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mrs-weasley-reid · 2 months ago

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AUGUST REC FICS

Hello, my sweets!! Here I am, once again, for yet another month of reading and living vicariously through our one and only Reader. I haven't read much this past month, and most of these sweet authors are people I follow (and shockingly, some are my mutuals, too !!! I'm too much of a fangirl to believe it's true). Give these gorgeous, spectacular writers a ton of love. They all deserve it so much, considering they're blessing us with such amazing work for free. Like. Comment. Reblog. The equivalent of a five-star review

Like always, I will be going based on what I've read recently and not by the date the fic was posted. Reminder to please respect these writers. Some contents are 18+. MINORS should not be interacting in any way.

— ✿ — ✿ ✿ — ✿ ✿ ✿

Spencer Reid

✿ a muted shade of green by @dalamjisung ↳ the flow of this fic was so smooth my jaw dropped down on the floor as i read through (writer's first reid fic, and it was chef's kiss)

✿ hearts aligned by @raekensluver ↳ OMG this one had me melting. roommate spencer is such a dream

✿ sick love by @misserabella ↳ guilty pleasure unlocked. a wonderful reading session filled with interesting discoveries

✿ behind closed doors by @incognit0slut ↳ i loved binging this so much !!! was a giggling, kicking mess while reading this one; and it has four parts ! we're so spoiled

✿ kiss it better by @nereidprinc3ss ↳ tmi but was having an episode of mild anxiety attack, and this saved me in the middle of the night, giggling myself to sleep, so thank you for such amazing work x

✿ dead of night & nightvisions by @cxrrodedcoffin ↳ lol i read this at work and had to fight battles not to make any facial signs that i was consuming kinky content. the second part was another level, i was cackling like a witch

✿ much ado about nothing: act iii, scene v & act iv, scene i by @incognit0slut ↳ act iii, scene v left me speechless, reader didn't fold and i took that as a win. act iv, scene i played with my emotions lol

✿ just a number by @reidsdaisies ↳ i became a stand-up actress while reading this because it's overwhelmingly spicy and filled with tension i had to provide comedic relief for myself

✿ untittled req response by @mandarinmoons ↳ no because i saw my reblog post of this and i immediately snorted and then laughed some more after rereading it. pipe cleaner will never not be funny to me

✿ poison me, i'm fine by @gghostwriter ↳ no because this one needs more attention ?????????????? i loved reading this so much i was so tempted to pull my heart out and ship it to pau, show how crumpled it was after reading

✿ my best colors for your portrait & my face in every place by @none-of-your-bullshit ↳ i wasn't lying when i said august is for angst and i immediately gobbled this up after seeing it. the way my chest was so tight but also smiling because the writing style is amazing got me looking like a lunatic

✿ cute, outraged genius by @lavenderspence ↳ tina got me laughing like a gremlin. it's so adorable she made me fall in love with spencer all over again

✿ another untitled req response by @mandarinmoons ↳ sorry, sweethearts, ket just couldn't be bothered with titles lmao. secret lover reader is my favorite lover, sooooo you all will enjoy this cutie patootie creation

✿ one single thread of gold by @gghostwriter ↳ you'll overdose of sweetness. it's so adorable and a great way to feel giggly about spencer reid.

✿ for the fear of falling apart | part one by @pathologicalreid ↳ i haven't read the rest of the parts but mhmmm this was DELISH. well-written creation that made me show emotions while reading at work. my coworkers asked me my my eyes were so wide and i think that says a lot at how great this is

✿ second to none by @raekensluver ↳ ooooo this one got my blood boiling in a good way

✿ untitled work by @sincerelybubbles ↳ adorable stuff make me melt especially when it's a spencer one

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Aaron Hotchner

✦ darling, in any life series by @hotchfiles ↳ at this point are we even surprise im including yet another series form lari here ? anywayyy, i love me some old flame trope

✦ picket fence dream by @hotchfiles ↳ this is a new part from the choiceless hope series and i gobbled it up. i was screaming when i read this

✦ tells by @ssahotchnerr ↳ first thing i read in the morning, and i sobbed from the overwhelming sweetness

✦ silver by @solardrop ↳ okay but this was so adorable ??? plus im def one of those gals who tried to throw herself on him, maybe even catapult myself

✦ sympathy for the devil by @hotchfiles ↳ nosebleed. spice level is not as high as i make it seem but the writing really got me sweating. just read it, you'll understand what i mean

✦ spending time with you by @lavenderspence ↳ no because TINA CALLED ME OUT WITHOUT CALLING ME OUT. i was slightly offended. the gasp i gasped was so loud asdkfnkg. but it is adorable, go read it pls pls

✦ doctor, love by @none-of-your-bullshit ↳ i love when reader slaps the character with some reality like a seasoned raw steak.

sorry, not sorry if this post is filled with lari. I reread her works religiously, so here are my favorites from hers truly:

✦ help me hold onto you ↳ oh, this is like crack for me, and i always come crawling back no matter how hard i try to stay sober

✦ half asleep takin' chances ↳ still waiting for future aaron somewhere out there

✦ choices ↳ gonna be honest with everyone this one makes me wanna deck aaron hotchner and then deck reader for folding so easily and also deck myself because im no better than reader

✦ quis ut deus? & daniel 12:1 ↳ my fave series from lari and i will never not reread them over and over and over and over again because i love it so much idk what's the appeal on me but i love it and i want this framed and buried with me even if it's unfinished

I haven't had a lot of time to visit the good ole "for you" feed in a while, so I apologize for missing all the amazing work every writer has put out this month. I will make it up to you, I promise! And if you'd like, you can send me works or mention me so I can read certain creations that you deem noteworthy for the next rec fic month!

love lots, ker x

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loggiepj · 6 months ago

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illicit affairs

Summary: What happens if you fall in love with a married woman? Nothing good, of course.

"If you ever dare tell him or anyone about us, I swear to God I will tell everyone how good of a liar you are."

YOU DIDN'T intend to fall in love with a married person.

It was the last thing on your mind. You'd never put yourself in such a dangerous position — destroying what happy couples had. If only the old you could see you right now, she would have thrown you off a cliff in an instant.

She was the wife of your Classic Literature professor — Wanda.

She had the most mesmerizing greenest eyes you had ever seen, the kind you want to just spend hours or even days just staring into. Long brown hair that would cascade down to her shoulders and back, the kind that falls into place like dominoes as she'd run her fingers through her hair, as if she never needed a comb in her life.

You and Wanda first met when Vision, your professor and her loving husband, asked you to drop the book reviews he instructed the class to do for the day.

It was just a simple meeting. No out of the ordinary. There were few exchanges of smiles between you and Wanda as you handed the papers to Vision. Then you left.

The second meeting was somewhat rather different. You knew you should focus at what Vision was saying at that moment but your eyes could only betray you as they darted towards the revealing creamy legs of the woman sitting in front of Vision's desk.

You didn't mean to ogle. But you swore Wanda raise her skirt rather intentionally to reveal more when she noticed you looking.

The third meeting was the awaited moment, the actual beginning of the book where the protagonist meets the love of her life.

Vision was nowhere to be found. And in his desk, sitting on his chair was his wife.

"Vision left for a meeting," Wanda said as she stood, making her way towards you.

"Good afternoon, Miss Stark."

"Oh, please, call me Wanda."

Wanda approached you, her perfume lingering in your nose as she took the papers from your hands.

"Y/n, right?"

You nodded back.

There was an awkward silence as you both just stood there silently, a weird tension you couldn't comprehend. Or maybe you were only imagining things.

Like a curious child, you didn't know what to do. Wanda seemed like she was having fun on the other hand as she watched you struggle. Her eyes finally took mercy as she began peering through the papers.

"Mmmm, Anna Karenina. What do you think of it?"

Your brows furrowed deeper. "About the book?"

Wanda only nodded as she stepped closer, making you swallow a nervous gulp.

"Well, I think it's one of the greatest works of literature ever written."

She stopped. "And do you think it's appropriate? What she did with Vronsky appropriate?"

"No . . . She's married and—"

"Even when it was an arranged marriage to a man beyond her years whom she didn't love?" Wanda interrupted.

"Even so, I don't think it's still right. Although I couldn't blame Anna if I were in her shoes and I lived in the 1800s, the heart doesn't follow the laws in marriage. And the law doesn't apply to love."

There was a small pause. Wanda's eyes met yours and you had never seen it in the deepest and darkest shades of green before.

"You're an interesting student, Y/n, you know that right?"

"Interesting how, ma'am?"

A smirk only grew on her face. But before she could reply, Vision suddenly entered the room.

"Oh, Y/n, I'm sorry, I got caught up in an unexpected meeting." He took the papers from his wife as he left a kiss on her cheek. You said it was okay as you bid goodbye to both, to Wanda rather hesitantly.

"VISION'S looking for a nanny," Kate suddenly announced when she arrived at the table. You and your friends were in the cafeteria for lunch. "He's basically convincing his students to apply, handing out flyers. Don't you think it's a bit unprofessional?"

You didn't think it was unprofessional. You thought it was an opportunity, a blessing in disguise. But of course, you didn't tell your friends that.

SO, THERE you were sitting in Stark's two-storey house playing video games with their twins on the living room carpet. You couldn't complain choosing this work over some part time job you had at a local comic book store, considering Vision was paying you more.

You thought it was a consensus agreement between the two of them though but when you met Wanda's widened eyes later that night upon seeing you with her kids, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing, you had thought wrong.

Wanda and Vision had a fight that night too, about why Vision hired one of his students for the job. It wasn't your business, but you'd probably be fired from the job after that night.

When you had already tucked the boys in their bed, the house had now gone completely silent. You quietly prepared yourself to get home. Hurriedly leaving the house you shouldn't have come in the first place, you accidentally bumped into Wanda in the hallway.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't looking—"

"No, I should be the one who's sorry. Forgive me, Y/n. You shouldn't have heard all the things you probably heard earlier. I was just not expecting him to actually do it."

"It's okay, ma'am. I don't really mind. And I needed the money anyway." Technically, it wasn't a lie.

There was a short moment of silence before you smiled and bid goodbye. Wanda stopped you the very second you stepped out the door.

"What time will you be here tomorrow?" she asked.

You swallowed as she walked closer. "I. . . I don't remember Professor mention to babysit tomorrow."

"Well, I will be out for business the whole day tomorrow and the twins need picking up from the school. But if you're busy, I can just ask—"

"—No, it's completely fine, I can do it—"

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose," she said as she suddenly arranged the collar of your shirt. The feather like touch of her fingertips against your skin made you almost internally combust. "I don't want you missing out on your studies."

Your cheeks must have gone red the entire time as you eagerly shook your head.

"It's surely not a problem, Miss Stark."

"If you say so. I'll see you tomorrow then. And please . . . call me Wanda."

Little did you know you'd start calling her other endearing names two weeks later.

YOU STARTED becoming close to Wanda the following days when you're babysitting their twins. With interesting conversations at night whenever she and her husband got home, it was a miracle how you'd never seem to run out of topics. And in the University as well, what with her regular presence in Vision's office, it would appear as though you and Wanda couldn't handle to spend some time apart from each other.

Your friends had teased you about taking the babysitter job, of course. But they were more concerned about Vision, truly unaware that your intentions were elsewhere, that a certain brunette has plagued your mind for days, that you were so head over heels over your professor's wife.

No, they had no idea about the nights you two had spent together talking, or the prolonged touches that ignited the wick of most carnal desires in your head, or the way she slurred your name behind you as she taught you how to bake the cookies the twins liked. Of how you could almost taste her. No, they certainly had no idea.

But of course, falling in love with a married woman wasn't an easy task.

You weren't supposed to be entering Vision's office without knocking. But being used to be always welcomed in there, you didn't expect Vision to be preoccupied with his wife.

There they were kissing passionately, Wanda on top of his desk while Vision in front of her. Your sight immediately darkened. You hurriedly apologized and left the room.

Vision talked to you the next day about what happened, and how sorry he was for not being professional. He was talking about trying to resolve the cruel woes of a married life but you had already stopped listening when she mentioned Wanda started what happened yesterday.

You asked to take absence from the babysitting job for a while, saying that you needed to focus on the upcoming midterms. Vision said he understood, never questioning how it was more important than the exams.

Fortunately, you didn't have to go to Vision's office anymore. Ever since the incident, Vision never instructed you to.

That was why you had more free time on a Saturday night, making you agree to your friend's invite to another college party. Plus, you needed to move on from something that wasn't even there in the first place.

You met some girl that night too. But you were too drunk to remember the name. She was kissing you against the wall in the dark alley, or even more as you heard your belt being unbuckled.

"Stop," you muttered with a weak voice.

But the girl didn't seem to hear you. She might have taken it as a moan as she hastily fastened the way she was devouring you that moment.

You pulled away from her face as you tried to say it louder. "I can't do this here—"

And then there was a blur before you as the girl was suddenly shoved away. You didn't get to see what happened next because darkness had already enveloped your surroundings.

YOU WOKE up in a nearby motel wearing clothes you knew weren't yours. You were starting to hyperventilate, millions of thoughts running through your head, scolding your past self that this was what's going to happen when you get drunk.

It only stopped when Wanda entered the room.

"Miss Stark?"

"What the hell do you think you're doing making out with strangers in dark alleyways?"

You hadn't seen her mad before. Of course, you had heard her yelling during her arguments with Vision, but never towards you.

"You could have been—... you could have been—"

Suddenly, memories from last night quickly swarmed back into your head. How someone was about to take you out in public.

"I'm so sorry," you said back so softly, holding back tears. "I . . . I didn't mean to get too much drunk."

