#why does ivy only have three fingers

[mngo-jii]

“ CAMPUS CRUSH ” d. page

wc: 1.8k ++ gn reader ++ they/them pronouns ++ apparently MC is canonically charming. i did what i had to do w/ this info

"[MC] is so lovely. Don't you think?" Ivy muses as she bids you goodbye.

"Huh?" Daniel eyes her with a puzzled look, before shrugging indifferently. "Well... I suppose."

She turns to him, a confused look on her face.

"Why? You don't think they're lovely?" She tilts her head.

"What?"—the sudden query causes him to tense up, and he awkwardly looks away, scratching his cheek.

"I didn't say that..."

A muggle-born—seemingly just there as if destined to help your friends with their rather messed up backgrounds in comparison to your little-known one.

In spite of this, Daniel was aware that you weren't as commonplace as you appeared to be. It's undoubtedly beyond the powers of an ordinary young wix to so easily overwhelm dark wizards that they're forced to flee.

And that's only one of the things that makes you a touch... outlandish to him, despite how much more bizarre your other friends seem to be.

...However, other than your excellent skills in wizardry, Daniel was also well aware of the effect you had on people.

It swirls from even way back during your first year—who would have thought an eleven-year old like you could charm people just like that? And by people, that also includes your superiors, apparently.

That very instance of when he had tried to explore the Forbidden Forest in search for an ingredient—only to, alas, be caught by Hagrid himself.

"Uh...then, it'd be okay if you went with us?" Daniel cringed inwardly, hoping that his little attempt would work even to some small degree.

Hagrid does stammer a bit—at least that's what Daniel accomplished.

"Hang on, that's not what I was sayin'. It's true, o'course. but I were tryin' to warn you and—"

"—And keep us safe, right?" You quickly interrupt, eyes practically shimmering as you tilted forward with an innocent grin. "That's so thoughtful, Hagrid! So- you'll come with us then?"

Your sudden intrusion to maneuver the situation brings Daniel's eyebrows to raise, though even further more after Hagrid's response:

"Oh. Well..." The half-giant hesitantly scratches through his thick mane-esque hair. "Only because I need to check on somethin' myself. Suppose a quick look couldn't hurt."

Not only just your first year, no, no—but preeminently your first day.

"I don't want detention. Just leave me out of it." Daniel crosses his arms, frowning at the three of you.

Naturally, it was logical at the time—to be wandering around the castle at the dead of night, in search of a girl you barely knew was absolutely nonsensical to him.

Getting in trouble in the first day is the least Daniel needs right now, and to think you, his housemate, insists on coming along is beyond him. Are you trying to mitigate your house points?

Just his luck, said housemate steps forward towards the blonde Gryffindor—"What about you, Kevin? Are you with us?"

"We could definitely use someone as clever as you to help find Ivy." You beam—as opposed to Daniel's lour.

"Oh! Oh… Thanks for the compliment, I-I think," Kevin scratches his chin and clumsily pushes his glasses. "I suppose I could give it a go…"

Robyn cackles, and Daniel's lips part in disbelief.

At that moment, he would've had to squint to be able to foresee the spark you'd light up in people. The spark you'd light up in him.

"You know, you've changed drastically since the first year."

Daniel's eyebrows raise at you, expression turning to one of interest. "What... What do you mean?"

He tilts head to one side. Then he grins amusedly, his head remaining in that tilt.

"I have? How?"

You put your finger to your chin. "Well... You were a bit dismissive when we first befriended you, and you refused to help us find Ivy on the first day because you were worried we'd get caught and all. You were more on the serious and awkward side, you know? And now you're more than willing to break a rule or two for the benefit of your friends… or yourself." You grinned back.

Daniel turns to one of embarrassment as you note his past behavior, though it's a warm embarrassment... He's glad that he's made that sort of progress, somewhat.

He clears his throat, turning slightly pink.

"I guess I've grown more since then, huh?" He lets out a breathy laugh, turning back to you—and you swore something twinkled in his eyes.

"I can't believe that I let something like the threat of getting caught stop me. I guess all the crazy stuff that's happened... It changed me, a bit."

No. It did. Maybe, yes.

But truthfully, beneath your palms that kissed each other, and your fingers that intertwined with one another—you're the one who changed him.

Would he have been able to foretell the way he was going to change over the years? If he hadn't been so dismissive at first, could he have altered earlier? Had more friends earlier? You saved him, somewhat. And he felt like Merlin had blessed him upon the very moment you two finally became proper friends.

How did you do it?—he'd ask you. And it feels a bit silly to ask how you became friends with him. But it was such a pondering thought that stumped him for majority of the first year. After all, he had insisted you to not sit with him on the train simply because "no one wanted to."

Yet you answer with—I just did—with a smile so kind he would have almost understood your answer.

Almost.

But it was as clear as day to him, that from the very start, you wanted to sit next to him. You weren't just "no one."

What he didn't know, was that he'd be bewitched by your charms himself. And just his luck, he didn't know how to respond to this revelation either.

He felt as though he had fell down a rabbit hole, one where it had pictures of your face plastered upon its walls. And said rabbit hole eats him, chews him up, and spits him out. Making him stumble to the ground with a loud groan.

When he opens his eyes, he sees a hand. Then he looks up and realizes its your hand, looks up to see your face—with the same smile you flashed him back when you were eleven years old, right by the cauldron shop at Diagon Alley.

Ridiculous, he told himself.

But he took your hand anyway, and flashed you a dopey grin back.

Before this all, he sort of had a grasp of it. Like, yes, you're attractive. And while you weren't necessarily popular, you were quite well-known.

Not because you were good-looking and were skilled in dueling just like Cassandra; not because you were nothing more than a troublemaker who apparently reeks like the Frey twins; certainly not because you were a "bloody [Last Name]" just like he was—but merely because you were kind. And you remained as nice as pie throughout all these years, and he prays you'll continue to do so.

But Daniel thought, was that all it took to be liked?

He was different from you in that he had rather, well, deplorable social skills. He wasn't rude, not unfriendly. He was a good boy. But he certainly wasn't sociable enough to be liked like you were.

He thought it was a bit ridiculous. At one point he was convinced you had gulped down on an everlasting beautification potion, or you had cast a specific charm on those nearby—though of course it was just by jest.

He just doesn't understand. Can't grasp the truth of how you could cause such an effect on some people—whether platonically or romantically.

It's one thing to be kind, though. Daniel knows a lot of kind people—Lottie is kind, Ivy is kind. But they don't charm people the way you do. So what exactly about you was so special?

Well, you did manage to befriend him years ago in the first year when he was just a wee bairn, who hated any form of attention shining on him. Maybe that's something. But he wasn't that effected. A lie.

Of course your loveliness didn't have an unrealistic, comical effect on people—but it was still pretty impressive, and rather amusing to watch how some people just give in to you by asking nicely.

Though you hadn't quite got to him, personally, merely because he doesn't get it entirely.

At least that's what he liked to tell himself.

Until one fateful day, you're asked which one of your friends was your best friend. Which one knew you better? Who was your favorite?

And several eyes shot up to you, full of what looks like thinly veiled hope, anticipation, trapped by a somewhat menacing aura accompanied by the painful silence—waiting for your voice to cut through it.

You nervously giggled, waving your hands in dismissal with a sheepish grin. "Personally, I'm close with everyone! I'd say Ivy and Daniel do know me better, but I don't have a favorite, necessarily..."

And everyone decides to unpluck the fish hook they just stabbed in your cheek to move on to the next.

Daniel watches as you sigh in relief, and you meet his staring eyes—causing the boy to jolt slightly.

But you give him a grin and lean towards him, beckoning him to move closer to your shielding palm. And he does.

"Dont tell anyone this, but, you're my favorite."

And oh, oh. He finally gets it. He fully gets it. And he gets more than what was needed.

Now he gets why you're the type of person that people linger around the area for. Now he understands that one boy who so desperately tries to impress you in Quidditch—who points to you with a wink before shooting.

And now he understands the slight warmth blossoming on his cheeks whenever you were too near—understands how his heart seemed to gradually beat faster around you as the years went by.

And Daniel wonders if he's still your favorite when another guy tries to court you.

...And he cheekily smiles to himself as you awkwardly reject the bouquet of flowers.

Yes, he's still your favorite.

But he still wonders, and wonders, and wonders.

Do you feel the same way he does?

Do you mirror the same flushed and frustrated look on his face on nights he can't sleep because of you?

Do you ever stare out the classroom window thinking about him?

Ever stop to stare at the cauldron beneath your chin because the potion had changed into his favorite color for barely a split second, like he does to you??

And when Robyn gently smacks her broom against the top of his head—he decides it'll be best to find out once Quidditch class is over.

So he turns away, begrudgingly following Robyn up in the air as he tries his best to let the wind mute down Robyn's queries.

—unaware of the lingering gaze you cast him when he does.

#(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ— written by lnr #hpma x reader #hogwarts magic awakened x reader #daniel page x reader

[violet-lazer]

Astronomy

Content / Warnings : EXPLICIT 18+, Terzo/Reader, Gender-Neutral Reader, Fluff and Smut, Terzo is a Hopeless Romantic, 3.2k words. Thanks, please enjoy! (AO3)

It’s not that he can’t commit, as he’d told you one evening, fingers tracing your spine as you lay together in flushed afterglow. It isn’t that his eyes wander or he grows bored of his lovers. He’s simply never wanted to. Until-

Or: Terzo wants to watch the stars with you.

Breezy nighttime air hits your face as you’re gently guided out of the heavy front doors of the Ministry and into the grounds. There’s grass underneath your feet, the gentle trill of birdsong in your ears, and you can’t see a bloody thing. Terzo’s hands are over your eyes, and he’s leading you from behind to a destination unknown. His chest is warm against your back.

“I could’ve just closed my eyes,” you say, as you carefully pick your way forwards through the grass. Terzo chuckles, and you feel the rumble.

“I admit, the distance feels much longer at this pace,” he says. “Perhaps I should have done a test run. But can you not feel the excitement coursing through you? The mystery?”

“I can feel myself tripping and breaking my neck,” you reply flatly. Terzo tuts.

“Where is your sense of adventure, hm? You will change your tune soon enough. Come.”

You know the grounds well, and as you venture on, you can tell you’re approaching the greenhouses when you’re hit with a heady bouquet of fragrance- honeysuckle, jasmine, rose; the evil-looking plant that Primo claims eats people. You continue walking, and you recognise you’re out past the edge of the well-kept gardens and meandering towards the edge of the woods where the foliage creeps along the floor like beckoning fingers. About three minutes of careful navigation later, you stumble on a rock and almost fall directly on your arse before Terzo grabs you.

To his credit, Terzo catches you with only the mildest of fumbles, and even manages to keep one gloved hand over your eyes as he does it. Very professional. He clears his throat.

“Shit. Ah. We are stepping onto a path now. Pick your feet up, please.”

You crane your head sideways and hope he can feel the withering look emanating from you that his hands are mercifully concealing. In apology, he presses a kiss to the most accessible part of your cheek.

“Sorry. We are nearly there.”

Gingerly, you let him nudge you forwards. There’s stone underneath your feet now, uneven cobbles. You know where you’re going.

The ruined groundskeeper’s cottage at the edge of the woods is haunted. Well, that’s what the priests say to attempt to dissuade any curious Siblings from exploring the structure too enthusiastically. Yes, it’s true that it’s all crumbling stone and ivy encroaching through dead windows, and the wind can be exceptionally vocal in the winter. Sure, nobody is quite sure why or when it was abandoned. Haunted, though? You think it’s more likely that a decrepit abode is a potential health and safety nightmare and the senior clergy is keen to minimise the number of accident forms they have to fill out. Still, it has its uses for the bold- you’ve heard tell of Siblings holding seances, conducting rituals, throwing the occasional orgy. You’ve been there yourself, once, years ago when you were a fresh initiate determined to lay bare all of the secrets the Ministry had to offer. You’d chanced a careful exploration and found naught but empty rooms and disappointment; a week later a sizeable chunk of ceiling fell directly onto a similarly inquisitive Sibling so you’d steered clear ever since. That was an isolated incident though. Probably.

Terzo slows his pace, bringing the two of you to a stop. After imploring you to close your eyes for just a second- you comply- he reaches around and in front of you, and you hear the distinctive sound of the cottage door pushing open. The iron knocker sounds a clang as he lets go and replaces his hands over your eyes.

“Here we are. One more step.”

Together, you cross the threshold. Once you’ve come to a stop, Terzo lets his hands drop and you inhale sharply at the sight that greets you. You’re expecting cold, half-ruined walls and the aura of decay but before you, the shell of the living room feels alive. A frankly staggering number of candles bathe the small room in an inviting glow, and the years-cold fireplace is aflame. In the centre of the room, on the floor, a large, heavy-looking blanket has been arranged with some complementary pillows. You can smell incense from one indistinct corner of the space. It’s warm. It’s beautiful.

Behind you, with a voice you could swear was tinged with the slightest hint of nerves, Terzo says: “Well?”

Turning on your heel, you finally come face to face with Terzo. Half-lit by candlelight, shadows playing on his handsome face, he’s looking at you with the most earnest of expressions; hand outstretched for yours. This is for you. He’s done this for you. Anything you could say feels insufficient. But you have a go.

“I can’t believe you’ve done all this for me.”

He smiles. “Well. I can. Let me show you the best part, hm?”

You slide your hand into his and he guides you toward the centre of the room, encouraging you down to sit opposite him on the blanket. It’s thick enough that you don’t feel any residual cold from the floor, and it’s probably absolutely fantastic on the knees if you were to, say, end up straddling someone tonight. Hm.

Terzo raises an eyebrow at you. “Comfortable, yes? If you wish to be staring at the ceiling later I think you may be disappointed. Look up.”

You look up. Directly above you is the famed hole in the roof, and it’s large enough, almost the size of the sprawling blanket you’re sitting on, that when you gaze upwards into the inky sky you can see a vast array of stars.

You pull your gaze back to Terzo and you want to tell him.

It’s been two months since you and he began sleeping together. A month and a half since he asked you to be his. Mindful of his…popularity, the more cynical voice in your head warned you to be realistic, to keep your expectations low, to prepare yourself for the possibility that he would grow tired of you and move on. As other Siblings had helpfully reminded you, Terzo wasn’t widely known for commitment. But he’s given you no reason for pause. Terzo wants to spend every waking moment with you, and every sleeping one at that. So attentive and present that it would be genuinely impressive if he could find the time to court anyone else. It’s not that he can’t commit, as he’d told you one evening, fingers tracing your spine as you lay together in flushed afterglow. It isn’t that his eyes wander or he grows bored of his lovers. He’s simply never wanted to. Until-

Still, neither of you have dropped the bomb yet. The declaration that feels like the point of no return, that desperate leap into the unknown. If you cross that threshold together any illusion of a casual affair is shattered, and what then? You either belong to each other for the rest of your lives or suffer complete and utter heartbreak. Perhaps, though, tonight could be the night. Perhaps. Let’s see how brave you feel. But fucking hell, he’s brought you to gaze at the stars and he’s so close and so handsome and you know it’s only a matter of time before you slip. You swallow.

“Thank you,” you say. “Terzo, this is–”

“I am in love with you.”

It comes out of him so quickly, so honestly that you’re stunned to silence, and judging by Terzo’s expression, it’s taken him by surprise as well. After a moment, he clears his throat.

“Hm. I was planning to save that for later.”

This would be a good time to respond, but you’re struggling and he’s in love with you. Your heart is going to burst out of your throat. Fuck, this is real; and it’s more than you’d dared to hope for. Is this why he’s brought you here tonight, to tell you? The reason he’d double- and triple- checked this morning that you were still on for a date? Hey. You still haven’t said anything. Glancing downwards, Terzo runs a hand through his hair.

“Do not feel pressured to say it back. It is still early, I know-”

“I’m in love with you too.”

Of course you’re in love with him. You never stood a chance. Every morning you wake up next to him and he pulls you into a lazy morning embrace, each time you pass in the corridor and he pushes you into a corner to steal a few secret kisses, you fall just a little bit further. Your response comes pouring out of you like it’s the simplest thing in the world. And it is, really. The dissipating tension in Terzo’s shoulders is instant, and extremely visible.

Terzo lets out a deep exhale. “Thank fuck for that.”

He leans forwards to kiss you and you meet him in the middle. It’s slow, tender, his hand raising to caress your cheek. When you reach forward to tangle your fingers in his hair his tongue presses into your mouth and you accept him wholeheartedly. Oh, the things he does to you. Oh, the things he could be doing to you right now. If you just shift forwards like so, you could get your legs either side of his to straddle him and-

You’re just about to make your move when Terzo pulls back gently. You frown, and he laughs.

“I know, I know. I want to ravish you too. But I cannot be thinking with my cock all the time, yes? We are on a very strict schedule and-” he makes a show of checking an imaginary watch- “I believe it is time for the light refreshment and star-gazing portion of the night.”

Pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, he gets to his feet and retrieves a decently-sized picnic basket from one of the unlit corners of the room and places it in front of you with a flourish. It’s almost comically prototypical, complete with red gingham cloth. Very cute. You laugh.

“How long has that been there?”

Terzo shrugs. “Oh, years, I would imagine. It was here when I arrived, actually.”

“Mmhm.”

With one hand, he flips up the lid of the basket and gestures for you to have a look. You peer in to assess the contents.

Ooh. Well, there’s definitely a bottle in there, that’s always a welcome sight. And ah- on top there are a couple of boxes emblazoned with the name of that little patisserie in town you adore. The two of you had had your first proper date there, sat across from each other at a tiny table on a rainy afternoon, condensation painting the window as you took turns sampling each others’ pastries. And he’d held your hand over the table even though anybody could have seen you and you allowed yourself to entertain the dangerous idea that he might be serious about all this.

You look back up at Terzo. He gives you the smallest of self-satisfied smiles, and you think you’ll let him have this one. Sitting beside you, he busies himself unpacking the basket, and you watch him set plates, glasses and an expensive-looking bottle of red before you. As he pokes around for a corkscrew, your gaze wanders to properly take in your surroundings. Here, in the centre, pools of candlelight encircle you, and the darkness beyond is inconsequential. You could be anywhere. It’s just you, him, a blanket he’s surely stolen from someone and a really impractical amount of candles for one man to have arranged and lit by himself.

