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shadowtriovibes · 11 months

Note

can you write one where f!MC is being pursued by an annoying guy she doesn’t like who won’t take no for an answer. it annoys sebastian just as much as it annoys her, so next time it happens he pretends to be her boyfriend and suggests they start fake dating for good measure. eventually they make it for real.

thank you! i love the fake relationship trope sooo much and i’ve yet to see anyone write one with sebastian.

of course, lovely anon!! i haven't seen any fake relationship fic either so i'm happy to contribute a lil something! tbh i sincerely thought this would be a short ficlet but it ended up being just over 2.5k fluffy words of dummies in love 🤩

Title: rumor has it

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Summary: Eric Northcott is relentlessly pursuing you, so Sebastian offers to act as your heroic boyfriend to get him off your back.

"Northcott," Sebastian greets him, leaning against your potions station and resting a hand possessively on the small of your back. "Is there something my girlfriend can help you with?" "Your girlfriend?" Eric asks skeptically. "That's new." "I suppose it is," Sebastian agrees, nonplussed. "Been a long time coming, though." Across the room, Ominis laughs under his breath.

Sebastian Sallow is an excellent young wizard. Clever, well-read, focused – by all accounts, he should be a brilliant strategist.

But sometimes he comes up with the worst ideas you’ve ever heard.

“You musn’t be serious, Sebastian,” you laugh, closing your potions textbook to appreciate the actual madness of what he’d just suggested.

“Why not?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes as you tell him, “You can’t just pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Earlier that afternoon, the two of you had met up with Ominis in the Undercroft to study after staging a quick exit from the library. While Sebastian was hunting down a book on ancient runes, Eric Northcott had cornered you in the stacks and tried for the second time to convince you to have a Butterbeer with him at the Three Broomsticks instead of “hiding that gorgeous face behind those dusty books like you always do.”

When Sebastian had returned, you were shoving the Gryffindor boy away from you with a tense look on your face, and if he hadn’t just finished a stint of evening detentions for slipping a Puffskein into Duncan Hobhouse’s schoolbag, he would have hexed the amorous git himself.

Since then, he’d been suggesting ways to make him pay, with each idea more fantastical than the last.

“Sure I can, and we can even make a real show of it,” he says with a charming grin. “If you want to get Northcott off your back for good, let’s allow him to think your handsome, roguish boyfriend is the type who would challenge him to a duel if he tries anything untoward.”

“That is a terrible plan,” you deadpan.

“It’s actually not a bad idea,” Ominis chimes in.

You glare at him, because Ominis never thinks that Sebastian’s ideas are any good – even the ones that aren’t completely bonkers.

“What are you playing at, Gaunt?” you accuse him.

“I’m merely suggesting that Northcott may actually accept your contempt for him if it’s for a reason that allows him to save face,” he explains with a secretive smile. “Simply telling him that you’re not interested hasn’t seemed to work thus far, so why not be creative?”

“Creative?” you snort. “Wouldn’t ‘creative’ be blasting him myself the next time he lays a hand on me?”

“As if you need any worse of a reputation,” Ominis drawls, and he has a point.

“Come on, let’s really mess with him,” Sebastian pleads. “You know he deserves to be taken down a peg or two.”

You’re not surprised that Sebastian is able to get you on board so quickly. Truthfully, you think you’d follow him on his harebrained schemes just about anywhere.

“Fine,” you cautiously agree. “But just to scare him off, alright?”

You swear you can see the gears in Sebastian’s head start to turn immediately.

He kicks off his brilliant plan the next day during your N.E.W.T.-level potions class. You’re supposed to be brewing an antidote to Veritaserum, and while the draught itself isn’t necessarily difficult, some of the ingredients are a little tricky to prepare.

You’re focused on trying to carefully slit open some Sopophorous beans when you felt a presence behind you, and then Eric Northcott is draping his arm across your shoulders.

“Need a hand with those?” he offers, trying to sound congenial.

“I’m fine, Eric,” you insist.

“I’m really quite good at potions, you know,” he reminds you, grabbing one of the paring knives off the table and haphazardly slicing one of the beans you’d laid out. “I’d be happy to give you some hands-on lessons if you’d like, one-on-one of course.”

“Sebastian,” Ominis hisses from across the room, having picked up on the conversation while the other boy poured over his notes on wormwood. “Now might be a good time to offer some gentlemanly assistance.”

His eyes narrow when he spots Northcott leaning over your cauldron, clearly trying to sneak a look down your top.

“Don’t let my antidote burn,” Sebastian mumbles as he storms across the room, as if Ominis would ever spare a thought for Sebastian’s cauldron when the show is about to begin.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you watch him notice your predicament, silently pleading him with your eyes to do something to get you out of it.

“Northcott,” Sebastian greets him, leaning against your potions station and resting a hand possessively on the small of your back. “Is there something my girlfriend can help you with?”

“Your girlfriend?” Eric asks skeptically. “That’s new.”

“I suppose it is,” Sebastian agrees, nonplussed. “Been a long time coming, though.”

Across the room, Ominous laughs under his breath.

“Really?” Eric asks dubiously, briefly glancing at your expression. “I was under the impression that the two of you were just ‘best friends.’”

“Well, shouldn’t a good relationship start out as a friendship?” you counter, though you don’t sound entirely convincing.

“Right,” he says slowly.

“Mate, you know how tough she is,” Sebastian says with a charming grin. “Took me ages to convince her to give me a chance, she strung me right along for months.”

You jump slightly when Sebastian slides his hand across your back to your waist, tugging you closer to his side – and out from under Eric’s arm.

“But she finally took pity on me,” he says with a lovelorn sigh, and you narrow your eyes at his dramatics.

“Oh, Sebastian,” you reply, laughing nervously. “You’re hopeless.”

“Hopelessly in love with you,” he says, quickly leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth.

Before you can react, Professor Sharp wanders by and instructs you all to stop your dallying and focus on your draughts. Eric spares one more skeptical look at the two of you before returning to his cauldron.

Sebastian’s hand on your waist lingers for a moment even after he’s gone, but then he lets it fall.

“Sorry about that,” he says under his breath. “Had to sell it, you’re really a bad liar, you know.”

You think Sebastian doesn’t know the half of it.

(Sebastian’s just glad you avoided his gaze long enough to miss his deep red blush.)

—

As it turns out, the kiss wasn’t enough to convince Northcott that you were properly off the market.

The rumor mill quickly focuses on you and Sebastian – specifically whether or not it’s true that your platonic friendship has become something more.

“I don’t really believe it,” Nerida claims whenever the subject comes up. “Sebastian has always seemed like the bachelor type.”

“He could have had a girlfriend all this time and never has,” Violet agrees, trying to hide her bitterness. “I don’t think he really wants to be in a relationship.”

“Are you joking?” Imelda scoffs. “Sallow’s been a lovesick puppy over that girl for years, I’m just glad she finally came around.”

“She is very protective of him,” Grace speculates. “I remember when Samantha Dale asked him out last fall, I thought she was going to Depulso the poor girl clear across the courtyard!”

You do your best to ignore it, but Ominis stubbornly insists on telling you everything he’s heard.

“I would have thought that the two of you would be better at pulling off a ruse as simple as this,” he says, disappointment dripping from his words. “How hard can it be to pretend to like Sebastian? I don’t have to see him to know that the whole school thinks he’s handsome.”

“You don’t understand,” you sigh, walking alongside him on the way to arithmancy. “It’s… I don’t have to pretend, if you know what I mean.”

“Come now,” he says quietly. “I’m blind, not dim.”

“Then you do understand!” you whine. “How am I supposed to just let him pretend to be my boyfriend to ward off Eric and not go mad from knowing that it’s all a lie?”

“I suppose me telling you to be honest with him about how you feel would go in one ear and right out the other,” Ominis suggests, smirking to himself when you curse at him under your breath.

“Buck up, then,” he says simply. “I’m sure this whole thing will blow up in some spectacular way sooner than later – it is Sebastian, after all.”

—

As per usual, Ominis is correct.

Not even a full day goes by before Sebastian corners you outside the Hufflepuff common room and asks to walk you to dinner, taking your hand in his as soon as he notices some fifth-years studiously watching the two of you as you make your way to the Great Hall.

“I missed you this afternoon,” he tells you as he walks you upstairs, putting on a good show. “How come you didn’t want to study with Ominis and me after class?”

“I just needed to lie down for a little while,” you tell him, not wanting to admit to avoiding the way he’s been so unbearably charming lately.

“Feeling alright?” he asks concernedly.

“Yes,” you tell him. “Just… I don’t know. Out of sorts, I guess.”

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks.

You get distracted by the feeling of him stroking his thumb along your wristbone reassuringly.

“Um… n-no, I don’t think so,” you stutter.

“Surely there’s something I can do to help,” he says, and you wonder if you’re imagining the way his eyes look a little darker than usual, as if his pupils have entirely taken over.

“Like what?” you breathe.

Then he gets that look on his face that he always gets when he’s about to do something stupid.

“Come with me,” he says, tugging you over to a spot along the wall in the reception hall, next to one of those empty cabinets you’d looted for Nellie Oggspire back in your fifth year.

“Sebastian, w-what–” you stammer.

He presses you against the wall, one hand pressed to your waist and the other flat against the stone behind you, boxing you in. He glances around again and clearly spots whatever it was he was looking for, grinning mischievously before he leans in and traces his nose across your cheek.

“Don’t hex me for this,” he murmurs against your lips, and then he’s kissing you.

You melt against the cool stone wall, tipping your head back so Sebastian can tilt his head against yours and completely overtake your senses with his demanding kisses. Without consciously deciding to, you wrap your arms around his shoulders to hold him close to you, desperate to ensure he stays right where he is.

He kisses you well, you think. You know he’s always been a huge flirt, and that he has taken some girls in your year on dates to Hogsmeade over the years, but you’ve desperately avoided any post-date conversations with him because you did not want to know what he and those girls had gotten up to afterward.

Now you know, you think bitterly, but just as quickly you realize you don’t actually care. He’s skilled at this – nipping at your bottom lip to get you to open up for him, sliding his hand between your robes and your dress shirt so he can feel the curve of your waist, nudging a knee between your thighs to pin you even further to the wall.

“Bastian,” you murmur, tangling your fingers in his hair.

He groans against your mouth like he can’t help himself, and you whine a touch too loudly when he grinds his hips against yours.

Then you hear Eric’s voice call out, “Sallow!”

Sebastian looks like sin when he pulls away from you, and not just because his hair is a little mussed from your helpless tugging and his lips are red and swollen.

It’s because he’s smirking, and you quickly realize he’d planned this entire thing.

He’d pulled you to a spot where the Gryffindors on their way to dinner could easily see you being ravished, and it’s not just Eric he’s caught up in it – it’s Leander and Cressida too, some of the worst gossips in the entire castle.

…You are absolutely going to hex him for this, you think.

“Northcott,” Sebastian drawls as he turns around. “Can I help you?”

Eric looks furious, but at least he doesn’t look skeptical anymore.

“You might want to consider someplace a bit more private,” he offers, seething. “I am a prefect, after all. Could send you to detention for being so lewd in public.”

“Fair point,” Sebastian says easily. “In fact, maybe you ought to send us both. Hardly anywhere’s as private as the dungeons.”

You quickly smack Sebastian in the chest with the back of your hand, wordlessly begging him to stop before you actually do have to report to detention.

Mercifully, Eric simply throws a few choice words at Sebastian and stomps off to the Great Hall, Leander and Cressida on his heels to undoubtedly tell the entire school what just happened.

“You’re evil,” you hiss, still catching your breath. “You arranged all that just to embarrass Eric? To embarrass me like that?”

He frowns, confused. “No I didn’t, and I would never embarrass you.”

“You did!” you whine, shoving at his shoulders so he’ll step back. “They’re going to tell everyone and it’s going to make me sound like – like some pathetic girl who’s so desperate to avoid Eric’s attention that she’ll let her best friend feel her up in a busy hallway.”

“That’s not what they’ll think,” Sebastian argues. “And if anyone’s pathetic, love, it’s me.”

You scoff and wrap your arms around yourself, ashamed at how badly you wish you were still wrapped up in his arms instead despite everything you’re saying.

