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kittenintheden · 7 months

Text

Ethics Review

Dave Matthews voice: I DID IT

Tav (reader) and Astarion pay his old office at the Courts a visit in the middle of the night for funsies and things get spicy.

aka it's the switchy bitchy magistrate roleplay fic

Rating: E Word Count: 5.2k Pairing: Astarion/reader (Tav) Content: 18+, light BDSM elements, sexual roleplay, bitches be switches, dirty talk, spanking, orgasm denial, light edgeplay, oral sex, PIV sex (AFAB reader, not gendered)

AO3 Link

It’s late, but then, it’s always late when you’re out with Astarion these days. By necessity, mostly, but also because it’s the best time for the pair of you to get up to your more unsavory plans without catching the watchful eye of the newly-reformed Fist.

“Where are you taking me?” you laugh as you follow him through a series of dark alleys. “This better not end with me having to send for Gale to get your hand out of another magicked jar.”

“Never going to let me live that down, are you?” He looks over his shoulder and gives you an affectionate smirk.

“Not ever.”

Astarion peers around the corner of a brown brick building, checking that the coast is clear. To you, he says, “You’re lucky I’m such a kind and forgiving soul.”

“Ah, yes,” you agree, wrapping your arms around him from behind and nuzzling his neck. “Two of your most obvious and accurate qualities.”

He chuckles. “We’re almost there. Come on.”

A labyrinthine dozen alleyways later, you’re deposited in an open square, quiet and still. The cobblestones are dark with recent rain, sending their petrichor scent into the air. As you follow Astarion out into the space, you realize where you are. It’s the Courthouse District of the Lower City, where people are tried and held for petty crimes that aren’t suitable for Wyrm’s Rock.

You huff a laugh through your nose and look over at your partner with a raised eyebrow. “Did you need to tell me something? Have a court date you forgot to mention?”

“Hush,” he playfully scolds you, holding a finger up to his lips. “Let me think a moment.”

He peers up at a particular building on the square and furrows his brow, closing his eyes and moving his hands through the air. You fold your arms and watch as he moves his fingers like he’s following a path only he can see, turning corners and raising level by level. At last, he opens his eyes, and points at window on the third floor, two in from the corner.

“That one,” he says.

“That one what?” you prompt.

He grins devilishly. “That…” he points again. “... is my old office. I thought we might pay it a visit.”

“To what end?” you laugh.

“What can I say, I’m feeling a touch nostalgic these days.” He keeps his eye on the window and beckons you to follow closer to the building. “Something about my old haunts is calling to me.”

Behind where he can’t see, you pay him an affectionate smile. In the last year or so since the fall of the Nether Brain, you’ve seen the city rebuilt and gone on your fair share of adventures and quests, always searching for some way to give Astarion back the sunlight you promised him. No luck yet, but there have been promising leads here and there. It’s not a lost cause. Not yet.

The last few months in particular have seen certain changes in your lover. The terror and fear he carried for so long clung to him like a shadow, and ever so slowly it’s beginning to lift. His laugh is more present than before, more real. The intimate moments you share are filled with trust and care, even as you get more comfortable pushing a few boundaries here and there.

Most of all, he’s been remembering. Not everything. There are parts of his past forever lost to him, written over by more years of torment than he ever had of life. But there’ve been flashes every now and again of who he used to be. Some of them he likes, some he loathes. He doesn’t always talk about it, but you know being able to pick up a piece once in a while has meant a great deal to him.

So you follow along with whatever little game he has planned.

He walks along the building, scanning the brick for footholds. Just as he puts his hand on a storm drain and tenses to leap, you halt him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. When he looks back at you, you flick your eyes up toward the window.

“Three up, two in from then end?” you ask.

He nods.

“Allow me, love.”

You hold up your hand and cobalt magic pools in your palm, forming into a sphere. You send it up above you, the arcane eye floating until it finds the correct window before it slips inside. You blink, your own eyes glowing blue as you use your magic to scan the room. It’s certainly an office of some sort.

Astarion takes your hand when you hold it out for him and instantly you’re transported inside the office thanks to a handy little dimensional door spell you picked up on one of your many adventures. You wave away the arcane eye and give Astarion a wink.

He smirks and shakes his head at you. “Take all of the fun out of the thing, why don’t you,” he says through his smile. “Suppose I’ll have to make do with checking that the place isn’t alarmed. Alas.”

The place is, indeed, alarmed. Astarion manages to disarm two common magic wires and one trickier sending stone scattered throughout the room. You reach out through the Weave for any other whispers of magic. Some artifacts and lightly magical office supplies. Nothing worrisome.

Once you’re both satisfied that you won’t end up immediately arrested, Astarion moves to the center of the room, hands clasped behind his back. You’re quiet as he scans the walls, turning in a slow circle as he takes everything in. His fangs flash as he gives a quiet laugh.

“The layout is different, and the color,” he says. “But yes, this is the place.” He furrows his brow slightly and holds out his hands, eyes on the floor. “I… worked here. Me. A magistrate.” His eyes find you and his smile widens. “It was a lie for so much longer than it was a reality. But it was a reality, once upon a time.”

“I’m surprised,” you say, folding your arms and nonchalantly stepping closer. “The way you spoke and dressed when we first met, I thought you must’ve been an Upper City fancy defending-the-powerful type.”

Astarion clicks his tongue at you. “Now, don’t be judgmental. That’s my job.” He waves a hand through the air. “I was quite young in my career, but I was working my way up. All the way to the third floor, thank you.”

You come in to wrap your arms around his waist and lean your head on his shoulder. “I’m proud of you. Genuinely.”

He spreads his fingers over your forearm, pressing his lips to your hair. “Thank you. That’s always nice to hear.” He clears his throat and removes your arms, backing away from you with a toss of his head. “But don’t be too proud. I wasn’t exactly a… what’s the term? Model citizen.”

Astarion begins to walk around the small table with four chairs set in the center of the room.

“Oh?” you say, walking around the other side to mirror him. “Were you terribly corrupt?”

He pauses and tilts his head, shrugging. “‘Terribly’ is such a strong word, isn’t it? Lets just say I may have been known to, ah… sway the odds in my favor.”

You stop and look across the table at him. “What do magistrates even do, exactly? What did you do, specifically?”

“An absolutely stupid amount of paperwork, as I recall,” he says. “At least, I certainly remember hating every scrap that came across the desk. Meting out appropriate punishment for any minor and petty crime you can think of, most of them horrifically boring. But…” He leans over the table and holds up a finger. “... sometimes I got to conduct interviews to determine if crime was worthy of Wyrm’s Rock, and I was very good at getting the verdict I wanted.”

You rather like seeing this side of Astarion. Honest pride, confidence, and authority. The tip of your tongue runs along your bottom lip as you take in your love leaning over that table, dappled in moonlight. Gods, he’s beautiful.

“And how did you do that?” You pop your hip and raise your thumb to your mouth, teasing your lip as you peer up at him through your eyelashes. “Exactly?”

Astarion notices the shift in your demeanor immediately, his own eyes going half-lidded as they track the path of your hand to your mouth. His grin goes predatory and he leans back so he can come around the table to you and pull out the chair.

“Please, darling,” he says, nodding for you to sit. “Let’s talk, you and I.”

You pay him a sultry smile and sink into the chair, which he pushes in under you. Then he walks back around to the other side with his spine straight, hands folded behind his back.

A new game begins.

Astarion rolls out his shoulders as if he’s shedding a coat. When he turns to look at you, he does so down the length of his nose, his hard gaze making it clear that he thinks you beneath him.

You shiver as a thrill runs down your back and attempt to hide it.

He shakes his head above you, tutting. You’ve disappointed him.

Instinctively, you shrink into your chair slightly as he leans forward and places the tips of his fingers against the table in front of him, continuing to lower his face until it’s a mere foot from yours.

“A pathetic display back there,” he says, voice dripping with condescension. “Your associates have hung you out to dry. You do know that…” He tilts his head. “... don’t you?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and drop your eyes. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Silly little patsy,” he chides as he straightens to glare down at you again. “Such stars in your eyes for friends who would sooner see you burn than stick their necks out for you.”

“I’m not telling you anything,” you say, raising your eyes to him in defiance even as you let a waver of nerves shake your voice.

“What must it be like to be so tragically misguided?” he sneers. It’s like an echo of a man you once knew. One you met on a sunny beach amid burning wreckage.

You blink up at him, eyes going soft. “I can’t betray them.”

“Betray them,” he breathes, huffing a mirthless laugh as he leans one hand onto a nearby chair. “My dear, they are in the next room, and the room after that, giving you up as we speak. No loyalty among thieves, I fear.”

“No,” you gasp. “They wouldn’t.”

Astarion holds a finger up to his lips, shushing you. “I think you know better than that. But fine, have it your way. Don’t give them up to save your own hide. Let me sweeten the pot.”

He turns his body so he can side-sit on the table and put his first knuckle under your chin, lifting it so he can inspect you. The corner of his mouth ticks up. “Gold to line your pockets, perhaps?”

Though you try to stop it, your body betrays you as a bright blush blooms across your nose and cheeks. Astarion’s pupils dilate above you.

“Or something else entirely?” he whispers, tilting his mouth closer to yours. “I’d much sooner send those two cads to Wyrm’s Rock in your place. Help me, and maybe you and I could have a bit of…” His eyes trail down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, and beyond before he looks back into your eyes. “... fun in celebration.”

“Why would you do that for me?” you whisper back.

He shrugs. “What can I say? I rather like you. Plus, I might get a little kickback in the form of a promotion for bringing in two thorns in the Fist’s side, but that’s neither here nor there.” He rolls his eyes and pays you a flirtatious smile on the last bit.

And that… is your opening.

Your expression grows serious and you note the moment that Astarion’s eyebrows give the briefest twitch of concern.

"You've overplayed your hand, Magistrate Ancunín," you say.

Astarion draws his hand back and gives you a perplexed look. “Have I?”

You smile, then. Calm and dangerous. "I've been sent by the Board of Ethics, you see."

Astarion is thrown by this turn, but he recovers quickly, offering a simpering smile. "Oh? Oh, dear. Seems I've been caught with my pants down."

You stand, holding his eye. "Indeed. Best go place your hands on the desk where I can see them."

With a flourish, he holds his hands up for you to see. No funny business, none at all. He goes to the desk and spreads his palms flat against the polished wood. He must feel the heat of your skin as you come close, only inches away. Inspecting. Considering.

You lean in close to his ear. "Say our word if you'd like me to stop, Ancunín," you whisper.

"Stop what?" he asks.

In answer, you grab his hips and pull them flush against your own with enough force that he gasps from it, genuinely surprised. In his ear again, you whisper, "Teaching you a lesson."

You release him and move to his side. He turns his head to look at you and you can see the openmouthed surprise in his face, but it’s more than that. Surprised, yes, but also open. Interested. Very turned on. You know this look.

This is Astarion’s “oh, we’re doing that thing I like?” look. It’s a good look on him.

You tap a finger on his nearest hand. “Keep these exactly where they are. I must warn you that you face serious repercussions for witness tampering. I have some questions. Answer them to my satisfaction, and I may consider…” Your gaze trails down to the front of his trousers, which are straining. When you meet his eye again, you add, “... reinstatement.”

Astarion tilts his chin down so he can give you a heated look. “Then by all means,” he says, lips parted. “Ask.”

“Hm,” you hum as you trail your fingers over the desk as you walk around to the other side. You mimic his stance with your hands on the table, though yours is one of authority while his is one of awaiting judgment. He tilts his head at you in question, gaze hot. You match it.

“Let’s start with an easy one.” You tilt your head toward the wall without breaking eye contact. “That placard hanging there. What is it?”

He looks and then huffs through his nose. “It’s an oath.”

You tilt your head the other way. “And what does it say?”

Astarion smirks. “‘As an officer of the Court, I will strive to conduct myself at all times with integrity, dignity, and honor.’”

“That’s right,” you say, nodding. “Now tell me, Ancunín… do you feel you’ve conducted yourself in accordance with that oath?”

“Of course,” he answers without hesitation, flashing you a winning smile. “I offered you the utmost dignity and honor, did I not?”

An idea occurs to you and you imagine he catches the twinkle in your eye as you raise one of your hands to click your fingers, a glowing web of pale blue stretching to cage you both inside. Astarion frowns up at it. The moment he realizes what you’ve done, he gives you a look that’s half-exasperated and half-devious.

“What’s this?” he says, playing along.

“A little insurance policy. To ensure your adherence to honesty.” You reach to the collar of your shirt and undo one button. Then another.

Then another.

Astarion struggles to keep his eyes on your face, but when you lean back down onto the table, he can’t help but sneak a peek.

You toy with another button. “Why don’t you tell me what you think about dignity now?”

Astarion bites the corner of his lip to keep his expression serious. He keeps his eyes trained on your chest and seems to carefully consider his words before he says, “I maintain that I respect the dignity of your tits.”

That’s not what he meant to say. He blinks. His eyes flick up to yours. “Your position,” he amends.

His eyes flick back down. “Your position and your tits.”

“Ah,” you say. “Yes, I thought that might be the case. That you might be… what do they say? Dipping your wick in the law office wax.”

You stand and come back around to his side, maintaining your spell as you do. Astarion tracks you all the way back around.

“I’d like you to be as honest with me as you can be,” you say softly. “Not that you’ve much choice. So, in that case, here’s some extra… motivation.”

You’re behind him now and you hear his sharp intake of breath when he feels your palms spread over either side of his hips before moving around to the ties at the front of his trousers. You loosen them just enough to give you space.

Astarion’s knuckles are going white where he presses his fingers against the desk.

Your fingers are soft and warm against his lower abdomen as they dip below his waistband, then inside his underthings. You find what you seek and grip it firmly, fisting the length of him. He bites back a groan and flexes his hands against the wood as you draw him out into the open air.

“You do keep it cool in here,” you whisper into his ear. You keep your touch light as you tease his cock, just enough to make him want but not nearly enough to satiate the need. “Why is that?”

Astarion swallows and looks at you out of the corner of his eye. “A little discomfort loosens the tongue, I find.” He struggles to keep the breathiness out of his voice and very nearly succeeds.

Nearly.

Your smile is wicked. “I see. Well.”

You rest his hardened length against the varnished wood of the desk. It’s cool on his touch-warmed skin and he whines lightly as you leave him there to walk around to his other side, fingertips drawing a trail across his broad back and shoulders.

“In that case, we’ll be leaving that…” You glance down at his cock, then back at his face. “… out in the cold until you’ve answered my questions to my satisfaction. Understood?”

He takes a deep breath through his nose and meets your eye. “Completely.”

“Good.” You move one of his misplaced curls back into place. “If I’m satisfied, I just might let you warm it up again. We shall see.”

“Indeed we shall,” he says, voice dropping deeper, and you can sense the challenge there. You smile as you turn away from him.

“Let’s try again,” you say. “Do you make a habit of lying to your interviewees in hopes of manipulating a confession?”

“Is ‘lying’ the word we want to use?” he says with a lilt.

“Yes.” You turn back to look at him.

He clears his throat, chewing his tongue to hide another smile before he looks away. He thinks a moment, then says, “I occasionally massage my message to pave the way for a more fruitful discussion in my favor, yes. Only in the interest of this office and my personal satisfaction.” He smirks at you, clearly pleased with himself.

You shake your head. “My, my. And just when I thought we were getting somewhere. Perhaps you need a reminder that I hold your immediate future in my hands?”

When you move back in and loosen his trousers still further to shove down his hips and below his arse, he wriggles to help. He seems to think he’s won this phase of the game. Adorable.

Rather than give him any relief, you reach out to the desk and pick up a wooden ruler, thin and flexible. Astarion opens his mouth, presumably to ask what you’re doing, but doesn’t get the chance as you use the flat of the ruler to give him a quick smack on his bare arse.