Wanda let out a sigh, calming herself down, as she carefully approached you then sat on the corner of the bed.

When you started crying, you felt her hand slithered around yours, squeezing you with assurance and safety you didn't know you needed.

"Hey, it's okay now," she said. "You're alright now. And that's what matters."

Then Wanda leaned forward, engulfing you into a hug as you cried into her chest. She rubbed circles soothingly on your back, murmuring sweet nothings as if she was more than just your professor's wife.

"You're safe now. I'm here. I'll always be here."

You didn't know what she meant by that, but through the days that followed, you finally understood.

You started to return as the twins' babysitter a week after the incident. Wanda insisted she'd been having a hard time finding someone to replace you. So you finally relented and caved in.

And one night, one lonely sensual night, it all made sense.

Wanda just got home from work. Vision was away for a professors retreat and wouldn't be back until the following day.

"In a hurry to get rid of me?" Wanda chuckled as she poured herself a glass of white wine. You had just tucked the kids in their bed.

You apologized. "Sorry, my friends are just having this party and I . . . Well, they set me up to meet with someone there—"

You jumped when you heard glass breaking. Upon seeing the source, how red looked so much darker unto the white kitchen counter, your feet instinctively darted towards the bathroom to get the first aid kit.

When you got back into the kitchen carrying the bag, Wanda finally spoke. "It's fine, Y/n. It's just a scratch—"

"No way that's just a scratch." You pulled her hand regardless and started to tend to it like a professional. You had been trained to do this back in highschool as a volunteer. Good thing it wasn't an open wound. You gently rolled the gauze around her hand after you had finished dabbing some alcohol on the wound, unaware that Wanda has never let her eyes leave you.

"There. All done." You smiled then looked at Wanda, finally noticing the distance between the two of you was too inexistent. You swallowed a nervous lump, not realizing you were still holding her injured hand. You let go rather reluctantly and you swore you could see the disappointment on her face.

"Y/n," Wanda called softly.

"Yes?" Avoiding her gaze, you busied yourself cleaning the mess.

"I don't think I can do this anymore."

"What do you mean?"

And as you lifted your head to look at her, Wanda was already starting to lean forward. Suddenly, you couldn't breathe, rendering you immobile as the gap between the two of you was reduced to an inch.

"I'm about to do something stupid," Wanda said. "But please, don't push me away or tell me you don't want the same thing."

Then she kissed you. And of course, you didn't push her away. The kiss was just a soft one, so feather like that you thought maybe you were only dreaming it. And you didn't want it to end. But before you could respond to the kiss, Wanda had abruptly pulled away.

"I'm sorry," Wanda said as she turned her back at you to leave.

Suddenly you forgot why you were there, that Wanda was a married woman and that you shouldn't even be doing what you were going to do. You followed Wanda to tell her you felt the same, that you had wanted her all this time but she had already gone upstairs and locked herself in the bedroom.

YOU HADN'T heard from Wanda since. Vision said they had found another babysitter so you could just relax for the meantime before the upcoming exams. But relaxing was the last thing on your mind at the moment.

Determined to get another taste, you knocked into Wanda's door one night. And fortunately, she was the one who opened it.

"Why would you do that when you're gonna avoid me afterwards?" you asked. Demanded, to be exact.

Wanda was surprised at your behavior but she maintained her stance.

"Who's at the door, dear?" Vision's voice came through the hallway.

"No one, Vis. Just a prank," Wanda answered as she kept her eyes on you.

You couldn't believe what you just heard, but maybe it was all a prank, just some stupid thing that should have never happened. You opened your mouth to speak, to tell her that it didn't mean anything to you so it would hurt her too. But you hesitated. It was rather easy to pretend nothing happened that night rather than convince someone that you would reciprocate the advances presented to you.

When you heard nearing footsteps coming from the house, probably from Vision, you hurriedly left.

Little did you know what awaited you later that night when you come back into your dorm room. Putting on your pajamas as you get yourself ready for bed, you didn't expect someone to knock at a very late hour. You were determined to fight with whoever it was outside the door because you were still filled with rage caused by a certain brunette.

It was Wanda, looking worried and anxious.

"Forgive me" was all she said as she quickly barged through the door and pushed herself against you. The frustration you could have fired back immediately dissipated, as if the touch of her skin against yours was a drug that could cure any negative feelings, any hatred you had for the woman.

You did more than just kiss that night. You performed a sacred dance against your sheets, worshipping her, drinking her as if you had been suffering from drought for ages. It surprised you how eager and deprived Wanda was as she pushed your head between her exposed thighs, begging you to touch her. And you were very compliant.

It didn't stop from there.

The blazed nights continued through the days that followed, each day met with unsatiated hunger. It was either in your dorm room or in the guest bedroom of her house, the house she shared with Vision, the guy she's married to.

You weren't an idiot. You knew what you were. You were that exact person you had despised your entire life as you watched news and heard gossips about married life, never expecting how hard it really was now that you're wearing the shoes of the mistress.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Wanda asked one night as she noticed you stop responding back to her desperate kisses, her straddling on top of your hips as she craved for another round.

"What are we, Wanda?"

Wanda didn't answer for a moment. She took ahold of her ragged breathing, calmed herself down as she cupped your face to look up at her.

Pressing your foreheads together, she whispered as if she was scared anyone could hear her confession. "I don't know. I just know that I want to be here with you."

And that was good enough for you. For a while, anyway.

YOU AND Wanda spent more time than the usual nights of fulfilled desires. You had conversations about what your future would look like after murmuring tiny i love yous post bliss from your love making. Whenever you finished your classes, you'd immediately go to the Stark's house and spend time with Wanda in the kitchen as she prepared for dinner. If you two weren't that careful enough, either Tom or Billy would caught you stealing kisses in the kitchen counter. You became a regular to their household, unbeknownst to Vision, who thought you only needed the babysitting job more now that you're graduating.

Your friends started to worry about you when they finally found out about the affair. They thought it was overrated and wrong, falling in love with a married person. You were a believer of that too. And it made you hate yourself as you looked at yourself in the mirror, as you listened to Vision's classes and saw how enthusiastic he still was, not knowing you were worshipping her wife on your knees.

You weren't stupid. You had attempted to discuss it with Wanda, even one time you thought you had begged.

"End it with him please," you asked, as she rode the silicone toy between your legs. "Be with me. Be mine, Wanda, and only mine."

Wanda gasped as she eagerly nodded, looking at your eyes with hooded ones as her fingers dug through the back of your scalp and shoulder.

"Yes?"

"Yes, Y/n, I'm yours and only yours."

And you thought she really was and that she would finally end it. But maybe it was just the wonderful effects of orgasmic pleasure that made her think you two would be more than just an illicit affair.

THEN IT happened. The one thing that finally extinguished the guilt you had been carrying for months. The one thing you thought would finally save you and Wanda.

Vision had been kissing another professor from the university rather passionately when you entered his office one unexpected afternoon. He begged and begged for you not to tell her wife about it, pleading you he'd tell her eventually and that he just needed some time.

But that was not what you did.

The first thing you did when you saw Wanda was told her about what Vision did. Desperation and selfishness could do such a thing.

You thought she'd finally wake up and get some sense that staying in that marriage would only worsen the consequences. But you had thought wrong when you woke up in your bedroom and Wanda wasn't there beside you.

Through the days that followed, Wanda had never replied to any of your messages or calls. When you went to knock on their door, nobody would answer.

Is that it?

Is that how she ends things?

When you saw Vision in class the next day, it appeared as if nothing happened, as if he didn't just commit a sinful act like his wife did. Vision was still wearing his wedding ring as if nothing happened.

So it killed you to ask about Wanda.

"She's okay, Y/n," Vision said hurriedly, as if he wanted to get rid of you and the conversation. "What happened shouldn't have happened. And we've agreed to save our marriage for the sake of our kids. And sorry, but we no longer need a babysitter. I hope you understand we need privacy at the moment."

You thought whether Vision finally found out about you and Wanda's affair or maybe he was just angry at you for telling her about his own affair.

BUT YOU were too adamant to find out. So when it was their twins' birthday, where you remembered how Wanda wanted just a house celebration for their day, you bought a nice gift for the twins and went to their house without an invitation.

Luckily, the house was open to guests that you found yourself invisible as you went inside the house.

You could see Wanda from a distance, chatting with some guests as she drank a glass of white wine in her hand, the hand that still wore her wedding ring. You knew you should be mad but you missed the woman so much that you only wished to touch her and kiss her, to feel her against you.

When yours and Wanda's eyes met, time slowed down. As if this moment was it — the start of another chapter or the ending of the book that was your love affair.

"What are you doing here?" was what greeted you in the kitchen as you busied yourself getting some refreshments. You knew she'd excuse herself and follow you. You could feel her breath at the back of your neck, wondering if she was eye fucking you in the revealing dress you decided to wear for her that day.

"That's something I didn't expect coming out of your mouth after weeks of not seeing and talking to each other."

You faced her this time and drank a gulp from your cup, suddenly feeling emboldened.

Wanda could only sneer as if in disgust but you mistook it as challenged.

"You're not invited. I think you should just leave."

You frowned. "Why? After all that I've done for you and your twins. I'm sure they'd be happy I'm here on their special day—"

"I need you to leave, Y/n."

"Why so hostile? I haven't done anything wrong."

Wanda paused for a moment as she let some guests pass their way.

Then you got serious. "I thought you'd end it with him."

This time she glared at you, her nostrils flaring. "Do you think I'm that stupid, Y/n?"

"I never thought of it—"

"Do you think I'd believe some kid over my good of a husband that he could do such a thing towards me?"

And your whole world just crumbled. "What?"

"Vision told me everything. You're so good, so desperate to have me that you would concoct such a creative story."

"I didn't make it up. It was true. He was cheating—"

"Shut your mouth," she hissed, turning her head to see if you two were still alone.

"I can't believe you won't believe me," you said aloud, more to yourself than directed at her.

Wanda exhaled as she took a step back from you. "Besides the point, I'm trying to save our marriage by putting a stop into this nonsense—"

"Nonsense?" you asked incredulously. "You literally had your tongue and fingers inside me not two weeks ago."

Wanda flared again and cornered you, her fingers wrapping the front of your dress. "You better shut your mouth or else—"

"Or else what?"

You thought you'd broken her resolve as she stared at you. You thought the look on her eyes was hunger and longing. You thought she'd kiss you like she always did. But you had thought wrong. You'd thought wrong all this time.

"You might not believe me," you spat on her face. "But does Vision believe how innocent and faithful you were of a wife?"

"You wouldn't dare." Her grip tightened around you and you wished you hadn't worn that dress.

You were almost crying, but you stopped yourself as you fought back. You didn't want her to see how weak you were.

"What if I might?"

"If you ever dare tell him or anyone about us," Wanda went on, her face only an inch or less from your face, lips barely touching, "I swear to God I will tell everyone how good of a liar you are."

You searched her eyes if she meant it. If she was only bluffing. And you wished she were.

But the hatred and distaste in her tongue proved otherwise.

"You would be expelled," she whispered. "Legal actions would be taken against you, for creating such false gossip between married couple. No one would hire you with your records. And no one," she paused, her thumb tracing your lower lip, "no one would trust you. I'm sure you don't want that, right?"

You hadn't seen this side of Wanda. And maybe this was what your friends were warning you all along, that married couples weren't meant to be dealt with.

The woman you loved so much turned into someone you wouldn't thought would ever do something cruel to you.

"You wouldn't," you said but you didn't sound sure anymore.

Wanda finally let go and stepped back from you. "I'd do anything for my family."

And you wished the ground would just swallow you whole. Fortunately, that ground was in some sort of a guest interrupting Wanda as she asked for some paprika spice.

Before Wanda left to tend to the guest, she whispered so low that only you could hear, "Don't do anything stupid I wouldn't do."

But you weren't listening anymore. All became white noise as you looked at your surroundings. You were frozen on the spot, suddenly realizing you didn't belong there at all.

And what little of dignity left inside you fuelled your legs and feet to move on their own accord. You left their house silently, promising yourself you'd never ever dare set foot unto that house again as long as you lived.

YOU DELETED her number, your photos together, any memories that the two of you ever shared. You requested to transfer to another dorm just to eradicate the nights you spent with Wanda in your old room. Your friends were helpful. If it weren't for them, you wouldn't have lasted another two months until you left that shithole of a place.

You never dared to be alone with Vision, nor cared when you still saw him and that professor locking tongues together. You just needed to leave. To forget that you just got your heart broken by someone you shouldn't have been having affairs in the first place.

And that day finally came. It was graduation day and you never thought Wanda would come but she was there, in all her glory.

"Don't worry, Y/n, we won't let her come near you," Kate promised. But the fear inside you only worsened. What if she'd tell everyone in the university how much of a slut you were?

You couldn't believe you could ever love someone so empty as your eyes finally met. Time didn't slow down this time.

You were the first to look away as it already pained you how stupid you were.

When the ceremony was over, you immediately left the venue as if scared Wanda could still make a scene if she wanted to.

Something inside you urged to go to the comfort room to get changed first before heading back to your dorm. So you did just that.

And when you were already leaving through the front doors after changing, there Wanda was with her back at you already waiting outside, her neck craned around her searching for something. As if she was looking for you.

You could have just done it. You could have just walked outside and talked to her.

But you couldn't, not after what she did.

You stepped back from the door and went to another exit instead, vowing to yourself never to come back.

Author's Note: Not sure I'd be writing a part two for this because I just want to read angsty stuff nowadays 😂😂😂😭😭😭

#wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda #elizabeth olsen #wanda angst #cheating

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hotjaneaustenmenpoll · 8 months ago

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Third Place Poll

Propaganda...

