#I can already feel the fanfics brewing

[shiversdownyourspleen]

Congrats to the Ahsoka team for making the coolest-looking stormtrooper armour for a character who will probably actually die next episode

[strawberry-lychee]

self-care night w/ simon

self-care, charcuterie, and movie night with simon <3 he literally doesn't care what for dinner as long as you're for dessert!! tags: a little nsfw, but mostly fluff and loving on simon, i wanna appreciate the quiet moments you get with him <333 a/n: i dont think i've written fanfic since i was 17/18 but my current hyper fixation is ghost and so the brain worms need to come out

'girl dinner~ girl dinner~~~ giiiiirlll dinner~~~~' you sing to yourself, laying out slices of a freshly baked baguette, prosciutto, brie, strawberries, and other delectable little treats along the long cutting board.

youre at simon's flat right now since he's on leave and you both want to spend every second together that you can!! while simon was at the gym, you went to go get snacks for a movie night in together!! you had big plans to stay in and do nothing!! you weren't sure if everything you had planned was really simon's thing but you loveddd a little self-care night and you know that if you love it, simon's always game to play along (he's so sweet to you like that!!)

simon comes out of the bathroom, fresh out of the shower. his hair's still a bit wet and he's wearing a soft worn black t shirt and matching black boxer briefs. it takes all your willpower to not be a horny little shit and start something right now. "'m ready," he tells you.

"ooo yay!!" you cheered, excited. you had specially requested that simon let you do his skincare after showering.

he watches you gingerly setting the charcuterie board on the coffee table. he notices that there's already a glass of whiskey waiting for him. there were also two wine glasses sitting on the table adjacent to a pink wine bottle. and everything was sitting on top of these ceramic coasters you picked out and painted as a surprise for him during one of your first dates <3

simon watches you bounce over to him. you've already changed into one of his shirts and some little shorts. he's undressing you in his head as you take his hand and guide him back into the bathroom.

the corner of his lip quirks upwards as he lifts you by your waist onto the bathroom counter so you can have easy access to his face. you slide to sit closer to the edge so simon can stand right in between your legs.

your toiletry bag was already sitting on the counter. you dig through it pulling out tiny bottles of toners and serums and moisturizer. simon listens intently as you explain what each one does. you shake some toner onto your plans and massage it into simon's face. he closes his eyes and leans into your touch, content and safe. sometimes his mind wanders off to other things -- chores he still needs to get done, if his mom and dad were ever like this, flashbacks to the mission he just completed -- but your soft touch brings him back to the present. simon sits and revels as you work through each step, gently and lovingly massaging the potion you've brewed especially for him into his face. into the scars lining his jaw and cheeks. into the wrinkles of his skin from hours of stress, of laying in the sun, scoping out his target, of fretting about why you're still here, with him.

simon's resting his hands on your thighs, and he gives them the gentlest squeeze. it's a silent reassurance to himself -- that you're really there. with him. the prettiest bird he's ever met is in his little flat welcoming him home from deployment. he still doesn't understand how or why there's a soft spot in your heart for a brute like him, but he's learning to stop questioning it. he's learning that maybe he does deserve you after all. maybe simon does get to be happy.

"almost done~, just gotta do some lip balm next" you chime. simon grunts in acknowledge, his eyes still closed. he can't see anything, but he hears you pull out something else from your toiletries bag. you unscrew it, a moment passes, and simon barely registers the scent of strawberries before feeling your lips press up against his.

simon contently moans into the kiss, thinking about the passionate sex you two had last night... and this morning and right before he went to the gym. he raises his hands to firmly brace your hips against his. before simon has the chance to start nipping at your lips, you pull away and say, "all done!"

you even take a finger to swipe some excess lip balm off the corner of his mouth before you giggle and slip off the bathroom counter, absolutely aware of the effect you have on him. you love being his little minx <3

you walk over plop down on the couch and smile at simon, patting on the seat next to you, inviting him to join. for now, he ignores the growing tent in his boxers.

as soon as he sits down, you scooch up against his side and he raises his arm to wrap it around your shoulders. as you rest your cheek on him, simon feels a warmth creep up inside. you two fit together like pieces of a puzzle. before meeting you, what did he even do while he was on leave? this is the most at ease he's felt in a long time. the long lonely nights of sitting by himself on his couch, trying to figure out what to do next are in the past.

you turn to plant a kiss on his shoulder. there's a part of simon that preens under the ample attention you shower him with.

"you wanna try a bite of all this?" you asked. simon knows you're talking about the charcuterie board you put together, but he's thinking about something else he'd like a bite of 👀 👀

simon doesn't even have to give you a verbal response, he just opens his mouth and you slide in a delicate little bite of baguette and brie with a drizzle of honey on top into his mouth. he chews and chews, and relishes it. simon's never been one for 'fancy' food like this, but the fact that you prepared it for him warms his heart. it's been a long time since someone's made food for him. simon nods thoughtfully and takes a sip of his whiskey. "that's fuckin' gourmet right there," he says.

you giggle again. "im so glad you like it!!" you say. it sends a chill down simon's back.

oh, he could get used to this.

[vaile-elenya]

listen... i have been thinking a lot about this post:

i don't know what it is exactly, but something about a frustrated Elrond almost yelling out, still gently, that he'd live for his love instead of dying for it, is very very touching for me.

last night i might have gotten a bit carried away, and i wrote a little something about that. it's my very first shot at writing a fanfic of my own so please bear with me!

it's under the break and on AO3 if anyone wants to read 🫶🏻

In the twilight of Imladris, as the stars began their nightly vigil, you stood on the balcony of Elrond’s chamber, your heart heavy with frustration and hurt. The air was cool and fragrant with the scent of evening blooms, but tonight, the beauty of the valley seemed distant, overshadowed by the turmoil within.

Elrond stood a few paces away, his serene demeanor a stark contrast to the storm that brewed in your soul. The gentle sound of the Bruinen river, usually a source of comfort, now seemed to mock the tension between you.

“Do you truly hold me in such low regard?” you challenged, your voice trembling with emotion. “Am I of such little consequence to you that you can remain unmoved as I bare my soul?”

Elrond’s eyes widened, a flicker of pain crossing his usually composed features. “You misunderstand me,” he began, his voice steady but tinged with sorrow.

“No, I understand all too well,” you interrupted, your words cutting like a sharpened blade. “You, with your timeless wisdom and boundless patience, have already revealed your true feelings. I ask again: would you be willing to lay down your life for me, for all of us, or does fear restrain you?”

For a moment, there was silence, the air thick with the weight of unspoken truths. Then, as if a dam had broken, Elrond’s composure shattered. His eyes filled with unshed tears, his voice rising in desperation. How could you not see? How could you not know that every moment with you was etched into his very soul? He could no longer hold back the torrent of emotions.

“To die for love is simple!” he nearly screamed, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of longing and regret. “A brief surrender of mortal coil to the embrace of eternity,” he added while the soft moonlight cast shadows upon his features, accentuating the lines of sorrow etched upon his noble visage.

“But to live, to truly live, is so much greater! For you, I would live instead of die,” he looked at you, his gaze piercing through your soul, laying bare his raw emotions. You felt the depth of his admission, each syllable heavy with the burden of his unspoken devotion, and the stars above seemed to shine brighter, as if bearing witness to his words.

“Do you not see the love, as brilliant as the leaves of Laurelin, that shines forth from my eyes each time I cast them upon you?” he asked desperately, on the edge of weeping. Elrond’s voice cracked, his eyes brimming with sorrow. “Are you blinded to it?”

Not awaiting your response, Elrond turned his gaze towards the lofty trees, their branches murmuring in the gentle breeze. As the night deepened, Imladris lay shrouded in a serene glow, its gardens veiled in shadows that swayed gently in the flickering dance of firelight and the soft embrace of starlight. The fading remnants of daylight whispered their farewell, surrendering to the celestial canvas unfurling above, adorned with the sparkling jewels of the heavens. The tranquility of the valley belied the weight of its history, a history that Elrond bore witness to through the ages. Memories of battles fought, kingdoms risen and fallen, and the relentless march of time haunted his thoughts.

Torches blazed brightly, casting dancing shadows upon the ancient stone, their fiery tongues licking at the velvety darkness with a fierce determination as Elrond’s mind drifted back to the tumultuous events of the Second Age, a time of great upheaval and sorrow.

“I have seen the glory of Númenor crumble beneath the weight of its own pride. Powerless I have stood as the Last Alliance marched to the very gates of Mordor, and I have borne witness to evils so immense that even the stoutest of our warriors could not withstand them,” he said, desperation building in his voice; his silvery eyes now shone with something you could not decipher. “I have gazed into the eyes of death countless times, her blades twisting within the depths of my wounded heart. So many of my kin have I lost to the ravages of war, their lives laid to rest in pursuit of a noble yet hopeless cause,” he took a step closer, his face now inches away from your own. “It is not the fear of death that prevents me from yielding to its embrace for you, meleth nîn.”

“You awaken within me the very spirit of endurance that Eru bestowed upon his children,” he paused, his gaze turning towards the fire illuminating the terrace. “A spirit that has waned over the long ages of my dwelling, and yet... your mere existence rekindles it.

“In your presence, I find a light that guides me, a reason to embrace each new dawn. My heart, though burdened with the weight of ages, finds solace and renewal in your faintest smile. To live for you is not a burden but a blessing, a path I would tread willingly, every day anew.”

Elrond’s hands delicately encompassed your face, and you felt the gentle pressure of his fingertips, each point of contact a deliberate caress. There was a steadiness to his touch, a silent reassurance as if he sought to convey a message that words alone could not express.

“For you I would find joy in the simple pleasures that weave the intricate tapestry of our days. Through the darkest of hours, I shall cling onto hope, tending to each seedling of kindness as a gardener tends to his beloved blossoms. For you, I would dive willingly into that terrifying inkwell known as existence, with all its uncertainties and fears.”

“I would live for you.”

[soleilapproves]

I’m sorry if this is corny 🧍‍♀️

Chapter 1: The beginning of the end

Synopsis: Driven and hardworking reader is reluctantly married off to billionaire bachelor Nanami Kento. Expecting him to be suave and sleazy, she enters the marriage with zero expectations of respect, however, the man she ended up marrying is completely opposite of what the media paints him to be. He’s attentive, caring, and surprisingly good at baking. The reader is trying her best not to fall for him but we all know what happens.

Masterlist : https://www.tumblr.com/dilucayaka/764995518013358080/drawn-to-you-a-nanami-kento-fanfic-mdni

“No!” Your voice echoed in your father’s study.

“My child, we both knew this day was coming.” Your father, a tall and daunting man, stalked to stand in front of you. He sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Would you rather I handover the company to Nanami Kento?”

“I’d rather you hand it to me, dad.” You were desperate to the point where your eyes were burning hot. This wasn’t fair. You were the eldest child among your siblings. You had the most experience and you were the most involved person in Hana Corp.

“Y/n, you’re really testing my patience today. You can either keep your 15% stake of Hana Corp and marry Nanami or you can lose it all and work for him instead.”

Your head was spinning. You had to look down on the ground to make sure your legs weren’t going to give out on you. Being this close to the top and losing everything was bad enough already but not getting the company because your dad was afraid of a mere fellow billionaire was even more strange.

In the corner of your eye, you see your father walking to his tray of liquor by the panoramic window. “And just so you know you, you’ll never be able to make it at the top if you choose the latter. If you marry him then you’ll at least get to keep an eye on him and your shares.”

“I don’t get it, I could easily save us from this. Hell, I could buy him out instead. I don’t get why you can’t just appoint me as CEO!”

“The board doesn’t respect you like I and your brothers do, my dear.”

You looked up at him, confused. “And why is that?”

“You have certain biological differences.”

“It’s because I’m a woman?” You yelled. “I’ve been preparing to lead Hana Corp longer than these men have known about your existence. You get to decide what’s right, not them! They don’t do half the hard work we do.”

“Unfortunately I’m going to have to agree with them. You have an attitude problem that I’m afraid will set us back with future deals. You had already messed it up with the brewing company from Italy-“

“It’s because that old fart was a SLEAZE that was hitting on our interns.”

“I understand why you’re-“

“No, you don’t! You never do. Every time I think I’m doing good for Hana Corp, you have to come in and just destroy my plans. You see my potential but you’re just afraid I’m going to surpass you.”

“Enough, Y/N! I do not want to hear anything from you. Consider yourself removed from the board if you open your mouth about this again. You will marry Nanami Kento and it is final.”

You wanted to speak further but at this point, the only assets that you valued were you shares and you couldn’t lose them. When you looked at your father again, he had already turned away from you, choosing to stare at the Tokyo skyline instead. You were almost sure that he had sold you off the moment the idea of an engagement was suggested. In his mind, you were already an outsider.

The high ceiling of the office made you feel small. You felt like a child again, throwing a tantrum because you couldn’t get what you wanted. Maybe that’s how he saw you all along- fodder for good relations. Maybe that is all there is to you. You have no significance in this world except for your strategies (which were always stolen by men who wanted to get ahead of you).

All you have in this world is yourself.

As you were leaving your father’s office, he called your name out for the last time for the night. You stopped on your tracks but didn’t bother facing him. “The engagement is in 3 weeks. Your assistant will give you all the info you need. Oh, and she will be working for your brother once the wedding is over.

Great, now even your assistant was going to be taken away. You remembered how you had to search high and low to find her because your brothers were too lazy to send over their recommendations.

