#Wooden Chess Board

[chessbazaar1]

Indulge in the Best: Luxury Chess Sets at Chess Bazaar

For those who appreciate the finer things in life, a luxury chess set is the perfect blend of art and intellect. These exquisite collections offer a combination of premium materials, meticulous craftsmanship, and stunning designs that elevate the game of chess to a whole new level. If you're looking for the best in luxury chess sets, Chess Bazaar is the destination to explore.

What Makes a Chess Set Luxurious?

A luxury chess set stands out for several reasons. First, the materials used are often rare and high-end. Think ebony, rosewood, or even precious metals like silver and gold. These materials add a sense of opulence and exclusivity to the chess pieces and board.

Second, the craftsmanship is impeccable. Each piece is carefully crafted by skilled artisans who take pride in their work. This attention to detail ensures that the pieces not only look beautiful but also have a satisfying weight and balance, essential for any serious chess player.

Finally, the design plays a significant role. Luxury chess sets often feature intricate carvings, unique motifs, and sometimes even custom themes that transform a simple game into a visual spectacle. These designs can range from classic Staunton styles to elaborate, themed sets that tell a story.

Why Choose Chess Bazaar for Luxury Chess Sets?

Chess Bazaar has established itself as a leader in providing high-quality chess sets, and their collection of luxury sets is no exception. When you browse their offerings, you'll find a wide range of styles to suit your taste. Whether you prefer traditional designs or something more contemporary, Chess Bazaar has a luxury chess set that will capture your imagination.

One of the standout features of Chess Bazaar is their customization options. You can request bespoke sets, personalized engravings, or unique designs to make your chess set truly one-of-a-kind. This flexibility ensures that your luxury chess set reflects your personality and style.

In addition, Chess Bazaar's commitment to customer service and global shipping makes it easy to acquire your dream chess set no matter where you are. They ensure that your luxury set arrives in perfect condition, ready to be displayed or played with.

Conclusion

If you're seeking a luxury chess set that combines artistry, craftsmanship, and exclusivity, Chess Bazaar is the perfect place to find it. Explore their collection today and discover the chess set that will not only enhance your game but also become a cherished piece in your collection. Whether you're a seasoned player or a collector, Chess Bazaar's luxury chess sets offer an unparalleled experience in the world of chess.

[moeblob]

Rice. From my plot that's literally just a game of chess. (he's a rook)

[magic-is-something-we-create]

while i am having lots of fun with the boops i also have begun my third pass at editing echoseers and. hoo boy.

im starting off strong designing a fucking board game

[fist-amidst-the-hands]

kinda want izzy to absolutely decimate stede at chess and I can't explain why

[mosquitinho]

look at this pretty chair i just bought from the local thrift store... i'll go there to pick her up this saturday.. My beautiful baby girl whom i'll cherish forever....

[chessbazaarusa]

How To Find A Quality Chess Board?

Chess is a game that entails thinking, wit, and beauty that characterizes any game of intelligence. You could make it even better if you play on a good board. The majority of chess enthusiasts prefer to use the most elite wooden chess boards. People have remained loyal to wooden chess boards in terms of style and performance, for so many years it has been around. Regardless of that, the wooden chessboard is a very beautiful piece that has been designed to meet that function. 

In this blog, I’m going to focus on the wooden chess board and why you would want to incorporate one into your collection. Because of this, it will be important to look at why a wooden chessboard has to be bought or used. 

Reasons to Choose Quality Chess Board 

Wooden chess boards aren’t just pieces of wood on which you can play the game, but pieces of art that are not easy to understand for anyone. Here's why it is favored: 

Longevity: Wood is relatively harder and long-lasting, therefore a hand-crafted chess board can last for generations. 

Attractive Design: Wood's natural grains and textures cannot be replicated by other materials in the sense that can create the impression of classic timeless style. 

Smooth Play: Having the boards from the wood gives you smooth sliding chess pieces that make the game more interesting. 

Diversity in Wood Design: It will let you have a chess-playing experience with a variety of woods beginning from light maple to deep mahogany. 

Things to Consider Before You Buy Handmade Wooden Chessboard

When choosing a handmade wooden chess board, you can consider things like:

Size: The sizes of the squares should be inversely proportional to the base diameter of the king, in other words. 

Material: Impact strength, fire rating, moisture resistance, and dimensional stability affect the board's performance and look. Wood is specifically used because of its traditional appearance and Isinglass is chosen for its elegance. Marble may also be used however marble slabs and parts are usually more brittle than the PVC ones. 

Design: The design of the board has certain practical uses, and it helps prevent a biased game. Every square on the board is in order to make a strategy in the game. 

Playability: The sections of the game should be able to fit between the board squares so that they may be lifted conveniently. The pieces should also be of large diameter at the base so that they do not turn over very easily. 

Weight: The quality sets used in a set often have weighted pieces with a view of facilitating their movement on the board. 

Style: Next ask yourself if it looks appropriate to the whole ambiance or direction you want for the set. 

Why is Handmade Wooden Chess Board Famous? 

Some are more identified by their looks, the histories of the sets, or the specific game that they were used in. 

For instance, the Staunton chess set, which was created in 1849, is considered to be probably the most popular and famous chess set in the middle of all the others. All of its pieces possess a classic design that has cemented its reputation for being the standard for tournament set chess pieces.

Other well-known chess pieces are made of exquisite materials and workmanship. For instance, the Lewis Chessmen pieces made of walrus ivory are one of the greatest masterpieces in medieval chess set art and are quite famous in the chess community.

Various companies have traditional quality chess boards and chess sets based on historical models, as well as custom and artisan chess sets for people who are looking for a feature to discuss in the home.

Wrapping Up

Furthermore, it can be pointed out that a quality chess board introduces aesthetic values that someone feels they lack in their chessboard with high functions or sustainability. In other words, serious chess players understand that a wooden chess board gives tradition and craftsmanship a human touch that no other material can endeavor.

Whether you are a mere preference who simply wants a chess board as a pastime or the avid enthusiast who would take the time to get the perfect set of chess pieces there will always be the best wooden chess board out there waiting for you. 

[royalchessmall]

Do you know what's behind every chess piece's color, feel, and build? The carousel gives you a quick overview of the popularly used materials in chess from variations of woods to metals and marbles.

Most common materials and different types of wood use in chess manufacturing:

Boxwood: Light brownish-yellow colored hardwood. Dense, robust and moderately priced. Boxwood is easily stained, painted and treated in various ways. Buy Boxwood Chess Set: https://royalchessmall.com/products/1950s-soviet-latvian-reproduced-chess-pieces-only-set-ebonised-box-wood-4-1

Ebony: Rated highly durable, it's almost jet-black with dark brown or greyish-brown streaks. It has a fine even texture with an almost metallic sheen, and barely visible, straight or interlocked grains. Ebony is among the more exotic and expensive woods used in only in luxury Chess sets. Buy Ebony Chess Set: https://royalchessmall.com/products/1950s-fischer-dubrovnik-chess-pieces-only-set-ebony-boxwood-3-8-king

Rosewood: Dark reddish-brown color with dark – almost black streaks. Rosewood possesses good durability and workability and turns well. Turning and carving blanks are highly-priced. Buy Rosewood Chess Set: https://royalchessmall.com/products/4-2-rare-american-staunton-luxury-chess-pieces-set-triple-weighted-rosewood