“Did you do all of this yourself?” you ask. Terzo stops what he’s doing and graces you with an extremely complacent look.

“Yes,” he says. Then, he tilts his head in consideration. “Well. I planned everything. And I did ninety-nine percent of the legwork. I was at the patisserie at nine o'clock this morning wrestling an old man for the last box of tiny croissants. But Omega did help me with some of the-” he waves a hand at your surroundings- “decor.”

You nod, quietly lamenting the fact that you were not present to witness your lover antagonising the elderly.

“Makes sense. I was thinking some of those candles were placed a bit high for you to reach.”

Terzo quirks an eyebrow at you. “Oh?”

Oh? The change in atmosphere is palpable as Terzo shifts onto his knees, leaning towards you to close the small distance between you in one swift motion. He’s fixing you with a look that sends a shiver running down your spine to settle between your legs, and you can scarcely catch your breath as he reaches up to trace your bottom lip with his thumb.

“But I can reach you.”

You gladly let him push you onto your back. The blanket cushions you nicely as Terzo climbs on top of you. Trailing kisses down your neck, his hands begin to wander, fingers ghosting any exposed inch of skin as he works his way down, down, towards the heart of your desire. Terzo gives your thigh a squeeze before tracing teasing, exploratory touches between your legs over your clothes. How easily you begin to fall apart for him, bucking your hips upwards to grind against his hand, to chase the friction you crave. He looks you straight in the eye as he slips his hand beneath the layers of fabric that separate you, and when he bypasses that final barrier, fingers finding your warmth, his moan matches the one that falls from your lips. Your need for him is laid bare, and Terzo regards you with a hunger that borders on animalistic.

“Already so desperate for me, hm?”

Well, it’s his fault. And he knows it too, giving you a wry smile as he withdraws his fingers and shifts to settle on his knees before you. You help him undress you, pulling your underwear down and off and as soon as it hits the floor he’s there, sliding his hands up your thighs and spreading your legs. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him. Terzo descends upon you slowly, reverently, pressing kisses to every sensitive inch of skin as he makes his way towards your aching core, and you are almost delirious with anticipation. Please.

“We are off-schedule.” he says, voice thick with lust. “Head back, love. I want you to see stars.”

And then his tongue is on you, warm and wet, and you throw your head back in sheer pleasure. Terzo moans around you as he tastes you and in response you reach down to knot your fingers in his hair. Fuck, you can’t help but rock your hips into him, grinding into his mouth while he goes down on you. Above you it’s constellations that neither of you likely know the name of, your moans escaping into the air as Terzo brings you towards your ruin.

There’s nothing separating the two of you here from the stars thousands of miles away but there’s no time to get existential as Terzo pauses to reach up and push two gloved fingers into your mouth. Obediently, you suck, tongue eager against leather and when he’s satisfied he withdraws, hand sliding down between your thighs. Slowly, presses a finger into you and you breathe a fuck right towards the heavens. Terzo hums approvingly and you can’t help but lift your head to look at him. He’s so beautiful when he’s between your legs, mouth full of you, paint beginning to smear along your thighs. The most divine evidence of his unholy devotion to worshipping you. He pushes another finger into you gently and begins to fuck you, fingers crooked to stroke the most sensitive area of your heat. You’re edging closer and closer to your climax with every lap of his tongue and when you finally come you’re a mess of clenched thighs and choked gasps, twitching tight around his fingers. Desperately, you pull him on top of you to catch him in a messy kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. You feel his cock hard against your leg and you reach to palm him through his trousers. Groaning, Terzo grinds into your touch, biting at your lip.

“Let me fuck you,” he breathes into your ear.

“Fuck me then,” you respond.

Already there’s want simmering between your thighs, an ache to be filled, completely. Terzo requires no more encouragement, rearing back and swiftly unbuttoning his trousers; you’re treated to the glorious sight of that dark spill of hair leading from his stomach to his cock. He shifts his trousers down his thighs- deftly taking his underwear with them- and kicks them off hurriedly before settling between your legs. And now, he looks down upon you as if he has all the time in the world. Grasping his already-leaking cock, Terzo begins to stroke himself languidly above you; the sensation of precum leaking onto your skin makes you shiver. This is Terzo in his element, and he’s at his most powerful right as he’s about to sink into you. You lift your legs to wrap them around him; to coax him forwards, and he lets you. Pushing the head of his cock down through pooled precum he guides himself into you, exhaling a satisfied sigh as you stretch around him. Terzo rolls his hips to fuck you and you draw him close once again; he buries his head in your shoulder as he thrusts and you revel in each needy groan that escapes him. It’s not long before his pace quickens and he lifts his head to meet your gaze, nose bumping against yours, breaths ragged and heavy. You’ve never seen a more exquisite sight, and he’s yours. You lift your hands to his face.

“I love you,” you gasp, and his breath hitches, hips bucking hard against yours.

“Shit, I’m-”

Almost immediately he spills into you, thrusting shallowly as he rides his orgasm out, wide eyes giving the distinct impression that his own cock has ambushed him. Regardless, he leans down to capture you in a kiss, messy and unrefined, and his tongue scrapes your teeth in his desperation to push it into your mouth. When you part, Terzo pulls out of you gently and collapses on his back next to you, finding your hand and lacing your fingers together as his breath evens out. After a few moments, you break the silence.

“I told you I love you and you came immediately.”

There’s a pause, and then you hear Terzo chuckle. “Apparently so. How embarrassing.”

You laugh, letting your thumb trace lazy circles over his, gazing upwards into oblivion above.

“Stars are nice, though.”

“Mm.” He gives your hand a squeeze and then lets go, propping himself up on his elbows. “You know, I was actually planning to seduce you with my astronomical knowledge over our little picnic. I borrowed a book on constellations and everything. Studied for, oh, a full afternoon. But alas-” he makes sure to heave a dramatic sigh- “it wasn’t necessary. Hours, wasted.”

As much of a shame as it was that Terzo hadn’t had the chance to flex his new-found knowledge, the fact that you’d derailed his plans so completely and so quickly feels infinitely more gratifying. In fact, you’re going to have some pastries and wine in about two minutes to celebrate. But in the name of generosity…

Scanning for your target, you pick out a particularly bright cluster of stars and raise your arm to point.

“Alright, what’s that one?”

He’s quiet for a moment as he follows the line of your finger, eyes narrowing in consideration. He hums. Then, he turns to look at you with the utmost seriousness.

“I do not have a fucking clue.”

#the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #terzo #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii

[rudnitskaia]

Im desperately withholding the urge to ask like 13 questions for romauncebut ive narrowed it down to 3, 6, 18 and 19

Hey-hey, Edd! ✨

Thank you for your wonderful ask again! I'm very grateful for the inspiration and the opportunity you gave me to reveal more of the RoMaunce story. 💖

I decided to write and post the ficlets for the remaining part of your ask all at once. I remember you wanted a drawing for № 18, and I will certainly do it in the end of May / beginning of June (only from Rocky's perspective and containing that bonus part of the question), but now I want to cover it at least with a short story. :3

So, here they are, the ficlets for questions № 3, № 6 and № 18 from that list in the chronological (for the characters) order.

№ 18 - Who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does it usually say?)

A Real Unicorn

“Oh, Rocky, what a—” Ivy stopped short when she noticed that the pieces of paper she had picked up from the floor beneath the table where Calvin and Rocky had been sitting just a moment ago weren't trash, but… notes.

A pile of small, tightly crumpled notebook sheets, all neatly handwritten in pencil. It was unlikely that anyone had ever given Rocky an assignment on paper, and Calvin also had no reason to write so often to the cousin whom he saw every day. Maybe Rocky wrote down poetry that way? Though it would have been a bit of a stretch to assume that he was that meticulous. Ivy stroked the sheets with her fingers. Were they really valuable, since Rocky kept them with him, or did he just put them in his pocket and then forget to throw them away? It wasn't that important, actually. It was better to just return the loss… but curiosity eventually got the better of Ivy.

Forgetting about the plates and cups, she began to read the lines, puzzled to find a strange list of orders from the cafeteria. Pizzas, pastas, salads, coffee… no, Ivy didn't see anything surprising in the fact that Rocky might have dined somewhere else besides Little Daisy, but why did he keep the notes that the waitresses usually made for the kitchen?

She wondered about that until she accidentally turned over one of the sheets.

What she saw was hard to comprehend. With each new word, Ivy's gaze grew more excited. Her heart beat more frequently. Her eyebrows arched in surprise.

She didn't stop until she had read them all, from beginning to end, but even then she couldn't believe it. Ivy sat back in the chair and stared at the wall.

What was more likely? That Rocky had completely lost his mind and over and over again was writing himself tender endearments and, for some reason, wishes of bon appétit, in the same thin handwriting that listed the orders on the back side of the sheets, or that he had a… no, it couldn't be. It seemed ridiculous to even try to imagine.

After all, if somewhere in the world there existed a woman who willingly writes such words to Rocky Rickaby, then somewhere in St. Louis might as well live a real unicorn.

№ 3 - Most common argument?

The Chains That Are Too Short

“Someday I'll steal you away for more than a couple hours, and then we'll get really entertained,” Rocky chuckled, helping Mau roll up the blanket. Another night under the stars in St. Louis was coming to an end.

“Really? Are you planning something for a whole three hours?” quipped Maura at him.

“I was rather hoping for something between fifty years and forever,” Rocky shrugged, picking up his violin case. “And then it is as it goes. You know, all that happily ever after, but… livelier. With a bit of sparks here and there.”

“Hmm. So, you’re going to take me, like a princess, away on a white horse to your sugar castle in the kingdom beyond the clouds, and we'll live in love and harmony, become exemplary neighbors, start paying our taxes, have a bunch of obnoxious kids and die the same day.”

“Why not?” Rocky seemed not to notice her sarcasm. “Yes, the script is old-fashioned, but it's proven by both time and folklore. It's almost a guide to action, if you know how to apply folk wisdom properly. And if we dig deeper into the poetry of feudal Europe, we can probably find a couple or three good tips even about paying taxes.”

“Maybe so, but unfortunately, happy fairytales are now left only as an exception and only on the stages of theaters. And you and I don't have enough for a single ticket even together,” Mau started to walk toward the fire escape, but Rocky caught up with her and took her by the arm. Her words, or rather what was clearly between the lines, made his heart feel totally uneasy.

“Mau… I can get some money. I…”

“It's not about money, Roark,” she sighed. “Or rather, it's not just about them. You know it well already…” she took only a step before Rocky stopped her again.

“Come with me,” he blurted out anxiously.

“Where to?”

“In general! Now! We could live together…”

“You sleep in a car. Which isn't even yours.”

“If I rearrange a few things, we both could fit in there. And I could give the cactus to Freckle…”

“Roark…”

“And… and! And I could also ask Miss M. about a job for you. Sooner or later things will get better at Lackadaisy, and… what if we could rent a room together?”

“That's the very problem. I can't be seen anywhere in criminal circles. My father and I are being chased, and rumors will definitely spread if I show up in the underground, and then… then my father and I will have to run away again, and if anyone finds out that you and I are together… Dio mio, don't you realize they'll kill you?”

Rocky quietly groaned and started pacing back and forth. He was almost shaking from nerves. Mau, meanwhile, continued, oblivious to the need to speak in a low voice:

“These thugs are not going to stop at anything to get us. It's bad enough that you're at odds with the locals, so I pray every night that you'll at least stay alive after your ventures, and I don't want to bring the New York Mafia down on you too! This is madness, Roark! I told you many times, I can't be seen with you while you're in the bootlegging business. Maybe we could rent a shabby little room somewhere if you were just a musician, but you ain't, and you ain't going to be!”

In despair, Rocky flailed his arms.

“But I can't! I can't leave Miss M.! I can't—”

“I know,” Mau interrupted him. “And I'm not asking you to. But you can't tease me with a bright future either… It's too much even for me. We're alive, and we have each other, here and now, and that's more than I could ever hope for. Please, just be with me while it's possible…”

Rocky still couldn't calm down. He was breathing erratically, heavily… when Mau stepped closer to him and gently embraced him, he pulled her against him so tightly that she involuntarily sighed. He was sickened by how right she was. His entire being was rebelling against that rightness, wanting to burn that truth to the ground and recreate his own, happy truth from the ashes, whatever risks it took. The seconds lingered… Rocky didn't unclench his hands. Anything to keep Mau in his arms now… anything to avoid going back into the night alone.

But the chains bound to them were too short to allow them to reach the morning.

Interesting fact: The question № 3 was the hardest for me to explore, because for me Rocky and Mau are not the couple that has many constant, repetitive topics to argue about. At first I thought to write about Rocky ignoring his health issues, because that definitely would've got Maura's nerves, but that topic becomes a 'constant argument' only in the distant future from the Lackadaisy current timeline. But finally, I found the topic that is definitely difficult for them both and may cause repetitive uneasy discussions. I hope it covered the question.

№ 6 - What is their favorite feature of their partner’s?

The Serenity in You

The Epigraph: When stars drown in the night and the storm fills your mind, it's important to find the safe haven to hide…

The summer heat in the car was becoming unbearable. Rocky felt as if he was drowning in the dense air, almost as much as in his own thoughts. Whenever he was able to doze off, fears and memories began to flood his mind, to crash over him in suffocating waves. Carefully, so as not to wake her, Rocky found Maura's hand, gently intertwining their fingers together. Even back then, when he hadn't had the courage to tell her about his feelings, she had taken his hand in hers so often that it had become almost a sacred act for Rocky. She didn't even seem to realize how every time they were sitting or standing in front of each other she began to stroke the back of his hand… and how much peace, serenity even, that gentle touch brought him.

Suddenly he heard a whisper:

“What are you thinking about?”

Rocky slightly shivered from tension. What he was thinking about… he wished he didn't know himself. Keeping his eyes shut, he mumbled:

“Ah, it's nothing. You know, there's a pesky streetlight out there, and its reflection in the window keeps me awake…”

Mau was silent for a while, and only turned slightly on her side, resting her head on his chest.

“I love hearing your voice, Roark. Falling asleep listening to the tune you hum and the sound of your heartbeat. It's soothing… almost like the sound of the rain outside the window, only… much warmer. Dearer. But when your heart beats like this… like how it beats now… I want to know what makes it so heavy.”

Once again, the nightmares that had haunted him became clearer in his mind. He hesitated; he was uncomfortable with these ugly thoughts himself, and the last thing he wanted to do was to make Mau sink into them, too. But when she gently, yet confidently squeezed his hand in hers again, his doubts receded. She was here, right next to him. And as long as she touched his fingers with hers, they would not drown in this boundless sea. So finally, gently leaning his cheek against the top of Maura's head, Rocky began to speak.

#heldig writings #lackadaisy #lackadaisy oc x canon #romaunce #rocky rickaby #maura venza oc #ivy pepper #mitzi may #calvin freckle mcmurray #lackadaisy fanfiction #lackadaisy rocky #rocky lackadaisy #maura venza #ivy lackadaisy #lackadaisy ivy #calvin mcmurray #calvin lackadaisy #lackadaisy calvin #lackadaisy freckle #freckle lackadaisy #lackadaisy mitzi #mitzi lackadaisy #lackadaisy oc #lackadaisyoc #lackadaisy ocs #lackadaisyocs #oc x canon #augusto venza oc #augusto venza

[greeksorceress]

drabble: seeking after that sweet golden clime 

prompt: flowers

“if aunt helaena was a flower, she would be a daisy” lucerys decides one warm morning, crouching down to play with the soft petals around him.

aemond, who was three chapters ahead of his assigned reading, snorts at what he thinks is one of lucerys’ strangest revelations. it’s not like he’s not used to that kind of incoherent wording, he spends enough time with helaena.

it was easy with helaena, though. she would ramble in riddles and he would listen to them attentively, and then helaena would move on to another thing. however, lucerys isn’t anything like that. lucerys never rests when he gets an idea, when he has one of his weirds epiphanies. it sometimes drives him mad, it sometimes drives the rest of them mad.

so aemond knows he shouldn’t engage. he came to the clearing with the sole purpose of being left alone with his book; with no drunk aegon pestering the service and no parent figure -and isn’t that a joke- to tell him what to do. and most importantly, he didn’t come here to listen to this senseless talk coming from the mouth of a little, strong pup.

but there is this pull, as it always seems to appear when it comes to lucerys, like he’s a marionette and his strings are moved by the younger boy’s fingers.

it’s disgusting, because he wants to ignore him and make him go away. 

however-

“and why is that?”

“huh?”

aemond clicks his tongue, annoyed. still, he repeats himself. “why would helaena be a daisy?” 

“oh! because daisies are pale and bright and lively, and they are the only type of flowers that can smile” 

lucerys grins, proud of himself. aemond isn’t that impressed, though. 

“daisies cannot smile, idiot. flowers are not people, they are inanimate” 

lucerys isn’t sure about what inanimate means, but he knows aemond is making fun of him, and he gets really defensive about his own theories. “well! if flowers could smile, it would definitely be daisies! if you look closely at their center, they are smiling. you just don’t understand about flowers!”

aemond looks at him, unfazed. “sure,” he drawls, because there’s nothing to do when lucerys gets like this, “if you say so.”

everyone tends to acuse aemond of having a quick temper, but lucerys’ tantrums are just as magnificent. as if on clue, lucerys stands up and stomps angrily. he must think he looks brave and strong like this. to aemond, he looks like a toddler. or an angry kitten. that makes aemond smirk. 

“you’re just jealous! if you were a flower, you would be the sourest of them all!”

“oh, you think so? like what?”

“like a- like a rose! but with no petals! you would just be the spines!” 

aemond just chuckles at that. it’s not the reaction that lucerys was going for, and the confusion in his face only fuels aemond’s amusement. 

“that was cheeky. does your head hurt from thinking so much about a comeback, pup?” 

“shut up!” lucerys’s is positively whining, “i take back what i said. if you were a flower, you would be a poisonous one, like poison ivy!”