You were going to lose everything whether you liked it or not so you slammed the door shut on your way out as a response.

-•-•-

A good businesswoman is prepared for any situation. It all starts with research. If you were going to marry him for your family’s benefit, you might as well approach it like it is- a business deal.

So there you were, in your penthouse’s main bedroom, laptop on the bed, as you sat crisscrossed with a glass of wine in your left hand. You were going to collect as much information about him as possible. Sure, you could always get a private investigator but who’s to say that a powerful man like that wouldn’t find out.

An hour passed, not a lot of information collected besides finding out which private school he went to and that he did his MBA in the US.

Another hour passed and you were able to find out about the donations he made to a school in the countryside.

It’s almost like all the news out there is just a giant collection of his achievements. Theres no mentions of his personality.

How could no one in Tokyo know what Nanami Kento is like? You knew almost nothing about him besides that he’s good at corporate politics and has a lot of money. All you had for your research material was a lousy GQ magazine interview where he blocked every question about his personal life by talking about his company instead. Wikipedia says that he was raised by his grandfather. Maybe he was a wild child that partied a lot and his history had been wiped clean before he took over NK Enterprises

How can a person be so well known yet so mysterious. And all the socialites that have been rumored to be involved with him have called him one word and one word only- boring.

[morguecuts]

Running From Vain

five hargreeves x fem!reader synopsis: you confuse anger for love. word count: 1.8k tags: angst, heavy fluff, kissing, touching, etc. technically adopted siblings? lots of character lore lol note: story was written with s4 visuals in mind. this is my first time writing tua fanfic so i hope u enjoy. i apologize in advance for being an extremely detailed writer :)

♱⛧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⛧♱

the 8th hargreeves child was the one that reginald kept hidden and locked away for decades. her blood regeneration was able to flow through not only herself but others as well, being able to save them from death and retrieve their leaking souls when needed. she lacked the ability to control them from a young age, and her powers were deemed too impactful to society fairly quickly. when a mission goes rather poorly, she is revealed to the world by mistake. since then she’s been known as the outcast to everyone, including her own siblings. the world is coming to an end once again, issues are constantly arising with all connections pointing to the umbrella academy. the family already lost beloved parts of itself in the past, and they bare to lose any more. tension has been brewing for years and one wrong comment leads to a certain couple releasing deep emotions, both good and bad.

♱⛧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⛧♱

his hands travel from the sides of his face upwards towards the messy black hair that lays upon his head. their strands are falling to perfectly frame the chiseled boy below them. an unpleasant expression is sprawled across five’s face, his tired eyes clenched closed as his eyebrows pinch together. 

“no, you don't understand! we can’t keep wasting time, everything will be gone tomorrow.” he opens his mouth for the time in what feels like hours. his chest begins to rise and fall quickly. his feet start to carry him back and forth, passing you every few moments while his eyes are locked onto you. the hallway where you both reside is tense, heavy, and secluded from the rest of the house. for being in such a mammoth size mansion, with 7 other siblings, a robot mother, and an intelligent monkey, the world seems to be silent. the only noise that can be heard is the faint sound of five breathing, releasing a few deep sighs as he does. 

“i understand perfectly well, but your plan is useless. you are so insufferable to work with, i mean come on five, be realistic for once! if we listen to viktor then we might actually be able to stop the apocalypse.” you make an attempt at replying, but it seems like he’s starting to ignore you. 

the air is intoxicating, you hate him, you hate what he did to the umbrella name, and especially to you. it’s time for someone to stand up and confront his decision making. everything he does is egotistical and arrogant. his words are sharp and impactful in the most negative ways imaginable. the sound of his shuffling feet stop, his dark beaded eyes trace every aspect of your face before opening his mouth in response to you. 

“you know you’re a real piece of work right? calling me insufferable is completely distasteful when all you do is follow diego around like a lost puppy. it’s fucking embarrassing for everyone in this family, and you know it.” he stops to let out a small chuckle before pointing his finger towards your chest. “don't even make me mention the grave mistake you made on our last mission either” his expression is ridden in evil, a small upturned smile resting on his face and he stares into you.

“that was not my fault,” you spit back, angrily stepping towards him. “i am the ONLY person who TRIED to help ben and everyone who was in that chamber could tell you that themselves.” red flashes of anger spread across your skin as you continue to step closer to five. “he died from something completely unrelated to my powers, but I FUCKING TRIED! I DID, NOT ALLISON, NOT DIEGO, ME.” by this time you are meters away from being chest to chest with the boy. 

“you’re a waste of space. you disappoint everyone in this house.” he glares down, his taller figure towers over you menacingly.

"that's really rich coming from you." you take a step back and laugh to yourself. "do you know that nobody in this family likes you anymore? hmm? after all the shit you've constantly put us through, five?”

"i dedicated my entire life to saving your asses, i spent 40 goddamn years in an apocalypse just to come back and save all of you countless times! what do i get in return? impertinence." his demeanor is getting worsened by each remark, hot red anger is spread across his face as he snaps back at you. 

"none of us asked you to! you are always taking charge and forcing us to follow your plans, what if we didn't want to do this anymore? you're such a narcissist everything is always about you!" a near table rattled slightly from the yelling, the flowerpot on top shook before calming back down after a moment. 

"fuck you. fuck all of you. i'm TIRED of trying to save this family. if you all want to die in another apocalypse, then be my guest." he scoffs looking at you one more time and turns to walk away. "god you're so pathetic, always teleporting away when things don't go your way. you’re so childish." you hiss

"what did you say to me?" five spins back around, his feet carrying him back towards you. "you heard me." you raise your head and straighten up, holding his tough gaze. by this time the two of you are practically chest to chest again, his eyes beaming down into you. if he wasn’t human, you'd imagine smoke being blown from his ears and nostrils out of anger.

"say it again." 

"you're. fucking. pathetic." 

in a heartbeat his lips are smashing into you hungrily. one of his hands is gripping your face while the other snakes around your waist. all of the pent up anger between the both of you comes crashing down, blending into lust. he feels warm, his soul is bleeding into yours as his tongue explores your mouth. his hands are running all over your body, stopping to hold onto your mid section, then your behind, and finally dragging their way up to your neck. five pulls back, panting slightly, his eyes searching yours worried and confused.

“do you want this?”  

“more than anything.” you drive your hands into his hair, yanking his lips back into yours. his small smile is felt pressing into your mouth, fingers lingering around the belt loops on the front of your jeans. he’s pulling your body into his as he deepens the kiss, groaning into you when you rub against him slightly. 

he pulls away and leaves trails of hot wet kisses on the front of your throat. you grumble and moan at this touch, causing five to laugh into your skin. he leaves small love bites all over your neck and collarbones while you run your hands through his hair. his eyes glance up at you, a different light beams through them now then moments before. his anger has faded into something similar to love. his little pecks come to a slow rhythm before he returns to your lips. dragging you into him, the two of you slowly begin backing up towards one of the hallway walls. 

he presses his long fingers into the sides of your waist, shoving you into the stone behind you. five’s grip is firm and tight, stopping you from being able to wiggle loose. the way his mouth moves is like a work of art. there’s no doubt that someone had taught him how to kiss like this, but my god, you are thankful for them. you touch him memorizing every piece of his body from his chest, his jawline, to the back of his neck, and up through his hair. the way he leans into your touches with such desperation is absolutely god like.

his slight groans and noises grow in volume when you reach your fingers towards his waist. a sly hand lifting the edge of his shirt and running along the front of his bare body. his small smile returns, pulling back from your lips. 

“your hands are cold.” he leans forward, placing a kiss on your forehead. the invisible bubble draped over the two of you seems to pop. he’s moving hands into the back pocket of your jeans, keeping you pressed into him. you smile at the small actions, glaring up to analyze his face.

“come with me” five reaches for your hand interlocking his fingers between yours. his feet are ready to speed away as he gently pulls you toward whenever he’s leading. 

“five we can’t…” you look at him guilty. 

“no, no… not that.” his head shakes in disbelief as he smiles at you. “please just trust me and come” his hand tugs at yours pleadingly. 

there’s another moment of hesitation before you give him a small nod and move your feet to follow his. the grip he has on your hand tightens as he pulls you forward, a blue smokey powder flashes in front of you before realizing what he was doing. 

there’s a millisecond of discomfort and stinging before you feel the ground beneath your feet again. it hadn’t crossed your mind before how it felt for five to use his powers, but my god it was strange. 

the room is similar to a greenhouse with its large glass windows and open ceiling. it’s covered in vines and greenery with a small white pitched tent in the center. there are boxes and a large wooden table to the side, scattered papers sprawled over its surface. there’s a couple whiteboards on the back wall with calculations and symbols scribbled all over. the messy handwriting looks like five’s, and a photo of his stupid mannequin ex-girlfriend, delores, is hung from one of them confirming this was his doing. 

“where are we?” you glance at him before returning to observe the room.

“the highest level of the house, it’s locked behind one of dads bookshelves but i found it a couple years ago. i used to sneak in here when i needed a quiet place. it’s hard to be bothered when nobody else can get inside except for me” he smiles down at you, tracing small circles with his thumb onto your hand, still intertwined.

you analyze the writings and questions scattered along the room, puzzled about the true purpose of being taken up here. he looks at you confidently while holding a small pale wooden box with the umbrella logo printed on top. 

“i didn't think you were ready before, but i think you are now. i know how we will all survive the apocalypse.” 

 ♱⛧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⛧♱

thank you so much for reading!

i hope you’ve enjoyed it, please feel free to make any comments or story requests down below. any support is always appreciated <3

[rookinthecrownest]

Bedtime Stories for a Demon, Night 1: The Sleeping Princess (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

“Lucanis?”

Some assassin, he thinks bitterly, as Rook’s soft voice breaks him out of his reverie. She finds him sitting at the dining room table, staring at the fire with a cup of now cold coffee in his hands. He didn’t hear her come in.

Caterina would’ve given him at least ten lashes with her cane for letting someone sneak up on him like that.

His mind, lately, was a restless sea. Waves of him and Spite crash over each other, fighting to rise above the din. Fighting for control. And like the moon pushes and pulls the tides at night, Spite’s influence becomes harder to ignore in the waning hours of the evening. Sometimes it was hard to pay attention to anything but Spite rattling the bars of the prison that was Lucanis’ mind.

On most nights he finds himself alone in the pantry, or the dining room, with only a flickering fire and the demon in his head for company. Until a few moments ago that is.

“Rook” he manages a pleasant, tired smile while turning towards her. “You’re up late”

She shrugs and pulls up a chair beside him, now rimmed in the warm orange glow of the fire. “Thought you might want some company – you know, after the whole…” she gestures vaguely in his direction, and he doesn’t need any further elaboration.

He remembers feeling tired, so tired after their last mission. A bone-weariness that only came with the kind of world-ending threats they were becoming entirely too accustomed to handling. Three cups of his strongest brew hadn’t been enough to curb the knife’s edge of sleep deprivation. He remembers sitting upright in his cot and closing his eyes for just a moment.  Then, he was in the basement hallway with the Vir’Evas Eluvian, surrounded by Harding, Rook - and the terrible realization that Spite had taken him for a walk.

Perhaps it was his brutal training at the hands of his grandmother, perhaps it was his own stubbornness, but he hated to make them worry. Especially Rook, who already carried the weight of the world on her small shoulders and the voice of an Elven god in her head. Dealing with a sleepwalking abomination was probably the last thing she needed to be worried about.

“I’m fine” he lies, and stares down at his coffee. His grip on the handle of his mug tightens. Rook’s bright green eyes flicker down to his hands, and he knows she doesn’t believe his words any more than he does. “As I said before – Spite is my burden to bear. Please, go get some sleep, Rook”

Her face falls just a little at that.

“Would if I could” she starts, “You won’t sleep, I can’t sleep – I figure we might as well be night owls together. But if I’m bothering you, I’ll go”

He doesn’t know her well enough yet to catch if she is lying about not being able to sleep – but he imagines she has plenty of her own worries big enough to keep her up at night.

When he doesn’t answer, Rook moves to get out of her chair.

Lucanis quickly waves her back down into her seat.

“No, no, no bother at all” He raises his cup to her in a cheer, “I’ll be glad for the company”

He swirls the cold coffee in his cup, before looking back up at Rook.

“Coffee? I’m going to make a fresh pot” he asks, rising from his place. Rook gives an appreciative nod, the corners of her eyes crinkling with another smile.

“I’d love some, thanks”

Rook is silent until his return from the kitchen, with a cup of freshly made coffee – real coffee, in each hand. None of that instant boiled bean water that Neve had a habit of making.

As he hands her the cup, he notices something in her lap that wasn’t there before. A small journal. Its bindings were tattered and frayed, the colour had faded from what he presumed was a bright crimson to a more muted shade of red, and the pages were yellowed with time.

“What is that?” he asks, taking his place in front of the fire once more.

Rook sets the steaming cup of coffee aside on the table, so she can begin flipping through its worn pages. A musty, acrid smell like old mothballs hangs in the air, and for a brief moment, he’s a boy in the Dellamorte estate’s library running wild between tall, marble bookshelves seeking mischief and knowledge in equal measure.

“My father’s old journal” Rook thumbs through the pages more carefully now, and her voice grows soft.