Colonel Brandon (1995):

Alan Rickman has the sexiest voice. Just listen to him reading poetry to Marianne at the end to witness how hot he is.

Alan Rickman simply embodies the truth of Col. Brandon in a way that no one else every could. It's the perfect merging of actor and role. He brings the perfect combination of honor, decency, sensitivity and passion. He is the ultimate mensch.

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Brandon propaganda in which even the film's director agrees that Brandon is sexy.

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More Brandon propaganda! This photo could only be published in black and white because it would have been too powerful in color (the original color version is currently being used to provide electricity for a medium sized town in Devon. It's THAT powerful).

The brim of the hat falling over his eye. The casual lean. The hunting rifle slung across his leg. The puppy bestie. The fact you know he could row that boat while you watch and wish you were the boat.

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From Emma Thompson's diaries which she kept while they were shooting Sense & Sensibility. Emma Thompson said vote Colonel Brandon.

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The man has just heard her sing for a minute and he’s positively awestruck!

also adding his adorable adorable smile just bc i can.

Mr Knightley (2009):

Johnny Lee Miller as Knightley is JUST SO. I mean the way he says "if I loved you less I might be able to talk about it more" IS JUUUST. The dance scene. The tentative shy smiles. The fact you can see in his eyes the entire time " I am completely in love with this woman. She'll never love me back BUT I DO NOT CARE I'LL LOVE HER FROM A DISTANCE ANYWAY" IS JUUUUUUST

We need to appreciate Mr Knightley more for both his snark and for those soft eyes just so full of love for Emma

GIF by dearemma

I was just going to send in the actual dance but the little panic he has when Emma says she knows his secret is just soo charming. There was some thread on twitter a few years ago about how a romcom man's most important quality is knowing how to look at a woman and JLM is just the master of it in this Emma

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I really feel like the pictures say it all. He stands there, head tilted to one side. He is listening to you. His posture is relaxed. His gaze open, frank, candid. He's not trying at all. He just is.And that's why he is Knightley.

GIF by night-unfurls-its-splendour

Some propaganda, not just for Jonny Lee Miller, but the general interpretation of 09 Knightley. I have some excerpts here from my review of the 09 adaptation:

What I really think is great about the 2009 interpretation of Mr. Knightley is what an easy and comforting presence he is, without being apologetic when he scolds Emma. I think this is communicated especially well by how often we are actually shown Mr. Knightley taking his almost-daily walks to Hartfield, how smoothly he comes and goes, and how happy Emma is every time she sees him coming up the path (usually, just at the perfect moment when she needs something to put her back to rights.)

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Here is Emma, feeling lonely after Miss Taylor's wedding. And in the background, walking up to Hartfield--there's Knightley. He's always been there for her, and he always will be.

And also this Mr. Knightley is as understated as ever, but I wanna highlight this outfit and why I love it: This is Knightley’s first appearance in the series and it’s the perfect establishing shot that shows the viewer everything they need to know about Emma and Knightley’s relationship and how it has always been. He sort of materializes, out of focus in the background, but Emma immediately knows he’s there. And to accentuate how much Knightley is part of her home and scenery, his clothes (similar shades of pale tan, white and minty green to the wall behind him) almost camouflage him and make him seem at one with the moulding of her home.

Additionally, Jonny Lee Miller captures Knightley’s playful qualities, and his exasperation is so endearing

GIF by christophernolan

GIF by sashajames

GIF by christophernolan

I can’t be the only one tickled by this Knightley’s frustration with Emma! JLM FTW!

Jonny Lee Miller is mesmerizing in any role he inhabits. It’s 2009 Knightly all the way.

no but can you actually go vote for mr knightley he was FOUNDATIONAL for 16 year old me my favourite portrayal of my favourite austen man cannot fall at this hurdle!!!

He is my ultimate Austen Dream Man, I'm with him until the end. Honestly this adaptation is my very favorite of them all (P&P 1995 is a VERY close second) because it made me fall in love with Emma as a story? Honestly no other adaptation or indeed even my reading of the book made me love it quite as much. My crush on JLM goes back to 1995 and I do think he is one of the better actors of his generation - his range alone is just impeccable. The fact that he can go from Sick Boy to Mr. Knightley to Sherlock to Jordan Chase is really something. Of all the actors I know, his range is the most impressive. But i love how bright and sunny this adaptation is. The colors, it is as vibrant as Emma should be! The Kate Beckinsale Emma is dark and terrifying to me, not at all suitable an adaptation. I like the Paltrow Emma a lot, but it's got the same issue the 2005 P&P has for me -- it's just too short. This is tonally just right, and the casting is lovely, and JLM is just at his dashing best. His face is so expressive, he is so capable of communicating so much without saying a word. His open jealousy of Frank Churchill is delightful to watch. His face when Emma tells him his secret is out at the ball! JLM is maybe the most underrated actor of his generation and I LOVE that he has been multiple Austen heroes. I maintain that in a future adaptation of Pride & Prejudice, an older JLM would make an EXCELLENT Mr. Bennet. He would convey the right amount of grumpy but fond beautifully.

Look. Do people realize JLM hates wearing period clothing AND hates dancing? And yet in Emma he's sashaying around in pink jackets looking amazing and is THAT convincing? That's called BRILLIANT ACTING!!

A tiny bit of Mr Knightley 2009 propaganda but I love that they put in that bit from the book where he looks like he's going to kiss Emma's hand when he's saying goodbye but then he hesitates and doesn't and I just...it's such a tiny detail but conveys so much!

GIF by myforeverworldofmovie

It’s the only Emma adaptation that really hits the romance notes well. Knightley’s crowning moment of awesome really feels like it (when he rescues Harriet from humiliation) and his subsequent dancing with Emma does make you feel a shift in their relations. Love this adaptation. - This Knightley and Emma in particular are equals. They quarrel, not because he’s telling her off, but because they can have an argument because they know each other, trust each other and care about each others opinions, and there is never a sense of domination of one over the other. This adds so much fire to the romance, and it’s so unusual for a romance of that era (or even one written today!!). - Emma is rich, clever and beautiful and as powerful as a woman of her age and situation could be at the time and she married Knightley for no other reason but because he’s her best friend and his company for the rest of her life will enrich her. - He even leaves his house to move in with her!

GIF by elinordash

#hotjaneaustenmenpoll #third place poll #colonel brandon #mr knightley #emma 2009 #sense and sensibility 1995 #Alan rickman #jonny lee miller

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adobe-outdesign · 8 days ago

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Review shiny eevee and evolutions?

For sake of ease, we're going to group these by how good their shinies are, starting with:

The "I don't think you tried at all" shame corner (Glaceon, Leafeon, and Flareon): Doing all of these at once because I have the same issue with all of them: they are WAY too similar to the original colors, leading to incredibly boring and underwhelming shinies.

Glaceon: Just ever-so-slightly lighter than the original; the sprites had a tiny bit more contrast but not much. I would recommend making the whole thing white, which is a nice snowy color; sure, it does kind of share shiny Eevee's palette then but Jolteon and Espeon are both green so it probably doesn't matter.

Leafeon: The body is a tad darker, but good luck noticing. You could make the body a light green for something monotone, you could make the leaves brown or red, something autumn-y; literally just anything else would be better.

Flareon: Flareon the least bad of this group and mostly suffers from 3D conversion (its old sprites were more red while the old shiny sprites were more of a brownish gold). Easiest fix would just be to make the shiny a purer yellow like the above edit, or you could swing the opposite and do a deep red instead.

The "fine, but why?" corner (Jolteon and Espeon): Both of these ones are nice and high-contrast, and are very easy to spot compared to the non-shiny versions. The only issue with them is that the greens here feel very... random? They're not bad, but they don't feel natural.

Espeon: I like that it looks a bit like a space alien, but that really has nothing to do with the actual 'mon itself. For a Pokemon associated with the sun, you'd think they'd go for a yellow with a blue gem or something like the above (would tie it into Umbreon's shiny). At the very least, the green they chose feels way too dark for Espeon; a nice light, minty shade would've helped a lot, especially with a yellow gem or something. Also, I dislike that it has three different accent colors (red, purple, and blue).

Jolteon: The shade of green here works a lot better than the one used for Espeon, but it's an odd choice for an electric-type; once again, not bad, just odd. I would've just gone with a cyan-ish blue, which is still high-contrast but much more on theme.

The "actually good shinies" corner (Vaporeon, Eevee, Umbreon, and Sylveon): These ones are all bangers; lots of contrast and with color choices that feel natural for each.

Vaporeon: While this one borders on not having much to do with the theme, purple is at least close to blue hue-wise, so while it's not necessarily very water-y it doesn't feel like it's completely coming out of the left field either.

Eevee: Eevee's whole thing is that it's supposed to be plain and normal, so neutral colors are a must. The very light cream they used here stands out compared to the darker brown originally used but still works with the concept. Using a cream instead of pure white also allows it to keep a tiny bit of color. (I'm not posting an image of the g-max here, but I think it uses the same cream so no issues there.)

Sylveon: Sylveon doesn't actually change its hues; instead, it opts to swap its secondary and tertiary colors. This can be a risky gamble, but it works here because there was so much more pink in the original design compared to blue, so the change still really stands out. Because it uses the original palette in different proportions, it also doesn't run the risk of the colors feeling too random. Also it's trans, so that's a bonus.

Umbreon: Umbreon's shiny is a banger and you don't need me to tell you that. Swapping accent colors can be risky because it's not always that noticeable (see that Lunatone review I did a few days ago), but the yellow was such a prominent and bold part of the design that the blue swap stands out, helped by the fact that it pops really nicely against the black body is a nice "nighttime" color. Swapping the eyes to yellow further helps differentiate it, and it keeps the kind of "eerie" look that the original's red eyes invoked.

Overall: Vaporeon, Eevee, Sylveon, and Umbreon have great shinies. Espeon and Jolteon have okay shinies that are high-contrast but don't feel very natural. Glaceon, Leafeon, and Flareon barely change and are just plain boring.

#eevee #eeveelutions #glaceon #leafeon #flareon #espeon #jolteon #vaporeon #sylveon #umbreon #pokemon #shiny pokemon #pokemon reviews

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keeksandgigz · 3 months ago

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Chapter 2: Au coeur des ténèbres

Part 2 of Words are Futile Devices- A Steddie x Reader Call Me By Your Name AU

Summary: As some weird feelings come to light, you begin questioning your initial opinion of your two guests

cw: some suggestive content, reader's vivid smutty imagination. reader is a bit less of a cunt, brief description of insecurities (nothing too detailed), slut shaming if you squint, kissing, a lot of internal angst, overall a lot of words I'm sorry

word count: 3k

author's notes: I'm so sorry for the wait, but its here!!!

Heart of Darkness laid in your lap as you sat in your father’s study. Eddie typed away at his desk, while Steve looked at some old archeology dissertations from past students. You were often forced to sit in and listen to the guest’s nonsensical jumble of words and phrases in an attempt to sound smart.

You had been scolded by your father twice for trying to interact with Eddie, who seemed laser- focused on the parchment in front of him, the metallic clicking of the keys of the typewriter in the faint background of the stuffy old study. Giovanna had come by twice with a pitcher full of apricot juice from the garden, which the two had gulped down without giving much thought. You saw the way the juice dribbled down Eddie’s chin, how he lifted his thumb to clean off the mess, then wiped his finger on his black cutoff shirt and proceeded to continue typing. His fingers flexed and tensed in between typing, thick and sturdy as he stretched and massaged the palm of his hand with his ringed fingers.

Steve sat on the dark green couch, legs spread, his shorts riding up, up, up bunching at the crease between his thighs and his groin. One of his legs bounced as he reviewed case studies, artifact pictures, lip trapped in between his pearly teeth.

There wasn’t a whisper of a breeze, or a draft, but you shivered nonetheless. The two could’ve been patronizing and condescending, but that didn’t take away from the fact that you saw the way their skin, not yet tan from the sunlight, rippled with sweat at each whisper of a movement in the stuffy study. Steve’s leg bounced as he studied the pictures projected on the walls, his already short shorts riding up with each jump of his leg, exposing more and more of his thigh, you blushed.

This charged silence broke once Steve opened his mouth. He held up another glass full of apricot juice.

“What’s apricot in Italian again?” he asked, wiping remnants of juice from his chin.

“Albicocca” your father said, smiling. He went on a rant about the etymology of the word, which you really couldn’t care about. A fun little rehearsed bit he did every year, the students’ impressed faces beamed up the stuffy study.

“If I can beg your pardon, what you said is slightly wrong” it was Eddie. Surprise tinged your face in hearing him speak up. In the two days that you’ve known him his vocabulary was littered with grateful praises and quiet musings, here it had a slight tinge of pride.

“It’s uh— actually the Greek etymology for apricot comes from Latin. It’s praecoquum, then praecox, then precokia and then we get the Arab al- barquq— albicocca” he mused in a butchered italian, but all you could hear in his observations is just cock, cock, cock. He sounded nervous delivering his lecture, almost as if he was scared of getting kicked out for defying an authority of mind like your father.

Instead, he looked at him with an impressed smile, and Eddie blushed a bit. Steve delivered a friendly pat on the boy’s shoulder.

Not as lucky as many.

Later that day, when Steve stole your friends for a volleyball game on your lawn, you watched his sweaty body, clad in a blue swimsuit, shoulders flexing and shining in the early afternoon sunlight jump up and duck down along with the worn ball that keeps jumping between both sides of the net.