“that isn’t a flower, that’s a plant”

lucerys is gaping at him. aemond tastes the victory. it’s sweet like honey. it does sour a bit when lucerys’ lips quiver.

aemond sighs, “anyways, if i were to be a flower, i would be a sunflower”

that seems to quell lucerys’ tears even before they start to pour. aemond bites back a smile. lucerys is so easy to anger, and so much easier to please. 

lucerys sits down, this time right by aemond’s side, and looks up at him with genuine interest. he prefers this taste to honey. 

“why? why a sunflower?”

“just because”

“oh...” there’s a pause. lucerys is frowning, quite discontent with aemond’s answer. “and me? what flower would i be?”

aemond looks at him and takes him wholly. lucerys’ hair is a soft mess of curls and strands, and his face is flushed, probably from the heat. he has cuts in his fingers, the same ones that are holding the daisies that he picked for helaena, and there are scratches all over his arms because he likes to try and hold cats that are not used to being held. his eyes are shining, and he’s smiling, expecting something nice from aemond. 

aemond closes his book and stands up abruptly, “you would be no flower.”

he is already marching towards the castle when he hears lucerys broken whisper. he’s not following aemond, but has stood up. 

“would i not be enough to be a flower?” 

aemond stills and turns to look at him once before leaving.

“you would be the sun.”

#the lovely @avonneslovelies gave me flowers as a prompt and i'm <3 #a little drabble here! #you can request me any drabble! or come and talk with me about lucemond <3 #thank you so much dear <3 #alice writes #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #lucemond #my writing: lucemond #lucerys x aemond

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Country Roads, Take Me Home

Chapter Three of Sweet Home Alabama

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd), Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd)

Description: Linley's finally back home in Pigeon Creek, not that she's pleased to be there. But she's not back home to take in the sights or engage in a nostalgia trip. Linley's in Pigeon Creek for one reason and one reason only. There's no way she's leaving town without getting what she wants - even if she has to go through the man she married to get what she wants. Things are rarely ever as easy as just getting the papers signed, are they?

Themes: angst, love, smut, attraction

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2177

A/N: Chapter 3 is on deck! Linley's finally home in Alabama and the fur is going to fly! So this is where the drama in this story begins!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

The sun is just rising when the plane lands in Alabama. You rent a car and settle in for the four hour drive to Pigeon Creek. It's as you're driving through Greenville that your phone rings.

"Hello?" You hope this isn't your dad.

"You bitch!" It's Tasha. "I was your first friend in New York and I have to find out you're engaged like everyone else did? By reading the papers?"

"I know, Tash. But she didn't really give me a choice. She turned the ring around on my hand and blurted the whole thing out. If I had my way I would've been telling you all about it over mimosas this morning."

"Well you still can, y'know, babes? I'm at that little spot around the corner from your place with a few of the girls. Why don't you come by? We'll each treat you to a celebratory mimosa."

"I wish I could, Tash. But I'm not in New York right now. I'm in Alabama." You wince at the explosion of sound that comes through your earpiece. It sounds like all of your friends are loudly screaming advice down the phone to you, and if you weren’t driving and wearing a headset you’d have pulled the speaker away from your ear. Once the noise dies down, it takes you twenty minutes to placate her before you can hang up the phone, which is exactly how long it always takes to drive to Pigeon Creek from Greenville.

Everything in Pigeon Creek looks exactly like you remember it. Dusty and hot, with the same people doing the same things, just a little more worn than you remember. But you’re a woman with a mission. You’re not back in town to take in the sights and reminisce. On the contrary, you’re here for one thing and one thing only. If only you can drum up the courage to speak to Jake again. You drive through town twice in your discomfiture before finally taking the long drive home. It feels like it takes hours and minutes all at once. God, you hope Jake still lives in the same house. You don't know what you'll do if he isn't there. You’re not exactly equipped for a manhunt here.

You must be in luck for the first time in the past few days, because when you pull into the driveway of the house you used to call home, the same old truck is in the driveway. More than the truck though, the entire house seems to be just like it was the day you left. There's a little more ivy covering the sunny yellow siding, but it all looks exactly the same. The birds are making a riot as you sit in your soft-top rental convertible and take stock of the situation. How does coming back to the same place automatically make you feel like the same person you were before you left?

You carefully pull the engagement ring off of your finger and stick it in your purse before double and triple checking that all three copies of the divorce agreement are in your purse where you left them. With a fortifying breath, you step out of your rental and walk towards the front porch. The first change you see is the seaplane waiting down by the dock. When did Jake buy that old plane? Then there’s the sweet dog sitting on the porch. Bear looks just like he did when he was a puppy. But he doesn't seem to remember you, instead he barks at the sight of you. Either Bear doesn't remember you, or far more likely, his daddy brainwashed him into believing you're the enemy. But you can't go back, not now, so you walk carefully towards the porch.

As you reach the bottom of the stairs, the old screen door bangs open. It's Jake, wearing a pair of old wranglers sitting low on his hips and a worn sage green t-shirt so tight and worn that it looks like it's been molded to fit his torso. His golden hair is sticking up in greasy tufts. There's grease all over his face and an engine part in his big hands. He looks good, you note dimly, your mouth dry and mind racing.

"Shut up, puppy." He still sounds damn good, too.

"I'm sorry about him. He's a barky little thing but he's mostly harmless. What can I do for you?" He doesn't recognize you. Not one bit. His green eyes are flirtatious as they scan your form. Who'd guess that an off the shoulder top, a pencil skirt, a pair of heels, and some sunglasses were enough to camouflage you from the man who at one point knew you better than you knew yourself?

"I'd like," you tug the sunglasses off of your face and cross your arms over your chest, "for you to get your smart ass down here and give me a divorce!"

The smirk drops off of his face incredibly quickly, soon joined by the engine part clanking to the deck below. The sound is so startling and loud that it has the dog loping towards you and has you taking a few steps back. 

"I mean it, Jake. I have a flight to catch. It's not going to take long. There are three copies, all equipped with idiot-proof tabs. One for me, one for you, and one for my lawyer." You hold them out to show him.

He just stands there in disbelief. 

'Will you just speak already?" Your voice is a barely suppressed growl. But instead of Jake talking, you get a bark from the dog, and he doesn't seem to want to stop the racket, either.

"Why do you think I'm going to do that? After seven years, you think you can march up here and demand a divorce? No asking me how I am, how my mama is? None of that? I mean, come on, Linley. I at least thought you'd tell me I look good."

See this? This is why you left. "You want me to tell you, you look good?! What, did Pigeon Creek run out of soap or something?" You're starting to see red. Jake has always been so flippant.

"Do they laugh when you say those things wherever you've been?" He looks angry and sad. You are too. You have been for longer than you remember how it feels to be happy - truly, completely incandescently happy. 

"You knew where I was. It was on every envelope that I had my lawyer send you, a lawyer I spend $350 dollars an hour on. You know, the envelopes with our divorce papers that you've sent back unopened three times?" This is why you left. Jake always drives you to distraction.

But you can't even think. The dog's barking is disrupting every thought. Without thinking, you're snapping, "Oh will you just shut up, Bear!"

At the same time, Jake's snapping, "Give it a rest Bryant."

Bryant? What happened to Bear? The sweet puppy you raised with your own two hands? The one you asked to protect his daddy before you left? Did Jake really fall to such lows that he even got rid of the dog you'd once had together?

"Bryant? What happened to Bear?" Your voice must show your sorrow at not seeing him, because Jake's expression softens momentarily.

"He passed away." Then it hardens again in an instant. "You weren't here." That set expression on his face seems to be his newest tactic for dealing with you.

"Have you even been to see your dad since you got back to Pigeon Creek? Does he know you're here? Cause I'm not signing a single thing until you go see your daddy and let him know you're in town. So go on, now. Get in that Yankee excuse for a car and go see your daddy, Linley." His condescending tone is what sets you finally, officially off. You're screaming as Jake stomps up the stairs and shuts the screen door in front of your face. 

You haven’t heard this particular rage in your voice in years as you shriek, "Jake! Jake! You stubborn, dumb, ridiculous, redneck hick!  You won't sign because I asked you to!"

"I'm not signing because you moved away and turned into a hoity toity yankee bitch! And it pisses you off!" The rattle of the front door latching sends rage bursting even further through your veins. You can't go back to New York without these papers signed. Of course, just as you lose sight of Jake through the front windows, you remember the front door key you'd hidden when you and Jake had bought the place. 

It's all too satisfying to see Jake jump, beer sloshing out of the bottle in his hand when you say, "Hey, genius! Next time you lock somebody out, make sure they don't know where the spare key is."

"Well you see, here's the thing about spare keys. It would be nice if your wife told you where it was!" You really can't believe what you're hearing.

"Jake. You and I both know that I'm not really your wife. I'm just the first girl who hopped into the back of your truck."

His face drops when you say those words, in a way that you don't understand.

"Well, allow me to remind you!" You're left watching in shock as Jake unplugs the phone from the wall and rushes into another room. When you hear the lock click, you know something you aren't going to like is going to happen.

Meanwhile, in New York:

Carole Bradshaw knows three things, as a fact. One, Bradshaws are made to be in office. Two, that Linley Floyd girl is bad news. Three, in politics, you can't have any secrets. So the day after she finds out her son asked his girlfriend to marry him, she goes on a digging expedition. Or well, she has her Chief of Staff, one Beau Simpson, commonly known as Cyclone, go on a digging expedition.

"We can't find any record of a Pete Floyd anywhere in Greeneville, Alabama, ma'am." Like a dog after a bone, Carole immediately knows she's on the right track

"What about her high school? They have to have some record of her, right?" God bless Cyclone for picking up exactly what she's putting down.

"I've checked that already, your honor. There is no record of Linley Floyd at Greeneville High School. Before you ask, there are no other records of her for the other schools in the Greeneville area either. I’ve checked every school, public and private within a two mile radius of the city limits."

"He does this kind of thing to make me suffer, doesn't he? I wish I knew what the hell that boy was thinking about when he asked to marry her! Whatever happened with that, that…" Carole snaps her fingers, and Cyclone, as always, fills in.

"Callie Bassett, ma'am?" 

"Yes!" Carole's triumphant. "Her! She would've been perfect for him! She's rich, from a political family and she's from California! Can you imagine what the polling numbers would be like if he married a Bassett? California would be a clincher in an election! All of those electoral votes!"

"Maybe she really loves him, Your Honor?" Carole's laughter when she hears those words is nearly a cackle.

"Not a chance in hell. Now find me any information you can get on Linley Floyd. Yesterday! I'm going to call my son." 

Across town, Bradley Bradshaw's at a ground breaking ceremony for a new children's hospital when his phone rings.

“Something wicked, this way comes,” he mouths, just as he picks up the phone.

"Hey, Mom. You sound like you feel better." He's lying - his mom still sounds annoyed.

"Why yes, Bradley. Of course, I'm alright. It was just a little bit of a shock. And my polling numbers went up by two points! Guess they like the reminder that I’m a mom. Say, have you and Linley decided on a date yet?" Bradley can't hide the grimace on his face at the thought of what would happen if he answers wrong. It'd make his mom really happy, but Linley? She'd murder him for not discussing it with him, first.

"We haven't decided yet, mom." Bradley signs another couple of autographs as his mom prattles on about how his polling numbers would be better if there were no skeletons in Linley's closet and how that would be better for his political career. His hums and haws work for only a little bit before she's changing the subject back to Linley and her family again.

"Alright, well do you happen to have the Floydses number in Greeneville? I thought I should introduce myself." She's up to something. After a lifetime of her and her controlling schemes, Bradley knows that much.

"Mom, I'd kind of like to meet her parents myself, first." His mom's chuckle makes him groan, even as she reminds him yet again, "If there are any skeletons in her closet, we need to know, Bradley!"

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@sarahsmi13s @atarmychick007 @the-romanian-is-bae @lt-spork @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814 @praline357 @seitmai @cheyrenee @trickphotography2 @abaker74 @marrianena-library @angelbabyange @temptest13 @kmc1989 @im-an-adult-ish @chaoticassidy @inkandarsenic @lynnevanss @shanimallina87 @khaylin27 @mizzzpink @emma8895eb @hookslove1592 @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @thedroneranger @roosterforme @dakotakazansky @cherrycola27 @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #sweet home alabama #a top gun au #star's sweet home alabama top gun au #jake hangman seresin x oc #hangman x oc #jake seresin x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc

[beewolfwrites]

Magnetism - Part Three

Request: 

I really enjoyed this chapter! Would you please consider making a part 3?

Here goes! Sorry for any typos or mistakes! This is also the last Magnetism chapter I’ll be doing too, so hopefully it’s cute enough to give you the giggles!

(Chishiya x GN reader) 

A panic attack features too, so if you’re sensitive to reading about them in case they trigger one, this is your advanced warning :)

____________________________________________________

‘I’ve never seen a giraffe before!’ 

‘Is it really worth seeing?’ 

You pulled a face. His words were blasphemy. How could he even suggest such a thing about such a unique animal? He smirked and approached the giraffe enclosure, reading the brass information plaque closely. 

Strolling around Ueno Zoo with Chishiya was nothing short of surreal. Despite his complete disinterest in the variety of animals and creatures you encountered, you were still drawn to his side. You wanted so desperately to discover exactly what this connection meant. It had to mean something. 

So far, you had seen the zebras, flamingos and chimps, and now it was your first time seeing a giraffe in the flesh. They grazed, magnificent, in their tall enclosures, chewing peacefully on tree leaves and foliage. One giraffe ambled towards the wire fence where you watched on in awe. 

‘Woah! It’s so close.’ You placed a hand on the wire fence, wishing you could touch those dizzying hexagons on its coat. 

Hexagons…

Now that you were looking at them closely, there was something unsettling about the clusters of hexagons. A rush of dejavu left you wondering where you might have seen a giraffe skin pattern in black and white. Why black and white? It was such a strange thing, but you just couldn’t remember. 

Does Chishiya feel this too? 

You glanced over at him, your heart jumping when you realised that he was already watching you closely.

‘What is it?’ 

You hoped he would reveal a hidden piece to your jigsaw memories, but he simply said, ‘I’ve seen giraffes before,’ and walked off without a backwards glance. 

‘Hey!’ You took off jogging. ‘Wait.’ 

You caught up to him easily, lingering by his side but not too close. He didn’t seem that fond of physical contact. His hands were tucked firmly in his trouser pockets, and it didn’t look like he had any intention of taking them out again. You had an overwhelming urge to slide a hand in there and try to lace your fingers together, however it would only spoil the moment. 

He was gazing into an enclosure, his silvery hair shifting in the summer breeze. Following his gaze, you spotted the glistening black physique of a Jaguar as it slunk between a line of trees. There was grace in its raw power, the predatory pad of its feet as it waited, ears twitching, by the trunk of a tree. Then it lifted its head, setting its bright yellow eyes on you. 

A fierce pain cracked through your temple. 

‘Argh.’ You rubbed your forehead just as another jolt of pain hit you.

‘What is it?’

You were blearily aware of Chishiya’s question, but his words were foggy. Distant. The pain thumped murder against your skull, and you didn’t register your knees buckling until you heard Chishiya’s asking you once more what was going on. The enclosures bent in on themselves, the path suddenly overgrown with moss encroaching between the bricks. The world turned blurry. 

Wait. 

What world is this?

The zoo was quiet. Too quiet. The enclosure in front of you was destroyed, having been torn open by invisible claws. Only the stars and moon of the night sky above lit the empty walkways. No matter which direction you looked, there wasn’t a soul in sight. Around each enclosure, the wire fencing had rusted over and was entangled in ivy. In fact, there was greenery climbing up the lampposts and railings. This was surely the same Ueno Zoo, but a parallel image. And here you were, still sitting on the ground, alone and waiting. For what, you weren’t sure. There was a pool of dread in pit of your stomach, and you knew there was something out there hunting for you. Spying on you. 

A rustle of leaves sounded from the bushes. Silence. And then a twig snapped. 

Your breath hitched, fingers trembling, as you watched the bushes closely, too afraid even to blink. Something was out there, even if you weren’t quite sure what. A shadow shifted down in the foliage, and there was a soft, feline puff of air. Your eyes widened. 

A set of yellow eyes glowed from deep within the leaves. And they were trained on you. 

You flinched, mouth open in a silent scream, as the Jaguar sped towards you, footfalls soft on the grass yet swift and smooth as it lunged with a guttural growl. 

No!

You blinked, suddenly finding yourself back in Ueno Zoo, curled up on the pathway with Chishiya crouched by your side and a group of concerned onlookers asking how they could help. Your heart thumped wildly. Erratically. No matter how much you gasped and breathed, the air just wasn’t going in. Your throat tightened, as if there was a band wrapped around your neck. You immediately tried to claw at the collar of your t-shirt, but nothing helped. Your throat was closing up, and you needed air. You needed it now. 

Why can’t I breathe?!

The group of onlookers whispered amongst themselves, and you stared at each of them in turn, silently begging for aid, but nobody stepped forward. You sucked air in, one hand clawing at your chest and feeling the pounding of your heart. You were going to die here. You were dying right now, and nobody was listening.

‘Look at me.’ The voice came from next to your ear. Chishiya was there, eyes trained on you with a clinical precision you had never seen from him before. He wrapped one hand around your wrist, pressing his fingers on the inside as he checked your pulse. ‘Keep your eyes on me.’

You forced yourself to look into his dark, catlike eyes, as he told you to inhale for five seconds, hold for two, and exhale for seven. You followed his instructions blindly, but even this now, the softness of his fingers against your wrist and the depth of those eyes, it triggered another wave of dejavu. 

A new memory. Chishiya sitting beside you on a bed, in a room of an unnamed hotel. No, it had a name, but it wasn’t its real name. A beach? Tokyo didn’t have a beach. You were cross-legged on the soft linen, an open box of medical supplies next to you both. Your forearm was burning burning burning, but a hand on your wrist kept it steady, even if your fingers contracted and stretched, trying to cope with the agony. Chishiya was holding a needle and surgical thread, his fingers poised above your arm, but despite the fierce pain you were already in, you didn’t feel scared. Not with him around. And then, eyes on yours, he spoke. 