“You think I’m lying?” he asks derisively. “I’m a fool for you, and I would never hurt you. I kissed you like that because I wanted to, and if it happened to embarrass Northcott in the process, that’s even better.”

“Y-you wanted to?” you ask softly.

“I’ve wanted to for so long,” he finally admits.

His hands twitch at his sides like he wants to reach out for you, but he forces himself to behave.

“It’s the reason I came up with this stupid plan in the first place,” he sighs. “So that if anyone at this damn school gets to have the pleasure of walking you to class, or taking you to the Three Broomsticks or – or even kissing you senseless somewhere everyone could see, it would be me.”

You don’t have any words. But even if you did, there’s nothing you’d want to say to him that you couldn’t communicate by tugging him in by his collar and kissing him like you can’t think straight without his touch, so you do just that.

When you both break away to breathe, Sebastian quickly asks, “Are you actually hungry?”

“Not anymore,” you admit, your gaze still on his lips.

Sebastian barely manages to utter the words “Undercroft” and “hurry” in between kisses, but while he determinedly works a claiming bruise into the side of your neck, you whine, “Your common room’s closer.”

—

Once Ominis overhears Cressida waxing poetic about Sebastian Sallow practically mounting his new girlfriend in the hallway by the Grand Staircase, he doesn’t wonder why the two of you never show up for dinner.

#sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #eric northcott #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #my fic #i LOVE omniscient meddlesome ominis if you can't tell #also i swear the next thing i write is going to be pure filth bc i've been doing cute for several days in a row #unbeta'd we die like men

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yunxi-11085 · 11 months

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“The star of the void.”

× part 1 - meeting

part 2 - the voice

↝

˚ · . pairs ¡ hsr men(&women) x gn! reader

˚ · . sypnosis ¡ “you didn't know how you got here, in the world of your favorite game.

You just remembered being approached by a man, you dont remember.

Why- cant you remember?

You were the newest member of the astral express somehow, and - yet why do these characters- people, like you so much?

"don't worry, i have the perfect little plan."

TLDR; You were suddenly thrown into the world of Honkai Star Rail, right after speaking to an unknown man. but it doesnt seem to be the only confusing thing happening. ”

₊˚ପ⊹ tw ¡¿ : (none)

·˚ ༘ tags // @

send me an ask if you want to be tagged in my stories!!

"hello, there."

a young man slightly taller than you, approached you. leaning against the balcony and facing you.

"hm?" you hummed, looking back at the man.

"i was wondering if you played Honkai: Star Rail, the game that recently launched" he said.

your eyes lit up the moment you heard that name, and the man noticed as well. he chuckled as you said "i do! its my favorite game!"

"how did you know?"

"your bag has quite an interesting amount of HSR merch" he pointed at your bag, you realized and flusteredly nodded. you are quite a fanatic, as someone once said Star Rail is taking over your life quite literally.

"soo.. what are your favorite characters?" you said, leaning on the balcony. you smiled excitedly. wanting to know more of this person

"haha, i must say, i like [▇▇▇▇▇] the most. that character is my favorite." that— you don't remember, you don't remember which character they said. but you remember getting super excited when you heard it.

as the conversation goes on, you felt— something warm building in your chest. It made you feel giddy. you don't know how, and what to call it.

was it love? or the joy of meeting a fellow HSR player? what was it?

that was when the question popped up. "If you could choose to live in star rail, would you?" you replied, "absolutely!

i think i would be really happy if I could live in a world like star rail."

maybe in the future, you would regret ever saying this

you said as you stared at the dark sky, gazing at the stars. you didn't notice the man smiling.

"i agree. in a world like star rail, i would be happy despite the many dangers, like stellarons. atleast the trailblazers could save us" you nodded at his words, agreeing.

you felt lightheaded at his words, you blinked your eyes at him. "mhm..." you hummed, eyes threatening to close on you

you look at the man, and he smiles at you. "it seems like our time is up"

you were confused, but you couldnt say anything as you felt darkness creep at the edges of your vision, and he raised his hand and covered your eyes.

the last thing you heard, was

"good night, although you might not remember me. but we will meet again."

and you fell in the arms of the man.

end note¡ : its been so long since i've last written a fic??? i swear its been months or prob a year.. also hi 1st hsr fic, i have another one in drafts but i have no idea how to write it.

crossposted on AO3 ¡ here.

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lemonlokkich · 1 month

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A Legendary throw

Legend wasn't mean.

Well, okay. He could technically maybe, perhaps come off as slightly rude sometimes. But it honestly was not his fault.

He was just emotionally inept.

Sadly, knowing you're emotionally stunted did not fix said ineptness either. Which left Legend where he was right now, staring down the worst man he's ever had the displeasure of meeting in his entire goddesses damned life.

Warriors.

Warriors and his stupid, really punchable face. The face of a man that was currently grinning while he not so very subtly put a snail inside of Legends bedroll, presuming said Legend couldn't see him.

This assumption was stupid, incredibly stupid. So stupid in fact that Legend couldn't help but openly gape at the man while he shuffled away from the scene of the crime, assuming himself to be the ever so smooth and unseen criminal as he viewed himself as right now.

Smug blond bastard.

Technically all of the Links here were some sort of variation of blond, with the exception of maybe Hyrule with his brunette hair and Legend with his original hair colour being a nice, lovely, decidedly NOT blond, shade of pink.

Well, before he bleached mostly all of it to prevent standing out like a cherry blossom among oaks, as said by his late uncle.

But this was not the point right now. The point right now was that Warriors was by far the most blondest, smuggest, punch worthy person in his life right now.

And he was going to do something about that.

Now, as a point stated previously above, Legend was quite emotionally stunted, curse of the heroes spirit or something or other. So, of course, one would naturally expect that in an effort to learn the skills of healthy communication between him and his brothers in arms he would calmly get up and talk to Warriors about how it's completely unethical to put snails in someone's bedroll.

Legend only did the first part though.

He slowly got up, bones cracking in the satisfying way they usually did and wandered over to where Warriors was standing, shoulders shaking ever so slightly in barely concealed giggles.

He was clearly very proud of himself.

“Warriors.” Legend said calmly, tapping his power bracelets together to activate them just in time before Warriors turned around to face him, expression smoothed out and casually cheerful instead of smug and cheeky and dumb-

“Legend! Brother! Comrad! Fellow hero under the triforce of courage! How are you? Did you need something?” Warriors said brightly, confidently, like nothing was wrong.

Legend took a deep breath, reached out to put his hands on the taller man's shoulders and smiled warmly back. “Yes actually, could you perhaps not scream?”

“Why would I scream?”

Legend proceeded to swiftly grab warriors, lift the man up above his head and throw him into the forest.

Warriors screamed.

Legend had a feeling that the W in Warriors maybe did indeed stand for Wuss that day.

If you want to read more silly stories of mine pay me a visit on my AO3 account; LemonLokkich. Thanks for reading!

#lu fanfiction #linked universe #lu legend #ficlet #lu fic #this is entirely unbeta'd #who cares though #this was like way too short to post on ao3 and then i remembered #i have a tumblr account #we win these #lu warriors #Theyre brothers your honour #honestly was fun writing tho #mild swearing #crack fic #crack

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deviousdeliciousness · 4 days

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Pinned Down

Premise: A giant pins down a tiny by their stomach no matter how much they writhe and squirm.

Little does tiny Lai know, but his high school bully Core is about to make that the least of his worries.

~~~~~~~~~~

"C'mon sweetheart, put some effort into it," the giant - Core - encouraged oh-so-caringly, his grin widening as Lai continued to struggle fruitlessly from beneath his thumb.

Lai pushed hard against the underside of the pad of the digit, arms straining with the effort, but it was for nothing. The giant's - his bully's - his tormentor's - thumb remained pressed firmly against his vulnerable stomach, keeping him pinned to the desk beneath him.

Sweat was beginning to bead along the tiny's brow from the exertion of his efforts, but he needed to escape - fast.

School had only just ended a few minutes ago, which meant that there were still plenty of tinies and actually decent giants roaming the halls to help him. The longer Lai stayed stuck under Core's thumb, though, the more his chances of escaping and finding someone to keep the giant away dwindled down to nothing.

Core rubbed his thumb along Lai's stomach, brushing up against the tiny's ribs and back down over his abdomen, pressing ever so slightly more against the soft, squishy skin.

Lai squirmed in discomfort, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to shove himself forwards to slide out from under the giant's thumb instead of uselessly trying to push his massive finger up, but it didn't work.

His tormentor just laughed, head propped up against his free hand with his elbow resting against the table to support it. His cheek was pressed against his fist, further crinkling his eye, which was already crescented with the force of his too-wide smile.

"Get. Off of me." Lai wheezed up to him, baring his teeth through his panting.

Core only laughed, rubbing another circle against the tiny's stomach that might've tickled if Lai's abdominals weren't already burning from his continuous strain.

His giant captor leaned in, coming closer and closer until his face was only a scant inch from Lai's own, the tiny's eyes going wide and his form still like a hare under a hawk's eye.

"Or what?" the giant breathed, the warm mintiness of his breath gusting out over the tiny trapped beneath his single thumb.

It took Lai too long to find his words, and when he did, he tried and failed to ignore how they trembled. "B-because - I - I'll tell," he strangled out, swallowing forcefully around the quiver in his throat.

Core only laughed, showing off his sharp canines and exhaling another too-warm breath over Lai's trapped body, eyes glittering. "'cause that's worked out so well for you so far," the giant teased, giving a careful yet firm press of his thumb against Lai's stomach that had the tiny gasping and squirming again at the uncomfortable sensation of his organs shifting ever-so-slightly with the force of it.

Almost worse than that, though, was the cold, hard truth to Core's words. Because Lai had tried to speak up about the bullying before. About how Core wouldn't leave him alone even when Lai explicitly requested him to. About how Core would pick him up without permission, carrying him around wherever he wanted and ignoring Lai's cries until they petered off into defeated pleas. About how Core would poke him whenever he felt like it, an action made monumentally different than how it sounded when a single prod from the giant often sent Lai toppling over.

Lai had told of it all. After months of the same treatment, of bearing it with thinned lips and a set jaw, he'd broken down.

And nothing had happened.

Or, well, something had happened: his life turning into a living hell.

He'd thought Core had been bad before, but it was nothing compared to how the giant treated him after.

Before, Core's attentions on him were definitely intrusive, crossing boundaries and disrespecting his autonomy. But at least it wasn't for too long. Just half an hour at most during their free period, where there weren't classes to restrain the giant from acting out. And it wasn't every day either - closer to once or twice a week.

Now, however, Core's presence was constant. Every day of the school week and nearly every hour within that, the giant found some way in which to torment Lai.

And the tiny was soon informed why by the gleeful giant himself.

The principal was Core's father. Not only that, but the man had a not-so-secret disdain for tinies as a whole. Of course nothing would be done about Core's treatment of a single one of them.

It seemed the very proof of as much was what had 'freed' Core to fully letting loose his desires on tormenting his unwilling little tiny.

And Lai hated him for it. Hated Core for his blatant disregard of Lai's autonomy, his person-hood.

It was that sudden, horrible thought that was what made Lai's next words spill free from him in a rush.

Those thoughts were what had Lai making the worst mistake of his short life.

He blurted out, "I'll go to the Dean!" The Dean, who was the only man above the school's principal that had any sway over what happened within the facility. A man - a giant - who was also firmly in support of the protection of tiny rights.

Above him, Core stilled.

Lai stared up at him, wide-eyed, his breath momentarily pausing in his chest as he found himself caught under the giant's gaze.

Core had stilled, yes, but not in the way Lai had. Not like prey under the eyes of a predator.

No, Core's eyes darkened slowly, inexorably, and fell half-lidded. His lips tilted up into a gleefully cruel smirk, and his thumb carefully pressed down just enough for Lai to gasp in fear at the threat.

"We can't have that, now can we?" Core murmured gently, even as his hand moved too fast for Lai to even process, catching the tiny up in the giant's too-warm fist.

"Wh-what?" the tiny forced himself to stutter out, his breath hitching. It was only now, as he stared up into Core's blank eyes that were usually so expressive, that he truly felt the stirrings of complete, irrefutable fear at being within the giant's hold.

"We can't have you go tattling to the Dean," Core obligingly explained, rubbing his thumb against the tiny's cheek despite how Lai tried to squirm away from the intrusive touch. Core clicked his tongue scoldingly, making Lai flinch. "Guess I'll just have to take you with me."

For a second, the tiny didn't process the words. Even when he did, he could only stare up at the giant uncomprehendingly.

Core saw his look - his lack of understanding - and gave a sickeningly sweet coo. "Don't worry, little thing, I'll take good care of you."

Lai's cry of disbelieving, rapid and all-encompassing panic was muffled as he abruptly found himself encased in darkness, the giant's hand still firmly around him and keeping him locked in place.

It dawned on the tiny. He was in Core's pocket. He was in Core's pocket, and he wouldn't be let go.

There was shifting and movement around him, no other acknowledgment to the tiny's trapped form, and the realization was set in stone.

The giant was taking him home, and Lai didn't know if he'd ever escape from it.