“He was a Bard in his youth. Toured all over Thedas with his troupe. As he went, he wrote down stories from across the continent” She leans her chin against her hand and smiles fondly at the little book in her hand. “Never imagined he’d be collecting bedtime stories for a future daughter”

There was a softness in her voice that he was not accustomed to hearing, tinged with the barest echo of grief. This is the first time in the few weeks they had known each other that Rook mentioned any kind of family. He notes her use of past tense and decides not to pry, much as he finds himself growing ever curious about his new companion.

Companions.

Rook looks down at the book again before meeting his eyes. They were almost pleading.

“I thought... maybe you’d like to hear one. You know, to help pass the time?”

He thinks of refusing, of telling her she needs to rest, that there is little sense in them both being sleep deprived because of Spite. There is something in her eyes that stops him from turning her down. An emotion he cannot quite name but feels akin to longing. Not quite sadness, not quite nostalgia – somewhere in between.

He quickly comes to the realization that this may be as much for her, as it is for him. Lucanis remembers the comfort that reading old stories brought him. He can picture, in striking detail, the book on Wyvern physiology he stole from the Dellamorte library as a child. He knows the contents of each page by heart, because he can still hear Illario's grumbling about wanting him to shut up about Wyverns echoing through his distant memories. He would read it by candlelight until late in the evening, ready to extinguish the flame and hide the book under his pillow at a moment’s notice if Caterina came by.

He decides that if he can help her by simply listening to a story, he will. Rook spends most of her free time trying to fix everyone else’s problems. Always flitting to and from each room in the Lighthouse like a hummingbird, fretting over the team. The Crows were already indebted to her efforts against the Antaam, and she made it a point to help him with both Spite and tracking down Zara. With all that in consideration, he feels it would be a rather poor show to refuse. That and another feeling he didn’t have a name for, keeps him from rejecting her company tonight.

“Alright” He sighs and takes a sip of his coffee before leaning back in his chair. “Let’s hear it”

Lucanis ignores the skipped beat in his chest as she beams widely.

She claps her hands together and straightens in her chair. “Wonderful!”

“So, what tale will you tell tonight?”

“Have you ever heard the old Tevene story about the Sleeping Princess?” she asks excitedly, crossing her legs in her chair like an impatient child about to be served dessert. She’s practically oscillating with excitement in her seat.

Lucanis smiles at that.

“No, I can’t say I have”

“It’s one of my favourites” she gushes, picking up the journal again and flipping to the correct page. Ringlets of rich brown hair sweep over her shoulder as she does so, and he decides to focus on his coffee instead, before he’s caught staring.

“Aha” her brow furrows as she quickly scans the contents of the journal. “Alright, here we go”

Rook sets the journal aside once more and takes a quick sip of her coffee. He doesn’t miss the way she savours the brew. He knew she enjoyed coffee from their meeting at Café Pietra with Illario, but it was nice to know she appreciated his coffee as much as theirs.

He raises an eyebrow when Rook starts cracking her knuckles – and her neck, then readies her hands in the same pose he’s seen her use for magic.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see” she grins conspiratorially.

“If you’re about to throw a fireball at me – “

“Relax, relax” Rook shakes her head, and whispers “Magic has more uses than fighting”

He can feel Spite stirring in the dark recess of his mind and does his best to ignore it.

Rook’s delicate hands begin glowing with blue light, and to his astonishment, a moment later she conjures a fully realized image of a castle, floating in the space between them. He can see the spires, turrets, and even the wrought-iron gates in clear, astonishing detail. Lucanis leans forward to inspect the castle as it rotates in mid-air, giving him views of every side. Even the masonry and statues have an immaculate degree of realism. It was almost as if she had taken a real castle and shrunk it down.

“How …?” He is not usually one to be rendered speechless, but it was not every day he is exposed to new types of magic - and when he was, historically, that hasn't always been a good thing for him. Spite rumbling under his skin reminds him of that.

“I learned to do it back in my Circle days. It was my thesis work – the use of the Fade to create projections of objects from one’s minds” her pride in her castle falls when she continues to explain, “The senior enchanters thought it a waste of effort and I barely passed my final year – they couldn’t see a use for it past getting their children to sleep. I suppose if magic can’t be used to some terrible, destructive end, it gets relegated to a novice’s thesis statement to be buried in the Circle’s archives and never touched again”

“It’s incredible Rook” he breathes. The words leave his mouth before he can stop them. He’s not sure if it’s the warmth of the fire, or something else, but he swears a faint tinge of red creeps from her neck up to her ears.

He desperately wants to reach out and touch the castle, but keeps his hands firmly on his coffee cup, worried he may ruin her concentration.

Rook’s eyes crinkle with her smile, wide and genuine. He’s never seen her smile like that, and it feels utterly disarming.

He brings his coffee cup to his lips again, about to take a sip.

“Thank you, Lucanis” Her voice is sweeter than the coffee on his lips.

“You’re welcome” is all he manages to choke out, leaning away from the castle to give himself some distance to regain control of his faculties.

Rook clears her throat, “I ahh, guess I should get on with the story, hmm?”

Lucanis nods and takes another sip of coffee, feeling the warmth spread through him but he is not entirely certain it’s from the coffee alone.

“I would say you’re burning moonlight, but given where we are …”

He smiles when Rook chuckles at his terrible attempt at humour, and he appreciates it even if it is forced on her end, but it feels genuine enough. Everything about Rook was genuine.

Her focus returns to the castle in front of them.

“Once upon a time, in a land far away, there was a small kingdom”

She waves her hands in a fluid motion and the solitary castle morphs into a bird’s eye view of that same castle perched on top of a hill, overlooking a small village.

“And in that kingdom, there lived a King and a Queen, much beloved by their people.”

The castle and village disappear. They are now replaced with two figures sitting on matching thrones upon a simple dais. In the thrones sit a man and a woman, each with a crown decorating their foreheads.

“The King and Queen longed desperately for a child of their own and had tried for many years to make it so. ‘Would that we had a child!’, the King cried, and yet, their child remained a dream.”

As she said those words, the mouth of the king moved in tandem.

He can’t imagine the amount of concentration it must be taking to accomplish telling a story, maintaining an illusion, and making an illusion talk. He continues to sit there in awe, with only his training keeping his jaw from hanging on the floor.

The corner of her lips pull down into a slight frown.

“The Queen would not accept the words of her physician, who told her bearing a child was not possible for her, for there was a sickness in her womb that would prevent it”

The image morphed into the Queen hunched over on the floor, on all fours, sobbing. It looks so real he is convinced he could hear her agonized cries.

Now, the Queen has traded her crown for a traveller's cloak. She floats aimlessly in the air between them, the cloak billowing on an invisible wind.

“The Queen, unbeknownst to the King, set off to seek the knowledge of a Spirit from the Fade. When she eventually finds one,” Rook pauses and waves her left hand to bring forth the image of an amorphous spirit in front of the Queen. “She wastes no time asking the Spirit if it could help her conceive a child”

The spirit continues to float above the figure of the queen, who is now on her knees looking up at it, hands clasped as if in prayer.

“The Spirit asks if she is prepared to do anything to have a child. The Queen fervently answers that she would give up anything – do anything for an heir.” The figure of the Queen bows down to the Spirit in deference. “Satisfied, the Spirit gives her knowledge of a ritual that could provide her with a child. It would take several mages and the sacrifice of an innocent, but that was the only way to cure the sickness from her womb and carry a child. ‘Do this, and your child will grow in grace and beauty. Hair spun in gold, lips as red as the rose. She will walk with spring time wherever she goes. Her song will put nightingales and larks to shame’”

Blood magic. Figures this story comes from Tevinter.

“But be warned” The Spirit holds up a hand, “Should the Princess ever prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and draw blood, she will die”

The figure of the Queen hurriedly nods, before disappearing into nothing.

“The Queen quickly returns to the kingdom and enlists the help of her council of Magi”

The figure of the Queen returns to its original appearance. She is now surrounded by seven cloaked figures, each carrying a stave in their hands. The form of a young woman is chained, on her knees, in the middle of them all.

“They had their sacrifice, and the knowledge on how to perform the ritual” Her voice is quiet, almost strained.

The figures appear to be chanting now. The faint blue glow of the form of the young woman slowly turns red, with some concentration on Rook’s part. A moment later, the form is swallowed by red light and disappears. Veins of red climb like vines and weave their way into the figure of the Queen, settling on her stomach, before fading from sight.

Rook’s frown deepens and her brows draw closely together. The figures of the King and Queen morph into an embrace. And quickly after, they are sitting on their thrones, side-by-side, with the Queen’s belly swollen with child.

“The King had no idea about the ritual. He was ecstatic, of course, at the prospect of finally having a child” Rook said. “And so he didn’t question it when the Queen asked that every spinning wheel in the kingdom be burned to ensure her safety”

The pair disappear, and now, a large pile of spinning wheels, burning with blue flames, takes their place.

It disappears soon after, and the image of a baby is conjured in its place. She is sleeping soundly in an intricately carved wooden cot.

“The Princess, who they called Rosaea, was perfect. And just as the Spirit had said, she would indeed grow in grace and beauty” The form of the baby changes to that of a young woman, with long, flowing hair and a beautiful face. “She was loved by all her people, for she had a kind heart. She lived happily with her parents and was adorned of gifts from her people, the nobility, and suitors alike. But things would not stay that way for long.”

The image of the princess disappears. The scene shifts to the King, Queen, and the Princess together at the gates of the Kingdom.

“Urgent business with another Kingdom called the King and Queen away, and so the Princess was left to wander the castle by herself”

Rook waves a hand and the Princess walks alone, before coming to the form of an old woman hunched over a spinning wheel.

The princesses mouth moves in tandem with Rook’s words.

“You there, madam” The princess says, pointing to the wheel. “What is it that you are doing?’ She asks, for she had never seen a spinning wheel before”

The figure of the old woman turns towards the princess and beckons her closer, “I am spinning, dear girl’, it answers” The figure of the princess moves closer to the spinning wheel. She leans over it, and asks, “What is that thing that twists around so briskly?”

No sooner had she said the words and taken the spindle into her hand, there is a flash of red light, and the figure of the princess is on the floor. Not dead, but sleeping, for he can see the rise and fall of her chest.

The old woman first morphs into the spirit from before, the one that spoke with the Queen, and then it changes again into a twisted creature - all horns, claws, and jagged edges. One he was all too familiar with. A demon.

“The Spirit the Queen had spoken with was no Spirit at all, it was a Terror demon in disguise.” Rook explains, waving her hand through the illusion of the girl and the demon towering over her, erasing it from existence.

It is at this moment that Lucanis realizes he’s forgotten to breathe. He draws a deep breath, and leans forward, resting his forearms on his legs. His coffee sits abandoned on the table, as does Rook’s. Spite is practically vibrating behind his eyes.

“Well, go on” he gestures at her.

Rook grins, evidently satisfied with her work. “Impatient, are we?”

Lucanis smirks, “Spite wants to know how it ends”

“And you’re not the least bit curious?” She crosses her arms in front of her chest, looking at him doubtfully.

He distracts himself with a sip of coffee, miraculously still somewhat warm. “I might be”

Rook chuckles and shakes her head, mirroring him by bringing her own coffee to her lips. She licks her lips and sighs, and he tries to look anywhere but her mouth. For a moment, he finds himself preoccupied with his own shoes.

“Sorry, I was feeling a bit parched there. On with the story” She rings out her hands and brings them back into position. That familiar blue glow envelops them again. He feels its safe to meet her gaze again.

“The Terror Demon’s ritual didn’t just affect the Princess, it affected the whole Kingdom. One by one, everyone fell into a deep slumber, just like the princess”

He watches intently as the castle courtyard morphs into view between them. Figures of soldiers and servants alike start falling asleep in place, dropping like wilting flowers. The courtyard disappears and returns to another view of the entire kingdom. Large, twisted brambles begin enveloping it,He eererere forming an impenetrable wall of thorns encasing everything in sight.

“The King and Queen returned to find their Kingdom gone. They tried rallying support from other kingdoms, but none could breach the Demon’s brambles”

Figures of soldiers and magi alike lobbing magic and arrows and spears at the wall sprang to life. Each volley as useless as the last. She pauses as the image fades, and nothing takes its place.

“And?” Lucanis asks leaning onto his forearms even more.

“And I’m getting there” Rook laughs, flourishing her fingers like she’s conducting an invisible orchestra.

“The Demon’s spell kept the kingdom in a state of eternal slumber. It fed on their fears and nightmares in the Fade while they slept. On the outside, a hundred years had passed, and the King and Queen were long dead. But everyone inside the Kingdom still remained as they were when they were put to sleep”

Two elaborate tombs flickered to life, before fading a moment later.

“Another hundred years passes before a wandering adventurer, pure of heart and mind, and possessing the soul of a true hero, would come to the ruins of the Kingdom, still surrounded by the wall of thorns”

She conjures the image of a handsome-faced young man, in simple chain mail, riding atop a horse.

“But this adventurer was special, you see” Rook whispered and leaned in closer.

Smells like lavender and rosewater, Spite chimes.

“For he had a Spirit of Valor on his side. And the Spirit would see the Terror Demon banished back to the Fade forever”

The figure draws his sword, glowing a bright golden yellow, and pierces the wall of thorns with ease. He continues to cut through the wall and makes his way to the castle.

“There was a great battle between the Demon and the Hero, but the Hero prevails with the help of the Spirit of Valor”

The demon is pierced by the golden sword, and cries out a soundless scream, before disappearing. Now, the entire view of the kingdom is back. The brambles recede like a tide, and one by one, little figures of soldiers and servants begin waking up.

Curiously, when the image fades back to the figure of the princess, she still lies sleeping.