Sheesham (Golden Rosewood): It has a medium-coarse texture, a natural luster and rosewood-like characteristics. It has very good resistance to decay and attack and is rated highly durable. Buy Golden Rosewood Chess Set: https://royalchessmall.com/products/3-9-craftsman-knight-staunton-chess-pieces-only-set-triple-weight-sheesham-wood

Bud Rosewood: It has high decay resistance, is rated highly durable and also resistant to attack from termites and other insects. Like Ebony, Bud Rosewood is one of the more exotic and expensive woods, used mainly in luxury Chess sets. Buy Bud Rosewood Chess Set: https://royalchessmall.com/products/exclusive-alban-staunton-bud-rose-wood-chess-pieces-with-21-bud-rosewood-maple-wood-chess-board-and-book-style-storage-box

Metals: Metals add a modern flare to the chess sets and are used to create unique, decorative sets. Buy Metal Chess Set: https://royalchessmall.com/collections/metal-chess-set/products/soviet-inspired-brass-metal-luxury-chess-pieces-board-set-14-unique-art

Marbles: Marble comes in light and dark colors and with various types of patterns and striations Buy Marble Chess Set: https://royalchessmall.com/collections/marble-chess-sets/products/onyx-marble-stone-chess-pieces-board-combo-set-12-handcrafted-chess-set

Excited to learn more? Hit this link to read more about these (and other) common chess materials: https://royalchessmall.com/blogs/blog/types-of-wood-and-material-used-in-chess-sets-handcrafted-chess

Gear up your chess collection with top-notch quality chess sets, handcrafted by skilled artisans with attention to detail. Visit royalchessmall.com now and unlock a limited period deal.

[stauntoncastle]

Unlock the Beauty of Chess: Shop the Finest Sets and Boards for Sale in Wooden Boxes

Chess is a timeless game that has been played for centuries, and it continues to be a favorite pastime for people of all ages. There's something about the game's combination of strategy, logic, and skill that makes it appealing to players of all skill levels. For many players, part of the appeal of the game is the beauty of the chess pieces and board. And if you're looking for a chess set that is both classic and elegant, a chess game in a wooden box might be just what you're looking for.

A chess game in a wooden box is the perfect way to display and store your chess pieces. The box provides a safe and secure place to keep your pieces when they're not in use, and it also adds a touch of class to your game room or living space. Whether you're a serious chess player or just looking for a beautiful and functional decoration, a wooden chess set is a great investment.

When it comes to finding the perfect chess sets and boards for sale, there are plenty of options available. Many online retailers specialize in selling high-quality chess sets, including wooden sets in various styles and designs. From classic Staunton designs to ornate and intricate sets, there is a set to suit every taste and budget.

When choosing a chess set, it's important to consider the size and weight of the pieces, as well as the quality of the board. A well-made board will have a smooth surface that allows the pieces to move easily, while a poorly made board can make playing the game frustrating and difficult. Additionally, you'll want to consider the materials used to make the pieces, as well as the overall aesthetic design of the set.

In conclusion, if you're looking for a classic and elegant chess set, a chess game in a wooden box is an excellent choice. With a variety of sets and boards for sale, it's easy to find the perfect chess set to suit your style and budget. Whether you're a serious player or just looking for a beautiful decoration, a wooden chess set is sure to bring both beauty and functionality to your game room or living space.

[harshitajoshi28]

Folding Wooden Chess Board Set Game Handmade Classic Game of Brilliance 12 Inches - MAGNETIC - MADE IN INDIA

Serve the royal game with a difference with our wooden chessboard. Lay the table for a war of the bright minds and enjoy each move as you play.

[bunnwich]

Gifts (Leona Kingscholar)🧡

Leona muses on the gift you leave him for Valentine's Day. (Based on the official merch twst 2024 Valentine gift messages)

Characters: Leona Kingscholar, Yuu/MC!Reader (Can be framed as platonic or romantic)

Words: 936 words, Leona's POV

Notes: Wanted to challenge myself to do something short and sweet in a few hours and was inspired to improve upon yet another dry official Leona gift message response.

--

Gifts.

They came easy over the years, like plucking an oversweet tart from a dessert tray. He was disliked, feared even, but lucky for him easy on the eyes — and still a prince to occasionally bow and scrape to. So many folks over the years were eager to oblige him and follow the traditions of the Sunset Savanna. Idolize the royals; the divine oligarchy. He was simply “lucky” enough to be born under that umbrella. That’s all.

Those gifts and attention fed him for a while, but if he was being honest, some part of him always remained hungry. 

After all, shiny trinkets were nothing like a dusty old book or the heady cedar smell of a well-used chess set. What was the value of pretty baubles to sit on shelves of his empty room or clothes that cost more than some folks' houses?

Pillars of sand.

Was it so damn pathetic and vapid to want something not given by his family's twisted obligations or plucked from the hands of a quivering servant?  No games. No more ulterior motives. 

Wishful thinking, maybe or a childish habit that he had dumped in the trash, like all those boxes of sweets that long went bitter on his tongue.

He reminded himself that others had suffered much worse than not being doted on in their preferred way. However, this reality failed to take away his distaste for each and every gift. Tch. How many times would he have to snuff out that damn sentimentality that he had been so “lucky” to inherit?

Leona’s eyes fell upon the small bottle vial in his palm and the wooden lion tag attached, tied carefully around the bottle. It had been nestled on the corner of his bed when he returned from Spelldrive practice this morning, all nice and wrapped in shiny paper.

His mouth crinkled and a small sound rumbled from his chest without his permission. Relief of some kind maybe. It had been one of the first gifts he received that was not for his birthday or from his family.

A friendly gesture or…somethin’ more insidious?

To think, someone who came to this world with nothin’ goin’ outta their way to get him somethin’...special.

But, “friends” weren’t something he kept. Instead, he had a collection of starry-eyed froshes, classmates, rivals, those few worthy of his respect. And then there was Ruggie of course but, would he be around if not for the understanding they had come to? Best not to dwell on it now.

Leona chuckled watching the amber liquid swish around the curved glass like liquid gold. How bold of them to choose a scent for him of all things. Beastfolk were sensitive to ‘em and he especially. But, they had been the brash and precocious type ever since they came to this school. Always skipping steps to pull off an advanced move.

Regardless of how big of a crowd he’d ever have cheerin’ at one of his games or how many brilliant trinkets he’d be gifted, nothing beat his chosen audience of one. Who, even after seeing firsthand all the grimy parts of him...still havin’ the audacity to stick around so long.

His eyes fell over to the chessboard at the corner of his desk. Brave little creature indeed, and brimming with Savanaclaw tenacity. A little pawn that made it to the other side of the board, ready to be crowned.

No way they knew the implication of such a small gesture, how important scents were to beastfolk, not that he was one for tradition, of course. Still, He brought the bottle to his nose for the umpteenth time as he leaned forward on his elbows. In an odd way, it reminded him of the gardens back at home when it rained, all those lonely hours pouring over books and chess games. 

Alone but…if he concreted enough, he was able to catch a whiff of the oil where their fingers touched the glass. Yes, in their note they had mentioned that this scent reminded them of him, but to his nose it was missing something. A key complementing note. A missing piece. 

The scent of a little herbivore turned into a formidable beast that he couldn’t get out of his head.

His brow furrowed as he glanced over at the small pile of notes, discarded by his boots. Then he tried again this time with more wit.

"Hey– Allow me to thank you for your generous gift. Heh. I can’t believe you actually picked out a halfway-decent fragrance. I might actually keep this. I thought about sending you something in return if the mood struck me, but this thank you note should do the job just fine, right?"