~~~~~~~~~

Wuh oh! ;333 oops, I did it again~

#g/t #g/t community #giant/tiny #gt writing #giant tiny #fear play #g/t fearplay #g/t angst #bully #bullying #capture #tw kidnapping #unbeta'd

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ena-113 · 1 month

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Revivaln't

Wow, villains can sure talk. It's been- uhhh

Seven minutes.

Thanks Vio. Seven minutes that Dinky Bitch here has been monologuing. Much too long. Please get to the point good sir-

He is nowhere near good.

Tolerable s-

Still no.

Sir.

…

Fucker.

pfft-

"And well.. I have the means to bring your dear shadow back from the dead."

Four zoned back in at that line with a slow, slow blink.

Four sighed.

He took out his journal and pen.

Opened to the second page, as the first was full, and made a single tally mark.

Closed his book with a snap, and put it away.

All without breaking eye contact.

"283."

If Dark Link could, he'd be sweating buckets. He twitched at every sound and actually flinched when four talked.

"That's how many times I've been offered such a ridiculous thing."

Off to the side, seemingly from the ground, muffled laughter could be heard. A being emerged from Four's shadow.

"Dude!" Shadow said, then almost broke into cackles, "I'm right here! Been here for a while now!"

♤♡♧◇

this has been sitting in my docs collecting dust for a while now. It feels incomplete and i wanna do more with it, but... the brain juices ain't flowin. If anyone wants to continue it, go right ahead.

#lu four #lu dark link #lu dink #lu shadow #lu green #lu vio #lu blue #lu red #lu colors #linked universe #linked universe fanfic #linked universe au #unbeta'd

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cowandcalf · 2 months

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Steve tries to find a comfortable position for his head on the backpack. Impossible, he’s anyway too wired up to care. His team has to hunker down and is forced to hide between scrub and under dense, low-hanging branches throughout the entire day. The sun’s rising. They missed their exfil window. Junior crawls soundlessly towards him, his face serious and calm.

„What’s up? Everyone okay?“

„Yeah, all good.“ Junior whispers.

„Then what’s with the face?“

„We should be on our way home by now. It would have been perfect. Right on time back home again for the candles and the cake.“

Steve cranes his neck and checks the sky. They‘re on enemy territory and do everything to stay invisible.

„You know in our line of duty nothing is predictable. We were supposed to have reserves training but we’re on a mission. It’s what we do.“

Junior leans against the big tree and starts to work systematically past the layers of his camouflage to grab something from a secret pocket. Steve watches how he pulls slowly and without a sound a card from under there.

„That’s not a map.“ Steve states and stares at the piece of paper.

„It’s for you.“ Junior hands him the card, leans forward and whispers fondly. „Happy birthday, brother.“

Steve wants to grin but frowns at Junior. „You wrote me a fucking birthday card and took it on the mission?“ Steve‘s voice is calm but filled with question marks.

Junior scoffs and gives him an eye roll. „No, moron, I didn’t write you a card but someone who knew your team might not make it back in time, wrote it for you and made me swear to give it to you.“

„Danny made you swear?“ Steve’s smile widens.

„He did and because I know it means a lot to him . . . here, take it. And before you say something about bringing private life to work. We’re forced to stay put for the next 12 hours. So—„

„So?“

„Read it. It’s from your husband. There's a Snickers in my pocket and a small candle but you‘ll get that when we’re on the plane.“

Steve takes the card, deeply moved, and fights against the upcoming emotions. It’s not wise to read it but on the other hand, they have to kill a lot of time. „Thank you.“

„Love you, man.“ Junior pushes his fist gently against Steve‘s shoulder. He turns around and settles into a comfortable position to sleep for a few hours. They can’t do anything but wait.

Steve sits up and holds the card between his hands. He can’t allow his feelings to break through entirely but he lets his fingers wander over the paper where Danny’s fingers have been when he wrote the card. He opens it. The text is short but means the world to him. And it says Danno. Steve knows exactly what Danny wants to tell him. They took in a stray cat and named him Mr. Pickles. Steve was so worried that Eddy might get stressed and that the cat might bolt again. Steve’s heart already belongs to the cat. Danny knows that and sends him a picture showing Eddy and Mr. Pickles eyeing each other with interest. And next to the other picture, Danny took of him and his fur boy there's a short note: I‘ll take care of your new love, babe. You’re a big softy and that’s why I love you.

„Love you, too Danno.“ Steve murmurs and shoves the card into a small pocket close to his heart, folded into a small square. He shuffles into a lying position and reaches over to touch Junior. „Thanks, brother. I needed that.“

#h50 #steve‘s birthday #h50 march 10 #steve mcgarrett #danny williams #mcdanno #Junior reigns #ficlet #mcdanno ficlet #unbeta'd #my edit

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13atoms · 1 year

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Heart Moon (Geralt x Reader)

A little Valentine’s day drabble! There’s a heart moon above our sleeping heroes, and the beginning of a love story growing between them. | 1.2k | Fluff/Romance

💐♥ 💐 ♥ 💐 ♥ 💐 ♥ 💐 ♥ 💐 ♥ 💐 ♥ 💐 ♥ 💐 ♥ 💐 ♥ 💐 ♥ 💐 ♥ 💐 ♥ 💐

You groaned, rolled your shoulders, and curled up against the cold forest floor. Across from you, Geralt was soundly asleep, the proud line of his nose catching the moon light, the harsh line of his jaw softened by his slumped neck.

Roach was somewhere behind you, mooching around in the undergrowth, not far from her tether. Jaskier was curled up on furs, sleeping in a bundle with his lute strung up on a tree, safe from mud and danger.

Night watch was no fun, but it gave you a moment alone. And that was rare, especially since Jaskier had rejoined your party a few weeks ago. You liked having him there. The noise, the joviality, his complaining just as your feet began to ache. You liked him, his spirit and his company, a fellow human beside Geralt’s superhuman stamina and senses.

The Witcher had never made you feel like a burden, but beside him it was hard to feel like you were pulling your weight.

The bard’s presence had brought something else into focus. That your relationship with him was different, to the one you shared with Geralt.

You had long suspected it, that there was something unusual in the way you curled around him when the night was cold, or the way he never finished eating until you were full. He never finished the water skeins until your thirst was quenched. Never let you carry your own bags until he was at capacity.

He didn’t do that for Jaskier. You didn’t want to hold Jaskier like you wanted to hold Geralt.

And late into the night, you’d stay awake into Geralt’s night watch shifts, just for the chance to talk to him alone again.

You liked Jaskier, loved him, as a friend and a confidant.

You’d never longed for his company as you longed for Geralt’s.

It was a red moon, rising strong and high above the continent, leaving a strange glow on everything.

Geralt’s pale skin was tinted with it, the water nearby reflecting it, the light dissipating to pink as it painted all that was below.

There were rumours, about pink moons. Old wives’ tales, stories for children. For romantics.

You wondered how many Geralt had seen, in his long life. This was only your second – you had seen one as a child, and laughed at the celebrations which took place in your village.

It was a night for mischief and flowers and kindness. Gifting and smiling and loving.

You watched how the light caught Geralt, his pale hair fanned out against his sleep mat and face pressed to a fur. Perhaps, a few dozen miles away, the nearest village would be celebrating as yours had. Maybe it was celebrated no where else on the continent. It was so rare, you had never thought to ask.

A pang of heartache for your home threatened to overwhelm you, tightening your throat and forcing your gaze from Geralt like he might feel the intensity of it.

Without much further thought, you arose, beginning the hunt for flowers.

The season was just beginning, but hardy early species survived. Snow-white droplets of petals and tiny pale blue flowers, blood-reds and buttery-yellows cut by your knife and gathered in your hands until you realised you’d wandered too far. Trying not to make too much noise, and not truly worried, you rushed back, the crook of your arm full of delicate blooms.

As you returned the moon was directly overhead, Geralt fidgeting in his sleep at the sound of your return. His golden eyes batted open, scanning the campsite until they settled on you.

“Sorry,” you whispered, descending back onto your sleep mat, flowers in your grip.

“Not to worry. We must be due to swap soon,” he murmured, voice low for fear of waking Jaskier, and gruff with sleep.

He rolled onto his side, perched up on an elbow. You were always amazed at how quickly he recovered from being awoken. He missed nothing, eyes flickering to the flowers in your lap.

You were making quick work of stripping the stems of leaves, knife slipping easily down the delicate stems.

The Witcher watched your hands for a few moments, before rolling onto his back.

“Heart moon,” he murmured, and you swore you saw a smirk on his lips, the flash of his pointed canines.

Both of you stared up at it through the clearing in the canopy of the trees, knife resting still in your lap.

Geralt took his time as he sat up, finding a place against his bags to lean, before gesturing for the flowers in your lap.

“Collect your own,” you teased, a laugh on your tongue at his dejection.

“I’m warm here. Give me half.”

You faked a bit of grumbling, but acquiesced, and soon Geralt had his own pocket knife out, stripping the stems with the ease he stripped flesh from bone.

You returned to your task, taking quick glances up to see the concentration on the Witcher’s face.

“I hope these weren’t for Jaskier,” he grumbled, no malice in his voice.

You smiled to yourself, focussed on removing the roots from a bunch of conical purple flowers.

“Just felt like it. It’s tradition, under a heart moon.”

The Witcher hummed in agreement.

“Tradition to be given flowers, I believe. Who were you giving them to?”

“Both of you. Myself. Roach.”

When you looked up, Geralt raised an eyebrow. You didn’t talk about home much, but now felt right. A quiet moment, just the two of you.

“We always gave flowers on a blood moon. To children, parents, friends, siblings, neighbours…”

“It was always lovers, I thought.”

You fixed him with a look, stilling the blade in your hands once again.

“Sometimes lovers,” you confirmed.

“It must vary, across the continent.”

“Must do,” you conceded.

You’d started to fashion little bouquets, your own flower pile split in two, smiling to yourself as you found twine to wrap them into neat forms. Geralt watched with unveiled interest.

With a groan at the movement, you uncrossed your legs and stood, placing one bundle by Jaskier’s sleeping form. The other you nestled into Geralt’s travel pack. Sitting back down, you noticed Geralt’s movements had stopped. His eyes glanced between the bundles, then back to his lap. Finally, to you. You stifled a yawn, looking back to the bright red moon where it sat between trees and the stars.

“You should get some rest,” he murmured, voice quiet, hands unmoving by his flowers.

For a few moments, you took one last look at the moon. You might see another in your lifetime, but it wouldn’t be like this. Not with your closest friends, one of them a Witcher who you hoped might see you as even more precious than that.

You took in the image of Geralt, lap covered in flowers and golden eyes fixed on you.

Finally, you laid down, curling beneath blankets and on your side facing the Witcher.

“Goodnight, Geralt.”

“Goonight,” he murmured.

You laid still, eyes closed, listening to the sound of him slicing at leaves, imagining him bathed in that pink moonlight.

As you were drifting between wakefulness and sleep you heard him stand, moving away, no doubt not wandering far. You let sleep take you.

When you awoke it was to the early morning light, the heart moon vanished, the Witcher nearby. Golden eyes flickering away from yours as they opened, and you found yourself half-way buried in flowers.

