the amount of dairy you’ve been consuming. And yet, here you are again, walking under the fluorescent lights guided by something you don’t fully understand. Butter pecan with whipped cream and a cherry on top - you’re sweating at the thought of choking down yet another sundae.

You walk past the entrance, shiny white tile bright in the already glowing fluorescent atmosphere amongst the shops lining the long hallway. Waldenbooks calls to you, so you pass the open door without looking inside to see the real reason you’re spending another afternoon in the mall instead of at that little cafe just outside of town. Your anxiety is relieved immediately when the smell of paper freshly printed with ink invades your senses. 

“Hello.” The man behind the counter, his angular features casting shadows on his face, extends his perfunctory greeting, and you nod before making your way to the end of the fiction section - A thought D. You have no real reason to be here, and not enough cash to spend while also being able to afford that sundae that will make you nauseous for the rest of the night. You pick up a copy of Seeds of Yesterday. The combination of the smell of the paper and the feel of the pages flipping under your thumb immediately relaxes you. 

Deep breathes, you ninny, you think to yourself. You have no grand plan, you never do. You come here because…. because of a reason you have not been able to fully accept in your own mind. You come here because of the way your belly flutters, like the wings of a hummingbird beating inside your skin when you see those red lips curve up into a smile.

You put the book back on the shelf and walk along the back of the store, each firm step of your boots a grounding movement. You run a finger along the spines of the thrillers while you make your way back to the front of the store, waving at the man that is still standing stock still at the cash register. You shiver a little, his icy blue eyes follow you as you turn left and head back to the ice cream shop. You pass a group of middle school girls, huddled together and giggling. You look inside Claire’s and see a younger girl sitting in the high stool at the front of the shop, a woman with glasses and hair pulled into a ponytail held by a black velvet scrunchie holding the piercing gun to a small earlobe. You see the music shop just past your ultimate destination and think you’ll stop by on your way out, maybe pick up a cassette of Hunky Dory so you can listen to it in the car. It’s your favorite, and the new car has a tape deck. 

On que, just like every other time you’ve entered the shop, you hear his voice from behind the counter say, “Ahoy! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me?” Steve Harrington doesn’t remember you. He never does. His smile is always the same, a small smirk climbing up on the left. His full lips are glossy, and you’ve started to wonder if he’s wearing mascara. This is not the same boy that sat next to you in Mrs. Click’s history class last year. 

“Uh, hi.” You never know what to say to him, so you look past him, “can I get-”

You’re cut off by a voice coming from the other side of the swinging door behind Steve, his co-worker finishes your request while setting down a container of maraschino cherries in front of him, “- a small butter pecan sundae, extra whipped cream and a cherry on top.”

Robin Buckley. Your heart skips a beat, and your ears hear the whoosh of blood rushing. She’s looking for the ice cream scoop, so you steal your glances. You can deny it all you want, but not while you’re standing in front of her. Sweet freckles kiss every corner of her face, and you wonder, yet again, if you’ll ever have the opportunity to count them. When you close your eyes at night, you desperately try to conjure a true image of her face. You run your fingers along her skin, numbering every brown fleck and kissing each one in turn.

Steve’s voice breaks your reverie, “oh, yeah. I’m sorry, I don’t know how I could have forgotten the order of such a lovely lady.” Robin scoffs, and she looks at you from behind the plastic without lifting her head. A quick glance. You think maybe you see a little pink coming through on her cheeks.

“I got it, Casanova. Why don’t you go unload the shipment, hm? I won’t count this one against you.” Robin nods to a whiteboard leaning against the wall. It has tally marks under the heading “You Suck”, and you snicker at the sight.

Steve puts his hands up, a feigned expression of hurt across his features, “I don’t need this abuse. I’ll go put the shipment away.” You and Robin look at each other again, both of you biting back grins, while Steve pushes his way back through the swinging door.

“What’s it like working with Steve?” You whisper low, leaning over the counter a little. You’re watching Robin’s clever hands scoop ice cream into a paper cup.

“You know, it’s not like I thought it would be. He’s not so bad. If he’d only stop flirting with every pretty girl that comes through the door.” Robin flicks her eyes up to you. They’re wide, as if she’s shocked by her own words, the faint pink on her cheeks turning crimson before your eyes.

“Oh, yeah. Well, as long as you two get along,” you pretend to not notice the tremble in her hand. Her nervousness is a crack. It’s a door standing barely ajar, and you decide to reach out and place your hand on the wood. See if you can ease it open more before it’s slammed shut. 

Robin sets the ice cream up on the counter next to the cash register, and you reach into your back pocket for your wallet. The chain jingles slightly as you fiddle in the billfold for a 5. You push back the nauseated feeling when you think about the ice cream you need to eat to keep this game going and a surge of confidence runs through you. No more bloating. No more stomach aches. 

“What time are you done? I’m heading to Tape World after this, you should come with me.” Your hand is steady, money extended to the girl you’ve been pining after since last year. You watched her watch Tammy Thompson watch Steve Harrington. That’s always how these go, though. Everyone watching, no one seeing.

Robin looks at you, eyes darting back and forth between your own. She smiles, punches buttons on the machine in front of her, and fiddles for your change. “I’m actually clocking out in 15 minutes, if you don’t mind waiting for me?”

“15 minutes? Sure, I can wait.” You take your ice cream, and can feel her eyes watch you as you make your way to a booth in the corner. You watch a couple enter, and Robin’s eyes are drawn away from you. It’s the woman that was holding the piercing gun to the little girl’s ear a few minutes ago, and Eddie Munson. They’re smiling at each other shyly. You look back down to your ice cream, sigh, and take a bite. Maybe, some day, Robin would look at you the way Eddie’s looking at the girl by his side, and you’ll never have to eat another ice cream sundae again.

#robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley fluff #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you

[honey-minded-hivemind]

(X men Evolution) Platonic Yandere Trio Wanda, Quicksilver and Magneto and Magneto's youngest child reader from a one night stand who has Technopathy and who's mom was killed protecting her from anti mutant groups and the social worker contacted Magneto because his name is in the birth certificate and asked him if he wanted custody of them.

Ooooo! Thank you for specifying which X-Men media you wanted! (But I only do gender neutral Readers, okay?) I'll see what I can do:

It was hard, not having your mom around anymore.

She died protecting you, doing everything in her power to keep you safe, to let you have a chance at a normal childhood, and how was she repayed? The people of your old town killed her. They had meant to kill you, but she took the bullet for you. You were lucky to be alive, lucky to have been moved to a safe place...

But...

Now you were moving in with someone you'd never met before.

He was supposedly your dad. Or at least who your mom claimed was. She'd never really mentioned him before, save when she needed to give you hope for a better future, when you'd be safe to use your powers and not be attacked for it.

His name was supposedly Magnus, and it turned out he had two other kids: Wanda and Pietro, twins.

They hadn't been mean or jealous (what was there to be jealous about? you're a younger sibling with trauma), but they did act... stange? In a way. Always hovering nearby, trying to keep the other Brotherhood teens from being near you or talking with you.

You think your first bonding moment with them was when you and the group had gone to an arcade for fun. The machines hummed with life, with energy... And you had just the game you enjoyed just waiting to be played.

The claw machine.

The poor thing hadn't been able to give a reward for all the money it was given, but you were just the person to make it right. With a few quarters, and a quick snap of electricity, you had the machine buzzing with your commands. The first stuffed animal was a hummingbird, with bright blue wings and a white stomach. The second was an owl with bright red eyes. Soon to follow were more and more little animals, until the entire plushie receptacle was filled to the brim with your rewards.

You shocked the poor guy behind the ticket counter, who looked tired and flabbergasted. And it seemed you'd surprised your siblings, too...

"Take it. They look like you," you pushed as you shoved the two birds into their arms. You'd already packed the rest of the stuffies into large plastic bags, hopefully to send to the local children's hospital.

"How does this look like me?" Pietro asked, looking over the hummingbird in blurred movements. "Couldn't it have been, like, a falcon, or something?"

"... Why an owl?" Wanda asks.

"You're fast and can perform any trick in the book. So can hummingbirds! Can you see a falcon flying backwards? Also, an owl because you've got the whole witch aesthetic, and it looks like you! It even has black and red feathers!"

"... Tch... Fine..."

"... It will be my familiar..."

"Yay! Now, let's go give the others their's!"

"Wait, you got them some too?!"

After that, the twins were just-

Everywhere.

And if they couldn't be there, one of the other Brotherhood teens was instead. It only became a problem when someone tried to bully you.

Safe to say...

"Mess with them again and you won't live to make the same mistake again!"

"Let's see how well you do in basketball now, loser!"

The guy who'd try to pick on you now earned the full ire of Wanda AND Pietro, who made his life h*ll. And what those two decreed, the others followed.