He cries out in surprise and looks around at you. You raise an eyebrow at him and give him the opportunity to call his out. Instead, you watch his eyes darken. He’s still in. Which is good, because gods above if you aren’t beginning to make a mess of your underwear already.

“Do you understand your situation?” you ask.

“Maybe you ought to remind me again,” he rumbles.

You do, leaving another slap on his pale skin. A shiver travels up his back from the base of his spine all the way up.

“I understand,” he says.

“Very good,” you say. “Do you manipulate the outcomes of your interviews?”

“Sometimes, yes,” he says quietly, peering up at you from under his brows.

“Thank you for your honesty. With bribery?”

He nods.

You bend forward so you’re eye-to-eye. “And do you frequently offer favors of a sexual nature?”

Astarion’s gaze drops to your mouth and he blinks heavily. “That’s only for when I see someone I like,” he says.

There’s another slap to his arse, quick as reflex, and he gives a small, broken “a-ah” as he drops his head. He spoke the truth, your spell ensures that, but you want him to be more specific. You look down to see he’s subtly grinding himself against the desk, his cock beginning to weep pre-fluid as you watch.

You place the ruler against his back to hold him in place. “None of that,” you say. “Not until you clarify. Why me?”

He groans in frustration. “Because I like you. Because I’m attracted to you. Because I want to be inside you and fuck and fuck and fuck until we’re both hoarse from crying our ecstasy.”

Well. The pair of underwear you’re wearing are officially done for, you fear.

“What a wicked tongue you have,” you breathe, not quite able to keep up your aura of authority. You swallow and add, “Perhaps I’ll consider letting you off with a warning if we can figure out a better use for it.”

Astarion goes to his knees so quickly it makes your head spin. You don’t hesitate to take care of the bindings on your own trousers and he’s eager to help, shoving your clothing to the floor. You’re trying to remove a boot when he presses his face into the crux of your legs and runs his tongue along the seam of you so hotly that you nearly fall over. You lean down and give him another half-hearted smack. All it does is elicit a groan against your most sensitive of places.

With some struggle, you manage to remove the boot, kick your trousers and underthings off of one leg, and hop up to sit on the desk, Astarion follows you along, refusing to let you leave him now that he’s on you. His mouth works against you on its own, tongue lapping firmly at the edges of your cunt, flushing you and making you swell. He hasn’t even touched your clit yet and you know you’re already slick with desire.

You’re so momentarily distracted that you almost miss where his hands have gone.

Chest heaving, you weakly wave to dismiss your Zone of Truth and call up your mage hand, sending it down where you can’t reach to grab the wrist of the hand Astarion’s using to pump his cock while he licks at you.

“I don’t think so,” you gasp. “Still on… probation.”

You’re losing the thread and you’re perfectly okay with it.

Astarion growls in response and comes up higher on his knees, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you tight against his face. His tongue finally finds your center and he rolls it against your entrance, plying the place just inside that makes you go flush with arousal, your clit swelling further. Then he finally pays it attention with a light draw followed by firm circles, teasing until you feel sparkles of arcane energy tingling at your fingertips and zaps of pleasure shoot through your core.

He holds you so tight to him that there’s no escape from the assault of pleasure he’s waging on your body. All too soon, you’re whimpering as you approach your peak.

And Astarion simply stops. He leaves you there, right before the edge, and you cry out in dismay and frustration. Before you realize what’s happening, he’s on his feet and pulling you onto yours, spinning you around until your hips are pressed to the edge of the dark wood. You can feel his rock hard length against the cleft of your arse, feel the wetness at the tip of him against your lower back.

“You’ve overplayed your hand this time, I think,” he pants into your ear. “Let your guard down. What member of the Board of Ethics accepts bribes?”

When you try to wriggle free, you feel his fingers at your wrists. He takes your hands and spreads them on the desk as you’d done to him, bending you over. His hips draw back and then return and you feel his hardness drag over your folds from behind, teasing but not quite putting pressure on your clit.

His breathing is heavy, but through it, he manages, “This time, you tell me the truth. Why did you meet with me?”

“To catch you out,” you gasp. “Your behavior has been… unethical.”

“Is it unethical to recognize when someone wants your cock?” he whispers, sending a tingle over your shoulders. “Is it against my oath to offer?”

“That’s not… I didn’t…”

The head of his cock nudges your clit and you both hiss through your teeth. He pulls back until he catches at your entrance, pushing in just barely. Just enough to begin to feel him, but nowhere near enough of him. Instinctively you arch your back harder, trying to take more, but he won’t let you.

“Beg me,” he growls in your ear. “Beg me for my cock. Tell me it’s why you came here.”

Your very last thread of remaining restraint is pulled to its absolute limit, but it doesn’t break quite yet. “I came here on orders to uncover a magistrate with loose morals,” you manage.

Astarion reaches a hand up to the hair at the back of your head, grabs a handful, and gently pulls to bend your head back. Directly into your ear, he whispers, “You’ve found him. Now beg for it.”

In the quiver of his voice, you can hear that he’s the one begging you.

So you give in.

“I came here for you,” you whisper back. “Please, let me. Let me take your cock.”

His breath shudders out of him. “Take it you shall.”

Astarion thrusts his hips forward, burying himself in you, and you hardly have time to so much as gasp before he sets a punishing rhythm, one arm around your waist to hold you in place and the other one still tangled up in your hair. You arch deeply, giving him as much access as you can, and he pounds into you relentlessly. On the outskirts of your awareness, you feel bruises beginning to form on your hipbones from where they repeatedly hit the desk.

You don’t care one whit.

He keeps you bent over the desk, your palms spread to keep you both upright as he fucks you hard, his moans trapped behind his clenched teeth. As you fly full speed back to your edge, he removes the hand from your head and absently places it over your mouth to muffle your own escalating cries.

The coil of your climax tightens and Astarion begins to mutter a steady mantra of “yes, yes, yes, gods, yes” beside your ear. He presses himself all the way to the hilt and rocks, the base of him stretching you just right and his balls pressed firm to your clit and there, oh there, it’s right-

You scream behind Astarion’s palm as you come, the delicious tension boiling and spilling over as contractions roll through you, pleasure washing over your body with every heartbeat. You nearly blank out for a second and when you blink back down, your lover continues to pump into you as he chases his own end.

With a shaking hand, you call up your mage hand from where it shimmers nearby and press it to his chest, pushing back with soft pressure.

“No,” Astarion whines, attempting one or two more thrusts before you back him up. “No, please, please, I didn’t finish, I-”

You turn, bottomless and eyes full of fuck and revenge, and add your own hands to the mix, all three pushing him back until he hits the deposition table, going flat on his back. You crawl up over him and straddle him, up on your knees just out of reach.

You look down upon him, beautiful and fucked out in the moonlight. “Do you regret any of it?” you say.

“I’m regretting a lot of my decisions at the moment,” he snarks. His lips part as he breathes.

With a smile, you roll your hips just enough to catch the head of his cock back at your opening. “Do you regret any of it?” you repeat.

He pants, looking up at you. Then he reaches up to grip the front of your shirt and pull you down over him in a searing kiss. When you break, he whispers, “No. Not a moment. It brought me to you.”

You roll back, sinking down onto him. He gasps and throws his arms around you, helping you get back into rhythm, and he’s so close that it’s barely any time at all before he arches his back clear up off the table and groans as he spills inside of you, the relief painted across every inch of his face. He comes for nearly a minute, twitching and humming beneath you until he finally relaxes into a boneless heap.

When he next opens his eyes, you lean down and catch him in another kiss.

The pair of you have barely redressed and cast a few prestidigitation cantrips as a courtesy before there’s a sound somewhere down the hall. Footsteps. Coming closer.

“Shit,” Astarion whispers, startled. He grabs your hand and spins you both into a dim corner of the room before you both cast Invisibility. Just in the nick of time, it appears, because there’s a jangle of keys and then a harried-looking halfling comes bustling into the room, dark bags under their eyes.

They grumble to themselves for a moment, going to a box to sort through files. They don’t find what they’re looking for and move on to the desk. Once there, they open a drawer, then wrinkle their nose.

“Bleeding hells, it smells like sex in here,” they grumble. “Gonna tell Jackobson that Cole has been using his office again. Teach that arsehole for making me come fetch the file he forgot.”

The halfling pulls a file from the drawer, slams it, and exits the room.

Neither of you move for the rest of the minute your invisibility lasts. As soon as the cloaking spell fades, you both collapse to the floor in quiet giggles. You kiss Astarion through your laughter, again and again.

It’s nice to see this side of him.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #tavstarion #kitten writes

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heartlesscorpse · 6 months

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Sleepy Cuddles w/ Pyramid Head 🩸🔪 △

Pyramid Head brainrot goes brrr. Pyramid Head brainrot is forever eternal, anyway — yeah I have yet another post of Pyramid Head because I’m bored, my brain had ideas, and I NEED him so I feel like catering myself once again w/ Pyramid Head. That’s all I can say. OH YEAH might I add, rather than Silent Hill’s PH like my last few posts this time I decided this time around I’m gonna do DBD Pyramid Head. Also a heads up for the small nsfw warning in this post.

Doing back to back trials or maybe more is always tiring. Leaves you all sleepy asf, grumpy, and really not wanting to be thrown into another trial for the entity’s amusement.

Usually you’d try sleeping around the campfire or take short naps, literally whenever you have the chance to do so before the entity drags you off to another random map, and it can get pretty annoying when you don’t get no breaks to rest. >:((

And what’s better than looking for none other than your favourite tall killer, the Executioner for some cuddles???

If you need cuddles or sleep, Pyramid Head’s always there in Midwich waiting for you whenever he’s not busy with any trials of his own. :))

He loves earning small visits from you while the both of you have some time to spend when the Entity isn’t calling for either of you for the next trial.

The two of you meet up usually in the halls of the school or some random classroom if Pyramid Head happened to be looking for you first. The nurses office is where the two of you kick back and relax in each other’s company most often, because that’s where all the old mattresses are left on the rusted metal bed frames.

The beds are way too small to fit with Pyramid Head’s large figure so the both of you would settle with stripping off all the mattresses from the bed frames, lie them all on the floor stacked atop each other by 2 by 4 for bigger space.

Cuddles w/ the big guy are the fucking best. And he enjoys cuddling you too.

Because of the huge height differences between the both of you, he thinks you’re the perfect size so he could gently squeeze you in his arms while you’re all curled up with him.

And don’t forget about them man tiddies, his tiddies are the best for a pillow but in the end, you’re waking up with a sore neck. But it’s fucking worth it. >:))

It’s also soothing listening to his breathing from his rusted helmet or the soft growls rumbling from his chest, which kind of reminds you of thunder rolling through the sky in the distance.

As I mentioned the last time in one of my other hc posts with Pyramid Head, he’s a fuckin’ walking heater and all that body heat radiating from him while you’re pressed against him with his arms around you is just pure bliss.

Feels so nice to pass out in his arms especially with all that exhaustion and the multiple trials you went through still racking your brain, and he likes it how easily you conk out the moment you get comfy with him just in a matter of seconds.

On some small occasions there’s times where Pyramid Head is also hornee and wanting help with finding some relief, once granted consent he’ll keep in mind how tired you are after all those trials you went through of course, this time around he’ll restrain himself from going too rough on you and will opt to fucking you gently and at a slower pace. Getting some relief out of this and also helping you destress, a small little reward for doing such a great job. <33

After cuddles and naps with Pyramid Head you’re feeling all rejuvenated and energized to keep pushing on through more trials the entity has yet to throw at you.

Sometimes it’s not enough and Pyramid Head will decide to keep you for a little while longer, drawing the entity’s attention in some instances and having to fight with them in order to prevent the entity from ripping you away from his grip.

Few minutes wasn’t enough he wants more time with his precious. Fuck off. >:((

Besides the exhaustion or stress from everything in the entity’s realm, you still visit Pyramid Head whenever just for more cuddles or naps to give the big guy some company and spend more time with your beloved Executioner.

🥩⋆♱✮♱⋆🔪 🩸

#pyramid head #dead’s hcs #brainrot hrs #dead’s dying #pyramid head x reader #gn reader #fluffies #smut #slashers x reader

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writingduhh · 1 month

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i literally got my wisdom teeth removed a few hours ago and i am in PAIN

pls pls can we have some comfort ted to schlatt?

love you sm stay safe 💓💓💓💓

Ahhhh I love this idea! I’m so sorry about your wisdom teeth I’ve heard it’s so painful :( please rest up and take care of yourself! Hope this can offer a little distraction 💜

❥ Jschlatt :

▷ Before your surgery, Schlatt does a deep dive into what you’ll need post-op. How to relieve pain, help you heal faster, and everything in-between. He also makes sure to stock up on tons of soft foods, wanting to make sure you have lots of options

▷ On the way to the office he immediately notices your nervousness. He takes it upon himself to lighten the mood the best he can. If all attempts at humor fail he takes a much sweeter approach.

He lays his hand on your thigh, giving it a tight squeeze. “You’re going to do great, y/n. And I’ll be right here with you.”

▷ After the paperwork has all been signed he tightly hugs you goodbye, gently whispering to you that title be ok. Once you’re taken back he sits down in the waiting room. He insists on staying in the office until you’re done, no matter how long it takes he refuses to leave without you.

▷ As soon as you’re out of surgery schlatt is by your side, making sure you’re comfortable whisky he intensively listens to the nurses aftercare instructions.

▷ Even though you might be a little grumpy or out of it, due to the anesthesia, Schlatt is incredibly patient. If you try to say something but it’s all garbled he listens attentively. He tries his best to decipher your words, occasionally making silly guesses that get you both laughing.

“Can you say that one more time, toots? I couldn’t hear you.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and tried again, but somehow it came out even more garbled this time.

“Uhh… you want me to turn it up? Like the radio?”

“No, no, no,” you mumbled, struggling to get the words out. He looked a little flustered now.

“You want to… fuck? Darlin’, you just got out of—” Before he could finish, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

You pointed dramatically at the colorful suckers sat in the cup holder that the receptionist had given you on your way out.

“OH! You want a sucker.”

The two of you broke into laughter, tears forming in your eyes from how hard you were laughing.

Once you both finally caught your breath, Schlatt grabbed one of the suckers from the cup holder and handed it to you, making you smile even wider.

Through the gauze in your mouth you managed to say a “thank you.”

“Of course.” He lovingly says, pressing a kiss on the side of your head.

“Ya know, if you hadn’t just got out of surgery I wouldn’t have said no.” He subtly smirks, earning a playful slap from you.

“Hey! Hey! I’m just being honest.”

▷ When he notices you’re feeling tense from the soreness, schlatt offers to give you a gentle shoulder or neck massage. He’s surprisingly good at it, and you find yourself relaxing under his touch, the pain melting away a bit as he works out the tension.

▷ When you’re too sore or tired to eat by yourself, Schlatt happily feeds you spoonfuls of soup or pudding, joking about how he’s becoming a pro at this. He makes airplane noises just to see you roll your eyes, but you secretly love the attention.

▷ Knowing that you’ve been through a tough time, Schlatt takes it upon himself to spoil you with little gifts. He surprises you with a cozy new blanket, a scented candle, or that book you’ve been eyeing for a while. Each gift comes with a cheeky comment like, “Just a little something to make you smile, even if you’re still puffy.”

▷ He is super protective of you during your recovery. If anyone asks to visit or call, he gently but firmly lets them know that you’re resting and need your space, all while making sure you know that he’s there for anything you need.

▷ He can’t resist teasing you a little about your puffy cheeks, but it’s all in good fun. He pretends to take “before and after” pictures, making goofy faces in each one to match your swollen expression.