Eddie sat on the lawn, in the shade. His pearly complexion having acquired just the most undetectable sheen of red that threw the boy in a panicked frenzy earlier that morning. He was sorting through loose pages of what appears to be his manuscript.

“Why aren’t you playing instead of staring at me?” his head perked up from the typed up pages, and you could feel yourself heat up. Not even the sun could hide the tinge of pink that colored your cheeks.

“I could say the same thing about you” you stammered out, snippy and embarrassed.

All he could do was chuckle as he motioned his papers towards the book you had ignored sitting in your lap. “I like that book. Heart of Darkness? One of the few books I actually liked when I was in English Lit in high school” he smiled. A smile that seemed genuine, much different than the courteous smiles he had reserved for your mom and dad.

“And that was when the dinosaurs still roamed the Earth?” you curled your nose.

A sardonic laugh escaped the boy.

“Very funny. And how old are you again?” he scooted his butt closer to you, his loose papers now forgotten on the lawn. The proximity made you a bit nervous.

“Twnety-one” you breathed out “I wouldn’t give you any less than fifty- six” you nudged his shoulder and he laughed.

“Shouldn’t you be at some snooty college party right now? I dunno, traveling the world with some sorority sister?”

“And miss this gorgeous sight to behold?” your tone dripped of sarcasm as you pointed at Steve, mid jump into grabbing the ball.

Right as you said that Steve missed, ending up on the grass, a pained moan followed. Eddie isn’t given any time to answer you, stopping in his tracks and to run and pick up his friend to escort him where you were. You couldn’t care less about the physical ineptitude of your guest— if there wasn’t any blood or bones sticking out it wasn’t worth worrying.

“Pass me some water, please?” asked Eddie.. You complied, rolling your eyes as he began kneading the injured boy’s shoulder. He hissed at the first swipes of the long- haired boy’s hands— big and firm. You let down a short swallow.

“Steve you’re tight— you stressed?” Eddie asked, squeezing the juncture between the boy’s neck and shoulder.

“I’m fine Ed” he smiled up at the boy, but instead of moving, Eddie dug his fingers deeper into the golden flesh of the honey- eyed boy.

“Here, feel” he grabbed your hand and placed it on Steve’s warm shoulder— firm and freckled, still wet with sweat. “Isn’t he a bit tight?” Much to your shock you retreated your hand, but the feeling of the smoothness of his tan skin seemed to be encased in the fiber of the palm of your hand.

“Yeah, I guess” you muttered, going back to Heart of Darkness.

Dissatisfied with your curt and cold response, Eddie had your friend Chiara feel the back of the injured boy, whose fingers seemed to linger along Steve’s back for long, almost mapping every mole and mark to store in her mind for later. She was an artist, and an artist’s eye was never wrong.

Steve smiled at the girl, and in return she giggled. Once she left you closed the book in your lap once again.

“Careful, she’s gonna try to draw you naked” you teased Steve, whose eyes seemed to be glued on the way your friend scampered around the lawn.

“Like I’m complaining” he retorted with a cheeky smile, and that made you feel weird.

What did she have that you didn’t? Why didn’t he look at you like that?

You cursed the way you seemed to act too much like a grown up, the way you took yourself too seriously to even participate in a dumb volleyball game.

Maybe you should’ve played.

Taking your towel and your book with you, you made your way back into the house, almost stomping in protest, at the way the honey- eyed boy didn’t seem to spare you a cheeky smile or a wandering eye. Didn’t matter that they both seemed like two idiots who only cared about getting the experience from your father’s expertise, exploiting and squeezing the knowledge out of the overripe peach of his brain, which seemed to become less and less awake with every year that passed.

You disliked the way that Steve seemed to want to make a pass at each and every one of your friends, and them letting him. With his rude and pushy American ways of wanting to make everything his, his property, his Don John-ish manners that made him expect something from everyone he came into contact with.

You hated Eddie’s arrogance in his surveying and picking your brain, making the six year difference between you two seem like a chasm, with his snobbish knowledge of literally every book that sat on your bookcase. Fingers rubbing his stubbly, boyish chin as he examined each and every shelf, spine, title. He always seemed to have something to say with you, wanting to prove himself to the whole world, confirm that he wasn’t just some trailer trash who had finally made it out of the few acres of overpopulated land. You could not remotely fathom how those two were so close together, coming from such different backgrounds.

However, as you tried to silently beg for Steve and Eddie’s attention, that was seemingly anywhere else but on you, like an old, neglected dog, you seemed to realize that, in some twisted sort of way, you wanted to fall victim to their charm.

Like many of your friends did, much bolder, some older, and more confident than you had been, in the past years, not hesitating to pounce on your guests with hunger similar to a hyena. The hunger of a repressed teenage girl who had just reached adulthood, craving everything that came with it– even risque summer romances with men who had traveled around the sun for much longer than they had. Throwing their plump, glowing bodies on the dance floor around the sturdy necks of your father’s students. With every year that passed, you could not escape the vicious circle of your giggling friends, who competed over who would get to lure your guests into their greedy grasp first, and you’d all hear about it the morning after.

You’d heard about gorgeous but incredibly incapable men, well- endowed, but short, much older and more experienced. There was something about their stories, the lightheartedness in their laughs, as if playing with these men’s hearts and minds had become a game, that made you feel like a different person. Coming home and contemplating on leaving the communicating bathroom door open, so that your guest could catch you sleeping on your stomach without any shorts on, or adjusting your swimsuit at the pool right as they passed by to read on the lawn. You never brought yourself to act upon these contemplations, too scared of what your father might have thought of you, and rather, delighting yourself in tormenting your guests as a way to cope with a feeling of inadequacy that seemed to swell with each year that passed.

Ever since Steve and Eddie had arrived– young, attractive, and most peculiar thing of all, there were two of them– your friends could not stop arguing about which boy would have fallen in the arms of your friends. Anna had gushed about seeing Steve’s dick through his tiny, blue swimming shorts earlier that day during a game of volleyball, escalating into a conversation that hours later could not seem to leave your mind, as you sat on one of the lawn chairs of the balcony.

You had not entered your room, afraid your restlessness might have woken the two boys. Nursing a cigarette in between the intrusive thoughts of whether Anna was right. Had she already claimed her prize? A part of you stung at the thought that not even four days into their stay, your friends had already gotten their slimy hands on your guests. A different part had wanted it to be you to have received such attention from the honey- eyed boy. Would he have been attentive and careful? Or full of passion and bravado, much like how he’d presented himself to you since he’d arrived?

“This seat taken?” Steve had startled you. The irony.

You heard him let out a whiff of air, like a muted laugh “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He sat down on the wicker chair next to you, without waiting for your permission. He took in the still night air that had oftentimes brought you counsel, accompanied by the melody of the night cicadas.

“Can’t sleep?” he mused, playing with the woven wicker on the arm of the chair.

“Didn’t wanna wake you guys up” Your dry response was accompanied by a lazy drag off the half- finished cigarette. Steve reached an arm out in your direction, you took the hint.

“I was downstairs finishing some work for your dad, the jet lag still keeps me up” you watched his lips wrap around the cigarettes, right where your mouth had been just seconds before. Your breath hitched at the realization as he let out the smoke from his mouth, slow and deliberate.

“So, uh, you and Anna? I heard you guys had a thing going on” you passed him the ashtray on the small table next to you as he shook the ash off the cigarette and brought it back to his mouth.

He shook his head, “She’s your friend?” he asked, sardonically, turning away from you to look into the distant trees.

“Not really, rumors travel fast around here” you tried to keep your mouth shut, but something inside you just pushed you to intervene, to let him know that she was certainly not good for him. “And she also has a reputation,” you added, gulping.

He put out the cigarette in the ashtray, fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose and sat back on the wicker seat “Is that so?” A smirk adorned his face, almost as if he didn’t believe a word you were saying.

You nodded, heating up a bit at the way his legs spread and his shorts rode up his legs “She gets around” You avoided his gaze, looking at Giovanna downstairs in the garden, finishing up her last chores for the night.

“Never stopped me before” he retorted, shrugging. The sour look on your face only made his sly smile slice his face further.

“By the way your nose is curled up I’d say you’re jealous” he laughed, standing up. You heated up at the– very correct and very obvious– observation.

“I am not” you retorted, maybe a little bit more upset than you should’ve been at his dig, standing up abruptly.

“What is it then?” he inched closer to you. You could smell the remnants of the cigarette on his breath. You felt your eyes widen and your throat close up “You’re envious of your friends getting more attention than you? Am I supposed to feel bad for you because you feel inferior to them? Maybe if you stopped being a bitch to everyone that crossed your path you’d get laid too” With each stinging sentence the boy got closer and closer to you, his chest almost touching yours, and with each dig you swelled up with anger. Why was he treating you like this all of a sudden?

Deserved? Sure. You had been nothing but a raging cunt to him since his arrival, but his words seemed to intend to cut deeper than that.

However, instead of hurting you, his words only revved you even further, wanting most of all, to shut up his nonsensical attack against you.

You watched his heated expression as he stopped his ranting, leaning on the railing of your balcony.

“Well? Nothing to say for yourself?” he muttered, his voice much lower than his previous scolding. You couldn’t say anything, inside you were fighting demons you had only heard of from your friends. You were panting as if you had run a marathon, but to him, you were just a child throwing a tantrum.

He scoffed “Y’know what? Grow up” he laughed, before motioning to turn around. Something in your chest pulled you towards him. The need to become more like your friends, that had lied dormant as you had awaited to provocatively lure your guests into your room, had been nudged.

As Steve walked away heatedly, closing the door to his room, you imagined grabbing his shoulder with strength you didn’t know you had and spin him around before crashing his lips onto his.

Kissing him with a hunger that was only for you to satiate. Needing to feel yourself bloom out of a cage that you’d put yourself in because you took yourself too seriously. You imagined exploring his sturdy, tanned body.

As you got ready for bed, peeking your face into your guests’ room, where Steve had fallen asleep without changing out of his clothes. You imagined slipping your hands under his billowy shirt, as his hands gripped your waist so tightly that his fingers could have left marks in their wake. Slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt, feel the softness of the skin underneath, scratching it with his fingernails.

You thought about intentionally upsetting him, just to have him that close to you again. You thought about his reaction to your tongue making its way into his mouth, licking and tasting his lips, his gums, his tongue. Wanting him to have access to you, to look at you. To peek his head into your room to find you asleep on your stomach, wanting him to see your scrunched up face as you transcribed your music, leaning against a tree as you read. Swimming with your friends, but only staring at you, at the way the water would drip off your body, at the way you would look while suntanning.

A devious thought pervaded you as you imagined both of your guests fighting to have you. Fighting to look at you. Fighting for your attention.

You laid in bed, drunk on the vivid images of your body undulating in between the two boys, heated and needy like you’d never been before.

Thank you for reading!! Feedback is much appreciated <3

tagging: @littlexdeaths, @strangerstilinski, @aphrogeneias, @usergeta, @rebelfell, @ali-r3n, @thornsnvultures , @jamdoughnutmagician , @take-everything-you-can, @aol19 , @eddiesghxst , @myspacebrat , @xxbimbobunnyxx , @cryingglightningg , @lavendermunson , @freak-of-hawkins , @eddiesdaydream , @sidereustales

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delulu4anime · 14 days ago

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𝔚𝔢𝔩𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔗𝔬 𝔓𝔩𝔬𝔱 𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔶⇥ ʏᴇᴀɢᴇʀ’ꜱ ɢɪʀʟ

🪦ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ⇥ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱᴏʀ!ᴢᴇᴋᴇ ʏᴇᴀɢᴇʀ x ᴛᴀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

🪦ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀʀʏ ᴘᴀꜱꜱᴀɢᴇ⇥ ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜᴇʀ x ꜱᴛᴜᴅᴇɴᴛ

🪦ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴜʟᴏɢʏ⇥ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱᴏʀ ʏᴇᴀɢᴇʀ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴀ’ꜱ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʜᴇʟᴘꜰᴜʟ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜᴏᴜᴛ ʜɪꜱ ᴛᴇɴᴜʀᴇ ᴀᴛ ʟɪʙᴇʀɪᴏ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴛʏ ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏɴᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ. ʜᴇ’ᴅ ɢᴏ ᴀꜱ ꜰᴀʀ ᴀꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴀʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʜɪꜱ ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ.

🪦ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢꜱ⇥ ᴀᴜ, ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ (ɴɪɴᴇᴛᴇᴇɴ ʏᴇᴀʀ ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ. ᴢᴇᴋᴇ ɪꜱ ꜰᴏʀᴛʏ-ꜰɪᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ-ꜱɪx), ᴅᴏɢɢʏ, ᴏʀᴀʟ (ᴍ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ), ᴘɪᴠ, ᴏꜰꜰɪᴄᴇ ꜱᴇx, ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ꜱᴍᴏᴋɪɴɢ, ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx, ᴄʀᴇᴀᴍᴘɪᴇ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴀʙᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ.

🪦ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠᴏᴛɪᴏɴ⇥ 1.8ᴋ

🪦ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴇʀᴍᴏɴ⇥ 🔞ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴀᴠᴇʏᴀʀᴅ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅʟʏ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴅɪꜱᴛᴜʀʙᴇᴅ. ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏᴡ🔞-ɪ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ʀᴇᴡᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴀᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ɪ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ ʏᴇʟᴇɴᴀ ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀᴇᴅ ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ɪ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀᴏᴛ. ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ꜰɪᴠᴇ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴢᴇᴋᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜰɪx ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ ᴘᴀʀɪᴇᴛᴀʟ ɪꜱꜱᴜᴇꜱ. ᴀᴍ ɪ ʀɪɢʜᴛ? ᴀɴʏᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!