#this is daft and cute and unbeta'd #the witcher #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #13atoms #valentine's drabble

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momotonescreaming · 10 months

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Trying my hand at something different based off of a silly text post I made about a 90s/00s chatfic au. Not 100% sure if I'll continue it yet, so please let me know what you think! 💜❤️

Eddie couldn’t lie to himself that his heart skipped a beat when he got the notification. When he saw who the notification was for. The familiar bloop noise and the little pop up at the corner of the screen.

KingSteve85 is Online

Finally. Steve had moved away for college almost two weeks ago now, and Eddie had barely heard from him. Logically he knows that he and Robin needed the time to drive up, and set up in their cramped little dorms, and do other fancy college orientation things. But he missed them. Now that he had them, people who weren’t scared of him, people who weren’t afraid to call him out on his shit, people who got it. They talked almost every day after… everything.

Eddie would log on to the shitty old computer he and Wayne had fixed up and wedged in the corner of the trailer, scroll the internet, listen to music — and chat with Steve. He was a good fucking guy. And funny. And hot. And now it felt weird not chatting to him every day. Not logging on after a shift at Thatcher Tyre to find the little green Online dot next to his username. Not logging on at 2am after a nightmare to find Steve also online.

But Steve’s at college now, and his PC is currently boxed up in Robin’s childhood bedroom. Didn’t trust his new roommate, he said. Or his parents, after he moved out.

Without hesitating, ignoring the flip of his stomach and beat of his heart — he sends Steve a message.

c0rr0d3d_3dd13: soooooo how was ur 1st wk of college? :D

Steve replies immediately.

KingSteve85: so crazy haha KingSteve85: sorry i haven’t been online haha c0rr0d3d_3dd13: lol allgud. i know ur a big college boy now C0rr0d3d_3dd13: don’t have time 4 me anymor lol ;_;

Eddie cringes as soon as he says it, as soon as he hears the click of the enter key sending the message. Recoiling into a ball, hands over his face, curling up on the wheeled office chair, he lets himself spin as he watches the screen. Waits for the KingSteve85 is typing… message to pop up. God, Steve’s barely left and Eddie’s already a needy, self deprecating, mess.

Fuck his life. Crushes are stupid.

Because that’s what that is. He can admit that to himself now. Now that Steve’s left. He’s got a big, fat, gay crush on Steve Harrington. Him and all the other repressed queer kids at Hawkins High. What a cliché.

The computer pings with a new message, and his gaze is ripped towards the screen.

KingSteve85: never! there was just a lot of events and stuff this first week KingSteve85: did not have time to go to the library and log on lol KingSteve85: haven’t even called Dustin yet c0rr0d3d_3dd13: ur messaging me b4 dusty? Ur gonna make a girl blush harrington

Hunched over on the office chair with the broken wheel, at the computer he helped fix, with the shoddy speakers him and Wayne haven’t gotten around to yet — Eddie felt special. Dustin was Steve’s brother, one of his best friends. And yet Steve chose to message him first.

He tries to humble himself, hold back the blush with the knowledge that if Robin went to a different college than Steve (which was highly unlikely), he would have messaged her first. But Robin isn’t at a different college. And Eddie got the message first.

c0rr0d3d_3dd13: wot sort of events were there? music and drinking? Rotfl KingSteve85: literally yes haha KingSteve85: during the day there were like,,, tours and stalls advertising clubs and stuff KingSteve85: but as soon as it was night it all popped off haha c0rr0d3d_3dd13: u go 2 any? KingSteve85: some! not a lot haha. Robs wasn’t super excited and i didn’t want to leave her alone

It warmed his cynical heart, how much Steve cared for Robin. And how much she cared for him in return. They cared, and they love each other so much. Eddie thinks they’d still be close, even without all the debilitating trauma that glued them together. Robin had mentioned wanting to merge her and Steve into one being before, so they could always be close and balance each other out. Steve had immediately agreed.

Eddie had friends in the Corroded Coffin boys, but he wasn’t sure if they were at the ‘merge into one mega being’ stage of their friendship yet. Maybe Jeff. Jeff had gone off to college this year with Frank — to a different place than Steve and Robin — and Eddie had already received a postcard from him. It was nice to not be forgotten. A part of him wondered if he would be, when everyone went off to college.

But Jeff didn’t. Steve didn’t.

c0rr0d3d_3dd13: wot a gentleman lol c0rr0d3d_3dd13: wots ur timetable lik now? KingSteve85: fucking crazy dude KingSteve85: got lectures & tutorials & work & been thinking about doing a sport again c0rr0d3d_3dd13: which sport lol? u’ve got like… 3 to pick from c0rr0d3d_3dd13: ALSO DAMN DUDE THATS BUSY KingSteve85: i guess haha KingSteve85: been thinking either basketball or swimming. maybe baseball lol KingSteve85: which’ll add practices and meets and games and stuff haha

Before he left, Steve had quietly admitted that he wasn’t sure if he’d try out for a sport or not. During his senior year Billy Hargrove gave him a concussion so bad it benched him for months, and he’d spent ages trying to work back up to it again. So he could play without wanting to puke. And then he didn’t get into college when he applied to the fancy schools his dad made him apply for, and he missed out on any possible scholarships he would’ve gotten.

And he would’ve gotten them. Eddie’s not much of a sports guy, but he knows Steve was good. Great. One of the best.

Eddie quietly believed in Steve. He wouldn’t be himself unless he was exercising or playing a sport. You could see it in his face when he watched a game with Robin, when he played pick-up basketball with Lucas. It made him happy. So Eddie wanted Steve to try out. He was at the sappy stage where the thought of Steve being happy made his heart swell. He was happy he was happy.

(A part of Eddie just wondered if maybe Steve could be happy with him.)

c0rr0d3d_3dd13: do it!! i’ll cheer 4 u from here c0rr0d3d_3dd13: but leave som time free lol or u’ll go mad KingSteve85: enough free time i can chat w you? Haha

His hear clenches at the fact that it was Steve who bought it up. Their chatting. Maybe he thinks of it as often as Eddie does.

c0rr0d3d_3dd13: obvs??? c0rr0d3d_3dd13: if u 4get ab me im gonna cry dude KingSteve85: of course i won’t haha KingSteve85: gotta chat w you so you won’t go crazy back in Hawkins c0rr0d3d_3dd13: and i’ll make sure u don’t go crazy over there with your full ass schedule KingSteve85: its not that bad haha KingSteve85: but thank u c0rr0d3d_3dd13: i’d argue it *is* that bad c0rr0d3d_3dd13: i hav a full time job and the thought of ur schedule makes me cry

Wayne had managed to get him a job at Thatcher Tyre, through a few mutual acquaintances and a favour he had yet to cash in. It made him feel like one of those rich shit kids who go to college on daddy’s money and get a job in his company without having to work for it. The type of kid Steve was.

But Eddie can’t be picky now, and he and Wayne need the money. He’s good at cars, doesn’t completely hate it, and it pays. So he bit his lip, and now he has a full time job with a schedule of his own.

It is not as busy as Steve’s. He knows if he asks Robin, hers will be the same. Filled with band practices and sports games. Birds of a feather.

KingSteve85: i’m used to it haha KingSteve85: at least i’m only planning on one sport and not two lol c0rr0d3d_3dd13: u better stick to that harrington c0rr0d3d_3dd13: or i’ll drive up there and kick ur ass until you take care of urself

There’s a pause. The KingSteve85 is typing… message flickered on the screen, loading whatever message Steve was typing.

It eventually came through.

KingSteve85: i promise. but maybe i should break that rule so you can come visit c0rr0d3d_3dd13: u dont have 2 con me into visiting stevie. just say the word

Another pause.

KingSteve85: i will

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #steddie au #chatfic #kinda #My Writing #momo.txt #kinda want to continue this just so i can include a scene where Wayne kicks Eddie off the computer so he can use the phone #dial up my old friend #unbeta'd haha i wrote this in one sitting #so if u see any mistakes no u dont <3 #idk i had fun with the formatting and the chatspeak!

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evilovesyou · 1 year

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Prompt!

I’ve saved this one from the prompt generator, and I’ve been thinking about it for a while

Genre:Romantic Comedy

Trope: Angels and Demons

Prompt: Learning a hobby together.

It’s crafting time! and to flex those well developed fluff muscles!

When Zayn had looked through the peephole in the door, all he’d seen was a grinning Niall. Now that the door was actually open, he had the very same grinning Niall right in front of him. Marvellous. It was evident he’d rushed to see Zayn by his flushed pink cheeks and his crooked halo. Zayn was almost knocked off his feet with affection.

And that was when he saw the box.

“What’s in that box, Niall?” he asked, suspiciously narrowing his eyes. He flapped his wings behind him in a threatening manner. It sounded a little bit like the sleeves of a leather jacket rubbing together.

“Supplies!” Niall was unperturbed.

“What are the supplies for?”

“We’re crafting today, Zaynie.” Niall nodded to himself, and stepped forward, ignoring the way Zayn tried to block him. “C’mon. It’ll be fun!” he said, petting Zayn’s left horn and using his momentary shock to push himself into the apartment. His soft, feathery wings brushed Zayn’s shoulder and he carried the scent of late summer.

“Don’t… Niall, I told you my horns are sensitive.” Zayn sighed and closed the door. The angel had already kicked off his shoes and put the box on the coffee table.

“And I used the information to get into your house.”

“That’s not very angelic of you, is it?”

“Eh,” Niall shrugged, wings fluttering with it, and pulling a series of things from his box. “I did it in the name of Fun. And Fun is sacred.”

“Fun, depending on what kind, can also be considered demonic,” Zayn pointed out. “Is that wood?”

“It’s willow reeds, Zaynie. We’re going to learn basket weaving!”

“What do we need baskets for?” Zayn slowly came closer and sat down on the edge of his sofa. His. This was his apartment, even though the angel he’d accidentally befriended in college seemed to consider everything that was Zayn’s to also be his. “And why are we making a mess in my living room, not in yours?”

“You know how Harry and Liam can get about messes in the house,” Niall explained, lining up the supplies neatly. “I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

Zayn chose not to point out the fact that Harry was dating his best friend, who was the messiest demon he’d ever met. “What if I tell you I do mind, actually?”

“Oh, do you really?” Niall looked up at him for the first time, dropping his busy hands into his lap as he sat back on his haunches. Zayn’s soft, blue and yellow rug reflected in Niall’s bright eyes, the afternoon sun streaking his ash brown hair with golden streaks. The orange and pink of the oncoming sunset on Niall’s wings was completely out of place in Zayn’s self-proclaimed demonic, dark mind. He sighed.

“I don’t mind, Niall. I would just appreciate a heads-up next time.”

“But if I told you beforehand, you would’ve come up with a million excuses like ‘Niall, we don’t need baskets.’ and ‘Niall, for the love of God, don’t buy willow reeds on the internet at 3am.’ and ‘Niall, I don’t want to spend time with you–’”

“I always want to spend time with you,” Zayn rushed to correct, not realising that he’d said it out loud until he heard Niall’s quiet gasp.

“Yeah?”

“I thought it was quite obvious.” Zayn admitted, dropping his head into his hands. “Everyone teases us about it.”

“Yeah, because I have a crush on you, Z. Not the other way around.”

Zayn’s head snapped up so fast his horn almost poked Niall’s outstretched hand. Niall’s wings snapped up, ready to take flight, but immediately relaxed back down when their eyes met. His halo was still crooked.

For a moment it seemed very quiet, until Zayn could hear people talking underneath the open window, a car going by in the street, the neighbour’s dog barking, his own heartbeat. He slowly reached across the edge of the table, tracing Niall’s temple, and fixed his halo for him.

“I like you, Niall,” Zayn said finally, as he dropped his hand. “A lot.”

more of my writing

#asks #chaotic-bells #this one is so long #oops?#i guess it guess it's very fitting for us #hope you like it #<3<3 #my writing #drabbles #ficlet #prompts #ziall #this is unbeta'd #if you see any mistakes lmk

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merlinsbudgiesmugglers · 1 year

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Second First Kiss

Written for @hinnymicrofic day 10: Flower

Read on AO3

Their second first kiss could have been a reprise of their first, full of flying emotions and blazing looks. She could have raced across the room and thrown herself into his arms as the dawn light streamed through the windows of the Great Hall.