▷ If you wake up in the middle of the night feeling uncomfortable or in pain, he is right there to comfort you. He gets you a fresh ice pack, helps you take your meds, and stays up with you until you’re able to fall back asleep, all while holding your hand and whispering reassurances.

❥ Ted :

▷ On the way to the dentist, Ted can sense if you’re feeling a bit anxious. He gives you a lighthearted pep talk, reminding you that it’s just a quick procedure and that he’ll be there every step of the way.

▷ Once you’re taken back into the surgery room he makes his way to a nearby store. He buys all of your favorite treats, drinks, and foods. Well, at least the ones you can eat

▷ Ted is the first face you see the moment you come out of surgery. He gives you a reassuring smile and plants a small kiss on your forehead. Before the nurses can bring out a wheelchair, Ted has already decided to carry you out to the car himself.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks sweetly, cradling you in his arms as he walks through the parking lot.

“Mm, good,” you mumble, your arms snugly wrapped around his neck.

“Alright, let me just figure out how to open the door here…” he grumbles, trying to find a way to reach the door handle without setting you down.

“Ted, it’s okay. You can set me down—I can open my door,” you say softly.

“Nope. It’s my job to take care of you and keep you safe.”

“Well… I think you might need to put me down to be ‘safe,’” you smirk.

He sighs. “Alright, you might’ve got me there.”

Ever so carefully, he lowers you to the ground, his hand resting gently on your back as he ushers you into the passenger seat. He even manages to buckle your seatbelt for you. Not without giving you a quick kiss

▷ On the ride home, Ted reflects on how proud he is of you for getting through the procedure. He playfully teases about how you handled it like a champ and how he’s going to tell everyone how brave you were. His words are full of admiration, making you feel cherished.

▷ When you get home, Ted carefully helps you out of the car, making sure you don’t trip or stumble. He wraps an arm around you to keep you steady, guiding you inside and straight to the couch or bed, where he’s already prepared a cozy spot for you to rest.

▷ Ted is super thoughtful, having already set up a recovery space with everything you might need. He’s laid out blankets, pillows, and has the remote within arm’s reach. He’s also got your medications and a glass of water ready, so you don’t have to worry about a thing.

▷ Once you’re back home and resting, Ted sits quietly beside you, holding your hand or gently stroking your hair. Even if you’re too tired to talk, he stays with you, offering silent support and comfort just by being close.

▷ As you start to come around, Ted sits beside you, keeping the conversation light and soft. He talks about plans for when you’re feeling better, maybe a fun date or a small trip, to give you something to look forward to while you recover.

▷ At night, he insists on sleeping next to you, even if it means squishing into the bed with all the pillows and blankets you have piled up. He keeps an eye on you, waking up occasionally to make sure you’re still comfortable and not in any pain.

#chuckle sandwich #chuckle sammy #ted nivison #jschlatt #jschlatt x reader #ted nivison x reader #ted nivison imagine #ted nivison headcanons #hc #jschlatt hcs

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octuscle · 1 day

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Cholo Life

“First the damned Democrats stole the elections from us and now they are stealing our identity!” Manolo began to roll his eyes. He was familiar with this. When KJ worked himself into a rage, he sounded like a personal disciple of Trump. ‘I mean that they eat the cats in Springfield and the dogs, it's not just an isolated incident, they do it everywhere!’ ‘Kyle…’ Manuel began. KJ gave Manolo a friendly punch on the shoulder. He knew that when Manuel called him “Kyle,” Manolo was angry. “Of course I don't mean you,” said KJ. “You're an American through and through, you're American as peanut butter!” Of course that wasn't true. Manolo was born in Lima, went to school in Lima, and only came to Minnesota with his parents at the age of eight. But his parents had placed great importance on him learning the language quickly, and today Manolo speaks better English than his best friend from school days, KJ.

Kj, on the other hand, was a prime example of a junior at an American college: muscular, bright eyes, fair complexion, of course he played American football, and of course he parroted what Trump said without thinking. Yes, he was damn good-looking, but yes, he was also a real airhead. And even though olu secretly had a crush on KJ, KJ was out of reach for Manolo. You couldn't be more straighter than KJ.

KJ was studying business. With a bit of luck, he would at least get his bachelor's degree. Manolo had already graduated from high school two years before KJ and was about to get his bachelor's degree in biochemistry. He wanted to follow in his father's footsteps, who ran the research department of a seed company here. KJ, on the other hand, would join his father's trucking company and would alternate between driving trucks on the highways and struggling with the accounting in the office.

“Besides, you yourself admitted that you eat pets. You said that your grandmother serves guinea pigs.” ”Yes, but first of all, my grandmother doesn't steal the guinea pigs from some guys in Ohio, but has her cook buy and prepare them at the market, and secondly, guinea pigs are a delicacy where we come from. We find it rather absurd that you…” “All fake news!” KJ countered. ”Admit that the whole world would be in ruins without the USA. Our culture is simply superior!” There were situations in which Manolo was annoyed at being physically inferior to KJ. There were situations in which he just wanted to smash KJ's face in. It was really crazy that a guy who already classified cartoons as art wanted to lecture him on culture. His abuela had once given him a lucky charm that he always carried in his pocket. In situations like this, squeezing the stone firmly helped him. It drained the anger out of him. But this time was different. The stone became warm. The stone became hot! Manolo let go of it. He reached for the cold coke glass to cool his hand.

“Are you okay, hermano?” KJ asked. Manolo winced. That was the first time KJ had used a Spanish word correctly. ‘Would you order me another tequila? ¡Tengo que mear!’ Manolo looked after his friend. He had never drunk tequila before. KJ was also a feast for the eyes from behind. The torn jeans clung to his firm ass. His shoulders were broad. He was muscular. But not exaggerated. And his patriotic tattoos emphasized his masculinity. Manolo waved at the waitress and ordered two tequilas. He didn't usually drink. But maybe he could stand KJ better today if he was a little drunk.

The tequila arrived before KJ. And when KJ sat down, Manolo was playing with his cell phone. KJ took his tequila glass. “A nuestra salud y amistad, hermano” “A nuestra salud y amistad, KJ” Manolo replied distractedly, picked up the glass and was about to toast. He was frozen for a few seconds. What the hell had happened to Kyle? The smooth cheeks were covered by a hint of a beard. His tattoos had expanded. And now they had a lot more space too. Because KJ's muscles had almost exploded. His slender neck, with the Adam's apple whose movements always made Manolo so horny, had become a bull's neck tattooed all over. “Dude, you look like you've seen a ghost,” KJ said. His English had a slight Spanish accent. And there was a tear tattooed under his one eye. Manolo ordered two more tequilas… Their conversation turned into Spanglish gibberish. And at some point into Spanish. KJ got terribly worked up about the gringos. In doing so, he accidentally knocked his trucker cap off his head. He picked up a bandana and tied it around his head. KJ's gaze became somehow different. While they were talking, he played with his nipples more and more. He looked at Manolo more intensely. Somehow… lustfully? “Tengo que ir al baño otra vez. ¿Y no te gustaría venir conmigo?” KJ stood up. He was a muscleman. His tight-fitting tank top emphasized his muscles even more. With every twitch of the muscles, the tattoos moved, creating a real cartoon. His ass looked phenomenal in the pleated pants. If Manolo had to create a wank fantasy, this is what it would look like. And now the wank fantasy was telling him to follow him to the restrooms. Damn it! KJ looked like a real cholo. And he was a square college student in khakis and a button-down. Manolo hesitated for a moment. And then he followed KJ. KJ? Why “KJ”? I have no idea when the nickname developed. César Jesus should have been called CJ. But some stupid gringo hadn't understood that in elementary school. And so he had eventually become KJ. And the nickname stuck.

KJ was standing at the urinal. Manolo could see from behind that he was about to jerk off. Even though they had known each other since childhood, he had never seen KJ's cock. KJ's father had the typical conglomerate that enterprising wetbacks build. He had a few trucks that he used to transport goods or help with removals, he owned a few cafes, a laundry… And KJ was supposed to take over this small local empire at some point. His parents had always hoped that the friendship with the clever and ambitious Manolo would have a positive effect on KJ. But KJ had always been the type to hang out with the bad boys. And who could blame him? He looked just as brutal and manly as his father.

Manolo stood next to César at the urinal. César pretended not to notice Manolo. His tattooed hand jerked his cock, which was also covered in tattoos. It was a monster that offered almost as much surface area for artistic decoration as Manolo's thin forearm. César pushed up his tank top with his other hand, revealing his granite abs and finally his nipples. He played with his right nipple with his left hand. And Manolo, whose cock was almost as hard as César's muscles, couldn't help but suck on the left nipple. “Siempre supe que detrás de la fachada de empollón se escondía una zorrita,” César moaned. He let go of his nipple and pushed Manolo gently but firmly onto his knees. And Manolo greedily licked the precum from César's gleaming glans. This beast was not the first cock he sucked. But it was the biggest. And its owner was the one he wanted to satisfy more than anyone before. They had been like dissimilar brothers. Now he wanted to be this giant's whore. And César obviously wanted him to be his whore. He enjoyed the blow job and moaned loudly enough to signal to anyone who wanted to use the toilet that it was occupied. Manolo sucked César's cock and jerked his own. Both came almost simultaneously. It was impossible for Manolo to swallow all of César's cum. And his own cum splashed onto his shirt. Exhausted, he fell back. César was breathing heavily, too. “Necesitas una camisa nueva, hermanito,” he said. Manolo certainly couldn't go out like that. César took off Manolo's shirt and wiped his cum-smeared face with it. Then he took off his sweaty tank top. It was a bit difficult because it couldn't be easily pulled over his muscular body. He handed it to Manolo. Of course it was too big. But it felt good. And César would make sure that he would fill it out better soon. Today two men became real cholos.

Pics by @ki-kink

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #inked man #tank top #race change #ai image #racial tf #cholostyle

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lateatnewyork · 8 months

Text

Lilies

part I | part II | part III | part IV

Helion x reader, rhysand x sister!reader

Warnings: fluff, making out, honeymoon bliss, suggestive

Summary: In which you and Helion are happy.

a/n most definitely another filler chapter but the one with drama will be out tmrrw and my schools starting in like four days so the drafts will come out slower

Helion was the best mate anyone could ever ask for. He could cook, he understood my emotions, gave me space, could give amazing cuddles and kisses, he was great in bed but most of all he cared.

In a sense no one had ever done before. When I wanted him home, he was home. When I visited him during a meeting he made me sit in his lap and glared at anyone who decided to mention it.

We had been mated for at least 6 months by now. And it was absolute bliss. Every single day he would wake me up with his head between my legs, every single night he would worship me like a queen. His kisses made my knees weak and my head dizzy.

Sighing at the thought of him kissing me, I continue trying my best at a dish that Rhysand used to cook for me as a child.

Just as I’m about ditch the recipe and head to his office, a strong pair of arms wrap around me.

Melting into his touch, I lean back. He kisses my neck and bites at my soft spot making me moan softly.

“Hey baby,” turning around my hands run through his beautiful hair. His lips find mine almost instantly. My back presses against the counter and I arch into his touch. Pulling him closer my fingers stray to the hem of his shirt.

“As much as I would love to continue this, I have to tell you something,” he pulls away. My kind is still reeling from his intense kisses. Nodding, I ask him to keep going.

“The Night Court wants to negotiate some stuff with us,” he told me.

Raising an eyebrow I beckon him to continue. “I want you to come with me, your first appearance outside of Day Court as High Lady, and I know what you’re going to say, that you’re not ready or you’re not sure, but I know that you’re ready, I also know how much you miss your brother and your nephew,”

He was right, I mean when was Helion ever wrong?

“I suppose Nyx should meet his uncle,” I sigh dramatically.

“Can you help me make this dish, Rhysand used to make it for me,” I ask him.

“Rhysand can cook?” he gapes at me in shock. “You can cook too sweetheart,” I lay a soft kiss on his adam’s apple and start gathering the ingredients.

“I know what you’re trying to make, you relax I’ll make it for you,” Helion says pressing kisses against my shoulder.

He’s elbow deep in flour, looking like an absolute vision. His golden eyes glint in the sun, his tan skin more prominent as the sun started setting.

We had decided to get this house because of its position and how the sun was almost always reflecting some room.

In the mornings it was our bedroom, during the day it was the seating area outside and during the evening it always seeped into the kitchen.

Not that I was complaining, it made the Day High Lord in front of me look softer and almost vulnerable.

“You’re staring, my love” Helion chuckles, his voice oozing smugness. “Is it so wrong for a female to enjoy the view her mate is providing?” I question, teasing.

“No I suppose not, you know I have to put this in the oven for awhile and we have some spare time,” he cheekily suggests.

“What shall we do?” I say feigning innocence. He circles around to the side of the counter where I’m sitting and gently holds my chin, “You’re so innocent right now but wait until I have you begging and writhing underneath me,”

I gulp, his words go straight to my core.

“What are you waiting for then?”

a/n AZRIEL U WISH THIS WAS U anyway don’t think they have ovens in acotar and i js watched the pjo finale and the way luke said annabeth broke me but like my husband looked rlly fine.

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lizartgurl · 2 months

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In Your Arms (Han Solo x Leia Organa)

Hanleia Week Day Two: Braids and Blood stripes. @hanleiacelebration

Inspired by this piece by @lajulie24. Takes place after the escape from Jabba's palace.

He was breathing, but the air didn't quite reach his lungs. He thought he'd be able to see better now, but he couldn't. It was blurry, why was it still blurry? Dark blurs, light blurs, gray blurs, it all blurred together and it terrified him.

"Han," a firm voice, strong, unwavering.

He turned toward the sound that had broken through. And the darkness that had started to ebb at what was left at his vision gave way to white, like the angels of Iego. He'd heard the deep space pilots talk about them, a ragged beauty being all that was left of a once-divine species. He'd never give the stories much credit, but only one person he knew could ever echo such beauty.

"Leia-" He hated how his voice trembled, but his body reacted on its own, his arms shooting out to pull her close. She gasped at his reflex, but made no protest. Her arms gently wrapped around his head, bringing his ear against her chest.

"Just breathe, Han, just breathe," She whispered. His chest shuddered, like the bursting of a dam. Air flooded his lungs as Leia's warm arms enveloped him, her heartbeat teaching his how to work again. He felt her lips press against his forehead, her fingers carding through his hair.

"You don't have to," He said, suddenly embarrassed and acutely aware of how sweaty he was, and every grain of sand stuck in his hair. First the fever, and then the day spent beneath the twin suns, he'd wanted everyone else to clean up first, insisting he'd take care of himself once his sight returned, but that seemed less and less likely the longer they were in hyperspace.

"I assure you, I'm worse." She laughed softly.

That seemed impossible. Leia smelled great. Then again, his nose was still a little stuffy after being encased in carbonite for two years, but he knew that he could smell the caff on her breath. And not the cheap stuff the alliance stocked in bulk, but the nice stuff, the hazelnut roasted beans that he kept on the Falcon and claimed it was because he liked the stuff, and not because she once said the scent reminded her of her mother's office in the palace on Alderaan. There was also the lingering scent of motor oil, one he'd only briefly come to associate with His Princess in their brief escapade from Hoth, where she'd insisted on helping with the repairs, even though Han hated to let anyone else but Chewie get familiar with the Falcon's inner workings.

Han dug his fingers into the fabric at her back. Her white senate dress had a soft, almost-silky feel, like a cloud from a dream. Between the handfuls of fabric, he felt strands of hair, damp, wet, but soft all the same.

"You were braiding your hair," He murmured, even as exhaustion hit him like a light cruiser.

"Do you want to help me?" She asked.

He shook his head, "I still can't see."