People left you alone after that.

Of course, when you wanted to hide from everyone or hide your tracks...

You messed with the computers and lights.

"Ah man, I can't see like this!"

"Is it a power outage?"

"Someone get the janitor!"

Being in control of technology was pretty awesome.

It wasn't so fun when your dad found out.

"Reader... perhaps you would like to join my Acolytes? We would have much need of your mutation."

You took one look at the people your... dad, had on his elite team... And decided:

"Um... I'm good, sir..."

"Very well... And you may call me 'father'."

"Erm... okay... Father..."

What you didn't see happening in the shadows was your father having his Acolytes preparing a space for you anyway, so one day you could be with them. What you didn't see was Wanda giving nightmares and accidents to your bully, sending them into a chaotic spiral. What you didn't see was Pietro following you wherever you went, spying from as far or near as he liked, and telling Wanda and Magneto everything he saw.

You may have thought you were being given some control, but in honesty... That control was only an illusion.

If you ever tried to leave or go to the X-Men, you'd just find yourself kept captive, bound in metal chains where no one would ever find you, save for your loving family... They wouldn't risk losing their little technopath, the one member of their small family who can temper their personalities... So don't try to run, or they'll cut off any small control you have for good.

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #platonic yandere marvel x reader #platonic yandere magneto #platonic yandere quicksilver #platonic yandere scarlet witch #platonic yandere pietro maximoff #platonic yandere wanda maximoff #platonic yandere xmen evolution

[onyxechos]

Alright ya nerds, it's time for more angst. This is just one of the ways I see this scene going, the brainrot is still so deep.

From @wolfythewitch 's zombie au

It was him, a part of her knew it was. The blonde hair falling messily around his head, the green jacket that he wore everywhere, the brown pants she had gotten him for one of their anniversaries. It made sense even if she couldn't wrap her mind around it. She felt frozen, as if her muscles had turned to ice. Even though it was warm outside.

But it felt like she was freezing.

A wild screech sounded and a small streak pelted out from the abandoned emergency vehicle to her right, stopping right in front of Phil. It was a teenager, about 15, so scared his hands were shaking, but determinedly leveling a handgun straight at her. Kristin didn't even see it, as the boy behind it made her breath catch in her throat.

Wilbur. Her son. He was alive. And he was here. Her chest felt light, but she also felt like she couldn't breathe, both at the same time. Wild emotions warred inside her. Even if he didn't recognize her, even if he looked like he had been through a tornado and was aiming a gun at her head, shouting to stay back. She would recognize those brown curls anywhere, the soft tilt of his eyes accented by his "seeing circles," as he called them, or as everyone else called them, his glasses.

She tried to say his name, only to have her voice crack back to a whisper in the middle, her throat closing up because of a burn that traveled down from her eyes, one so fierce that it kept her mouth from opening again. Her eyes ached from holding back tears as she looked at her son, then to her husband.

She couldn't seem to move. It was like she was a million miles away, looking down at herself facing the two people she couldn't see herself without, having spent so long trying to get to this point. But now that she had finally gotten here, she couldn't believe what she saw. She couldn't make herself take it in, to believe what was before her.

Her eyelids beat like a hummingbird's wings. She couldn't let any of the tears fall. No that would lead to something she never wanted any of the kids to see.

Instead Kristin looked back at Wil, and realized that he wasn't pointing the gun at her now. She turned her head. Techno, he had somehow come up beside her, and taken her gun, without her realizing. He was pointing it at Wilbur. "Kristin, step back."

She looked back and forth between them, realizing that Techno had spoken to her, and the reality of the situation smacked her in the face. They were going to shoot each other if she didn't do something. Finally able to make her limbs work, she reached towards Techno, and managed to find her voice. "Techno, Techno lower the gun."

The 16 year old looked at her like she was insane, but before she could open her mouth again, a groaning interrupted her, followed quickly by soft protests. Kristin looked back toward her family.

Phil was trying to move toward her, and Wil was trying his best not to let him stumble forward, his soft tone just loud enough to reach her, and a stark contrast from earlier. "No, no Dad don't, I'm not letting you go, they won't take you away again..."

Kristin's heart squeezed as she struggled not to imagine what happened to them on their way here. Her jaw tightened as she called out to her son once again, her voice emotional but strong.

"Wilbur."

He froze then, blinking twice, and she could see the moment the recognition appeared on his face as he looked back at them, at her. The emotions she saw cross his face, shock, joy, fear, exhaustion, were nothing compared to the tears that came into his eyes as he whispered the one word she was afraid she would never get to hear again.

"Mom?"

#wolfythewitch #zombie au #damn this is a deep brainrot hole /pos

[lovehotelreservation]

JUST 4 U BB GURL

Focuses on a female reader~

Warning: contains themes of unhealthy possessive behavior!

It was the longest elevator ride of his life.

Though, at least for Leon, he was given a grand view as opposed to being locked in the dingy darkness that reeked of blood and torture.

His eyes--ever in their cool blue hue--shifted from the glass panel that glimpsed out towards New York City to you.

And what a gorgeous sight to behold.

After all, you were royalty, so of course you carried an air of lavish wealth and prestige--the stylish clothes you wore, your choice in fragrance, down to the way you spoke and held your cutlery during meals.

From rescuing the daughter of the President to guarding a queen to be--he wondered just exactly when his life became that of a secret agent in a romcom, as he would snort to himself.

Yet perhaps fiction was appropriate for this situation.

You were royalty, so it was to be expected that you would be rather out of touch with the world. Though, instead of finding that to be annoying, he couldn’t help but find it charming, cute almost.

Despite your status, you were gracious and kind, ever happy to help others, whether it was cheekily leaving a sizeable donation check to a local school on the way to a gala, to fussing over his own well-being after realizing he was up all night on security detail. If you lifted your hand to the sky, he wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if hummingbirds and butterflies fluttered down in greeting--you were truly straight out of a fairy tale.

And out of his fantasies too, it felt like.

Your looks so gorgeous like that of a masterpiece in the Louvre, your voice so captivating whenever you indulged him on stories growing up in a palace, your hands so soft whenever they would inspect his, and most of all--your heart, so pure of all.

You were meant to be his mission first--overseeing your evacuation out of the country before an encroaching war broke out as per the terms of an imminent alliance treaty between your nation and the U.S., protecting you all the way over until you could reunite with your family in New York City.

It didn’t take too long for him to grow attached. After all, with the likes of Ada and Ashley--they all left as quickly as they arrived. The former to the opposing side (whichever one she fancied at the time), the latter to a life of peace that any college girl ought to enjoy.

And the thought of watching you leave, of saying goodbye with no assurance to be together again--he couldn’t bear the idea of being left alone again, even if it was the life that he was meant to live.

A sense of sickening betrayal was brewing within his heart the moment that thought came to mind.

What if he simply refused to hand you over?

You let out a yawn, a precious sound that stirred him from the dark depths of his thoughts.

His attention turned back towards the floor indicator, watching as the number dwindled closer to the bottom.

In a matter of moments, he would bring you to the car manned by Secret Service that would escort you to the undisclosed hotel where your family were currently residing in.

Leon’s eyes focused on you once more.

Catching his gaze, you smiled at him sweetly before playfully whining how you couldn’t wait to get to bed.

Temptation.

He wondered if Krauser felt any hesitance when he abducted Ashley.

A silly, meaningless question that he knew the answer to. Krauser had his own desire for power as motivation.

He just had his desire for you.

The elevator continued its descent down.

And so did Leon.

His palm slammed against the emergency stop, all while he readied his other arm to catch you for when you were jostled forward with a yelp.

As you uttered his name in confusion, your body stiffened as you were suddenly taken into his arms, his embrace tight and unyielding.

“Sorry...” he began, his tone quiet at first.

But as he basked in the scent of perfume and the gentle warmth of your body heat, he knew there was no way back from this. “I just remembered I’ve got a quicker way in mind to get you where you need to be.”

Through another floor, the ceiling of the elevator--he was taking you back with him.

After all, what was a princess without a knight risking everything in her honor?

#leon kennedy x reader #reader insert #THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORT !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #Fic

[acapelladitty]

Whole Day Off: The Week

Word Count: 4.1k (nsfw)

Pairing: Jonathan Crane/Reader

Summary: A series of snippets covering the various events Jonathan Crane engaged in during the week he spent separated from his witty girl after their disagreement.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

The Aftermath

I don’t want to be near you. Not right now, not after this.

Hands clenched until he could feel the tips of his jagged nails digging into the calloused skin of his palms, Crane waited for the solid click of the door lock before whirling in position and snatching up the closest object.

Slamming the beaker to the ground, the shards of glass scattered across the floor in an explosion of carnage which felt very satisfying in the moment. His eyes started to the stairs once more and it took every inch of restraint within his tensed frame to hold true to his word and allow his little mouse to walk free of his clutches.