‘Look at me.’

You were pulled back into the present as Chishiya’s hand snapped away from your wrist. He was staring intensely at the ground, his eyes moving back and forth just like they had in the hospital. As you watched him silently, you realised that your heart was returning to its normal rhythm, and that band of tightness around your neck had eased off a little. You could breathe once more, or at least better than before. Was it the memory itself, or Chishiya’s presence, that had such an effect on you?

He stood up, sliding his hands back into his pockets. And only then did you notice that the crowd of onlookers were still lingering, asking you if you needed an ambulance. Your cheeks warmed, and you scrambled to your feet, swaying slightly as your body slowly recovered. Your head still spun, but you managed to bow, muttering several embarrassed apologies and reassurances to those who expressed their concern. But then Chishiya made a noise of discontent and sidled off, leaving you alone. 

Chishiya…

Had he seen that last memory too? It wasn’t unreasonable. He had shared your other memories too. Breaking away from the dispersing crowd, you took off after him. It was a struggle to keep your breathing steady, and there was still a lingering tightness in your throat, but you caught up just enough to grasp the pale sleeve of his cardigan. 

‘Chishiya.’ He stilled, turning his head halfway. And even though you only saw a sliver of his eyes, you could read him like a book. ‘You saw that too, didn’t you?’ 

The moment stretched on, then he said, ‘I don’t know where that memory is from.’ 

‘Neither do I,’ you replied. ‘But you don’t need to run away.’ 

Chishiya’s mouth twisted into a sneer. ‘I’m not running. And I’m not the one who had a panic attack at the sight of a Jaguar.’ 

Your fingers slipped, letting go of his sleeve. His words burned. It had already been embarrassing enough with so many people watching, and although you had experienced panic attacks once or twice before, that didn’t make it less frightening. ‘I… Yeah, I did kind of have a panic attack. But it’s because I saw something.’

His gaze flickered with interest, but it vanished in seconds. ‘We both did.’ 

‘No,’ you explained. ‘Not those memories. When I saw the Jaguar, I remembered this zoo. Except it wasn’t this zoo. It was the same place, but the enclosure had been ripped open, and there were no people. Everything was dark, and the whole place was overgrown.’ 

‘With plants?’ He asked. 

‘With ivy. And the enclosures were all rusty. It was like a different world, but I’m pretty sure it was Ueno Zoo. I’m certain of it.’ 

‘Right.’ 

He didn’t seem troubled by this. But perhaps he would be, especially with what you were about to say next. 

‘Chishiya…’ You looked at the ground, envisioning moss creeping through the cracks. ‘I think wherever this place was, whatever world we went to in that one minute our hearts stopped, you and I were together.’ He didn’t blink. He didn’t move. And so, you continued. ‘I know you remember too. There’s no point in trying to deny it. It’s why you asked me to play chess with you, and why you agreed to come here with me.’

His eyes remained glued on the fence opposite. ‘I remember,’ he said. 

‘Then you feel it too?’ 

After a moment’s hesitation, he mused quietly, ‘when I saw you in the trauma group, you looked familiar. But I’m certain we’d never met before that day. However, there are certain memories…’ He trailed off, but you knew what he meant. 

This is it. 

He felt this connection too, so it was now or never. Steeling yourself for rejection, you clasped your hands together, trying to don a mask of confidence. 

Let’s do this! 

‘I’m not sure I want to talk about that world. Whatever it is, I can learn more about it later,’ you said. There was a slight tremor in your voice as your nerves betrayed you. ‘But right now, what I want to know is whether or not you’ll come and get boba with me.’ You paused. ‘And not just as two patients.’   

He stared off into the clouds. ‘I don’t like boba.’ 

‘Oh… okay.’ Your heart sank. Of course he would shoot you down like this. It was to be expected, after all. ‘That’s… that’s fine. Just let me know if you want to play chess again.’ 

You stood there, waiting for him to walk away so that you could wave him off and hopefully end this day on a happy note. You’d already dragged him to a park and through a zoo even though he was still injured, so obviously boba was just too much. However, he remained exactly where he was, staring at you. 

‘Are you waiting for me to go first?’ You asked, frowning. 

His catlike eyes simmered with amusement. ‘Well, I assumed you were going to lead the way.’ 

Your eyes widened as it sank in. You held your sleeve over your mouth, hiding your smile beneath a subtle cough. ‘I know a great place not far from here, you know. They do all kinds of flavours.’ 

‘That’s fascinating, truly,’ Chishiya said, nonchalantly joining your side as you walked back down the path towards the exit of the zoo. ‘But I still don’t like boba.’ 

#alice in borderland #aib #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #Chishiya x reader

[thebisexualdogdad]

Nice fic for Ivy and Harley, how about one where this time the reader and Ivy team up to dom Harley and break her mind with some double penetration? And maybe some bdsm stuff with Ivy using her vine!tendrils as restraints?

"Does this feel nice, Harls?" Ivy mutters, nipping under Harley's ear while you are leaving marks along the base of her neck. 

"So good," Harley moans, loving a little pain with her pleasure. 

She gasps when you bite particularly hard at her collarbone and Ivy grins. 

You and Ivy let your hands wander Harley's body, getting her overwhelmed from the stimulation. 

The three of you are already stripped down to only your underwear, Ivy playing with her bare chest while one of your hands slip under Harley's red panties. 

"She's so wet Ivy," you smile, Harley's hips jolting up into your touch with your fingers getting coated in her arousal.

"Do you want to get fucked baby?" Ivy asks Harley who always melts whenever her two lovers are giving her attention. 

She's too flustered to speak so you remove your hand from her panties to bring her back to reality. 

"You need to answer her Harley," you say sternly. 

"I want to get fucked no I need to get fucked," Harley cries out. 

Ivy looks at you and nods, snapping her fingers and suddenly vines are appearing around the bed, tying Harley's hands together to the headrest and spreading her legs apart restraining them to the poles of the bed frame.

You harshly rip Harley's panties off her revealing her glistening pussy. 

"Let me get a taste," Ivy says, leaning down and taking a long slow lick through her wetness. 

"Oh fucking fuck!" Harley shouts. 

"Why don't you go ahead and get her warmed up Y/N," Ivy smirks, gripping your hard cock through your underwear. 

"And what about you?" You question. 

"Don't worry I have plans for our girl tonight," she winks. 

You step out of your underwear, gently touching Harley again with your fingertips to tease her before coating your cock with her arousal. 

Pushing your cock inside her Harley moans loudly and you notice Ivy going to your special toy box in the closet. 

You start a slow tempo of thrusting, seeing Ivy pull out one of her medium sized strap ons. 

"Oh you are in for a real treat," you chuckle, Harley looking over to see Ivy taking off her panties and putting on a green 6 inch dildo. 

"Is it my birthday??" Harley questions, gasping when the vines pull more tightly on her wrists and ankles. 

"You think you can handle this love?" Ivy asks, sauntering back to the bed and leaning down to kiss her sloppily. 

"God yes," she moans into the kiss. 

"You ever taken two cocks before?" You taunt. 

"Only in my fantasies," Harley replies with excitement in her voice.

Ivy laughs and positions herself in front of you, pressing down the tip of the toy on Harley's clit and she cries out. 

"Fuck you guys are so hot," you say kissing Ivys neck from behind as you continue to fuck Harley. 

Ivy thickly coats the cock with lube and eases the tip inside Harley.

"What's the safe word tonight?" She asks her. 

"Batman," Harley struggles to get out. 

"You got that Y/N?" Ivy says and you nod so she pushes another inch into Harley. 

It takes a minute for her to open up wide enough but soon both you and Ivy are fully inside Harley, thrusting at different paces that make her tug on the vines restraining her.

"Holy fucking shit this is amazing!" Harley cries out. 

You reach around and palm Ivy's breasts, kneading them and toying with her nipples. 

This sight makes another wave of Harley's arousal soak your cocks. 

"I think she likes this," you say, harshly pinching Ivy's nipples and tugging on them making Ivy moan.

Ivy snaps her finger again and now there are additional vines exploring Harley's body, wrapping around her waist and neck, slightly choking her. 

Harley shuts her eyes and she feels more vines trailing over her breasts and swirling over her nipples and another now playing with her clit. 

Ivy is fucking her at a slower pace while you move at a fast and steady tempo. 

"Faster, faster," Harley grunts and Ivy takes the not so subtle hint, picking up the pace to match yours. 

Harley is in absolute bliss and she cums hard around your cocks, her walls spasming and her whole body trembling. 

She's yelling out obscenities and feeling her orgasm from her head all the way down to her curling toes. 

Once her release subsides it's too much for her and she yells out "batman, batman, no more!" 

Ivy pulls out first and then you but you take her by surprise when you push your cum covered cock inside her and start fucking her.

"Oh my," she says pleasantly. 

Harley enjoys watching Ivy's strap bounce around as you fuck her to her own climax. 

"You can cum inside me Y/N," Ivy mutters and you do just that as you both reach your releases. 

You slow your movements, looking down at Harley's pulsating pussy dripping cum. 

You eagerly run your fingers through her and pop them in your mouth, "delicious." 

"You okay there Harls?" Ivy asks as a few aftershocks hit Harley.

"I've never been better," Harley smiles and she's glowing like she never has before.

#dc imagine #poison ivy imagine #poison ivy x reader #harley quinn imagine #harley quinn x reader #harley quinn x poison ivy x reader #x male reader #fic

[falconlord5]

Hard As Nails

And now, onto season three of Static Shock

I don't like this new theme song. Looks like there's been some art evolution, too

Ah, Gotham. Good to be back

From his arbitrarily large bank account, Harvey

Written by Paul Dini

The Gotham Knights art style clashes heavily with the Static Shock style

Wolverine would be proud

You're a lousy shot, Static. Also, what's with the black shirt?

That's what you get for not paying attention, Ritchie

You know, my mom used to give me grief whenever I'd say I was fine when I clearly wasn't. Ally clearly has the same problem

Ah, early 2000's depictions of the 'net

Yeah, 'cause that isn't suspicious as hell

Static telling it like it is.

I like this tune they're playing

We couldn't confuse you with anybody else, Mr. Conroy

Yeah, why, Bats? It's Virgil's case, not yours. You could easily let Static take her home. Before you get ambushed by the villains, dumbass

Harley, who in Godzilla's good name let you have a blimp?

Batman strong!

I'm sure Ivy and Harley have an eclectic and diverse taste in music, but I don't think rap is part of that

Ally, don't trust the psychotic villains

Harley, you are the definition of back alley psychologist

In some continuities, Alfred is an even bigger badass than Batman

If Batman is so secretive, why does everybody and their dog know about the batcave?

This would be the perfect link to the Teen Titans show... except the Robin in that show is Dick Grayson, not Timmy Todd!

Virgil is absolutely right. Ally is not yet a hardened criminal; this is the time to use things like therapy and outreach and whatever other non-violent methods you can think of

Bats is giving Static the only reasonable compromise here. As much as the goal is and should be to get Ally home and away from a life of crime, the safety of non-criminals comes first.

Bats, you're kind of a dick.

Harley, you are way too excited

I remember the last time you came up against lightning, Harl. It didn't work out for you then, either.

In what universe is lightning powerless against wood?

I love it when Bruce solves problems other than by punching them

Static created by Dwayne McDuffie, Derek T. Dingle, Denys Cowan and Michael Davis

Batman created by Bill Finger

Animated by Dong Woo

#live blogging #dcau #dc animated universe #static shock #hard as nails

[lorkhran]

“Darling, please. We need him alive.”

#ocean master #orm marius #aquaman #poison ivy #pamela isley #batman #oceanivy #just two villians villianizing #why does ivy only have three fingers??

[erodasfishtacos]

mlb!harry or ceo!harry mrs coming home from a night out with the girls, drunk af and wanting her man would be super cool.

When I Come Home (mini blurb)

I’ll do both (no sex though cause H isn’t a creep. Remember if someone is under the influence they can’t consent!)

—

CEO!H (married but pre-Ivy)

—

It’s just so funny because H is so no nonsense all the time except with YN.

She went out with her friends from college, it was a Thursday night, and Harry was stuck in their home office working on a contract.

He hears the front door open with a muttered, “Fuck.”

That’s all it takes for him to know she’s smashed.

Before he can even finish his sentence he’s typing, YN appears in front of him, heels kicked off, and eyeliner starting smudge.

“Hi H,” She smiles widely from the door before sauntering in - trying to be sexy despite her clumsy feet.

“Hi, m’heart,” Harry responds with a humorous smile, letting a puff of air when she plops heavily on his lap like dead weight.

It only takes a moment before she’s starting to swivel her hips down onto his, she was always a horny drunk.

“C’mon pet,” Harry chastises, strong hands coming pause the motions, “Y’been drinkin’.”

“Please,” Her words whiny, “Get me off, baby.”

“I said no,” Harry says firmly, kissing her shoulder to ease his harsh words.

YN let’s out another spoiled whine of displeasure when she can’t move her hips even an inch, can feel him naturally responding to her.

“Don’t be a brat,” He reminds her, tapping his finger against her lips.

She can also be a crabby drunk.

“Wha’s a husband for if you’re not gonna get me off?” YN bites, slipping off his lap and muttering, “Do it myself.”

Harry grit his teeth at the jab of his husbandly duties but grunts, turning back to his computer screen, “Cheers.”

“Dick,” YN whispers to herself, not quietly at all, as she leaves the office without another glance his way.

Harry goes about his own business but it’s mere minutes later when he hears his wife call for him impatiently.

When he steps into their bedroom, YN is sat on the bed with a furrowed brow and pouty lips as she glares at him.

“I can’t get my dress off.”

“Y’just called me a dick. Now you want my help, hmm?” Harry hums with a teasing smirks, widening when his wife glares.

“Help me,” She simply demands, no manners whatsoever.

But Harry’s in love with the pouty, spoiled woman in front of him and he really can’t say no to her when she needs help.

He stands her up, hands brushing the caps of her shoulders before slowly taking the zipper down on the back of her dress.

Harry helps her step out of it, just in a soft cotton thong and he unclasps her bra to let it fall limply to the floor.

She turns around, leaning in to kiss his lips softly, and her hands come to the hem of his tee and lifting it up until the hard muscles of his stomach are revealed.

“Sweetheart,” He says with a disapproving frown but she’s hushing him quiet until she’s pulling it over his head and slipping it over her own.

It makes him soften, “M’so gone for you.”

YN just snorts and says, “Good thing I agreed to marry you then.”

-

MLB!YN.

The three boys were already fast asleep for the night.

Harry was waiting up for his wife in the living room, spread out of the further couch.

The couple had an app where they could track each other’s location and he was making sure that YN was okay constantly.

He must have dozed off because he is a bit disoriented when the front door closes a bit loudly and the sound of shoes being kicked off echos.

Then he sees his missus, looking absolutely gorgeous in a pair of tight high waisted jeans and a lacy bodysuit tucked into it.

“Hi mama, y’look so good,” Harry mumbles, rubbing his eyes and sitting up a bit more to drink in the sight of his wife.

By the bright twinkle in her eye, he could tell she had a nice buzz going still from most likely the blackberry margaritas she loves.

He couldn’t lie, he quite enjoyed when his wife was a bit tipsy. She was already cuddly and sweet without alcohol but it just intensified it.

Harry’s mouth went a bit dry when she shucked off both her tight jeans and body suit. It left her in a strapless bra and nude thong.

YN is quickly making her way to her husband and complaining, “Make room f’me.”

Harry does, wriggling onto his side and moving until his back is against the cushions.

She waste no time in laying down next time him on her side, facing him and nuzzling happily into the curve of his neck.

His hands can’t help but roam her now bare skin, tickling up her sides, squeezing at the plush of her hips, rubbing circles on her tummy.

“Missed you,” YN murmurs against his skin, sleepiness already coating her tone as she hums as he gives her back a few scratches.

“I missed you too. I thought about y’all night, mama,” Harry tells her truthfully, ducking down to kiss her nose.

YN sighs loudly, hands coming behind her to release the tight bra and tossing it to the ground, smushing her breasts up against Harry’s bare chest - it was sexual but it was still intimate.

“Why the sigh, darling?” He asks against her hair, it stills smelled like his shampoo, sandalwood and cinnamons.

“The girls were…talking about how they can’t believe how loyal you are to me because we’ve been together since college and you have all these other girls who are so gorgeous who want you,” YN usually doesn’t struggle with insecurity but every once in awhile a comment would make her unsure.

Harry pulls back and pulls her gaze to his, “The reason I’ve been so loyal t’you since college is because I’m fuckin’ bloody obsessed with you.”

“H..”

“Let me finish, don’t even have time to think about any other woman. I’m too busy thinkin’ about the next time I get t’fuck you, cuddle you, love on you.”

“I love you,” She smiles softly, letting the nasty quell of feelings dissipate.

“Plus, put three babies in you. Gonna put more in you. Best mama, best wife, nobody compares t’you. You’re m’soulmate,” Harry whispers against her lips before lightly brushing them together.

“Speaking about fucking me,” YN giggles coyly, taking her husband’s hands and moving them to her arse.

Harry groans, graciously squeezing the firm muscle in his palms, “Don’t tease me, know we can’t when y’tipsy.”

“Tomorrow?” YN asks hopefully, whimpering at the harsh grip he has on her bum.

Her husband lets out a honking laugh, “Y’act like i don’t try to get your cunt whenever I can.”

“Filthy mouth,” She chastises sleepily, thumb coming to drag along his full lips, dragging down a bit.

“Let’s get you up to bed, darling,” Harry nips at her finger, “Don’t want one of the boys getting an eye full.”

—

The next morning, it’s barely even dawn when Harry’s waking his wife up with suckling, wet kisses along the expanse of her tummy.

“H, fuck,” She groans, luckily not feeling hungover from the night before instead arousal pooling in the pit of her stomach.

“Mornin’ mama,” He rasps, voice scratchy - telling her he just woke up too.

“Did you just wake up and automatically start making a move?” She giggles quietly, running her fingers through his messy curls.