One of her hands left his hair, bringing it to his and guiding his hands to close around a fistful of her locks.

"You've been sleeping too long," Leia said. Her thumb caressed the corner of his eye, taking with it a single tear. She sat in front of him on his bunk, Han could still feel the warmth of her body just in front of him.

If he squinted, he could make out the difference between the darkness of her hair and the white of her dress. He really liked this dress. It made her look regal, like the princess she was supposed to be, and he knew she was comfortable in it.

He followed the strands of hair up to where they met her head at the nape of her neck. He divided the fistful of hair into sections of three, and started braiding, hoping that he didn't get them tangled. He'd originally learned how to make a braid as a kid, it was better for making stronger rope and stuff, but he'd gotten his best practice in when he started hanging around the Rebellion, hanging around Leia.

The more he squinted, the more his eyes watered, almost like they were cleaning themselves. By the time he'd finished the one braid down her back, he was seeing just enough to know that the one he'd made was not as nearly as good as the other braid she'd done for herself.

But Leia didn't seem to mind, twisting both of them up over her head in a bun anyway. She smiled at him, "Thanks, hotshot," She murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Han placed his arm around her waist before she could leave, "Don't go," he begged, "Not just yet." His vision was getting better, but he didn't trust his eyes just yet. Some irrational fear scurried around the back of his mind, warning that if he took his eyes off his Princess, even for a moment, he would lose her again.

Leia paused, though she hadn't made any indication to move away from him. She dropped her hair, and raised her hand to his cheek. Han leaned against the touch. She was warm, safe, everything that Jabba's palace wasn't.

And she was here. She was safe. He hadn't managed to fail her yet.

"I won't," Leia promised, "I'm not going anywhere."

#lizart writes #star wars #hanleia #han solo x leia organa #han solo #leia organa #princess leia #scoundress #this is my attempt to not write the solo kids in every hanleia piece i make this week #hanleia week #hanleia week 2024

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itsmaferart · 1 year

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SPY x FAMILY x CHAIR Vol. 7~8~9

SxF Vol 7 · Damian Desmond - Willow Chair

The Willow Chair was designed by Scottish architect Charles Rennie Mackintosh in the early 20th century. The chair was originally designed for use in The Willow Tea Rooms Company, a cafe and tea room that Mackintosh also designed in Glasgow, Scotland. The chair was part of a larger collection of furniture pieces designed for this company.

The concept of tea rooms was popular in Victorian and Edwardian times, and was considered a meeting place for the upper middle class.

The design shows a progressive approach to design, suggesting that the chair is at the forefront of creative thinking and is sleek, modern and curious. It stands out for its simplicity in geometric patterns. The chair features straight, minimalist lines in its structure, with curved wooden elements at the top to provide head and neck support.

A distinctive feature is its triangular backrest, which extends upward from the arms at an acute angle to create a sleek and elegant silhouette. The seat also features an elaborate lattice pattern, made from hand-woven wicker, which adds texture and dimension to the chair.

I’m Damian, scion of the Desmond family! I’ll be a politician one day and protect this country!

I love the way the dimension of the chair in disproportionate to Damian's body, who is clearly a kid with a very big precedent behind him, a very big ego and pride in possessing the last name Desmond, and it projects very well the way it makes Damian look more imposing for his age while giving you a look that continually judges you, adorably.

Damian is someone who projects himself from greatness, and his constant yearnings to be a recognized figure such as his family, even so, his childlike soul continues to exist.

However deep down, behind all the Desmond pride (Reflected in the chair) are his yearnings to really have fun and enjoy his childhood wanting to play with his balls, read manga, play with dinosaurs. He is definitely a little boy with a lot behind his shoulders.

SxF Vol 8 · Franky Franklyn - Eames Lounge chair & Ottoman

The Eames Lounge Chair and Ottoman were designed by Charles and Ray Eames in 1956, an American designer couple.

It was created from the idea of a "comfortable as a glove" chair, with an ergonomically molded seat and back shell combined with a plywood base. It was originally designed for the Herman Miller furniture company.

It was designed to provide comfort and relaxation, elegant and attractive that will complement any living space. The chair features clean, simple lines and a minimalist structure that emphasizes its elegance and ergonomics. The base is made of plywood, bent in several layers and smoothly polished to give it a smooth, refined finish.

Can we talk about how relaxed and cool Ostania's best informant looks? I love how the combination of this chair reflects Franky's relaxed but refined personality, a genius at his job even if often not properly appreciated. However, we can see his details, a bit messy, his taste for money, some good cigars, some confidential envelopes.

It's interesting when you remember that Franky seems to hate the handsome, moneyed show-offs who seem to be very lucky, even though he wishes he was one. He is simple and laid back, with a classy side and a profitable bottom line.

SxF Vol 9 · Becky Blackbell - Coconut Chair

The Coconut chair was designed by architect and designer George Nelson in 1955 who was the design director for Herman Miller.

The chair was inspired by the designer's tropical landscape during his visit to the Fiji Islands. Nelson observed a group of children playing with one half of a coconut shell and realized that the shape and curve of the coconut shell could be harnessed to design a comfortable, modern chair. It was created as a highly engineered piece of furniture that offered a high level of comfort.

Although originally designed as a lounge chair, the Coconut chair is suitable for any space, from offices to homes. The stainless steel tripod base is an attractive design element, its fine details such as the apparent stitching on the upholstered

"You and I should be best friends"

I like how both the Coconut chair and Becky could be described as elegant, sophisticated, avant-garde and with a lot of personality. Despite her young age, we know that Becky has a very definite personality, sometimes with a very volatile and fanciful imagination.

Unlike many Spy x Family characters and their respective chairs, the elements are usually placed at the back or bottom with respect to the chair, always covered by some slight shadow, reflecting those elements that characterize the respective personality.

However, all of Becky's things are clearly displayed and stacked with bright colors. We know that it refers to all the riches and luxuries Becky has, as well as her passion for fashion and shopping.

But also, it's a way of expressing how authentic Becky is and how she's not afraid to show her true personality without having to hide it.

You can read the previous review here!

You can read the next part here

#spy x familyxchair #spy x family #spy x family manga 71 #twiyor #loid forger #yor forger #loid x yor #yor briar #twilight #anya forger #spyxfamily twilight #sxf #becky blackbell #franky franklin #damian desmond

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captainamericasmotercycle · 1 year

Note

Jake would also be a great fit for the prompt I just sent you, I copy-pasted the prompt from my notes app prompts list and forgot to change the name.

part of my 500 follower celebration!!!

Never Letting Go

pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader

warnings: smut, MINORS DNI, 18+, angst, fluff, p in v sex, penetration sex, mentions of money, cowgirl/missionary, jake being in LOVE, me knowing nothing about the military

wc: 1.7k

a/n: ok i had so much fun writing this one so i hope you guys like it!!

prompt: you break up with Jake to try and make sure he doesn’t turn down the dagger squad’s permanent stationing in order to stay with you, and Jake is not having any of that and fucks you so well he shows you just how much he loves you and isn’t letting you go?

absolutely DO NOT steal my work and post it on other platforms. DO NOT feed my work to AI fuck that

You and Jake have been together for almost 2 years. You met in your hometown of Dallas, Texas; you worked in an office in Dallas’s CBD and Jake was stationed just outside of Dallas.

The two of you had run into each other at the grocery store, Jake was fairly new to the area, having grown up in Austin, and he looked a little lost, so feeling pity on him, you decided to help him out. After the long - but not grueling - shopping trip, Jake offered to take you out and of course you accepted.

Ever since then you’ve been attached at the hip. Until now.

Only months ago, Jake was called back to Top Gun for a dangerous, top secret mission. And since his team’s performance during the mission was so high, the squad was offered a permanent spot as a special operations team at Top Gun Academy.

When he told you the news you couldn’t help but be ecstatic for him because you know he’s worked so incredibly hard for this.

You dwelled on the pros and cons of moving to California when you realized that you were only holding Jake back, there was no way that he would go without you but you couldn’t just pick up your entire life and move out to San Diego. I mean you have a job and a life here! Not to mention how expensive Cali is! You just didn’t want him to stay because of you.

There was no way in Hell that you would get between him and his job, so you made the toughest decision, probably of your entire life. You have to break up with him.

You made sure everything was ready by the time he got back to your shared apartment. Dinner was made, the space was cleaned, the table was set, and your head was a mess.

He greeted you with the most loving smile as he walked in the door, which only made a pit form in your stomach. How are you supposed to end things with the person you love most in the world?

Halfway through dinner you decided to start, “Jake, about your job,”

“Yeah, isn’t it amazing, baby?”

“It is so amazing and I am so happy for you because you deserve this more than anyone,” you trailed off and he picked up on your tone.

“But you don’t think I should take the offer?”

“No! No, that’s not it. I think you should take the offer. But I also think we should break up,” you whispered the last part into an almost silent room.

Jake dropped his fork immediately and froze, “Excuse me?”

“I think we should break up. I’m holding you back Jake, I don’t want to get in between you and what you love most,”

“Baby, you are what I love most,”

“Jake, please just listen. I love you so much and you know I only want the absolute best for you. And I think this is the best option for you, for us.”

Jake stood abruptly and paced around the small living room. He didn’t say a word.

“Please say something,” you stood closely behind him.

“We’re not breaking up,”

“You have to take this job, it’s everything you’ve been working up to and I am not going to be the one to hold you back and—“ he cut you off sharply with a kiss and mumbled into your mouth.

“I would never leave you,” he nipped at your jawline and the higher parts of your neck.

This could not be happening right now. This was not how this night was supposed to go, but you couldn’t stop a slight moan escaping from your lips. If you were going to leave him, you felt like you deserved one more time with him.

You pushed him away to hold his face. You looked into his eyes, then found his lips, and kissed them roughly, “Please Jake, I need you, one last time,”

That’s all he needed to hear and he had you in his arms, carrying you to your shared bedroom. He tossed you on the bed, practically ripping his shirt off, he hovered above you, taking your shirt and bra off next.

He sucked on your chest, leaving love bites on the very top of your breasts. “I’m going to fuck you stupid until you get this idea of you holding me back out of your head.”

He moved down to your shorts, pulling them off as quickly as possible, taking your underwear with them.

He kissed the insides of your thighs, making his was up to your core.

He removed his mouth and let two of his fingers press inside of you. He kissed up your stomach as he pumped his fingers deep inside of you and relished in the way you were almost incoherently moaning.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he held down your hips as he began to lightly suck on your clit. You couldn’t help but let out a pornographic moan.

You didn’t mean to feel the need to release so quickly but you couldn’t help it. You wanted every part of him and you didn’t want to leave him.

He quickened his pace causing you to scream out with pleasure. He pulled his fingers from you and sucked your juices off his hand.

He unbuckled his belt and yanked down his pants, pulling out his hard length. He teased your entrance with his cock, slapping the surface lightly. You were almost a whimpering mess underneath him.

He finally pushed into, both of you letting out a long noise of satisfaction. Jake murmured curses of pleasure under his breath and his thrusted into you.

He had you on your back, your legs on either side of him. He pulled your legs to wrap around his waist and thrusted into you harder.

Jake was now leaning completely over you, his hand on either sides of your breasts, him kissing down your neck, and his stupidly hot dog tags dangling over you as you practically screamed out for him.

He pulled back from your neck and started kissing down your chest again, loving the way your boobs moved as he fucked you into the mattress.

Your nails dig into his back as he starts thrusting at a faster pace.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good for me,” God he may as well just get you pregnant at this point.

You started to feel a build in your stomach, again. You could tell he was close too because his thrusts started to falter.

He began to pull out to cum, when you tugged him closer to you, keeping him inside. He looked at you with a hunger as you both reached your climax, crying out profanities.

He hung his head low until flipping you over until you were sitting on top of him. He pushed himself up the bed, propping himself up, you still on top.

Holding down your hips, a firm grip on them, you began to bounce up and down on his cock. He finally speaks for the first time, rebounding from the babbling mess you had made of him earlier.

“Baby, I’m not leaving you here,”

You wrapped you arms around his neck for a steadier ride. “Jake-“

“I don’t care, I will turn it down,”

“Absolutely not,” you began to bob faster as you got more flustered, “I want you to go, Jake,”

“I want you to go with me, I thought that was a given,”

“But my job, we can’t afford for only one of us to work,”

He moved his hands up and down your torso, grabbing and squeezing at your tits.

“Yes we can, I have a trust fund, I’ll make sure you never work another day in you entire life. I’ll make you my wife so you can live on base. Or we don’t have to live on base, I’ll buy us a mansion and whatever you want in it.”

There was nothing hotter than seeing the man you love offer to take care of you for the rest of your lives. You want to be with him so bad.

You want every part of him. His highs, his lows, his good days, his awful days, you want it all and everything in between.

Hearing him coax you down from the ledge only made you want him more. Pushing you over the edge of another orgasm. He took you lips with his as you finished for the third time, him for the second.

You pulled away off of him and curled up by his side, resting your head on his chest. He wrapped his arm around your body and kissed your forehead gently, “I promise I’ll take care of you, baby. Don’t worry about any of this,”

“I want to go with you, Jake, if you’ll have me,”

“I want you more than anything on this entire planet, and don’t you doubt it for a second that I would never leave you,”

You pressed a chaste kiss to his jawline, whispering close to him, “I love you, Jake.”

He looked down at you with gentlest expression you’ve ever seen and kissed you again, “I love you and I’m never letting you go.”

It was time to start a new chapter with the love of your life, (and Jake was right, he did fuck you stupid until you dropped the idea of you burdening him and holding him back).

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake seresin #hangman top gun #top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #x reader #bradley bradsaw x reader #hangman smut #jake hangman x reader

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koishiro · 11 months

Text

# - 𝐏𝐀𝐘 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 : fluff, suggestive

masterlist | jjk masterlist | anon masterlist

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶

When Gojo wants attention he makes it everyone’s problem. He’ll do anything in his power just to get an ounce of your time. Not to mention he’s more vocal than anything. So as you’re sat at your desk, pen in hand as you mark last week’s homework you hear the tell-tale sounds of a grown man rolling back and forth on your office floor.

“Honeyyyy”

Ignoring his continuous whining you continue on with marking your student’s hand-ins as your husband flops back and forth in an attempt at gaining your attention.

“It’s been thirty (30) minutes!! Have I done something again?”

At this point he’s given up with mindlessly rolling on your floor, instead taking it upon himself to wrap his long limbs around you - in essence caging you against your chair.

Rolling your chair back Gojo falls to his knees, moving to wrap his arms around your waist and head on your lap, “babyyyy - my sweet, sweet mochi - I’ll die without your love!”

Which led you up to now, sat on Gojo’s lap as he takes your place in your chair, his arms wrapped tightly around your mid section as he spreads an array of kisses from your neck to your shoulder and so-forth.

“See, this ‘s much better hm?”

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶

Unlike his former friend, Geto is subtle when it comes to moments like these. He doesn’t care when or where you both are, if he wants attention, he’ll get it one way or another.

If you’re paying more attention to someone else you best know he’ll stretch his arm across you

Like right now, sitting next you on your shared couch while he sports a very obvious pout but not so obvious for you to catch on - too immersed in your conversation to notice.

Stretching his arm above your head to what you thought was your boyfriend repositioning himself into a more comfortable position until you felt the quick fingers of your boyfriend snatch your phone with the speed and precision of a trained athlete.

You felt cheated; that is until his lips softly grazed your earlobe before uttering four simple words, “wan’ your attention darlin’”

And so it continues,

As you’re cooking in the kitchen, you hear the padded feet of your boyfriend nearing closer before the feeling of his bare chest hit your back, his large calloused hands kneading the fat of your tummy.