“Why didn’t the princess wake up?” Lucanis asks, his brows drawing together in confusion.

“The Nightmare Demon’s hold on the Princess is stronger than any of the other inhabitants of the Kingdom” Rook explains, shifting in her seat. "It was banished back to the Fade, but not defeated in its entirety. Terror is one of the strongest emotions there is, after all"

The princess and the hero fade from view, and this time, nothing takes their place.

“There has to be more than that” He throws his hands up and shakes his head, before taking another sip of coffee. He nearly spits it out. It’s gone cold. Again. Yet for all his love of caffeinated beverages, the thought of getting up to make another cup doesn’t even cross his mind.

She laughs again, her green eyes twinkling with mirth, “I’m getting there.” She repeats.

“You’re doing this on purpose” He points to her, frowning.

“I have to build suspense somehow!”

Rook raises her hands again, and the figures of the princess and the hero return to view.

“The Hero couldn’t help but be struck by the Princesses’ beauty. He could do nothing else but admire her sleeping form. And he was overcome with the desire to kiss her, for he knew it was love at first sight. He had no way of knowing if it would work – maybe it was his own heart, or maybe it was the Spirit of Valor whispering in his ear, but needed to know if a kiss could wake her from her slumber”

The figure of the prince moves closer to the princess, and hunches over her sleeping form. It leans in and presses a gentle, chaste kiss to her lips.

Both the princess and the hero were soon engulfed in a warm, golden glow. The figure of the princess wakes, and the hero takes her into his arms.

“The princess wakes to find herself in the arms of her rescuer. She and the Hero fall in love. They re-establish the kingdom and ruled together as King and Queen, living happily ever after”

And with a final flick of her wrist, the embracing figures vanish into the ether.

“The End” She says, with a satisfied smirk and a small bow at the waists.

Lucanis leans back in his seat, unable to stop himself from smiling. “That’s it? Everything is fixed with a kiss?”

Rook shrugs innocently, “Aren’t most things?”

He has no time to process that, or the way she’s looking at him while she says it.

“Besides, it wasn’t just a kiss. It was true love’s kiss. Love can be a powerful form of magic in its own right. Just as powerful as Terror - if not more so”

Lucanis frowns. He wishes he could believe that.

“In stories, perhaps” he mutters, swirling the cold coffee around in its cup.

Rook yawns and runs a hand through her wild curls.

“Perhaps” She stands and takes the journal in her hands. She offers him another sweet smile before turning to leave, “Never hurts to believe, though”

As she makes for the dining hall door, Lucanis stands from his chair.

“Rook?” He calls out after her.

She stops and turns, “Yeah?”

“Thank you … for this” he gestures to the fireplace. “For tonight.”

Rook nods, “You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked my story”

“Would you come again tomorrow night?” He asks, entirely too quickly. Convinced he sounds like a lovesick puppy, he wants to kick himself in the shin. Thankfully, he has Spite to do that to his head.

Rooks brows lift in surprise, like she wasn’t expecting him to ask. They quickly settle into a kind expression, one he finds he wants to burn into his memory until its all he can see.

“Yeah, of course” She gives him a small wave, “I’ll see you tomorrow night”

Lucanis returns the wave and returns to the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee.

Meanwhile, Rook leaves the dining hall barely able to keep herself upright.

Being inside the Fade made it much easier for her to draw on her magic, but she’s never used that level of detail and sustained it for so long to tell a story.

Sleep would come easier that night for her from the mana depletion alone.

But Lucanis would stay awake replaying her story in his head over and over again. He would think of how the warm glow of the fireplace cast streaks of orange and gold into her wild curls. How her eyes practically sparkle and the softness of her voice when she tells a story.

But in all the loops of Rook and her story that play in his mind, it escapes his notice that a possessed man is the hero of her tale.

[givethemsmut]

Dom Mysterio x Reader

I needed a place to write and this story has been running up the storage on my phone.

Dom X Reader

Friends to Lovers

WWE mixed with real life

All fanfic, I don’t own WWE characters, etc.

Tons of Smut Chapter One | Where it all started…

I had known Dom since I was fourteen, attending the same Catholic school and wearing the same navy blue uniforms that felt too stiff to relax in.

I had been living with his family since it mattered and dating their son was not an option. No matter how much I wanted to.

We were both seventeen when I finally asked Dom to be my first. I didn’t want anyone else and I wanted to get it over with. Nothing about your first time is supposed to be heavenly. They scared us with pain and bleeding as women in health class enough to make anyone dread the first time. And who better than my best friend? 

Dom was eating Cheetos and bothering his mom cooking in the kitchen when I strolled up. 

Texting Dom even though I was right next to him was how we communicated without speaking a lot. A go to for us.

Me: Will you take my virginity?

I had no idea if Dom was a virgin still. He was attractive, wealthy, famous dad, and everything girls chased.

Dom: Are you serious?

Me: Yeah. Who else? I want to get it over with.

Dom had already properly stolen my first kiss and I was more than grateful. Drinking, smoking, every first a teen could have Dom was there for. He was my best friend but he was also a guy and living with him didn’t help those pesky hormones. 

Me: Aren’t you horny?

Dom: I’m a fucking guy and you live here. No relief, mi amore. Are you sure? Can’t take it back.

Me: Yes, I can’t take it anymore. I’m pretty sure your parents can hear my vibrator at night.

Dom: Fuck. That’s not helping.

I touched his leg and made an apologetic face while he winced with his head down. It wasn’t a secret we were attracted to each other. Even his parents made jokes about us spending time together or flirting.

Getting up Dom clasped onto my arm, stopping me, “tonight.”

We had kissed at parties, in his bedroom, even in the shared bathroom but nothing crazy. We hadn’t made out the way you see in movies. 

“Can you come with me? Right now. I need your help.”

Dom said something in Spanish to his mom before he followed behind me up stairs. Their house was lavish, big but modest somehow at the same time. Climbing the stairs he kept asking me what was going on when I kept shutting him up until we were behind doors.

Pushing him into his room I closed the door behind us. “We haven’t even made out yet. I don’t wanna skip anything.” I stood by the door watching Dom trying to calculate anything I was saying. Pulling the hoodie over my head and exposing my red bralette immediately made my nipples hard knowing he was about to look.

“Wait, hermosa. We can’t just rush into this. I don’t even know if I can make out with you and not wanna do more.” He sat on the edge of his bed holding his face in his hands and his elbows digging into his knees. “Okay, so we do more.”

Walking over to him I pushed him back, standing between his legs. “Do you not want to? It’s okay if you don’t.”

He sat back looking down at his crotch in his gym shorts. “Does it look like I don’t want to? I want to. I don’t want you to regret it. Regret me.”

Pushing Dominik back until he was flat against the bed I climbed on top of him, straddling his lap. His hands finally reached out and touched my legs but I could still feel the conflict brewing inside him. 

“Dom, just kiss me already.”

Siting up right his lips snipped at mine and his eyes locked into mine. We both pulled away enough to look at each other. Every nerve in me flared up and suddenly I was aware of my body, arching my back in his hands.

“You don’t have to try, mi armor. You’re already everything…” his hands traced up my sides, fingertips tickling the seam of my bralette. “I’m the lucky one here.”

Those hormones were waging a war between my thighs when I felt how hard he was under me. I wanted to give him all of me but every part of me relied on logic.

No one finds forever at seventeen.

“Are you virgin still?” I asked as he kissed my neck and his thumbs teased my hard nipples.

Smiling against my skin I bit down on my lip trying to hide every emotion. “I haven’t babe. It would be a lot easier right now if I had.”

“You can touch me, Dom.” My voice scratched the surface of a whisper.

Slowly his hands moved to cup my breasts, letting his fingers dig into me enough to make me jump. Immediately he stated apologizing, “I’m sorry, too hard.”

“No, no. It feels really good.”

“My mom is downstairs. We can’t be loud.”

“Just kiss me, Dominik,” I begged him to shut me up. 

Rolling over, he pushed me down, his legs under my thighs and my pussy so wet it was uncomfortable. “Oh my god.”

Our mouths were hungry, nipping and biting between kisses, our tongues wrestling every time our lips parted. Everything felt too good to be true. 

His hands pinned down my wrists when he pulled away. “Fuck. I -“ he couldn’t even say it. I knew he needed me to touch him too.

My hand snaked down between us and I smoothed over his erection when it jerked against me. Kissing his jaw and neck I felt so turned on it was hard to think straight. 

Lowering down into I felt him rock against my hand. “Fuck. I wanna fuck you. I wanna be inside you.”

His words made my body vibrate even more. “Fuck me, Dom. I want it to be you.”

Tugging my bralette down his mouth closed over my nipple, flicking his tongue over me like a professional. Pushing the waist band on my sweats down I let my hips grind against nothing as Dom tossed them behind him. 

“Fuck.” Something followed in his native tongue and I felt myself melt against the mattress.

“What does that mean?”

“You’re turning me on so damn much. Let me taste you baby.” He whispered his words as he slide down the bed. Opening my legs enough to look at me before he kissed down my legs. Pausing before his mouth collided with my pussy.

I felt his tongue lick my folds, pushing inside me, brushing my clit. I tried my hardest not to moan out loud but I couldn’t help it when it tumbled from my lips. Dom’s hand reached up my body covering my mouth while he licked. 

I was soaked, a mess, when I begged him to fuck me. “I can’t take anymore, please, Dom.”

Kneeling up right he pushed down his shorts finally letting me see him. He sprung out hard and angry like. All I wanted to do was touch him and give him relief but I waited. 

Dom’s hand closed around himself before dragging down his length as I gasped at his movements. “Jesus, Dom. You’re huge.”

“Just wait until you feel me baby. Tell me you’re on birth control.” Pulling him down to me I shook my head before kissing him.

We made out until we couldn’t take it anymore. Dom guided himself inside me and I forced myself to be quiet while every part of me stretched for him.

“Oh my god, mi amor. You feel too good. I’m gonna come too quick.” He said those words but I had already came so many times I contemplated how I was going to walk after.

He started thrusting himself inside me, pounding between my legs and trying to chase our moans away with kissing.

Twisting over he said, “Ride me baby. I wanna see you on top, Mami.”

Straddling him again I repositioned myself and shook as I felt him deeper inside me. I nearly came right then when his hands roamed my body so gently. Landing on my hips he guided me forward, swaying and grinding on top of him. 

Neither of us heard anyone coming, not the doorknob or his mom’s voice shout out before she opened the door in her own house. “Dominik, dinner is ready.”

All we heard was the gasp from the door way when Dom flipped us over working his hips slower, painfully slow. “Mami! Por favor!” 

Trying to hide under him I felt mortified. His family took me in, Dom was my best friend. They were going to blame and hate me now.

His mom immediately left, panicked and embarrassed as us I can only assume. “Hey, ignore that. It’s just us. It’s just me.”

Twisting my legs around him I felt my hips begs for more. “I need this, Dom. Every muscle, every smile, it’s torture living with you and not touching you. I touch myself every night just to keep sane but your family took me in. I can’t betray them. It’s just our virginities.”

“Betray them, hermosa. My family has nothing to do with this. You wouldn’t feel this good if it was wrong.”

Kissing me again I tried to push away the negative thoughts when my body was ready to orgasm again. Only this time was around Dom’s cock inside me. Grasping his biceps I felt my body tumble off a cliff. “Dominik, Dom.” I pleaded but for nothing. We gave each other everything tonight. I risked so much and yet none of him left a bad taste in my mouth.

We laid there for a while in silence, Dom still on top of me and kissing my face. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” 

“I’m okay. Sore but okay.” 

We would have laid there forever but his father’s fist pounded on the door. It was unmistakable, he was stern with us, me included but for reason. We were pushing the boundaries and they trusted us. They trusted me to act like a daughter or perfect house guest not the girl fucking their son.

Scrambling to his feet he yanked on his shorts again and I wrapped the sheet around me. I fled to the shared bathroom and closed the door behind me. Quickly turning on the shower I jumped in before it was hot. Anything to avoid their disappointment. His family raise me since I was fifth-teen, I didn’t want to loose them.

Every touch ran through my mind while I tried to hear Rey scolding Dom. “What are thinking? With your mom right down stairs? Mija, we took her in because she needed familia, not so she could be your friends with benefits.”

“Are you serious right now? You know how I feel. She’s not here to take my virginity and piss you off. We wanted to be each other’s first. That’s special.” Dom’s voice was steady and it was unnerving.

“She can’t live here and you two be sexually active. That’s final.”

“That’s so unfair! How was I supposed to know I would fall in love with her?”

“Dominik, listen to me. You’re a teenager. You are going to find your one at this age.” He was right. I twisted the knob to full blast before I actually showered off my first time. I had to break his heart to keep them as family. We would get over it one day. I knew it.

Getting ready I came down stairs like nothing happened. “I’m so sorry, I’m gonna skip dinner but leave the dishes. I’ll do them when I get back. Blaine asked me out.” I said everything while looking at the floor. Dom’s heart was breaking right in front of me. 

Dom stood up from the table. “Are you fucking serious? After what we just did?”

“Dom. We can talk later, okay?” I pleaded him with my soft voice to drop it. Not in front of his family but I knew better. Dom could be a dog with a bone when he wanted to be.

Swiftly moving around the table he followed me out the front door where my date was picking me up. It was all for show, I had no interest in Blaine but I needed him to understand that we couldn’t cross those lines again. Not anymore. He would forgive me later.