“Mmm,” He agrees without an ounce of shame, “Fuckin’ dream about you, can’t help I wake up wanting y’on my tongue.”

“Okay, go on then. Remind me why I married you,” YN teases but it gets cut off with a moan when he pushes her panties to the side and laps at her clit.

“Remember why you did now?” Harry replies cockily against her folds before dragging his teeth against the sensitive bud.

—

#mlb!harry blurbs #mlb!harry #mlbrry #ceo!harry blurb #ceo!harry blurbs #ceo!harry #harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles masterlist

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Hi, I absolutely adore your writing and it’s quite inspiring and making my imagination go WEEWOO!

Could I request something for YJ With Dick? So like a headcanon or one shot (which ever you prefer queen) where the reader is quite reserved, snarky and can get angry real fast. They have feelings for Rob and they are especially snarky to him to hide their feelings, but they eventually start to open up more and during the events of episode 24 (you know, the one at haly’s circus), they open up to him and they confess? And he does the same?

Flower Language

Pairing: Dick Grayson as Robin x Reader

Warnings: Blood and injuries and plant death.

Word Count: 3.8k words

A/N: This is kind of my take on the Hanahaki disease, kind of. This was so much fun to write honestly, I didn't realize I like all this floral stuff so much. It also reminded me of another 'True Love's Kiss' trope I wrote for Dick Grayson as well. Also I changed the episode this was based on because I’ve already done something based on the episode with Haly’s circus @hanbedumbaf I really really really hope you enjoy it! Sorry it was so late, I finished it a month back but it was in my queue.

Adrenaline was a common feeling to you. A little too familiar. The life of a superhero puts you in peril more times than you would like but it was the only life you had known. You knew the familiar feeling of sweat forming on your skin and your heart pounding so loudly that you could hear it in every step you took.

However, when you heard the pounding, it was because there was a supervillain, usually hairy, chasing after you and determined to get your head on a stake.

Although, feeling your heart jump to your throat was becoming more familiar whenever you were around a certain someone. Robin annoyed you to no end, whenever he was around you couldn't help your face from growing warm and your lips from tingling to form a permanent smile on your face.

Having a crush was irritating, you couldn't think or even function without thinking of him. It was frankly humiliating, you were always so gung-ho about being bold and to the point and yet whenever you were around Boy Wonder, you couldn't help but bend your personality to something you felt like would appeal to him more.

Sometimes, you couldn't even stand yourself.

And so, as a pathetic act of rebellion, and maybe as a clear-cut sign that you had no idea how to handle emotions or anything similar to it, every time your heart got just a little soft, your tongue got a whole lot sharper. Probably not the best way to win a boy’s heart. But you weren't here for a romance story.

It was also a true sign that you had no idea how to flirt, thinking that borderline insulting witty banter was the way to go. Or perhaps it was a way of controlling your emotions, since being bitter and snarky was the thing that came easiest to you.

You seriously needed better tactics.

It was also your oblivious mistake thinking that Robin only saw what you wanted him to see. He was raised to be a detective, of course he was more observant than that. Papa (or let's be real, Alfred) didn't raise no fool.

You made the mistake of thinking Robin saw you as strong and independent and bold, just as the rest of them did. But he saw much more than that.

Robin was distressed by the number of crying faces around him, the kids were inconsolable which was understandable because of just how many things went wrong in the past couple of hours. To be quite frank, Robin was a couple seconds away from having a fit himself.

"Shh, little one," He heard distantly and his neck practically snapped. You were crouching in front of the few who were crying, with a small nurturing smile. It was the first time he had seen you out of uniform, usually referring to you as Antheia, named after the goddess of flowers, but this wasn't she.

"I know you're scared, my flowers, but I promise, we will find your parents." You soothed, gently wiping away their tears. They still looked up at you apprehensively and with uncertainty.

"I'll show you a magic trick." You began, grinning as the kids began to smile back at you. You pulled a seed out of your pocket and held it between closed hands, using a bit of your powers and felt it grow in your palms. When you revealed what you were holding, they collectively gasped.

A bud of a flower now rested in your hand. You smiled at their innocent eyes and held it to them, "Now I'm going to need your help for the next part. Everyone has to blow on the flower."

They nodded eagerly, crawling around you and on the count of three, everyone followed your instructions. And low and behold, the bud bloomed into a beautiful blossom right between your fingers.

One of the girls clamoured into your lap to hold the flower herself and you chuckled, wrapping your arms tightly around her, "You know what this flower means?"

They shook their heads, "It means faith, and hope. If you have faith and hope in us, then you'll get something beautiful in return."

For once, they look contemplatively and you chuckled, feeling pride at the fact that you managed to sow some wisdom in their minds. The girl that had been sitting in your lap turned in your grasp, with the flower in her hand and then reached up to tuck it behind your ear.

"For me?" She nodded happily and you smiled widely, kissing her cheek, "Thank you, petal."

Satisfied that you were able to calm them down, you gently placed the girl back on the floor before moving away from the group. Just as you were about to join the others, you ran into Robin. You didn't know he had just seen the whole thing.

Pulling the flower from behind your ear, you handed it to him, "You know in some cultures, this flower means to pick up the slack and stop looking like a confused chicken." You snapped.

Business as usual.

Robin looked back to the flower you had slipped into his hands, you had said it meant faith and hope, and you had given it to him. He looked back up to see you shuffling away from him quickly, a blush on your face. He smiled.

You were more nurturing and kinder than you let on, it was like it was programmed into your personality and yet you never showed it when you knew they were watching. That wasn't the only part of yourself that you were hesitant to show them.

And the more Robin observed you, the more he realized that you used flower language to depict a lot of your emotions. It was a silent way of letting them out, without having to tell other people what's really in your heart.

You thought you were sly about it, but nothing went under Robin's radar.

Everyone was watching a movie on the flat screen in the rec room. You hadn't realized you were so tired, the movie was boring, something that M'Gann had picked and you hadn't slept the night before, busy patrolling your city.

Your eyelids began to droop before you could even understand what was going on, your head lolling as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

Robin hadn't realized that he was napping through the movie until he felt a weight on his shoulder. He nearly jumped awake and glanced to his side to see you sound asleep, breathing gently. He nearly chuckled, was this what you looked like when you weren't scowling at everybody?

His heart skipped a beat, god, were you beautiful. The smell of flowers vaguely hit his nose and he noticed the red gardenia plant growing steadily in the corner of the room.

'Red Gardenias means a secret love,' Robin recalled from a book he had read, 'It's a secret way for someone to say I love you.'

He glanced back at you still sleeping peacefully, face completely relaxed and briefly wondered if your powers were taking the lead on your emotions and making gardenias grow around the cave. Or were you dreaming about something?

Something in his heart grew, here you were sleeping against his shoulder, making symbols of a secret love grow around the room. This had to be a sign of something, right?

Before he could contemplate it any further, you squirmed and then began to stir. Your eyes fluttered open, hazily taking in your surroundings before they landed on the boy beside you and widened in size, skin darkening with a blush.

"Why the fuck didn't you wake me up?" You snapped and turned on your heel to stomp out of the room without even waiting for a response from him. The others who noticed the way he was just staring at the place you were in surprise. You always do such a 180 when you're around him and conscious.

"Wow, sunshine's crabby in the morning." Wally commented from beside him. When he didn't get any response, he looked over to see Robin with a silly smile on his face.

Dick couldn't stop himself from grinning. The gardenias were still blooming.

***

"Antheia, do you think you will be able to stop the plants from growing any further?" Batman turned to face you, only to find you staring at him with a hazy, blank expression.

"Antheia?" Robin called but you didn't even flinch, your eyes were locked onto the holo-computer, seeing the thick vines that were twisting and turning. Their call was overwhelming, you could feel them grow even beneath your feet. It was like a siren was blearing through your head.

You couldn't tell what they were trying to say, it was like they were muffled. It was confused and lost, following Ivy and it was happy listening to her. And yet, it was feeling pain, the Justice League was busy pruning her as we speak. It was scared, crying out for someone to help them and you felt obligated to help. Your mind was getting heavy, throbbing with an oncoming migraine.

"(Y/N)!" Your eyes snapped open and focused onto the boy in front of you. Everyone was staring at you in concern and you blinked, suddenly not able to remember what the hell was going on. You were just trying to focus on something other than the screams and cries of the plant.

"......What?" You asked a little dumbly, noticing the concern on Robin's face. The plants were still crying. You couldn't get the painful sound of their screams out of your mind. You felt like curling up into a ball and crying.

"Batman asked if you would be able to stop the plants?"

"Oh, um, no." You answered in a distracted way that made his face pinch with worry. His hands were still grasping your shoulders tightly, keeping his face in close proximity to yours. You didn't even realize, too out of it to even notice.

Robin on the other hand felt his cheeks get uncomfortably hot the more you stared at him with those innocent, beautiful eyes of yours. If Batman hadn't been breathing down his neck, he was sure he would've kissed you in the moment.

Unfortunately for him, his dad always knew how to ruin the moment. And he would continue to for the rest of his life. Until death do them part. Even after the two of you grow up and live together, the Batman would find some way to interrupt your fun.

"Robin?"

"Huh?"

"The mission."

Oh. Right.

***

"Robin!" You screamed when one of Ivy's plants wrapped around his neck and slammed him against the trees. They didn't let up curling tighter around his throat. Fear struck you as he began choking from breath and you knew you had to do something.

Suddenly murderous intent took over you and you glared at Ivy who returned it with a smug smirk of her own. Oh, how you'd rip that smirk off her face.

"Okay Ivy, you wanna play? Let's play." You ground out, slamming your hands against the vine around Robin's neck and it began disintegrating beneath your fingers. He fell to the ground, gasping for breath and you tuned out the sound of the plant crying as it died beside him.

Ivy heard it just as loudly as you had, she screamed and more plants lunged towards the both of you.

"Go help the others! I'm about to snap this twig." You spat at Robin, using your powers to kill the roots as it reached you. It was working slowly, your powers weak to the pain of the plants around you. Even as every cell of your body told you not to, you clenched your fingers into fists and watched as the creeper feel to the marsh, dead.

You engaged in battle with Ivy. Plants were screaming for mercy all around you but you couldn't stop for even a second. Life around you was trembling but you had to keep fighting the villain in front of you because if you hesitated for even a second, many more would die.

Thorns scratched your skin, drawing blood and curled around Ivy, sinking barbs into her skin.

"Face it girlie! You're never going to overpower me!"

"Oh, I'm not trying to overpower you, just distract you long enough for Robin to get rid of the control system." You replied, just as smug as she had been at the start of the fight. Now you got to see her face melt into one of panic just as Robin jumped over her head and to your side with a grin identical to yours.

"Cover your ears!" He sang, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and ducking, covering your body with his own. You were grateful for it; you weren't sure you could even keep your body upright at the moment.

Then you heard the explosion and your heart stopped. Every single fibre of your body burned red hot fire as you heard screams and cries around you. Bile was crawling up your throat and your breathing got thin. They were sobbing a heart-broken wail and your eyes misted at the mere sound.

Without realizing it, you were gripping onto Robin's hand, brows furrowed together. The sound of the explosion cleared, the Injustice League was captured and he pulled you up to stand with the others.

It was silent for a moment. You had won.

And then the consequences of your actions hit you.

Everyone's necks snapped towards you when you let out a heart-wrenching sob. Robin, who was standing right next to you caught you just in time before your body hit the ground. Pain exploded in your chest as you began wailing against him.

"(Y/N)? (Y/N)! What's wrong?!" He panicked but you didn't respond, crying into his chest as you gripped his cape in an iron fist. Everything hurt and all you could feel was sorrow and guilt.

The other heroes crowded around you but your eyes were screwed shut, tears making your eyes sting. Robin held onto you tightly, pulling your body against his as you continued to cry.

"What's happening?" Artemis murmured, looking around to see the environment change before her eyes. Everyone else followed her lead to see how leaves began rotting, then the trees. The smell was pungent. Thorns and weeds were crawling up the dying trees, pulling them into the swamp.

"(Y/N) please, what's wrong?" Robin whispered in your ear but you couldn't hear him. The sounds of plants screaming and wailing was echoing through your mind. How they begged you to save them. How they begged you to stop.

And then it got hard to breathe, your chest constricted and you were wheezing. Robin had to watch in horror when petals and blood poured from your mouth. You were choking, throwing up and sobbing in his arms, and he was unable to do anything to help you.

"Flash get her to the Batcave." Batman said gruffly, he was shocked and worried for you but didn't say anything, not wanting to scare his son more, "Sending you the coordinates now."

"Alfred prepare the med-bay."

Dick watched with a sinking heart as he handed you into Flash's arms. It took him a few seconds for his mind to stop whirring, he was still kneeling in the swampy marsh when the team huddled around him.

"It's gonna be okay." Wally murmured, wrapping an arm around his shaking body.

"We just have to hope for the best."

***

When the others had gotten back to the Cave, you had just been moved there, after being looked over by Alfred. He joined you in the med-bay, wanting to keep an eye on you. But as of yet, you still had to wake up.

Dick wasn't supposed to be listening to the adult’s conversation, but he couldn't help himself, he had to know if you were going to be okay.

"The situation is undeterminable, sir. But as of now, the flowers that are clogging her respiratory system keep growing. If we don't find a cure for this, it's inevitable that she will suffocate and pass."

His heart stopped. Die? You couldn't die, not when he still had so many things to tell you. For so long, he hadn't told you of his feelings, wanting to keep the relationship between the two of you professional. But now more than anything, he wished he had said something.

There were so many things he didn't get to do with you yet. You had yet to give him a bouquet on your first date. He wanted to lay in bed with you, smelling fresh flowers as you told him what different plants symbolized. He had yet to see moments where you can't control your powers and make plants grow around the cave.

He hadn't even given you a flower yet.

"Rob listen, I did some research on this 'disease'." Wally said, falling into step with him, "It's called the Hanahaki disease."

"That's fiction Wal—"

"But that's the best we've got right now." Came his curt reply and Dick's heart clenched.

"Hanahaki disease is a fictional sickness that only occurs when someone is suffering from unrequited love. The victim will cough up flower petals that symbolize their love. This disease is only cured when the victim's feelings are romantically returned." Wally read off his phone before turning to Dick with a smile.

He raised a brow, "What?"

"You have to kiss (Y/N)!"

"What!?"

"Yep! You have to return her unrequired love!"

"Wally that's ridiculous, kissing someone doesn't cute anything."

"Well, it's the only thing we have. And for (Y/N), we need to try anything." He said, pushing him towards the med-bay. His voice was tight and tense, like he was holding onto his as his last hope and Dick prayed that it would work when the door of your room came into his sight.

You were asleep and if he hadn't known any better, he would've thought you were healthy. Wally closed the door behind him, leaving Dick alone with you. The only sound in was the beeping from your heart monitor and your light wheezing. It was getting harder to breathe.

Dick inched his way closer to you, watching as your eyelashes fluttered gently in your sleep. Leaning over the bed you were lying in; he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before moving his head in line with yours.

"God, please let this work." He whispered and your bottom lip was caught between his. It was feather-light but yet, electricity was buzzing through his veins and fireworks went off in his mind.

For a minute, nothing happened and his heart clenched in his chest before he kissed you a little harder. This had to work because they didn't have any other lead. Dick felt you exhale feebly against him and he almost gave up hope.

But then you took a deep breath, stealing the breath from his lungs and he pulled away quickly to see your eyelids fluttering open. The colour was returning to your cheeks and your eyes were sparkling up at him. You smiled gently and he blinked away tears of relief. Thank goodness.

'His eyes are blue' You thought, staring deeply into them. They were beautiful, alluring. You didn't know why but just looking into his eyes was addicting. Was this what it felt like to be so deep in love? That even his eyes were enough to captivate you?

"I'm so glad you're awake." He muttered, cupping your cheeks firmly and planting another kiss on your lips. You giggled lightly, heart overjoyed to find the boy you had been in love with for so long had returned your feelings and you responded to the kiss eagerly, placing your palms over his hands and leaning into him.

With your regaining strength, you felt a flower materialize in your hands. The stem between your fingers brought you comfort just as the scent of the flower brought you back life.

When Dick pulled away, you delicately slipped it into his hands and he turned his attention to it, blue eyes softening when he recognized this particular flower in his hands.

"It's an Aster." You whispered quietly, lips brushing against his and he chuckled. It was the only flower you thought of when he came to your mind, "Get it?"

Dick turned his eyes away from the blossom and looked at you again. Your heart jumped, noticing just how much love he held in them. Eyes you could swim in, overflowing with love for you. Suddenly you were overwhelmed, feeling adoration and attraction. You needed to be closer to him, even though he was pressed against you.

Your fingers curled into his collar and pulled him closer to you, slanting your lips over his in an open-mouthed kiss. Dick gasped against your lips, startled for no longer than a second before sinking against you and wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer.

Your lips moved gently against his, the blushing flower trapped between both your bodies. The smell of fresh flowers clouded Dick's mind with everything that was you. Your hair, your smile, your lips. If you kept kissing him like that, he was certain he'd forget his own name.

And then you pulled away and Dick noted that you were as beautiful as a fresh flower. Your skin was glowing with life and your tired eyes were twinkling. You smiled sleepily at him, eyes closing shut and he lowered you back to the bed. Immediately, you slipped back into slumber, exhausted from the day's events.

He watched for a couple seconds, making sure you were able to breathe without any problems before realizing he should tell the others that you were okay.

He slipped out of the room quietly, stealing a final glance of you sleeping peacefully in the bed and a huge smile grew on his face, "She's awake."

It was only then he noticed just how colourful the room had gotten in the few minutes he was with you.

The walls were covered with vines and roses of different colours, camelias and carnations of different shades. It littered the room, not leaving a single inch of the wall untouched and scattered petals all over the floor like confetti.

Different creepers hung from the ceiling, dusting all the superheroes with sparkling pollen and colourful petals. Not to mention there were stems crawling up the Justice League members, flowers hugging their ankles lovingly.

Batman looked a lot less intimidating with petals in his cape and a rose stuck behind his ear. Robin blushed at the sight of everyone giving him knowing smiles.