“Sleep okay?” His morning voice was a gruff whisper, barely audible even in the stillness of the room. It softened when he spoke to you, though you knew it took great effort for him to do so; meekly murmuring his words as if they were meant only for you, forming your own intimate secret within your shared space.

Humming back in a tired ‘yes’, you waited patiently for the two slices of toast to pop out. His voice broke into your silence, snapping you out of your trance, "Why'd you get up so early hm? Missed ya warmth," he went on. His gentle words carried through the kitchen and beyond, washing over you like an enveloping blanket while you watched as countless molecules of butter slowly melted down the knife you held onto tightly when at last they emerged from the toaster.

Feeling a slight pinch on the flesh of your tummy snapped you back into reality, “oi, pay attention to me princess”, he all but whined.

Feeling his hand sneak it’s way towards your own he gently placed the knife down, feebly nudging your body towards the hall that led to your shared bedroom, “come back t’bed ‘n keep me warm m’kay?”

𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐉𝐈 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶

This would affect Yuji big time, he’d have trouble computing if he doesn’t receive his daily dose of affection.

He’d often be found clinging onto you or at least somewhere in your vicinity so when he’s seen trudging around school grounds, tired after training with Gojo it’s already known that he’s on his way to your dorm.

The first thing Yuji did was face plant on your cold and unoccupied bed planning on cuddling up to you and washing away his thoughts and worries until he realises you weren’t there. Instead, you were too preoccupied at your desk to notice your own boyfriend’s arrival.

“Baby?” The sound of your boyfriend could be heard from across the room, almost a low quiet whisper, “you okay?”

The simple question made you smile, wanting nothing more than to wrap yourself in the comfort of his arms but the pressure of your current assignments due in by tomorrow held you back.

You gave a simple nod in response not wanting to tear your eyes away from the page in possibility of losing focus and getting distracted by the puppy dog eyes you know held place on his face.

You felt the weight of Yuji’s head rest against yours as he slung his arms over either side of your shoulders as he continued, “why don’t you come to bed? You can finish this in the mornin’, you got class in the afternoon don’tcha?”

“Yuji I can’t, I really have to get these done tonight” of course though, Yuji wouldn’t take this lightly, he’d lean his entire body weight on you - practically going limp as he continues his complaints,

“I’ll help you if you just come to bed, I promiseee” this didn’t exactly convince you per-se but the thought of carrying on studying until the early hours wasn’t exactly appealing.

Minutes later you were tucked under your duvet, a heap of blankets scrambled on top as you tangled your limbs with Yuji’s. His face nestled in the crook of your neck as squeezes the fat of your thigh every now and then.

“See, isn’t this much better”

𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶

Just like Geto, Megumi isn’t exactly vocal when it comes to - well, anything really. But especially not when it comes to affection or more specifically wanting attention.

He held small little give-aways like when he’d tug on the end of your shirt or hooked a finger in your belt loops if you strayed too far or how he’d play with the ends of your hair if he felt anxious or overstimulated.

Megumi’s thought process is that he doesn’t want to get too attached but he also certainly doesn’t want to chase you away by any means.

Which results in you having to make the first move half the time like right now, feeling the burning gaze of your boyfriend from the living room he’s currently sat in - not once tearing his eyes away from your figure in the open kitchen.

This was one of Megumi’s endearing traits, silently asking for your attention which usually you had no complaints about but there were times where you played along acting as if you hadn’t the faintest clue of what he wanted.

Megumi's eyes glimmered, shifting between yours and the empty space next to him on the loveseat, silently asking you to join him. His expression was earnest but restrained - he wanted you there with him but seemed too embarrassed by his own feelings to make it obvious. From across the room you could see a slight flush of pink hue across his cheeks, almost like a plea for your company without any words needing spoken between them.

He tried to contain himself as he waited, but it was visible in the way his body shifted closer and closer towards the edge of his seat, aiming to close up some of the vast space separating you. His fingers fumbled with themselves as they traced along the fabric of his sweatpants in an anxious rhythm; indicating that something was on his mind. A small lip bite only added to this eagerness until you eventually returned and took your place next to him.

Megumi shifted ever so closer to you, and you felt a dip in the couch beside you as your body moved towards his. He took the opportunity to wrap an arm around your waist while he tugged you against him, your legs entwined with no space left between you. His breath was warm in contrast to the chill of winter outside, and you could feel his heart beating steadily against yours like a lullaby soothing away any doubts; apparently, you were close enough now.

Megumi rubbed the skin of your thigh as it lay across his, “stop going too far, I want you here”

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶

Oh you’ll know if Toji is touch starved and deprived of attention. He’ll have his large calloused hands rubbing up and down your body 25/8.

He doesn’t care where you are, if he wants you he’ll have you. Even as you’re in the farmer’s market, he’s stood tall behind you his hands rubbing you up and down keeping the heat radiating from your body.

He stood behind you in the farmer's market, his hands kneading your body through the fabric of your clothing. His heat seemed to seep inside of you and overtake every sense within reach. You could feel his desire lingering like a cloud around you; it was clear he wanted every inch of what you had to offer and no matter where you were, he would take what is rightfully his.

He’d rub and grab at anything in reach as if restoring heat into your body - letting his touch be known even through the crowds of people bustling around.

“What about tomatoes, will you eat those then?” You’ve had a hard time so far convincing Toji he needed to eat at least something healthy.

“Nah,” you clearly weren’t having much luck with the big mountain-of-a-man clinging onto you from behind while simultaneously smacking his hand if it wandered too far.

“Then what do you want to eat?” You had been wandering round the market for at least an hour in an attempt to at least find one thing your husband will eat for dinner. Toji’s been more of a man-baby as of late which included being more handsy, huffing and puffing anytime you left the room, and of course wasting time at the market just so he could get a few extra minutes clinging onto you.

It would’ve been endearing had he not been trying to cop-a-feel any chance he could get; hands sliding too far up your shirt to be socially accepted, slapping your ass every time you bent to pick something up and even nudging your head back with his hand around your neck if you so happened to ignore something he said followed by the constant innuendos.

“I’d rather eat what’s between your thighs”

𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶

Toge is the most subtle out of everyone unless you’re both alone of course, since he’s not able to use speech he’ll be more physically affectionate, that includes softly wrapping his around your waist when your back’s turned, soft surprising kisses on the back of your neck if you’re too engrossed in studying and even cozying up to you, shuffling into your space as you both often lie there in silence.

That’s one of those moments, you’re lying on the couch with a book in hand - too engrossed with the words staining the page to notice a small head of white hair padding his way towards you.

Feeling a movement on the couch, you shift your eyes towards the culprit of the noise only to find two amethyst puppy-like eyes staring straight back at you as if caught in the act.

Which he technically was; one hand held your top up while his head was caught mid-dive, ready to slither his way under your shirt. This only deterred the boy for a minute, soon gaining back his composure before continuing his path under and out the top of your (his) shirt.

“Happy now?” Placing one hand on top of the white mess he calls hair, gently stroking and playing with each strand like you would a cat. Toge all but hums in contentment, now filled with warmth and the satisfaction of gaining your attention even if just for a moment as you turn your head back towards the pages of your book.

This wasn’t enough for Toge though, a quick pinch to your thigh telling you exactly that. Another quick pinch followed by a ‘hmph’ indicated he wanted more, “hm?”

Nudging his head towards the book you held in one hand, you understood what he was after, “wan’ me to read t’ you?” Quickly answered by a small nod, you did just that.

Turning your gaze back to the pages once more you started from the beginning of your chapter, a pleased and satisfied smile on both your faces.

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶

Surprising to a lot of people, Nanami is quite open with you. He doesn’t usually hold back when you’re both in the confines of your home but it’s rare,

Both being extremely busy leads to you waking up at different times, always missing the other before heading to work. Of course you’d share fleeting glances and quick kisses anytime you could, but it didn’t make up for the sheer emptiness you both held in your heart.

Being so busy often meant that you’d forgetfully leave your lunch behind, only remembering once your lunch break came up. Lately though, you had started work earlier than your husband causing you to wake up earlier than he usually would which would result in Nanami trudging into the kitchen after a routined kiss goodbye only to find your bento box sat on the middle of the counter… next to your purse.

At first Nanami would worry, thinking that you’d go without for the rest of the day knowing you never eat breakfast until a smile would lift at the corners of his lips, realising he could deliver it himself.

And that’s just what Nanami did, striding through the school’s hallways in search of your office. Knocking on your door in a rhythm kept hidden between you both, he entered through the small crack he created.

“Darling?” It was obvious you were too absorbed in your work to notice your husband’s sudden presence. Nanami stood quietly in the open space of your office, not knowing exactly what to do.

Seeing a dark coloured bento box being placed on the side of your desk out of the corner of your eye you lift your head up, surprised to see your husband stood before you, “Kento?”

The man in question made his way to your side, brushing a hand through your hair before placing a kiss on your forehead, “you forgot your bento”

“What would I do without you,” a small content smile spread its way onto his face, happy to have spent an extra few minutes with you that you normally wouldn’t have. Nanami let his hand fall from playing with your hair to the top of your arm, running his thumb soothingly up and down.

You had a sense that Kento was hesitant with leaving by the way he loitered at your side and the pressure he kept around your shoulders.

“You okay?” You ask him, swivelling your chair to face him. Nanami takes the chance to take hold of your hands,

“mhm, jus’ miss you is all” you barely heard before his lips landed on your own.

—

— 𝘒𝘰𝘪 𝘹𝘰

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featheredclover · 2 months

Text

Orphic

Chapter Five

Read from the beginning

Also on Wattpad

Chapter Four < Chapter Six

The birds chirped along as they fluttered from branch to branch. But the day greeted the Gupta mansion with much less peace that morning.

Khushi bit into her toast, as Sumi poured juice into her glass.

“Shashi! I am getting nervous. Will Mr Raizada say something now?”

Her papa shook his head, his forehead scrunched in a frown.

“Rajiv has hinted at nothing. Even Shyam has not come up in our talks. I don’t know what to expect, Garima.”

“It would have been a milestone for us” she sighed, “ But what can we do except wait”

“Khushi, have some fruits,” Shashi said as he passed her a bowl.

————

Her thoughts were clouded with worry for her parents as she walked into Venus Designs.

She had never seen them so unsure, so worried. And she had never felt as helpless as she had today.

“Morning Leela”, she smiled at the receptionist.

“Khushi, some big client has come here asking for you!” Leela whispered.

“Me?!” She gasped.

“Yes! They are with Madhumati ma’am right now. You better go in. She told me to usher you into her office as soon as you came!”

And so Khushi found herself half-pushed inside her aunt’s magnanimous office.

“Good morning Khushi!”

She couldn’t believe her eyes. Madhumati bua was laughing! Her usually stern eyes were now soft as she looked fondly at the two men.

She looked at the well suited gentlemen, and wondered which of her previous works could have impressed them.

The men stood up.

She found herself stunned as the smirking visage of Arnav Singh Raizada greeted her.

“Meet Arnav and Aman! They are from the Raizada group of companies. Arnav wants his new office to be designed by you.” Her aunt continued jovially.

But her eyes couldn’t leave the devil’s, who had come to extract his pound of flesh!

“ But I-I have never designed professional spaces before.”

“I did mention that to Arnav, but he said he wanted his office to have a bit of domestic touch. Now, now go on. You have to work from the site.”

Rummaging through her mind to look for an excuse , Khushi looked at her aunt trying to signal her to refuse on her behalf.

“I’ll take Khushi with me Mrs. Madhumati. After all, I need the job done by next week.”

She watched as he put on the best buttering act with her aunt. All sweet smiles and flattery.

“Hi, I’m Aman Mathur, ASR’s right hand man.”

The young man ,she hadn’t paid much attention to , shook her hand, offering her a glimmer of hope.

At least, someone is kind here.

“I think you’ll have a great time working with Arnav. He’s as clear and concise in his demands as it gets.”

“Yeah” she grumbled “Hitler pales in front of him”

Aman raised his eyebrows in amusement .

“ He is demanding, but not a dictator”

“Aman.”Arnav had already reached the door.

“Let’s get going, shall we?”

————

And that’s how Khushi Gupta found herself in a Bentley, heading towards the heart of the city.

“Why are you doing this?”

She couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“I wanted to spend time with you “

Blushing pink, Khushi marvelled at this man’s shamelessness.

“I forgave you already-“

“That’s not enough for me”

Exasperated, she ignored him for the rest of the ride.

—————

Slouching over the desk Aman had provided her, Khushi scribbled into her notebook.

Designs, light source ideas, decor pieces and vendors all in one place.

With that out of the way,she began sketching.

Her pencil flew across the page, as she thought of the space where he would work.

The desk where his coffee machine would stay. The few photographs he took, that he wanted on the wall. The antique telephone he had bought from Paris.

“I have never seen a better portrait of me”

She jumped and twisted her neck, as Arnav grabbed her book from her in a split second.

Grinning, he squinted, pretending to judge her sketch of him.

“I must say Miss Gupta, you have observed me quite closely”

“Shut up! I was just sketching the office “

“And got distracted? Well since I am to be blamed for the distraction , it will only be fair of me to buy you lunch!”

He bent down and grabbed her purse, meeting her petulant face with a wink.

“Shall we?”

—————-

“And there he was, telling me to run for the damn election!”

She giggled as Arnav finished his story. She hadn’t expected to have a fun time with him. So far she had only experienced mad rage and mad lust for the man. And that had to say something!

“You left the states to come back here?”

“I wasn’t really sure about where I wanted to live. And dad really wanted to come back. After mom’s death-” he blinked.

“Are you okay?” Her hand found his.

“Yeah” he held her hand tighter “He took years to move on. The last time we were here was for Di’s wedding”

Khushi swallowed as she realised the topic was now down to his brother-in-law, Shyam. Can she ask him about the deal her parents were after?

“My papa really likes your father. Um…he invited him to brunch…”

“I know Khushi, I was there” he smiled in amusement at her sudden fluster.

“Yes, well they were wondering if Mr.Raizada had made up his mind about the deal.”

Gasping inwardly, she hated herself at that moment for blurting it out.

She wanted to seal her big mouth forever.

Understanding that anything she said now will only push her further down the hole she had dug, Khushi held her silence.

To her dismay, even Arnav stayed quiet. No jokes, no witty remarks to erase her folly.

“Well, Khushi I can’t say much about that”

She nodded meekly.

“Let’s head back, shall we?”

And that’s how Aman found them in the office that afternoon. One deep in thought, and one mortified.

Tagging: @arshifiesta

—————-

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#ipkknd #arshi #arnav singh raizada #khushi kumari gupta #fanfic #ipk 13th anniversary fiesta #ipkknd fanfic #ipkknd ff #ipkknd fanfiction #orphic #featheredclover #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon

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motions1ckness · 1 year

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“Sweetheart”

This is pt 2 to my last story “Don’t Call me Kid”!! Read that first so this’ll make sense! ♡

Summary: After Kendall’s birthday, your relationship with Roman seemed beyond repair. Until he comes into your office to talk about Caroline’s wedding. (3x08)

Content: Established relationship, f!reader, insecurity, repressing emotions, bit of angst, implied body image issues, mention of age gap, dom/sub relationship dynamics, fluff?, roman hating himself

It’s been almost a week since Ken's birthday, and you've been doing your best to avoid Roman Roy. I mean, you work with him since he’s technically your boss. Luckily, you have your own office, helping you isolate until he apologizes, which he hasn’t yet. He hated talking about his feelings. But, he hated your absence more. Before all this, Roman had invited you to Caroline's second wedding as a plus-one. The thought of having to brush off Roman's actions and show up as his date made your stomach knot.