Leona kept it short and sweet. He knew they two were past formalities, but it was amusing to still play the game a little. He had been waiting for them to approach him in such a bold way, and finally, he had been rewarded for his saintly patience. Still, he wasn’t ready to show his hand yet, well-

He allowed sentimentality to win this time and flipped over the note, scrawling a little something extra for their eyes only. 

“P.S. If you were gonna treat your lion so nice…the least ya could do is make good on such bold intentions and show him some proper attention.”

He chuckled again as he let the paper slip from his fingers, finally satisfied with what he had come up with. Honestly, it didn't matter much what he wrote. Maybe he was becoming sentimental in his “old” age but he knew...that they would always find each other in the middle.

It was their move again.

Besides, it was only fair that he repay them properly. Etiquette and all that.

[beenbaanbuun]

little moments - opposites attract universe

i haven’t updated oa in a while (or posted much for that matter….) so i thought i’d give you this!!! there will be a proper yunho and wooyoung chapter but for now, i hope this will satiate you guys’ appetite hehehe

seonghwa

“might i dress you this morning, my lamb?” seonghwa purrs as he laces a hand through your hair. his nails scratch deliciously against your scalp and you can’t help but lean into his touch. with hongjoong leaving early to meet with a potential buyer and yeosang still fast asleep in his own bed, the room feels cold. all you can do for warmth is tuck yourself into your lovers chest and hope that his gentle touch and bare chest is enough to keep you from shivering. he takes the hint and wraps his arms around you. “i know you have that pretty pink apron dress that you’ve yet to wear; did hongjoong buy you that or was it a gift to yourself?”

you can help but smile into his chest, pressing a soft kiss against his exposed collarbone. “is it really a gift to myself if i used hongjoong’s money?” you ponder aloud, forcing a chuckle out of seonghwa’s mouth. it’s like music to your ears, so sweet and adoring. it fills you up from the tip of your toes to the top of your scalp. it’s so warm and bright; a stark contrast to the darkness that you’ve surrounded yourself with day in day out.

“you chose it, didn’t you?” seonghwa rolls onto his back, tugging at your frame so you roll with him. with your fingers splayed against his pecs, it’s easy to keep your balance when he forces you to straddle his hips. they stay there even once your securely balanced, simply appreciating the feeling of the skin beneath them. “and besides, what’s ours is yours, lamb. there’s no ‘hongjoong’s money’ in this house; it belongs to you too.”

“okay, mommy,” you agree with a knowing smirk on your face. a scowl crawls it’s way onto his as his fingers crawl up to your waist. his grip is tight as he tugs you down to eye level, and you’re so thankful that your arms are there to keep you propped up.

there’s danger written all over his face but you can’t do much else than giggle. it’s just so easy to get a reaction out of them, after all! and when causing trouble gets you exactly where you want, why would you ever want to stop?

“careful with those pretty words, lamb,” his voice dips to a low growl, a clear warning of what is to come if you don’t start behaving soon, “it’ll be a lot harder to tease me when your face is pressed into the pillows.”

hongjoong

“check mate,” hongjoong announces with a grin as he shifts his queen across the chess board. you scowl as you try and find a fault in his move, desperately trying to pick it apart so you can accuse him of cheating or something. even with your limited knowledge of chess, though, you can see clear as day that he’s won, in record time as well.

with a swipe of your hand you clear the board, knocking the wooden pieces to the floor in something rather too similar to a child’s tantrum. you’re a sore loser, you guess; something you have in common with the man sitting across from you with a smug grin on his lips. honestly, you almost dread the day you do beat him at his own game. surely there’ll be hell to pay.

“losers clean up, dove,” he grins, showing you his teeth in a predatory grin. it’s the same smile he gives you before pouncing on you and taking you apart orgasm by orgasm, though over the chessboard it feels less sexy and more irritating. not at all like he’s going to pounce on your and instead more like he’s trying to goad you into doing the pouncing. you’d love nothing more than to do so and wipe that grin right off his face, but you know yourself too well. a single well placed command and you’ll be giving in to his every word like he’s a king and you’re his loyal subject.

“since when is that the rule?” you growl as you pick up a pawn from your lap and slam it down onto the board. it’s a simple act of annoyance that only serves to make his grin even more insufferably wide. it honestly takes you by surprise when you pull back your hand and flick the single pawn in his direction. it’s probably not until it bounces from his chest and lands on his lap that you even realise you’ve done it.

well at least you’ve wiped the smile off his face, you think to yourself as you watch his expression crumble into a look of pure and utter confusion. it’s like he can’t quite believe what you’ve done. there’s silence for a beat or two, and you wait for his reaction with bated breath. but then he chuckles, which then turns into a laugh, which then leads to his head being tossed back and the sound of his amusement rattling through his study.

“you’re a fool, dove,” he says brokenly through his joy, “a downright fool.”

yunho

at this point you’re sure that more than half of the artwork in the kim household is some sort of portrait of you. whether it be you on your own or some sort of family portrait doesn’t really matter to you; it doesn’t change the amount of times you’ve had to sit for them. that uncomfortable seat that yunho makes you perch on every single time is practically moulded to fit your ass and thighs at this point. the dents in the cushion are now perfectly aligned with the curves of your body and yet somehow, someway, it remains to be just as uncomfortable as the first day yunho had you sit for him.

“stop moving,” yunho says from behind his canvas. how he can tell you’re shuffling around, trying to find at least one comfortable spot, you don’t really know. his eyes seem to be trained on his work right now. “i’m trying to get the lighting right on your nose, kid, and i can’t when you won’t sit still.”

“well i can’t sit still if your chair isn’t comfy, yunho,” you scoff and fold your arms, entirely giving up on holding the pose he asked you to. the look of disdain on his face as you turn your head to the side is somewhat amusing, although you can’t help but feel a little bad. annoying mingi is fun; annoying yunho feels like you’re kicking a puppy.

an overgrown, overly-talented puppy.

“you know, annoying you isn’t even satisfying,” you say.

yunho raises a brow. “you’re doing this just to annoy me?” he puts his brush down on the little table next to his easel, as if he’s finished with his work for now. and perhaps he is! perhaps you’re free, at last. if you can force yourself into ignoring the clench of his jaw and the annoyed flicks of his tongue against his lower lip, maybe you can believe that lie. “huh,” he scoffs to himself, “i wonder how hongjoong and seonghwa might feel about their precious darling misbehaving?"

"and i wonder how they'll feel when my spine crumbles to dust because of this stupid chair!" you whine. he can't help but crack a smile at that.

"fine," he conceeds, "if you let me finish this portrait in peace, i'll invest in a new chair for next time, alright?"

yeosang

you bash loudly against yeosang’s door, fed up and tired of being ignored by him all day long. he’d been locked in his room since breakfast, even going as far as to excuse himself early from that. seonghwa had voiced his concern, and hongjoong had agreed; something wasn’t right with their mutt. had they not have already agreed to go to a dinner party at one of seonghwa’s clients homes, they would’ve headed straight to mingi’s with a strangely behaved yeosang in towe. for now it’s just you and your yeosang, and getting him to at least give you a sign of life is at the top of your priorities.