"We noticed."

Aster: This flower became a symbol of love when in Greek mythology it was placed on the altars for the gods. So now, when you send a bouquet featuring this vibrant bloom, the message of "Take Care Of Yourself For Me" is implied. It conveys deep emotional love and affection for someone.

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

#dick grayson #dick grayson fanfic #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson headcanon #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson oneshot #robin x reader #Young Justice #young justice fic #young justice oneshot #young justice x reader #young justice imagines #young justice headcanons #tim drake x reader #jason todd x reader #damian wayne x reader #nightwing x reader #nightwing

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Okay soooo I know that Oberyn is your fave, so I'm going to request our sex god of a Prince. "You'll have to make me." "Oh, is that so?" *evil laugh here* Can't wait to see what my bestie boo comes up with

A/N: I’m in love with Oberyn Martell so thank you for indulging me. :D ILY 

Thank you for every reblog, comment, and like. 

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x F! Reader (Little Sparrow) x Ellaria Sand 

Warnings: 18 + Only (Language, domesticity, oral F! receiving, mentions of sexy times) 

Masterlist 

Lemon Tarts 

You stood across from the three little girls, their hands on their hips, just like their father. “Obella, Dorea, Loreza,” you stern your expression, “which of you did it?” 

“What do you mean, Mama?” Dorea asks with a grin; oh, the sly viper had taught his daughters well. Ellaria giggles behind, and you turn to stick your tongue out at her. “Mommy, is she well?” 

“Your Mama is quite well, my love, but she wants to know which of you naughty girls took the lemon tarts from the kitchen?” They look conspiratorially between each other, and you bite your lip to stop the smile that threatens to show. “Come now,” she demands, “Which one of you did it?” 

“It’s a secret,” Loreza whispers giggling, and you drop to your knees, seeing the weak link in the chain with the youngest. 

“What’s the secret, my sweet Dove?” You twirl her dark curls behind her ear, and she leans into your hold, reaching out to hug you. 

“Papa, said we couldn’t tell,” she whispers in your ear, and the smile breaks out across your face. “We caught him in the kitchen eating the tarts, and he shared one with us. He made us promise not to tell.” You giggle and hold her tighter to your chest, standing with her in your arms, her legs wrapping around you like a monkey. 

“Loreza! Papa told us not to tell!” Obella scolds, and you look over at Ellaria with a grin. 

“It seems like Papa has been getting into my sweets; what shall we do to him? I think he will need to be punished for getting into things he shouldn’t be.” You let Loreza down with a kiss on her head, and Ellaria giggles and winks at you. 

“Yes, I think a punishment is in order; why don’t you go find him? He is in the training yards with the girls.” You nod and go over to grab your shawl and wrap it around your shoulders, the rain outside sending a slight chill through the palace. Obella holds your dress and pulls you down to her level, “what’s wrong, my darling?” 

“Please, don’t tell Papa we said anything. We don’t want him to be angry with us,” her tiny voice shakes and she looks close to tears. 

You wrap her in a big hug, “Don’t worry, my darling, your secret is safe with me.” She nods, hugging your neck tighter, which you eagerly return. Each day the girls get older, and one day, they won’t want hugs and cuddles; you must take advantage of it as long as you can. You let go and rise, leaning down to kiss Ellaria gently, smiling when she takes your bottom lip between her teeth and pulls. 

“Make him pay Little Sparrow, he must know how angry you are with him. Don’t let him persuade you away with his flowery words and gentle touch.” You give her another quick kiss and a smile walking over to the training fields. 

You follow the sounds of grunts and groans, watching from the upper deck at the fighters below. Nym and Obara spar in the center a deadly and delicate dance of quick footwork and fists. “Dive Nym!” Oberyn shouts from the corner, “you must be ready to anticipate her every move. Don’t let the fact that she is your sister distract you from your goal.”

Nym watches Obara closely as she circles her like a predator viewing its prey. “Now,” Oberyn coaches, “strike!” You hold your breath as Nym gets a grip on her sister and swings her to the ground, her hands coming out to brace on either side of her head, wrists pinned down. “GOOD! Well done!” he claps his hands together and walks over to the table to drink a sip of wine and pops a few berries into his mouth. 

You clap your hands together, and all three pairs of eyes slowly look up to watch you leaning over the railing. “Well done, girls! You have become such fearsome warriors; you bring such glory to your family, my loves.” They smile at you and mumble, “Thank you, mama”, under their breath, both shy with the praise. 

“What about me, Little Sparrow?” Oberyn shouts up at you with a smile, “no compliments for the one who trains them? You glare down at him, and his smile drops, a worried expression growing on his face. 

“You are in trouble, Oberyn Martell,” he freezes, his eyes widening; you only used his name when you were cross with him. “I know your secret, and I am here to make you pay.” 

“And what pray tell, is this indiscretion I’ve committed, my love?” The girls look between the two of you and quickly realize this is something they don’t want to miss. It takes everything you have not to giggle when they walk over to the table and grab a glass of wine and watch between the two of you like a drama at the theater. 

“It would seem that the lemon tarts I’ve spent hours baking are all gone. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” To his credit, he does look concerned for a moment before he slips on that charming smile, the one you can’t possibly resist. 

He gives a nervous chuckle and rubs the back of his head, “I wouldn’t know anything about that Little Sparrow; maybe some snakes got into the kitchen and took off with your treats. Come down here, and we can talk about it further.” He flicks his wrist down to the spot in front of him, and you scoff. 

“You’ll have to make me.” 

“Oh, is that so?” You nod, and he sighs, removing his outer coat and leaving him shirtless; the golden chain around his neck glistens, his sun-kissed skin making you weak. The girls quickly stand, taking their cups and leave out the side door. “If you won’t come to me, then I guess I will need to come to you.” He walks over to the large column and begins to scale the wall, hands intertwined in the wild ivy growing around the stone. 

“Are you out of your mind?!” you step closer to the column, reaching a hand out for him. 

He stops before your outstretched hand and puts a hand to his chest with a dramatic sigh, “my Little Sparrow, love of my life, please forgive me for eating your delicious lemon tarts. They were positively perfect; I couldn’t resist.” 

You put your hands on your hips knowing precisely what he’s doing. “Are you doing something rather dangerous so that I won’t be cross with you anymore?” He grins, and you scoff, “you’re insane; I should have married the baker’s son. Then I could have had lemon tarts, and a sane man warm my bed every night!” You yelp as he swings a leg over the banister and turn, running down the hall, Oberyn hot on your heels. 

You turn the corner and barrel past servents who giggle as you make your way back in the direction of Ellaria and the girls. The youngest giggle when you scream around the corner, coming to stand behind Ellaria. Oberyn grasps the table and fakes left and right, trying to anticipate your every move. “Papa!” Loreza shouts, watching, “what are you doing?” 

He laughs, reaching for you as you move out from behind Ellaria and try to sneak past him. “It doesn’t seem like your quest has been successful, Sparrow,” Ellaria teases, looking up at you from her book. “It seems like our Prince has the upper hand right now.” You try to run past him, but he grabs you with a shriek and tosses you over his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry little ones, but Mama thought it was a good idea to tease Papa.” You hit his back, and he slaps your ass. 

“What did Mama tease you about?” Ellaria smiles behind the hand covering her mouth, and you try to look around him to flip her the bird. 

“She said she wished she’d married someone else besides Papa. Can you believe that, my little Princesses?” You can’t see the girls, but their shrieks of laughter make you smile. 

“That’s silly!” Dorea jumps up and down, “Papa is the best man there is!” 

You can hear the smile in his voice, “thank you, Princess Dorea, now Papa has to go and remind Mama why she married him, and not,” his voice drops an octave, “some baker’s son.” He turns and you lift your head, reaching a hand out to Ellaria, who shakes her head with a laugh. 

“See you later, my love,” she shouts with a wave, the little girls waving goodbye as they jump around and giggle. 

There is not much dignity when you’re carried over your lover’s shoulder to be punished, and you try to avoid eye contact with everyone you pass—sighing in relief when the doors to your chamber close behind him, yelping as he tosses you on the bed. Oberyn stands above you, still shirtless, still handsome, but with a darkened glint in his eyes. 

He reaches out for you and quickly undresses you, peering down at you with a hunger that no lemon tart would satisfy. He spreads your legs, his big hands sliding up your thighs. “What was it you said, Little Sparrow?” your breath catches as he settles himself before your juicy cunt, “you should have married the baker’s son, so you could have all the lemon tarts you wanted an a-” he draws one thick finger through your folds. “-a sane man warm your bed? Let me remind you what that baker’s son could not do for you, my love.” 

He spends the next several hours reminding you why you chose to be with him over all others. His devotion to your body is unmatched as he makes you cum with his tongue, fingers, cock, and all over your chambers. There’s a pleasant ache between your legs, and the perspiration glows on your skin. The moonlight streams through the open window. Oberyn’s weight is comfortable as his arm is slung across your waist, lips kissing a trail down your shoulder and back up to your ear. “I think we broke our record,” he teases, sucking your ear lobe into his warm mouth. 

You turn and smile, giving him a languid kiss, “yes, you seemed to be quite motivated.” 

“Can you blame me?” he kisses the end of your nose, “you told me you wished to marry another. You’re mine; I needed to prove it.” You giggle and kiss him again, both of you turning when the door swings open. Ellaria walks inside, and you are struck with how gorgeous she is, her breasts spilling over the edges of her dress like a delicious wrapped present. 

“I have a gift for you,” she smiles, presenting a plate from behind her back, a single lemon tart in the center. “The girls and I have been working for hours, trying to get it just right.” 

You clap your hands, not caring that the sheet slips down your body as you coo in delight. “I can’t wait to taste it!” She grins and hands you the dish, your mouth watering as she strips out of her clothes and pulls the sheet away. Her necklace and bracelets click as she spreads your legs and settles between them, Oberyn reaching a hand out to palm your breast. You take a bite of the tart and moan at the perfect combination of tart and sweet, but the moans quickly turn to something else as Ellaria licks your pussy. 

“Wh-what are you d-doing?” you stutter the crumbs from the tart sprinkling down your chest, Oberyn eagerly surging forward to lick and suck them from your skin. 

“Our Prince got to remind you why you chose him, but I wanted to make sure you truly know what you would be missing if you married that Baker’s son. See, I even made you lemon tarts,” she smiles before resuming her kitten licks on your clit, her nails trailing over your hips. 

And fuck, do you never forget. 

Taglist: @chicken-ona-stick @agirllovespancakes @ghostwiththemostbitch @the-purity-pen @paintballkid711 @wasicskosgirl @fantasticcopeaglepasta @sarahjkl82-blog @boxdyeblonde @rosiefridayrogersunday @yeah-seems-legit  @mimimi-stuff  @ladyblogger-margie @memyselfandellasworld @peterhollandkait @itspdameronthings @emmy626 @luv-nd-serenity @randomness501  @littlebopper96 @alexmarie29 @hell-is-my-second-home666 @thisshipwillsail316 @madslorian @no-droids-on-sunday @glixxr @sfr99 @pedro-pastel @we-can-be-himbos  @sleep-tight1 @sarhabee @its--fandom--darling @im-an-adult-ish @princess76179 @demoncrypt1066 @jedi-mando @idreamofboobear @aerolanya @rebelliouscat @veracruz-djarin @marvelprincess1994 @thirstworldproblemss @spacelatinoss  @martellthemandalor @kesskirata @waatermelon-sugaar @jitterbugs927 @helga1031  @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @phoenixhalliwell @lunarthoughts

Pedro Pascal Taglist: @lycheemi @purplepascal042 @poubxlle @dreamer-101 @thewayofthemandalorian @omlwhatamidoinghere @linkpk88 @josepedropascal @mrschiltoncat @mrsparknuts @zannemes @xjaywritesx @mandocrest @petersunderoos96 @notabotiswear @mando-amando @lv7867 @mudhorn-djarin19 @ka-x-in @sleep-tight1 @freeshavocadoooo @dinner-djarin @mssbridgerton @prideandpascal @theflightytemptressadventure @notabotiswear @Pintsizemama @pascal-rascal424 @allmahfeels @the-ginger-hedge-witch @soyelfuegoquearde @northernpunk @clydesducktape @a-skov @darnitdraco @spideysimpossiblegirl @jediknight122

Oberyn Martell Taglist: @theatricalbride @meshlamando  @seasonschange-butpeopledont @blufanfictionthings  @queenbbarnes @talesfromtheguild @rpcvliz @evyiione @browneyes-djarin @lips-for-you @midnightzonzz

#Oberyn Martell #Ellaria Sand #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #Oberyn Martell x reader #Ellaria Sand x reader #Oberyn Martell x reader x Ellaria Sand #Little Sparrow #Female Reader #Game of Thrones

[hintofelation99]

Sick day headcannons!!!!!!!

Hell yeah, I do have a post on this already (linked here) but sick day headcanons are some of my favs so let’s do some more! (Just btw there will be some repeats but that just means I rlly like that headcanon)

Dick

Dick: Oh no, god no!

Wally: What’s wrong?!

Dick: I’m dying!

Wally, suspicious: Okay…

Dick: Please Wally this is serious, I need help!

Wally, deciding to take Dick seriously: Okay, what’s wrong? What do you need?

Dick: Just a coffin. Made of maple- no oak! And roses, preferably white, oh or blue! With baby’s breath. And-

Wally: Dick, what’s wrong?!

Dick: I burnt the roof of my mouth.

Wally leaves.

A good rule of thumb for Dick is the more dramatic he is the less serious the situation. The less dramatic he is the more serious the situation.

He will go into work with a cold and complain the entire day.

If he has something serious that’s contagious he’ll call in sick but just say it’s a slight stomach bug.

If it’s not contagious he will act like everything is completely fine.

One time he did this after getting an injury on patrol and ended up passing out and spending that night and the next day in the ICU.

He has become a bit more responsible over the years, mainly bc he thinks it’s adorable how sweet and cuddly Damian gets.

His favorite sick day activity is eating junk food and watching rom coms under a fuzzy blanket .

Babs

Dick: Please go to bed!

Babs: I am, I am, just one more line of code.

Dick: You’ve said that for the last three hours!

Babs tries to relax when sick but she has trouble actually taking a step back to rest.

Most of the time she’ll take a nightquil then get distracted by something and ends up falling asleep in front of her screen.

Usually Cass or Steph will come over and take care of her.

Steph always makes the best comfort food. And usually Cass will tuck Babs into bed.

Babs loves dozing on the couch to the sound of Cass and Steph laughing in the kitchen as they make her soup.

If Cass and Steph can’t come over she loves talking to them over discord while eating take out. Usually she and Cass just listen to Steph babble or she watches on of them stream something.

She also usually ends up falling asleep.

Jason

Bruce: Are you sick?

Jason: I’m legally dead.

Bruce: That doesn’t-

Jason: So,legally, no. I am not sick.

Jason will forever and always argue that he can’t get sick since he already died.

When he was little he was rarely able to get extra rest when he was sick. Because when he was really little he wanted to go to school to avoid Willis. After Catherine died he was too busy just trying to survive to focus on being healthy.

But when Catherine was alive and Willis was away Jason would stay home from school, and if Catherine was sober she would read to him and sing lullabies. This only happened like twice but Jason cherishes those memories of Catherine.

As a kid if he was ever sent home for being sick he’d get in huge trouble with Willis.

After being adopted the first time he was sent home with a fever he begged Alfred not to tell Bruce and hid in his closet until he stopped crying being sad. Alfred sat by the closet door with soup, a grilled cheese, and tea, reading The Princess Bride aloud until Jason came out. It took two hours.

Jason’s favorite sick day activity is drinking tea and rereading The Princess Bride (with the movie playing quietly in the background) while wearing his Wonder Woman hoodie.

Cass

Steph: Cass why are you patrolling while sick?!

Cass shrugs.

Steph, with a sigh: You’re allowed to take a sick day, okay?

Cass looks unsure but nods.

Steph: C’mon, let’s get you a bath and fuzzy blankets.

Cass forgets that she’s not just a weapon/tool. She forgets that she’s allowed to rest when sick.

Because of this she will keep going no matter what and tends to view ‘taking a sick day’ as a failure.

Steph, Tim, and Babs have been working on this with her. She’s improved a lot now that Tim lost his spleen and gets sick easily.

Now usually Steph cooks for her while Babs lays with her.

Cass isn’t against taking medicine but she never feels like the situation is severe enough to require medication. So someone in the fam has to convince her to take her meds.

She becomes extremely cuddly when sick and will cling to anyone near her.

Her favorite sick day activity is watching old horror movies with Steph or Babs.

Steph

Steph: I’m fine.

Steph: I’m fine.

Steph: I’m fine.

Steph: I’m- I have a fever of 104, I should rest.

Stephs mom is a doctor, so she’s used to being told “it’s just a cold, you’re fine”.

Usually she keeps going until she can’t then sleeps for like three days.

But it’s less out of stubbornness and more out of habit. So if someone tells her to rest she’s immediately like “okay!” and takes the sick day.

Babs always calls or comes over to check on her every day that she’s sick.

Cass has been learning how to cook and loves making Steph food when she’s sick.

Tim used to come over but now he always calls.

Stephs favorite sick day activity is sleeping with an ice pack or heating pad, depending on the sickness, with a giant cup of ginger ale and Cass curled up beside her.

Tim

Jason: Tim, are you sick?

Tim, tiredly staring at case files: No I-

Tim is interrupted by a violent coughing fit.

Tim: Oh, I guess I am?

Growing up Tim loved getting sick because it meant the house keeper would come over and take care of him and he might even get a hug.

But she stopped coming over when Tim was ten, his parents thought he was old enough to handle being sick on his own.

Sick days in the manor were a shock to him because he was rarely alone, there was always one family member by his side.

Now that he’s immunocompromised he’s always surrounded by people, he pretends to get annoyed with it but really he loves how much they care.

Dick always sings Romani lullabies and runs his fingers through Tim’s hair. Jason, Duke, and Steph will cook for him. Damian stay by his side and bring him tea. Babs will play video games with him. And Cass does a bit of everything, at least everything other than sing to him.