But her heart, already bruised from the insurmountable losses of the night, had fallen to pieces at the sight of him in Hagrid’s arms. And now it felt too large and too fragile all at once, so she allowed him to be swept away by others. He was here, he was alive, and for now, that was enough.

Their second first kiss could have been in the Gryffindor Common Room. In front of the dying embers of the fire as they silently held each other with too many things to say and no words to say them. He has missed her. More than he allowed himself to admit. And he wants to tell her. He wants to tell her all of it. But Fred, and Remus, and Tonks, and Colin and all of the others who were lost. Lost fighting his fight. They fill the room, fill every room he tries to escape to. And with them there, there is no place for second first kisses.

But surrounded by the flowery scent of her, the ghosts give him space. They don’t fade, he doesn’t know if they ever will, but he feels like he can breathe. So he holds her close, and for the first time in months, sleep comes easily.

Their second first kiss takes longer than either of them expected. First, there are the funerals, day after day of black robes. Harry attends every single one, the ghosts pressing in around him until Ginny’s hand presses against his, and the ghosts give him space again.

It’s harder to talk than either of them thought it would be. The words to describe what they each went through aren’t there.

But slowly, piece by piece, they struggle through together. The ghosts are still there for both of them, but slowly they grow quieter. Slowly they leave space for something other than grief.

Their second first kiss finally happens just before Harry’s eighteenth birthday. They’ve escaped to the orchard, Ginny has been picking wildflowers, threading the delicate stems through his hair, knowing that he will never stop her. With her face close to his, it’s the easiest thing in the world for Harry to close the gap.

Their second first kiss is nothing like their first. It’s soft, familiar. It feels like coming home.

They’re both smiling when they part. Ginny leans her forehead against his. ‘Took you long enough, Potter.’

Harry laughs softly and closes the distance between them again. He doesn’t make her wait for their second second kiss.

#hinny #hinny micro fic #late night microfic inspo seems to be a theme this week #sorry #tis rough and unbeta'd #harry potter #ginny weasley

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shadowtriovibes · 11 months

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pt. i: break a sweat

pt. ii: blood, sweat and tears || pt. iii: sweat it out || pt. iv: never let 'em see you sweat

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: E

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV sex, dubious safe sex methods, even more dubious interpretations of how the room of requirement works

Summary: sebastian makes the house quidditch team after training all summer. before his first match, you let him talk you into a bet over its outcome that will in all likelihood ruin your friendship. (merlin, you sure hope it does.)

"Speaking of which," you say, leaning out of the hug just enough to see Sebastian’s face. "What prize will you not be winning?" Sebastian lets his hands drop down to your hips as he murmurs, "I have something in mind." You force yourself not to get distracted. "Do tell." "If I win, I’d like to take you to the Room of Requirement after the game," he says, and the way he grips your sides through your skirt ensures you have no way of misunderstanding what he’s suggesting.

Seeing Sebastian for the first time since the end of your sixth year at Hogwarts is quite the shock.

You knew from his detailed letters that your dearest friend had spent the better part of his summer break training for Quidditch tryouts in the fall, frequently flying down to the Poidsear Coast to log hours and hours at their pitch.

Sometimes he would even bring Anne along with him when she was feeling well enough to ride on the back of his broom. He’d convince her to release a secondhand Snitch for him to track down, and while he hunted it down, she worked on the assignments your professors had set to help her prepare for her return to Hogwarts in the fall.

He’d even written to tell you that he’d never felt more confident on a broom, and that if he only got to have one last season on your house team before leaving school, he was determined to make the absolute most of it.

You knew all of this, and yet when you first see him in the Great Hall for the start-of-term feast, you nearly swoon like a Muggle schoolgirl at the sight of him.

The first thing you notice is that he’s taller. Even seated next to Anne at the Slytherin table, you can see his entire head whereas you can barely make out the top of his sister’s. Sebastian had never seemed that much bigger than his twin before, but things have clearly changed.

Then, you notice that his complexion has changed as well. He’s tan from spending all summer training in the sun, his button-down shirt suddenly looking so crisply white against his sun-kissed face.

His freckles, too – there are so many more.

But that could also just be because there’s simply more Sebastian now. His shoulders are broader, his chest wider, and even his hair has grown long enough to brush upwards into a less haphazard style (though certainly not as severe as Ominis’).

It’s as if your boyish Sebastian from the previous school year had quite suddenly become a grown man in just three short months, and you can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of him.

It takes you a few minutes to adjust as you slide into a seat across from him next to Ominis, and based on the look on Anne’s face, she at least knows what’s got you so flustered.

During a lull in conversation about Anne’s return, you tell Sebastian, “You’re looking fit.”

You hope you can casually get it out of the way, and that no one will dwell on it.

“Am I?” he asks with an easy smile.

“I mean physically,” you insist, remaining one step ahead of him. “I nearly mistook you for one of the Beaters for the Magpies.”

“Sebastian could never be a Beater,” Anne interjects. “He’s too much of a show-off to be anything but the Seeker.”

“I’ll be whatever the team needs me to be,” he insists. “I practiced for all four positions this summer, so wherever they want to slot me in is fine.”

“Silly Sebastian,” Violet McDowell calls out from a few seats down, a wicked grin on her face. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that there are many more positions than just four?”

Your entire end of the table bursts into laughter while Sebastian simply flashes a wicked grin, and you think about using your ancient magic to hurl one of the stacked platters of food in front of you at Violet’s head. (Or maybe you should simply toss her out into the courtyard.)

“Is this how it’s going to be this year?” Anne sighs. “When I left, Sebastian was just an awkward boy with his nose always buried in a book, and now the girls are lusting after him.”

“I’m not thrilled about it either,” Ominis agrees. “He had a big enough head before he was attractive.”

“I think it’s excellent,” Sebastian laughs. “It’s about time everyone realized that I’m the perfect man, and all it took was a little bit of Quidditch practice and one last growth spurt.”

“‘All it took,’” Anne mumbles at the same time Ominis exclaims, “‘Perfect man?!’”

While both his sister and best friend take turns putting dents in Sebastian’s inflated ego, he takes it in stride and sneakily winks at you from across the table when he catches you silently observing, your gaze firmly settled on the sharp line of his jaw.

Sebastian makes a mental note of the fact that you immediately go red. Even if no one else notices, he certainly does.

—

Two weeks later, you and Anne link arms with Ominis to walk down with him to the Quidditch pitch to watch the Slytherin team tryouts.

“Now that I’ve got a brilliant witch on each arm, I suppose I won’t be needing my wand as often to get around,” he teases.

“Please, I know a thing or two about that wand of yours,” Anne replies. “Last year I spent a full month reading books on wandcraft that Sebastian brought me from the library. If I had to guess, I think you can probably ‘see’ more clearly than either of us can. It’s powerful.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Ominis demurs. “I’m just naturally perceptive.”

Once you arrive at the pitch, the three of you take seats along the practice bleachers with a few of your housemates, who chat excitedly when the Slytherin hopefuls begin to take the field.

You spot Sebastian quickly, even among nearly two dozen others in green practice uniforms circling for warmups on their brooms. Compared to how big he’d looked at the start of term in just his school robes, he’s huge now – equipped with pads across his shoulders, forearms and shins that accentuate his muscular form.

He’d declined a helmet, of course, because despite his newfound bulk he’s still the same exasperatingly headstrong boy you’ve nurtured a crush on for nearly your entire school career.

“Between us, what do you think his chances are of making the team?” you ask Anne.

“Truthfully?” she smirks. “I think he’ll have his pick of positions, unless Imelda wants to humble him on purpose.”

“Which one would be humbling?” you ask, amused.

“Probably Chaser,” she muses. “He’d be an excellent Chaser, of course, but it’s his least favorite.”

“I’ll bet he becomes a Beater,” Ominis offers. “Without the Dark Arts, I’d like him to have some sort of outlet for his intensity.”

“Fine, then I’ll say… Keeper,” you say, smiling to yourself at your private joke that only Sebastian would appreciate. “Because that way he’ll get to stay in one place the whole game and know that everyone’s eyes are on him.”

—

Shortly after tryouts wrap up, Imelda sequesters herself in the girls’ dorm to put together her official roster and the majority of Slytherin’s upperclassmen start passing around Butterbeers while they settle in to await her decision.

Sebastian is inarguably the center of attention, casually leaning against a table in the corner with Anne at his side. A flock of fifth-year girls crowds around him to listen intently as he talks about the impressive diving save he’d made, capturing the Snitch just feet from the ground.

“He’s going to be insufferable now,” Ominis groans while the two of you watch from across the room. “There’s barely enough room for his ego in this friendship as it is.”

“Come now, we can keep him in check,” you laugh. “Especially with Anne here.”

“It’s really good to have her back,” Ominis agrees softly, smiling to himself when he hears Anne’s voice through the noise, telling Sebastian’s fan club how he’d attempted a similar save over the summer and ended up crashing into a derelict poacher camp.

Huh.

However, before you can spend too much more time thinking about Ominis and Anne, you hear the noise in the room spike as Imelda saunters down the stairs, a rolled-up piece of parchment in her hand.

“Who’s ready to meet this year’s Slytherin Quidditch team?” she calls out, and the entire room bursts into excited cheers.

She starts to read off from her list, allowing brief pauses for applause after each name. You and Ominis snake through the common room to stand by Sebastian. He seems to be perfectly calm, but by now you can recognize some telltale tension lingering in his jaw.

Anne holds one of his hands to reassure him, swaying a bit nervously herself.

While Imelda works her way down the list, the four of you learn that hasn’t been named Slytherin’s Keeper. He’s not a Beater either, nor is he ultimately a Chaser.

“Lastly, your newest Seeker,” Imelda teases as she reaches the end of the list. “...It’s obviously Sallow!”

Sebastian beams brilliantly while Anne pulls him into a tight hug, and Ominis smiles and murmurs his congratulations to his friend, assuring him he always knew he’d make the team.

There are several other girls quick to offer their congratulations as well, but you wait for the crowd around him to thin out and for Anne to escort Ominis to get more Butterbeers before you sidle up next to Sebastian and nudge your shoulder against his.

“Excellent work, Bash,” you murmur. “You put on quite a show at tryouts.”

“Only because you were watching,” he flirts back, and you roll your eyes fondly.

Since the start of term, he’s been relentless with his play-flirting. You resist it as much as you can, but it always makes your heart race when he calls you “love,” or offers to carry your books for you, or even charms little notes poking fun at your classmates into tiny birds that gracefully land on your desk during classes.

(You don’t have the heart to ask him to knock it off, because even though you know he doesn’t mean it, it still feels nice to be the center of his attention.)

“Then I’ll have to come to see you start in next week’s match,” you offer. “Especially if you only play that well when I’m watching.”

“You can be my good luck charm,” he jokes. “Felix Felicis is prohibited, but you’re not.”

“That was awful,” you laugh, but Sebastian just grins.

“Tell you what,” he says after a moment. “We should make a bet on it.”

“A bet?” you ask. “On what, that you’ll win?”

He shakes his head. “Too easy, we’re playing Ravenclaw, we’ll obviously win. I mean something more challenging.”

“You’re clearly confident,” you tell him. “What are your terms?”

He considers his offer for a moment and then says, “I’ll bet that I can catch the Snitch in under thirty minutes. I’ll even let you be the official timekeeper, since I’ll be a bit preoccupied.”

“Under thirty?” you ask skeptically. “That’s nearly professional, Sebastian. Ominis told me most games last at least an hour.”

“I’ve been practicing all summer,” he insists. “Anne would release a Snitch and I’d even give it a five-minute head start, but I never let one get further away from me than the far side of Marunweem Lake.”

“Careful, Sebastian, you sound quite cocky,” you murmur, and you think you see Sebastian’s gaze dip down to your mouth for a split second.

“I am,” he agrees. “In fact, I’ll even let you pick your prize first, for if you win.”

“Alright,” you laugh. “When I win, I want… for you to write my History of Magic assignments for the next month.

“That’s it?” he scoffs. “You could have anything and you want me to write your essays?”