Blaine wasn’t at the end of the driveway the way I planned when Dom grabbed my arm and yanked me back. “What are you doing? We just had sex and now you’re going on a date?”

“I said get it over with. I never agreed to dating or anything else.” It hurt to say.

“Bullshit. I can fucking tell by every goddamn moan that came out of your mouth.” He practically spit the words in my face. We were standing so close I could feel the anger come off him. “Don’t do this. Don’t give me some bullshit about first. We both know what happened in there wasn’t fucking firsts.”

Blaine pulled up in his expensive car just at the right time when I managed to escape Dom’s grip. 

Later that night I came home and cleaned the entire kitchen when his dad came breezing in. “You don’t have to avoid us. I’m not kicking you out. Dom might have other feelings tho. I understand why you did what you did. It’s okay, mija. You’re family now. You don’t have to choose between us and Dominik.”

That was the last time we spoke of it and the start of a five month Cold War before Dom and I made up. 

I even contemplated crawling back to my family but just like my life up that point - nothing went as planned. I had missed my period by two months and I panicked. The only person I had to go to was Dom’s mom who knew I had deflowered her son.

At first she was furious but then she finally came around. She didn’t agree with my termination but I knew being a teenage mom to a boy I couldn’t even admit to loving wasn’t going to be my story.

Dom’s parents agreed to keep it secret from their son until I made the decision to come clean to him. I planned on dying with that secret. 

He was destined for greatness, following in his father’s footsteps while I was practically an orphan. I had no plans and no direction. 

When Dom finally came around it was to tell me he was moving to Florida for training camp and it devastated me just as much as I had done to him. “Dad said it would be a good idea to have someone I knew and trusted by my side. He already got us a condo in Miami. You in?”

I jumped at the invitation, I wanted my best friend back. That was all I wanted actually.

“I’m in. When do we leave?”

Chapter Two coming…

[httpsserene]

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝘂𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝟳: 𝗽𝗶𝗲𝗿𝗿𝗲 𝗴𝗮𝘀𝗹𝘆 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 | 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗰𝗿𝗮𝗳𝘁

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: witch!reader and potions master!pierre run a cute little shop to fulfill anyone’s magical needs. it’s nearing valentine’s day, and the shop is bombarded with desperate humans looking for love charms & potions, even though there’s no magic spell strong enough to replicate true love. oddly, news travels from a few villages over that there’s a potions master who managed to make a real love potion. pierre has to get his hands on it—for the bit, obviously. there’s no way it will work.  📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. not beta read. witchcraft. familiars. cunnilngus. aphrodisiacs. inherent dubcon. vaginal sex. unsafe sex. sudden orgasm? desperation. coming inside. vague structure and explanation of magic. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: pierre gasly x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: need to know • doja cat

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: inspired by amortentia. what can i say at every fanfic writer's core, they’ve read an unhealthy amount of hp ff’s, i don’t make up the rules. we know pierre is a fiend, but uh, i do not even feel like i truly tapped into his true unhinged power with this. n joy, loves !!!

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cross-posted on my ao3, htppsss

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the shop has been open for fifty-five minutes and it’s already been overwhelmed by desperate humans. valentine’s day is tomorrow; and every naive soul is scrambling to get a love charm or potion. the problem with that is: there’s no magic spell or potion able to mirror true love. however, nobody coming into the shop appreciates that answer. 

after the third time a customer hysterically screamed at you for saying there’s no such thing as a ‘love spell,’ you made a slight tweak to the doorbell. now, every time the door opens a bass-boosted audio of you screaming, “LOVE POTIONS, CHARMS, OR SPELLS DO NOT EXIST” echoed through the shop. unfortunately, that message did not seem to help. you had to change the way you welcomed customers when they stepped up to the counter.

“good morning! welcome in to runes and brews; if you’re looking for a spell of true love, it doesn’t exist. nor does a potion or charm. the most i can offer is a hyperfixation charm, which makes the subject pay more attention to you for twelve hours. this charm doesn’t affect their emotions, you still have to make them attracted to you with your, hopefully, natural charm. are you interested in one, they’re buy-one-get-one free for valentine’s day?”

your customer service grimace smile is stained across your lips as you parrot the same words to each customer. you’ve become an npc. the customers try to interrupt your spiel, but you act as if it’s a piece of unskippable dialogue. if they’re going to come here and harass you over their inability to rizz somebody up—they’re sure as hell going to listen when you speak. at this point, you’ve adopted the ‘it is what it is’ mentality. you’re selling a record number of hyper-fixation charms, you think you might run out of your entire supply hours before the store closes. 

at first, you felt a little guilty about selling these charms to the desperate souls. all they want is true love and you can only offer a temporary fix. but after you’ve been screamed at countless times for telling these non-magiques that you can’t supply them with what they’re asking for, the guilt quickly transforms to ‘idgaf.’ with a twitching eye, you kindly told the customers inside the store to wait just a few seconds while you adjusted the door’s charm. 

you grab the outer doorknob with a hand covered in lapis powder, and imbue it with your aura to edit the current protection spell. thankfully, you remembered to meditate this morning, so casting comes easily. you breathe deeply, before releasing the handle and you make your way back towards the customers. and suddenly, the amount of people entering the shop decreases dramatically.

you have such a manic grin on your face that the customers inside the building stare at you in mild terror. one of the humans swallows their fear, and asks the question they’re all afraid to hear the answer to, “w-what did you do to the uh- to the d-door?”

the lights brighten around you as your grin grows larger, and you nonchalantly answer, “the door reads your intentions before you step inside. if a customer plans to come in and harass me over what is magically impossible, they get cursed.”

the humans gasp in fear, and you’re eyes widen in realization, “oh! no-no, don’t worry, it’s nothing bad! it’s just a floating rose that screams out ‘i have no rizz’ to every person they talk to for the next forty-eight hours. they’ve ruined their own valentine’s day with their terrible manners,” you state proudly.

the mass of customers inside thins out pretty quickly after that. 

thankfully, the door charm seems to do the trick with keeping out unruly folks. you’re able to start working on requests from your usual customers—the barkeep needs her rune for a bottomless keg replenished, the butcher needs his new set of utensils charmed with sharpness, the baker’s assistant needs your help working on the heating charm for the warming-tables, and so on and so forth. you get a new vampire customer today, requesting a sunshade potion—they indulge in telling you that they’re planning to spend valentine’s day outside with their human partner as a surprise. you coo at the vampire adorably as you check them out, and you see their cheeks faintly tint with pink—they must have fed recently. this is why being open for valentine’s day is worth it to you; customers like this remind you that true love still exists.

you wish him luck with his surprise, and hand over the potion, which was made by your true love, pierre. who was supposed to be helping you in the shop about thirty minutes ago. he claimed to have to run out and get a few extra supplies to be able to fulfill all of his orders, but that he’d be back before the shop opened. when he shows his face, the true love between you two may not exist anymore. because you’re going to kill him for hanging you out to dry. you sigh, and make your way into the back storage closet to get a fresh box of dried peonies for the new batch of hyperfixation charms, when you hear the doorbell scream the warning message.

you call-out, “give me one moment and i’ll be right up to help you out! feel free to look around in the meantime!” you summon the box of peonies forward, and spell it to float after you as you make your way out.

turning the corner, you automatically begin your npc introduction, “good morning! welcome in to runes and brews; if you’re looking for a spell of true love, it doesn’t exist. nor does a potion or charm. the most i can offer is a hyperfixation charm—oh, it’s just you—ohmygod—how did you pick up my door curse??”

pierre stares at you in a mixture of bewilderment and amusement, as the rose screams “I HAVE NO RIZZ,” at you. you can only laugh, and summon your phone to your hand to take a video. pierre laughs in reflex, still not sure what’s going on, and suddenly he’s being climbed over like a cat tree by your familiar.

“aha!” you exclaim. “i’ve been looking for you all day, ma’am. what pocket of the universe were you hiding in? you always disappear when the non-magiques come around instead of defending me, cat. what kind of familiar are you?”

pierre struggles to wrangle cat off of his head from where she’s fucking up the rose hanging over him. he side-eyes you heavily when he still sees you recording the whole interaction, and you put the phone down before you step over to get cat off of his head. “madame catalytic converter!” you yell with the force of your ancestors.

yes, you named your familiar catalytic converter, cat for short. it makes perfect sense, she improves your efficiency and decreases the chance for any harmful side-effects when you do magic; just like the car part. pierre says that’s why she never listens to you, for giving her a terrible name. when you asked him what he would’ve named her, he said, “probably, escargot, or something.” you said that’s probably why she hates him more. 

you remove the curse from pierre with a quick touch of your hand to his forehead, and the rose poofs away. madame catalytic converter, hops away quickly, uninterested in either of you again, and struts away to sit on top of the box of peonies you brought up. you narrow your eyes at your familiar, “oh—so you’re not even going to explain yourself? where were you?”

cat stares at you dead in the eyes, before she looks away and starts licking her calico fur clean, dismissing you. you scoff, rolling your eyes, and turn to pierre, “and where were you, monsieur?” you ask, poking a finger to his chest. 

pierre presses a kisses to your cheek in greeting, and raises the one bag he has in his hand as part of his answer, “i told you i was running errands, remember?”

you purse your lips at him, and he smiles at you, wrapping an arm around your waist to try and pull you in for a kiss. you smack your teeth disapprovingly, gripping his jaw with your hand, and holding him back, “yeah, you told me you were getting extra supplies. plural. and, that you’d be back in time to open the shop.”

pierre avoids your eyes, chuckling anxiously. 

“i’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but, you’ve only come back with one item, and it’s well past the time the shop opened,” you pause, letting pierre simmer, “explain yourself.”

“okaysoilied,” pierre rushes out, and you hum in shock sarcastically, gesturing for him to continue, “but—but! mon amour, i’ve come back with something that could potentially level up my potion making skills!”

you stare at him unamused, “oh ok—well, show me, what is this wonderful thing?”

pierre shifts on his feet, and you are suddenly afraid to know what he’s bought. if his confidence is faltering, you know whatever’s in that bag cannot be good. 

“so, you remember how people were saying the potion shop a few towns over has actual love potions,” pierre starts eagerly, you nod in resignation, already knowing where this is going, “i bought one! well, two actually. i tried to bug the potion maker into telling me what he put in it, but he was so shifty about it. which is completely understandable, if i made a new potion as great as this, i wouldn’t tell anybody my secrets either.”

“okay, pierre,” you sigh, rubbing a hand across your face, disappointed, “why did you buy two of them?”

“oh,” pierre begins, his usual ludicrous smirk returning to his expression, “one for me to study, and one for me to take! the best way to see if it works is to test it out myself.”

you tug his hand off your waist, and step away from him, pointing at him in vindication, “that’s why my curse worked on you! you’re harassing me with this goddamn love-potion shit—you snake, we both know it’s not real!”

pierre groans, following after you as you storm back to the front counter, the peony box floating over as well, cat yowling at the sudden movement. 

“oh, come on, mon amour,” pierre pleads, brandishing the love potion at you, “where is your hunger for magical breakthroughs? aren’t you curious to learn how it works?”

“pierre, babe, it doesn’t work! that’s why i don’t care! and, why would it work on you? we’re already a true love’s match. we’re soul-tied!”

“so, there’s no harm in me taking it,” pierre claims, like he’s found a loophole. 

“pierre, you shouldn’t,” you warn him. the potions master deflates at your words, and you sigh at the sight of his point. you take a few steps to press your lips to his in a sweet kiss, and your aura swells with pierre’s love passing to you.

“if you do end up taking it, which you probably will anyways, at least take the time to properly study it. you don’t know if they’re any weird side effects,” pierre perks up, his blue-green eyes losing their saddened look immediately. he happily presses a few more kisses to your lips, and pulls away before pressing a kiss to your hand.

“i will! i’m going to go to the back now and start studying it—“

“uhm, no you are not! you still have to help me run this store, sir! i have plenty of things for you to do. starting with cleaning our cauldrons!”

pierre groans in disgust and whines like a child, “mon amour! please, you know i hate doing that. you can do it with a snap of your fingers, why do i have to do it with manual labor?”

you arch a sharp brow at him, and gently remind him of his behavior, “you shouldn’t have lied to me then, hm?” pierre sulks, and moves towards the back to get started on cleaning the cauldrons.