“let me in, yeosang!” you yowl as you repeatedly bash the heel of your hand against his door. you can vaguely hear the shift of bed springs beneath the sound of skin on wood, and yet somehow it still surprises you when you hear the click of a lock coming undone. you’ve never done anything quicker than slamming that door open to grant yourself access to your companion’s room. you see him flinch at the sound as he scrambled to get beneath his quilt once more. “what’s wrong with you?”

you take a few steps closer, only to notice the beads of sweat that drip down his face, and the unhappy scowl that perches upon his pretty lips. he looks sick, kind of like he has the flu, and as he pulls his quilt up to his chin, he looks frail. he shivers, despite the sweat that coats him, and his usually alert ears are lying flat atop his skull. another few steps closer and you’re at his bedside, within arms reach but still unsure of what course of action you should take.

“yeosang, wha—”

“pre-rut symptoms,” he cuts you off with a mopey grunt. “i don’t normally get them but i’m late this time, and it seems like my body is out to punish me for that.” he turns over so he’s facing you, eyes pathetic and wet.

“should i call san? ask him to bring them back?” you ask, but he just shakes his head.

“that won’t do anything but make them panic,” he pulls the quilt back as he speaks; a silent invitation that you want nothing more than to take. “just come and cuddle and i’m sure i’ll be cured in no time.”

san

“i’m hungry,” you whisper to hongjoong in the dead of night. judging by the chime of the grandfather clock in the hallway, it’s just after 3 am. he’s barely awake, and yet as he loosens his grip on your body, he still manages to mumble something about you abandoning him. you plant a kiss on his cheek as you crawl over him to exit the bed, hoping it’ll be enough to satiate him and send him right back to sleep.

the walk to the kitchen is quiet, as it usually it at this time of night. except for the squeaky floorboards and the low, bearish snores coming from the living room, there’s nothing. you’d almost call it eerie, but can a girl with a ghost and a werewolf as a best friend really be the judge of that?

you reach the kitchen in no time, but before you push the door open, something makes you pause. a new sound. not jongho or the floorboards, but something entirely different. someone’s crying in there. heaving sobs and small whimpers fill the air, and without even giving it a second thought, you push open the door.

it’s san, dressed in a pair of plaid pyjamas with a matching sleep mask on his forehead to keep his hair out of his face. his eyes are so swollen and puffy that you wonder how he can even see what he’s cooking on the stove. “san?” you say to catch his attention, your voice barely above a whisper. he jumps and looks at you with wide—well, as wide as they can be when they’re swollen with tears—eyes. desperate hands fly up to wipe away the tear tracks from him face, but it’s too late. you’ve already seen him in that state, so what’s the use?

there’s a deep sigh as he drops his hands back to his sides. “you weren’t mean to see me like this,” he warbles, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. of course you weren’t meant to see him sobbing into a pan; that doesn’t change the fact that you did.

“what’s up, sannie?”

at first he shakes his head, but then he realises who he’s talking to. you’ll only press if he doesn’t tell you, or threaten to tell seonghwa who will only suffocate him with his overbearing tendencies. it’s safer to just tell you.

“this dish just smells like my mum’s cooking," he tries to shrug as if its nothing. as if you haven't just caught him in the middle of an emotional breakdown. "i just miss home sometimes, that's all."

you pull a seat out and drop yourself into it. "would you ever go back?" you ask.

he shakes his head.

"never."

mingi

“why am i stuck with you, again?” mingi groans as he paces along the bookshelves in the lounge. he brushes his fingers along the spines, barely ever stopping to take the time to read what they say.

“because you are,” you scowl at him, which only gets you a glare in return. “fine,” you scoff, “hongjoong is busy with work, seonghwa is in the garden tending the vegetable patch, yeosang is in the garden doing whatever werewolf’s do, and you came unannounced. unless you want me to summon my ghost friend, you’ll have to wait until they’re all finished.”

a look of horror passes over his face as you bring up your ghost, and as much as you’d love to invite your favourite dead bear demon to join you, you can’t help but feel like it will get you into a fair amount of trouble. not the fun kind that leaves you breathless and aching in the best way possible, but the kind that gets you scolded by seonghwa. you can almost imagine what he’d say now. ‘you can’t use jongho as a prank! it’s not fair to him and it’s not fair to mingi!’ he’d be right of course, so instead of calling his name and asking him to appear, you simply fold your arms.

“why are you here, anyway?” you ponder aloud, “don’t you have a werewolf sanctuary to run?”

he gives an unsatisfied grunt. “that’s the problem,” his fingers pull back from the shelf of books, rings glittering in the candlelight as he wipes frustratedly at his face. "i cant do this alone, anymore. more and more werewolves keep coming in and i have the space, but not the staff. do you know how hard it is to feed those guys three times a day? i barely get to spend any time with them because i'm never out of the kitchen."

you want to make a joke about how they must have it much harder than him actually having to eat his cooking, but you bite your tongue. again, you don't want him running to seonghwa spouting off about how 'mean' you've been to him. instead you begin to wrack your brain.

"well," you begin as your brain begins to formulate an idea. whether its a good idea or not is up for debate, but there's no harm in mentioning it, right? mingi can either say yes or no; he has the power here. "i have a friend who's just moved back to town. he's a paranormal investigator so he's used to this kind of stuff..."

mingi ponders it for a second or two before nodding. "tell him to meet me on bakewell street tomorrow, no later than 11."

wooyoung

wooyoung is brash as he pushes his way through the cafe back to his seat across from yours. yells of 'i'm sorry!' and 'careful, i'm right behind you!' echo through the room, despite the fact that he isn't even in your line of sight yet. you almost regret saying yes to coming here with him, yet he'd been so insistent. apparently whenever he's at the house he cant help but feel like he's going to be pounced upon by a jealous werewolf; you, personally, don't see the issue with that.

finally, he breaches the crowd and stumbles his way to your table with a sly grin and tray in hand. as he puts it down atop the table you can’t help but notice that the two cups are practically swimming in all the coffee he spilt. the cups are almost half empty, you think to yourself as you grab one and take a sip. the warm liquid washes over your tongue soothingly, and you let out a relaxed sigh.

“is it good?” wooyoung asks excitedly rather than taking a sip of his own and seeing for himself. you nod before going back for seconds. it is good. “yunho told me about this place! said he liked to come here and sketch whenever he has no ongoing projects.”

you chuckle a little as you put your almost empty mug against the table. between most of it being spilt and your two sips, there really isn’t a lot for you to drink. “i take it life is good with your new roommate then?”

he nods excitedly.

“yunho is really cool,” you shrug, only half agreeing. he feels more like a narc-esque older brother to you, but you daren’t break wooyoung’s spirit. “and there’s so many dead people in that morgue! i can continue my blog without without having to beg rich people to investigate their homes.”

you hum, “and you don’t have to live in that grimy van anymore!” he just shrugs in response.

“funnily enough, the van was never an issue.”

“you’re gross…”

jongho

“jongho?” you call out as you storm your way into the living room. you’ve been kicked out of yeosang’s room, again, and you’re in desperate need of amusement. well, attention would probably be a better way to put it yet somehow your pride refuses to let you admit that. “you are in here right?”

a breeze passes through the room as you sit yourself down on the rug that is inseparable from your friend. you lace your fingers through the fur as the breeze gets stronger. you blink, only a millisecond passing before you open your eyes again. when you do, he’s there, tear tracks on his cheeks and a heavy fur pelt draped over his shoulder. he smiles through the tears, his nose scrunching cutely in a way that makes you adore him even more. for a demon, he’s awfully sweet.

“hello, friend,” he leans in close, the concept of physical boundaries remaining a complicated topic for him. after all, he’s spent months and months just sat watching you and yeosang. it was pretty early on that you found out that jongho just didn’t understand that your friendship with yeosang was entirely different to your friendship with him. he’s never had a friend before; how is he supposed to know that every friendship is different?