“Fucking Sionis.” He growled, placing the blame where blame was due before directing his thoughts more internally. “Stupid. Utterly stupid.”

You did the right thing for yourself. As we always have.

A dark yet intimate voice whispered from the back of his mind, curling around his thoughts as a dark cloud.

She will not see it that way. I betrayed her trust and took something from her which she wasn’t willing to give. She’s irrational and impractical, but she was not wrong.

She would have given it, she said so her herself. The voice soothed. Since when does the Scarecrow ask for permission? You took as you always have, and she reacted beautifully.

Remaining stubborn in the face of his own thoughts, Crane could not deny the accusation.

She had been beautiful in her terror; eyes blown wide and limbs trembling as she faced her deepest fears. But it was a tainted experience, soiled by the presence of Sionis. Had he not been there, he would have almost been tempted to lay his head atop her heaving chest and selfishly indulge in a more intimate listen to the hummingbird beat of her heart.

I stood by as Sionis mistreated her. He struck her and groped her while she was left vulnerable by my hand. I was not quick enough to prevent it.

In truth, the sight of Sionis’ hands on her had sparked a cold fury, one borne of a primal jealousy and rage which fuelled his sharp movements in halting any further abuses. There were many things he would tolerate, but that?

No.

Not when it was something belonging to him.

He claimed so little in this life that he would allow himself that one possessive indulgence.

But still, his desire to remain collected and unbothered in the moment had allowed injury to come to his little mouse and the reality of that sparked an unfamiliar guilt which lay alongside the much more familiar anger that wrapped around his chest.

Sighing into the empty space, a weariness settled into his shoulders as he turned on his heel and crossed the threshold of the basement to channel his frustrations into something productive.

Day #1

Yanked into consciousness by the discomforting pain in his neck, a long and languid groan slipped free of Crane’s lips as his bleary eyes opened to an odd sight. The ceiling which lay above him was not what typically hung overhead and a momentary panic settled in his gut as his eyes swept down, quickly seeking out his location.

The panic settled just as quickly as it appeared as the sight of his beloved dental chair swam into view.

He had fallen asleep in the chair.

That was…unusual.

Typically, the chair provided a less comfortable sleeping arrangement than the old couch which typically housed his frame when exhaustion forced him to sleep. Hell, he didn’t even tend to sit in the chair, preferring instead to use it as an exclusive and unspoiled space for those unfortunate enough to have been selected to help him with his various experiments.

Uncomfortable and a little disturbed by the choice, he stood quickly, and his willowy frame swayed for a moment.

Hungry.

Thirsty.

Fatigued.

Irritated.

All hitting him at once, he allowed a moment to regret awaking before running his hands through the shock of his messy sleep-mussed hair. A faint recollection of throwing some breakfast bars down his throat the previous evening tickled at his memories, but it clearly had not been enough.

Moving to grab a bottle of water, his foot caught on something which lay haphazardly on the uneven floor and he gasped as he used the nearby table to right himself before he was sent careening to the harsh ground. He offered a soft growl at the inconvenience as his hand scooped down to pick up the offending object.

His fingers wrapped around something soft and leathery, and he recognised it instantly as the compact clutch bag which his little mouse liked to bring with her when she visited. Cracking open the magnetic lock, he peered inside and was greeted by the usual toys, the metal glint of the nipple clamps immediately catching his attention as always.

She had left in such a rush that she had neglected to pick up her bag.

A sweet scent tickled his senses and he recognised her perfume instantly, the notes embedded within the leather, and he lifted the bag to his nose, inhaling deeply. She always made an effort with her appearance and that extended to ensuring that she always wore the same perfume when she visited. If he were close enough to her skin, he could often pinpoint the exact areas in which she’s sprayed herself as the delicately sweet and floral notes which surrounded her were at their most intense.

Shaking himself of the thoughts, his free hand snatched open the bottom drawer which lay beneath his work desk. He dropped the bag within it, the leather cushioning the drop, and the grimace which tilted his lips did nothing to improve his irritable mood.

Day #2

“Come now, Mr. Jenkins.” Crane crooned, his thin hands splaying atop his costumed hips. “Resistance at this point is utterly futile.”

“Please, please. I’ll do anything.” Eyes blown wide with terror, Mr. Jenkins – as his wallet identified him – already appeared ready to collapse at the slightest provocation. “You need money? I can get m-money. My wife-”

“Do I look like a man who can be bought?” Crane tilted his head. “Or reasoned with? Do I look like a man who allows mercy to knock at his heart?”

A high-pitched keening noise was the only reply.

Adjusting the rim of his oversized hat, Crane dipped his hand within one of the many hidden pockets of his costume and pulled free a capped syringe; the liquid within almost clear with just the slightest tinge of green which glinted if held up to the dim lighting.

“Do you know what this is Mr. Jenkins?”

He continued on with his speech, drinking in the way which the colour drained from the restrained man’s horrified expression.

“My beloved fear toxin. A labour of love which is always seeking little improvements. You are fortunate to be the last one to test this current batch as its potency has proven difficult to control. Of the other test subjects, only one survived long enough to engage with a second dose. A third would not prove feasible.”

The cap pulled off smoothly and he raised the syringe to ensure that no air bubbles were present. Satisfied by what he could see, he approached Mr. Jenkins once more as his prone body twisted and writhed within the harsh restraints.

Snatching free the voice recorder from other pocket, he brought it to his lips.

“Time is 7.05pm and the first dose has been administered intravenously. Typical dosage and measurements. Subject appears agitated but fully conscious.”

Having kept the recorder in hand, he wrapped his fingers around the thinning strands of Mr. Jenkins hair and pulled his head firmly to the side. Jabbing the needle of the syringe into his fat neck, he paused for a moment before roughly pressing down on the plunger to deposit the full amount.

As always, the results were instantaneous.

Eyelids fluttering as his dilated irises darted across the room, seeking out the monsters which he knew were coming for him, Mr. Jenkins’ fingers scrambled against the arm of the dentist’s chair.

It was a potentially fatal dose, made even more of a risk by the overweight nature of Mr. Jenkins frame and Crane could almost picture his heart as it struggled to pump the toxin through his panicking body.

A low scream tore free of his lips as Mr. Jenkins head thrashed viciously against the strap holding it loosely in place.

Momentarily concerned that the broad man would actually break the restraint, Crane stepped forward and attempted to hold his head in place to tighten the strap a notch or two. It was no easy feat, given the frantic movements, and frustration welled dangerously in Crane’s chest as he was thwarted in his attempt.

The sting of his hand as it drew across the blubbering face in a sudden and vicious slap gave him pause. Physical violence towards his subjects was not unheard of but it also wasn’t something he typically indulged in. The satisfaction was undeniable though, the small act of aggression soothing some dark part of him that had been itching for release since his separation from his little mouse.

Raising his palm once again, he struck Mr. Jenkins once more and grinned at the small trickle of blood which broke free of his nose, his strained vocals amounting to little more than pathetic sobbing and incomprehensible muttering.

Crane took a measured step back. It would do him no good to accidentally kill the man and so he settled on falling into a more observatory role. Resting on his heels, the voice recorder clasped within his left hand was the only movement to come from him for quite some time as it occasionally rose to his mouth as interesting comments and thoughts sprang to mind.

Day #4

One aspect of his work which sparked constant irritation came from the length of time which is took to brew a decent batch of toxin. The base recipe had long since been optimised for both speed and potency, a labour of love which now made any variation, with its extended brewing time, an irritation which simply had to be endured.

But that was not the true cause of his irritation.

He had woken up hard, his cock pressing against his boxers in a wickedly uncomfortable manner. Perhaps out of sheer spite, he had refused to deal with it in the early morning as he lay on the couch, but that choice had come back to bite him throughout the day as it left him agitated and more than a little frustrated.

It was the kind of morning where his fingers would be quick to fire off a text to his little mouse, inviting her over to enjoy his company later in the evening. And she would always reply in kind, expressing her excitement to spend some time pushing her own limits.

An admission which always sparked a pleasant satisfaction in his chest.

But that was not an option.

Pride would not allow for him to break his acceptance of her absence. Besides, given that she were yet to contact or acknowledge him in any way, a bold invitation for sex would probably be received quite negatively in the grand scheme of things.

Crane’s eyes danced over the broiling liquid which would need at least another hour to fully combine and his thoughts were distracted enough that it wasn’t until his hand was pawing at his belt that he resigned himself to a little self-indulgence.

Unzipping his slacks, his hand moved quickly to free his semi-hard cock, the bulge of it straining against the thin material. The back of the chair was firm against his frame as he reclined, long legs stretching out comfortably as he wrapped his fingers around his length.