“don’t look so sad—i could’ve had you collecting the eyes of spiders!”

pierre cringes when he accidentally slams the drawer of his desk closed, pausing cautiously to listen for any movement in the house. it’s late, and you’ve gone to bed hours ago; he’s stayed up trying to identify what exactly this so-called love potion is made out of, and what order of processes it was created with. the frenchman is certain that there are at least seven ingredients in the brew: mature peonies, smashed pearls, crushed dates, powdered rose thorns, rose water, and a potion base of moonstone and lapis. it’s odd, because to pierre the potion smells like warmed vanilla, shea butter, a dash of espresso, and a brush of peppermint—but with every extraction he makes from the potion, there’s no sign of those ingredients. in addition to that mystery, he can tell that this potion took a few weeks to prepare and that it needed constant stirring. he can figure out when ingredients were added to the potion based on how much affect the cooking and heat had on them; the dates and pearls were first, followed by the rose thorns, and it seems like the peonies were added last—he just can’t figure out how they were integrated in the brew. were they added in batches, all at once, did they need changes in stirring motion, etc.. 

putting aside all the unknowns, there is one thing that pierre is sure of: none of the ingredient combinations in this potion would cause any harmful side effects. the powdered rose thorns and crushed pearls are a rare sight in potions but, they create the base of hyperfixation charms and he hasn’t heard of any reports of strange or harmful reactions from these two ingredients. so, the only responsible option for the potions master is to drink the concoction and see if it lives up to be the ‘true love’ potion everyone is claiming it to be.

pierre knocks the draft back quickly and hums pleasantly at the taste, a curious eyebrow raised at how it doesn’t mirror the scent at all. the flavor is sweet and tangy, with a lingering dash of saltiness—it’s delicious. he finds himself wishing he didn’t waste the first potion with experiments so he could taste it again. 

the potions master rocks back and forth on his feet impatiently, he expected the brew to take immediate effect, alas, he feels nothing. pierre shrugs, the potion may take longer to kick in if it’s replicating one of the strongest emotions. he leaves his study and makes his way to the bedroom, and right before he enters the bedroom, he stumbles over cat. your familiar looks at him reproachfully, before she pauses and comes over to sniff at pierre. in the dark, he can see the calico’s eyes shrink into pupils and suddenly she hisses up at him, before she apparates into thin air. pierre scratches at his scalp in a confused manner; cat hissing at him and then disappearing, is not out of the ordinary (it reminds him of the you first brought him home and he tried to charm her with a laser pointer—the familiar stared at pierre like he disparaged her family name), he doesn’t know if that was a reaction just because of him, or if it was a reaction to the potion. 

he continues with his usual nightly routine before he joins you in bed, dressed in a pair of old sweatpants alone. you pout in your sleep, pierre can feel your aura calling to him, unhappy that he’s not curled up against you. he tucks you into his chest when he settled comfortably on his back. he feels your magic calm, the air relaxing when the force of your influence fades. 

the potions master tries to stay up for as long as he can to see if he notices an effect from the brew, but deflates when he doesn’t feel any changes. he knows the chances of this potion working was slim to none, however, he kind of hoped it at least had some effect on him. pierre’s eyes flutter shut as he drifts to sleep, and his last conscious thought is that you were probably right, the potion may not have an effect on true love’s matches.

you squirm awake. it’s boiling hot under the sheets and it shouldn’t be, you placed a cooling charm on the bed. as the fog of sleep unfortunately fades from your mind, you notice that the heat is radiating from pierre. turning around in worry and slight annoyance, you check in on your boyfriend, and the annoyance disappears when you examine his state.

he’s still asleep, but he’s drenched in sweat. his brow is furrowed in what must be pain, and his body squirms across the bed in discomfort. you press a hand to his forehead and hiss at the burning heat from his skin. you groan, already knowing what happened to your dumb potions master—he should be stripped of his title after this. he was working on the damn potion before you went to bed, and he fucking drank it, ignoring your warning, and now, he’s suffering the consequences. you take the same hand that was on his head, and bring it to his shoulder to gently shake him awake. pierre, on the other hand, awakens dramatically, jackknifing upright like you’ve poured water all over him.

the man pants desperately, chest heaving with his stuttering breaths, tongue swiping at his upper lip to clear the sweat gathering there, his teal irises swallowed by enlarged pupils, and his hair is matted and curling against his forehead from the mixture of sweat and heat. his eyes are glazed over, you can tell he’s not quite aware of what’s going on—that’s probably thanks to the incredible fever he’s running—but there’s a hidden glint to them that you can’t puzzle out. 

“oh, pierre,” you lean forward, hands coming to grasp at the sides of his face, steadying him, “you fucked around and found out, didn’t you? there’s no chance you’re capable of telling me the antidote to this, it seems. maybe a spell can alleviate the effects briefly enough…”. as you ramble on, mostly to yourself, you fail to see the look in pierre’s eyes change. the hidden intentions you weren’t able to make out are as clear as day now. the haze over his stare is still present, but the confusion has disappeared. only hunger remains.

you startle when pierre’s trembling hands grasp at your waist. you quirk a brow at him in question, but don’t receive an answer, a verbal one at least. you’re suddenly knocked flat on your back and pierre bodily shoves himself between your legs, hovering over you. and the intense look in his eyes is made aware to you; you’ve seen it before, but it’s never felt this ravenous. you press your eyelids closed and whimper under your breath at your revelation: the ‘true love’ potion is a fucking aphrosodiac.

pierre is so hot. he feels his body shivering dramatically as he holds himself on his hands above you. his muscles weaken from the strain of the fever, and he collapses on top of you. his head lands in the valley of your neck, and he moans at the cooling feeling of your brown skin against his face—he needs more of it, he needs you naked. reinvigorated, pierre attempts to wrangle your clothes off, but he’s unable to do much with his shaky limbs. he begins to anger when your sleep shirt fails to disappear, and tries to rip it down the center. you force his hands away, and tug the shirt up and away before tossing it aside, leaving you in just panties. his anger dissipates, and he presses his body against yours again, and a choked groan escapes him at the relief your naked torso gives him, he goes boneless. 

the relief lasts for less than a minute, before he starts squirming desperately again—he needs to be closer to you. he suckles marks into your neck, moaning lewdly when he feels your hand tangle in his hair, pulling at it firmly. he fights your grasp, unsatisfied with his unfinished claim on your neck and chest, but he submits when he notices you’re guiding him to your lips. 

the meeting of your lips is messy, he can’t manage to find any of his usual finesse. he pants into your mouth in between sloppy, wet kisses, if you can even call them that. his tongue fights against yours, and his hips buck forward at the feeling, which reminds him of the fact that he still has sweatpants on and you have on panties. pierre jerks away, resisting the urge to continue kissing you when you whine out for him so prettily, chest arching upwards, nipples perky and egging him to bite, the bruises on your neck blossoming with reds and purples—he shakes his head erratically, and focuses enough to tug his sweatpants off; he’s never been so happy that he’s not wearing underwear. the skin contact must have done him well, because his hands aren’t shaking anymore as they grasp at your panties. he may not have torn apart your shirt, but the cotton undergarment doesn’t stand a chance, he rips through it like water.

the sound of your shriek at his actions is muted in his ears, and he barely registers the feeling of you shoving at his shoulder in irritation. pierre can only see your pussy. a broken whimper escapes him as he stares; his eyes tunnel to your throbbing hooded clit, the way your entrances tightens and relaxes, like you’re taunting him to fill you up, and you’re soaked for him, lips shining with your wetness—he should just get a brief taste, before he fucks you. he lays between your legs, hands coming around to grip at your thighs to firmly hold you against his mouth, and he’s eating you out like he’s never had a meal before.

the potions master vaguely hears a pleasure-filled scream burst from your chest as he broadly strokes of his tongue against your vulva to collect any wetness you’ve spilled. he muffles his moan into your pussy at the taste, and shifts downward to prod his tongue inside of you to coax more of your juices out. he feels your hips try to buck him off of you, and he growls into you, tightening his grip on your thighs to allow you no escape. you leak steadily into his mouth, even as you try to run from the constant barrage of his lips, tongue, and teeth. pierre’s brow furrows with the effort he puts into eating you out—your taste is addicting. it’s a mouthwatering combination of sweet and tangy, with lingering saltiness. he has a small lapse of deja-vu at your flavor, but it’s quickly dismissed at the drag of his cock against the bed. 

pierre whimpers into you at the pleasure flaring behind his eyelids, as he begins to hump against the bed. he switches from forcing his tongue inside of you and moves his attention to your clit, suckling and twirling his tongue on the button. it sounds like he’s making out with your cunt. your thighs to clamp shut around his head, your hand scrambles to tug at his hair and hold him exactly where you want him, and you start rubbing your pussy against him. fuck, how did he not realize how hard he is. pierre sobs into your pussy overwhelmed, he wants to keep eating you out, and the friction of his cock against the bed feels so good. he knows being inside of you would be better.

the frenchman breaks free from the grasp of your legs, and scrambles back upwards, not giving you time to register the change in position before he breaches your entrance. when the head of his cock pops inside of you, he throws his head back and moans erotically at the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him. he starts to burn hotter. pierre struggles to hold-off from thrusting into you in one smooth motion—he’s usually cautious when he fucks into you for the first time because he’s well aware of his size and how you struggle to take it all in one sitting. he whimpers hotly, and picks his head up to look at you—and all sense of waiting for you to adjust leaves him head. a line of drool has slid down your cheek, your eyes have rolled back in pleasure, and the sounds of your squeals of pleasure from just the tip of his cock break his restraint.

the man drives his cock deep inside of you in one smooth thrust, and he shudders on top of you, humming in satisfaction at the pulsing grasp of your cunt. pierre feels how he forced the air out of your lungs, your corresponding scream still rattling in his eardrums, but he can’t help how he grinds his cock into you, one, two, three times. he groans out, and starts making proper thrusts into you—he needs to fuck you properly. one of your hands sneaks between your joined bodies and presses at his navel in a weak attempt to halt his movements. pierre knocks it out of the way, before he brings both of his hands to tighten on your waist and starts fucking you with a purpose. it’s selfish and dirty; in a way pierre usually isn’t. he uses himself as a tool to make you cum first all of the time, but you can tell tonight, this is all about him—your orgasm is just a byproduct. he gathers you up in his arms, making sure there’s no gap of air in between you, and starts pumping his hips into you deeply, not pulling out of you any more than a few centimeters.

it’s feels so pleasurable that it could be torture. he’s applying pressure against that spongy spot on your walls so consistently, that you’re legs have already started shaking. he’s fucking you up the bed with the force of his thrust, and he’s conscious enough to place a hand on the headboard to make sure he doesn’t shove you up to hit your head. pierre’s making these sweet, whiny, whimpers, that he attempts to muffle into your neck as he feels himself start pulsating inside of you, dancing along the edge. he feels your nails claw into his back, and it’s like his senses are suddenly returned to full strength from where they were clogged with fuzz. he can hear you try and moan out for him, but his thrusts are so powerful that you keep choking on your words.

he catches the ending of your warning, “pierre-oh—m’ gonna cum! oh, fuck!”

the clenching of your orgasm pushes him into his own, and it’s the most intense crash of pleasure he’s ever felt. his vision whites out and it feels painful in a way only too much pleasure can give. his whole body shakes through each wave of pleasure, and he feels lightheaded at the feeling. pierre can’t even do anything more than jerk his hips forward to pump through the aftershocks, he falls limp on top of you, pinning you under him. his skin feels raw and blown open, and there’s a ringing noise in his ears. he whimpers against your neck, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, and then he’s pretty sure he faints for a few minutes.

when he comes back to the present, you’re humming underneath him, hands rubbing up and down his back in a soothing motion. pierre brokenly moans against your throat, oversensitive. you shush him, and scratch at the nape of his neck, just the way he likes but won’t admit to. his breaths slowly even out against your skin, and in a croaky voice he starts talking, “the potion—it smelled like the shea butter of your lotion, the vanilla and coffee of your perfume, and the peppermint of your aura.”

you pause in your motions, and softly ask, “really?”

pierre shifts, hissing at the jostling of his cock still inside of you, and settles again, raising his head up to make lazy eye contact with you, “yeah,” he whispers quietly, before carefully pulling out of you and falling onto his stomach next to you.

you nuzzle up to his side and press kisses against his shoulder, before you offhandedly mention that his fever’s gone down. pierre’s fighting the call of sleep, and mumbles something into the pillow that you can’t make out, and he turns his head to the side so you can hear him, “i dunno how, mon amour, but it tasted like you too.”

you stare at him with wide eyes, neither of you are aware of an aphrodisiac of this caliber. pierre falls asleep, and you close your eyes in a quick prayer—this potion better have run its course, you won’t survive another round of that.

taglist: @lorarri @soph1644 @jaydensluv @fanboyluvr @nissaimmortal @redgonerogue @hollie911 @saintwrld@buendiabebeta@butterfly-lover@lana-d3l-rey@dylan1721 @spicybagel14 @dhhdhsiavdhaj@miahgonzalez16@jjaekin @dkbj14 @f1lover55 @f1lov3r @mindless-rock@biancathecool@barnestatic@sweetpiccolo-blog@my-ylenia @zaynzierulez@reblog-princess-blog @lovingaphroditesworld @katekipshidze @darleneslane @inloveallthetime

© httpsserene 2023

[writtenbyshama]

Long Way Home [Part III]

[Azriel x Reader fanfic]

Synopsis: Y/n is the daughter of a healer in the city of Velaris. After a small incident, she moves to the House of the Wind to work for the High Lord, Rhysand. Everyone in the house seems to welcome her except Azriel, the second in command. Even though he is just blankly polite and does not acknowledge her much, she can't help but fall for him. Does Azriel return her feelings or remain unfeelingly aloof?

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Read Part 1 here.

Read Part 2 here.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Part III

A few months later, Star fall was to commence soon. 

Excitement was in the air, and I was looking forward to it too. Rhysand and Feyre were going to host a party, and preparations were already underway. Everyone pitched in to help between their usual duties, chattering about the outfits, the food, song and dance.

Mor and Feyre repeatedly asked me about my outfit for the event. I remained evasive, since I had no plans of actually attending the party. I'd be watching the sky from elsewhere. Even though I helped with the preparations as if I was going to attend, I was gradually emptying my quarters and shifting my things to an isolated property outside the city. This property was situated in a river valley backed by the large mountains surrounding Velaris. It was an inheritance passed down in our family, and I had remodelled the villa and the gardens with the help of my dad. It was a perfect place to avoid others, and I loved it very much. Father, on the other hand, didn't like to be alone for long periods of time and didn't visit it much. 