“hi, jongho,” you giggle as you rest a gentle hand on his shoulder to push him back onto his haunches. it takes little to no resistance which is just another sign that there is not a single evil bone in his body. it’s hard to even comprehend him as anything but a darling, and you certainly can’t see a ferocious killer. there’s too much kindness in his heart for that. “how’s haunting going?”

“haunting?” he tilts his head in confusion.

“yeah! you’re a ghost occupying a house,” you explain, although the look of confusion never really leaves his eyes, “therefore you’re haunting, jongho.”

“but,” he bites his lip, “i’m not occupying this house by choice! am i still haunting?”

you shrug, realising the topic of conversation is way outside of your breadth of knowledge regarding ghosts. what seonghwa tells you is law, and he never really got into the specifics of haunting. besides, now you’re the one who’s intrigued. you lean in a little closer to him this time.

“what if you did have a choice?” you ask, curiosity filling you up from the tip of your toes right to the very top of your head. “would you go elsewhere?”

it takes mere seconds for jongho to shake it head, and you have to breathe a sigh of relief. the knowledge that he wants to be here is comforting in a way; it means he isn’t really here against his will, even if technically speaking he is.

“why would i want to go anywhere else?” he says, “i have you here, friend.”

[contentloadinggg]

Game of Distraction - Hozier Drabble

The way I’d give him the creamiest, soul sucking, heaven sent, sloppy, wet, back arching, begging for mercy, praying for God to take him, soul enlightening, spiritual experience head the earth has ever seen. THAT SLUTTY SWEATER TOO. GOD.

Anyways, Drabble more or less inspired by this pic. I can’t tell if this is making me more or less sane.

Summary: Andrew can’t play chess with you in his sweater. (Genderneutral! Reader) (~400 words)

Warnings: Surprisingly none, just a bit of making out towards the end and suggestive talk. No beta reading, I wrote this in 20 minutes.

This is a work of fiction and not a reflection of who Hozier is

Fic under the cut🤎

“Checkmate.”

You declared, dramatically knocking over Andrew’s castle in this very heated game of chess. The man groans in response, dropping his head on to the table.

“This isn’t fair!”

He calls into the wood of the tabletop. He pushes his long curls away from his face when he decides to lift his head back up. Meeting your eyes and seeing your amusement, he scowls.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Why is it not fair, Andy?”

The man looks at you with exasperation.

“Like you don’t know.”

He replies, stiffly. You smile, learning forwards by placing your elbows on the table.

“No, I don’t. Tell me.”

Andrew sighs deeply. His eyes are getting distracted by your bare collarbones. Oh yes, he’s definitely thinking about why it’s not fair.

“Because, you’re cheating.”

His vagueness is purposeful. He doesn’t want to admit that the sight of you wearing his sweater has got him all hot beneath the collar. All oversized on you, dropping low on your shoulders. You’re gorgeous, of course. But since when is he the one to fold so easily?

“Cheating? How?”

It’s a goad. You know exactly why. Andrew stays quiet.

For one,

Two,

Three seconds.

And he’s up.

Out of his seat. Andrew is on you faster than you can replace the breath he knocks out of you. He’s practically biting rather than kissing you. Teeth scraping over your bottom lip.

You’re swift to return it. The tip of your tongue running over his bared teeth. One might call it violent. His beard gently scratches at your skin and his fingers gripping your legs. But if that’s true, It’s a crime of passion.

Andrew lifts you up onto the table. It rocks on its legs with your shared movements. The chess pieces scattering across the board and floor. The wooden pieces on the hard ground are loud, but not loud enough to make you even think about picking them up.

Bites trail down the length of your throat. Teeth pulling at your tendons, but careful not to break skin. Andrew’s only goal is to lift the blood to show a bright pink color against your skin.

Reaching the collar of the sweater. Andrew breathes out shakily. As if just recalling why this started in the first place. You tug lightly on his hair. Urging him to continue.

The man looks back up at you. A familiarly wild look in his eye.

“Let’s get this sweater off you, yeah?”

He asks, running his hands beneath it over your bare skin. Voice rough.

“What? Tired of me ‘cheating’?”

“Don’t push it.”

I revisited some old poems and that’s what inspired this lol. Just wanted to post something while I struggle with my Alex fic.

-Thad💚

[savannahsdeath]

hii i love ur work!! id love to read about chess player!ellie x chess player!reader hate fucking the shit out of each other after one of them wins the tournament 🤭🤭

"You're not as boring as I thought...

...you are not as bright, either."

warnings: 18+!! edging, brat!reader, slight mean!ellie, dom!ellie, sub!reader, yeah js.. smut

writers note: i never told u guys before but pspsp.. i play chess !! so surprising right🤭🤭 and yes i used dominiques quote because . and . also ...,.

"what the fuck was that, huh?" she asked with a serious, cold tone. and maybe you'd even bother to answer, if she wasn't about nine inches deep in you. you rolled your eyes with a quiet whimper. "what? gonna throw a tantrum? i'm the one who should be mad. shit— i am fuckin' mad."

"see, el— maybe..." you hiccuped, managing to fully open your half-lidded eyes for a second. "maybe i'm just... better."

"better?" her eyes widened in shock, because even though she knew how much of a brat you can be she wasn't expecting that.

at some point, you were right. on the other hand, you didn't have to rub it in her face like that.

⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

you could tell she had studied the art of offensive chess for quite some time. she would frequently sacrifice her pieces to gain control of the center of the board, relying on her opponent's hesitations to gain a positional advantage. however, her tactics had limitations.

as you continued to play defensively, her attacks became more predictable, and you were able to counter them. while you wondered how she had reached this level, you had to admit that her strategy would work perfectly against a not patient or uncertain opponent. time didn't matter to you, not as much as to your rival, so you easily took advantage of it.

she looked either bored or amused most of the time, keeping the atmosphere more relaxed than it should be. "...so those girls like chess players, y'know? they're just so easy-"

"focus." you cut her off in an indifferent tone. the fact that she wasn't paying much attention to your moves, busy with talking, was good, but her rambling also distracted you. you clicked the little button on the clock, signaling it's ellie's turn. "i get it, people like smart girls." you mumbled, leaning back in your chair. "are you one of them, though?" you continued in a doubting voice, unintentionally insulting her.

her usual smirk didn't leave her face but you could see her bite the inside of her cheek in slight annoyance or even frustration. "i'm gonna show you." she nodded, as if to reassure herself with a silent 'yeah, just you wait!' which you couldn't help but laugh at. well, maybe not laugh, but chuckle under your breath. your comment must really bother her, to the point you ruined her offensive tactic.

"you're not as boring as i thought..." you scanned the board through your firm gaze, searching for any potential threats. you straightened up, propping your elbows on the small table and laying your head on your hands, impatiently tapping your cheeks. as soon as she clicked the little knob you already knew what'll your move be, so you quickly extended your hand. "you're not as bright, either." you picked up your knight, tauntingly pattering it through the squares, mimicking a real horse. finishing the L-shaped distance seemed to take you ages, though it was really less than four seconds. you let go of it, making a muffled knocking sound as it hit the wooden board. "checkmate." you whispered, folding your hands and tilting your head.

you took a moment to take in her reaction, which, much to your disappointment, wasn't an interesting scene. in fact, her smirk only widened as she looked at the clock and saw what led to this - her reckless haste. she hummed and shook your hand, what showed that she agreed with the score.