His little mouse would have been perfectly suited to this moment and he could picture her role with ease.

Her knees planted to the ground as she tucked herself into the limited space beneath his work desk; her elbows locked behind her body, tied away to ensure that her fingers could only claw against each other as he used her for his own purposes. Her hot, wet mouth latched around his cock, alternating between pleasuring him with her tongue and holding his cock deep within her throat, the muscles there massaging him with every panicked attempt at intaking air.

Rolling his thumb across his cockhead, a soft exhale escaped his lips at the small movement sparked heat across his groin, almost uncomfortable in its intensity.

Her eyes glancing up at him, so wide and glazed over as she serviced him while he completed his various tasks. Small tears forming in the corners as he hilted himself within her throat, her discomfort making her writhe and panic even as he offered her a stern tut of disapproval. He would hold himself there until the last possible moment before pulling free to allow her choking, gasping breaths.

Crane picked up the pace, twisting his wrist with every stroke of his cock as his legs spread even further, losing himself to the fantasy which poisoned his agitated mind.

Kneeling as she were, it would be easy for him to play with her in kind. His shoe raising from the floor to rub along her slit, meeting no resistance due to the moisture there, until it connects with her aroused clit, the sudden shock of the pressure causing her to flinch in place as she swallows around his cock. He would tell her to move, to rub herself against his foot like the silly little mouse she is, and she would comply immediately. His witty girl was never one to deny herself pleasure.

The thought of her soft skin and the warmth of her mouth wrapping around his cock drew a grunt from his chest, his cock twitching accordingly.

Her little whimpers would be blocked by his cock. The vibrations of them making him grunt and push forward, determined to soak in every little pleasure. She gets nothing other than his foot and he could feel her determined movements, the rapid pace she would achieve to bring herself where she needed to be as he pumped in and out of her mouth. The obscene noises spurring them both on until he came, his cock buried in her throat and his hand wrapped around her head to hold her in place until he was fully satisfied.

It proved enough, and he was drawn from his fantasies by his cock jerking in hand; his orgasm tight and hot across his groin as his release splattered across his hand, some of it falling to the tails of his shirt. Shame trickled down his spine, making the pleasure all that more indulgent as he waited for his heavy breathing to right itself.

Wiping off his release from his now-stained shirt, a slight twinge of irritation at the mess brought his senses back and he sighed as he stood from his seated position. He kept spare shirts at the back of the basement in a zipped bag and one would have to suffice for the moment, lest any unexpected visitor be faced with some uncomfortable truths.

Walking to the shirts, the image of his little mouse trapped beneath his work desk burned itself into his thoughts as a vague hope that it would come to pass settled within his thin chest.

Day #5

Perched atop his workspace, the sheer lack of respect which Harleen held for personal space never failed to catch him off-guard and Crane subtly moved several things away from his animated body as she continued her small discussion.

“-but just as Selina and I were finishing up our drinks, we saw Ozzie throwing Maxie Zeus out of his office. And whoo-wee, he looked big mad about it. He stormed past our table and Selina heard him muttering something about the Southern Dock. Selina thinks he’s hiding some stolen goods down there but I think he’s got a little hidey-hole he wants to keep hidden.”

Harleen Quinzel; motormouth and fantastic source of information on the private workings of the Gotham underground.

Some would ever accuse her of being a gossip.

“And how is Selina?”

“Hates you.” Harley grinned, tilting her head. “Hates everyone. Hates the new haircut she got from the barber down by the multiplex. She’s moody these days.”

Crane offered a non-committed hum in response.

“And how is Joker?”

“Mistah Jay and I are planning something fun together at the moment. He’s been so focused on his planning and he’s working so hard even though I must have kept distracting him. He says that I need to do some stuff alone for this plan to work so he keeps sending me away.”

Keeping his expression as stoic as ever, his eyes narrowed slightly as he scrutinised her appearance. There, under her right eye sat the faintest shadow of bruising, the heft of it no doubt expertly covered by her garishly pale makeup.

He had covered his little mouse in so much worse; left her body striped in beautiful purples and reds, littered her skin with bruising which must have taken days to heal. And yet, to leave such a mark on her seemed unfathomable to him. Domestic violence required a particular type of cruelty and the appeal of it was lost on him.

“I think a more individual life would suit you, Harleen.”

“Yeah, Ivy says that too. I’m staying with her when Mistah Jay doesn’t need me and she’s cooking me up a refresher so that I don’t get sick around her new plants.”

So much for individual.

“But you’re not moody, Dr. Crane. You’ve been quiet the last while, but you haven’t been as bitchy as usual.”

Frowning at the term, Crane indulged her for the moment.

“Is a man not entitled to a good day?”

“A good day, yeah sure! But you’ve been busy, busy, busy, working on something. Folks have noticed that you’ve been quiet and some of them are worried.”

“Good. Let them be anxious about it.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Harley fell unusually silent, her carefully constructed vapid gaze falling away to reveal the intelligence which lurked below as she held Crane’s eye for a moment too long.

His next question ready to fall from his lips, Crane’s attention was immediately pulled away by a metal crunch which signalled that the basement door was opening.

“Salutations and commiserations, good fellows.”

“I need to invest in a stronger lock for that door.” Crane called out, voice deadpan with only a hint of irritation. “Why are you darkening my doorway?”

Stepping into the dim basement lights, Edward Nygma glancing around to regard the room with open distaste before clasping his hands over his stomach.

“An old friend can’t pop in to say hello?”

“We’re not friends.”

“Harley is my friend. Aren’t you, dear?” He asked, indicating to her with an open palm and a showman smile.

“Hi, Mistah E!” Hopping off the work desk, Harley’s strong arms circled around his waist in a surprisingly enthusiastic hug and Crane was quick to notice the grimace which tugged at the corner of Edward’s lips at the contact.

“Yes, thank you.” He muttered, pulling away gracefully before adjusting his emerald tie. “Anyway, I have some information for you, and I would be willing to exchange it for a little something-something. A trade if you will.”

His interest piqued; Crane flicked his eyes to the couch in invitation as Harley retook her position perched on his work desk.

“Is that clean?” Standing beside the couch, Edward’s nose flared.

Snapshot memories of long nights spent asleep on that couch, not to mention all the times he and his witty girl had fucked there, flickered through Crane’s mind and a mean-spirited smirk tugged at his lips as he nodded.

“Of course it is.”

The pensive look refusing to leave his expression, Edward took the offered seat regardless. His progress was quickly halted though as his hand slipped beneath his ass to pull something free.

“Lipstick?”

Clutched between his fingers, lay a thin lipstick tube; its clear plastic covering showing off the sheer pink lipstick contained within.

Had it not been for his strict control of his expression, Crane’s features would have exploded into panic. He knew that lipstick case well. He had often watched his little mouse apply it to her lips before leaving. Or topping it up between their activities. It acted as a sort of comfort for her, one that had not slipped his notice.

As Edward examined the small case, Crane did not miss the furtive gaze which Harley clapped in his direction.

“Oh, that’s mine!” She called out, bouncing from her seated position to grab the case from his fingers. “Thanks, Eddie. It’s one of my favourites.”

“I had no idea you were capable of such subtlety. Clown red seems more your style.” Edward said.

“Hey, buddy! Keep your opinions to yourself.” Harley dropped her hands to her hips to defend her honour. “I’m not defined by my makeup.”

Thankful for the distraction, even as a horrible sense that Harley was piecing together a picture of information that he would rather keep buried, Crane cleared his throat to gather their attentions.

“Anyway,” he offered pointedly, “can we move this along. You,” he inclined to Edward, “what information do you have for me?”

“Well, a rotund little birdie named Oswald tells me of a new shipment of experimental drugs from London that are due withi-”

Day #7

Slamming back the small measure of whisky, the welcoming burn travelled through his mouth and down his throat, warming him from the inside out.

His batch of toxin was a success. The information which Nygma had provided him had opened up new avenues for potential future adjustments. Two of his recent experiments had garnered surprising results, enough to have sparked a new idea which was slowly brewing within his mind.

And yet, he was not happy.

The discomfort which had been needling him the last week, a guilt which he found difficult to reconcile, had only grown more cumbersome. Distracting. It was a feeling so foreign to him that he found it impossible to ignore.

He would have to make amends with his little mouse.

An apology was due and that was a truth he could no longer avoid or justify. He had wronged her and she was owed recompense for that. His reasons for his actions were sound, practical in a way which gave the greatest benefit, but in doing so he had overstepped the delicate line which they both danced around as part of their arrangement.

He would apologise to his little mouse.

In their week apart, he had kept to his word and not approached her. However, a week of non-contact seemed fitting and after tonight, at least, he would know where they stood.

x-x-x-x-x

Standing in the hallway of her apartment, he paused long enough to take a measured look at himself before any rash decisions could be made. The weight of his fear gauntlet against his arm was a familiar comfort, a friend which provided security against harm in the dangerous Gotham streets.