But the wedding was in two days, meaning the flight was later today. The miscommunication between you two made it unclear if you were still going. While wrapping up an email, you heard a patterned knock at your door. To no surprise, you saw Roman through the glass with his head hanging low. Great. You slightly rolled your eyes as you signaled him to enter. This will be swell.

He shuffled to the couch, indirectly facing you. He seemed anxious. You took notice of his abnormal behavior the past week, being less involved in conferences and more in his head. Like someone turned off his neuro receptors. He started picking at his nail beds, refusing eye contact with you. Again.

You scooted your chair, making him clear in your eye line, “So, what’s up?” acting oblivious. Of course, you knew why he was there. You both did. But perhaps he could dumb it down because 'you’re so young.'

He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head “ I was just, uh, checking in. Like seeing if you were going to Italy still? You know, with me? Like is that still a thing?” On the last question, he eventually met your gaze. His delicate eyes made you empathetic. You can't shun him out completely? He needs to apologize. He needs to apologize.

Cocking your neck, “I don’t know ‘sweetheart.’ I might try to fix you with my terrible, aching savior complex because ‘I’m just so young and naive.’” Using his own words against him. Making it evident you were not over that night.

Roman shuddered at your response, darting a remorseful expression your way. You didn’t like fighting with him, and the last thing you wanted to do was argue. But you couldn’t let him get away with this. “Y-yea, whatever y/n, I’m a piece of shit. Okay? Fuck, is that what you want me to say?” He stood, throwing his hands up, peering down at you.

You scoffed, “Yea, whatever Roman, you’ve answered your question,” you fixed your attention back to the computer until Roman angled the screen towards the window, forcing you to stare at him.

“No, c’mon y/n. Fuck,” fighting with himself, if he could be vulnerable. “I just, don’t want to fight anymore. I mean c-c’mon. F-fine I’m sorry, there. Y/n, I'm serious. I am sorry. P-Please.”

Reconciliation isn't recurring between you two, especially when he’s begging for your forgiveness. His puppy dog expression helped his apology, “Okay. Thank you for apologizing. I just, I think I need some space. Maybe I'll fly separately,” you attempted to put on a sincere smile. Trying to ease the blow, hoping this doesn’t cause his insecurity to run rampant. You weren’t rejecting the invite, but you worried how Roman would react.

His face dropped a bit, not completely satisfied with your response, “Okay, I, uh, I guess I’ll see you there then.” He thumped on the top of the door frame as he left your office. Shit. Is he disappointed?

—

You flew in with the rest of the staff. Gerri kept you company, talking strategy about GoJo. Your flight arrived first, beating Roman to the shared room in the Villa. It was beautiful. You threw yourself onto the massive mattress, allowing your brain to rest for the first time since the party. You could’ve fallen asleep; until you heard a gentle knock at the door, followed by an entrance.

“I can see you had a lovely flight,” you turned your head to see Roman shutting the door behind him. A faint smile appeared on your face. “C’mon, we need to walk down for welcome drinks and see this, Peter Onion motherfucker,” having a slight smile, he stepped to the edge of the bed, holding his hand out for you to latch onto.

You pull yourself up while fixing your hair. You two were close, still holding hands, his other resting on your hip. He scanned your body, “You look fucking hot y/n, but maybe less ‘I want to fuck my boss’ and more ‘I'm meeting my boss's mom.’” You smirked at his comment, pulling away to get your bags left outside the door.

The two of you faced away from each other and started to change, “You know, I like spending time with you Rome,” turning your head to meet his gaze. You didn’t want to say love. Worried he’d freak out at the phrase.

He adjusted his shirt, smiling to himself, “Yea, I like spending time with you too.”

#roman roy fanfic #roman roy #roman roy x reader #roman roy x you #roman roy angst #roman roy fluff #succession fanfic #succession #kendall roy #waystar royco #roman roy drabble

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multifandomfix · 1 year

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Gregory House Fluff Alphabet

A = Aroma (What do they smell like?)

House doesn’t care much about his personal scent, but he generally smells clean with a simple shampoo, and a lingering scent of whiskey at times.

B = Babe (What would they use as pet names? Do they use them a lot?)

House rarely uses pet names, unless in a sarcastic manner, or if it’s a nickname he’s given you that just sort of stuck, he may start to use that affectionately.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

House is not known for being particularly affectionate or cuddly. He usually prefers his personal space and is not one to initiate cuddling, though he doesn’t altogether hate it all time either.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? What would they think about living together?)

It would take a bit of time and some serious commitment on his end to want to settle down. He doesn’t mind you living at his place on a semi permanent basis though.

E = Emotion (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He’s not the most affectionate of men. He’ll show his care and concern in small, private ways, but outwardly he’ll be his usual snarky, uncaring self.

F = Flirt (How do they flirt? Are they smooth or awkward?)

House is known for his sarcastic and witty banter, which can sometimes come across as flirtatious. His flirting style is more unconventional and often mixed with humor.

G = Gifts (Are they a gift giver? What kind of gifts do they give?)

House is not particularly known for being a gift giver. When he does give gifts though, they’re surprisingly thoughtful and often because he knows he’s been an ass and it’s a good way to make it up to you.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Hugs aren’t really his thing. He might grumble a bit if you’re a hugger, but if he’s seriously into you, he’ll let it happen, even kind of hugging back.

I = I Love You (How fast do they say the L-word?)

House takes a long time to say "I love you" and may struggle with expressing such deep emotions. He prefers to show his love through his actions and loyalty instead.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

House can get jealous, but he often hides it behind sarcasm. He may become more protective or possessive when he feels jealous.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you?)

House's kisses can be passionate and intense. He tends to just focus on your lips but he does like to kiss your neck if he knows it’ll make you moan.

L = Little ones (How are they around children? Would they want some of their own?)

He’s not always great with children, and thinks he’d make a terrible father, but if he were serious about you, and you wanted to start a family, he’d do his best, and he’d turn out to be pretty good at it.

M = Meet (How did they meet you?)

He met you at work, obviously. You laughed when he pulled a prank on Wilson and he decided to chat you up.

N = Nurture (Are they good at taking care of you if you’re hurt/sick?)

House is skilled at diagnosing and treating medical conditions, but he struggles with providing emotional support when you’re hurt or sick.

O = Out (What’s a typical date night with them like?)

House's idea of a typical date night would likely involve an unconventional activity or event. He prefers dates with some intellectual stimulation rather than the traditional romantic outings.

P = Propose (When do you/they propose? How does the proposal go?)

His proposal is very non traditional. He might just throw it into conversation like any other casual topic and catch you off guard. You’d have to question if he’s serious and when he was, you’d be quick to say yes.

Q = Quirk (What small habit/feature/quirk do they have that you find especially endearing?)

He always has to be doing something with his hands. Whether it’s throwing around a ball in his office, writing on his whiteboard or just fiddling with his cane. You just find it cute and like to watch him do it.

R = Routine (What does a typical day together look like? Routines, schedules, habits?)

With House, chaos is routine. He gets bored easily if things are the same day in and day out. As long as you keep up with whatever he’s got going on, then you’re good.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you?)

He’s very protective. He has to give the third degree to anyone who wants to hang out with you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, etc?)

House may not put a lot of effort into traditional romantic gestures or special occasions, but he would likely make an effort to plan unique and fun dates or experiences.

U = Unique (What’s something they’d only do for you?)

He’d make more of an effort to understand and respond to your emotions then he does with anyone else. He makes a conscious effort not to dismiss anything you say to him, which isn’t always easy.

V = Vulnerable (How long does it take them to feel comfortable being vulnerable around you?)

It takes House a considerable amount of time and trust to feel comfortable being vulnerable around someone. He tends to keep his emotions guarded and may only open up when he’s sure about how you feel about him.

W = Wardrobe (What would they wear to impress you?)

House doesn't dress to impress others, including you, but for a special occasion, he’ll tidy himself up a bit while not sacrificing his own comfort.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He composes music for you on his piano. It’s no Mozart, but he knows it’s a gesture you’ll appreciate and find deeply touching.

Y = You (What are some things they would like in a partner?)

In a partner, House would appreciate someone who can engage him intellectually, challenge his ideas, and match his quick wit. He values independence and someone who can respect his need for personal space.

Z = Zzz (What are their sleep habits?)

House's sleep habits are often irregular and disrupted due to his demanding work schedule and chronic pain. He may stay up late thinking about a case or find himself waking up at odd hours. Overall, he doesn't prioritize sleep and may function on limited rest.

For @terezausername

Gregory House: @jkthighs, @xxfrankenheartxx, @realitydisociation, @ohladymoon, @gothtrash6969, @404-its-alr, @hotshot624

#gregory house #gregory house fluff alphabet #gregory house x reader #house md #request

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accihoe · 11 months

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Even At Your Darkest Hour

Pairing: detective!Bucky x fem!reader

Summary: She promised she'd always be there for him. But in a dark space mentally, Bucky shied away from her, wishing to not burdern her with his problems.

Warnings: It's detective Bucky, so most definitely will not be for sensitive readers. Mentions of kidnapping (not Y/N I hate that kind of content 🤢), but nobody actually gets kidnapped. Slight hints towards mature themes. Kiddos stray to my appropriate works. No smut.

Genre: Angst to fluff.

A/U: 50s

A/N: Same as always. My work is mine. Please give me credit for my work should you post it elsewhere or use my ideas. God bless. :))

xxxx

Never in her life did Y/N imagine being the wife of New York's best detective, James Barnes. She never imagined a life of luxury for digging up other people's secrets.

James deems her a great help. She's spectacular at picking up detail at first glance and has got a brilliant memory. Not to mention, she's a trophy of a wife. Always prim and proper. She knows her place but does not allow people to walk over her. Brilliant in all aspects of being a wife. Ideal partner to accompany him to every event, work related or not. But the public can't uncover James's secret, that him and his wife are married for beneficial reasons.

On a particular Tuesday evening, James received a case that wrenched his guts, which made him nauseous and in cold sweat. A case of a threatening kidnapper. That same guy who was around when James was a kid. The man who nearly took him and his sister when they were playing in the park.

Suddenly, he was a little boy again, trembling with fear. He stayed in the confines of his office until early morning hours. When he arrives at home, he makes an effort not to wake up his wife. But to his surprise, she's awake when he enters their shared bedroom. "I'm sorry I'm late. An urgent case got delivered as I was locking up." He whispered.

His wife turns to him with a small smile. "Don't apologize. Would you like me to warm some dinner?" She asks as she gets up and makes her way to him. He shakes his head. "Come here." She whispers. He makes his way to her mindlessly. She wraps herself around him, hands sliding off his coat. "Honey.. I-I.. not tonight? Okay? I'm sorry." James stutters.

"I know darling. I'm just helping you out of your clothes." His wife assures as she steps back to undo his bowtie and shirt. "Should I run you a bath?" His wife asks as she hangs his coat and bowtie on a coathanger and tosses his shirt into the laundry basket. "If you don't mind, no, thank you." James's voice is uneasy.

Y/N hangs up his trousers and hands him his pajamas. Once he's dressed, she takes him by the hands as they stand before their balcony. "What's on your mind?" "Nothing that should worry you too, darling.". "Please tell me." She sighs, cupping his neck with her hand. "I will, but not tonight. Tonight I just want to hold you." James says. "Alright." She agrees with a small smile.

The next morning (a couple of hours later), when James awakes, panic settles in his chest when he can't find his wife. Thankfully, he is able to hear her movements downstairs. With his gown on, he makes his way downstairs. "Good morning, sugar." He smiles at her. "Hi honey." She smiles, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Why are you up so early?" He asks.

"It's not early, love. It's well past ten." She hums. "Shucks. I needa get to the office." James scrambles back upstairs and has a quick bath before rushing downstairs, half dressed. His wife chuckles, amused. "Let me help you." She does his tie for him and buttons his shirt, combining his hair into place. "You're a darl." James sighs as he kisses her. She hands him lunch before he runs off to the office.

Later in the day, as James is looking through evidence and hints, a knock on his door makes his skeleton just about jump out of his skin. He reaches for the pistol in his drawer as he calls for the person to come in. "James. It's been a while." Brock, an old school friend, steps in. James closes the drawer without Brock noticing.

"May I help you, Rumlow?" James asks. "Not going to greet an old friend?" Brock snickers as he sits down across from James, who closes his brown leather file. "Oh, you needn't worry about me seeing that confidential information. I already know everything. That's why I'm here." Brock says. James stays silent.

"I want to strike a deal." Brock says as he leans back in the chair. "And what might that be?" James asks lowly. "I'll trade you information. For that pretty wife of yours." Brock leans forward. "You're ridiculous. Get out." James scoffs. "Come on, Barnes. I know she's a token more than love." Brock laughs. James's face hardens.

"Get. Out. She is my wife, and I will not trade her for information that I am very likely to find out on my own." James hisses. "Not even for the sake of Becca and little George's safety?" Brock teases in a baby-like voice. "Get out!" James warns for a final time, grabbing a knife from his belt and holding it at Brock's throat.

"Alright, alright." Brock gets up with raised hands. "I warned ya, pal." Brock says as he closes the door. With a heaving chest, Bucky sits back down, shakily sliding the knife back into his belt garter. Another knock sounds at the door, "James? Honey?". He calls her in. "Hey, I saw Brock on my way here." She says innocently, going up to his desk.

"Darling, are you alright? You're awfully pale." She worries, laying a hand against his forehead and then his cheek. "Yeah. I'm fine." He croaks. "I brought you a treat." She changes the subject as she sits down on his desk. "Y/N, did you tell anyone that our marriage was for beneficial reasons?" He rushes out. "What? Buck, of course not." She says, taking a tin out of her bag. "Why do you ask?" She asks as he stays silent. "Rumlow knows about it." Bucky says.

A shiver crawls up Y/N's spine. "Oh.. I don't know where he could have heard it from." She whispers. "Now, what's that treat?" James smiles. She lays the tin on his lap. Bucky opens it, and a grin spreads across his face. Y/N smiles at the sight, cupping his jaw. "Kiss first. As a sign of gratitude." She smiles. "Oh honey, I'm very grateful. But I'd never say no to a kiss." James grins up at his wife.

As they lean to kiss a knock interrupts them. James groans before sitting back and allowing the person to enter. Y/N clears her throat and hops off the desk. "Barnes. Mrs Barnes." Sam smiles with a nod. "Hi Sam." Y/N greets back with a friendly wave. "Can I help you, Wilson?" Bucky clears his throat.

"Look, I got some more info for you. But at a price. Zemo wants us to meet up with him at the Williamsburg Bridge." Sam says. Y/N and James give each other an uneasy look. "I know it sounds suspicious, but he sounded quite sincere. And he's never personally wronged us." Sam argues. "Alright, fine. When?" James sighs. "James!?" Y/N whisper shouts.

After Sam gives Bucky the information he leaves. "I must get going." Y/N says, getting up. "What? Why?" Bucky sounds defeated. "I only came to drop the brownies off." Y/N says. "Well what else could you have on your plate? It's not like you're busy." James asks. Y/N gives him a stern look.

"I'm sorry sugar I'm just stressed." He sighs. "It'd help if you talk." She offers gently. "Not yet, sweetheart. I'll tell you when the time's right." James says. "Alright. I'll be there when you need me. But before I go," Y/N goes up to her husband. She kisses his cheekbone ghostly, and leaves. Leaving James hot, happy, and excited. Until he opens the file again.

Two days later, when the meeting with Zemo is scheduled, James and Sam hire a car together. They drive to the location and wait underneath the bridge at the water as instructed. Zemo arrives shortly after. "Gentlemen." Zemo greets. They turn around. "What do you have for us?" Sam asks. "Lots. But I want something in return." Zemo says as he lights a cigar. "And what would that be?" James steps closer to him.