"how could i not notice that?" she smiled, letting you know it doesn't matter to her. you started to wonder about her strange behaviour, which seemed weird compared to the known, easy to piss off ellie williams. and just then, you understood everything's how it should be. her grip on your hand painfully tightened, as if to prove that your suspicion is correct.

⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

you felt her strap slid out of you, leaving your cunt hopelessly clenching around nothing. you raised your head, letting out a needy whimper and hoping to see what was she's up to. "els—"

"shut up." she murmured as she parted your thighs, revealing herself between them. she leaned down to have your slit at her eye level, with a quiet growl. "you're such a—" her tongue ran up and down your lips, collecting most of the slick you have accumulated. she looked up at you with a proud smirk. "fuckin' slut."

your fingers uncontrollably tangled with her hair, tugging on it while your free hand gripped the bed sheets. your cunt was still sensitive after being filled with her strap, so her soothing tongue felt comfortingly painful. she lightly sucked on your clit, forcing a desperate moan out of you.

"so you're the smart one? is that right?" she asked, her voice interrupted by either your little gasps or her breaks to plant another kiss on your core. "why don't you say something smart then?" her mocking tone echoed in your head as you tried to form a sentence. before you could, she stuck her tongue in your throbbing hole, making your thighs snap shut. she quickly helped them regain to their previous position, not pulling her hands away for longer than needed as if she wanted to make sure her fingers will leave a reminder, in form of at least reddening your sensitive skin or, most likely, giving you some bruises.

you felt your climax approaching so soon it felt embarrassing, truly embarrassing. you started babbling nonsense as your cunt clenched around her tongue, which continued to fuck in and out of you.

the amazing feeling suddenly left, replaced by her thumb roughly circling your clit. you watched as she sat up and smiled down at you, licking her lips in a temptingly slow way. the brat living inside of you was the first one to speak up, huffing out her name in an obviously annoyed gesture.

"c'mon." she cooed in a mockingly sweet voice, making sure her thumb is doing a good job. good job at torturing, ruining and making you even more desperate, if that's even possible. "what would a smart girl say in your situation?" she clicked her tongue, making you feel all the control you had slid out between your fingers and sink into the bed sheets. no matter how much you didn't want to admit it, someone finally managed to make you feel hopeless.

"but, ellie, look—" you whined, trying to take as much satisfaction from the touch she was giving you, but it only seemed like a pathetic version of what you could have. you could have way more. you needed way more.

"i don't want to hear any buts." she stopped her thumb, hardly pressing it against your clit, staring at you with stern and serious eyes which you weren't used to see from her. "we both know what a smart girl should say, yeah? aren't you one? are you admitting you're just a slut?" she sighed as if she was disappointed in you.

you shook your head, closing your eyes from the mix of all possible emotions; from embarrassment to proudness. "please, need— need you and... oh, please, ellie..." you broke, begging for more in the most miserable way imaginable.

she bitterly laughed, murmuring an amused "god, you're really a slut" under her breath. her thumb left your clit and both of her hands found their place on your thighs, making you hiss at the touch of your earlier irritated skin. you whined, the sound of your rambling slowly drifting away and getting replaced by just as beautiful moans. you heard her voice but you didn't really understand what she said, nor paid any attention to it, as your mind went blank. your hips kept waving up and down, trying to add to the feeling. your miserable attempts earned either a chuckle or scoff from ellie, but she didn't even try to stop you, enjoying this as much as you.

hooking up with bimbo's might be easy, but making a mess out of a girl smarter than her was way more satisfying.

[shadowtriovibes]

mind if i move in closer?

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Word Count: 2.8k

Rating: PG

Summary: sickeningly sweet christmas fic, loosely a continuation of the potioneer's apprentice (not necessary to have read to read this!)

“Do you want to borrow my scarf?” you ask him, teasingly preening as he glances over his shoulder at your new accessory. “It’s charmed to keep you warm.” Sebastian frowns. “Who sent you that? Ominis?” “No,” you say, throwing one of the scarf’s long ends across your shoulder. “Just this handsome fellow in Hogsmeade who’s grown quite fond of me.”

December 25, 1891

Christmas morning at Hogwarts is a surprisingly quiet affair.

Having spent many of your formative Christmas mornings in a Muggle boarding school before arriving at Hogwarts, you’ve grown accustomed to waking up to the sounds of eager whispers and excited squeals as the handful of holiday holdovers awoke to find a small array of presents laid out for them. Gifts were usually provided by the kindly heads of house who’d remained at the school during the break – many of whom were just as lonely as the children they watched.

A few oranges and sweets here and there, some secondhand books, perhaps a wooden puzzle for them all to share… It was always lovely, even during leaner years.

Of course, Christmas at Hogwarts was spectacular – massive fir trees decorated with floating baubles and shining ribbons lined the corridors, beautiful music drifted down from the Bell Tower, and the annual feast on Christmas Eve teemed with seemingly endless platters of food.

Your first holiday season at Hogwarts hadn’t been lonely at all. With Ranrok still at large and dozens of poacher camps causing trouble throughout the Highlands, many students chose to spend their Christmas at Hogwarts rather than risking the lengthy train ride back to London or hiking out to their family homes in nearby hamlets.

This year, however, there were only two Slytherins who remained in the castle over the winter break: you and Sebastian.

While the two of you had each been quietly pleased to learn that the other would be staying, you’d both been surprised to learn that even Ominis would be departing to spend Christmas with his family, per their demand. Before he left, he’d darkly insisted that he’d bet a fistful of Galleons that he’d be back before New Year’s Day if his brothers had anything to say about it.

While Ominis sulked, Sebastian had been the one to explain to you that the older pure blood families, many of whom shared your house, are especially traditional during the holidays.

Or, as he’d so bluntly put it, “All the posh ones will be traveling somewhere warmer, and even the snooty half-bloods don’t want to leave their little sprogs here with all the orphans and the impoverished.”

“That’s lovely,” you grumbled.

He’d merely shrugged and smirked, “At least we’ll have the run of the place.”

Christmas Eve dinner, at least, had been fairly lively thanks to a handful of younger Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors who delighted in joining hands and pulling open wizard crackers. Sebastian had insisted you keep the wizard’s chess set he’d received, as yours had contained a live turtle dove that had promptly flown off to roost in the rafters.

(Professor Black, who had also stayed over the holidays, declined Professor Weasley’s invitation to join the holdovers in the Great Hall, which Sebastian insists was the best gift he could have possibly received.)

The pair of you spent the rest of the evening in the common room, taking turns sipping from a bottle of spiced apple brandy Sebastian had managed to charm out of Sirona’s hands during your last trip to Hogsmeade. By the time you’d wobbled up the stairs to the seventh-year dormitories, you’d been unable to stop giggling while Sebastian walked you to your door.

“Get some rest,” he’d laughed, his cheeks flushed red from the alcohol. “Father Christmas can’t bring you presents if you’re still awake, can he?”

“Father Christmas, hm?” you ask, rolling your eyes. “It’s just the two of us, Sebastian. I think he’ll pass over the Slytherin common room this year.”

Something secret sparkled in his eyes, but he said nothing as you opened the door to your room.

Just as you’d turned around to say goodnight, Sebastian leaned in close and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Happy Christmas,” he mumbled. “See you in the morning.”

Before you could even exhale, he’d quickly made his way up the opposite steps to his room and firmly shut his door behind him. You felt warm all over as you’d changed into your nightwear and climbed into bed – not just from the brandy, you’re sure.

But when you wake up… There’s nothing but silence.