He was no coward and his hand quickly slipped up to knock against the wood, the sound booming in the silent hallway in a way that made him cringe slightly.

What if she refuses to open the door?

She will.

You have witnessed her stubbornness. She may well slam the door in our face and refuse to hear what we have to say. What will the great Scarecrow do then? Return home with his tail between his legs?

It won’t come to that.

For her sake, we hope so.

The click of a metal lock alerted him to her presence behind the door and he drew to his full height, unwilling to show a hint of weakness as he stood before her.

“Hello?”

Her face, the last vestiges of sleep making her features a little bleary, appeared in the opened crack of the doorway and a twinge of amusement sparked as he took in her ruffled, birds-nest of a hairstyle. An unflattering over-sized t-shirt fell around her shoulders as her expression bloomed into open shock.

Despite it all, she was as beautiful as ever and something possessive curled around his chest as he fought the urge to push the door open and claim her as his own, right then and there.

Instead, he settled on keeping a neutral expression as he held her wide-blown eyes and shocked expression.

“Good evening.”

Also on AO3

#jonathan crane #scarecrow #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x you #jonathan crane x you #whole day off #witty girl #dr jonathan crane #edward nygma #riddler #harley quinn #harleen quinzel

[acupofqueercoffee]

“Forevermore”

Unohana Retsu x Female Reader

21.04.2023 — happiest of birthdays to the mother of all mothers 🥳🎂 she’s turning 1200+ years old today 🥹🫶🏻

something short, simple and sweet. it would be an insult to my status as a hopeless unohana simp if i couldn’t even wish her a happy birthday with a written work of mine. it’s still about 23:40 here where i live, so thank the archon i’ve made it! though barely :3

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“A little birdie told me it was your birthday today, so I brought you a little something.”

No welcoming comes your way as you are left to watch the unbothered back of the Captain while she leisurely sips her tea. Only after has she emptied the cup does she put it down and stand, measuredly making her way towards you.

She stops directly under your nose, so close to your body that you can feel the ghost of her breath on your neck.

“Well, what is it that you wanted to give me?”

“Me!” You squeak.

Fishing a silk ribbon in the colour of bright red out of your sleeve, you clumsily tie it around your waist over your uniform. By the time you speak again, a big bow is sitting precariously on your hipbone. “My gift for your birthday, Captain, is me.”

Cheeks ablaze and heart aflutter, you direct your gaze onto the beautiful face before you. A sly smile and mirthful eyes greet your eyes.

“My, how brazen of you.”

“But, whose idea was it, hm?” The curve of her lips is too deep to be deemed sincere. Saccharine but spine-tingling, kind but killing. It is after all the Captain’s infamous smile that can get her whatever she wants. “My meek little lamb isn’t one to come up with such salacious plan.”

“Matsu-” A playful finger descending onto the top of your chest leaves you at a loss for words. It slithers along the lapel of your uniform before resting an inch just shy of your navel. The silk tail of the ribbon is caught between two spindly fingers, and the remainder of the name leaves your lips in a breathless whisper. “-moto.”

“To take advice from Matsumoto of all people. Was it why you were rendezvousing with her lately instead of spending time with me?”

“I couldn’t rack my brain alone. I wanted my gift to be special and a surprise.”

“I was surprised alright.”

In parallel with her words, you, too, are taken by surprise when her hands climb your body, palms flat against your chest, simply resting.

“When the idea of getting myself robbed of my secret admirer rattled me more than I would have liked.”

Although you can hear her voice and know that she is muttering something, the context of her speech is entirely lost on you. You suspect that it is intentional. Still, you wonder aloud.

“Captain?”

“Your birthday present,…” Your growing anxiety is eased by the smile she spares you as her eyes find yours. “…for now, I can’t say that I love it, but I like it a lot. I promise to hold it dear.”

As obscure as her words are, the implication, having not lost on you, puts a grin on your face. The unbridled glee that you are bombarded with can also be heard in your voice.

“Happy Birthday, Captain Unohana!”

A kiss that is pressed onto the apple of your cheek is but a fleeting touch of a butterfly’s wings. Warm, tender, and unequivocally the reason behind the hummingbird flutter of your heart.

“I’m very happy. Thank you.”

When she murmurs it with a sparkle in that delightful blue of her eyes and a sweet blossom of a smile, you are helpless against your body that acts of its own accord. Gingerly, you take her hand from where it is resting on your chest, and all too softly, your lips caress her knuckles. Nuzzling your cheek into her palm like a spoiled kitten, one final kiss of the night finds home on the inside of her wrist. Beneath your lips, you feel the fluttering of her pulse as you mouth a silent oath.

I will love you, Captain Unohana. Forevermore.

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#unohana retsu x reader #unohana yachiru x reader #retsu unohana x reader #yachiru unohana x reader #unohana x reader #unohana retsu #unohana yachiru #retsu unohana #yachiru unohana #kenpachi unohana #first kenpachi #character x reader #bleach unohana #bleach x female reader #bleach x you #bleach x reader #bleach women #fanfic #happy birthday #birthday fic #fluffy #short and sweet #short and simple #gotei 13 #original gotei 13

[valsnonsense]

Princess Strawberry of Pop

"OH MY GOSH!!! It's a Theraposa Blondi! Also know as a Goliath Birdeater! It's the biggest species of spider known to Trollkind! Did you know that they don't actually eat birds? They got that name from an 18th century copper graving made by Maria Sibylla Trollian who depicted one eating a hummingbird- wait where did they go???"

Parents: Queen Poppy and King Branch

Siblings: Choco (Sister), Vanilla (Sister), Apple (Younger Brother), Oran (Younger Brother), Lemon (Younger Brother), Lime (Younger Brother), Blueberry (Younger Brother), Grape (Younger Sibling), Iris (Younger Sister)

Age: 24

Pronouns: He/She/They

Sexuality: Pansexual

Genre: Pop/Funk/Techno/EDM/KPop/JPop

Voice Claim: Ashley Nicolette Frangipane (Halsey)

The third eldest of the Broppy kids and last of the triplets! Bubbly, upbeat, and chock full of endless energy, Strawberry takes after her mother in never ending positivity. But instead of parties, music, and scrapbooking, Strawberry's energy is directed at bugs.

Strawberry has always had a fascination with creepy crawlies. Arachnids, insects, arthropods, you name it. The more legs it has, the better. Growing up, their parents would have to turn their pockets inside out before they came inside, to make sure nothing crawled out at the dinner table.

As an adult, he studies all the fascinating bugs around Trollstopia, and the history of their kinds relationship with Trolls. Strawberry will talk endlessly about them to anyone who will listen for more than five minutes, which is mostly his sisters.

Strawberry has a diverse tast in music. She's never really felt set in just one kind. Strawberry likes loud, wild music that you can play at raves and parties, something that gets you bouncing endlessly. It helps her channel her near endless energy.

Strawberry is very close with her friends and family, and will often go out of their way to make sure everyone around them is happy, a trait she picks up from her mother.

She currently resides in Trollstopia alongaide her family.

Fun Facts!

- Strawberry is never seen without bugs somewhere on her person. In her hair, on her shoulders, crawling through her tail, ext. It often scares the hell outta other Trolls who don't expect to see giant spiders come crawling over her shoulder.

-Strawberry is currently dating Yeona. Strawberry loves to surprise her students with spontaneous visits and lessons on weird bugs. Yeona made the small anklet she wears when doing an arts and crafts lesson with her students.

- Strawberry has a large pet centipede named Jeffery. He's over a foot long and curls around her room while sleeping. Not many who walk in notice him until he uncurls himself.

And that's the last of the Triplets!! I love Strawberry she's my little Poppy clone. I wanted one of my OCs to love bugs, idk why, I just think it's cute xP

Voice Example: Could Have Been Me (Halsey)

#dreamworks trolls #trolls #trolls oc #broppy #trolls broppy #trolls strawberry #trolls the depths au #she was so fun to design #her and all her little bug friends #her gf yeona will be introduced waaaay down the line #Spotify

[the-penguinspy]

19. “You deserve so much better.” mary x shannon

thanks for the prompt, em :)

--

The late afternoon sunlight casts a muted, golden hue on the courtyard, light shining through in lazy bursts at the behest of the clouds fast-moving eastward. A gentle breeze ruffles the grass and provides a welcome respite against the heat, no doubt refreshing for those sister warriors at the tail-end of the day’s training sessions, especially evident to those who close their eyes and tilt their heads toward the heading of the wind.

All-in-all, a serene end to the day. Mary is certain that she’d be enjoying it a lot more if she wasn’t currently following Shannon to the outdoor sparring mats.