While I was still in the process of shifting my things, I started sleeping less in the nights. I stayed awake at the kitchen table with a hot cup of tea, working my anatomy drawings or study notes. The one thing I'd miss when I left was the library, so I tried to make extensive notes and copied important paragraphs from the books I read. 

One night, I decided on a change of scenery and took my materials to one of the many balconies, making myself comfortable on the thick carpet. As usual, I had some tea in my favourite cup and lots of lamps to illuminate my work. 

I had placed the tea-cup along with a glass jar of coloured pencils on a side table so that I wouldn't accidentally knock them off with my elbow. Leaning against the balcony railing, I was copying a detailed anatomical diagram of an Illyrian wing in my journal. 

A sudden gust of wind knocked over the table and shattered the tea-cup and glass jar. I jumped, dropping my journal as I watched the carpet soak up my drink and pencils scattered everywhere. My favourite cup was broken to fragments. 

Azriel appeared before I had the time to think what to do next. 

"Oh, sorry," he pointed at the shattered pieces.

I sighed. The glass jar could be replaced, but the tea-cup was from one of a collection set of my mother's. It hadn't broken into very tiny pieces, though. Maybe I could put it back together, even if it couldn't be used. I could use another cup for drinking and keep this one back in its shelf. 

I unfolded a drawstring pouch from my pocket and gathered all the pieces. Azriel helped by collecting the remains of the glass jar and the scattered pencils. The tea stain on the carpet couldn't be helped.

He didn't leave immediately after we finished, so I offered him a cup of tea while I brewed some for myself. He accepted, and soon enough, we had our own mugs of the hot liquid and sitting next to each other on the balcony floor, looking out into the night.

He cleared his throat. "That cup was important to you."

I nodded. A tendril of his shadow flickered near his neck, and slipped out of sight. "It's from a set that belonged to my mother."

His expression dropped from his usual polite blankness. "I'm truly sorry. If there's any way I can help fix—"

I held up a hand. "It's alright. I'll fix it by myself later on."

I was curious as to why he had appeared here. He had never actually come to a place I was in out of his own volition. I asked him about it.

He did not give a direct answer. "You weren't there in the kitchen. I was looking for you everywhere."

I fell silent, turning over his reply in my mind, unsure of how to proceed. Meanwhile, he laid down his mug and picked up the journal I used for sketching. This journal in particular was just pages and pages of anatomical Illyrian wings with the parts labelled and side information. I had drawn them in every possible angle and technique I could think of. 

He slowly thumbed through the pages, his own wings slightly trembling in the breeze. 

"These are really accurate," he commented as he stopped at one of the pages. His eyebrows went up, and I leaned over a bit to see what he was looking at. 

It was a shaded sketch of a pair of hands, with the palms turned up. And they had scars on them. Azriel's hands, which I had drawn one feverish night from memory. Fuck. 

I straightened, cupping my own mug with both hands and intensely staring at it, determined not to face him or acknowledge the drawing. My ears and neck turned hot with embarrassment. He stayed on that page for a long time before closing the journal and carefully keeping it on the carpet between us. 

"Why the wings?" He asked after a while. 

I shrugged. "I miss having them."

"What happened?"

I narrowed a side glance at him. "I'm sure you know what happened."

One corner of his mouth tipped up. "I do. But I'd like to hear the account from you."

I shrugged. "Nothing much to tell. Father was sent on a mission. Mother was already dead by that time and he had to take me with him since there was nobody else at the time to look after me. The task went wrong, and the enemy soldiers ripped off both our wings and left us to die. Only, we were somehow revived and brought back to life. It was quite a while before I learned how to properly balance myself without my wings."

"This was during the war, yes?"

"Yes."

He turned to me and gave me a once-over. "Your mother was not Illyrian."

I nodded. "She was a high fae from the Summer Court. It's a thing in our family's ancestry. We come from a long line of powerful healers, and not all our mates are Illyrian. She survived my birth, even with my wings, but she died during the second along with the child."

Noticing the sadness that crept into my voice, he changed the subject by pointing at my journal. "Why my hands?"

I blushed, turning away from his inquisitive gaze. "I find them beautiful, that's all."

He opened his mouth to reply, but stood up abruptly, his head cocked to the side as if listening to something. 

"I have to go."

Going like this only meant one thing. "Is Elaine in need of help?" My voice sounded strange to my own ears.

He was on his way to one of the archways, and halted mid-stride. "Yes. Why?"

I shook my head, motioning for him to leave. "It's nothing. Go on. Don't let me keep you."

He took a step towards me. "But—"

"Just go."

He left.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

I took a nap right there on the carpet until the early morning rays warmed my skin. When I was awake, I started gathering all my things to go back to my room. Cassian appeared and waved at me as I stood up, my arms weighed down with the books and the empty mugs. 

"Good morning, my chicken soup."

I laughed. "Morning, Cassian."

During my stay, Cassian had once fallen ill with a stomach problem and wouldn't eat anything and spat out the medicine. I mixed all the herbal concoction in some chicken soup, its flavours masking the bitterness of the herbs and fed it to him until he was better. From then on, he started calling me his chicken soup and always came to me in case of injuries and other illnesses. 

He took some of my books and started walking me to my quarters. "I've fetched you breakfast, its in your room."

"Thanks."

When we reached my room, we unloaded our things on a table and I sat on a chair, keeping the breakfast tray on my lap. He took a seat on my bed and thoughtfully chewed on a piece of fruit. 

His wings were gently fluttering and I couldn't stop staring. 

"How does it feel to fly?" I asked in a low voice. My wings were ripped before I could do so.

His eyes softened. What happened to me and father was not a secret, everyone knew about it. He suddenly grinned as if he had a great idea. 

"What if I show you, instead of describing it?"

I didn't know what to say. "Um, I don't know, I'm a pretty chubby woman, I might be too heavy for you to—"

He groaned dramatically. "Oh, come on. I will be put to shame if I can't carry you!" He stood up. "Finish your breakfast. I'll take you right now."

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Tags:

@kalulakunundrum

@thelov3lybookworm

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Read Part 4 here.

Thank you for all the responses to my previous two parts of the story!

This fanfic can also be found in Wattpad, along with other exclusive parts like playlists and pictures. Here's the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/358573037-long-way-home

Happy reading! <3

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

[demonslayedher]

A smattering of fanfic writer feels:

--Today is the day I post the chapter which makes the GS Low-Key Married AU no longer open-ended. It's a little bittersweet for me because the story will no longer get to ride the open-endedness tension, and I'll be fully committed to the ending I'll set it on course for. The open-ended tension writes itself to some extent, but the tone is bound to change so much now. It's like watching your AU grow up and leave the nest.

--I love it when people have read multiple fics of mine and pick up on references to other fics or ask if the events of one fic are relevant in another. Not always, but very often, yes!

--My style of fic writing is that I generally do not begin publishing until I fully completed first draft, so that way I can commit to somewhat consistent updates and a fic that eventually gets completed. This means that between posting chapter updates, I do a lot of editing to future chapters as I let the story brew more in my head, especially when I already know what ending I'm building up to. I find this a lot easier and more fun than writing chapters from scratch on a regular basis, since my style is to write the first full draft all at once in a monster-like state of focus (hence, "Fanfic Monster").

I've mentioned that about my writing process before, but this year I've been especially happy with it. Earlier in the year I tried to work more on an original story, but I struggled, so I turned back to finishing a bunch of WIP fics instead so that at least I could feel some writing accomplishment. I finished all those drafts in time for my mega-hellishly-busy-months-of-the-work-year, so this means I still get the joy of being a fanfic author in a way that works flexibly around the time and mental capacity demands of work. It's been such a treat for me too to have semi-regular updates to look forward to and tinker with only as much as inspiration calls me to.

...but now the last of these finished WIPs is reaching the climax of its story and is bound to end soon. And that makes me sad.

--yeah, I wrote this instead of preparing to post the aforementioned chapter that takes away the fun of open-ended tension

EDIT: Ok I posted it

[coiledkarma96]

A Day at Hogwarts

A/N: This is my second fanfic of our beloved Half-Blood Prince. Hope you guys like it!

Warnings: No warnings that I can think of. (Let me know if there are any!)

Notes:

(y/n) = (your/name)

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Summary: How the pairing gets through an average day at Hogwarts.

(GIF is not mine!)

It was an average day at Hogwarts. Well, as average as it gets. Our lovely (y/n) had a free period, while her husband did not. While (y/n) taught Care for Magical Creatures, her husband taught Potions and that meant he didn’t get the luxury of having a free period. (y/n) missed her husband, even though she sees him every day. 

After attending to a couple of Erumpents that got into a nasty fight, she decided to write a letter to her husband, to help get him through his day. Heaven knows he needs it. She chuckled at the thought before walking over to her workbench, pulling out a piece of parchment, an ink well, and a quill. She thought briefly before smiling brightly, writing down what she wanted to say.  Once she was satisfied with her writing, she folded the parchment into a paper bird and charmed the piece of parchment, making it soar through the air like an actual bird. The parchment flew off toward its destination. She smiled softly, hoping her husband received it well. 

In the Potions Master’s classroom, the students were hard at work, attempting to brew a Befuddlement Potion. Well, trying too. The brooding professor walked around the room, staring down at the poor attempts the students made. He tsked when he saw one of the cauldrons somehow melting. His mood turning sour, he approached his desk, already over today. Even though he still had more classes to teach. He grimace at the thought. 

Then, a soft tapping noise came on his window. The students were curious as to what the noise was. He hushed them before heading over, looking out the window. He saw the paper bird lightly tapping the window. He opened it, allowing the paper bird to glide into the room, settling nicely on his desk. He wondered if this was a trick until he saw his wife’s initials. He refrained from smiling. He closed the window and approached his desk once again, grabbing the note, and opening it carefully. Before he finished reading the first sentence, he briskly walked towards his potions stores, closing the door behind him. The students didn’t dare say anything, not wanting to set him off, especially after their failed attempts at their potions. 

As Severus was now in a private space, he opened the letter again, smiling softly at his wife’s words. 

To my beloved Severus,

My love, my joy. My reason to smile. My most favorite person in the world. Oh, how I thank my lucky star to have met you. To have been able to gaze into your alluring, beautiful eyes that shine with intelligence. To be able to gaze into the windows of your magnificent soul. Having wished on a star to be able to embrace you in my arms and wished to have your arms embrace me as well. With time and patience, my wish came true. 

Oh, my love. My precious love. My heart yearns for you and you alone. Do not fret my love. Soon the day would be over and we could embrace each other in comfort and peace. Until then, may you feel my love through our bond to help you get through your day as it does for me. My love. Oh, how I love thee. 

(P.S. I know it's cheesy but my heart and I can’t contain all our love for you. It runs in endless streams all for you. I love you.)

~(y/n) 

A small smile graced his face. His heart warmed at the cheesy words of his wife. He sighed lovingly before folding the note and placing it in his pocket. 

“Merlin, I love that woman.” He whispered to himself. He resumes his brooding professor's facade before entering the classroom again. The students don’t mention anything as they sense his slight change in attitude. 

Soon midday came. The bells signaled the time for lunch. The students and professors alike all head to the Great Hall for some grub. Except two. Severus walks out of his classroom and heads out of the castle. He goes out to the location of the Care for Magical Creatures classroom. He reaches his destination. Upon arrival, he hears some rustling in the trees up above. He cranes his neck and sees his wife helping a bowtruckle back into its tree. The bowtruckles all come and rub their tiny faces on her fingers. She giggles softly, cooing at them. She senses someone staring at her and looks down to find her husband staring up at her lovingly. 

“My love!” She shrieks, jumping down from the tree. She lands smoothly, both feet on the ground. She straightens up before moving closer to him. Once she is a few feet away, she reaches out her hand. Severus takes it in his, still smiling lovingly at her. 

“How were your morning lessons today? Hope you didn’t lose too many cauldrons this time?” She moves his hand up to her lips, kissing his knuckles. A slight blush graces his face. He huffs softly before speaking. 

“Dreadful as usual. Those dunderheads couldn’t brew a potion even if their lives depended on it.”  He grumbles before looking into (y/n) eyes. “But, I must say, your letter got me through.” He moves her hand up to his lips, also placing a kiss on her knuckles. She chuckles softly, her heart swelling with love and pride. 

“I’m glad I could help." She said, smiling warmly at him. "Now come. Let’s go eat before my stomach eats itself.” They both chuckle, before turning to walk back to the castle, hand in hand. Hearts swelling with love for each other. 

[orchideous-nox]

Fanfic recommendation query: Are you a good person to ask for a Rosekiller recommendation? Under 50k words, and complete? (if the answer is yes, could you tag the recommendation as... rosekiller trial?) I've never read a thing about them, and I'm interested in some good characterisations. I have a good shape of Barty in my head, but...

Absolutely! I have a few I've written myself in my masterlist but I love recommending other people's fics too so here's some that meet your criteria from ao3 (there are many more I could include that are either longer or incomplete so if you ever want more let me know!) I also have no idea if you are a minor...if you are then this is not the blog for you, I'm so sorry. This is 80% smut but the characterisation is still there.

my way or the highway by heartnipnops // nsfw // 6.1k words

While going on a road trip to visit Evan's sister, Evan learns just how much of a menace Barty can be when bored in a car. Luckily Evan spots an exit leading to a gas station with a bathroom not long after, allowing him the opportunity to teach his brat of a boyfriend a lesson.

sharpshooter by heartnipnops // nsfw // 4.7k words

After spending far too long unable to, due to Evan's strict rules during exam season, Barty finally gives Evan a rather sloppy and messy blowjob in the nearest bathroom after Evan's last oral exam. Barty's take on an oral exam turns out to be quite a bit more pleasant than what Evan had to deal with.