🪦ᴛʜᴇ ʜʏᴍɴꜱ⇥ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴀɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ, ɪ'ʟʟ ʟᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏᴡɴ/ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜱᴛɪᴄᴋ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ꜰɪɴᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ/ʙᴜᴛ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅ?/'ᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅ, ʙᴀʙʏ, ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ

Professor Yeager had been teaching at Liberio University in the history department for nearly nineteen years and in that time he swore that autumn was the best season in his opinion. It was a time that he could take his different lectures he had throughout the day out for some fresh air; it was so crips that when he inhaled a deep breath he felt rejuvenated. His hot coffee, that he usually took black, somehow tasted so much better during this time of year. The leaves around campus were changing from green to different shades of oranges and yellows. This was also the time for students to start preparing for exams that were practically around the corner; usually Professor Yeager had his TA, Yelena, handle reviews while he focused on getting the materials ready for the exams. However, this was the first year he was going to be without Yelena due to her graduating several months before. He was happy to hear Yelena would be joining him in the history department as a fellow colleague rather than a TA that following year; yet that didn't solve the dilemma of being down a good TA.

That was until you approached him with the application to become his TA around the same time Yelena was stepping down. He remembers seeing you in class and how you always seemed to be so fixated on every word that came from his mouth. It was no surprise when you passed his advanced class with flying colors. Professor Yeager knew having you as his TA would help him tremendously but he wasn't expecting you to be that helpful. It started with subtle touches when walking past one another in class or laughing well after office hours while you both graded papers. The little things like that led to kisses and him whispering how beautiful he thought you were. Which naturally led Professor Yeager to memorizing every scar, freckle, and stretch mark adorning your body.

Learning how to make your body bend and mewl just the way he likes. He didn't care that there was a nineteen year age gap between you because your soul was so aligned with his he swore you were his soulmate. Your relationship was to be kept a secret because it was against the rules for a professor and their TA to have any kind of relationship outside a professional one. You could've transferred to a different professor but the idea of you being anywhere but his side made Professor Yeager him see red. No matter how many times he told himself he wouldn't become possessive of you each time together he got more and more attached. He had told you so many times to not get attached to him because you had your entire life ahead of you. He was a forty-five year old divorcé with nothing but you to look forward to while you still had the world at your fingertips.

These were thoughts he didn't like to dwell too long on especially now that he was looking into those eyes he had become so fond of. Evening lecture had ended several hours before and with the cold no one wanted to stand outside his office waiting for the next student to leave so they could have their turn to speak to him during his office hours. His office door was closed and locked so there was no way either of you could be disturbed. He made sure the blinds were pulled down so no one could see what unholy transgressions were about to transpire. There was a record player in the corner of the room that played classical music every time he was in his office. It helped calm his mind when it seemed to run nonstop and he still had a long while to go before he was able to leave. It especially helps drown out the pretty noises he's able to pull from you.

"On your knees." Professor Yeager commanded and you didn't hesitate to do so. Your eyes on him as he ran a thumb over your jawline at the same time his index rested under your chin. He hummed with fondness at seeing his obedient TA in front of him like this. "I want you to undo my belt now."

You reach up and run your fingertips over the material of his belt; the brown, smooth leather would feel so good against your skin. Another time perhaps. Your hands unzipped his slacks and slowly pull them down until the fabric hits the floor. His boxer followed after and the way his cock sprung up made your mouth water. Knowing that you were the one who got him like this gave you such an ego boost. You didn’t even wait for his next command as you were already lolling your tongue out and run it up along the vein that almost ran from the base to the tip. Your lips wrap around his head and you hum at the taste of his pre-cum already leaking out. He lets out a groan as he closes his eyes.

His glasses slide down the bridge of his nose and he takes them off before tossing them on his desk. You look up at him as you slowly start to take more of him into your mouth. Inch by inch as you moved her tongue along him. He grunts as he reaches over to grab the pack in cigarettes on the edge of the table. He puts it between his lips as another grunt leaves his throat. Your steady pace and the way you moan around him feels heavenly. He grabs the lighter and manages to light the end despite how shaky his hands are. He tosses the lighter on his desk, with one hand moving to the back of your head and the other removing the cigarette from his lips; he tilts his head back and exhales the smoke.

"There's on two things that really calms me down after a stressful day. A cigarette. And this pretty.fucking.mouth." Professor Yeager grunted out as he bucked his hips with every word.

You gaged around him as your eyes started to water already with the way his cock went down your throat.

"Aww c'mon love don't you want to make your professor proud?" He said in a condescending tone and patted your cheek.

You whine around him as you keep your gaze on him. You blink the tears away as you start to bob your head up and down at a quicker pace. He takes drag after drag only to puff the smoke out like a train engine. It only proved that you were making him feel really good.

"Fuck, love." Professor Yeager moans out. The hand on the back of your head digging into your scalp which caused you to moan around him.

The vibration of your moans and that look in your eyes nearly sent him over the edge. He suddenly pulled away from you which caused you to whine. You tried to follow him but he grabbed your jaw and forced you to look up at him.

"The only place I cum tonight is in that pretty pussy. Now be a good girl for me and bend over my desk."

You practically teleported to his desk. Eager didn't even begin to cover how ready you were to be stuffed by him. You lay your hands flat against the glossy, walnut wood like he had instructed you to do so many times. The same u-shaped desk you had sat in front of for years as Professor Yeager reviewed different assignments with you. The same desk you sat behind as you helped him grade essays or exams. The same desk you were now bent over waiting to let him fuck you into the next lifetime. You feel him press against your ass as he leaned over you to put his cigarette out in the ashtray next to your hand and it sent a shiver down your spine.

Your head already spinning with the idea of his cock being inside you; something you could shamelessly admit to have thought about countless times throughout the day. You feel him reach around and undo your jeans. With one swift motion your jeans and panties were around your ankles. You let out a soft moan as you felt his lips kiss up your calf’s, your thighs, and then your lower back before he stands to his full heigh behind you.

"Such a good girl." Professor Yeager practically purred out.

You both moaned simultaneously when he suddenly slid inside of you. Despite taking him enough times to be use to it the stretch always seemed to catch you by surprise. You feel him grab your hips and slowly move in and out of you. You let out a soft moan that soon turned into something louder as he started to pick up the pace. Each thrust of his hips pushing you more into his desk. You shift and pull one of your legs out of your jeans so you can spread wider for him. He groans as he brings a hand down against your ass.

His pace only increasing and the sound of skin against skin filled the room along with the classical music. You grab desperately at the edge of his desk as you press your cheek against the surface. Your eyes closed as he slams his hips against you at the pace that was starting to make you see stars. Zeke's grey eyes focused on the way your ass collides with his hips with each thrust.

"Fuck, you are taking me so good love," Zeke moans out as he closes his eyes and tilts his head back. "So proud of you."

It was those words alone that caused you to tighten around him. Hearing him say those words in that tone always got you. Your nails digging into the desk as you cry out in pleasure for him.

"L-Love you...l-love you so-"

But before you could finish your sentence you felt Professor Yeager wrap his hand around your jaw and pulling you back against his chest. He crashed his lips against yours and you arched your back at such a delicious angle that Professor Yeager couldn't last much longer. He moaned your name against your lips and delivered one more harsh thrust that had both of you coming undone. There was a feeling that bubbled up in Professor Yeager as he softly peppered your face with kisses while you both came down from your highs. Maybe being in love with you wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe this time it could work out.

"You keep talking like that and you'll turn me into a love sick fool. Might even give you my last name."

©ᴅᴇʟᴜʟᴜ4ᴀɴɪᴍᴇ 2024 ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

ᴅᴀɪʟʏ ᴄʟɪᴄᴋꜱ

ᴘᴀʏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ɢʀᴀᴠᴇ

#smut #anime smut #fanfiction smut #fanfiction #kinktober #delulu4anime #attack on titan #attack on titan au #attack on titan zeke #aot #aot smut #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #zeke yeager #zeke x reader #aot zeke #Zeke Yeager smut #zeke yeager x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months ago

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The Sticking Point 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, possible violence, illness, death, bullying, ableism, and other elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are sent in the place of your ailing sister to marry a stranger. (Regency AU)

Character: Loki

Note: I'm moving tomorrow.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The tension turns roiling. Even in such airy halls, you cannot escape it, not that you venture very far from your rooms. It seems with each interaction, your relationship with your fiance only grows more fraught. You needn’t wonder why. It’s the very same reason your own father regards you with derision. You’re defective, less than what he hoped for.

You sit in the window seat, looking over the greenery that reflects Jade Garden’s title. It’s a home anyone would covet and yet it feels as a penitentiary might. These walls are unyielding and the isolation suffocating.

Your visions drifts into the distance as the leaves turn to green smears blending into the dimming blue of the sky. You close your eyes and turn your head straight, leaning against the wall as you hook your arms around your legs.

A banquet. It’s less than a proper debut. You’re not certain anyone would be expecting you, or even know who you are. Will they be surprised when they hear your father’s name?

There are things you know. Things you must ready yourself for. Certainly, there will be jeers, mocking whispers, and errant giggles. Just the same as anyone ever reacted to you. Even the farmhands would echo your speech and laugh bawdily. It hardly matter’s your a lord’s daughter when you sound so ridiculous.

You hang your head and sigh. It isn’t just one banquet, it is the beginning of a lifetime of events. You will not only face this one night, but many anon. You will be the one they speak of behind their hands and the joke at the card tables.

You stand, made restless by your dread. The window darkens with the evening’s arrival. Doreen raps at the door and leaves a tray of supper. You pick at it but don’t eat much. You must keep yourself busy so your mind is not.

You go to your chests. You will need Doreen to unpack these soon. It’s as if the longer you leave them full, the less assured your fate. You might still strap them up and flee.

You know that isn’t truly an option.

You take out a gown the shade of cooked pumpkin with an overlay that lends it a bronzish hue. The bodice is trimmed with an eyelet effect and the hem of the cap sleeves and skirt finely threaded with beads. You lay it out on the chaise and find a pair of slippers to go with it and ribbon for your hair decorated with black onyx and brass.

If Edith could see you then. It should be her in your place. That thought rings louder and louder, bolstered by the constant disapproval.

You back away from your attire, spinning so you won’t have to look upon it. You never thought to miss home so much. Not your parents, you’re certain they hardly grieve your absence, but for the familiarity, for the simple walls and memories. Edith is there, even gone, you know you would see her in every cushion and every corner.

You go to the door and listen. As silent as ever. You emerge into the corridor and make careful progress on the pads of your feet. You come to the top of the stairwell and peer down on the foyer. For all it’s beauty, this place is rather grim.

You descend and let your eyes lead you. You take in every ornament, every statue, every door trim, and every tile of the floor. You want to know it all. You don’t want to feel so lost.

You find your way along to the sunroom. Upon your approach, the door opens and you falter. A lithe figure emerges. You press yourself to the wall, unready for Loki’s appearance. He has a snifter of liquor in hand as he glowers in the light of a lantern in his other.

He steps towards you and pauses, lifting the light higher to cast over you. His breath escapes him derisively. He lowers the lantern and sniffs.

“Like a rat, you skitter incessantly,” he remarks.

“My Lawd,” you push away from the wall and angle away from him.

“I am speaking to you. Do not go until I give leave to,” he demands.

You stop and face him again, hands meeting in apprehension.

“This banquet business,” his nostrils flare, “I will not be humiliated. Not as you have tonight.”

“My Lawd, I have been twained in etiq—etiqwette,” you insist.

He scoffs, “your manners hardly bother me. Certainly you might have some grain of awareness.”

You seal your lips. He’s said it plainly, as you have. He might be able to close his ears to your impediment but it is with you always.

“Perhaps you might keep your words to a minimum,” he advises, “select them wisely.”

You stare at him, cheeks fiery and eyes tinging, “If you would wather, I might make an excuse. A sudden malady, my lawd. I’d hate to stain your chawacter.”

His eyes roll to the side and his features sharpen, “more would be said were I to appear without my betrothed after my mother’s promises.”

That he has referred to your nuptials is not so nice as it should be. He speaks to it as a sentence. You look him in the face.

“It won’t eva go away,” you say.

“Hm, I only need get through the wedding night,” he retorts and you can’t help but wince.

You swallow, your hurt turning bitter. “As do I.”

His head tilts and he squints. He lets out another snort, “pardon?”

“My sista would’ve hated you,” you whisper. “You did not desawve to know haw.”

“Be wary,” he steps closer.

“You make an enemy of me, not I you,” you lift your chin.

He’s silent. He shifts even closer. So near, you have to keep from wilting away. You stare back at him defiantly, heart beating.

“You do not know yet what it is to have me as an enemy so you best mind your mannaws,” he mocks your cadence with his last word.

Your lip trembles as he green eyes sparkle like dark emeralds in the lantern lights. Your chest is a flurry of hurt and anger. What have you ever done to him, or anyone, to make them so spiteful? You swing your arm against his to knock the snifter from his hand, sending a splash of alcohol across the wall and and his vest. The smell is acrid and sour.

You back away from him, horrified at your reaction. You have learned to restrain yourself, to tamp it all down, to swallow it with a smile and say nothing. In that moment, you simply cannot. You shake your head as your face twists in despair.

“I would wather an enemy, saw,” you hiss, “as I would be ashamed to call a cad like you husband.”

His glare flashes and he sways as if he might lunge at you. He rights himself and his brow arches. His lips draw and his cheeks pale.

“Very well.”