“I didn’t start studying magic with the rest of you lot, and I don’t know a lot of the foundational things that Binns wants us to reference,” you remind him. “You know your history much better than I do, and I need to bump my ‘Acceptable’ up to ‘Exceeds Expectations’ by the time N.E.W.T.s roll around.”

“Love, I would’ve done them for you anyway,” Sebastian says dismissively, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning at the nickname. “Pick something fun.”

“Fine,” you reply. “I want…”

You consider your options for a moment, trying to think of something that isn’t either obscene or pathetic. Finally, you have an idea.

“There is one thing I’ve been thinking about,” you tell him, a secret smile on your lips.

Sebastian perks up, leaning in closer. “Go on then.”

“I want you to help me set up Anne and Ominis,” you say carefully, watching him for any signs that he’s about to blow up.

He just blinks at you, bewildered. “What.”

“I think they would be a lovely couple,” you croon. “And I know she’s your sister and you’re, y’know...”

“I’m what?” he demands.

“You’re very protective of her,” you say tactfully. “But we’re all adults now, and I think they really understand each other. I want you to help me convince them that they should give it a chance.”

Sebastian is quiet for several long moments.

“Well,” he finally murmurs. “I would prefer it if Anne never dated anyone so I wouldn’t have any more reasons to worry about her, but I suppose if she must, Ominis is a good man.”

You shout excitedly and wrap your arms around his impossibly broad shoulders, pulling him in for a hug. He easily allows it, fondly pressing his nose to your hair.

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter though, since you won’t win and I’ll never have to aid you in your scheming,” he murmurs against your temple.

“Speaking of which,” you say, leaning out of the hug just enough to see Sebastian’s face. “What prize will you not be winning?”

Sebastian lets his hands drop down to your hips as he murmurs, “I have something in mind.”

You force yourself not to get distracted. “Do tell.”

“If I win, I’d like to take you to the Room of Requirement after the game,” he says, and the way he grips your sides through your skirt ensures you have no way of misunderstanding what he’s suggesting.

“O-oh?” you ask softly, squirming a little in his grasp. “Just me?”

“Just you,” he confirms.

His eyes are dark, and despite the cacophony of the room around you both, he’s focused solely on you.

“And what would we be doing in the Room of Requirement?” you ask softly.

He doesn’t even dignify your question with a response. Instead, he deliberately drags his thumbs across your hips, raking his gaze down your body and back up with a pointed look.

“You mean it?” you ask him quietly. “You aren’t just teasing like earlier?”

“When was I teasing?” Sebastian asks, amused.

“This whole time,” you insist, fidgeting nervously with the laces at the front of his Quidditch shirt. “All the flirting, all this back-and-forth… You’re just winding me up.”

“I’m not,” he says quietly. “I thought about you all summer, love. I missed you like mad, and I sincerely want you.”

Merlin.

Some bold part of you steps a little closer so you can lean in close to his ear and ask, “Are you sure we shouldn’t just go to the Room of Requirement right now?”

You hear Sebastian swallow and exhale sharply.

“N-not now,” he answers. “After the match. I just…”

He doesn’t really have the words to articulate it, but he wants to earn your affection. He has to prove he’s good enough first, that you aren’t making a mistake by letting him finally force your close friendship into something more.

“Alright,” you acquiesce, gently brushing your lips against his cheekbone. “Just don’t get too distracted and fall off your broom, because I actually want you to win.”

“The match or the bet?” he asks in a low voice.

You just take a step back with a teasing grin, and before you disappear into the crowd to find your friends, you murmur, “Wouldn’t you like to know, Sallow.”

—

It’s so many flights of stairs up to the Room of Requirement. You almost feel bad for Sebastian, but not enough to stop relentlessly tugging him up countless flights in the quiet Astronomy Tower.

He must be exhausted already, you assume. While the match itself had only lasted twenty-seven minutes and forty seconds, he spent nearly all of them racing around the pitch alongside Ravenclaw’s Seeker, eyes trained on any flash of light that shimmered like gold.

He’d even taken a Bludger to his right thigh. You’d felt like you were going to be sick just watching it collide with him, but he’d merely dropped a few feet with a wince and sped off again.

Not even a damn Bludger could knock him off his broom.

(As soon as your nausea had dissipated, you’d felt another dizzying wave of sensation take over slightly south of your stomach.)

Just as he’d promised, he quickly caught up with the Snitch near the base of the Hufflepuff student section, landing not-so-neatly in the muddy grass with one arm thrown up in the air. He was evidently clutching the struggling Snitch and beaming so hugely you could see it from your spot in the stands fifty feet in the air.

As soon as Madam Kogawa blew her whistle, the Slytherins had begun to move en masse toward the stairs, preparing to turn their common room into the official site of the year’s first not-so-clandestine party.

You, however, snuck away from the group and lingered outside the team’s changing area. Inside, you could hear raised voices.

“Imelda, you don’t understand,” Sebastian was whining. “I need to go now.”

“There’s a way we do things here, Sallow,” she had argued “I’m the captain, and if I say we’re going to discuss the game before anyone leaves, you stay.”

Sebastian had a few choice words to say to that but ultimately relented, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly while you leaned against one of the canvas walls that lined the interior channels of the pitch. Ultimately, it only took about ten minutes to discuss how everyone could improve – and Imelda’s only suggestion for Sebastian had been to try to find a dryer patch of grass on which to land next time.

Seconds later, he’d burst through the door and started to take off toward the castle.

“Bash!” you called out. “Not so fast.”

When he turned and spotted you, his face lit up.

“You waited for me,” he breathed.

“Of course I did,” you said. “I believe you’ve won a prize, and the nature of it is time-sensitive.”

He looked like an utter rake with that crooked smile on his lips. He was still in his uniform head to toe, his hair even messier than usual thanks to his helmet. He’d even kept his pads on, so when he reached out to take your hand, you felt impossibly small next to him.

“Shall we?” he asks, and then the two of you were off.

By the time you reach the Room and ensure no house elves are present, you’re both out of breath and panting.

“Come here,” you whine, throwing your arms around his shoulders and messily kissing along his jawline.

“W-wait,” he stammers. “Let me get these pads off, and–”

He cuts himself off, making a face.

“I need to clean up,” he tells you, suddenly self-conscious. “I must look like hell.”

“You look obscene,” you reply, dragging your hands down his chest pads. “Which is obviously a compliment.”

He wraps his hands around your wrists to stop you from attempting to undo the laces at the front of his trousers. “Just – just let me clean off first, the prefects’ bathroom isn’t far and I got the password off of Weasley.”

“No, don’t leave,” you whine, and Sebastian is merely a man, he can’t resist the girl he’s been in love with for years when she’s begging him to take his pants off.

“I must smell foul,” he laughs. “You’re – you’re seriously okay with this?”

“Look where we are, Sebastian,” you croon, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the side of his neck. “Just imagine what you need.”

For your part, you imagine a plush armchair where you can wrangle Sebastian into finally taking a seat, and one quickly spins to life just behind him. You take advantage of his distraction to shove him backwards toward it and climb astride lap.

“It’s the Room of Requirement,” you tease him, straddling his thighs and dragging your nose along his cheek so he’ll tip his head back for you. “If you require something, the Room provides.”

“I require a bath,” he drawls, cursing quietly when you gently bite just over his pulse point. “Quickly, please, Room.”

Sebastian waits patiently while you eagerly strip him of his pads, but the Room doesn’t change.

“I thought you said you’ve taken baths here,” he points out skeptically. “In a huge basin, like the prefects have.”

“I have,” you insist, frowning. “I don’t know why it’s not…”

Then you trail off, your realization making you go red.

“Go on, love,” Sebastian murmurs, sliding a hand up the back of your thigh to lazily palm at your ass underneath your skirt. “I know that face, you’ve figured it out. What’s the problem?”

“W-well, it’s my Room,” you tell him sheepishly. “So it, um… I suppose it defaults to what I require.”

“And what you require,” Sebastian says slowly, “is for me to not take a bath?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassed.

“I… I suppose the Room must have deduced that I – I like you like this,” you whisper, dragging your hands across his rumpled Quidditch shirt. “And I don’t need to wait for you to clean off.”

“You don’t?” Sebastian asks, his eyes now impossibly dark. “You’d let me touch you just like this? I’m a mess, I’m covered in sweat and mud and probably some blood, even.”

“Don’t care,” you breathe, sliding your hands underneath the hem of his shirt. “I want you now, Sebastian, exactly like this.”

He says some absolutely filthy words under his breath, sitting back so he can strip off his filthy uniform shirt. You can’t get your hands on his body fast enough, hurriedly familiarizing yourself with his sculpted core, broad chest, and strong shoulders.

He’s less of a mess underneath where his shirt had lain, but his skin is still warm and damp with sweat from the match. You want to put your mouth all over him, everywhere – and there’s so much of him to explore.

“I couldn’t believe it when I first saw you like this,” you confess to him. “You’ve gotten bigger since last spring, and so handsome… how did you become a man in just one summer?”

“You think I’m the only one who changed this summer?” he asks with a low voice. “Look at you.”

“What about me?” you ask dumbly.

His hands go straight for your chest, roughly tugging open your uniform shirt with no regard for the longevity of its buttons.

“Here,” he murmurs, his hands cupping your breasts through your thin brassiere. “I can assure you that I noticed where you’ve grown bigger.”

You gasp softly as he tugs down on the cups of your bra until he can lean in and press his mouth to your skin, sucking on one of your nipples and then the other.

“And here,” he murmurs into your chest, his hands returning to the backs of your thighs and sliding up your ass. “You have all these curves now, love, and they’re driving me mad.”

“Sebastian,” you whimper. “Take off my clothes.”

He helps you wrestle your skirt up over your head and tosses it recklessly as far as he can. When you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, Sebastian wraps one strong arm around your lower back and hooks the other below your hips, easily standing up from the armchair to walk you over to the bed you’d hastily imagined into existence.

Once he has you on your back, he tugs down your last remaining garment and leaves you bare and exposed to him, breathless and flushed all over.

“Your turn,” you remind him, even though part of you wishes he could leave the uniform pants on (despite the impracticality).

Once he manages to peel off the last of his clothes, he settles on his knees between your legs and skims a hand up your body, from the curve of your hip all the way up to your cheek.

“Is this too fast?” he asks you softly. “Did I ask too much?”

Your heart aches. Sebastian always stuns you with his sincerity when you least expect it.

You turn your head to kiss his palm and murmur, “No, love.”

His shoulders drop a little, the last of the tension he’d been carrying all week draining from his body. He wants, he always wants so damn badly and he would never forgive himself if he marred your first time with each other by rushing you.

“Can I touch you?” he asks in a hushed voice.

“Please,” you whine, letting your knees fall wide.

(Whether or not the other has ever done this before is still a mystery to you both, and it’s not something you’ll discuss until afterward. But right now, it’s of no importance to you.)

For a while, Sebastian’s hands roam your body without an agenda, acquainting himself with your breasts, your hips, the insides of your thighs. You moan softly when he drags his thumb along your slit, spreading your wetness around until he can easily rub slow circles over your clit.

“How do you feel?” he asks you.

“Good,” you gasp. “So good, Sebastian, like that.”

“Do you want more?” he offers, and you frantically nod, one of your hands fisting the pillow behind your head.

He carefully presses one long finger inside you, glancing between your face and your entrance to make sure you’re comfortable the entire time. One finger quickly becomes two, and when two nearly becomes three, you have to pause and take a breath.

“Enough,” you pant. “That’s enough.”

“Are you sure?” he asks you.

You reach down and wrap your hand around his cock, giving him a few slow strokes while he leaks precum onto your hand and groans helplessly.

“I want you,” you insist. “I’ve wanted you.”

“R-right, yeah,” he agrees, trying to clear his head and focus on the task at hand. “Enough.”

He gently nudges your hand away so he can guide himself inside you, one hand wrapped around himself and the other gently pressing on your inner thigh to keep you still for him.

Underneath Sebastian like this, pinned to the mattress by his hips and hands, he completely overtakes your senses. He’s all you can see, all you can touch — you even taste and smell him.