Closing Hours by MajorToast // nsfw // 3.8k words

A minimum wage job – one of the supporting pillars of consumer behaviour… and Evan’s personal hell. But – oh well – that’s what you’re getting for chasing the thrill rather than logic, or – in other words – sell crack to children. It’s a last-ditch effort for him to turn his life around, abandon his wicked ways. And it would have worked – hadn’t it been for his utterly stupid (and unfairly handsome) coworker, Bartemius Crouch Jnr.

Game On by MajorToast // nsfw // 4.9k words

To win Evan over, Barty needs to win the 2023 League of Legends Championship. A dare, that not only ends with a lesson learned, but also the fuck of Barty’s life. Two can play that game.

Love You Better by star4daisy // sfw // 11k words

the one where Barty and Evan try to love each other better in entirely different ways

Barty Crouch Jr. and The Terrible Inconvenience of Having a Fit Best Friend by localwolfgoesawooo // nsfw // 8.1k words

Barty is an emotionally repressed, oblivious prat, who thinks his best friend is the most gorgeous person in the world - in a strictly platonic way, of course. When a bloke Barty deems unworthy chats up Evan - makes him laugh - Barty inserts himself into their conversation. You know, since he’s such a good friend.

stoned off you (now i'm stone cold sober) by 214lilacsky // nsfw // 30.5k words

Barty Crouch Jr. is pretty sure he could go his whole life without finding love. Who needs it? He has Regulus, Dorcas, Pandora. He has a steady job, even if it is boring as fuck. He finally has a body he can stand looking at in the mirror.

One thing he absolutely cannot go without is consistent and reliable access to weed.

Enter: Barty's new dealer, Evan Rosier aka Rosie, aka the man who has got Barty down bad.

a double-edged sword by faun_writes_things // nsfw // 6.9k words

a double-edged sword (idiom); a situation with an equally good or bad outcome.

ex; barty hitting on the new next-door neighbor, who may or may not hate his guts.

Under A Spell, You're Hypnotized by spoonstars // nsfw // 3.5k words

Barty really wants to know how a dick piercing feels, so him and Evan brew polyjuice so he can find out.

Ant Pile by sommerregenjuniluft // nsfw // 21.3k words

This is a story about two boys raised by the sun.

Florida heat, being a teenager, best friends and how falling in love works when you've already loved them for as long as you can remember.

[whamgram]

It needs to be said Under My Skin is the best Radiobelle fanfic I have read so far! Everything in it is a 10 for 10 the characterization the plot, the slow burning romance it’s just so good the latest chapter had me somewhere between cackling, with giddy enjoyment and incoherently squealing at everything that happened.

Firstly, let me just say, Alastor’s mini shadow minions cuddling, and loving on Charlie was pure genius. It’s like he can’t be honest with himself so his powers find another way to release those feelings, and once again, it is thrust into his face how he really feels. Then the ending with the delivery with the flowers and him destroying the delivery man’s truck quite possibly killing the delivery man. Clearly, he’s never heard the term don’t shoot the messenger shoot the sender. His jealousy is definitely believable. We see it as clear as day because we’re getting a glimpse into his feelings, but he reacts to it subtly when other characters are around so they don’t take notice.

Now, for Vox’s scheming I like how you didn’t make Charlie, so naive as to believe that they wanted to sponsor the hotel without something in it for the vee’s. It was definitely a nice touch and refreshing to see Charlie being kind but not stupid. I feel like a lot of people don’t understand that just because a person is naïve does not mean that they’re stupid. Meanwhile Vox is trying to be cunning, but he can’t hide his physical reactions towards his animosity with Alastor but at the same time he subtly invades Charlie’s personal space not enough send her running for the hills but enough to give off a false sense of charming not that Charlie is fooled by it she’s obviously weirded out by his attempts. It’s clear that he wants to achieve something, but as what it is at the moment, I’m not entirely too sure he could be planning to put a false story out there of himself charming hell’s princess, in order to get under Alastor’s skin. But that’s just a guess. I feel like that’s not it though because it’s too obvious. I can’t wait to see Lucifer‘s reaction to all this because it seems like he knows something is brewing. He’s just not clear on what it is yet. And I’m all too eager to see Alastor lose his temper again

The sparring oh my God, the sporing was everything I hoped for and more it was just delicious just everything about it the mood, the tone, the teasing the banter that was just right and the the unintentional striptease!!! I had to be revived while reading the striptease! How did Alistair not realize that Charlie bit her lip so hard that she cut it? Alastor I understand you’re a massive emotion and you’re sweating through your feelings but you’ve got to pay attention. Your woman is literally thirsting over you. I also love that he’s training Charlie, because I feel like it adds to him saying what he said before about her having potential that he can guide.

My theory is on the awkward Boner tag is that it’s gonna happen if/ when Charlie loses her shit over something because he already checked her out before when she went into her full demon form over, losing her temper about the whole Gloryhole situation. But that was just her losing her temper for a quick second, if she were to actually harness that anger towards a person I think Alastor will be like Oh. Oh deer I need to excuse myself for a quick moment. All in all the chapter was fantastic. The whole story I could read four times and read it again it’s just so good may you continue to write I can’t wait to see what chapter 13 holds.

Oh my gosh, thank you so much! 🥰 This message has made my entire week!

I’m so glad you liked the cuddly shadowy minions! I just loved the idea of Alastor losing control over parts of himself because of his growing feelings for Charlie. He’s a guy who’s always in control of his emotions but he’s never had to deal with these types of emotions before. And he’s very ill-equipped to do so. That also causes these bouts of anger and jealousy that he also can’t control. It’s all he can manage to at least have these outbursts in private.

I agree about Charlie’s naivety! She’s kind and overly trusting but she’s not stupid. She’s willing to give Vox a chance because she’s willing to give everyone a chance. But she definitely went into the meeting feeling cautious and also picked up on his bad vibes. Plus Vox was very much trying to charm her in the same way Alastor does and she was like “Mmm no, that only works on me when Alastor does it.” 😉

I love the “training together” trope and couldn’t wait to write it for Charlie and Alastor! So much delicious potential for banter and sexual tension. 😏 And Alastor was too busy fuming over the insinuation that he lost to Adam because of his fancy clothes (which of course Charlie doesn’t actually think), that he totally didn’t notice her undressing the rest of him with her eyes.

You are very close about the awkward boner tag. 😉 I’ll just say it’s coming up soon.

[takashimakato]

A little help in the Morning

The day in the Shared Beatles home began with the usual routine of alarms ringing at 6:00 AM, signaling the start of a new day for Paul and George. Both of them were still wearing their pajamas when they emerged from their rooms, yawning as they made their way to the kitchen.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

(McHarrison Fanfic based on art by @groovegalz)

Despite the early hour, the home felt familiar and welcoming, with photos of the Fab Four decorating the walls and common kitchen appliances filling the room. Silence permeated the air, save for the whirring of the air conditioner and the soft drip of water from the faucet.

Paul moved around the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he brewed a pot of coffee. He liked the stillness of the morning, and relished the quiet before the bustle of the day began in earnest.

As he worked, George walked in, his eyes still heavy with sleep and his hair a messy tangle of curls. "Morning, Paul," he greeted his bandmate, his voice more hoarse than normal thanks to just waking up.

Paul looked up, surprised by George's sudden appearance and less than pristine state. "Good morning, George," he replied, fixing his own hair before filling a mug with coffee. "You want some... or do you need a minute?"

George shook his head, taking a sip from his own mug as he moved towards the couch. "Yeah, I wouldn't mind some coffee, Luv," he said, settling into the comfort of the soft cushions.

Paul sat down beside him, enjoying the warmth of George's presence near him. They both took a moment to savor their coffee, watching as the sun slowly rose outside the window.

But George couldn't help feeling a little frustrated. "Can they wake up already so we can get ready and leave on time?" he mumbled, staring at the door to John and Ringo's room.

Paul smiled, understanding George's frustration all too well. "You know you can't rely on them to wake up on time, but if you want to like sleep in a bit more.. we could always cuddle on the couch.." he suggested, giving George a warm smile as he wrapped an arm around him.

George nodded, feeling the tension melting away as he leaned into Paul's embrace. Soon, they both drifted off to sleep, their coffee cups still on the table and the only sounds in the room being the gentle chirping.

This was nice.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

snippet 5

“Stop squirming. Look at me.” He whispers, metal hand cupping your face. He’s become more confident in using it when he’s around you, you’ve noticed. But you haven’t seen how much it means to him, to have someone who didn’t know him before, and only after. Someone who knows everything and loves him despite it. Now, the definition of love used in the previous sentence can be heavily disputed —is it platonic, or something more? He feels the latter brewing in his chest, but he’s more than happy with either option. He just wants you by his side, soft and warm and everything good in the world all wrapped up in one woman.

When your eyes meet his, the sky blue has you swallowing. It’s so clear you feel like you’re flying. Even with his crushing weight sandwiching you between him and the mattress, you ache for him. More than you’ll ever admit, even as his bitter-tinted breath washes over your face.

“So pretty…Do you know how much I fucking want you? Even when I can hear every whisper, every sigh, every goddamned sound you make in here when you’re alone, after we say goodnight. All I want is to knock on your door. Would you ever answer, if I did?” His eyes are glued to your mouth, the colour entrancing him. You let out the smallest sigh, and you feel his thumb rub against your lower lip, making your eyelids flutter. The motion stirs something inside you, deep and primal, rabid and wanting. 

“Yes…” You respond before your brain has even a second to catch up, to filter your thoughts. You see his pupils dilate in real time, entranced by the sight as he takes you in, the metal pushing against your teeth no longer cold. He asks you like he hasn’t already knocked, albeit for other purposes, and you haven’t already answered at the drop of a hat.

fanfic loading...

chapter one maybe this weekend?

[enchantedchocolatebars]

A Welcoming Embrace Back Home

Fanfic for Camila Mama Week 2024 (@camilamamaweek).

Day 1: Embrace/Home.

To commemorate this wonderful week, I opted to write short stories that feature Camila and her second daughter, Alma, who is one of my OCs.

This story in particular can be seen as a sort of sequel to this fic.

Summary: Camila returns home with Beardo Philip two days after delivering Baby Alma.

Enjoy!

(Thanking my friend @pokeycub for being a fan of the title).

"I'm so glad to be going back home with you, mi amor," a tired Camila told Beardo Philip with a soft smile while in the front passenger seat, holding the little bundle she had given birth to two days ago.

She was swaddled securely in a light pink cloth, which matched the knitted light pink cap she wore on her little head.

"How have things been at the house without me?" she asked quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to Alma's forehead.

Camila immediately spotted the small smile appearing on her lips from the affection and giggled lightly.

Despite being only zero months old, she was already such a sweetheart.

While in the recovery room, Camila had no doubt that she would grow up and accomplish great things.

Coming up to a red traffic light, Philip gently pressed his foot against the brake and looked at Camila holding their daughter so tenderly.

He gave a soft, melancholic smile as he spoke.

"They've been terribly different without you, love," he managed to admit with a mumble.

Mornings were missing their usual cheerfulness for him without hearing Camila's bright voice as she brewed her coffee, and two nights without her by his side in bed felt like two whole decades.

"Is it foolish for me to say that they've been the toughest two days of my life?" he asked softly with a trembling breath.

"What?" Camila whispered with soft shock at his question, reaching to cup his cheek with her right hand.

She could sense the emotions that were wavering in his voice.

"No, of course not, Philip," she answered with great understanding.

"Being away from you and Luz in the hospital made me feel the same way. It's not foolish to feel the way you do."

Camila felt the need to alter the topic to make her husband feel better.

"Are you excited about being a father?"

"I'm..." Philip slowly shifted his gaze downward from Camila's hazel-brown eyes as he sighed.

"... Actually quite nervous," he stated, finishing his sentence.

If Camila wasn't in the car holding Alma, she would cuddle Philip.

"You know, it's actually quite normal to feel like that as a new father," Camila validated him with a tender smile.

"It is?" Philip asked, genuinely surprised by that fact.

Camila nodded.

"But that's okay because you won't have to go through it alone. You have me to help you every step of the way, as well as an amazing family. Remember, Philip, you're a Noceda now, so it'll be okay."

Philip smiled softly as he accepted his wife's tender touch.

"You're right, thank you," he said to her, leaning forward as they shared a kiss.

Camila had a knack for knowing what encouraging words to say to lift Philip's dejected spirit, and that was what he loved most about her.

As soon as the light turned green, Philip carefully accelerated the car forward.

...

"Hola, everyone," Camila greeted her daughter and parents inside her home with a warm smile, holding her newborn while Philip stood by her side. "I'm back."

Luz gasped.

"Mom!" she shouted happily, hurriedly leaving the couch and rushing toward her mother.

She began to wrap her mother in a loving embrace, being extra cautious not to squish her new baby sister in her love hug.

"Mija!" Camila's parents exclaimed at the same time as they rushed over to give their daughter a hug.

Philip followed suit and took part in the family hug to express his affection.

Camila felt so happy to see her family welcome her back home with such a warm welcome.

When Alma grows up and is capable of giving hugs, the mother is confident that her hugs will be equally loving.