He spins on his heel and stomps away, the light limning his silhouette sinisterly. You stare after him mortified. What has come over you? You were never bold or brazen or brutal to any. Edith would be disappointed. A gentle soul like her could never even think a hot word.

You fall back against the wall and clutch your hands over your chest. Is this to be your life? Are you to live in loathing, not only of that man but of yourself. To be castigated for the lilt of your own tongue, the very pulse of your existence? You’d thought your father a villain but this man has proven himself worse.

Worst than his distaste is your own futility, for he has assured you there is nothing you might do to appease him. As he is bound to you most miserably, so are you vowed to the same fate. Not even in that might you commiserate.

🔹

You sit in front of the mirror, holding the brooch over the table, feeling the embroidery with the pad of your thumb. You turn it over and back again. It’s the only piece of your sister you have left. Every day she feels further away from you. Every morning, you awake, expecting to hear her, to see her, and she is not there, and you are not at home.

You peer up at your reflection as your hand hovers over the painted wood. You’ve not touched a tress or cheek. You must ready, you know it, but your reticence is like chains on your wrists. You know what you are to face but knowing cannot make it any less unpleasant.

A knock comes at the door. You call for the maid to enter, thinking Doreen’s come to remind you again of your pending engagement. The maid opens the door but says nothing, letting in the duchess instead. Lady Frigga is almost rapturous in a dressing gown of peach fabric as her hair is set already in tight curls around an elegant chignon. You stand, apologising for your misstep.

“Dear, it is quite forgivable,” she assures, “I only meant to look in on you before the banquet, to be certain you do not require anything, but darling, oh,” she sweeps towards you and cups your cheeks, “you’ve not even begun. What is the matter?”

“There is no issue,” you lie, “I mewely let time escape me.”

You smile and gently pull away, turning back to the vanity. You open your hand and once more consider the pin.

“Is this the dress you mean to wear?” Frigga asks as she crosses the room in a swish of silk. You peer over your shoulder as she looks down on the orange fabric. “It is a rather keen shade.”

“Yes, my lady,” you answer in a dulcet tone. You cannot find a glimmer of concern for your attire.

She sighs and returns to you, holding the ribbon you’ve chosen, “these are far too dour,” she touches an onyx, “haven’t you some pearls?”

“Somewhaw...” You bend your neck, staring at the bluebird, at Edith’s handiwork. You remember the day she gave it to you and the way she smiled so proudly. How she pinned it on you herself and made you go around and show all.

“Oh, dear, that won’t go at all. It would be nice for a lunch, no doubt, but not for a banquet,” she remarks and you close your hand around the brooch. You put your shoulders straight and face her.

“I have a pawl band in my chest,” you resign and step around her.

You go to the chest and sift around, careful not to let the brooch slip from your grasp. You take out the pearls on the ivory band and show it to her. She tuts.

“It won’t go with this gown,” she insists.

“Yes, the onyx--”

“Mmp, I prefer pearls. Darling, you must be your best. It is your first social appearance. I do not say this to demean you, only to assist. I know your own mother cannot be here to see you debut but I cannot imagine her pain at this moment. So much loss. Both daughters at once, in a way,” she bemoans.

Yes, you think of your mother too. You know she won’t be well. Nor your father. All their hopes and dreams dashed in a deficient daughter sent to carry a legacy on with a spiteful husband who mightn’t even have the stomach to deliver one.

“I vewy much appweciate it, lady,” you make yourself smile, “I suppose it must be nawvs.”

“Suppose it must,” she hums, “how about you wear the orange gown and I fetch you a feather pin from my own collection? I have a fabulous ostrich and topaz piece,” she assures, “and some black lace gloves. Ooh, yes, dear, we will make certain all is perfect.”

“Thank you, Lady Fwigga, but it isn’t necessawy--”

“You are to be my daughter, of course it is,” she preens. “Besides, who shall notice anything but how splendid you look?”

She twists on her heel and your smile dwindles. You know what is meant. What she will not state plainly. Perhaps a fine outfit might distract from your crooked consonants. You sit on the stool again and watch her go.

Even those who are kind cannot help their thoughts. She mightn’t be cruel about it, but you can hear the disappointment in her pandering cooing. You are not the daughter she wanted just as you are not the wife her son wanted. Just as you do not want to be as you are.

#the sticking point #loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #regency au #mcu #marvel #thor #avengers

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dnpanimationstudioclone · 4 months ago

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Meet Velvette📱🧶

Meet my take on Velvette! I had LOT OF FUN with this one! She’s reviewing Pentabucks newest drink!(being its top influencer can get you it for free!)

My Velvette’s more involved with social media/advertising/trends rather than owning all of Hell’s fashion indurstry. She’s basically a social marketer/influencer who uses her influence to support and advertise a lot of the overlords and high influence peoples businesses, products and services. She’s def still into fashion, I imagine she has something like a Bergdorf Goodmans, luxury end store and probably collabed with other fashion brands). I also see her own some fo the trendiest resteraunts, clubs, beauty salons, etc. def sewn herself into big brands!

I’ve heard she was suppose to be a doll because her pilot look mouth alluded a bit to stitching and wore frilly clothes.

so I ended up making her a rag doll! Doll’s are very popular to sell, especially to sell additional objects such as fashion, accessories, etc. Basically she sells herself out to the public eye 👁️. There’s also a bit of sewing terms that fits with social media such as “Pinned”, “Threads”, etc.🪡📍

And rag dolls are known for their adaptability(perfect for trend setting Vel)! I styled her outfit as a kinda tweaked modern outfit of Raggedy Anne/Andy’s outfit. The jumper and black booties. Restyled into a more flashy romp jumper and heeled boots 👢 Even made it to her name, VELVET!

Ngl many friends of mine have said she gives off Monster High vibes(I feel like 2000’s cartoons def inspired me). As well as Lalaloopsy!!!!!!! I was also a bit inspired by OG Millie’s outfit(love the double straps).

Put her in two shades of brown for a patchwork vibe! Another thing I’m going for with the rag doll theme is to allude to insecurity. I imagine she came from less glamorous origins. Didn’t have porcelain dolls like Charlie or plastic Barbies like all the other popular and rich girls, but simple rag dolls and stuffies. No matter how hard she tries to be like perfect porcelain or pretty plastic…she’s cursed to be seen as just some raggedy rag doll💔. I also imagine her death had something related to becoming…torn up(I imagine it wasn’t a pretty end)…

For this look, went with bubble braids made from balls of yarn 🧶 She has all kinds of hairstyles, from yarn, cotton, stitch on wigs and even real hair(from scalps of those who got on her nasty side, @a-sterling-rose suggested this). There’s even a type of hairstyle called “yarn braids”.

Wears fake nails 💅. Gel, acrylic, she’s made of cloth so she can adapt to any kind.

Gave her actual ears 👂 (added them on herself).

Clout Glasses 😎.

For her color scheme, @the-burd-lord suggested I'd go with RGB theme, colors on display screen(Vox is the leader and a screen) Ngl I was conflicted what colors to go with for the vees(Primary, Red blue purple etc). But then I realized when u mix those colors u get those other colors and then I decided to give the Vees two main color themes for each. One for show, the other their true colors! Velvette likes to use green, magenta and purple, for a visually pleasing vibe, light green and magenta for sweetness with purple/gold for luxury, but truth she’s a vain, envious clout seeker who has and will do less than ethic things for the likes. The two colors r also a mix of Val and Vox’s colors(uses them, advertises them to advertise herself!)

Played around with a assymetry color vibe for the envy vibe, thats she’s two faced 🎭. Having a deceptive social media personality like Miss Heed(less lovey dovey).

@lovesart23 video on Velvette really helped me consider what to do with her, like her beign Envy theme(she’s a clout chaser afterall). I LOVE her use of purples and greens for her! I also really dig the eye theme which mine in a sense does too. In this case, button eyes.

Added more weight on her a bit, to give off a more rag doll type body(especially with the limbs 🦾🦵)

Gave her black purple eyes with pink and mint button irises. Got Pin eyelashes 🪡📍

Her her a needle/selfie stick. Good for selfies, fashion emergency and stabbing people!

What do u think? I’d love to know💖

I’ve also done the Hazbin Gang, Mimzy, and even her associate, Vox 📺.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette #habzin hotel redesigns #hazbin hotel redesign #Hazbin redesigns #Hazbin hotel fanart #velvette redesign #the vees #Hellaverse #hazbin hotel rewrite #Hell hotel #velvette hazbin hotel #velvette fanart #hazbin hotel rewritten #The vees #My art

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another-lost-mc · 2 years ago

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Bedside Manner

Beel gets sick and both of you are in denial.

Beelzebub x gn!Reader

SFW // Content: (Domestic) Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Friends to More-Than-Friends. Family dynamics, other demon brothers/characters mentioned, brief descriptions of minor illness. 4.9k words.

It’s not unusual for you to visit Beel when he has Fangol practice after school. You’ve taken an interest in his hobbies and he keeps you up to date with his practice and game schedule. Sometimes you leave the RAD campus later than his brothers; it makes sense for you to wait for him so you can both walk home together.

Today, you stayed behind to review instructions for an upcoming assignment. You can hear distant sounds from the Fangol field while you scribble a few notes into your workbook. When you’re finished, you wave goodbye to the professor and head outside to find Beel.

When you arrive, your attention is immediately drawn to a small group of players gathered around one of the bleachers. Someone notices your approach and waves you over; the frown on his face worries you.

You have a bad feeling already but when you get closer, you realize something is going on with Beel. His voice has a slight wheeze like he’s having trouble catching his breath and he looks awful. His face is pale except for the flush tinting his cheeks, and his skin is tinged a sickly shade of green. You don’t think all the sweat dotting his hairline is from practice, either.

His teammate pulls you aside. “He nearly collapsed during the last set of drills—“

“I did not!” Beel insists weakly from his seat, but the tremor in his voice is hardly convincing.

“—and we’re sending him home for the day. We don’t want to worry about him losing consciousness before he gets there.”

You glance at Beel and try not to panic. “What’s wrong with him?” He eats so much food but you can’t imagine it’s food poisoning from lunch that afternoon. Only Solomon’s cooking is horrible enough to upset Beel’s stomach, and he’s in the human world right now.

His teammate shrugs. “Probably just the flu. He should be fine in a few days but he needs to rest.”

You’ve heard of the Devildom flu, but Beel has never been this sick before and you’re more than a little anxious.

Beel sits with his head in his hands while most of his friends disperse and go back to their drills. The thought of walking home with him alone makes you nervous - there’s no way you can help him if he does pass out.

You touch his shoulder gently to get his attention, and you can feel the chills raking through his body. “Are you okay, Beel? Ready to go home?”

He looks up when he hears your voice, but his attempt to smile at you looks more like a grimace. “Yeah, let’s go,” he mumbles as he stands up on shaky legs. He takes an ambitious step forward but he stumbles, and he sits back down when his lingering teammates prevent him from falling over.

Right - walking home alone is a no-go, then.

You look through your bag and pull out your D.D.D. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.”

The House of Lamentation (8) You: Is anyone still at RAD, or close by? Mammon: Nah, I’m on my way to a photo shoot. Leviathan: I’m checking out the new gacha machine downtown but I’m not far. Satan: I’m in the school library. You: I’m at Beel’s Fangol practice and he’s sick. He needs help getting home. Leviathan: On second thought, I’m actually very busy right now. Satan: Seriously? Leviathan: I don't want to die if Beel falls over and crushes me! Satan: And you think it would be better for Beel to crush MC instead? Lucifer: It seems like I should put parental controls back on the Akuzon account. Leviathan: Wait, I’m on my way!

Despite Levi’s initial protests, he arrives on the Fangol field not long after Satan does. They manage to keep Beel upright for the walk home while you continue texting Lucifer about his condition. Belphie is waiting anxiously at the front door by the time you arrive, and he helps his brothers take Beel to their shared bedroom.

You deposit your school bag in your room and head to the kitchen. Lucifer is cooking tonight and he happily accepts your offer to help (and your company); you’re worried about Beel and need a distraction. He tries to soothe your anxieties - it’s not much worse than a human cold, he’ll be better in a couple of days - but Lucifer’s words are a poor comfort to you.

You can’t help but think of Beel, one of the strongest demons you’ve met in the Devildom, literally brought to his knees before you by something like a cold. It’s more upsetting than you want to admit and you have no idea how you can help him.

Dinner that night is a quiet affair and it’s odd. Mammon isn’t home yet from his modeling gig and Beel is resting in his room; their absences are noticeable. The others don’t seem to mind, but you miss Beel’s vocal enthusiasm while he eats - he’s always complimenting the food and he’s so appreciative of whoever cooked that night.

Lucifer sets aside a plate of food for Beel and you offer to take it to him. When you knock on his door, Belphie’s quiet voice beckons you inside. He looks at the plate in your hands skeptically, but shrugs and goes back to reading the book in his lap.

Beel groans and rolls over when he hears you enter the room. His eyes brighten when he sees you, but he shakes his head at the food you’ve brought him. You hoped he would be willing to eat something, even if it’s just a small amount. Belphie offers to dispose of the plate for you and leaves the room.

When you’re alone with Beel, you sit on the edge of his bed and hold his clammy hand in yours. He squeezes your hand back, weaker than you expect, and you realize you’re uncomfortably close to crying for some reason.

“Is there anything I can get you?” you ask him worriedly.

He shivers under his pile of blankets. “Maybe some soup tomorrow,” he croaks. “I don’t want anything right now.” He doesn’t say anything else as his eyes slip shut and his head tilts to the side.

Belphie returns and goes back to reading his book, but you don’t notice when he glances at you occasionally from the corner of his eye.