They reach the mats and Shannon starts stretching immediately. Mary stares for a second before she starts her own warm-ups. “Remind me why we’re doing this again?”

“Your shotguns do an excellent job at keeping enemies at bay, but what happens when you run out of ammo? What happens if someone gets inside of your guard?” Shannon stands and brings her legs together, bends at the waist until her palms touch the floor. Mary simply continues with her arm stretches. Show off. 

“That’s why I have two shotguns, instead of just one.” 

Shannon frowns, straightening her body once more. “I’m serious. I know you can take care of yourself, but I still worry about you.” She takes Mary’s hand and squeezes gently, and when she speaks, her voice is soft. “Humour me this once. We can see how it goes.”

Mary squeezes her hand back and sighs. “Fine, but only if your next prank is played on Lil. It’s her fault that I still double-check the sugar and salt shakers each time I use them.”

//

A dozen instances of eating mat and Mary finally, finally performs the disarming maneuver successfully. Shannon grins proudly, canines sharp, and Mary looks at her mouth just in time to catch a tongue darting quick over teeth. She resets her body into the starting position once more, and Mary rolls her shoulders before mirroring her stance. 

“Again.”

//

By the time Shannon calls for a stop, the sun had already reached the horizon and painted the sky into a beautiful red-orange. Mary flops down on her back to better appreciate the view, heartbeat hummingbird-quick, her breathing still ragged from the impromptu training session.

She hears Shannon shuffle down beside her, looks over to see legs stretched parallel to her own. Shannon leans back on her hands, nary a hair out of place and with only the slightest sheen of sweat on her forehead to give evidence of physical exertion.

They stay that way until Mary’s stomach growls. “Any idea what they’re serving for supper?”

“Mashed potatoes and roasted veggies, if my sources are correct.”

Mary closes her eyes and groans. “Ugh, mashed potatoes again? After that workout you put me through? I deserve so much better.”

“You deserve so much better,” Shannon agrees.

Something’s off about her voice. It wavered a bit at the end, and Mary looks over to assess if there’s anything wrong. Shannon keeps her gaze trained in front of them, squinting at the sunset, her mouth set in a neutral line. Her face is a careful mix of nonchalance and solemnity, and she would have succeeded in her portrayal of such if her lip hadn’t wobbled when Mary looked over, if her teeth hadn’t bitten down on the inside of her bottom lip to tamp down a smile. For an enthusiastic practical joker, Shannon’s got a surprisingly bad poker face.

Mary narrows her eyes and scrambles to sit up. “Shan.” A responding hum. “I know that look. What do you have planned?”

Shannon turns to face her and, now caught, releases the abused lip to offer her happiness freely. “You deserve so much better,” she repeats. “You deserve someone who you can kiss in public, someone you can love in the open.” Her smile wavers slightly. “You deserve someone who can stay.”

“Shannon.” The name rasps out of Mary’s mouth, and she brings a hand up to cradle Shannon’s cheek. “It’s my choice to be here, to be here with you. I love you, I’m staying, and there’s nothing that you, or anyone, or the goddamn universe can do that’ll make me leave.” 

“Language,” Shannon says, but her smile settles, is no longer turbulent, and she turns her face into Mary’s palm to hide it. The heat of her cheek spreads evenly through Mary’s palm, and the small kiss that Shannon places there electrifies her skin. Tiny bolts of lightning travel up her arm and through her veins, thousands strong; restarts her heart and awakens her body, and Mary blinks fast in an effort to stabilize her focus.

“You also deserve,” Shannon continues, “a reward.” The words come out muffled against Mary’s hand, vibrations smoothing out over the skin, and Mary leans in to hear her better. “Seafood paella. That place by the beach, the one with the perfect shrimp-to-clam ratio? I’ve made a reservation.”

Mary laughs, touched, and her affection spills out in the form of a thumb stroking reverent over Shannon’s cheek. “And what exactly am I being rewarded for?”

Shannon’s smile turns sharp. “Finishing a session of hand-to-hand combat training. I think they call that positive reinforcement or something.”

The eye-roll from Mary is inevitable. “They don’t take reservations. It’s barely busy at this hour, too.” “Is it so wrong to want everything to go smoothly?” 

Mary smirks. “Everything, huh? There’s more to this little date of ours?” Shannon flushes, cheeks turning rosy. She keeps her gaze locked with Mary’s and brings her own hand up, fingers circling Mary’s wrist. Her thumb brushes over Mary’s pulse – a quick one-two pass – and Mary watches as the thumb is replaced with lips, as Shannon presses a slow kiss over thin blue veins, pressure feather-light, imprint barely-there. 

The expression on her face must be amusing at the very least, because Shannon’s mouth curves upwards and chuckles, and the breath that Mary had been holding in finally finds its way out. Her lungs snatch greedily at the air, and she’s certain that her unsteady breathing isn’t due to the lingering exertion from their earlier spar. 

“Are you coming, or what?”

Shannon’s already on her feet. She stands in front of Mary, extends a hand down and wiggles her fingers to entice a handhold. The sun from behind her casts her shadow long and dark over Mary, over the courtyard. In the shadow of her face, her smile is a gentle arc; small and shy, directed towards one recipient, and one recipient only. 

Mary takes her hand and hoists herself up from the ground. “Obviously. Can’t let that hard-fought reservation go to waste.”

Shannon shoves at her shoulder playfully, but their hands stay linked all the way to Mary’s parked motorcycle.

#warrior nun #warrior nun fic #mary x shannon #shotgun mary #shannon masters #penguin writes #[grits teeth] it doesn't have to be perfect. it doesn't have to be perfect. it doesn't have to be- #nahh 'twas a fun one as usual so ty em :) #brain's just gotta thinkie less sometimes...smth im working on #sloooowly making my way thru these prompts jfdjdjf #birgittesilverbae

[queenquinzel715]

1. Dark elf Bram

Wrd count 3,421

(Y/n) P.O.V

I think every creature has their own version of the boogeyman. For us elves it was the dark elves. It all began, like every bad thing, with war. Dark elves and elves fought over, well it wasn't exact what they were fighting over. Some say it was for land, some say it was over a woman, and some say it was a long generation hatred for each other. My brother Jule always tells me even though they grow the darkness of the world, we are still the same. To be honest I always loved the fuchsia that I found when I decided to press the guards. I went past the territory lines, just a few feet, but I found this patch of them just hanging off of vines. The guards caught me before I could pick one.

Today I've decided to push the guards some more, mainly because they think I answer to them. Instead of laughing in their faces I decided to get them yelled at by my father. He doesn't care much about me wondering just them missing the opening. I have to give it to the guards. They really do a great job. I just know better ways, considering that I have the ability to make plants grow.

"She went this way. I just know it." I heard a guard from under me.

I'm sitting on my outgrown branch, looking down at a group of guards looking around. I have to hold myself from laughing, because for elves themselves they really are stupid. I keep switching branch to branch enjoying the hummingbirds pick at my dress, and the other tree animals just run around me. I'm about to cross to the dark forest when the animals run back to their homes. I stand on my branch overlooking the forest, then over to the caves. Everything seems to stop, but the bats are still flying.

"Do you think you should be over here?" A deep voice comes out of nowhere making me fall off my branch.

I quickly make two branches catch me, and place me on the ground. I look up to a dark elf watching me as he nonchalantly walks down his steps made of branches. He looks a little different than I'm used to seeing dark elves. Most are like a wild thorn bush, but he has twigs that twist around his body to make his clothing, with dark leaves slicked back as hair.

"Who are you?" I ask strongly, trying to cover my nervousness.

"It doesn't matter when you shouldn't be here, and will be leaving soon." He smoothly tells me.

"I'm not leaving until I get my flowers, and besides who is going to make me leave." I roll my eyes as I walk away.

"You came to the dark forest for flowers? Flowers?" He laughs.

"Well yes. I saw them the last time I was here, and I can't stop thinking about them." I continue to walk toward the small field flowers.

"Which ones?" He asks with some sort of curiosity.

"The fuchsia flowers." I look back at him.

He gives me a grunt in response, but stops walking. I'm confused for a minute before I turn to keep walking, but I only get a couple of feet before the guards are in front of me. I curse under breath as the head guard steps to me.

"Oh just save it. I already know "your father is calling for you" I swear you'd think I was actually running away." I mock him from the past times he's come to get me even when I have adventured around even in my own kingdom.

"If you would just stay where you are supposed to…"

"I'm not something he can just move around when he deems fit. I'm a living thing that needs to move around. Besides, I was only coming for flowers." I push the group away as I walk away from them.