The fire across the room is muted with its usual silencing charms, the popping and cracking of the firewood kept quiet while you slept. There are no roommates eager to open gifts, no smells of Christmas treats like roasted ham or cinnamon pastries cooking in the dormitory kitchens down the hall, which you’d cherished in your old schools.

…But at the foot of your bed, you find a small pile of presents.

You smile to yourself as you sit up and rub your eyes, half expecting the delicate boxes wrapped in bright paper and gently curling ribbons to dissolve away as your vision comes into focus. When they remain, you dare to gingerly pull one into your lap, tracing your fingertips over the crisp paper wrappings.

The first parcel is from Augustus Hill, who’d sent over a fine woolen scarf charmed to remain warm and dry even if it collects falling snowflakes that melt against its magical heat. It’s a deep forest green and is wonderfully soft, and you can’t resist wrapping it across your shoulders as you reach for a second gift.

From your potions master Parry Pippin, you receive a fine set of measuring spoons made of polished copper – much more attractive and precise than the brushed pewter spoons you’d ordered from a supply shop in Diagon Alley.

Professor Weasley had even gifted you a box of stationery supplies that contained a set of quills, a few rolls of parchment, and even a pot of ink. A practical gift to be sure, but thoughtful (and quite generous, you think).

Your favorite gift is from Ominis, who’d sent a box of French candies with magical molten centers from a wizarding confectionary shop in Paris, where his family always visits for the holidays. Inside he’d tucked a note insisting that Sebastian had been sent his own box as well and you were not to let him coax you into sharing yours. You’d fondly rolled your eyes before pinning it to your ever-growing collection of correspondences affixed to the wall beside your bed.

Of course, you can’t resist treating yourself to a piece of candy or two while you change into a simple dressing robe and freshen yourself in the wash basin beside the fireplace. One tastes like cherries and brings a delightful pink flush to your cheeks and lips, and the other tastes like nougat and makes you whistle like a songbird while you pull back your hair into a loose braid.

By the time you wander downstairs, Sebastian is already poking at the common room fireplace, cursing under his breath.

“Happy Christmas, Seb,” you call out, tucking your dressing robe tighter around your waist.

“Happy Christmas,” he mumbles distractedly. “It’s bloody freezing in here.”

You smile to yourself as you take a seat on the cozy settee across from the fireplace. Sebastian has managed to rustle up some extra firewood, undoubtedly from one of the empty boys’ dormitories, to ward off the chill of the common room.

“Do you want to borrow my scarf?” you ask him, teasingly preening as he glances over his shoulder at your new accessory. “It’s charmed to keep you warm.”

Sebastian frowns. “Who sent you that? Ominis?”

“No,” you say, throwing one of the scarf’s long ends across your shoulder. “Just this handsome fellow in Hogsmeade who’s grown quite fond of me.”

To your delight, Sebastian’s frown deepens. “What? Who?”

“Oh, you’ve met him,” you answer, feigning indifference. “He’s rather posh, very stylish, always dressed impeccably… You and I saved him from a troll once, if you recall.”

Sebastian bites the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning when he finally catches wind of your little ruse. “Ah, I see. Just playing one of your little games with me.”

“You make it far too easy,” you tease him, unraveling your scarf and gently draping it across his broad shoulders. “There, that ought to warm you up.”

(Immediately your mind starts to wander off as it conjures up images of how else you might warm up your unfairly handsome friend, but you’re quick to chastise it into silence.)

“You’re too kind, love,” he says, that ever-present smirk still on his lips.

Both of you are silent for several long moments while you hang on to the ends of the scarf, staring up into his warm brown eyes. His gaze dips down to your mouth when you bite your lip, and just as you’re about to ask him if he’d like to walk you to the Great Hall for breakfast, he blurts out, “I have a gift for you.”

“You – a gift?” you ask dumbly. “For me?”

“Of course,” he says softly. “Er, I should warn you that it’s nothing big, but… I wanted you to have it, so…”

He trails off quietly, fidgeting with the sleeve of his robe.

“I have a gift for you too,” you admit. “I left it upstairs. Can I go get it for you?”

“S-sure,” he stutters. “You bought me a gift?”

“Don’t be daft, Sallow,” you tease him. “I made you a gift.”

With that you turn on your heel and march back up the stairs to your dormitory, snagging the delicate potion bottle shaped like a cloud with an indigo ribbon wrapped around its neck. You gingerly turn it over in your hands, watching as the light purple draught inside swirls around languidly.

Downstairs, Sebastian waits for you with a small box tucked behind his back. He looks slightly nervous, you think, so you decide to offer him your gift first.

“Alright,” you say as you take a seat. “First, let me just say that I had Mister Pippin check this to make sure I did everything right, and he said it’s perfectly fine.”

(In fact, Pippin had said you’d done a brilliant job, but you don’t want to oversell yourself before Sebastian has had a chance to try your brew.)

Sebastian eyes the glass bottle as you offer it to him, gently turning it over in his hands.

“You made this?” he asks softly, and then he grins and asks, “Did Weasley help you at all? Because I already learned my lesson with his ‘Fizzing Whizzbeer,’ thank you very much.”

“No,” you insist, biting back a laugh as you remember Sebastian chugging a bottle of Garreth’s experimental brew and being stuck levitating a few feet above the ground for an entire afternoon. “No, I made this just for you.”

“What’s it do?” he asks curiously.

“Well, it’s… it’s a sleeping draught, sort of,” you say softly. “It’s got lavender for comfort, and valerian springs for restful sleep, but I added cinnamon and a bit of shrivelfig to create peaceful dreams.”

Sebastian slowly tips the bottle back and forth, watching the thin liquid dance around the bottle. “Peaceful, hm?”

You’ve known about his nightmares for a while now. He doesn’t like to talk about them often, but he’s admitted that since that day in the Catacombs, he’s hardly slept a full night without being plagued by visions of those damned Inferi, of his uncle’s limp body, of Anne’s face…

The bleary eyes and wan expression he sometimes wears to breakfast after a particularly hard night tell you everything you needed to know, and you’ve spent the last several weeks visiting Hogsmeade after class to work with Mister Pippin to create your own special draught. Not dreamless sleep, but better sleep.

“I just thought… that you deserve to have some good dreams,” you mumble.

The corner of Sebastian’s mouth quirks up. “I do have good dreams, sometimes.”

(You miss the way he glances over at you, raking his gaze down the length of your body. You miss how it lingers where your dressing robe has fallen open a bit, showing off the delicate neckline of the thin chemise you’re wearing underneath.)

“O-oh,” you stammer. “W-well, I suppose now you can… have more.”

You frown disappointedly until Sebastian rests his warm hand on your knee, gently holding the bottle against his chest with his other.

“Thank you,” he says. “Really, I can’t believe you made this just for me. Merlin, it’s… it’s a perfect gift.”

His gaze is heated, and intense, and something about it makes you want to squirm, so instead you breathily ask, “May I have my gift?”

Sebastian holds your gaze as he slowly nods, only letting it break it when he turns to grab the box he’d hidden behind himself. With trembling hands you lift the lid to find a small silver badge inside, reverently tucked inside a nest of tissue paper.

Your hands go still.

“Sebastian, is – is this…?” you whisper.

“My family’s crest,” he murmurs. “You’ve seen it once before, in our fifth year.”

Gently, you lift the crest out of the box and cradle it in your hands. The heat from your skin quickly starts to warm the cool metal, and you trace your fingertips over the “S” hammered into the center of the badge.