You remain at Beel’s side until his grip on your hand grows limp.

You: Are you still in the human world? Solomon: For the moment. The meeting took longer than I anticipated and I have a few more errands to run before I return to Purgatory Hall. Why? You: Can you pick up a few items for me? I’ll pay you back. Solomon: No need to pay me back if you agree to have dinner with me instead. I have a new recipe I’d love to make for you. You: Oh. You: How about lunch at Hell’s Kitchen next week? I might be too busy in the evenings if Beel is still sick. Solomon: You drive a hard bargain, my dear. Send me your list and I’ll see you soon.

The next morning you head straight to the kitchen so you can start preparing homemade soup for Beel. It’s a recipe that you used to make for yourself back home. You hope it’s more enticing to him than the heavier Devildom fare his brothers might try to feed him; you want to avoid a repeat of last night’s dinner attempt.

Solomon did as you asked and bought all the human world items on your grocery list, including enough ingredients to make two large batches of chicken soup. You offered to give him a small container of soup when it’s ready, as a token of appreciation, and he readily accepted.

It’s supposed to be Mammon’s turn to cook today, but he won’t have to worry about dinner because there’s going to be enough soup for everyone. He got home late from his photo shoot last night, but you think he can still handle making a simple breakfast on his own.

You’re chopping onions, carrots and celery for a mirepoix base when Mammon finally drags himself into the kitchen. His hair is sticking up all over, and dark smudges from the eye makeup he didn’t remove before bed make him look like a very fetching raccoon.

“Good morning, Mammon,” you say cheerfully.

He mumbles something that you think is supposed to be a greeting, and he starts making breakfast - sort of. He tosses a random assortment of whole fruits onto a plate and puts it on the table. He grabs a loaf of bread, looks back and forth between the bread and the toaster, then he unplugs the toaster and puts that on the table too.

“What are you doing?” you ask him curiously while trying not to laugh.

“They can make themselves toast,” he yawns. “I’m going back to bed.” He shuffles away and you can hear the faint sound of his door slamming not long after.

You decide to take pity on him and help him out since you’re already in the mood to cook. It’s not too much extra work to cut up the fruit he picked out and make a fruit salad with it. You make a pan of scrambled eggs with a sprinkling of Hellfire cheese. Finally, you put the toaster back in the kitchen where it belongs.

You’re buttering toast when the other demon brothers start to trickle in (Mammon excluded, of course). Satan makes a beeline for the coffee maker while Asmo offers to set the table. Lucifer doesn’t look impressed when you explain why you’re making breakfast instead of Mammon.

When they’re all seated at the table, you give everyone a head’s up that you're making a human world soup recipe for dinner that evening. Belphie looks like he wants to say something, but when you raise your eyebrow questioningly he just smirks and takes another bite of his toast.

You also mention that the other items Solomon picked up for you - a case of ginger ale in the fridge and a box of saltines in the cupboard - are off-limits. There’s a low grumble of complaints about that. But when you remind them that you helped Mammon make breakfast for them, they know better than to squander their good fortune.

(Lucifer makes a note to speak to Mammon about his abuse of kitchen appliances later.)

The Angels (3) Simeon: Good morning. Luke: We heard you’re making soup from one of your human world recipes! Simeon: Solomon told us about it this morning and he’s very eager to try it. Luke: Simeon wants to have some too. He and Solomon argued because Solomon doesn’t want to share. You: I can bring enough for all three of you. Simeon: That would be wonderful, thank you. You: You know, all this cooking has put me in the mood for some freshly-baked cookies. Luke: You got it!

While the soup is simmering on the stove, you visit Beel to see how he’s doing. Belphie’s been doing his best to keep him hydrated, but he’s still reluctant to eat very much of anything. He’s sleeping when you check on him; Belphie invites you inside but you don’t want to wake him by accident.

“I think he was asking for you earlier,” Belphie mentions off-handedly when you’re about to leave. “I told him you were going to bring him lunch and he went back to sleep.”

You go back to your room and relax. You wonder why Beel asked for you, and you ignore how nice it feels that he did.

The Royals (3) Diavolo: It’s been a while since I’ve had the chance to visit with you. Diavolo: Do you have any plans this afternoon? You: Beel isn’t feeling well so I’m helping his brothers care for him. Diavolo: That’s all the more reason for you to enjoy a well-deserved break. You: Let me guess - someone told you about the soup. Who was it? Diavolo: No one. Barbatos: Luke told us about it earlier, my Lord. Diavolo: One of the angels might have mentioned it in passing. You: I can come for a short visit after I stop by Purgatory Hall. I have extra soup I can bring for both of you. Barbatos: I’ll have tea and sandwiches prepared for your arrival. Diavolo: I look forward to seeing you.

The soup is finished and you’ve portioned everything into containers just before lunchtime. You label three of them for the freezer and set them aside. You have one large container ready for your friends in Purgatory Hall, another container for Diavolo and Barbatos, and the rest are for Beel and his brothers.

Belphie sends you a message letting you know that Beel’s awake and is willing to try eating something. You prepare a tray with a small bowl of soup, ginger ale from the fridge, and a handful of saltine crackers. You pass Belphie on the way to their bedroom - he yawns and tells you he’s going to the attic to sleep.

When you enter their bedroom, Beel is propped up with a bunch of pillows against his headboard. He looks a bit better than he did last night, but not by much. You set the tray on the nightstand and pull over a chair so you can sit next to him.

“How are you feeling today?” you ask quietly.

He turns away from you and coughs. “Not bad,” his poor voice croaks. You can’t help but smile when his mouth twists into a pout at the way his voice sounds.

“I made you some soup,” you tell him when you set the tray on your lap for him to see.

“You made this for me?” His eyes widen a bit and he stares at you.

Your face feels warm all of a sudden and you look down and stir the soup to distract yourself from the sensation. “Of course. You asked for soup last night and this is what I like to eat back home when I’m sick.”

He looks stunned by your admission, like he has trouble believing you would do that for him, but he accepts the tray you slide onto his lap.

You explain the items on his lunch tray: the soup (“It’s sort of like a roasted roc soup”); the ginger ale (“It’s a little sweet and bubbly”); and the saltines (“They’re bland but easy to eat when you don’t have an appetite”). He’s so genuinely interested in what you’ve prepared that it makes the effort feel worthwhile.

You can tell there’s a problem right away when he picks up the spoon and tries to eat. His hand is shaking slightly - from hunger or exhaustion or both - and a little bit of the soup spills back onto the tray. He drops the spoon with a frustrated grunt and exhales; you hate the way you can hear his lungs rattle when he tries to breathe too deeply. You help steady his tray when he coughs.

He’s visibly frustrated and he looks away from you like he’s ashamed. “I can’t even hold a spoon properly, and you made this for me.” He grumbles under his breath about wasting your time and wasting the food you made him.

You motion for him to move over a bit, and he shimmies his hips so you can sit on the edge of the bed. You lift the spoon with a bit of soup, blow on it gently to cool it, and hold it in front of his mouth. You hope he doesn’t think you’re treating him like a child. You decide these are special circumstances because you know he’s normally a very proud and capable demon.

He doesn’t hesitate though, because he opens his mouth and swallows the soup down. You freeze in place, worrying whether or not his stomach can tolerate it, if he even likes it–

But he smiles a true, genuine Beel smile for the first time in what feels like ages, and you can’t help the delighted chuckle that escapes you. When he nods, you lift another spoonful to his lips. You help him slowly eat his meal. When you leave his room nearly thirty minutes later, Beel is sleeping contentedly and the dishes on his lunch tray are empty.

Once Beel is fed and resting again, you deliver soup to your friends at Purgatory Hall and the Demon Lord’s castle. Luke hands you a giant tin of cookies before you leave, and Barbatos packs up the leftover sandwiches for you to take back to the House of Lamentation. You put your goodies in the fridge with the small hope that Beel might be better enough to have some with you in a day or two.

When it’s time for dinner later that evening, you return to Beel’s room with another tray of bland food and warm soup. You decide to take a larger portion of soup this time and hope his appetite has improved since lunch.

You enter his room and notice that Beel is awake - and still looks quite unwell - but he seems happy to see you. Belphie is nowhere to be seen.

You sit on Beel’s bed again and feed him spoonfuls of soup at a slow, steady pace. His throat doesn’t sound as raspy, and he tries to make small talk between careful sips of his dinner. It takes a little longer, but he finishes the bigger portion of soup without a problem.

You stack the empty dishes on the tray and stand up, but his hand suddenly reaches out to you - he can’t reach your arm, so he grasps the hem of your shirt instead.

“Wait,” he murmurs suddenly. “Can you stay for a while?” The look in his eyes is pleading, and you assume he’s lonely from being stuck in his room. Since he’s gotten sick, he’s only had you and Belphie for company. Most of his brothers have stayed away to avoid getting sick too, and Beel hasn’t been using his D.D.D. much since he’s spent most of the day sleeping.

Whatever his reason is, you’re happy to stay and visit longer if he’s feeling sociable. The joy that flickers across his face when you sit back down makes you feel shy all of a sudden.

You don’t talk very much though - he’s still coughing and he seems exhausted again. He smiles and thanks you quietly when you offer to get him some more water, or when you lean over and fluff the pillows propping him up. You sit in comfortable silence.

When he’s ready to sleep for the night, he rolls onto his side and stretches out his arm so his hand is palm-up next to yours. You lace your fingers together, and he squeezes your hand so carefully - whether it’s because he’s still weak, or if he’s trying to be especially gentle with you, it’s hard to say.

His eyes close and he starts to snore lightly, and he doesn’t hear your whispered promise to return tomorrow before you finally leave his side.

While Belphie and his brothers are eating breakfast together the next morning, you put your breakfast on a tray alongside Beel's and head to his room. When you get there, he’s already awake and sitting up in bed. You can tell immediately that he’s feeling better - his skin doesn’t look as green as it did, and his eyes seem clearer and more alert.

He sent you a message earlier that morning asking if he could try some different foods today. You made yourself some oatmeal with cinnamon and chunks of poison apple; you sliced the rest of the apple for Beel.

You take your usual seat on the bed beside him and balance the tray on his lap. You eat a few spoonfuls of your own breakfast first while he reaches for an apple slice and takes a hesitant bite; when he manages to keep it down, he eats the rest quickly.

When he's ready to eat his soup, you pick up the spoon out of habit and he waits expectantly, opening his mouth when you bring each spoonful of hearty soup to his lips.

“The soup is almost gone,” you mention casually while he sips his ginger ale and nibbles on some saltines. “Two big pots doesn’t last long when it comes to feeding a bunch of demons.”

He has a bashful smile on his face. “I still can’t believe you went to that trouble for me,” he admits. He nods towards the soup in your hands when he’s ready for more.

“I was scared when I saw how sick you were. I don’t mind doing things like this for you, if it helps you feel better.” The confession feels intimate and you smile bashfully.

He catches your gaze when the bowl is empty and he’s finished eating. The look in his eyes is startlingly intense, but when you think he’s about to say something, he shakes his head.

“I’m still hungry. Is there more soup left?”

It’s the first time he’s asked for seconds of anything since he got sick and you can’t help the silly grin that spreads across your face.

“Of course there is!” You tidy up a bit and put all the other empty dishes on the tray.

“I’ll be right back,” you promise when you head to the door. “Don’t go anywhere!” You wink at him playfully and rush off to the kitchen.

By the time you return with more food, Belphie is back from breakfast and stretched out on his bed. He and Beel are talking about him going to school next week.

“There's no need to rush,” you warn Beel gently when you sit back down on his bed. “Take a day or two off if you need it. I can always bring you your homework so you don’t fall behind.”

Same as before, you help Beel eat his second helping of soup. Belphie makes a surprised noise across the room but you don’t bother glancing over - you’re too focused on making sure you don’t spill anything on Beel or his bed.

What does concern you is the new flush spreading across Beel’s cheeks. Did he push himself too far this morning?

The bowl is nearly empty when you set it on the nightstand. You raise the back of your hand to Beel’s forehead, as pointless as that is - demons have different body temperatures than humans do. You have no idea whether or not his temperature is in a normal range, but you’re still concerned for him.

“I should let you sleep, I don’t want you to overdo it.” Beel looks like he wants to argue but you reach for his hand. “Take it easy. I promise I’ll be back with your lunch later, and you can text me if you need anything.”

You gather the bowl and turn towards Belphie who looks utterly amused for some reason. You wish he’d take Beel’s condition just a little more seriously.

“He’s flushed again, can you make sure he’s not getting another fever?” you ask him.

“Oh, I think he’s just fine,” Belphie muses with a smirk. You have no idea what that means, but you wave goodbye to them both and head to the kitchen to tidy up.

Once you’re gone, Belphie glances at his twin who is determined to avoid eye contact with him all of a sudden.

“So, how’s that ‘fever’ of yours, Beel?” Belphie asks innocently.

Beel throws a pillow at his brother’s face with surprising strength.

Despite your initial worries, that morning seems to be the turning point in Beel’s recovery. When you bring him lunch a few hours later, he’s sitting up in bed reading a sports magazine. You plate up the remaining soup and saltines, plus a generous portion of fruit salad. You set his tray on the nightstand so you can go back to the kitchen for your own lunch.

He’s already spooning soup into his mouth hungrily when you rejoin him. His hand isn’t shaking like it was before, and you’re so happy to see him acting more like himself. He’s not coughing as much now, and it’s enjoyable to eat a proper meal together again.

Beel makes quick work of his lunch. His face falls with obvious disappointment when you remind him that the soup you made is all finished. You hand him half of your sandwich in consolation - leftovers that Barbatos gave you yesterday - and he wolfs it down.