The family also takes Tim getting sick very seriously so if they here one cough he’s immediately being interrogated and getting his temperature checked.

Tim’s favorite sick day activity is laying under a weighted blanket with a cup of tea and playing video games with Babs, Steph, Duke, and Cass.

Duke

Dick, knocking on Duke’s door: Hey bud, why are you still in bed? I thought we were training together?

Duke: Sorry, I forgot to cancel. I’m sick and don’t think I can handle training today.

Dick: You’re sick?!

Duke: Yeah, but don’t worry I’ve been disinfecting and cleaning so no one else should get sick.

Dick: I’m not worried about getting sick, I’m worried about you!

Duke: …oh, okay.

Growing up sick days were spent at home either resting alone or with one of his parents.

He had to do some fending for himself (like cleaning and making food when his parents weren’t home with him) but nothing extreme or unexpected. So, overall he had pretty normal sick days.

After he parents went missing he was so focused on getting them back and saving them that he never stopped to rest when sick.

Now as a member of the Wayne family his sick days are always spent with someone by his side, at least they are if he tells the family he’s sick.

He’s gotten in trouble several times for not telling Alfred/the family that’s he’s sick. Not because he puts Tim at risk, he like all the family is very cautious about that, but because everyone worries about him and wants to help take care of him.

After several lectures from Alfred he’s finally getting better about telling the family when he’s sick.

His favorite sick day activity is reading Jason’s copy of The Princess Bride while having a bowl of Alfred’s chicken noodle soup.

Damian

Jason: Are you sick?

Damian: N-

Damian sneezes like a kitten.

Damian: No.

Cass, smiling: Sick baby brother, cute sneeze.

Damian tries to be offended but ends up having a sneezing fit.

Steph: That’s so adorable!!

Damian has the most adorable sneezes. He literally sounds like a kitten and the entire family and hero community finds it adorable. Damian hates it.

He used to try and pretend he wasn’t sick and just work through it.

Then he sneezes in front of Harley and Ivy and they cooed over him for an hour.

Now he grumpily secluded himself in his room when sick.

Usually the family will check on him and find that Jon flew over and they’re cuddling on his bed watching cartoons.

When Damian’s sick he really craves spicy food. Like everything he eats he’ll add hot sauce or pepper to. His food is so spicy that only Cass can handle it, like it makes ghost peppers look like child’s play.

His favorite sick day activity is drinking masala chai under one of Tim’s fuzzy blankets while wearing Dick’s old hoodies and surrounding himself with various soft things he stole from his siblings. This is preferably done while eating spicy tomato or lentil soup and watching cartoons with Jon.

#batfam #jason todd #batman #tim drake #dick grayson #red hood #incorrect batfamily quotes #bruce wayne #red robin #nightwing #robin #damian wayne #duke thomas #the signal #stephani brown #barbara gordon #cassandra cain #oracle #batgirl #spoiler #black bat #ask #mypost

[ifmywishescametrue]

omg now im jealous about all of the breaking up and making up stories!!! they're all so wonderful but is it okay to ask for a steve/tony one? i know you've made one inspired by ts (amazing) and this time, maybe they meet/bump in a coffee shop? idk angst potential but also hopeful/happy ending aahhh. your stories are amazing esp ivy!!! thank you! <3

thank you so much!! it ended up being more cute than angsty, but I hope you like it!

Steve's pencil drifts idly across the page of his sketchbook with no end vision in mind. He's killing time until Nat shows up, which could be anywhere between the next five minutes and the next two hours with her vague text that simply said running late. When he looks up to reach for his near empty coffee cup, he freezes with his hand in the middle of the air.

At first he thinks it might not even actually be him. Tony's hair was never quite this well styled before, always a tangled mop on his head that sometimes fell into his eyes. Steve used to spend hours sometimes running his fingers through those wild curls while Tony slept on his chest. It's been tamed since then, cut shorter and held into place by some type of product. The facial hair is new, too. He remembers a time when it would always come in patchy and uneven, and Tony would pout as he shaved away the latest attempt at looking older than he was. The eighteen year old boy in oversized hoodies and stained jeans he met years ago has been replaced by a man in a well-pressed, expensive looking suit with a leather briefcase, like he just stepped out of a boardroom a minute ago. From what Steve has read about his life since they broke up, he probably did.

Steve stares without fully meaning to and for much longer than he would have if it was intentional. He watches him order his drink and smiles when the barista’s eyes widen at what he knows is an overly complicated order, wondering if Tony ever did finish his quest to find that perfect combination of syrup flavors, sugar, and cream that only he would ever like.

He catches the double take when Tony notices him there, right as he’s taking his first sip of the iced drink, and the cough when he chokes on it is anything but subtle. Steve looks away with red cheeks and tries to pretend he wasn’t staring, but it’s a futile effort. He can’t say he minds, though. Not when it means Tony walks over to him and unceremoniously drops himself into the chair across from him.

His mouth forms a familiar smirk, and he says, “You seem to have a staring problem, Rogers.”

Suddenly, Steve is nineteen again, falling hopelessly in love with the boy in his introductory chemistry class. It felt sort of like fate at first when they were paired together for the final project, and Steve remembers thinking that his chances were shot to hell when Tony sat down next to him and said those exact words. He never was any good at being discreet.

Back then, for that first time, all he could manage was a stuttered apology in response. But eventually it became their thing. Something just for them that no one else could ever understand. When Steve would watch him from across the room at parties, because he knew how much Tony loved having his eyes on him, and Tony would saunter over with that same smirk and those same words, there was only ever one reply.

“Guess I just really like what I see,” Steve says, and Tony’s face splits into a grin that matches Steve’s own. He’s still beautiful, even if it’s different now. Less softness to his appearance and more defined edges and sharp lines, but heart stoppingly beautiful nonetheless. He doesn’t quite say as much, but he does comment, “You do look good, by the way. Different, but good.”

Tony’s smile softens into another familiar one. It’s his smile for compliments, when he’s thinking self-deprecating thoughts that he won’t voice. Instead he’ll turn the attention back around, shifting the spotlight.

“So do you. The good part, but not really the different part.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair, contemplating if not looking different contributes to the good or not. He should look different somehow, shouldn’t he? After two and a half years not seeing each other in person and what feels like a lifetime’s worth of heartbreak in between then and now, he should look as changed as he feels. As changed as Tony looks now, like he’s someone new entirely. He’s pretty sure the t-shirt he’s wearing now is one he owned back then.

“Thanks,” Steve says anyway, for lack of anything better.

Just before it has the chance to fall into awkward silence, Tony says, “I didn’t know you were in New York these days. I would’ve called or something if I’d known.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Would you have?”

“I don’t know, maybe. I would’ve thought about it, at least. You know, stalked you online, found your number, dialed and hung up a few times.”

Steve laughs, fiddling with the straw wrapper from earlier to give himself something to look at other than Tony. “I moved back last year. Thought about calling, but I figured you were busy. Didn’t want to waste your time.”

It’s only a partial truth. He did think about calling when he came to Brooklyn after his year-long internship in London ended, but he didn’t want to know what Tony would say if he did. If he would have some sort of transparent excuse to avoid seeing him or if it would be an outright rejection.

“I would’ve made time for you,” Tony says, so painfully sincere that Steve has to look up again to meet his eyes.

He wonders if Tony is thinking of that last fight, if it’s a purposeful or coincidental reference to some of what Steve said. It was by far the worst fight they’d ever had, all over the phone with an ocean between them and so many things that Steve still wishes he could take back. Accusations flew on both sides until the entire thing was blown so completely out of proportion, yet impossible to reel back in. He should have just hung up the phone before it went that far. Before he could tell Tony that he always felt unimportant compared to everything else in his life, which was sometimes true but entirely unfair. Before Tony could say that Steve talked about Peggy in the same way he used to talk about him, and he didn’t have to finish the thought for Steve to understand the implication.

“Are we talking about it?” Steve asks.

Tony shrugs, feigning casual, but just the corner of his lip is between his teeth in that way that means he’s nervous and trying to hide it. “I guess that depends on what this is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we said back then that maybe it was just bad timing. You were in London, and I was in Boston until graduation, and it was always going to be a bit of a mess, but there was always that someday chance, right? So maybe this is someday, and we talk about it, and try to get it right this time,” Tony says. “Or maybe that was just something we said and didn’t mean, and I ask you about your life, and you ask about mine, and we talk and laugh and pretend that we’re friends again for the next half hour or so before we go our separate ways.”

It’s an easy choice, really. If there’s one thing that Steve’s sure of, it’s that it’s always been him and always will be.

“I don’t want to go separate ways,” Steve says. “The first time was hard enough, and I never really moved on. I got better, but I don’t think I’ve been more than just fine in a long time.”

Tony nods slowly, “I kept thinking you would call, you know. Back then. I thought you would call and tell me that it was a mistake and it would be okay again, but you never did. Although, I guess I could’ve called, too.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“For the same reason as you, probably. I couldn’t risk it if you didn’t want me again. Couldn’t risk getting back together just to break up again, either. We weren’t exactly the poster children for making long distance work.”

“We were terrible at it, weren’t we?”

Tony’s smile is tinged with the pain of the past. “It’s kind of funny because I remember thinking that it might be a good thing for us when you told me about London. Can’t get sick of somebody if they’re not always around.”

“You thought I would get sick of you? You never told me that.”

“Why would I?” Tony laughs. “Just put all my insecurities on display like that? Come on, Steve, that doesn’t sound like me, does it?”

Steve laughs with him briefly, “No, but I could’ve told you back then that it wasn’t possible. Told you that I wanted you around all the time and I missed you every second you were gone. I might’ve even stayed if you had told me. I was thinking about it, you know? I almost turned the internship down. Probably would’ve if you’d asked even once for me not to go.”

“It was your career. I never would’ve asked you to give that up for me.”

“There would have been something else. Another job somewhere closer to you.”

“I still wouldn’t have asked,” Tony says. “And I would have told you to go if you’d said you were staying.”

Steve knows that, which is why they never talked about it much before he left. Tony pretended to be happy for him, and Steve pretended to be happy for himself, when really it already felt like the beginning of the end. A year apart is longer than it seems, and it didn’t take more than a few months to realize it.

“I never…” Steve starts, trailing off when he doesn’t quite know how to finish the sentence. “There was never anyone else. Not while we were together, and never with Peggy.”

“I know. I knew back then, too, that you were never that kind of person. Jealousy’s just a real bitch sometimes.”

“There’s really not been anyone since, either,” Steve adds, and Tony’s mouth quirks into a half smile. “I mean, a couple of people here and there, but nothing like what we were.”

“There’s not a whole lot out there like what we were, is there?”

Steve smiles, leaning back in his chair, “No, there’s really not. But I do remember reading a rumor that you got engaged.”

Tony groans, and it’s so much like he used to sound when he was nine pages deep into a ten page essay at three in the morning that Steve has to laugh.

“Don’t you dare laugh. That rumor haunts me, Steven,” Tony says, belied by a grin that he seemingly can’t control. “Do you know how I found out about my supposed engagement? When my mother called and asked why I hadn’t told her I was planning on proposing.”

“So I’m still the only person you’ve ever proposed to,” Steve teases, just for the way he knows Tony will get indignant about it.

“How many times do I have to tell you that one didn’t count?”

“You were on one knee, you asked a question, and you had a ring. All the boxes are checked, sweetheart.”

“It was a blue raspberry ring pop, and you ate it,” Tony argues. “Not to mention that I actually asked you to marry me someday in the distant future. That’s not a proposal.”

Steve laughs again, thinking about that day in the middle of their living room, just a few weeks before Steve got the call that would take him to London and change everything. It was almost like a joke, and for anyone else it would have been. Not for them, though, because Steve remembers the look in Tony’s eyes when he dropped down in front of him, spur of the moment and impulsive like almost everything was back then. He remembers how it still felt like a promise, even if it wasn’t the real thing.

“But I said yes, which I think technically means we’re still engaged.”

“Absolutely not,” Tony scoffs. “It’s going to be a production when we get engaged. Elaborate and planned and romantic as hell.”

“When, huh?” Steve grins.

Tony’s cheeks pinken a touch, but he doesn’t take it back. He reaches for Steve’s hand on the table. “Yeah, when. Is that alright with you?”

Steve threads their fingers together, holding on tight. “That’s alright with me.”

#stevetony #stony #superhusbands #my writing #my fic #prompt fill

[littlemissnoname13]

Wisps of Smoke (Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!reader) - Part 5

Summary: y/n and Draco find themselves drawn to an abandoned classroom every night

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader ft. Theo Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini

Warnings: Excessive smoking, mature language and themes, smut labeled as ⚜️, 18+ content, reader discretion is advised, also Draco is kinda soft in this one. Just sayin.

A/n: Ik this was supposed to be the final part but I wanted to wrap things up properly. The last part will be dedicated to the ball itself.

A massive thank you to everyone that has read WOS. Your feedback makes me so fkn happy. I love you all sm.

Word count: 3700

Link to Part one, two, three, and four if you haven’t read them already.

My other stories are over here. And you can join my tag list here.

As always, Smoking is injurious to health y’all.

24th December

Home was just the way you’d remembered it. 

From the Goldchild Ivy covering the white colored walls and the stepping stones leading all the way to the main entrance to the way your parents kept nagging you about your “future” with Adrian Pucey.

“You still haven’t told me what kind of dress you’d like to wear to the ball.” Your mum reminded you after taking a small sip from her wine glass. 

“I don’t know mother.” You sighed,stabbing repeatedly at the sautéed mushroom on your plate. “Can’t I wear something I already own? Like the blue one I wore last year.”

“Well, what is Adrian wearing? May I suggest some colour coordinating?” 

“I really don’t know mother.” You coughed. 

“Well, why don't you ask him?”

“I can't.” You mumbled dropping your fork on your plate. The loud clanging sound earned you an eyebrow raise from your otherwise quiet father. 

“Why not?”

“We broke—we aren’t seeing each other anymore.” You said quietly before quickly standing up and dismissing yourself from the dining table before your parents could ask you a thousand questions.

As you walked away from the table and towards the balcony, you could still hear your parents calling after you while simultaneously speculating about just what you may have done to scare Adrian away. 

You weren’t going to tell them about Draco because you weren’t even sure what to tell them.

I broke up with Adrian because I’m sleeping with Draco Malfoy.

Yes, the one that is getting engaged soon. 

No we’re not together.

I may or may not have developed feelings for him.

Yes, it is inconvenient because I have no idea how he feels. 

Did I mention he is getting engaged? 

You tugged on the sleeves of your sweater to warm your hands up as you stared up at the surprisingly clear night sky splattered with only a few clouds and shimmering stars. 

You took it upon yourself to start counting the stars to distract yourself from thinking about Draco again.

Unbeknownst to you, Draco was standing on the balcony of his room trying not to think of you too. 

The only difference for him was that the sky was a little less cloudy where he lived and he wasn’t going to bother counting stars. 

“Happy Christmas Draco.” You whispered to yourself,staring at the shiny emerald ring on your finger. 

“Happy Christmas Y/n.” Draco mumbled into the night air as he fidgeted with your amethyst ring. 

~~~~~~~~~~

25th December

It was a surprisingly quiet Christmas Morning at the Y/l/n household. 

Your parents were still fast asleep when you walked towards the kitchen to fix yourself a cup of coffee. 

It was probably because your parents hadn’t quite processed your break up with Adrian and had spent their night discussing it.

Seeing it was Christmas, you decided to put a dash of white chocolate and whipped cream in your cup of caffeinated goodness in order to feel a bit more festive.

You were feeling anything but festive. 

There was a kind of dread crushing your insides when you thought about the ball. 

You’d have to watch him dance with her and kiss her lips at midnight. 

Fuck, you’d have to congratulate him after he slipped a ring onto her perfectly manicured finger. 

Just when you were about to take a sip of your drink, you heard a knock on your door. 

You frowned and walked towards the door because it was way too early on in the morning for anyone to come over. 

When you yanked the door open, you saw him of all people, standing on the other side of the door with his white blond hair messier than usual. 

He was wearing one of his rare genuine smiles that showed his pearly whites making you feel wobbly in the knees. 

“Draco—What are you doing here?”

“Happy Christmas to you too.” He said with the smile still fixed on his lips. “Tell me y/l/n is this how you greet all of your houseguests?”

“How rude of me.” You muttered to yourself still befuddled as you stepped back to let him in. “Come in, sit down. Cup of tea?”

“I’m actually in a bit of a hurry.” He said as he fidgeted with his blazer pocket. “Just came to drop off something—ugh hold this.” 

He placed a pack of cigarettes in the palm of your hand before fumbling with his pocket again. 

“Ahh. There we go.” He retrieved a lilac colored box from his pocket and brought it back to its normal size before handing it to you.

“What’s this?” 

“What does it look like y/n?”

“But—But I haven't even gotten you anythi—”

Before you could finish your sentence, he leaned in, tenderly pressing lips against yours. 

The softness of his lips made the heaviness you were feeling on your shoulders fade away as you faded into him—only him and the way he held you firmly around the waist as he suckled on your bottom lip.

“Thank you.”  You whispered burying your face into his chest, trying to inhale a scent of his cologne. “Thank you.”  

When Draco left, you ran up to your room and opened the lilac box to find a blush coloured slip dress folded neatly with a note on top of it written in his neat handwriting.

~~~~

Dear Y/n

I really am sorry about what happened to your old silk dress but I just couldn’t help myself. 

I hope you’ll understand.

I also hope I get to see you wear this one someday.  