“What – how–” you stutter.

“Earlier this year, Anne sent it back to me,” he explains softly, watching with dark eyes as you pour over the symbols that adorn the crest: a cauldron, a flowering tree, a pair of crossed daggers, and a crescent moon.

“Why?” you whisper.

“I’m still not sure,” Sebastian says hollowly. “She just sent the crest, with no letter. But if I had to guess, I think… I think she wanted me to know that she’s safe, but not where she is. Not yet.”

You clutch the crest against your breast. “Oh, Sebastian…”

“It’s okay,” he says, his voice going rough. “It’s – that’s what it’s for, the crest. I gave it to her to keep her safe, and she gave it back to… to tell me that she’s alright. If that’s all she wants me to know, then… then it’s enough.”

You shift closer to him on the couch, the flickering fire casting dancing shadows along the side of his face.

“Why are you giving it to me?” you ask him curiously. “It’s beautiful, Sebastian, but – isn’t it important to you? To your family?”

He swallows nervously. “I don’t… have a family anymore. Not really. Anne is out there somewhere, safe without me, but… you and Ominis, you’re my only family now.”

You let the crest fall to your lap before you throw your arms around Sebastian, burying your face against that warm scarf of yours he’s still wearing. You don’t have the words to say how much this gift means to you, but you think he understands when he wraps his arms around you, skimming one of his large palms up and down the length of your back.

“It kept Anne safe, and – and now it will keep you safe,” he murmurs. “I don’t… I’m not sure you understand how much you mean to me. I need you to be safe.”

“S’bst’n,” you mumble into his shoulder. “Y’re m’vry’th’n.”

He laughs softly and asks, “Sorry, what was that?”

You pull back just enough to press your lips against the shell of his ear, knowing that if you meet his eyes you’ll never have the courage to tell him how you’ve truly felt about him since your fifth year.

“I said, ‘Sebastian, you’re my everything.’”

Then the hand he’d cupped around the back of your head slides down, down, until he nudges his thumb along your jaw to coax you out of your little hiding place. His eyes are so dark, and the soft whine he lets out before he crushes his lips to yours is all the warning you get, but then… then he’s kissing you.

“Seb,” you gasp into his mouth, and then he lightly tugs on the tie around your waist until you shift yourself halfway onto his lap. It feels like hours go by just like that, just the two of you alternating between lazy, curious kisses and frantic, needy surges every time one of you lets slip another heated confession.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”“You taste incredible.”“I don’t ever want to stop doing this.”

Eventually, you let your head rest on Sebastian’s shoulder while he trails soft kisses from the hinge of your jaw down to your shoulder and back. He’s ravenous, he’d told you himself, but it’s not until his stomach growls loudly between your bodies that you even remember that other type of hunger.

“We’ll miss breakfast if we don’t leave soon,” you whine.

“Let’s stay here,” he murmurs against your neck. “We can eat those chocolates you got from Ominis for breakfast.”

“That’s… tempting,” you sigh distractedly, and then you pause.

Leaning back, you quirk a brow and ask, “Sorry, the chocolates I got from Ominis?”

“Well, sure,” Sebastian says smoothly. “He sent me a book on cursebreaking, but I can taste fancy chocolate on your lips, so I assumed…”

“You filthy liar, Sebastian Sallow,” you laugh, throwing your head back. “He warned me you’d try to talk me out of my sweets!”

“To be fair, that’s hardly the only thing I’ll try to talk you out of,” he drawls, sliding his hands down to your hips. “Namely this robe of yours…”

“Scoundrel,” you croon, leaning down for another hungry kiss.

(Ominis’ chocolates make a decent breakfast, even if half of them melt by the fire, ignored entirely while Sebastian makes good on his suggestion regarding your robe.)

[luveline]

hope my boyfriend's okay request.

hi!!! can I request hurt comfort or angst with spencer reid? maybe reader is just an ordinary girl, not that smart, not that pretty, or even a college drop out (like reader from honeybody) so she is kinda insecure when spencer being kind to her or even ask her on a date?

tysm♡

"Do you want to play?" Spencer asks. 

You're flushed before you open your mouth, startled by his sudden appearance and the new haircut he sports, curls locked back behind his neck. "Sorry, I just wanted to sit down." 

"No, I'm just asking if you want to play," he says, shaking the little briefcase he holds between his fingers to emphasise the rattle of the chess pieces inside. 

You've stolen his chess table again at the park. It's how you met, how you continue to meet —you want somewhere to put your book as you read and Spencer hardly ever makes you move, he just sort of sits with you until someone is in need of an opponent. 

"I don't know how. I don't have the smarts." 

Spencer sits down opposite you, placing the briefcase against the white and black chequered tiles. "Playing chess isn't about being smart. Being good at chess takes learned skill, though. It's like learning a language. Most people can say hello and goodbye if they try, but fluency comes with practice." He smiles at you like you're lovely and pretty and someone worth explaining this too, when you're worrying It's filtering out of your head like water through a sieve. Draining, draining, gone. 

"I don't even think I could remember hello and goodbye," you say. Your attempt to smile back at him is pitiful. 

His smile ebbs. "You're sure you don't want to play? I'd go easy for you." 

You curl the cover of your paperback in your hands, deliberating. Chess is one of those games that seems never-ending. It's full of manoeuvres and techniques, openings, closings, all these learned combinations, strategy like nothing you've ever been able to comprehend. You've never wanted to learn because you know you won't be good, even if you try. 

"Okay," you say quietly. "I really won't be any good." 

Spencer shrugs and begins to retrieve the small wooden chess pieces. "I usually win anyways."

"Have you ever, um, competed? Like the grandmaster things?" 

"No, but I had a friend I competed against for a long time. We played a lot of games. He was better at winning, despite my advantage." Spencer arranges your pieces with care. "Do you need me to teach you the opening moves?" 

He explains slowly. When you need help, he gives it, and he doesn't lord it over your head. It's a little shameful seeing the difference in your intellectual capabilities displayed so clearly, and the longer the game goes on the worse you feel, even though Spencer lets you win. 

"You'll get better every game," he says, returning taken pieces to the board.  

"You want to play again?" you ask. "Come on, Spencer, that can't have been fun for you." 

"Why wouldn't it be?" 

"Because I'm a useless opponent? And I don't really have anything else going for me, either, so it must be boring." It's an awkward thing to say, self-deprecating and stilted considering you and Spencer aren't more than acquaintances. You regret it as soon as you've said it but the frustration of the situation sticks around. "I don't understand why you waste your time with me." 

"It's not wasted if it's with you." Spencer looks genuinely confused, shapely eyebrows pinching. "Is that what you really think? I like spending time with you, I don't need you to be a chess expert to find you interesting." 

"But there's nothing interesting,," you insist. 

"Of course there is…" He straightens a chess piece, gaze split between you and the board. "You don't have to say something from a journal for it to be worth saying. You know, I've had a thousand conversations this year, some of them with professors or academic experts, but," —he puts his hand, now finished with the chess pieces, over his elbow, meeting your eyes shamelessly— "the one I replay the most is from a few weeks ago, when you told me why you like to read in the park." 

"That was just small talk," you say weakly, though it hadn't felt small to you, and now you know it wasn't small for him either. 

"Then I guess I love small talk," Spencer says. "Do you want to play again? I'll teach you some good opening moves if you tell me more about you. Deal?" 

You nod hurriedly, and fail to hide a beaming smile. "Teach me the best one." 

"That's what I meant," he says. 

[chessbazaarusa]

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