By dinner time, Beel is up and shuffling around the house - a bit slower than usual, sure - but you’re amazed at how much better he’s doing. Belphie comes to your room to see you while Beel showers in the bathroom down the hall.

“This is typical for demons,” he tells you with a shrug. “Once the worst passes, it doesn’t take long for us to bounce back.”

“I’m glad he’s feeling better.” For reasons you don’t quite understand, or maybe you do but you don’t want to admit them to Belphie, your eyes tear up. It’s like an emotional dam bursts inside you, and tears start rolling down your cheeks.

You think Belphie’s going to tease you, but he wraps you in a hug instead and lets you cry into his shoulder. “He’s lucky to have you,” he murmurs. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t forget it.”

House of Lamentation (8) Satan: How are you feeling tonight, Beel? Beelzebub: Better. I’m starving. Satan: It’s my turn to prepare dinner. Is there anything in particular you want? Beelzebub: A Gigadeath burger. Leviathan: LOL Beelzebub: With extra cheese. Satan: That’s not what I meant. Beelzebub: And a large milkshake. Beelzebub: Actually, make that two Gigadeath burgers. Satan: Forget that I asked. You: You should’ve known better. Lucifer: Indeed.

Nearly two weeks after he had the flu, Beel is rummaging in the kitchen for something to make for dinner. He just got home from practice and he forgot it's his turn to cook tonight.

Any lingering symptoms of the Devildom flu have long since passed, and he’s back to his regular club activities. He doesn’t get sick often which is why the severity of his initial symptoms caught everyone off-guard. The first day or two are still a hazy blur of disjointed memories, but there’s one thing he does remember with clarity above all else.

He ignores Belphie’s teasing and not-so-subtle hints about you, and your feelings for him, and his feelings for you. Beel tells his brother he doesn’t want to misinterpret how sweet and loving your gestures felt when he was sick; Belphie tells him he’s an idiot and that he’s in denial.

Sure, you took care of him when he was sick, but only because you’re a thoughtful person. You made him food because it was a way to show him you care. When he saw you tear up on the sidelines of his first Fangol practice after his illness, it was because you were thrilled to see him back to his normal self.

You’re just a friend, Beel thinks. A kind, warm, beautiful friend.

But he secretly likes the way you spend more time in his room now, and how you invite him to the kitchen and teach him more about your favourite foods. You accompany him when he goes shopping for snacks after school. You always offer to share what you buy for yourself, and he does the same for you.

On a particularly warm day, he took you to a diner after class and ordered a large sundae for you to split. You didn’t notice there was chocolate lingering at the corner of your mouth. He pointed it out to you before he did something selfish like swipe it away with his finger, or his tongue.

You’re just a friend, he reminds himself more and more often these days.

Beel doesn’t learn until later that you agreed to a lunch date with Solomon in exchange for the ingredients you needed to make his soup. He spent most of that night complaining to his brother about that damn sorcerer taking advantage of your generous nature.

Belphie just smirked at him with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and he suggested that Beel make his move before someone else does.

Maybe he is in denial.

His stomach grumbles hungrily and he has to shove aside thoughts of you so he can focus on making dinner for everyone. He checks the cupboards and fridge but nothing catches his interest. He’s starving, but he’s not sure food is the only thing he wants anymore.

He opens the freezer and notices a stack of containers he doesn’t recognize. They’re pushed to the back like someone was trying to hide them on purpose. He grabs one and stares at the label written on the lid:

Beel’s Soup ♡

He puts the container back in the freezer and heads straight to your room.

The Demon Brothers (7) Beelzebub: Can someone cover cooking duty for me tonight? Lucifer: This is sudden. Why the change of plans? Beelzebub: I’m taking MC on a date. Mammon: Wait, what?! Satan: Have fun. Asmodeus: Aww, they’re so cute! ♡ Leviathan: Gross. Belphegor: FINALLY.

Read more: Beel Masterlist | Obey Me! Masterlist

#obey me beelzebub #obey me x reader #obey me beel x reader #beelzebub x reader #x reader #gn!reader #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me beel

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marigold-hills · 5 months ago

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june 2: oyster | @wolfstarmicrofic | word count: 502

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“Alright there, Moony? Looking a bit pale,” Sirius asks in between inhaling his breakfast and reviewing what sparse notes he made for the Potions NEWT.

Remus looks up from his mug of tea (gripped between large hands like a lifeline). There are shadows under his eyes: another late night, then. Exams are upon them, and the way Remus studies has become obsessive.

“You need food too, mate,” James piles bacon onto Remus’ plate, ignoring his grumbles – almost growls, since it’s only a week until the full moon and the lines blur a bit in those days. “Yes, you’re very big and very scary. Now eat your breakfast.”

I should have done that, Sirius thinks because something in him believes the job is his. He’s never been good at caring for anything, hanging onto James even for his own needs, but it’s different, somehow, with Remus. There is a duality: being thankful for James’ care and resentful of it.

The owls come as they do every day, a flurry of wings and feathers. It’s a bright, clear day and they disturb the sun rays as they swoop through the Great Hall.

Remus gets the newspaper (something obscure about literature) and a beautiful, haughty looking owl lands in front of Sirius, raising a dignified foot with a small parcel for him to unwrap.

“What did you get?” James asks as the owl takes off, scoffing at Sirius’ offering of a sausage.

It’s an oyster shell, gold encrusted with an artisan's precision. Inside of it a marble eye, a shade of green which reminds him of autumn and of something else. He finds comfort in the colour - it’s why he chose it – a memory of warm fires and long cozy nights, of the happiness he feels when, as Padfoot, he’s surrounded by pack.

Sirius clips the silver chain the oyster is attached to around his neck “It’s an oisrí feiceálaí,” he hopes he doesn’t butcher the pronunciation, glances at Remus to make sure, “I’ve come across them when researching for my dissertation.”

“What does an oyster have to do with ancient runes?” Remus finds his voice at the bottom of the tea mug.

“Well… nothing. I just thought it was neat. It’s the symbol of fifth dimensional vision.”

“Sure you didn’t accidentally study Divination?”

“Hilarious, Prongs.”

Something catches James’ eye across the Great Hall – more likely someone – and he shoots up with a harried I have to go, see you at the exam!

Remus leans across the table, with a careful hand reaches for the necklace. Studies it, turning it around in his fingers. They oyster looks small in his grasp, the silver more pronounced against the golden skin.

“Very pretty, Sirius,” he says, and Sirius feels the sentence like it means something else, “Will you tell me more about it, after the exam?”

Remus looks up from the oyster, straight into Sirius’ face, eyes reddened and shiny from the lack of sleep and –

- well, Sirius knows what the green reminded him of.

NOTES:

this is part two of a 30-part series of shorts: I’m aiming for them all to be readable as standalone but are a part of a bigger story (better read together and in order, in my opinion)

oisrí feiceálaí, to the best of my knowledge, means seer oyster in Gaelic. It’s not actually a thing but I came across this and thought it was pretty and ostentatious enough for Sirius to wear ALCHEMICAL OYSTER PEARL

Remus is always autumn to me - by that logic Sirius in Winter, James is Summer (self explanatory, really). Peter is Spring I suppose. But I don’t ever write him into my fics so who’s to say

speaking of Peter - let’s say he’s already at the venue for the potions exam, absolutely shaking from stress and desperately cramming last minute revision

@lightningmonarchda3 @bowielover420 @tealeavesandtrash @digital-kam

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged in next parts)

#wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #marauders era #marauders #microfiction #wolfstar microfic #remus x sirius

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itisme-rosie · 1 year ago

Text

-- displays of affection; james potter, sirius black, remus lupin x reader (separately) wherein they are affectionate in the most irritating (lovingly said) ways possible.

cw: fluff!! cursing (the colorful language kind)

[ review for the math exam? no, fluff >>. ]

masterlist | rules

[ james potter ]

"you, sir, are staring" i muse, not bothering to lift my head to meet james' stare that burned holes into the side of my head, "any reason in particular as to why?"

"i don't know what you're talking about," he murmurs back, and from the corner of my eye, i see that he didn't shift away from me in his seat. james remained leaning on his folded arms against the table, not turning his eyes away from me, leaning even closer if that was possible.

i reach out one hand, the other flipping through the tome in search of the chapter we had to read for our history class to pat the top of his head, even lightly pinching his cheek, much to his chagrin.

"there, there, you big baby," i laugh quietly, thumbing over his cheek in an attempt to soothe him but he only pouts frowns even more.

"remus was right," i hum and he perks up a little at that, only for his face to scrunch up a little.

"our moony's always right," he huffs, "it's just a matter of what he's right about,"

"i don't know, you might not like what he's right about this time, and i am not about to be in the middle of a debate between you two,"

"it can't be that bad,"

"- is exactly what you said when he warned you about the bertie bott's every flavor bean, you know, the spinach flavored one, and you were so insistent that it was mint just because it was green, and he said spinach and mint were 2 different shades of green and you still ate it and you wouldn't talk to him until -"

"alright! alright!" james waves his hands around, hurriedly rushing to my side to clamp a hand over my mouth, "i got your point," he drops his hand with a sigh - albeit a very dramatic one, "perhaps it is better if i never know,"

and down back on the table his head goes, and my hand shoots out to run my fingers through his hair, smoothing it out a little.

"there, there, jamesie," i laugh as quietly as i could in the middle of the library, "all remus was right about is how pouty and clingy you get when you're tired,"

[ sirius black ]

"i despise you,"

"really? can't tell from that - ow - gorilla grip you have on my arm,"

"this is the last date i am ever letting you take me on - you know i despise mazes almost as much as i despise you - you, i despise most of all, top 1 on the list of things i despise,"

"don't worry darling," he muses, the circulation in his arm slowly getting cut off from how tightly you were clinging to him, "i won't let anyone get ya,"

"and also," he moves his head so he could whisper in your ear, "kinda nice that i'm number 1 at something in your life,"

"you're hopeless,"

"hopelessly in love -"

"now you just sound like james, cut it out, black,"

"that's my best mate you're insulting," sirius gasps with false offense, his hand on his chest, "besides, where do you think he learned it from?"

"birds of a feather indeed," i manange to half joke before one of the maze actors pop out, prompting a scream that dies out quickly upon realizing that sirius had begun laughing.

"i hate, hate, hate you," you grumble once more, detaching from his arm so you could swat at him. multiple times. multiple enough times that the actor that had been standing awkwardly beside you both after scaring you had coughed and retreated back behind a particularly tall haystack.

"you scared the poor man away, love," sirius barely mananges to speak through his wheezing laughter.

"it's only right, he scared the shit out of me,"

"oh i'm sorry my love," your boyfriend notices how you tremble a little, a small smile cracking his lips when he notices your ever so nonthreatening and adorable demeanor with the matching clenched fists at your sides and he embraces you tightly, rocking you both back and forth, "let's look for the guide and get you out of here, yeah?"

"you are never planning our dates again," you sniffle, from the cold or otherwise, it didn't quite matter so much anymore.

sirius tilts his head so you two were face to face, lightly bumping his nose with yours as a silent apology, "you're in charge, boss," he quips, kissing the tip of your nose and grinning when you start to smile.

[ remus lupin ]

remus never understood the appeal of beanbag chairs.

he sits on them, of course, and he finds them rather comfortable, but the problem lies upon when you're sitting on them.

you sit on them religiously, on one in particular - it had been a gift from your family over the holidays and it's been permanently attached to your behind. remus finds the attachment endearing, of couse. moreso the strange positions he finds you in when he stumbles across you sprawled on it and asleep, but he'd never admit to that.

if there was one thing he enjoyed more than that was cuddling close to you while he read and contemplated life and right now, all he got was patting your head while he laid on a couch in the empty common room, staring up at the ceiling and the details painted onto it while you stayed seated on the beanbag chair on the floor, head bowed while you went over your essay for the hundredth time.

your neck cramps a little, so you adjust how you sat, moving your neck a little and remus - dear, sweet, perceptive remus - gently runs his thumb over the back of your neck, right where the cramp was, and you groan.

"oh, that's the stuff,"

moony chuckles, concern veiled behind his casual tone, "you're awfully tense darling,"

"nonsense," you murmur, head and neck going limp as you ease into his gentle movements, "i'm quite alright, just...need a break,"

"well, if you didn't slouch -" he begins playfully.

"you, remus john lupin, are the last person that should be lecturing me on my posture," you huff, eyes fluttering open to glare at him with no heat in my eyes.

he raises his hands in surrender and you frown at the loss of contact on the achy spot on your nape, turning to face him but remus simply sits up, gesturing for you to turn around before he starts to massage the knots and cramps up your neck and down your shoulders.

"merlin darling, is your neck not aching?"

"feels numb mostly,"

"and you didn't think it was concerning?"

"well, it doesn't really bother me because i can't exactly feel it,"

"well, that's the problem sweetheart," remus says placatingly, and he chuckles, "you're supposed to be able to feel the back of your neck,"

"i've been using the beanbag chairs too much," you admit, "the back of them aren't really sturdy, so i don't lean and i end up slouching,"

bingo, remus lets a mischievous smirk you thankfully can't see grace his lips, "so it was your slouching? and i was right?"

"never said that," you answer abruptly, stretching when his hands leave the area it was massaging, "but if there is one thing i will be doing, it's sitting with you on the couch, scoot over,"

and he does, tugging you into his open arms and hugging you tightly, pressing kisses on your cheek while his hands rub your back comfortingly, "tell me where it aches darling, i'll help you feel better,"

#hp x reader #marauders x reader #marauders fluff #hp fluff #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader

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