I grumble under my breath as we walk toward the kingdom. I can't deal with this anymore. The only thing that calmed me down was a small hedgehog that ran into his little home. Once we step into the bright forest I'm blinded, and crowded by the hummingbirds, butterflies and bees that enjoy my dress. I can't shoo them away, but I really want to have some space. My father and brother are waiting for me at the forest opening. My father immediately starts yelling as soon as he sees me.

"Why must you always defy me?! I try to keep you safe from those awful creatures, and all you do is run toward them!" He starts yelling.

"Father calm down." Jule tries to step in front of him.

"No! She wants to be with them so bad, then why don't you go live with them! Then you will see just how good it is on this side!" I'm shocked he actually said that to me.

"Father, you know you don't mean that. Besides, she was only going for flowers. What can that harm?" Jule gives me a reassuring smile.

"You knew she was going over there?!" Father asks, his face was turning redder by the second.

I got a little scared to say anything. This is the first time my father has actually yelled at me, I mean for this I've been yelled at before. I see movement to the side above us, and when I look I see nothing but darkness. I'm brought back when my brother grabs my hand. When I look toward him I notice my father is gone.

"You okay?" He asks me with concern.

"Oh I'm fine. So am I completely banned?" I ask him with a laugh.

"Not completely, but I think you should just stay in your place for now." He tries to help.

"My place? What's my place?" I snap. "Do you know how frustrating it is just to sit around and just wait for father to give me away? Huh at least you get to decide or find your mate, father has already started finding me a man." I sigh before walking back to my chambers, leaving Jule there.

I stayed in my room for the rest of the day, and only left when I was called to dinner. As I walk to the dining hall I think of that dark elf how he just carried himself like he was an oak tree, but he talked like he made wind. He was quite interesting.

"Finally! I've been waiting years for you." Jule whines as I walk into the hall.

"Oh please I came as soon as I was told." I wave him off, sitting across from him. "Besides, father isn't here yet." I shrug.

The humorous face Jule once carried snapped down to his empty plate. I watch him as he picks at the food on the table. I look to my father's seat then to Jule.

"Jule, where is father?" I quietly ask.

"He..um" He clears his throat. "He's meeting with King Bram." He simply tells me.

"Jule, please tell me I'm your sister." I practically beg.

He sighs. "(Y/n) I want to tell, but I honestly don't know. All he said was "Bram's here to help certain things." I wish I could tell you." He looks me in the eyes when he says his quick response.

"Certain things?" I mumble to myself as I think back to earlier today.

Could he really just get rid of me? Father walks in, followed by someone, with a smile on his face. I watch him as he walks to his seat, while his guest sits at the other end. Father takes a deep breath as he lifts his hand to his guest.

"King Bram will be with us for the next couple of days." He announces before continuing. "He's going to help secure our lands from our enemies." He then lets us begin eating.

I knew he was doing this to stop me from leaving the grounds. I can't believe all this fuss over some flowers. As dinner went on with no speaking, and once I was finished I left back to my room. I huff as I sit on the chair next to the fireplace, but when I open my eyes I gasp. On my side table is a bouquet of fuchsia flowers. I see a card before I pick them up.

Dear princess,

When I saw you I expected a rebellious princess. However you are just headstrong, and quite stubborn. When you told me you were just looking for flowers in the dark forest I figured out a few things.

1. You don't know the truth of the dark forest.

2. You would do anything for nature, even if that means putting yourself in danger.

3. You think fuchsia is a sweet flower when it's poisonous. If it is eaten it could cause serious problems.

You can touch them.

B

While I'm completely shocked, my head is scrambled with questions. B? Bram? What is the real story of the dark woods? How did they get here? Is Bram that dark elf, but how does he look normal? I'm thinking of many different possibilities when there is a sound coming from my window. I'm about to go look when a dark mass falls inside with a thump. I slowly slide toward it, and almost jump out of my skin when it jumps up. It's the dark elf. What if?

"Bram?" I questioned making him snap his head up.

"Yes princess." He smirks at me like everything is okay.

"You…how?" I stutter out.

"Honeysuckle I have mastered things your father hasn't even begun to teach you." He chuckles as he takes my seat neck to the fireplace.

"Why are you here? I thought you just went back into the woods when the guards came." I rushed out.

"I followed you." He shrugs. "I then heard your family spat." He struggled to find the right words. "Then I decided to leave your flowers, and then have your father think I'm not a dark elf, which was easy." He points toward me with his claw of a finger.

"Why did you leave flowers?" I timidly ask.

He smirks before standing. "Well, you wanted them, and I can grow them in seconds." He chuckles at my excitement.

"Thank you anyways." I smile as he walks to me.

"You are quite welcome, Honeysuckle." He softly holds my hands. "I also hope you will consider what your father will talk about with you tomorrow." He lightly kisses my cheek. "Goodnight, princess."

I watch as he walks out of the window, and crawls down the wall. Those dark elves can climb anything. The rest of my night I held my flowers, and thought of Bram. Would my father give me away to a man he's only met once, but would I really mind if it was Bram?

The next morning I'm called to my father's office, and I'm met with my father, my brother, Bram, and another councilman. As I sat Bram gave me a quick smile, and I tried not to keep looking at him.

"(Y/n) I've made a decision that is good for both you and the kingdom." He clears his throat to continue. "I've decided to give my blessing to Sir Elner to have your hand in marriage." He ends his decree with his hands folded in front of him.

"Um… father?" I look over at Elner, and then to Bram. "Father, are you sure? I think Bram would be more suitable." I try not to make myself sound desperate, but Elner is older than my father while looking like my grandfather.

I hear a low hiss like noise before a large thorn shoots across the room, hitting close to Elner's head and getting stuck into the chair. I watch Bram's true form come out. I rush to him, letting my hands rest on his chest.

"Bram please." I beg him not to hurt anyone.

"I tried to do this the nice way. I tried not to hurt anyone, because I know how much my princess cares for you all." His arm goes around my waist. "However you are completely incompetent to make that small of a choice, no wonder your kingdom is falling apart." Bram's voice gets rougher as he goes on.

I could feel his sharp claws digging into my dress. I move my hands along his chest to try to calm him, and it seems to work only on his grip.

"(Y/n)!" Father yells. "That's why you would run into the dark woods!" Father points his finger at me.

I just hid in Bram's chest. I somehow feel so close to him, but I just met him. Jule just stands there giving me eyes full of sympathy.

"You want to be with evil creatures then go, but don't you dare come back once you learn they are vile beings." Father waves his hand off.

I looked at my father with so much disdain as I slowly stepped, just arms length, from Bram.

"The only vile being here is you. You have done nothing, but have done harsh things toward people you are just like us." I shake my head at him as I grab Bram's long sharp hand.

I gave a quick look to Jule before Bram and I rushed out of the castle. As we get close to the border Bram stops, and faces me. He gently grabs both of my hands, giving them a soft squeeze.

"Are you sure this is what you want, Honeysuckle?" He asks, looking completely vulnerable.

Before I could answer, a twig snapping making us snap our head to my brother coming through the bushes. He gives us a welcoming smile.

"I don't want to fight, I just wanted to say I will always be here, and you will always have a home here." He then looks to Bram. "You keep her safe."

"Already planned on it." He gives Jule a nod.

Jule then gives me one finale smile before leaving.

"I'm ready." I walk a couple steps ahead of Bram, somewhat pulling him behind me.

As we get further away Bram makes a path of fuchsia under my feet that leads us to a castle. He then leads into the castle, I try to catch a glimpse around, but I'm pulled into a room. As I catch my breath Bram goes and sits on a throne. He beckons me over to him with a smirk that holds a secret. Once I'm in front of him he pulls me to his lap, and gives me a kiss on my cheek.

"I suppose I should tell you that I'm King of the dark elves. I also have been looking for my Queen for some time now." He moves his claw slowly down my arm.

I lean back against his chest, letting his claw move over my chest, and up my neck. My head ends up leaned back on his shoulder as his claw moves along my ear. I grip his arm with one hand, and with my other I grip his knee.

"Bram." I sigh out a moan.

"Yes, Honeysuckle." He whispers in my ear.

I turn my head toward him, eyeing his lips, and before I could tell him what I wanted he softly latches his lips to mine. His lip light up my body, causing me to moan against his lips, and without realizing I grind against his lap. I don't pull back as I move so I'm straddling him. His hands hold me up against him. It makes him lean his head up and makes me lean down. His claws feel like small pinches as he grips along my body. I lean my head back with a moan letting him kiss along my neck. He moves his hands up my back to my shoulder as his lips get to my chest with a groan, and he just squeezes me to him. I start to untie my dress letting it fall to my hips, and let my chest rest right in front of his face.

"Oh Honeysuckle." He moans into my chest before he softly moves a hand over my breast.

I lean into him with my hands on his shoulders. He kisses along until he reaches my nipple, and gives a up lick before he sticks it into his mouth. I grip the back of his neck trying to hold him in place. He kisses, socks, softly bits one of my nipples as he grips the other letting his claws pinch and pull at the other.