Yours,

D.L.M

~~~~~~~~~~~

26 December 

The day after Christmas, the boys decided to do a little cleanup. 

Quidditch and house memorabilia, novelty artefacts they no longer cared enough for and items of emotional value. 

The boys wanted a fresh start. 

A clean break.

A clean slate. 

Theo and Blaise were done with their cleaning so they were now at the Manor helping Draco who was surprisingly not very convinced about the whole “fresh start” ordeal. 

“Remember this?” Theo chuckled, clearing out all the books that covered Draco’s desk and using his wand to cast a quick spell that revealed carvings they’d made the summer before their second year.

“Oh?” Blaise gleefully raised his eyebrows walking towards Theo. “I’d forgotten about this.” 

Draco rolled his eyes and followed Blaise and the three boys stood around the table reading out everything they’d managed to carve out. 

There were some very unholy words, tally sticks and unfortunate looking doodles of Harry on the table.

“Theodore Nott was here.” Draco read out loud looking unimpressed.

“Read this one.” Theo chuckled pointing at a carving. “Daphne Greengrass + Blaise Zabini.”

“Hey! We were barely second years.” Blaise protested while his eyes kept scanning the table. 

As Blaise’s vigilant eyes trailed to the farthest corner of the table, a wicked grin started to form across his cheeks making Draco’s face turn pale. 

“Y/n Y/l/n.” Blaise read out loud smirking at Draco. “Well well Malfoy—From the second year?...Interesting.” 

“It was always obvious even though he expressed himself in questionable ways.” Theo shrugged. 

“What was obvious?” Draco quirked an eyebrow with a scowl on his face. 

“The fact that you were and are absolutely enamoured with y/n.” Theo rolled his eyes. “It has always been obvious to everyone but you. Back me up here Zabini.” 

Draco crossed his arms and looked at Blaise who just gave him an apologetic shrug. “I’m sorry but he’s right mate.”

“I am not enamoured with y/n.” 

“If you say so.” Blaise shrugged.

“And what if I were?” Draco spat, clearly irked by the condescending look on Blaise’s face.

“If you are, then I only have one question for you.” Blaise said with carefully selected words.

“And the question is?” 

Blaise went quiet for a brief second before looking at Draco, dead set in the eye.

“What is holding you back, Malfoy?” 

~~~~~~~~~~

27th December

Draco wondered what life decisions he’d taken to find himself seated at a murky little pub with Astoria reclining against his shoulders—sipping on Butterbeer. 

Pansy, Theo and Blaise were taking shots next to him and you were awkwardly seated right across the table next to Adrian fucking Pucey. 

What was he doing here anyway? Who even invited him? 

Even though he’d overheard you telling Pansy that Adrian was there only because of your parents nagging you, seeing you seated together bothered him nonetheless. 

Draco wasn’t even meaning to eavesdrop on your conversation with Adrian but he just couldn’t help but divert all his attention to your sweet voice and the way your lips moved. 

You were telling Adrian about the sweet shop next door and Draco’s lips involuntarily twitched and curved upwards when he noticed just how excited you were about sweets.

It was like you softened him—made him vulnerable. And the whole feeling terrified him.

Between smoking his fifth cigarette, occasionally chatting with Astoria and looking at you from the corner of his eye, one rather simple thought encircled Draco’s mind. 

Why didn’t he knock Pucey off his broom when he had the chance to?

~~~~~~~~~

28th December

Lightning crashed. Thunder clapped.

Fat drops of rain started to fall on the enormous glass window in Draco’s bedroom. 

You placed your finger on the glass as you watched the infinite droplets race all the way to the bottom of the window.

The howling winds brought in the scent of wet grass and sent the dark curtains flying in all different directions.

You took in the smell of fresh rain and sighed sinking blissfully into his embrace.

Lucius and Narcissa were away, preparing for the upcoming ball and Draco had owled you asking to meet. 

And so, both of you were now sitting on the windowsill in his room that was much larger than the one in the abandoned classroom. 

In fact, it was so spacious that it served as his own personal reading nook—complete with a velvety throw blanket and some cushions. 

His hands held open a book and you let yourself get comfortable between his long limbs, still counting raindrops on the window. 

“What are you doing?” He asked looking towards you and away from the worn out pages of his book. 

“I’m watching the raindrops race each other.” You said with your eyes still fixed on the glass. “infinite little droplets.”

“It's just rain.” He shrugged as his eyes went back to his book. “Quite mundane if you ask me.”

Sure rain was mundane. 

But this rain felt different. It sent you into a state of melancholia. 

You couldn’t dare to tell him but those infinite droplets resembled the amount of times you’d wanted to tell him that you loved him. 

Even though you couldn’t find the courage to tell him, it was like the look in your eyes gave it all away.

It made his features soften as he slowly shifted and got up from the nook to fully open the window.

You shielded yourself as cold drops of rain started to hit your face. “What in the actual fuck?” 

“Shut up and follow me.” He said as he climbed out of the window and onto the ledge.

“Are you mental?” 

“Just do as I say.” He said helping you onto the ledge. 

Both of you laughed hysterically as the rain seeped through your clothes as you sat on the ledge with your bare feet dangling in the air. 

One wrong move and both of you could fall to our deaths. But there came an adrenaline rush with the risk of it all. 

He pushed away the hair sticking to your face and brought your face close to his before pressing his rain soaked lips to yours. 

Theo was right. 

He was fucking enamoured.

~~~~~~⚜️~~~~~~~~

After coming back inside, you walked into his ensuite to fix your ruined hair and cast a quick drying charm to your clothes before heading home.

You had barely managed to pick at the tangles in your wet hair when an equally soaked Draco walked up behind you—clothes sticking to his toned body and hair sticking to his face. 

“Draco. Sorry for hogging the mirror. I thought I’d be done sooner but these tangles are—hmmm.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind you and pressed his cold lips against the base of your neck.

Even though your hair was entangled and unruly, you looked bewitching to him.

Especially the way the thin and drenched fabric of your seafoam colored dress draped your body—transparent and accentuating all your curves. 

He just couldn’t help himself from unzipping your dress while he admired the sight of your dress slowly leaving your body in the mirror in front of you both. 

“Draco?” You whispered as you watched his lips move their way from your neck to your shoulders. His hands gently gripping and massaging your breasts. 

“Yes?” He whispered into your hair as he began nipping on your earlobe—his hands never leaving your breasts. 

You wanted to tell him that you were in love with him but the words just refused to leave your lips. 

“I—I missed you so much.” You said instead as you watched the corners of his mouth twitch. 

He didn’t say a word back.

Hips lips were too occupied with sucking love bites against your skin. 

He didn’t need to tell you that he missed you too. The deep reddish purple markings on your body said it all. 

Draco intertwined his fingers around yours and placed your palms flat against the marble basin in front of you. 

Your dainty fingers brought out the verdant tones of the emerald ring and Draco couldn’t help but admire his family heirloom on you. 

He slowly moved his hands up your arms and let them brush against your bare back—trailing lower and lower till he was barely touching your soaking wet cunt.

“You like it when I touch you here?” He murmured pushing one of his fingers inside for a fleeting second. 

“Hmmm.” You moaned gripping tightly onto the basin and pushing your hips backwards to get more. 

Draco brought his hand to your arse and struck once causing you to hiss through your teeth. 

“Words darling—use your words.”

“Yes….” You whimpered, opening your eyes to stare into the reflection again. There was a kind of unrestrained hunger in his eyes that only made you want him more. 

“Good girl...so fucking perfect..so beautiful.” 

He reached out and wrapped his left hand around your throat and brought your face close to him while the pad of his right thumb rubbed steady circles on your throbbing clit. 

He loved that you were always so wet and ready for him. 

“Draco..I want you inside me..Please..” 

He could have spent hours on end just teasing you with his fingers and tongue if he could. There was just something about you that just made him want to take his time to worship you—to ruin you. 

But time was not on his side and the reflection in front of him was making him increasingly impatient so he did not tease you any further. He simply unbuckled his trousers and pushed his cock where it belonged. 

“Fuck...yes Draco..”

A whimper let your lips at the sudden push and your knuckles turned pale as you gripped tightly onto the marble basin. 

“Look at you…” He murmured against your shoulder as he stared ahead into the mirror—his cock pounding in and out of you. “Taking my cock like such a good girl.” 

He let go of your throat and used his hands to hold your hips firmly in place as he fucked you mercilessly. 

Every time you two had fucked before this, Draco had constantly reminded himself to be a little gentle with you—but today, he wanted to wreck you.

He wanted you to scream his name in a bittersweet mix of pure pleasure and pain as he fucked you relentlessly.

“More...Draco...oh..fuck…yes.” 

Beads of tears started to slip out of your eyes and you started to squirm—clenching him inside of you as your started to feel your orgasm approach. 

“Don’t.” He growled digging his nails into the flesh at your hips. “Don’t fucking come just yet.” 

You winced when he slipped himself out before carrying you back to his room where he sat down at the edge of the bed—positioning you on his lap with your legs on either side as he slipped back into you. 

Draco let you adjust to the new position for a few seconds as you gripped his shoulders as you moved your hips, slowly riding his cock. 

“My perfect little slut.” He sighed cupping your face in his hands as you continued to move against him. 

After letting you ride him for a little longer, he gripped your hips and started to pound into you making your tits bounce up and down. 

“Feels so good Draco—feels so fucking good. Oh god yes.”

With one hand on your arse and his mouth attached to your nipple Draco kept thrusting into you till the room was filled with the sound of your screams mixed with the sound of his skin slapping against yours and the sound rain splattering against the window glass. 

“Fuck y/n...your cunt is so perfect, you take me so fucking good..god.” 

“Harder…”

“So good when you clench me in like that... fuck y/n..I need to fucking fill you up…”

“Draco please..don’t fucking stop...oh..I’m so close..”

You always submitted to him so easily, he enjoyed the control he had over you.

But your sweet moans, the way your lips moved when you sighed his name was enough to make him weak for you. 

You were completely oblivious to the power you held over him. 

He loved you.

And he wanted to say the words out loud over and over again. 

“I love—I love being inside you..I have missed you so much” He said instead. 

“Draco I’m—I’m fucking cumming.” You whined as he continued to move his hips.

“Let go. Fucking cum y/n. Cum with me.”

You let your head fall against his shoulders and dug your nails into his biceps as you succumbed to your orgasm.

He soon followed, painting your walls with his release as he murmured sweet nothings into your skin. 

You held each other close as you both recovered from your highs and and when he eventually fell asleep you whispered into his ear. 

I’ll be thinking of you too Malfoy.

~~~~~~~~~

29th December 

Once glimpse of the calendar and all the feelings you had shoved into a deep dark part of your mind trickled out in the form of tears.

Silent tears.

The kind of tears you cry when the silence of the night gets unbearable.

The kind where you suppress the sound of your wail and hopelessly try and mute any kind of sniffle by pressing your face hard into the pillow because you don’t want to wake anyone up. 

Silent tears are the most painful of tears when mixed with the sound of the clock ticking. 

For some bizarre reason, every second gets more prolonged than the other.

You had tried to hold it together for days. You tried to pretend like Draco’s engagement didn’t bother you. 

But it did. 

You turned your head on your very damp pillow and eyed the pack of smokes on your night stand. Draco had left when he came to drop off your present. 

On an impulse, You stepped out of your bed as your trembling fingers reached for the 25 pack of expensive looking cigarettes. 

The second you opened the box, the slight scent of nicotine wafted up your nose and you slowly placed a cigarette at the corner of your chapped and dry lips and lit it up. 

Like always, you coughed and wheezed the second you inhaled. 

You hated how it felt. 

But you loved how close you suddenly felt to Draco.

In a twisted kind of way, It felt like you were submerged in his presence again. 

Your lips tasted like they had been kissed by him again.

The more you inhaled the better it felt.

In a fucked up kind of way, The word felt right again.  

And slowly, the night faded into morning as one cigarette turned into another. 

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

30th December 

Pansy had flooed to your hour the minute she received a letter last night in your drunken handwriting talking about how amazing cigarettes were and how pretty Astoria was.

With a mug filled to the brim with tea in between her hands, she rested her back against the armchair in your room, tilting her head to get a better look at you. 

Your face was pressed sideways against the pillow and she could tell you’d been crying by the dried mascara stains on your cheeks. 

A half smoked cigarette was pressed into the makeshift ashtray that you’d made out of your bedside table making Pansy wonder if she’d ever seen you this miserable. 

Your duvet was barely covering your shoulders and just as Pansy was standing up to pull them up, your bedroom door creaked open. 

“I just wanted to drop something off.” Draco  mumbled almost like he was talking to himself as he took a step into the room—hand in his blazer pocket.

Pansy didn't say a word as she watched Draco with her eyes narrowed. She observantly watched him pull out a tiny box from his pocket and mumble a spell to restore it to its original size.

“What are those?” 

“Assorted sweets.” He said softly, with his gaze not leaving your sleeping form once. “She wouldn’t stop talking about exploding bonbons the other night at the pub.” 

Pansy heaved out a sigh as she watched Draco place the box of sweets on your bedside table before reaching to gently push away your hair from your face. 

“Don’t get me wrong Draco, but you really shouldn’t be here right now.” 

His weary eyes flickered as he turned to look questioningly at Pansy—retreating his hand from your face. 

“You are getting engaged tomorrow—look at her, look at the state she is in. She won’t say it out loud but It’s clearly killing her.” 

As much as Draco hated agreeing with Pansy, she was right. 

Even while asleep, you looked worn out and restless with your eyebrows scrunched up indicating tension.

He wasn’t even going to get himself started on the cigarettes and wine bottles on your night stand.

“Will you let her know that I came by?” He looked half expectantly at Pansy who gave him an apologetic smile in return. “Never mind I guess.” 

As Draco reluctantly backed away from you,  Blaise’s words lingered in his mind. 

What is holding you back Malfoy?

(To be continued...)

~~~~~~

Part 6: Final Chapter Preview:

The Malfoy Manor was being decorated and every little detail of the decor screamed nothing but aristocratic, pristine, perfect.

It was like everything was just a futile attempt to conceal the dullness, loneliness and the fucked up pure blood traditions hiding deep within the manor walls.

Much like his so-called arrangement with Astoria that seemed so perfect on paper.

Pure blood families, rich family history, old money.

What could go wrong right?..

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

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#harry potter #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco smut #draco x reader smut #draco x slytherin!reader

[katsumox]

"i want you"

starring: bakugou k.

w/c: 0.9k

summary: During a night at his parent's acreage during your finally collegiate summer vacation, Katsuki finally works up the nerve to do something he's been preparing to do for a long time.

He hates to say it, but Katsuki didn’t grow up with his future with others in mind. It was always get both an academic and sports scholarship, then go to an Ivy League school, get a degree, and become the best lawyer from both his hometown and the state. Or continue his football career towards something more. Regardless, the thought process of Bakugou Katsuki consisted of him, himself, and only him. That was until you turned his world upside down, a fellow student at Harvard, an English major hoping to change children's lives through books and literature. You were unselfish, understanding, and you let him have space, the one thing he desperately needed at times, but were always there when he was ready. Going close to four years strong, and even moving in together at the three year mark, brings him to where he is right now, today.

There’s so much happening right now. You in the milkmaid dress he got you, which he waited to give you for the past few weeks. He knew you’d wear it, and here you are, twirling in an open field, little streams and brooks babbling near your feet in the rich soil. The faint smell of southern lavender and honeysuckle in the wind, the wind that is blowing eastward. The birds chirping and the buzz of summer butterflies. The red and purple sky, which slowly turning royal, no, midnight blue, and you again. Just you, he thinks, as he watches you lick the nectar off of a honeysuckle stem, caught up in the sweet joys of late summer.

There’s a reason you’re out here, why Katsuki cannot say a word to you without faltering, without second guessing or stuttering. A reason why he brought that old picnic basket from high school, full of your favorite snacks and the dinky little stereo you bought from that antique shop down the way by the university the both of you attend, though he supposes it’s barely an antique if it was made in the nineties. He sits, thinking all of this through, taking in your appearance as you sit on a rock by the brook, toes nearly brushing the water, eyes full of serenity and peace. He thinks of the lump in his pocket, the reason you both are here, a black box with a hard earned diamond ring in it.

“Katsuki,” your melodic voice breaks him out of his stupor as you search his eyes, “did ya hear me, love? I said it’s getting dark and I want to light a lantern and dance with you.” He nods, silently heading to the wooden table, picking up the lantern and stereo and mumbling as he walks back, “‘M gonna pick the songs, though. I’ve got a thing I want to do.” Lighting the lantern, being careful not to jostle it, he puts on the mix he had prepared, eyebrows furrowed, steeling himself, preparing for the inevitable. Soft notes of music play as he gingerly pulls you to him, and as he sways you, he looks up.

The stars are finally out now, he thinks. It’s close to time. A song ends, you don’t really know which one, because you’re more focused on the fact that you’re here, with the love of your life, at his parents acreage, dancing at midnight. Katsuki lets you go, almost reluctantly, as he goes to quiet the music, but not to turn it off entirely. He breathes in slowly, shaking his head in a yes motion, as you watch him questioningly, waiting for him to turn back around. He finally does, and begins to speak, raspy voice wavering with emotion.

“I ain’t good with words and shit, but Y/N, you’re the love of my life. You’ve loved me when I couldn’t do it myself, you stuck around through everything, through hell and back, all for me, and I can't thank you enough. You’re everything to me. Ya look at me like I put the stars up in the damn sky, knowing damn well I ain’t do shit to deserve that,” he breaks, tears streaming down a choked sob leaving his throat as he takes out the black box.

Steeling himself again and he gets on one knee, opening the box, he rasps, “I want to be here, with you, for everything, through everything, to help you achieve more than your dreams, like you’ve done with me. Y/N, will you marry me?”

You sob, incessantly nodding, unable to speak, and with shaking hands, grab his face and wipe at his tears. He takes your hand, large and warm but wavering, and shakily puts the ring on your finger as you cry, switching your glance between your hand and Katsuki’s tearfilled eyes.

“Yes, Katsuki. Yes, a million times, yes,” you finally giggle, tears staining your face as you kiss him over and over, and then twice after that.

“There’s one more song I want to dance with you to,” he breathes, voice breaking slightly as tears spill over. And then, like it was fated, your eyes widen as you hear the opening notes to I Want You, by Mitski. You grab his hands and sob, looking in his vermillion eyes, then the sky, then the ring, then him again, seeing him smile, tears glistening all the while. You sing the notes while he mumbles them, truly breaking down, as you realized why he picked this song last, the pre chorus picking up, saying all the words that he wants you to hear from him forever, those being “‘Cause I just need a quiet place where I can scream how I love you.”

taglist:

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