Masculine sweat. Dark brown eyes. Crisp autumn air. The curve of his collarbone where it meets his shoulder. Woodsmoke. A million tiny freckles. Metallic blood from a split lip. Flashes of copper in his messy curls. Singed pine needles.

Sebastian groans low in his throat as he presses in, his hair falling into his eyes before he frantically brushes it away so he can see you take him for the first time.

Once he’s fully seated inside you, he bends down and presses his forehead against yours.

“Tell me,” he begs, his hand curling gently around the back of your neck to hold you close.

“Tell you what?” you whisper, your lips brushing against his with every syllable.

“Tell me that it feels like this for you,” he practically breathes into you. “It feels like you’re — you’re everywhere, like you’re all there is.”

“Sebastian,” you whimper, and his hips snap against yours.

“Say it,” he growls. “Please.”

“You’re all there is,” you gasp. “You’re all mine, Bash.”

He makes a sound like you’ve sucker-punched him, messily kissing wherever he can get his mouth on you – your cheek, your jaw, your lips. All the while he’s fucking you open with relentless, eager thrusts.

He’s not going to last long, but you don’t expect him to. You just want him to feel good – the two of you have already wasted enough time not doing this, so why delay satisfaction?

You wrap your legs around his hips to hold him against you, rocking your own hips upward to meet him and coax him closer to the edge.

“I’m going to come,” he grits out, grinding into you desperately the closer he gets to his climax. “Can I finish inside?”

“N-no,” you whimper. There’s a potion you can drink to make it safe that takes an entire week to brew, and the batch that’s currently bubbling away at your potions station across the Room isn’t quite ready yet.

“Where?” he begs.

“Anywhere else, wherever you want,” you promise him, your mind quickly tossing out mental images of him spilling himself across your breasts, into your mouth, on the curve of your back.

He pulls out of you with a reluctant moan and kneels between your open thighs, wrapping a hand around his cock to finish himself off. You watch his eyes while he takes you in, seemingly torn between meeting your gaze and staring transfixed at your fingers between your thighs as you get closer to finishing yourself.

“Next time, love,” you murmur softly. “The next time you fuck me you can finish in me, I’ll take it all.”

“Promise?” he asks breathlessly, still an incorrigible flirt even when he’s seconds away from his orgasm.

“Promise,” you whine, spreading your legs a little wider when you catch his gaze lingering again.

You’re so close, desperately rolling your hips against your own hand until you tip over the edge, the rush of your release arching your back before you collapse lazily against the bed.

He shuffles forward and groans your name just before he spills, leaving a warm, wet mess all over your stomach and between your hips. You feel properly claimed – especially when he flops down next to you and immediately tugs you against his chest, unbothered by his release smearing between your bodies.

“You’re amazing,” he breathes into your hair. “Merlin, I love you.”

“You love me?” you whisper against his collarbone.

“Enduringly,” he says.

You rest your cheek against his chest and listen to his racing heartbeat for a few moments before you tell him, “I love you too, you know.”

Just then, the Room starts to rumble.

“What’s going on?” Sebastian asks, urgently peering around for his wand.

He quickly settles and even laughs under his breath when he sees the Room shifting around the two of you to provide a spacious, sunken bathtub in the middle of the room, complete with a luxurious amount of taps that undoubtedly offer an array of bubbles, salts and soaps.

“Oh, now you want to let me clean myself up?” Sebastian drawls. “After you’ve completely worn me out, hmm?”

“It’s more for me,” you giggle. “I can’t possibly sleep like this, but you’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”

As if Sebastian would ever pass up the chance to feel you up in the water.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #my fic #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian x mc #ominis gaunt #anne sallow #ominis gaunt x anne sallow #(it's subtle but it's there)#unbeta'd we die like men #how do we feel about “bash” as a nickname because it's my favorite 🥹

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yunxi-11085 · 11 months

Text

"Maybe being a cat isn't so bad!"

˚ · . pairs ¡ platonic(?) dan heng & gn! reader, platonic march x gn! reader, platonic himeko x gn! reader, platonic welt yang x gn! reader

˚ · . sypnosis ¡ “you were talking to dan heng about the next trailblazing mission after exploring Jarilo-VI when you feel something building up in your chest.

oh yeah you forgot to tell them that something sprayed in your face when you were ravaging through some boxes in your time of exploring Jarilo-VI alone

you turn into a cat and chaos ensues.

maybe your relationship with the members of the astral express grows stronger too.

TDLR; maybe platonic, you turn into a cat because of your weird antics and you get smothered by the astral express."

₊˚ପ⊹ tw ¡¿ : (none) just fluff, no use of y/n or (name)

·˚ ༘ tags //

@ send me an ask if you want to be tagged in my stories!!

you were talking to dan heng about the next trailblazing mission after exploring Jarilo-VI when you feel something building up in your chest.

oh yeah you forgot to tell them that something sprayed in your face when you were ravaging through some boxes in your time of exploring Jarilo-VI alone.

“huh?”

poof!

you plop down onto the couch with a thump, thankfully the couch wasn’t hard but still kind of painful to fall on.

owww

“meowwww”

you stare confused at the sound that came out of your throat, and you look down at your new furry body. what?

you raise your ha— paw and stare dumbfounded.

"you....?"

dan heng looked at you, looked at his hands, and looked back at you. you try to scratch your way into the couch out of embarrassment

“lets… tell the others about this.. we might have to go to herta for a health check-up.”

you freeze because knowing herta, she would treat you as if you are some experiment when she sees you. you wail and jump around trying to let dan heng know you dont want to.

he sighs and opens the door, you rush out and see a familiar pink haired figure and you jump in her arms despite knowing she was probably eating.

“woah! what is the super adorable cat doing here?” march exclaims, her voice going super high and cute. she squealed when you rub your head in her arms.

“oh my, it seems it came running from the archives, dan heng.” himeko chuckled, placing the coffee cup on the table and looking at you- or the cat you in a loving way. seems she secretly adores cats too

“yeah… um” dan heng opened his mouth and closed it a few times before you heard a sound coming from the door of the cabin.

welt walked out of cabin room, and his eyes immediately went straight to you. you think something in him snapped when he gripped a— towel tightly? now where did he get that from

he stiffly walked towards you and march, you were scared at first because it seemed like he’s gonna give you an earful before… he squealed. yes. squealed.

he knelt down and wanted to touch you so bad his hands were shaking in excitement, you leapt out of march’s arms and he caught you. he rubbed at your ears and you leaned into the touch. his eyes were glowing literally behind his glasses.

i didnt know welt yang was such a sucker for animals too!

“ahem, uh i think that the cat is…” dan heng spoke, arms crossed. “you..” all eyes were on you now..

“whaa??” march was surprised, she poked you a few times and you pushed your paw out at her. “i dont believe it dan heng! how can someone turn into a cat?”

“it appears to some type of fumes i think, i’ve done some research on it before.” dan heng replied.

“we may have to reach out to herta for some answers then.” himeko said, you hid yourself in welt’s arms at the thought of going through weird tests. “its fine, you can do it! we can give you treats when you are finished” welt exclaimed, patting you when he noticed your discomfort.

so you sadly get carried into the master control room.

though thankfully they didn’t tell you a lie because you were given a ton of sweets.

“so herta said its probably the fumes you inhaled while you were rummaging through those shady boxes. the fumes are nontoxic but can give adverse reactions to the body. you are lucky you didnt inhale too much or you might’ve turned into a rat she said.” dan heng looked at you while reading aloud the medical record.

you avoided his gaze and chewed on your tuna. he was giving you this eye that you didnt bother deciphering.

with a sigh he continued “she said the effects will wear off within 24 hours of inhaling this fume, so if my calculations are correct. you still have 21 hours left.”

“so we have 21 hours of play time with cat you!” march was excited, she even got those.. cat clothes? but you didnt mind it if you get to have treats and belly rubs.

oh you really love belly rubs

you are now in the parlor car with weird but comfortable cat clothes on, while march was taking an insane amount of pictures of you. you swear she probably needs to switch out her sd card every week because she always fills it up.

himeko chuckled and said “march, make sure you send those pictures in our group chat. we have to frame this”

you groan and lay flat down on the couch, when you notice someone handing you a treat. you stare up and you see dan heng. wasn’t dan heng just angry at me?

you still eat it out of his hands though.

you didnt know but march already pulled out her second camera and took hundreds of pictures of your interaction with dan heng.

sigh….

in the next few hours, you played around with a few cat toys. you didnt know how or why but the cat instincts just moved.. now your fighting to get what— a feather…?

its okay, your cute though.

as night approaches, you yawn and fall asleep in someone’s arms. you feel yourself being pushed into a very fluffy bed and you snuggle closer.

the next day, you wake up sandwiched between march and dan heng. with himeko and welt chuckling. oh with their phones out to take pictures of this cute sight.

you didnt mind it though, you liked it.

end note ¡ take this unbeta read work. i really wanted to make mr. yang a huge sucker for small critters and cats so here it is! i wrote a lot more for this fic instead of my other one oops..

i hate how i write for AO3 first because now i have a ton of codes to delete ;; also tumblr mobile isnt working right now somehow???

crossposted on AO3 ¡ here

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tboygareth · 7 months

Note

Saw someone else combine prompts and!!!

67. “Uh, am I interrupting?” &

87. “Wanna join?”

would also go so well together 👀👀👀 (Steve/Eddie/Jeff) 🫶

hi read ~ here's a lil something to come home to after your closing shift!

67. "Uh, am I interrupting?" 87. "Wanna join?" wc: 1680 | rating: e | no cws (i don't think?)

Jeff likes to think of himself as a pretty smart guy. He knows his shit, okay? That being said, Jeff cannot fucking figure out why Steve and Eddie constantly have to fuck in the common areas of their apartment when they know that Jeff is home. The amount of times he’s had to walk into the living room or the kitchen or the laundry room to find those two in… some compromising position or another is, frankly, astonishing.

Even for a guy as good at math as Jeff is. The numbers just aren’t adding up here. They have a perfectly good bed, a perfectly good en suite bathroom to do that shit in. So why are they constantly fucking around where they know Jeff is gonna walk in on them?

If Jeff were a more arrogant and prideful man, he would think that they want him to see them. But that’s stupid. Sure, maybe they’ve got a bit of an exhibitionism thing but like… c’mon guys. They all have to live together at the end of the day, and how is Jeff supposed to go about his routine when he’s concerned about walking into a room to find Steve on his knees sucking off Jeff’s best friend?

Jeff has seen more of Eddie in the past year that the three of them have lived together than he ever planned to.

And yeah, he’s complaining, because secretly… he kind of enjoys it. Eddie’s always been hot. Ever since he grew out of that awkward lanky phase of early high school, ever since he filled out from carrying music equipment for their gigs… the guy is hot. And Steve… well that goes without saying. The dude’s got an absolute barrel of a chest, a beautifully thick patch of chest hair, and his cock looks like something out of a porno.

And the sounds those two are always making? Jesus, it’s enough to have Jeff frantically tugging at his cock when he thinks about it. Eddie’s a moaner, a screamer, a fucking whimperer. Even when he and Steve are fucking behind closed doors, Jeff always knows when he’s coming. Eddie’s little whimpers with each wave of his climax are unmistakable for what they are, and Steve’s deep groans as Eddie’s hole clenches around him, milking him of his own release… goddamn.

It’s not that Jeff’s… into them, or anything. It’s just been awhile. He kind of hates the dating scene these days - the apps, the bar hopping, the anonymous trysts in alleyways and bathhouses. No one wants anything real anymore, and if Steve and Eddie weren’t already together and going strong, Jeff’s pretty sure those two would be having just as hard of a time getting laid as he has been.

The day it finally happens, the day everything snaps, Jeff is already feeling prickly. Those two were loud last night, going at it like teenagers until almost sunrise, and then Jeff had to get up and shower and head into work at his shitty nine to five like everything was fine, while Eddie and Steve were able to sleep in, because Eddie works from home and Steve’s on his annual summer break from having to teach smelly middle schoolers about American history. He’s been driving for Lyft and picking up some Instacart deliveries in the meantime. That must be nice, though, being able to get your fucking back blown out all night long and then sleep until goddamned noon while everyone else in the world has to actually get up and do things, including the roommate you’ve been keeping up all night with your insatiable fucking.