"Oh, Bram." I moan out.

He snaps his head up at me, and I need to kiss him deeply. His hands fall to the back of my thighs lightly scratching them as I stand, but I seem to surprise him as I kneel in between his legs. I gently grip his thighs as my hands move up to his waist. He lifts his hips, and helps me pull his pants off. I give him soft kisses up his thigh. I feel him relax against his throne as I give a soft lick to his long hard cock.

"Honeysuckle I ne…" I stop him from talking as I sink my mouth down till I can't take it anymore.

He runs his claws in my hair, letting out a long groan as I move my mouth back and forth. I kept moving back and forth and would only go slowly when I moved all the way down. I gag as he pushes me down more, and moves his hips up. I rest my hands on the side of his thighs, letting him thrust up into my mouth until I couldn't stop gagging. He keeps groaning, gripping my hair in a fist. With a deep groan he pulls me off making me take a deep gasp of breath.

"Come here Honey." He pulls my dress down to my ankles.

He holds my hand as he helps me step over to him, and with his arms around me he kisses along my stomach. He looks up at me as I straddle his lap again, and holds me above him by my hips. I lock my eyes with him as he lines up with me, and helps me slowly sit down onto him. He leans his head back as I lean mine into his neck, but we both moan in relive as I come to sit fully on his lap. He gently grabs the sides of my head, making me look at him. We lean into a deep kiss as I start to move my hips. I hold onto the back of his throne as I lean back. I keep my eyes locked on his as he starts to move with me, and grips my hip, helping me bounce. I lean back as he bites my breast as they bounce in his face. I squeeze my legs as I moan out, but he picks up his space.

"That's it honey." He kisses my neck. "Let go for me." He groans as I squeeze him.

"BRAM!" I scream with release when he rams into my spot.

I give a breath when I start to come down from my release, but I can't stop. I grip the back of his neck with one hand, and his arm with the other as I grind hard against him. He holds my shoulder with one hand and my ass with the other as we move fast against each other.

"Bram please." I beg as he grips my body to his.

We both moan out in release as he relaxes us back in the throne. I'm still sitting on him as we try to catch our breath. I still feel him move inside of me as he softly scratches along my back. I smile up at him as he just leans his head back with closed eyes, and completely relaxes.

After that day I became queen of the dark elves, and they welcomed me with open arms. I learned the truth that dark elves ran out of the kingdom to make it more pure. As the days went I couldn't leave Bram's side, and when I did Bram would find me. We ran the kingdom together for a long time before I actually gave him an heir. Our son, Kalim, looked and acted just like his father.

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[whispersinthedawn]

The Last of a Dying Breed (4)

“Your first prophecy, wasn’t it?” Apollo said noncommittally. “It seemed an appropriate time to visit."

Percy straightened up. The fluttering of the heart almost convinced her to ignore the god’s continued refusal to look at her, and she eagerly asked, “Did you hear it?”

“It’s not that monumental an occasion,” Apollo ridiculed. 

Percy couldn’t help it.

Her face fell.

It wasn’t anything as repentant as regret that crossed Apollo’s face, but a certain acknowledgment of the hit certainly lingered.

He abandoned the sacrificed cloth to tell her somewhat awkwardly, “The first time is always a surprise. Afterwards though, once you’ve become accustomed to identifying the signs, you’ll find it much easier.”

At Percy’s continued silence, he joked, “At least you didn’t topple onto the ground and break your nose. That would have been an embarrassing beginning to your career, indeed.”

“Instead of the ground,” Percy bit out with a scowl, “I fell into another world altogether. And it was green.”

“Oh,” Apollo exhaled before recovering and saying genially, “Discovered that so soon?”

Percy narrowed her eyes. Call her suspicious, call her precocious, call her prescient – but she could certainly identify the wariness creeping into the god’s every non-existent pore.

In fact, unless she was grossly mistaken, the god’s skin grew clearer, his blue eyes brighter, his pink lips fuller, and his cheekbones shaper. Even his white shirt and golden vest seemed to gain a just-pressed crispness, and the tips of the leather shoes peeking out from underneath flared trousers commenced gleaming in the sunlight.

“Yes,” Percy said guardedly. 

“Well, aren’t you the advanced learner?” Apollo joked. “How was it?”

“I’d have rather been present to hear my first prophecy than been flung into Alice’s Wonderland.”

Apollo crossed the distance between them and took a seat beside her.

Percy stiffened.

She wasn’t entirely certain about her current state of emotions regarding a particular god, but she definitely knew one thing – proximity was dangerous.

No god should ever venture quite so close to her.

Should never sit on her bed.

Bad things happened to people who hosted gods in their bedrooms.

She – didn’t think Apollo would hurt her. Not his Oracle. Not a child in his care. But an illogical sense of safety was nothing compared to the years of warnings, of memories of petty anger, of moments she knew Apollo had spent considering very grievous harm her way indeed.  

Apollo took no notice of her reservations. “I hope you were careful to not touch anything.”

“Why, would it be taffy?” Percy inquired sardonically, doing her utmost to conceal the hummingbird fast beating of her heart. “Sticky and burning hot?”

Apollo chuckled. “Something of the sort. But I’d be more concerned about entangling your own string with the hot sugar. Some things are not meant to be touched by mortal hands.”

“There was a darkness,” Percy said abruptly, avoiding his knowing gaze. “I tracked Alana’s thread – and it ended in a sphere of absence.”

Apollo ran a gentle hand across her head, startling Percy. She turned astonished (terrified) eyes his way, only to find him looking at her with a kind of melancholy.

She changed the subject. “Can you find out what prophecy I made? Only, Alana wouldn’t tell me. And no one else was there.”

Apollo shrugged. “I don’t particularly care enough to find out. Either way, she’s a child of Athena on a quest for her mother, yes? Details are irrelevant.”

“I didn’t tell you that,” she whispered. She hadn’t even known that.

The waves lapping at her feet crashed against the shore with growing fury until they'd transformed into the crashing heralds of a hurricane. 

“That you were drawn to the end of the threat need not be a confirmation in itself,” Apollo commented idly. “But that she refused to reveal the prophecy is quite telling.”

At Percy’s determined incomprehension, the god spelled things out dryly, “She’s about to die.”

The burning brand of Apollo’s hand on her head was the only thing that kept Percy from toppling off the bed.

Horror left her dumbstruck, frozen, blind to anything but the void at the end of Alana’s string.

“Are you sure?” she asked in a small voice.

“Yes,” Apollo answered.

A million futures in which Apollo broke the exact same news to Percy coalesced in that one moment to create a terrible symphony of echoes.

He’ll die.

She won’t come back.

A storm took them.

At least he buried his enemies.

Landslide.

A nature spirit.

You’d expect him to know how to swim before embarking on a cruise.

Yes.

Percy trembled in her seat.

Scores of anonymous women stretched out in a vast human chain anchored into the naval of the world.

The wind tossed Percy around, froze her tears into ice crystals that poked her eyes out, whipped leaves around that sliced her tongue out.

You’re the Pythia. What did you think it meant?

He always comes for the first death.

The belief in that statement roused Percy out of the fugue she’d fallen into. She sprang to her feet. “That’s alright. I’ll just have to go after her and stop this.”

Apollo raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Stop her how?”

“Chase her back and drag her back!” Percy cried out.

What did it matter how she managed it, as long as Alana lived? How could they all know the demigod had walked to her death and do nothing to stop it? This wasn’t what Percy had become the Oracle for.

Her sacrifice was meant to protect the people at camp!

“It’s not your business if she does,” Apollo pointed out.

“What do you mean, it’s not mine?” Percy exclaimed. “I sent her on a quest that would spell her death! And I must have threatened some pretty dire repercussions indeed if she chose to go ahead anyway.”

Because Alana had known.

Amidst the mountains of your birth will you face your death.

Alana had known and gone ahead anyway.

“So?” Apollo asked in incomprehension.

“So,” Percy spelled out frustratedly, “I sent her to her death. Obviously, I have to bring her back – alive.”

Apollo laughed. “What, you propose to go on a quest to protect someone from a quest you’ve given?”

“Yes.”

Apollo’s laughter petered out abruptly. “You do not go on quests, Persia,” he told her flatly. “You assign them. You're the one they come to when they need to embark on a perilous journey.”

“Send them to their deaths, you mean,” Percy snapped.

“If that's what lies in their fate,” was the callous answer.

“Am I to just sit here knowing that if I’d just had the decency to keep my mouth shut, they’d be alive?” Percy demanded, horror sinking its roots so deep she feared she’d never be rid of it.

“You can stand if that makes it better,” Apollo offered, cruel in his indifference.

***

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