"I want you to tell me about the Vietnam war. Give me all the Intel you have." Zemo says, looking at the water. "You're insane." Sam shakes his head. "That, or your shanghaier gets his way." Zemo says. "He sends kids to become crimps?" James asks. "Yes. And I hear he's got his eyes set on a particular eight-year-old by the name of George James Barnes." Zemo turns to James and Sam. Bucky's blood runs cold and he feels nauseous.

"What will you do with the information should I give it to you?" Bucky asks. "Barnes!" Sam doesn't believe what he's hearing. Bucky simply raises his gloved hand to silence Sam. "The same as you. Protect my family." Zemo answers. As James ponders on telling him, sympathizing with the man, he hears someone. He reaches for his gun and shoots in the direction without warning.

A shootout starts instantly. Out from the dark emerges Brock Rumlow and a few other men. The men shoot at each other until all their bullets are out. They then resolve to fists. A few get dumped into the water, Sam being one of them. James goes to help Sam when Brock comes at him from behind. He pushes James onto the floor, scraping his cheek. He turns him over to land blows at him.

James manages to throw Rumlow off, spraining his wrist in the process. Once Brock lands in the cold water he orders his men to surrender. They swim out and run away. Zemo is gone too. Sam helps James up "You alright man?" Sam asks. James nods. "You?" He asks. Sam nods. When he's back home Bucky is quiet upon entering. As he half expected, his wife is not asleep. "Darling what happened to you?" She worries as she rushes to his side.

She gasps, seeing the gash on his cheek, the very same one she had kissed earlier that day. "I'll go have a bath, and then we can sleep. Sound good?" He asks. "No you're hurt!" She worries, taking his hand. James pulls it back with a soft cry. "Sweetheart.. Did I hurt you?" She whispers. He shakes his head. "Rumlow pitched with a bunch of guys. Beat us up. Including Zemo." James says.

Y/N makes him sit down on the bed as she cleans his face and then wraps his wrist delicately. "Plum, I'm gonna need you to go stay with Becca and them for a few days. I'm gonna be out chasin' someone and I don't want you alone." Bucky lies. "Alright.. Promise you'll stay safe?" She asks. "Promise." He says. Y/N glances into his baby blues before pressing a kiss, and then another, and then another, to his temple.

After a few days, Y/N leaves to stay with Rebecca and her husband and their son. The little boy is thrilled to see his favourite aunt again. The family, along with Y/N, spends the week together, Y/N even has the honour of dropping George off and picking him up from school. They get ice cream without informing his parents.

"I'm going to the grocery store to make up for my stay here. Give me your list." Y/N tells Rebecca. "Oh, don't be silly, that's not necessary." Rebecca smiles, shaking her head. "I insist, Bex. Hand it over." Y/N treatens playfully. "You're the best." Rebecca sighs as she hands Y/N the sheet of paper.

Y/N leaves and shops for the needed items and buys all of them, including a few snacks for George. Once in the parking lot Y/N hears footsteps approach her. "Hi Y/N." A voice says. "Oh hi, Brock. How are you?" Y/N asks once she's turned around, obvious to him and James's rivalry. "I've been quite well. Yourself?" He says.

"Brilliant. I've been visiting my nephew." She says as she closes the trunk. "Ah yes. The one the shanghaier is after, right?" Brock sticks his hands into his pockets, talking casually. "I beg your pardon?" Y/N frowns deeply. "Oh? Did James not inform you? Apparently, a kidnapping chap is after kids to make crimps out of. And your nephew is one of the targets. That's why you're here, right?" He asks. "I.. no? I mean, I was here visiting him. Is there something I should know about?" Y/N was growing impatient.

"Oh boy. James's didn't inform you again?" Brock sighs as he rubs his face. "That's why he sent you here. In case the shanghai actually comes for George, then he can take you instead. Bucky struck a deal with him. He could take you instead of Ge-" a loud thud sounds as Brock falls to the ground.

Y/N instantly pulls her knife out of her bag. "Relax. I'm on Barnes's side." A German accent says. "Zemo?" She asks, putting her knife back. "In case you're wondering, he's speaking half the truth." Zemo says. "What's true and what's not?" She asks, crossing her arms. "Yes, the shanghai is after George." Zemo says. "And I'm here because the shanghaier should take me instead of George?" She asks. ".......Yes." Zemo answers reluctantly.

"But James did not strike a deal with the man saying that he could take you." Zemo says quickly. "Then why will he know to take me instead of George? Because he's looking for children specifically." She asks. Zemo clears his throat and looks at Brock. "I don't know..." He answers truthfully.

"How do I know I can trust you? You got my husband and his friend beat up." She purses her lips. "I did honestly not know Mr Rumlow would be coming. He has ways of knowing things, and nobody knows how. And you can trust me because your husband sent me. Rumlow's chick informed your husband." Zemo says.

"I don't know if I can trust you, Zemo." She sighs. "Alright. Well, how about I prove it to you?" He asks. "How?" She counters. He hands her a note with James's signature on. "You should've given me that from the start. Get in." She gets into her Buick Skylark. Zemo gets in on the passenger's side. "What must I do now? What did James request regarding George?" She asks, starting the car.

"He's requested that you stay there until this evening, then drive back at 9. The shanghai will follow you. James will follow the shanghai. Sam, Steve, and I as well, then we'll capture him." Zemo says, looking at the interior of the car. "Where is your car then?" She asks. "I'll be going in one vehicle with the rest." She drives Zemo to his drop-off point. "Tell James that if George's life and future were not on the line I would have divorced him this very day." And with that she drives off.

Later that evening, at nine sharp, Y/N leaves Rebecca's home. She drives casually, avoiding her usual turnoffs. She, instead, goes to the parking lot of the carnival (which is closed, but the parking lot is still open). She stays in her car, applying her red lipstick and fixing her scarf. A car pulls up.

She does not recognise the car. A masked man gets out, and she watches him walk to her car in her review mirror. She fears for a second that this is a plot to get her until Steve tackles the man. Sam and Zemo follow short, and then her husband appears with handcuffs. Unfortunately, more men jump out of the strange car.

Y/N contemplates reaching for her pistol but suppresses the urge as she hears someone approach her car. The masked man. She gasps, making sure that it's locked. "Please don't hurt my car..." she mutters as he holds out a panga stick. As he's about to break the back window, James pounces him. On instinct, Y/N jumps out of the car. A brief look around, and she sees that there are eight men against four.

"Get inside your car!" James yells at her. The panga stick slides to her feet, and she picks it up, threatening to behead the man holding her husband by the neck. The man calls out to his men, and they raise their hands in surrender. Bucky handcuffs all of them, and Zemo goes to call the police.

Y/N drops the panga and drives off to her and James's home. A couple of hours later, she hears the lock turn. She curls deeper into the sheets and closes her eyes, pretending to be asleep. James goes up the stairs quietly as always, yet this time he's shocked as he finds her with closed eyes.

He whispers a "Hi honey.", but she stays silent. James removes his clothes quietly, opting for a bath this time. After his bath, he's in bed with her in his pyjamas. A hiss escapes his lips as he leans too much weight on his wrist. With a sad frown, he realises that he's unable to hold his wife, so he turns onto his other side, back facing hers for the first time in their marriage.

The following morning, she's up before him as per usual. But she's not home. There's breakfast and lunch for him on the dining table alongside a note.

I'll be home around 3 pm. Take care of yourself, and don't go to the office today. Go easy on your mind and your wrist. You'll worry yourself sick.

- Y/N

He takes her advice, spending the day at home instead. For the first time in a while, he walks around their home, studying the place, admiring it. He sees now the effort his wife put into making it a home for them. The up to date styles, colours, and decorations. After getting dressed, he decides to make up their bed, ignoring the advice of resting his arm. It hurts, but he gets the job done. He even gets them a few groceries.

At 3, he's waiting at the door. She does not arrive. He waits a little longer before getting worried until he sees her car park in the street. He stands at the door with a smile and opens it for her. "Hi darlin'. Did ya have a good day?" His accent is thicker than usual. "Good afternoon, James. Yes, I did." She moves past him, hanging her coat up before going upstairs. Her husband follows suit.

"I was thinking I could make dinner tonight." He says. "Very well. I'll be out then." She says. James takes playful offense, "Hey, my cooking isn't that bad.". "No, I will be out regardless of who's cooking." She says. "What? Where?" He asks. "I will be in Massachusetts." She states. "What?! Why?" Bucky is puzzled. "Business." Is all she says.

"But darling, it's a four hour drive. When will you leave? I don't like the idea of you driving at night." He attempts. "I'm leaving now. I've already packed. Besides, you didn't seem to mind me driving last night." She answers, finally looking at him. Bucky's face drops. "Dollface.." He whispers. "No, James." She shakes her head.

"How could you? You risked my life, no. Had me risk my life without even informing me!? What if I died? What would you have done then, huh? What would you tell my mother? James, you can't just put my life on the line without my knowledge and then waltz in like nothing happened." She says with her hands on her hips.

"Sugar, I wasn't thinking clearly. I'm sorry. It's.. I can't - It's this case. It had me on a chokehold." He says. "I understand, James. I am willing to fight for Georgie, too." She says. "It's not just that..." He sighs as he casts his gaze at the floor. "Then what is it? I am listening if you are willing to tell me what's been bugging you." She says. James shakes his head "I'm sorry, not yet.".

She sighs quietly, picking up her suitcase. "Alright then. When you are ready, tell me." She walks past him. "How long will you be gone?" He turns around, following her. "I'm not sure. It could range from a few days to a week." She answers. "Is.. is it someone else?" He bites the bullet. "James! No. Of course not. This might be an arrangement to you, but it's a marriage to me." And with that, she leaves.

After three days, James thinks he's losing his mind. There are no new cases to work on in big old New York. His wife is somewhere in Massachusetts. His friends are all busy. Rebecca has gone on a camping weekend with her husband and son. His parents are busy. Y/N's parents are busy. He thinks he's about to pop a vein in his head from boredom when the front door unlocks.

In comes Y/N. "Sugar!" He jumps up, taking her suitcase from her. "Hi, Jamie." She smiles. "Be a darling and take that upstairs for me? My folks are on their way." She says. He nods and takes her suitcase up before helping her downstairs. "Did you have a good time?" He asks. "Splendid. I'll inform you after dinner. They're staying for a few days. I hope you don't mind." She answers.

After dinner with the parents, the two couples part ways. James walks into their shared bedroom, undoing his tie. "Care to join me?" Y/N nods towards the bath. "I'd never reject the offer, although I must do something first." He says. When he returns, she's dressed and in bed. "You took too long." She says. James chuckles.

He sits at the side of their bed, putting an expensive looking box into her hands. "This does not make up for what I did or justify it in any sense, but I wanted to give this to you. I didn't buy it recently, I've been waiting for the right moment." He says. "Darling," She gasps as she opens the box, looking at the shimmering bracelet. "You didn’t need to do this." She gasps as she hugs him.

"Thank you." She kisses his ear as she pulls away. "Could you help me put it on?" She asks. He nods with a grin. He attempts to clasp it around her wrist, but his own aches too much, resulting in him releasing a pained "ah". Y/N takes the bracelet, putting it into its box before taking his wrist with gentle hands.

She rolls his sleeve up, eyes widening at the swollen and bruised limb. "Sugar, why didn't you take it easy, huh? Your wrist wasn't this bad when I left." She hums, feeling around gently for any further damage. "Get into bed. I'll show you my gratitude for the bracelet." She says. James's chesks crimson.

She gets Johnson's baby oil and applies it to her hands, rubbing it warm before applying it to his wrist. She warms up the muscles, preparing them for a deeper massage. Bit by bit, she applies deeper pressure, being more gentle around his wrist. She ensures to massage both sides of his arm the same and ends off with linguid strokes towards his elbow.

She wipes her hands clean with a towel, wrapping another around her husband's arm for compression. She ensures he's lying down comfortably before supporting his wrist with their softest pillow underneath it. "You're not mad anymore?" He whispers. She lays on her side, fingers brushing over his forehead. "I'm still a little hurt, but that bracelet is really nice." She smiles.

"I'm still so sorry. I shouldn't have ever done that. And, by the way, our marriage ain't an arrangement to me either. It's a marriage marriage to me." He says, eyes glossy. Y/N gives him a smile in return, kissing his soft lips. "I forgive you." She says.

The lights from outside eluminates the room. Y/N admires her husband, whose eyes are drooping, fatigue slowly consuming his body. "Let me hold you for once." Y/N whispers, shifting to her husband. A quiet giggle escapes her lips as her husband's eyes open swiftly. "What's that honey?" He asks, watching her pull the covers higher over them.

"I said let me hold you for once." She says, wrapping her arms around his neck and torso. James rests his healthy hand over hers, and she intertwines their fingers, kissing his bruised knuckles. He falls asleep within a few moments. Y/N takes this opportunity to trace his delicate features with her fingertips. Tucking hair behind his ears, smoothing his brows with her thumb, gently cupping his bruised cheek in her palm.

Her heart ached for the poor soldiers in the ongoing war, and the one that happened a little over a decade ago.

She wonders what is plaguing her husband's thoughts. Wondering when he'll share that information, if even at this point.

xxxx

Fin. Hope you like it.

#detective!bucky #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel

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indomiinus · 7 months

Text

@fightful // planned starter

It had been several months, almost a year, since the Darkest Day and Eternatus's release and subsequent capture at the hands of the new Champion Gloria. It wasn't allowed to stay with her though, it had been swiftly quarantined because it was just reckless to leave something like that in the hands of a child, no matter how capable. It had also been months since Chairman Rose's arrest and Macro Cosmos was transferred to Leon.

It’d just been one thing after another, a nonstop roller coaster of emotions and Leon was tired. Maybe tired was an understatement.

"You don't need that pressure on top of everything else," Piers had told him while Leon sat drunk and miserable in Piers’s crappy flat in Spikemuth after a particularly rough meeting with the company board. "Let the other suits manage shit. This is just another way for Rose to screw you over; you think he gave it to you because he knew you could handle it? He gave it to you to crush you. Throw it in the bin."

And Leon thought about doing just that. He thought long and hard about what he wanted to do. It felt wasteful receiving Rose's legacy only to throw it into the trash; despite it all, he still cared about Rose and valued him and his opinions. What would Rose think? Would he be angry at Leon for squandering this "last gift?" Though, was it really a gift considering the things he’d uncovered about Rose while he was trying to get up to speed on the company?

The shady dealings, the contacts whose numbers were locked behind passwords that he couldn’t crack… It made his skin crawl somehow.

So Leon had to make his first real choice by himself. He just wished it wasn’t so hard. So Leon had to make his first real choice. There were only a select few people he trusted Macro Cosmos and the League to, and that was the Gym Leaders.

It wasn't on paper yet, and some weren't fully on board yet, but things were progressing and the interested Gym Leaders were starting to lay out and write down their requirements and ideas for the future direction of Macro Cosmos. That was a start, and Leon just had to keep the company afloat until negotiations were complete.

He could surely do that much, right?

He was restless, lost, constantly looking to people who were just as lost as he was or just as uncertain. He did his best - but his best certainly wasn't good enough. Error after error came back, piling up on his desk and most nights Leon slept in the office that still smelled heavily of Rose's namesake even months later. It was nauseating being surrounded by nothing but reminders of complicated, sickening feelings of disgust and childish dependency and not having the time or space to sort the feelings out.

Even his own flat was decorated the way Rose had wanted it to be. He hadn't changed a thing about it. Hell, he'd barely been home to change anything.

That night though, Leon had forced himself to get out of the office and try to go home to his flat in Wyndon.

Leon groaned, rubbing his palm across his face and rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes as he dragged himself down the quiet Wyndon streets towards Champion Crossing Station with his Mr. Rime, Reginald, guiding him.