But no. Jeff’s not bitter or anything. No resentment here. None at all.

Not until he gets home. Not until he walks into the apartment and is greeted with those fucking sounds again. They’re on the couch. Again.

When he walks into the living room, Jeff is greeted with a sight he will not soon forget: Eddie on his knees on the couch, his upper body pressed to the high leather back of it, his legs spread with his cock in his hand. Behind him, Steve is kneeling on the floor, his palms spreading Eddie’s cheeks open to fuck his tongue against the pucker of Eddie’s hole. Steve’s own cock is big and hard and leaking from the slit, and the noises his hand is making as he jerks himself off are wet and lewd.

“Am I interrupting?” Jeff hears himself ask.

“You wanna join?” Eddie moans, and Steve brings his open palm down to slap Eddie across the asscheek.

They’ve never asked him that before. Jeff’s never gotten so hard so quickly in his life.

“Don’t say that,” he mutters, and he drops his briefcase in the hall before starting his trek across the living room to get to his bedroom.

Steve rises from his place behind Eddie, and Jeff tries not to watch as he shoves two fingers into him.

“Seriously, Jeff. Join us. We’ve talked about it. You know we’ve been doing this on purpose, right?”

Jeff’s world goes a little sideways, a little hazy, and he watches Eddie’s mouth drop open in a pleasured sigh before he drops his head onto the back of the couch.

“C’mon,” Steve insists. “Come fuck Eddie. He wants you to, don’t you baby?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Eddie whines. “C’mon, Jeffy, been wantin’ you to fuck me forever now.”

Jeff must be dreaming. Maybe he’s dead. Maybe he fell asleep at the wheel and an 18 wheeler took him the fuck out because there is no way Eddie and Steve - Steve and Eddie, couple of the year - are really asking him to fuck around with them like this. They’re roommates. Friends. Jeff and Eddie have been best friends since Jeff was still in diapers for Christ’s sake.

“You guys for real right now?” Jeff is asking, even as he’s loosening his tie and unbuckling his belt. “Don’t fuckin’ say it if you’re not for real right now, I’ve been thinking about you guys and your fucking… fucking, all day long.”

“Good,” Steve breathes. “Good, that was the point. Get over here.”

So Jeff goes to them, still feeling a little bit like he’s in a daze. Steve moves away from Eddie and pops open the bottle of lube from the coffee table, upending it over his palm as Jeff shoves his trousers down just enough to get his cock out. He stands there behind Eddie, whose hole is on display for him, gaping and slick and waiting, seemingly, for Jeff’s dick. Steve presses close, his hand coming around to stroke Jeff and lube him up to enter Eddie.

“Eddie’s been talking about it for months,” Steve whispers against Jeff’s ear. “It’s been a part of our dirty talk for -” Jeff sinks three fingers into Eddie’s hole, making him gasp and whine, “- fuck, look at him - this has been a part of our dirty talk for such a long time. Go ahead. Fuck him. We both want you to.”

So Jeff lines himself up, and he sinks inside. Eddie’s body, hot and slick inside, responds gorgeously. He flutters around Jeff’s dick, sucks him in, and Eddie’s voice is coming out in high, reedy little gasps. And it’s Jeff that’s making him feel like that for once, Jeff who’s driving into him with abandon, Jeff who’s drawing out those moans.

“More,” Eddie is pleading, “deeper, Jeffy, please please please fuck me harder.”

Steve’s mouth is kissing at his shoulder, sucking bruises into his skin that no one but them will even know are there. Steve’s stroking himself off back there, his other hand shoving Jeff’s pants down over the swell of his ass, and Jeff is getting lightheaded again. He’s speechless. He wants to beg Steve to use his fingers, open him up and make him come. He’s never had a threesome before, but there are no other people Jeff would rather do this with.

“Can I fuck you open with my fingers?” Steve asks him, his fingers already beginning to tease at Jeff’s rim.

“Yeah,” Jeff hears himself breathe out. “Yeah, please.”

He can’t fucking think, trapped as he is between them like this - Steve behind him, driving two fingers into his hole, and Eddie in front of him, crying out as Jeff fucks into him at a rhythm he’s having trouble keeping consistent. Steve’s fingers are clever and precise; they hone in on his prostate with such expertise that Jeff is crying out with it, very nearly sobbing at the overwhelming onslaught of sensation.

He thrusts forward - into Eddie - and then back - onto Steve’s fingers - and it’s like magic. He’s coming apart quickly, about to tumble over the edge embarrassingly fast but it doesn’t even matter. Eddie’s voice is doing that thing it does when he’s almost there.

“Jerk yourself off,” he hears himself say, and Eddie’s hand is already there, stroking himself with the rhythm of Jeff’s thrusts into his body. So Jeff picks up the pace even more, the snap of his hips growing hard and punishing to bring Eddie to climax.

Eddie spills, whimpering with each spurt of cum that splashes against the leather below him. His ass clenches down on Jeff’s cock, and Steve’s fingers press hard against his prostate and that’s it, that’s all she wrote. Jeff is coming hard, harder than he has in a long time, emptying himself deep inside Eddie’s body, shouting through it, his fingernails digging into the flesh of Eddie’s shoulders.

When he draws slowly out of Eddie in the comedown, Eddie twitches and collapses on the couch.

“Holy fuck,” Jeff breathes. He’s still not entirely sure he isn’t dreaming. “Jesus Christ, holy fuck. Am I dreaming?”

“I think this is my dream, actually,” Eddie mumbles into the leather of the couch.

“Neither of you are dreaming,” Steve says as he begins to clean up. “Congratulations on finally fucking, you idiots. Next we have to have a conversation about whether or not we get to call you our boyfriend.”

requests are closed!

#this was hastily written and unbeta'd #any and all mistakes are mine etc etc #i hope you like it read <333 #ask games #bee's blurbs #steffeddie #(is that the ship name? idk man i love them tho)#steddie/jeff

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blindmagdalena · 1 year

Note

homie fingering a reader with his gloves on 😳

18+ f!reader, spanking, fingering, dirty talk, breath play, come play, clothed sex.

Homelander's always known you have a thing for his suit.

He never failed to notice the way your pupils dilated when he'd bring a gloved finger up to your face, pointing you down while he spoke. He'd watch you reflexively lick your lips. Fuck, you looked ready to open your mouth for him and suck his fingers down.

With that in mind, it came as no surprise to him that you'd whimper and beg for this, for his gloved hand rubbing soothing circles on your ass before coming down swift for a sharp spank.

He loves you like this, bent over his lap, naked and needy while he's fully suited, lording his power over you. Tending to you in ways no one else could even attempt to. No, you've got it bad for him. You'll never get this from anyone else.

"Homelander," you gasp, voice wrung out and sweet as a vanilla milkshake. He can hear how wet you are, the clench of your cunt squeezing around nothing but your own juices. You smell fucking incredible. It makes his jaw tight, has his mouth watering. He swallows it back, and delivers another sharp strike just to feel the way you shudder against him.

"I warned you, didn't I? I warned you what would happen if you teased me," he says, the leather of his glove smooth against your smarting ass as he rubs it tenderly. Being spanked by someone of his strength should be terrifying, but he's careful. He knows precisely how hard to strike.

He would never truly hurt you.

"I'm sorry," you whine. He can hear the smile in your voice. He knows you're not. He's certain you're proud of the position that riling him up has gotten you into. "I'm sorry, I won't do it again."

A lie.

"You sure don't sound sorry," he muses, bracing one hand on your ass while he pushes your thighs apart. Christ, you're soaked. It takes everything in him not to flip you over then and there, hoist your knees over his shoulders and devour you until you're screaming.

There will be time for that later.

Instead, Homelander drags his gloved middle finger through the mess of you, rubbing from your cunt to your clit in slow back and forth slides. The sound of it is almost as obscene as your moan.

"Please," you keen, digging your fingers into the couch cushion. "Please, please-" "Please what, sweetheart? Be specific," Homelander says, voice a velvety rumble. "If you're gonna beg, do it right." "Please fuck me with your fingers," you whisper, hiding your face in the cross of your arms. "With your glove."

"Atta girl," he purrs through a crooked grin, rubbing your clit in slow figure eights before finally pressing in two right off the bat.

The wetness of you makes for an easy slide, despite the added thickness the gloves give his fingers. The sounds you make go straight to his cock, whimpering like it's too much, even as you push your hips back against his fingers, begging for more with every part of you.

Homelander puts a hand to your lower back, holds you firmly in place. Beneath you, his cock strains in the confines of his pants, grinding against your stomach. He licks his lips, exhaling sharp little breaths as he pushes his fingers deeper, the mingled smell of leather and sex thoroughly clouding his mind.

"Thaaat's it, there you go. Love being fucked by your hero, don't you? Can't forget it when I've got these on, not even when I'm fucking you stupid," he rasps, voice thin with his own desire. His hand slides from your back up to your neck, to your throat. Your gasp is broken by the way he squeezes, holding you in place while he picks up the pace. You asked him to fuck you with them, after all.

His palm slaps against your skin with every sharp thrust, jostles you in his lap. Even through his glove, he can feel you struggling for each breath you take, but you don't try to pull his hand away.

You're completely loose in his grip, little more than a warm, wet toy. He slips in a third finger, and like he's pressed a button, you reward him with a reedy, desperate moan.

Fuck, the throb of his cock is starting to feel unbearable. He's already close just from the weight of you on his lap, from the smell and the sound of you. He's not going to last, especially not with the way he can feel you quivering around his fingers, squeezing him through the leather. Homelander bites down hard on his tongue.

"C'mon... C'mon, that's it. C'mon. So fuckin' pretty when you come for me. C'mon, baby, come on my fingers. Show me how grateful you are. Show me," he grits out, each thrust of his hand punching a sharp, high pitched little noise out of you. He flexes his hand on your throat, gives you just enough breath between squeezes to make sure you don't pass out. You clench your knees together, your whole body shaking, climbing up and up and up until finally you lock up, and Homelander releases your throat just to hear the way you scream for him.

Though his pace relents, he doesn't stop fucking you. He takes too much pleasure in the overstimulated way you writhe and cry out, clawing at the couch while he pumps his fingers in deep, curling them and milking you of every last second of your release.

Driven into a fucking frenzy by your orgasm, Homelander startles a gasp out of you when he flips you onto the couch, on your back, and climbs between your legs. He fumbles with his belt for only a second, fingers a wet mess of you. He's rushed in pulling out his cock, breathing through his teeth, looking like a wild animal over you as he takes his cock in that same wet hand, fisting it while he uses his other hand to pin you in place.

"Don't you ever fucking forget who makes you come like this. Who owns you. Who belongs to you," he hisses, furiously jerking his cock. You look like a dream under him, flushed and out of your mind with your own release.

"Do it," you say, voice hoarse. "I wanna feel you come all over me, Homelander." The way you moan his name is as reverent as it is deprived, and it snaps the final thread left tethering him. He slams his hips into his fist and comes hard, painting your wet, fucked out pussy with come, ribbons of it shooting all the way up to your stomach.

You're both breathing heavily. Homelander moves his hand from you to the couch, bracing himself on it as he squeezes the last few drops from his cock before tucking it back into his pants with a tender breath.

You open your arms to him, and he sinks down against you, heedless of the mess that spreads to his suit. He's earned your embrace, and the sweet way you play with his hair after he's done a good job.

"That was amazing," you sigh, carding your fingers lazily through his blonde locks. You smile when you say, "My hero."

Homelander smiles into the crook of your neck, nuzzling there. He feels giddy in the wake of his climax, resisting the urge to giggle as your fingers tickle the outer shell of his ear. "Love you."

"I love you, too," you murmur, voice soft and words slightly slurred. "Next time, I want you to be the naked one." Homelander's smile grows into a sly grin. "Yeah?" "Yeah," you echo, giving his hair a playful little tug. "What do you think?" "I think you're onto something," he says, kissing along your neck.

You always have the best ideas.

#well. this got out of hand HAH #anyways enjoy some unbeta'd smut #homelander x reader #homelander x you #darling anon #ask and you shall receive #smut #my writing #fluff #uniform kink

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