"I'm so tired..." He complained under his breath, pulling his Rotom phone out and unlocking it. He yawned, the Rotom automatically opening up a list of currently open restaurants so he could grab something. Even if it was small, it was better than nothing. He just couldn't go to bed on an empty stomach again or else he was going to be sick in the morning. “I wonder if anywhere is even open at this hour…” Leon squinted at the screen, trying to read the offered list, but his strained reading was interrupted by a missed call notification from his mom.

"How long ago was that call?" He asked.

The Rotom hummed. "An hour." It answered cheerily. "Call back?"

Leon rubbed a palm against the side of his neck, and let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah, call back. It's so late, what's she even doing awake?" It only rang once before she answered, and he was barely able to get out a, "Hi mum," before his mother was interrupting him.

"Have you seen Hop?"

"Hop? No, I haven't, not for a while." Leon answered, scratching his chin and looking up in thought. "Have you called Gloria or Marnie?"

"Mhmm... they said they haven't seen him for a few days. I was hoping that maybe he was with you..."

Leon's stomach sank, and any amount of exhaustion he felt melted away slowly, seeping from his body like sand in an hourglass. He pressed a palm to his mouth, trying to hide the way his jaw had grown tense and his mouth had formed a thin, anxious line. "What about with Bede?" He suggested, only to be met with another negative. He sucked down a breath through his teeth and he let his hand fall from his face. "How long has he been missing? Have you tried calling him?"

"He's been gone for three days, and he isn’t answering. His Rotom just goes straight to voicemail." His mom's voice wavered. “I… I’m sure he’s just off collecting Pokemon. Maybe he’s up north… cell service is a bit spotty up there…”

Leon nodded even though some part of him felt like the whole situation was off somehow. He’d been up there plenty of times, and he’d never had signal trouble before. But if it made his mother feel better, then he would let it slide. “Yeah, I’m sure he’s fine. But, I’ll come by, okay? I’ll take a few days off, and when Hop gets back, we’ll have a nice family reunion.” Leon really hoped it would be that easy. He didn’t want to think about the worst case scenario.

His words seemed to appease his mother at least, and that was all he could ask for.

After a quick goodbye, Leon put in his notice for time off and recalled Reginald into his ball. In the same motion, he summoned Jules. The massive Charizard, larger and sturdier than most in the region, shook his head and gave his trainer a rough nudge with his snout and rumbled low in his chest.

"We'll get to rest soon, buddy, I promise." Leon apologized, patting Jules's cheek. "We’re taking a little vacation back home and I’d like to get there quick as you can, alright?" Jules snorted, and that was all the confirmation Leon needed. Without a moment more of hesitation, he hopped onto his Charizard's back and Jules took off like a shot.

Still, that rock of fear sat heavy in his gut. Not even the cold wind rushing past him and whipping his hair about his face and back chased it away. It just felt like he was missing something. Or something was wrong.

I hope I’m just being paranoid. Maybe once I get some sleep, I’ll have a clearer head.

—

Two days passed in Postwick and still nothing from Hop.

Leon and Jules had gone out to search the area, and the police had even been called, but both avenues had turned up nothing. Well, Leon’s search hadn’t, and the police just didn’t seem that pressed about the issue. A missing kid wasn’t exactly a serious thing; sometimes kids just got the itch for adventure and ran off, and then came back months later, their wanderlust sated. But Leon and his mom knew better than that.

Hop wasn’t the type of teenager to get up and run off just because the feeling hit him. He especially wouldn’t ignore phone calls. But the police just brushed them both off, though they finally did promise to at least keep an eye out for him. Leon had never been the type to lash out physically before, but in that moment, he certainly felt like he wanted to. He’d never been dismissed so easily before, especially when it came to something like this.

His mother was inconsolable and Leon was a nervous wreck; he barely slept, spending every hour scouring the air and the countryside for Hop in hopes of spotting him or a camp of his, but there was nothing there. Leon had questioned everyone Hop knew, hoping that maybe someone had seen him, but no one had but he hadn’t pressed much harder than that before he was moving on to the next person and place. But still, Hop was missing.

He’d been missing for a week now.

It was as if Hop had simply… vanished.

Leon sat at his desk in his old childhood bedroom, Hop’s journals and maps spread out in front of him and fear and anxiety gripping his chest in a vice. He’d felt bad looking at his brother’s private thoughts and feelings, and some of them certainly hurt to read, but he wasn’t there to snoop. He was just looking for… something. Anything. Any kind of clue as to where he could have gone to.

But there was nothing. And that was terrifying. His mouth had felt dry all day, no matter how much water or tea he drank, and his mother hadn’t stopped pacing or staring out the window since the police dismissed them both. Something was drastically wrong, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Leon groaned, hanging his head.

“Where is he…” He muttered to the air. “He can’t really have run off, could he?”

His Rotom chirped, pushing its way forward so Leon would have to look at the screen when he lifted his head. He gave it a wary look, eyes scanning the words and images on the screen and he grimaced faintly. “A… PI? What good is that going to do? Won’t he just say the same thing the cops did?” Leon questioned.

The Rotom gave the impression of a shrug. “Can it hurt to try?” It asked.

Leon sat up straighter, taking the Rotom into his hands and studying the address and reviews. “I don’t know… I guess not… I just–” Leon rubbed a hand at the side of his neck, brow furrowed. He chewed on his lower lip and pushed himself to his feet. “Alright. Alright, it’s the last legal channel I have, and then after that I’ll just have to figure something out. Even if I have to go find him by myself. Where’s that guy located at? Motostoke?”

“Yessir! I’ll set the GPS for his office.” The Rotom replied.

“Thanks.”

He grabbed his jacket on the way out, yanking it on as he took the steps two at a time. He paused by the front door, looking over at his mother, his brow furrowed. She was sound asleep on the couch, which she’d turned to face the big garden window in the living room and he felt bad leaving her alone like this without telling her to her face. All he could do was leave a note, which he stuck to the front door with some poster putty from one of the kitchen junk drawers.

‘Be back soon. Going to Motostoke, I’ll be back tomorrow.’

And with that, he was out the door.

With Jules flying him there, it didn’t take long for them to reach Kabu’s city, the Rotom tucked into the front of Leon’s jacket and spitting out directions and distance to their destination. The second it exclaimed, “Our destination is under us!”, Jules dove down lazily to land in a small convenience store parking lot so he didn’t halt traffic or cause an accident.

Leon hopped off his Charizard’s back and recalled him immediately. The Rotom freed itself from his coat and, once it was sure Leon was following, led the way down the street. They’d landed a couple blocks away, and while Leon had hoped the walk would steady his nerves, it just made him feel even more antsy, and maybe just a bit silly somehow.

He’d never, in a million years, could have imagined he’d be hiring a private investigator. It was the kind of thing that happened in movies or books, not real life.

It felt surreal walking up to the red brick building, a cute three story building that must have been apartments at some point in time before they’d been converted into freelance offices of various sorts, and the age of the building clashed with the new-ish electric buzzer system by the door. Leon fidgeted a bit with the hem of his jacket, scanning the tags until he found what he was looking for.

OCTAVIUS GREAT, PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR

“Well…” He took a breath and let out a nervous, anxious little laugh. “Here goes…” He pressed the button and stepped back, waiting with butterflies in his stomach to get buzzed in. His Rotom stayed at his side, ready to lead him around since it was likely that Leon would end up lost just stepping into the building.

#✦ v. missing persons #fightful #wheezes #im never writing a five page google doc starter ever again #and if i ever do again kick my ass about it

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sebsallowapologist · 1 year

Text

Little Bird || Part 4

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC

Rated: T

Warnings: 18+ not feeling good enough, flirting with Gareth,

Little Bird Masterlist

After I stormed out of the Great Hall I just felt embarrassed. I normally hold my cool so well- I never let my emotions get the best of me like that. I should have been able to just keep shit to myself but instead I blew up at Ominis and I was going to have to apologize. And probably to Sebastian too.

To avoid everything about the situation I spent the rest of the day in my vivariums, popping around and making sure all my little beasts were taken care of, pruning my plants and practicing my potions.

Wiggenweld, Thunderbrew, I’d brewed them enough times to have the process memorized. Fifth year I was an incredible student, Professor Weasly even called me a gifted witch. But after everything that happened at the end of that year, after spending year Sixth trying to patch my friends back together, dealing with the death of my mentor and maybe the coursework just got too hard.

Now. Now I felt like a bloody idiot most of the time.

I try out a new potion, one that I know Sharp is going to have on the next exam and I just- can’t do it. I must not be preparing the ingredients correctly, or adding them at the right intervals. I feel like I follow the steps to a T and the potion just looks like water with leaves and sticks in it.

In a fit of frustration I smack the hot caldron off the burner, the metal burning my hand as it crashes to the floor, spilling the mix of ingredients all over the floor. Deek apperates next to me, looking at the mess.

I wipe the tears off my cheeks and he puts his hand on my leg. “Deek can clean it up miss.”

“No- no Deek I got it.”

“Miss-”

“I promise Deek. I want to.” I sigh and look at my red palm, it just looks flushed now but I know the burn will become worse overtime. I grab a cloth and wrap it around my palm, keeping the wound safe. I could use a wiggenweld, but what's even the point.

“Master Sallow is asking for you.”

“He’s here?”

“Deek didn’t let him in.”

“Can you tell him I’m not here.” I mumble, eyes locked on my mess on the ground. I just wasn’t in the mood to be around him, for him to tell me how easy it was, having him take over and try to teach me.

Deek nods and pats my leg. “Deek will be in his office if Miss needs him.” I smile and nod at the house elf. His office is a little room I had conjured last year. I shrunk down a bunch of furniture and surprised him with his own little space. “Thank you, Deek.”

I pick up a rag and get on my hands and knees to clean up my mess.

When I’m finally finished and ready to retire to my room, there's a wrapped plate of food waiting for me next to the door.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The next day I had apologized to Ominis for my outburst, and all was well, he even dropped the topic of Sebastian and I after that, so it was nice to not be constantly reminded of the situation I was in.

I still, however, was utterly lost at most of my classes. I had a few hours in between my last class and when Sebastian and I were meeting in the undercroft to continuing honing my ancient magic, and I was desperate to spend it in the library.

I had been sat alone at a table for a while when I heard a throat clear. I look up and find Gareth, looking at me with a small smile on his face. “Can I sit?” He quietly asks. I nod and he grabs the seat next to me. “You can tell me to shove off if you want, but this fell out of your potions book in class the other week.” He puts down a sheet of parchment. My notes from our last lesson. “I was just reading them and- I think you’re... thinking about it wrong.”

He unfolds the parchment and I see little notes written along the sides. “You’re all about following the book- which is good. But potion making is almost... like art. These things have helped me and I thought next time you try-”

He cuts off after I throw my arms around his neck, his hands slowly sliding around my waist in our awkward embrace from the chairs. “Thank you, Gareth. Truly.” I sigh and look over is neat notes.

“I just think- you’re doing a great job. You shouldn’t be so discouraged. You’re one of the smartest witches in our year.”

I scoff and roll my eyes, tucking the notes into my bag. “No!” Gareth laughs, “I mean it! Perhaps the smartest in the whole school.”

“Oh hush.” I blush, pulling our my potion book. “While I have you- any tips on this potion?” I ask opening it up to the right page.

Gareth and I get lost in the book, he flips through pages and gives me tips on things that I would have never thought of, hunched over the same book, inches from each other. I hadn’t spent a lot of time alone with Gareth, but he was sweet. Seemed to have really grown up since I’d first met him.

“There you are!” I hear and look up at Sebastian comes around the corner. “Fuck.” I sigh and close my eyes. “What time is it? Sebastian I’m so sorry.”

“We were meeting a half hour ago.” He mumbles, looking over the scene in front of him.

“Gareth, I have to go.” I sigh, closing my book quickly, not wanting to make my friend wait any longer. “I can’t thank you enough, I’m going to try all these trucks and maybe Sharp won’t hate me for failing.”

“You’re going to do great.” He says and I pat his hand in farewell. Sebastian takes my bag from me and throws it over his shoulder. “Weasley.” He says in both greeting and goodbye and we’re off to the Undercroft.

As soon as we’re out of the library he asks me, “What was all that about?”

“I just got caught up. I’ve been struggling with potions and Gareth was helping me through some of the things I wasn’t sure of.”

“Right.” he mumbles, clearly not happy with my explanation. But to be honest I wasn’t entirely happy with it either. Sure the whole encounter was very innocent, and it was truly just about potions, but I couldn’t help but feeling a.. warmth when I was with Gareth. Him being patient, kind, the little touches he kept giving me, it made me feel good. Wanted.

Sebastian puts my bag down on the couch in the Undercroft and takes his robe off, setting up the practice dummy. I put the potions book I was holding down on top of my bag and a small slip of parchment slips out, resting on the stone floor. It’s in Gareth’s handwriting:

Would you like to get a butterbeer with me at the three broomsticks this weekend?

“What's that?” Sebastian asks, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt over his forearms.

“Loose paper.” I mumble and shove it back into the book. I stand up to my full height and ditch my cloak as well, tossing it over my things. I felt so guilty at even the thought of saying yes, but some part of my brain wanted to. Liked that attention that Gareth was offering.

“Alright.” Sebastian smiles. “I’ll forgive you for your tardiness, even if you were hanging out with Weasley.”

“What's wrong with Weasley? Beisdes being a Griffindor.”

“He’s just... Weasley.” Sebastian laughs, “Im surprised you survived studying with him and that you didn’t lose your eyebrows in the process.”

I don’t respond, wishing he would just drop the line of conversation. “Are we picking up where we left off last time?” I ask. While Sebastian didn’t have any real experience with Ancient Magic, no more than I did, he took it upon himself to read everything he could on the subject, frequently sneaking into the restricted section on her behalf.

“No- I feel like we’re stalling out on how to contain the magic, I’m thinking it would help if we left some of it out.” He notes and I narrow my eyes at him.

“I thought thats the exact opposite of the thing I told you I wanted to do. I don’t want to use it, I want to make it not a problem anymore.”

He sighs, this isn’t the first conversation we’ve had about this. He’s always seen my magic as a gift. But he hadn’t been there when it killed Professor Fig, when it thought legions of people who now wanted me dead for simply having it, people who wanted to possess it. This magic was a burden that should be kept hidden.

“What if containing it for the rest of time isn’t working. What if it never works?”

“That can’t be an option.” I seethe, fighting to keep my voice from wobbling. I close my eyes as those feelings bubble up from deep in my stomach. I feel warm as the magic starts to fill me up, overwhelm me.

I drop my wand and it clatters to the floor. “Bird.” He mumbles, coming to my side and places his hand on both of my shoulders. “Breathe.”

“Don’t tell me to breathe.” I snap, eyes opening to meet his. His warm, normal brown eyes widen at the sight of my glowing ones. He takes a step back in fear. He was afraid of me, thats why he didn’t want to fucking be with me. I lose control and turn to face the practice dummy. Without lifting my hand the wood explodes in blue flame.

Tears prick my eyes as I look at the destruction. I glance at Sebastian who hasn’t wiped the look of pure fear off his face yet. I grab my wand off the floor, grab my cloak and bag off the couch and run out of the Undercroft.

I get back to my dorm, throwing my bag on my bed, my roommate making an annoyed sound at the at the noise. I grab a piece of parchment and write on it.

Gareth, I’d love to.

I fold it up and tie it to my owl’s leg. She rustles her father's at being woken up. “Bring this to Gareth.” I whisper. I turn around and fall into my bed, still seething as she stretches her wings and flies out the window.

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #Sebastian sallow x you #hogwarts legacy #Hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow fanfiction #gareth weasley #gareth Weasley x reader #Hogwarts legacy mc #little bird

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